Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

“Ye and Lady Haven have no regard for one another?”

  “I will not lie, dear cousin.” Cameron strolled to Kirk’s mount’s rump and patted the animal.

  “I worship the ground her dainty feet tread upon. I shall do anything to make her mine.”

  Kirk sputtered at his words and the lust that blazed in Cameron’s eyes. Kirk had ordered Cameron to answer for his actions. Again. First, he had disobeyed an order. Now, he professed his feelings for Haven.

  How could I have been so blind?

  Kirk could not compete with his cousin’s perfect face and golden hair. His kinsman aroused many a lass because no scars marred Cameron’s profile. Had Kirk not witnessed the adoration Haven bestowed on his cousin when he and his warriors had stepped from the forest? Was it only gratitude?

  “God’s teeth! We found ye entwined in each other’s arms.”

  “The sight of Lady Haven in God’s glory will not stay me from my course.”

  “So, ye did indeed see her unclothed?”

  “We have no secrets, do we, Cousin? Ye must admit the lovely mark high on her left hip is most appealing. Let us not pit ourselves against one another with claws drawn.”

  Kirk caught the reference to Lady Haven’s mark of the cat. A tattoo, she had called it.

  “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement. Soon ye shall be with yer betrothed.”

  “And?”

  “Bequeath Lady Haven into my care. I shall promise to continue handling her for ye and in the most congenial way.”

  Cameron practically admitted he and Haven had been intimate. Now he asked to take responsibility for her. Lady Fia was Kirk’s unwanted destiny. At that precise moment, Kirk realized that Lady Haven had captured his heart.

  Irretrievably.

  His cousin’s words and sly smile suddenly unleashed a rage that boiled in Kirk’s veins, blinding him to reason. His hands circled his cousin’s throat, and Cameron’s body tensed.

  “Am I mistaken? Do ye want the lady as well?” Cameron gasped. “If so, please mark my words for they are for yer own good.”

  Kirk loosened his grip. Cameron coughed. “I believe I am finished listening to yer words of wisdom, dear cousin.”

  “I merely wish to point out that she would not care to be yer mistress.” Cameron clawed when Kirk’s fists tightened about his throat. “Ye know I speak God’s truth.”

  “Let him go!” Haven stood with hands on hips and her wild mane flying behind her in the breeze. An easterly wind grew in intensity, filled with the tang of the nearby sea. Gray clouds gathered, sending the forest into early shadows. The wind’s chill, and her irate command, ran like ice down his back.

  He thrust Cameron back several feet. Haven’s eyes widened with concern as his cousin crumpled to the ground. Did she fear he might harm her lover? Kirk stared at her pretty face and perfect skin, gone white. When her nostrils flared, he prayed his face did not betray the emotional bond within his heart.

  Her face did not hide her angst as she knelt close to his cousin and urged him to take several breaths in a loving voice.

  Would that she might speak to me, thus.

  She brushed away dirt and twigs from Cameron’s face and clothing. His hair stuck out in disarray. His tawny skin had paled.

  “Now he is not quite so pretty,” Kirk said. He bent to haul his barely conscious cousin to his feet, but Haven pushed him away.

  “I said leave him alone.”

  She wrapped one soft arm around Cameron’s shoulders while her other hand slid down into the pocket of her dress. When she withdrew her tiny dagger, Kirk laughed.

  “Put yer weapon away and get back to yer wee beastie, wench. My cousin and I had a family argument. We have no need of yer tart tongue or feminine attention.” He bent over and retrieved his sword. As he held the weapon in his right hand, pointed at his cousin’s heaving chest, Kirk wiped perspiration from his face. He had listened intently to Haven’s tirade. The dangerous glint in her eye, while she protected Cameron, felt like a kick to his gut.

  “No. Don’t. He’s done nothing to deserve this. You can’t kill him just because he might have seen me nude.”

  “Are ye saying ‘tis all a misunderstanding?”

  “I would not do her any harm,” Cameron sputtered. He rose to a sitting position then breathed in gulps of air. “I admit I want her. Why is it ye cannot?”

