Chapter 10

Chapter 10

John sipped his whisky and held the glass near the candle in the inn's bar. The light reflected off the golden liquid. This tasted better than whisky in the future. Was it the old organic farming versus the new agricultural technology or possibly the pollution in the future? Either way, this he savored.

John and his da had arrived in Islay a day ago. They met with an ecstatic Torquil McDonald and inspected his whisky business located at the head of Loch Laphroaig situated on the south coast of the island. As John viewed the vast landscape, purely nature as God made, he pictured what the place would become in the future—one of the largest whisky distilleries in Scotland. What was Torquil's small farm became a thriving village, tourist stop for many coming to Scotland over summer break. He and Marie had discussed a trip themselves but hadn't taken the time to go.

Torquil stepped into his first building, the largest on the property, as he led them on a tour. "Pot still distillation is a batch process and I need more stills and a bigger warehouse to make more to ship for sale. Demands have gone up. Some distilleries use double-distillation, while mine is special—distilled three times."

He walked past the first large copper pot with a narrowed end, pointing to the top. "The wash goes into the first still, called the low wines still, where it's heated up. Alcohol boils at a lower temperature than water, so the alcohol vapors rise off the liquid and into the still neck or lyne arm, eventually reaching the condenser, which turns them to liquid once again."

He strode to the next copper pot. "The resulting liquid goes into the second still, or spirit still, where the process is repeated. The spirit still, that's where the spirit of the whisky is born."

Torquil glanced back and winked. "And this is when my magic happens, a third distillation." He waved to the large copper still. "We throw out a certain amount of spirit from the beginning and end of the run, known as the head and tail, due to their unwanted flavors and aromas. Some we reuse as starter for the next batch which produces our richer flavors."

He moved on to another copper tank. "The rest, well that's yer treasure—known as the heart—goes into barrels." He touched his hand to his heart. "'Tis why I call it the Heart of Scotland."

They walked out and into the next small building, his warehouse. Wooden barrels stacked from floor to ceiling filled the space. Upon entering, the liquor scent overpowered John's nose and he imagined if anyone lit a match, the place would go up in flames.

Torquil patted the nearest barrel, pride clear in his voice as he spoke. "All my whiskies are aged in oak barrels I make, stored in my warehouse. As the whisky matures, the angels visit."

He placed his hand over his heart as he gazed at the heavens. "A bit disappears from each cask. Tis known as the ‘angels' share' when the angels come to bless each barrel."

His gaze came back as he smirked. "It creates a distinct and lovely smell in the warehouse." Torquil sniffed for a long time then blew out his nose. "So, do we have a deal? Yer investment for my expansion, traded as shares of ownership, as well as yer fee for shipping services?"

Torquil had given John a cask from his first batch of whisky, already aged three years, for Laird MacDougall forming a long-standing partnership between the distillery and the family. Honored to be a part of such an important moment in the history of Dunstaffnage Castle, John wondered if this was how Colin felt when he traveled back in time and became a part of a tradition formed.

"Angel's share." Torquil truly believed angels blessing his whisky was basic science. The vanishing liquid was evaporation over time.

My angel, Marie. John set his glass down. She never remained far from his mind.

His da clapped John on the back and sat next to him at the bar. "I found out what's up with yer Marie and the priest."

John raised an eyebrow. "So, what have ye learned?"

John shook his head as he gaped at his father. He still couldn't believe he sat there with his da.

His da grinned wide as he spoke. "Small talk in the other pub says the night before a priest boasted about receiving riches when he found a stone on a cross. He drank heavily, and it seems the weasel can't hold his drink."

His da laughed out loud. "A priest who can't hold his drink. That's a joke if I ever heard one." He caught his breath. "Must not be a very good priest."

John sucked in a breath. "What else ye learn, Da?"

His da took another sip of his whisky and smacked his lips. "Their ship left yesterday morning." He laughed again. "Ye're not gonna believe where the ship is headed back to."

