He searched the room and located a back door. Taking a breath, he readied his sword and moved toward it, keeping Diana behind him. But as soon as he threw open the door—several men darted toward them.
He lunged forward, ready to fight—but stopped as he recognized one of the men. Keagan.
“Artair? Diana? Thank God!” Keagan cried, hurrying toward them.
“How are ye here—where are Tamhas’s men?” Artair asked, still holding Diana’s hand as Keagan ushered them toward a waiting horse.
“Yer sister had me follow ye from a distance. She sent word tae other local farmers—Tamhas and his men have been tormenting all the locals, they were eager tae help. There are a dozen of us—we managed tae scatter Tamhas’s men. But we need tae get ye out of here before they bring reinforcements."
Chapter 16
Diana was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Artair’s hands on her waist, helping her onto a horse. His arms around her as they rode. His gentle touch as he guided her inside Keagan and Liosa’s home.
Her mind was still back in that room in the inn, the memory of it seared onto her mind.
Iomhar had demanded to know—repeatedly—how she’d made him fall asleep during their first encounter.
“Very well,” he’d sneered, when she had refused to answer. “I will at least collect on what ye owe me—yer bonnie body. But now I’ll make sure ye’ll feel no pleasure—the pleasure will only be for me.”
Fury and panic had roiled through her, and she’d kicked him in the groin, stumbling back as he let out a howl of pain. She’d cried out as he made his way toward her, silently urging herself to perform a defensive spell, but her mind and body had frozen in terror.
It was only when Artair entered the room that she’d emerged from her panicked haze. She’d seen the dagger in Iomhar’s hand as he charged toward Artair, knew that he was only seconds away from killing Artair, and she’d reacted. She didn’t know what spell she used; she could only recall a powerful wave of fury and protectiveness sweeping over her, a sizzle of fire beneath her skin.
“Diana.”
She looked up, realizing that she was now back in her guest chamber. Artair was gripping her by the shoulders, looking down at her with concern.
“Ye’re safe, lass,” he murmured. “’Tis over.”
He pulled her into his arms, and that was when the dam broke inside of her. She began to weep, and he kept her in his arms as he led her to the bed, where he curled up beside her as she fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
When she awoke, it was dark outside, and the bed beside her was empty. She sat up, grogginess still weighing her down. She must have slept for hours. Why she was still so fatigued?
She realized it was her magic that had drained her—Kensa had told her the more powerful the spell, the more taxing it was on the body.
She closed her eyes, shaking as the memory returned to her. Iomhar approaching her with deadly purpose, then his lifeless eyes as he slid down the wall.
Diana pressed her fingers to her temples. She couldn’t let herself dwell on what happened with Iomhar. But even though she knew she’d had no choice but to attack, that he would have killed Artair had she not acted, the guilt lingered.
She stood and made her way out the chamber, heading down the hall. She paused at the top of the stairs; Artair and Liosa’s voices carried to where she stood.
“I was the one who killed Iomhar,” Artair was saying, and Diana jerked in surprise. “And I knocked Tamhas unconscious,” he continued. “They’ll send more men here—ye and Keagan cannae stay. Ye need tae find somewhere safe tae go. I’ll get myself and Diana north. And then I’m returning with men tae fight them.”
“We’ve been dealing with these men for months. We willnae have them force us out of our home,” Liosa snapped.
“Ye have no choice,” he barked. "They may kill ye both in retaliation for what I’ve done.”
“If we leave, they’ll go after our servants instead,” Keagan protested.
“Send them away. They can return after I come back with more men tae defend yer lands.”
“We’ll come with ye north. We’ll not go hide while ye defend our home,” Liosa said.
“Liosa, ’tis dangerous—"
“Ye said I’ll be part of yer life now, did ye not? I’m not speaking of fighting—I’m no fighter,” Liosa continued. “But I can help in other ways, and I’m coming with ye. We both are.”
A long silence fell.
“All right,” Artair said with a heavy sigh. “Ye’re still as stubborn as always, Liosa.”
“Aye,” Liosa returned. "Ye and me both, brother."
Diana smiled, starting to head down the stairs, but froze at Liosa’s next words.
“I can tell ye care about Diana, and I ken ye’re lovers. Why are ye so eager tae send her away?” Liosa asked.
“I'm not eager tae send her away. Diana doesnae belong—she doesnae belong with me. She—she has a life of her own. Our run-ins with those men prove ’tis not safe for her here. What’s between us—’tis only a brief affair. ’Tis best she goes her own way.”
A sharp pain twisted her gut and tears stung her eyes. Swallowing hard, she turned to hurry back to her chamber.
She shook her head, feeling foolish over her reaction. Artair hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know. So why did it hurt so much?
When he entered her chamber moments later, he had a tray of food. He looked relieved to see that she was awake. She stood stiffly, forcing a polite smile.
“Are ye all right?” he murmured, moving toward her. He reached out to cup her face, and Diana allowed herself to briefly relish in his touch before stepping back.
“Yes. I was just shaken. I’m fine now.”
“I should never have allowed ye tae go with them,” he said, his face shadowing with regret.
“No. If I hadn’t come, they would have killed you.”
