Honor of a Scottish Warrior

by Sky Purington

  Nicole rolled her eyes, banked a right and started walking. Niall grabbed her wrist and redirected her in the opposite direction. “Your chamber is this way.”

  She yanked her hand free, wishing she wasn’t bare footed and too darn short walking between these two behemoths. “So now that I’m no longer being held prisoner, why is it again that I’m here and not at MacLomain Castle?”

  “Because ‘tis better for now that you and the wee King are split up,” Niall said.

  “And none can protect you better than dragon shifters,” Rònan added.

  “Not even wizards.” She slanted a look at Niall. “Better yet, your arch-wizard, Grant Hamilton?”

  “’Tis an unpredictable, dangerous magic that seeks you out,” Niall said as they turned left down another long, torch-lit corridor. “Rònan is strong enough but his Ma, Torra, is far stronger. To this day, there isnae a power that has been able to infiltrate her lair.”

  Lair? “You mean to tell me this castle is a dragon lair?”

  “What else would you call it with two dragon-shifters living in it?” Rònan said.

  “I suppose,” she said. “I guess I just pictured something more cave-like.”

  “We’re Scotsmen not Vikings,” Rònan said with nothing but respect in his voice. “May the gods protect our ancestor’s souls.”

  Viking ancestors? She could see that based on their builds alone. “They were a pretty brutal people.”

  “Vikings? Aye.” Rònan nodded. “The fiercest warriors to be had.”

  “The best trainers to be had,” Niall said.

  She looked between them. “Trainers?”

  “Aye, lass,” Rònan said. “How do you think we became the warriors we are today?”

  “Ah, so battle moves were handed down through the generations and that’s how you learned.”

  “Aye, partly with the training from our Da’s,” Niall conceded. “But not entirely. The rest we learned directly from our ancestors.”

  “Directly from them?” They stopped at a large, spacious chamber with three windows rounded on top and flat on the bottom. “Yeah right. Whatever you say.”

  Rònan touched her lower back and escorted her inside. “If you traveled back in time is it such a far-fetched idea that our Viking ancestors might have traveled forward in time from the ninth century?”

  He was serious. “Really?”

  “Really.” Niall untied the skins on the windows. “Three of them. Since we were wee bairns.”

  Nicole became a little too aware of the intimate scene. The low torches. The crackling fire. The way-too-big-for-one-person bed. Then there was the fact neither man seemed inclined to leave. Maybe yapping about blowjobs so loosely with almost perfect strangers hadn’t been her best move. Especially considering how lusty they seemed. Rònan, at least. Oh wait, Niall wasn’t all that opposed either based on his arousal earlier.

  Best to keep the conversation going.

  “So your Viking ancestors came just to train you to fight so you could someday protect Robert the Bruce?” she said as Niall dropped the last skin over a window, shutting her off from outside.

  “Aye,” Rònan said. “Amongst other reasons.”

  Nicole looked between them as Rònan pulled off his tunic and muttered, “’Tis too bloody hot in here.”

  Damn. More and more intimate.

  “Och, look at her face.” Niall glanced at Rònan then nodded toward Nicole. “She thinks we mean to have her.”

  Rònan grinned, brogue thickening. “It wouldnae be the first time we shared a lass.” His eyes twinkled when he looked at her. “Are ye wanting us both then? Because it might help ye relax a great deal.”

  Play it cool, she preached to herself. “In what reality could I handle you both? I’m good but not that good.”

  Niall snorted. “She makes a good point, Cousin.”

  “I dinnae know.” Rònan contemplated her. “She smelled of arousal when she came down out of that tower with ye.”

  No, he did not just say that.

  Niall shot her an irritatingly cocky grin. “Did she then?”

  “Aye, she did.” Rònan sauntered over. “And she still does.”

  Nicole decided clever comebacks had no place here. Time for them to go. She nodded at the door as he slowly walked around her, eying her up and down. “Out, Rònan.”

