Sexy Scot (Highlander's Through Time Book 2)

by Cecelia Mecca

  Her arms tightened around him.

  “I shot Yearger too. But his friend admitted he was guilty. That Yearger helped kill the king and tried to stab my mother. I don’t know if I killed him.”

  Greyson was not making sense.

  “What did his friend do?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “The companion’s name was Nigel. He played his own role. When Grace returned to Hightower, she said Shona had inadvertently played a part in the king’s death, but Nigel and another guard named Loxton were the ones who did the deed. Then Yearger followed her back to the castle, trying to kill her.”

  Marian pulled back enough to see his face.

  “And Nigel confirmed all of this?” she asked in wonder. “Why?”

  Greyson took a deep breath, so deep she could feel his chest rise and fall under her own.

  “I had an arrow pointed at his heart. The tip of Ross’s sword sat at Yearger’s throat. Nigel said they’d been recruited by some baron, by the king.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Your king,” he specified unnecessarily.

  Their faces were just inches apart.

  “King Edward recruited some baron, who in turn recruited the Irvine family to”—she could hardly believe it—“kill King Alexander? Why did they involve your mother?”

  But Marian didn’t need him to answer. The truth suddenly seemed obvious. “As a scapegoat. Which makes sense. Clan MacKinnish is known to support the Bruce. To implicate him in King Alexander’s death would effectively eliminate him as a successor to the Crown.”

  Greyson nodded. “Edward wants the Scottish crown?” he asked.

  She thought about it for a moment. “But ’tis impossible. He has recognized Scotland’s independence. His regent just accepted the Guardians of Scotland’s decree proclaiming the Maid of Norway as the successor.”

  And yet it made sense. She believed it was true, all of it.

  “Did any of them live?” she asked.

  “Nigel got away. The other two are dead.” From the way he said it, she knew he felt it keenly, in a way few warriors would.

  There were still so many questions. But none of them seemed as important at the moment as the fact that she was standing in a guardhouse in the arms of a man who was, quite literally, from the future. A man who’d made her feel things no other man ever had.

  “I am with you.”

  She meant it in the same way as the sentiment he’d offered her in the woods that first night. It was a message that she understood, if only a little, how he felt. She knew what it was to be in a place you did not belong.

  But when she said it, the thickness of her voice betrayed her. His expression told her he knew what she meant. He knew what was actually in her heart.

  Greyson’s cheeks moved as his jaw tightened, indecision gripping him as surely as it did her.

  “I have no right to do this.”

  His head lowered toward hers. As it did, Marian’s dream floated through her mind. But this was no dream. Greyson was about to kiss her.

  She wanted him to as surely as she wanted this journey to last forever.

  His lips, so soft and warm, touched hers.

  Marian pressed back, the moment made so much sweeter for the vulnerability he allowed her to witness. But this was not a kiss for him. Or for her.

  It was one for them both.

  And over much too soon.

  Greyson pulled back and opened his mouth to speak, but she’d never know what he had been prepared to say.

  His uncle, on the other hand, did not hold back his displeasure.

  “Greyson!”

  She jumped away immediately. What must he think of her?

  It was just a small portion of what she thought of herself. Marian raced past Ross and right out of the hall. Pressing her back against the stone wall, she lifted a hand to her chest. Her heart pounded underneath, as evident as if her hand touched bare skin.

  She knew in that moment that she could never go back to the way things were before. This moment had forever changed her.

  15

  “Riders.”

  There were only three of them, but as soon as she saw them, Marian thought of her men. Just like that day, she suddenly found herself surrounded, Greyson among those who protected her.

  They had hardly spoken since the day before, Ross no doubt being the cause, but he’d never been far from her thoughts. Although she kept reminding herself of her duty to her father, her heart longed for the feeling of freedom she’d experienced at Quinting Castle. For the way she’d felt in Greyson’s arms.

  “Stay close,” Greyson said, reaching for his bow.

  As their party stopped to greet the newcomers, he also reached inside the quiver at his side. Shedding blood was difficult for him, but she did not doubt he would do it to protect her. She only prayed it wasn’t necessary. They’d passed the border earlier in the day. It mattered not these men were Scottish. The only alliance in the Marches was to yourself and your clan, Ross had reminded all of them. Be leery, he’d said.

  Ross moved forward to speak with the leader.

  Marian could not hear what was being said, but the other men seemed to relax a bit as they spoke. Except for Greyson. He never let go of either bow or arrow. If he truly had traveled back to the past, he’d adapted to their ways quickly.

  Then, nearly as quickly as they’d come upon them, the riders passed them. Marian watched as the three men, one with a cart trailing behind his horse, continued on their way.

  Ross stopped just next to Greyson.

  “We’ve a problem.”

  As stone-faced as the others, Greyson did not react. Was it her imagination, or did he look more and more like them each day? He had a bit of scruff on his face now, and the hardened look of a man prepared to defend himself and his people, whatever it took. She doubted anyone would look at the group of men and single him out.

  Until he spoke, of course.

