My Highland Laird: Sci-Regency Book 5

by J. L. Langley

  His life was so mixed up all of a sudden. It was like being thrust into an alternate universe. He’d actually picked up a weapon to defend Ciaran. No, not just Ciaran. Ciaran’s men too. Blast, but he couldn’t get the image of the dead men out of his head, their lifeless eyes staring up at him. He’d rode with those men. Even talked to a few.

  Then there were the men he shot. He didn’t know them, and he certainly didn’t like them because they were attacking people for money. Soldiers he understood and respected. Soldiers, like his brother-in-law, fought for causes, for things that were important to them, for their countries and their planets. But these men fought because someone—no, not just someone, the IN—was paying them. Paying them so they could take over. There was no righteousness in this. It was loathsome and wrong. They deserved to die because better them than him. And better them than the clansmen fighting for their home. That was right and just.

  But what about their families? The people who loved and depended on them?

  More tears gathered in Bannon’s eyes, but he dashed them away with the back of his hand. Damn those men! He’d kill them again if they weren’t already dead. How dare they make him kill them? And how dare they make him cry. He hated crying. He was an artist, damn it! He made the world prettier. He reveled in the beauty of nature, like the sight in front of him. He did not kill… until now. And what bothered him the most about that was that he would do it again. He knew without a doubt that he’d done the right thing.

  The trapdoor opened, clapping back onto the stone floor of the tower behind him. He’d shut it when he came up here, hoping to be left alone. He wasn’t hiding exactly, but Louie had been shadowing him like he owed her money, and he needed time to think.

  Footsteps echoed across the wood floor, and Ciaran said softly, “Louisa is beside herself with worry. She’s been searching fer ye.”

  Bannon nodded, relieved to hear Ciaran’s voice, but didn’t turn around. “She was smothering me.” He sniffed discreetly and peered upward, stemming the flow of tears.

  “She loves ye.”

  Damn it, the tears blurred his vision again. “And I love her. How’s your arm?”

  “I’ll live. It was just a graze like last time. How’s ye leg?”

  “I’ll live.”

  Ciaran chuckled right behind him.

  Somehow when Bannon had been riding through the mass of battling men, someone had sliced him with a saber. He hadn’t noticed at the time because adrenaline was a wonderful thing. Wait, did he say…? “Last time?”

  “Aye. I’ve been grazed before.” Ciaran sat on the battlement next to him, but with his feet and legs still hanging down toward the floor. He looked exhausted, but alive. And gorgeous. His hair blew in the wind away from his face, accentuating his stubbled jaw. He looked young and healthy, even tired and with his arm tied into a sling. Bannon had a new appreciation for the man. It was no wonder he was so tough. This place…. Skye was tough.

  Bannon had the urge to reach up and touch his cheek. When he’d thought Ciaran was dead, he’d realized he had a real connection with this man, something that went beyond savior and savee—or whatever the person who got saved was called. Oh, that was definitely some of it—Bannon wasn’t a man who believed in love at first sight—but he also admired Ciaran. Galaxy help him, he didn’t know if he could live this life, with the fighting, the hunting….

  They didn’t say anything for several moments. They just enjoyed the silence. The light breeze. This place really was as beautiful as it was savage. It was such a contrast to this afternoon. “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Fight. How did you get used to it?” The stitches in Bannon’s leg started to pull, so he lowered his leg, letting it hang over the side again.

  Ciaran’s gaze followed his every move. “It’s what I was trained tae do. I started learning how tae fight practically from the moment I learned tae walk.”

  “Did you want to fight?”

  “I never thought about it. It’s just what we do. What was expected of me. I was born tae be the next chieftain, and as such I had tae be a warrior. Tae fight with my men.” He said the words as if by rote. As if they’d been drummed into him.

  “But what about all the men who die?”

  “Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye.”

  Bannon stared, agog. “What?”

  Smirking, Ciaran answered, “What will happen will happen.”

  With a grin, Bannon asked, “Is that English?”

  “Aye.”

