On Highland Time

by Lexi Post

  She grinned. “So I did.” She dropped the linen and knelt on it, taking him in her hands. With a flick of her tongue, she licked a drop of water off his tip.

  Torr’s hands grasped her head and tilted her face up. His body was tense and his voice husky. “What are ye about?”

  She shrugged. “I’m licking you dry.”

  He raised a brow. “And if I prefer it wet?”

  She licked her lips, her own excitement growing. “I can do that, too, if you let me.”

  His indecision was clear and his stomach muscles tightened. “Ye do not need to.” He obviously wanted it, but would not ask her to if she was uncomfortable.

  That he would forgo his pleasure for her sake was opposite of all she’d learned to expect from medieval times, and so absolutely loving. She stared into his eyes to be sure he understood how much she craved to bring him release, “But I want to.”

  “Ach.” He released her head. She took that as an “aye” and began to lick him, down the side, at the tip, between his thighs. Finally, she surrounded him with her lips and sucked.

  Torr’s thighs clenched even as his hands found her shoulders.

  Slowly, she tasted him, gliding her mouth along him, stroking with her tongue and teasing with her teeth. His fingers unconsciously bit into her shoulders, but she didn’t care. She wanted to please him. Leave him something to remember her by. She increased her strokes along his hardness, feeling his pulse on her tongue. His ragged breaths were the only sound in the room.

  “Nay.” He pushed her back, forcing her to let him go. Her mouth felt lost, but before she could ask why, he lifted her to her feet. His hands remained on her arms, holding her at arm’s length as his breathing slowed.

  He grasped her leine. “Take it off.” The words came out strangled as if he barely had air for them.

  Excitement skittered through her veins. As soon as he let her go, she whipped the clothing over her head and threw it on the chair.

  His gaze fell on her nakedness. With a deep breath, he tried to control his need, but it was clear he was not gaining ground. “Go.” He pointed to the bed.

  Anticipation soared through her and her own body reacted, moistening a path for his invasion. She turned and strutted to the bed, crawling onto it on all fours before lying on her back and spreading her legs in welcome. She’d never been so overtly sexual in her life, but Torr’s desperation to couple with her made her feel wanted.

  “Ye test my control, lass.”

  She moved her hands over her head and smirked. “Aye.”

  He stalked to the bed and stared. “Yer luscious breasts and inner warmth beg me to take ye.”

  She lost her smile. “Aye, take me, Torr.”

  He crawled onto the bed and laid himself between her legs, his strong arms keeping him from crushing her. “Ye are made for me.”

  On his last word, his hips thrust forward and he entered her. She gasped at the pleasure of his invasion, but as he pushed deeper, she moaned. He filled her so completely. She looked into his eyes, but he shuttered his feelings, looking down at her lips instead. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

  She grasped his broad back, holding tight as she sucked his tongue. Wrapping her legs around his ass, she squeezed him inside her.

  His groan into her mouth told her he liked that. She tightened around him again.

  He pulled his hips back as his tongue retreated, then he pushed into her again, deep. His tongue followed suit. He continued to take her mouth and body until they were both moving toward each other faster and faster. As her orgasm beckoned, the need to show Torr how much she loved him flowed through her. She stroked his back and tried to bring him closer. She never wanted to let him go. Never.

  Torr broke their kiss and yelled as he thrust against her and spilled himself once more inside her, sending her into a too-long-held ecstasy that wouldn’t stop. She held on to him in desperation as he filled her while her orgasm spiked through her body, riding out the wonder he brought her. When her body finally eased, she didn’t let go.

  Torr chuckled and kissed her tenderly.

  She forced her fingers and legs to relax and let the man move.

  He didn’t move far, though. Rolling to her side, he pulled her tight against him, and she laid her head on his shoulder, her leg across his. Needing more, she brought her arm over his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Do not worry. We can do this again tomorrow night. I am not going to die tomorrow.”

  “I know.”

  “Ye do?”

  What an idiot she was. “Aye, because ye are the best swordsman in all of Scotland.”

