Skye’s gaze locked on Jake, the moment he marched into the grand hall. Unable to dismiss the scowl on his face, she squinted and looked closer at his entire form. His aura glowed buttercup yellow, as if focused on a path of action.
What did he intend to do?
When he strode close to her, she tugged playfully on the sleeve of his clean, black shirt. Marcus must have offered him a change of clothes, since he now wore a plaid in the Mackenzie pattern of blue and green. A wide black belt circled his waist, and new boots protected his feet.
“Did ye tell yer friend what happened? Is he fine with all of this?” Waiting for Jake to answer her question, she released his arm and flattened her hands against her sides. Before he joined them in the great hall, she had stood anxiously by the fire, warming her chilled fingers. Worry was a useless emotion, but wringing her hands would do little to fix the mess she had made.
“You look nice,” Jake said, surprising her.
“Ye noticed I borrowed a dress?”
He nodded, then glanced away.
“Fia was kind enough to offer me more suitable attire.” The dark green frock was warmer than the leather leggings and vest.
“The clothing ye gave me got soaked, but I appreciate having worn it while riding with ye…and Bull.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, but his eyes lowered.
She stifled the urge to lift his chin, to keep him from staring at the deep cut bodice. She also wanted to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Why let Jake know that desire made her body tingle, every time she saw him? Yearning for another kiss, her mouth went dry, and her cheeks burned. Had he noticed?
“Are you ill?”
He noticed.
“Nay. My query?”
“I told him some of it, and a little about you. I shared what happened the first time you and I met…and the last time. I told him about what you said caused your injuries.”
“Ye doona’ believe me.”
He glared down at her, but she would not back away. The bitterly cold storm had turned her fingers to ice. Behind her, the fire in the huge stone hearth felt too good to ignore, but standing in his presence warmed her entire body in a heartbeat.
Aye, from the inside out.
“I am beginning to believe, after seeing what nearly devoured me in the loch. Bull is…still taking it all in.”
“Aye, I understand. Where is he now?”
“I don’t know, and I couldn’t care less. You stay away from Bull, you hear?” Jake’s voice rose, and he stepped closer. His eyes glowed, reflecting the flames in the nearby hearth.
She could not back away, not with the hearth behind her. Trapped, she raised her hands and placed them on his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm, and his shoulders relaxed.
“Jake, I am cold. I am hungry. I am concerned for yer friend. Why are ye angry at me?”
“Just do what I tell you.”
“How dare ye?” Even next to a roaring fire, a chill suddenly raced along her spine, and shoved away all the blissful heat his closeness had fanned. Anger vibrated through her, and she fought the urge to reach up and slap him across his cheek.
Jake crossed his arms and glared, as if waiting for her to react physically. She would not reward his arrogance by giving in to his demands. He thought her interest in Bull was sexual in nature? If he wanted to continue with such thinking, so be it.
When Bull walked into the room, the others quieted. Besides an interesting face, the man had a gentle soul. Skye could feel it, and his lilac aura rang true. He had shed his shredded clothing and now wore the muted green and black wool of the Keith clan. He strolled toward them with a great smile upon his face. Flesh peeked from beneath the plaid, from his knees to his borrowed boots. His shirt was pale blue linen, tied loosely at the neck with thin leather laces.
Marcus and Lady Fia conversed on the dais. Skye turned her back on Jake, and went to sit beside Fia. Her pregnant friend rubbed her expansive belly and shared a quick smile. Several soldiers drank at a table at the north side of the great room. A young serving woman stared at Bull. Her cheeks pinked, and ale sloshed over the lip of the clay pitcher she carried. A growl from one drenched warrior caused her to turn and run.
Bull laughed, as if women reacted thusly every day. The man was huge, sure enough, but no larger than the Keith Tower’s guards. In truth, he stood a tad shorter than her cousin Cameron. He held himself like a warrior in the same way as Cameron and her brother, Kirk, but there was something special about the man.
Was it because he wore his hair shorter than the local men? Most tied their uncut hair back with a leather thong. Jake wore his black hair either loose or tied back, but his was neatly trimmed. He looked handsome either way. Unlike Jake’s scowl, Bull’s smile had immediately brightened, the moment he spotted her in the crowd. Something about him, at just that moment, made her smile back.
“Sit with us, Bull,” Lady Fia said, and struggled to her feet.
“Please stay seated. Bull would love to join us.” Skye gestured to the empty chair beside her, and fluttered her lashes at Bull.
Jake growled from across the room, which was the only reason she had pretended to flirt with the big man.
“Aye, ‘tis a wonderful name for such a big, handsome warrior,” Lady Fia said, seemingly not to notice Jake’s response.
Skye lowered her lashes as Bull settled beside her. When he grinned down at her, she felt small.
“We welcome ye to our home, Bull,” Fia said.
Bull leaned around Skye and said, “Thank you for your hospitality. This is quite a lovely…castle.”
“Are homes similar…where ye come from?” Fia asked.
Skye suspected she knew more about the future. Fia and Iona had become good friends, and Iona and Cameron were truthful about the lovely redhead’s origins.
Bull hesitated.
“ ‘Tis an unusual domicile, compared to Jake’s home,” Skye broke in, glancing at Jake. He stood near the hearth, leaning against the stone wall sipping ale. He was hard to read, so she squinted and watched. When he worked with steel, he glowed vermillion as if encased in red and orange flames. However, when he glared at her, as he was doing now, his aura glowed dark green, as if he was under stress.