  CHAPTER 18

  Kirk froze at Cameron’s statement, knowing Haven would expect an answer. She had swung all her attention from Cameron to him, yet he had no idea how to answer his cousin’s question. To ignore the betrothal agreement, to claim Lady Haven, meant years of continued fighting. Cameron knew this, so why did he goad him?

  “I cannot make any claim, as ye well know, cousin.” He turned to leave him in Haven’s care when her voice floated over the breeze.

  “Why not?” Haven asked.

  “We will talk of this later.” His stomach clenched, twisting as tight as the hand on his sword hilt. “As for ye, dear cousin, if ye wish to follow then make yerself useful. Guard the treasure wagons. Let nothing be taken, this time.”

  “Last time was a fluke. We were overrun and—”

  “No excuses. If Balfour is with ye, tell him I want the two of ye out of my sight or I shall banish ye both,” Kirk said.

  Cameron answered with a sharp laugh. “Ye would not dare.”

  “Do not tempt me.”

  Haven murmured words of comfort and helped Cameron to his feet. Kirk shook his head as he turned away. Why did he feel the sudden need to sit her down and explain peace treaties, arranged betrothals, and loveless marriages?

  The group resumed their trek and the road soon filled with peasants, wagons, and shepherds and their flocks. Hours later, Haven tugged on his right arm. The moment her silken fingertips lightly gripped him around his wrist, Kirk’s spine straightened and his knees squeezed together. When the beast beneath him skittered sideways, he loosened his hold and turned to face the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

  The woman of my visions, the half to my whole.

  “You were kind to Cameron,” she whispered. “He told me you had the perfect right to hit him.”

  “I strangled him, lass. I would never strike him.”

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny. He also said you would never banish him and Balfour.”

  “Do not be so sure.” Kirk swept his eyes forward. The castle still lay far ahead, yet each step closer tore at his heart. Kirk’s throat ached with the shame of deceit. He ought to tell her.

  “I don’t understand the anger between you two, but thank you for letting him stay.”

  Her pony drew closer, now that his mount had calmed. She swept her sweet fingers up his forearm. Sensations flooded his tortured body. Yet, her touch filled him with another emotion; utter hopelessness.

  She cannot be part of my life.

  Once they entered the confines of the castle, he would no longer be a simple man who governed his clan during years of famine and war. He had asked his people for family heirlooms, cherished ornaments, and hard-earned coins. The items they sacrificed lay in the wagons. The goods would buy him a wife, and their union would settle peace between two warring clans.

  Honey and wildflowers teased his nose. Shutting his eyes, Kirk breathed in Haven’s fragrance.

  “I punished a man who dishonored ye. If he be not truly at fault, I am man enough to admit my mistake.”

  “Yes, you’re definitely man enough,” she said. He watched her turn away, but not before blessing him with a small smile. She kneed her pony then trotted ahead.

  “Wait. Is anything wrong?” Kirk asked when he caught up to her and her pony. She stared straight ahead before she slid him a quick glance and shook her head. She seemed pleased he had spared Cameron’s life, but his cousin’s words ate away at him each time the image arose of the two of them entwined, beside the river. She should belong to an unencumbered warrior, not a man burdened, as he was burdened.

  Kirk stroked his scarred ch
eek, and cursed the man who had given it to him; The Mackenzie. Why would a woman as perfect as Lady Haven want him instead of Cameron? He ought to release her before they went too far. He would not disrespect her on the eve of his marriage to another. Staying away should be easier, now that her attention was on Cameron. When the trek neared its end, everyone would achieve what they desired.

  Except me.

  The trip began with little to recommend it except for the knowledge that his betrothal and subsequent marriage would bring peace. He never anticipated how life would change the moment a black-haired lass materialized within a magical mist.

  * * *

  After several minutes of silence, Haven wondered why she spent time with Kirk. She had watched his face for either amusement or horror when she comforted his injured cousin, but his gaze locked on the horizon and his mouth seemed clamped shut.

