by Lexi Post
He didn’t say a word as he ate his mutton and bread.
She appreciated the silence and the food, casting furtive glances at him. The man would definitely be considered “eye candy” in her age. Broad shoulders with large muscles in his arms, developed pectorals, and abs women sighed over. While she had only seen a glimpse of his thighs, she could tell by the bulge of his calves that they, too, would be solid strength. He was no cover model with his crooked nose, red-tinged hair, and pure maleness, but he was striking in his own way. Even more than his giant build, there was a purpose to him that forewarned he was a force to be reckoned with. She just couldn’t see him dying in battle.
“Here.” Torr held out a wooden cup.
She tentatively took a sip to find it was water. It enhanced the aftertaste of the cheese, one of the few food items she found palatable. She handed the cup back. “Thank you.”
His large hand covered hers but didn’t let go. She looked up at him. His deep blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Ye have no need to fear me, lass.”
Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally. She liked this big, kind-hearted man, far too much. His feelings for her, though only interest and lust, were not good. Better to keep him at arm’s length. She grinned. “I know.”
His brow rose and arrogance revealed itself once again. “Ye do? Well then, ye also know my bed is waiting for you.”
She swallowed the thrill of excitement that ran through her chest and instead focused on her modern irritation over his lifestyle. Though she tempered it, she wasn’t above a little sarcasm. “Which night?”
He scowled, his face taking on harsh lines.
Holy Hamlet, he looked mean when he did that.
“Lass, you test my patience.”
“Laird, you test mine.” She raised her chin just a fraction.
He scowled harder. Then his face relaxed, and he chuckled. “I think ye will fit into this clan very well.”
The idea of being a welcome part of the clan scared the hell out of her. Since her parents’ death, she’d created her own clan, so to speak. She couldn’t become attached to another, especially not in 1306. She needed to put distance between herself and this laird. Grabbing her shoes, she stood and looked for a diversion.
Mairi walked alone near the edge of the clearing, picking wildflowers. She strode in the opposite direction to do the same.
Somehow, she had to find the fortitude to keep her distance. What she needed was time, like this, when she could be alone. Even when she’d traveled back to revolutionary Boston, she’d had a bedroom she could escape to. Here, there was no personal space.
A shadow fell across her, and she glanced up.
Douglas stood in front of her, his expression impossible to read as his back was to the sun. Not sure of the man, she pulled the handful of blue flowers from the ground and straightened.
He didn’t hesitate. “The laird’s interest in ye is only temporary. He likes to get all the pretty lasses in his bed.”
Okay, this man had no business being so rude. She put her hands on her hips like she had when facing off with Torr, careful not to crush the flowers she’d give to Mairi. “Yes, I know.”
He didn’t hide his surprise very well. “I did not realize ye were interested in such an arrangement.”
She sighed and dropped her arms. “I’m not interested in any arrangement. I just want to be left alone.” She started past him, but he grabbed her arm firmly. She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.
His sympathetic gaze was at odds with his harsh tone. “Careful, lass. Ye don’t know who ye are playing with.”
The man’s physical strength didn’t intimidate her, thanks to Javier’s training, but his eyes held secret knowledge, and she shivered at what he may know.
He nodded and released her.
She didn’t hesitate to join the others, puzzled by Douglas’s warning. He had given her more to contemplate. Did his secrets relate to what he knew about Torr, what he had gathered about the king’s activities, or was he in league with the Disruptor? As she approached the blankets, she noticed the absence of one rather large laird. She squashed the small niggle of disappointment. Good. Maybe he finally got her message.
Beth lifted a bundle of wooden dishware, her loose brown hair falling forward over her shoulder. “Diana, could ye carry this back for me?”
“Yes, I can.” She handed the flowers off to Mairi then walked to Beth. “Are you feeling ill?”
Beth gave her a scowl, which emphasized the woman’s rather large nose. “I be well. But I need to gather herbs for the meal tonight, so I’m not returning with ye.”
She nodded. “Oh, I see. Is there anything else you need me to carry?”
“Nay, Ian can get the blankets.”
As if on cue, Ian appeared next to Beth, lifted the blankets from the ground and threw them over his shoulder.
He grinned and they fell into step behind the others, leaving Beth to wander through the woods.
“Will she be safe out there?”
Ian glanced back. “Aye, we have no enemies this close, and Torr’s men are leading the only real threat on a merry chase.”
“Do you mean the Comyn?”
“Aye. And the king has already left Gealach and gone a different direction.”
“The king has left?” But Robert was supposed to witness Torr’s death. How could he do that if he wasn’t at Gealach? Did she change history somehow?
Ian bent his head closer to her and whispered. “Aye, but he will return soon. Fergus said so.”
…
When they arrived back in the courtyard, she turned toward Ian to ask him to bring the blankets to the kitchen, but he looked at his cousin, Fergus, who stood in the yard, a scowl on his weathered face.
Poor Ian. He was young, but not that young. Maybe he would—
Her thought fled as Ian scooped her into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. His tongue burst through her lips, inexpertly invading her mouth as she gasped in surprise. Holy Hamlet! He was using her own tactic on her. As soon as she pushed against his chest, he released her. She glanced at Fergus to see the man’s face redden.