Her chest tightened at the thought. Even though guilt lingered over Iomhar’s death, she would never regret saving Artair’s life.
“Still,” he continued, locking his determined blue eyes with hers. “I’m getting ye back tae Tairseach. Liosa and Keagan are traveling north with us, ’tis not safe for them here. I'd rather not travel so soon after a snowstorm, but we've no choice. We'll have tae pray for decent weather as we make our way north," he added, glancing briefly out the window. "And now that yer craft is becoming stronger, perhaps ye can practice transporting yerself back tae yer own time sooner, without the portal. The sooner ye’re out of this time, the sooner ye’re out of danger.”
She tensed at his words, searching his face, but his gaze was steady. He’s right, she reminded herself. Hadn’t she wanted to avoid coming to the past for this very reason—its innate danger?
“Now,” he said, “if yer witchcraft has exhausted ye, ye should get more rest after ye eat something. We have a long ride tomorrow—we leave at first light. I want us long gone by the time Tamhas and his men come looking for vengeance.”
He started to leave, but she stopped him.
“Wait,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too needy. “Stay. I—I need distraction.”
She knew that the moment he left her alone, images of Iomhar and his lifeless eyes would haunt her. Artair seemed to understand, giving her a kind smile.
The meal was a vegetable stew that Liosa had sweetened with honey, and she savored every bite.
“I donnae have many memories of my mother as I was still a bairn when she died, but this is a stew she used tae make for me and Liosa, even though my father insisted she let the castle cook make it,” Artair said. “But my mother was stubborn . . . something we both inherited. My mother would tell him, ‘My bairns will ken at least one meal directly from their mother.’”
Diana smiled, charmed by the story.
“It sounds like she was quite a woman.”
“She was. Many people donnae ken that she was born a commoner. It was quite the scand
al when my father, a laird, took her as a wife. But he loved my mother the moment he laid eyes on her.”
“My father told me something similar,” Diana said, warmed by the memory.
“Aye? How did they meet? Was it during a ritual of some sort?” Artair asked, eyes wide, and Diana laughed.
“Witches don’t spend all their time performing rituals. They met in a mundane way—at university,” she said. “My father told me he had to ask my mother out at least a dozen times before she agreed to date him. She told me she was reluctant to marry a fellow stiuireadh.”
“Well, I’m glad she did,” Artair said, his voice dropping an octave as his blue eyes settled on her. “Because together, they made the lovely witch sitting across from me.”
She flushed, lowering her gaze. Artair stood, reaching out to pull her to her feet.
“Artair—" she said, blinking up at him in surprise.
“I’ve not thanked ye properly,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms, “for saving my life.”
He held her close and kissed her, probing her mouth thoroughly with his. She melted into his kiss, and for a few, glorious moments, the trauma of the day faded. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. She needed more of him. And for as long as she was in this time, she was going to have him.
Diana broke off the kiss and stepped back, lowering her gown. Artair stilled, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“Diana, after what happened today, perhaps ye should—"
“I said I needed a distraction,” Diana interrupted, arching a brow. “Are you not up to the challenge?”
Artair’s expression shifted from concern to mischief, and he gave her a devious smile.
“Oh, I’m up tae the challenge, witch,” he whispered.
She let out a moan of delight as he lowered her gown to the floor, lowering his hand to stroke her moist center. Trembling with need, she reached up to pull off his tunic as he stepped out of his kilt, and she ran her hands along every inch of his skin, relishing in the feel of his muscled hardness beneath her fingers.
Keeping her gaze trained on his, she removed his hand from her center and lowered her own hand down to stroke him. He stiffened and let out a strangled moan.
She kept stroking him as she led him back to the bed, pushing him down as she lowered her mouth to his cock, laving the head with her tongue.
“Diana—" he rasped.
She continued to lap at him, luxuriating in the feel of him in her mouth. Artair’s body bucked, but he reached down to lift her head from his hardness.
“I want tae come inside ye,” he whispered, and pulled her down onto the bed, seizing both of her breasts with his mouth before sinking inside her with a groan.
Diana arched hungrily against him, gasping against his mouth as he began to thrust, their bodies moving together until the pleasure became too much; it coiled like a tight spring within her before bursting, and her orgasm claimed every part of her body. She cried out as he shuddered and came as well, silencing her with a kiss. They both rode out their pleasure until they collapsed together onto the bed.
“Did I distract ye, lass?” he asked, when they’d both caught their breath.
She gave him a teasing smile. “A wee bit.”
Her smile faded as she gazed up at his handsome face, reaching up to stroke his firm jaw.
“Artair,” she whispered. “I didn’t think when Iomhar charged at you with that dagger. I just reacted. All I knew was that I would have done anything to save your life. Anything at all.”
His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead.
“I would have done the same for ye, my Diana.”
She recalled the feeling of power within her as she'd killed Iomhar. For so long she’d resisted her power, but what if she embraced her magic? What if she could do more to help Artair fight Tamhas?
He seemed to read her mind, taking her hand and placing it to his lips.
“I’m getting ye tae Tairseach,” he said, and something twisted inside her, her post-coital bliss vanishing. “Away from all this danger—and back tae yer life.”
