Highlander's Challenge

by Jo Barrett

  She helped Ian up, and they took another go at one another, but once again his friend was quickly on his back.

  Amazing. He’d never met a woman who could actually fight.

  Ian rose slowly, his breath coming in pants, and dusted off his clothes. “I believe I have had all I care to take for one day, dear heart.” He took her hand in his and kissed it.

  Again with the kissing? “Aye, you’re not well enough tae be fighting,” Colin grumbled.

  Her brow shot up.

  “But I’ll admit you are quite skilled, lass,” he quickly added. She’d proven herself in more ways than one. He wouldn’t deny the lady her due.

  “Why dinnae you fight her, Colin?” William asked.

  She cast him a grin. “Yeah, MacLean. Show me what you’ve got. I dare you.” She tossed her head, making her hair catch the rays of the sun.

  Could he fight her, touch her, without taking her? “I find no pleasure in beating a woman.”

  “Like I said. You’re just afraid I’ll beat you.”

  He glanced at his men, noting their smug grins. If he didn’t fight her, he’d never hear the end of it. “Verra well. But when I beat you, I’ll not have any of your tears, woman.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She took her position on the field, and he warily stood opposite her, waiting for the first move. She came at him stealthily and with a flash of movement he hadn’t anticipated, brought him cleanly to his knees, then to his belly. The cheers and jeers abounded.

  “Care to try again?” she said, leaning near his ear, her voice low and sultry.

  He swallowed hard against the torment raging inside him from her nearness. Snaking his arm out, he caught her foot and brought her to the ground beside him, then quickly pinned her in place. He grinned at the stunned expression on her face, but the flash of desire racing through his blood quickly wiped it from his lips.

  The sound of cheers and taunts faded, leaving nothing but her rapid breaths echoing in his ears. He let his gaze roam over her features, noting every spot dotting her skin. The pert tip of her nose begged for a kiss, as did her luscious mouth. The deep green eyes, framed with reddish-brown lashes, held a deep-seated yearning that called to his own.

  “Colin, get up and greet your bride,” his father said.

  He blinked, she blinked, then they both turned their heads to see a pair of dainty slippers not five strides away.

  He rolled to his back, and Amelia jumped to her feet.

  “You’re good, MacLean. I’m impressed,” she said, dusting off her clothes overmuch. Nervous she was. The hint of a quiver lingered in her voice, but he doubted anyone could hear it but him. He felt connected to her in ways he’d never dreamed of before and wished for more.

  Rubbing his forehead, as he lay sprawled on the ground, he couldn’t believe he’d nearly ravaged her mouth, and possibly other more tempting parts of her body, in front of his entire garrison. In front of his blasted bride!

  A hand appeared before him, and he clasped it firmly. “You had best watch yourself, my friend,” Ian said. “You’ve already one female in the keep who is less than pleased with your attentions toward Amelia. I would not add your future bride to that list.”

  He snarled at his so-called friend and turned to Aileen. His mouth, once again, fell agape. The girl was beautiful, but barely reached his chest in height and couldn’t weigh as much as a bird. How would he ever be able to bed the lass? He’d be too afraid he’d break her in two.

  Ian nudged him in the back.

  “Uh, welcome to Arreyder, my lady,” he said.

  She nodded meekly. He resisted the urge to cast his eyes to heaven. Why had his father saddled him with a lass such as this?

  Sadly, he knew the answer to that question, although it didn’t ease his mind. He looked to her side and nodded to her guard. “Robert.”

  “Colin,” he replied. They’d butted heads a time or two as lads, but over inconsequential things. He’d always liked Robert, and was glad he’d not been among the men who’d ambushed them. He’d hate to have to kill him.

  “Ach, my. You’re the image of your mother,” Elspeth said, toddling up to Aileen’s side. “I knew her when we were but a pair of wee lassies.” She took her hand and patted it.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have, um, things to do,” Amelia said, edging toward the keep.