Ian whispered in her ear. “Thank ye.” Then he strode toward the stables, whistling.
Fergus’s bushy brows descended as he turned on his heel and headed into the Great Hall.
She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. That would teach her to give advice.
“Did ye enjoy that?”
She spun at the sound of Torr’s voice, his face as hard as the stonework of his castle.
“No, I didn’t, not that it’s any concern of yours. Ian is a bit young.”
His mouth quirked. “Ye prefer a more experienced man then.”
Great, she should have let him think she liked Ian’s kiss. Where was her brain? “I prefer to choose who I kiss and not have the choice made for me.” She plopped her hands on her hips again to make her point, the dishes in the basket rattling against her side.
Unfortunately, it didn’t deter the laird. He stepped closer, and his expression became downright devilish. “But sometimes, a lass doesn’t know what she prefers until she’s tasted it.”
Her brain immediately balked at Torr’s arrogance, but his words set off warm tingles throughout her body. The remembered feel of his lips brushing hers, his tongue tasting her for the first time the night before, made her knees weak.
Torr nodded. “Then again, maybe ye do know what ye prefer.” The knowledge in his eyes at her reaction infuriated her.
“Yes, I do, and it’s not you.”
His face hardened again. “Don’t play with me, lass.”
“Play? I’m not the one bedding half the clan!” Oh, Shakespeare, she shouldn’t have said that.
He grabbed her by the shoulders as he ground his teeth. “Now who is assuming they know what is best?”
She stared into blue eyes so intense, they reminded her of Arthur’s, which could do serious damage with the information he held with
in, but instead of knowledge, what burned in Torr’s was anger and frustration. Maybe she could frustrate him into leaving her alone. “I do know what’s best for me. Dare you disagree?” She lifted her chin for emphasis. She couldn’t bend to him.
He pulled her against him. “Aye, I do.” His mouth came down hard, much harder than the night before.
His tongue ravaged her mouth, possessing it and branding her as his, making her ache to give in. She wanted to push him away, she had to, but his total mastery of her mouth held every feminine part of her under thrall. Helpless against the need growing inside her, she lost all thought to the sensual pleasure of his kiss.
Finally, he released her lips, but he still held her against him. “I am laird here, and I know what is best for everyone.” With that, he released her, and she stumbled back a step as blood rushed back to her brain.
He gave her one last intimidating stare then strode toward the Great Hall. She watched him go, wanting to call him back, but instead she brought her sleeve once more to her mouth. Her heart wasn’t in the gesture this time. The man was too arrogant for a modern woman, but too attractive, too strong, too decent, and way too good a kisser to ignore. She needed out of this assignment.
“Diana!” Nessa strode past the stables toward her.
Nessa linked their arms once again. “Come, you have to see the baby lambs. They are bonnie little things.”
She didn’t want to see lambs. She wanted to go home, escape. “Actually, Nessa, I really—”
Nessa hissed. “Whisht, you need to come with me right now before the whole clan starts talking to ye about kissing the laird.”
“Fine.” She dropped the basket of dishes on the step and allowed Nessa to lead her around the yard and through the postern gate to a large field where sheep did indeed graze and lambs romped around their mothers. Nessa finally let her go.
She sat on the ground, hard.
Her friend joined her, crossing her legs beneath her. “What did ye think to do that?”
She shook her head. “He kissed me.”
“Not the kiss. Ye wiped your mouth with yer sleeve. Ye told the whole clan the laird’s attentions are not wanted.”
“They aren’t.” But they are. Her attraction to Torr was too strong. Her body and heart kept refusing to understand that he was off limits. How could she be with a man and then arrange events so he died? She was not some black widow spider.
“Tch. Tch. Diana, ye need to understand the laird’s attentions are well sought after. Ye don’t say nay to him.”
She stared at Nessa, reminding herself she was in a different country in a different time and clamped her mouth shut on her very modern reaction. She needed to tread carefully. Her assignment had never been so personal before. She was completely off balance, not a good place for a TWI agent. “If he wanted to kiss you, would you let him?”
Nessa fidgeted with her skirt. “I would not have a say in the matter because Evan would not allow it.”
She lowered her head and put a palm to her forehead, sure the headache growing inside her skull was due to the contrariness of her position. “So you’re saying that because I don’t have a man of my own, I have to submit to the laird?” She searched the knowledge Arthur had given her, but found nothing about the laird having that kind of right. Though she did discover the English King Edward’s rule that his lords had the right to sleep with new brides. That was barbaric.
“Not specifically.” Nessa sighed heavily as if she couldn’t believe she had to explain this sort of thing. “Ye don’t really have to submit, but why would ye not want to? Every woman in this clan would be honored by the laird’s interest, unless they be married, of course, but he would never be interested in someone’s wife.”
She rolled her eyes. Why did she suddenly feel like Alice in Wonderland? None of the knowledge Arthur had given her had prepared her for this.
