Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  His lips were drawn into a thin line, his eyes unreadable. Her dream filled with the crumbling red walls of a castle in the distance. A presence stood on top of the corroding fortification. A woman. But someone else lingered near.

  A shrouded figure reached for the woman, yet the man beside the sea looked reluctant to save her. Instead, he took a step toward Haven and lost his footing. In a heartbeat, the strong current sucked him beneath the waves.

  Haven had awakened with a cry. She could still feel how her chest had heaved, seeking air. Perspiration dripped from her brow to sting her eyes as the fog that shrouded her sleepy brain slowly dissipated.

  Turning back to the bed, she noticed the pile of folded muslin. She grabbed a plain, yellow dress from the pile and spied a lace-up brown suede bodice. A pale blue peasant shirt, with short, puffed sleeves, rounded out her new wardrobe.

  Haven shimmied into the new, lighter gown and tied the laces with shaky fingers. Kirk had brought her to new heights of pleasure. Now she understood what her friends had always snickered about. She now had more to discuss with Iona.

  I’m still trembling.

  Stepping into a new pair of kidskin slippers, she moaned her joy.

  No more achy, bare feet.

  She rummaged in the pockets of her discarded gown. Packets and vials fell to the ground. Grabbing them, she retrieved the chamomile petals and her dagger, then slipped them into the pockets of her new dress.

  Haven glanced through the partially open tent flap. She had to hurry. After combing her fingers through her hair, she slipped the gold belt from her old gown and tied her unruly hair into a ponytail. Haven shook out the ruined gown then rolled it into a ball. Iona lent it to her, so she had to bring it home with her. Speaking of getting home…

  Could she persuade Kirk to lend her a horse? She could steal a horse. But, what would she do with it once she reached civilization? How would Kirk and his men feel about her thievery after feeding her and lending her clothing?

  All these possibilities made her head ache.

  “My lady?”

  Pushed from her mindless meanderings by the young, male voice, she answered, “I’m coming, Reid. Hold your horses.”

  “I am standing here holding a pony I mean to lend ye. How did ye know?”

  Haven slipped outside the tent with her bundle. The sun was barely peeking over the trees. Reid stood beside a small dust colored horse with a thick, black mane and matching tail.

  “Psychic, I guess.”

  Reid, though cute as a button, acted thick as a brick, then gave her a sly sideways glance. He’d covered the much smaller beast’s back with blankets.

  “Kirk doesn’t want me to ride with him?”

  “This I can only assume since he gave the order.”

  “Fine by me,” she lied. The seat looked quite comfortable, though a fleeting memory of sitting between thighs of iron seized her with incredible longing. She gazed around camp. Most of the women had already mounted other small horses. The enticing smell of roast meat scented the breeze. Her stomach growled.

  “Hungry?” Kirk asked.

  He’d snuck up on her, again. A slight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Reddish skin puckered around the jagged scar.

  Funny how I’d forgotten all about his injured face.

  His wet hair shimmered and he’d swept the damp locks over his shoulders. Sunlight turned his auburn tresses to gold. Tan shoulders, bare except for leather straps that crisscrossed his wide chest, hefted a large sword.

  “Why are you always trying to feed me? Am I to be the fattened cow at the end of our journey?”

  “I am honor-bound to treat all guests to the best of my ability. If ye hunger, I will feed ye. If ye thirst, I shall pour the ale. If ye be a’wanting better clothes, I shall sew.”

  She giggled. The lighthearted sound spilled from her lips while she stood and stared at his beautiful face. She sensed he wanted to join in the reverie, but something dark passed over his eyes.

  “Have ye not heard the tale of the Laird o’ Co’? The story inspires our children to show generosity with strangers, nearly to a fault.”

  “Never heard of it. Tell me?”

  He lifted her onto her mount and waited until she settled. He spun away then climbed onto the back of his massive war horse. The animal’s leg muscles flexed as it accepted Kirk’s weight. The horse stretched its neck and pulled at the reins. Kirk sat tall and straight then kicked the animal’s belly. He pulled beside her and continued the tale.

