10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  Haven bit her bottom lip. Deep blue eyes under heavy, dark eyelashes refused to meet her gaze. She prayed he’d finish his observations soon, before he noticed how her body responded. Tremors skated up and down her spine while silky moisture pooled between her thighs. Breathing became nigh on impossible, but she forced her lungs to inhale when a wave of dizziness arose.

  His manly scent ravaged her senses. His aroma had altered, now that he’d washed and changed clothes. Thick, malodorous blood no longer discolored his thick wool wrap. A subtle…something…mingled with the scent of horse and leather. His breath smelled of…strawberries?

  But, strawberries only grow in New England in mid-July.

  Then she recalled the bowl of fruit she’d found in his tent. The bowl had contained tiny, wild strawberries. The aromatic tang broached the space between their bodies. Her lips itched to ask for an explanation, yet afraid his answer would pull her from this delicious dream. Instead, she focused on his hands as they massaged her sore ankles and ravaged feet.

  “Have my feet stopped bleeding?”

  “Aye.” He set each foot back on the mossy ground while one hand slid slowly up her ankle. When it stopped just below her knee, Haven’s gaze snapped up and connected with blue eyes grown dark as midnight. His auburn hair fluttered in the breeze. Her stomach rumbled.

  A tense frown passed over his face. His jaw clenched. His stature, though kneeling in front of her, all but blocked the sun. “Are ye hungry?”

  Haven nodded.

  “I hunger as well.”

  Somehow I don’t think we’re talking food.

  Her legs spread of their own volition and he inched closer. The feral look in his eyes made her slowly collapse until her hair tangled with tiny twigs and tall grass. The scent of crushed thyme and moist earth joined with the aroma of musk. His scent. She lay unmoving and vulnerable, sprawled beneath him, unable to speak under his wicked smile. Haven licked her lips in anticipation.

  Will he kiss me?

  Silent as a predator before the pounce, he slid his hand past her knee toward her inner thigh. His other hand caressed her cheek the moment his huge body sheltered hers. He covered her completely with his rock-hard thighs and tanned arms.

  A sensuous groan escaped his lips when he crushed her breasts beneath his chest.

  The weight, the heat, the desire in his touch ignited her passion and swept away all other thoughts until she recalled she had somewhere else she ought to be.

  What am I doing? I shouldn’t let him do this. I have to tell him to move.

  Soon.

  The hand caressing her face brushed her lips. How had he known she’d planned to voice her objection? She wrapped both arms around him while knowing her reaction was a mistake, and simply not like her. Instead, her mind raced, yearning to allow a handsome man to make her body sing with pleasure.

  Getting her wish, a large, half-naked stranger caressed her body with big, warm hands. Haven’s lips ached for his kiss. Where’s the harm in that?

  “Love leads the way,” a low voice whispered from behind the giant. At least she thought it came from that direction, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed nothing but open sky.

  “‘Tis something amiss?” he asked as his tongue licked the trembling skin along the lacy edge of her bodice.

  “I thought I heard—”

  “Do not concern yerself, my sweet. We are alone. We are safe.”

  “How can you be sure?” Haven sighed as his mouth forced the top edge of her gown lower, and his lips kissed the sensitive skin just above her nipples.

  “My men watch my back.”

  Fighting a fainting sensation, she lay motionless as his lips rose to brush hers with unexpected tenderness in so large a man.

  “No one here but us, love.”

  As Kirk claimed her mouth, pressure and heat built inside her. She tasted him, drinking in his essence while her sensitive breasts strained against their bindings. His magical mouth claimed her while her body reacted with swift and ravenous need. Her heart beat wildly and vibrations shook her to the core. His knuckles caressed her nipples, now swollen with desire. Undeniable pleasure made her groan when he pulled away.

  “Ye taste of honey and smell like fresh air and sunshine, love.” Heat emanated from his gaze, searing her inside and out. Did he burn for her? Did he know she barely tamped down hysteria laced with a mega dose of desire? One minute she called him names, and the next she urged him to take her in the grass.

  “Open, sweet one,” he demanded against her mouth.

