She hurried to keep up. And tripped.
“Devil’s own luck!” she said, sprawled in the thick sea grass.
Two meaty hands lifted her and she was quickly clutched against a warm chest. Kicking for balance, Haven reached up and secured her arms around his neck. She enjoyed his embrace as they continued their trek. She tried hard not to stare at his face, but curiosity got the better of her. Before she could comment on the nearly invisible fine, white line that had been his blood red scar, his head bent down and whispered in her ear.
“Ye are a brilliant woman of medicine. My pain has eased, my scar is all but healed, and my cock is hard as a rock.”
Color rose everywhere her frock did not cover. “You can put me down. I promise to watch my step.”
“As ye wish, love.” He slid her slowly down his chest, purposely sliding her against the evidence of his desire. When she stood on her own feet, his erection jutted from his kilt and nudged her abdomen.
“Reid has taken my weapons and promises to make them shine. He has tossed aside his splint since his wound has completely healed. I thank ye, my incredible, talented healer.”
His last few words slipped out on a whisper. Waves of pleasure skittered down her body, from her breasts to her toes.
“I have a way with herbs. Anyone could do as I, if trained.”
“Our clan is in desperate need of a healer. Our last, a brilliant man, died in a raid. The job is yers if ye will stay.”
His blue eyes darkened as a heavy cloud passed low, overhead. A rumble in the west made them both glance upward. Storm clouds swirled and dipped.
“We’d best get inside. I don’t want to get wet. I don’t own any other clothes and these got wrinkled when—”
“When I ripped them from yer body.”
“Right.” She pushed playfully against his chest, twirled around on one toe, lifted her borrowed skirt, and raced through the gate. Icy droplets teased her nose and cheeks as she ran. Thunder roared above as she sped from Kirk and entered an open area ringed by the tower’s walls.
“Haven? Come inside,” Fia cried from a door on the other side of the bailey.
“Made it,” she huffed. Kirk followed close behind and wrestled her inside. His touch made her heart flutter. Happiness flowed through her until she recalled she’d soon be leaving all this behind.
She’d return to her tiny apartment, her unpleasant aunt, and her so-called friends at the newspaper office who hadn’t the decency to warn her about her married lover. A life filled with empty days and lonely nights.
“First, ye laugh. Now ye look as if ye might cry. What is wrong?” Fia asked. Shooing Kirk to precede them, Fia tugged her into the great room. Mackenzie sat near the blazing hearth beside Fia’s uncle. Several of Mackenzie’s warriors sat at tables laden with food and drink. Kirk’s men strode in and sat beside their former enemies. His men had bathed and donned long-sleeved, fitted doublets, similar to the present day Argyll jacket. Though clothed in finery, his men still looked formidable as they broke their fast.
Haven’s stomach rumbled.
“My love is always hungry. How she stays so small, I have no clue,” Kirk laughed.
His love?
“I could eat. Then I need to go.”
“Go where?” Fia waved to a servant carrying a tray of tankards and a pitcher. The servant bowed then poured. “Ye may go, Anice.”
“Was that Anice? From your clan?” She turned to Kirk and did not miss his scowl.
“Aye. With Balfour dead, she has no reason to return home. Fia offered her a position in the castle and a comfortable room to spend the rest of her days.”
“But—”
“Do not fret for her. She told me she liked our Balfour very much, but were not lovers. His stories thrilled her and his jokes made her laugh. She will be happy here.”
Anice filled tankards with ale as she smiled and joked with the men.
Even she has a bright future.
“Where do ye want to go after we fill our bellies?” Kirk asked.
She evaded the question for a few moments. With a deep inhale for courage, she locked eyes with Kirk. “I have to return to my home. To Lincoln.”
“Where is Lincoln?” Fia asked with all innocence as she sipped her wine.
“Far away. I got lost. Kirk and his men found me, but now it’s time to go home.” More servants entered the great hall with arms weighed down with platters of meat, bread, and fruit. With summer in high season, they’d easily fill their bellies. Haven couldn’t imagine how these people survived during a Scottish winter. Would she be as strong?
