My Dark Highlander

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  “What? No! Which way do I go?”

  Stretching her neck, she leaned toward the right alley, but saw nothing to indicate the exit. Turning to her left was the same.

  Pick one, she thought.

  Though the dried cornstalks reached toward the heavens, and stood taller than she, a canopy of dark green, mixed with gold and red leaves, made her go left, toward the forest. Gavin was somewhere out there.

  “When he finds the cottage empty, he might head this way in time to…what? Save me? Again?”

  “Allow me to save ye, wench. Yer a comely piece of flesh wrapped in purple velvet, though I enjoyed the blue silk a bit more.”

  Glancing at the gray-haired Sinclair standing at the far end of the alleyway, she hesitated.

  “ ‘Tis no matter if my seed is planted in yer womb, instead of his.”

  His words were meant to frighten her, but they were the words of a crazy person. “No one is planting anything in me.”

  “Though he loves ye, it will no’ matter which man fathers yer first bairn, for the child shall be raised a Sinclair.”

  Is he serious?

  Facing him, she lifted the sword with both hands, even though her arms shook, and her damp fingers trembled around the hilt. If she could keep the heavy weapon pointed at his chest or groin, he wouldn’t get close enough to touch her.

  That’s what I thought last time.

  “Stay away from me, Sinclair. I don’t love Gavin, and he certainly doesn’t love me. There will be no babies made, today. I’d rather stab myself in the heart, then let either of you touch me.”

  A thunderous roar boomed behind her, and Sinclair raised his dirk. A wall of hay bales crashed inward, dumping loose hay, beribboned flower bouquets, and shredded cornstalks into the alleyway, where she and the older Sinclair stood.

  Turning her face away from the cloud of dust and broken cornstalks, she dropped the tip of the sword in order to keep her balance. A shadowy blur rushed past her, and slammed into the older Sinclair. As their bodies tumbled to the ground, and rolled away, flying debris created a dust storm too thick to see through.

  “Time to leave,” she said to herself. Dragging the sword, she found the hole in the maze wall, looked right and left, they paused. “Which way should I go?”

  A man screamed, and Jenny turned toward the melee. A brilliant piercing light exploded from the center of the dust storm. Protecting her eyes, Jenny hid behind the edge of the broken wall of hay bales, and waited for the dust to settle. Tiny dots across her unfocused eyes faded, until she saw the outline of a man, laying on his stomach. When she recognized the wavy brown hair, and the familiar purplish plaid, her heart stopped. When he groaned, she leapt from her hiding place, dropped the sword, and knelt by his side.

  “Gavin? Gavin, is that you?”

  He coughed. “If I be Angus Sinclair, ye be dead.”

  “Still a kidder.” Jenny helped him roll to his side. He was filthy. Sliding her hands over his neck, chest, and lower, relief swept over her. “I don’t see any wounds.”

  “If ye keep touching me, love, I will no’ be responsible for pulling ye to the ground, and mounting ye, no matter that ye claim I donno’ love ye.”

  “You heard that? Sorry. I wanted to convince him you didn’t care what happened to me. Are you saying my statement wasn’t true?”

  He nodded, but until he spoke the words, and admitted he was in love with her, she wasn’t convinced. He claimed he was only here to protect her, then would return to his time.

  “Let me help you up. Your father could still be close by.”

  Groaning, he pushed to his feet, while she held his upper arm. Unsteady, even together, she led him to a hay bale, and made him sit. She returned for his sword, then stood by his side, leaning on the hilt, its tip in the dirt.

  “Gavin. Look at me.”

  He raised his head on a groan.

  “How did you find me?”

  He rubbed dirt and straw from his hair, then looked up at her, grinning. “Balfour.”

  “Balfour? A horse led you to me?”

  CHAPTER 24

  “Aye. Balfour led me here, the moment Falcon and I arrived to find ye gone. When I untied him, the old beastie reared, then galloped in this direction, so we followed. I tied them both at the edge of the forest, upwind of the trail. They be well hidden.” Gavin swept dirt and twigs from his shirt and kilt. When he rubbed a dirty gloved hand behind his neck, and straightened his back, he groaned.

