Highlander's Stolen Destiny: A Medieval Scottish Historical Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  “On this fine day, I present to you the first joust. A trial that has never before been seen in this kingdom of England.” To another raucous cheer from the spectators, the king swept his arm over the combat area. “There shall be a test of skill and strength between a man of the Highlands and my own son.” He waved his arms again.

  Trumpets promptly sounded. Skye gulped when she saw Brice appear from the direction of the tents that boasted all manner of colors. Mary was just as apprehensive. He was seated on a white charger appointed to him by the king. He looked resplendent in his shining armor. Brice’s armor suited him perfectly; it clung to his body like a second skin. Her heart yearned and feared for him at the same time.

  “His opponent, my son, the Prince of Wales,” announced the king.

  More trumpeting followed.

  On the other side of the jousting space appeared the prince dressed in ash-black armor and riding a stallion of the same color. Skye had to admit to herself that he looked magnificent and to her chagrin deadly. His mount’s nostrils flared red as if it knew of the impending fight.

  “These men will fight until one of them yields… The victor will forever have my favor. As for the defeated man, he will have to practice some more.” The king’s remark invited a deep rumble of mirth from the crowd.

  Skye held her breath. Could she be so fortunate? “Does that mean he will be set free if he wins?” she asked of Mary.

  Her future mother-in-law sighed. “I know he is a good fighter and a brave man, but how can he beat the prince? My son has never fought a joust before.”

  This remark made Skye think for a moment. “Don’t worry, Mother; he will do us proud. And if I understood the king correctly, the contest is not one until the death.”

  “Just pray that Brice doesn’t harm the king’s son. Doing so would invite royal disfavor,” said Elizabeth.

  In moments, the queen stepped next to her husband. She held a dark green silk cloth in her right hand.

  “When I drop this handkerchief, the bout will begin,” she declared.

  The two knights urged their horses forward until they came to a halt between two poles with flags attached to them. On Brice’s side, they were white like the plumage on his helm, and on the prince’s side, they were black like his armor. An eerie silence descended over the tourney ground. Only the flapping of colorful banners and pennants in the breeze and the whickering of horses could be heard.

  All of a sudden, a loud roar erupted from the spectator stands. Frantically, Skye looked to her right. She saw a flapping piece of green cloth tumble and turn as it fell to the ground. Her gaze snapped back in the direction of the jousting area. Skye gulped. Before her, the two opponents urged their steeds forward with heavy thwacks of their iron-shod feet to the animals’ flanks. On cue, the great destriers lurched forward into a fearsome gallop – it was a beautiful, but frightful sight to behold.

  Skye held her breath as the two knights approached one another at great speed. Next to her, Mary felt the same trepidation. The two riders’ passage across the space that separated them appeared to last an eternity. Then there was a loud clash as iron tips hit shields. The impact splintered Brice’s lance as his horse carried him on past his opponent. Behind him, Edward struggled on his saddle as not to be unhorsed. Both men had survived the first engagement to screams of adulation from the onlookers.

  “He did it,” screamed Skye. She hugged her future mother-in-law.

  “It is not over yet,” said Elizabeth.

  “Aye, they will continue doing that until one of them is unhorsed,” said Sir Percival, looking grim. “The Black Prince is known for his skill, and he has had many years to hone it.”

  Back on the tourney ground, Brice grabbed another lance from the wooden rack at the end of the track with lightning speed. He then urged his mount about face, ultimately charging back from where he had come. In front of him, the prince was a little slower, but he too managed to obtain another lance. By the time Brice had nearly covered one-quarter of the way, he had begun his charge back towards him.

  Skye saw everything in slow motion. She could see the horse’s nostrils flare red, emitting hazy clouds of vapor. Above them, like leaden weights, the knights stuck to their backs as if they were one with the storming animals. Again, the sound of splintering and the thwack of iron against wood carried over the vast space. Once more, the roar of the crowd filled the air. Skye lifted her hand to her mouth when she saw the man she loved lying on the ground. Mary inhaled a deep breath and instinctively grabbed the younger woman’s hand. Brice did not move a muscle.

