To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull #1)

Chapter Eleven

“ A bsolutely not,” snapped Shoney.

“I do not understand ye. Ye speak of the misery of yer isolation. Ye badger me for weeks about coming to Gribun. I present ye with a perfectly sound plan for introducing ye to the clan, and ye reject it. If I didn’t know better, Shoney, then I would say that ye were afraid,” Ronan challenged.

She released a frustrated screech. How dare he act as though she had no reason to be upset? His suggestion was offensive.

“Shoney, no one knows who ye are. ‘Tis as though ye do not exist. It would be so easy for ye to enter the village with a new name. Many in my clan have never even left Mull. We would claim ye were a member of another clan from Skye or Arran.”

“And what would happen when they found out ye lied, Ronan?”

“No one would find out,” he snapped.

“Perhaps, ye’re right. Perhaps ye could deceive the people who love and trust ye, but I will not. My name is Shoney, daughter of Brethia. I will not betray my mother’s rest by surrendering my name.”

“But ye must, Shoney,” Ronan said as he grabbed her arms. “There’s no other way.”

“Then ye should not have vowed to bring me to the village in the first place.” She shook her head, scowling. “My mother was right. Men make vows they cannot keep.”

“Do not try to make a liar of me. I have broken no vow. I said ye would be welcomed into the clan. I made no promises regarding how this could be done.”

He turned on his heel and ducking his head under the doorway he stepped outside, evidently needing to cool off. She had only known Ronan for a season, but one facet of his personality which she had become fully acquainted with in that time was his temper. Not that she was any better, but how could she remain calm under the circumstances? He asked her to give up her life, everything she had ever known, her beliefs. It was too great a price and for what?

What did he intend to gain by bringing her into the village? Why would he go to such lengths? Could it be he pitied her? Her isolation was indeed wretched as was her need to disguise herself as a hideous crone, limping across the moors, scaring children and grown men along the way, but that was her business.

“How dare he pity me?” she said as she stomped outside to tell him just that. “Ye have no right coming here and telling me how I should live my life.” She stood as straight as she could, craning her neck back to meet his gaze and jabbing him in the chest repeatedly to emphasize each word. “I do not want yer pity.”

She turned on her heel, but she did not get far before he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Pity? Why would I pity ye? Ye move about the world with no responsibility, no one to answer to. Ye have absolute freedom to go anywhere and be anything!”

“Except myself,” she returned.

“God’s blood, Shoney, I cannot change this world to suit ye. I would if I could, but I cannot.” His eyes flashed with anger. If she hadn’t known better, she might have been afraid of the glint visible beneath his heavy brow, but she was not afraid of him, not anymore.

“Those are fancy words, Ronan,” she spat. “Ye would change the world for me? Why is that? Showing Christian charity to the friendless outcast? I need no one’s pity.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Damn ye, Shoney, why do ye challenge me still? I am only trying to give ye what ye want.”

“Why?” she raged. “Why do ye care where I live? Why would ye go to such great lengths, deceiving yer family, for me?”

“Because, it is my choice, my will,” he yelled.

“Why?” She shouted again.

“Because ye’re my choice,” he growled, closing the short distance separating them. He grabbed a hold of her waist and swung her into his arms as his lips closed over hers.

His mouth was hungry and insistent. She couldn’t breathe. She felt as though she was suffocating beneath the crushing pressure of his lips. His fingers dug into her flesh causing her to wince with pain. She pushed against his chest as she struggled to break free, but he was massive and unyielding.

Then almost as suddenly as the kiss began, he thrust her back on the ground. She could not speak or move. Shock rendered her mind useless, but then he spoke, and his words sent a chill up her spine.

“Run, Shoney,” he growled. “Go back inside now before I take what has not been offered.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she turned and fled, slamming the door behind her. Still trying to catch her breath, she pulled back the stag hide to peer out the window. He stood unmoving, staring at her door. Even through the stones, she could feel the animal energy emanating from his body. He raised his hand once as if to knock, but it dropped to his side as he backed away.

She was afraid of what would happen if he stayed, but she could not bear to watch him go. His last words echoed over and over again in her mind.

Because ye’re my choice.

A flash of lightning lit the darkening sky and illuminated the shifting storm clouds that unleashed their showers as if by the lightning’s command. She watched as he stood unflinching in the rain, staring at her hut from a distance .

Because ye’re my choice.

Her feet moved of their own accord one in front of the other toward the door. All else but Ronan was forgotten. She had thought of nothing but him since they first met, and she had long given up the struggle to pretend she did not desire his touch. His lips and hands awakened a yearning within, which intensified every time he was near. She stood in front of the door. Her hand grazed her lips swollen, sore from the force of his kiss. For a moment, fear gripped her mind, but she watched her hand pull back the door as though it belonged to someone else. Her body was in control, and her mind was powerless to stop what was already in motion.

He was her choice.

She stepped outside heedless of the rain and walked toward Ronan. Her eyes met his and did not waver. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Why are ye here?” he whispered when she stood in front of him.

