by Mariah Stone
This didn’t look good.
The first man poked the glaive at Tamhas, who jumped back just in time, and the other man brought his mace high above his head and launched at Tamhas. Konnor didn’t have time to help him, because the man with the ax darted at him and brought his ax down towards him.
Konnor ducked. The blade swooshed passed his face, and he felt the small puff of wind as it went by. Close.
The man was at a disadvantage while fighting in close combat. Konnor’s only chance was to get near. He darted forward, stopping the pole of the ax with his sword. The impact resonated in his bones. With his free leg, he kicked the man, who then staggered and fell back. But the ax’s handle was long, and even while lying on the ground, the man came at Konnor with the ax and would have wounded him in the leg if Konnor hadn’t jumped back. Risking his arm, Konnor grabbed the handle just beneath the blade and yanked the ax forward, taking it from the man’s hands. With one smooth motion, he jabbed the man with the wooden end of the pole in the face, and he stilled, unconscious.
He looked at Tamhas. The man was still fighting two enemies and was backed against a tree.
The first man, the one who had Colin, was backing up towards the army.
Damn it.
Konnor was torn between helping Tamhas and getting Colin. Tamhas was still all right, but if the McDougall warrior managed to join the army with Colin in his possession, they wouldn’t be able to retrieve him.
No, Konnor had to act now.
With the long ax in one hand and his sword in the other, Konnor advanced towards them. He looked at Colin, who stared at him with wide eyes. If Colin would move just a little bit, Konnor could thrust the blade of the axe into the guy.
Konnor locked his eyes with Colin. “Look, Colin, buddy, do you remember our game of soccer?”
He nodded.
“Shut up!” the MacDougall said, confusion in his eyes.
“I can score. I just need you to clear the goal for me.”
He blinked, then his face became calm and concentrated. He gave a barely noticeable nod, opened his mouth, and bit down on the man’s hand.
The man screamed and released his grip, which allowed Colin to twist out of his grasp. At the same time, Konnor tossed his sword aside, gripped the pole of the long ax with his both hands and thrust the sharp, upper edge of the blade into the man’s face.
Blood sprayed, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Colin ran into Konnor’s arms, and he hugged the boy.
Oh thank God! He felt so small and yet firm and trembling in his arms. Konnor pressed his cheek against Colin’s unruly mane of hair.
He turned to Tamhas and stopped in his tracks. One opponent lay immobile on the ground, while Tamhas was pressed against the tree, holding a bloody gash on his side. The last warrior brought his mace high above his head for the last, deadly blow. Tamhas’s sword lay on the ground by his foot. He was defenseless.
Konnor let Colin go and darted at the man with a loud whistle. The whistle worked, and the MacDougall glanced.
Tamhas—good man—launched at the man’s stomach, using his head like a battering ram. The man doubled over but hit Tamhas’s back with his mace. Tamhas screamed in pain.
Konnor was now close enough, and with one clean movement, he cleaved off the man’s head. Blood sprayed in a fountain of gore, and Tamhas fell with the man’s body on the ground.
Konnor crouched by his side and lay him flat on his back. He looked at the gash and at Tamhas’s pale face. The man was breathing hard and wheezing. Colin sank to his knees by Tamhas’s side, his green eyes wide.
“Tamhas?” he said.
Fuck. The man didn’t look good. Konnor pressed his fingers against Tamhas’s neck to measure his pulse. It was weak. No!
The man looked at Colin and closed his eyes, his face relaxing with a relief. “Thank Jesu!” he mumbled. “Good man, Konnor.” He looked at him. “Thank you for saving him. Ye two should go back now, before the army notices ye.”
Konnor’s gut clenched. He knew the man was right. But he just couldn’t leave a fallen soldier behind.
“Let me see how badly you’re wounded. I can help you.”
He took Tamhas’s hand off the wound and swallowed a gasp as sharp needles pierced his gut. Blood pumped out of the open wound, and he could see the man’s pink intestines.
