Last night, they nearly fought to the death until lightning struck and the battle deteriorated. Blinded, he had waited for an arrow to pierce his chest or for Mackenzie to strike a fatal blow. The woman had appeared between him and his mounted foe. He could still taste her petal-soft lips. Her fragrance had engulfed him; intoxicating him; making him forget his destined future. She had disappeared when the odd mist dissipated, throwing him back into The Mackenzie.
Recalling her curves, and the heat of her skin beneath his palms, his body tightened. Painfully. Picturing her naked body beneath him and her coal-black hair splayed upon his furs, a smile stretched across his face.
His scar ached.
His attention snapped back to his invisible prey near the opposite bank. When his concentration strayed, he had lost sight of the large birds as well as whatever moved through the trees. Too tense to hold the bow straight, he lowered his arm in disgust then kicked a pinecone across the forest floor. The seedpod skittered along, soon replaced with the sound of more thrashing on the opposite bank. He again fitted the arrow’s notch to his bowstring and took aim.
Not one to shoot blindly, he watched and waited for the creature to show itself. As the branches parted, the antlers of a magnificent stag appeared. The beast’s muscles rippled beneath its soft, brown pelt. Dinner, plus skins to warm the feet.
Come closer, my sweet.
Taut and at the ready, he held his arrow in rock-steady fingers. Kirk’s elbow jutted past his cheek as tension shimmered through each finger. He zeroed in on the beast’s upper shoulder where a well-placed shot would achieve a swift death. His gaze followed the path of the animal when it sprinted southward along the far edge of the stream. As the magnificent creature raced along the bank, kicking up sand and clumps of grass, his throbbing fingers slid away.
“Don’t shoot!”
CHAPTER 7
“God’s teeth,” Kirk cried, as a woman in a blood red gown burst into the clearing. She yelled and waved her arms. The beast, spooked by her actions, turned and disappeared back inside the protection of the thick forest.
A low hiss escaped Kirk’s lips.
She stopped and watched as branches swayed. At the stag’s escape, relief showed in her loosened shoulders and half-smile. Twigs snapped and hooves thudded as the dinner ran away. With a low growl, he again raised his arm then let his arrow fly. If the creature ran straight and true, he had one chance to bring it down.
When his arrow sailed above her head, the woman screamed then threw her arms over her head. She had been in no danger once he let it fly. He had learned to use a bow as deftly as he wielded a broadsword. But, he could have shot her earlier, before she had made her presence known.
The comely woman spun around and faced him, her features awash with incredulous shock. She obviously had no such knowledge of his skill. And, when she balled her hands into pink knuckled fists and placed them squarely upon her hips, he saw how her initial shock had morphed into downright anger.
Her darkened gown swirled amid long legs and clung to valleys no man but her husband should share.
Is that blood?
A tiny waist led his gaze up to tresses black as a starless night. Tendrils whipped in the breeze. He imagined wide-opened eyes and small, pursed lips but her hair shrouded her features. Dropping his gaze again to the hands fisted on her generous hips, he laughed. She stomped one delicate foot encased in a red slipper.
Why is her other foot bare?
“Why did you shoot at that magnificent creature?”
“What the devil do ye mean by jumping out of the bushes at a man?” He paused to decipher the origin of her accent, the odd tone somehow familiar.
“Don’t answer my question with a question!”
A breeze swept her hair aside and her eyes, under feathery lashes, struck him as unusually pretty. Also familiar. Painted the palest shade of meadow grass in early spring, they opened wide. She glared at him. He watched while she looked him up and down. Would her eyes sparkle as bright when she lay beneath him surrounded by candlelight? Kirk blinked at the meanderings his thoughts had taken while this strange woman stood before him in the middle of nowhere.
“Lucky for my head and that deer, your arrow landed in a tree.”
“Not a bit of luck for me, since I missed bringing down our supper. To miss killing a stag is a menacing omen, so ye best have brought a basket full of good luck with ye.” His words appeared to grab her attention. One of her slender hands slid forward and rubbed her too-thin abdomen as if hungry.