  He titled her chin to look at him. “Would ye play with me?”

  “Nay.” She studied his face, determined to remember every shadow, every stubbled hair, even the crooked nose. “I know ye are the best, in my heart.”

  Pride and tenderness filled his eyes and he kissed her. “Ye are a man’s dream. Ye truly are.”

  They lay in silence, her heart too sore to let her sleep. She held him tightly as if he might disappear when it was she who would do that. What would he do when she was gone? Would he mourn or move onto another? Half of her wanted him to move on and the other half wanted him to mourn.

  His slow breathing and steady heartbeat beneath her head relaxed her despite herself. Why did she find the one person who completed her in a time period seven hundred years before hers? And how would she ever live without him? Her fingers tightened around his waist, his own arm reflexively holding her closer. She let her tears fall until Torr’s comforting heartbeat lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Torr stood in the Great Hall, his claymore strapped to his back, his dirk at his waist. The anticipation in the clan permeated the castle and grounds. Even the horses seemed to sense they would soon be out.

  With the morning meal over, he’d made final adjustments to his plans. All was in place. Ready. He had no reason to linger in the hall any longer, except… Except Diana had not entered yet. How could she sleep through all the preparations? He grinned. She probably needed it after last night. He’d pleasured her three times. He never slept much before a battle, and having her next to him when he woke gave him the opportunity to satisfy his need, though hers seemed stronger.

  “Torr, I believe all is ready.”

  He shook his head and looked at Robert. If Diana could distract him from noticing the king’s approach, he’d better see her. He needed his wits about him today. “Can I dissuade you from participating?”

  Robert’s face turned stern. “No. You may not. This is my battle, and I will fight it. You have lost enough men because of my throne.”

  Torr nodded. As much as he wanted to protect the man, he understood. He couldn’t send his own men into battle without being in the forefront, so he didn’t expect any less from his king.

  “I will see you at the wall when you are through here.”

  He frowned. “Through?”

  The king pointed behind him. “Yes. I believe someone wishes to speak to you.”

  Torr looked over his shoulder to find Diana standing just beyond the bottom of the stairs. “Aye, I will be out presently.”

  Robert lowered his voice to a whisper. “That one is worth coming home to.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun on his heel and strode out the front doors.

  Torr slowly approached Diana. Aye, she was something to come home to, but to hear it confirmed made him uncomfortable.

  She remained still, a look of contriteness on her face. “I thought you would be gone by now.”

  He stopped a foot from her. Did she sound disappointed? “I leave now, but I will return as soon as victory is assured.”

  She nodded and looked away. This was not like her.

  He stepped closer and lifted her chin with his hand. “What is it?” She tried not to look at him, but he would have none of it. “Diana.”

  Her gaze flew to his face at his stern tone, and he realized she
had tears in her eyes. He pulled her against him. “Now what has ye so sad, lass?”

  She shook her head against his chest. He chuckled and pushed her back so he could see her. “Obviously ye are upset. Why?”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and straightened her shoulders. “I will miss ye, Torr MacPherson.”

  He grinned. “I doubt this will last more than a day. They cannot win. Don’t worry. We will be celebrating tonight.”

  Her voice was strained, but she agreed. “Aye, you will.”

  She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, but he was having none of it. Capturing her lips with his own, he drew her close and tasted her deeply.

  When Torr pulled back, she looked ready to collapse with longing. He smirked then spun away and headed for the wall. Today would be a good day.

  …

  Diana watched Torr stride from the room, his body giving off an energy she’d only witnessed once before in the north clearing. He was ready to do battle and possessed the confidence to win.

  She’d hoped to avoid a goodbye, but he’d remained in the hall longer than she expected. If the king had not seen her, she would have fled back upstairs. Yes, she was a coward, but her heart had already begun breaking last night. The thought of breakfast had her stomach revolting, and she quickly discarded the idea. Best to simply prepare to leave and get it over with. First, she would gather her woolen blanket to be sure there was no trace of her after she left. Her other brat had been shredded, so there was no need to worry about it.

