“First off, lass, I know nothing of games. Those men meant to do ye harm. I took care of them. With luck, we shall reach my camp before their companions catch us.”
“They’re chasing us?”
“I have not sighted them, but they follow. Do not worry yer pretty little head. My men will keep us safe.”
“Why, you impertinent, chauvinistic, Neanderthal!” she said, surprised at her own anger. He hadn’t touched her after he’d called her a whore and she set him straight. He could have left her to those bad men, but he didn’t. He charged in and killed a few.
Where the Hell am I that men kill each other so easily?
She’d keep her wits, find a weapon, and get off his lap. Haven still had her tiny dagger. With a weapon in her hand and Kirk at her back, she’d survive until she found a way home. And, if those bad men returned? She’d fight back.
Then they’ll understand whom they’re dealing with.
CHAPTER 10
Kirk felt Lady Haven relax against his chest. Did she mean to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the trip? He prayed she slept since he required his ears as well as his mount’s good hearing in order to listen for threats. The camp lay around the bend of the big river, on the other side of the large stand of trees. Trees offering plenty of cover for a mercenary horde.
Tendrils of gray smoke rose in the distance. As they rode closer, roasting meat teased his nose. When she stirred, he relaxed his grip around the comely lass. With every groan and thump of her head against his chest, the signs of life made him lower his gaze to ponder her comely form.
She glanced up.
Kirk quickly swung his attention to the trail at their backs. Was the black shadow in the distance a mercenary? The spectral figure dove into the trees along the path. Man or deer, it was too far away and too fleet of foot for Kirk to name.
Many men shall stand guard tonight.
He steered his animal through a thick stand of pine and brush, reining in to avoid low-hanging branches. To protect his passenger, Kirkwall curled forward, over his charge. He chuckled at the fiery language that suddenly spewed from her mouth.
Her beautiful, luscious mouth.
“Are you trying to crush me?” Her breasts nearly spilled from her dress as she shoved at his chest.
He did not respond. He could not. Kirk’s mouth went dry. She had noticed his stare and struggled to raise the lacey edge of her muddy gown.
Riding out of the prickly branches and thick vegetation, his mount entered a small clearing half-filled with smoke. Weary faces in a wide range of colors and age stared at his raven-haired parcel as if they planned to add her to the menu.
She is mine.
The woman in his arms tensed. Had he spoken his private thought aloud once more? Also, where had the powerful notion come from? Not meeting her glare, he instead concentrated on black-encrusted chunks of meat splayed on makeshift spits over a campfire. His stomach rumbled. When Lady Haven’s stomach made noises of its own, he chuckled.
“Food awaits, my lady. First, let me introduce ye to my men.” Many sported beards. Others were clean-shaven. All sported bulging muscles and stood at attention. Kirk scowled at the warriors’ heated looks aimed at his guest. Kirk dismounted, then clasped her around her waist as he lowered her to the ground.
Lady Haven squawked, then slapped at his hands. Kirk’s men laughed. Backing away, he held back a frown as she leaned against his steed. The lass probably worried he planned to throw her to his men. She had nothing to fear, but would she believe anything he told her?
“Wait here, lass. I must see to my foster son.”
She nodded then glared at his men. Kirk turned at a welcome cry from young Reid and clasped his foster son’s hand. A crude sling held his injured arm across his chest. His face, too pale even for the red-headed lad, worried Kirk.
“Are ye hale, lad?”
“Aye, my laird,” The boy nodded animatedly while he bounced on gangly legs. His gaze flicked toward the woman who stood in silence. Kirk returned to her side and drew her close before tossing his mount’s reins into Reid’s one usable hand.
“This lady,” Kirk shouted, “is under my protection. Ye will treat her as a member of our clan and not touch her.” The gathering crowd looked at him then to her. Kirk pulled her closer.
She cried out.
“My lady?”
“Ouch! Idiot! You stepped on my foot!”
