10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  “Ye have no idea what I would give to be yer man.”

  At his whispered words, tremors raced down her spine. She felt her semblance of a smile vanish into a frown as it pulled at her lips. He stood over her in a predatory stance, tall and vibrant. His position kept her from advancing toward the relative safety of the camp. His words certainly were not the words she expected, not after ending their kiss-fest so abruptly. His low, blatant outburst? Surely a mistake. Then, he growled.

  “Please let me pass.” She straightened and subjected him to her haughtiest glare.

  With a huge sigh, Kirk retreated.

  The idea that something had changed between them made her worry. She twirled a lock of loose hair as she passed him and they entered the camp. She didn’t care for any of this. Haven wanted to sleep in her own tent among friends she trusted. Even dancing with Cal sounded better than traipsing through unknown territory with Kirkwall Gunn and his men.

  Did the poor man have similar complications in his life? Maybe he’d waited all year to fling off the shackles of his dull life for a few days of fantasy.

  Too bad I don’t care to be any man’s fantasy.

  She winced at such a bold-faced lie. A pang of sorrow laced her heart, but she couldn’t fall for a stranger who threw himself so deeply into his acting. This man, as well as his cohorts, took the Highland games to an all-new level.

  CHAPTER 12

  What Kirk considered best for his clan always intruded on his personal life. Why should today be any different? He would ignore the woman, because when their trek concluded, there would be no place in that life for Lady Haven.

  His men looked his way, but he could not decipher their intentions. Had Reid told them how he had manhandled the only woman within shouting distance? He silenced their questions with a glare. Let them think he claimed the wench for his own bed. Such a lie would ensure her safety.

  Mayhaps.

  He headed for the campfire then spoke softly to the man who tended the spit. Kirk accepted two wooden trenchers filled with torn pieces of charred flesh. Another man approached with a wineskin. Since he had filled his hands, the warrior slipped the skin’s strap over Kirk’s head. He turned to his guest who had shadowed his steps without a word.

  “Time to eat. We shall sit over there.” Pointing with his chin, he waited for her to move.

  “Let me help,” she offered. She slipped the kidney-shaped skin from his neck and placed its braided leather cord over her own head. It draped across her bodice and tugged on the lacy edge, revealing more pale flesh. He clenched his jaw, surprised at the sudden rush of desire. She was too close.

  “This smells like vinegar,” she said, sniffing the contents of the skin.

  “It is only wine that has been warmed in the sun. Trust me.”

  “I trust you,” she whispered.

  His chest tightened. She should not put her trust in him. Not when he fought the urge to throw her down and ram himself inside her like a…

  “Jesu!” Kirk said, surprised his thoughts had turned to sex.

  “What was that you said?”

  “Not a thing.” He led her to a log, away from the fire and prying eyes. He watched in silence as she carefully folded her skirt under her to protect her rounded bottom from the rough, dirt encrusted bark.

  “I would sell my soul for a warm bath,” she said as he handed her a plate of meat. The aroma must have been acceptable since her stomach growled in a most unladylike manner. She smiled an apology.

  “Eat,” he said, as he tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the image of her naked curves. She picked up a piece of meat and they consumed their dinner in silence. The common task of filling their empty stomachs calmed his lust. Her face relaxed and she looked happy, so she must have found the meat palatable. The wine, indeed warm and on the bitter side, did not rouse a complaint more than once.

  A droplet spilled down the smooth, white skin below her lips. An urge to lick her chin clean preceded a low growl. Her head snapped up. Green eyes, wide open and filled with curiosity, made him bring his attention back to his own meal. He should not trifle with her; not with the future of his clan perched heavily on his shoulders.

  The quiet of early afternoon filled the camp with a calm that gave his hard cock a chance to soften to a more comfortable size. Until she sighed.

  “Such a big sigh for so small a package. Are ye feeling a wee bit better?”

  “I feel wonderful,” she said then took another big bite of meat.