  He’d lashed out at his own flesh and blood after he’d assumed they’d been intimate. How could she forgive him for believing an obvious lie? Didn’t he know how she felt about him?

  She muttered several words she remembered Iona saying, right before Haven found herself back in time. “When you find the man of your dreams, grab him and hold on tight.”

  “Say again, lass?” Kirk asked.

  “Poetry. I was reciting a poem,” she lied. “My boyfriend, Cal, enjoyed poetry and I fell madly in love with the man. He stole my heart and my virginity. We parted when I found out he had a wife and son.”

  A growl from the man beside her made her pony skitter sideways.

  “If this man lived in our clan, he would have been whipped, beheaded, or hung. What kind of place is yer homeland that allows a man to treat ye with disrespect?”

  “I live in a city filled with thousands of people, yet I was too embarrassed to tell anyone.”

  “Haven, he took yer innocence. He stole a gift ye cannot replace. How can ye defend him?”

  The shame his words rekindled threatened to fill her dusty eyes with tears. She’d been Cal’s mistress and never knew it.

  With her throat too constricted to answer, Haven kicked her pony, turned, and retreated to the quiet comfort of the wagons at the back of the procession. She dismounted and tied her animal to the side of one of the heavily laden treasure wagons. Reid sat alone, driving one of the carts, and she wanted to talk to him.

  “How is your arm?”

  “Much better, my lady.” He scooted over and she climbed up beside him.

  “You never told me how you injured your arm.”

  “An arrow impaled me the day The Mackenzie attacked.”

  Blindsided by his calm tone amid chilling words, she caught her breath. Such deadly circumstances helped prove she’d ended up in the past.

  “How did ye come to be lost?” Reid asked.

  “A lightning bolt is the last thing I remember, and a pocket full of herbs and potions.”

  “Were ye caught in a storm?”

  “Yes, though I’m convinced something evil had a hand in it.” She waited for his reaction. Young Reid’s brow furrowed as if deep in thought. Then, he glanced around before responding.

  “Please,” he whispered, “tell me exactly what happened. Be not afraid to speak the truth. My mother dabbles in potions, powders, and spells. She sees future events long before they come to pass and I will miss her words of wisdom when she dies.”

  “Is she sick?”

  “Nay, but her death was foretold to her, so she’s been gathering herbs and powerful stones in order to pass the information to someone worthy.”

  “To you perhaps?”

  “Nay. I have tried but I have no mind for measuring and stirring. The gathering and drying of plants makes me sneeze.” They both giggled. “She told me my future lay in serving Kirkwall Gunn, and then I shall return with honor to my own village. I want to stay here and learn to fight at his side.”

  “When will that happen?” Reid looked so young. “How old are you?”

  “I have seen seventeen summers. I will compete with others of our clans in the creach when we return to Keldurunach.”

  “Creach?”

  The boy’s cheeks took on a rosy shade of red. “Ye do not know of the creach? I thought a lad’s rite of passage was widely known throughout the Highlands.”

  “Humor me?”

  “I will join others in a raid on a neighboring clan’s livestock.”

  “You’re going to steal cows or sheep to become a man?” Should she laugh at the image or cry at more proof she’d traveled too far from home.

  “We always return the beasties.”

  “May I ask you a question? Will you promise to answer, but not ask anything about why?” Haven waited, the air filled with the soothing clop of workhorses and the rumblings of the wagons.

  “To the best of my ability,” he answered.

  “What day is it?”

  “What?”

  “Today. What is the date?” She cringed at his puzzled glare. He again looked behind them then snapped the reins on the workhorse. He remembered his oath, she surmised, when he answered a bit louder with what she feared must be the truth.

  “I am not aware of the exact day, but this is midsummer, in the year 1598.”

  Haven swung her attention to the giant on horseback who rode alone, several hundred feet ahead. Reid dreamed of fighting by Kirk’s side. Already injured in an attack, he still wanted to risk his life to steal cows, guard a treasure, and whatever else people did in the sixteenth century.

  “From where do ye hail, my lady?”

  “Lincoln is in the White Mountains in northern New England. That’s in North America, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Please do not jest.”