  “A child came to the tower of the powerful Laird o’ Co, begging ale for his sick mother. The Laird ordered his servant to fill the child’s small cup. Half a barrel later, the servant failed to fill the cup. The servant protested opening a second barrel. The Laird ordered it to be so and the child’s pail filled with one more drop.”

  “Sounds like a miracle. Or witchcraft.”

  “Witchery, ye mean? Years later the Laird found himself imprisoned and slated for execution. The night before he would die, the doors deep inside the dungeon flew open and the child appeared. Now recognized as a full-grown dwarf, he spoke his magic words to release the Laird. Together, they made their escape. The dwarf told him one good turn deserves another and thanked him for being kind to his old mother.”

  “See? Magic!” She smiled and spread her hands wide to the wind. Stray curls whipped around her cheeks.

  Kirk nodded, smiled, then kicked his horse. He advanced to the front of the line. Her pony trotted forward and she joined the women. Kirk’s tale sounded very close to the golden rule and explained why he had helped her, fed her, and kept her safe.

  “A romantic notion, to say the least, but not what I expected.”

  “Ye wish for romance?” Kirk’s horse suddenly pulled beside her. Their thighs bumped and something inside her chest went thump.

  “No, I simply liked how the story ended happily. I do appreciate your kindness. I promise to reciprocate by being civil. Ah, shouldn’t you be up front, oh mighty leader?”

  Kirk laughed, a throaty sound that echoed in her bones. “We shall soon reach the castle at the end of our trek and ye shall be able to take a real bath. Do the clothes please ye?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “They are only a camp wench’s cast offs. On ye, they appear regal.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Where exactly is this Castle Ruadh?”

  “Ye know of our destination?”

  “Reid mentioned a red stone castle, but I’m sure he likes to play jokes on lost women. There aren’t any castles in New England. Well, maybe one or two castle-like mansions. Besides, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  A look crossed his face. His brow furrowed and he stared out to the east as if searching for someone. Haven bit her lower lip. Somehow, she’d crossed a line.

  Again.

  CHAPTER 14

  Kirk considered why his foster son had volunteered to give up his steed to ride with the wagons. Such a sacrifice proved he had fallen under Lady Haven’s spell.

  As have I.

  Her hair was a tousled tail of black waves wrapped with a bit of gilt cloth. A few soft curls had escaped and danced about her rosy cheeks. The borrowed dress fit snuggly and displayed her generous curves to everyone’s view.

  Kirk growled with displeasure when he realized he cared.

  She held herself like a well-bred lady, yet had not demanded better clothes to replace her battered garments. Her blood-red gown and fine white lace trim had seen better days. He expected her to insist he offer something finer as fitting a lady.

  Lady Haven convinced him without words that she lived the life of a lady of wealth and social graces. Had she fallen on hard times? Recalling her mentioning two men in her life, had either played a part in her downfall? Had they forced her from her home and sanctuary into the life of a camp whore?

  No. She had refused his coins. Then again, no sane woman would share her body with a man so scarred.

  She was not accustomed to unfil
tered ale, such as Balfour’s brew, made with meadowsweet and bitter herbs.

  I should have offered wine.

  She’d eaten little of the stew and less of the sliced bannock then had blushed when she spotted a couple making love under the furs. He sensed her discomfiture at the open display of affection. Her innocent reaction certainly proved her origin among the gentility.

  Kirk had not slept, last night. Concern filled his mind for her comfort, safety, and the way she made him feel. And feel, he did.

  His cock hardened whenever he smelled her womanly fragrance. It twitched when he recalled the honey-sweet taste of her lips. It yearned to bury itself deep inside where his fingers reached, after he’d skimmed them across her silky skin.

  Last night was a taste of heaven. She had melted in his arms, allowed him to kiss her until she peaked. Her whimpers and deep sighs had filled the tent’s dark space. He had slowly lowered her skirt, covered her with furs, and stole away, slipping from the tent like a guilty thief in the night.