  Looking about the Great Hall, she sighed. She’d miss the castle, the people. It was a familiar sensation before returning to the present, but this time it was different. The MacPherson clan had taken her in like the family she claimed to be. To belong to such a large group of people who sincerely cared for one another had soothed her soul. Too bad she’d return home minus her heart.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and touched her own wrist. She tried to calm herself, but she couldn’t focus. There was too much pain within her. Ach, she was a mess for sure. She needed to leave before she couldn’t do it.

  Grabbing up her woolen blanket, she started for the front doors.

  “Diana!”

  She turned at the familiar voice. “Ian, aren’t ye supposed to be outside?”

  He grinned, shoving his dirk in the belt at his waist as he strode toward her. “Just had to have me a wee bit of a goodbye.” He ran his hand through his hair in an effort to straighten it after what had surely been a heated kiss.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Come here.”

  He obeyed her and stopped in front of her. She dropped her woolen and quickly straightened his hair and adjusted his dirk, which was in danger of falling out. What was it with all these men who couldn’t contain their excitement at the coming battle? Even Torr had been on her all night! At the reminder of him, she sobered. She patted Ian on the chest to let him know he was presentable.

  He grabbed her wrist. “Ach, what is it that has ye so forlorn?”

  She couldn’t say the words, her throat tight at leaving Torr forever. She just shook her head.

  He let her go. “If ye are worried about Torr, do not. He will be returning hale and hearty in no long time. I promise.” His grin and absolute confidence had her suddenly wondering if maybe Ian had been the Disruptor all along.

  “Aye, I suppose ye are right.”

  “I am. Now I best get Annabel.” He kissed her on the forehead and strode out the door.

  She had one last job to do before leaving. She had to discover who the Disruptor was by seeing who saved Torr, and if possible, take the man with her. Grabbing up her blanket again, she walked into the bright morning sun. She took a deep breath of the clear, still cool, Highland air. About to step down into the yard, she heard a shout. Looking to the right, she found Torr and his men, mounted and waiting by the stables, albeit not patiently.

  Her heart tightened as he sat upon his horse, ahead of everyone, his king on one side and Kerr on the other. Not a word was spoken, but the horses’ snorts and impatient stamps made enough sound to reveal the excitement of the group, an excitement that pleasantly vibrated through her.

  She glanced ahead of her to see that the great portcullis had been raised and just on the outside were Nessa and Evan. Oh, Shakespeare. Didn’t they realize Clan Comyn could arrive at any moment? They looked to be in a serious conversation. Evan held Nessa’s hand as he stroked her other arm.

  Her blood froze. The south wood started to move, not the trees, but the shadows. Suddenly, the shadows broke forth into mounted men. Everywhere they streamed out. The pounding of so many hooves on the ground clear across the field vibrated through her. She looked back at Evan and Nessa, but the couple was already inside the yard. Nessa gave Evan a kiss on the lips, and then moved away as he ran to the stable. The portcullis remained open.

  Frantic, she looked up to the wall to see if anyone was there and found Braigh watching. What was going on? She glanced at Torr, who had his gaze riveted on Braigh. This was a plan of some kind. She returned her gaze to the entrance as the ground beneath her feet actually started to shake. Through the tunnel’s limited sight, the mass of men seemed endless. They were going to ride right into the castle yard!

  She looked at Braigh again just as he threw his arm up. Torr’s shout rose over the din. He raised his claymore and kicked Ceo into a run. He didn’t see her as she watched, mesmerized, as he and his men streamed out the gate. When the last horse had passed, she ran across the yard and up to the wall-walk only to find that it was not only Braigh above, but at least twenty archers, kneeling and firing.

  It all made sense now. Torr had made the castle look like a typical Sunday since Graham had surely told the Comyns how structured Torr kept the days. The enemy had expected to breach the castle with little effort. No wonder Torr had been so confident and excited.

