Page 39 of Beyond Dreams

Before she would have returned to Duncan, imagining he didn’t wish to spend all day in this valley of flowers, he came to stand beside her, his gaze on her and not the scenery. He’d left the horse to graze where they’d dismounted, less than twenty feet away. Holly turned and considered him, seeing Duncan through the rosy lens of a man who loved his horse.

He was nearly as gorgeous as the scenery, even as he seemed so out of place in the wildflower paradise. Here stood this rugged and powerful knight with his compelling green eyes, the severe cut of his features, the confident set of his shoulders, and wearing a sword at his hip and a dagger in his belt in a field of delicate blossoms and graceful leaves. The sight was as incongruous as it was pleasurable. Perhaps the incongruity produced the delight; she wasn’t sure. In any case, the carpet of flowers was a gorgeous sight but Duncan MacQuillan standing so impressive amid the garden was by far a greater treat to the eyes.

The longer she looked, the more handsome he seemed.

“I might want to visit this spot daily,” she told him, not surprised by the breathless quality to her voice.

He nodded, but said nothing, taking his gaze from her, sending it out across the fields.

Holly continued to stare at him, wondering if someone pinched her if she would be transported back to the twenty-first century, away from her very hot husband. Her eyes devoured every inch of his mouth in profile, and she realized she was wondering what it would be liked to be kissed by him. Would a kiss soften him? Would his kiss be gentle? Rough? He had a look about him of a man who failed at very few things if any, who might master almost anything he dared. Was kissing something he’d mastered? Did people kiss, like make out as part of teasing and foreplay, as they did in later centuries?

“You are staring again,” he accused as he turned toward her, though she detected little actual censure.

“I...I was thinking of...” she began. But she couldn’t do it, couldn’t get out the words,I was thinking about kissing you. Strangely, somehow acting on it instead of forecasting it seemed safer, somehow less awkward.

Holly lowered the bouquet she’d held in front of her and closed the small distance between them.

I’ve had better ideas, she thought.

Oh, but you’ve had a lot worse, a voice in her head reminded her.

Her chest rose and fell with her boldness. She stood directly in front of him but needed another second before she could lift her gaze to him. When she did, when her eyes met his, she knew thatheknew what she was thinking about, what she dared right now. But he didn’t help her, didn’t sweep her up in his arms to say he wanted it or had been thinking about it as well.

But then courage failed her, or it would have if not for Duncan. She dropped her gaze, suddenly shy, besieged with some restless idea that there was no turning back once she kissed him. Further back in her mind, a voice screeched, reminding her that she was a fraud.

Gently, Duncan’s fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him again, silencing that screaming voice.

“Aye, you should kiss me,” he said, as if she had actually spoken her idea aloud.

She almost didn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart. As bold as she’d ever been, she lifted her hand and laid it against his cheek. His skin was weathered and roughened, as hard as the man. He was rigid in his stance just now, nothing moving but for a tick in his cheek under her fingers and his flaring nostrils. His mouth was closed, clamped tight, she thought.

Holly was emboldened by a thought not fully explored:if I start it, I can control it.She felt safe in that regard.

His gaze snapped to hers when she raised her eyes from his perfectly formed lips. In his eyes she read desire or thought she did. And possibly, because they were technically married, somewhere in the back of her brain she was able to justify a kiss. Funny, how falling through time both terrified her and then emboldened her. Would she dare so much if this were real life? If she did not believe she might very soon be returning to what was actually her real life? Possibly not. Perhaps, she might later excuse all abnormal behavior with a shrug—she’d never initiated a kiss before in her life! But surely, what happened in the fourteenth century certainly stayed in the fourteenth century, didn’t it?

Her lips parted, her nerve nearly deserting her, until she went all in and raised herself on her toes, closing her eyes as she slid her hand around his neck, drawing him down to her.

Later she would think that indeed, she’d started it, she’d touched her mouth to his. But oh, how ridiculous she’d been to believe she would have and maintain control.

Not surprisingly, his lips were firm and warm. Holly instantly wanted more, not only a chaste, get-to-know you kiss. More vitally, she wanted him to want more. She parted her lips at the same time he did, their tongues meeting as if on cue so that the kiss quickly became potent. Her tongue curled around his and his around hers, their mouths open wide to taste each other fully. Duncan pulled her against him with one arm around her waist. His other hand clenched at her jaw and chin, holding her to the kiss, which was now his to command.

A shiver raced down along Holly’s spine even as heat consumed her. She melted into his arms and against his lips. She moved her hands over his shoulders, neck, and back, feeling him for the first time, fascinated by how solid and strong he was, how coiled and taut. Their kiss was inundated with the scent of wildflowers, still clutched in one hand and moving over his broad back.

The kiss was so intense, so powerful, Holly felt the ground shift and rumble beneath her feet.

***

Duncan, too, felt theearth move. Lost in the unexpected kiss, he at first attributed the vibration to the passion of their kiss.

He wasn’t sure what had provoked her to behave so, to initiate a kiss with him, but he would not ever slander her daring, could find no fault in her expressing a desire.

Jesu, but he’d not have believed it. She’d been not much more than an odd, terrified lass, spewing strange sounds, too often stringing words together that made no sense. Her kiss, then, was both shocking for the boldness with which it was committed, and then for the passion it aroused. He should not be so enamored of his wife’s kiss, he thought, but only briefly, scarcely able to think overmuch on things that hadn’t anything to do with how soft was her body and how stimulating was her touch.

When the shifting earth beneath his feet was accompanied by sound, Duncan jerked away from Holly, his brain suddenly—sadly, belatedly—realizing ’twas not the force of their kiss that disturbed the earth, but riders coming. Behind him, his destrier pawed the earth and snorted.

Looking over the top of her head, he wrapped his fingers around Holly’s arm, eliciting a gasp from her for his sudden use of force, and scanned the glen for the riders coming. Most likely, it was men of his own army, but they were far enough away from Thallane that he could take no chance. Seeing no one, he marched Holly over to his horse and with little gentleness lifted her into the saddle. The bouquet she’d gathered was scattered all around his feet as she let go of that to grab onto the pommel.

“Duncan?” She cried, as confused as she was alarmed. “What are you—?”

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