  “Maybe,” Rònan said.

  “Or maybe not,” Niall said even softer.

  Chapter Three

  WHAT GODS DECIDED he should be thrust into hell?

  Not any benevolent ones to be sure.

  Niall had never before wanted to throttle a lass to within an inch of her life. Then again, he had never wanted to be between a lass’s legs so much either. It was a pitiful and alarming mix of irritating desires. As he sat outside Nicole’s chamber door, he kept mulling over her earlier question.

  Why had he felt the need to save her to begin with?

  His response had been the truth…but not all of it. Definitely not all of it. The main reason was he couldn't stop himself. She had been so vulnerable and frightened out on that field. So alone. And yes, so damn beautiful that no threat needed to exist for him to head in her direction. Then there was the other thing. What her friend Cassie shared with him and his cousins after the battle. Nicole and her friends were facing life-altering disabilities.

  Nicole was going deaf.

  And she did not like coddling.

  He admired that. Respected it. She was a true warrior of sorts. So he was determined to treat her like any other and push her upcoming difficulties from his mind. Never once would she get pity from him.

  But it would be damn hard.

  Not his lack of pity but having to seem cold when he would rather comfort and lend strength. No one should have to face what she did alone.

  When a strange sound came from her chamber, he shot to his feet. Though she thought he and Rònan were going to have their way with her earlier, no such thing had happened. They would never take a lass against her wishes. But how he had hoped for a moment she wanted it…even if his cousin was involved.

  Worried, he rapped on the door. “Nicole, are you all right?”

  No response. Just that strange sound again. Fear flashed through him. Had the enemy somehow made it past the MacLeod’s defenses? His heart hammered into his throat as he thrust open the door and scanned the room.

  All was quiet.

  Nobody was here.

  His eyes shot to Nicole when the sound came again. Arms hanging limply over the sides of the tub, her head was leaning back and her mouth hung open. Hell, the sound had been her snoring. Not a dainty snore in the least, but a gusty sound that would put even the drunkest passed-out Scotsman to shame. And she thought he was the brute?

  Despite himself, he grinned.

  Then his eyes fell lower and he inhaled sharply. He had never seen a better-made lass. Slim-boned with ample enough, nicely rounded breasts, her stomach was small, even slightly muscled. Drawn, he slowly walked over to her. Where only a few faint freckles dusted her cheekbones and nose, slightly darker ones dusted her collarbones and arms. She had inherited a great deal of Irish from her Broun heritage.

  When one leg slid up, his gaze traveled lower. Slender and well-toned, even her thigh and knee were freckled. He licked his lips and imagined flicking his tongue over each and every one. Either fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, she released a loud enough snore that she woke herself up.

  Head still resting against the tub, she rubbed her nose then slowly opened her eyes. Unlike most people would when they awoke so abruptly, she didn’t seem confused or disoriented. She didn’t even try to hide her body. Instead, her eyes met his and she murmured, “Enjoying yourself, Niall?”

  He kept his expression schooled despite how jolting he found her eyes. Wide-set, thickly lashed, they were the brightest pale cedar he had ever seen. Her stick-straight, face-framing hair was deep red, just beneath chin length in the front and
upper-neck length in the back.

  Modern and daring.

  Just like her.

  “Aye, I am enjoying myself.” He allowed his gaze to boldly run down her body again. “Who would’ve thought?”

  “Why are you still here?” She fished a bar of soap from beneath the water and nonchalantly started rubbing it over her stomach. Not sensually but practically. “I thought you’d be downstairs by now.”

  She might act like she wasn’t affected by his proximity, but he didn’t miss the tightening of her pink nipples. He nearly groaned.

  “It’s the cold water not you, Brute,” she assured as if reading his mind.

  “Mayhap.” He crouched and slid his hand into the water, enjoying the gasp she tried to hide. With a quick murmur, he heated the water with magic. “Mayhap not.”

  “Nice trick,” she mumbled, lathering up.

