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

  Haven inhaled, filling with Kirk’s earthy scent along with something bitter. Ale? He didn’t let her go until she sipped from the tankard Reid offered. The warm ale tasted similar to Balfour’s brew, yet less bitter.

  “Does this have honey in it?”

  Reid nodded.

  Several of Kirk’s men watched them. She already suspected they knew she and Kirk had grown close. Men talk. Cameron glared, his amber eyes dark and focused on her.

  “I should leave. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your men.”

  “Lass, ye being here feels perfect to me,” he whispered.

  “You’ve been kind, but this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. I can feel it in my bones.”

  His eyes, blue as a morning sky, seemed to darken as swiftly as the night. The setting sun reflected in his pupils, even as she welcomed its warm rays on her shoulders.

  The smell of leather, the forest, and his own musky scent wrapped itself around her and she found comfort in his arms. Haven recognized the sizzle of his touch.

  This man feels absolutely real. This town is real, too.

  The truth hit her in the gut, and her knees gave way.

  “I’m in trouble,” she moaned. She had either conjured a Highlander with her potion, or her spell brought her to Kirk and his time. With all she’d seen and experienced, she should accept that the storm had flung her farther than she first thought.

  A dusty breeze tickled her nose and blew her hair in her eyes. Silence enveloped her as she contemplated leaving him. Her heart pounded in her ears when Kirk reached up and brushed the wayward curls aside.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Haven, ye nearly fainted.”

  “I did?”

  “Aye. Ye did not eat at all today, ‘tis truth?”

  “What do you care?” The bitchy edge to her voice was not like her. “Forgive me, but you have to let me go. I appreciate your kindness, but you already claimed that you and I have different destinies. There is somewhere I’m supposed to be. It’s time I left.”

  “But, the mercenaries—”

  “I’ll keep an eye out. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  He didn’t say another word and that alone drew tears. She quietly wiped them away. His brow wrinkled, but he released her and stood back.

  “God speed, my lady. If it is meant to be, may our paths cross again.”

  Haven stared at his broad back as he disappeared inside the pub. Feeling oddly disconnected, she crossed her arms and hugged her empty stomach. When she turned from him, two large men stood near her pony.

  Haven smiled at Balfour, the effervescent older man who regaled her with jokes and stories. Her spirits lifted at his mirrored smile, then she faced the ever-disgruntled Cameron. Bad vibes reverberated off his body like fingernails on chalk. She’d make do.

  “I am glad to see you, Balfour. I hope we can continue our stimulating conversation—”

  “Lady Haven?”

  “What is it, Cameron?” She nearly snapped at him, again. The man’s frown rarely changed when she came within range.

  Except now.

  He actually smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She’d much rather spend the rest of her trip with Balfour. A storyteller would help pass the time more pleasantly.

  “Darkness falls, my lady,” Cameron sneered

  “I need to talk to villagers. Maybe one knows about the town I’m looking for. If they do, I want to leave immediately.”

  “ ‘Tis wiser to travel in the morning. Nighttime is fraught with many dangers.”

  “What do you have to say on the matter, Balfour?”

  The gray-haired man stared at her with wide-open eyes. Earlier, he had mellowed when he spoke about Kirk, his leader. If even half the stories about Kirk were true, Balfour’s high regard for his leader could not be more obvious.

  Cameron scuffed his leather boot in the dirt. Amber eyes flashed with apparent hatred. A grimace marred his handsome features as he toed the pebbles at their feet then kicked a few into a small puddle.

  She faced Balfour, and ignored Cameron’s tantrum.

  “Lady Haven, daybreak would be prudent. Our mounts are weary and my stomach feels as empty as yers sounds.” A tiny grin lifted one edge of Balfour’s bearded mouth.

  Haven immediately felt lucky he would help escort her home. Cameron’s continued dislike of her, on the other hand, made her cringe. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll leave early tomorrow.”

  “Good. We need provisions and ye might enjoy a softer bed this night.” Balfour winked.

  “Meaning what?”

  “If Kirk has chosen not to avail himself of yer warmth, I would be glad to take ye.”

