by Lexi Post
As she watched from her cover, Graham silently made his way through the castle yard. He crossed to where she stood, unaware she was around the corner. Could he be out to meet the Disruptor? Perhaps the female time traveler only saw him at night. She strolled out from her hiding place.
“Ach!” Graham stepped back in surprise, his small eyes widening. “What are ye doing out here, woman?”
Mimicking the laird, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing sneaking about the yard in the middle of the night?”
The moon crested the castle walls, shedding some of its light into the yard. Graham’s hands, though down at his sides, continually moved as if he couldn’t quite stay still. He resembled a weasel with his frizzy, unkempt brown hair and his eyes darting to the side before refocusing on her. “I’m out to meet a lass in secret to keep her reputation pure. Go away.”
She studied him. More like he was meeting the “lass” to decide on how to save Torr. His pale skin, even in the dark, flushed. He lied. In addition to the man’s long face, his manner was strange, like a square peg in a round hole. “I don’t believe you.”
He stepped closer, threatening, and her defenses woke. Graham grabbed her arm hard, but she easily twisted away and stepped back. It would be best not to reveal her skills if she could help it.
He stepped toward her again but didn’t touch her. Instead, he pointed at the castle. “I suggest ye go back inside before ye get hurt. If yer lover comes by, I’ll tell him ye went inside.”
Every modern instinct told her to beat the slime to a pulp, but she’d also been trained in taking on the “personality of the times” as Go-Lucky called it. She retreated a step and pretended fear.
He hissed. “Go.”
She turned quickly to keep from laughing at him and ran back to the castle. Once in the shadows, she followed the keep’s wall inside the courtyard and watched.
Graham sidled along the outer wall and at the postern door, he stopped. Furtively, he looked behind him before slipping through and disappearing. She stepped forward to follow when another person crept toward the door, but this one did not look behind him. There was more activity in the yard at night than during the day!
She waited a minute before finally pursuing the figure. As she stepped around the stable, a hand covered her mouth and pulled her against a hard chest. She used the move she made against Javier just a few days earlier, jabbing her right elbow into the man’s gut. He grunted, but no relaxing of muscles occurred. Great.
“Shh, lass. It’s only me.”
She stilled. She’d know Torr’s voice anywhere. Did he realize what had happened? She bit his hand.
“Ach.” His hold loosened a fraction.
She turned her head and whispered. “I think someone has betrayed you.”
He leaned his head down and whispered in her ear, his breath sending shivers over her skin. “I know.”
He knew? Of course! That’s why he was here. The man was always one step ahead of her. No wonder he was laird.
“Why do I always find ye about at night?”
She glanced up at his face, so near to her own, before she quickly looked away. “I don’t sleep well at night when not at home. I haven’t adjusted to Gealach yet.”
He stared hard at her as if trying to decide if she lied. “The question is, lass, what is yer relationship with the traitor?”
“What?” An uneasy shiver raced up her spine as he held her in a tight grip. “Let me go.”
“Not until ye tell me what ye were doing with Graham.”
What she was—he had to be kidding. “I wasn’t doing anything with him. I saw him sneaking about and confronted him.”
Torr spun her around so fast, the world took a moment to right itself. Once again his hands held her shoulders tightly. “What were ye thinking? A traitor who is caught is dangerous!”
The moon’s light clearly illuminated his face, and she swallowed her angry retort. Concern shone in his eyes beneath his furrowed brow. Why did he have to be such a good guy? She lowered her gaze to project meekness. “I didn’t know he was a traitor until after he became angry.”
Torr lifted her chin with his finger. His amused smirk gentled his face. “Ye made him angry? Then it is not only me ye frustrate?”
She shook her head, her throat dry. His gaze rested on her lips, which brought to mind his last kiss.
His grin faded as his thumb stroked her lower lip.
She took a deep breath in a vain attempt to still the fluttering in her stomach. It didn’t work. It only made her more aware of the scent of the man holding her spellbound. Wool, lye, and ale filled her nostrils as his head lowered.
