Falling for the Chieftain: A Time Travel Romance (Enchanted Falls Trilogy, Book 3)

by Keira Montclair

  In truth, he’d much rather spend time with Allison than play this game of alliances. Much to his frustration, she’d insisted on sleeping in her own bed once Lachie returned. They’d only shared one brief lovemaking session since then, and there had been no seed-planting involved. Allison did not wish to carry a bairn.

  It had left them both wanting more. If she were staying, he’d ask her to be his wife. Then he’d plant his seed freely and thoroughly. He smiled at the thought of having the strong woman as his wife.

  Wishing wouldn’t make it come true. But if they could find one sister, perhaps he could convince her to stay.

  One sister. He had to begin his search in earnest.

  Lachie had been returned home on time, much to Brann’s relief, and he now rode alongside him, babbling the way he often did. He could tell his ramblings delighted Allison, though he couldn’t explain exactly how he knew that. Sometimes he felt he knew everything about the lass, and other times, he felt he knew nothing.

  “My lady,” Lachie said. “I’m glad ye made Smoky fat enough that her mother accepted her. I could see how happy she was to feed with her brothers and sisters. But I told Jinty she has to make sure Smoky’s doing well while we’re gone.”

  “I’m sure Jinty will keep an eye on her.” She tipped her head back to the soft breeze flowing across the meadow. “The air just smells better here.”

  “What?” Brann asked. “How could that be?”

  She glanced at him with a smirk on her face. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but it smells better here.”

  “I’m glad I came home so I can travel with ye, Brann,” Lachie said. “I’ll be by yer side when ye compete. Which contests will ye enter? Probably most of them. Mayhap ye shouldnae enter them all so someone else can win some prizes. Ye know ye are the best in the Highlands at everything, but ye should let someone else win. Are ye going to enter them all, Brann?” He paused for a brief second, and when he didn’t get an answer right away, he added, “Well, are ye?”

  Brann chuckled. “If ye take a breath, I’ll answer ye, lad.”

  Lachie frowned for a moment before perking back up again. “Go ahead. I’ll wait for yer answer.”

  “Careful, Lachie, or ye’ll fall off yer horse. I’ll enter the log toss, and mayhap the sword competition. I’ll leave the archery for others. Will that suit ye?”

  “But what about the horse race, the one with the obstacles? Star is the best at that. I told Taran he’d lose to ye.”

  That meant his brother would be attending, along with Shona, and he’d have to listen to people’s laughter and taunting. Worse, he’d see the pity in their eyes.

  Allison gave him a sidelong glance, but he ignored it. He knew she wanted him to forgive his brother.

  “If Taran is racing, then mayhap I will, too.”

  “Are ye going to be nice to our brother? Please, Brann? ‘Twould mean so much to both of us. Shona feels badly about what happened.”

  Brann ran his hand down his face. “Lachie, ‘tis enough for now. Ye are making my head ache.” A thought popped into his mind and he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it before. “Lachie, was there any sickness at Taran’s when ye were there?”

  “Nay, just me.”

  Allison’s head pivoted faster than his own. “What sickness? You weren’t drinking ale, were you?”

  “Nay, I had the red throat.”

  “The red throat?” she repeated, unable to mask the little bit of concern in her voice.

  Brann felt his brow furrow. Why would she be upset if he was better? Did she know something they did not?

  “Aye, just for three days, but I’m much better now.”

  “Did you have a fever? Headache? Anything else?” she persisted.

  “I did have a fever. Taran said I burned his hand.” He chuckled as he spoke. “My throat hurt really bad and my head hurt, but I’m better.”

  Allison said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Let us know if you feel worse at the festival.” Her words were comforting, but Brann was tuned in to her body language, which signaled the opposite of her words. She was worried for some reason.

  “Was anyone else sick, Lachie? ‘Tis verra important,” Brann said.

  “Nay, just me. I dinnae go near Shona. She stayed in her chamber when I was sick.”

  “You knew enough to do that?” Allison asked.