She collapsed against his chest and Kirk curled her inside his arms without thought. As one, his men inhaled. Shock spread through the gathering. He had to show that he would not accept backtalk from anyone, especially a comely minx like Lady Haven. Before Kirk could respond, a leather-clad warrior with a face full of red-cheeked rage, strode between the men.
“Who dares spout curses at our Laird?”
* * * * *
Speechless, Haven shrunk from the huge man who barreled through the crowd and growled at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead.
“This one with the mouth is Lady Haven,” her captor continued. “She speaks oddly and too boldly. I found her wandering in the woods, then dispatched a few men determined to take her down. We must stay a bit longer.”
“Were they mercenaries? Or, men sworn to serve The Mackenzie?” the tall blonde man asked. Had she tumbled in with re-enactors chosen for their height? The man’s amber eyes glowed with hatred as the name Mackenzie passed his lips.
“Unknown. Some shall ne’er see another battle. Be careful, Cameron, for I believe at least one of the blackguards followed us. Post guards. Change them at three-hour intervals. Inform me of any sign of the bastards.”
“It shall be done.”
“Also,” Kirk added, “I shot at a stag. I missed.”
“Understood. Such an unlucky omen means our guards shall need to be extra vigilant.”
The one Kirk called Cameron barked orders and the others quickly dispersed. Some shook their heads while muttering some type of oath.
Are they mumbling curses at me?
Kirk walked toward another group of people. Haven attempted to follow, but her damaged feet made her wince then stumble. In one swift move, the giant grasped her under her knees and back.
Gathered to his chest like a sack of potatoes, Haven stared up at him as he carried her across the clearing, then quickly turned her attention elsewhere. Some of the men were removing their shirts. She swallowed.
I’ve never seen so many well-defined abs.
She continued to watch as the muscular men slipped on vests fashioned of thick leather. They circled their wrists and forearms with more bits of hide. Kirk barked orders as they passed, and each man quickly strapped on long swords and dirks.
Kirk marched across the clearing toward the dark forest beyond the tents. She squirmed as he made a beeline for the largest tent. It measured about ten times the size of her little canvas hovel back at the games.
Lashed to several trees for support, on the treed edge of the clearing, the huge tent lay in shadow. Kirk parted the flap with his shoulder, without letting her go. The interior’s coolness instantly soothed her perspiring brow. The darkness felt too intimate.
“Put me down, oaf.”
“As ye wish.”
He dumped her, feet first, onto a bed of furs.
“Thanks.” The furs were softer than the ground. Her toes disappeared in their silky warmth. “I must look a mess. This is so embarrassing.”
“Ye look wonderful to me, lass,” Kirk whispered. With a groan, he turned away, “Stay here. I shall order food and drink brought at once. I need to—”
“I don’t care what you need, mister. I want out of here.”
He turned and glared. “We were followed. I have no way to know if they might attack an armed camp to lay hands upon ye.”
“This is ludicrous.”
“What did ye do to make them chase ye?”
“I asked for directions.”
“Directions? That’s all? Ye must have done something—”
“I did nothing. The creepy guy dressed in black said something about being tired of swordplay and instead wanted to play…” her voice faded as a chill spread down her spine.
“To play with ye,” he finished for her. He shook his head then stared at the ground before gazing at her face. “I know how he feels.”
Haven backed up two steps.
“Understand this. No one shall harm ye or play with ye against yer will in my camp.”
With those words still ringing in her head, he disappeared out of the tent.
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Haven said as she looked around the tent’s murky interior. She sniffed the air.
What stinks?
Squinting, she glanced around. Several garments lay at the edge of the makeshift bed. She bent and picked up the clothes. As Haven folded each odd looking piece, she inhaled a man’s musky scent. Haven carefully piled them on a corner of the bed of furs and shivered.
What an odd reaction to a pile of dirty clothes.