  “Might ye say thank you then?”

  Her brows shot up. “I already thanked you enough by lounging here naked for your nosy eyes, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I should start calling you ‘ungrateful’.” He went to stoke the fire. “The name would well suit you.”

  “Whatever you say, Brute.”

  “Ungrateful it is then.”

  “That’s a shitty nickname.” He could tell by her splashing that she was rinsing off. “Get out of here. I need to get dressed.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, trying to bank aggravation. He made sure the fire was roaring again before he headed for the door. “Ready yourself. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Don’t feel the need,” she started but he shut the door before she could finish her sentence.

  Blasted lass.

  She might be tolerable if she kept her mouth shut.

  As he leaned against the opposite wall, his mind flashed back to her blunt talk of blowjobs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head when visuals of her mouth wrapped around his cock arose. Hell, that would be awful…in such a bloody amazing way. Those full lips. Those unearthly eyes staring up at him. Those slender hands grasping at his hips, maybe even his arse.

  Niall exhaled sharply and cursed his instant arousal. Those were demon lips. Those were deceptive eyes. And those hands? They had biting nails attached to them.

  He slid down the wall and resumed his position, all the while reminding himself that Nicole was nothing but trouble. Lasses were good. She was bad. Lasses were soft-spoken and adoring. She was loud-mouthed and annoying. Lasses were compliant and willing. She was rebellious and disinclined.

  Though it might have been minutes it felt like ages before the door finally opened and Nicole—in all her glory—stood there with her hands on her hips. Niall started to talk, but the words died on his lips. May the gods give him strength, she was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. In a deep green dress that somehow made her skin glow, her already perfect figure was highlighted to full advantage. He might have seen those scrumptious breasts bare, but somehow the dress plumped them up enough that they suddenly seemed like a mystery.

  One that almost had him walking her right back into that room and to the bed.

  “Stop gaping,” she said and breezed past him.

  Niall pursued, eying the way the dress fit a little too snuggly around her firm backside. When she meant to take a right at the end of the hallway, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her left. “Nay, lass. You’re with me.”

  “Ugh, fine,” she groaned. “But isn’t the great hall in the other direction?”

  “Aye.” He pulled her into the next chamber. “First, I bathe and change as well.”

  “Okay,” she said carefully, eying him as he sat on the bed and yanked off a boot. “And I’m here why?”

  “Because I’m honor bound to protect you.” He yanked off the other boot. “Which means you dinnae leave my sight.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She looked skyward and spun on her heel. “See ya down there.”

  With a few quick strides, he made it to the door before her and blocked her path. “You can do one of two things. Sit at the table, have some whisky and avert your eyes like a good lass or…” He couldn’t help the involuntary curl to his lips. “Help me bathe like a really good lass would.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  Niall said a few chants under his breath then headed for the tub as he pulled off his tunic. Nicole, meanwhile, started out the door only to stop short. He grinned, removed his plaid then slipped into the water.

  “What the hell?” she muttered and tried to walk forward again only to stop once more.

  He sunk beneath the water then came up, wiping off his face. “I cast a little spell, lass. You’re here until I say otherwise.”

  “You are such a…” Whatever she was going to say trailed off when she spun and locked eyes on him. Well, really more his chest area.

  “Such a what?” he prompted, arms resting on the side of the tub, well-aware that he had managed to tongue-tie her with his nudity.

  “Dickhead,” she whispered. Her eyes seemed to scan his shoulders, arms and anything else she could manage before she scowled and headed for the table. Better yet, the whisky. Lathering up, he enjoyed the way her hand shook slightly as she filled a mug to the brim then leaned over to sip off the top.

  Referring to her unsavory description of him, he said, “Are you interested in the head of my—”

  “No, Brute,” she cut him off then took another sucking sip so she could lift the cup. “I’m not interested in anything attached to your body.”

