Have I not changed, as well?
She swept her fingers around his neck to tangle in his hair. Why had he cut it? Instantly missing his long, black ponytail, she sighed against his mouth. When his overly-muscular arms swept down her back and clamped around her waist, pain slashed along her side.
Crying out, she tensed as she tried to pull away.
Another pair of arms wrenched her off the bed, and out of his arms. Suddenly freed, shock made her eyes pop open, but darkness hid the other person’s face. Intent on screaming, she inhaled a deep breath. When the familiar scent of leather, pine, and Jake filled her, she paused.
“Jake?”
“Do you care? Seems like you’ll kiss any guy, in a pinch.”
He placed her on her bare feet. Sensing him stepping back, Skye gazed upward and tried to find his face. Through the curtain of her twisted hair, she cupped the familiar chin, then wrapped her arms around his neck. On tiptoes, she used his dim aura to locate his mouth. She had learned to read auras, courtesy of Dorcas Swann. Many other practitioners of witchery used the power to heal. Others used the ability to read evil.
She kissed him solidly on that mouth, and his quick inhale stole her breath. Happy tingles swept through her when he did not let her go. Instead, he pressed his chest to her dampened gown, and kissed her back.
Thoughts of kissing him had filled her dreams, her only comfort during years of loneliness. His taste was delicious, but not all she had imagined. As she wiggled, getting as close as humanly possible while wearing clothing, some of her assumptions were proved quite accurate.
The man is interested. Verra’ interested.
The heat spreading from their intimate embrace flowed over her, warming her more than the blanket. Her toes curled into the grassy floor of…certainly not the ocean or castle. Why were they surrounded by darkness? The sun was shining when she had escaped the dragon.
“Whoa. What are you doing?” he said, again stepping away.
“I be delighted to see ye, ‘tis all.”
“Hah!” He did not sound as if he believed her, but his voice was soft and not filled with anger. He had every right to be angry with her. She had sent him to the future without explanation.
“I be safe?”
“Yes, but you’re bleeding.”
As if his words cleared her head, numbed by his scrumptious kiss, pain sliced across her right hip. “Oh, aye, the nightmare ‘twas real.”
“You’re also wet and dirty. A real mess. Doesn’t surprise me.”
She did not appreciate his accompanying chuckle. Pressing a hand against her injury, she cringed. Her damp dress clung to her, and her bare toes were chilled. Besides the coppery scent of fresh blood, the salty tang of the sea wafted up and reminded her of her former predicament. When had she encountered the dragon? Was it hours ago, or moments earlier?
Fingers, other than hers, lifted the torn remnants of wool. Salt bit into her open wounds, forcing a ragged breath to slip from between her lips.
“Careful, my friend,” the other voice admonished his accomplice.
“Bull, I have to see where the blood’s coming from. Skye, sit down on the edge of my cot.”
“Be gentle, then. Skye is it?” the unfamiliar yet friendly voice asked, “can you tell us what happened?”
“Dragon...”
“Ha! That’s rich. No dragons around here, love.”
His barked laughter forced her eyes open. Her vision wavered until they focused on a formidable chest. Glancing up, she could see the outline of a wide neck and square jaw. Even kneeling, he towered over her.
“I doona’ know ye, sir. Who are ye?”
“I assume you do not go around kissing strange men?”
“No!” Skye and Jake said, in unison.
“Bryce Buchanan, at your service, love. I’m a friend of Jake. You landed in my arms.”
“I am sorry to be a burden to ye. Kissing ye was…an accident.” She twisted in an attempt to sit up, but every motion hurt.
“Whoa, love. I’m not complaining. You are nicer to carry than a hammer or caber.”
Her mouth fell open. What riddle was the stranger spouting? The hammer? Caber? She rubbed her aching wrists. “I am no festival game.”
A loud retort from behind her sliced her like a warrior’s sword. Jake dared to laugh at her and her dire situation?
She pushed away from Bryce Buchanan’s massive chest, and fell back onto the small bed. Sweeping hair out of her face, she rested unsteadily on a wool blanket in the Gunn plaid. Turning her attention from the bed and two towering, silent, shadows, Skye squinted and gazed at the surprisingly dry surroundings.