  A little further afield, the Black Prince turned his horse and rode gingerly to his opponent who attempted to get to his feet. The effort was in vain; Brice’s heavy armor weighed nearly as much as he did. Only with the help of his squire could he get back up. Usually, it would not be so, but the knights wore reinforced suits especially for the occasion.

  “Do you yield, Brice?” asked Edward with a small smile playing on his lips. “You did very well for someone who has never done this before – I commend you.”

  “Thank ye, Your Royal Highness. I could ask for no greater praise.”

  Edward inclined his head slightly. “This was not a fair contest. How about we fight with the sword. No more of this cowardly hiding behind armor. It will be done just in our colors and no more.”

  Brice nodded. “As ye wish, Your Royal Highness.” He called out to one of the squires. To his surprise, King David joined his father instead and rushed toward him. When they reached him, they helped to remove his armor. In the meantime, the Black Prince did the same with his squire after he had dismounted.

  Dressed in their doublets, a quilting coat stuffed with linen, the two antagonists approached one another. An eerie silence hung in the air. It appeared that everyone present held his or her breaths. The antagonists held double-handed broadswords in their right hands. After both of them had bowed to the king and his wife, they circled each other, their feet crunching on the frosty ground.

  “So, my friend, let’s see what you can do with the sword. I hear that you Scots are rather good,” said Edward, appraising Brice carefully.

  They circled each other for a while longer, neither one of them wanting to make the first move. Then the prince came at Brice with lightning speed. Brice’s riposte was perfect. However, the force of the prince’s first strike jarred his arm. His was astounding as he attacked four more times before taking a few steps back.

  The Black Prince smiled, feigning an evil glint, his eyes piercing blackness. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

  Brice arched his eyebrows. “Nothing to brag about, Your Royal Highness. All men of standing are reared with the sword in hand.”

  Taking advantage of this brief distraction, Brice attacked with striking dexterity. However, the skill in which the Black Prince defended himself made him gulp. A loud concerted intake of air and a few shouts amongst the spectators made Brice look down. In his battle fever, he had not noticed the prince’s sword slice a superficial gash across his torso.

  “A nice little something to remember me by,” said the Prince of Wales, grinning.

  “Well said, Your Royal Highness. I will think of ye always when I behold it. It will remind me of a friend who is also, unfortunately, my enemy.” Brice winked.

  “Nicely said. Now, it remains for you to offer me the same courtesy.”

  In a flash, it happened. Fast as a mamba, the Black Prince threw all he had at Brice – he was a whirlwind of martial dexterity. Brice could barely see his blade as it clashed with his opponent’s. He faced a wall of cloth, flesh, and steel. He reacted instinctively. Time seemed to slow down, and suddenly as if in slow motion, he saw an opening and butted the prince on the head.

  Surprised, Edward cried out as he took a step back. Sweating heavily and leaving his antagonist no time to recover, Brice moved forward with speed and youthful agility. Stunned, all Edward could do was trust his instincts. His defense, although uncoordin
ated, was efficient and the bout ended with another gash, again on Brice’s person.

  The crowd was silent. Skye held her hands together on her lap in prayer. The man she loved had suffered another wound.

  “Fortunately, they fight with the sword,” said Mary. “Mungo and Murtagh trained him well; he knows what he is doing.”

  All Skye could do was nod.

  The prince attacked again. He came in a blur of steel and flesh as he hammered onto Brice’s sword attempting to break him. The prince sneered when he noticed his opponent weakening due to the loss of blood.

  “Not long now and I will have the bout,” said Prince Edward.

  “Not likely. I want my father’s and my freedom, and to get back to my mother and the woman I love.” Despite the throbbing on his torso and arm, Brice still managed a retort.

  “That is something to fight for,” said the prince, nodding.

