The Warlord Forever (3 page)

“I thought you kenned what you were doing when you read the spell to release me.” He’d listened to her mumbling to herself as she read her uncle’s notes, wanting to believe his legend was true. Wasn’t his standing here before her proof enough?

“I didn’t think it would actually work.”

His eyes drifted again to her breasts, the hard points of her nipples peaking against the fabric of her gown. How easy it would be to snag his fingers under those thin straps and rip them free. If she’d woken him because she wanted immortality, she’d have to pay for it.
Over and over.

She folded her arms over her chest and made a sound of contempt as he continued to stare at her. An action he was well familiar with. She would try to fight it, but she was crazy for him. All women were. It was a curse he’d been born with.

“I am anxious to learn of your world,” he said, letting his eyes roam over her luscious body. “Starting with your bedchamber.” He reached for her again, to pull her to him, but she backed away.

She was afraid of him. Didn’t trust him.
Clever lass
. He should’ve known she wouldn’t give in so easily. This tender flower would need time to unfold her beauty.

Her mind intrigued him more than any other part of her. He’d listened to her fight off the reporters and keep David Wilkes at bay. Sharp and witty, she was a woman who could lounge all night beside a fire with a dram of whisky and debate the world. She would be the perfect companion. The perfect host to lead him into the future. The twenty-first century.

Gads
.

How time had passed. He’d given up so many years of his life, and he would get all of them back with this remarkable woman. He wanted her to show him
everything
.

****

In her bedchamber?
Kenna raised her brow in surprise. “You certainly move fast, don’t you?” She’d never brought a man home before. Not for that sort of thing.

She preferred to keep her love life private, when she had one. She hadn’t had a date for months. She remembered more than twelve months was a year. Okay, so it had been a long time. Most men didn’t interest her, and if they did, they had to pass her second test: being able to spell.

“I’ve been locked away for a verra long time.” Ian stepped towards her again.

How did you spell
verra
?

The heated look in his eyes made her want to keep a safe distance between them and she continued backing out of the kitchen as he advanced on her, moving them down the hallway.

“I didn’t wake you because I wanted a lover,” she snapped. “I didn’t mean to read the inscription.”

“Dinna you now?” He kept stalking her, his long strides forcing her to pick up the pace of her backwards retreat. “No’ a verra good liar, are you?”

Kenna stumbled into the study. Trapping herself in the room with this great warrior was probably a mistake, but it was better than leading him to her bedroom. She imagined once he got started, there would be no stopping him. Certainly not from her if her dreams were any indication of how good a lover he’d be. “I didn’t know what would happen when I read it,” she insisted. She’d had an idea, though.

“Ah, lass,” he sighed, then smiled wisely. He had a mouth made for kissing. “I heard you ripping through the notes of your uncle. You were dying to release me from the curse.”

He’d been awake in his tomb? Listening to her? He must’ve heard everything that went on in the house since he’d arrived. Did that mean he’d been awake through his entire confinement?
For centuries?

“You heard me?”

“I heard you, MacKenna Douglas.” He leaned closer to her. “I heard
everything
.”

Was it getting hot in here? She’d put the fire out hours ago, and had turned down the heat before going to bed. It was a cold, rainy January, and still her body grew heated and warm. Because of
him.
Because of the way he’d said her name in that deep, Scottish brogue. And the predatory way he was looking at her.

“Wh-Why were you cursed in the first place?” she stuttered the question.

Why had he suffered such a horrible punishment?

“The truth is, that slag of a Queen tricked me into drinking her potion.” Fury burned in his green eyes. “I wouldna serve her. I am Ian Fletcher!” He crossed one of his arms over his chest. Such a regal gesture. Proud. “I bow to no one.”

Kenna felt the power of this warrior. Raw. Courageous. Strong. Was he a noble man as well? One to be trusted? The sheer size of him alone was intimidating, and she would be weak and helpless against him. Oh, and he was immortal, so he couldn’t die.

“How did the Queen trap you?” she wondered.

Was the Queen more powerful than Ian? Hard to believe. It had to be Fairy magic. Even harder to believe.