  No one said a word until Balfour let loose with a loud guffaw and slapped one knee. As he turned away he said, “No harm in trying. Best see what Anice is up to.”

  “What the heck did he mean by that?”

  “He meant the inn might offer a room with a bed. If ye would rather sleep on my furs…” One of Cameron’s sweaty fingers slid across her cheek.

  Disgust prickled Haven’s skin, but she ignored the urge to kick him in the nuts.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Right. I can’t sleep in Kirk’s tent even though his furs felt nice,” Haven said, smiling. Her shoulders stiffened when she realized how her statement sounded to Cameron. Although their relationship felt strained, she and Kirk had grown close.

  Haven already missed the heat of his arms when he wrapped them around her. She’d love to feel his calloused fingers cupping her breasts through the night.

  When Cameron’s cheeks reddened, Haven chewed her bottom lip. Her memories must have washed across her face.

  “Listen. Nothing happened between Kirk and me.” Without waiting for a reply, she crossed the dirt street and narrowly missed getting run over by a farm wagon. She focused on the store opposite the pub. Barrels of misshapen fruit warmed in the sun while bolts of colorful cloth spilled over a worktable just inside the door where the sweet scent of ripe fruit amid the buzzing of tiny insects brought her back to earth. Her stomach rumbled.

  And me without any money.

  A plump man stood behind a rough-sawn wooden counter with a bloody apron tied about his waist as he carved a wedge from a large wheel of cheese. Sawdust covered the floors. Pots and pans of unglazed clay hung from hooks along beams that ran the length of the room. Baskets, and what appeared to be fishing creels, hung from other pegs near a small cook fire in the middle of the room. No chimney hole meant the smoke drifted up toward the thatched ceiling. A bar ran across the ceiling and a pot dangled from a chain. Something thick and brown bubbled inside the pot. The lack of windows made the room dark.

  Haven glanced slowly around as her eyes grew accustomed to the low light. The man paused with his huge knife halfway through the wheel. Surprise flooded his fleshy face. He set aside his project without attempting to remove the knife, wiped his large hands on his filthy apron, and approached his customer.

  “How may I serve ye, my lady?”

  Still in awe how people treated her, she was suddenly afraid she’d traveled much too far from home. The more she glimpsed of the town, its buildings, and the people, the more her chest ached. Finding it hard to breathe, She formulated a question.

  “I have a question, if you don’t mind,” she said.

  He grunted something under his breath and returned his attention to the cheese wheel.

  “I sell food, cloth, pots, and good grains for cooking. These things cost money, and feed my family. To answer a question does not.” As if he remembered something, he set aside the knife and bowed, before turning away.

  “I can pay.” Sliding a hand inside her pocket, she fingered the tiny dagger. She’d never trade it, even to find her way home. Maybe Kirk would lend her the money. Certainly a few bills was worth getting her out of his hair forever.

  Forever?

  To never again touch his glorious, naked chest? Tears welled up in Haven’s eyes and
she fought the urge to wipe her palm across her face. Breathing deep, she returned her gaze to the shopkeeper and waited for an answer.

  “Fine. Never say Dougal Macbrown did not aid a lady in need. Now, what weighs so heavy on yer mind?”

  “Have you heard of a town called Lincoln? It runs along the Kancamagus River in northern New England.”

  When his brows arched and his eyes grew dim, all hope dissipated.

  “I’ve been from Wick to the Firth of Forth and have never heard of such a place.”

  “From Wick to—”

  “Never have I heard of the town ye seek or any river with such a name. England I’ve heard of, but that resides over the border.”

  “England?” She barely forced the words from her suddenly dry mouth. Trembling, she wanted to find a dark corner, sink to her knees, and cry.

  “A swift boat would get ye there quick enough by sea. There had been a time when to travel, with all its adventure and exotic delights, made this body near keel over. Ye could never imagine—”

  “I understand, sir. Thank you.” Haven turned to leave. Her mind lurched as the truth of his words sunk in.

  I’m lost.

