Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  “God’s teeth, lass. Ye took ten years off me life.”

  “I do like younger men. After all, Jake is—”

  Kirk covered her mouth then kissed his way down her neck and shoulders. At the sound of Haven’s chemise tearing, Iona pushed off the bed. The couple fell across the foot of the mattress, the heat of their passion evident.

  Iona slipped from the room and closed the bedroom door as she went. As she padded down the hall to the stairs, she wondered what would become of her if neither Dorcas nor Cameron returned.

  “I will not think like that. Cameron has to live.”

  She walked down the stairs and into the great hall. Fia and Marcus sat on the dais in deep conversation while a dozen guards stood at alert. Everyone understood that the sorcerer could appear anywhere at any time, and he had promised to kill Kirk. He evidently required the real amulet in order to accomplish such a feat, so he would return.

  Before she reached the Mackenzies, a thick mist boiled up from the stone floor and coalesced into a white cloud. The scent of apples and heather filled the room and Fia screamed. Iona clapped a hand to her chest and waited, certain either Dorcas or the sorcerer had a hand in the magic.

  The smoke disappeared with a great blast of air leaving Dorcas, Skye and…

  “Cameron!” His body lay at the women’s feet, bloody and still. “Dear God!”

  “Iona, lass, doona fret. He lives, but needs ye.”

  Iona stared at Dorcas and tried to understand. Dorcas was the powerful witch, not her. She was a healer and not as high on the scale as Haven. “Help him!”

  Dorcas shook her head, and Skye helped her to a bench. Marcus and Fia joined them and the sorrow that filled their faces made tears form behind her eyes.

  “The trip to the Sorcerer’s lair took all our strength. Though the blackheart was gone, he had woven spells about the place. It took all of what we have to bring Cammie here. Ye must find the spell to cure him, lass.”

  “Me? Where—”

  “The book that I told you about. Do you have it?”

  Iona turned toward her friend. Haven entered the great room with Kirk on her heels. Her face was rosy and Kirk’s looked flushed. “I didn’t expect to see you two for a couple of hours.”

  “We decided Cameron’s life was more important.” Haven glanced at Kirk and he nodded.

  “There be plenty of time for a proper reunion with my betrothed when Cameron is again hale and hardy. Can ye save him?”

  “The book. Marcus, you took my satchel. Haven’s book is in it.”

  Marcus talked with a guard and the missing satchel appeared next to Cameron. “My apologies. We dinna know ye, and thought this was yer spell book.”

  “In a way it is,” Iona said.

  Marcus paled and Iona wanted to laugh, but time was fleeting. Cameron looked even paler, and the coppery smell of blood was suffocating.

  She dug out the ancient book and set it on the large wood table nearest to Cameron. Haven and Dorcas joined her. Together, they flipped through the pages. Urgency pushed them until they noticed a page written in red. “Is that blood?”

  Haven nodded to Iona, and then they glanced at Cameron. His chest rose and fell but a pool of blood widened beside his hip. “Let’s do this.”

  “Ye two must work together. I be too weak,” Dorcas said.

  Iona nodded and hefted the book. Together, she and Haven spoke the words on the yellowed page.

  Blood, sinew, skin and bone.

  Stitch the wound, and make him breathe.

  Hear my plea, so mote it be.

  Nothing happened. Cameron didn’t move, and the blood pool widened. “What’s wrong?”

  Dorcas stared at the page, then ran her finger along the red letters. “This was written in blood. A sacrifice is needed along with the words.”

  “This is black magic?”

  “Nay, ‘tis a spell that requires trust. It can only be read by someone who is willing to give everything including their blood to save another.”

  Iona dug in her pocket and removed the sgian dubh Cameron had given her. She tore it from its sheath and slashed her left palm.

  Fia screamed, then fainted dead away. Marcus caught her. When the others voiced their concern, he waved them off. “Fia shall be fine. Save Robeson.”

  Iona kneeled beside Cameron. The stone floor hurt, but her palm hurt worse. The time had come to prove how much she loved Cameron Robeson. She tore his shirt open enough to see the wound. Blood poured from it at a ghastly rate. Iona slapped her bloodied palm flat against his wound, then recited the words a second time. The others stood quietly beside them.

