Only With a Highlander Page 11

  “He’ll smell us before we see him and will keep his distance,” she said in a near whisper, profoundly thankful the darkness was hiding her scorching red cheeks. “Lynx are curious, but they’re not aggressive.”

  Matt suddenly moved, causing Winter to flinch again when he opened his door and flooded the interior of the truck with light. He climbed out, then turned and started rummaging under his seat, his hand finally emerging with a flashlight and tiny case.

  “W-what’s that?” Winter asked, beginning to worry she was about to get more than she’d wished for.

  He set the flashlight on the seat and unzipped the case. “A pistol,” he said, taking the automatic out and tucking it in his jacket pocket.

  “No,” Winter said harshly. “You don’t need a gun.”

  About to pick up the flashlight, he looked at her. “It’s just a precaution,” he assured her. “We’re in the woods, it’s nighttime, and I don’t care for surprises.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving this truck if you bring that gun,” she said, thinking about Gesader’s penchant for lurking in the bushes. “There’s nothing in the woods that isn’t more afraid of us than we are of it.”

  He frowned at her, studying her face. “You’re serious,” he finally said. “Do guns bother you, Winter? You seemed concerned this afternoon when I told Tom I had one rolled in my jacket.”

  “Guns don’t bother me when they’re necessary,” she said, shaking her head again. “But you don’t need one now.” She unfastened her seat belt and turned to face him, leaning on the console and pointing at the flashlight. “We don’t need a gun or a light,” she told him. “Our eyes will adjust to the darkness, and we won’t be more than a hundred yards away from the safety of the truck.”

  He hesitated, then finally reached in his pocket, pulled out the pistol, and slipped it back in its case. He put the case under the seat and softly closed his door without picking up the flashlight, then walked around the truck to open her door, and reached inside for her hand.

  It took Winter a full minute to set her hand in his and slip out of the truck.

  “Stand there a minute,” he said, opening the back door and reaching under the seat, once more bringing on the cab lights. At this rate, Winter feared their eyes were going to be so confused they’d never adjust.

  He straightened, tucking a blanket under his arm. “A picnic kit came with the truck,” he said in explanation as he closed the door and felt around in the darkness for her hand again. He gave her fingers a squeeze and chuckled aloud. “I don’t know which of us is more trusting—your trusting that I’m not a serial killer, or my trusting that nothing out here is going to eat us.”

  “I’ve been told the probability is slight that you’re a serial killer,” Winter said, finally starting to relax as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She started leading Matt farther down the path, deciding everything would be okay, that the woods were the safest place she could be. “And besides, I could easily slip away in the darkness, leaving you as bewildered as that lynx in my painting you bought.”

  He laughed again, his hand tightening on hers as she stepped off the path and into the forest. “That’s reassuring. Are you warm enough?”

  “I like the cold. Watch that log,” she said, guiding him around a fallen tree, slowly relaxing the farther they went into the woods. “It’s hard to believe in another couple of months the snow up here will be deeper than I am tall.”

  “I need to buy a plow for my truck,” he said as they finally broke into a tiny clearing.

  “I don’t think your pickup will keep your road open all winter,” she said, stopping at the foot of a large outcropping of ledge. “You need a heavy truck to wing back the snowbanks each time.” She grinned at him through the darkness, just barely able to make out his face. “You may not have enough money left to buy heaven when you’re done building your home, Matt.”

  A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he took hold of her shoulders and gently pulled her against him. “Then I guess I’ll have to make Bear Mountain my heaven,” he said, holding her close in his strong, warm embrace. He ran his fingers into her hair and used his grip to gently tilt her head back to look at him. “How are we going to hear the mountain with the wind blowing?”

  “You feel it more than hear it,” she said, laying her hand over his heart. “In here.”

  His heartbeat felt wonderfully strong as he stood silently staring down at her, and Winter’s own heart started to race with anticipation. He was going to kiss her again, and she decided that this time she was kissing him back.

