Beyond the Highland Myst(271)
Not freely, Circenn scoffed. There was a price. He squeezed his eyes shut as the music thundered in his ears.
It was his fate that she would ride like a mighty, demanding Valkyrie upon his body.
She already sang like a siren to his heart, this woman of defiance and fear, of curiosity and contradiction. Naya had been soft and passive toward her lot in life, until the end when she'd turned bitter. Never before had he met a woman like Lisa, a woman with needs and desires and a mind of her own. Deep emotions roiled in her breast, cunning intelligence glowed in her eyes, and a fierceness that vied with the legendary Valkyries' breathed in her veins.
Rules be damned. How could he argue with the future? It was written. He could only take it, enjoy it, and make the most of it, praying he would survive it when he lost his heart to her, then inevitably lost her in a short span of years. If he was going to be mad in the future, he may as well savor the present.
Circenn Brodie rose from his chair, ripped the machine from the future off his head, and did what he'd never dared do before:
He eased his control a tiny bit and encouraged the magic to throb inside him.
Dark angel, Adam had inveigled him, soar into my world and fear nothing.
He tossed back his head and tasted the power running through his formidable body.
It was a very different creature who left the dark, hidden room to find his woman.
* * *
Adam Black smiled as he removed the tampon from the barrel of the rifle. Although Circenn had refused to use any of the weapons Adam had brought him, the warrior within him could not permit time to tarnish them. He snorted, dangling the tampon from its string. Only his fastidious Circenn Brodie would decide that the soft white swabs were to be used for cleaning.
Eyeing the rifle, Adam grinned. They were the perfect size to slip inside the barrel—it nearly seemed sensible. But he hadn't brought tampons back to medieval Scotland for Circenn to play with; he'd brought them—and every gift he'd chosen—for another reason. Although if he had his way, there would be many nine-month intervals during which she would have no use for them.
* * *
CHAPTER 15
"yer a beauty, lass," gillendria said, clapping her hands. "I thought I could refashion it well, but'tis the woman who makes this gown."
Lisa stood before the mirror, gazing at herself with no small measure of shock.
Gillendria had refitted a dress that she said had belonged to Circenn's mother, Morganna. Now she slipped it over her shoulders, atop a shift of softest linen. Midnight-blue silk clung to her breasts, and the scooped neck slipped off her shoulders, accentuating her translucent skin and fine collarbones. It hugged her hips and fell to the floor in a rustle of blue embroidered with gold. At her waist, Gillendria had fastened a gold girdle that knotted low and from which hundreds of tiny gold moons and stars dangled. Matching slippers encased her feet, and a lovely gold torque that predated medieval times encircled her throat. An embroidered surcoat was tied below her breasts. Gillendria had curled her hair, carefully picking out the gold highlights and curling them a bit tighter so that they lay atop the wavy mass, then mussed it gently. A dab of some combination of root, herb, and flower colored her lips ruby.
Who was this woman in the mirror who looked like sin? she wondered. Like Sin's, she amended fancifully, for even she had to admit that the woman in the mirror now looked a suitable companion for the laird of the castle. For once she didn't curse herself for being tall, because in this gown her height added an unmistakable touch of elegance.
"You're incredible, Gillendria," Lisa breathed.
"I am, aren't I?" Gillendria replied without a trace of arrogance. "Although I have not had a woman with yer perfect figure to clothe for some time, I have not forgotten how. The laird will be well pleased."
Lisa was well pleased. She'd never known she could look like this. At seventeen, she'd hoped one day to look like Catherine—a golden, striking beauty—but work had become all-consuming as she'd struggled to provide for her mother, and Lisa hadn't spared another thought for her own appearance in five long years. Her mother would love—Oh! Mom!
She shivered. How could she have forgotten even for an instant?
"Are ye cold, milady?" Gillendria asked. "I can fetch a wrap."
"Nay," Lisa said softly. "Just a momentary chill, nothing more. Go on with you now, Gillendria. I'll find my way to the Greathall."
After Gillendria left, Lisa sank down on the bed. Castle Brodie was the loveliest place she'd ever been, and there she sat in a dress made for a princess, about to have dinner with a man who was the stuff of her every romantic dream. For a few minutes she'd forgotten all about Catherine. She'd been too busy experiencing all the anticipation and excitement of a woman preparing for a special date.