Her lips parted in anticipation, and his tongue entered her mouth, tasting her with confidence. It was not the gentleness of their first kiss nor the demand of the second. He simply took and coaxed her to do the same, an invitation she couldn’t ignore.
He pulled her against him, her body flush to his, her breasts responding to his muscled chest as the hardness between his legs pressed into her abdomen.
Giving in to her desires, she explored his mouth with her tongue, savoring the rough taste of him. He held her tighter, flooding her body with tingles of excitement that fused together in a blanket of need. She wanted more. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself up on her toes to fit him better, burying her hands in his long hair.
Torr broke the kiss and began a seductive assault on her neck, causing her need to spike, a need she hadn’t considered since her parents’ deaths. It had been too long since she’d had someone want her. A tiny part of her brain tried to tell her she shouldn’t do this. It was against the rules, but she craved it, craved him. He was good and kind and protective and everything she’d always wanted. As Torr’s hand cupped her breast, she moaned.
“Ye are so soft, lass.” His thumb found her tight peak and stroked across it, causing the linen to make it harder.
Hot fire raced from her peak to her core, undermining what little thought she had left.
He backed her up to the stable wall and lifted her against it, with one arm beneath her butt. His strength heightened her desire while his mouth found her hard nipple. She grasped his shoulders as he wet the material covering her nub until his teeth found purchase. She let her head fall back against the wall, her body demanding more.
Ach, she wanted her clothes off, wanted to feel his tongue on her breasts, her stomach, her…
Torr’s hard maleness pressed between the folds of her leine and bumped up against the juncture of her thighs. A squeak of pleasure broke past her lips at the sensation. He released her nipple only to grasp it with his fingers, pinching it lightly as he rubbed himself against her. She was helpless before the building conflagration he stoked, his movements against her sex building the pleasure within her, pushing her need beyond her control.
He let go of her breast and grasped her head. “Let go, lass.” His mouth took hers and she shuddered as the fire inside consumed her. She let it take her where it would, her complete trust in the man holding her allowing her the freedom to ride the flames. As they slowly died down, he released her lips, but she kept her eyes closed, trying to quiet her mind. She wanted more, much more. She wanted this man naked and above her, inside her, around her.
Torr gently lowered her before kissing her again. She opened her eyes and thanked him with her kiss because she had no words, her emotions burned by their intimacy.
“Laird Torr? Is that you?” The watchman started down the steps of the wall-walk toward them, and she stiffened.
Torr raised his arm and looked over his shoulder. “Aye. It’s me. Walk the west wall; I am occupied.”
“As you wish.”
She closed her eyes. The only thing that could make this more embarrassing was if one of the women now found her in such a compromising position and then talked about it in the kitchens with the others.
Torr drew back, though he kept her close against him. As he stared into her eyes,
his mouth formed a grin. “Ye are passionate, Diana, just as I expected. I want you in my bed. Come with me?”
Her body wanted to, but her brain was defogging. It wasn’t fair to either of them or her job. Nor was it fair to leave him wanting, but this had to stop. She looked away. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
What could she say? “It’s not right.”
His body tensed against her, but his hold didn’t loosen. She had the sinking feeling that no matter what moves Javier had taught her, this was one man she wouldn’t be able to escape. “Ye want me to yerself?”
She stiffened. She’d almost forgotten. He never slept with the same woman twice in a row. That could work to her advantage. She looked up at him, trying to find a clue in his gaze. How could he want her so badly when he barely knew her?
His hand came up to stroke wisps of hair away from her face. “I cannot marry ye, if that is what ye need. That is beyond what I am capable of, but if ye wish…” His hesitation spoke volumes.