A bowl of rotting fruit sat on a makeshift stump table. Shaking off her unwanted attraction to the giant, she grabbed the bowl then tiptoed to the tent’s only door. With careful steps, to protect her damaged soles, Haven pushed open the tent flap and tossed away the bowl’s contents. The berries and other remnants of fruit hadn’t smelled fit for human consumption.
Might as well feed the forest creatures.
Haven returned to the bed and set the bowl aside. She stood staring at the pile of furs.
Whose bed is this?
The clothes belonged to a man. To Kirkwall? He’d been covered in blood and the coppery scent still filled her head. Glancing down, she cringed. Her dress, also stained with blood, made her yearn for a bucket of water.
The desire to soak her feet, while wishing for some liquid refreshment, made Haven lick her dry lips. When Kirk walked into the tent, he stared at her tongue.
She closed her mouth.
He looked away, slowly.
“Midday food will be ready soon,” he said.
Was that a growl?
Haven watched him moisten his own lips. A shudder shook her body from the tips of her tangled hair to the toes on her aching feet.
“Ye can rest on my bed until then,” he said, and waved toward the lush pile of furs.
“This is your tent?” Her voice cracked. The revelation stripped her ability to slap him with a witty comeback.
“Aye. ‘Tis a problem?”
“Only if you plan to occupy it at the same time.”
Kirk froze in the tent’s entrance.
Haven, amused at his startled expression, said, “Where can I wash up?”
He suddenly turned away as if to leave without answering. His back muscles tensed. When he straightened to his full height, his head brushed the tent’s ceiling.
My, he’s a big man.
Returning his gaze to hers, he said, “Of course, my lady. Forgive me.”
“Please. Call me Haven.”
“Again, forgive me for not offering ye the opportunity to bathe after yer…adventure.”
His face brightened with a crooked smile, making him appear almost normal. Kirk’s brilliant blue eyes must have finally noticed he’d transferred blood from his victims to her gown when she had ridden upon his thigh.
She swept fingers through her hair. Twigs and leaves fluttered down. Why had she been so thoughtless to lose Jake’s hand-wrought nails? His gift had been a sweet gesture.
“The chance to bathe makes ye smile?”
“No, I was thinking about Jake and—”
“I care not to hear of yer men. Ye have no change of clothes and we have no women here. Once we join the women at the main encampment, one may have something to lend ye until ye can launder yer gown.” He walked toward her.
Haven stood perfectly still. What would he do next? Kirk’s hand rose and cupped her jaw. When he flicked his thumb over her cheek, warm tingles slid between her legs.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I could not allow yer beauty to be marred by the dirt on yer cheek.” He paused, and his eyes closed to slits. “Ye have the most adorable freckles gracing yer nose.”
He likes my freckles?
Kirk grabbed several pieces of coarse linen then bent to pick her up again.
Shaking out of her sudden stupor, she said, “I can walk.”
Haven glanced down at her dress and sighed. Such a mess. Heat stained her cheeks from the shame as she followed Kirk from the tent. Keeping her back straight, she passed his men and ignored their curious glances. On longer legs, the giant vanished down a small side-trail.
She hurried, shook off the pain of her injuries, and found him around a bend. “Slow down.”
He did not.
“Please?”
Kirk stopped until she got closer, then continued at a leisurely pace.
“Could you point me toward the Highland games encampment? I can walk there after lunch.”
“Not with those feet. I am sure they pain ye, aye?” He stopped and his broad frame filled the trail.
Haven stopped, then listened to nothing but silence, as if a camp full of men had vanished into the ether.
I’m alone with this stranger yet I feel utterly safe.
“Yes, my feet ache, but the bleeding stopped. If I can soak them, I’ll feel better. May we continue?”
With a brief nod, Kirk led the way. The trees and brush thinned, opening to a wide riverbank. Water churned white near the center where it flowed over semi-submerged stumps and boulders.