The dim glow of light through the open tent flap, signaling the approach of night, explained it. One of the shadows inside the tent moved closer, and she took a breath to calm her thoughts. If Bryce Buchanan and Jake Jamison were her only companions, she had nothing to fear.
Or, do I?
Forcing her attention upward once more, a bright light hurt her eyes. It flickered from behind a shadowy form that shoved the larger man aside. Jake.
“Out of my way, Bull. I have to talk to her.”
“Wait your turn,” the other man said.
Jake lit Bryce with the strange light and he grinned with a toothy smile. His short dark hair, ice blue eyes, and handsome face were pleasant to look upon, but he was not the man she had dreamed of for years. Her eyes locked on his lips, the ones she had kissed unintentionally, and she struggled to turn her gaze to the light Jake carried.
“ ‘Tis not a candle. It does not flicker like a torch,” she whispered. The strange contraption blinded her with its brilliance. Demonstrating more curiosity than wariness, Skye pushed off the stranger’s shoulder to gain her feet. Steadily, she reached out and smoothed her fingers over the cold piece of shiny metal.
“ ‘Tis a miracle, truly.” The lack of heat felt odd. Yearning to ask a dozen questions about the miraculous item, she opened her mouth, but Jake wore the same angry look as when she had sent him forward in time. Skye’s gaze swept the room to avoid his fierce glare as a sudden thought sprang to mind.
Am I safe from harm? He has reason to hate me.
In silence, as if reading her private musings, he sighed. He held out the magical light-producing device. When she grabbed at the stick, and he released his grip, Jake laughed.
“Miracles are few and far between, but I’m here, Skye. You’re safe. Keep still so I can assess your injuries.”
“Lighten up, Jake. You’re growling at her.”
Jake sighed again, and paused in the circle of light. When his eyes locked on hers, she was surprised at the kindness they showed. Thankful someone had answered her prayers, she smiled back at him.
Skye aimed the beam from the mysterious light stick in his direction, happy that her magic words had found Jake. Staring at the familiar arch of his nose, she rejoiced at how the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his mouth opened in an uneasy smile. He walked closer, stopped a mere breath from her, and swept his hand along her wounded side.
When she tensed, his expression changed. His eyes glowed like fire; so hot, their heat melted her insides, and turned her tired legs to porridge.
“Skye!” Jake’s strong, muscled arms grabbed her as she collapsed. The strength in his hands kept her steady even as she fought the urge to succumb to the blackness. Her salt-laden eyelids struggled to stay open. She circled his neck with her arms, leaned into him and welcomed the heat that pushed the chill from her body.
“Why are you wet?” Jake asked. His breath, close to her right ear, nudged her damp hair off her soaked skin.
His familiar smell filled her lungs with a manly musk that mingled with the fresh pine of a forest. The only other scent that rose was of the sea, from her brine-dampened clothing.
“Jake? ‘Tis ye? Really ye?”
He untangled her limbs and set her on the strange bed. “You know darn well it’s me. I knew my luck wouldn’t hold.
First Ross Mackenzie pays me a visit and spills news about the troubles back…home,” Jake’s gaze flicked to the side, then back to her, “and then you fall into my lap.”
“It was my lap, my friend,” the larger man chuckled.
She squeaked, shocked by the man’s huge shadow as it hovered over her. She pointed Jake’s light stick at his face, somewhat relieved he was the man who spoke earlier about the caber. He stood a hand’s breath taller than Jake, and was wider than her Highland pony back home.
He was a tall, brawny fellow. His muscular arms crossed his chest and stretched his yellow shirt. When he glanced in Jake’s direction, his shaded profile proved interesting. Tall men had never interested her. She dealt all her life with her brother, Kirk, and their cousin, Cameron Robeson. Both were big Highland-grown men.
The light reflected in his ice blue eyes, drawing her in. When his mouth widened into a startling white smile, his cheeks bulged, slitting his eyes.
