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

  His chest heaved, and he breathed in the pub’s smoke-filled air. Her subtle fragrance, wild roses and honey, soothed his nostrils to banish less pleasant odors.

  “Ye would disregard his proposal of marriage and accept mine?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I have nothing to offer ye.”

  “I want ye.” Her words seared his flesh and his need to touch her drove him to slide in close beside her, on the bench. When a hand slid toward her neck, someone tapped him on the knuckles.

  “Keep yer distance from my maid, Lord Mackenzie. I believe there is the matter of yer wench to discuss?” Lady Rose’s impeccable timing made them break apart.

  “Aye, I must decide what to do with my captive.”

  “Ye kidnapped her. Send her away.” Rose said.

  When he glared at her, Rose paled. Lady Fia looked less than pleased.

  “She attempted to sway me. Her kiss held no pleasure for me.” Marcas blew out the lone candle, throwing their corner into shadow. He pulled Fia onto his lap. While her startled maid sputtered and fanned her face, he covered Fia’s with kisses. She squirmed closer.

  Where she ought to be, now and forever.

  He vowed never to let her go. All too soon, he forgot about Kirk, and his captive.

  * * * * *

  Haven glanced around the small privy. The room sat at the back of the inn with a window too high and too small to allow an easy getaway. The only door faced the back of the dining hall. She would have to pass in full view to reach the pub’s rear exit.

  She dried her sodden dress the best she could then caught her reflection in the oval of silvered glass propped on a rickety wood shelf. Its primitive surface distorted her face, but she could tell she looked haggard. Tired fingers reached up and smoothed her disheveled hair. Bruised lips pouted. Cheeks reddened by Lord Mackenzie’s whiskers sickened her, as did her guilty conscience.

  The man can kiss, but all I thought about was Kirk.

  Too bad Kirk turned out to be a bloodsucking bastard who deserved to die one-hundred deaths. If she hadn’t sworn off men the moment she learned of Kirk’s betrayal, Mackenzie might have been a candidate for an interesting adventure between the sheets.

  Who am I kidding? I want Kirk.

  The privy door swung open and she flattened against the wall. Time was up.

  “ ‘Tis the witch,” boomed a voice inside the small room. The mirror shook.

  Haven locked eyes with an elegantly dressed woman whose beautiful maid had glared at her from under a dull gray scarf.

  “Ye kissed Lord Mackenzie.”

  “I can explain.”

  “I am listening.”

  “I don’t want him. Not in that way.” Haven suddenly found it hard to explain her actions to a woman with enflamed cheeks and fisted hands. Bodily harm seemed imminent.

  “Then, why did ye kiss him?”

  “I wanted to take his mind off me and—”

  “By kissing him senseless? Not the best way to handle a man like him.”

  Haven realized she had to come clean. If this woman did not want her near Marcas, she might help her escape.

  “I want to leave. He will not let me go. Will you help me?”

  “Aye, I shall. Put on my scarf. Walk between the wall and me then dart out the back door. But, first take these.” The woman smiled and slipped her several coins.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, miss—”

  “I am Rose, maidservant to Lady Fia of Castle Ruadh. My lady sits with Lord Mackenzie as we speak.”

  Did Haven’s shock reflect on her face? Kirk’s betrothed was with Mackenzie? She settled the scarf over her head, then turned to push through the door. “A question before I go?”

  “Ask.”

  “Is she going to marry Kirkwall Gunn?”

  “Never! After falling in love with one man, an arranged marriage to another was not to her liking. Strong-willed, that one. Her family thought only of their needs. Lord Mackenzie will make her happy. Laird Gunn will understand, since they had only met the one time.”

  Rose walked out the door, with Haven in her shadow. Rose headed into the dining hall, while Haven snuck out the back door.

  Her escape proved uneventful. Aided by moonlight, Haven’s brisk stride soon put the village, and Lord Mackenzie, far behind. She considered her next step. Should she run as far away as she could, or should she search for Cameron?

  The attack had occurred hours earlier. He could be dead. The more she thought of how he risked his life to save hers, the more her guilty conscience urged her on. As soon as Lord Mackenzie realized she had escaped, he and his men might come after her. On foot, she had little chance of gaining any distance.