  “All right, Ungrateful.” Though he meant to leave it at that, he enjoyed riling her up. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “You wish.” Mug in hand, she walked over to the fire, eyes to the flames as she took several more sips. “Hurry up then.”

  “Hurrying, love.”

  “Love?” She half snorted, half grunted. “I prefer Ungrateful to that.”

  Niall dipped beneath the water again and rinsed off, a small smile on his face. Using the word love, much like getting naked in front of her, was only meant to incite. Loving this lass would be equivalent to burning in hell. There would be no greater torture for a wizard who controlled the element of water.

  After surfacing, he stretched, slow and languid, relishing the chance to take a break if even for a moment. A break from worrying about her. A break from protecting her.

  It was hard to know if it was the wizard or the man who sensed it first, but the minute Nicole’s breath hitched his eyes flew to hers. Back to the fire now, her gaze was locked on him. Not his body this time but his face.

  And she wasn’t just looking but devouring.

  Startled by the stark desire in her eyes and the way his chest tightened then his throat thickened, he clasped the edges of the tub. What the bloody hell was this?

  Eyes just as startled, she took a step back and whispered, “Get that look off your face.”

  He arched a brow, about the only gesture he could manage right now he was so caught off guard…so wickedly aroused. It took just about everything he had not to throw her onto the bed and slake his lust. Aye, lust. The sharpest he had ever felt. A harsh feeling that had his groin painfully tight and his stomach muscles burning.

  Either it was the look on his face or the way he shifted uncomfortably, but her eyes widened and pupils flared as she took another step back. “Seriously, Brute. You and I aren’t happening.”

  “I agree,” he grunted, fighting the rush of need that had his blood boiling. “Entirely.”

  When was the last time he had lain with a woman? A week or so ago if that? Two of them to boot. So this made no sense. Any woman. Anywhere. At any time. Willing and able. That was his way. Not this…this…his eyes shot to Nicole…her!

  She took another sip and another step back. “Still not liking the look on your face.”

  He didn’t like the feel of the look on his face. She didn’t deserve it. Neither did he. About to tell her that not
hing would ever happen between them, he stopped. What was that smell? Smoke? His eyes fell to her skirts.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, swinging out of the tub.

  Her eyes went round as saucers when they fell to his groin. “Holy fucking shit.”

  “Ye and yer bloody cursing,” he roared as he flew toward her.

  “Wha…wha…get away from me!”

  She tried to bat him away, but he ducked, grabbed her by the waist and brought her to the floor. Then they rolled because he couldn’t get a solid grip on the flailing lass.

  “Stop, Nicole,” he started but she jammed his chin so strongly, he winced and they kept rolling. For a little thing, she had a hell of a punch. And pinch apparently.

  Gritting his teeth, he ground out, “Yer on fire, ye bloody fool!”

  “Not for you, Brute!”

  “Och.” He batted at her skirts as they rolled. “Not lust but fire.”

  Then it was all skirts and tangled limbs as he tried to summon water to douse her flames.

  A soft chant followed by laughter met his ears before the flames died and they came to a stop against the wall, half of his body covering hers.

  “There’s something consistently comical about you two,” Rònan said as he leaned against the doorjamb. “And you can thank me later for tempering her fire. Just takes a real man is all.”

  Niall caught the double meaning in his words.

  Rònan might control the element of fire, but he wasn’t opposed to controlling something else altogether. At this rate, Niall might just let his cousin have a go at her.

  “Oh, man,” Nicole grumbled, pushing Niall away as she frowned at her burnt skirts.

  “Nothing to worry over,” Seònaid said smoothly as she entered.

  Niall’s door-stopping spell had fizzled the minute he knew Nicole was on fire.

  Maybe even a little sooner.

  “Niall, get dressed and stop distracting her.” Seònaid crouched by Nicole. She ran her hands over the dress and started murmuring chants even as she said, “This is nothing to fret over. See, good as new.”

  Nicole blinked as the burned edges vanished and the dress became whole again. “Wow, thank you.”