  “If you say so.” Aside from the funny words, the sentiment made sense. Fate and all that. It was part of being a leader, Bannon supposed. Something Ciaran had been taught along with how to use a sword. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty. I’m the youngest chieftain in our clan’s history. I thought by now I’d have my own cottage out by Agatha’s.” He gave a soft little laugh. After a few moments, he asked, “How old are ye?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Ye are jesting? Ye are older than me?”

  “I’ll turn twenty-two in two months.”

  “Have ye always wanted tae be an artist?”

  Bannon shook his head. “I thought I’d be a politician like my parents and my brother, but….”

  “But what?” Ciaran grabbed his hand, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.

  “My father steered me away from politics. He thought it was too demanding for me. That I was too soft-hearted.” He shrugged. “They coddle me. And they don’t listen to me. Blaise does sometimes, but….” He shrugged again, trying to put his thoughts into words. In the back of his mind, he thought he should just shut up, but once the words were out, he realized he needed to say them. Perhaps it was the realization that death could happen to anyone at any time. “It’s like they think I’m an imbecile or something. I try to tell them things, and they ignore me. It’s like they don’t think I can make decisions for myself. Like with Blaise and the engagement. After I found out, I went to my parents and told them to break things off. I told them I thought Blaise was in love with someone else, but they didn’t listen. They just dismissed me. Everyone does. Except Louie. She listens. She understands me.” He snorted at his own musings. Listen to him rambling. He started off feeling bad for the men they’d lost today, and he’d turned it around on himself. How pathetic was that? He really was feeling out of sync tonight. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Nae. Ye have nothing tae be sorry for.” Ciaran raised their hands and brought Bannon’s knuckles up to his lips. His lips were warm and soft as they feathered across Bannon’s skin. “I dinna ken why they dinna listen tae ye. Maybe because ye are the baby of the family? They probably only want tae protect ye.”

  Heat sliced through Bannon, and he stared into those dark eyes as Ciaran lowered his hand. He wanted Ciaran to kiss him again. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I know they love me, but it hurts. I want them to respect me. Which is why I usually end up doing something stupid. I know I shouldn’t, but…. It just makes me so angry that they don’t respect me enough to listen to my opinion. I want them to trust me.”

  “I trust ye.” Ciaran’s words were a whisper, a caress, but there was conviction in them.

  Bannon stared at their linked hands, resting on his knee, with a sense of the surreal and a tingle through his knuckles. His stomach dipped to his knees, and it had nothing to do with today’s turmoil and everything to do with Ciaran. Bannon gazed up into deep brown eyes. Eyes that gazed right through him to his very soul.

  For several moments, Ciaran didn’t say anything. He just watched Bannon, and then he pulled him closer until Bannon’s knee was against his hip. “Ye did guid today. Thank ye.”

  “I had to do something to help.” Bannon tried hard to focus on Ciaran’s words when his lips were so close. Suddenly all he wanted was to taste those lips and forget all about the carnage of today. Forget about being stranded. Forget about everything. His pulse sped up. Was it nerves? Or something else? And why was he so warm
all of a sudden?

  “Ye did more than something.” Ciaran’s hand came up and softly touched his cheek. His hand was warm and gentle, and a slow smile eased onto his lips. “Ye dinna do anything halfway do ye, Red?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

  Shaking his head, Bannon leaned closer. “You sound like Louie.” With a sigh he admitted, “It always gets me in trouble.”

  “Nae this time. I willnae let it.” Ciaran’s voice was but a breathy sigh as his forehead touched Bannon’s. “I trust ye, remember?”

  Galaxy help him, he trusted Ciaran too.

  With a growl, Ciaran pressed his lips to Bannon’s, his tongue snaking out, licking at the seam.

  A tingle arced through Bannon. His palms started to sweat, and he couldn’t feel his legs or arms, his entire senses narrowed down to his lips, which was so unusual for him. He was an artist. He took every sensory detail in, but not this time. This time only his lips existed. When had he closed his eyes?

