Shaking the memory from my mind, I walked around to the side of the car where Gavin was standing. His expression was resolute, as he looked at all the people in the distance roaming around. Men in kilts and women dressed in the same types of clothing he saw in the past, holding ribbons for the clan they were there to represent.
“I told ye I should have worn my kilt,” he grumbled.
“And I told you that it wouldn’t be wise since your kilt is authentic.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Because,” I sighed. “I thought you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.”
“Why would wearing my kilt draw attention? All the men here are wearing kilts.”
I should have told him it was because none of them looked like he did in a kilt, but didn’t. “Fine. If you want to change into your kilt, you can.” I didn’t see the point in arguing any longer because everyone was staring at him anyway.
He lifted his brow. “Here?”
“No. There are bathrooms over there you can change in.”
“Do they have mirrors inside?”
“I guess so.”
“Nay.” He shook his head adamantly back and forth. “Mayhap later.”
“Suit yourself.” I pulled my bag on my shoulder.
He cut me a sidelong glance.
“Are ye upset?”
“No,” I lied.
He gave me a doubtful look, one that I was getting used to.
“Do you want to go now, or just stand here?” Even though I was dreading the outcome, I suddenly wanted to get this business over with as soon as possible.
He shifted, looking unsure suddenly. “Which way do ye think we should go?”
“I guess up that way.” I pointed toward the tents set up on the hill.
He nodded. “Ye lead the way, I will follow.”
“How about if we both walk at the same time,” I suggested, grabbing hold of his hand and tucking it into my arm.
“If ye like.”
“Okie dokie.” Taking a breath, I started walking, pulling a reluctant Gavin along at my side.
We made it about twenty feet from the tents when I felt, rather than saw, several pairs of eyes watching us. When I turned to look, big surprise, they were all women. I knew what effect Gavin had on me and could only imagine what these women were thinking. I felt like yelling, ‘back off, he’s mine’, but didn’t.
Instead, I kept walking.
“Och,” Gavin said, making a face. “Look at them.” He pointed in the direction of a few beefy, shirtless, Highlanders, standing off to the side of one of the tents.
“What about them?”
“What are they wearing?”
“Those are plaids.”
“Humph,” he grunted. “They are wearing them all wrong.”
“Gavin, they are a modernized version.”
“I should have worn my own, showed them what a real Highlander should look like.” He sounded indignant.
I sighed. “I already told you that it would be better if you didn’t since yours is authentic. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, remember?”
“Aye, I remember.” His brows creased. “They look like a bunch of hens,” he grumbled under his breath.
“If you say so.” I didn’t think so. They looked pretty hot to me. Not as hot as Gavin, but still.
“What is that?”
Gavin nearly pulled my arm out of socket as he abruptly turned in another direction.
“Slow down!” I yelled, taking two steps to keep up with one of his large strides.
Gavin kept right on walking until he was in front of one of the open tents, where knives and swords were displayed on tables and hung on walls. Releasing her hand, he leaned in to get a closer look and promptly made another disgusted sound. “What is that?”
I thought it was obvious. “It’s a sword.”
“That’s no sword.”
“Sure, it is. Look.” The sword in question was beautifully crafted, with etchings in the blade and a pretty set of stones in the handle.
“Mayhap for a lass.” He shook his head and crossed over to the knives on the table. “And those?”
“I’m guessing they are knives.” They certainly looked like knives to her.
“Och, ones made for more lasses.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They are no even sharp.”
“I am sure they are made for show, not to cut.”
“What is the point in having a blade if it is not going ta cut?”
“To put on display.”
“That makes no sense ta me.”
“Well, I can’t help that.” It didn’t go unnoticed to me that the a few of the older men working behind the counter gave us peculiar looks as Gavin made faces and grunts at their merchandise.
My face burned with embarrassment.
Gavin made a few more rude comments about the knives and swords before he stepped back out of the tent.
Giving one of the men watching them from behind the counter an apologetic look, I followed Gavin back outside. The heat of the day was pressing in and I was suddenly thirsty. Spotting a tent with mead, I turned towards Gavin. “How about we get some mead to drink?”
“Is it good?”
“It was the last time I had some.”
Gavin gave her a doubtful look but still followed as she made her way over to the tent.
I pulled some cash out of my bag and stepped in line.
Gavin surveyed the area.
“Two meads, please,” I asked. The barmaid gave me a strange look, and then walked over to the back counter, picked up two tankards, filling them to the brim, then brought them both back to the counter. “That will be twenty dollars.”
After I paid, I picked up the drinks. At this rate, I was going to be broke. Good thing I don’t need any money in the past. “Here,” I said, walking up to Gavin and handing one of the tankards to him.
He sniffed the top and wrinkled his nose. “This doesna even smell like mead.”
“Just drink it.”
His brow hitched up a notch. “Are ye hangry?”