  Damnation.

  Thoughts of his betrothed had surfaced, again.

  Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Kirk set guards around their party. Several warriors scouted ahead while others guarded the treasure wagons at the rear. With Mackenzie and other mercenaries on the loose, they must stay vigilant.

  Kirk’s destiny waited at the end of their journey. Lady Haven had no part in his future life. The peace treaty between the Keiths and his clan required a successful outcome or his personal sacrifice would be for naught.

  The problem with my plan? I want Haven.

  “Her continued presence threatens the very future of our clan,” Cameron said, suddenly beside him.

  He growled his displeasure at his cousin’s sneaky approach. Kirk tightened his fingers around the reins of his mount. The clink of the saddle hitch and the animal’s snorts stilled his cousin’s tirade.

  “Ye have startled my animal, cousin. Pray tell me why ye need to sneak up on a man and spout words I have already taken to heart?”

  Seemingly distressed by his quick answer, Cameron glanced away.

  “Be at ease, Cameron. My life stands in turmoil ever since I agreed to the betrothal. I can hear my ancestors laughing at me from above.”

  “Why would anyone laugh at you?”

  Kirk turned to find Haven looking up at him from the back of her pony. Again, someone drew near and he failed to notice. It was dangerous to let down one’s guard.

  With the morning sun shining down, her angelic brilliance made him swallow. Eyes of the palest green ever seen had opened wide in wonder.

  Or with laughter.

  “No one dare laugh at me to my face, dear lady, but my forebears look down from the heavens from time to time and have a belly laugh at my expense. Let us say my future lies before me and I advance with trepidation. I, for one, would rather have stayed abed.”

  “Your future? I can’t think past Fridays. That’s one of the reasons Cal and I broke up.”

  “If the man cared for ye, he would look past such flaws,” he whispered. Without allowing her a chance to answer with another witty remark, he kicked his beast into a gallop.

  Life as he knew it would cease to exist the moment he arrived at Castle Ruadh and married his bride. But, when he tried to picture the ceremony, only Haven’s shining smile came to mind.

  * * *

  The man Kirk called cousin flicked a poisonous glare in her direction, tempered by animal lust. She swung her attention to Kirk’s retreating back as she reined in her mount. The sight of Kirk’s broad shoulders and taut, trim backside melted her insides. As he shouted to his men in his commanding Scottish burr, her heart skipped a beat. She squirmed in the saddle recalling how his large hands caressed her thighs. Why had she let him kiss her so intimately?

  Haven quit gawking, ignored his cousin, and turned her attention to the lay of the land. The trees thinned and the road widened. Of course, since she had no idea what part of New England they rode through, she didn’t know what to make of this whole adventure. Her aching body, on the other hand, wondered about the location of the closest hotel. A hot shower, a soft bed, and room service would be heavenly.

  For two?

  Dream on, sweetheart.

  She yanked such thoughts away even though her body tingled and her thighs clenched with need. Her horse skittered sideways.

  “Easy boy.” Before she could dwell on her growing feelings for Kirk, and how her spell might have brought them together, a man ran from the forest. Cameron, still beside her, drew his sword and galloped toward him and Kirk. Haven’s breath hitched until the man slid to a stop then bowed. He must be one of Kirk’s previously mentioned perimeter guards.

  With one hand splayed across her chest, she slowed her breaths and grew close enough to listen. The guard held a rustic bow in one hand, a dirk in the other, and sucked in gulps of air.

  “They come at a pace fast and true, my laird. Me thinks they saw smoke from our morning fires. I hid on yonder hillside and spied them heading this way across the valley. Only a few are mounted and those appear injured.”

  “How many?” Cameron asked.

  “Ten, I count,” he wheezed, “about an hour’s ride from here. I ran fast as I could.” He bent at the waist, with his hands on his knees.