“Who are ye and what are ye doing out here?” Kirk asked. He strode to the edge of the stream and bent down. He raised a cupped hand filled with water and drank. She wet her lips with the tip of a pink tongue, and his body tightened.
“Same as you, you lunk-head.” Her face took on a quizzical look and her hands flew up into the air as if she prayed to God.
Her beautiful face, and her midnight tresses, sparked a memory that had returned to him in lust-filled dreams.
Is this the woman in the mist?
She cursed him. Though the word was unfamiliar, the meaning was clear.
Kirk straightened. Scratching his head, he considered her words then focused on her features and dress while wondering why she assumed he knew the reason she stood in the middle of the Scottish Highlands. “Ye would do better to gain my assistance with words dripping in honey. Curses shall not sway me, my sweet.”
Her eyes searched his face as both of her black brows arched.
“I’m taking a break before I return to work. Now, if you would be so kind as to direct me toward camp, I’ll see about doing what I was hired to do.”
* * * * *
The stranger, standing on the opposite shore, stated he intended to eat venison. As Haven stood on the edge of the creek, the auburn haired giant glared at her from the opposite bank.
One hell of a handsome giant.
Her chest rose and fell since her race to warn the deer left her winded. While she inhaled and gathered strength to give the man a piece of her mind, witty words suddenly stuck in her throat. The sight of the half-dressed woodsman, standing a good head taller than she, might also account for her startled reaction. Desire washed over her.
What the hell? Could it be…?
A bare chest, adorned with a simple swatch of wool pulled over one shoulder, rippled with wall-to-wall muscle. A damp, curly mat of reddish chest hair dipped down below the leather belt holding up his antique kilt. His apparent crankiness at missing out on killing a deer belied a healthy body covered head to toe in similar muscles.
“You certainly look well fed.”
He glared at her. Leather coverings protected his forearms and complemented his faded kilt and leather boots. Most every re-enactor she had seen at the games wore colorful plaids, so why did he wear such faded fabric? And why had he neglected to put on a shirt?
Haven winced when she realized something other than fear or anger fueled her heavy breathing. A healthy dose of desire flooded her nerve endings. His muscular form and long, loose hair gave her some sexy ideas.
At this distance, and with clothing much different than what he wore in her dreams, Haven guessed he might be the stranger with the tempting mouth. When his gaze softened, and his attention lowered, she glanced down.
“Devil’s own luck.” Moistened laces pulled at her gown’s bodice, the lace-trimmed edge dipped low and the curved tops of both breasts lay bared to the world.
“Ye look healthy as well, lass, though a might…muddy.”
She saw the laughter change to something deeper, when the heated depths of big blue eyes raked her up and down. Haven shivered. His Scottish burr filled her with familiarity. All she could do was squint across the distance and wonder if he was the handsome stranger who had kissed her yesterday.
Kissing aside, he must know where we are.
She tugged at her dress while she formulated what to say to get him to offer assistance. She’d lost her way. By his costume, she as
sumed he was a visitor at the Highland games. Above his square chin, his jaw muscles clenched. Something dark and crooked ran from the corner of his mouth outward. A scar. He tensed.
“Devil’s own luck,” she muttered. Her perusal of his scar had been a little obvious. She could kick herself. Most men were sensitive about their appearance, why should he be any different?
In order to get a better look, to know for sure if he was the man from her visions, she’d have to cross the creek. With no path back to camp visible in the vicinity, and alone with a strange man, she slipped a hand inside her dress’s bodice. The dagger nestled between her breasts. Bolstered by its proximity, she watched as the man rested his antique bow over one brawny shoulder and brushed a lock of hair over his face as if to hide the scar.
“Come with me. We shall return to camp at once.”
