At that Fleur tried to sit, but the crowd erupted with laughter and cheers and thunderous applause. She performed a half-hearted curtsy while heat poured through her cheeks, then finally sat with a smile.
Rory leaned in close. “Amazing tale! I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Aye, that was so good!” Helen said, her own cheeks taking in a slight pink hue.
Duncan didn’t say anything. However, the look on his face was not what Fleur had expected. The man wore the biggest smile she’d ever seen on him, and it looked damned good.
The crowd pushed close, some people congratulating her on a story well told, but soon enough a young woman was unfolding a tale about a princess and a bear. That’s when Duncan leaned close and whispered in Fleur’s ear. “Ye’re good at tellin’ tales.”
She turned to him, staring into his eyes turned forest green. “Thank you. Do you tell stories?”
His smile vanished and he leaned away, shaking his head. “Nay.”
It had been said too sternly, almost viciously, that nay. Duncan had distanced himself from her again, which made her want to lean forward, try to tease him, try to get him to smile like that again. God, he’d been beautiful. But his cantankerous sullenness was getting on her nerves. So she let him be. She caught, though, Helen smiling at her, looking from her hulking son to her with a mischievous and curious grin. Fleur wanted to smile back, but she glanced at Rory. He pushed a tankard full of golden bubbling brew toward her with a large smile. Taking the mug, she raised it slightly toward him. He bobbed his head as she took a sip of quite possibly the best ale she’d ever drunk.
Then Rory leaned over the table. “Are ye enjoying yerself here?”
She was, which utterly surprised her. Hey, there was something to be said about indoor plumbing, and when not having it how...deplorable it can be. Still, she liked it here. A lot. She nodded, trying with everything in her not to glance at Duncan.
“Good.” Rory leaned away slightly, but, after glancing at Duncan and Helen, inclined forward again. “I haven’t officially invited ye to stay at the castle. But yer welcome to stay as long as ye’d like.”
Fleur nodded and looked at Helen, who was absorbed in the story of the bear turning into a prince. “Mrs. Cameron has offered for me to stay at her house, which I’d like to do.”
Rory smiled yet again, but it seemed a bit forced. Again. “’Course. I just wanted to extend the invite, let ye know yer welcome. Besides, I’m makin’ my men stay here in Durness for the next few days of trainin’.”
Duncan gave Rory a quick glance, but didn’t say anything. However, he caught her eye afterward. The harshness from that one “nay” suddenly vanished. His mouth had been in a straight line, but then his lips smoothed into an easy smile. Aimed right at her.
Zip. Straight through her heart, lingering in her breasts, and lowering through her belly and thighs and between them as well, she felt the impact of that smile.
Jeez, was sexual desire one of the stupidest drives ever?
She wouldn't stay here, so why have these feelings? She was from a different time. Further, Duncan was acting distant and cool, and that was so messed up to want a man like that. Maybe she needed therapy. Well, he wasn’t acting distant now. He kept smiling at her, so, yeah, he was quite warm currently. Kind of hot actually.
But, and this was a big but, any kind of affection she had toward Duncan needed to stop. She had only one mission, the muses had said, to help someone. And that someone was probably Helen.
Again, Fleur tried everything to look away from Duncan, to stop thinking about the way his knee just kissed her own.
He didn’t need her help. He was strong, virile, and dreamy. And obviously not in need of any kind of assistance.
Damn it! She had a mission. It had to be a special mission, not something ridiculous, like desire. Hurling a person through time had to be a serious endeavor. She wasn’t here for a schoolgirl crush to develop.
Further, why of all the idiotic times was it now she finally felt something for a man?
This was absurd.
Yes, this had to be stopped.
Chapter 9
Silence always made Rory feel uncomfortable, but tonight he’d suffice with it. After all, he had Fleur on his arm, while Duncan and his mother led the way back to Mrs. Cameron’s house. It was a rare warm night. The sky was filled with twinkling white stars against a velvet black. Only a few torches lit the way. Rory had made sure to stroll slow enough to gain some distance between himself and Duncan, and he’d thought about chatting with Lady Fleur, but her delicate hold on his bent arm, the slight feel of her breast against him, made him appreciate the solitude he’d created.
“Have you lived in this area all your life?” Lady Fleur asked, interrupting his hazy thoughts about her body being so close.
He shook his head. “Just returned from Edinburgh. I was there for the last six years.”
“Hmm. What for if you don’t mind me asking?”
Again, he shook his head then looked down at her. She was so lovely. A huge bulbous, yellow moon helped capture her appearance—glowing skin, bright dark eyes framed by thick black wings of lashes, and that adorable wee nose of hers. He wondered what she would look like in his bed, wrapped tight with pleasure while he was between her long legs. He smiled and felt his solar plexus tingle, his groin tighten. Lord, those full pink lips of hers seemed to beg to be kissed.
“I was there to learn.” His voice sounded unstable, and he had to clear it. “I don’t ken if ye have something like it with yer clans, stewarding, but we foster our young nobles out to other noble families to assist with education and the like.”
“And the like?”
He laughed, loving her questions. “I learned to dance and write poetry and all sorts of nonsense.”