“Bull, not now,” Jake said.
Confusion made her queasy, or was her churning stomach an aftereffect of the seawater she had swallowed during her escape? Had he not introduced himself as Bryce Buchanan? Why had Jake called him a male cow?
She swung the light toward Jake. The man wore his usual frown. She missed the smile.
“Skye, you can play with my flashlight later,” Jake said. He grabbed the device and set it on a tree stump, “because I want to know how you got here. Ross said you were kidnapped.”
“Mackenzie was here? What did he tell ye?” Ross Mackenzie must have heard from Iona that the sorcerer tried to kidnap her nephew, but succeeded in her capture.
“Only that the bastard I couldn’t fight, because you got in my way five years ago, had taken you somewhere against your will.” Jake drew her off the bed and into his arms. His grasp tightened, “and I find that hard to believe. Someone got the drop on you?”
She winced.
He loosened his grip, and slipped his hands down to cradle her chilled fingers.
“Let me be,” she hissed.
“No.”
He refused to release her? Then she reasoned that he must not have forgotten what she could do with the flick of her wrist and the right words.
“Yes. I remember what these hands can do.”
“Smart man.”
“Spill!”
She had nearly forgotten his use of unusual words. Jake demanded an explanation. With a quick glance at his friend, she turned her attention solely on Jake.
His glare made her wince. He gentled his hold on her sore wrists and chilled hands as a sudden realization froze her answer in her throat. Only now, in her time of need, did she understand to what extent she had missed him.
He waited less than patiently, and simply let his thumbs stroke her captured hands. Her heart beat too fast, and she had trouble catching her breath.
I must remain calm if I am to win his trust.
Jake had every reason not to trust her motives. Had she not forced him to come to their aid once before? Her story might surprise him, or hurt him. She would strive to keep certain parts from him. When they last met, his words and actions proved how little he cared for her.
“The sorcerer took me by surprise, and bound my wrists. I escaped from the dungeon. When cornered on top of a tower, I jumped into the sea.”
Jake shook her wrists. “Hell’s fire! You could have died!”
Skye bit her bottom lip against the pain. “Aye, I assumed I was dead once I hit the water. The sorcerer’s minions tried to shoot me dead with arrows. I swam for my life.”
“Wait a minute. The sea? We are miles from any ocean.” Bull’s laugh echoed through the tent.
“I doona’ care what ye think, I am telling ye what ye asked.”
Jake pressed a quick kiss to her damp forehead. “Ignore him. Tell me more. Please?”
Skye stared into his blue eyes, reading his concern, but before she could say any more, his friend kicked the center tent pole.
“Pardon me. Didn’t mean to interrupt your faerie tale, but sounds to me like she’s had too much whisky.”
“Shut up, Bull.”
The glare Jake sent his friend healed her heart.
For a moment.
“Nay, ‘twas no faeries at the castle, or that attacked me in the North Sea.”
“The North Sea?”
“Bull, let her finish. Just tell us what happened,” Jake said, turning back to her.
Jake had ignored her for over five years. His life had gone on apparently unscathed, while hers was filled with mourning, and pain. Anger at his forgetfulness or indifference, made her pull against the brawny hands confining her wrists; hands that felt too much like the sorcerer’s bonds.
“Release me. Yer touch…pains me.”
Jake unhanded her. “Fine. Go on with your…story.”
“First, I thought I would drown. To make matters worse, I nearly filled a dragon’s belly.” She rubbed the rope burns around her wrists.
“A dragon!” Jake and his friend cried, as one.
CHAPTER 6
She had touched a nerve. “Dragon ‘tis all ye heard? Do ye no’ recall a mention of the sorcerer?”
“I’ve heard of him, but I never met him. You sent me back…” Jake glanced to his right, as if gauging his friend’s reaction.
“Stop yer havering. I have enough nonsense in my life,” Skye said, striding toward the tent flaps.
The shadows hid Jake’s friend reaction, but their voices carried.
“Bull, I need to talk to this young woman. Alone.”
“Sure. Keep the pretty ones to yourself.”