  But he suddenly let her go and disappeared, and it took Winter a moment to realize he’d bent over and was picking up the blanket he’d dropped. “Where should I spread this out?” he asked, stepping over to the wall of granite rising above them and shaking open the blanket. “Here?”

  “That’s good,” she muttered, rubbing her suddenly chilled arms, missing his warmth.

  “I wish the clouds wouldn’t keep covering the moon,” he continued, kneeling on the blanket and feeling the ground for hidden rocks. “I bet we could see the lake from here.” He sat down on one half of the blanket and held his hand out to her.

  It was the sight of that blanket that finally made Winter realize exactly how outrageous her idea had been. What in hell had made her suggest they lie up here in the darkness together? She simply couldn’t get on that blanket with a man who turned her mind to mush. It was an intimate if not brazen situation she’d created, and Winter wondered how she was going to get out of this mess without truly making a fool of herself.

  “Come on,” he said, dropping his hand and patting the blanket beside him. “I promise I’ll keep my fingers laced behind my head,” he told her, his voice coaxingly gentle. “You have my word, Winter, nothing will happen between us that you don’t want to happen.”

  And therein lay the very heart of her problem.

  Another thick flurry of leaves blew off the ledge above them, scattering like snowflakes over the blanket and catching in her hair. Matt stretched out on his back with a sigh and folded his hands behind his head like a pillow. “The ground is warm,” he said into the darkness. “I expected it to be bone-chilling cold.”

  He looked so strange, lying in the forest in his expensive suit and dress shoes. Not that he seemed any more worried about ruining his wardrobe than about scratching his truck. In fact, Matt was a contradiction of refined sophistication and rugged strength. Winter could picture him in a boardroom commanding an army of suits just as easily as she could see him commanding an army of warriors on a battlefield. Matt Gregor was an intriguing mix of brawn and brain, she decided.

  “The ground doesn’t feel cold because it’s still warmer than the air,” she explained, stepping closer when he squirmed into a more comfortable position. “The mist you see rising from the forest in the morning comes from the temperature difference.”

  “I wish the moon would stay out. It’s full.”

  Winter took another step closer. “Actually, it was full last night,” she said, finally sitting on the ground beside the blanket—but not on it. She gathered up her blowing hair and twisted it into a tail that she pulled over her right shoulder. “It was also the autumnal equinox yesterday. It’s rare that both occur on the same day.”

  “A full moon and an equinox,” he said, just as the clouds thinned enough that Winter could see his eyes were closed and a soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “That must have brought the fairies out to dance last night.”

  Winter found her own smile as she gazed off toward Pine Lake, just barely able to make out the large body of water. “Wouldn’t it be nice if fairies really did exist?” she mused.

  “They must,” Matt said. “If you put one in Moon Watchers.”

  She turned in surprise. “You saw her? You saw my fairy?”

  He opened his eyes to look at her. “Just barely. You tucked her in a high branch and made her nearly translucent.” He resettled himself, c
losed his eyes again, and frowned. “I can’t feel anything. No hum. No breathing.”

  “That’s because you’re not being quiet,” she told him, finally lying back—but only so her head was on the blanket.

  “Then stop talking,” he muttered. “And let me concentrate.”

  Winter smiled at nothing, closed her own eyes, and listened to the wind filtering through the treetops around them. She could hear the squeak of a tree trunk rubbing against another trunk; dried leaves crackling as they rolled over each other across the ground; an acorn ricocheting off several branches with sharp pings, finally landing on the forest floor with a muted thud. More rustling came with the scurrying of tiny feet, then the alarmed chatter of a nocturnal flying squirrel scolding them for invading his favorite acorn patch.

  If only two days ago someone had told Winter she’d be lying on a mountain at night with a handsome, undeniably appealing man, she’d have told them to pull her other leg. But for reasons she couldn’t quite understand, Winter felt this was about as right, and as real, as it got.

  “If you would quit humming, I might be able to hear your mountain,” Matt said softly.

  Winter rolled toward him with a laugh. “I’m not humming. That’s the mountain. It’s sharing its energy with you, Matt.”

