Honor of a Scottish Warrior

by Sky Purington

  The corner of Seònaid’s lips curled up ever-so-slightly as she eyed Nicole’s shoe. “It seems we both have good taste in fashion.”

  Before she knew it, Rònan’s sister tossed a light blanket around Nicole’s shoulders, wrapped elbows and led her toward the castle. Where people might have—okay definitely—shot her odd looks before, now it was nods of approval. Perhaps not for her but certainly for Seònaid. The runway model that obviously had no clue she’d been born in the wrong century.

  “I won’t let ye keep her for long, sister,” Rònan murmured, just loud enough.

  “Dinnae mind my brother,” Seònaid said. “He tends to forget he isnae always at the heart of every lass’s desire.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Nicole said. “I’d say he’s nailed most of them.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, he’s likely pretty cozy at the heart of every girl’s desire.”

  Seònaid laughed as they walked up the stairs to the castle. Her sharp eyes flickered to Nicole. “And will he be nailing ye?”

  Nicole released a burst of laughter but clamped her mouth shut when looks were thrown her way. How to answer that? Honestly, she supposed. He was pretty damn hot. So she shrugged. “If he plays his cards right.”

  Seònaid’s laughter turned to a low chuckle. “I knew I would like you.”

  “So you knew I was coming?”

  “Was that not obvious when you were brought here?”

  “Oh yeah,” Nicole murmured, any chance of sounding a crack above mildly intelligent gone when they walked through the front door. “Holy shit.”

  “Like Niall said, welcome to MacLeod Castle,” Seònaid said.

  “Right, like he said,” Nicole whispered, gazing around at the arched ceilings and thin stained glass windows. It was like an elegant beast gone rogue. Mammoth tapestries of oceans with dragons flying overhead hung from three walls. Without a railing, the fourth wall was lined by a wide, broad-stepped staircase lit by torches. Like the rest of the place, it seemed to tempt…do you dare?

  “Oh, I really like this place,” she said.

  Though it was clearly summertime, the ocean kept it cool and multiple hearths hosted fires. They had just reached the bottom of the stairs when an older couple approached. The man was tall, blond, sizzling hot and muscled like a thirty-something-year-old.

  But it was the woman who froze her in her tracks.

  Slim, shorter than Nicole, she had a way of owning the room. Not because she was arrogant but because…well, it was hard to know. Perhaps it was the cut of her eyes as she appraised Nicole with one quick glance. Or maybe the way those around her seemed to hover nearby with respect. Even then, it was far more. Something undefinable. Yet humble.

  “Thanks for joining us, Nicole,” the woman said in greeting, taking Nicole’s hand. “I’m Torra.” She nodded at the man beside her. “And this is my husband, Colin MacLeod.”

  Holy hell. This was Rònan and Seònaid’s mom, Torra MacLomain, the dragon-shifter who married the enemy. Or at least everyone thought so thirty years or so ago. She tried to respond, but nothing came out.

  “I think this is the part where you say, nice to meet you.”

  Nicole clenched her teeth and tossed Niall a frown as he meandered by.

  “He might be right,” Seònaid prompted.

  “Hard to imagine.” Nicole bit her lower lip and shook her head as she met Torra’s eyes. “What I mean is it’s great to meet you.” She gestured at Niall. “He just threw me off.” Her eyes went between Torra and Colin. “It’s truly awesome to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “As have we about you,” Torra said.

  “Nice to meet you, Nicole,” Colin added.

  Nicole was about to respond when Torra looked over her shoulder. “Niall, I need Seònaid. Would you mind showing Nicole to her chamber and filling her in on what’s happening?”

  As though three-tons of bricks were laid on his shoulders, Niall stopped, hung his head and slowly turned. She didn’t miss the slew of women flocking around him. Nor did she miss the discontent in their eyes when they realized he wasn’t readily available.

  “Not necessary,” Nicole said. “I can chill until Seònaid is available. In fact, I love to browse old castles.”

  Now that was a total lie.

