by Lexi Post
“They be starting!” Nessa’s loud whisper sounded just before the men’s swords rang out.
She’d seen duels fought with rapiers, but had never witnessed broadswords in action, except for when using them in her own training. Javier had made sure each agent was proficient in all types of combat and helped her hone her own specialty.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the combatants as their muscles bunched and strained in an effort to wound each other. The legend of Beowulf came to mind, and she groaned low in her throat. There was really no winner in that story.
Torr went on an offensive, and the king fell back toward the men’s side of the circle. They quickly divided, allowing the king to break through with no one harmed.
The fight slowly traveled back toward the center, but remained on the far side. The two men appeared evenly matched, but having trained with Javier she recognized their differences. Torr was stronger, breathed more easily, and placed his sword where he wanted it, his muscles no more than a continuation of his brain. Javier, who was former Special Forces, would have approved of Torr. Despite Javier’s ability to sense muscle triggers in his opponent before the muscle actually moved, he still might be seriously challenged by Torr.
The king, on the other hand, threw a burst of energy forward with every offensive strike, and though effective, the technique took a toll on his breathing. She also noticed his weight was often on his heels, never a good place for it to be. She could hear Javier in her head. “Balls of your feet. Ready to strike,” his litany something she could recite in her sleep. Too many times had he caught her unawares in a hall or by the pool. No matter how she fought him, he always won, saying, “Not bad, chica, but not good, either.” To keep her motivated, he could have at least made it a draw, similar to what it appeared Torr was doing.
Her admiration for Torr grew as he matched the king’s speed even though it slowed just a bit. Did others notice? She let her gaze scan the circle. All were enthralled with the fight. It was difficult to gauge reactions, especially as everyone shifted a bit as the fight changed direction. The two men circled and swords clanged as Torr backed toward her and Nessa. With a spin, he suddenly faced them, the king’s back to them.
At such a close range, the sweat on the torsos of both men could be seen as it beaded on chests and backs. Torr raised his sword. She enjoyed the sight as his pectorals bunched, biceps rose, and abs tensed. When he brought it down for a deadly thrust, Robert stepped aside and Torr’s momentum sent him through the crowd and tripping as he fell forward onto the ground.
She was grateful to her training for getting her out of the way fast enough, but Nessa wasn’t so lucky. She stumbled back a step before landing on her butt.
Torr rolled over only to be stopped by the king’s sword at his throat. Though he lay on his back, he grinned. “It would appear you have proven me wrong.”
Robert, obviously winded, nodded once before taking the sword away and offering his hand.
She stared. That was it? It didn’t make sense. The king had made a fateful error by stepping between Torr’s sprawled legs, a position which allowed the fallen warrior to easily take advantage by crossing his legs and toppling his opponent. In addition, Torr still held his sword in his hand and could have, with his telling speed, knocked Robert’s away from his throat.
Torr took the king’s offered hand and stood. Everyone cheered.
Had this been staged?
Torr turned to Nessa and helped her up in turn. “I’m sorry, lass. Are ye hurt?”
She brushed off her skirts. “Nay, I be—”
“I will take care of her, laird.” Evan’s sudden appearance from across the yard said a lot for his interest in Nessa.
Diana smiled.
As Torr turned back toward Robert, he winked at her before giving his attention to his liege.
He winked? She looked over where Nessa had been. Evan walked her away from them all, his arm around her waist, earnestly talking.
The laird had done that on purpose! She studied Torr as he took a ribbing from his men while Robert was given water. This had all been a show. She was sure of it now. Respect filled her at the shrewdness Torr MacPherson displayed. He put aside his own ego to help his king keep the faith of his followers.
Clan MacPherson was lucky to have him as their laird. Her chest tightened. But soon they wouldn’t. Her eyes stung, and for the first time, she didn’t like her job at all. Sure there were challenges with every assignment, but this… It had to be because of the small number of people involved. She was too close, already knew too much about everyone’s lives, and she’d only been with them twenty-four hours.
The only way she could complete this mission was to distance herself and focus on the Disruptor. With so few people as possible suspects, and with the possibility the Disruptor still hadn’t arrived yet, she had a very good chance of determining who it was…for a change.
With both her resolve and her goal firmly in place, she turned away from the celebrants, strode past the well and toward the bakery. She needed to talk to Ian, Mairi, Douglas, and Graham. That covered all newcomers for the past six months, according to Nessa. It concerned her that only one was female. If none of them made her question their motives, she would simply wait for the Disruptor to appear. If she could find that person before the battle, she may just be able to get herself out of Scotland, back to her own time ahead of schedule, and not have to witness the demise of a good man.
Chapter Four
Torr watched Diana walk away, obviously disturbed. Accepting the taunts of his men, he admired the sway of her hips as she strode across the dirt-packed yard and disappeared into the bakery. She was a good baker, but there was something unusual about the woman besides her accent. He planned to find out exactly what it was. At least he was sure she hadn’t been the one skulking around the yard last night…unless that person had been planning to meet her secretly.