  “I’m serious. People will travel there in increasing numbers. Jamestown, colonized by the British in 1607, is only the beginning. After an uprising by the colonists in Concord, Massachusetts in 1775, it will become a new country.”

  Reid was polite enough not to laugh. Did he believe her claims? Or, was he afraid he sat beside a crazy woman?

  “Please believe me. I need help. You might be the only link I have to someone with the power to send me home.” Could his mother help her? Would she?

  “If what ye say be true, ye are in grave danger.” Reid leaned toward her, nearly whispering words that sent a horrified chill down her back. Reid looked worried.

  “Why? All I want is to remake the potion, say the ancient words, and go home.”

  “Do ye not know how Scottish lairds treat witches and people who talk of potions?”

  “Not really.” Iona would know.

  Gavina appeared at her shoulder, hovering beside the wagon on her pony. The woman’s eyes stared in wide-open attention at the way Reid’s head pressed close to Haven’s. Had Gavina heard Haven speak of potions and time travel? The woman’s slight smile warned Haven she might start more rumors.

  “I know yer secret. Ye healed Balfour with a mystical poultice. Ye turn heads with yer sweet fragrance prepared with poison berries. Ye seduce powerful men,” she said, pointing her defiant chin toward Kirk then back to Reid, “and young boys. Yes, I know yer secrets.”

  Haven’s blood ran cold.

  Gavina laughed aloud, yanked her pony’s reins, and galloped away.

  “Devil’s own luck. A sixteenth-century gossiping bitch.” Gavina would blab that Reid and Haven were more than friends. She thought of his overreaction to Cameron. “I’m doomed.”

  “I never liked Gavina. She follows my laird with hungry eyes.” They both grunted in uneasy agreement. “And I am sorry I have not heard of a town called Lincoln in America.”

  He was familiar with Highland games. Held in early spring or after the harvest, the festivals were popular celebrations. Beltane, or May Day, was the best attended festival in the northeastern Highlands. Clan members ventured from near and far. All ages came to wrestle, fight, eat, and drink.

  “Too many clan wars have soaked our hills and meadows in blood.” Reid rubb
ed his shoulder. “I have no stomach for burned villages or stone-topped cairns marking the graves of innocent peasants or our brave warriors.”

  Wars? Burial sites? If memory served, she’d landed in a time where women were raped, and clan wars ruled the land.

  “I remember a muscular fellow who stood taller than even our Balfour,” Reid continued. He flicked a fly from the horse’s ear with the reins. “The giant tossed a tree trunk end over end to the cheers of the crowd then collected kisses from many a lovely lass. He died in battle not two months later.”

  Haven swallowed at the sobering thoughts. “Do you participate in these games?”

  “Nay. I stay far away. ‘Tis hard to distinguish games from wars, and I have not the size required for such feats. I might train for the road race after our laird is…”

  “Is what?” She waited for him to continue, but his jaw clenched tight.

  He’s hiding something. He’s acting like Kirk.

  “That’s okay. If he ordered you to keep silent, I understand,” though she certainly did not. Reid’s pale face affirmed his nervousness with the subject. He felt guilty on her account, so she leaned over and planted a peck on his cheek.

  * * *

  They stopped for the night near some cottages on the outskirts of a small village. Reid pointed down the road. “We are but one valley from Castle Ruadh and its village.”

  “Will we get there tomorrow?”

  “Aye.”

  Anxious to reach the end of the adventure, she gripped the side of the wagon while they waited outside a large barn where the group was to bed the animals. Chickens pecked in the dirt until a big, gray dog chased them, leaving her to wonder what her first visit to a Scottish castle would entail.

  Once there, what would become of her? She had no money and only a casual knowledge of Scotland and its history. Haven wanted to kick herself for not listening closer to Iona’s father and his stories about his homeland. Instead, her stomach rumbled.

  “Ye missed lunch again, my lady.”

  A voice smooth as single malt scotch made a pleasant sensation skip down her spine. She spun around, not surprised to find Kirk close enough to touch. She stared at his mouth, and unconsciously licked her lips.