  “Nay, lass. You must meet Colin’s intended.” Elspeth snagged her arm before she could escape. “Aileen, this is Amelia. She’s visiting with us for a time. And this,” she said motioning toward Ian, “is Ian Southernland.”

  The lass nodded to Amelia, then blushed furiously as Ian took her hand and bowed over it.

  “Come lads, we’ll have a wee drink and you can tell me of MacKenzie, Robert,“ his father said. “The women will get Aileen settled. They’re sure tae go on about the wedding and lace and other such female nonsense for some time.”

  Amelia’s brows rose. Colin braced himself for one of her biting remarks.

  William cleared his throat loudly. “Lass—Tuck, might I have a word with you?”

  Her eyes brightened. “Certainly. Um, you run along, and I’ll catch up later,” she said to Elspeth, then immediately strode off with Colin’s lead guard toward the far side of the bailey where the men had resumed their training.

  Colin and Ian exchanged puzzled glances then followed his father and the others into the keep. But he couldn’t resist one last glance over his shoulder at where Amelia stood talking with William. She was so much more than he ever dreamed, and he wanted her with every part of himself. Tearing his gaze away, he looked to his future.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Thanks, William. You’re a lifesaver,” Tuck muttered.

  The old Highlander chuckled. “You’re welcome, lass. I didna think you were of a mind tae be lookin’ at a bunch of female frippery and such.”

  She snorted. “You’ve got that right.” She stopped at the far side of the training field and propped her hands on her hips with a puff of air. “I guess this means you guys won’t be doing anymore heavy training, what with the joining of the clans and all.”

  William crossed his arms and stroked his chin. “Well, now that you mention it, I was wonderin’ if you’d be kind enough tae show me how you put Colin on his belly so easily. War or no, a man likes tae keep up his skills and improve upon them when he has a chance.”

  Her day, dreary as it seemed in light of the beautiful fragile female she’d just met, brightened. “I’d be happy to.”

  Michael and a few others gathered around them as she demonstrated. There were a few catcalls, but they didn’t last long.

  “‘Tis an amazing thing,” William muttered, helping her to her feet.

  “This is nothing. There are a lot of deadlier moves, believe me.” She demonstrated a few and was met with awed faces.

  Hours later, filthy from her head to her toes but feeling fantastic, she strolled into the keep and up to her room. There wasn’t any more talk of witchcraft, thank goodness, and the men actually listened to her. They discussed techniques and traded old war stories. It was great! Maybe she’d be okay in this century after all.

  “My heavens. What happened tae you?” Elspeth said, meeting her in the corridor.

  “I was showing the guys some moves. You know, fight techniques.” Elspeth followed her into her chamber as she tugged off her knit hat. “And it felt great. I haven’t had that much fun in months.” She splashed water on her face and wiped away some of the grime.

  “You mean tae say you’ve been wrestling with the men? Ach! I’m afraid tae guess what you’ll do next.”

  Tuck dried her face, muffling her chuckle against the cloth.

  “Well, you’ll not be getting clean with just a bit of water,” Elspeth said. “I’ll have the kitchen lads bring up a tub.”

  “Oh, a bath,” she sighed. “That would really feel good.”

  Later, as she eased her sore muscles into the tub, Tuck let the
day play over in her mind. She’d waited until she thought she could handle all the emotional highs and lows without an audience. Wrestling MacLean had been an unexpected pleasure, and not because she’d put him on his stomach, but damned if she didn’t nearly make a fool of herself. She’d almost grabbed the man by his hair where it fell over his broad shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. The tips of her breasts pebbled instantly.

  With a groan, she sank lower in the tub.

  Pinned beneath him, his thick muscle-corded legs laid out along hers, felt too good to ignore. She snorted softly, resting her head against the edge of the tub. She couldn’t have ignored him if she’d wanted to. Hiding from him hadn’t done any good. She was more than merely attracted to the man. She felt something for him, inside and all over, but he was about to be married to one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen.

