Edge of Yesterday (Edge Series Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  “What?” Julianna frowned.

  He gave a morbid laugh. “Aside from the fact we’re sitting ten feet from a psychopath?”

  “A what?”

  “A man who kills without regret,” he said.

  She stared for a moment, clearly uncertain, then nodded. “Aye, he is that.” Her attention returned to Crowe. “I wonder why he wore the dagger here?”

  “Probably because he can.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “I mean—” Cailean broke off, suddenly aware of her mother’s presence. He hesitated, uncertain he wanted to continue this conversation with Julianna, then decided she deserved at least some of the truth. “Will ye sit with me near the hearth?”

  Surprise appeared in her eyes then, to his astonishment, shyness followed. She nodded and he rose, then waited as she came to her feet. Cailean cupped her elbow and didn’t miss the flick of her mother’s eyes in their direction before he turned and led her toward the fire.

  “Ho, laddie!” called a big, burly graybeard as soon as they neared the edge of the raised dais. “Can ye no’ wait till we’ve all supped before you steal the lass away from us?” The man sat at one of the tables just beneath the dais and he pushed to his feet now, swaying slightly, the brightness of his eyes leaving no doubt as to why he was so unsteady on his feet. “She’s a bonnie one,” he roared, grinning at Cailean. “Were I younger, I’d want her, too!”

  “She would no’ take you then, either, ye auld goat.” An equally old man shouted from the next table, his quip drawing laughter from everyone who’d heard. “Now myself…” He leapt to his feet, thumped his chest. “Young Cailean can be glad I was born so long ago I cannae say how old I am.”

  “She is a beauty, I agree.” Cailean patted each man on the back as he passed their tables. The friendly gesture drew nods and smiles as they made their way down the hall’s center aisle toward the hearth.

  They reached the bench in front of the fire. Julianna sat and he joined her on the bench.

  “My lady—”

  “Julianna,” she said.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Ye might at least use my Christian name now that we are truly wed.”

  Emotion tightened his chest. He wanted to call her by her given name and so much more, but to do so would be to open his heart—and lose a piece of it behind when he left.

  “Julianna, Crowe is furious that you chose me instead of him. He is now attempting to exert power over us any way he can. To wear the dagger he wields for human sacrifice—and he knows someone spied on him when he used the blade—says to the world ‘I am untouchable.’”

  She thought for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “He is a small man.”

  “He is a dangerous man,” Cailean corrected. “He will do anything—anything—necessary to have his way.”

  “How I wish we could prove he is a follower of Satan.”

  “The accusation alone would be disastrous for him.”

  “Perhaps.” She shook her head. “We have been accused of dealing with the devil, and we are still here. Not to mention, ye dinnae understand how deep runs Alexander’s love for Crowe.”

  “Has Alexander called for him since I’ve been here?”

  Julianna shrugged. “Ye have been here less than a week. Last I heard, Alexander was in Inverness to witness charters for another lord. When he returns, the two of them will be inseparable. That is why my father must be careful. An accusation from Crowe against him will be far more disastrous for us than any claim we can make against Crowe.”

  “I find it strange that Crowe stirs trouble for your father while petitioning for your hand in marriage.”

  She gave a snort. “He hasnae openly accused my father, he doesnae have the bollocks for that, but we know he has been whispering in Alexander’s ear.”

  “And you know this because…” Cailean gave a slow nod. “You have a spy in his camp.”

  She smoothed her skirt. “I am no’ privy to such things.”

  Cailean laughed. “My la—” He stopped short when her eyes snapped up, and amended, “Julianna, ye dinnae play the innocent well.”

  Her expression darkened and Cailean cursed under his breath, then her face cleared and she said, “Ye prefer the wanton woman?”

  His cock jerked with the memory of her kneeling before him at the abbey.