  Bruised lips smiled against his onslaught then complied.

  Kissing is a perfectly acceptable act between two consenting adults.

  Just because she’d barely kissed more than a handful of men in her twenty-five years, didn’t mean she didn’t know how to respond. She accepted his tongue as it delved inside her mouth. Licking and tasting, his tongue left no part untouched or unloved.

  Loved?

  She sensed his indecision when his fingers trailed down to cup her between her thighs. She shuddered. He deepened their kiss, taking her mind off his intrusion, yet her body knew. It knew his touch ignited an obsession she’d never felt for any man.

  Certainly not for Cal.

  She shook her head and delved into the intimacy Kirk offered. As she succumbed to the pleasure of his touch, she shoved virtuous thoughts to the back of her mind. But, when the hard ridge of his desire ground into her hip, a brief pang of guilt made her eyes flutter. Clamping them shut, she groaned when she recalled her vow to find true love. Could this man be the one?

  * * * * *

  Kirk’s men had orders to protect the camp and the surrounding area, but could he be sure they would not interrupt their pleasuring? Each had recovered after their surprise at Haven’s acid mouth. Then they glared, staring at her with a mixture of contempt and impure thoughts.

  Kirk’s thoughts focused on the women who traveled with the main group. He would order the men to break camp and join those guarding the treasure wagon. The chance to return them to the other females might make them less eager to come between him and Haven.

  I would hate to kill another man this day.

  Some of his warriors laid claim to the women who cooked their meals. Each wench lived free to keep them warm at night. Or not. Free choice dwelled in the hands and hearts of all their clan’s women. Kirk had no one waiting for him.

  At least not in my camp. Lady Fia, though…

  Startled by the thought, he released Haven’s swollen lips from his mouth’s onslaught then pulled back with a groan. When he lifted his body off her softness, she whimpered a protest.

  “We must not do this,” he said. He rolled off her and onto his back. She rolled away. When had her skirts slid up over her hip? Had his body been so close to her feminine perfection? The aroma of her arousal wafted up and made him weep. Her heady perfume tangled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, yet his attention latched on a mark above her left hip; a black symbol scribed into her white skin.

  “Ye be marked…on yer arse!”

  She sighed as if rising from a heady dream before answering. “My tattoo? I happen to adore black cats.”

  I wish this woman would adore me for the rest of my life.

  Whether marked from birth or by someone’s hand, he could not in good conscience ruin this woman or expose her to ridicule. Her earlier need to gather flowers to make into healing potions also worried him. She acted similar to his sister, Skye. Could this woman also be one who dabbled in witchery? Even so, for him to threaten her honor on the grassy bank of some nameless stream would bring her ruination.

  After his first error-filled assumption, he believed her a woman of quality, who muddled his brain and hardened his cock until beyond painful. The lass did not deserve such treatment.

  There be many reasons why I should not kiss this fair woman of the mist.

  She sighed, again, when he rolled her into his chest. Her delicate fingers grasped one arm and forced
him to circle her waist. Her eyes had flickered closed the moment he swept his tongue inside her creamy softness. Her breast still heaved from his amorous ministrations.

  On their sides, her eyelids fluttered open once again, revealing pale green orbs filled with unquenched desire. He stroked her silken cheek, cautious not to scratch her tender skin with his calloused fingers. Lady Fia’s pale skin and blue eyes suddenly came to mind. He lay with one woman while betrothed to another.

  What am I doing?

  “We need to get back to camp before my men consume all the food. Ye look famished. For food, I mean.” He jumped to his feet and offered a hand.

  “Must we?”

  For a brief, breathless moment, Kirk yearned to answer with a lusty no. With regret searing his painful erection, he gathered her small piece of toweling then led the way back to camp. He used the silence to contemplate why he had placed her in his tent when they had arrived at camp. He could have purloined someone else’s, as many would be taking turns on guard duty. Did he want her in his bed?

  Of course I do. What sane man would not?

  This woman had materialized in a vision not once, but twice. When she had appeared in the flesh near the stag, his eyes beheld a woman who haunted each waking hour since.