  She crept through the dark until the village lay far behind. Animal noises echoed through the trees. Fear would not prevent her from jumping into its dark recesses if she chanced to meet anyone on the lonely road. Haven decided to backtrack along the route Mackenzie had ridden to the village. Spying the trail that led into the forest, she squinted through the gloom and searched for the bodies of Balfour and Cameron.

  Voices cursed in the darkness, somewhere to her left. She slipped between two bushes and spotted a small campfire. Sparks snapped and shot into the sky when a flaming twig popped. A horse whinnied.

  The aroma of charred meat floated on the breeze. She crept closer. Branches clawed her face, so Haven pulled the borrowed scarf tight about her cheeks. Two burly warriors sat on a large log, chewing and slurping their dinner. A dark form lay huddled under a horse blanket on the opposite edge of the clearing. Moans rose from the faceless figure and Haven’s heart jumped into her throat.

  Cameron?

  In order to help, she’d have to take out the two guards. No longer thinking like a helpless victim, she crouched and thought this through.

  “Use your strengths.” She repeated her mantra until a thought popped into her head and a smile pulled at her mouth. She’d brew a sleeping draft with the packet of sleeping powder Iona had given her.

  That day, at the New England Highland games, felt years ago. She’d filled her pockets with chamomile petals that she had picked along the river the afternoon she soaked her feet, the day Kirk kissed her.

  Her sigh broke the silence and she bit her lip to keep from making any further noise. If she added her entire supply of petals and Iona’s powder to their water skin, they’d get drowsy. She could do the deed, but if the person moaning wasn’t Cameron, she’d be fresh out of ideas. And potions.

  She crept toward the tree where the guard had laid the skin. Crushing the dried petals into a coarse powder, Haven stealthily crept forward, dropped the potion inside the skin, backed away, and waited.

  One warrior rose and grabbed the water skin. The doctored liquid splashed down his bare chest as he drank.

  * * * * *

  “Where is Mackenzie?” Kirk demanded.

  When the innkeeper hesitated, Kirk grabbed him by the neck. His other hand slid his sword from its scabbard. The Mackenzie’s trail had led Kirk straight here, and his fear for Haven’s safety fueled his rage.

  “Upstairs. Last room on the right.”

  “Did he retire alone?”

  “Nay, my lord. He had a woman with him, and demanded they not be disturbed.”

  Kirk shoved the man away, then mounted the stairs two steps at a time. Images of Cora, raped and murdered, blinded him with fury and panic for Haven. He banged on the door then kicked it off its hinges. A woman’s shrill scream sent the man clambering off the bed. Mackenzie, naked to the waist, grabbed for his weapon.

  * * * * *

  Haven tugged the blanket low enough to verify that the moans belonged to Kirk’s cousin. He was alive, but badly injured. Firelight reflected in the sweat dotting his brow. Cameron’s golden eyelashes fluttered on pale cheeks while the pungent aroma of horse and leather wafted up from the dirty blanket.

  He grimaced with pain. She had to act fast. Exhaling a deep breath, she swung her attention t
o the snoring men nearer the fire.

  “Lady Haven?” Cameron’s ragged cough made his body shake.

  “Keep your voice down.” She smiled the warning at him, trying to ease the situation. “How ya’ doing?”

  When he tossed the blanket aside, he pointed to the filthy rag wrapped around his chest.

  “They bound my wound, but took no time to clean it. They captured ye as well?” Concern flooded his face.

  He had tried to save her, which made him a hero in her eyes. She now had the opportunity to repay the favor. Haven brushed a lock of blonde hair from his damp forehead.

  “I am here to rescue you. Can you walk?”

  When a shocked look passed over his eyes, Cameron grunted. She helped him to his unsteady feet. They shuffled step by step to where the mercenaries had hobbled their mounts.

  Cameron’s body trembled as pain wracked him anew. When he hesitated, and then choked back a sob, she followed his gaze. Beyond the edge of the clearing, where the horses had bedded down, an arm peeked from beneath a gorse bush as if playing hide-and-seek.

