“Fired up?”
“Angry,” Nicole enlightened. “Definitely exasperated and maybe even fed up when it comes to me.”
Seònaid gave no response but kept a smile in place and shrugged.
“Well, all of that applies to what he actually says to me so I doubt I’d know the difference telepathically,” Nicole said.
“You would know.” Seònaid wore that pensive look again, but she said nothing more as they entered a building full of weapons.
“Oh, nice.” Nicole eyed everything with wonder. “Look at all of this.”
She had only taken a few steps in when Niall appeared at the door. “I will help you choose a weapon, Nicole.”
“Just one?” She frowned at him then looked at Seònaid, who was already heading for another room. “And I’m sure your cousin can help me just as easily.”
“Nay, Seònaid is not so much a warrior as she is a shaman of sorts.”
“A shaman?”
“A wise one.” He started pulling several daggers off a wall. “She has a knack for seeing inside the hearts of men and steering them in the right direction.”
“So she’s sort of a therapist?” Nicole asked when Seònaid vanished altogether.
“Something like that but with magic attached,” he said. “She never needed schooling to do what she does. It comes naturally.”
Nicole took the dagger Niall handed her. “I’d like something bigger.”
His lip hitched up. “You already had something bigger, lass.”
“Shut it.” She rolled her eyes at his innuendo and reached for another dagger.
Niall grabbed her wrist, shook his head then nodded at the dagger she already held. “That one suits your size.” He grabbed another more compact blade and placed it in her other hand. “And this one.”
“I’m not that small,” she shot and eyed both weapons with disappointment.
“I’m surprised,” he said as he strode to another wall and chose an impressive sword with black leather wrapped around its base.
She tested the weight of the daggers. “Surprised by what?”
His eyes ran the length of her. “That you don’t realize how lethal wee things can be.”
She couldn’t stop a grin. “Did you just compliment me, Brute?”
“If I had ‘twould likely be a waste of my time, aye, Ungrateful?”
Nicole eyed him, shocked that she suddenly felt thankful for all his help. Despite how true it might be, she still found the emotion out of context. “Are you inside my head, Niall?”
“Och, ‘twould be a bloody dangerous place to be,” he muttered as he strode into the other room.
Nicole grabbed a small blade and tucked it in her boot. She cocked her head as she followed him. “Seònaid filled me in on the whole telepathic thing that happens after sex.”
“Did she?” Niall kept his eyes averted as he pulled down more weapons. An arsenal really. “Then aye, I can hear your thoughts, lass.”
He wasn’t being entirely truthful. “Just so you know, I can smell bullshit from a mile away.”
Niall strapped on a few weapons, crossed his arms over his chest and faced her. “You dinnae want me in your head so what makes you think I’d be there any more than necessary?”
“I’m still not sure I believe you’ve even been in my head.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me exactly what I’m thinking right now.”
“We’re back to that then?”
“We’re back to that.”
“Fine.” The corner of his lip curled up, and he tapped the side of the blade poking over his shoulder. “Besides wishing you could have my sword for yourself...” He glanced down at his plaid. “You’re wishing you could remember taking advantage of my other sword.” His brow slowly crept up as his eyes rose to hers. “But more than that, you want to remember our first kiss.”
Oh, God, he could read her thoughts. Bad. Really bad. But she wasn’t about to show her discontent.
She shook her head. “Did you just refer to your dick as a sword?”
“Was it not long and hard and—”
“Battle-worthy and memorable?” she interrupted and snorted. “Evidently not.”
“’Twas a hell of a battle to be sure,” he remarked. “You’ve a bit o’ wildness in you.”
Well, that sounded about right. “Don’t you forget it.”
Niall eyed her for a long moment, contemplating something before he set aside his sword and nodded at her daggers. “Show me what Darach taught you, and it best be better than your display on the stairs yesterday.”