  “Don’t forget yer promise,” he said as he laid the knife alongside the newly carved wedges of cheese. The pungent aroma mingled with sweat and blood. He suddenly stood too close.

  Haven felt a desperate need for fresh air. “I have to go.”

  “Not so fast, lassie. I wants me’ coin.” He grabbed her elbow with his meaty fist before she could step through the open door. The stench from his unwashed body swept over her, choking her. When he twisted her arm, she cried out.

  “Let me go. I will get you your money.”

  “Ye do not carry it on yer person?” he roared.

  She shook her head when words failed her, and his smelly hands squeezed her upper arms.

  “Then I’ll take it in trade.”

  The shopkeeper’s lusty gaze meandered down to where the poorly fitting dress stretched open between her breasts. Before she could protest, a large shadow blocked the sunlight that had streamed through the open door seconds earlier. The shopkeeper’s eyes darted over her shoulder. Even in sudden shadow, she saw his face blanch while his hands fell away, as if burned.

  “My Lord, the lady took her leave having forgotten she owed me a few coins. We were discussing this when—”

  “Yer discussion required yer hands upon her?”

  The low, gravelly voice echoed in Haven’s head. The threatening tone sent a shiver down her spine. The shopkeeper jumped back with a push, causing her to fall against Kirk’s chest. One muscular arm came around her waist to steady her. His other hand reached forward. It held a long, lethal knife.

  “I presume ye assisted the lady because she tripped. Otherwise, ye had better pray. This might be yer last day on God’s green earth.”

  * * * * *

  Haven sat beside her protector on a hard, wooden bench. She laid her head and shoulders back against the pub’s cool, stone wall. She’d persuaded Kirk not to kill the foul smelling shopkeeper, but barely. Kirk’s pleasant scent excited her, heating her body as he sat beside her, far away from the prying eyes of his men. How could she think to leave him?

  Cameron and Balfour, the two men assigned to watch over her, walked toward their table. Haven assumed from Kirk’s growl, the men were in big trouble.

  A serving girl in a very low cut dress brought two mugs to their table. Lifting the rustic wood tankard to her lips, she swallowed the cider Kirk had ordered. She appreciated the tart sweetness, while Kirk drank his ale.

  “I believed I had chosen well when I left ye in the care of Balfour and Cameron.” He set the tankard down with a bang, turned, and grabbed her chin.

  Forced to gaze into his eyes, she kept still.

  “I chose wrong. Ye were in danger while they flirted with whores outside these very walls. I told them to watch over ye as if ye were their sister,” he said as he brought his face within inches of hers, “but I forgot their sisters be sluts.”

  She gasped at his tasteless joke. It had to be a joke. Right?

  He was suddenly closer, his warm breath a whisper over her cheeks. Haven’s unease after Cameron and Balfour’s tasteless suggestion, and the storekeepers, dirty hands, made her push at his chest.

  “Doona fret, love. Yer unlike them.”

  Was she unlike Cameron and Balfour, or their sisters? When she opened her mouth to ask, his warm lips pressed firmly against hers. She didn’t dare move even though she could barely breathe.

  In his intoxicating presence, she melted into a puddle. Her agitated thoughts washed away as she breathed in his scent. Musk, leather, and something she’d come to recognize as pure Kirkwall Gunn, filled her. A low moan slipped out while she buried her hands in his thick hair. His tongue stroked the crease of her lips and she opened wide. His body trembled, and then she felt every muscle go rigid.

  She forgot her troubles until his other hand slipped around her waist and pulled her close. Her own fingers flew up to land against his chest. Scratching the soft mat of hair centered over his rapidly beating heart, her body fought against tender bursts of pleasure.

  Haven did not want to be hurt again. Leaving Kirk now would hurt. Seriously hurt. But, she had to go home.

  His body shuddered, as if suddenly chilled, and his hands shook. Happy to find him as affected by their kiss as she, Haven took their kiss deeper. The silence didn’t last.

  “My Laird!”

  Haven jumped back as if struck. Her eyes flickered open. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment when she recognized the voice. How could she forget Cameron and Balfour?