  Jenny let go of his sword, and it fell onto the hay-strewn ground. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, spit on a corner, and dabbed his face. “You’re a mess.”

  “This is the thanks I get for saving ye?”

  “I was doing okay. Your sword was getting a little heavy, though.”

  “My other sword is bruised. My sire kicks.”

  She chuckled, and tried not to think of the other sword beneath his kilt. “I’m afraid he learned that from me.”

  “I know a way ye can soothe my injury,” Gavin whispered, reaching for her.

  As he pulled her down to him, her heart leapt at his touch. Jenny settled on the bale of prickly straw, but her attention was on his fingers. He pulled them, one at a time, from his black leather gloves. When his callused fingers massaged her aching shoulder, with gentle pressure, her eyes closed.

  “Your sword is heavier than it looks. I have aches where I’ve never ached before.”

  “I hope some of those aches are my doing.” As his hands slid across the dusty flesh of her collarbone, then dipped to brush straw from her dirty gown, tingles swept down her spine, and her womb clenched. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  Was he thinking of their shared pleasure this morning, before the explosion shattered the room with glass? Recalling how he’d feasted on her, and she had swallowed him whole, her inner thighs wept. When he teased a nipple, making her ache to feel his mouth consume it as he had this morning, the hand moved away. When he cupped the back of her head, she tensed.

  “Open yer eyes, love. We can begin with a kiss, but I wish ye to know who kisses ye.”

  Her eyes flew open. “What an arrogant thing to--”

  His mouth crushed hers, silencing whatever protest she thought to share. The firm press of his lips turned her insides to flames. When his other hand cradled a breast, and squeezed, a moan escaped. Heat, stoked by his hands and mouth, threatened to consume her, or at least turn her cheeks deep pink.

  Without conscious thought, her hand slid over his kilt-covered thigh, and he responded with a growl, low in his throat. Heading lower, she rubbed the naked skin above his knee. When his fingers left her breast, and landed on her hand, he shoved their hands up and under his kilt. It was her turn to gasp. He was huge, hard, and pulsed beneath her fingers. A gentle squeeze made him groan, and she felt the rumble in his chest, where her other hand had landed.

  The kiss changed.

  His tongue pressed against her lips, silently begging her to open for him. She did, then melted against him, itching to get closer. His hand cupped her breast, and his other encircled her waist. He’d left her hand alone, finally. She wrapped her fingers tightly around his rock-hard length, and nothing felt better. This was what she wanted, to bring him release, secure in the knowledge that she cared for him.

  She squeezed his rock-hard flesh, awed by the length and girth. That she’d fit him in her mouth this morning, swallowing everything he gave her, still amazed her. Would he let her do it again?

  Her scraped knees and aching back protested the thought, making her whimper her regret. He must have thought she wanted more, since she felt his hips rock against her forearm and his thigh muscles tighten, beneath his kilt.

  Gavin’s tongue probed her mouth with increasing urgency, and the erotic intimacy caught her off-guard. She shivered, squeezing his erection, and tasting his tongue. The tang of bitter apples surprised her, until she recalled his unshared breakfast. Her stomach growled. She was ravenous, but for something other than food. />
  At the moment, anyway.

  While their bodies edged closer, a yearning to melt into Gavin, and become one being, surfaced. Their moans grew louder, and he smiled against her lips. Her senses spiraled out of control, while she slid her hand up and down his length. Pulling her mouth back a fraction of an inch, she inhaled. The dust had settled, and his musky scent mingled with the fragrance of cut hay, and autumn air.

  “You’re very big. Are all the men of the Scottish Highlands as…endowed?”

  He chuckled, cupped her head, and pulled her mouth back to him, but the rumble of the farmer’s approaching tractor made her stiffen. She pulled away, breaking their kiss, but he held her arm, keeping her from releasing the hand beneath the wool.

  “Doono’ stop,” he groaned. He pressed down on the kilt, keeping her hand where it was.