  Words balanced on the tip of his tongue and he fought the urge to ask what caused her to feel wonderful. “We shall break camp very early come morning.”

  “Oh? What time?”

  “When the sun peeks from beyond that mountain.” He set down his trencher, wiped his fingers on his plaid then pointed east.

  “Oh.”

  “Ye shall sleep in my tent.” Her silence made him glance her way.

  She continued to chew her food, but her furrowed brows indicated she did not agree with his edict. Kirk guzzled a long drink from the skin and waited.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow. I presume you plan to leave me here. Could you first point me in the direction of the games?”

  “Ye will come with us to our main encampment. This is a hunting party. My men did a fine job.” He pointed at several deer carcasses hanging in a distant tree. He nodded toward a small rack of crisscrossed twigs where the skinned bodies of small animals lay.

  “Are ye enjoying yer pine martin?”

  Lady Haven’s beautiful face paled. Eyes, wide-open in horror, made him reach for her. Kirk stayed his movement when a grimace stole her smile. Was she ill? She set her plate on the ground by her feet as delicate coughs filled the air. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she turned and faced him, her back straight as a pike.

  “I do not care for it, actually.”

  Kirk threw back his head, slapped his knee, and broke out in a loud laugh.

  “It’s not funny!” she said, and jumped to her feet. “Some of us are more civilized when it comes to what we eat.”

  She strutted toward his tent. His gaze focused on her rounded bottom, not hidden well by her damp dress. With her head held high and straight, she ignored his men. Their glares soon turned to low chuckles. Had his laughter embarrassed her in front of his warriors?

  No, Haven would not let a brief bit of fun waylay her coarse mouth and haughty manner. She simply did not care for the fare he had provided and now grew tired.

  Why do I seem to know her so well?

  * * * * *

  Haven flung aside the tent flap then threw herself onto the bed of furs. Pounding them with both fists did little to alleviate her anger. She didn’t like being laughed at, especially by men. Cal often laughed at her. Irritation ate at her soul and sent her into a fury.

  “Damn you, Cal.” She threw Kirk’s boot at the wall of the tent. The side billowed outward and the boot dropped with a dull thud to the grass. A metal tankard followed it. “When am I going to stop thinking of that man?”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  She rolled to her side. The owner of the deep, gravelly voice stood in the tent’s entrance, the sun’s rays surrounding him like a halo. She pushed to one elbow and stared at his angelic beauty. Cool air tickled the skin where her bodice had splayed open, so she yanked some long strands to cover herself.

  I hope he doesn’t think I gave him a free show on purpose.

  “I don’t want to talk about him and I certainly don’t need anything from you but my privacy,” she said.

  “I do not care to talk about yer past lovers, either.” He bent down. Kirk picked up the boot, and the tent flap closed behind him, throwing them into semi-darkness. Ignoring the thrown tankard, he strode to the edge of the rustic bed and placed the boot beside its mate.

  Haven scurried to the far end of the pile of furs. Even this close she could barely recognize his face. The whisper of clothes hi
tting the ground made her scramble to a sitting position.

  A trickle of fear shimmied down her spine at the same time an acute awareness of his intentions became clear. Haven bolted to her feet and stuck out her hand, shoving at his chest. He backed away then returned bearing a tiny candle. Flickering light reflected in his dark eyes. A slight smile pulled his scar into a taut, dark line. His teeth shimmered like pearls, big and even. His tongue flicked out and wet his lips.

  “Please, my lady. Let me fill yer thoughts with more pleasant images. Sleeping alone can become tiresome.”

  “Talking about personal experience?”

  The hand cradling the candle lowered, and his dark eyes turned black to match the shadows. Perhaps she shouldn’t anger him with her sarcastic talk. At least, not while she stood inches from the most masculine man she’d ever met. Instead of reaching for her and stripping the clothes from her liquefying bones, he sighed.

  And looked at his feet.

  What the Hell?

  “Weariness precludes me from taking advantage of the situation, dear lady.”

