Taken: A Laird for All Time Novel (Volume 2)

by Angeline Fortin

  Again. How? Why?

  She was still pondering the question when a rough, burly brogue spoke close by. “Lovely day to be in Scotland, isn’t it, Miss Thomas?”

  “I’m sorry, have we met?” she asked, turning to the wizened old man who leaned against the tower wall. His arms were crossed over a rough woven tunic and he wore leggings with leather straps criss-crossed over his calves and down to his leather shoes. Pushing his cap back on his balding head, he gave her a wink. An all too familiar grin creased his cheeks. “Wait… Mr… Donell? Is that you?”

  “Aye, lassie, and how are ye on this fine day?”

  “What are you…? How did you…?” she stuttered, gawping at him like a strangled fish.

  “Just a few days away from the press and already yer no’ minding yerself every word in public.” He nodded approvingly. “Quite an improvement, I’d say.”

  Such relief bulleted through her that Scarlett hardly gave his words a moment’s thought. She grasped his hand excitedly. “Oh, thank God I’m not the only one caught up in this nightmare! Do you know how we can get out of here and go home?”

  “A nightmare, is it now?” Donell tilted his head questioningly. “Is that what ye want, lass? To go home?”

  “Of course, I do! How can you even ask such a thing?”

  “But this is what ye wanted, wisnae it?” he pressed, his eyes boring into hers and Scarlett’s heart thumped heavily in her chest as she realized what he was saying.

  “No, no. Why would you think that?” Dropping his hand, she took a step back, pressing two fingers to the sudden ache building at her brow.

  “Och, lass,” he chided. “Isnae it what ye said? That ye wished ye could just get away from them all?” Donell matched her step, catching her by the elbow just as the back of her thighs brushed the battlements and tugging her toward him. “Och, careful now, lass. ‘Twould no’ do to fall and ruin all my efforts, now would it?”

  “Efforts? Away from them all?” She shook her head, denying the implication of his words. “You? You did this? Why? What did I ever do to you?”

  The mischief fled his gaze and concern took its place. “Ye did nothing, lassie. Yer nothing but kindness. All this… ‘tis what I do for ye. And others. Yer no’ the only one, lassie.”

  Her head still swung uncontrollably from side to side in rejection of his words. “Only one what? I don’t understand.”

  “The only one to feel alone, lass.” he said with some exasperation. “Ye think yer the only one who feels lacking in control? Who feels they cannae trust anyone?”

  “You think this helps?” she asked, flinging an arm toward the castle. “You think they trust me?”

  “Trust given and received needs to be earned, lass.” His impatience was evident as he crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest but Scarlett was filled to the brim with irritation of her own.

  “I don’t need you to teach me a lesson, Donell. Send me home now!” She stomped her foot and jabbed her finger down insistently.

  Donell only compressed his lips tightly, sending out a whole new network of wrinkles to show his dissatisfaction. “Bah, ‘tis too soon.” He waved a hand scornfully. “I dinnae ken what I was thinking. I’m getting impatient in my auld age and yer no’ yet ready for more.”

  “I am so ready,” she cried desperately. “Donell… Wait! Get back here!”

  But he already turned away toward the tower. “I will see ye again soon enough, lassie. Ta-ra, for now.”

  “What the hell?” Scarlett blinked in astonishment as he disappeared through the door with a wave. “Oh no, you don’t!”

  Dashing through the door, she found the upper hall empty but swore she heard his mischievous laughter drifting up the spiral staircase. Snatching her skirts high, she chased after the mysterious man who claimed responsibility for her nightmare as fast as her feet could carry her but she never caught sight of him.

  How could such an ancient human being be so fast? He must be an elf to vanish into thin air like that! Down another flight and a wrong door later, she raced into the bailey just as the old man disappeared through the postern gate.

  Gasping for breath, she ran after him wondering all the while how he managed to elude her when he appeared to be taking nothing more than a leisurely stroll.

  Still his lead grew as he headed toward the woodlands. Scarlett lengthened her stride as she dashed through a stand of trees but when she broke through the other side, he was gone.

