Highlander's Kiss (Clan Matheson #1)

In her chamber, she rolled her shoulders and inserted her never-ending resolve.

“Good morn, my lady.” Effie rose from the hearth where she’d cleaned the fireplace. She dusted her hands against her aproned sides and motioned toward the side table where a tray sat with a steaming cup of tea and an earthenware plate holding three of the cook’s mouth-watering raspberry and honey tarts. “I was in the kitchens when one of the lads brought the news of your return. I brought you a tray. Do you wish for a bath?”

“I’ll forego a bath, but thank you for the tea. Could you lay out my violet riding habit then pack a bag for me? I’m riding to the encampment along with the warriors this morn.”

“Aye, my lady. I’ll pack all you might need.” Effie wandered to her golden curtained ambry and foraged through her clothing. She laid the riding habit, a broad-brimmed hat, and sturdy black boots on the bed, then swept a traveling bag down from the uppermost shelf and carefully folded an assortment of outfits inside.

Apple finished, she crossed to her dressing screen with its length of twine hanging across the inside, slid the orchid Tavish had given her from out behind her ear and strung it up, the bloom facing downward so it would dry. Once it had, she’d store the gift in her keepsake box. This orchid would remind her of the night that had passed, of when they’d completed the bond and joined in all ways.

“Load the cart with additional weapons to send to the men.” Finlay’s booming voice filtered through her window, ringing with authority from the lower courtyard. Gilleoin couldn’t have left their clan in better hands than those of Finlay and Kirk’s.

She swished to the window and gripped the stone sill.

Amongst the battling warriors, Tavish wielded his blade with such precision, his biceps rippling and his tunic pulled taut across his wide shoulders. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him again, to glide over his golden skin and slide through his silky black hair. The hem of his billowy white tunic fluttered free over his leather trews and gave glimpses of his trim waist as he fought. Goodness. She longed to be back in their cavern with him, to have his warm and fresh scent swirling around her, to see his golden shifter eyes spark with desire as he sent her soaring far beyond her body. She’d been gifted with a soul bound mate who’d stolen her heart, a man of many talents, from his dedicated ability to heal to his fierce need to protect. His pure white aura with its sizzling red edge tugged upward and a single stream slipped free and floated on the breeze toward her. She opened her window wider and held out one hand. The tendril swirled in and around her then settled on her palm. Her heart lifted as the tendril kissed her skin with its warmth then soaked into her very being.

“We’re almost there, Matthew.” Finlay squeezed the elderly cart driver’s shoulder then jumped onto the rear of the wooden cart filled with blankets, clothing, armory and other supplies for the warriors camped to the east. Finlay glanced at the cook’s son as he stacked a large sack of oats onto the rear. “Alan, bring the loaves of bread the cook set aside this morning, the beans and the fresh fruit the younger lads picked from the grove as well. There’s room for it all.”

“Aye, sir.” He rushed off to do Finlay’s bidding.

Tavish and Tor sheathed their swords and strode over to Finlay while Kirk bounded over to Cherub and Arabel as they chatted. Kirk swept Cherub off her feet and her giggles abounded.

At the cart, Tavish tucked the goods into the corner and made more room for the loaves, beans and fruit Alan and another lanky lad returned with. Both lads, brothers with barely a year between them, had brown hair and breeches a good two inches too short on their legs. Their pale blue aura, now tinged with a golden glow, depicted their desire to travel to the camp with the warriors although they were still too young. Mayhap in another year or two they could join the warrior men.

Tavish clapped both the lads on the back and thanked them, a sweet gesture and one that caused their auras to glow brighter with pride. They grinned and ducked their heads under the praise then jogged back toward the side door of the keep.

She smiled too, picked up her tea from the table and sipped the cooling brew then popped a sweet tart in her mouth. So delicious. “Do you have a sweet tooth, Tavish?”

He glanced toward her window on the third floor, locked his gaze on hers and grinned. “I do, and a terribly persistent one at that. How long until you’re ready to leave?”

“I’m about to dress. Do you wish me to have the maid bring your bags downstairs? They’re still sitting by my door.” She swiped another tart, leaned out the window and whispered, “Catch,” as she tossed the sweet pastry to him.