“I was just messing around then.” She set one aside then spun fast and low, remaining on the balls of her feet as she thrust at his side. But he moved faster and before she could shift away, he swiped her legs out from beneath her. She ignored the air being knocked out of her lungs and rolled. When he grabbed her ankle, she turned sideways and kicked but not before she slid the dagger out of her boot.
He blocked her foot then dragged her backward, belly down, so quickly she was caught off guard. In a flash, he was on her with both wrists pinned above her head. He squeezed her wrist so tightly she dropped the blade. Although she was getting the hang of anticipating her opponent’s moves, she had a long way to go.
“Hell,” she mumbled, cheek against the dirt as she panted. Though disappointed in herself, she was all too aware of the feel of him. While he kept most of his weight off of her, he covered her enough that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Unless...
There was one weapon she had yet to use. Acting as though she was trying to escape, she pressed her backside up and wiggled it a bit as though struggling.
His breathing switched, and his lips came close to her ear. “I know what you’re trying to do, lass.”
“And I’d say it’s working,” she murmured, not letting up.
The only problem? Her plan was backfiring. While she might be arousing him, a dull ache had blossomed between her thighs. Damn. She seriously didn’t want to be turned on by this guy. Yet her heart was hammering, and the ache was increasing.
“Ye best be careful about this method when a man has ye pinned.” His brogue had thickened right along with something else. “Now how do ye intend to get out of this without being taken against yer will?”
His hot breath fanned down her neck, and a shiver rippled through her. “You might be a lot of things, Brute, but a rapist isn’t one of them.”
“It doesnae matter.” He ground against her, and she almost groaned. “What matters is the next lad that catches ye in this position. So what is yer next move, Nicole?”
“So no more of the nickname, Ungrateful?”
“Not right now.” He pressed down again, and the ache became throbs. “Not when I’m feeling verra grateful with the way yer moving yer arse.”
“I can tell,” she murmured, trying to buy time while she came up with a plan. About the only thing her body wanted to do was welcome him. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” he said innocently, his voice a deep rumble against her back as he nibbled at the tender area beneath her ear.
“You’re not fighting fair,” she accused, trying to think clearly.
“Battling is never about being fair,” he said softly, and she swore the nibbles turned to soft kisses. “’Tis about winning, dying.” His teeth gently clenched her earlobe before he pressed his hips down again and whispered, “Or surrendering.”
“There’ll be no surrendering to you,” she said. Or at least tried. Nothing really came out but a few gasps and a low, unstoppable moan.
“Show me how ye intend to get away.” His lips were close to hers. Too close. “Or are ye defeated already?”
Defeated? Heck no. She didn’t speak that language. So she cleared her mind and acted fast.
She turned her head as far as she could manage and brushed her lips against his. As she had hoped, he jolted, and she flipped. Don’t think, just do, she preached to herself. Grabbing the back of his head with one ha
nd, she pulled his lips down to hers.
Don’t think, just do.
But it was damn difficult as she became far too aware of how perfectly their mouths fit together. How warm, soft yet hard and demanding his kiss suddenly turned. He kissed differently than other guys. Skilled in a whole new way. He varied the pressure of his lips. Gentle and seeking yet confident and persistent.
Don’t think, just do.
All she could think about were his lips and how tempting it would be to open her mouth and let him in. What was it she was supposed to do again?
Win. You’re supposed to win.
Right. Now or never, Nicole. So she grabbed a dagger from the pouch attached to his back and held it to the side of his neck.
Niall stilled. His lusty eyes met hers.
“Gotcha,” she whispered, struggling for breath.
“Aye, lass. Ye got me,” he whispered back before he wrapped his hand into her hair and closed his lips over hers again.
Still holding a shaky blade to his neck, her mouth melted beneath his. Her lips fell apart. She might have a dagger to his throat, but when his tongue met hers, she realized he had won this battle by a longshot. He was hungry, and she was starved. There was no better way to describe the deep abyss of need she sunk into. Everything but the feel of his tongue and lips fell away. She had no idea if she even held the blade anymore.