  Blood, sinew, skin and bone.

  Stitch the wound, and make him breathe.

  Hear my plea, so mote it be.

  Cameron was ice cold and his breaths were too shallow to sustain life much longer. The seconds ticked by as slow as minutes and Iona prayed that the words had some effect. There were no modern hospitals nearby. No blood banks or ambulances. Instead of a real doctor, a small man stood nearby with a satchel of herbs and poultices.

  “Why did I come to this time period anyway? To watch the only man I ever loved die?”

  “Ye love me, lass? ‘Tis music to a dying man’s ears. ‘Tis an answer to my prayer.”

  Iona glanced away from the bloody wound to Cameron’s face. His amber eyes were open and a smile filled his face with sunshine. Marcus and Kirk helped him to his feet, while she stayed on her knees. She doubted her legs would hold her, right now.

  “Aye, I be glad Haven told ye my feelings, as it led ye to save me.”

  “What? Haven didn’t say anything.”

  Cameron looked at Haven.

  “Don’t look at me. She didn’t give me a chance.”

  “Then why?”

  “Why what?” Iona was confused. “I saved you because I love you.”

  “I told Lady Haven to tell ye I love ye. ‘Tis my last thought before I sent her here.”

  She was glad she wasn’t standing. Had he actually spoken words she’d never thought to hear? Oh, men had told her they loved her, but they’d lied. To hear them, now, while Cameron bled to death, was of little comfort.

  The village healer walked over and removed the rest of Cameron’s blood-soaked shirt. His kilt hung long about his hips and his six-pack abs moved with each deep breath. The healer wiped away the blood with a clean rag and revealed unblemished skin. Cameron’s wound had completely healed.

  “I did it.” Iona jumped to her feet.

  “That ye did, lass. I thank ye, but I require an answer before I ask for yer hand.”

  “What? What answer?”

  “Do ye really love me? If true, will ye give me yer hand?”

  His manly scent invaded her, stealing her breath and causing her heart to race. She felt a little faint because Cameron’s whispered question drove her to try to understand. He loved her. She’d said out loud, in front of God and everyone in the great room, that Cameron was the man she loved. One part of his statement troubled her.

  “What about my hand?” She lifted it and gasped. The blood was gone and the slashed skin had knit back together.

  Cameron grabbed it and settled a kiss against her skin. His warm breath sent her spiraling into a sensation-filled premonition. Two people, entwined in white sheets, kissed and loved each other while the sea crashed against nearby rocks. She recognized his blond head and her red curls on the pillow.

  “Dragon’s teeth, we’re getting married!”

  Cameron smiled, and everyone clapped. They walked hand in hand to the grand table on the dais. Food and drink appeared as if by magic and a bagpiper played a gay tune. Haven and Kirk disappeared up the stairs, while Fia sat on Marcus’ lap. Her color was still too pale until Marcus dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. Her cheeks pinked, and she looked one-hundred percent better.

  Iona inhaled the scent of tallow candles, roast venison, and the sweetness of cider. Her stomach was in knots, so she nibbled off their shared
trencher while Cameron spoke to old Dorcas. Skye sat alone in the corner and Iona thought she probably missed sparring with Jake.

  A feeling of dread hovered, a feeling she wanted to ignore. Cameron picked at his food, then rubbed his abdomen. Was he revisiting the horror when the sorcerer stabbed him? Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and his skin paled.

  “Cammie, are you sick?”

  “Aye, something is not right and…” His voice trailed away, and he slumped over the table. His tankard went flying and Iona jumped to her feet.

  “Cammie!”

  Haven rushed to their side and together they pulled Cameron to the floor. On his back, he lay too still. Haven ripped open his new shirt and checked the wound. Nothing. She ran her hands around and under his back, then up his chest. Behind them, Kirk growled.

  Dorcas shoved Kirk back and lay a gaunt hand on Cameron’s damp forehead. “He be poisoned.”

