Finding My Highlander

by Aleigha Siron

  “So I’ve been told,” laughed Lady Beatrice. “Everyone brings their own gifts and talents to their family. Dinnae fash yourself, dear, I happen to agree that women should use every skill they possess, even if it be a bow and arrow. Many Highland lasses are quite skilled with the bow and even hunt to feed their families when the men are away.”

  Andra’s face flushed with embarrassment. She had not been aware the women knew of her morning activities. She knew the guards observed her from the parapet, but no one attempted to curtail her activities until Kendrick so abruptly accosted her this morning. None of the women or the guards had made a comment to her about it. How stupid she was being. Gossip provided the main form of entertainment at the castle; of course everyone knew about her practices. The gossip mongers must be having a grand time at her expense.

  Jane entered with an ancient, stooped woman holding her arm. Lady Beatrice rose to assist the woman shuffle to the chair beside her. “Alith, we have missed you these many days. ‘Tis good to see you improved enough to join us today.”

  “Och, I am fine, my dear. Dinnae fash yourself over me. Sweet Jane tends to me needs.”

  Jane expertly fluffed a cushion and placed it behind the old woman’s back.

  “I keep hearing an angel singing. Her voice is as pure and clear as the deep, blue loch outside the castle walls. Would this be the lass?” The old woman looked at Andra through eyes milky with age.

  “Lady Alith, let me introduce you to our guest, Lady Andra Cameron.”

  “Come sit beside me, these old eyes need you close to see.”

  Andra sat beside Alith and took the old woman’s gnarled hand in hers. “It’s my great pleasure to meet you, Lady Alith.”

  The old woman squinted in an effort to clear her vision, then touched Andra’s cheeks with both hands. Her hands were cool and felt like light sandpaper. When her hand dropped over Andra’s, her fingers slid over her rings. “These are verra fine rings on your fingers.”

  “Yes, they belonged to my parents.”

  “Ah,” she seemed to drift for a moment. “And are they with you, lass?”

  “No, my parents are both dead.”

  “Tsk tsk. And what of your other kin, do you seek to find them?”

  “No, there is no one left, only me.” Andra said, her chest so tight she could barely whisper the words.

  “‘Tis a sad thing to be the last of your line, to lose all those you love,” Alith soothed. She squeezed Andra’s hands with surprising strength. “Be comforted, the MacLean’s are a fine clan and always welcoming. You will do well here, just give it time.”

  * * *

  Vera sat quietly off to the side, attempting to appear as though she were not eavesdropping. She frequently joined the women when they gathered to mend clothing and ply their needlework. It presented the perfect opportunity to both start and gather gossip. Dispersing tidbits of information to interested parties provided a chance to earn extra coin or personal favors, always a value to her.

  Andra’s continued presence felt like a burr under Vera’s skirts. She seethed with jealousy over the new woman in their midst. What was all the fuss about anyway? Why did the men lose their focus when Andra entered a room or sang her stupid songs? Simpering fools ruled by their cocks.

  The laird had not enjoyed Vera’s favors in over a year, but she had consoled herself that it was because he’d spent much of that time away from the castle. Now he had this foolish woman distracting him from her attentions. He barely even acknowledged her presence anymore and that prevented her from obtaining knowledge that would add weight to her purse. All over a stinking Sassenach no less! Why was the laird so interested in the woman? Since Andra claimed to be a Cameron and a Sassenach, she knew just who would pay to know about her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The following morning Andra went down to the bailey before the first gray streaks softened an inky sky. She carried the urn in her leather satchel. Kneeling in the dirt, she opened the smooth wooden container sifting its contents to test how much remained. “Enough for several more attempts,” she whispered.

  “Okay, Dad, let’s try again shall we? I need to leave this place. Please, Dad, send me home.” She touched the cross at her neck reverently and let a few ashes drift on the wind. Without realizing it, she started to sing and rock back and forth. Nothing happened, but more than a few eyes watched her in the dark.