Relieved that his own rules could help them both stay away from each other, she laid her finger over his lips. “No. Don’t say it. It’s not what you really want. What you want is King Robert ruling Scotland, your brother safe, and a bit of relaxation with a willing woman when you need it. You have many commitments. Don’t add me to them. I am just another member of your clan and I think it should stay that way.”
He gazed deeply at her, but she remained firm in her conviction. She had to.
Torr studied her. “Ye know, ye are a beautiful woman, Diana. Why are ye not married?”
She raised her brows, surprised by the question. “I haven’t found the right man.”
“What would make the right man for ye?”
If he didn’t seem so genuinely perplexed, she would have thought he wanted to apply for the position, but he’d already turned it down.
“It’s not a matter of what makes the right man. It’s simply that I haven’t fallen in love with anyone yet. If and when I do, he will be the right man.”
Torr’s expression turned serious. “Love only leads to pain. Ye would be best settling for a man who treats ye well.”
She would have dismissed his comment as typical medieval belief, but he turned his head and the moonlight shone full on his face. The pain reflected there took her breath away. “I don’t agree. Love is what makes life worth living. The more a person can love and be loved, the more fulfilling life is.”
He brought his gaze back to her. “Nay, ye are confused. Life is about surviving, winning, being just and honorable. That is what makes life worth living. That and the excitement of a willing woman and an upcoming battle.”
The man was absolutely serious. Maybe for him, that was what life consisted of, but she firmly believed it to be more. Her gut told her this opposition of beliefs was more situational than gender or time related.
His hold loosened as if he’d come to some kind of conclusion. “I hear what ye say and see yer position, but I still will think on the matter.”
She stepped out of his embrace, sincerely hoping he could be strong enough for both of them. “Good sleep, Torr.” She bowed her head and turned, afraid to look at him again. Her own desires begged her to go back and accept what he offered.
She forced one foot in front of the other until she reached her woolen bed. She lay down and contemplated the vaulted ceiling. As much as she shied away from the idea, it took hold and her stomach fell. She wanted him for herself. For the first time since becoming a TWI agent, there was a man she actually wanted, and it had to be a medieval Scottish Highland laird destined to die.
Puck!
…
Torr leaned against the stable and folded his arms, his mind hesitant to contemplate the commitment he almost made and why. It was true, Diana stirred his passion like no other woman he’d met, but to promise to be faithful to her was the act of a madman. Thank the Lord she stopped him. That path led to strong feelings, possibly even marriage. To allow another into his heart would only lead to more pain than he could stomach. Although he may have no choice but to endure the risk of losing family members, he had control over adding a wife to that. There was no more room in his damaged heart for love.
Maybe all he needed was a warm, willing lass to grace his bed, and this need for Diana would vanish. As soon as he made Gealach safe for the king again, he would do just that.
The postern gate opened, and he faded into the stable shadows, the three-quarter moon now lighting the yard too well. Graham stepped partially inside and scanned the area. Assured no one was near, he entered, then closed and locked the gate. A shadow fell across him and he spun, dagger at the ready.
Kerr brought up his sword. “I do not think ye’ll be needing that.”
Even in the moonlight, Torr could see the man’s face pale as he dropped his weapon.
Kerr’s voice was hard. “Good choice.”
Graham lifted his hands to the side. “I be just meeting a lass for a bit of a tussle.”
“Tch, tch. Now ye be adding lying to the list of yer crimes.” Kerr shook his head like a father chastising a child.
A rattle at the postern gate interrupted them and both looked to the iron door. Torr stepped from his hiding place. Ignoring the gasp from the traitor, he opened the gate and Evan entered. Blood on the man’s arm and sweat on his brow bespoke a struggle.
He halted him. “What happened?”
“I followed him as ye said.” Evan pointed to Graham. “He met with a well-bearded man who had some skill with a sword. When I tried to take him, he fought.”
“Are you well?”
“Aye, it is not deep, just long, but the other fellow did not fare as well. He is dead.”
He relaxed. While he would have liked to question the man, he’d rather him dead than running back to whoever sent him.