  “What?” Iona felt faint, but Cameron needed her. She stared at his abdomen, where the wound had bled recently, and a vision flew into her mind. She saw the sorcerer dab the blade of his dagger with an herb.

  “The sorcerer poisoned the blade.”

  While astonishment turned to anger, and the room exploded with angry shouts, Iona grabbed the nearby hand of Dorcas.

  “That old book of Haven’s, I remembered one passage. It said that joined hands can lift a curse.”

  Skye grabbed both their hands. “Together, we be stronger, aye?”

  Iona nodded and they used their combined energy. A brilliant light passed down her arm, through her fingers, and across Cameron’s prone form.

  Dorcas stepped back. “Aye, lass, ye have the gift.”

  Cameron’s eyes fluttered open. Iona smiled at him. She felt drained, but in a good way. She and Haven helped Cameron to a sitting position. Kirk marched closer and growled.

  “Ye have nothing to fear, Kirk. Aye, I have feelings for Lady Haven. I love her like…a cousin.”

  “Good, because we marry on the morrow,” Kirk answered, then gathered Haven in a bone-crushing hug.

  Cameron smiled and sipped from Iona’s forgotten tankard. Her heart did a tiny flip. In an attempt to gain control over her reeling senses, and the fear that had swept her body at Cameron’s near-death experience, she excused herself and strode from the hall. Cameron, Kirk, and Haven had much to discuss, and she wasn’t part of their world.

  Skye jumped to her feet and followed.

  CHAPTER 26

  Cameron watched Iona leave with Skye on her heels, then turned his attention to Kirk whose statement about their impending wedding had surprised him. “Not waiting until ye get home to Keldurunach?”

  “Nay. I am not letting her out of my sight. She carries my child and heir to the clan, but here be our friends.”

  Haven blushed, then nodded.

  Cameron turned his attention back in the direction Iona had fled. “Where do ye suppose Iona and Skye are off to?” he muttered, but Dorcas must have heard.

  “She and Skye need to talk about that nice young man, Jake Jamison. I believe he has caught the eye of at least one lass in this time.”

  Cameron leaped up and raced after the women not caring that Kirk and Marcus laughed. Rounding a corner, Iona’s voice carried.

  “Sweet, handsome, a talented blacksmith. Did I tell you he made Cammie’s leather vest and pants? He also whipped up some pretty spikes for my hair and gave me and Haven sets of wrought iron knitting needles. What’s not to love?”

  Cameron did not want to believe his ears. Had she not told all that she loved him? Why was she spouting another man’s attributes?

  When he reached the stairs, he ignored the calls from the others to rejoin them. He raced up the steep, stone steps until a blast of wind atop the tower’s battlement stole his breath. He ignored the accompanying cold, a hint of the winter to come. Iona would not care for the dreary, frozen land of ancient Scotland. She should return home to her own time, her family, and to a modern man like Jake Jamison.

  He stared at the stars. “Dragon’s teeth, I love a woman in love with another man.”

  “How does it feel?” Iona asked as she joined him.

  Cameron had not heard her approach, and he realized his warrior senses always abandoned him when she was near. Cameron slapped a hand over his racing heart, then turned and faced her. A smile filled her face, and her eyes twinkled like the light of a million stars.

  “I feel too much, lass. I found the one for me and held on, but obviously not tight enough.”

  “Haven? Sorry about her, but she’s head over heels in love with Kirk.” Iona crossed her arms over her chest, and hugged herself.

  His body grew to attention in one breath, and desire filled him with hope. Responding to her discomfort, he walked closer and pulled her into his arms. “Warmer?”

  She nodded, then a sweet sigh left her lips. He wanted to hear her sigh every night for the rest of his life; beside him, beneath him, above him. All he had to do was convince her his heart was hers and hers, alone.

  “Not Haven. I love only Iona Mackenzie. Did I not tell ye this earlier? Did ye not believe me? The moment I saw Lady Haven outside my cell, I realized I had placed her on a pedestal in my mind. In reality, I felt nothing. When I thought about ye in the other cell, concern mixed with desire, then love. Ye must have been frightened, though happy to see yer friend.”

