She liked to feel Williams’s strong body next to hers. It felt so safe being close to him. His kiss still lingered on her lips from the previous night and something stirred within her. She ached for him to touch her again, and next time she would not stop him. That’s if there would be a next time. Her mind strayed to the historical facts about the battle: 10,000 Scotsmen would die. What if the old lady had been wrong about William Stewart and he didn’t survive? Or what if she had somehow changed the course of history just by being here?
Soon they could see the campfire smoke in the distance. The small party had been joined by more men along the way and it had soon grown to over 500 men heading for the camp. Soon they were amongst men and horses, rounded tents and piles of weaponry, and the sounds and smells were overwhelming. There were makeshift fires over which black cauldrons were hung making countless broths and stews, while flagons of wine and ale were being handed around. It reminded Rebecca of a Tudor-themed rock festival.
They found a space to put up their tent, and soon a fire was lit and their evening meal was simmering in the pot. William told her to keep out of sight in the tent while he and the other men went about their business, feeding the horses and preparing their weaponry. It was nightfall before she saw him again when they all sat around the camp fire eating the thick chicken broth. It was basic, but it was one of the best things she had tasted and even the stale bread to soak up the liquid was delicious.
She was to sleep alone in the tent that night while the men slept with the horses. She was tired from the day’s ride, and William brought in some extra blankets to try and make her as comfortable as possible. He seemed to be avoiding any intimacies with her, and she struggled to reach out to him. She lay cold in the tent and could not sleep, anxious about the coming battle.
She must have slept, if only lightly, for a noise in the tent awoke her and she sat up quickly, her heart pounding in the darkness.
“It’s only me.” William was by her side and gently touching her arm.
“I had to come and see ye, Rebecca. I’ve been trying so hard not to, but I cannae stop thinking about ye. Tomorrow night we will camp up on Flodden Hill, and so tonight is the last night I might have here. Ye will have to stay here with some of the squires, but ye will be safe here.”
He brought his face towards hers to see her more clearly in the darkness. “This may be our only night together.”
His eyes burned brightly into hers. She wanted to tell him that the battle would be lost but that he wouldn’t die. But how could she tell a man that 10,000 of his fellow men would be killed? She was falling in love with this man and she didn’t want to say anything that might alter his fate.
Touching his face lightly, she stroked the tumbling auburn hair. He closed his eyes against her gentle touch and brought her close to him. Time seemed to stop; they could be any two people in love anywhere throughout history. Love is the one constant throughout the centuries, and both their hearts burned with the fire of a thousand loves. His lips found hers, and this time he couldn’t hold back his passion. As he pushed her back into the blankets, their mouths slipped and slid across each other. His tongue flicked lightly at her lips, teasing and biting gently. She could feel his hardness against her as he pushed her further into the ground, his desire thrusting into her, wanting her so badly.
Moving his hands underneath her tunic, he pulled down the leggings and she arched her back so they could be removed easily. Next he removed her tunic, lifting it over her head until she was just in her bra and panties. He had never seen a bra before, and she removed it for him as he cupped her naked breasts in his strong hands. Laying her down, he moved his mouth to her nipples, gently teasing and nibbling until she was moaning with pleasure. His tongue was wet and warm as he licked and sucked, and she was in ecstasy.
His hand moved tentatively to her thigh. He didn’t want to frighten her like the other night, but his moves were urgent, and he needed to be inside her. Spreading her legs gently with his hands, he moved his hand inside the white satin of her underwear. She was very wet and his fingers slipped easily into her moist folds. Rebecca gasped as he found her clitoris and gently rubbed the swollen gland with his finger. She thought she might explode with delight. She guessed 16th-century men could definitely show 21st-century men a thing or two. Soon she was naked and his long tongue was licking her wetness. She gasped and writhed in ecstasy.
William stood up and started to remove his tunic. He stood in front of her naked, his cock erect and gleaming with pre-cum. She had never seen a man fully naked before, not in real life, anyway. Her eyes widened at the size of him. Both the girth and length of his cock seemed enormous and she imagined it inside her, filling her up, and she ached to feel it.
Pushing her back, he opened her legs and bent down to her. He sensed it was her first time and wanted to be as gentle as possible. Holding his erection, he guided the tip into the entrance of her hole and pushed gently. God, she was tight and he wanted to thrust himself completely inside her, but he needed to be patient. He didn’t want to hurt her. He thrust again and her tightness almost made him cum, so pulling out his cock, he breathed deeply, wanting to hold onto the moment. Once inside her, he knew that he would explode, and he wanted to savor these minutes just in case they were his last.
His cock twitched and he could hold back no longer. Guiding himself into her, he thrust deeply until she had taken him fully and her body shuddered. Again and again, his thrusts became more urgent until she exploded in pleasure and he followed soon behind, filling her with his hot semen. She could feel his thickness throbbing inside her, and she wanted to cry, not from sorrow but from sheer happiness. Enveloping her into his arms, he kissed her face and her hair and held her tightly until she fell fast asleep, safe in his arms.