John grabbed his da's shoulder. "Dunstaffnage?"

"Aye, Dunstaffnage. If we sail with the evening tide, we'll arrive just after it." His da toasted his whisky and chugged the rest.

John's breath stuck in his chest. Dunstaffnage. He would catch up with her, finally have her in his arms.

With each step he took closer to Marie, the priest took her one step farther away. So close, yet so far away. He ran his hand through his hair and chugged the last of his whisky. The situation was fitting. This began at Dunstaffnage castle, and this time he damn well made sure this ended there and soon.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on Marie, hoped and prayed she sensed him. Hold on, Marie, I'm coming.

****

Late that afternoon, John was half asleep, rocked by the motion of the ship. He couldn't take his mind off Marie. He imagined he might sense if she became truly in danger. His heart might know. But he was so unsure. All he thought of was his love for her and he worried she may not know how much he cared. His mind drifted to the night he first tried to tell her he loved her.

****

In the Great Hall, the fireplace burned low and kept a warm radiant circle around the sitting area.

John stood in the shadows, as Marie sat in the soft glow. Her profile was smooth as she stared into the flames.

Over the past few months, she had come to mean so much to him. First as they corresponded over the chapel renovation project, then spent more time together when she arrived to work on the chapel—the moments he spent with her meant more to him than most other memories he experienced in his entire life. He woke needing to see her smiling face and fell asleep dreaming of her kind heart.

Only moments ago, he had sent Colin through the chapel portal back in time to find the Stone of Love. Colin's concerns to keep Bree and Marie away from the chapel, so they wouldn't become entangled in the Fae duty were real. Hell, John felt the same. He doubted he could keep Marie from learning about the portal and the stones. She remained smarter than she let on, and he recognized she would eventually figure everything out.

God, he would do anything to keep her safe. All he wanted to do right now was gather her in his arms and show her how much she meant to him.

John found himself next to the couch and next to Marie. He didn't even realize he had crossed close to her. The thought of her drew him to her like a moth to the flame.

She turned and rose. John waved telling her to sit as he slid onto the couch beside her. She held a glass of wine, still full. He took it from her, and their fingers brushed and tingled where they caressed. John sat next to her, she shifted, and their hips touched. He wrapped his arm around her, and she snuggled into his embrace, a perfect fit beside his body. He took a sip from the wine glass then stared into it and took a larger sip as he prayed for strength. He wanted to tell her everything that existed in his heart. As he set the glass on the table, Marie sat forward and gazed at him. He took a deep breath and released it. He wanted to say so much, share his heart with her, and he didn't know where to begin.

He took her hands in his and kissed each one. "Marie, I need to be honest with ye."

Marie nodded as she looked over his face.

John smiled and hoped he reassured her. He meant to make her happy, them both happy. "Ye have come to mean so much to me, especially over these last few weeks. We've got to know each other better."

Marie smiled. "Ye have come to mean a lot to me too, John."

John gazed at her; the curve of her cheek was soft in the firelight. His eyes shifted to her lips, smooth and ripe. His hand rose and brushed her cheek.

She tilted her chin down and her gaze traveled to his eyes then his lips. She licked her lips and that became the only invitation John needed.

He bent and brushed his lips against hers. She returned the kiss and sighed as their tongues tangled in a heated dance. He shifted closer, gathered her in his arms, and she moaned as his lips trailed kisses down her neck. He returned to her lips, slowed the kiss, and caught his breath.

He desired to share his feelings for her, revealing all that pulsed in his heart. He wanted to take her to his room and make love to her to show her how much she mattered to him. But he needed to tell her first.

He stared for a moment. Within her eyes, he saw his love for her reflected. It reached into his heart, making him speechless. He tried to say something, but he stopped. His breath caught as he attempted a second time. He leaned toward her and brushed his lips softly on hers.

"I've wanted to show ye how I have felt for so long." He kissed her again. "Words fail me." He tilted his head and kissed her again. With his face still close to hers, their mouths so close their breaths mingled. "Can I show ye, Marie? Can I show ye how much ye mean to me?"

