Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  She continued to watch as the muscular men slipped on vests fashioned of thick leather. They circled their wrists and forearms with more bits of hide. Kirk barked orders as they passed, and each man quickly strapped on long swords and dirks.

  Kirk marched across the clearing toward the dark forest beyond the tents. She squirmed as he made a beeline for the largest tent. It measured about ten times the size of her little canvas hovel back at the games.

  Lashed to several trees for support, on the treed edge of the clearing, the huge tent lay in shadow. Kirk parted the flap with his shoulder, without letting her go. The interior’s coolness instantly soothed her perspiring brow. The darkness felt too intimate.

  “Put me down, oaf.”

  “As ye wish.”

  He dumped her, feet first, onto a bed of furs.

  “Thanks.” The furs were softer than the ground. Her toes disappeared in their silky warmth. “I must look a mess. This is so embarrassing.”

  “Ye look wonderful to me, lass,” Kirk whispered. With a groan, he turned away, “Stay here. I shall order food and drink brought at once. I need to—”

  “I don’t care what you need, mister. I want out of here.”

  He turned and glared. “We were followed. I have no way to know if they might attack an armed camp to lay hands upon ye.”

  “This is ludicrous.”

  “What did ye do to make them chase ye?”

  “I asked for directions.”

  “Directions? That’s all? Ye must have done something—”

  “I did nothing. The creepy guy dressed in black said something about being tired of swordplay and instead wanted to play…” her voice faded as a chill spread down her spine.

  “To play with ye,” he finished for her. He shook his head then stared at the ground before gazing at her face. “I know how he feels.”

  Haven backed up two steps.

  “Understand this. No one shall harm ye or play with ye against yer will in my camp.”

  With those words still ringing in her head, he disappeared out of the tent.

  “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Haven said as she looked around the tent’s murky interior. She sniffed the air.

  What stinks?

  Squinting, she glanced around. Several garments lay at the edge of the makeshift bed. She bent and picked up the clothes. As Haven folded each odd looking piece, she inhaled a man’s musky scent. Haven carefully piled them on a corner of the bed of furs and shivered.

  What an odd reaction to a pile of dirty clothes.

  A bowl of rotting fruit sat on a makeshift stump table. Shaking off her unwanted attraction to the giant, she grabbed the bowl then tiptoed to the tent’s only door. With careful steps, to protect her damaged soles, Haven pushed open the tent flap and tossed away the bowl’s contents. The berries and other remnants of fruit hadn’t smelled fit for human consumption.

  Might as well feed the forest creatures.

  Haven returned to the bed and set the bowl aside. She stood staring at the pile of furs.

  Whose bed is this?

  The clothes belonged to a man. To Kirkwall? He’d been covered in blood and the coppery scent still filled her head. Glancing down, she cringed. Her dress, also stained with blood, made her yearn for a bucket of water.

  The desire to soak her feet, while wishing for some liquid refreshment, made Haven lick her dry lips. When Kirk walked into the tent, he stared at her tongue.

  She closed her mouth.

  He looked away, slowly.

  “Midday food will be ready soon,” he said.

  Was that a growl?

  Haven watched him moisten his own lips. A shudder shook her body from the tips of her tangled hair to the toes on her aching feet.

  “Ye can rest on my bed until then,” he said, and waved toward the lush pile of furs.

  “This is your tent?” Her voice cracked. The revelation stripped her ability to slap him with a witty comeback.

  “Aye. ‘Tis a problem?”

  “Only if you plan to occupy it at the same time.”

  Kirk froze in the tent’s entrance.

  Haven, amused at his startled expression, said, “Where can I wash up?”

  He suddenly turned away as if to leave without answering. His back muscles tensed. When he straightened to his full height, his head brushed the tent’s ceiling.

  My, he’s a big man.

  Returning his gaze to hers, he said, “Of course, my lady. Forgive me.”

  “Please. Call me Haven.”

  “Again, forgive me for not offering ye the opportunity to bathe after yer…adventure.”