She did not trust herself to reply. She refused to allow her fear to take hold. Instead, she did what she dreamed. She reached up and ran her hands along the wet, hard ridges of his chest and arms.

“Shoney, do ye know what ye are asking for?” he said hoarsely.

“Aye...Nay...Well, not entirely,” she smiled as she pressed her lips to a place below his chest.

She moved around him, dragging her fingers across his waist as she walked. Then her eyes feasted on the broad expanse of his back. Both hands spread wide against his skin. Her lips pressed into him. Her tongue flicked out, licking at the rain drops as they traveled down from his shoulders. He swore and spun around to face her but kept his arms stiff at his sides.

“Shoney, if I touch ye, I will not be able to stop.”

“That is one vow I insist ye keep, because I want ye to touch all of me.”

His groan filled her ears, quickening her heart, and filling her with wild excitement. He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. His mouth descended on hers with the full force of his desire, which she hungrily returned with a demand all her own.

His arm came behind her knees as he carried her through the rain and into her hut, his mouth never leaving hers. As soon as her feet touched the ground beside the fire, he seized her tunic and kirtle, pulling them over her head. His eyes explored her bare flesh, and she blushed in response as she tried to shield herself from his gaze with her hands.

A slow smile curved one side of his mouth as he moved to stand close to her. His hands gently stroked her shoulders.

“Do ye know how beautiful ye are?” he whispered.

His fingers threaded through her hair as he dipped his head. She felt the tip of his tongue run lightly along the ridges of her mouth, cresting smoothly over her top lip and sweeping down slowly like a whispered caress along the bottom where he lingered.

Instinctively, she opened her mouth in response. His hold on her body tightened as he pressed her closer. She heard herself groan as she wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with an uncontrollable urgency. A sensation erupted in her core and spread like a breaking wave throughout her body.

But then the unexpected and unwanted happened. A flash of white light crossed her mind’s eye, making way for a vision.

She stood in the sand, wearing only her shift. Waves were breaking, drawing close to her feet and pulling away again like a shy child seeking affection. Ahead, Ronan walked toward distant cliffs. She called to him, but he did not stop. She yelled louder, screaming with all her might. Still, he did not glance back. In moments, breaths, he was faraway, only a shadow on the horizon. Bending her head in despair, she knew in her heart he was gone forever. At her feet were scattered shards of a broken mirror, but she did not see her reflection in the pieces. The glass held images of her and Ronan together. Collapsing to her knees, she franticly gathered the fragments to safeguard her memories, but suddenly they mirrored only her tear-stained face. She sobbed in anguish, clutching the jagged remains until her palms gushed with blood. She watched as the incoming tide carried the redness away, taking with it love’s promise.

The vision faded, but the pain remained, overwhelming Shoney’s senses and smothering the flames of Ronan’s kiss.

She struggled against his embrace. “Ronan, stop.”

He continued to kiss and stroke her skin. “Ronan, I can’t. We can’t,” she cried.

“Ronan,” she shouted, her tone forcing him to meet her gaze. “Ye will hurt me. I have seen it.”

He released her and stepped back, dropping his arms at his sides. He panted, his eyes heavy with passion, but when he spoke his voice was gentle.

“Shoney,” he said. “Ye must know I could never hurt ye.” Grasping her hands, he pressed them flat against his chest where his heart beat. The swiftness of its drumming and the smooth hardness of his skin, hot beneath her fingers, almost made her forget her protest. “I know yer gift is strong,” he said. “Ye rightly place faith in yer visions, but ye must also learn to put faith in others, in me.”

Her mind raced. Never had she felt as alive as she did when she was with him, and not just when he held her, touched her, but every time he was near. He brought laughter back to her life. He brought hope and the promise of better days. But the agony she had felt in her vision seized her heart with the knowledge of a pain worse than death, the foretelling of a long life spent in solitude having known love’s promise. Her visions never failed her, but was he right? Could she trust him despite the counsel of her own instincts?

She cupped his face in her hands as she searched his eyes. She saw nothing but goodness and truth in their amber depths. Desire overshadowed reason. Exhaling slowly, she stood on the tips of her toes as her hand came behind his neck. Then she pulled his lips down to meet hers, sealing her fate with a kiss.

His hands wrapped around her waist as her feet left the ground. He kissed her with slow, relishing motions, drawing groans of pleasure from places deep within she never knew existed. The warmth and strength of his body surrounded her, engulfed her, but it was not enough. She wanted to be closer. She wanted more.

Her hand reached down to his waist as she fumbled with his belt. He grinned at her. “Ye are my own Saucy Mary.”

She blushed knowing he thought her bold, but then she smiled wickedly, deciding he should know now she would never be obedient and demure. Despite what he believed, she was a descendant of women warriors. She would be brazen when it suited her and prudent when she decided it was required—now not being the time for prudence.

She felt his belt give way. Then she slid the extra folds of plaid off his shoulder.

“Put me down,” she said as his plaid fell to the ground.