  Scarlett bent over, panting as she stared in disbelief. Where the hell did he go?

  Damn it, she wanted answers.

  Holding her side, she continued doggedly onward around the pond, determined to find Donell make some sense out of his rambling.

  24

  Dusk had fallen by the time she returned to the encampment still she hadn’t seen Donell again. It was fully dark by the time she found her way back to her tent an hour later. Rhys was nowhere in sight, nor was Maris or even Aiden.

  She didn’t worry much about Maris but where was everyone else?

  “Scarlett, there you are.” Aleizia exclaimed as she came out of the next tent. “Where have you been? We thought you’d gotten lost.”

  It was shocking that Aleizia could scold so well when she was little more than a child herself, but the point was well made. She’d hardly been able to find her tent and it wasn’t even mobile. It had been like trying to find The Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyworld without a map. She wouldn’t leave it again without a GPS handy. “I walked to the castle. I told Rhys that.”

  “You did but we never expected you to stay away so long. Laird was worried for you. We all were.”

  “He was?” Scarlett’s heart leapt. “Where is he?”

  “Right where he’s been all this time. At the King’s side.”

  “Oh.” As far as excuses went, she supposed it was a pretty reasonable one.

  “Come, we’ll let the men know you’re all right,” Aleizia looped her arm through Scarlett’s arm tugged her away down the tented lane. “They’re all at the King’s table this night but I know they’ll want to see that you’re back safe and sound.”

  King’s tent wasn’t far away. The quality of the tents got more elaborate as they neared. Aleizia explained that the clan chieftains, lairds, lords and earls would be closer to their monarch. Scarlett equated it to the Beverly Hills of the encampment.

  “…And I welcome my friends from Clan Hay and the other border lords who hae today answered the call of their King and country.”

  King James voice boomed out as they reached the fringes of a clearing around the most elaborate tent Scarlett had seen yet. Silken luxury meets the big top. Before it, King James sat at the head of a long table with at least fifty men dining with him, though no ladies were present. Clearly they were talking business.

  “Yer King thanks ye one and all for yer service. Tomorrow we shall cross the Tweed into England.”

  Scarlett was hard-pressed to give the King even an ounce of her attention as she scanned the men lining the table and spotted Laird sitting about half way down the opposite side with Patrick, Rhys and Sir William.

  His eyes lifted and met hers immediately, as if he had felt her gaze upon him. Whispering something to Rhys, he rose unobtrusively and disappeared between the tents behind him.

  She started forward but Aleizia held her back. “No, wait here.”

  “I ken that there has been some debate o’er my decision to honor the Auld Alliance wi’ France, but as Henry threatens to reassert what he calls his God-given rights as feudal overlord of Scotland, I believe we hae nae choices left in this matter.”

  Some of the men sounded their approval but the sound was drowned out by the roaring of her blood in her ears as Laird’s powerful arm slid around her waist. “Laird,” she sighed, leaning back against his chest as he bent his head to nuzzle her ear.

  “I, uh… I’ll just leave you then,” Aleizia said with an awkward smile before she turned and fled.

 
The King’s voice ricocheted through the camp again. “I hae sent word to the regent, Catherine, and Henry that we shall meet them on the field of battle.”

  The men banged their goblets on the table in approval.

  “Where hae ye been?” Laird whispered. “We were worried for ye.”

  “Were you?” she asked. “You didn’t come looking.”

  “Would that I could hae and spared us all the wondering.”

  Scarlett sank into his warm embrace, pleased by his open concern.

  “Wait,” she said under her breath as the King’s words began to sink in through the clamor of banging cups. “Your king told the enemy that he’s planning on invading England?”

  “Shh, lass,” Laird said. “Aye. How else would our enemy know where to meet us for battle if we dinnae arrange a meeting? Scotland is a big country. England larger still.”

  King James droned on, “On the morrow, we shall cross into England.”

  “I kind of thought the point of an invasion was that the enemy doesn’t know you’re coming,” Scarlett persisted, pulling away to look up at him.