  His face brightened with a crooked smile, making him appear almost normal. Kirk’s brilliant blue eyes must have finally noticed he’d transferred blood from his victims to her gown when she had ridden upon his thigh.

  She swept fingers through her hair. Twigs and leaves fluttered down. Why had she been so thoughtless to lose Jake’s hand-wrought nails? His gift had been a sweet gesture.

  “The chance to bathe makes ye smile?”

  “No, I was thinking about Jake and—”

  “I care not to hear of yer men. Ye have no change of clothes and we have no women here. Once we join the women at the main encampment, one may have something to lend ye until ye can launder yer gown.” He walked toward her.

  Haven stood perfectly still. What would he do next? Kirk’s hand rose and cupped her jaw. When he flicked his thumb over her cheek, warm tingles slid between her legs.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I could not allow yer beauty to be marred by the dirt on yer cheek.” He paused, and his eyes closed to slits. “Ye have the most adorable freckles gracing yer nose.”

  He likes my freckles?

  Kirk grabbed several pieces of coarse linen then bent to pick her up again.

  Shaking out of her sudden stupor, she said, “I can walk.”

  Haven glanced down at her dress and sighed. Such a mess. Heat stained her cheeks from the shame as she followed Kirk from the tent. Keeping her back straight, she passed his men and ignored their curious glances. On longer legs, the giant vanished down a small side-trail.

  She hurried, shook off the pain of her injuries, and found him around a bend. “Slow down.”

  He did not.

  “Please?”

  Kirk stopped until she got closer, then continued at a leisurely pace.

  “Could you point me toward the Highland games encampment? I can walk there after lunch.”

  “Not with those feet. I am sure they pain ye, aye?” He stopped and his broad frame filled the trail.

  Haven stopped, then listened to nothing but silence, as if a camp full of men had vanished into the ether.

  I’m alone with this stranger yet I feel utterly safe.

  “Yes, my feet ache, but the bleeding stopped. If I can soak them, I’ll feel better. May we continue?”

  With a brief nod, Kirk led the way. The trees and brush thinned, opening to a wide riverbank. Water churned white near the center where it flowed over semi-submerged stumps and boulders.

  Haven tiptoed toward the water’s calm edge and spied clumps of yellow and white flowers growing in a profusion of weeds. “Chamomile?”

  “Yer in a mood for picking flowers?”

  “Only when I can add them to my medicinal collection,” she muttered.

  Kirk stood with massive arms crossed over a naked chest. He glowered at her, then glanced down-river. His tense stance did not detract from his ferociousness, yet she missed the feeling of his eyes on her.

  Damnation.

  “Are you watching for those men?” Haven slipped a large handful of petals into her pocket. She bunched up her skirt and sat close to the edge. As soon as she placed her torn feet and swollen ankle into the clear water along the bank, icy shivers raced up her legs. Haven whimpered.

  “What ‘tis wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t turned toward her.

  “It’s cold.”
>
  “Aye, creeks and rivers never get any warmer and this is high summer. And yes, I must watch for those men. Chances are, they will not venture this way.” Still facing away from her, Kirk bent and picked up a rock.

  Haven inhaled and clamped her knees together. His sculpted body, naked from calf to thigh beneath his odd-looking kilt, made her blink. Both calf muscles stretched and popped as he rose then flung the flat stone across the water.

  Skip, skip, skip. Just like my heartbeat.

  “We do not carry fine linens to dry with, my lady—I mean, Haven. The water is clean and the sun will dry ye fast enough.”

  Devil’s own luck. Why must he be so gorgeous?

  He passed her a coarse square of cloth then returned to the riverbank. He stared northward. At least, he had told her it was north.

  No help there. When I find out what direction to head, I’m outta’ here.

  “What do you mean by high summer?” She washed the grime from her face and neck. Haven raised her hem then scrubbed the dirt from her feet and ankles.

  A strangled cough erupted from his direction.

  Haven glanced at him and found he was staring at her. She looked down. “Sorry. I didn’t realize my bodice dipped. My breasts are in danger of popping out.”