  Her clothing, unkempt hair, bare feet, and coarse language had roused him from the fairy tale he had created around her visage. Unlike the Lady Fia, Haven struck him as less than perfect. He liked this woman better, even with her flaws and acid tongue.

  His body tightened, and his steps faltered. He shook off the image of her luscious tongue. When strangers decided to cause her harm, he had not hesitated, nor had he thought about his own safety. Tomorrow, they would join the relative protection of the main traveling group. After food and rest, he would order her to answer all his questions. He rubbed his right temple when one immediate question arose.

  If this woman who tastes sweet as rain and moans beneath my touch sleeps in my tent this night, where shall I bed down?

  * * * * *

  Moments after his warm, hard body rolled away, a sigh of regret escaped Haven’s swollen lips. When she finally opened her eyes, she missed the closeness of his intense gaze. His large hands touched and stroked her to new heights of awareness.

  And his mouth. His wonderful mouth.

  Silky lips had wreaked havoc on tender flesh. Rough fingertips scratched her cheek as much as his stubbly chin. Then he stopped, rose, and pulled her to her feet. Why had he halted in the middle of kissing her senseless? His desire had been hard to disguise, evident even now by his plaid’s distinctive tent.

  “He obviously enjoyed it as much as me,” she said under her breath. A smile tugged at her mouth when she thought about his large hands. Memories lingered of how they stroked the sensitive skin just above her breasts after he’d run long fingers up her calf. She tugged at her bodice then finger-combed her leaf-strewn ponytail.

  She’d gotten to her feet, then he’d released her hand and fled down the trail without comment. The forest’s silky silence soothed her jitters. Even so, she trembled. When his body had covered hers so completely, joy swelled in her heart. When his thumb caressed her cheek, desire fueled her moans. Ablaze with passion, she didn’t even struggle beneath his brawny shape. Kirkwall could have taken her then and there with ease and without protest.

  The sounds of camp soon filled the forest. She exhaled a nervous lungful of air when she recalled how potently male these men were when compared to guys like Cal. A sudden image of naked chests and hungry stares made her cringe. She fought back a whimper at the thought of spending an entire evening in their midst.

  Haven rubbed a palm across a queasy stomach. She would keep silent and be invisible. She saw no sense in responding in any manner with a man who’d just kissed her senseless in a private glade.

  “Why were ye out here alone?” he asked.

  Haven’s bare feet slid to a halt. A gasp of pain escaped her mouth at the sudden sting.

  “I apologize. I forgot about yer injury.”

  “Please, don’t mention it. My own foolishness caused me to lose my shoes.”

  “Fine. Let me ask ye again. Why were ye out here alone? I suggest ye explain before we reach camp. My men will be as curious. I do not wish them to—”

  “To what?”

  “Make the same mistake I did when I approached ye and—”

  “Propositioned me?”

  “Aye.”

  She laughed. High on his chiseled cheekbones, Kirk’s bristly skin flashed red. And when he clenched his square jaw, then glared down at his feet, something around her heart sprang open. For a perfect stranger? Then she thought about his question. How long had she stood alone in these unfamiliar woods? Where would she find the peace she sought when she’d agreed to help Iona? And, where did this hunk fit in with her plans to find her Mr. Right?

  “You simply arrived at the wrong conclusion. This,” she brushed her hands down her bodice, “is a costume.”

  “A what?”

  “A costume. I am pretending to be a Scottish lady who had just returned from a ceilidh.”

  She watched Kirk’s embarrassment morph into rage. Whatever she’d admitted hadn’t been the answer he expected. A meaty fist closed around her arm and dragged her into his chest. His eyes darkened into black orbs suspended in an ice field. He glared and her entire body went on alert. She couldn’t read him. A sudden fear swam through her, stealing her breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice broke as she pushed against him and tried to step back.

  “I do not care for women who pretend to be what they are not.”

  Pushing away tiny tingles of fear, she let anger bubble up at his holier-than-thou attitude. She’d done nothing wrong and he had no reason to act the injured party. When his grip around one wrist tightened, and he pulled her back into an embrace, his rock hard arousal slammed into her belly. Haven slapped his face.