  “Who is—”

  “Balfour. God’s teeth, this is my fault,” Cameron cried. He pulled her toward the body.

  “Cameron, we can’t help him. I loved him, too, but we have to get away. Now.” She sniffed, and wiped away a tear. Cameron was as weak as a baby, but he was alive and she had a chance to save one man, at least. She gripped his forearm, then easily pulled him away from his dead friend.

  “Ye are right, but we must return for his body.”

  “I promise. We’ll send someone back for him, but you need medical attention.”

  “I might not be able to stay upright much longer, my lady. Loss of blood has weakened me.”

  “Then I’ll drive.” Her odd words got his attention. “Climb up behind me.” She led the horse to a fallen log and mounted. She pulled her frock high and sat astride. The moonlight framed his face and wide eyes. When she caught him staring at her naked legs she added, “Coming?”

  With her tugging him, he settled behind her. Haven urged him to lean forward and hold her about the waist. His large hands circled around and settled under her breasts. All ten fingers trembled. Whether from weakness or lust, she didn’t care. She hoped he spoke the truth when he said his wound had stopped bleeding. If he fell, he might reopen the injury and bleed to death before she found safety.

  With a kick, Haven urged the stolen horse toward the open road and town. She would take her chances back at the village in order to get help for Cameron.

  When they distanced themselves from the Mackenzie camp, Haven allowed the rest of her tears to fall. She’d miss Balfour. Everyone would. He’d been a good man, and a friend. Kirk might also lie dead in the forest. A sudden pain seared her chest.

  An evening breeze cooled the moisture dripping down her cheeks. With no saddle and no halter, keeping them balanced upon the beast’s bare back became her immediate concern. Sniffling to clear her nose, she began to sing. Her quiet tune seemed to ease Cameron’s shaking.

  Lord up high, in heaven’s bluest sky.

  Of grace and beauty, as fairies fly,

  With faith and devotion I shall prance,

  Weightless upon the earth, I come to dance.

  Heat pumped off his chest into her back. Her mind worked furiously to recall what herbs she’d require to break his fever, as soon as they reached the village. With her attention involved with her thoughts, she didn’t sense danger until too late. The metallic whisper of numerous swords pulled from scabbards stopped them in their tracks.

  “Stay still, Cameron. Hold tight. If these are Mackenzie’s men we will have to run for it.” She pressed a hand over the large palms gripping her waist. A weak nod beside her left ear preceded more tremors.

  “Lady Haven?”

  Haven snapped her head toward the owner of the voice. Under the dim light of the pub’s torches, a tall, lanky form walked closer.

  “Reid?”

  “We have her!” he shouted to another warrior standing in the pub’s doorway. Several cries reverberated inside the building. Other men quickly circled the pair and Kirk rushed toward them.

  “Kirk, you’re alive!” Relief flooded her weary limbs. She licked her lips because he looked different.

  Her heart wrenched apart at the rage evident in his face. His nearly healed scar darkened to match his scowl as he slid to a stop by their side. His eyes darted to Cameron’s arms around her waist. Kirk’s fist clenched the hilt of the broadsword he’d removed from its scabbard with a sickening peal.

  “Unhand her or die.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Kirk, leave him be,” Haven yelled. “He’s been shot with an arrow.”

  Eyes blazing with sexual heat bore through her, then instantly softened. “Ye and he are not—”

  “Fool! He tried to rescue me after Mackenzie kidnapped me, but an arrow brought him down. Mackenzie held me captive in this pub. I escaped then helped Cameron escape. I came here because I thought you were—”

  “Killed?”

  She nodded.

  “I am fine, lass. I was worried about ye, and followed Mackenzie’s trail here. Get down from there and come have a drink.”

  “There’s more. Balfour is dead,” she whispered.

  While Kirk absorbed the news with nary a blink, his men murmured curses. Reid began to cry. Without a word of condemnation, Kirk urged the boy to help Cameron off the horse. “Take him inside. We shall care for him in a decent room this night.”

  Reid nodded and assisted Cameron inside the pub. Haven sensed Kirk move closer. His weaponless palm settled on her naked calf. With a crook of his head, his smile pulled at his scar. She couldn’t return his grin.