  A small smile curved her lips and he knew she was well aware of the affect she had on him. Cailean hadn’t prayed since his mother’s death, but he wasn’t ashamed to send silent thanks that everyone believed he and Julianna had consummated their marriage last night at the abbey. He’d always laughed at stories of the ancient wedding night tradition where men carried the groom into the bride’s bedchamber, then watched while he deflowered her. The stories were overexaggerated—mostly—but he didn’t relish any further fanfare. To make love to her, then disappear—literally—would make him the worst sort of cad. She deserved better.

  Earlier, when Lord Ravenstone sat with him and Lennox and listened to their story of what happened, to Cailean’s surprise, Ravenstone had simply told him to be a good husband to his daughter. Cailean’s relief went beyond being glad the man didn’t try to kill him. The baron had looked at him not as the laird who could order his head severed from his body, but as a father who would protect his daughter with his last breath, but hoped, instead, that the man she married would protect her with the same determination. Cailean had promised to care for and protect her, and that started tonight.

  He had to discover how Crowe was moving people around in time, and why, then kill him. Christ, if he thought he could get away with it, he would challenge Crowe tonight. The mother fucker was wearing the talon with no fear of discovery.

  The big question that Cailean had asked himself ever since Crowe had walked out of Julianna’s room at the abbey still bounced off his skull: Val Ross must know Cailean gave him that scar. Why, then, did he send Cailean back in time knowing he would do it again? When Crowe entered the great hall wearing the talon, he knew why. Ego. Ego and perhaps a little fear, even if he wouldn’t own up to it. Val was conceited enough to believe Cailean couldn’t beat him a second time. He wasn’t willing to risk Cailean’s body being found in twenty-first century Heatheredge. His ego assured him that Cailean wouldn’t get lucky a second time.

  Cailean half wished he could return to the twenty-first century to see Val’s face when he realized he’d failed. Instead, he would kill Crowe before he left fourteenth century Heatheredge. Val wouldn’t live another week, much less six hundred more years. Another question arose among the dozen others he would never get answers to; why had Val Ross changed Heatheredge’s history and said it was the Mackays who had attacked the Ross party? Why had he said it was him who’d returned to Heatheredge and brought them repentance? So many things he’d changed. Cailean released a slow breath. He would never know the answers to any of these questions.

  “Do ye hate me?”

  Cailean started. “What?”

  Julianna stared at the floor.

  Cailean placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up toward his. “Ye didnae plan for Crowe to show up when he did. It isn’t your fault.”

  “I…seduced ye.”

  He dropped his hand to his lap and laughed. “Lass, in case you forgot, I was a willing victim.”

  “Still—”

  “Nae.” He shook his head. “Ye didnae force me to kiss ye.” He smiled. “And I wanted a hell of a lot more.”

  She flashed a shy smile. “Tonight, then.” She stood.

  He pushed to his feet, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped. What was he going to say? I’m sorry, wife, but I can’t consummate our marriage.

  One way or another, he was going to hurt her.

  She went up on tiptoe and, before he realized her intent, brushed her lips against his, then turned and walked toward the stairs.

  Cailean drank until his surroundings began to blur. He was sure it had to be close to two
in the morning. The ‘middle of the small hours’ as medieval Scots would say. Lifting a hand, he rubbed the back of his neck, still amazed to find himself here. Especially in the thick of his own wedding feast. Lord and Lady Ravenstone had retired some time ago, but the guests were still celebrating. He considered that a good thing. If they passed out in the great hall, no one would think it strange he hadn’t gone up to Julianna’s room.

  Someone clapped him on his back. “More ale, lad?”

  Cailean turned his head and looked at Brodie, who lowered himself onto the seat beside him. Lennox sat on the other side of him. Cailean watched as Brodie filled his mug. The liquid blurred as it flowed from the pitcher. Brodie poured ale into Lennox’s mug, filled his own, then set the pitcher down. Brodie pushed Cailean’s mug closer to him.

  “A toast.”

  Cailean swung his gaze onto him. The man’s face blurred.

  Brodie lifted his mug, then nodded at Cailean’s ale. Cailean grabbed his mug.

  Brodie stood and boomed, “To the groom!”

  A loud cheer went up and they emptied their mugs.

  Cailean took a big swig and his head swam. He would have one hell of a massive hangover tomorrow, but he wouldn’t be the only one.