When she awoke in the morning, she was alone. She could hear the men preparing to leave outside and quickly dressed and went out to see what was happening. William had packed his shield and swords and was ready to mount his horse, but seeing her, he rushed to her side.
“I wanted to leave before you woke.”
“I’m glad I caught you.”
Their conversation was stilted in front of the other men and they had to resist the urge to kiss each other.
“I should have a token to give you to keep you safe.”
William smiled. “I’ll picture your face before we go into battle tomorrow.”
Rebecca had a thought. “Wait, I can do better than that!” Running into the tent, she brought out her bag and handed him the phone. “Here, take this and you can have my image with you.”
She had saved their selfie as a screensaver, and she showed him how to turn the iPhone on and off.
William tucked it into his tunic. It was time to go and the others were shouting at him to mount his horse. There was no time for long goodbyes and after touching her arm lightly, he was away.
She watched the men ride into the distance, her heart already heavy for their losses.
The day was long and she had little to do. William had warned her to keep out of sight and keep away from the other men staying behind in the camp. Many were young boys, just learning their craft and the others old men past the age of battle who were responsible for the camp.
Taking out her notebook, she began to sketch pictures with notes of what she saw. It would be fascinating reading when she got back to 2015, if she ever returned. At first she remained within the confines of the tent, but as the day dragged on, she became bored. Tucking her hair underneath her cap, she started to wander further afield. It seemed quiet and surely no one would notice her. With her slight frame and tunic and leggings, she could easily pass for one of the young squires. Eventually she came to a very large and wealthy-looking tent that bore the royal coat of arms; it must be the tent of King James. Picking up her pencil, she had just started drawing the scene when a hefty arm caught hold of her.
Two burly highlanders stood behind her, their swords drawn, and before she could speak her
hands were fastened behind her and she was thrown into a tent. No one knew who she was and it was assumed that she must be an English spy.
A long time passed before one of the older men came into the tent to speak to her.
“What’s yer name sonny, and who do ye work for?”
She stuttered out William’s name and said that she was his squire. The man rubbed his whiskers. He wasn’t sure. The boy’s accent wasn’t Scots, and there was something unusual about him. He would keep him under watch until William returned.
She was brought some simple food and water during the day, but apart from that, she had no company. At night she was given a blanket but could not sleep. How different the previous night had been. She lay awake thinking of William.
A few miles away, William Stewart lay on the ground looking up at the stars. It was a beautiful night and he wondered if it might be his last. He was sure Rebecca knew something about the battle but was afraid to tell him. He feared the worse. He removed the strange device from his tunic and pressed the button she had shown him. The square box switched into life and he saw a picture of a white apple on a black background. This thing amazed him and he wondered what it was like in 2015. Would he still be remembered? The apple disappeared and was replaced by their image, his face and hers. She was laughing and he was looking confused. She looked beautiful. Kissing the image, he pressed the button to close the machine and to “save the battery” as she had put it.
He prayed to God to keep them both safe.
The next morning, the clouds had set in and what started as a light drizzle turned into torrential rain by mid afternoon. Rebecca listened carefully for any news, but all was quiet. She hadn’t slept well the previous night and was awoken by the sound of loud voices and seemed to recognize one of them. The tent opened and in walked Angus, one of William’s men who had threatened her with a sword a few days earlier. She was grateful for her disguise for he did not seem to recognize her and soon walked out again. She wondered what he was doing here and why he wasn’t at the battle. The reason soon became clear. The battle had already started late afternoon and by now the Scots were being massacred by the English. It seemed that the coward had run away from the danger. A few hours later, a messenger arrived to state that all was lost and to clear the camp. Horses were readied and Rebecca wondered if she would be forgotten when Angus walked into the tent and pulled her outside.
The older man was waiting outside. “He says he’s William Stewart’s squire.”
Angus peered closely at Rebecca, uncertain. Pulling at her cap, he released her blonde hair, which cascaded down her back.
“William Stewart’s whore, more like.” And bringing his face up close to hers, he leered down at her, his cruel mouth mocking her.
“Well, William’s dead so she’s no use to him now. I’m sure I can make good use of her, though.” With that, he dragged her back into the tent.
Rebecca didn’t know what was happening to her. Her whole body had gone into shock. If William was dead, then she was lost, too. The old woman had been wrong after all. Perhaps it was her fault; she had upset the balance of time.
She had a sense of déjà vu but seemed lost in a dream. Angus was suddenly in front of her and from the smell on his breath, he had been drinking a great quantity of ale. His hand was squeezing her arm, but she could not struggle. She had given up the fight. His eyes were like slits and there was cruelty in their steely grey as he looked her up and down.
