“I believe it will be for the best if I sleep—”
“With Gavina and Anice.” He smirked at having anticipated her feelings on future sleeping arrangements.
She bid him goodnight and then crept up the narrow stairs to the pub’s second floor loft. Hanging blankets separated the rooms from the catwalk. A chill slid down her spine as if someone besides Kirk watched her climb.
Near a small pallet, she shed her vest and dress. Something scurried across the floor. She slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream, and jumped onto her bed. Once calm, Haven burrowed beneath a pile of musty blankets. She slept fitfully, then awoke to the sounds of the others dressing.
Small birds chirped in the rafters. The thud of boots floated up from the pub below. The smell of cooked food and other noises announced morning had arrived. In the shadows, her body shook with pleasure when she recalled how Kirk had held her hand in the dining room.
When the morning chill made her shiver, she grasped the rough woven blanket around her shoulders. Pulling on the wrinkled borrowed frock, Haven missed her flannel pajamas. Gavina reluctantly helped pin Haven’s hair into a loose bun.
“Thank you, Gavina.”
The girl only nodded. Haven knew she harbored feelings for Kirk. Could Haven truthfully say she held Kirk in no personal regard other than as her host? How did he feel toward Haven? Was she a handy distraction? If so, why hadn’t he pressed her to sleep with him last night? Irritation made her speed down the stairs when she realized she would have jumped at the chance.
Breakfast in the dining hall was a noisy jumble of camp followers, warriors, and other guests. Local patrons gathered to talk and begin their day refreshed. The ruckus comforted her. She smiled as a cacophony of accents and strange words surrounded her.
A wrinkled, older woman in a lace-edged cap, wore a flour-dusted apron that hung to her chunky ankles. She barely glanced at the pub’s noisy patrons as she distributed platters of food. The portly innkeeper she’d spied last night stood at the bar filling pitcher after pitcher with ale.
“May I have some water?” Haven asked the woman when her arms were empty.
“Water be extra,” she snarled, glaring at Haven’s wrinkled dress.
“Bring some water for the lady. Now,” a deep voice barked. Every patron turned toward the large man in the doorway.
Haven watched the old woman’s nearly imperceptible nod before she returned to the kitchen. Kirk followed the woman with his hardened gaze. He then locked those brilliant blue eyes on her.
His attention chilled her more than the change in the weather. When she’d glanced out the front door before settling at a table, fog enveloped the town. It lay thick and gray in the valley and damp air seeped inside.
A wide belt of black leather circled Kirk’s trim waist. His muscular legs flared wide beneath the hem of his faded, kilted plaid. Twin leather straps crisscrossed his broad chest while his sword hung behind him. At his hip he wore the dirk he’d used to threaten the shopkeeper. Anyone who didn’t know him would recognize his rank.
He held himself like a king.
OmiGod. As an ancient Scottish laird, he is a king.
The crowd parted as he strolled toward her. Why were her insides jumping while her feet wouldn’t move? And when had she jumped to her feet? He made her feel small and powerless. A sudden image filled her vision of him as she’d licked her tongue along his…
“What are ye thinking, love?” he whispered.
“Never mind.” She stared up at his face, and managed a noisy swallow.
Kirk smiled.
His smile was her undoing and she couldn’t resist returning it. When his eyes crinkled nearly shut, Haven lifted her chin in a silent plea for his kiss. As he leaned forward, Haven sensed a change come over the room. Noisy chattering morphed into the murmur of shocked people.
What are we doing?
She had to say something. Hadn’t she told her conscience a relationship with Kirk wouldn’t work? What must his men think? She felt their stares and a few vulgar comments made heat race beneath her cheeks.
“Join me for breakfast?” She sat and watched as Kirk removed his weapons, then settled onto the bench beside her. A young serving girl entered from the kitchen and then stared at Kirk.
Who wouldn’t?
Haven laced her fingers together and set them in her lap as the pretty girl made her way to their table. She faced Haven for a millisecond, her back ramrod straight, then pushed her breasts toward Kirk.