  Forced back to the limits of the fighting ground, Brice stumbled and fell. The prince immediately stopped his attack and gloated. He briefly looked at the crowd for support. It was all Brice needed. With athletic agility, he jumped to his feet, and in a crouching motion, sliced his blade onto the prince’s thigh. The man cried out in pain as blood seeped down his leg. Brice gave him no respite and came at him with whirlwind ferocity, forcing the prince back the entire length of the ground he’d only recently gained. With one last thrust of his blade, Brice forced the prince onto his back. He landed with a thump on the frosty ground.

  The prince looked down to find Brice’s sword placed against his neck. “Well done, my friend. That was well fought,” he said, slapping the blade aside and getting to his feet. When he stood, he raised Brice’s arm. “A draw!” he yelled. In moments, the crowd burst into a cacophonous roar of applause. “This man has earned the freedom for both his father and himself.” The handclapping and shouting grew louder still.

  Still breathing heavily, Brice looked up. He swallowed deeply. Could it be for real? Was it Skye and his mother he saw – he would know them both from any distance. It was them in the stands, resembling angels from the heavens. His heart beat faster than during the contest. At last, he would be reunited with the woman he loved.

  The banquet that followed the tournament in Windsor Castle was like nothing Skye and Mary had ever seen. It was even more lavish than the one Mary had during her wedding with the Earl of Wavel and that had already been abundant.

  When everyone had been seated, attendants entered the vast banqueting hall carrying basins, ewers, and napkins, vessels made of gold and silver and each one boasting the king’s coat of arms. They carried them around the company so that they could wash their hands. The food had been prodigious. There had been herring pie, delicious morsels of whale, the porpoise, the grampus, and the sea-wolf. Meats in the form of beef, mutton, and pork complemented this offering, wine flowed like a river, and the minstrels played merry tunes – it was any epicure’s dream.

  “Happy my love?” asked Brice.

  Skye snuggled up closer to him on the bed in their large chamber. They had managed to retire early from the festivities. Alastair and Mary were not so lucky. They had been seated close to the king who insisted they remain with King David. The last Brice and Skye had seen of them was Mary regaling the king with the story of her abduction by Alastair. The tale had the king riveted.

  “There was a time that I thought I would never see ye again,” said Skye, taking a deep breath.

  “Aye, but I am here now. And I am never leaving ye again.” He nudged her chin up with his thumb. Her lips parted with a sharp intake of breath. He stared into her eyes. It was not a lustful gaze, but one of wonderment – as if he saw her for the first time. He stayed like that for a while until his eyes dropped. That was when he saw it. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, the soft rise in her cheeks, the skittish look in her eyes, flitting to his lips and then quickly away. All of it was so new, almost virginal.

  Understanding abruptly seeped through him like warmed honey purling through his veins. He loved this woman more than life itself. The thought sent warm ripples of pleasure through his body, thinning the air in his lungs. His gaze gentled, taking in the vulnerability in her eyes, the willingness in her face, and all he wanted to do was hold her, and comfort her – tell her with his tender ministrations that he would remain with her for all of his life.

  Skye did not know how to respond. The way Brice looked at her broke down any resistance or fear she had suffered since their agonizing parting. His gaze radiated such emotion and power. She found herself realizing that she would let him do anything to her. Skye trusted him with her life, her heart and… her body. And her father would not be around to stop them this time. For the first time, their union would be complete.

  As if under a spell and able to read her mind, his gaze was drawn to her lips, parted and full. The sound of her shallow breathing filled him with a fierce longing.

  “Oh, Skye! How I have dreamed of this moment. I thought I had lost ye forever.” He sighed, moving closer until he was nearly on top of her. In slow motion, he bent toward her, closing his eyes to caress her mouth with his own. A weak gasp escaped her as she stiffened, but he couldn’t relent. To taste her lips again was far more than he bargained for, and he drew her close with a raspy groan. With a fierce hold, he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her deeply, gently, possessive in his touch. His fingers twined in her hair, desperate to explore.