Doesn’t matter. I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving.
If her potion failed, she’d seek out the old crone. The woman obviously could travel through time. She’d even hinted she could help.
“Haven!”
“What?”
“Kirk asked ye a question,” Fia whispered. The woman had laid her hand on Haven’s clasped fists. Kirk, a powerful man, needed a well-born lady to share his future. A healer some called a witch would make him the laughing stock of the Highlands. She loved him too much to cause him pain.
“Haven?”
“Yes? I am listening, Kirk.”
“Do not go. Stay here until Fia and Marcas wed. Afterwards, I must return home, to Keldurunach. Come with me.” His gaze bore into her face. Strong knuckles glided feather-soft across her cheek. Love pulsed through his skin while pain pierced her heart.
“I cannot. You might need a healer, but I need more. Much more.”
“Then, be my wife.”
“What did you say?” Haven squeaked. She coughed, and heat rose in her cheeks. Had her heart deceived her ears and make her think she heard Kirk propose? Actually, it sounded more like an order. She squinted at him and kept balling her fists in her lap. The aroma of food turned her stomach and the need to weep sprang up, unbidden.
“I asked ye for yer hand, love. Our village still needs a healer, but perhaps ye could fill two positions while ye train our best and brightest?”
Air fled from her lungs. Heat flashed across her breasts and she crossed her arms to hide her nipples, straining against the simple fabric. Kirk held out both hands then pulled her into his embrace. Guffaws and howls filled the hall as his men witnessed his claim on her body.
How can I possibly leave this man ?
“What the hell, I’ll stay.”
EPILOGUE
Five months later
Haven stood on the cliffs and let the ocean’s winter spray tickle her lowered eyelids. Chilled fingers brushed back several locks of frozen hair. She rubbed her swollen abdomen and wondered what to name the baby. Kirk had some thoughts on the subject especially since he hated his own name. Their discussion turned heated and everything that transpired last night swam before her in a dream-like vision.
“A name should be passed with honor through the family,” he had roared. “My father did me wrong when he named me for the place he got me on my mum.”
“Oh?” she had replied. “You don’t want to call our child Bull’s Pub?” When she giggled, he had thrown her onto the bed, trailed warm kisses down between her quickly bared breasts, and feasted on her belly. He paused to plaster sloppy kisses on their growing baby until his eagerness made him strip her bare. Her giggles turned to moans when he rolled her to her stomach and nibbled the sensitive area around her tailbone.
“That’s nice. But, I can’t touch you.”
“Allow me this pleasure, sweeting. The view is magnificent.”
“The view?” Haven felt a full-body blush. He knelt behind her on the bed of furs and pulled her to her knees.
“God’s teeth, I cannot hold back.” He grunted as he slid inside. The fullness she felt when his hot length plunged inside her to the hilt startled her, but he held her up with one arm around her waist. When Kirk stopped moving, she whimpered.
“A moment, lass, or I shall not be responsible for a short performance.”
“There i
s nothing short about you,” she said.
He chuckled and then moved.
Desire flooded her as his thrusts intensified in both speed and depth. She’d had to reassure him that making love would not harm their baby. Once he’d listened and understood, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. The idea was quite remarkable for someone like her. He loved her and told her so, several times a day. More importantly, he shared his feelings for her with his clan.
No secrets.
Haven had made the right decision, which was her last lucid thought before her body shuddered with the impact of a mind-blowing orgasm.
Last night, Kirk had made her toes curl twice. Recalling the pleasure, she rubbed her arms. Standing alone on the cliffs, Haven thought about sex, love, and home.
“This time is home and no one can tell me different.”
“And if ye could simply walk through the mist and return from whence ye came? Would ye do this?”
She heard the voice of the old crone reverberate in her ears until drowned out by the crashing waves. Haven stepped back then turned toward the sound. The strange old woman stood beside her, the crude yellow stone of her medallion sparkling in the morning sun. She gripped her crooked cane with both gnarled hands as she joined Haven and stared out to sea. Her threadbare shawl whipped about her shoulders. Both women shivered.