  Just as exasperated as they were in the courtyard, Niall’s eyes met hers and he shook his head. “Ye dinnae give a shit about castles, lass.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Either way,” Seònaid piped up, voice somehow both sultry and peppy as she gestured at the stairs. “My Ma needs me so off ye both go.”

  Nicole didn’t care how long she knew the woman, she muttered, “Way to back a sista up.”

  Seònaid offered a small, guileless smile and stepped back. Meanwhile, Niall made no move until Torra flicked her wrist at him. That, it seemed, meant an awful lot because not only did he move but he did so quickly.

  Not to say a sigh wasn’t involved.

  The next thing she knew, he had a hand on her elbow and grunted. Apparently that was his way of saying ‘follow me’ before he started up the stairs. When she tried to shoot a ‘you stink’ glance at anyone still looking her way, all were gone. Seònaid and her parents had vanished into the great hall’s crowd.

  “Stop,” she said under her breath as Niall pulled her after him. When he didn’t pause, she repeated herself. Once. Twice. Third times a charm. She yanked her arm free, stopped halfway up the treacherous stairs and took off her sandal. Eyes narrowed, she debated whether or not she wanted to keep following him.

  “Just come, Nics.”

  If she wasn’t frozen before, she was now. “What did you just call me?”

  She had a thing about nicknames.

  She did not like them.

  Niall’s steps slowed, but he by no means made a point of correcting himself as he smirked over his shoulder. “I called you Nics, lass.”

  “Where’s a dagger when I need one,” she said, voice threatening.

  “A dagger?” He turned around, crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the wall lining the stairs. “Plenty to be had if ye’ve the ballocks.”

  Ballocks? She had the balls all right. Eyes as innocent and compliant as she could manage, she hitched her chin for effect as she walked upward. “Listen, it’s obvious you and I don’t like each other, but I’m feeling pretty damn out of place, okay? Can you just show me around?”

  “You dinnae need showing around any more than I need a lass to tell me where my cock is.”

  She almost laughed. Almost. Because that was a good one. And damn if she didn’t detect a sizeable enough bulge beneath his plaid. No matter. He was on her shit list. So time to carry on.

  The corner of her lips hitched. “Are you hoping I’ll take advantage of your cock, Niall?”

  The corner of his lips hitched. “Nay, not even for a moment.”

  “Then put those baby blues away and show me the way,” she said, her voice super soft and ridiculously compliant.

  Would he buy it? Was he that gullible?

  His forefinger curled just as lazily as his lips. “Let’s go, Nics.”

  “Nicole,” she ground out before she could stop herself. He was obviously trying to get a rise out of her.

  Niall arched a brow, his expression far too chivalrous now. “Nicole, of course. My apologies.”

  “Of course,” she mouthed, heading his way. Like Darach, he was easily six-foot-five and far too muscular to overpower. However, as she did with any man, she didn’t put much chalk in physical but mental strength.

  And Niall lacked in that department.

  So she kept moving. One step at a time. Maintain eye contact. Don’t let him see your weaknesses. Two steps down, she stopped and put on a sweet face. “Are you ready to show me around then?”

  With an unguarded, cordial smile, Niall cocked his head. “Will you not pinch me if I do?”

  Ha. Very funny. “I
think it’s a good idea if we play nice at this point. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do.” He shifted sideways and gestured up the stairs. “Please. Lead the way.”

  Abso-freakin’-lutely.

  Truly, when she planned her next move it had nothing to do with harming him but showing him up. Guys like Niall needed that. So when she sauntered past, shot him a wink then grabbed a dagger off the wall, it was no big thing. Yet it seemed she should have left it at that. A means to keep herself safe.

  But no.

  Thanks to Darach, she couldn’t help but show a little suave with her blade and knifed it Niall’s way in a mocking gesture. Unfortunately, she didn’t anticipate his reaction.

  Half a second later, she grunted when she ended up on her back. He actually had her pinned on the stairs. Her eyes widened and the blade teetered in her loosening grasp. She sputtered and gasped when he squeezed her wrist until the blade fell, clattering to the floor below.