  While she pushed against his steel-hard chest to distance herself from Kirk, his body never moved. His gaze bore into her before he turned toward the voice.

  “What is it, Cameron? I told ye to keep yerself outside in the dirt where ye belonged.”

  Several warriors sitting in their vicinity laughed. Cameron’s lips puckered into a grimace. The tight line of his mouth proved he knew enough to stay silent until the chatter subsided. Haven could tell he fought to hold his rage at bay. Both fists were clenched, one around the hilt of his sheathed dirk.

  He and Balfour had made a grave mistake by not following her into the shop. At the time, she had no inkling of any danger.

  “Balfour and I do not deserve such treatment. Did ye expect us to follow like sheep and carry her parcels?” Soft laughter rose from those inside the pub.

  “Ye should have been ready for danger, seeing how easily Lady Haven can raise a man’s ire.” Everyone laughed with boisterous guffaws except Cameron and Haven.

  “Dear cousin, we all know ye have yer own agenda. Might I remind ye about who awaits ye at Castle Ruadh?” Cameron whispered.

  Haven sensed Kirk’s entire body tense. He rose to his feet. Mirroring Cameron, he raised one hand to the hilt of his own dirk. Balfour walked between them.

  “Forgive the interruption, my Laird. I have unpacked the lady’s pony and carried her belongings upstairs to her room.” Balfour’s gaze flicked back and forth between the angry men. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Nay,” Kirk answered.

  Haven pressed her palm to Kirk’s back. Muscles rippled as the big man eased his stance. Cameron’s right eyebrow rose. Had he witnessed her action?

  Why should he care? But, what does he mean about Castle Ruadh?

  “If there is nothing else, may Balfour and I be allowed to dine?”

  “Get food and ale and go eat in the stables. ‘Tis where ye shall sleep this night.”

  Cameron’s glare sent a trickle of fear coursing through Haven until his gaze swept toward another corner of the pub. A robed figure, carrying a staff, rose from a table and paced with unsteady steps toward the door. Cameron followed the familiar individual’s movements before swinging back to her with a feral glint in his eyes. He probably blamed her for their screw-up. Whatever Cameron meant to say stayed firmly locked behind a col
d smile.

  Cameron shot Kirk a steely glare. Kirk returned it. Cameron turned and stomped out into the street with Balfour at his heels. Renewed laughter followed them.

  The unpleasant truth hit her like a ton of bricks. Haven groaned, leaning back once more. Due to her spell, some potions, a bloody dagger, and a lightning storm, she had caused a phenomenon that sent her back in time to ancient Scotland. Her beliefs proved tough to handle, especially when she had no idea how to get home.

  She still carried several packets of herbs and one or two potions. She might remember the words she had yelled during the storm, but how would she conjure lightning?

  She leaned forward, hefted her tankard, and sipped. Kirk sat back down, gulped his ale, and leaned in close. She did her best to ignore the men who eyed their leader. And her.

  “You were rather harsh with him, weren’t you?” she whispered. She knew something about military men. She understood Kirk’s orders were law, but the incident had been her fault. Haven didn’t want anyone to think she criticized his actions, but she felt compelled to offer her opinion.

  “They failed ye by disobeying a direct order, love. Ye might have come to harm. ‘Twas my fault.” He clasped her empty hand under the table.

  She gazed into his deep, lust-darkened eyes. Something inside her snapped, and tears threatened to fall. Whether from joy at Kirk’s need to protect her, or because she found herself stuck in the past, she had no idea.

  “I should not have let ye go. If ye will allow me, I will keep ye safe until ye get where ye need to go.”

  Should she tell him she had nowhere to go? If she could re-enact the events that caused her to leave the Highland games in Northern New England and end up in the middle of ancient Scotland, maybe she had a chance. Until then, she wanted to sit here, with him.

  “I’ll stick around a little longer.” At her answer, Kirk’s rakish smile lifted her spirits. She wiped away a tear, turned back to her drink, and did her best to smile when platters of food and bread arrived.

  The comforting din of men in deep conversation surrounded them as they ate. Her hand darted to her pocket once or twice so she could finger the sheathed dagger.