  She squatted down against the inner wall between two archers that were busily firing and reloading their bows. Below she could see Torr, his brown hair aflame in the bright sunshine. The numbers actually seemed to be equal, which relieved her. She didn’t want to see a single MacPherson go down. Perusing the group, she found Ian and Fergus, who fought side by side next to the king, their movements well coordinated with each other. On the other side of Torr were Kerr and Evan. Anxiously, she searched for Angus. When she found him, she stilled. Angus was too far from Torr to do anything to help him.

  She grasped the wool of her blanket tightly. Maybe the Disruptor was Ian after all. He was definitely close enough to lend aid. It was difficult to determine who was winning. The combatants danced around on the horses as they fought with their swords. Men yelled as they fell from their mounts due to sword or arrow. She gasped as Fergus was unseated, but Ian jumped down in time to block a direct hit upon the older man. Winded, Fergus gained his feet and rejoined the fight.

  How long would this last? A strike at the king had her clenching her teeth, but Torr swung his blade to protect him. Kerr pushed his sword into one Comyn and couldn’t withdraw fast enough as it went down with the body. Jumping from his horse, he grabbed his sword and lifted it just in time to avoid an attack from another man.

  Above the din, she heard Kerr’s name yelled and watched as Torr jumped from his horse to tackle a Comyn about to skewer his brother.

  The brothers then braced for attack back to back as other men on foot pushed forward to try their sword at the obvious leader. It was a dance of blinding light, the sun reflecting off swords as they flashed against each other. The brothers fought like a well-oiled machine, almost as if they sensed each other’s movements. Even when four of the Comyn bore down upon them, Torr’s upper cut threw his man into one of Kerr’s, while Kerr bent low, catching his other opponent at the knees and toppling him into Torr’s.

  She gripped the blanket hard, despite her confidence that Torr would live. It was hard to be so removed from the battle, and her arms and legs twitched as the enemy continu
ed its attack. She wanted to be down there, with Torr, protecting him, which made no sense. The brothers moved in ways even Javier had never exhibited, and all would be well. The Disruptor was on the field, ready to save Torr’s life. He would be fine.

  A shout rose above the din and her gaze left Torr for an instant. Evan had yelled at the king. Robert swiveled, but not in time. A sword caught his side, sending him from his horse. Kerr jumped away from Torr to block the thrust of a Comyn as he tried to kill Scotland’s last hope. Torr, left with two of the enemy, dispatched one before catching another under the ribs with his dirk. As he pulled his dripping weapon from the man falling to the ground, he froze.

  She lost her breath. No. That’s impossible. A sword protruded through Torr from behind. The king swiveled and killed his Comyn, then ran and dispatched the enemy that attacked Torr.

  Diana stood, shaking her head. It couldn’t be. All the possible Disruptors were on the field. He was supposed to be saved. He was supposed to live!

  Torr’s legs buckled beneath him, and he knelt, his back to her. Kerr glanced over in time to see his brother fall. His howl of pain blocked out all noise and sent hopelessness surging through her. Her chest tightened beyond breathing. When Kerr’s yell ceased, he changed as he turned berserker. Everyone in his path went down, the Comyn backing off at the wild man slicing through their ranks.

  Kerr’s action released her from her shock. She ran down the stairs near the postern gate and slipped through it to the outside.

  Sprinting for Torr, she ignored the battle being pushed forward toward the trees as Kerr tore through the enemy, the other MacPhersons at his side. The king bent and removed the sword from Torr’s back. She watched in horror as he fell forward.

  “No!”

  Finally reaching him, she fell to her knees, cradling his head in her lap. “Torr? Oh God, Torr?”

  The king sighed. “I’m sorry, lass. He was a good man.” His voice turned hard. “I promise, he will be avenged.”

  She ignored Robert and searched for signs of life. A pulse still beat in Torr’s neck, but he was losing a lot of blood. She ripped his sleeve from his arm and pushed it against his wound. When she looked to the king again he was gone, already back to the battle. Did these men have no hearts?