  Aileen moved like a ballerina and had a braid of fair hair that hung below her waist. She had yet to hear her utter a single word, but knew the girl’s voice would be as soft and delicate as the rest of her. All the things Tuck wasn’t.

  Slumping beneath the water, she scrubbed her skin till it was raw. At least she’d proven her point once and for all. She may not be pretty like Aileen, and maybe she couldn’t do all those female things men expected, and she sure as hell didn’t bow down to their false superiority, but she was a damn good fighter. Not only had she gained Colin’s trust by helping his father, at the very least, he seemed to respect her talents as well. That was something, although her heart whispered a little too loudly for more.

  She climbed out of the tub and dried off, then jerked up her skirt with a curse. Her pants were way too dirty to put back on, dang it, so she struggled with the confounded laces. She quickly gave her jeans a good dunking in the bath water, and laid them out to dry, then headed to supper.

  The great hall seemed brighter and gayer than usual. Talk of peace and Colin’s impending wedding circulated throughout the room. She held in her groan.

  Ian appeared at her side and escorted her to the table. “You look absolutely charming, my dear,” he said and kissed her hand.

  Her hand would be raw by the time she got back to Jenny, but she enjoyed the attention. Although it didn’t mean anything. It was just Ian’s way with all women, she realized.

  Silently, she took her place beside him and did everything she could not to look at MacLean. She smiled forcefully at the men who’d chosen to sit near her as they spoke of their afternoon in the lists, but didn’t engage in the conversation.

  “Surely, ye jest,” one of Aileen’s guardsmen, said. “No woman could best me.”

  Tuck ignored him. They’d not seen her working with the men in the lists as they’d been taken inside for food and drink after their journey across the island. But she wasn’t in the mood to fight that battle again.

  “I tell you, mon, she can and she did,” William blustered. He turned his gray eyes to her. “Tell the lad what you did, Tuck. Tell him how you put Colin on his arse,” he chuckled heartily.

  She shook her head with a wry grin.

  “Ye see, she admits yer tellin’ tales, auld mon,” the guardsman said.

  William slammed down his cup and narrowed his eyes. “Care tae make a wager on it?”

  Oh, boy. She needed to cut this off and quick. The last thing she needed to do was incite more rivalry between the clans. The tense undercurrent in the room was palpable.

  “Look, fellas, I’m not exactly dressed for show and tell. Why don’t we leave this discussion until another time?”

  The guardsman laughed. “Yer champion has deserted ye, auld mon.”

  “She’ll do more than that,” Maighread muttered as she poured the guard more wine. “She’ll spell you, she will.”

  Tuck let out an exasperated breath. Not that old story again. She’d just barely won MacLean’s men over and already the witch was stirring up more trouble, but this time with the MacKenzies. What was she, insane?

  “What mean ye, lass?” the guardsman asked, eyeing Maighread’s ample breasts. Of course, how could he miss them when she practically shoved them in his face like she did Colin every night?

  “She’s a witch. She’s spelled the laird. Tricked poor Colin intae thinkin’ his da’s well when he’s not behavin’ like himself,” she said, her voice low but not unheard by the men surrounding her.

  Tuck’s hand slid to her skirt. Ian clasped her wrist beneath the table. She shot him a glare, but he shook his head.

  “Nonsense,” Ian scoffed loudly with a gentle squeeze of her wrist. “This lovely woman saved my life, and I’ll not hear a disparaging word about her.”

  She held her breath, as the entire hall listened in on their conversation.

  Maighread decided to use the center spotlight to its fullest. She gasped dramatically. “She’s spelled you, she has. ‘Tis likely the lady Aileen will take ill with her here.” The witch shot her an evil glare. “She’ll murder us all in our beds!”

  The ensuing silence pretty much capped it for Tuck. No more playing nice. Her knife slid silently from its sheath and thunked ominously into the wooden table directly in front of where Maighread stood.

  The collective gasp rang in her ears. “If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t need to use witchcraft,” she said, rising from her seat to retrieve her knife. “Besides…” She jerked the blade from the wood. “The role of witch is already taken.” She prayed she hadn’t made a big mistake by letting her only weapon be seen by everyone, but she’d had enough.