  “Bruce, the damned fool, has come out in open revolt against Balliol,” Ross blustered. “He’s taken his castle at Dumfries and sits now at Buittle Castle in Galloway.”

  “Took Balliol’s lordship? Is he mad?” a man named Brodie asked. The largest of them all, Brodie had a full beard and bushy eyebrows.

  Greyson didn’t ask any questions, but Marian could see the confusion on his face. She took it as further proof that his story was true. It was simply not possible for a relative of MacKinnish not to understand the implications of Bruce’s actions. Even she, kept out of discussions on politics due to her very delicate nature, or so her father claimed . . . even she understood.

  “Worse, James the Steward is with him.”

  Brodie cursed, and Greyson looked even more confused than before.

  “They had the support of the Earl of Menteith.”

  Alban shook his head. “Fools. They do it for Edward’s benefit.”

  Marian paused at that. Edward’s benefit? Why would the King of England . . . ahh, she understood now. They hoped to show the King of England they were willing to fight for their country, if needed. They postured for future support. She gave Greyson a look that said she would explain later.

  “They must be stopped. I must tell the Bruce our message has been accepted by the English regent.”

  A mumble of “ayes” followed.

  Ross looked at Greyson. “You will take Lady Marian to Duncan and speak with his father. Tell him we’ve gone to Galloway to stop the Bruce. I will take two men with me. The others remain to guard our lady.”

  And my coin.

  He didn’t say it, but Marian knew the trunk needed guarding even more than her person.

  “We meet at Hallstead Manor in Cumbernauld. ’Tis as good a place as any to meet before traveling north to Hightower.”

  Marian didn’t understand the look that passed between Greyson and his uncle, but it had something to do with her. She was sure of it.

  “My men will show you the way,” Ross said to Greyson. “Stay close to t
hem.”

  With that, he and his chosen companions departed. Those remaining looked at each other as if wondering who would take charge.

  Greyson was the first to speak.

  “I don’t know the area, but I do know we’re in more danger every passing minute. Show me the way.”

  The men nodded, not questioning him.

  Greyson and Marian fell behind the others, riding side by side. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of Ross much further ahead of them. Unencumbered, he traveled more quickly. Confident the others could not hear her, she allowed herself to speak frankly with Greyson.

  “Who are you, in your life, to command the others so naturally?”

  “My title would be unfamiliar to you, but my family runs a business, a shipping company. My father started it from nothing and now it’s one of the largest in the world.”

  Marian shifted in her saddle. “You have great admiration for him.”

  Greyson’s smile faltered. She waited for a response, but he didn’t give her one. She should let it go . . .

  “You said he was in a coma, but the word is unfamiliar to me. Something about sleep?”

  Greyson’s shoulders rose and fell, as if from a swell of emotion, but he did respond this time.

  “An infection”—he frowned—“it’s like he’s sleeping but may never wake again. He’s being kept alive by machines.”

  Anyone would be troubled to see a loved one in such distress, and yet, she sensed there was more to it. Something else was troubling Greyson. “You miss him?”

  Finally, he looked at her, his gaze stormy. “We treated him poorly.”

  Marian didn’t understand.

  “When he told us his theory about Mom being pulled back in time . . . we thought he’d made the whole thing up, even the story Mom had told him. But with each passing year, he became more and more obsessed. He stopped letting us go into his study, and we let him.” His jaw flexed. “Rhys and I all but forced him to step down from the company after the board demanded it. He’d always planned to make my brother the CEO, and I’d already been named COO the previous year. But it shouldn’t have happened that way.”

  Marian didn’t have much experience with a loving father, but she knew what Gilda would say.

  “We sometimes hurt the people we love, but it is precisely because they love us that allows us to make amends.”

  Greyson shook his head. “I wouldn’t blame him if he woke up and kicked all four of us from his hospital room.” He finally smiled at her, a slight quirk of his lips. “And we’d all leave, except for Ian. That boy has no idea how to take directions.”

  “Boy? How old is he?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  She worked out the strange way he told his brother’s age.

  “Rhys is the oldest, then Reikart and I are Irish twins.”

  “I thought you were Scottish?”

  Greyson laughed. “It’s an expression. We’re close in age, born within a year of each other. I’m thirty; he’s twenty-nine.”

  “How wonderful to have so many siblings.”

  “Pfft. Not always. They’re a pain in my ass most of the time.”

  His expression didn’t match his words. He obviously loved them very much. What Marian wouldn’t give to be a part of such a family. To be loved that way.

  The beginning of an idea formed.

  Nay. It was not possible.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to get back to them? Provided they do not all come here?”

  The others slowed in front of them, preventing Greyson from answering.

  “’Tis a good place to feed and rest the horses,” one of the men said.

  Marian could hear the water to their right, but she couldn’t see it. She assumed they had followed a river north. Marian supposed it made sense.

  Their small party dispersed, two men taking the horses through the thicket toward the water. Two others rummaged through the bags on the cart, presumably for some scraps of food.