Her looks had always allowed her to blend in well. Her figure was not out of the ordinary, and though her chest was decent, she had no ass. Why would this Highland laird be attracted to her? Admittedly, the man was a hunk and then some, and if she’d met him in her time she would wholeheartedly encourage the pursuit, if he weren’t so arrogant, but a medieval laird who had to die in a soon-to-occur battle wasn’t her idea of a long-term relationship.
“The man takes a number of women to his bed, and I’m like you. I like a man all to myself.”
Understanding dawned in her companion’s dark eyes. “Aye. I can see where that would concern ye. Is there anything else?”
She smirked. “No. I have to admit he is not only braw and strong, but he has a kind heart and a heroic soul.” Did she really just say that out loud?
“Aye, we are blessed to have him. All the MacPherson lairds were so.” Nessa rose. “It is almost time for supper. Ye should know some of the clan may not be happy with ye.”
She stood as well. “I understand.” After brushing down her skirts, she followed Nessa back to the castle yard. Obviously, Nessa wasn’t sure how she felt, either, because instead of latching onto her arm, the woman strode ahead of her.
Though the distance between her and Nessa was needed, it still bothered her. She really liked Nessa and valued their friendship, but that didn’t matter. Rule number five was “do not make friends.” For the first time, she understood why.
…
Torr stared out the window of his bedroom. The gloaming had finally given over to the night and the moon was not yet up. Only one who knew the grounds well would be able to distinguish individual objects in the darkness.
A knock on the door pulled him from his watch.
“Aye.”
Kerr strolled in. “Has Graham gone already?”
He turned to face his brother. They were so similar in features it was like looking in a mirror except for his brother’s darker hair and straighter nose. “Nay, he will not leave while many are still awake.”
Kerr nodded and sat in the only chair in the room. “We were with him all day as ye requested.” Kerr stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “You were right, he is a spy. He wasn’t simply surprised, but worried when he heard the king had departed.”
“As I expected. He did not leave the grounds, did he?”
“Nay.”
Kerr pulled in his legs and leaned forward, though there was no one who could hear them within the bedroom. “He definitely has an accomplice outside the castle walls, but I was unable to discover if there is another here who is aiding him.”
“Do ye mean a traitor among our own?”
“I cannot be sure. The man is awkward. I think even with those he calls allies, he would be seen as a bit odd.”
Interesting, so Graham might be considered expendable even by his own clan. That would limit their ability to use him…possibly.
“Ye see the issue then?” Kerr sat back.
“Aye. We need to follow him tonight and discover the accomplice outside. If we can capture that person, we may have what we need.”
Kerr rose. “I agree. I will follow him.”
“Nay!” Cursing himself for his quick response, he dropped his arms and approached his suddenly tense brother. He lowered his voice. “Nay, send Evan to shadow him. He is skilled and stealthy. I want ye here to greet Graham when he returns.”
His brother’s defensive position relaxed. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Good.” He clapped Kerr on the shoulder. “I am counting on ye to secure our spy so the king may return. He needs more time to rest and gather his forces. Living in the open is dangerous.”
Kerr grasped his arm. “We won’t fail, brother.”
He nodded and let Kerr leave, but the lump in his throat took a while to disintegrate. He never planned to be laird. With his father and three older brothers, he was supposed to have waged war, initiated raids, and one day, find a willing woman to have his children. Instead, he struggled to keep what was left of his clan alive and protect his king, as all MacPhersons had done. T
he only person more important than King Robert was his last brother. He would die before losing him.
He swallowed and unclenched his hands. It was time to begin his own watch. He turned to the small table set next to his bed, picked up the tankard he had brought with him, and finished the last of the ale.
Striding out of his room, he made straight for the wall-walk. He would find his place under the cover of darkness before others were about. When he arrived at the corner crenellation between the south and east walls, he leaned back to wait. All would happen as planned. The scent of success was in the air, mixing with the moistness of the dew.
Chapter Six
Diana opened her eyes and stared at the cold fireplace. Holy Hamlet, again? Why couldn’t she sleep through the night just once while on a mission? It must be late, because as she rose to a sitting position, she was sore from lying on her blankets on the hard stone floor. She scanned the room only to find everyone else slept soundly. No surprise there. Giving up, she stood and carefully made her way out the west tower door.
As she stepped into the silent courtyard, she stretched her arms above her head. It was so quiet, even the lambs had stopped bleating in the fields beyond the castle walls. She should probably be thankful she couldn’t sleep since this was the only time she had to herself when she could think, but Torr could be about again, and she’d rather not run into him.
He wasn’t the only person unhappy with her. Nessa had drawn away, leaving her with only Beth and Mairi at dinner. Her friend’s absence hurt, even if it was for the best. Just like it was good that Torr was angry at her, since she did have feelings for him she had no intention of exploring.
Avoiding the wall-walk, she headed for the east yard. As she stepped closer to the stable, she sensed movement and darted into the shadows, thankful once again for Javier’s training. After she met Jules—not that she’d actually met Jules, just heard Jules in her head—she’d learned a lot, including the best physical offensive and defensive maneuvers from Javier, which on occasion required retreat.