STICK: MC ROMANCE NOVELLA (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 8)

by Samantha Leal

  William looked at her, his eyes troubled.

  “I know it’s difficult to explain, but this afternoon I was in Selkirk in 2015, and all I know now is that I’m now in Selkirk over 500 years in the past.”

  He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

  How could she make him believe her? Her bag was still over her shoulder, and she reached inside it. The Starbucks cup was still there and she placed it on the bed along with the sandwich and flask. Unzipping the front pocket, she pulled out her iPhone. The locket had gone. She remembered looking at it before she fell asleep. It must have slipped from her hand at the dig.

  “What’s this?” He picked up the cup and gazed at the design.

  “It’s a coffee cup.”

  “What’s coffee?”

  It was too hard to explain.

  “I have this, too,” she said, holding up her phone.

  “What is it?”

  How on earth could she describe a cell phone to a 16th-century Scotsman?

  “Well, it’s a communication tool. You can talk to anyone in the world through it.”

  He looked impressed.

  “Show me.”

  It was hard to get a signal in 1513. He looked less impressed.

  She had an idea. Pressing the photo App she found a photo of herself back home in California and showed it to him. He was mesmerized.

  “I’m from America, a place called California.”

  Taking the phone, he touched the screen with his fingertips, barely able to register what he was seeing.

  She had an even better idea.

  “Let’s take a selfie.”

  Putting her head next to his, she held up the camera and clicked the button. The camera flashed and William shot up from the bed in alarm.

  “It’s OK, it’s just a photograph.” She handed him the phone to see the picture.

  It was almost too much for him, and he sat back on the bed shaking his head.

  “Are you some sort of a witch?”

  Rebecca touched him lightly on the arm. “No. For some reason, I’ve traveled back in time. Worlds collide with the past and present,’’ she recited, remembering the quote on the old Kirk wall.

  William looked her in the eye. “Me and my men travel to meet King James at Flodden tomorrow. We battle with the English on the 9th. If you’re from the future, do you know what happens?”

  Swallowing hard, she looked back into his eyes. He was so like James that her heart skipped a beat. How could she tell him that 10,000 Scotsmen would lose their lives? History had already happened, and she couldn’t change it. If she could, then she probably wouldn’t be here.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  She touched his arm tenderly. He seemed so sad and so bewildered. It didn’t help that she looked like his lost wife and the whole phone thing had knocked the wind out of his sails. An impulse to kiss him passed through her. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and felt a strong attraction to him. He must have felt the same for soon his mouth was upon hers, this time gently as their lips locked together in a soft embrace. His arms instinctively wrapped around her as he pushed her onto the bed, his body pressing into her. His hand traveled over her tunic and fondled her small, round breasts.

  He was panting heavily. It was a long time since he had tasted a woman and he wanted her more than anything else. It wasn’t just that she looked like Jane; there was something deeper, more primal, as if he had always known her. Pushing up the tunic, his hand started to explore the soft flesh of her inner thigh and as his fingers reached the soft satin of her panties, her body froze. She was a still a virgin and had never gone this far with any of her boyfriends before. She wanted him, but it was an automatic reaction. Maybe she was still recoiling from the thoughts of Johnny.

  William slid his hand from her tunic. What was he thinking? Although he had spent most of his life living on the barren moors, he was not a wild man. He considered himself a gentleman and was behaving like a beast. Sitting up, he straightened his ruffled auburn hair.

  “We need to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow. You stay in the bed, and I will sleep elsewhere.”

  Leaving the candle behind, he hurried out of the room before she could reply. The blood was coursing through her veins and her head thumping. She was starving and remembered the cheese sandwich. Wolfing it down, she poured some tea out of the flask. Somehow it was still hot and did the trick.

  Exhausted, she could no longer think straight. Climbing beneath the woolen sheets still fully clothed, she closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep.

  It was still dark when she woke. At first she didn’t realize where she was and thought she had been dreaming, but no, she was still in the dark bed chamber of William Stewart. There was a sound of horses and men gathering outside. She stood up and looked out the window.

  At least a hundred men had gathered outside, some on horseback, some carrying items in and out of the house. All were dressed in the same tartan shawls, some green and black and others red. Some of the men wore blue caps and others were bareheaded. Many of them were young men, perhaps not much older than herself. Her conscience weighed heavy; most of these men would be dead in a few days time, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Rebecca, are you awake? Come and eat before we ride. It will be a long day.”

  William had entered the room, and he looked tired. He had not been able to sleep that night as he was trying to understand everything that had happened; he still didn’t. He had brought her some of his squire’s clothes for her to wear. It would be safer if she disguised herself as a boy amongst the thousands of men. A cap would hide her long hair.

  Dressing quickly, she ventured down to the dining room where men sat drinking ale and eating bread and porridge. She was handed a small bowl of thick porridge oats and a hunk of bread. She was so hungry that she wolfed it down and was handed a second bowl and a jug of ale to wash it down with. It tasted surprisingly good and she was starting to feel refreshed. Some of the other men eyed her suspiciously, but while she was under the guardianship of William Stewart, no man would hurt her. The time came to be off. She grabbed her bag, making sure her mobile phone was switched off to save the battery. What a scoop to take live photos of one of Scotland’s most famous and bloody battles.