  “Shall we take ours to the water as well?” Marian asked, dismounting.

  “Let’s do it.”

  She wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but any final doubts Marian had felt about Greyson had been laid to rest. Every time he spoke now, she heard something that gave him away. The words he chose sometimes, or the way he pronounced things.

  Greyson was from the future.

  “You’re looking at me weird.”

  Precisely. Like that.

  “Am I?”

  There was no sign of the other men, but as they approached the river bank, her horse balked. She stopped, walked him in a circle, and approached again. By the time she got him to the river bank, Greyson’s mount had already drunk his fill.

  The sun peeked out then, as if rewarding her efforts. Marian lifted her face toward it and closed her eyes. When she felt the brush of Greyson’s fingers against her hand, she let him take her horse’s lead. Keeping her eyes closed, savoring the stillness of the moment, she took a deep breath and felt a rush of simple contentment.

  When she looked again, he was standing just next to her, the horses tied behind them to a tree. Standing this close, she was reminded of how large he was—but instead of intimidating her, it made her feel protected.

  “I never knew my mother,” she said, looking into a pair of contemplative blue eyes. “I wonder what she would have said of the thoughts that ran through my head now?”

  “Tell me your thoughts.”

  Could she really verbalize them?

  Aye, to him she could.

  “I don’t want to become Duncan’s wife.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Then don’t.”

  Even if a small part of her had expected his answer, it still startled her.

  “I have no choice. But at Quinting, I felt so free. No one to watch my every move. As if”—she felt silly now—“as if anything were possible.”

  He continued to watch her, and Marian realized she spoke nonsense. Shaking her head, she attempted to walk away.

  But a hand stopped her.

  Not just any hand. His hand.

  And this was no innocent touch.

  16

  He was a fucking idiot.

  His life was a cluster at the moment. Somehow he’d managed to embroil himself in the assassination of a king while every single member of his family was in danger. But here he was, about to make yet another monumental mistake.

  Didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay away from her anymore. Every time they touched, Greyson felt it.

  A connection unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But until now, their connection had been innocent. A comforting touch.

  Yeah right.

  He had no right to entwine his fingers with hers. No right to grasp her hand as if he’d never let go. And he definitely had no right to be thinking the kind of thoughts that were running through his head at this very moment.

  “Anything is possible,” he said softly, “in my time.”

  Something had cracked between them, some wall. The teasing tone had left Marian’s voice when she asked him about the future. She believed him now. And the way she was looking at him . . .

  She’d gone from skeptic, rightly so, to believer a hell of a lot faster than he and his brothers had made the leap.

  “In my time, women choose their own husbands. They have the same rights as men, although there’s still some work to do, admittedly. But you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the differences, I think.”

  “I cannot . . . are you proposing . . . ?”

  “I’ll take you back. After we find my mother and brother, or brothers, if I can go back—”

  “If you can go back. And if you can’t?”

  All hell would break loose? Greyson didn’t know, exactly, but he did know one thing: Marian deserved more than what she was getting. And if he had his way, he’d give it to her.

  “We’ll figure it out. Sometimes you just have to take the leap and let it work itself out.”

&n
bsp; “I am not your burden to bear,” she said softly.

  In response, Greyson took her other hand, threading his fingers through hers. Holding both of her hands, he sought her gaze. When he found it, he said, “You’re far from a burden, Marian. You are strong and capable. You don’t need anyone, including me, to make it in the future. I’m not trying to tie you down. If we can get back, I’ll be anything you want me to be. Your friend. Someone to help you find your way.”

  Shit. That wasn’t exactly what he wanted. But he didn’t want to make his offer sound conditional either. If she wanted him to stand back, he would. Because . . .

  “You deserve a bit of freedom,” he added.

  That did it. He could see it in her eyes.

  “Say the words. Say you’ll come with me.”

  Because if she did, if Marian agreed, she’d no longer be an engaged woman. Which meant he would be free to kiss those lips he’d been staring at nonstop. Jesus, he wanted to kiss her so much. He’d been desperate to kiss her ever since that first day. But he couldn’t. Not unless she said the words.

  “My father’s alliance . . .”

  “Fuck your father’s alliance.” He squeezed her hand. “And I won’t apologize for saying it. Neither should you. Say what you’re feeling, Marian, and make no apologies. Say it.”

  “I . . . I don’t want to marry Duncan.”

  “And?”

  “I want to be free.”

  He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Say it.”

  She looked into his eyes as she answered his call. “I’ll come with you.”

  Greyson brought his head down, thankfully remembering at the very last moment she probably hadn’t made out with many men. He wanted to ravage her mouth, but instead he moved slowly.

  Pressing his lips to hers, he waited for her permission to continue. When she let go of his hands, only to wrap them around his waist, he grasped both sides of her face. Sliding his tongue along the crease of her lips, he willed them open.

  Ignoring the state of his extremely hard cock, or at least trying to, Greyson showed her what to do next. He coaxed her mouth wider, willing her to touch her tongue to his.