“Let’s get out of this wind so we can talk.”
“Aye.”
Haven linked her arm through the fragile woman’s and led her down the slope and into the bailey of Castle Ruadh. The wind didn’t reach inside these walls, evident by the smell of manure and leather. Several warriors practiced with dirks in a far corner. Anice poured water from a skin for the men waiting their turns. She giggled like Gavina, who had returned to Clan Gunn’s homeland several months earlier.
“Sit by the fire. I’ll find us some food.” She and Kirk were visiting Lady Fia and her husband, Marcas Mackenzie. Haven had jumped on the idea to visit the ocean, and her new friends, once more.
Other friends were no longer close at hand. After their party had returned to Keldurunach, and Haven had fallen in love with Kirk’s home, Reid had finally participated in a creach with other young men of the clan. Without incident, they safely returned the dozen Highland Cows they managed to borrow from the neighboring Sutherland herd and Reid had proudly returned to his own village.
She had visited the burial site where Kirk’s men had laid Balfour to rest overlooking a valley filled with meadowsweet and heather. A huge rock cairn, a monument to a life full of war, storytelling, and peace, became a favorite gathering place for picnicking young lovers. Haven had toasted his life by pouring a tankard of his strong brew on the stones.
Gavina married a warrior from Clan MacKay whom she met at the Highland games held during the autumn harvest. Gavina’s new husband also sported a zigzagging scar, but had refused Haven’s offer of medicine.
He whispered that he believed Gavina’s devotion to his mark was powerful. Haven sighed with relief to have her gone and tried not to dwell on the fact that Gavina might be her ancestor.
Cameron Robeson’s fate brought the most turmoil to Haven’s new life. Her heart broke when she listened as he confessed his sins to Kirk. Kirk’s shock at his flesh and blood’s betrayal caused widespread panic within the clan.
Some people assumed Kirk would forgive Cameron. She knew better because she knew Kirk. He could not let such treachery pass, especially when Haven had been hurt because of his actions.
She slid a frozen finger along the barely visible wound at her neck. Mackenzie apologized most sincerely, but Cameron was a different story. He was of their blood. Their clan. The council placed the blame for her kidnapping and Balfour’s death squarely on Cameron’s shoulders.
Cameron’s particular regards toward Lady Haven hadn’t leaked. He didn’t deny any of the charges and never mentioned the man in the dark cloak. Haven suspected the stranger had used magic to make Cameron do Mackenzie’s bidding, but she found no proof. Cameron did not know the man’s name, nor could he describe his face.
Cameron’s sentence was harsh.
“Banished? Are you sure?” She asked Skye Gunn, Kirk’s little sister. Haven, as well as the other women, had not attended his trial, but Skye knew things. She’d quickly shared the news.
“Kirk banished him in open court, then gave him two hours to gather his belongings and say his good-byes. Four warriors were ordered to escort him to the outskirts of our borders.”
“But, where will he go? How will he survive?” And why hadn’t he told her good-bye?
“I heard tell that an old woman stood up for him after the trial. Said she had an opening for an assistant. Obedience and a strong back were her only requirements. Cameron is a big warrior, now disgraced and homeless, so he agreed to join her service. She shall not do him harm. I have a feeling his destiny lies with her. Do not worry. Good-night.”
“Good-night, Skye. And, thanks for the news. I am sure he’ll be fine.” Haven had watched Kirk’s sister scurry away with a flutter of giggles. To be around such a lovely young lady would bring a smile to any cantankerous Highlander. Skye cared for Cameron, and had faith in a strange woman to look out for her cousin.
Haven strode into the kitchen, and her stomach growled. The women smiled and shared some gossip with her. They finally kicked her out and promised the meal would soon be ready. Haven stepped inside the great room and joined the old woman from the future.