  “You Goddamned asshole,” she hissed, shifting against the weight of his body. She could feel every long, hard inch of him. Niall pulled his face back when she thrust hers forward, angry as hell.

  He brought his lips within inches of hers, eyes narrowed. “Dinnae ever pull a blade on me or anyone else unless ye intend to use it and use it well.”

  Who would have thought he’d have such nice breath?

  “The mighty Broun Pincher gets taken down!” someone cried.

  “It seems the great Niall willnae be forever dropped by a lass!” another cried.

  Nicole grinned to herself. She sort of liked being called the Broun Pincher. But she did not like being so defenseless. When she shot her knee up, he defended. Taking advantage, she slammed her fist into his armpit. A vulnerable yet unguarded spot. Like she knew he would, Niall yelped in pain…and rage.

  Time to move.

  So she did. Fast and squirm-like, she pushed him aside, shimmied onto the next stair, got her footing and booked it. Laughter echoed from the crowd as she flew up the stairs.

  But she didn’t get far.

  Niall flung her over his shoulder in such a way that her arms were pinned beneath her. He held her so firmly that even flailing her legs was impossible. Yet she'd still managed to hold onto her sandal.

  “Put me down, you big brute,” she bit out.

  “Oh, I will,” he assured. There was an unsettling mixture of anger, determination, and slyness in his voice.

  “Och, she’s a feisty wee thing, aye, Cousin?” Rònan yelled up. “Too wild for the likes of ye.”

  “Aye,” Niall yelled over his shoulder. “If ye’ve a need to have a crack at her, she’ll be in the tower.”

  “A crack at me? You medieval prick.” She frowned. “What tower? Is that where my room is?”

  Niall gave no response but swiftly walked down a hallway at the top of the stairs before he went through a doorway. Then they were going around and around up what was definitely a tower. And not a large one at that. But tall. Alarmingly so. And he wasn’t winded in the least.

  “Niall,” she ground out, eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you up to?”

  Still no response.

  Soon enough, he strode into a small chamber with a few narrow windows and tossed her on a cot. Eyes wide, she said, “If you think for a second you’re getting any, think again.”

  “Getting any? Ye could only be referring to sex.” Niall shook his head. “Ye are the last person in Scotland I would ever want such from, ye ungrateful crazed lass.”

  Her eyes dropped to the very obvious bulge beneath his plaid. “I dunno. You must have a thing for crazy women then because I’d say you’re at least semi-erect.”

  Scowling fiercely, he muttered something that sounded a lot like, “Bloody thing has a mind of its own,” before he tossed a blanket at her, strode out of the room and slammed the door.

  “Oh damn,” she said and ran over when she heard the click of a latch. He had locked her in.

  “Niall!” She pounded on the door. “Niall, let me out!”

  Again and again she yelled, cursing over and over.

  Nothing. No response.

  She was only met with silence.

  Screw the hundred and fifty dollars; she whipped her sandal at the door in frustration.

  Voice hoarse, she finally gave up and plunked down on the cot. This seriously sucked. The nerve of the guy considering she had just traveled back over seven hundred years in time. Way to have a little compassion.

  Nicole sighed and leaned back against the wall. What was with them? She’d never met a man that got her so riled up. Sure, there were the obvious reasons that they had issues with one another. After all, she had pinched him pretty hard when he tried to save her the first time.

  But there was more to it than that.

  A spark of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Attraction? Maybe some but that was just normal. She might not like him, but she could admit he was more than just handsome. Chemistry? Maybe some but that was normal, too. Based on what she'd seen so far he was likely hung like a horse and hey, she was only human. The fact that he seemed so honor-bound to protect her? Absolutely not. Because a true hero didn’t lock a gal in a tower.

  So she sat there for far too long mulling things over before the latch jiggled and the door opened. Nicole jumped to her feet, surprised to see Niall leaning casually against the balustrade, arms crossed over his wide chest. His eyes were hard and his lips set in a frown.

  “Were you standing there this whole time?” she said, incredulous.