It was a joke I made once, about how I would get angry if I didn’t eat and Gavin hadn’t forgotten about it. “No. I am not hangry.”
“It seems that way ta me.”
“Just drink your mead.”
Chuckling, he lifted his drink and took a big swig. Moments later, it flew back out of his mouth. “Och, this taste like horse dung.”
“Gavin,” I scolded, keeping my voice low because several people were looking at us. “It does not.”
“How would ye know? Ye haven’t even taken a drink yet.”
Just to prove my point, I took a big drink and immediately regretted it. It didn’t taste that bad, but it didn’t taste good either.
Gavin gave her a smug look. “See, I told ye it tasted bad.”
“Fine,” I agreed, albeit begrudgingly. It didn’t taste anything like the mead I drank before.
After we tossed our drinks in the trash and looked inside a few more tents with various items for sale, Gavin stopped and looked out to the field where the games were being held with a combination of longing and bemusement.
I stepped up to his side. “Did you have games like these in your time?”
“Nay.” He shook his head, his gaze transfixed on the field.
Since I didn’t know the history of the games that well or what time frame they were played exactly, I took him at his word, thinking that maybe this kind of stuff happened after his time.
Pulling out the brochure from my bag, I perused the games listed.
As Gavin watched the games, his mind drifted back into another memory...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
Sometime during the reign of King James
Gavin’s horse shifted under his weight as he gazed across the horizon. Gray, fat-bellied clouds moved slowly towards them as the wind picked up st
rength blowing inland from the Loch. Night was fast approaching and the air was already turning cold.
One by one, the men dismounted and brought their horses to the water’s edge for a drink.
Muir released the reins of his horse and walked along the rock laden embankment, picking up a sizeable stone. “Callum, if ye can throw this stone farther then me, I will give ye my second helpings at breakfast.”
“Och, Muir,” Callum grumbled. “I know what ye are doing?”
Muir gave Callum a look of innocence. “What do ye ken I am doing?”
“Ye are trying to trick me out of my second helpings for breakfast, that’s what.”
“Och, Callum, are ye afraid I can beat ye, then?”
Callum pressed his shoulders back and lifted his chin a notch. “Och, Muir, ye are the last person I would ever be afraid of.”
“I didn’t say ye would be afraid of me, only that ye would be afraid that I could beat ye at tossing this stone.”
As the two young men bickered amongst themselves, it didn’t go unnoticed to Gavin how frail his men looked. Even the ones that he didn’t know well. They were all skin and bone, their complexions pale with dark circles around their sunken eyes. Callum looked the worst of all, with Muir running a close second.
He wasn’t feeling too well himself. He felt like something was trying to gnaw its way out of his belly, and he also knew what it was…hunger.
If he didn’t find something substantial for them to eat soon, they would starve.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HIGHLAND GAMES, WEST VIRGINIA
The Festival - Present Day
“It says here that is clachneart, or stone toss, and it’s one of the world’s most ancient tests of strength.”
The sound of her voice brought Gavin’s mind back to the present. “What did ye say?”
I lowered the brochure. “What’s wrong?” His face was really pale.
“Nothing, lass.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“I was just remembering something.”
My heart picked up pace, just like it did every time he said he was ‘remembering’ something. I knew it was silly but I couldn’t help but wonder if he was remembering her, the girl Jillian. “What were you thinking about?”
“Muir and Callum."
“Oh.” I felt a wave of relief and then just as quickly a deep sadness settled on me because I still hadn’t found out what their fate was. “What about them?”
“This game,” he said, pointing towards two men tossing stones. “They liked ta play that at the Loch.”
“Who won?”
”Neither.”
“Why not?”
A sad smile drifted across his face. “Morgan got tired of listening ta them bicker and tossed them in the Loch.”
“Oh.” We didn’t talk much about Morgan. I thought his death bothered Gavin most of all. He often said Morgan was like a father to him. I couldn’t imagine how he must feel knowing that he wasn’t able to save him.
“Where do ye think her tent is at?”
A sinking feeling settled in my belly since I knew immediately who he was talking about. “I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go this way.” He stalked off towards a tent set off by itself.
Judging by the burly highlanders standing on either side of the tent opening, I was guessing this was the tent set up for the gypsy.
Gavin stopped a few feet away. “Wait here,” he said his expression a combination of determination and wariness.
“What?” I ran over in front of him. “Why can’t I go with you?” I was afraid the woman would send him back somehow and I would never see him again.
He stopped and looked down at me, his eyes seemingly reflecting the apprehension I was feeling.
“I have ta go alone,” he implored, his deep voice faltering. “Ye know that.”
No, I didn’t know that. “Why?”
He exhaled. “Because I don’t know what she is going ta say.”
“All the more reason for me to go with you.”
He shook his head solemnly back and forth. “I think it would be best if ye waited outside.”