“She dinna trap me, lass.” He seemed amused at the very thought. “I took myself from the world.” His look quickly turned somber, grim. “I was tired of being alone, wandering the Earth while everything around me died. I asked to be sealed inside the tomb.”

How awful!
She had the urge to comfort him, to take him in her arms, but he might not welcome the gesture. The hardened warrior might think she was offering him more than comfort. A man who radiated as much sexuality as he did needed to be kept at a safe distance.

“I never thought being immortal would be so lonely,” was all she could think to say. Her words were not comforting in the least. Even she felt depressed.

“It isna lonely tonight,” he said, with a devilish twinkle in his bright eyes. “Not with you here.” He moved fast, circling his arm around her waist and placing his mouth over hers.

Kenna was stunned. Liking his kiss, she almost gave in to it, and had to push him away. “No,” she said firmly.

He had no right to take such liberties with her. Whether she liked the way it felt or not. This wasn’t a dream, and she had to make him understand he couldn’t take whatever he wanted. Not in her world. So why did she want to let him do just that?

A low growl rumbled in his chest and he held her tighter, his gaze darkening with lust. “No?” His voice was gruff. He looked as if he’d never been refused before.

“No,” she reiterated, trying to squirm away from him.

He released her and took a step back, acknowledging her boundaries. “Only when you want me.” He inclined his head respectfully.

His gentlemanly show of restraint suddenly made her want him, wild and untamed as he was. She tried to imagine what he would look like with a proper haircut and some fresh clothes.
Something not a kilt
.

“Oh, I feel terrible,” she said, inspecting the food stains on the front of his shirt and his tangled hair.

After thousands of years, she never considered the man might want to clean himself up. Take a shower. Get a change of clothes. She wasn’t being a very gracious hostess. She had awakened this man, so he was her responsibility now.

Shit.

****

Ian smiled with triumph. The lass didn’t have to feel terrible for refusing his advances. Only had to make it up to him with another tantalizing kiss. He reached for her, and was confused when she backed away from him. Was he reading her wrong?

Did he merely have to take her? Force her to submit to his will? He’d have her enjoying every moment of it. Her soft voice begging for him.

“Which is it, lass? Do you want me, or no’?”

“Is sex all you think about?” she snapped. “Maybe I should have left you sealed inside that tomb.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” He laughed at her fiery temper.

Then he froze.

He...laughed?

How long had it been since he’d known the pleasure of laughter?
Of joy?
This woman had brought it out of him. Gads, he was in love with her just for that.

“Would you like to bathe?” she asked. “I can get you some fresh clothes.”

Ian had no idea how he must look after centuries of slumber. He also had no idea how the men of her time looked and dressed. Perhaps she would receive him better if he saw to his appearance.

“Ah, lass, you ken the way to a man’s heart.” He winked at her. She was making all of this go much easier.

“Right,” she said, not convinced. “Come with me.”

She beckoned him to follow her and led him up the grand staircase, past a landing with a tall clock bedecked in gold trim. At least the man who’d found him had a worthy home. Ian liked lots of space and fine things. It appeared he had that in common with Duncan Douglas.

He missed the old man. He’d gotten used to hearing his voice down in the cave with him, rambling about curses and legends and magic. The old man would have been the one to open his tomb instead of Kenna, if David Wilkes hadn’t killed him. Ian would be sure to settle that score. He knew the man would be back, looking for immortality.

Ian had something else to give him.

Kenna led him to the top of the stairs, and then turned left down the darkened hallway. They passed so many rooms he lost count. In what room was Master Evan asleep? And where did she sleep?

She opened the door to a wash room and remained in the doorway while he stepped inside. He recognized the bath, but other things were strange to him.

“There are towels next to the shower.” She pointed to a shelf. “I’ll try to find you something to wear.”

He looked up from the strange chamber pot. “Will you no’ bathe with me?”

“No.” She blushed. “I will not.”

Couldn’t blame a man for trying. He could tell she liked the idea. No mistaking that blush in her cheeks. He pressed the silver handle on the chamber pot and the water swirled around the white bowl before gurgling down a hole.