  As Jenny gazed into his dark green eyes beneath heavy lids, she tightened her grip around his swollen length. When he closed his eyes, and threw his head back, his erection grew longer and thicker. The hardened steel, covered in slick, hot velvet, throbbed inside her grasp. The urge to uncover him, and swipe her tongue across its swollen head, grew stronger.

  He raised his kilt, and suddenly shoved her hand away.

  When she lost her balance, nearly toppling off the hay bale, she grabbed his dusty shirtsleeve. “No, Gavin, let me…”

  He shook his head, fitting his own hand around the base of his erection. Her fingers ached to touch him again, but he shifted, stroking his erection. Enthralled with the steady motion of his hand around his cock, she leaned against his shoulder, and watched.

  While her gaze followed his hand, her sex dampened, and her womb clenched. Beneath his white knuckles, his erection reddened, and the massive head turned purple. A deep growl made her flick her gaze to his face. His dark eyes locked on hers. Arching his back, his grimace morphed into an open-mouthed howl, and semen spurted into the air.

  Gavin inhaled large gulps of air, and collapsed against the wall of undisturbed hay bales at his back. His chest rose and fell, and he tossed his kilt back over his thighs. Feeling like a spectator, Jenny turned her body away, “That farmer is getting closer.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “The farmer. That noise? It’s a tractor. A machine, like my car.”

  “We must leave?”

  “Yes. Like, right now.” Gavin leaned over, and kissed her mouth. The kiss was light, and void of emotion, as if he thanked her for a simple task.

  Irritation chilled her, tamping down any feelings for him. She ought to smack him, or kick him, but the growling tractor propelled her to move her feet.

  “Bastard,” she whispered.

  Where would all this racing around, and thwarting attacks, lead? The threat to their lives was still a danger, since Angus Sinclair had escaped. The adrenaline rush was gone, and she felt itchy from the dust and loose hay.

  “I could really use a bath.” The same moment she thought of all her girly soaps, back at her apartment, she glanced around at the damaged corn maze. “We’ve got to go, or we’ll be blamed for this mess.”

  “We dare not return to the cottage, nor the remains of yer home.”

  “The remains? The explosion came from my place?”

  “Aye, lass. ‘Tis a pile of smoldering ruins, all but the barn.”

  When his eyes wouldn’t meet hers, she cringed. The loss of the house and all her belongings was a pity, but they were just things.

  “You’re hiding something,” she said, staring at his lavender aura, like that of a person who had recently experienced a near-death encounter. He fought his father, but that wasn’t the reason the color had changed.

  “Gavin, what happened at my apartment? Tell me everything, or I am not moving from this spot.”

  As the tractor’s grumble grew closer, he exhaled, then slipped on his gloves. Picking up his sword, he hopped over the tumbled pile of hay bales that had at one time formed the maze’s outer wall.

  “Answer me.” Cursing beneath her breath, she gathered the hem of her gown. Against her better judgment, she followed. At the outer edge of the open meadow, about one-hundred feet from the forest, he paused.

  At the pain in his eyes, a lump lodged in her throat, and the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. What could cause a brave Highland warrior to hesitate to tell her what had happened.

  “Lass, I watched as firefighters put out the blaze.”

  “Okay. I told you about them. What else?”

  He tightened his grip on his sword. With a warrior’s cry, he sliced through a dried cornstalk.

  Jenny cringed, but stood her ground.

  “A woman, wearing a different uniform, arrived in a black and white vehicle.”

  “Sounds like the police. I met a woman officer at the clinic, recently. A police presence is normal, especially when the cause of a fire is unknown.”

  “She was there to discuss…the body.”

  With this unexpected news, she could only stare at Gavin. Her mind whirled, as she wondered who it could be. Jake and Izzy were the only other occupants of the apartment house, but they were safely tucked away in ancient Scotland. Had their new neighbor who rented the fourth apartment, a woman she hadn’t yet met, been at home?

  “Was it…your father’s mercenary? You said you doubted that he traveled solo.”

  He laughed, and unless she had imagined it, the trees shook. Gavin’s aura changed to a reddish hue, a sign of anger, or a quick temper. Knowing he’d watched a body being pulled from the rubble, angered her.