She granted him a wide smile, and he felt as though he’d smashed through a mountain. The power went to his head, and he found himself chattering away. “I also learned the art of sieges, tactics—”
“Warfare.”
He nodded. “As much as I learned, Duncan is truly the master. It’s an honor learning even more from him.”
She squeezed his arm and settled closer. He marveled at this, because in so doing she’d pressed her breast against him that much more. Lord, it was hard to think with that perfect globe against his arm.
She inhaled a bit sharply, bringing his attention back to her beautiful visage. “Why—why do you need an army? Now?”
“We’re Highlanders. We always need an army.”
She giggled at his jest, which he hoped she would, but she was persistent. “Seriously, with Cromwell in power, isn’t having an army...threatening to him? To the Parliament?”
Rory glanced down quickly, trying to gauge her face, looking for any sign that what she’d asked might mean more than she’d indicated. There were spies everywhere. And if there weren’t spies, Cromwell’s new policies made it so neighbors testified against neighbor, kin against kin. It was madness and had to be stopped. His own father had been executed from the bloody revolution. The thought pained him, but he pushed it aside as he always did. In the years after Cromwell had stormed through Scotland, anarchy, not an English parliament, ruled.
However, his brother was trying to calm the chaos Cromwell had created. Rory was proud of his brother for taking the lairdship after their father’s execution. Even prouder when he’d whispered to him the secret plans to be on the ready for Cromwell again. The new English sovereign was getting old, and this parliamentary rule would have to shift eventually. Then the MacKays would be ready. No plans were in action, other than to be armed and prepared. With so many Highlander men dead or lost from the war, they’d had to recruit children—lads of four and ten and older—to become soldiers, but soon enough the lads would grow into fierce men. And Rory would be at the helm, leading them back to glory.
Rory patted Lady Fleur’s hand, wrapped around his arm. “Nothing to worry yer bonny head about.”
She frowned and looked away.
Shite, that had been the wrong thing to say. Well, of course it had been. He could tell from her roaming dark eyes, so insightful and intense, that she was highly intelligent. Placating her by calling her pretty wouldn’t do. He sighed.
“Aye,” he whispered, which made her head swivel back his direction. “’Tis threatening to build an army in these times, but being unprepared might kill us all, Lady Fleur.”
She nodded with a sympathetic glance.
“Besides, we need some sort of law now. Cromwell’s not here to help with the bedlam that’s ensued since his reign.”
“The mosstroopers? They help with the bedlam? What are they, by the way?”
“They used to serve a good purpose, defenders of the land, but since Cromwell they’ve turned into thieves. And, aye, they ensure pandemonium persists.”
“And building an army would stop them?”
“Should.” He nodded.
She blinked and looked ahead. Thinking, Rory was sure. Still, she seemed to cuddle a tad closer, and, again, it made him feel as if he were the strongest man alive. Lord, he liked her. Loved her thoughtful questions. And those eyes. God, they were so dark, so deep with contemplations he wished she’d share with him.
What might have begun as a juvenile competition between himself and Duncan, whether the man knew it or not, had turned into something far more serious in one day’s time. Lady Fleur was unlike any other woman he’d met, and he wondered about a future with her. Some of the best men he’d read about in history had a strong woman beside them, and that woman had been their best advocate and council.
He knew he was jumping to conclusions with Lady Fleur, but he couldn’t help himself. She was so...different. Refreshing. Lovely. Tantalizing.
Mrs. Cameron and Duncan walked through her front garden gate, and Duncan held it open for Lady Fleur and him while Mrs. Cameron walked ahead toward her porch and front door. Duncan stared at the lady as they walked past. Jealousy tore through Rory’s brain and stomach, making him feel hollow.
“Good night, Ma,” Duncan said as he shut the garden’s gate.
In the middle of the stone garden path, Rory turned to Duncan with Fleur still on his arm.
Then Duncan bowed his head slightly. “Good night, Captain MacKay, Lady Fleur.”
“You’re leaving for the night?” Lady Fleur asked. Her voice a bit too panicked for Rory’s heart.
Duncan nodded. “Aye.” Then, the too tall man turned to head around the house.
“But—but I thought you slept here,” the lady called out, which grated on all of Rory’s nerves, making him take small breaths.
Duncan turned back, but it was Helen, already at her front door, opening it for Lady Fleur to step through, who answered. “He sleeps in the barn. Always has. ‘Sides, I don’t own any animals any longer to make it smell horrid.”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Rory sensed tension rising from the man. He’d heard the rumors that Duncan preferred to sleep like a dog rather than a man in a bed, and it was odd to watch the confirmation. Rory wondered why the brute would sleep where cows usually would, instead of under the roof Lady Fleur chose. But no matter the reason. His jealousy subsided a bit, realizing Duncan would not be near the gorgeous woman through the night.
“Good night,” Lady Fleur whispered sweetly.
Duncan nodded his head, glanced at his mother once more, then strode off into the darkness beside the large stone house.
Lady Fleur removed her warm hand from Rory’s arm, and instantly he wished her back.
“Well, I suppose this is good night.”
“Aye.” He could only stammer. Lord, how he wished it wouldn’t end so early.