  “Aye, ‘twas what Brann and Taran always said. Stay away from others when ye’re sick.” He turned his head and a broad smile crossed his face. “Look at all the tents. This will be the biggest festival ever! They’re waiting for Black Brann, I’m sure of it. Ye’ll show them in the log toss and the sword skills. I’ll sign ye up as soon as we arrive. Ye’ll take care of my horse?” he asked, turning to Angus.

  “Go, laddie,” he said with a nod. “I’ll take care of yer horse.”

  As soon as they were close enough, Lachie jumped down from his horse, tossed the reins to Angus, and took off toward the center of the festival.

  The closer they came, the louder the chants grew.

  “Black Brann, Black Brann, Black Brann!”

  It occurred to him then that he’d made a mistake. He’d been so eager for her to stay that he’d overlooked a crucial problem, something he’d never cared much about before today.

  This festival was infamous for bride stealing.

  ***

  Allie couldn’t contain her surprise at the size of the festival and the massive throngs of people drifting about the grounds. On the far hill, she could see tents and colorful banners all the way to the top. On another field, merchants had set up tables and tents to market their wares, their loud voices carrying across the crowd. She couldn’t contain her excitement either. “If my sisters are anywhere in the area, they’d come here for sure. They’d be looking for me the way I’m looking for them.”

  He found a cool spot under some trees for their horses and motioned for his guards to take care of them. “Allison, what will ye do when ye find them?” As he spoke, he guided her away from his men.

  She’d been hurrying down the empty path, but his words caused her to stop and face him. “Brann, you know I’ve wanted to get back to them from the beginning…”

  “Aye, true. I know ye’ll go back through the portal if ye dinnae find them, but what if ye find them here? What if they’ve found shelter with another clan? Will ye leave me to join them?”

  She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing before she whispered, “Honestly, I don’t know. I…we…do you have feelings for me? Would you want me to stay? But I’m sure they’ll want to go back. Hot showers, cell phones, airplanes. They’re probably looking for me with the same intention. Once they find me, we’ll all go back.”

  “What if one has married?”

  “Married? My sisters? They wouldn’t marry so quickly.”

  Or would they? Caroline wouldn’t, but what about Hannah? What if she found the right man here in medieval times? Would she want to stay?

  And if Allie could be here with at least one of her sisters, would she want to stay, too?

  “Brann, I don’t know how to answer your question. If we don’t find them, I won’t need to answer, so let’s wait and see.”

  He placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her ahead of him toward the festival grounds. Once they made it to the vendor booths, the crowd thickened. Allie moved ahead of him, eager to look for her sisters, but Brann didn’t let her get very far. He stayed right behind her, and at one point he even tugged her back against him. She swatted him, but he continued to trail her. His attitude was positively…medieval. A couple of men had taken notice of her, but their attention was nowhere near as disturbing as Sinclair’s had been.

  Then, out of nowhere, he shouted, “She’s mine!”

  Several heads snapped around, none faster than hers. “What did you say?”

  “Allison,” he growled. “Ye haven’t noticed the attention ye’re getting. I’ve warned ye about bride stealing in the
se parts. Any unattached lass is considered fair game for a marriage at these festivals. I’m just attaching ye to me. Unless ye wish to find yerself in someone else’s marriage bed at dark, I suggest ye allow it.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but it finally registered that he was right. The men near her appeared to be salivating at the sight of her, their grins enough to tell her exactly what they were thinking. True, she didn’t wish to be controlled; after the issue behind Brann’s castle, she decided to change her viewpoint.

  She turned back to the fools and said, “Did you not hear him? I’m his.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, noticing he was doing his best to stifle his smirk, pleased at her announcement yet still doing his best to keep his angry disposition for the men around him. He had a reputation to uphold, that of Black Brann, so he quickly restored his mean face.

  Men.

  He escorted her to a food vendor and bought several tarts. When he offered her a berry one, she nearly grabbed it. “Blueberries?” she asked with excitement.