Colin saw it, too. His face paled, he turned and vomited.
Konnor pressed Tamhas’s hand back against his wound. The truth was, he didn’t have long. Damn it. Konnor’s hands shook as he took Tamhas’s other palm in both his hands. He glanced at the forest, but no one else had noticed them yet.
“Look at me, brother,” Konnor said. Tears prickled in his eyes, and he blinked, willing them away. He’d seen other men die in battle. It hadn’t happened often, thankfully, but Iraq had been a bloody battle field. “I’m here with you. So is Colin. We’re not leaving you.”
Tamhas’s eyes darkened and focused on Colin. He smiled. “Lad. I loved ye like ye were my own. Take care of yer mother, aye? She’s one of a kind.”
He looked at Konnor. “I hated ye because she looks at ye as I wish she would at me. I’ve wished that my whole life. And yet ye came and it only took a couple of days for her to fall in love with ye. I ken she’ll be safe with ye. She’d never be mine, no matter how much I’ve wanted it. But I ken ye’ll make her happy. Tell her I loved her.”
He stilled, looking at Konnor with unseeing eyes. Colin wept quietly by Konnor’s side, and he hugged the boy and brought him close. He let a tear crawl down his cheek, too, for the man who’d given his life protecting the son of the woman he loved.
His last words burned painfully at Konnor’s heart. Make her happy. Clearly, Tamhas didn’t know Konnor. All Konnor could do was hurt women with his coldness. But he’d lay his life down before he’d let anyone hurt Marjorie.
They needed to get back to the castle quickly. Someone from the MacDougall army could notice the absence of their men and notice Colin and Konnor.
He rose to his feet. “Come, Colin. Let’s go back. We’ll get someone to come back for Tamhas’s body later. Let me take you to your mom. You’ve seen enough bad things happen today.”
Chapter 26
The moment Konnor appeared in the courtyard, Marjorie saw them. She ran towards them with wide eyes and took Colin in her arms with a gasp. Tears ran down her cheeks as she hugged him so tightly, he groaned. She held him at arm’s length and looked him over, then she shook him.
“What were ye thinking!” she yelled so loudly everyone in the courtyard turned their heads to her.
“I wanted to avenge ye against the evil grandfather I didna ken I had.”
She groaned and brought him back against her. Then she looked at Konnor. “Where’s Tamhas?” she asked.
Konnor lowered his head and shook it. “I’m sorry, Marjorie. He died protecting your son.”
“No!” she cried, closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Colin’s head. “No… Nae Tamhas…”
Colin’s shoulders shook as he cried. Tears streamed down Marjorie’s face as she hugged her son. Konnor wanted to scoop them both into a hug and shield them from everything, but all he did was stand stiff as a goddamn statue.
They mourned the man who’d been good to both of them. The man who’d died for them. The man who could have been Marjorie’s husband and a great stepfather for Colin.
Konnor wished he could have saved him.
Marjorie wiped her tears and leaned back, pressing out a cheerful smile on her face. “Come, sweet, we canna help Tamhas nae more, but we can try and save those who are still alive. Let’s go and see if Isbeil needs help. Aye?”
Colin wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and nodded.
A gash on Marjorie’s shoulder darkened the tunic with caked blood. “Marjorie, ye need to go and see Isbeil about that wound,” Konnor said.
“Dinna fash.” She glanced at him. “There are others who need her more.”
; “Then let me take a look—”
“Konnor”—she stopped and looked at him firmly— “my son needs me now. A wee scratch can wait.”
Konnor clenched and unclenched his fists as he watched her straight back as she walked away, anger and worry thundering in his gut. She was a strong woman, and there was no changing her mind if she’d made it up. And of course Colin needed her. But she needed someone to take care of her, too.
There was nothing he could do about it now, so he made himself useful. The day passed with them tending to the wounded, gathering and cleaning weapons and armor, and clearing the castle as much as possible. In the afternoon, Konnor stared at Marjorie’s door. He’d given up his bedroom for the injured. Thankfully, he only had a couple of scratches, although his ankle was killing him. He listened, and when he didn’t hear anything, he knocked.
