CursedLaird by Tara Nina Page A

would have
remained in his time where he would have lived and died. Destiny. He shook his
head but didn’t prevent his gaze from lingering on the words written on the
boat’s bow. A madman caused this havoc, not destiny. He stood on the very end
of the dock, looking out across the water.
    Odd lights twinkled along the shoreline in the night.
Unfamiliar sounds cut the air. A low rumble. A distinctive hum. What made such
noises? He squinted but only noted several sets of lights moving on the
opposite side of the loch, as if they followed one another at a steady pace.
His hand readied on his sword’s hilt in case they somehow traversed the loch on
a magical source. Was this world filled with such? Witch’s magic?
    He closed his eyes and struggled to wrap his mind around
that issue. One moment he faced Hume MacGillivray, the next he stood beside a
dark-haired beauty centuries later. How had he come to be at Loch Tay? Struan
strained to remember.
    He’d dressed and descended the stairs to await his brothers,
Gavin and Ian, for an early-morning hunt. The great room was empty when he
arrived. Gavin had a wife and a good reason to linger in bed, but Ian had none
that would rescue him from Struan’s wrath for being remiss in arriving on time.
Footsteps echoed behind him. He turned expecting a brathair . Instead, he
got an unwelcomed surprise.
    In the garb of a monk, Hume MacGillivray stood with a black
book opened in hand. Struan’s demand to know why he foolishly chose to step
foot on MacKinnon soil garnered a mumbled mystical response. He thought the man
to be daft in the head. His attempt to draw his sword ended abruptly when his
arms stilled. The air heated and snapped around him. A bright light engulfed
him and darkness swallowed him. That was the last retrievable memory.
MacGillivray’s chant haunted his ears to the point he stiffened.
    Struan balled and unballed his fists, then shifted his
stance to prove to himself it was simply a horrific memory. He was free. But
free to what, where and when? Mary was gone. His brathairs were cursed
and he… Struan struggled to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t sure about anything
other than the fact he stood at the end of a dock trapped in a world he did not
understand.
    The touch of her hand on his forearm made him suddenly aware
of her presence at his side. He looked at her, streams of moonlight accentuated
her face and gave her cerulean eyes a sensual, darker hue. A gentle breeze
fluttered the strands that escaped her braid to lift and tease him with the
urge to free the rest. It had been many a year since he’d seen such a beautiful
woman. Two hundred plus to be exact. He squeezed his eyes shut against
that thought as he desperately tried to accept it as fact.
    “There have been many changes, Struan. Let me help you find
your way.” Her soft-spoken words touched him with her offer of guidance.
    When he opened his eyes, Caledonia’s reassuring gaze warmed
his heart and stirred his blood, sending it directly to his shaft. Mary said
she left him in good hands. She basically gave him her blessing. Struan
heard the inner whisperings of the devilish voice inside his head. Here at his
side stood an inviting woman who tempted him beyond belief. But he would not
falter. An honorable man mourned the woman he loved and though they never even
kissed, he loved Mary. Thoughts o’ lust be damned, he screamed inwardly. He
knew nothing of Caledonia except the taste of her scrumptious mouth.
    Struan tore his gaze away from Caledonia’s full lips to
stare across the loch. The thoughts that divided his mind at the moment
confused him. Having been cursed for so long had to be the reason for this
inner turmoil. It had to be the instigator behind this growing urge to couple
with Caledonia. The cup of her hand to his cheek didn’t help his situation. He
followed the gentle pull of her touch and met her questioning gaze.
    “Struan, I know this is all so difficult for you.” He liked
the way his