  “To bed,” shouted a male voice.

  Cailean looked around, searching the crowd for the man who had shouted. His vision distorted into two—no, three sets. He gave his head a hard shake.

  “To bed,” called another man.

  It seemed everyone in the room converged on him. Strong fingers grasped his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

  “What the hell?” Then he realized what was happening. They intended to parade him upstairs to Julianna’s room. His head cleared in an instant.

  Bloody hell!

  Cailean swung his gaze onto Lennox. “This is ridiculous. Julianna is no maid. There’s no need to confirm I can perform my duties.”

  “Ye can try to convince them it isnae necessary.” Lennox nodded at the crowd that was nearly upon them.

  “Lads,” Cailean began, but broke off when he was suddenly lifted into the air on two broad shoulders, Brodie on his left and Lennox to his right. Cailean glimpsed the faint smile on Lennox’s mouth.

  “Damn you,” Cailean muttered as the men started toward the stairs, and the smile curved upward enough to tell Cailean that Lennox had heard him.

  They reached the narrow staircase and the men lowered him to the floor, then crowded around and pushed him up the stairs. On the third floor, they turned left and passed half a dozen doors before stopping at the one he knew had to open into Julianna’s room.

  “That’s far enough.” Cailean dug in his heels, but someone pushed the door open and shoved him inside. He stumbled backwards into the room, then spun to find himself two feet from a large, curtained four-poster bed. The thick brocade curtain facing him was drawn back to the foot of the bed and revealed Julianna sitting upright. Her long blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders in disarray. She stared, eyes wide.

  She’d been sleeping, he realized, and she looked sexy as hell. The blanket had fallen to her lap and he couldn’t tear his gaze from her breasts, straining against the white fabric of her chemise. His cock jerked and began to rise. Christ, if he didn’t gain control of the situation he was going to botch things up royally.

  Her brow furrowed and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was: she was no maid, so why observe the wedding night tradition? Because the medievals were a lecherous lot, that was why.

  Cailean turned to order everyone out, but half a dozen women pushed past him. He twisted and looked over his shoulder to see them pull Julianna from bed. She looked downright indecent in the thin shift. Strong hands grasped his shoulders and a man pulled his sash down over his shoulder. A woman stepped up to him and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What” –he began before realizing what they were doing.

  They weren’t just escorting the groom to the bride’s bedchamber. They intended to strip him and Julianna naked so that each could give their final approval of the other before the lovemaking began. He scanned the crowd, his gaze catching on Triumph in her scabbard, lying on a chest at the foot of the bed. He spotted Crowe in the back of the throng. His hand rested on that damned dagger and he watched, eyes intense. A tiny smile curved his mouth.

  He knows, Cailean thought, but knows what?

  Lennox turned and Cailean reached out, grasped his arm and yanked him close. “Get him out.”

  Lennox frowned.

  “Crowe,” Cailean hissed.

  Lennox’s head jerked in Crowe’s direction and Crowe’s eyes shifted onto Lennox. Lennox nodded to Cailean and pushed through the revelers, but Crowe was gone.

  Cailean would deal with the asshole tomorrow. Tonight however—he pushed the woman’s hands away and turned toward Julianna. Someone seized his shoulder and spun him around to face the door again. The woman who had been unbuttoning his shirt began to finish the job. Cailean tried to break free but the grip on his shoulders turned vise-like. His shirt fell open and was pulled from his arms. Hand on his belt, he shoved them away, but someone grabbed his arms and pulled them back as the woman who’d unbuttoned his shirt began to unbuckle his belt.

  Football, he told himself. Think of football, anything to put a stop to his erection. But it was no good. The plaid fell from his waist and he stood naked, his arousal hard and proud for all to see. He was turned and came face to face with Julianna.

  “What say ye, my lady?” said one man, too close to his ear. “Does your new husband meet with your approval?”

  She began a slow walk around him and when she faced him again, she said, “Aye, he will do.”