She stepped back. Her eyes roamed over his large frame. He was everything masculine with hard, defined lines and ridged muscles. His skin was bronzed and smooth, stretched taut over sinew and sprinkled with golden hair. Her eyes were drawn to the puckered skin of his scars. She kissed each one. Two were but inches from being death wounds, and she closed her eyes, thanking the Mother of all for protecting him.

He spread his plaid by the fire like a blanket before he grabbed her fiercely, pulling her beneath him. His body covered hers, but he supported his weight on an elbow.

“Lie on me,” she implored as her arms encircled his neck. “I want to feel all of ye.”

“Nay, Shoney, I would crush ye,” he whispered .

Then his lips began to blaze a trail of fire down her throat and along her shoulders. He kissed and stroked her, igniting her body with hot desire, causing her back to arch as she cried out. Her hands moved over him with an urgency that was pure feeling. Her mind gave over to the intense ache, which permeated every inch of her flesh. Something within her was building, a sweet agony demanding relief.

His weight shifted, and slowly he entered her. She held her breath as everything stood still while she took more and more of him. At first, a flash of hot pain coursed through her, but it subsided as quickly as it came, and soon their bodies moved in unison. Her nails raked his back. She tried to press him closer. Need surged through her as wild abandon took hold, guiding her actions. It was carnal and timeless and as powerful and natural as the sea. Throbbing heat ignited her core, pulsing and craving release. The ache intensified as blissful terror flooded her senses. Her body erupted. She cried out, trembling and quaking, swept away on rapturous waves. Through a euphoric haze she heard his cry and felt him shudder around her. She clung to him, burying her face in his neck, thinking she would be lost forever.

TRY AS HE MIGHT, RONAN could not catch his breath. He had known the sweet pleasure of women before, but even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined the feral abandon of Shoney. She showed no restraint, holding nothing back. He had lost himself to the tremendous hunger she stirred, making him feel crazed with desire. He gazed in awe at the small but powerful woman trying to catch her breath in his embrace.

“Are ye alright?” he whispered.

She threw her arms around his neck, which he decided was answer enough. Finding her skin damp from their exertions, he dragged his fingers over the length of her creamy legs and curved hips. Although she was small, her body was not overly lean. It was soft in all the right places. His hand caressed the curve of her stomach and the gentle flare of her hips. Her thighs were strong but also supple to the touch. His hands suddenly became furtive as he stroked her, his desire renewed. He needed her again. He groaned as he felt her teeth bite into his shoulder.

“Ronan,” he heard her whisper. “Make it happen again.”

He stretched over her, pressing into her heat, but then he froze. Something or someone was outside. He glanced down; confusion clouded her eyes. She started to speak, but he covered her mouth with his hand and motioned for her to be silent. Her confusion quickly turned to fear as he stood and took hold of his sword. He slowly edged toward the door, glancing back to offer reassurance, but she was not a shivering mass hiding under his plaid as he had expected. She stood in all her naked glory with her sword raised at the ready. He scowled and motioned for her to get down, but she rolled her eyes and emphatically pointed toward the door, clearly chastising him for turning away from possible danger.

He jerked around as the door slammed open and a man bounded inside, hollering and wildly swinging his sword. Ronan jumped back in time to escape the slicing force of the blade and straightaway recognized the madman.

“Aidan?” he said.

Aidan stood in the center of the hut still bellowing and stabbing at the air, but he did not attack nor did he seem to notice no one attacked him. He was lost to panic.

“Aidan,” Ronan called again, but still his friend did not hear.

He moved behind him, ducking the swing of his blade. Seizing a hold of Aidan’s hand, he kept the sword aloft and spun him around.

“Aidan,” Ronan urged. “’Tis me. ‘Tis Ronan.”

Aidan panted, and his eyes darted everywhere, but he did not appear to see anything. Ronan grabbed a mug of water from the table and tossed the contents, hitting Aidan square in the face. He sputtered and wiped his eyes. When they opened Ronan could see they were lucid but still afraid.

“Ronan,” he gasped. “Thank the Lord ye’re alive.”

He headed toward the door. “Why do ye stand there, Ronan? Let us flee.”

“Aidan, ye need to calm down,” he said as he looked around for Shoney. He was relieved to see her peeking out from behind the far side of her table.

“God rot calming down,” Aidan growled. “We’re standing in the house of the Witch of Dervaig. I don’t want to linger a moment longer. Come away,” he implored.

“Aidan, ye must listen to me.”

“No, Ronan,” he shouted. “Ye listen to me. The hag has put some spell on ye. Ye must come with me now before she returns, and we’re both lost to her witchcraft.”

“Aidan, there is no witch.”

“Damn it, Ronan. Ye’re the stronger between us, but I feel I could best ye right now. I am leaving, and by Christ’s blood, ye’re coming with me. Will ye go, or need I beat the breath out of ye?”

Terror was clearly reclaiming control over his friend. Without further hesitation, Ronan pulled back and hit Aidan square in the jaw. He crumpled unconscious to the ground.