A Laird to Hold Angeline Fortin (most important books of all time .TXT) 📖

“Well?” she demanded. “What’s coming for us next? The Libyans and a bazooka?”

The old man sighed. “Jameson is the threat ye need to worry yerself wi’ and ye’d best be on yer toes wi’ him.”

Hugh shook his head in disgust. That dollop of information did nothing to appease him more than it did Scarlett. “That’s it?” he asked. “Nothing more? Not when he’s coming or how?”

Emmy snorted. “Since he’s apparently all-seeing and all-knowing. How does that work, by the way?”

Donell descended into stubborn silence once more and Scarlett’s frustrations grew. Perhaps Emmy had been on point that Donell and the hows and whys of his power were the issues they should have been addressing all the while.

“How about at least telling us how you know of him?”

“It willnae help ye, lass,” he groused. “Just steer clear of him for one more day and I’ll see ye home.”

“But what of Hugh and Claire?” Laird pushed, as unsatisfied by his vague reassurances as she. “What awaits them once we’re gone?”

“I will make sure they’re safe,” Donell swore though he offered no such guarantees for the rest of them.

Why would he, Scarlett wondered. When there was obviously much more than Donell was telling them. Was Jameson like Donell? The old wizard had claimed Jameson no longer had the power to move through time, so perhaps. But where did that power come from? How did it work? Why was Jameson so set on destroying them?

Was he destined to succeed?

Those were the questions needing answers. Everyone else must have agreed, they were all closing in on him.

As if he knew they were about to bombard him with more questions, Donell spoke up. “All will be revealed.”

Great, now he was quoting The Bible.

Before, she could hound him some more, Donell was gone. Scarlett turned to Laird.

“I will ne’er get used to that,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “In my time, he’d be burned at the stake.”

“Ha, if you could catch him,” Emmy pointed out.

Claire looked up at Hugh. “What do you think he’s hiding?”

“Because clearly he’s hiding something,” Scarlett added. Hugh flattened his lips together, looking for all the world like Donell in that moment. God, did he know something more, too? “Hugh?”

“I dinnae ken,” Hugh said though his denial was unconvincing. “Everything? Nothing? We may ne’er ken.”

“I wish I at least knew how Donell knows this Jameson,” Claire frowned. “That might at least answer a few questions.”

“Will it?” he countered. “We ken we’ve all met Donell in our own lifetimes. Some of us for years, yet none of us kens how he could be everywhere through time.”

Connor nodded. “I get the feeling he’s…how hae ye put it before? Playing us?”

Yes, he was. Scarlett only wished she knew his endgame. Screw knowing too much about the future.

“Ugh,” she ground out. “I hate this.”

“One more day, lass.”

Laird took her in his arms, hugging her close. Scarlett pressed her cheek against his chest. Listened to the strong beat of his heart, drawing on his strength. On the patience she didn’t possess herself.

The morning after the next couldn’t come quick enough.

But that wouldn’t be the end of it. They couldn’t leave without knowing everyone else was safe. And for that to happen, Jameson would have to be taken care of.

Just as Laird had said.

She didn’t like that option any better than wallowing in all the uncertainties Donell left them with. Laird was a fighter, a protector. He would do what he thought he must.

But there had to be another way.

As if everyone knew there was nothing more to say, or that to say more would only be beating a dead horse, they drifted away to their separate rooms. Emmy and Connor followed Hugh and Claire to the connecting suite. They, at least, had something to celebrate tonight. Something good among all the recent misery.

Laird took Scarlett’s hand and led her toward their adjacent bedroom.

Mind still churning, she undressed and turned back the duvet before climbing onto the bed. She had one knee up when Laird’s big hand cupped her bottom and slid down her thigh.

Hot lips nuzzled the back of her neck, his breaths deep. “Already ye’ve turned my mind to more pleasing thoughts. Mayhap I can do the same for ye?”

He already had.

One touch. It was insane that was all it took. His palms slid over her hips, up her ribs to cup her breasts. Her knees wobbled when his thumbs flicked over her sensitive nipples.

Scarlett turned in his arms and welcomed his mouth as it slanted over hers, his tongue tracing her bottom lip slowly. The sensuous caress left her quaking with desire. He lifted her easily, slipping her naked body between the sheets. Passion built even without his hands on her as he undressed. One by one, he undid the buttons on his shirt, exposing his magnificent sculpted chest, ridged abs. He popped the button on his jeans, down went the zipper. Inch by inch, until her heart sprinted, pounding against her ribs. Fully aroused, he jutted toward her as he stripped down.

He crawled over her, huge and hungry, and Scarlett opened her arms to him. No denial. No inhibition. Knowing the heights he could take her to. The peace he could bring to her body and mind. Laird kissed her again, again with slow purpose as he slipped between her thighs. The hard length of him sliding against her wrenched a cry of delight from her lips. Again, he glided over her quivering flesh, light as the most tender touch. Again. Again. Until she was whimpering.

Needy.

Blood searing, singing through her veins. Heat pooled in her belly, her breaths desperate against his lips. Matching his. Laird groaned, his pace building. His body hard. “Mo chroí!”