  She nodded, then laid her head on his chest. “I was glad Haven looked okay. When she told me she loved Kirk, I felt pity for you. When they accused you of kidnapping her, I worried they were correct.”

  “Lass, trust is a two-way street. What about Jake?” He loosened his hold, and meant to leave, but she cupped his chin.

  Iona glared up at him, but a sense of unfathomable desire welled up again. The urge to slam her against the cold battlement wall and take her surprised him. He would never force his will on a woman in love with another.

  “You’re an idiot. Read my lips.”

  “I be a smart warrior. If I wanted to learn to read I—”

  “You can’t read?” she whispered, her deep-green eyes understanding too much.

  “Never ye mind. I already promised Dorcas to learn. We were talking about Jake Jamison.”

  “Jake is a friend. A very good friend.”

  “I heard ye speaking yer adoration of the man.”

  She pushed out of his grasp. A cold emptiness settled in his chest. When she turned to stare out over the ocean, the tang of the sea mingled with the honeysuckle sweetness that was Iona.

  “Skye has…feelings for Jake, and I was listing his qualities. Whether she follows him back to the future or not, I wanted her to know a bit about him. Satisfied?”

  Joy swept through him, and he closed the distance between them in three, long strides. He wanted to kiss her senseless then drag her to his bed. His intentions must have shown on his face.

  “Stop smoldering at me.”

  “What? I cannot help it. Ye have lit a fire in my loins that only yer damp velvety thighs can quench.”

  Iona’s eyes widened. “Wow, a girl can’t help but respond to pretty words like those.”

  Cameron did not have a chance to give a retort. Iona placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled his mouth to hers. She tasted him with her lips. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth in a rush of heat and longing.

  His body hardened to stone, and he growled.

  “Problem?” she asked, separating them. Iona licked her lips, while her desire sparkled in her eyes. Her breath was warm against his face.

  “No bed to speak of, curse our luck.”

  Her hands dropped and slid down his shirt to his kilt. She cupped him through the heavy wool, stealing his breath.

  “Who needs a bed?” she said.

  Glancing around, assured they were alone, he lifted her and pressed her against the battlement’s upper wall, far enough from the cutouts that no one below would spy them. Iona said nothing, but responded by curling her legs around his waist. He
pulled up her skirt and the hem of his kilt.

  Hot flesh surrounded his hardened shaft, surprising him with his own returning smile.

  “No underthings, lass?”

  “I was in a hurry. It’s been a busy day.”

  Nodding in agreement, the sudden realization of how he might have lost everything rushed over him. He had nearly died. Twice. She had healed him after fearing he had died. Twice. He would not be alive if it had not been for Iona Mackenzie.

  While cursing the sorcerer who had failed, Cameron surged forward. He impaled her moist flesh with his hot pike. All breath whooshed from her mouth, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She trembled. He groaned as he feasted on her soft lips. She tasted like sweet cider.

  The scent of heather, honeysuckle, and aroused female stole his breath. He reluctantly released her, and pulled away, inhaling deeply as if nothing less would sustain his life. When he hesitated, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Concerned, he paused and stared at her in awe. A smile brightened her face.

  There it is. Love. How could I have missed it?

  His hands cupped her backside, and he raised then lowered her, again and again. Her damp heat contracted around his shaft, and surrounded him with intense pleasure. His breath hitched, and she whimpered.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  Desire for completion rocked his body. Her eyes locked on his mouth while happiness filled her face. Cameron kissed her beneath her left ear, then down her neck. His hands squeezed her soft flesh. She clung to him, and arched her back, offering herself.

  “Come for me, my love. Squeeze me, milk me dry. Love me.”

  She responded with a silent cry. Her tremors echoed into him, through him, and around him. His body reacted, and he thrust deep inside; one, two, three more times until he released his seed with a roar of satisfaction.

  Gasps and heated breaths consumed them and stole any further conversation as he settled her back on her feet. They straightened their mussed clothing seconds before one of Marcus’ men appeared atop the stairs.