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"Where the hell have you been?"
Kate stepped into the cottage and gazed calmly into Rick's furious face. "I've been out scouting for a new landscape site. The heather field just isn't working."
Rick slammed his hand down on his desk. "You know something? I'm getting damn sick of this! Every time I need you, you're off and about somewhere. Like that day last week when I scoured the beach for you. And today, I've been waiting for hours!"
Kate looked at her watch. "It's only four-thirty. What do you mean, you've been waiting?"
"I've come across a glitch in my plot, and I needed you to do dig up some information for me at the village library. But of course, you're nowhere around! So typical!"
Kate's face burned with sudden anger. "What am I? A mind-reader? What do you expect me to do? Sit quietly in the corner all day just waiting to jump at your command?" Her rage was fueled by her abrupt realization that not only did she not love Rick, she didn't even like him anymore. How had she lived with him for two years without realizing what a total jerk he was? "I'm not your secretary, Richard. And I'm not your slave. I have a life, too, you know."
Slowly, Rick got up from his desk, his jaw set angrily. Kate knew she'd gone too far.
"It wasn't so long ago that my life was your life," he said, his dark eyes steely. "But you've changed, Kate. And it started happening back when I was first awarded the grant, even before we came here. I noticed a distance in you even then. But now, it's worse. Since we came to this stupid country, you've grown even further away from me. And I don't like it one bit."
Now was the time to tell him. He'd given her an opening to tell him it was over. Then she'd be free to go to Christian...where she belonged. But something in Rick's eyes stopped her. A certain ruthlessness. And she was afraid of him. Afraid for herself, but most of all, for Christian. If Rick found out about him, he'd go berserk. She knew it.
Four months, and their time would be up here. Rick would have to return to America. She'd wait and break up with him just before he left, and afterwards, she'd go to Christian.
Rick took a step toward her. "You're not thinking of leaving me, are you, Katie?"
Kate swallowed a gasp, hoping her guilt didn't show on her face. "Don't be silly, Rick."
He grinned, but his eyes remained cold. "That's good, then." He took her into his arms. Kate stiffened, but immediately forced herself to relax. He was too intuitive. He'd know. "Because you're mine, Katie. Don't ever forget that. I wouldn't want to have to remind you of that." He lifted her chin and gazed down at her. "Okay?"
She nodded, trembling. "Okay."
His mouth covered hers. This time, she couldn't stop herself from shuddering. He swept her into his arms and placed her on the bed. She closed her eyes in revulsion as his hands began to remove the clothing from her body.
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Rick rolled off the bed and grabbed his jeans. Kate lay curled in a fetal position, sobbing into her pillow. He threw her a disgusted look. "Oh, for Christ's sake! Grow up! So, I was a little rough. I know plenty of women who like it rough."
"You hurt me, Rick!" Kate kept her face turned away from him. "You were like a madman! It's almost as if you...hate me."
Rick stood up and pulled his jeans over his lean hips. "No, Kate. I don't hate you. But sometimes, making love to you is...well...boring. Men like their women to be more adventurous in bed. You know, like the women I write about."
"I'm not one of your sick characters!" Kate hurled at him, and immediately bit her bottom lip. If she egged him on, he might force her to have sex again.
"Too bad," he muttered, making his way over to his typewriter. "Anyway, our little interlude did give me an idea for my story." He sat down at the typewriter, his eyes staring blankly in front of him as he inserted a sheet of paper. After a moment, he began to type furiously.
Twenty minutes later, he re-read the scene he'd just written and grinned in satisfaction. The sex was good--raunchy and arousing. But it was the end that really got him. The blood-spattered walls. Her pitiful pleas for mercy. It was a pity the lusty redhead had to die. She'd been so deliciously erotic as the serial killer made love to her...and almost painfully beautiful. In fact, in his mind's eye, she'd looked just like Kate.
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Christian took Kate's hand and led her into the forest. "I've arranged for a man to come to the cottage the day after tomorrow. He's a hypnotist who specializes in unearthing past lives. He'll take us back together so we can find out what happened to us...to Cameron and Kayla."
Kate bit her lip. "Christian, I'm scared of what we'll find out. Those dreams...they were horrible. This will be worse than a dream. We'll be living it."
"But we must find out, lass. It's the only way we can protect ourselves. Can you not see that?"