  “You mentioned that you hate your father. Believe me, I do, too. Nothing about that man is funny.”

  When he turned back, and stepped closer, he clasped her hands in his. His gloves were warm on her skin. “The body was not from my time.”

  Gazing into his eyes, where the darkness had given way to shimmering emerald-green, she sighed. Sunlight reflected off his brown hair, and a soft autumn breeze blew strands across his face. When she realized what he’d said, she gripped his fingers even tighter.

  “Now I’m really worried,” she whispered, dreading his answer.

  Bringing her trembling hands to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “The body belonged to young Randy Hay.”

  Her knees shook, and her head spun. “Dear Lord, why him?”

  “He must have come to call on ye.”

  The heated conversation between her, and the older Sinclair, popped into her head. “I forgot. Your father said his potion was too powerful, and the damage not what he had anticipated. He killed Randy!”

  “I am sorry--”

  She pulled away from him, and paced the empty cornfield. “The man is nuts! He’s tried to hurt us, several times! Now, someone I know is dead.”

  Gavin sighed. “He is using powers he canno’ control. We must remove the magical potions from his person, capture him, and send him home.”

  “Good luck. Didn’t he just whip your butt?”

  A growl erupted from his lips.

  Jenny stepped back.

  Grasping her wrists, Gavin pulled her into his chest, and pressed her head against his shoulder. His breaths grew even, and he gently stroked her hair. “I am sorry the lad is dead. I warned him to keep away from ye.”

  She smiled. He protected her even when she wasn’t aware of it. She patted his chest, and he set her aside.

  Gavin glanced around. When they were sure the coast was clear, they ran across the open field. They didn’t stop running until they reached the shadowy interior of the woods. He headed for the horses, hidden beyond the forest’s edge.

  Balfour whinnied at her approach, and she petted his velvet nose. Gavin grabbed the empty scabbard he had collected from the lean-to, and slid his blade into the tooled leather. He lifted Jenny onto Balfour, and she pulled her gown up past her knees. His gaze lowered, and she could feel it trail down her naked legs, until he stared at her boots.

  Stepping back, he inhaled. When his eyes slid shut, and his hands fisted against his thigh
s, she worried he wanted to get away from her, as fast as a magical spell could carry him. When he jumped onto Falcon’s back, he sped off toward the trail she assumed led to the main road.

  She hadn’t asked where they headed, but she wanted to put distance between them and his father. The older Sinclair had disappeared in a ball of light again, but she sensed he hadn’t traveled very far.

  “I forgot to tell Gavin about his father’s plans.” She peered into the forest, but it had swallowed him up. “No telling where either Sinclair has gone.”

  “The old man is a thorn in my side. Good riddance.”

  The high-pitched voice drifted down from over her head, startling her. Jenny pulled back on the reins, and Balfour reared. She spun into an unladylike backwards somersault, and landed on her back on the forest floor. The blow knocked the wind out of her, and stars filled her vision. Balfour stopped several yards away. Jaden-Tog dropped from the tree, stumbled toward her, and collapsed to his knees.

  Though dizzy, she struggled to sit upright. The brownie was bleeding. His brown jacket was sliced, and darkened by blood. Dried blood smeared his face, hair, and beard.

  Even if she could speak, she dare not call out to Gavin. His evil father might hear her. Instead, she whipped out her handkerchief and dampened it with the water in the wineskin Gavin had hung from Balfour’s saddle. Luckily the old-fashioned canteen had tumbled to the ground beside her. Still unable to talk, she handed the little man the cloth.

  “My thanks, lass. Doono’ worry. I gave more than I got.”

  Slowly inhaling enough air to form words, she concentrated on speaking low, and slow. “I’m sure you did. If I mount Balfour, can you climb up behind me?”

  He nodded.

  “Excellent!” Struggling to her feet, and keeping a wary eye out for Angus Sinclair, Jenny collected Balfour’s reins. Assured that the animal had calmed down, she struggled with her dress, but managed to get into the saddle without help. The brownie was instantly behind her, and his tiny arms partially circled her waist. He leaned into her back, and she was glad her dress was dark purple. The blood wouldn’t show as much.