Dorcas Swann looked up from where she sat as an honored guest in Fia’s household, an oddity in itself. She seemed to enjoy the warmth of the fire as she sipped from a tankard filled with ale or cider. Dorcas had visited them several times, back in Keldunurach, usually bearing gifts such as powders and other medicinal herbs for Haven’s work as the clan’s healer. Had someone as thoughtful taken Cameron Robeson under her wing?
Dorcas warned Haven about the hooded man, who she knew was up to no good. Dorcas called him an evil, heartbroken wizard who she’d sent back to the future, but he might return. Dorcas also reminded Haven she could still return to her own time.
She’d been tempted, but knew her place was here, in this time even though certain things still weighed heavy on her conscience. She now had a chance to fix things. Forever.
“Can I trust you to deliver a special letter to a dear friend?” Even as the words left her mouth, Haven hoped Dorcas and Cameron’s new employer were the same person.
* * *
Meanwhile, back in the present…
Iona Mackenzie stared at the bent over old woman who cackled, “Read this and be content.”
The woman whispered a few more unintelligible words, slipped a note into Iona’s palm, then disappeared inside a weathered tent.
“How odd.” Iona had met all types of people over the last few days of the Highland games. She managed to keep most at a distance. She loved her father and his odd tie to their Scottish roots, but this past week poured problems into her costumed lap including the sudden disappearance of her friend, Haven MacKay. She’d retraced Haven’s steps after the dance. When Iona discovered she hadn’t returned to her tent, she talked to Jake. He claimed he hadn’t seen her all night. She couldn’t just disappear, could she?
Of course not, which is why she traveled tent to tent to talk to the busy merchants. So far, several venders remembered the raven-haired beauty dressed in the crude green day dress, but not the red gown Iona had lent her for the dance. Others remembered her visiting a particular vendor’s tent earlier in the day; the one into which the elderly crone vanished.
Iona didn’t care for the woman’s long, ragged hair blowing behind her like a silvery waterfall, but she planned to talk to every person on the mountain, if it meant finding Haven.
Shoving aside the musty tent flap, Iona caught a glimpse of the old woman’s huge, crooked nose. Piercing gold eyes under heavy brows glanced up from where the woman had slumped into an old rocker.
For a woman a head shorter then Iona, an
d aided by a rustic crutch, she had moved away in the flick of an eye after depositing her missive.
A pretty yellow amulet clanked inside a heavy metal setting. A sizzle slid down Iona’s back as if she had stepped through a portal between time, or space. The woman smiled, knowingly.
Could she be a witch? Like me?
Moving backwards, escaping the tent, the woman’s glare, and the odd sensations, Iona stepped into the busy alley lined with stalls and tents. Every one sold Scottish wares and clothing, but the paper in her hand called to her. She unfolded the crumbled, brittle letter and read.
Dear Iona;
The night of the dance—the night of the storm—I found myself transported to a distant land. No, I had not planned on this. I would never leave you in the lurch, but an odd man in a hooded black robe chased me and I did what I had to do. Please don’t look for me except in the history books.
I have married a handsome Highlander named Kirkwall Gunn, laird of Clan Gunn, in northern Scotland. He is a gruff sort of man. A giant, actually, who keeps me on a short leash.
Ready or not, I look forward to the birth of my child and I plan to end my days with my children, here among these harsh people. If anyone asks, please lie and say I am happy and ran off with a Scottish visitor to the games. My possessions are yours, little as they are, including an old book I ‘borrowed’ from my aunt’s store. Please see to its return, and take care. I am here because of that darn book.
Kiss Jake for me and tell him I am enjoying stew and fresh milk with my new clan. He will understand.
Be well, dear friend, but also be cautious, especially of a demented creep in a long, black robe.
I took your advice and held on tight. Now, take mine. Time is fleeting… careful what you wish for.
Love,
Haven MacKay Gunn,
21 December 1598
Haven? The author addressed her by name, and had written on paper cracked and yellowed with age. The signature made Iona’s heart skip a beat, and the words blurred as tears welled up behind her eyes. A cloud drifted overhead.
Highland Games Through Time Page 28
