Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(80)

“What are you?” I addressed the light-show maker as if expecting a response. None came.

The wall had clearly been the travel gateway in my recent go-round. Iain held the only knowledge to help me decipher the change in protocol.

I darted through the doorway in search of him. As I moved through the castle toward the front door, queasiness unsettled my stomach. Like a dry-lander on the deck of a ship for the very first time, I shuffled sideways as the floor seemingly swayed beneath my feet.

Everyone seemed unconcerned about, or totally unaware, of my arrival. People in the kitchen carried on with their duties as usual; I passed soldiers finishing a meal in the great hall; the wolfhounds sat at the end of a table, brows raised in anticipation, eyes fixed on their treats for the day.

I burst out the front door into a day so bright, my hand instantly shot over my eyes to shield them. Squinting alleviated only some of the blindness. After several hard blinks in an attempt to adjust to the vision-shocking sun, I lowered my arm. And my jaw dropped with it.

No sun caused the sensitivity, because it had gone missing from the sky. In fact, the blue sky had gone MIA too. No ice-capped mountain panorama framed the landscape. All that appeared above the horizon line beyond the curtain wall was a misty iridescence, ebbing and flowing with atmospheric currents. It looked like a white aura borealis had swallowed the castle whole.

Soldiers trained on the fields, women tended the garden, and a dark-gray plume of smoke still rose from the smithy’s smokestack. The entire clan acted as if the day held no properties different than any other day.

Iain. Brigid. Someone needed to explain what the hell had happened to the world in the week I’d been gone, before I slipped into complete and irrevocable insanity. I glanced skyward, toward a Heaven I hoped still existed somewhere up there.

“Really? Still with the tolerance lesson?”

Determined to get answers to every question I’d restrained for far too long, I charged into the courtyard. Iain stood alone to the far side, overseeing about a dozen of his youngest soldiers training with claymores. He lifted his face and our gazes locked. I closed the distance between us as the anger of a thousand volcanoes threatened to blow.

In a fluid movement, Iain twisted, tossed his sword point down into the soft earth, and strode toward me. Had I not stopped a few feet from him, we would’ve collided.

“How dare you—” I yelled.

“What the hell—” he shouted.

“—keep valuable information from me—” I clipped out.

“—do you think—” he growled.

“—when I have every right to know?” I finished.

“—you’re wearin’ in front of my men?” He glared down, moving in front of me to shield me from the view of others.

I seethed, struggling to process what he’d said over my tirade. Comprehension seeped its way past my attitudinal huff. I looked down at my body. Lots of exposed skin shimmered in the brilliant light. The parts that were scantily covered boasted suede-hugged curves.

He yanked me by the arm, dragging me back up the hill. I trotted to keep pace with his swift strides. Red faced and shaking, his level of anger trumped mine. He shouldered the oak door open, crashing it into the stone wall inside with such force, splinters flew and pieces of stone crumbled. I scrambled up the stairs for fear my arm would be torn from its socket if I didn’t keep up.

We arrived at the threshold of our bedroom. Iain kicked the door open and threw me forward as he stood in the doorway, staring at me, his nostrils flaring. He stalked inside and closed the door behind him without ever breaking eye contact.

I’d never been afraid of anyone before—let alone Iain—but he looked as if he’d gone mad, and I trembled in uncontrollable fear. He took measured steps over to me. I retreated until the backs of my knees hit the bed, and I sat down. I swallowed hard and remained silent. My eyes had gone dry from my wide-eyed shock. I took several hard blinks, looking up at him, my pulse racing.

“You will not wear such lack of clothin’ outside ever again.”

His words came out ominously calm.

“No one yells at me in front of my men, including you.”

I trusted his deadly composure far less than the shouting.

“I will not tolerate your demandin’ anything from me when everything I do is for your safety and that of my people.”

He leaned down, dropping his face to within an inch of mine, his tone just above a whisper. “I hated you being gone, knowin’ you were in another man’s arms, knowin’ he f*cked you while I missed you so bad, my chest ached.”

I exhaled. Iain was hurting. The animal he barely contained threatened to break free because he loved me.

“Iain, I—”

“No.” His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides, his nostrils flaring again as he snorted. “Clothes off. Now,” he growled.

Iain stood nearly on top of me, ripping the material off with his eyes. His body shook with barely restrained power.

Like a giant, fifty-ton pillar at Stonehenge, Iain towered over me, immovable. He forced me to rise while pressing against his body to comply with his command. I undressed as quickly as my shaking hands allowed.

At some point escaping my notice, he’d dropped his clothes. The instant my last clothing item fell to the floor, he bore down on me hard, herding me to the center of the bed. He pushed against me, skin to skin, owning the space between my legs. In a powerful stroke, he filled my wet, ready body.