  Before he knew it, beyond his comprehension, her body melded into his with an answering groan, and he was briefly taken aback when her mouth rivaled his with equal demand. Desire licked through him, searing his body and then his conscience. With a heated shudder, he gripped her arms and pushed her back, his breathing ragged as he held her at bay.

  “Oh, my God,” she hissed out into his ear. It felt so perfect to have the man she loved with her again.

  “I need ye,” Brice croaked out, his hands discovering her body as if it was the first time.

  With his muscles trembling with desire and with the determination of a man possessed by a beast, he pulled his woman toward him. His need was so great that he was almost rough. Brice growled into her mouth when he kissed her. His hands already roamed over her body freely, removing what remained of her clothing – she let him – it was what she wanted most in the world. In her need, Skye was no less violent in her plundering and undressing. When they were finally naked, she rubbed against him and held his buttocks with strong hands, pulling him closer.

  “Oh, Brice… I missed ye so.” She closed her eyes and shuddered with delight as he pressed his lips to her nipples and suckled on them. The circling motion of his tongue and the sucking of his mouth held her in a vice. Skye mewed when his hands moved up and down her flanks, caressing and grabbing along the way.

  “Ye’re so beautiful, and yer taste… I can’t believe I survived for so long without it.” Brice made his point with a loud slurp as he ran his tongue from her right breast to the left one.

  Skye’s eyes snapped open. A feral growl escaped her lips when she felt him kiss his way lower. She automatically added pressure to his head, pushing him lower toward the mound of her lush blonde-colored curls.

  For a heartbeat, she felt slightly self-conscious at having the most intimate part of her body so openly exposed to his gaze and caresses – it had been so long since they had last lain together and explored each other. Redness eddied over her skin when she saw him looking at her sex, stroking it with his eyes. She tried to cover herself with her hands, but he stopped her. The sight of her vulnerable and exposed in the weak light, given to them by the fire in the hearth and a few flickering candles, made him melt to the core.

  “It’s all right, my love. I want to see ye, feel ye, be one with ye and…”

  “Oh, my God!” gushed passed her lips when he started to kiss her there. Her head dipped lower. Not once did she take her eyes off his. His erotic intent was imprinted there.

  Skye’s magical musk assaulted Brice’s nostrils
like a heavy summer’s storm – he was home again, in the only place where he wished to be. He inhaled her scent, drawing it up his nose until it fried his brain, inducing him to become even more demanding.

  “Yer honeypot has the sweetest nectar I have ever tasted, my love.” He was maniacal with wanting.

  “Argh, Brice.” Skye moved about on the spot as the now familiar sensation of climax caressed her sex and breasts with careful fingers. Individual bursts of pleasure shot up from in-between her legs, twirling, racing and intermingling until she yelled out his name like a holy incantation. Her fingers dug into his thick dark hair and interlocked there as if they were the rungs of life itself. She hit the point of no return when deep groans complemented her flight in a cavernous cacophony.

  When Brice felt Skye’s body go limp in his grip, he reared up to behold her once more. She was magnificent. This consumption of his woman had claimed him and driven him wild. He remained still, watching, drinking in all of her body as if he saw it for the first time. He could barely move, breathe. Thought was something of an impossibility; too enthralled was he by the beauty of the woman lying beneath him.

  Skye let her mind wander to the earth-shattering symphony that had just taken hold of her body. She opened her eyes. The tenderness she found in his made her heart liquesce. On cue, she let her hands roam. She smiled up at Brice as she rediscovered his body with tactile intent. He groaned when she felt for his sex. It was like a separate organism, rigid and strong.

  As she did this, she felt the increasing warmth on her skin and the glow of her flourishing femininity. Skye felt ripe like a juicy sun-sweet peach, brimming, and ready for the plucking. She heard him take another deep breath. It felt so good to have this effect on him. In some ways, she felt like a minstrel playing a musical instrument. Every little thrum was a like a sweet note, creating pleasure for the one listening.

  The afterglow of her skin still held her captive. Her deep azure blue eyes opened wider still when she felt rigid flesh brush against her.