  Laird shook his head. “Lass, we arenae reivers to sneak aboot like thieves in the dark.”

  “I thought that’s exactly what you were,” she reminded him.

  “Not in this endeavor,” Laird clarified, his fingers tightening over hers when she started to speak again. “Scarlett, now isnae the time.”

  “But you’re giving them plenty of time to raise an army of their own.”

  “Scarlett, ye cannae question what ye dinnae understand.”

  “We will take every Sassenach hold along the way!” the King announced and the men at the table shouted their support.

  “How can I not question that?” Scarlett asked over the din, drawing the attention of the guards standing nearby. “How can you not? I mean, it just stupid to let the enemy know you’re coming.”

  One man at the end of the table turned in his seat, narrowing a menacing look on her.

  “Pax, Angus. She’s been ill,” Laird explained quickly, pulling her away from the clearing with a firm hand. “I will see her back to her tent.”

  “I have not been sick,” Scarlett hissed. “I wish you would stop saying that.”

  “Then offer me another explanation for these mad ramblings and questions,” he said as he dragged her through the encampment. Holy crap, she didn’t know a man’s stride could cover so much ground in a single step but she was practically running to keep up with him. “I myself cannae think of another reason that ye would dare to question our practices so insolently if it no’ for an addled head.”

  “You think I’m addled?” Scarlett tripped on her heavy skirts before lifting them high. Laird was in no mood now to see that she didn’t fall, not that she wanted his help in that moment. She didn’t like being dragged around like a doll any more than she liked being told what to do or say. “I’m not the one who thinks the plans to invade another country should be announced ahead of time. It sounds to be like you’re all pretty nuts. You’re going to get yourselves killed.”

  “’Tis becoming easier to believe that yer no’ from this country at all if ye hae such questions about our ways. I ken ‘tis no’ for a female mind to understand a gentleman’s code of chivalry but ‘tis how it is done.”

  Scarlett just shook her head. “Chivalry says that? I don’t remember reading that anywhere. What else does it say? Stand across the field from each other and hold still like gentleman so that they can get a better shot at you? That’s ancient idiocy, that’s what that is. In modern warfare…”

  “Enough!” Laird roared, opening the flap of her tent and shoving her through with enough force to send her stumbling. He had to be pretty incensed to get so rough but Scarlett was reaching the end of her good sense as well.

  “Don’t you get all medieval with me, Laird Hepburn.” she snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’m not some wilting flower you can just push around. And don’t think you can feed me that crap about female minds either. I’m not feeble or stupid. I have a right to my own opinions, and in my opinion, this whole thing you’ve got going on here is pure bullshit.”

  “I’ve had enough of yer prattle, yer questioning our practices. I demand that ye cease acting as if ye hae no familiarity wi’ our ways.”

  “I don’t have any familiarity with your ‘ways’, Laird,” she said, making air quotes around the word. “I don’t live with them, I haven’t practiced them and frankly, with the little I’ve seen of them, I am as thankful as all hell that I grew up in a better time.”

  “Bah! What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means exactly what it sounds like.”

  “Yer the most maddening woman I hae ever met.”

  “Yes and what’s supposed to happen to this maddening woman when you go off and fight this war?” she asked, her heart pounding sickly. Ah, now she was getting to the crux of the matter wasn’t she? He was going to war, for Christ’s sake. And by the sound of it, he was going to get himself killed in the process. The image of that dripping, bloody sword emblazoned itself in her mind once more, sending a chill through her heart. “Am I supposed to stand by and watch you get yourself killed?”

  “That is no’ for ye to decide,” Laird replied. “Ye’ll remain here at Dunskirk until this is over.”

  “Stay here? Uh-uh, I’m not going to sit around and wonder what’s happening. This is my life, too, and I’m going along.”

  “I said ye’ll stay here where ye belong.”

  “This is not where I belong!” she shouted at him.

  “It is!” Laird grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Yer my responsibility, lass. Mine.”