  After several minutes, tears trickled down her face. Perhaps she needed to be in the exact place where she had first come through to this time in order for her efforts to weave their spell and send her back to the twenty-first century. She would need to devise a plan to return to that place. First, she must resume her workouts. No matter what Kendrick dictated, she refused to relinquish her fitness and strength building efforts.

  A bare sliver of moon did not provide sufficient light to see the far targets. Only the two closest to her were somewhat visible. No matter, she would take a few practice shots based on her memory and the dim outline of the stacks. She’d learned to shoot at night when you relied on the sounds around you and the movement of shadow over shadow rather than clear vision. She hit the targets several times, then dropped her bow and started her run around the bailey.

  Trailing along the outside wall of the keep, she sprinted full out. The air was clean from a midnight rainstorm. The pliant ground leaned to muddy but she never let a bit of rain or mud stop her before, and she certainly wouldn’t let it happen in this new place. When she turned at the lower end, her foot caught on a tree root that had crept under the wall. Falling face first into the dirt the air knocked from her lungs, she paused only long enough to brush off, commit the location of that root to memory, and sprint away again. Another few minutes passed before a strong arm lifted her off her feet.

  “What do you think you are doing? Did I not command you to cease these activities?” Kendrick’s words hissed in her ear.

  Andra squirmed against him and pummeled the arm wound tightly around her waist. “Release me, you brute. You may have commanded me, but I told you I had no intention of stopping my workouts.”

  Kendrick flipped her over his shoulder with no effort. She continued to struggle, flailing her arms against his back, and attempting to kick him with her feet. He tightened his hold on her legs and soundly smacked her ass. “I warned you, Andra, you will not defy me.”

  When they reached her room, he kicked the door open then slammed it shut with the heel of his boot. Planting her firmly in front of him while pinning her arms to her sides, he gave her his most intimidating scowl and growled deep in his throat.

  A raging defiance tensed her stance, and then she suddenly drooped, feeling a bone-deep weariness. “Don’t you tire of this, Kendrick? Can’t we call a truce? Can’t you let me do as I wish while you go about your own business?”

  “Nae, you will not do as you wish. I am laird, this is my castle, these are my people, and no wee lass will be usurping my authority. Sitting in the dirt keening into the night will make people think you are a witch or mad or both. Moreover, I’ve already told you to stop your training. Mayhap a few days in the dungeon will cool your continued belligerence.”

  A tight muscle ticked in his jaw, his lips were a grim line, and his eyes flared with febrile heat. Every muscle in his shoulders and arms tensed. He was serious and very angry, and she had no desire to spend any time in a dungeon. This was not good.

  She let her shoulders slump and tried to relax under his grip, but kept his gaze. “I am truly sorry, Kendrick. Let us not argue, please. Can’t we find a compromise so you are satisfied and I can continue to improve in strength and skills? It really is in my best interest. I enjoy the invigorating challenge of archery and running. I used to run long distances every day.”

  * * *

  “In your best interest!” he roared. “Why do you think that what you consider in your best interest would overrule my direct orders?” How could it possibly be in her best interest to train like a warrior? His fin
gers tightened on her arm. Moreover, where had she lived that she could run long distances every day without risk of attack, unless guards had accompanied her?

  His expression would have stopped any of his men in their tracks, but not Andra; she refused to look away or back down.

  This would not do. He could not have her countermanding him in front of his men, a fair number of whom walked along the parapet yesterday and again this morning. Clearly, this brazen lass and her pre-dawn activities titillated everyone’s curiosity.

  “Lass, you must desist. I am not a brute, but you drive me to behave like one. Surely you ken my men would lose respect for me if I failed to punish your rash behavior.” He could only think of one form of punishment he wanted to deliver. His burgeoning cock surged and thrust for release in her.

  “I would have lashed any man who dared disobey me in such a manner to within an inch of his life.” Fear flashed in her green eyes, and they brimmed with tears. She fought valiantly against them, but a few escaped, leaving white tracks through the dirt smudged on her cheeks.

