The Highlander's Touch
Page 77

Hmm, he thought, liking this new bond. He had exceeded her expectations for lovemaking. His gaze flew to hers and he saw that it had been the same for her. But she didn’t know, because this was her first and only time of physical intimacy, that such an awareness of each other was not a normal result of lovemaking. Her eyes were huge and filled with wonder.
He didn’t understand what had transpired in the creation of their strange bond, and he wondered what lasting effects it might have on her. He wondered if perhaps the immortality potion had changed him, so that if he spilled seed into a woman’s body they became linked. There was much he did not understand about himself.
And then he wondered no more, but cradled her in his arms and felt at peace for the first time in centuries.
* * *
Afterward, Lisa lay with her cheek pressed to Circenn’s chest, one of his strong arms curled around her waist, wondering at the God who had seen fit to take so much from her, yet give her this incredible man. She’d never known that lovemaking would make her so much more aware of his feelings. It was as if someone had flipped a switch inside her: A dazzling white heat filled her, and suddenly she was able to sense his emotions; even now he was worrying for her, wondering if he’d pleased her. It was a strange awareness, a pressure that he was near, surrounding her; she’d never before felt so linked to anyone, not even her mother, who’d carried her inside her body.
She vowed to plunge headlong into all the pleasure she could find with Circenn, because one never knew how long anything might last. He could be crushed under a rock while building an addition on his castle; he could be injured in many ways; he might be wounded in battle—oh! It was June, she realized, and the mighty battle at Bannockburn was just weeks away.
He couldn’t go; that was all there was to it. She could not let him go to war. The way her luck ran, she would get a few blissful weeks with him, then he would be killed in battle and there she’d be in the fourteenth century all by herself. Her fingers clenched around his hand.
“I will not die, lass,” he whispered against her hair.
“Can you read minds too, in addition to cursing things?” she asked, startled.
“Nay. But you were feeling it rather loudly. I know what you fear. You fear being abandoned. When your hand tensed on mine I surmised where your fears had gone. That I might die too young, as your father did.” He acted as if their new bond was nothing out of the ordinary. It was easier for her to accept because, being untried, she didn’t know it wasn’t the customary result of tupping.
“But you could die,” she said. “There’s a war going on—”
“Shh.” He drew her close and rolled from his back to his side, so they lay facing each other, their heads sharing a pillow, their noses touching. “I swear to you that I will not die. Do you trust me, lass?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand. How could anyone possibly swear that they won’t die? Even you can’t control that.”
“Trust me. Have no fear for me, Lisa. It would be wasted fear. Let’s just say my unique abilities include the knowledge of when I will die, and it will not be for a very long time.”
She was silent, and he felt a shiver run through her.
He knew she was hearing more than his words, was feeling his intent behind them. They had a new awareness of each other that transcended words, as if their souls had become entangled. Via that bond, she was comforted, sensing truth in his words, although she didn’t understand the how or why of it. He held her, reveling in their strange tie. He sensed the moment at which she relinquished her fears and relaxed, not merely because she wet her lip and glanced at him provocatively.
And what he felt next needed no words.
ADAM SIFTED THE GRAINS OF TIME AND DARTED through them to the isle of Morar. He would relax there for a day or so, ponder the developments, study the potentials, and determine where his gentle nudging might be required. Things were progressing well, and he had no intention of losing what he’d thus far gained. He’d experienced a bit of concern during the time she’d remained in her chambers, grieving, but she had indeed been as strong as he’d suspected, emerging ready for love.
And how lovely she’d been in her bath, he reflected with a smile.
As his feet hit the beach, he willed his clothing gone, then he strolled languidly, burying his toes deep in the wet, silky-warm sand. Once, he’d walked on a California beach, nude in the full glory of his true form. Thousands of Californians had been stricken by high fevers that had erupted in public displays of eroticism.