  “Balfour died trying to save me. If I hadn’t been such a jerk and let down my guard, Mackenzie wouldn’t have grabbed me. He’d still be alive.”

  “Nonsense, love. Balfour did what he’d promised to do for me and for ye. He pledged to protect the clan. Ye are part of us whether ye stay or leave.”

  “Thank you.” Haven accepted his open arms and slid down his body until her feet hit the ground and she stumbled.

  “Easy. Lass. We shall care for his body.”

  She gave general directions to the location of Balfour’s body and warned him about the guards. Kirk ordered four men to find their friend and take him home.

  “Bury him proper at Keldurunach, beneath a warrior’s cairn. Unload a supply sledge, bind him tight, and hurry home.” Men murmured their salutations and sped away.

  Haven trembled when she thought of the sleeping guards. Once Kirk’s men found them they might never wake. She was surprised to find her fingers clutching Kirk’s vest. Touching him filled her with desire that mingled with a sense of peace. How could two opposite emotions surround her with such happiness?

  She pushed him back a few inches and stared into his face. The breeze lifted her hair, tossing it across her face. Kirk brushed aside a few wayward strands and her skin sizzled beneath his gentle touch before he pulled her toward the inn.

  “We must find ye a comb, my lady.”

  “Forget about me. Poor, brave Cameron has a fever. I must look at his wound and gather more herbs to bring down his temperature. He needs a bed, clean linens, and fresh water.”

  “Ye heard the lady,” he bellowed at the rotund proprietor, standing in the doorway.

  “Ye may have the two rooms beside The Mackenzie, my lord.”

  “Oh no.” She stepped back.

  “Calm yerself, lass. The Mackenzie and I have talked ever since I discovered him in bed with Lady Fia.” He led her through the door and toward the stairs.

  Heat swept beneath her cheeks. He had found his fiancée in bed with another man? “And you didn’t kill Mackenzie on the spot?”

  He laughed.

  Her head throbbed. Slightly dizzy from adrenaline or fear, she trotted behind him up each step with her hand clasped inside his fist. She loved Kirk, but would he trade her for Lady F
ia? Even if he harbored no feelings beyond lust, would he force Fia to part from her lover? Would he ignore the obvious yearnings he held for Haven simply to save face?

  When they stopped before a closed door, Haven tugged her captured wrist. “I must see to Cameron. I have special healing powers—”

  “Ye are special. I suspected this the moment ye appeared to me in a vision. Ye may assist my cousin after ye explain what occurred between ye and Mackenzie.”

  “What did he tell you when you found him with Lady Fia?”

  “Are ye worried what he might have said about ye?”

  She yanked her hand from his, finally, and crossed both arms over her chest. One foot tapped the wood floor and the sound reverberated through the hallway. The door swung open.

  “Lady Haven? Ye are well?” Lord Mackenzie looked like a pirate with his disheveled hair, and shirt open to the waist. Yet his face had softened and no weapons were visible.

  “I am fine, no thanks to you. Where is Lady Fia and Rose?”

  “I am here, my lady. I am fine. Rose is abed elsewhere.”

  The young woman’s words accompanied a satisfied sigh as she peeked from behind Mackenzie on a bed piled with furs. Her golden curls tumbled about her shoulders and her eyes shone with love.

  For Lord Mackenzie.

  Kirk pushed past Mackenzie and bowed to Lady Fia. Mackenzie motioned for Haven to enter the room as well. Reluctantly, she shut the door and leaned against the cool wood as she watched the scene unfold. Kirk said he had already talked to these two. Why would he bring her here? And where had Cameron gone?

  Mackenzie, sitting on the edge of the bed, poured out his hatred and grief to Kirk. When the man paused for a breath, Kirk broke in.

  “I have heard these words before. I am here to end this.”

  When Haven gasped, Kirk hastily added, “I mean to end this with words. I was reluctant to wed Lady Fia ever since the idea had been presented to our clan.”

  “Ye might have refused her uncle’s request and kept all this from occurring in the first place,” Mackenzie sneered.