Highland Destiny (19 page)

"You're fire in bed."

Her head reared back as if he'd slapped her. "And is that all that matters? That I'm a good lay?" Her eyes searched his for any hint of feeling. They were hard sapphires. She laughed bitterly, "And to think, I was worried that I wasn't good enough." She met his eyes, not bothering to hide the hurt. "Wow, thanks Connor for being such a willing tutor.

Maybe next we can try something new. A different position perhaps?" Venom dripped from every word.

A long finger traced her pouting lower lip. "Such vulgar language from such a beautiful mouth. Need I remind you to hold your tongue?" His soft voice carried the implicit threat, but Mackenzie didn't care.

"Go to hell!" She pushed futilely at his iron chest, desperate to escape before the tears started to fall again.

The whistler was coming back through, and Connor pulled her towards the shadows. "Mayhap we should take this elsewhere." It wasn't a request, it was a command.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she fumed. Mackenzie wanted to run back to her room and slam the door in his face.

"Stop me then." Connor dared her, his arms around her tightening in anticipation.

She pushed at his chest once more. "What is your
problem?
"

"My problem is a lass who doesn't ken her place," his eyes narrowed in response.

"My
place?"
She echoed, astonished. One hand lifted to cover her eyes, and her shock was obvious even through the 182

"I'll no' argue with you here. 'Tis no' proper."

"Good, then let me go," and she tugged at his hold to emphasize her point.

He smiled, "Hmm...I think no'," and he lifted her effortlessly over his shoulder and strode towards the tower stairs. Her fists pummeled his back in vain.

"Put me down you arrogant jerk!"

"Aye, my Lady, as soon as we are someplace more private."

She didn't quit her struggle as he took the stairs two at a time—-not even slowing under her weight. He kicked the door to his room open and dropped her on his bed. He murmured,

"My Lady," with a slight mocking bow. Mackenzie gritted her teeth.

"Your bed? Very mature, Connor." She rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn't see that she was terrified to be in his bed.

She knew she wouldn't be able to resist him if he tried something, and it was humiliating.

"Who am I to argue that your place is in my bed?" The blue sapphire of his eyes had turned molten again, the color was that of the ocean and she felt like she was trying to keep her head above water. She was going to drown. Infuriatingly, that thought still couldn't put out the fire he'd started. He leaned down over her until their faces were just inches away, placing an arm on either side of her body. Mackenzie hated 183

"Keep it warm for me, lass." He stepped back and pulled his brooch and plaid off.

Her eyes widened, "What are you doing?"

"I am getting ready for bed." He arched an eyebrow, as he pulled his linen shirt off. Mackenzie tried really hard not to look at his naked chest, but it was difficult not to. He was incredible. And he was laughing at her. She slid off the bed, and ran for the side door to her room. Mackenzie gave in to the urge and childishly slammed it shut, looking for a bolt, or a lock of some form. Of course there was none.
Stupid pre-women's lib era!
Connor stepped through the door and she backed up as he advanced on her.

"Doona do that again." He kept walking towards her.

"Do what?" Mackenzie kept backing away from him until the backs of her knees hit the bed.

"Shut me out." He stopped in front of Mackenzie.

"Why? Again, why do I matter? Is it just sex?" Her eyes searched his looking for some small measure of feeling. His earlier words came back to her:
He'll be furious when he finds
out I've bedded ye.
The Campbell. That was all this had ever been about. She glumly realized that she had been played.

"Or is it because I was to be your enemy's bride? But you got me first; to the victor go the spoils, right? And I'm the prize?

Is that why you want me? God, I'm stupid. To think, I almost imagined you actually cared for me! I am an idiot." She turned her head and prayed that she wouldn't cry. Not now, not in front of him.

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"Sure. Sure you do," she muttered drily.

"Is it so hard to believe that?"

"If you care for someone, you don't boss them around, Connor. You don't use them as a means to an end. You don't keep them prisoner, you respect them. And most importantly, when you care for someone, you trust them. Can you honestly tell me you trust me?"

Connor was silent.

"I didn't think so. Now, if you don't mind,
my Laird
, I'm really tired and I'd like to go to bed."
And cry my eyes out
, she mentally added.

He recognized the change in her tone, the dismissal, and his eyes flashed with the implication. He responded similarly,

"Of course
my Lady...
but you're sleeping in my bed."

Her eyebrows shot sky-high. "The hell I am!"

His eyebrows snapped down over his nose. "The hell you're no'. I refuse to let you out of my sight. For all I ken, you'll try to run again!"

"If you'd quit insulting me, maybe I'd stay."

"I tell you I care for you and you accuse me of insulting you?" Connor was incredulous.

"Your actions speak louder than your words, Connor. You slept with me to provoke your enemy. I can't ignore that."

"I dinna. And I doona regret what we did, do you?" he challenged, his blue eyes intense.

"It doesn't matter. It happened. It's over." She glanced sharply at him, "And it won't happen again."

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"I promise not to run, okay?" she was almost begging. "I swear it." Staying the night in his bed would only exacerbate the situation. He was silent, appraising. She almost desperately pleaded, "Does my word mean nothing to you?"

Mackenzie didn't give Connor a chance to respond, instead, answering herself softly, "Oh, right, I forgot. You don't trust me."

"'Tis na that I doona trust you..."

"Whatever Connor." She interrupted, not letting him finish his sentence. Mackenzie stomped to the chair and sat down with a huff...on her purse! "Oh for the love of...how could I forget?" Her eyes were eager as she yanked it out from under her, but she made her voice uninterested, "Connor, I was wondering, what if I could offer you undeniable proof that I am who I say I am? Would you trust me then?"