Fascinating!

“Kenna Douglas!” A man came up behind her.

Ian recognized his voice. Her cousin.
Evan
. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled and his hair a mess. Ian was certain he looked better than the young Master.

“What is my virtuous cousin doing entertaining a man so late at night?” Evan gawked at him, and then smiled broadly. “Or should I say so early in the morning? Trying to sneak him out before I was up?” Evan walked over and slapped him on the back. “Well done!”

What was the young lad going on about?

“Evan,” Kenna’s tone was a warning one. “I wouldn’t upset him.”

“He’s a big one too.” Evan studied Ian from head to toe. “A big one wearing a
kilt
?” Realization dawned in his brown eyes. “Is that a sword?” His gaze darted over to Kenna.

“Evan, meet Ian Fletcher.”

Ian held his hand out to the young Master, inviting him to take it. Evan stared dumbly at him.

“Doona fash yourself,” he said. “I mean you no harm. I owe your cousin my gratitude for releasing me from the spell.”

Evan absently took his open hand, never taking his eyes away from him, and shook it up and down in an odd manner. “You’re the Scottish guy from the tomb?” He creased his brow.

“Aye.” Ian nodded.

Evan cast a nervous glance at Kenna. “What the hell did you do?”

“You told me to find out what was in the thing,” she huffed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. “Well, it was him.”

“Yeah, but how did you get it open?”

“I read the inscription.”

“Without me?” Evan complained. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I thought I was dreaming,” she said. “I...I can’t really explain how it all happened.”

“You’d better think of something.” Evan turned back to Ian and studied him closely. “How are we going to explain the empty tomb? And what do we say about
him
?”

“I haven’t really gotten that far,” she said. “He’s devoured the entire fridge, so he’s fed. I thought to clean him up a little and go from there.”

“You’re going to be in serious trouble if anyone finds out the truth.”

Ian tensed. Kenna in trouble? Because of him? He’d never let it happen. He would protect her.

“Me?” Her eyes went wide. “You’re in this just as much as I am.”

“I didn’t open the tomb and release an immortal Scottish warlord. You did that all by yourself.”

“And now you know about it, so you’re just as guilty.”

“No way.” Evan shook his head. “No way! This is nuts!”

As much as Ian hated to see Kenna upset, he rather enjoyed watching the two of them argue. They did it all the time. Though there was anger in their words, there was love between them. He chuckled with delight. It was a wonderful feeling.

“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” she responded.

It was his turn to catch her temper. He didn’t mind one bit. “You’re beautiful when you’re beelin’.” He purposely baited her, applauding himself when she blushed and grew nervous. Her green eyes stayed locked on him.
So very beautiful
.

Evan looked at him like he was off his head, then started laughing. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer, dear cousin.”

“Don’t make fun,” she scolded, narrowing her eyes. “Or I’ll have him put that sword to good use.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t lose your temper,” Evan teased. “You’ve got a man to bathe.”

Ian pulled his shirt off over his head, ready to make those words a reality. To feel her soft hands on his flesh. He was careful as he tugged off his boots, not wanting to reveal the silver flask hidden inside. He removed each of the dirks strapped to his right arm and leg, and the dagger from his left boot, and piled them on the floor next to his shirt. He unfastened the sheath around his waist and carefully leaned his sword against the wall next to his other weapons.

Kenna and Evan were staring at him with the strangest expressions, eyes wide and mouths hanging open. Did people of their time not unclothe to bathe?

****

Kenna knew she was unabashedly staring at the warlord, but she couldn’t stop herself. He’d unloaded a small arsenal of weapons she hadn’t even realized could be hidden on a man in a kilt. Her eyes greedily took in the rest of him. Ian was a magnificent man made of thick, hard muscle, with a wide chest and a firm torso tapering to a lean waist. Light golden hairs dusted his chest, his arms and legs. His long blonde hair hung around his shoulders, but didn’t make him look any less male. A silver band with Celtic symbols encircled his upper right arm.