  Before they set off, William wrapped a red woolen shawl around her to keep her warm on the journey. Mounted onto his horse, she sat behind him, her hands wrapped around his waist. She was frightened of what might happen, but she had never felt so alive before. If only her Mom could see her now!

  They rode out for most of the day . They would be joining King James and his men camped out near Flodden Hill. She was amazed as they passed the tiny hamlets. Some of the houses were little more than rough wooden and mud huts with smoke spiralling out of a hole in the thatched roofs. They passed peasants and carts and horses on the rough tracks, and Rebecca was astounded by the sights as they raced through the medieval countryside.

  She liked to feel Williams’s strong body next to hers. It felt so safe being close to him. His kiss still lingered on her lips from the previous night and something stirred within her. She ached for him to touch her again, and next time she would not stop him. That’s if there would be a next time. Her mind strayed to the historical facts about the battle: 10,000 Scotsmen would die. What if the old lady had been wrong about William Stewart and he didn’t survive? Or what if she had somehow changed the course of history just by being here?

  Soon they could see the campfire smoke in the distance. The small party had been joined by more men along the way and it had soon grown to over 500 men heading for the camp. Soon they were amongst men and horses, rounded tents and piles of weaponry, and the sounds and smells were overwhelming. There were makeshift fires over which black cauldrons were hung making countless broths and stews, while flagons of wine and ale were being handed around. It reminded Rebecca of a Tudor-themed rock festival.

  They found a space to
put up their tent, and soon a fire was lit and their evening meal was simmering in the pot. William told her to keep out of sight in the tent while he and the other men went about their business, feeding the horses and preparing their weaponry. It was nightfall before she saw him again when they all sat around the camp fire eating the thick chicken broth. It was basic, but it was one of the best things she had tasted and even the stale bread to soak up the liquid was delicious.

  She was to sleep alone in the tent that night while the men slept with the horses. She was tired from the day’s ride, and William brought in some extra blankets to try and make her as comfortable as possible. He seemed to be avoiding any intimacies with her, and she struggled to reach out to him. She lay cold in the tent and could not sleep, anxious about the coming battle.

  She must have slept, if only lightly, for a noise in the tent awoke her and she sat up quickly, her heart pounding in the darkness.

  “It’s only me.” William was by her side and gently touching her arm.

  “I had to come and see ye, Rebecca. I’ve been trying so hard not to, but I cannae stop thinking about ye. Tomorrow night we will camp up on Flodden Hill, and so tonight is the last night I might have here. Ye will have to stay here with some of the squires, but ye will be safe here.”

  He brought his face towards hers to see her more clearly in the darkness. “This may be our only night together.”

  His eyes burned brightly into hers. She wanted to tell him that the battle would be lost but that he wouldn’t die. But how could she tell a man that 10,000 of his fellow men would be killed? She was falling in love with this man and she didn’t want to say anything that might alter his fate.

  Touching his face lightly, she stroked the tumbling auburn hair. He closed his eyes against her gentle touch and brought her close to him. Time seemed to stop; they could be any two people in love anywhere throughout history. Love is the one constant throughout the centuries, and both their hearts burned with the fire of a thousand loves. His lips found hers, and this time he couldn’t hold back his passion. As he pushed her back into the blankets, their mouths slipped and slid across each other. His tongue flicked lightly at her lips, teasing and biting gently. She could feel his hardness against her as he pushed her further into the ground, his desire thrusting into her, wanting her so badly.

  Moving his hands underneath her tunic, he pulled down the leggings and she arched her back so they could be removed easily. Next he removed her tunic, lifting it over her head until she was just in her bra and panties. He had never seen a bra before, and she removed it for him as he cupped her naked breasts in his strong hands. Laying her down, he moved his mouth to her nipples, gently teasing and nibbling until she was moaning with pleasure. His tongue was wet and warm as he licked and sucked, and she was in ecstasy.

  His hand moved tentatively to her thigh. He didn’t want to frighten her like the other night, but his moves were urgent, and he needed to be inside her. Spreading her legs gently with his hands, he moved his hand inside the white satin of her underwear. She was very wet and his fingers slipped easily into her moist folds. Rebecca gasped as he found her clitoris and gently rubbed the swollen gland with his finger. She thought she might explode with delight. She guessed 16th-century men could definitely show 21st-century men a thing or two. Soon she was naked and his long tongue was licking her wetness. She gasped and writhed in ecstasy.

  William stood up and started to remove his tunic. He stood in front of her naked, his cock erect and gleaming with pre-cum. She had never seen a man fully naked before, not in real life, anyway. Her eyes widened at the size of him. Both the girth and length of his cock seemed enormous and she imagined it inside her, filling her up, and she ached to feel it.