  “How the hell would I know if they were blue?”

  She stifled a laugh as she bit into the tart—and then immediately moaned, unable to stop her reaction to the sweet concoction. It was easily the best thing she’d eaten in the fourteenth century.

  He yanked her over to stand in front of him with her back to him. “Ye cannot continue to do that or ye’ll embarrass me.”

  She noticed his erection right away and managed to wiggle her backside against him, giving him a saucy look over her shoulder.

  He squeezed her hip to hold her in place. “Not funny, lass.”

  She straightened her back and finished her sweet tart while he ate a plump meat pie. “These are not blueberries, by the way, but whatever kind they are, they’re heavenly.”

  Lachie came tearing up to them and said, “Brann, I signed ye up for the log toss and the sword contest. The log toss is first. Oh, and the obstacle course for the horses. ‘Tis after the log toss but before the sword fights. The log toss begins in fifteen minutes.”

  “We’ll be right there, Lachie. Do ye wish for a tart?”

  “Aye,” he said, grabbing one and running off. “My thanks, Brann,” he hollered over his shoulder.

  “Aren’t they called cabers?” she asked, remembering something she’d read in a guidebook about Scotland.

  “Aye, in Gaelic, ‘tis a cabar.”

  “And doesn’t it have to be a special kind of tree?” she asked, a bit of berry juice trailing down her chin.

  “Nay, they’re logs. Fallen trees…any kind…” His gaze followed the juice, and she could tell he was seconds away from lapping it up. Had they not been in such a public place, she wouldn’t have objected. She used her finger to swipe it off instead, then allowed him to grab her hand and tug her along behind him.

  Medieval men. One needed to be careful around them. She swore Brann had the testosterone level of ten men of her time.

  “I’d love to watch you,” she admitted. Though she was grateful he couldn’t wrestle with anyone at the festival, she did look forward to watching him display his prowess and skills.

  “Good. Now can ye promise me ye’ll not look at any other men while I’m competing? If ye do, I’ll be distracted.”

  “I promise. I’ll not draw any attention to myself.”

  She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Allie knew she could keep her promise because she would be busy looking for her sisters. Brann led her over to a spot where Lachie would stand, and he gave Angus instructions to stay by her side. The vantage point was ideal for searching the crowd, so she didn’t really care.

  However, her attention was diverted as soon as the next competitor was announced.

  Black Brann MacKay stripped his tunic off and moved up to take his spot against a huge burly man who’d just won the last round.

  And just like that, Allie couldn’t shift her gaze off him. Brann’s torso was covered in a light sheen of sweat which highlighted his every muscle, every curve and valley. She’d done her best to taste much of him over the past week, but she’d clearly missed some areas. He swaggered into the small arena, flexing his muscles and working the crowd as he moved, using his best fierce glare to intimidate his opponent. The crowd chanted his name, but she barely heard it, too intent on the grace of the testosterone-loaded specimen of maleness prowling in front of her.

  For God’s sake, she could barely control herself around the man. He launched his first log into the air, clearly beating his opponents. There were four men in the first round, and one was eliminated after each toss. The crowd worked itself into a frenzy as Brann won round after round.

  Allie finally tore her gaze from him, shifting her attention to the sea of excited faces gathered around the arena. There were no familiar faces.

  Nonetheless, she would not give up.

  The crowd continued to push inward as more and more men and women were drawn to the contest by the shouts and roars of festivalgoers caught in the fever of Black Brann. She saw a flash of hair that put her in mind of Caroline, so she pushed her way to the side of the crowd, leaving Angus and Lachie. As she got closer, though, she realized she was wrong. She stood there for a moment, feeling on the verge of tears, and out of nowhere, an arm snaked around her, tugging her backward.

  She raked her nails across the hand at her waist, kicking one leg back at the brute, trying to connect wherever she could, but without much success. The other men in the crowd ignored her, which was nearly as frightening as the initial attack.

  Were they oblivious to the fact that she was being attacked, or did this happen frequently enough in medieval times that they simply didn’t care?

