HighlandSteam

  Highland Steam

  Eliza Knight

  Tragedy strikes in the Highlands, making Drostan the laird of the Comyn clan and in need of a wife to placate his people. His only choice is to trust in magic and travel to the sacred circle of stones…where he must passionately lay claim to the woman Fate brings him.

  Briana is lost and alone when magic lights up the night. She meets the man of her dreams, a man who rocks her to her very core with orgasm after orgasm and somehow manages to steal her heart. The problem? The man of her dreams lives eight hundred years in the past.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Highland Steam

  ISBN 9781419939747

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Highland Steam Copyright © 2012 Eliza Knight

  Edited by Carrie Jackson

  Cover design by Syneca

  Photography: Les Byerley

  Electronic book publication February 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Highland Steam

  Eliza Knight

  Dedication

  To the Hubs. Thank you for encouraging me to do what I love.

  Chapter One

  Scottish Highlands, Present Day

  Briana broke through the copse of trees, sweat glistening on her skin, not from the sun gleaming down but from the exertion of walking up rocky slopes for hours.

  She stopped in her tracks and gazed at what appeared to be a pile of old stones in the center of a clearing—probably an ancient ruin of some sort. She swiped her hand over her forehead and then brushed her palms on her athletic shorts. Taking a deep breath, she walked closer to the ruins.

  There were five tall pillars in a semicircle with an arch of some sort at the head. A few smaller structures sat between the pillars and in the center of the circle, a large flat stone—nearly the size of a full bed.

  She sat on a chair-sized smooth rock outside the circle and smacked her broken GPS tracking system against her hand, hoping it would zing back to life.

  “Dammit!”

  She was well and truly lost now. Judging from the sun it was late afternoon, which meant she’d been wandering the mountain, lost, for about four hours. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and cursed again. The stupid thing had absolutely no reception. What a waste.

  She had no way of getting back to where she’d started from. Why hadn’t she just stayed put? Better yet, why had she insisted on going on a hike in the Highland mountains by herself? And Ben Nevis too, one of the highest summits on the western end of the Grampian Mountains, for heaven’s sake. Had she lost her mind?

  She wasn’t even from Scotland. Not even Europe for that matter. She was from New York City—the only mountains she climbed were corporate office building stairs on her way to work at a worldwide bank.

  Her coworkers thought she was crazy when she suddenly quit her job to travel to Europe. Everyone at the inn she was staying at told her she was crazy for climbing Ben Nevis by herself but she’d given them a dumb smile and held up her piece-of-shit GPS system that was supposed to keep her on track. Lot of good that did.

  She frowned at nothing, glared at the pretty spring wildflowers poking between pebbles and snarled at the green leafy trees that dared to grow on Ben Nevis.

  This trip to Scotland was supposed to be a healing trip. Supposed to make her forget the sudden and tragic death of her parents—and how she was now truly alone in the world. No siblings. No boyfriend—she’d had her share but they’d all been a bunch of selfish, unfeeling jerks.

  She and her parents were the last of the Kane line. The idea had never bothered her before. She’d always figured she had time. But then tragedy set in. She was alone. And her dream since childhood had been to be surrounded by lots of family, by those who loved her and who she loved in return.

  Her dreams were only flights of fancy. She’d never have that. Not with her track record. And especially not now that she would surely meet her death atop this wretched, beautifully enchanting mountain.

  She should have listened when the townspeople told her she was just acting on impulse to go up alone.

  By the time they found her…

  She couldn’t think like that. She was lost. She was tired, thirsty, hungry—the PowerBar she’d packed eaten within the first hour of her hike. She had to pee.

  Briana had been through survival class. Although it’d been some years, she still remembered. Perhaps she could keep herself alive until morning. She could find some berries and roots to eat. She wouldn’t starve to death.

  Taking care of business first, she then rooted around in the bushes for sustenance. She came back to the smooth rock that felt familiar, safe, with a few handfuls. She munched on tart berries and some nuts she’d found and watched the sun start to set.

  The pink-and-orange hues of the setting sun shimmered against the ruins. The archway in particular seemed to spark to life with the glowing sky—the way the sun hit the stones was mesmerizing. The way it was situated made her believe it must be an entryway—to what, she wasn’t sure.

  Briana stood up to investigate, walking around the front of the archway. There didn’t appear to be any stones beyond it for at least a hundred yards. As if this was a gate to the ruins maybe? She groaned, wishing she’d studied history a bit more before making this adventure.

  At least while she was stuck out in the wilderness, she could learn something. She skimmed her hand over the archway, bits of mortar between the stones coming away as dust. Her fingers ran over ridges and dips in the stone. Were those patterns? With the dimming light it was hard to tell. She touched them again. They were patterns. She tried to wipe away some of the moss and debris to see what the patterns were.