Marie sighed. "Yes, please." And kissed him deeply.

He gathered her in his embrace, kissed her lips once, then again. He stopped and gazed at her, as the flames' shadows danced across her face.

She gazed at him with such love, his heart skipped.

He kissed her as he shifted her under him on the couch. He had wanted her for so long and she made him as nervous as a schoolboy. As he kissed her, she moaned softly, igniting his desire and making his heart race. His hands roamed her body as he molded her form in his mind's eye.

She shifted and returned his kisses equally.

His hand progressed over her tee shirt, massaged her breast. She arched and he trailed kisses down her neck. Her arms trailed up his back, encircled his neck, pulled him deeper into their kisses. His hand slid under her shirt, then bra, and cupped her naked breast. She arched and moaned as she nibbled his earlobe which made him jerk. God, he couldn't stand it anymore. She drove him crazy. He needed to ask her. He wanted her to know how much she mattered and what this moment meant to him.

"M'eudail, my darling, I've enjoyed this. I don't want this to end here." He kissed her gently.

"I've wanted to ask so many times but wasn't certain if ye were ready. If ye aren't, I'll wait. I'll wait forever for ye if I had to." He gazed at her face again as he searched for a sign.

She smiled as she spoke. "What is it?"

John smiled and kissed her again. "Please come to bed with me. Please let me make love to ye."

Marie kissed him deeply. "I'd like that, John." He smiled widely, stood, swept her in his arms, and headed for the stairs. Marie placed her hand on his chest over his heart.

****

A hard shove woke him, and John startled awake to his da's face. He jolted again, not used to his da in real life as he stood over him. John shook himself as he tried to fully wake.

"Come on, sleepy head. We've already cleared the pass and are docking." His da strode out of the cabin. John jumped up, grabbed his bag, and followed. Out on the deck, men rushed around as they set the boat to rights after a long voyage. His da stood beside the plank and waved to him.

John and his father stepped off the dock at Dunstaffnage late into the night.

The castle captain stood there and held a lantern to greet them.

Before the castle captain got a word out, John grabbed his shirt. "Have they arrived yet? The priest and the woman, are they here?"

Douglas MacArthur, the Captain of the Castle, shook his head. "Aye, the boat arrived, but they weren't on it."

Where the hell were they?

****

As the early sun's rays shined through the window, Marie lay tied to the bed while Clarke snoozed on the floor.

She whispered loudly and hoped she didn't wake the other guests. "Clarke, ye must get up."

His snoring met her request.

She spoke louder regardless of who overheard. "Damn it, Clarke, wake up!"

He snorted and shifted.

Marie held her breath in a moment of silence as she waited for a sound signaling he woke.

Snores filled the room again. The bastard was too drunk to arise.

Last night she tried to grab his dagger that knocked to his side when he fell. She eyed it now as she wished she could shift objects with her mind. If I got that dagger… But the blade lay there and winked in the sunlight.

Not to dwell too much on her current state, she focused on John—visions of him always carried her away.

She remembered the first time they made love.

****

He came to her in the great hall. He kissed her and stopped. He seemed he wanted to say something but had trouble. When he did speak, he touched her heart.

"M'eudail, my darling, I've enjoyed this. I don't want this to end here." He kissed her gently.

"I've wanted to ask so many times but wasn't certain if ye were ready. If ye aren't, I'll wait. I'll wait forever for ye if I had to." Marie gasped. What he said touched her heart. He looked her face over again. She gazed into his eyes and knew she wanted him.

She smiled. "What is it?"

John smiled and kissed her again. "Please come to bed with me. Please let me make love to ye."

Marie kissed him deeply, "I'd like that, John." He smiled widely, stood, swept her in his arms and headed for the stairs. Marie placed her hand on his chest over his heart.

He shouldered his way into his room and lowered her along his body. John reached behind him and closed the door.