“Aye?” Marjorie’s voice came from behind the door.
Konnor opened it.
She sat with her back to him in an undertunic that had slid off one shoulder, exposing delicate flesh, beautiful bone structure, and a caked gash. She was wiping the wound with a wet cloth.
Heat ran through him at the sight of her exposed body, and it mixed with the worry and anger at seeing her hurt. What was wrong with him that he felt desire even seeing her wounded?
All he could do was stare at her long, wavy hair spilled across her shoulders, free from the braid it had been in during the battle. She sat on the bed, one leg tucked under her, her back straight. Seeing her like this felt so intimate, so personal, like he was invading her privacy. He stared at the floor, forbidding his gaze to slide an inch higher.
He cleared his throat. “It’s me,” he said. “I’m not looking. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
The sheets rustled. “Thank ye, ‘tis verra kind. I’m decent now.”
Konnor fixed his eyes with hers. She’d pulled the sleeve up to cover her shoulder and was now sitting with her face to him.
“Konnor,” she said, and his name trembled on her lips. “Thank ye for saving Colin. I was so angry and relieved when I saw him, I didn’t even think about thanking you.”
“No need to thank me,” Konnor said, warmth spreading in his chest. “I’d never let him get hurt—or you. Is he okay?”
“Aye. He’s sleeping now, poor lad. He’d like to be more grown than he is, but he’s still more a boy than a man.”
Konnor nodded. He was. And he’d seen more than a child should. But then so had Konnor at that age.
“Do you need any help cleaning the wound?” he said.
She hesitated. “I suppose… I canna see what I’m doing on my shoulder.”
“Sure.” Konnor shut the door behind him and proceeded into the room.
A rainy afternoon came in through a single narrow window, but it was the fireplace that gave most of the light. Marjorie’s eyes were dark in the golden-orange glow reflected on her face. She was so still as she watched him approach, a strange combination between a puma on a hunt and a deer. Both huntress and prey, ready to move at any moment.
Konnor sat by her side and took the cloth. He poured the brownish water from the small basin into the chamber pot and poured fresh water from the jug standing by the bed. He’d much rather use a disinfectant than water from the well, but the only disinfectant he had with him was a pouch of moonshine.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he said.
“Aye,” she whispered and cleared her throat.
The vein on her neck pulsed, barely visible.
“Okay. Tell me to stop at any moment, and I will.”
She nodded, inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring for a moment before she pulled the tunic down her shoulder. Konnor swallowed as her delicate collarbone came into view, and the crease between her arm and her breast. He could see the tiny blue veins under her skin. His mouth went dry. How could he be so turned on by seeing so little?
“Do ye like what ye see?” Marjorie whispered.
Busted. Konnor looked up.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Do ye like it? Do ye think me beautiful?”
Konnor licked his lip. “You’re exquisite.”
Her eyelashes trembled, and her eyes watered. “I’ve never heard that before. Truly?”
“Truly.”
Their eyes locked, and heat ran between them. Longing like nothing Konnor had ever felt before pulled at his heart. He dipped the cloth in the water, squeezed the liquid out, and gently touched the gash. She winced a little but didn’t move.
“I don’t see any dirt. It looks clean,” he said as he cleaned. Blood stopped oozing, and it was already drying up.
He put the basin aside and reached for the pouch with moonshine. “I’ll disinfect it before dressing it. This will sting.”
Marjorie looked down, and her eyes widened. “I ken. ‘Tis good to clean wound with uisge. But desi— What?”
“To clean your wound from germs.”
“From whom?”
Konnor chuckled. “The bad stuff that gives you an infection.”
“You’re speaking your words from the future with me again.”
He took a fresh, clean cloth and poured the moonshine on it. “Ready?”
“Aye.”
He pressed the cloth to her cut, and she hissed. He held it a bit longer, then in another place where she needed it.
“Mother of—” Marjorie spat.
