Page 35 of Highlander’s Claim

Aulay reminded her of Zeus again, all powerful and all knowing, with his shoulders as broad as a boat and his chest as thick as a tree trunk…and yet there was a helpless sadness in his eyes as he held her gaze for a moment.

And then he turned back and disappeared behind the curve of the slope leading down to the village and to the port.

Well, it was what it was. She couldn’t leave yet. Nine days till her appointment. Nine days…

She walked up the slope towards the main keep. She was tired. She’d barely slept last night after… Good God, Amanda was right—those Highlanders knew their way with women, at least in her dream one of them had.

She’d dreamed of Aulay last night.

She’d been deep in the woods; it was warm and dark. She stood in a meadow full of night flowers, grass tickling her bare feet. Large, moss-covered trees surrounded the meadow, and Aulay had appeared from the woods, bare-chested and in only a kilt. He strode to her, his face dangerous, like a wolf spotting his prey. The powerful muscles of his thighs rolled, showing through the gap in the kilt as he marched to her.

There was no hesitation. She knew he would come to her because he wanted to claim her as his own, and that was right and good. When he kissed her and wrapped his arms around her, it was like coming home. Her dress slid off her like water, and she was naked against him, skin to skin. She was hot, her sex wet and burning and achy for him.

He picked her up and lowered her onto the soft carpet of moss. His body, large and hard, covered hers.

“I ken what ye need, lass,” he growled. “I’ll give ye what ye need.”

Then he slid deep inside of her, and he was right. That was exactly what she needed. He stretched her to the very edge, and pleasure shot through her. Then he angled himself and slid in and out of her, speeding up. Then he was fucking her like a wild animal. She came, screaming his name…and the moment he did, she knew she was pregnant.

Remembering the dream, Jenny felt her cheeks heat as she walked, and she looked around. Had anyone seen her blush brighter than the sun? God, that feeling she’d had in her dream, of being pregnant…the fullness, the tightness deep within her, the endless love that came from knowing she was growing a life…

When she’d woken up, the devastation of knowing she was empty. That this feeling would never come in her real life. That she’d never grow a child inside her and then hold it and love it and kiss it and see it grow into an amazing, beautiful human being, giving it all of her, every last drop of her soul so that it would be happy and healthy and live a wonderful life…

Her life may always remain incomplete, and even if she could have a baby, she wouldn’t be able to carry it within her own body. Her eyes burned with tears, and she wiped one away with the back of her hand.

If she wanted to have a child, she needed to get out of here and go back to her own time. So, come on, Jenny, fight. Kiss damned Bhatair’s feet if you have to. Sleep with Aulay if that brings you any closer to returning. Anything to make them believe you’re safe and trustworthy. Anything to fit in.

Because a human life may be at stake—the life of the child she’d always wanted. Her last chance.

Jenny really liked Aulay. In her restless night, she’d wondered if he had been from her time, who would he be? A businessman, probably. If he hadn’t kept her captive, if he hadn’t been bossy and stubborn and such an alpha, she could fall for him. It was easy to see that he had a heart. And a smoking body.

She should have been more careful yesterday. She could tell the truth without spooking him by talking about eggs and undoing all the progress she’d made. At least on the surface, she needed to work with him to navigate this strange medieval world. If anyone would give her a boat and help her get back on Achleith, it would be him.

But while he was away, she assumed to go and look for the treasure ship again, she needed to check up on her patients. The orphans needed fresh salve, and Una and Ailis hadn’t left her thoughts, though Bhatair wouldn’t let her get near them. So, she needed to get on his good side, even if meeting him wasn’t on her list of favorite activities.

She sighed and promised herself to try to not make it worse. She needed to fit in to get out of here, and if she could convince Bhatair she belonged, the rest would follow. She went to the stone house two buildings away and opened the door. Inside, three windows barely illuminated a small space with a single bed and a large table covered with boxes, bottles, cups, and bowls. Shelves hung on the wall above the table with similar stuff filling them. Bunches of herbs hung from the ceiling on the other side of the house. A fireplace held a lit fire with a cauldron steaming over it. The room smelled pungent, like herbs and dust and something earthy.

The good doctor himself stood at the table and poured dried chamomile flowers into a jar with what looked like oil. He looked at her over his shoulder, and his gaze darkened. He turned back to his task and poured another handful into the jar.

“What do ye want?” he said.

“May I come in?” Jenny asked.

“Only if ye promise to nae anger me with yer silly notions.”

Jenny’s teeth clenched. Silly notions… “We got off on the wrong foot, Bhatair. I was wondering if I could be helpful to you.”

He scoffed. “Help from ye? Never.”

She entered the room. There was another large table in the middle of the room that looked like it had bloodstains on it. Was that where he did surgeries? A shiver ran through her. This was as unsterile as it could be. And what about light? Only a little light came from the windows. She’d have hated being a surgeon who needed to perform in such conditions.

“Come on. I know you don’t like me. But you’re clearly busy. And I have a pair of freely available hands. I will only do what you tell me.”

Bhatair snorted as he stirred the jar that was now full of chamomile flowers and oil.

“I can clean for you, if you like. I couldn’t help but notice your instruments might need some scrubbing.” In a wooden box on the table lay huge iron knives, scissors, tongs, drills. They were made of iron and had rust stains…or blood on them. They looked like torture tools.

“I suppose there’s nae harm in that,” he said. “Water is in the corner.”