Faelan: A Highland Warrior Brief by Anita Clenney

Author:Anita Clenney [Clenney, Anita]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Amazon: B00A6IOMBY
Publisher: The Story Vault
Published: 2012-11-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Four years later

Near Beauly, Scotland

A shadow moved between him and the fire. A woman. It was her. She walked toward him, her body hidden by the darkness. He strained to see her face, but as always, it was cloudy. But he could feel her. He had no trouble with that. She stooped and pulled back the blanket he’d thrown over him and joined him in his bedroll. She was naked. His hands made up for what he couldn’t see. He touched and stroked until he’d covered every bit of her, then he started with his mouth. He nuzzled her neck, and moved down to her breasts, and kept going until he’d tasted all of her. She tasted like honey and sunshine, and when she moaned and pulled at his shoulders, he slid up her body and opened her thighs to slip inside—

Faelan woke, his loins throbbing. He was face down with nothing underneath him but the earth and his bedroll. Bollocks. The dream again. If it was a dream how could he still taste her on his tongue, hear her name on his lips? Her name. He grabbed for the memory, yanking it like he might yank a line to snag a trout, but the memory slipped free before he could grasp it. Damnation. Why couldn’t he remember?

“He’s at it again,” Ian muttered from his bedroll on the other side of the fire.

They were on their way back from a battle in Edinburgh. Ian’s demon, this time. Leaves crunched as one of his brothers shifted. Faelan didn’t move. He was still hard and aching from the dream, making it damned uncomfortable lying face down on the ground, but he didn’t want them to know he was awake.

“Faelan needs a woman,” Tavis said, his voice low.

Ian snorted. “He’s got one.”

“A real one,” Tavis said. Something hit the fire and the flames hissed.

“Makes no sense,” Ian said softly. “All men dream of lasses, but the same one for years, and he doesn’t even know her name? That’s bloody strange.”

“This is one puzzle you won’t solve,” Tavis said.

“He could be lying.”

“You know Faelan doesn’t lie.”

“Then she must be his mate,” Ian said.

“He doesn’t have a mate.”

Neither brother spoke for a moment, and Faelan listened to the fire sizzling and wished he could go back to the dream, or get rid of it. It was becoming a torment.

“Maybe his spirit recognizes her, even though he doesn’t. The Watchers aren’t the only ones who have strange dreams. You know that.”

“That I do,” Tavis said.

Faelan shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. He and Tavis both seemed plagued with strange dreams. But where he dreamed of a woman, Tavis dreamed of being buried alive, and other disturbing things. At one time, their father had wondered if Tavis was a Watcher.

“It’s a mystery, I reckon,” Ian said.

“Aye. But the only mystery I’m worried about now is how to get a good night’s sleep with only a couple of hours until morn. Between your snoring and Faelan’s dreams, I’ve not had a wink of sleep.

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