Haven tiptoed toward the water’s calm edge and spied clumps of yellow and white flowers growing in a profusion of weeds. “Chamomile?”
“Yer in a mood for picking flowers?”
“Only when I can add them to my medicinal collection,” she muttered.
Kirk stood with massive arms crossed over a naked chest. He glowered at her, then glanced down-river. His tense stance did not detract from his ferociousness, yet she missed the feeling of his eyes on her.
Damnation.
“Are you watching for those men?” Haven slipped a large handful of petals into her pocket. She bunched up her skirt and sat close to the edge. As soon as she placed her torn feet and swollen ankle into the clear water along the bank, icy shivers raced up her legs. Haven whimpered.
“What ‘tis wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t turned toward her.
“It’s cold.”
“Aye, creeks and rivers never get any warmer and this is high summer. And yes, I must watch for those men. Chances are, they will not venture this way.” Still facing away from her, Kirk bent and picked up a rock.
Haven inhaled and clamped her knees together. His sculpted body, naked from calf to thigh beneath his odd-looking kilt, made her blink. Both calf muscles stretched and popped as he rose then flung the flat stone across the water.
Skip, skip, skip. Just like my heartbeat.
“We do not carry fine linens to dry with, my lady—I mean, Haven. The water is clean and the sun will dry ye fast enough.”
Devil’s own luck. Why must he be so gorgeous?
He passed her a coarse square of cloth then returned to the riverbank. He stared northward. At least, he had told her it was north.
No help there. When I find out what direction to head, I’m outta’ here.
“What do you mean by high summer?” She washed the grime from her face and neck. Haven raised her hem then scrubbed the dirt from her feet and ankles.
A strangled cough erupted from his direction.
Haven glanced at him and found he was staring at her. She looked down. “Sorry. I didn’t realize my bodice dipped. My breasts are in danger of popping out.”
Pulling the corner of her petticoat up to her waist, she untied the gold sash from her thigh, then tied it around her hair. She shook her ponytail and enjoyed cool air against the nape of her neck. Haven removed the cloth from the burn site and smiled at the healthy, pink skin.
&nbs
p; Sensing a presence, she swung and saw Kirk right behind her. He stared, open-mouthed at her bare leg. Haven swept her skirt back into place. She left her ankles uncovered since she considered them her best feature. At least, Cal told her so.
Stop thinking of that bastard!
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a free show. My bad.”
“Yes, that was verra’ wicked.”
CHAPTER 11
A laugh popped out from Haven’s mouth before she could control it. She had shown too much skin and then apologized.
What a joke!
Did he think she’d let her bodice droop on purpose? Men looked at women’s legs all the time. Kirk continued to glare. She squirmed beneath his heated gaze.
“Please forgive me, lass. I should have asked if ‘twas safe to face ye.” His cheeks flushed a brilliant red.
On him it looks quite nice.
Haven pulled her numbed feet from the icy current. She pushed back through the tall grass and sat facing the river. She locked elbows, rested on her forearms, and wiggled her toes to dry them in the sunshine. Peace settled over her as she peered over the brownish-blue expanse at the wall-to-wall pine trees dotting the opposite bank. Craggy peaks rose in the distance.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered, only now remembering his comment about high summer. Doesn’t that mean mid-summer?
“This is September, the beginning of fall. You know, autumn.”
“Nay. Harvest time is many moons hence.” He walked off before she could argue.
Where were the colorful leaves? Why wasn’t the grass brown from last week’s early frost? A headache pinched her head, between her temples. Swishing her legs back and forth, she attempted to dry her feet. They still ached, so she leaned forward and pressed gently along both soles.
“Allow me, dear lady.”
Where did he come from?
Kirk knelt in front of her and gazed at the bottoms of her feet. One at a time, he held each in his warm, calloused palms. An immediate rush of searing heat shot up her legs, past her thighs, straight to her most vulnerable spot.
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 139