  Low laughter went up, and Julianna stood still while the women gathered around her. Cailean’s heart began to beat faster. Good God, they weren’t really going to strip her naked in front of all these men? But her shift was lifted off her head, then the women stepped back and, sure enough, Julianna stood before them completely naked. Her long golden hair reached to below her breasts. Full breasts with pink areolas that peeked through her thick locks. His eyes dropped to the thatch of golden curls between her legs before he jerked his gaze up.

  His cock throbbed.

  “I think the lady needs his approval, as well,” a man said, and raucous laughter followed.

  Someone pushed Julianna and she tumbled into his arms. The crush of her breasts against his chest as he caught her, sent the signal directly to his groin and his bollocks drew up painfully. Julianna’s head snapped up and she met his gaze, but all he could think about was her belly against his cock.

  “To bed,” someone shouted, and the shout became a chant.

  Cailean held Julianna close, shielding her body with his as he walked to the bed. She climbed up on the mattress and pulled the blanket over her.

  Cailean looked over his shoulder, and said, “You’ve all had your fun. Now off with ye.”

  “Not until we do our duty, lad,” someone shouted.

  “The fun has just begun, laddie,” the man to his right said, his eyes twinkling. “We willnae leave until we are certain you can perform your duties properly.”

  “You’ve see enough,” Cailean growled.

  The group descended upon him and pushed him into bed. He landed on top of Julianna and everyone laughed.

  “At least kiss her before you take your pleasure, lad,” someone shouted.

  Cailean looked down at Julianna. She cocked a brow and shrugged. Before he realized her intent, she grasped his neck and pulled his face down. Their lips touched and desire rocketed through him.

  Steady, man, he told himself. You’re not going to make love to her while everyone looks on.

  She flicked her tongue against his mouth and he groaned. More laughter sounded behind him.

  “Look at the poor thing,” a woman said. “He doesnae know he cannae satisfy her with a blanket between them.”

  Cailean broke free of the kiss and muttered, “I’m going t
o commit bloody murder.”

  “Ho ho!” a male voice hooted. “The lad is anxious to get on with the bedding. Show us what ye are made of.”

  A broad hand smacked his arse. He leapt from the bed, lunged for Triumph and yanked her from the scabbard. Roars of drunken laughter filled the room and he realized the picture he must paint, sword in hand, eyes blazing, and cock jutting upward like a banner staff.

  “Lady Julianna, ye are a lucky woman,” one woman said with a giggle.

  “God has rewarded ye for being a good Christian,” another said.

  “Out,” Cailean roared, but they only laughed louder.

  “Cailean, come to bed,” Julianna called.

  He glanced at her, and a hard body tackled him. Triumph flew from his grasp as he hit the floor, the bloody rushes jabbing into tender places. Pushing to his knees, he scowled and started swatting at the prickly bits of straw and heather. Before he could finish, he was lifted and tossed onto the mattress.

  “Do your duty,” Lord Sutherland ordered.

  He started to roll from the bed again, but stilled when Julianna laid a hand on his arm.

  “‘Tis tradition,” she said. “They are only teasing. Come, get beneath the covers with me.”

  He hesitated. He’d never been one for voyeurism. With a curse, he shot the group a dark frown, yanked the blanket back and crawled in beside Julianna. Cailean experienced a sudden lack of desire. God help him. If he couldn’t perform, the miscreants would stay until he got it right. He could see it now. “Nae, Cailean, that isnae how ye stick your cock into her cunny.”

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. Julianna shifted onto him and he jumped.

  “He is jumpy as a rabbit. Mayhap he is a virgin,” a female voice said.

  “Be gentle with him, Lady Julianna. Ye dinnae want to addle his virginal sensibilities,” said a raucous male voice.

  Cailean snapped his gaze onto Julianna. She stared at him without reserve. She didn’t appear the slightest bit embarrassed that a large crowd watched and waited for her to have sex. She took his hand, slid it beneath the blanket and placed it on her breast. His cock began to harden. Julianna squeezed his hand and he took the hint and began massaging her breast. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Their mouths touched and lightning centered on his cock.