“Please.”
He lifted his hand and touched my face.
“I have enjoyed our time together, ye know that.”
I suddenly felt like I might need to throw up. “I know.” My lip trembled.
“Och, lass. Do no cry.”
“I can’t help it.” I sniffed back my tears.
“I will be back in a minute.”
“Promise?”
He battled with that word for a moment. How could he make a promise that he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to keep? “I will try,” he said finally.
My resolve crumbled. I knew I had lost the battle before it had even started. Before he could take another step, I threw my arms around his waist. “I love you,” I told him and pressed my face to his chest.
“I know ye do.” He stroked her hair.
I tensed.
That was it?
No words of love, even though he might very well be gone in a few moments.
What the hell!
I pulled back enough to look at his handsome face, and saw his resolve clearly etched in his expression, just like the night he was about to run into the water after the treasure instead of staying with me. Instead of letting him go, I pressed up on my toes and kissed him with everything I had.
It took a moment for him to respond but then he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her back, delving his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweet warmth.
If this was the last time he would see his lass, the one that somehow had broken down a piece of the wall surrounding his heart, he knew he would have to give her back some of what she had given him during his time here. Pulling her pliable body more firmly against his own, he deepened the kiss.
Before long, we were both panting, trying to reach the unattainable thing that was just out of our reach, just like every other time we were together.
Gavin broke from the kiss first. Breathing hard, he looked down at her flushed face with a heavy- lidded gaze. “Och, lass, what ye do ta me.”
Taking that as a good sign, I pressed back up on my toes, wrapping my arms more securely around his neck to kiss him again. I didn’t care that we had an audience or that I was making a spectacle of myself. If this was the last time I was going to see him, I wanted to leave a lasting impression, one that he would not soon forget. And, I was secretly hoping that I would get him in such a state that he no longer would want to even see the gypsy.
“Lass…” he began, stopping her advance abruptly, by pulling down her arms from his neck. He kept her hands in his. “We seem ta have an audience.”
“I don’t care.” And I didn’t. I would strip down naked in front of everyone here if it would mean that he would stay.
“I see the determination in yer eyes, lass, but it will no work.”
“Are you sure?” Boldly, I reached down and slid my hand over the bulge in the front of his jeans.
He breathed in a sharp intake of air and shut his eyes for a moment. “Och, ye win.” He reopened his eyes. “Let’s go over to that copse of trees so we may have a bit o’ privacy.”
I wasn’t going to argue.
He grabbed hold of her hand. Walking fast, he pulled her over into a small copse of trees until they were out of sight from prying eyes.
He stopped in front of a tree, leaning her back against it. “What do ye want,” he breathed, bracing his hands on either side of her body, leaning in close.
“You,” I said.
His eyes flickered with raw emotion. “Aye, I can see that ye do.” He took a breath, seemingly coming to some decision. “I want ye as well.”
“Then take me.”
“Here?” His brow lifted in surprise.
“Yes.”
“Are ye no afraid someone will see us?”
“I don’t care.” How could I, when this migh
t very well be the last time I would be able to be with him.
A low feral growl emitted from deep in his throat as his mouth seized hers. His hands pulled at her shirt, sliding underneath until her breast filled his palm.
I gasped from the sensation, pressing back against the rough bark of the tree as I responded in kind. Shoving my hand down the front of his jeans, my fingers gripped his hardened length.
“Och, lass,” he murmured, kissing her neck, tasting her sweet flavor on his tongue.
The stubble of his beard rasped against the sensitive skin, adding delightful ripples of heat to the liquid fire that was already burning deep inside. “Yes…”
He continued his assault, driving me wild as his tongue slid lower. Releasing him momentarily, I undid his jeans, and pushed them down around his ankles. His erection jutted upward, bouncing slightly from the action.
“Your turn,” he murmured, moving lower as his hands worked at the button and zipper on her jeans until they were loose. Then he pushed them down, over her hips.
I stepped out of my jeans, kicking off my shoes in the process.
I was completely naked from the waist down, and my bare bottom rubbed back against the bark of the tree as he braced one hand behind my back as a buffer and used his other hand to lift my leg.
Gavin, positioned himself between the warmth of her thighs and with one swift thrust, he was buried to the hilt. “Och, ye feel good.”
Dizzy with want…his hard length withdrew slightly; then slammed back into her body with force.
I gasped as my lower back scraped against the tree.
“Are ye all right?” he murmured huskily.
“I’m fine.” It was probably only a scratch anyway, and well worth the momentary pain it caused.
“I do not want to hurt ye,” he pushed back and began withdrawing.
I held fast. “Don’t stop,” I begged.
A glint entered his eyes as he smiled down at her. “Och, I’ve turned ye into an insatiable wench.”
Lost in the Highlands, Volume Two Page 6