"I would be interested to see what proof you have that would fit in a bag that small." Despite himself, he stepped closer.

Mackenzie stood, brushed past him and dumped the contents of her purse on the bed. As she pawed through the many lip glosses and spare change that never quite made it into her wallet, she finally held her camera aloft, much like Arthur when he'd pulled the sword from the stone, she thought. "Here! All the proof you'll ever need"

"How does that prove your story?"

"It's a digital camera! It takes photographs. See look,"

Mackenzie clicked it on and pressed the Review button. "See these are all the photos from my trip! Here's me in the 186

It's all grass and flowers now. Oh! And here's my room; see?

A T.V. and my laptop!" Her excitement got the better of her and she was leaning in close to Connor so he could see the camera's screen. When she glanced at his face in triumph, certain she'd proved her case, she sighed. Connor had no clue what she was showing him. So, she clicked her camera to Auto, and pointed it at Connor, "Say cheese," she muttered and she snapped a picture of a very annoyed Connor. The flash startled him though and when she turned the screen to him, she could see his shock. "See?" She felt smug.

"What kind of witchery is this?" Connor crossed himself and stepped back.

Mackenzie sighed, an impatient and frustrated sound. "It's modern 21st century technology, that's all. Here, watch."

Mackenzie turned the camera on herself and snapped a picture. "See? It's easy. No harm done." Mackenzie tried a different approach. She'd explain it very slowly and simply.

"Above my bed is a painting, right? What if you were not an artist? But this landscape is so beautiful that you would want to always remember how it looked? In my time, you would take a photograph." Mackenzie walked to the window, opened the glass, and took a picture of the cliffs and ocean. "Now, I will always have a picture of the way the ocean looked right now, at this moment." She paused, "Is this making any sense to you?"

Connor stepped close enough to look, but not did not touch it. "This is trickery."

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Mackenzie held out the camera as a peace offering.

"So what exactly does this prove?" He made no move to take the camera.

Mackenzie sighed and put it on the bed. "It proves that I am from 200 years in the future!" He was so stubborn! How could he
still
not believe her?

"It proves that you have powerful magic."

"Ugh, seriously?" Mackenzie shoved her hair roughly out of her face. "You can believe in magic, but not time travel?

You're so closed-minded! Here, let's see what else I have."

She found her cell phone and turned it on. "Here's a cellular phone. It allows you to talk to people from far away. I know, I know, it would be more impressive if it had service. But it still has camera capability, and ringtones, and texts I've saved, and I don't know, here." She threw it on the bed next to the camera. "Hmm...what else; lip gloss, pen, tampon, more lip gloss gum, ooh! My wallet! Here look, money, some pictures, my driver's license...Ew, don't look at the picture.

Holy cow! My i-pod! Sweet! Here!" Mackenzie held out the i-Pod, but Connor remained frozen. She turned up the music as loud as possible since he wouldn't move to put the ear buds in, and pressed Play. She winced as a heavy metal song came through. "Sorry, my friend Jenna was messing with my playlists." He was looking at her as if she had two heads.

"Okay, hmm...how about this song?" Mackenzie changed it to the haunting melody her favorite song. "You still can't even believe me after all of this?" She wasn't really asking him, but 188

Connor spoke at that point, "What exactly is the obvious?"

"Let's see, my clothes when you first met me, my speech, my demeanor," she was ticking them off on her fingers as she went along, "pretty much everything strange or unexplainable about me. Doesn't this make any sense to you at all?" Her eyes were searching his unreadable expression, hoping for some small glimpse of his thoughts. Nothing. She heaved a resigned sigh, ready to give up; it wasn't worth the effort if he wouldn't even budge his narrow-minded view of the world.

"Wow, okay, never mind Connor. I'll just go back to being your prisoner and you can live in ignorance of what's actually happening and life will be just peachy."

His voice sounded tired, "Mackenzie, can you no' give me a few moments to think through this?" He lifted the still playing i-pod from her bed and glanced at the album cover on the screen, staring at it as if he could find the answers to all his questions on it.

"It is a lot of information to process," Mackenzie conceded.

"Why do I hear noise from this? How?"

"It's music, not noise. In the same way that my camera can record a still image of something, and we can see it whenever we want, we have the technology," at his blank look, she swiftly amended, "I mean, the
ability
to record music and play it back whenever we want. Let me see if I can find something less offensive to your ears." She had to have some classical music on her somewhere. "Do you know this one? It's a traditional hymn. You might recognize it."

189

"I hear the pipes...but how? Where are the instruments?"

He pulled the ear bud out of his ear and then tugged at the one in Mackenzie's before taking it gingerly from her hands.

"What is this?" He was turning it over in his hands.

"An mp3 player. And I don't know how it works, I only know how to work it." She smiled wryly at her technological handicap.

"I ken the words; 'tis a poem. The tune is unfamiliar though." He seemed to be softening to her cause.

"Here, let's go back to the camera again." Mackenzie turned off the i-Pod, and picked up her camera. "Do you want to see some more pictures of your castle 200 years from now?"

"It still stands?"

He was starting to believe her! Mackenzie tried to reign in her excitement and had trouble keeping her voice neutral.

"Yes, it's just slightly different, and bigger. There's indoor plumbing and electricity. But a lot of it is the same. Here's a picture of my friend Jenna and me in the dining room, umm...your ballroom. Oh! And would you believe that this is where I first saw you? It's a picture of the oil painting of you hanging in the Billeting room."

He murmured, "I never liked that painting." Connor was holding the camera gingerly now, as if it might bite him, and 190