Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

“I’m Isobel.” I kept my response concise to avoid a risky inquisition.

Undeterred by my brevity, he pressed. “Are you visitin’ someone here?”

He brought his cup to his lips, watching me intently. I should have expected questions due to the clan’s familial closeness, but with all the excitement, I hadn’t prepared a plausible story. I didn’t want to cause trouble for myself or Iain—not that he needed protecting; but I didn’t want to raise any alarm, so short answers seemed prudent.

“Yes.” There. A single-syllable response—as short as linguistically possible.

He squinted, a brief curve twitching the corners of his mouth as he got the nondisclosure hint. “Welcome, then. Would you like a tour of the castle?”

A guided tour would have aided my quest immeasurably. From a male clan member, it would have also been dangerous, which made it inadvisable. I wrestled with my goals and the risks of a potentially foolish decision.

Gawain waited for my answer with inquisitive eyes. He took a step back, giving me space, demonstrating his patience. The great hall still bustled with music and conversation.

Indecision froze my mind while I chewed on my lower lip. Brigid glanced at me, smiling. Gawain’s friends sat casually around her on the floor while, perched on the edge of a stool, she enthusiastically entertained them with a story. She winked at me.

Trust. Brigid had it in me with our situation tonight; I held it with blind faith, accepting my plight in their world; and Iain had it in his people as he turned me loose among them without warning or instruction.

I stole a furtive glance Iain’s way. He stood beside Fingall, surrounded by a flock of women. The two men appeared bored by the attention, polite smiles never reaching their eyes.

Iain lifted his face, and his gaze locked onto mine. The whole room faded, his glare burning through it, blasting my face from forty feet away. He lifted his chin, turning his head an inch to the left. The movement relayed a silent command: a cease-and-desist order had been issued.

Did he see me flirt with Gawain? I hoped so, but surprisingly for a different reason than the earlier plan; insecurity under the attention of strange men made me grateful for his watchful eye.

The unyielding stare persisted. I replied wordlessly through the distance, imperceptibly nodding. His rigid expression relaxed, a slow smile curving the corners of his mouth. I smirked involuntarily, taking odd pleasure in his approval.

Our unspoken exchange veiled deeper layers. Iain had commanded, but the order softened to a plea by the time it reached my heart. I’d complied, knowing he’d been driven by a primal instinct. In one look, Iain made me feel both possessed and protected. Tonight, Iain hadn’t only taken the earlier match; he’d won the entire round.

Gawain had followed my gaze. “Och, you’re under the graces of Iain.”

I glanced back up at Gawain. “That makes a difference to you?”

The alcohol might have spoken the daring question for me, but my curiosity about the gallantry of the men within Iain’s clan had also overruled sound reason.

Gawain smirked. “Only tonight, lass.” Without warning, he led me back into the crowd instead of the darkened hall he’d suggested.

A somber mood hit me—likely aided by the alcohol and an exhausting day—as I watched the room, my feelings of being lost and alone intensifying despite the dozens of people still present. Women who had vied for Iain’s attention had him engaged in conversation. The dancing had ceased. Intimate groups had formed as the late hour spun the world into a new day—a world I’d not been part of less than twenty-four hours ago.

Events that had been planned long ago were carried out without any of my influence. People went about their own business, unconcerned about a newcomer or her reason for appearing. My impact had been relegated to a single footnote at the bottom of a page in someone else’s thesis.

In the span of an afternoon and evening, I’d learned more than I would’ve imagined with endless volumes still to discover, but what had I gained in human connections? My tallied net worth amounted to two friends, both barely more than acquaintances.

My thoughts drifted to glimpses that I’d witnessed throughout the night of a unique bond within Iain’s clan, and that unexpected twinge happened again deep inside my chest.

I watched the dwindling activity as if I was an outsider spying on a loving family through a frosted windowpane. The girl still standing out in the cold suddenly held onto a fragile hope that she’d stumbled onto the right doorstep.

A command rumbled. Hot breath fanned across the shell of my ear. I shot upright, my heart racing in the darkness of an unfamiliar room . . . with an unfamiliar someone else.

Cold air breezed over my face. Smoldering embers glowed fiery red beneath fragile ash in a nearby hearth, providing the only light. I swallowed, my mouth drier than the Sahara. The scents of charred wood and fresh pine filled my nostrils as I tried to remember how I’d gotten to . . . wherever I was.

“Up. Get dressed, Isa. We’ve got a hunt I’m takin’ you on.”

Oh, hell. It hadn’t been a bad dream. My ongoing nightmare continued, loud and obnoxious, inflicting sleep-deprivation torture in a darkened hour.

Abruptly, warm covers were yanked off my body, frigid air biting into my exposed skin.

Holy shit! I’m naked!

I gasped, grabbing fistfuls of covers, trying— unsuccessfully —to cover my bared chest. My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, catching Iain’s delighted smirk as he pressed a knee onto the bedding he’d stolen. I dropped my losing end of the tug-of-war and folded my arms in a huff over breasts whose nipples had hardened as if for his viewing pleasure. My growl met his turned back while he laid out with great care something he’d held bundled under an arm. As soon as he shifted his weight, I jerked the sheet back up to my chin.

Fragments of last night’s ending flashed through the sludge of my brain. Iain had escorted me to my room. A tender good-night kiss followed. Hot teasing lips had trailed down my neck, searing my skin, as we stood in the doorway. I failed to remember anything further. Like how I got undressed, for example.

Hell, I was still catching up to the fact that I’d awoken in the thirteenth century.

“Iain, did we . . .”

He chuckled, shooting a devilish look my way. “Nay. Your virtue’s still intact, for now. But I did properly tuck you into bed last night.”

Images of him peeling off my clothes taunted a sluggish mind ill equipped to handle details. “Iain Brodie! I can’t believe you took that kind of liberty.”

He drew to his full height, towering over me. “I’ll take every kind of liberty I want. I never proclaimed to be, nor have I ever been, a gentleman in any time or place. You’re damned lucky I want you sober, and we’ve only got a couple more days, or you’d have been a lot more than merely naked at my hand.”

Iain lunged forward. Startled, I fell back onto bent elbows, exposing myself down to the waist again.

He hovered over me, his lips almost touching mine. “But, if you try me, Isa—if you tempt the beast within me—nothin’ in any world will hold me back from takin’ what’s already mine.”

I’d gone breathless. The meaning of his words, and his dominance over me, paralyzed my caffeine-deprived ass. He smirked as he slowly extricated his body from the position he’d forced us into. His gaze roved over every inch of my nudity. The barely controlled heaving of his chest, the repeated clenching of his fists, and the uncontained, low growl rumbling from that beast within him told me I was damned lucky indeed.