  “When Torra MacLeod requests something of me, I listen.” He rolled his jaw. “No matter how much I might dislike it.”

  “Lucky me.”

  When she tried to breeze past him, he stopped her with a hand on her upper arm. His words were low and firm. “Neither of us has to like it, but I’m honor-bound to protect you, lass and will do so at any cost.”

  “Why?” Her eyes locked with his and she cursed her body’s sharp response to his close proximity. “Why do you feel so honor bound to protect someone you don’t even like? It makes no sense.”

  “I was the first to go to you when you were almost taken by the enemy. By doing so I made a commitment,” he said. “Even if I dinnae like you, I willnae see you harmed. ‘Tis not something even someone like you deserves.”

  “Someone like me?” She stepped a little closer and narrowed her eyes. God, he was huge, but she refused to let his sheer size intimidate her. “What, someone who stands up to you? Someone who doesn’t simper at your heels like all the other women do?”

  “Nay.” One brow swept up. “Like I said earlier, someone who is ungrateful, sharp-tongued and too crass by half.”

  “Maybe I don’t wanna feel like I owe you anything. Especially considering I didn’t ask for your help to begin with,” she countered, not overly offended by his words. It wasn’t the first time she had heard them. “Why did you feel the need to help me anyway?”

  “’Twould have been poor of me to leave you out there like that.” He shook his head, amazement in his eyes. “Do you truly begrudge me saving your life?” His voice lowered. “Are you so unhappy that you would have willingly died? Because that would have been the outcome had you been taken.”

  “No, I’m not unhappy,” she lied. “I just prefer to stand on my own two feet.”

  “And I took that from you.” Her breath caught when he smirked and humor lit his eyes. “When I threw you over my shoulder.”

  Niall might just go from handsome to seriously smoking hot if a full smile blossomed.

  “Very funny. Yeah, you took that from me.” She offered a smirk in return. “But then I took the same from you too with a good pinch, eh?”

  His smirk vanished. “So you did.” Darkness shadowed his eyes. “Something that willnae happen again.”

  For a second there, she thought they might be heading toward a truce. Evidently not.

  “Uh huh.” She pulled her arm free and headed downstairs. “Because I i
ntend to keep my feet on the ground in the future.”

  “’Tis better than me having to carry you,” he said, following.

  “Jerk,” she said under her breath.

  “I heard that.”

  “I sorta hoped you would.”

  “Yet I suspect even at your quietest you’ve a good bellow to your voice.”

  Nicole snorted. What a jackass. “Can’t fault a woman for making sure her point gets across.”

  “’Tis one thing to get your point across and another altogether to have an unnaturally boisterous voice.”

  “Hey, this mouth gets the job done.”

  Nicole cringed the minute it came out. That sounded like…

  Niall chuckled. “Aye, now there’s one way to silence you.”

  “And here I thought I was the last woman in Scotland you’d have sex with.” She stopped and glared at him over her shoulder. “Because it sounded a lot like you were just referring to a blowjob.” She perked her brows when he hesitated. “You do know that word, right? Because I can spell it out for you.”

  “I think he’d much rather ye show him, lass,” Rònan said from below.

  “Och, nay,” Niall replied. “She’d likely bite the bloody thing off.”

  Well, one thing could be said for the Scotsmen she ended up with. They didn’t hold back. She had all sorts of quick-witted things she could say in return but wanted out of the stairwell so kept moving.

  When she reached the bottom, Rònan was leaning against the doorjamb, a bemused expression on his face. “If he kept you hidden up there much longer I was going to join in.”

  “It might have improved the situation,” she remarked, squeezing by him.

  Rònan released a bark of laughter, his comment directed at Niall. “’Tis good we’re mentally connected and I knew ye didnae lay with the lass. Otherwise, I might have felt sorry for ye that ye couldnae manage to please her.”

  “’Tis likely nobody could please her,” Niall said. “Besides, ‘twould be a battle trying to lay with that one.”

  Rònan chuckled. “A battle well worth fighting I’d say.”