She’d bought a few books on ancient clocks and clockmaking back in the twenty-first century. Mechanical clocks had just recently been invented and were expensive and only available in cities. Amber was curious to see if she could make one of her own. Making clocks meant reconnecting to her mom. She knew that every time she worked on one, her mother would be right there with her.
When they descended from the Pass of Brander and reached the flat, sandy shore of Loch Awe, Owen said, “Do you feel like making a stop? I’ll catch ye a nice fish and roast it over the fire.”
She knew that tone. That little smirk in his voice meant he had something in mind. Something she’d love, and he didn’t want to spoil the surprise. She knew that was the perfect moment to play along.
“A nice roasted fish sounds great.”
They dismounted the horses and settled on the small beach. Owen started a fire and began undressing, and Amber stilled, admiring his powerful body, his muscles playing as he moved. She’d been married to him for a while now, and still, every time she looked at his gorgeous, hard body, he stole her breath away.
He removed his pants, too, and glanced at her over his shoulder.
“I don’t think you need to be that naked to fish.” Amber chuckled. “Though I’m not complaining.”
He walked to her, and she admired his long legs coiled with muscle. “Come swim with me.”
Amber stood up. “Swim? I don’t really feel like it. The water must be cold.”
“I’ll warm ye up, lass, dinna fash.”
“No, thanks.” She took a step back. “I’m good and warm here.”
He stepped forward. “Lass…”
She squealed and darted. He reached her in two large steps and caught her by the waist. In a practiced move, he threw her over his shoulder and walked to the water.
“No, Owen! I don’t want to change! Owen, no…”
He walked into the water until it reached his ankles and then stopped. “If ye dinna want to get wet, ye better undress, lass. Either way, ye’re going into the water with me. I have something in mind that ye’ll love.”
She grunted through a smile. “All right, all right. There’s no changing your mind, you stubborn Scot.”
“’Tis exactly right.” He put her back on the shore, and she undressed under his watchful eye. She didn’t need to worry about the cold. The sun was warm, but mostly, the heat in Owen’s gaze was enough to make her feel like she were on fire.
“Good lass.” He smacked her on her behind possessively, and she hid her smile from the look of male pride on his face. “Come on.” He picked her up and took her into his arms like she weighed nothing. With a satisfied grin on his face, he walked into the loch.
Amber hissed as cold water touched her behind. Owen kissed her while still walking, and she melted, forgetting everything. Then they were deep in the water, and he moved her so that her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.
The water was not cold anymore, and swimming in it with Owen felt wonderful.
“Now see what a nice fish I caught,” he said.
“Just don’t roast me over the fire.”
“Oh, nae. But I do have a spit I’d like to put ye on.”
His erection brushed against her butt cheeks, hot and hard.
“Well,” she murmured. “I don’t mind being put on that spit.”
She kissed him, and his lips were soft and giving, but also demanding, and she was more than happy to grant him whatever he wanted from her. Their tongues met, gliding, sliding, playing, and teasing until they were both breathless. Amber was burning with need, and the strange sensation of being weightless in the water added an edge to her excitement, a new sense of relaxation and softness.
“Gentle and slow?” he asked.
“Oh no, baby. Hard and fast. This water thing is amazing.”
She grinded her pelvis against his hips to show him she was ready, and he gently guided himself in her depths. In one hard plunge, he was deep within her, and she shifted her hips to meet him.
She gasped as he stretched her to the limit, his heat invading her. He was diving inside of her, his breath gusted hard against her throat. She welcomed him even deeper, taking him all the way to the root.
He began to move faster, gliding in and out, precisely and relentlessly, and yet smoothly and easily. Every rock-hard inch of him brought her pleasure. He whispered how good she felt to him, how he never wanted to stop, how beautiful she was.
In no time at all, she was coming. A violent wave came over her, and she yelped at its intensity. She bucked and tilted her head back as convulsions slammed through her.
He stiffened and cried out her name like he were unraveling and couldn’t stop. They shared a moan, breathing as one. When they both finally stilled, Owen simply held her in his arms, and she enjoyed the scent of him, the feel of him around her. She watched the unprecedented beauty of the nature around them. No noise of cars, no white stripes from airplanes in the sky, no smell of gasoline. No pollution.
The nature was pure and rough around them. And she felt as if she were part of it, dissolving in its beauty.
“I’m so blessed,” she said looking at him. “You are the highlight of my life, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
He brought her closer to him. “I love ye, Amber.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered and kissed him.
They swam a little in the loch, then got out and ate some bread and cheese they had with them. It was already afternoon, and they wanted to reach Glenkeld before nightfall. The whole clan was gathered there to celebrate the official bestowment of Lorne to Neil Cambel, Owen’s uncle.
They arrived before sunset. When they entered the great hall of Glenkeld, Amber saw that the majority of Cambels had already arrived, and the room swarmed with people. The aromatic scents of roasted meat and freshly baked bread spread through the air.
Dougal and Chief Neil sat at the high table, and Amber looked through the crowd for Amy and Kate. She spotted both women sitting next to Craig and Ian and made her way to them.
“There you are!” Kate exclaimed, standing upright and extending her arms to Amber.
They hugged, Kate’s scent enveloping Amber. She always smelled like home and something like vanilla, although Amber knew it was impossible, because there was no vanilla in medieval Europe.
They’d met at Amber and Owen’s wedding and, like with Amy, they’d immediately understood each other well. Kate was different from anyone Amber had connected with in the twenty-first century. She was soft and sweet, but there was a hard core within her, and a strength of character that Amber admired right away.
Amy joined the hug.
“That’s right. Let’s give everyone a reason to stare,” Amber said.
“I don’t care,” Kate said. “I’m so happy to see you girls.” They broke off the hug, and Amber went to sit on the opposite side of the table next to Owen. “I was waiting for you to join us, because I made something special.”
There was a large plate on the table covered with a linen cloth. Amy leaned in a little and sniffed. “What did you make?”
Ian cocked his head and chuckled mysteriously. “She let me try it, just a little piece.” He looked around, and when no one was listening, he leaned forward and added in a low voice, “’tis a little piece of heaven from yer time.”