“My lady.” She spoke to Haven, but fluttered long, golden eyelashes at Kirk. “What might I fetch to break yer fast?”
Her attentiveness toward Kirk snapped Haven out of her complacency.
“Bring us fruit and some bread…I mean, bannock,” Haven shouted, louder than necessary. She waved the girl away then stroked the dagger in her pocket. The urge to protect her territory, including the handsome man sitting quietly at her side, surprised her.
The girl stomped off toward the kitchen while the older woman reappeared with a small clay cup. She placed it on the wood table in front of Haven.
“Thank you,” Haven whispered. She lifted the cup with both hands. Trembling fingers, remnants of the adrenaline rush the barmaid’s attitude raised, hadn’t fully subsided. The contents sloshed about. Before it reached her mouth, a warm hand joined hers, and the cup rose to her lips. Her throat burned, and not with thirst.
He touches me and I turn to jelly.
“Don’t,” she said without looking at him. Holding onto her hand in a crowded pub would damage his ability to rule. He knew it, because his hand slipped away. Haven set the cup on the table. When the meal arrived, she grabbed a piece of fruit then tore off a chunk of crusty bread. Out of the corner of her eye, she waited for him to do the same.
He hadn’t moved.
“Do ye have something to say to me, lass?” Kirk tore off a large chunk of the coarse bread. Removing a small dagger from his boot top, he spread a clump of apple butter on the warm bread before shoving it inside his mouth.
“I want to say something before we go any further.” She took a deep breath. How should she describe his men’s behavior outside the shop yesterday afternoon? How could she possibly explain to him that everyone thought of her as his bed-partner?
“Speak up. I will hear what ye have to say, but understand ye have nothing to fear. Cameron and Balfour left town last night for parts unknown. They will not have the chance to fail me again.” He tore off another piece of bread.
“You don’t understand, Kirk. Their inattention when I entered that store wasn’t the problem.”
“What, then? Enlighten me.”
“They assumed,” she said, as she took another deep breath, “I’m your tossed aside whore and that I’d warm their beds instead.”
There. I said it.
She waited for his laughter. She wasn’t prepared for Kirk to choke on a piece of bread. When his face reddened, Haven slapped him on the back. He grabbed her cup, gulped the water, then jumped to his feet. She skittered back along the bench. His fist slammed the table, tossing the fruit from the bowl. The entire room hushed.
“Listen all and listen well. This woman,” he said, pointing to her chest, “is a guest under my protection. She is a lady, no matter how poorly attired. She is to be respected and will bed down where I put her. No one shall insinuate she is anything but an innocent highborn lass, or they shall answer to my blade. I will not say this again.”
Silence.
“Understand?” He shouted.
“Aye!” A dozen voices rose in unison. Kirk sat back down and resumed his breakfast. Only then did she breathe. Not another word passed between them until time came to resume their trek. Haven tied her meager belongings to the back of her pony. Waiting for the others, she tried with little success to tame the curls escaping her bun.
“Why struggle?” said a voice from behind her. She didn’t turn around. His voice caused a riot of sensations to skitter down her spine.
Thoughts of what might happen if she shared his bed, again, turned her legs to jelly.
Don’t think about how he felt in your arms, or how he tasted in your mouth.
He’d walked away from her after breakfast. Had he grown angry because she tattled on Cameron and Balfour?
“I am not angry, lass,” he whispered.
“Good to know. Let’s get going.” The lightness of her response seemed to be the correct answer. His steps grew distant.
Haven inhaled, then patted her horse’s neck. She’d lost track of the days. Where she had come from and how she’d dropped into his lap probably didn’t matter to Kirk. She’d spotted Reid among the wagons, but she settled into silent companionship beside Kirk and his massive war horse. She assumed they rode toward Castle Ruadh, a place of secrets.
When I ask about it, Kirk changes the subject.
A few quiet hours passed and several sentries rode up to Kirk with their reports. Kirk eventually galloped to the front of the group, while she and her borrowed pony followed far behind. Her gaze flickered back to him several times each hour.