  His words made her drop her hand from his chest. “I’m tired, too. I think I’ll rest. You might want to do the same, and elsewhere.”

  His eyes blazed.

  Her words sounded churlish even to her, but it was the middle of the day and they’d just met. This man had walked in planning to…

  I’m not quite sure what he’d planned to do.

  Assuming their conversation had concluded, she sank to her knees and snuggled beneath the furs. When the weight of Kirk collapsed beside her, her fingers clutched the furs tightly to her chin. He settled with his back to her, then tugged a small fur up and over his shoulder. Within seconds, soft snoring filled the tent.

  “Fine,” she whispered.

  Both claimed to be tired and there were plenty of furs as a buffer. Exhaustion from their unusual trek clawed at her. Muted conversation outside the tent added to her bedmate’s snores, yet she managed to drift off to sleep until drums echoed through the tent. Haven slowly drifted out of a most pleasant dream.

  Two naked bodies awash with sweat and the tang of sex, clung together as one. The image slipped from her mind. She sprung fully awake. A hard, hot body pressed against her back. Wiggling to right herself, she sidled away from the hard ridge of his full arousal.

  Her legs tangled in her long gown and the furs. Her bedmate rewarded her movements with a growl. She scooted out of bed, then tugged on the bodice of her filthy gown to cover her breasts. Relieved to get away, Haven flew out of the tent.

  Spying Reid, she asked him to accompany her to the stream. The young boy’s face lit up as if she’d offered him the world on a platter. Before he followed, he grabbed a short sword from the weapons pile. Haven smirked.

  These actors sure take their parts to heart.

  After relieving herself behind a tree, she washed her face and hands in the stream’s icy water. Haven followed Reid back to camp and asked about his injury. He’d shrugged it off as a nuisance.

  “I promised my laird I would be hale and hearty by the time we reach Castle Ruadh.”

  “If I recall my Gaelic, this means the red castle?”

  “Aye. ‘Twas built of red sandstone. A tower, bailey, stables, and village. It overlooks the sea.”

  When the boy neglected to explain further, she chalked it up to part of the act. They stepped into the clearing near Kirk’s tent, where he munched on a dried piece of meat.

  “Would ye like a bite?” He held the dark, stringy item between two raised fingers, jiggling the meat.

  “No thanks. What I would like is my own tent tonight. Can you arrange this or shall I sleep with the horses?”

  Reid gulped, spun around, and disappeared. Kirk’s brows arched under a thick lock of his dark red hair. A sudden urge to run her fingers through his tousled mop caused a burn to spread beneath her cheeks. As if he understood, he stepped closer.

  “As ye wish, dear lady.”

  She instantly regretted her decision.

  * * * * *

  The afternoon passed in an orderly haze and more men returned with their kill. Many of the dead animals were not native to New England. This puzzled her further and only made the ache between her eyes intensify. Haven rubbed the bridge of her nose, then managed to locate another piece of clean cloth.

  Well, a cloth less dirty than my feet.

  The afternoon heat made her perspire. She located Reid near the horses and asked him to accompany her once more to the stream. She washed her feet while Reid disappeared in order to relieve himself. She limped to a white willow she’d recognized earlier. Using her little dagger, Haven cut off a chunk of bark. She chewed on the long-known natural headache remedy. Haven shuffled through the packets in her pocket and decided to make a poultice for Reid.

  Still angry with Kirk, and confused as to why he wouldn’t help her find the Highland games, she turned down supper and retired. Reid produced a skin of fresh water and another cloth. She removed her gown, but not her chemise. She washed where she could and then retreated beneath the warmth of the silky furs.

  Her headache lessened as all camp noise ceased. A stiff breeze blew against branches overhead, and tapped the top of the tent. Leaves rustled on the forest floor beyond the back of the tent and, surrounded by uncertainty, she slept.

  Dreams wracked her sleep, and left her weary and feverish. When the fog lifted, she remembered only snatches; naked limbs, tousled hair, and a giant who kissed her senseless.