He removed the cloth and blew on the wound. Marjorie closed her eyes, tilted her head slightly, and sighed. She opened the side of her neck to him, the thin, graceful neck he yearned to kiss and nibble. The neck that would smell so much like her. The skin that would be soft and silky under his fingers. His cock hardened.
“I’ll just dress it.”
He took a fresh cloth and wrapped it around her upper arm and shoulder tightly. As his fingers brushed against her skin, he tightened his jaw. He was right. Smoother than silk. Warm and delicate. He ached to taste her.
“Done,” he rasped as he tightened the last knots.
He better go, or he’d want to touch her again. He took the edge of her tunic and pulled it up to cover her shoulder. She eyed him from under her eyelashes, her eyes golden-green, dark, and sparkling. His fingers lingered on her flesh. The touch melted their skins together and stole all air from Konnor’s lungs.
“Marjorie, I should go before…”
“Dinna go.”
Jesus Christ. He wanted to throw himself on her then. Instead, he closed his eyes, gathering all the self-restraint left in his body, and breathed. He looked at her again. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her lips were parted and red.
“The trouble with that is I want you,” he said. “I want you so much, but we can stop at any time…”
She looked at his mouth. “I dinna want ye to stop.”
Marjorie licked her lips. The hunger in his voice left her speechless. All she could hear was the violent thundering of her heart. Her palm burned where it still pressed against Konnor’s big, warm hand. He sat so close to her, a massive wall of a man. His mere presence flamed her cheeks with heat and made tremors run through her hands.
She’d just been through the most transformative moment of her life. If he hadn’t been here, none of that would have happened. They would have waited until the MacDougalls attacked. The siege would have likely been successful. She would never have beaten John MacDougall.
She would never have found her strength.
She was a new woman. Nae, not a new woman. She’d found the inner strength that had always been there—just forgotten, lost, and abandoned.
And this Marjorie, the battle-clad Marjorie with wounds and cuts and scratches, she wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted. And what she wanted was Konnor. Before, she’d never thought she’d lie with a man. Now, she didn’t want to lie with anyone but him.
“Marjorie…” he said.
She shifted to sit closer, and their knees touched and brought more heat into her body. “Heal me wi
th your touch,” she whispered, suddenly feeling a tear roll down her cheek. She cupped his jaw, the small beard soft against her palm. “Wash the dirt of his hands and body away with your hands.”
His lips tightened with hurt. “Me? I’m not—”
She laid one finger on his lips. “Not a word more. Ye are nothing like yer stepfather. Ye are the opposite of him.”
And before he could say anything else, or change his mind, she shifted forward and put her legs around his hips, straddling him. She kissed him, and the touch of their lips sent a delicious wave through her, impairing her thoughts.
She wound her arms around his shoulders, and he wrapped his around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His teeth nibbled and his lips caressed, impossibly tender, his tongue swiping and gliding. The heat in her body rose, incinerating her.
“Are you absolutely—”
“Silence,” she interrupted him and resumed the kiss.
He made a low sound at the back of his throat and tightened his arms around her. He ran his hands up and down her back, warm and pleasant. His scent was in her mouth—the succulent, manly scent of him that made her sag.
She ground herself against him, feeling drunk and disoriented. Hers clothes were tight and wrong on her, and she ached to feel his warm skin against her, to have his weight on top of her.
She pulled up the ends of his short tunic and raised them over his head. Jesu, Mary, and Joseph… Did the ground just move, and the bed shift with it? Marjorie ran her fingers up along the tight muscles on his stomach and up his chest. He was as hard as iron and as hot as a furnace. And she felt the safest she’d ever been in her life.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I can stare at you all day long.”
“Then see me whole.”
Was she seriously going to do this? With her heart thumping, she pulled the edges of her undertunic up and over her head. As her breasts became free, they brushed against Konnor’s chest, and her nipples hardened from the pleasure that spread through her.
Konnor looked down and gave a low, animal growl. “What are you doing to me?”