Isla awoke in the morning and stretched as the dawn’s sunshine slithered between the wooden shutters over her narrow window and offered the promise of a beautiful day to come. She turned over and smiled as Iain lay snoozing beside her, his hair a rumpled mess and his jaw holding a razz of stubble. She buried her nose into his neck and nipped his flesh. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’ve a mission ahead of us and we need to get moving.”
“Is it morning already?” He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
“It surely is.” She crawled over top of him, hopped out of bed and slid the burgundy ambry curtain to one side. The maid had hung a number of gowns and she selected the first one. With the mountainous folds of rich red fabric in hand, she eased the material over her head. The heavy layers whooshed down her body and brushed the polished floorboards. So weighty and cumbersome. She wouldn’t be able to move as fast as she usually did in such clothing. She searched the floor for her jeans. Gone, and so too was the rest of her clothing. The maids must have taken it all with them when they’d cleared everything away.
“What’s wrong, love?” Iain lumbered toward her, every inch of him so deliciously nude.
“I, ah, lost my clothes. I’ll get them back later.”
“Here, allow me to aid you in dressing.”
“It’s you who needs to get dressed.”
With a sinful grin, he pulled the front laces of her gown together along the edge of the low-cut neckline and before tying a bow, lazily kissed the upper swell of each breast, his gaze on hers. “I haven’t yet told you of the plan we devised last night.”
“What was decided?”
“Firstly, to save all within the village.” He scooped her gown’s matching slippers from the ambry shelf and knelt at her feet. He lifted one foot and she held onto his broad shoulders as he slid the slippers on. “And secondly to ensure Finlay and Kirk find their mates. We’ll head to the village along with Gilleoin, Nessa and Sorcha this morning. You missed meeting Sorcha last night. She’s lovely, even reminds me of my own mother.”
“That sounds like the perfect plan. I’m totally on board for a visit to the village, as well as to stand at your side when the war begins.” She crossed to the looking glass and ran a brush through her hair, pinched her cheeks and rolled her shoulders, her resolve firm.
“You’ll be nowhere near the village when the war begins. That I can assure you.”
“I won’t be parted from you, and you need a compeller on your side in this war, and don’t make me compel you to agree.”
“Has there ever been someone who hasn’t fallen for your skillful voice?” He stepped into a pair of black leather pants and fastened them at his waist, donned a billowy-sleeved white shirt and shrugged on a tan padded cotun made of strong rawhide. The cotun would certainly protect him against the cold as well as aid in buffering any strike of a blade.
“Not a soul.”
“Your compelling though, it can’t halt an arrow if it were aimed at you.” He tugged on his black boots, crossed to the side table and lathered soap in the basin of water. He smeared the bubbles along his jaw then picked up his dagger. Within the looking glass propped in front of him, he bent to the task of shaving.
“No, but I can halt the one who is aiming an arrow at me.” She held back his shoulder-length locks from falling forward into the suds.
“That’s only should the one aiming at you be able to hear your compelling command in time.”
“I can halt an entire army bent on attacking if I’m given the chance. I’m going to be at your side when the war begins.”
“I’ve seen how very strong you are and swift of mind, but you can’t outrun an arrow, or a dirk tossed at you, or a raised sword.” He ran his blade in a smooth line from the top of his jaw to his chin.
“I think we’re about to have our first fight.”
“As do I.”
A rap sounded. “It’s Finlay. You two up?”
“We are, just a moment.” She opened the door. “Can you outrun an arrow, Finlay?”
“No, and why do you ask?” He leaned against the doorway in forest green pants and a black tunic, his Matheson plaid draped over one shoulder.
“Your brother is about to get obstinate and I don’t like it.”
“Morning, all.” Kirk marched along the gloomy passageway wearing black battle leathers and his sword belted at his side.
“You appear ready to fight.” She motioned them both in.
“I am, for the life of my mate.” Kirk entered, kissed her cheek and said, “Thank you for bringing us all through to this time. I haven’t said that yet and I should have.”
“The same goes for me.” Finlay pulled her into a hug. “I’m most grateful to be here, that you fell through a portal. Now I just need to find my mate.”