At the very rear of their caravan were mysterious carts driven by warriors. What did they carry? As she made silent guesses, Gavina drew her pony closer. Haven resisted sparring with the woman today.
“They guard the treasure of Clan Gunn,” Gavina whispered.
“Treasure?”
“Jewels, coins, tapestries, and the like. One cart has venison shanks from our forests. Another, barrels of salted fish from the loch.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“We shall not taste one mouthful. All is for that lady’s table. The sooner we deliver it, the sooner my stomach will not crave it so.”
Before Haven could ask another question, Gavina kicked her mount and rode to the head of the line. She spoke to the warrior at Kirk’s side. Kirk’s profile, lit by the midday sun when he leaned toward the two to listen, made her sigh. Flecks of gold highlighted his dark hair and the barest hint of stubble darkened his jaw line. Whatever news Gavina shared drew a grimace, making him look much older than…
I have no idea how old he is.
“We shall stop beside this river for our midday meal. I have been informed the ladies wish to bathe.” His words boomed, addressing the entire group.
A bath? Thank God.
“Guard the carts. Ye three, guard the women. From a distance.” His voice, and words, insinuated he meant what he said.
“Aye, my lord,” several men answered.
Haven pulled her pony to a stop near a rowan tree, its berry-laden branches recognizable from one of her herbal reference books. It was slightly similar to the New England mountain ash, but different.
How could she have failed to notice this earlier?
Before she could dismount, large hands wrapped themselves firmly around her waist then pulled her from her saddle.
“I can do it myself.”
“That I know, lass, but let me serve ye before…” A sudden look of anguish crossed his face.
“Before what?” she asked, startled by the sadness in his eyes. Every time they got close, something dragged Kirk’s thoughts elsewhere.
“We need to talk, lass.”
“Okay. Talk.”
“Not here. Too many ears. Walk with me?”
And miss her chance to bathe? Shaking away such vanity, she nodded. “Is this about the treasure?”
“What do ye know about the treasure?” His eyes flashed.
Haven gulped.
CHAPTER 17
“Listen, I don’t care about any stupid treasure,” Haven lashed at him. “What you choose to haul across Scotland is no business of mine. I’m tagging along because I have nowhere else to go. I’m lost in a strange land. As soon as I can, I’ll go back to my time.”
“Ye mean to say yer home, aye?”
“Right. Anyway, what did you want to tell me? Whatever it is, remember. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
She knew about the treasure? Who had told Haven about Lady Fia and the treasure? And, if she knew of his betrothal, and planned to leave him, why would she follow him to a secluded glade?
“Ye say yer leaving. No matter what ye have heard, let me enlighten ye with how yer presence has affected me.” He paused when they reached a grove of trees. Low-hanging branches, thick with dark green foliage, provided privacy. With its significance not lost on her, she backed up a step.
Again, he had opened himself to controversy and hearsay, but he wanted her to understand his position. Conflict happens every day. As the leader of his weary, war-ravaged clan, his reputation would get dragged through the mud if he turned from his obligations.
“I know you’re hiding something. Gavina hinted, as did Cameron.”
Her words made him hesitate. She did not know the details. His gaze swept over her and heat surged across his chest and belly. What they had shared in his tent had been sweet, tender, and loving. They had cuddled until she had fallen asleep in his arms. The urge to share the ultimate pleasure, to bury his manhood deep inside her, filled him with a hunger he feared he would never satisfy.
Aroused simply by Haven’s flowery fragrance, Kirk could take what he craved, yet he would never force his attentions on a woman. She might accept his current desire, but the chance for such intimacy had passed. His betrothed awaited his arrival.
Kirk kicked a small stone into a bush of scraggly gorse. Leaves fluttered in the breeze and his gaze locked on a single leaf as it floated earthward and landed on the pale swells of her breasts. He snarled, wishing his fingers could follow its journey.
She backed up a step.