So much. Too much. He tasted like liquid fire.
Sinful. Dark. Bright. Sweet. Illicit.
Blood roared in her ears.
Or at least she thought it did.
Suddenly, Niall tore away and ran to the window. Trying to catch her breath, she flew after him and peered out. A beautiful dragon with white, gold, silver and copper scales launched into the air and released another loud roar. Torra MacLeod?
Rònan strode in. There was a look of both fury and anticipation in his eyes as he yanked a blade off of the wall. “Time to fight. Brae Stewart has arrived.”
Chapter Five
NOTHING WITHERED A cock faster than war. Or so Niall thought.
As it turned out, he had to cast a spell to lose his erection as he pulled Nicole after him. Warriors already raced out beyond the drawbridge, trying to draw the enemy after them. Rònan had shifted and launched into the air after his mother. Now the dragons reined fire down on an army that was better protected by magic.
If there was one thing he enjoyed above all else, it was battling. Yet this time, there was a twinge of discontent accompanying the usual rush. The pure rage he felt streaming off his nemesis had but one goal.
Nicole.
Vika’s words entered his mind. “Ye both need to ride me, lad. ‘Tis the only way.”
“Nay, ‘tis too much weight,” he responded.
Black shadows streaked across the sky as more enemy warriors flooded out of the forest.
Vika broke from the crowd and stopped in front of them. “’Twill not be for that long. Now!”
“What’s going on with Vika?” Nicole tried to calm the horse as Vika flung her head and neighed wildly.
He had to give Nicole credit. Most if not all lasses from the twenty-first century would be in hysterics by now. Not worried about a horse. “She wants us to ride her.”
“Both of us?”
Vika released a mighty neigh and stomped her foot in response.
“Aye. Both of us.” Niall plunked Nicole on Vika then swung up behind her. The horse was large for a female, but this was too much weight for a lengthy journey.
Bloody hell, the enemy had already infiltrated the courtyard.
“Lean down and hold onto her mane,” he growled as Vika bolted and warriors rushed at them. Niall swung his blade and downed one coming in from the right as he whipped a dagger at one coming in from the left.
Vika had more strength than he expected and flew over the drawbridge. All the while, Nicole held on, and Niall battled. One of his daggers caught a warrior in the throat while his sword lopped off the hand of another.
In the meantime, Torra had landed in the midst of the warriors beyond the outer portcullis while Rònan swooped and used his wings to bat aside handfuls of men. Their fire might be useless, but the sheer power of their bodies seemed effective.
Cries of pain rent the air, and blood slicked the ground as Vika left the drawbridge behind and flew toward the forest. At least at first. Niall was fighting off so many now that it took a few moments before he realized Vika had turned toward the ocean. Now the dragons were in the air, twisting and chasing the dark shadows. The Genii Cucullati.
“Niall,” Nicole cried in warning. “Who the hell is that?”
His eyes locked on the raven haired beauty standing at the cliff’s edge.
Brae Stewart.
Brae’s voice entered his mind. “Aye, that’s a good lad. Bring her right to me, Niall.”
“Vika,” he said. “What are ye doing, beastie?”
The horse ignored him and kept barreling toward the Stewart lass. At least now they were beyond the enemy warriors.
“This can’t be good,” Nicole said, but there was a much-welcomed calmness to her voice. “That chick is seriously creepy.”
“’Tis Brae Stewart, lass.” Niall wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned close. “Ye keep tight to Vika’s mane, and yer thighs clamped, aye?”
“Hell yeah,” she murmured and followed his instructions.
“Summon the sea, lad,” Vika whispered. “Pull her to ye like ye never have before.”
“I willnae harm the MacLeods,” he replied.
“Do it now,” the horse roared. “Torra can protect her own.”
The horse would not sway from her course, and his magic wasn’t nearly as strong as Brae’s. But did he dare do as the horse requested? Summoning the sea was always risky.
“Think of the wee Bruce and think of Nicole,” the horse said. “Now!”