  Pulling the corner of her petticoat up to her waist, she untied the gold sash from her thigh, then tied it around her hair. She shook her ponytail and enjoyed cool air against the nape of her neck. Haven removed the cloth from the burn site and smiled at the healthy, pink skin.

  Sensing a presence, she swung and saw Kirk right behind her. He stared, open-mouthed at her bare leg. Haven swept her skirt back into place. She left her ankles uncovered since she considered them her best feature. At least, Cal told her so.

  Stop thinking of that bastard!

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a free show. My bad.”

  “Aye, that was verra’ wicked.”

  CHAPTER 11

  A laugh popped out from Haven’s mouth before she could control it. She had shown too much skin and then apologized.

  What a joke!

  Did he think she’d let her bodice droop on purpose? Men looked at women’s legs all the time. Kirk continued to glare. She squirmed beneath his heated gaze.

  “Please forgive me, lass. I should have asked if ‘twas safe to face ye.” His cheeks flushed a brilliant red.

  On him it looks quite nice.

  Haven pulled her numbed feet from the icy current. She pushed back through the tall grass and sat facing the river. She locked elbows, rested on her forearms, and wiggled her toes to dry them in the sunshine. Peace settled over her as she peered over the brownish-blue expanse at the wall-to-wall pine trees dotting the opposite bank. Craggy peaks rose in the distance.

  “This isn’t right,” she whispered, only now remembering his comment about high summer. Doesn’t that mean mid-summer?

  “This is September, the beginning of fall. You know, autumn.”

  “Nay. Harvest time is many moons hence.” He walked off before she could argue.

  Where were the colorful leaves? Why wasn’t the grass brown from last week’s early frost? A headache pinched her head, between her temples. Swishing her legs back and forth, she attempted to dry her feet. They still ached, so she leaned forward and pressed gently along both soles.

  “Allow me, dear lady.”

  Where did he come from?

  Kirk knelt in front of her and gazed at the bottoms of her feet. One at a time, he held each in his warm, calloused palms. An immediate rush of searing heat shot up her legs, past her thighs, straight to her most vulnerable spot.

  Haven bit her bottom lip. Deep blue eyes under heavy, dark eyelashes refused to meet her gaze. She prayed he’d finish his observations soon, before he noticed how her body responded. Tremors skated up and down her spine while silky moisture pooled between her thighs. Breathing became nigh on impossible, but she forced her lungs to inhale when a wave of dizziness arose.

  His manly scent ravaged her senses. His aroma had altered, now that he’d washed and changed clothes. Thick, malodorous blood no longer discolored his thick wool wrap. A subtle…something…mingled with the scent of horse and leather. His breath smelled of…strawberries?

  But, strawberries only grow in New England in mid-July.

  Then she recalled the bowl of fruit she’d found in his tent. The bowl had contained tiny, wild strawberries. The aromatic tang broached the space between their bodies. Her lips itched to ask for an explanation, yet afraid his answer would pull her from this delicious dream. Instead, she focused on his hands as they massaged her sore ankles and ravaged feet.

  “Have my feet stopped bleeding?”

  “Aye.” He set each foot back on the mossy ground while one hand slid slowly up her ankle. When it stopped just below her knee, Haven’s gaze snapped up and connected with blue eyes grown dark as midnight. His auburn hair fluttered in the breeze. Her stomach rumbled.

  A tense frown passed over his face. His jaw clenched. His stature, though kneeling in front of her, all but blocked the sun. “Are ye hungry?”

  Haven nodded.

  “I hunger as well.”

  Somehow I don’t think we’re talking food.

  Her legs spread of their own volition and he inched closer. The feral look in his eyes made her slowly collapse until her hair tangled with tiny twigs and tall grass. The scent of crushed thyme and moist earth joined with the aroma of musk. His scent. She lay unmoving and vulnerable, sprawled beneath him, unable to speak under his wicked smile. Haven licked her lips in anticipation.

  Will he kiss me?