  When she exited the tent, again clad in her filthy gown, Kirk’s men were packing up their gear and lashing bundles onto the backs of small horses. They kept their voices low as they worked, though a few bestowed her with a small smile. Last night’s fire smoldered, raising hopes for a hot meal of bacon and eggs, but Reid trotted over and offered her water and oatcakes.

  The water tasted like moss, but the oatcakes were so dry she guzzled it. As she chewed and fought against choking, Kirkwall appeared out of the trees. He grunted something to Reid and the boy raced toward their hobbled mounts.

  Reid led the big, brown monster of a horse to Kirk. Within moments, Kirk swung her into his arms and mounted. Her rear nestled in his lap, between two hard thighs and his swelling arousal. She leaned forward and grabbed a tuft of the animal’s tangled mane to gain some balance. To her chagrin, her actions pushed against Kirk’s rigid erection once again. Did the man stay perpetually hard in her vicinity?

  “If ye do not stop yer movements, my lady, I will be forced to throw ye down beside this trail and take my frustrations out upon yer warm, supple body.”

  She gasped and immediately straightened. To her horror, he continued his low-level tirade. She hoped none of his men heard his threat.

  “I am an honorable man, but first and foremost a man.” Hot breath whispered in her ear. A gentle press of his lips on the sensitive curve of her neck made her tremble. “And I am a man who has not lain with a woman for far too long. Sit still.”

  Her cheeks were undoubtedly red since heat flashed beneath every excited inch of her skin. Haven focused her attention on the sunrise staining the horizon a rosy pink and did her best not to move.

  Below craggy mountains, the dirt trail led them between tall boulders and a wide river. They stopped for lunch and munched on dried meat and hard bread. Kirk called the chunks of yeasty bread bannock. Water from a skin refreshed her parched lips, once she held her nose. The thought of eating the offered meat jerky made her nauseous. Instead, she fantasized about cold, fresh milk and Jake’s Oreo cookies.

  The party remounted and headed east once more. She fidgeted, then froze when she remembered she sat between thighs of rock belonging to a man who smelled like leather and unbridled desire.

  “What troubles ye, lass?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m a little tired and sore.”

  Silent hours dragged on until they circled around a bend. When the trail spilled into a large meadow split down the middle by the rough
waters of the darkened river, she stretched a bit taller to see better.

  Only shards of sunlight remained and several large campfires lit the night. Tents of undoubtedly better quality ringed a much larger camp, and several groups of men sat on logs, eating and talking.

  Kirk pulled his mount to a stop. A young man approached and he threw the reins his way. Kirk slid off. Haven remained on the horse, staring at the camp and listening to the multitude of voices, until grabbed around the waist and yanked from her post.

  “Please, Kirk, I am certainly able to get off this mangy horse by myself!”

  The camp’s entire population grew silent.

  “Who dares yell at our laird with such a tone?” a voice bellowed. A huge barrel-chested man approached. Long gray hair, tied at his nape with a piece of black leather, framed a square face. In the waning light, his irises appeared black as onyx. He grew closer. Reflecting the flames of the nearest campfire, his wide opened eyes glowed.

  Great. Here we go again.

  He strode toward her, naked to the waist. She guessed his age around fifty. He wore a faded plaid, belted with black leather. A very long sword hung from his side. Raw, red welts crisscrossed his chest and upper arms. He’d been injured. Glancing behind him at several other men, Haven froze. Most had older scars and a few had bandages wrapped around numerous body parts. The loud one, who now stood too close for comfort, appeared as tall and as proud as her giant.

  My giant?

  “Easy, Balfour. This is Lady Haven and she is under my protection. Ye must learn to forgive her strange tongue.” Kirk stepped aside to talk with him while another man led his horse toward a small pen of twigs and stumps. At the far side of the camp, other hobbled horses grazed.

  Balfour glanced her way. His icy gaze made goose bumps skitter down her arms.

  Guess I’ll keep my distance from that one.

  Joined by the man who Kirk earlier called Cameron, they spoke in low whispers.