She released a long sigh. "Yes, I do. But it doesn't change anything. I'm still afraid."
His hand tightened on hers. "But I'll be there with you. And remember, it won't really be happening. We'll be reliving it through our minds. You will do it, won't you? I'm convinced this is the only way we can make a life together."
"Exorcise the ghosts of the past?" she asked.
"Aye. In a way, I guess that's what we'll be doing. I feel we must...otherwise...."
A shiver of fear ran through her. "Otherwise, something bad will happen to us?"
He stopped walking and took her into his arms. "Ah, lass...I'm sorry. I don't mean to frighten you. It's just that...I have this feeling..."
"I know. Me, too." She pressed her face against his sweater. His hand stroked her hair. "It's getting to where I only feel safe when I'm with you."
"Your safe harbor," he whispered. "And you're mine." He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. Her mouth opened to the insistence of his sweet tongue as the ever-present ache of desire spread throughout her body. Oh, how she wanted him. Wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. Yet, they still hadn't made love, even though there had been plenty of opportunity. But since the day in his cottage when they'd come so close to succumbing to their feelings, Christian hadn't invited her back in. She wasn't sure why. It was as if he were afraid...as if something stood between them. The past?
He pulled away from her and gazed into her eyes. "He made love to you last night, didn't he?"
She felt her face redden. "I wouldn't call it that. More like rape."
His blue eyes grew icy and his hands clenched into her shoulders. "You must leave him. I can't bear the thought of him touching you."
"Then you touch me," Kate said raggedly, her hands clenching against his sweater. "Burn the feel of him out of me. Love me, Christian. Here. Right now." Her fingers fumbled at his belt. His mouth clamped down on hers, his tongue thrusting and searching. As she desperately kissed him back, she unbuckled his belt, and drew his zipper down. A deep moan issued from his throat, almost a soft growl as she took his rigid penis into her hand, stroking it until it grew even harder.
Christian's hands clamped on her shoulders as he urged her back against the nearest tree. He tore his mouth away from hers and reached up under her denim skirt, and in one quick movement pulled her panties down to her knees. Her breath was labored as she stared into his turbulent eyes. His hand slipped between her legs and moved against her moist lips. Her eyes closed and her mouth parted in ecstacy as he touched her intimately, his expert fingers delving into her wetness. After an excruciating moment, his hand drew away and covered hers as they continued to stroke his hard shaft. Gently, he pushed them away, and pressed against her, brushing the tip of his cock against her slick opening.
"Now, lass?" he whispered.
Kate opened her mouth to whisper, "yes, yes, yes" but just as she did so, she heard a rustling in the bushes over the sound of Christian's ragged breathing.
She pulled away from him. "What's that?"
His eyes were dazed with arousal. "What? I don't hear anything."
"There. Listen."
It was faint, but unmistakable. A series of soft thuds. Like footsteps moving away.
"Probably an animal," Christian said, but his eyes were wary.
Kate knew he didn't believe that at all. She shivered. "Let's get out of here. We can go to your cottage."
He was silent.
"What's wrong? You don't want to?"
He slid his hands down her thighs and drew up her panties. Then he tucked his deflating erection into his jeans, zipped up and took her hands in his. "I don't know if I can explain this so you'll understand. But I think we should wait until after the session with the hypnotist. I don't really know why myself. Call it intuition."
Kate was still tingling from pent-up arousal as they walked back towards the cliff trail. She could feel the same frustration coming from Christian. But he was right. They had to wait until they knew what the hypnotist would help them discover. When they reached the place where their paths separated, they stopped.
"Kate, lass." Christian's eyes held hers. "Don't let him make love to you again. Please try. It kills me...imagining...oh Christ! I can't bear thinking of it!"
"I'll do what I can. Sometimes he...well..." Kate hesitated, unsure of how to put it. "He pretty much...takes what he wants."
"Christ!" Christian exploded, an angry flush spreading over his face. "Whatever possessed you to hook up with a bastard like that?"
"He hasn't always been like this. Only in the last year or so..." She stopped as the realization hit her.
Christian stared at her. "What?"
She shook her head slowly. "I just realized...Rick has been acting very strangely ever since I started having the dreams of the Highlander. It's like his whole personality has changed. Christian, he was a different man back when I first met him. It was shortly after I lost my brother. Rick was so understanding, so supportive. His mother had died just a few months before, and he really understood what I was going through. We just kind of fell into a relationship."