  It looked like maybe they were symbols—ancient symbols. Celtic symbols?

  She sighed and rolled her eyes, again irritated she hadn’t at least paid more attention on her tour of a couple castles the day before.

  She touched the Celtic designs again. What did they mean?

  * * * * *

  Scottish Highlands, 1296

  “I dinna ken what to do.” Drostan Comyn, newly made laird of Clan Comyn and Inverlochy Castle, paced the great hall.

  “’Tis a sad thing about your brother.”

  Drostan turned an eye on his second-in-command, Artair. “A sad thing? ’Tis an
understatement.”

  Drostan’s brother Niall and his wife had been slain at dawn by a band of Campbell warriors as they’d made love in the sacred glen on Ben Nevis. A ritual their clan had taken to for the laird to get his wife with child for the first time. But Niall and Ceana’s lovemaking had been cut short. Their blood spilled on the sacred marriage-rock bed.

  He dropped into a chair, his elbows coming to his knees and head falling into his palms. He should have been better prepared, he should have kept his brother and his sister by marriage safe. Niall had insisted he make love to his wife in private, forgoing the usual ritual of five witnesses each taking their place in front of a sacred pillar. Drostan had relented and that was when the enemy struck.

  The superstitions of the clan had taken over immediately, all believing they were now doomed to a worse Fate.

  “Ye have to save the clan, Dros.”

  Drostan’s gaze shot upward to view Artair as he stood, arms crossed over his chest and looking down his nose. Artair was not only a loyal and true friend to Drostan but had been to his father before him. Artair had trained Drostan, shown him how to be a man, a warrior. He trusted him completely.

  “What can I do?” His mind raced, flashes of his brother’s slashed body and that of his beheaded wife forming before his eyes.

  “You must take a wife upon the sacred stone.”

  “A wife?”

  “Aye.”

  Who would he get to marry him upon the stone that still held his family’s blood?

  As if reading his thoughts, Artair said, “Not a wife from Inverlochy.”

  Drostan furrowed his brow in confusion. “From where then?”

  “If the legends be true, then she will come to ye.”

  “Mo creach, I dinna ken what nonsense ye speak.” Drostan could not help his anger, his frustration. His entire world had fallen this morning. He wanted nothing more than to attack the Campbells for what they’d done but he had no proof. Just the tale of a nearby sheepherder who’d seen the Campbell colors as they’d fled.

  Artair placed a thick, heavy hand on Drostan’s shoulder. His eyes were dark, his craggy nose long and his lips pressed together in seriousness.

  “Ye must get hold of yourself, Drostan. Ye’re laird now. Your people need ye.” Placing his hands on either of Drostan’s arms, Artair hauled him to standing. “Gather five witnesses and go to the circle of stones. Ye will need to lie upon the sacred bed and wait for dusk.”

  Drostan frowned. “Then what?”

  “If what my grandmam said be true, then your intended will come to ye. Ye must seal the bonds of marriage upon the stone.”

  Drostan shook his head. Utter nonsense. “Magic, ye tell me?”

  Artair nodded, his solemn face looking doubtful and apprehensive.

  “Why should I go to the trouble of doing this if it be magic? I dinna believe in magic.” He raked his hands through his thick hair.

  Artair played with his red-and-gray beard, his fingers running down a long braid in the center of his chin. “Ye might not believe it but your people do.” He shrugged. “At least it will give ye some time to think of a way to make things right. ’Haps think of a bonny, fertile lass to impregnate soon.”

  With a deep sigh, Drostan stood. “I’d best be going then. ’Tis nearly dusk.”

  * * * * *

  As Briana stroked the path of ancient designs, one by one they sparked to life, setting off an ethereal glow.

  She pulled her hand back in shock and amazement, her eyes widening, lips parting slightly. “What in the world?”

  Curiosity took hold and she reached out to touch the symbols again. She traced them, watching as bluish-gold sparks of life lit each one.

  “Ouch!” She yanked her hand back as a spark jolted her insides. But saying ouch was more of a natural, automatic response. It didn’t really hurt. If anything, the warm spark of sensation felt…good.

  She stepped forward, closer, only inches away and laid both hands on the glowing symbols. Warmth like silken fire ignited within her palms and spread in a delicious wave up her arms and to her heart, to her breasts, making her nipples tingle, and lower until her insides throbbed with yearning and her sex grew slick and clenched with the need to be filled. Her clit throbbed.