“Please, sir?” Skye asked in the direction of Bull’s bulky shadow, “ ‘tis imperative I explain all to my…friend.”
Bull laughed, and said, “Well, since you asked nicely. Hope we can get together real soon. You and I were…rudely interrupted.”
When he bowed, Skye winked in his direction. If he saw it, he said nothing more as he marched passed her, then slipped outside.
Jake tugged her elbow. Forced to follow with painful steps, he led her into the fresh air. When his hand fell away, its absence brought a different sort of pain.
Dusk had nearly faded to pitch, but she saw the rear view of a large kilted man. Could that be Jake’s brawny friend? If true, Bull’s yellow shirt tugged at his widely-spaced shoulder blades as he strode away
“Is that yer friend? He is quite a handsome devil from the back as well.”
Jake growled and grabbed her hand, “Yes, that’s Bull.”
She smiled. His touch sent tingles running up her arm. Jake’s gruff tone and short response was more like the man she knew, yet she avoided looking his way. Instead, she enjoyed how the cool early-evening air softly brushed her cheeks. Pleasure turned to discomfort when it pierced her damp clothing like a knife. She pulled her hand from Jake’s grip and crossed her arms over her frigid chest.
“Bull? He said his name was Bryce. I am a tad confused.”
“Bull is his stage name. The name he goes by while competing at the Highland games. Stay away from him.”
Stay away from Jake’s friend? “Whatever for?”
Jake scuffed a toe in the dirt, then disappeared back inside the tent. When he returned, he wrapped something coarse around her shoulders, then hugged her into his chest.
Her first instinct was to push away, but he held tight, and the enveloping warmth of the blanket, and his arms, teased a sigh from her lips. When the shock of the comfort she felt in his embrace melted away, she glared up at him.
“How dare ye tell me who I may or may no’ talk to?” Why did she allow his intimate touch? He used his arms and hands in a way that spoke of familiarity between a man and woman. Only one man other than her brother, Kirk, had touched her in such a way. Five years ago, she and the handsome blacksmith barely spoke. She wanted him, but he looked through her. His interest was in saving his friend Haven.
As he clasped her hand in his, she recalled how she ha
d stumbled across Jake the blacksmith while he worked at the Highland games, and had urged him to return to her time. He took offense at her tactics. Their past encounter was fraught with danger amid the mission to save his friend, Haven, but she had no choice.
“You don’t know him. I want to keep you safe.”
“My thanks, blacksmith.”
He set her away. “I see. I’m back to being a common laborer in your eyes. Bull is probably more your type.”
Curious. He assumed she purposely disparaged his profession?
“Why do ye think Bull ‘tis a better choice? Aye, he be a fine looking man, however—”
“Yes, I get it. You like men.”
“I am a woman, ye might recall.”
“Well, to me you are a child who enjoys stringing men along, like a fish on a line.”
“A child? I have seen two and twenty summers, and have lived through more heartache than a selfish man such as ye can imagine.”
“Sure you have. You’re from a rich and powerful family. I doubt you’ve ever worked for your next meal, or wondered where to sleep.” Pain flashed over Jake’s face.
She stared at his mouth. His lips pressed into a pain-filled grimace. Why did he rant at her? Had she promised him things without keeping her word? Did he feel she mistakenly had sent him home in haste? Had she behaved rashly? Jake had not wanted to join her in the past, in the first place.
She swept aside the urge to spout a few choice words in response. “Jake, we can discuss our upbringing another time. Concerning our last encounter, I promised ye nothing. Ye agreed to help Dorcas and Iona save yer friend, Haven. My concern was for my brother.”
“Kirk? I really miss him,” Jake said, laughing.
“ ‘Twas not my fault ye got off to a bad start.”
“Your brother nearly took off my head with a broad sword!”
As he slashed the air with his sword hand, she cursed his mockery. He returned the glare, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Even through the heavy weave of her damp gown, heat from his touch warmed her, reminding her of Lethan. Her late husband had touched her several times when they first wed, but she never reacted as she did now. Even when married to Lethan, Jake’s image filled her dreams.
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