“You’ll visit me again?”
He gave the lady a wide smile, feeling his cheeks grow tight in his enthusiasm. “Aye. I’d like to very much.” Only then did his manners kick in, and he swooped down to kiss her hand. “Good night, my lady.”
She giggled softly, and his body instantly responded by growing tight with the tension that desire can pull. But when he said good night to Mrs. Cameron that helped moderate his passions. He didn’t want to seem too eager for the lady, not as though he was some hound sniffing after her for only one thing.
As he left, after he’d promised to visit the women on the morrow, he’d made sure to slink around the house and watched Duncan prepare for bed in the barn. If that hulk of a man took one step in the house, he’d...Actually, Rory didn’t know what he’d do. Duncan had proven he was not only a knowledgeable warrior, but faster and more powerful than Rory. That was why, in the last two weeks, he had woken earlier than any other to train, so he could beat the famed Duncan. Not in a literal sense of beating. Nay, he’d never thought of attacking him.
Until now.
If Duncan touched the lady, Rory would make sure the man would rue the day.
Chapter 10
Duncan hadn’t slept so restlessly since his first battle. He’d tossed and turned in his straw bed. Oddly, his anxiety was similar to pre-combat jitters. He’d worried the whole night through that he wouldn’t do enough, would be too scared, wouldn’t do the right thing. When dawn arrived he finally admitted to himself whom he was nervous about. Fleur had left her mark on him as sure as if he’d fought against her. Actually, it had been his heart that had done all the fighting. Nonetheless, he knew she had been the winner.
He’d come a cropper.
Why, though, would he want a woman who wanted another man? A much younger, titled, probably richer man? It had nearly killed him seeing Fleur with Rory last night. All his jealous tendencies had flared, making him want to punch Rory in the too perfect nose. He hated the way Rory had looked at Fleur, his desire obvious.
As much as Duncan was dubious about working for the laird’s younger brother, he’d come to find that Rory was intelligent, sometimes funny, and usually considerate, especially regarding the green troops. That was a real asset to have in a leader, a man who treated his subordinates well. Rory would make an excellent captain one day soon.
It was clear he’d taken a fancy to Fleur too. Well, what man in his right mind wouldn’t? She was only the most beautiful woman any man had ever run across. Although, he might be biased, since beauty was supposedly subjective. Still, she was lovely with her long black hair, dark intriguing eyes, and those full lips that made him want to press his own against hers. Made him think of being close to her, of listening to her talk about anything she pleased.
Hell, he didn’t even know the woman, and he surely didn’t understand why he’d taken to her so quickly. Mayhap he should get to know her. Perhaps she was snobbish, too silly, or superficial. Further, she believed she’d come from another time, which might mean she was insane, at the least. But he kept hoping she’d merely gotten hit on the head and couldn’t remember why she was truly here. Such a God-awful thing to hope for.
He rolled out of his bed, shaking himself free from the straw, although none was on him. His mother had given him many a quilt and plaid to lie with, to keep him warm and free from the straw poking at him. He’d kept a bucket full of water to wash in, and did so letting the too cold water both soothe and invigorate his tense body. Yesterday’s run should have worn any stress out, but he woke feeling restless and...well, randy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this was a fine mess, and making it worse he suddenly realized that when Fleur had been close to Rory, Duncan couldn’t recall her once looking at the laird’s younger brother with anything much other than polite curiosity. Duncan couldn’t help but wonder if she might...
Just as he was finishing brushing his teeth, he heard a quiet slap of a door being shut. Glancing through one of the windows in the barn, he saw Fleur, dressed in, what he could only guess was, one of his mother’s old black kirtles, and flying away at a quick gait. The sight of her in a dress...Lord, the image went straight to his cock. Yesterday, he’d enjoyed the view of her legs, something he’d rarely seen amongst women. However, he could only imagine her
upper torso under that too-large black coat of hers. Until now, that was. She wore a white shift tucked into that boned kirtle, enhancing her breasts, forcing her décolleté to be seen. Suddenly, she stopped, twirled around, and ran back into the house. In a second she returned with one of his black coats wrapped around her thin shoulders, making her look so tiny with it reaching almost down to her knees. He liked her wearing his coat. He liked it a lot.
Then she took off, jogging, toward the east and back to Cave Smoo, he guessed. Without thinking, Duncan rushed out of the barn and after her, thanking God he’d had the foresight to put on his boots and even to have them laced. He decided reconnaissance would be for the best—to follow her, mayhap not approach, but to merely see what she was about.
And that wasn’t perverted at all.
Lord.
As he reconsidered his plan, to let her know he was following her, she hiked her skirts a little and began to run faster. A lot faster. It was hard to keep up with her actually. He admired her for running as fast as she could in thick skirts she held with firm fists at her sides. Before long he was puffing and beginning to sweat, then she sprinted toward the Geodha Smoo, and he realized they’d gone farther faster than he would have thought.
He slowed and tried to catch his breath as he saw her dip to the shore and trudge her way to the cave. Wanting to catch his breath before he approached her, he took his time, walking slowly and lifting his arms to try to get the air to stop spastically going in and out of his lungs.
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