  Pushing her back, he opened her legs and bent down to her. He sensed it was her first time and wanted to be as gentle as possible. Holding his erection, he guided the tip into the entrance of her hole and pushed gently. God, she was tight and he wanted to thrust himself completely inside her, but he needed to be patient. He didn’t want to hurt her. He thrust again and her tightness almost made him cum, so pulling out his cock, he breathed deeply, wanting to hold onto the moment. Once inside her, he knew that he would explode, and he wanted to savor these minutes just in case they were his last.

  His cock twitched and he could hold back no longer. Guiding himself into her, he thrust deeply until she had taken him fully and her body shuddered. Again and again, his thrusts became more urgent until she exploded in pleasure and he followed soon behind, filling her with his hot semen. She could feel his thickness throbbing inside her, and she wanted to cry, not from sorrow but from sheer happiness. Enveloping her into his arms, he kissed her face and her hair and held her tightly until she fell fast asleep, safe in his arms.

  When she awoke in the morning, she was alone. She could hear the men preparing to leave outside and quickly dressed and went out to see what was happening. William had packed his shield and swords and was ready to mount his horse, but seeing her, he rushed to her side.

  “I wanted to leave before you woke.”

  “I’m glad I caught you.”

  Their conversation was stilted in front of the other men and they had to resist the urge to kiss each other.

  “I should have a token to give you to keep you safe.”

  William smiled. “I’ll picture your face before we go into battle tomorrow.”

  Rebecca had a thought. “Wait, I can do better than that!” Running into the tent, she brought out her bag and handed him the phone. “Here, take this and you can have my image with you.”

  She had saved their selfie as a screensaver, and she showed him how to turn the iPhone on and off.

  William tucked it into his tunic. It was time to go and the others were shouting at him to mount his horse. There was no time for long goodbyes and after touching her arm lightly, he was away.

  She watched the men ride into the distance, her heart already heavy for their losses.

  The day was long and she had little to do. William had warned her to keep out of sight and keep away from the other men staying behind in the camp. Many were young boys, just learning their craft and the others old men past the age of battle who were responsible for the camp.

  Taking out her notebook, she began to sketch pictures with notes of what she saw. It would be fascinating reading when she got back to 2015, if she ever returned. At first she remained within the confines of the tent, but as the day dragged on, she became bored. Tucking her hair underneath her cap, she started to wander further afield. It seemed quiet and surely no one would notice her. With her slight frame and tunic and leggings, she could easily pass for one of the young squires. Eventually she came to a very large and wealthy-looking tent that bore the royal coat of arms; it must be the tent of King James. Picking up her pencil, she had just started drawing the scene when a hefty arm caught hold of her.

  Two burly highlanders stood behind her, their swords drawn, and before she could speak her hands were fastened behind her and she was thrown into a tent. No one knew who she was and it was assumed that she must be an English spy.

  A long time passed before one of the older men came into the tent to speak to her.

  “What’s yer name sonny, and who do ye work for?”

  She stuttered out William’s name and said that she was his squire. The man rubbed his whiskers. He wasn’t sure. The boy’s accent wasn’t Scots, and there was something unusual about him. He would keep him under watch until William returned.

  She was brought some simple food and water during the day, but apart from that, she had no company. At night she was given a blanket but could not sleep. How different the previous night had been. She lay awake thinking of William.

  A few miles away, William Stewart lay on the ground looking up at the stars. It was a beautiful night and he wondered if it might be his last. He was sure Rebecca knew something about the battle but was afraid to tell him. He feared the worse. He removed the strange device from
his tunic and pressed the button she had shown him. The square box switched into life and he saw a picture of a white apple on a black background. This thing amazed him and he wondered what it was like in 2015. Would he still be remembered? The apple disappeared and was replaced by their image, his face and hers. She was laughing and he was looking confused. She looked beautiful. Kissing the image, he pressed the button to close the machine and to “save the battery” as she had put it.

  He prayed to God to keep them both safe.

  The next morning, the clouds had set in and what started as a light drizzle turned into torrential rain by mid afternoon. Rebecca listened carefully for any news, but all was quiet. She hadn’t slept well the previous night and was awoken by the sound of loud voices and seemed to recognise one of them. The tent opened and in walked Angus, one of William’s men who had threatened her with a sword a few days earlier. She was grateful for her disguise for he did not seem to recognize her and soon walked out again. She wondered what he was doing here and why he wasn’t at the battle. The reason soon became clear. The battle had already started late afternoon and by now the Scots were being massacred by the English. It seemed that the coward had run away from the danger. A few hours later, a messenger arrived to state that all was lost and to clear the camp. Horses were readied and Rebecca wondered if she would be forgotten when Angus walked into the tent and pulled her outside.

  The older man was waiting outside. “He says he’s William Stewart’s squire.”

  Angus peered closely at Rebecca, uncertain. Pulling at her cap, he released her blonde hair, which cascaded down her back.

  “William Stewart’s whore, more like.” And bringing his face up close to hers, he leered down at her, his cruel mouth mocking her.

  “Well, William’s dead so she’s no use to him now. I’m sure I can make good use of her, though.” With that, he dragged her back into the tent.

  Rebecca didn’t know what was happening to her. Her whole body had gone into shock. If William was dead, then she was lost, too. The old woman had been wrong after all. Perhaps it was her fault; she had upset the balance of time.