"And you say that he didn't start to change until you began having the dreams?"
Kate thought about it a moment. "He was always temperamental, but aren't we all? Artists, I mean. Once he burned a bunch of Stephen King books because of his jealousy, but that was before...no, he didn't start acting really odd until I starting having the dreams. I'm sure of it!"
"Well, perhaps we'll learn what it all means after the session with the hypnotist." Christian kissed her softly. "Just be careful around Rick. Please, be very, very careful."
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Rick strode through the forest, his jaw clenched angrily. So, his suspicions were confirmed. There was no doubt as to what that little slut was up to. He'd stood there watching as that perverted Byron-like poet plastered her up against that tree and practically screwed her right there. And maybe he had. Rick had watched only until he couldn't stand it any more. Seeing Kate in heat like a stray ally-cat over another man made him want to vomit. One thing was for sure. If he'd had a gun, they'd both be dead right now.
But it didn't matter. They would be soon.
Rick reached the door of his cottage and went in. With purposeful steps, he walked over to his bureau and opened a drawer. Moving quickly, he searched through his underwear, T-shirts and socks until he felt cold metal at the bottom. Smiling, he drew out the handgun and for a moment, caressed the worn grip, the smooth barrel.
They could have each other, Kate and her poet lover. But it wouldn't be in this world.
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"Now, I'm going to ask you both to sit back and relax. You may hold hands if you like. In fact, I advise it. That way, the connection between you will be more complete."
Kate gazed into the guileless blue eyes of Dr. Norman Kennedy, the short bald hypnotist sitting in front of them. He seemed perfectly ordinary, not at all like a man who believed in past lives and reincarnation.
Christian took her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. "It's all right, lass. I'll be right here. We'll be in it together...whatever it is."
Kate willed herself to relax. The hypnotist pulled out a chronometer from his black leather bag. "Are we ready to begin?" he asked in a soft, tranquil voice. "Very well. Now, I will ask you to watch the timer as it moves back and forth...back and forth...slowly...steadily...timelessly moving...back and forth...your eyes are growing heavy...aye...let it go...let yourself slip away...you are on a soft cloud...floating through space...at the sound of my command, you will lift your free hand into the air...1, 2, 3...lift...ah, very good...you are in a deep sleep...going backwards in time...backwards...backwards..."
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Kayla turned over on her hard bed and tried again to sleep. But it was impossible. Thoughts of Cameron filled her mind...sweet tender Cameron...and the love they had shared that afternoon. She'd been a virgin just two weeks ago, but Cameron had changed that, changed her into a wanton fiery woman, who now dreamed of his mouth and hands in secret places which would make a decent woman blush in shame. Oh, if Mother knew, she'd beat her with a birch switch, she would! Kayla smiled wickedly. But after tomorrow, it would not matter. She would be Kayla MacCameron, wife of Cameron, chieftain of the clan of MacDonald of Glencoe in Argyllshire.
A stone hit the window ledge with a sharp crack. Kayla started and looked toward the thick tapestry covering the window in the stone wall. Her heart pounded. Was it the Campbells? Kayla had been surprised when the head of the sept had dined with his hereditary enemy, the Campbells, but Cameron had tried to explain to her about the truce. It had something to do with the late arrival of the MacDonald chieftain to take the Oath of Allegiance to King William. The chiefs of the highland clans had been given until January 1st to do such, but Chieftain MacDonald had been waylaid by a blizzard and hadn't taken the hated oath until January 6th. Kayla had tried to concentrate on Cameron's explanation, but the touch of his hand holding hers and the closeness of his lips had made her senses swim. And nothing else really mattered. Not the Campbells, not the oath. Nothing but Cameron.
Now, though, she was frightened. From childhood, she'd heard tales of the vicious Campbells, and their vengeful hatred for the MacDonalds. Why, oh, why had the clan taken those cutthroats in and given them hospitality?
"Kayla! It is I, Cameron." The whisper came out of the dark. "I am climbing up, my love."
Kayla's heart hammered, and for a completely different reason than fear. She smiled. That wicked Cameron! Aye, the man was an ardent stallion, he was! Could he not wait a few more hours until they were on their marriage bed? But then again, she was as impatient as he. Even now, as he climbed toward her window, she found herself growing breathless and her womanly parts moistening with anticipation and desire.