Licking his lips, he sneered at her and brought his face directly in front of hers.
His breath was stale and sour, and Rebecca turned her face away from him.
“Little whore, I’ll show ye.” He pulled her to the floor as his free hand started to work its way underneath her tunic.
His other hand was around her neck and almost choking her. She thought she might black out when suddenly he released her, his whole weight lifting away from her.
“Angus.”
The voice was his. William had returned and had pulled Angus away from her, punching him to the floor.
Once again his strong arms were around her and she wept softly into his chest.
“But I thought you were dead?”
“I was saved by this.” Reaching into his tunic he pulled out her phone. The glass had been smashed but surprisingly it still worked.
“I took a direct hit from an English archer, but luckily I kept your picture next to my heart and the arrow pierced your machine and not me. Ye saved my life.”
Things were as they should be, as they were always meant to be.
Rebecca returned home to Selkirk with William. She married him a month later and he had a special portrait of her commissioned for the occasion. He wanted her to look like the first time he had seen her, standing in the bed chamber with her hair plaited. She wore a blue velvet dress and a pearl necklace that he bought her as a wedding gift. As a surprise in return, she asked the painter to make two small additions to her picture. In her hand, she would hold an apple to symbolize the phone that had saved him. Remembering the original locket, she had already guessed what the twin-tailed symbol of the siren signified: It was the Starbucks logo from her coffee cup that they had kept it as a reminder of her past.
They lived happily ever after despite the fact that she could never return to her own time. They had four children, two girls and two boys. Her past was now her future. She worried about her Mom missing her and thought of a cunning plan. She recorded a message for her parents on the iPhone, using the last remaining battery power. She hoped they would understand.
James Anderson was furious. He had been digging at the site and found a surprisingly modern object buried quite deeply. It seemed as though a thermos flask had been buried on the site of the old house and inside it were two objects: a mobile phone with the front smashed in and a small locket. He recognized the phone; the students seemed to be glued to them these days. This one was housed in a pink sparkly case and it belonged to Rebecca, that strange American girl that he couldn’t get out of his head. Students weren’t allowed to come onto the site without permission, let alone dig.
It might be a practical joke, but just wait until he saw her; he would definitely give her a piece of his mind.
THE END
The Highland’s Call
Jessica Savage
Copyright ©2015 by Samantha Leal. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work
Chapter 1
Andrea clutched the small stone in the palm of her hand. It felt cool and smooth and somehow strangely comforting. Her Grandmother Betty had insisted that her only granddaughter be given this small artifact on her death. That had happened over a week ago, as Andrea was driving through New York. It was almost as if she knew. An image of her beloved Gran had flitted through her mind at the exact moment she took her last breath.
Betty was her father's mother. Her dad Joe had died a few years ago and her mother Pat had remarried. She had never approved of her stepdad, Pete; he could never replace her beloved father.
Perhaps she was being unfair, but she had always sided with her dad against her mum, and now the two women seemed poles apart, no longer able to communicate with each other. Pat didn’t even attend the funeral. Not that Betty would have minded. She had never approved of the union in the first place.
Andrea had inherited her Grandma's creative talents and she had been close to Betty when she was a child, closer than to her own mother, but after college she had been offered a three-year contract with a major advertising company in New York, and it had been too good an opportunity to turn down. Betty had understood that she needed to fly the nest. She had been a young woman once, although that seemed such a long time ago.
Andrea ha
d only seen her Gran when she flew home for Christmas and important family occasions. Then she had met Steve and her life in the US seemed to take on a more permanent footing, until the death of her Grandma had made her suddenly homesick for the English countryside. She loved the buzz and fast-paced life of New York but now longed for some peace and time to reflect and find herself again, and she certainly couldn't do that on Fifth Avenue.
Steve had stayed behind. He was in the middle of an important project but was willing to travel with her on a trip home for the funeral. For once Andrea didn't feel the need to be accompanied; this time she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and memories. Her insistence on being alone had caused a strain between them, the first serious rift since they got together almost two years ago, and it would be the first time they had spent any real time apart.
The pressure of the stone against her palm brought her back to the present. It had been almost five days since she left JFK airport, and Steve hadn't phoned her since. Not even yesterday after the funeral to see how she was coping. It saddened her to think the man she had grown to love could be so stubborn and heartless, and she began to question her commitment to the relationship. Did she really know him? He had seemed to be perfect for her, and she had enjoyed his company; yet when she looked back at the continual rounds of friends and parties, drinks and dinners, it seemed somewhat shallow. Lately she had started to feel broody; her body clock reminding her that time was ticking away. She had mentioned it to Steve once in a light-hearted way, and he had held up his hands in mock horror. That would never be the deal with him; his career was way too important, and her needs would always come second.
DIESEL (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 13) Page 60