  Ciaran’s tongue swiped at his lips again, and Bannon opened on a sigh. His hands clenched in the fabric of his kilt, and he leaned in, embracing the moment. The soft glide of tongue against his almost tickled. If it were in a painting, it would have sparkled with shiny little dots on the canvas. It melted Bannon’s insides, and he longed to do some exploring of his own. He threw himself into the kiss, mimicking what Ciaran did, reveling in the sensations trickling through him. He’d never felt anything like it. The bumbled kiss with the footman was nothing like this. Even his first kiss with Ciaran wasn’t like this. The feeling simmered in his mouth and slithered down to his belly, burning there. His cock even twitched in response. He wanted more but wasn’t sure how to ask for it, so he got to his knees, coming closer. His stitches pulled and made him hesitate, but Ciaran gripped his hip and urged his leg across Ciaran’s lap.

  A moan escaped Bannon, and he leaned forward, reveling in the heat of Ciaran’s body. He rested his hands on Ciaran’s shoulders, then wound his fingers through Ciaran’s thick dark hair.

  Ciaran slipped his unslinged hand down to Bannon’s thighs, up under the kilt. Abruptly, his tongue disappeared, and he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against Bannon’s.

  Bannon blinked, confused, but then he heard it.

  Someone was yelling for them. It sounded as though they were at the foot of the tower stairs. If it was Maggie again, Bannon was going to go kick her in the shin.

  Touching his face again, Ciaran leaned back just long enough to gaze into Bannon’s eyes, his face was once again somber. He huffed out a breath and said, “It sounds like Patrick and Marcus are back. I asked Angus tae let me ken as soon as they reached the gate.”

  Bannon nodded, feeling dazed. His lips tingled still with the feel of Ciaran’s lips. Now that it was over, heat crept up his neck into his cheeks, and a whole new sort of nervousness took its place. Hopefully Marcus and Patrick had more luck with their mission than Bannon and Ciaran had on theirs.

  “Come on.” Ciaran tugged his hand to get him to stand. Once Bannon was on his feet, Ciaran dipped his head toward the right but didn’t let go of Bannon’s hand. Which was fine with him.

  Bannon wasn’t ready to let go of the connection. Following Ciaran’s head dip, Bannon spotted the rifle propped against the wall.

  “Get ye fagger and let’s go see what Patrick, Marcus, and Ram learned.”

  A chuckle bubbled up inside Bannon. “It’s a fragger.” He made sure to enunciate the r sound.

  “Fragger?” Ciaran said, testing it on his lips.

  “Yeah. You know fag used to be a derogatory term to describe men like us, don’t you?”

  Ciaran frowned. “A fag is a bunch of kindling.” His brow creased, forming lines on his forehead. “That makes even less sense. I can see how the fag… uh, fragger resembles sticks but how does it resemble men? Who named the damned thing? And what do ye mean, men like us?” The words came out as a grumble, as though he were putting a lot of thought into it, and galaxy help Bannon, it was just what he needed.

  “Men who like other men.”

  The frown turned into a grin, and Ciaran’s eyes sparkled, attesting to the fact that he’d been teasing. He kissed Bannon on the lips. Just a quick peck. “I dinna ken about all that, but I ken that I like ye, Red.”

  Galaxy help him, he liked Ciaran too. A lot!

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I now have a new appreciation for soldiers, besides how smashing their uniforms look.”

  —Timothy on the battle.

  By the time Marcus started back to Lochwood Castle, he was bone-tired and cursing his decrepit body. Every muscle he had was sore, and his brain hurt from trying to sort through electronics and metal he could melt for solder. Fortunately his damned bum leg had gone numb; it ought to make getting off his horse interesting. Too bad he couldn’t build an orthopedic surgeon robot with all the things he’d collected from the crashed vessel. Sadly he doubted he even had enough to build a small satellite. They were going to have to think of another way to get home.

  He glanced over at Patrick, riding beside him and talking to Ramsey, one of the six MacKay warriors who had accompanied them.