  Maighread stood perfectly still, but the hate in her eyes was unmistakable.

  Hiding her knife in the folds of her skirts, Tuck glanced at MacLean. If he trusted her, really trusted her, he wouldn’t try and take her knife, because if he did, someone would get hurt in the process.

  A great bellowing laugh burst from him as he threw his head back. The laird, Ian, and the men she’d worked with for long hours in the lists joined him. A few of the women, Elspeth and Fiona included, giggled behind their hands. Maighread’s face burned furiously as she stormed from the hall.

  “Well met, lass,” William bellowed, thumping her on the back. “Well met!”

  Her gaze fell on Aileen, her face as pale as snow, her eyes wide in shock. It was obvious the girl had been overly protected, shielded from the world and the harshness of it. She indeed was a fragile innocent flower.

  Everything Tuck would never be.

  Tuck left the hall and sheathed her knife. Walking the battlements, she watched the sun disappear until it grew too cold in her skirts. She couldn’t stick around and watch him marry that girl, it hurt too much.

  She stumbled as she entered her chamber, the truth striking her like a blow to the stomach. She’d tried to ignore it, ordered it to go away on more than one occasion, but it was no use. It had found her and it wasn’t going to let go. The one thing she’d craved as a child, the one thing she’d avoided as an adult, the one thing that could tear her apart.

  Love. She was in love with Colin MacLean.

  Yet just as before with her father, she would never be good enough, pretty enough—woman enough. She had to leave. Tossing off her clothes, she paused a moment to caress the dress Elspeth had given her.

  “Next thing you know, I’ll be crying,” she grunted, snatching her hand back, although the backs of her eyes already burned.

  Aileen could have him and so could Maighread. She’d leave at first light and make that stupid spring take her butt back where she belonged. She had a job to do, and it had nothing to do with a Highlander who’d been dead for four hundred years.

  “Damn,” she grumbled. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyelids as she sank onto the bed.

  ****

  Walking the battlements as he did every morning, Colin spied Amelia talking to the guard at the gate. He wondered what they were discussing, then grinned. Fighting techniques, no doubt. She was extraordinary, and he’d discounted her at every turn because of her sex. When had he beco
me such a narrow-minded man? And yet, how often did one meet a woman warrior?

  They shook hands then she went through the gate, heading for the woods at the end of the road. He didn’t know where she was going or why she’d chosen to leave, but he had the distinct feeling she wasn’t coming back.

  “Damn the woman. Will she never do as she’s told?”

  As Tuck disappeared around the far turn into the wood, Colin raced down the stairs. She could take care of herself. That she’d proven, but he refused to rely on her skills to keep her safe from the unknown forces striving to rip the island in two. The combining of the clans could very well cause their real enemy to strike a deadlier blow.

  He made his way through the wood with William and Michael by his side. Although he wanted to take the entire garrison, every man he had to keep her safe, the clan was still, and would always be his responsibility. It had to be protected.

  Spotting her sitting on a log by the same small spring she’d come to before, he motioned for Michael and William to wait near the road. With a nod they turned back.

  He moved toward her, noting her shoulders hunched over and her head bowed as she muttered to herself. It wasn’t like her to sit in such a way. She looked defeated, and it troubled him.

  He was but ten strides away, when she jumped to her feet and spun around, her blade firmly clasped in her hand.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, straightening from her crouched fighting position.

  Her cheeks were wet and her eyes red. What pained her so? Why did she seek out this spot time and again? And why had she been crying? He shoved the questions aside and moved closer. Her problems did not concern him, could not concern him, only her safety.

  “I’ve come tae take you back tae the castle.”

  “No, thanks. I’m comfortable right here, and I don’t need or want any company. So you can just turn around and march right on back.” She waved her knife in the air, shooing at him as if he were a child.

  He fisted his hands on his hips. “Woman, you’ve caused me more pains than a man can bear. Why can you not do as you’re told?”