  Silent as a predator before the pounce, he slid his hand past her knee toward her inner thigh. His other hand caressed her cheek the moment his huge body sheltered hers. He covered her completely with his rock-hard thighs and tanned arms.

  A sensuous groan escaped his lips when he crushed her breasts beneath his chest.

  The weight, the heat, the desire in his touch ignited her passion and swept away all other thoughts until she recalled she had somewhere else she ought to be.

  What am I doing? I shouldn’t let him do this. I have to tell him to move.

  Soon.

  The hand caressing her face brushed her lips. How had he known she’d planned to voice her objection? She wrapped both arms around him while knowing her reaction was a mistake, and simply not like her. Instead, her mind raced, yearning to allow a handsome man to make her body sing with pleasure.

  Getting her wish, a large, half-naked stranger caressed her body with big, warm hands. Haven’s lips ached for his kiss. Where’s the harm in that?

  “Love leads the way,” a low voice whispered from behind the giant. At least she thought it came from that direction, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed nothing but open sky.

  “‘Tis something amiss?” he asked as his tongue licked the trembling skin along the lacy edge of her bodice.

  “I thought I heard—”

  “Do not concern yerself, my sweet. We are alone. We are safe.”

  “How can you be sure?” Haven sighed as his mouth forced the top edge of her gown lower, and his lips kissed the sensitive skin just above her nipples.

  “My men watch my back.”

  Fighting a fainting sensation, she lay motionless as his lips rose to brush hers with unexpected tenderness in so large a man.

  “No one here but us, love.”

  As Kirk claimed her mouth, pressure and heat built inside her. She tasted him, drinking in his essence while her sensitive breasts strained against their bindings. His magical mouth claimed her while her body reacted with swift and ravenous need. Her heart beat wildly and vibrations shook her to the core. His knuckles caressed her nipples, now swollen with desire. Undeniable pleasure made her groan when he pulled away.

  “Ye taste of honey and smell like fresh air and sunshine, love.” Heat emanated from his gaze, searing her inside and out. Did he burn for her? Did he know she barely tamped down h
ysteria laced with a mega dose of desire? One minute she called him names, and the next she urged him to take her in the grass.

  “Open, sweet one,” he demanded against her mouth.

  Bruised lips smiled against his onslaught then complied.

  Kissing is a perfectly acceptable act between two consenting adults.

  Just because she’d barely kissed more than a handful of men in her twenty-five years, didn’t mean she didn’t know how to respond. She accepted his tongue as it delved inside her mouth. Licking and tasting, his tongue left no part untouched or unloved.

  Loved?

  She sensed his indecision when his fingers trailed down to cup her between her thighs. She shuddered. He deepened their kiss, taking her mind off his intrusion, yet her body knew. It knew his touch ignited an obsession she’d never felt for any man.

  Certainly not for Cal.

  She shook her head and delved into the intimacy Kirk offered. As she succumbed to the pleasure of his touch, she shoved virtuous thoughts to the back of her mind. But, when the hard ridge of his desire ground into her hip, a brief pang of guilt made her eyes flutter. Clamping them shut, she groaned when she recalled her vow to find true love. Could this man be the one?

  * * *

  Kirk’s men had orders to protect the camp and the surrounding area, but could he be sure they would not interrupt their pleasuring? Each had recovered after their surprise at Haven’s acid mouth. Then they glared, staring at her with a mixture of contempt and impure thoughts.

  Kirk’s thoughts focused on the women who traveled with the main group. He would order the men to break camp and join those guarding the treasure wagon. The chance to return them to the other females might make them less eager to come between him and Haven.

  I would hate to kill another man this day.

  Some of his warriors laid claim to the women who cooked their meals. Each wench lived free to keep them warm at night. Or not. Free choice dwelled in the hands and hearts of all their clan’s women. Kirk had no one waiting for him.

  At least not in my camp. Lady Fia, though…

  Startled by the thought, he released Haven’s swollen lips from his mouth’s onslaught then pulled back with a groan. When he lifted his body off her softness, she whimpered a protest.