Return of the Highlander (Immortal Warriors) by Sara Mackenzie Page B

were milky white and Bella found herself staring into them and unable to look away.
    “I warned ye once against the each-uisge .”
    “I—I think I saw it.”
    “Aye, mabbe ye did. The door is open and the each-uisge comes and goes as it pleases. It will try and take your life.”
    “But…why?”
    “It does no’ matter why. Listen to me, lass. Ye must watch for when the each-uisge is changing its form. That is when it is vulnerable. That is when it can be captured. Ye must have the magic bridle at hand.”
    “M-magic bridle?” This was absurd.
    The hag was nodding slowly, and now she smiled with no teeth. “Dinna worry, I will see to it that you have such a thing before the time comes. Slip the bridle on, but remember, the creature will no’ be easily restrained, and if it knows what ye are about, then it will kill you.”
    “I know this is a dream. I want to wake up now.”
    “Aye, just a dream,” the hag agreed gently, “but ye must remember it nonetheless. There is a monster in the loch and it belongs to the each-uisge . Have ye seen the loch monster, girl?”
    “I think so…. Last night something frightened the sheep.”
    “Aye, he comes through the door from the between-worlds, and he’s always hungry. Dinna go too close to the water in the darkness, Arabella Ryan.”
    “I don’t—”
    The hag looked up suddenly and her eyes narrowed. She swept her green arisaid about her head, peering from the folds and shadows in a way that made Bella think that whatever the hag was looking at was very nasty.
    She muttered something in Gaelic.
    Bella tried to turn, but found she couldn’t. Then the sound of movement behind her, a splashing in the shallows of the loch and a wet, dragging sound as something heavy approached across the stony beach.
    “I want to wake up now.”
    The hag’s eyes gleamed in the shadows of her arisaid, and now Bella could see an image within them. It was the loch monster, its skin scaled and dripping, with a head similar to that of a stag without the antlers, and yet long-necked like the pictures she had seen of the Loch Ness Monster. The smell of it hung in the air around them, like rotting fish. As Bella stared into the hag’s eyes, she felt something fall onto her shoulder, something cold and slimy. Reaching up with a trembling hand, she felt it.
    Water weed from the depths of the loch.
    A cold, sour breath huffed against the flesh of Bella’s nape, and the hag began to chant in Gaelic, softly and fiercely.
    That was when Bella began to scream.
     
     
    Maclean woke with a start, still shivering from his waking dream. He was alone in the dark kitchen and abovehim he heard Bella cry out. He didn’t remember climbing the narrow stairs, but the next moment he was in her bedchamber, standing over her.
    “Bella?”
    “I want to wake up!”
    “Bella, quiet yourself, ’tis but a dream.”
    He saw at once that this was true. Her face was tear-streaked, her long dark lashes clubbed together, her hair tangled about her. She was wearing her bedclothes, loose trousers of a sunset-pink and a long-sleeved shirt of yellow. The shirt was twisted about her and had been pulled up, disclosing the underside of one plump breast. Her trousers had slid down to rest on her rounded hips, and there was a stretch of curved belly, soft and pale and extremely tempting.
    Maclean was holding his breath, all sensible thought vanished from his mind, leaving only a hot and desperate yearning.
    Bella gasped again, twisting on her bed, and the shirt rose even higher. Her breast was half exposed now, the dark pink nipple contrasting with her lush creamy skin.
    Maclean felt the yearning within him grow almost painful. He stretched out his hand toward her, tentative, wondering if a miracle might happen and that he might feel.
    Because he wanted to. More than anything in a very long time, he wanted to feel the marvelous softness of her skin, bury his face against her and breathe in her scent, her warmth, her