He scanned the happy faces of his men, stopping longer on the newcomers to his clan. Could one of them mean the king harm? His muscles tensed at the idea. He had lost too much family to allow any harm to come to Robert while within the walls of Gealach. He would take Kerr into his confidence and root out the person who eluded him last night. It could simply be someone had been keeping a secret assignation, but he knew his clan members well, and his gut told him it was not that innocent.
“Ale! I must celebrate my victory!” Robert slapped him on the back.
“Of course.” He glanced over the crowd. “Mairi! Beth! We need ale for the king!”
The two women nodded, and he watched as they ran to the castle before he turned his attention back to his men. “Come! Let us drink and celebrate a leader among men. To King Robert!” He lifted his arm and the men cheered as they made their way toward the keep.
“And to my worthy opponent, Laird MacPherson!”
More cheers greeted the king’s shout, and slowly they filed into the Great Hall. Torr held back, allowing his men to enter first. He glanced at the bakery. He could fetch Diana to come inside, but he ignored his urge. Until he figured out why he wanted her near, he’d sit back and watch. In the meantime, to eliminate any attraction he felt for her, he would take one of the other women to his bed, if any would have him after his loss today.
He grinned as he entered the keep. Robert and he had given the clan a riveting spectacle. He doubted any of his men realized he held back and strategically fell at just the right moment. Sitting at the trestle table at the end of the hall, he grabbed up a tankard and drank. Aye, it had been a productive day.
…
Diana rolled over and gritted her teeth. She would sleep. She would sleep. Aw, Puck, who was she kidding? She opened her eyes. The two torches cast shadows that barely moved on the stone walls, their light not even reaching the vaulted wood ceiling so far above her. Other than that, everyone inside was asleep…except her. She sighed. Why was it that at home, where she had a library full of books she could read if she woke up, she slept the n
ight through? Giving up the fight, she rose and quietly made her way out the tower door.
The night was still and the three-quarter moon shone so bright as to make it feel like the gloaming, that time after sunset when everything looked to be a shade of gray just before true darkness descended, but it had to be after midnight. Meandering through the yard, she noticed even the chickens were content in their coop. Passing the great portcullis, its crisscrossed ironwork firmly closed against any surprise attack, she found the stairs to the wall-walk. The landscape would be beautiful viewed from there. She lifted her leine and ascended the narrow stone steps then at the top, she stopped.
It was breathtaking. The moonbeams illuminated the grassy fields and the rolling mountains, but it could not penetrate the darkness of the forest. No wonder the castle’s name loosely translated to English was “moon.” A small stream, just to the east of the castle, shimmered, reflecting the shaded light. She crossed her arms and breathed in the night air. Peace, that elusive condition, had descended upon Gealach Castle. She stood and stared, enthralled by the sight…still…calm.
A movement below caught her peripheral vision, and she turned, but no one was there. Had she imagined it? She peered into the shadows. Concern wormed its way into her tranquility and unable to ignore her instincts, she crept farther along the walk where the square cutouts of the crenellation were higher, and where she would be less noticeable.
She waited. Her year of training for TWI stood her in good stead, patience one of the skills taught. She’d always been confident in her mental ability, but TWI had given her a physical confidence she’d lacked.
She continuously scanned the area outside the castle walls and finally her efforts were rewarded. A figure ran across the eastern field and into the dense wood. The question was, was this part of history, or was it the Disruptor? If only she could tell if it was someone from the castle. Not that she could alert anyone, as that wasn’t her role.
The sound of cloth against the stonework was her only warning before a hand clapped over her mouth.
Her muscles bunched, ready to strike.
“Shhh, I need ye to be quiet. Can ye do that, lass?”
The low tone of Torr’s whisper allowed her to relax. Grateful she hadn’t treated him like Javier had taught her, she nodded to let him know she understood.
“Good.” His breath brushed by her ear as he lowered his hand.
She turned her head to look at him, but his gaze was on the forest. He knew. She returned her focus to the wood as well and waited, but time slowed.
She was fully aware of the man pressed up next to her, his scent, mostly wool and lye combined. His body, as solid as the wall behind her, pinned her on her left side, and though he had removed his hand from her mouth, it rested on her shoulder. His chest, bare where his leine opened in a large V, radiated heat that burned her arm. The maleness of him surrounded her, and her long dormant desires teased her.
Finally, the person reappeared and ran swiftly through the field toward the castle.
Torr lowered his head. “Remain here.” The words were deep and barely loud enough for her to hear.
He didn’t wait for her acknowledgment, but moved away as stealthily as he’d come. She looked around the corner of the crenellation and watched him stop above the postern gate, the secret entrance that only those inside the castle knew. Switching her gaze to the inside, she followed the movement of the figure as it slipped into the shadows and disappeared. Torr would probably follow and discover who it was. She should go back to her bed and try to sleep.
She turned her attention to the velvety field and the hidden menace in the forest. She was positive she’d just witnessed the end of a clandestine meeting. Did Disruptors have a communication person like she had Go-Lucky? Had the person sneaking about been the Disruptor?