  He opened his eyes and looked down at her, the slash of his smile bright enough to rival the moon. “So you weren’t telling tales. It really is alive.”

  She wiggled closer, until she was completely on the blanket and her head was even with his. “Yes. The mountain is brimming with energy.”

  “Kiss me,” he whispered.

  She blinked into his dark, unfathomable eyes.

  “I want to feel your energy, Winter MacKeage. Kiss me.”

  Still she didn’t move, caught in his mesmerizing gaze.

  Matt lifted his head only slightly and wiggled his laced fingers. “I keep my promises, Winter,” he said, his voice deep with coaxing sincerity. “You’re safe with me tonight. My hands are staying behind my head. Kiss me.”

  Heaven help her, she wiggled closer, until she was actually leaning over him.

  “Ah, Winter,” he said on a sigh. “You’re as beautiful as the pictures you paint. Give me a taste of your magic, and let me feel what you feel.”

  If wishes were horses and beggars could ride, then Winter decided she was about to gallop straight into her wildest fantasy. With her heart racing faster than her mind could keep up, she slowly leaned down and softly touched her mouth to his.

  He let out another sigh that parted his lips, and Winter pulled in his familiar taste, easing higher until she was fully draped across his broad chest. His chest rose on an indrawn breath that he held, and she could feel the pounding strength of his heart thumping against hers. The knowledge that she was affecting him as much as he was her gave Winter the confidence to lift her hand and touch the side of his face as she deepened her kiss.

  He tasted so good, felt so fine beneath her, so solid and warm and substantial; the charged energy of the mountain hummed through him into her. Prickles of electricity tightened her skin even while embers of awareness flared deep in the pit of her stomach. Winter parted her own lips and touched her tongue to his, shyly exploring the heady sensations that boldly urged her to move her fingers over the taut lines of his rugged face.

  He’d asked to feel her magic, but it was his magic that caught Winter up in its spell; two hearts beating against each other, lips touching and tasting and savoring, the energies of the timeless universe dancing in mystical harmony.

  This journey of separate souls seeking each other, that’s what was happening. The magic of being here—with this man, on this mountain, on this storm-energized night—was what Winter had been waiting her whole life to experience.

  Matt suddenly turned his head from hers, ending their kiss, his chest expanding on a deep, shuddering breath. “Ye’re one second away from making me break ma promise to ye,” he softly growled.

  Winter blinked at him through the darkness, crashing back to reality with a jarring thud that made her rear up in surprise. “You have a brogue.”

  There was just enough moonlight to see Matt’s eyes flare and his hands—still behind his head—tighten into fists. He took another calming breath. “A throwback to my youth,” he said, his enigmatic gaze locked on hers. “I was born in Scotland.” He lifted his elbows in a sort of shrug, still keeping his hands behind his head. “When I get…er…” He suddenly grinned. “When I get completely focused on something, I tend to regress. And hanging out with you today seems to have brought my accent closer to the surface.”

  Winter rolled away and lay on her back beside him, clasping her hands on her stomach as she stared up at the churning clouds dancing around the moonlight. “Did you drop the Mac from your name? Is it really MacGregor ?”

  “No. Just Gregor .”

  “Do you know what Matheson means?”

  “I know the son part means son of.”

  “Aye. And Mathe is Gaelic for “bear.” Your name means son of the bear.”

  He rolled toward her, propping his head on one hand and laying his other hand on his thigh. “Then I guess I own the right mountain, don’t I?”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I build jets. Military as well as private.”

  Winter digested that. It fit, she decided—a powerful man making powerful aircraft. “We saw a small jet fly in yesterday. Was that you? Do you pilot your own plane?”

  He nodded, reaching over to lift her blowing hair off her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Did you feel the energy, Winter?” he asked softly, his hand returning to his thigh, but not before she saw it ball into a fist. “That wasn’t the mountain humming, was it? That was you.”