  Damn, if she didn’t tug at every emotion he kept buried and under tight control. He leaned toward her. When she did not turn away, his mouth crushed over hers, his tongue demanded entrance to her hot depths. Andra relented and opened her lips to his invasion. When he released her arms, they slipped around his neck and desperately clung to him. Their heated passion flared, as undeniable as the rising sun.

  A sort of madness consumed him. Although still angry with her, he also admired her obstinacy, and he desired every ounce of her fire. He deftly removed her shift and sucked at the spot under her jaw where her pulse pounded wildly, then nipped and kissed her throat and her beautiful, full breasts. His tongue flicked over the chemise covering her tight buds and drew a firm mound into his mouth suckling deeply.

  Her head flew back; she groaned loudly, nails scraping through his hair, over his shoulders. She unpinned his plaid and it dropped in a puddle on the floor, then tugged his leine over his head.

  He pressed his hard member against her pubic bone. Rather than pull away, she pressed the entire lean length of her body tightly to his. He swung her into his arms and moved to deposit her on the bed. His hands slid down her sides and pushed her leggings down smooth, firm flesh. She kicked the clothing away with her feet.

  Kendrick rose above her, resting on his elbows. His thumbs swiped the tears and dirt from her face. God’s teeth, he wanted this woman in his bed every night, he wanted her fierce defiance and lush passions. Though certain he didn’t wish to stop, he paused, granting her a moment to change her mind.

  She lifted her legs around his thighs and rolled her hips so her wet slit moved over the tip of his shaft. His coiled muscles tensed under her touch. She urged him on. “Kendrick, please.”

  He nudged against her mound and slowly dipped into her heat. Their tongues tangled and in one swift stroke, he plunged into her depths. She shifted slightly, adjusting to his length, then clenched her muscles tightly around him and everything exploded. Crazed with need their mouths devoured each other’s cries and moans. When his fingers reached between them and he rolled his thumb over her nub, she cried out with an intense orgasm. She sucked his shoulder and bucked against him, urging him to find his own release simultaneously as he roared his completion.

  When he finally rolled away sated and exhausted, he took her with him until she draped across his chest. It took several minutes before they regained their voices.

  Kendrick kissed the top of her head and chuckled. “Mo chuisle, I think I could grow accustomed to punishing you this way.”

  Her fingers danced over his skin with a feather light touch. “Please don’t put me in the dungeon.”

  He stiffened, then rolled to face her. “You dinnae need to bed me to ask that boon, m’lady.” He didn’t find her comment amusing. Did she capitulate in an attempt to bargain against his not truly serious threat?

  Andra pushed against him and jumped from the bed. “This…” she waved her hand over the bed, “I—this—you think I made love with you to cajole you out of—what! It was a joke, you buffoon. You think I bedded you out of fear?” Her mouth opened and closed with sputtering gasps. She grabbed the bed clothes and covered her nakedness. “How dare you cheapen what just happened with such an accusation. Get out!” she screamed at him, pointing to the door. “Get out you-you, monster!” She turned away from him, struggling to contain a sob that still managed to escape her throat.

  Kendrick wrapped his kilt around him with amazing speed. He studied her back, rigid with anger. He knew that the boon comment was the wrong thing to say, and for the life of him, he did not understand why he’d said it. Did he really think she had bedded him out of fear that he would lock her in the dungeon? Yes, no, perhaps. Many women would have done just that, hoping to escape punishment for misbehavior. Yet her passion flared like a shooting star, she desired him as much as he desired her, and not because she feared any threat of retribution.

  He couldn’t bring back the words and he needed space from her to think about this growing attachment. “As you request, m’lady, but you will spend a few days in your room and not leave until we speak again. That is an order, and I warn you not to test my patience further.” Kendrick firmly closed the door, slipped a bolt, and locked her in. His mind was a muddled mess.

  When Kendrick stormed into the bailey, the first rosy streaks of day splashed across the sky and several men had begun sparring. Andra’s leather satchel containing the funeral urn lay where she’d left it on the ground next to the bow and arrows she’d used in her practice. He snatched them up and set them aside to return to her later. He called to one of the squires for his practice claymore. Weapon in hand, he entered the arena. The men, clearly aware of his sour mood, occupied themselves in heated mock battles, pretending not to notice his presence.