  “Yours?” Scarlett shot back mockingly. “You think just because you almost shagged me back at Crichton that I’m yours? I don’t belong to anyone.”

  “Shagged?” Some of the heat faded from his eyes, his grip relaxed ever so slightly but Scarlett was still mad. Madder than she had ever been.

  “Yes, shagged. As in screwed, did the nasty, got busy, fornicated…” His eyes blazed with comprehension at last. “Fucked,” she spat the ugly word. “Admit it, all of this is just because you want to fuck me and haven’t managed to get under my skirts yet.”

  “Ye think all I want to do is fook ye, lass?” he said in a thick, dangerous brogue. “I can fook any lass in Scotland if I wanted to. ‘Tis no’ that hard to get beneath their skirts.”

  Braggart. Bastard. Scarlett sneered but bit back the stab of hurt that followed his words. I don’t care, she told herself. He could screw all the ‘lasses’ on the planet if he wanted. All she wanted from him – until she tracked down Donell and knew otherwise – was that damn sword and a way home.

  “Go to it then.” She swept her hand toward the door. Tears clogged her throat. No, that was it. A way out and nothing more. “There’s the door. Have at it.”

  “Ye want me to find another to warm my bed?”

  No! “Sure, knock yourself out.”

  With a hard look, Laird turned toward the door. Her heart pounded with something akin to panic, and Scarlett was hard put to restrain the bit of herself that wanted to chase Laird out that door and beg him to come back.

  But Laird didn’t leave. Instead he drew down the flap, casting the tent in near darkness but for the single tallow candle Maris had left burning for her. “I’m afraid I cannae do that, lass.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because there is only one woman I want.”

  25

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked apprehensively as James unpinned his kilt from his shoulder and tossed it to the side.

  His molten eyes met hers but he didn’t answer. Instead he toed off his boots and proceeded to unfasten his sporran. Slipping it off, he advanced slowly. He lifted the hem of the loose shirt he wore and peeled it over his head in a smooth motion.

  There were no words on his tongue now; only a memory of the taste of her and
James had to have more. Scarlett gasped and backed a step away but there was nowhere she could run from him.

  Not anymore.

  The muscles in his chest bunched and leapt as he balled the garment up and flung it to the side. His chest was incredible. Massive with thick bands of muscle reminiscent of a certain Shreveport werewolf she and every other red-blooded American woman had admired on TV. But this was real, incredibly lifelike and right in front of her.

  “What are you… Geez… You can’t just… wow,” she exhaled the exclamation with a sigh and shook her head as her eyes drank him in. Just so many muscles. Her fingers itched to touch him.

  Laird prowled toward her until he was almost within reach. His chest was wide and magnificently sculpted in the candlelight with just enough dark hair arrowing downward to draw her eye and make her mouth water with anticipation. “I’m still… mmm, those … I’m still mad at… wow, just wow.”

  His abs rippled like sand dunes under his taut, tanned skin as he unbuckled his belt. He certainly looked hotter than the Sahara. “Don’t think you can… Oh my God.”

  Her Scottish laird flung the kilt aside as he reached her. His arm wound around her waist and lifted her against him, carrying her backward. She slammed against the support post as his lips descended upon hers, muffling her gasp of surprise. A gasp that transformed into a moan readily enough as he forced her lips to part. Desire kindled within her as his tongue plunged deeply and Scarlett raked her teeth across it, biting down gently. A low growl escaped him.

  Then the fires began to rage once more and Scarlett surrendered. She was done fighting with him. Done fighting the irresistible hunger he inspired in her. She doubted that this was all in the grand design of her temporal displacement. Surely there was more to it. She could have gotten laid anywhere. Whatever her purpose was, she didn’t care. She had never wanted anything so much as she wanted Laird. Never had to have anything more.

  Drawing on his lower lip, Scarlett nipped there for good measure before kissing him fully. His short beard pricked at her chin but she held him close, urging him closer as she ran her hands over his naked chest, thrilling at the smoothness of his skin and the rigidity of his fine physique. Kneading upward, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers digging, curling into his long hair.