Had only two nights passed since her breasts lay cupped in his hands? When he had tasted her lovely, dark-tipped nipples? Two nights since they had tasted each other? He swallowed Haven’s gasp. When had he leaned forward to kiss her berry-red lips?
Small palms pressed against his chest, pushing him away. He released her mouth and gulped the air. With her sweet flavor on his tongue, he paused to catch his breath.
“I must tell ye about Castle Ruadh.” He must, in good conscience, tell her of Lady Fia.
“No need. We really should get back so I can bathe. I didn’t realize how dusty one becomes traveling around… Scotland.” She shoved aside a branch and headed for the river.
His brow furrowed. He had heard the pause in her statement. For some strange reason, he knew she held her own secrets.
What response would Haven give if he told her about Fia? Might she consider sharing him? Before he could ask, she turned and walked briskly to where the women bathed, with his guards posted at a discrete distance. Kirk swung his gaze away, though he longed to touch Haven once more. Suddenly alone in the forest, Kirk strode back to his men.
* * * * *
“Where have ye been, my lady?” Anice asked with a wink when Haven joined the women at the water’s edge.
Without responding, Haven stripped to her chemise and plunged beneath the water.
“Feels so good.” Haven ran fingers through her hair, dove beneath the cool water, then peeled her light underclothes up and over her head. Dirt had penetrated every pore. Swimming naked was the only way to wash it all away. If only she could wash away the taste of Kirk’s mouth.
“Ye swim like a fish. Do ye smell like one?” Gavina giggled at her own words.
“My clothes smell.” Haven swam toward deeper water and relished the pull of cramped muscles and the silky softness of the river’s current, which grew stronger the farther out she swam. Water streamed past her shoulders as she did a slow, seductive crawl parallel to the bank.
Numbness, due to the water’s frigid grip, made her feel alive. She glanced at the landscape of dark forests and small mountains that surrounded the river. Haven inhaled fresh air, laden with an underlying briny tang.
We must be close to the sea. Another revelation.
Haven turned back to shore. The other women were gone, as were the guards. She glided toward shore. Stepping car
efully on the slimy rocks, Haven bundled her shivering body in a coarse white towel, then shook out her damp hair.
Standing alone in the shallows, with her back toward the trees, she closed her eyes, tilted her face toward the midday sun, and let its warmth dry her hair. Her shoulders rose and fell with deep, cleansing breaths.
The aroma of pine trees and tiny flowers along the bank assaulted her senses as she forced Kirk’s sensuous aroma from her mind. She’d grown accustomed to the outdoors, she suddenly realized, and didn’t want to go back to the smelly, modern city.
The men around here smell so nice.
One man in particular, and that was the problem. Turning to collect her clothes before heading back to the others, she sighed.
“Such a deep sigh for one so beautiful.”
Startled from her reverie, Haven lost her step on the slippery stones, fell to her knees, and cried out.
“Nay!” The owner of the distressed cry ran from the trees as the sound echoed across the bank. Bruised knees proved less painful than the shock of a man watching her bathe. Numb, and in pain, she clutched the meager linen around her breasts. She wanted to scream, but her lungs failed her.
He grabbed another towel, then gathered her in his arms. He twirled the cloth around her naked legs, and she tucked the other piece between her breasts. Batting at his hands, she struggled to pull away. Not lessening his grip, Cameron pulled the towel up and bent to inspect the wounds.
“Merely a scratch. Ye had me worried, dear lady,” he said.
His breathless reply prickled across her naked skin before he raised his gaze to search her face.
“Cameron? Why are you here? Kirk said you and Balfour ran off.”
“Get yer footing,” he said. She slid to her feet. Barely contained desire had flooded his cheeks with ruddy color. His hands held her steady, but his unwanted touch threw her off-balance.
“Let go of me. I can stand,” she lied. When he refused to loosen his grip around her waist, she glared into his dark, amber eyes. Before she could push him away, a disturbance near the edge of the trees made her turn. Bushes and limbs exploded, disgorging Kirk and two burly warriors, their weapons drawn.
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 147