  He approached Struan, Rabbie, and Alec. “Prepare to test your skills men!”

  No matter how hard he punished himself, he could not wipe from his mind the expression of hurt he’d brought to Andra’s face. It was obvious that neither one of them possessed one ounce of control when their desires surged. He wanted to trust her, yet after all they had been through and all they had shared, she still refused to be completely honest. Why? Why? No feasible explanation came to him. Women were damned confusing creatures. For now, this vigorous exertion provided the only means available to vent his exasperation.

  Thirty minutes later, bent over and struggling to gather their breath, all four men dripped with sweat. Alec excused himself to tend to some of the younger boys.

  “Have you punished us enough yet, cousin?” Rabbie asked.

  He snarled. “What are you blathering aboot!”

  “Seems to me he’s got the right of it” Struan huffed. “You do seem to be in a more punishing frame of mind than usual. We all ken what this is aboot. We both saw you sling Andra over your shoulder like a sack of grain. Dae you need one of us to handle the lass for you, then?”

  A swift cuff to the jaw knocked Struan to the ground. Kendrick stood over him hands on his hips, fury in his eyes. “Dinnae push me on this, Struan. Furthermore, none of you will handle the lass,” he thundered and then stormed out of the bailey.

  Rabbie lent a hand to pull Struan to his feet. “That went well, wouldn’t you say?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Never before had Andra felt so desired or so eager to take a man to her bed. Their passion for each other unmoored her senses. Every time they argued, they seemed unable to control the explosion of desire that surfaced alongside their anger. And when faced with the option to turn him away, she had pushed the small voice of caution to the furthest reaches of her mind and embraced the want and need that swept every other thought away like yesterday’s dust.

  Andra dropped on the bed and buried her face in the pillows to smother the wrenching sound of her sobs. You are so stupid. Why had she jumped into bed with him again? Why did she even mention that damn dungeon? It was a passin
g thought, a joke. Okay, maybe not, but she didn’t think he was serious about that anyway—or did she? He seemed to enjoy messing with her mind and likewise, she knew she got under his skin with her constant obstinacy and defiance. Why did she do that?

  Andra could see the men engaged in mock battles in the corner of the lower bailey. After a few hours, a faint knock tapped at her door. It sounded too soft to be Kendrick and she couldn’t open the door anyway, as he had locked it from the outside. She heard the lock click then the door swung open. A kitchen maid entered, head bowed, carrying a tray with cheese, bread, fruit, and ale. Kendrick must have posted a guard outside the door. The man waited at the threshold, watching the maid, but never looking at Andra. Once the girl scurried down the hall, the guard closed and relocked the door without comment.

  Andra sipped the ale, but took only a bite or two of the food. Perhaps she could get the guard to allow her to go to the women’s solar. She knocked at the door. “Are you out there?”

  “Do you need something m’lady?” the man asked.

  “You may have my tray returned to the kitchen.” He opened the door. “May I go to the women’s solar? I believe Lady Beatrice expects me.”

  He accepted the tray, but did not make eye contact. “Sorry, m’lady, but the laird has ordered you’re to rest, and no one is to disturb you.” He closed and locked the door without further comment.

  Hours later, faint sounds filtered into her room as the clan gathered for the evening meal. Still, no one came to her door and no additional food arrived. Hours passed, but she couldn’t gauge the time. She regretted sending the noon meal back to the kitchen with barely a mouthful eaten as hunger now rumbled like a snarling dog in her stomach.

  The sun had long ago dipped over the horizon, and the last streaks of amber color at the rim between earth and sky had faded to a bruised blush. She watched the darkening sky fill with the splendor of a thousand dazzling stars, and barely felt the chill in the air. Bereft and achingly empty she watched a sliver of moon crest the distant hills as they darkened to black. Rather than stuck in a dank dungeon, she at least looked out at the world from her window.