The tapestry rippled and a dark masculine shape climbed into her room, falling lightly to the stone floor. Kayla giggled as Cameron stood uncertainly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
"I am here, you silly man. You are shameless, you know. Stealing into my room on our wedding night. And me, a shivering virgin..."
A low musical laugh rumbled from his throat as he advanced toward her. "In truth, a hot-blooded wanton wench, " he whispered. "Do not try and tell me you were not lying here thinking of loving me, as I was in my own chambers. Because I'll know you were lying, lass. I know you too well." He laughed again. "Every inch of you."
"Come," Kayla whispered, holding out her arms to him. "Let us not waste more precious time with manly boasting. Look! It grows light outside. You mustn't be caught leaving my chambers. Do what you must do, and be quick about it!"
"Be quick, you say?" He laughed, his teeth flashing in the semi-darkness. "But me thinks you like your loving slow. Or is it hard you want it this time, my little minx? Hard and quick?"
With a laugh, Cameron fell upon her, his mouth claiming hers with a heady expertise. Kayla giggled and squirmed beneath his urgent body, matching him kiss for kiss. Playfully, she nipped at the triangular scar on his left shoulder, one caused in his youth by the edge of a knife during a mock battle with another young clansman. After a moment, their love-play grew serious. His warm hands moved over her breasts and lower, stroking her bare stomach leisurely before entwining in the silken hairs above her nether region. She gasped, and her legs parted invitingly.
"Now, Cameron...love me now."
"Aye...I will, that," But instead of thrusting into her as she expected, he slid down until his face was on a level with her private parts. She tensed, unsure of what he was doing. This was new, and somehow exciting. His hands parted her legs, and for a moment, his fingers stroked her pouting lips, bringing her desire to a fever pitch. Then he moved closer, so close, she could feel his warm breath.
"Cameron?" she whispered. Alarm swept through her, and she tried to draw her legs back together, but his hands were quick and strong. Before she could protest, she felt something wet and rough lap against the small nub of her womanhood, and a voltaic shock quivered through her. She inhaled sharply as she realized what he was doing. His tongue. So wicked! But oh, it felt so good. She thrashed on the bed, her nether region opening itself to Cameron's mouth as if it were a flower opening to the sweet spring rain. Waves of passion swept through her, bringing her higher and higher as his tongue lapped its magic. As she crested the wave, his hands locked upon her buttocks and he drew her into his mouth, playing her womanhood as if it were a fine-tuned instrument. And suddenly, she was falling through space, crying out in her excitement and shuddering against his still moving lips.
Exhausted, she slumped limply as her crisis point passed, and slowly, Cameron drew himself up the length of her body. He was breathing raggedly as he pressed against her. Through the wool of his kilt, Kayla could feel his manhood thrusting against her stomach, and incredibly, a new fire of passion flared deep within her womb. His lips covered her mouth, and she tasted an unfamiliar musky flavor upon them.
He drew away from her and gazed down into her eyes. "I thought milady might be ready for new loveplay," he whispered.
"Oh, Cameron, my love..." she managed to say. "I'm ready for anything you wish to teach me." Her hand slipped down between them and enclosed his burning shaft through his kilt. "But you must pleasure yourself now, man. For I have never held such a proud cock in my hand as this."
"And ye better never hold another one, lass." Cameron grinned.
With a swift movement, he pulled aside his kilt and knelt astride her, his eyes blazing into hers. Kayla licked her lips in anticipation and smiled up at him. He smiled back, his blue eyes glimmering with love. He descended toward her, and she felt the tip of his manhood at her opening.
The door burst opened with a violent crash. Kayla screamed. In a lightning movement, Cameron rolled away from her, reaching for his broadsword on the floor next to the bed. But she saw immediately he had no chance against the four Campbells who'd burst into the room, swords slashing. With one mighty heave, a Campbell clansman rammed his broadsword into Cameron's torso, impaling him against the bed. His shocked blue eyes stared glassily at the ceiling. Kayla screamed in horror, her eyes locked upon the corpse of her lover. She could feel her nightgown soaked with his warm blood.
"Ah, what have we here? A MacDonald lass--ripe for the picking..."
Still screaming in terror, Kayla cowered in the corner of the bed and stared at the clansman who'd killed her Cameron. He advanced toward her, his eyes bright with bloodlust.