  “Why are ye afoot?” Kirk asked.

  “My mount stepped in the burrow of a pine martin. Broke its leg.”

  “Dead?”

  The man nodded. “I could not leave her in agony.”

  “Share a saddle with the cooking wench.”

  Kirk pointed to the woman called Gavina.

  I think she’s more interested in riding in Kirk’s lap, Haven thought.

  Cameron, meanwhile, bent over and patted the breathless man’s shoulder with obvious gratitude. Haven pulled her pony beside the tired guard and unhitched a skin filled with water.

  “Drink. You must be thirsty.” The man grabbed the skin of water and Haven’s wrist, shaking her arm with gratitude even as her mind tried to wrap itself around his words. His fear seemed real.

  This has to be an act.

  While Cameron rode ahead, Kirk circled back. He flicked a glance from her to the sentry who continued to shake her hand.

  “Ride to the rear with Cameron and warn those guarding the treasure wagon,” Kirk said. Young Gavina stiffened as the sentry mounted behind her, her brown eyes flashing.

  She doesn’t look happy at all.

  Cameron yelled a command and the riders and wagons took off at a much faster pace. Haven held tight to her animal’s reins and prayed she stayed in the saddle. Kirk rode beside her.

  “Make haste. Yer friends are determined to catch us. Either they are men of pride unable to let go when bested or—”

  “Or, what?”

  “Or, they want their prize returned.” He kneed his mount and gained speed. Haven followed close behind as the meaning of his words stabbed her with a terror she hadn’t thought possible. She held on to the beast’s mane with one hand and the reins with the other. She followed the man who cared for her safety.

  And as his words sunk in, she recalled the lust-filled faces of the men he’d killed. She’d stumbled into their encampment and the echoes of their threat and taunts made her shudder. They were not the sort of men a person stumbled across in northern New England.

  Where the heck am I?

  * * *

  Many tension-filled hours later, when the sun cruised high overhead and the air grew hot and dry, the group stopped beside a river. Several men dismounted and led their beasts to drink.

  “Is it safe to stop?” she asked young Reid who’d appeared on foot beside her and her pony. “And I thought you were back with the wagons.”

  The young man smiled up at her and offered his one good hand. She slipped off the pony, and into his chest. Haven’s legs felt rubbery. As she held the horse’s reins, she also clasped Reid’s sweaty palm.

  “Mind yer manners, boy.”

 
; Haven jumped and the startled horse shied away. Reid released her hand as if burned and she swayed. Two large hands gripped her around the waist.

  “I was helping her—”

  “I knew what ye are about, Reid. Best return to yer place by the wagons.”

  She watched the boy blush bright red. He hung his head and turned on his heel without a word. Releasing her, Kirk grabbed her pony’s reins and led the animal to the water.

  As it drank, he watched her.

  Erratic heartbeats pumped heated blood through her veins. She felt her own cheeks redden at the same instant a surge of heat raced to the sensitive area between her legs.

  “Cameron feels we managed to outrun the mercenaries for the time being. We shall make use of a short break to rest our mounts. Quench yer thirst.”

  Her water skin was empty. She walked upriver from the thirsty animals and then knelt on the grassy bank. As fresh water bubbled into the carrier and rushed over her heated skin, she moaned. Kirk appeared beside her and offered her his hand. Surprised, she looked up at him, then waved him off.

  “I’m certain you’ve more important things to do.” With a sudden shadowing of the noon sun her only warning, he grabbed her around the waist, and lifted. Captured and held tight to a rock-hard chest, she said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Put me down, you big oaf.”

  He chuckled.

  Entwined within rippling muscles, she struggled, but he never flinched.

  “If I had my way, I would never put ye down unless ‘twas into my bed.” He nuzzled the sensitive skin under her left ear then landed a smattering of delicate kisses down her neck.

  She melted and slid down his body until her feet touched the ground. Evidence of his arousal made her jump back and slam against the side of her pony.

  The animal whinnied in protest.