  The other five men rode behind, talking among themselves. They all had saddlebags full of scraps Marcus had salvaged from the crash. Hamish drove a wagon filled with pieces of wreckage as well. It had not been easy liberating all those parts without a drill, but they’d done it. Now it was time to go back to Lochwood and see what he had and what he could build. It was not a task he was looking forward to. No drill was only part of the problem. Not having a soldering iron or electrical tape was going to be an issue. And honestly he hadn’t gotten a lot of metal that could be melted down for solder in the first place.

  Patrick laughed at something Ram said, drawing Marcus’s attention back to them. Damn, but Patrick looked happy. He’d really made a place for himself here.

  Grinning ear to ear, Ram turned to look at Patrick and caught Marcus’s gaze. He winked. The scamp.

  “What are you two up to?” Marcus asked.

  Patrick had the gall to turn to him, place one hand on his chest, and look affronted. “Us? Why would you think we were up to something?”

  Oh yes, they were up to something. “Perhaps because everyone else is tired and quite somber, yet you two are laughing like loons.”

  Ram chuckled. “We’re tired tae. We’re just passing the time.” He pretended to take notice of their surroundings. In all fairness, he was probably very aware without looking. It was something warriors did. You remained vigilant or you died. It was the way of the land.

  “By?”

  Pressing his lips together, Patrick too feigned interest in the landscape. Not that he could see much of it, dark as it was. The moon was behind clouds as usual. Skye had perpetual cloud cover. That, too, would be a problem with any sort of….

  “Oh my galaxy!” Marcus must have pulled his reins back, because his horse stopped.

  Patrick and Ram turned to look at him, and the wagon creaked to a halt behind them. They grew still and quiet as the others ceased talking and reined in as well.

  “That is what the IN wants with Skye.” Looking up at the heavens, Marcus shook his head in wonder. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before? It made perfect sense now. Skye had very dense cloud cover unlike anything he had seen on any other planet. Most days it was a complete coverage, but there was always at least 80 percent coverage. And as far as Marcus could tell, it was all of Skye, or at least all of Ellon, which was the continent they lived on. Granted he had not been on the other four continents or even all over Ellon, but he’d read a few books on his visits to the capital.

  “Ahem.”

  “Oh.” Marcus lowered his head to find Patrick and Ram still waiting. “The cloud cover will make it difficult to get intel. The IN could easily hide their activities on Skye from satellites and passing space crafts.”

  Patrick’s face drained of color, or at least Marcus thought it did. His face certainly fell, his
expression going from amused to shock.

  “Do ye dinger! Marcus, ye just killed my jovial mood.” Ram frowned. “One minute I’m plotting revenge on Ciaran fer dunking me and Patrick in the moat, and now….” He shook his head and whispered “shit” under his breath. “From what I ken of ye technology, that would make Skye verra appealing, but are there other planets with a natural cloud cover?”

  Shaking his head, Patrick groaned and wheeled his horse back around, willing them all to follow.

  Nudging his horse with his heels, Marcus fell in behind him and looked at Ram, who got his own horse moving and sidled up next to him. “Most planets have clouds, but none that I know of with the amount that Skye has. Passing ships would not be able to see anything amiss. Not to mention the lack of technology. It isn’t like Skye can inform other planets what is happening here.”

  “Hunh.”

  Slowing his mount, Patrick allowed Marcus and Ram to catch up. “Are you sure?”

  “What? About the reasoning?” Marcus shrugged. “About as sure as I am that it’s the IN who’ve been attacking us and who are building something on MacLean land.”

  “No, about the satellite imaging?”

  “Yes. Unless more advancements have been made in the last fifteen years. Satellite radar imaging can pick up an image, but it’s not detailed. For that they would need light detection and ranging. And that cannot penetrate clouds as well. I also remember hearing something different about Skye’s upper atmosphere…. Aren’t there more solar storms here? That would also make surveillance more difficult.”

  Smiling, Patrick gave him a long, hard look. As though he had X-ray vision. His gaze settled in the vicinity of Marcus’s lap. “Meteor dust, I love your brains.”

  “My brains are up here.”

  “Ugh! Would ye two stop. We were talking about the IN… nae ye sex life,” Ram grumbled, positioning his mount so he could look past Patrick and see Marcus too.