He had spent his life working toward protecting Robert...then there was Nicole. “Bloody hell.” He held her more securely and murmured, “Superum mare obtinent et omnia quae sunt, educ nos virtutem. Gods of sea and all that be, bring forth your power and set us free.”
Focusing everything he had into the element of water, Niall flung an arm out. A white film fell over his vision, and all became a blur as the ocean roared and inundated. Long funnels of twisting salty water stemmed up and met the sky as ten-foot waves swelled and swelled until they were thirty-foot waves. Brae’s head lowered, and she flung out her arms, protecting herself as water started to gush over the cliff.
“Oh. My. Friggin’...” Nicole’s words faded away as the sea fed the rolling, black clouds and rain came down in a monsoon. Vika, remarkably sure on her feet, continued to fly toward Brae.
Toward the edge of the cliff.
And the power of the horse only seemed to be increasing.
Though Brae threw her magic at them in harsh, unrelenting bursts, they remained unaffected. While he knew the power it took for her to fight the ocean and weather was remarkable, something even greater blocked her.
Tremendous magic.
Hooves thundered over rock as the heavens roared and the sea poured over the castle.
Lightning flashed.
Brae screamed in rage.
“Niall,” Nicole said, voice trembling, her words only reaching his ears because she was part of the vortex surrounding them.
“Dinnae be frightened,” he said. “A tough lass from Southie isnae afraid of the likes of this, aye?”
“Oh, Christ,” she mumbled, but he felt the strength she rallied when she heard his dare. “Shut up, Brute.”
Despite all the hell they were rushing into and the fact they would likely die, he grinned. “Ungrateful.”
“Whatever,” she cried as they drew closer and closer to Brae. Nicole squeezed his hand. “Hey, I just wanted you to know...” She hesitated. “That I’m thankful...thank you.”
The Stewart lass threw everything, but nothing stopped Vika. Close. Closer.
He squeeze
d Nicole’s hand as well. “I’m thankful too.”
Closer.
“Why?”
“That ye care enough to be here. That ye’d fight for a bairn.”
Closer.
“Any time,” she responded.
“I’m glad you’re here for another reason too.”
Closer.
“What’s that?”
Too close. There was no time.
“Even if that bitch moves, we’re sailing over the cliff,” Nicole cried and pressed her face against the horse’s neck.
So it seemed.
And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them.
With a final curse, Brae leapt aside as Vika rushed past and jumped...
Straight over the edge.
Wind and water rushed over them. While he briefly contemplated flinging them off of the horse, he knew it would do no good. So he closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Nicole and murmured all the comforting words he could think of.
He had done a bloody poor job of protecting her.
Then something shifted. The sensation of falling leveled out and almost as if Vika had leapt a fence then landed, she was running again. His eyes shot open as she came to a halt.
They were alongside the loch behind MacLomain Castle. The enemies had vanished, and Grant Hamilton and a few others stood in front of them. Grant’s arms lowered as the last of his magic faded.
“Niall?” Nicole gasped. “Are we actually alive?”
“Aye, lass,” he said, as surprised as her.
“Nicole?”
Nicole’s head shot up. “Cassie?”
“Oh my God, Nicole!”
Niall didn’t let Nicole budge an inch but spoke into Grant’s mind. “Is it safe?”
Grant nodded. “Aye, ‘tis safe enough for now.”
When Nicole said, “Let me down, Niall!” he swung off the horse and pulled her after him. Within seconds, she and Cassie were embracing.
Logan walked over, and he and Niall embraced, patting each other on the back.
“’Tis bloody good to see ye, Cousin.” Logan gripped Niall’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “’Twas no easy thing getting ye here. How fare our MacLeod kin?”
“I’ve no bloody idea.” Niall turned to Grant while keeping an eye on Nicole. Maybe he should have told her that Cassie had gone blind because he knew Darach had not. “I thank ye for your help, Uncle, but what the hell just happened? Are the MacLeod’s well?”
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 33