The smooth lilt of his words skittered through her eardrums to buzz across her heart. Haven deemed him harmless, so she grabbed her remaining slipper then gathered up the hem of her gown. Stepping into the cool creek, chills darted up her legs as she waded in the icy current.
“I hope the campfire blazes all night so my clothes dry.”
“And I had hoped to kill something before I returned to camp,” he bellowed.
“Kill something?” Haven stopped mid-stream and felt the blood leave her face. He’d said the statement without any emotion, as if his morning constitutional included a daily dose of death.
“Have no fear. I trust we shall find plenty to eat once we join my men at camp. I have several hunters out. God’s teeth, would they have better luck.” Without another word, the giant shrugged shoulders wider than a mountain range, then turned away from the sun and the creek.
And me.
Why should that bother her? Wanting to catch up, she crossed to the other side of the creek, released her gown, and tried not to giggle. He talked funny. As she smoothed the front of her muddied frock, his brisk pace took him quickly out of her sight.
“Wait for me!” Trotting in his direction, she spied the stranger’s broad back up ahead. The sun had burnished his skin a pleasant brown. It matched the color of the underbelly of the buck he had so desperately wanted to kill. A selfish craving to slip on his ancient-looking footgear to cushion her own feet tripped through her as she stared.
“Probably wouldn’t fit me.” She judged his feet to be nearly twice her size. She chuckled. The stranger turned around. Had he decided to stop to wait for her to catch up? When she paused within his reach, he loomed above her. She arched back to catch a better glimpse of the dark scar on his face, then backed up a step. When she did, she tripped on the back hem of her sopping wet gown and lost her balance.
“Devil’s own luck!” As she fell, several other unladylike curses filled the air. Today had not been her day. Two beefy arms swept down and caught her under both armpits before she landed in the dirt.
Things are getting better.
The giant hoisted her until she no longer touched the ground. When he set her down at his feet, she wavered, yet his support remained constant.
And sensuously warm.
“Thanks.” Haven inhaled, drawing in the scent of leather, creek mud and masculine sweat. “You smell great.”
OmiGod! Did I say that out loud?
With the giant’s crooked smile as her answer, she speed-walked ahead and stopped at a downed log near the edge of the trail. Shaking with embarrassment, she folded the driest part of her skirt under her bottom, and sat. With a quick tug, she pulled the layers of cotton and satin lace up over her knees. Bending forward, Haven rubbed her sore ankle.
“Enchanting.”
His single word made her stop. When she regained her senses, she turned away, ignored him, and relished the cool caress of a breeze. Below a canopy of dark leaves, the skin of her bare ankles shivered under its touch. The pleasant sensation continued up her damp legs.
“I wish I had a dry towel.”
“Enchanting, indeed.”
She suddenly stared at the top of his head. When had he kneeled at her feet? And, why? In answer, a pair of rough hands rubbed her frigid skin.
“Yikes!”
The stranger never paused. Within seconds the heat generated by his thick, callused fingers sent other receptors into action. Thick, dark red hair hid his eyes as the wind blew feathery strands across his brow. Haven’s heartbeat pulsed in tandem with the fingers that were intent on their task.
He’s peeking up my dress.
“Like what you see?” Haven asked.
He fell back on his haunches and nearly toppled over. She giggled at his obvious distress. Then she spied the bulge between his legs, tenting his crude kilt.
“Beg yer pardon, my lady,” he mumbled. He jumped to his feet and turned away. Both beefy hands lay fisted on his hips.
Haven looked away, and gazed instead at her surroundings. The peacefulness of the moment wasn’t lost on her. The gentle breeze rustled overhead tree limbs and a few unusual birds flitted among the branches, singing sweetly. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He choked at her words then bent to pick up a large, dead twig. When he cocked one leg, she saw the muscles of his thighs tremble.
I embarrassed him. How about that?
Haven wiggled her warmed toes, then lowered her dress. She luxuriated in the intense pleasure his fingers had wrought. Pushing up from her perch, she rubbed her rear end with both palms before she smoothed her gown.