Kerr chuckled. “Ye did that a purpose. Ye want that pretty lass of yers to fawn about ye.”
Evan smirked. “I’m not opposed to it, if that’s what ye mean.”
Torr patted Evan on the back before striding toward Graham. The man backed up a step as he approached. “A lass? I think not. Ye will have the rest of the night to ponder yer predicament. Tomorrow I expect ye to tell me who the man was, who sent ye both, and any plans that were made.” He grabbed the man by his shoulders and spun him around.
“Nay, truly, I was to meet the new lass. Look around, I’m sure she is about.”
He gritted his teeth as he tied Graham’s hands tight behind his back and shoved him toward Kerr, who was fast enough to lower his blade and avoid splitting the man in two.
“Take him to the pit. I’ve had enough of his tongue. Evan, go clean that wound.”
Kerr looked over his shoulder at him, but Torr refused to meet his gaze. Diana had been here as Graham had said. Was she in league with him? Had she been here simply as a distraction if needed? He was too willing to believe her. He fisted his hands as betrayal weighed heavy in his gut.
The men moved off in separate directions, neither keeping to the shadows or muffling their sounds. Controlling the tumult of emotions within his chest, he climbed the stone steps to the wall-walk and strode to the eastern corner. The watchman stood facing him, unmoving.
Douglas’s face became clear as he stepped closer. “Ye did not do as I asked.”
The man shook his head. “Nay. I do not trust her.”
He raised one brow. Douglas could not have seen Diana’s face from where he stood. “Who?”
“Diana.” The man clenched his fists at his side, his already thin lips tightening.
Douglas had not remained at his post. There was more here than a man watching a tryst in the moonlight. “Has she given ye reason for this distrust?”
“It is a feeling I have. I cannot explain.” Douglas looked away, but his stiff frame revealed much as he stared down at the crenellation. Whatever he felt was strong, and Torr understood.
He had often let his instincts guide him. “Then I will tread carefully
, if at all. I thank ye for yer counsel.”
The man’s gaze swung to meet his, the surprise on his face apparent.
“But when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Ye have not been with us long and have given me much to think upon; however, next time ye disobey me, it will not go well with ye.”
Douglas bowed his head. “Aye, laird.”
He turned and strode to the stairs, his pace quickening. Douglas suggested his instinct warned him about Diana, something his own brain had begun to do, and yet he had allowed himself to be lulled by her soft curves and supposed loyalty. She roamed the castle at night, watched from the wall-walk, and had met with Graham, and still he had succumbed to her charms.
He bounded down the stairs to the yard, his self-loathing growing by the second. When he reached the dirt-packed base, he stopped and took a deep breath. The blooming heather of the fields filled his nostrils, but it didn’t have the tang of mint he wanted. Damn! His body craved her still, despite his growing concerns.
Making his way carefully through the Great Hall, he stopped five feet from Diana. Her breathing was slow and her pale braid fell across her neck to lie beneath her chin. Her sweet scent with its underlying sharpness filled his senses.
He folded his arms, fighting his need. He’d witnessed her passion. He wanted to have her in his bed. He wanted to see all of her, her plump breasts that strained against the fabric of her leine. Her long legs. Would they be muscled from her work, or thin and lean? He wanted to once again feel her ass in his arms, only with no clothing between them. He grew hard at the thought.
But Douglas’s warnings coupled with his own had him dropping his arms and stepping away from his temptation. He crossed the hall in silence, his muscles tensing with every step. Douglas’s suspicion had radiated from his body. Torr didn’t doubt the man was truthful in his assessment. The question was, was he correct?
Was Diana a spy? Was that the true reason she denied him? Did she plan to slip away the moment he was attacked by the clan she and Graham were a part of?
He ascended the spiral stairs to the first bedroom, which was his. The next room was his brother’s and the last the king’s. That last had been his father’s. He rolled his shoulders, making his tight muscles relax before he opened his door.