  Even though the contest was still underway, Brann heard her scream and drew his sword with a growl, heading straight for her. Miraculously, the arm released her and the crowd parted to make way for Brann. She hurried toward him, throwing herself at his chest.

  As he wrapped his arms around her, she distantly heard the head of the contest declare Black Brann the winner since there were no other contenders.

  The horde of onlookers fell back, heading toward the main thoroughfare of merchants and vendors. Allie clung to Brann, not wanting to move. She preferred to stay in the one place where she felt safe and loved.

  Dammit. What the hell should that tell her about her feelings for Brann?

  She expected a tirade to erupt from his lips any moment, but it didn’t happen. He rubbed her back as she nestled in beneath his chin, not wanting to step away from him for a moment. “I’m sorry, Brann I thought I saw someone who looked like Caroline, but it wasn’t her. I don’t know how I ended up so far from Angus.”

  “I know. “’Tis no’ yer fault, lass. ‘Tis the fault of the bastard who grabbed ye. I’d like to find him. Do ye think ye’d recognize him again?”

  She stepped back to look into the eyes of this man whom she trusted more than anyone. “No, I never saw his face. He grabbed me from behind. The only thing that could give him away is that I scratched his hand and his arm. How many more things have you to do?”

  Out of the crowd, a man came forward. From his tentative manner and his big green eyes, she knew this must be Taran. She’d seen him outside Brann’s castle, but not up close. Those were Brann’s eyes.

  “Brann, I saw the altercation. Is she hale?”

  Brann’s entire body tensed at the sight of his younger brother. “Allison, meet the man who used to be my brother, Taran.”

  “My lady.” He nodded to her but then shook his head sadly. “Ye need to let this go. I could have been protecting her.”

  “I’ll protect her myself. I dinnae need yer help. Did ye see the man who tried to steal her away?”

  “No’ well, but he wasnae that tall. Brown hair, which is the same as most of the men here.”

  “Taran, I’ll not be participating in the sword contest. I’ll not put her at risk again. Ye’ll probably win it easily.”

&
nbsp; “And the obstacle course?” Taran quirked his brow at Brann.

  Allie could see this comment upset Brann. “Go ahead,” she urged. “I’ll be fine. I promise not to move from Angus’s side this time.”

  Brann seemed to consider her comment, then nodded to Taran. “I’ll compete in the horsemanship contest. I’ll have all my guards surround her, stay with her. I’d allowed some of them the chance to get food.” He turned his attention back to Allison. “Do ye agree to stay inside my guards?”

  She nodded quickly. After the last debacle, she wouldn’t leave Angus’s side.

  Wrong again.

  ***

  Brann’s jaw clenched the moment he spied Shona, Taran’s wife, coming up behind them with three of her husband’s guards.

  “Greetings to ye, my lord.”

  Brann nodded to her, unable to speak. He squeezed Allison’s hand and tugged her closer. But the sight of her didn’t beleaguer him as it usually did. The pain he felt was mostly remorse for having lost his brother. When he realized he was free of much of his anger, he said, “This is Allison. She and her kin were attacked by reivers, and most of them killed.”

  Taran frowned. “My sympathies, my lady. ’Tis most difficult to bear the loss of a family member. I understand exactly how ye must feel.” He gave his brother a pointed look, but Brann ignored him.

  Allison just nodded, her gaze alighting on Shona.

  He could almost feel the jealousy emanating from Allison’s pores, but she had no reason to envy her. Shona meant nothing to him. Had his brother not gone behind his back to court her, he might have even been relieved she’d chosen Taran.

  But his own brother had betrayed him.

  “Taran, I’ll see ye on the obstacle field.” He ushered Allison away, a voice carrying from behind him. Lachie had returned. “Brann, may I go to the fields with Taran?”

  “Go with him,” he called over his shoulder. “‘Tis fine, Lachie.”

  He led Allison over to the vendor tents, keeping his arm around her waist. “See anyone who looks familiar, lass?”