Chapter 17
They set out to leave the manor early the next day. They planned to make their first stop in Edinburgh before continuing north to Inverness and then onward to the Highlands. Edinburgh was a two days' ride away, and Inverness another several days' ride. With stops to sleep at inns along the way and to water and feed their horses before changing them in Edinburgh, it would take them a little over a week to arrive in the Highlands.
“A week to get to the Highlands?” Diana had breathed, when he’d detailed their travel plans the night before. “In my time, it would only take a few hours by train. Even less by plane.”
“I believe ye, lass, though I donnae ken how ’tis possible,” Artair replied, shaking his head.
During his time with Kensa, she’d tried to explain the faster means of transport in the future, but to Artair, such transport sounded dangerous, and Kensa confirmed that many people died in car and plane accidents every year. Artair would trust his horse over any metal contraption, even if it meant getting to his destination took longer.
Artair intended to take Diana to Tairseach before he returned to his manor and sought out the help of the MacGreghor clan. An ache seared his chest at the thought of sending her away, but he had no choice—it was too dangerous for her to stay. And by the time they reached the Highlands, she could leave with a clear heart; she’d done her duty by leading him back to his home and to his time. He would just have to shutter away his pain at her departure and carry the memory of her for the rest of his days: he knew in his heart that no other lass would ever compare to his golden witch.
As they rode away from the manor, his eyes focused on Diana as she rode alongside Liosa. She’d told him her horseback riding skills came from lessons she’d taken as a child in the Scottish countryside with her parents. Besides her riding ability, she’d seemed to adapt to the fourteenth century well.
It relieved him to see that her eyes were no longer shadowed the way they’d been the day before. He hoped that in time she would forget she'd had to kill Iomhar, though he suspected a part of her would always remember. His grip tightened on his reins and his jaw clenched as he recalled the sickening look on Iomhar’s face as he’d approached her. Had Diana not killed Iomhar, he would have done it himself.
To calm himself, he focused on the beauty of the waking day around him. The array of colors that filled the sky as the sun rose, the melting snow of the countryside, revealing patches of green earth beneath. The air was brisk and smelled of damp earth. He relished in the cold air on his skin; he had never minded cold weather, and he’d missed the air while he’d been inside Liosa’s manor during the storm.
They stopped just before midday to water their horses and eat some of the provisions they'd brought with them. He stood with Keagan as they watched Liosa and Diana speak in hushed tones, sharing a quiet laugh.
"I'm glad my wife and Diana have become friendly. Liosa hasnae had a lady friend for some time. Her days have been filled with matters of the household and the difficulties of getting with child."
“I’m glad as well,” Artair said, though a pang pierced him as he spoke the words. Their burgeoning friendship couldn’t last; Diana would be leaving soon.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine Diana staying in this time and continuing her friendship with Liosa, spending her days at his side and filling his empty manor with her infectious light.
But he didn’t allow himself to dwell on such thoughts. Diana would be safe—and happy—in her own time. She was too bonnie to stay alone for long; she would find a good man to wed her. Artair himself would find another lass to wed. If Drostan MacGreghor still favored him, he could pair him with another noble's daughter. Yet the thought didn’t bring him much comfort, only filling him with jealousy, sadness, and loss.
They continued to ride until they reached the village
of Lerick, where they stopped at an inn. The innkeeper recognized Keagan and slapped his shoulder in greeting. After they settled into their rooms, Artair sought out Diana, finding her standing by the window, peering out. Her expression was troubled; he hoped that she wasn’t thinking of Iomhar.
Diana needs a respite, he decided. When they arrived in Edinburgh, he would take her around the city, give her a glimpse of city life in this time before she returned to the future. And, selfishly, he knew it would be a way of spending more time with her.
"We're safe here," he said as he entered her room. “There’s no need tae fret about anything. I’ll not let anything happen tae ye."
"I know," she said, turning to face him, her expression still clouded.
"Then what troubles you?”
She met his gaze, her eyes turbulent. After a moment, she gave him a smile that seemed forced.
"I'm just tired from the day's ride, that's all."
He could tell that she wasn't telling him the truth. Hurt pierced his chest. After all they’d been through together, he thought she was past hiding things from him. But he told himself that perhaps this was for the best since they were soon to part ways.
He turned away from her, moving to the door.
“I’ll see ye downstairs for supper.”
* * *
Diana was smiling and laughing with Liosa and Keagan at supper. She’d seemed to set aside whatever had troubled her, though to Artair it seemed as if she were trying too hard to appear relaxed and jovial.
He noticed with irritation that she'd changed from her riding clothes to a crimson gown with a daringly low bodice. He found his eyes, and the eyes of every other man in the inn's dining area—with the exception of Keagan’s—on her.
He gritted his teeth, jealousy flooding him as other men eyed his Diana. Not yer Diana, he reminded himself. She wasn't his wife. She wasn't even officially his mistress. But that didn't stop anger from roaring to life inside him as she smiled up at the blushing innkeeper who poured more ale into her cup.
Artair's Temptress: Highlander Fate Book Five Page 10