  Winter felt a blush scorch her cheeks, and she went back to studying the sky. “We’re all part of the same energy,” she told him. “You, me, the mountain, the animals, the storm moving in, we’re all connected.”

  “I like the idea of that,” he said, his voice deep with an emotion she couldn’t quite define. “I like the idea of being connected to you, Winter MacKeage.” He suddenly sat up. “But in the interest of keeping my promise that you’re safe tonight,” he said, turning to smile at her, “and my interest in not getting stomped by your cousin, I better take you home now.”

  Winter also sat up, capturing her blowing hair and pulling it over her shoulder again. “I think you better.”

  He stood, then reached out to help her up. Winter let him pull her to her feet, but Matt kept her momentum going until she was pressed against his chest with his arms wrapped firmly around her. “One more taste, I think,” he whispered, just as he lowered his lips to hers.

  He was definitely doing the kissing this time, completely in charge, once again taking up the chase. Winter’s heart rejoiced as his mouth moved over hers with a gentle aggression that sent another charge of electricity coursing through her. She hadn’t scared him away, she realized, as she parted her lips on a relieved sigh and kissed him back.

  She melted into the hard, solid heat of his body, and Matt slid one hand down the base of her spine and pulled her fully against him. Winter immediately discovered just how aroused he was, but instead of being alarmed, she boldly moved her hips into his.

  Matt lifted his head with a snarl that sounded a lot like Gesader when her pet was disgruntled, and Winter buried her face in Matt’s shirt with a smile of delight. His chest rumbled with a lingering growl as he held her so tightly that his expanding torso squeezed the air from her own lungs.

  “Dammit, lady, ye best not be amused,” he growled in her hair, his lips sending another shiver through her. “Ye should be slapping my face. No,” he said, gripping her shoulders and setting her away, “I should be slapping my own face.” He took hold of her hand and started leading her out of the clearing toward the truck.

  “Your blanket,” she said, attempting to get it.

  He didn’t let her go, but kept dragging her throug
h the thick woods. “Leave it,” he growled. “I’m taking ye home. Now.”

  Winter let him lead her away in silence, unable to keep her smile contained. Bears didn’t have much of a tail, but she’d just managed to give this one’s tail a good tug.

  And his reaction looked very promising.

  Chapter Ten

  The storm hit just after midnight, and Winter lay in bed listening to the rain beating on the windows, her scattered thoughts and still-humming emotions making sleep impossible. She reached down to where Gesader usually slept, felt only the quilt, and smiled. Her panther, obviously annoyed at her, had given Winter a throaty snarl when she’d let him in the house, then had padded off to bed with Megan.

  It never did take much to put Gesader’s nose out of joint, and apparently Winter’s being on the mountain with Matt had angered her pet. She knew Gesader had been up there. Heck, he’d probably been crouched in the bushes not twenty feet away.

  When Matt had all but dragged her back to his truck—in utter silence except for her heart screaming with joy—Winter had noticed several strands of black hair on the windshield when the interior lights had come on. Gesader had been letting her know that he’d been near them the whole time, and that he hadn’t liked being forced to stay hidden.

  The night usually belonged to just the two of them, when Winter would paint her nighttime scenes and Gesader would doze beside her. He was a possessive pet, and Winter had never considered how her having a boyfriend might affect him.

  Boyfriend, Winter thought with a grin, testing the word in her mind. Did kissing her senseless make Matt her boyfriend? “No,” she whispered to the dark ceiling, shaking her head. That was too corny a label for Matheson Gregor. When she thought of a boyfriend, Winter pictured Patrick Rooney, a nervous teenager holding a wrist corsage, shaking in his polished shoes as he stood at the front door with her papa, waiting to take her to their senior prom.

  Patrick had been a boyfriend. Matt Gregor was…curses, he was far more confounding than Patrick Rooney had ever been. She’d never gotten all mush-minded and shivery when Pat had kissed her. Nor had she ever wanted to rip off Pat’s clothes and run her hands over every inch of his body. But that was exactly what she’d wanted to do to Matt up on the mountain—what she would like to do to him right now.