Who am I kidding? These wrinkles will never come out.
The stranger’s head turned back her way and his eyes widened as she tugged on her bodice. The twig snapped in two.
The giant took off down a path and Haven followed, each step filled with apprehension. She’d been uneasy during her trek through the woods the minute she’d awoken with no memory of anything since the robed man’s outrageous attack. She didn’t remember falling asleep, either.
“Did ye speak, my lady? Is something amiss?”
She giggled at his pretty speech. Resting a moment, Haven arched her back. Without Jake’s nails, her hair tumbled down her back. Lazy and content for the moment, she stretched-out both arms. She lifted her face to the sun daring more freckles to sprout across her nose.
Darn the freckles. The sun feels so good.
Sensing that he had also stopped, she peeked. He looked uncomfortable, as if toying with an idea that would embarrass them both.
Fine with me.
She shook her head and stifled a laugh, happy when he resumed their trek. The rising temperature on this side of the creek had her wondering how far they had to go. The costume she wore had been pretty when Iona presented it to her. Her friend would be less than pleased with its current condition.
“I have to get out of this dress.”
The giant slid to a stop. His shoulders moved up and down ever so slightly. He spun around with a glare so hot it could turn an ice cube into a sizzling puddle. His gaze slid from the top of her loose and probably disheveled hair, over the dirty front of her low-cut gown, to her pink toes, and one sodden red silk slipper.
She pressed a hand against her bodice and felt the outline of her small knife. Stretching her body to stand straight and tall, she glared back with her chin raised. She chose a defiant persona for once.
Let him make the next move.
When he made a step toward her, she slowly pulled out the weapon. Slipping it from its leather sheath, she held it in her fingers, by her side.
The giant glared at the tiny dagger, then brushed fingers across his scarred cheek. The dark line zigzagged across a large expanse of stubble-covered, bronzed skin. The blemish did not detract from the giant’s evident sexual attraction. Instead, it gave him the look of a pirate. His sexual appeal pumped from his body in heated waves. Desire caught her off-guard. Haven’s throat tightened as she tried to swallow.
He grinned.
She wished he’d stop smiling, and kiss her.
What? Snap out of it.
; He didn’t act like the man in the mist. He was dressed differently, his hair was lighter, and he wasn’t riding a horse. Haven glanced through the woods and hoped they were near the ski area that hosted the Highland games. She’d rather not be stuck in the dark with him. When she turned back to tall, dark, and brooding, his sapphire gaze met hers.
As if he read my thoughts.
Through auburn-fringed slits, he continued to stare. Two beefy hands, fisted at his sides, made her worry he might actually attack her. When he swung around and continued along the path without a word, she released a breath she didn’t realize she held.
The trees finally gave way to distant mountains. Hazy, low-flying clouds slipped over the peaks. To her left loomed a rocky crag that seemed to gather up the entire breeze before throwing it back in her direction. As she moved into its shadow Haven shivered, although the air slipping over her skin was warm. She clutched both arms around her body, curled her fingers into the once-lovely fabric, and picked her way along the trail in the giant’s wake. Haven wished she knew where they were and where they headed because nothing looked familiar.
Haven tried to take her mind off the hike and her achy feet. Iona would have her head since she hadn’t shown up to cook breakfast. Had anyone asked her why Haven had disappeared? Shaking off feelings of guilt, she muttered a curse.
“Did ye say something, my lady?”
Haven slid to a stop and stubbed her injured toe. As she hopped on her sore leg, with memories of striking her shin on the cot still fresh, she glared back at him.
He laughed.
“Did we take a wrong turn? Nothing about this looks familiar,” she asked. The breeze had disappeared. They walked along a more open trail. In fact, the heat of the rising sun grew oppressive. Her heavy gown had to go. She wished a bath waited for her at the end of her trek. Though the morning chill had felt normal for a September morning in New England, this rising heat tipped the scale. Her gaze latched onto his retreating thighs.
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 136