  Now that was too much. She yanked away, stepping back several feet, and looked around her, half expecting someone to be staring at her, brows raised in accusatory questioning.

  But there was no one there. She was alone.

  She turned back to the stones, expecting to see the glowing had stopped, only a figment of her imagination, a trick of the setting sun’s light. A hint she was slowly losing her mind.

  Wrong.

  The symbols glowed and now the entire archway filled with light, beckoning her. Swirling mists encroached on the glen, whirling around her ankles, and if she wasn’t mistaken it felt as though the mists had grown limbs and nudged her toward the arched opening.

  Her breath quickened. She bit the inside of her cheek and rubbed her arms.

  She wondered what was happening and if she’d passed out from exhaustion. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Not to her, not to anyone. Only in books and movies.

  A soft chanting sounded in the churning mist, in the very air around her.

  She couldn’t make out the words. They sounded foreign to her but they were mesmerizing and her feet began to move of their own volition, taking her closer to the arch.

  As she drew nearer, she viewed something inside, different than before. But she couldn’t be sure. The sun had dropped so quickly, leaving only shadows and the faint glow from the earthy erections.

  She peered through the opening at what looked like figures. She gasped in fear. It did look like people now inhabited the stone circle. She swallowed hard and tried to turn away but an invisible force held her, made her look.

  Briana gazed from one pillar to the next. Five large, muscular men wrapped in Scottish plaids, soft leather boots up to their knees, regarded her. They stood before each of the five pillars. No one smiled, they only stared at her as though they’d expected her arrival. But how was that possible?

  “Wh-who are you?” she stammered, her nerves jumbled into a tight, hot ball in her throat.

  “Come…” someone whispered.

  She stared from one man to the other. Who had issued the command for her approach? None of their lips had moved.

  Then her gaze fell on the large, flat stone in the center of the circle. A man every bit as well-muscled and tall as the others lay there beckoning to her. His hair hung loose, about chin length. His face was shadowed but from what she could see he had chiseled features, a sexy, beckoning smile. She shook her head in fear, confusion. He was hot. He was…nude.

  Gloriously nude. Her body sparked to life, nipples begging for him to caress them, suckle them. Her pussy flooded, need dripping down her thighs. Her arms came up, her hands crossing over her chest to touch her throat as her body warmed. She shook her head again. How was it he could elicit such a reaction from her? She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t sleep with strangers.

  His cock jutted from his trim and contoured stomach. The muscled V of his hips acted as an arrow toward his thick, long erection. She licked her lips, suddenly having the urge to take his cock into her mouth, to lick the drop of wetness from the ruddy head.

  The man leaned up on his elbows and beckoned to her again. “Come to me.”

  His voice was thick with a Scottish burr, deep and alluring. He spoke from firm, sensual lips that had her imagining how he’d kiss, how those lips would feel against her flesh.

  “What is this?” she asked. Fear still snaked around her spine despite her desire to feel his muscular length between her thighs.

  “’Tis our joining, lass.”

  “Joining?”

  “Aye. To save the Comyn Clan.”

  “Common clan?”

  “Aye, my people, your people.”

  She looked again at the men who sto
od at the pillars. Their hands were placed at the smalls of their backs as they stood at attention and even in the dusky light she could see the hilts of their swords at their backs. They were ready to do battle if needed. But why? This was the twenty-first century. Battles didn’t happen anymore.

  Unless, of course, she’d succumbed to exhaustion and at this very moment was actually lying on the ground beyond the circle, completely unconscious.

  The berries! Maybe the berries she’d eaten had been poisonous and now she was hallucinating.

  “I-I need water,” she managed, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “Come to me and I will give ye whatever ye need.” His eyes locked with hers and a level of trust passed between them.

  Briana suddenly felt safe, secure. She wanted to go to him.

  She took a step closer. Warmth built in the pit of her stomach—and a pressure, gloriously sensual in nature, warmed her sex. He stroked his thick cock and with his free hand beckoned her closer. His eyes sparkled with desire, mischief and his lips curved into a wicked grin. She couldn’t help smiling in response.

  He wanted her. She’d never seen a man this hot want her this much before. Hell, if she was crazy enough to climb up a mountain by herself, she was crazy enough to fuck a hot man inside a stone circle.

  And besides, it was only a hallucination anyway. She’d probably wake up naked in the middle of a meadow in the morning with a headache to rival all others. Might as well enjoy her hallucination while she was still having it.

  Briana took a deep breath and stepped the rest of the way through the stone archway.

  Chapter Two

  Drostan stared as the beautiful woman stepped through the archway. She’d been wearing odd scraps of fabric that barely covered her legs and arms before stepping through but now stood gloriously nude before him.