When he bent and kissed her, Marie avoided the kiss and stepped back as she gave him her best "devil take care" expression. She turned around and stripped her shirt off. She glanced behind her as John leaned against the door. Marie hoped he appreciated her little show. She giggled as he smiled. So, he enjoyed it when she took control. Little did he know she liked foreplay, a lot, and planned to tease him until he couldn't stand it anymore. She reached behind her, undid her bra, and slipped it off as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

He slid against the door frame and gripped the edge as his breaths came faster.

She slowly turned with her hands over her breasts. She gave him that "devil take care" look again and lowered her hands. He gazed at her for a moment not moving.

She covered them again and turned around.

He took her in his arms. "Please m'eudail, my darling I love looking at ye."

Marie smiled. Her little show worked. He finally approached her.

He kissed her deeply and turned her into his embrace.

Not wanting to wait, Marie reached for his shirt and stripped it off in one motion. She rubbed her hands through his chest hair as she whimpered softly. Marie wrapped her arms around his neck and caressed her breasts against his chest. Her nipples hardened against his springy hair. He bent and his mouth covered her nipple as she sucked in a breath. Her body slid against his as she moaned again, and his mouth returned to hers with a more demanding kiss. She squeezed her body against his. She wasn't sure who started what or if they just responded to each other. She never felt this way with a man before, so open and natural.

His mouth continued to play with hers as her hand slid to his rear, gripped it, and pulled him closer. He grasped her rear in response.

She practically climbed up his body as she tried to kiss him deeper. His hand shifted to her front as he cupped her. She moaned and gripped his shoulders. He rubbed her, which made her squirm.

John unbuttoned her pants.

Smiling, she lowered them to the floor, undies and all. She giggled and he kissed her.

With a growl, he swept her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He gently lowered her upon the soft covers. So, he was as impatient as she—good. She wiggled and settled on the soft cushion.

John stood back. His gaze slid over her in the pale moonlight. Under his heated glare, she felt sexy, all woman, his woman. She wanted this man like no other, and she wouldn't allow him to leave her wanting. She sat up and reached for him, needing him closer. John approached her, and she rose to her knees, stroked his shoulders, and kissed him deeper. Her hands wandered down his sides, tickled him a little, and he chuckled into their kisses. His fingers trailed to her breasts, circled them with his fingertips, and tickled her in return. In a growl, he cupped both breasts as he kissed her harder.

He was as playful as she. She loved everything about him and wanted to show him time and time again. Her hands shifted to the front of his pants. As she kissed him, she undid them and giggled again. He smiled, stripped them off, climbed on the bed, and he fell on top of her in one motion that made her laugh.

He rolled close and took her into his arms with renewed kisses. John cupped her breast as her head dropped back. He kissed her neck and ran his tongue to her breast. He slid between her legs, and he pinched her nipple. The tingle sent jolts of heat through her. He suckled the nipple, and she arched as she moaned, loving his aggressive play. He sucked the other, slid up a little, and rubbed against her. She wiggled as he flexed against her. John stopped, took a deep breath, and shifted to her side. It seemed he wanted to take his time. She lay back and placed her hands above her head—a signal she gave him full access and permission, curious to know what John had in mind for his play.

He bent and kissed her as he trailed his hand up her leg while he suckled her lips. He cupped her and she sucked his bottom lip. As he rubbed his fingers against her nub, her hands gripped the bed covers.

He slid a finger inside, and she sighed in ecstasy. He shifted back a little and settled into a lounge as his finger pushed inside her. He licked her nipple as he increased the pace, the sensations sending tingles through her. The tension built inside her as his speed increased, the movement striking her nub on each thrust. She closed her eyes and arched as her hands gripped the fabric harder. He continued his onslaught, her hips bucked, and her nub pulsed.

He chuckled and slowed. Her eyes opened and found he gazed at her. She pouted knowing he teased her. He smiled and slid in another finger as her head fell back, and a moan escaped. He quickened his pace and elicited a groan from her. He drove harder as he quickened the pace even further.