  “Is there a problem, my laird?”

  Haven and Kirk broke apart as if scalded. Heat bloomed beneath the skin of her cheeks and spread lower. The young man wearing the sling stood a few feet away.

  “There is no cause for alarm, Reid. The lady and I had a difference of opinion.” After delivering his simple response to Reid’s concerned frown, he turned toward the direction of camp and left her standing beside the boy.

  “I have never seen my Laird touch a woman so,” he whispered.

  “How do you mean,” she asked. She rubbed her wrist with the palm still on fire from the slap.

  “He never touches women.”

  “You jest.” Haven rubbed her skirt in a gesture meant to convince him nothing had happened. “He must hug and kiss women all the time. The man is too handsome to have any problem finding a date.” Haven stomped off in the direction of camp.

  “Laird Kirkwall has taken his nickname to heart.”

  The boy’s odd statement made her slow her steps. He caught up to her and she asked him to explain.

  “Kirkwall is named after the village on the isle of Orkney. ‘Twas there he was conceived. His father made sure he always knew of this. Named for a place and not an ancestor is considered less than honorable. His cousin and sister call him Kirk. Even this is an unjust name for him.

  “Why?”

  “A Kirk is the holiest of places. Priests tend them. Our laird, unfortunately, has become as alone and as pious as such a place. The last few months have grown worse. Ever since his injury.”

  “But, why.”

  “’Tis not my place to say, my lady. I believe he has not shared his bed… The boy’s cheeks flashed bright red.

  Haven bit her lower lip to hide her smile. “Please, go on.”

  “He has not shared his bed or visited the village whores in a very long time.”

  Haven absorbed the boy’s whispered response then compared the information to the man who recently stuck his tongue down her throat.

  “Ye dress nice. Sorry those bad men made ye ruin such finery.
Where did ye get such a beautiful garment?”

  “A friend gave me this gown so I could do my job.”

  “And what, pray tell, is this job?”

  “Well, I cook and knit with home-spun wool, and answer questions.”

  “Whose questions?”

  “Visitors to the Highland games have plenty of questions. They usually want to see how a real-life camp operates. We give them a taste with our tent life. They meander through displays of hand-hewn logs made into rustic furniture, and tour Jake’s forge.”

  “Jake? Is he yer man?”

  She laughed. Jake? Her man? “No. We’re friends.” After she and Reid talked for a few minutes, their laughter echoed off the trees. When they entered the glen, she saw Kirk spin around. He glowered.

  At Reid, or at me?

  Sunbeams, sneaking through the canopy of green leaves above, streaked his hair a reddish-gold. He smiled, and her thighs clenched. Walking closer to them, Kirk ignored the young man and spoke only to her.

  “What caused such sweet noise to fill these dreary woods?”

  Before she could respond, Reid piped up and answered.

  “She told me about her special friend, Jake. He’s the village blacksmith and makes pretty spikes for her hair. She’s upset she lost them as they had been a gift.”

  The boy’s innocent comment turned the magical light in Kirks’ eyes into thunderous rage. Kirk’s jaw clenched as he stepped back. Did she misread jealousy in a man who doesn’t pursue women? Ever? Even so, she couldn’t stomach the possibility he thought her spoken for. He might not kiss her again.

  “Jake is my co-worker. He makes tools, nails, and small swords with his forge. He’s a friend. Besides, I don’t—”

  Kirk and Reid both sucked in deep breaths as they waited for the rest of her comment. Would they believe her?

  Do I really care?

  “I don’t have a man. Not anymore. Cal Murchie and I split up. It’s still a sore subject so you’ll excuse me if I don’t care to speak of him right now.”

  Kirk didn’t say a word. Reid shrunk away. Had her words embarrassed the boy? He looked about seventeen. He must date and kiss girls by now. Or, had he read more into his leader’s reaction to her statement? The man’s grin sliced through her body, scorching her with a decadent desire to take him back to the stream, throw him down, and ride him until—”