“He is one of mine.” Torr’s sudden whisper in her ear startled her.
She gasped.
“Whisht!” His tone was harsh.
She pivoted to look at him and wished she hadn’t. She’d rather face Dante’s Fifth Circle of Hell than the man before her.
He stared at her, or rather through her. His breathing rapid, his body tense, his eyes burning, but it was more than fury. She could see the disappointment as well.
Nervous, but unable to simply watch the man eat himself up inside, she placed her palm on his chest.
He raised his hand and locked hers against him, though he still had no focus. She closed her eyes and brought to mind the beautiful hills and the shimmering stream in the moonlight. The fast heartbeat beneath her palm slowed and his breathing calmed. She opened her eyes to find Torr had refocused his gaze…on her.
She swallowed. The warmth of his chest finally registered with her brain, and the hard muscle beneath her palm tensed as he stepped closer, his hand still holding her prisoner.
His other hand cupped her face and his thumb stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry ye witnessed a traitor in our midst. Do not worry. He will be taken care of. Could ye not sleep?”
She opened her mouth, but no sound could get by her closed throat. She shook her head, unable to break away from his intense gaze.
He lowered his head, bringing his lips within a fraction of hers. “Nor could I. I kept seeing yer face, these bright green eyes.”
Her own breaths were shallow as anticipation held her in thrall. She licked her dry lips, and he issued a quiet groan.
“Ye tempt me beyond reason, lass.” His thumb stilled, and his hand tilted her chin up farther. Then his lips brushed against hers.
Her body sighed at his touch. The gentleness of the kiss belied the strength and size of the man. With his thumb, he coaxed her to open her lips, and she did. His tongue probed inside like an explorer in uncharted territory. There was no hurry in the motions as he delved into the recesses of her mouth, tasting her thoroughly.
She held back, the small piece of her brain that still functioned reminding her this was against the rules. She couldn’t participate, but she wanted to. Luckily, he didn’t appear to need encouragement, and her heartbeat raced as her body shivered with soft surrender.
He must have sensed her capitulation because he released her hand and pressed her against him, his hard body warm against hers. Her breasts pushed into his bare chest, causing her stomach to somersault. Then his mouth grew more demanding.
She groaned. Unable to resist his assault on her senses, she stroked her tongue over his. He tasted of ale, a flavor filled with intoxication that fired her body’s senses and flushed her skin.
His hold tightened. One hand at the back of her head tilted it as his mouth took hers, their tongues mastering each other.
Her blood pounded at the intensity of the kiss. She held onto his biceps as if drowning, her legs threatening to buckle from desire. He was everything a woman could want.
Torr moved his hips against her. His hardness pressing her abdomen shocked her back into reality. She turned her head aside and gasped for air.
Torr took her reaction in stride and began a tender assault on her neck.
She pushed against him, and he allowed her a little space. She was grateful because despite her training, she doubted she could do much to take down such a huge man, especially if she didn’t want to hurt him. But he kept his arms about her waist.
“What is it, lass?”
It was everything. She wanted to cry and laugh at the impossible situation she found herself in, even as her body shivered with a growing need. She simply shook her head and tried to step back, but he held her with gentle strength.
Didn’t he understand? She needed to put more space between them, in so many ways. Her breaths came quickly, her body flushed from the desire he’d ignited. A desire she never remembered experiencing before. She closed her eyes and tried to think of the rolling mountains beyond the castle walls, but they faded quickly and instead she envisioned Torr, cupping her breasts.
She snapped open her eyes to find him staring at her, a crooked grin on his f
ace.
“I want ye, Diana. Ye have a fire in ye that calls me like the spring sun to the seedling.”
Oh, Shakespeare, now he was a poet, too? She couldn’t do this. He was due to die… She had to find the Disruptor… She had to—
His deep voice soothed her. “I understand. Life here at Gealach is new and strange, and I have possibly presumed too much, too soon. Ye miss yer clan, do ye not?”
She didn’t say anything, his kindness causing a lump to form in her throat. His warm, big body so close to hers with the scent of leather and the clean smell from his bath was so primitively male, he had her feeling safe, protected.
He pulled her body against his again. Instead of feeling physical attraction, she wanted to simply snuggle in. Hesitantly, she let her head fall against his shoulder.
As they stood there, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm beneath her cheek, memories of her dad doing the same calmed her. When she’d done poorly on a test, not made the volleyball team, or when she was dumped by her first boyfriend in ninth grade, Dad had held her just like this. Torr would make a good father…except he was destined to die.
She stiffened. Did Torr have any children after the Disruptor saved him? He deserved children.
He reacted to her body language and stroked her back. “I know it is hard. I too have lost many of my family.”
She pulled back to look at his face, anxious to hear what he’d reveal.
“Unlike ye, I didn’t know my mother. She died shortly after Kerr was born. Five sons took too much out of her. But my brothers and my father made a family.”
She put her hand on his chest, feeling the sadness behind his words. This man deserved comfort more than she did. He had endured so much and yet still offered more to others.