She panted, and her walls gripped him as her hands fisted the covers. Heat built in her and flashed over her body. The intense pressure built again, and she climbed with it as she reached for her release. Stars burst behind her eyelids, and she screamed as her world fell apart. She panted and slowly became aware of the world around her. Her hands let go of the covers, and John rose over her and kissed her softly.

"God, Marie, ye are so beautiful." She smiled into his kiss, her hands dipped, and she gripped his hardness as she pumped a perfect rhythm. He shifted over her and slid against her and she jolted, still sensitive from his play. Her body arched, and she threw her head back in one long moan. He kissed her neck, then nibbled her ear.

He pushed close to her entrance but stopped and whispered in her ear, "I've dreamed of this…"

She cupped his cheek as she gazed into his eyes. "Me as well. Make me yers."

His gaze locked with hers as he slid into her slowly and strained as he entered her. They looked into each other's eyes as he made them one whole and joined. He seated himself fully and stopped.

He caressed her cheek. "Marie, I am yers." This moment, this connection she wanted to capture forever, lock away, and keep for all eternity. He remained the man she wanted, the man she loved.

She smiled, "John, I am yers."

He rocked, slowly at first, as he kissed her. He quickened his pace as his tongue caressed hers. His kisses became more demanding. Her body gripped him tight and sent sparks through her as he glided in and out. He created the friction she craved since their first kiss.

As their bodies danced together in the art of making love, he pulled her knee higher to slide in deeper. Deeper into her and deeper into her soul. John claimed her for his own. He moaned as he glided in repeatedly, going deeper, faster. She gripped his shoulders harder and pulled him closer. Her being closer to him took him closer to her heart. She sensed her passion build as her body squeezed his. She arched and shouted his name as he continued his onslaught to her senses. He made her pant and screamed his name again. He swelled inside her and grew stiff. He slammed into her once and then again. He arched and roared his release. John stayed there for a moment, then another, unable to breathe. In one long sigh, John rested his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes as his hand caressed her face.

"Marie, ye make me whole." He kissed her, and a tear dropped from her eye.

His thumb caught it as she sighed. "John, ye are my everything."

He rolled to her side, gathered her into his arms, caressed her face, and shifted until he held her close. She nestled her cheek against his chest and took a deep breath. She lay for a while as the moonlit shadows shifted. She drifted off to sleep against his heart.

****

Father Clarke moaned and rolled over on the dusty, hard wooden floor.

He's up?

She called his name again. "Clarke, get up!" Marie, still tied to the bed, yelled this time. "Damn it, Clarke, get up!"

He scuffled around with a moan, sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. "What time is it?"

Marie struggled against her bonds. "It's morning, and untie me now before I pee on the bed."

Clarke slowly rose as he rubbed his head.

He yawned and tried to untie Marie. "What have you done to the knots? They're too tight, and I can't get them undone."

Marie gripped her legs together to hold it in. "Can ye just cut them? I really have to, ye know."

Clarke eyed her. He glanced around, grabbed the knife, and cut her fabric ties.

Marie ran behind the screen. After a moment and a long sigh, she stepped from behind the screen as Clarke splashed water on his face.

He moaned again and wiped his face with the cloth. "What time do you think it is?"

Marie glanced out the window. "Midmorning, I think."

He gasped and slammed his fist on the chest of drawers. "Damn, we were supposed to sail at dawn."

Marie rolled her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and yelled loudly, knowing she irritated his obvious headache. "Ye got drunk and passed out!" She rubbed her wrists as she stepped back and spoke softer. "Ye don't remember last night, do ye?"

Clarke rubbed his head again. "No, I don't."

Marie stood still. If he did not remember that he attacked her, he hopefully wouldn't try it again. She sure as hell wouldn't bring it up.

Clarke scanned the room and gathered his bag. "We'll have to book another boat. Get your things."

Marie barked a laugh. "What things?"

He startled. "Come on."