It was the times when he looked at her a certain way, like just before he kissed her, that his aura glowed with the iridescent pink of desire.
It was both attractive, and frightening.
She forced her attention back to the conversation at the table.
“Do ye have a home of yer own?” Fia asked Bull.
“Nope. I rent an apartment near the school where I work,” he said, turning his gaze squarely on Skye. “When we get home, maybe I can have you over for dinner.”
“I would love to dine with ye, Bull,” Skye said. Sensing Jake’s scowl, but ignoring the man, she broke off a large piece of crusty bannock and held it up to Bull.
“Let’s eat!” Bull’s ice blue eyes sparkled. They were honest, hopeful eyes; the eyes of a man who did not grow up surrounded by the violence of the Highlands. Haven had shared stories about her world. Skye learned that crime and death were common, but mainly in the large cities. New Hampshire, where Haven had lived before Kirk convinced her to stay and marry him, was fairly pastoral.
No soldiers, no battles, and little crime.
“Aye, ‘tis past time we fill yer noisy stomach,” Skye said, and could not stifle a merry chuckle.
A serving woman set a trencher of roasted meat and root vegetables in front of him, then filled a tankard with ale.
“My thanks,” Bull said, gulping the vessel dry. He picked up a bone and ripped a piece of roasted meat from it with his teeth. When he moaned with delight at his first mouthful, his aura wavered. It rolled like a wave, and the edges turned royal blue depicting someone who has found their path in life.
Skye watched him as he ate, wanting to know more about Jake’s friend. He appeared human, for starters.
“Do ye ap
prove, Bull?”
“I hope so. I can hear your stomach growling from here,” Jake said. He had mentioned that Bull was both an athlete and a teacher. Leave it to Jake not to share the man’s good character and tenderness.
“Doona’ make fun of the poor man. He has survived an ordeal.” Skye’s words made Jake mumble under his breath, and Bull nodded.
“When I woke up this morning, I sure didn’t plan on traveling. Not that I don’t enjoy the accommodations, but I am still confused.” Bull looked around for a napkin and, finding none, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Skye remembered the napkins at Jake’s home. What marvelous times these men lived in. They both must want to return as soon as possible.
“Do I dare ask what it is, I’m eating,” Bull whispered.
She leaned closer, sensing Jake watched them. “ ‘Tis roasted venison in a sauce made of wine, onions, and other herbs found in the forest that abuts the meadow. Some grow in the herb garden beside the stables.”
“I saw that, behind the low wall?”
“Aye, to keep the hens, sheep, and pilfering children from eating it all.” She smiled, recalling her cherub-faced little nephew. He loved to dig in the garden beside her as she harvested her medicinal herbs.
“Weren’t cattle raised in this area of Scotland? I expected a steak, but this tastes wonderful.” Bull shoveled another piece of bannock dripping with meat gravy into his mouth, then offered her a roasted carrot.
Skye leaned closer, and opened her mouth. He placed the spiced vegetable on her tongue, and she moaned with pleasure. When Jake cursed beneath his breath, she fought a smile.
His question was a sound one. The Keiths owned cattle, but sheep were easier to raise in the meadows along the coast. She stared at Bull. Brawn and brains was an unusual combination.
Bull was different, and any woman would easily fall under his charm. Would she? Could she see him hovering over her in her bedchamber, as he slowly lowered all those muscles? Would his kisses make her hot and wet? Jake’s had, she knew. No other man would satisfy what little she knew about love, except Jake Jamison.
A gentle tug on her sleeve pulled her thoughts back to their party. Fia leaned toward her. With a furtive glance toward her husband seated on her other side, she said, “Jake’s friend is verra’ handsome.”
As Jake sidled closer to the dais, with a second tankard of ale in his hand, Skye responded loudly, “I like his true name, Bryce. However, he begged me to call him by his moniker. The name fits him verra’ well.”
“Aye, ‘tis true. The man would make ye a suitable husband.”
Skye’s heart stopped, and her gaze flew to Bull’s face. He had not heard Fia’s words. From the corner of her eye, she sensed Jake’s approach. Had he heard?
Jake growled. His eyes narrowed and his mouth dropped open. His silence proved unnerving. Was it her fault that the man was quick to judge? She had no plans to involve herself with any man, not when she had a mission to accomplish.
A mission that was likely to end in death.
Skye stood and offered Bull her hand. “Perhaps, if ye have completed yer meal, ye shall allow me to show ye the upper fortifications.”
“No way in Hell!”
CHAPTER 19
Skye whipped around, and Jake grabbed the hand meant for his friend. The whisper of several swords, leaving their leather scabbards, echoed throughout the hall.
“Please, I am fine,” Skye said to the armed men, “ ‘Tis an argument between…friends.” Skye glared at Jake, who lowered his hand, and backed away.
“Skye?” Marcus asked, already on his feet.
“This isn’t over,” Jake whispered.
Skye bit her lower lip to keep from smiling at both men. They were two strong, competitive warriors, vibrating with anger and concern. If this conversation occurred while they stood on the parapet, she might take their argument further, and push him over the side.
At the brush of his lips, she might lose her resolve to fight off impure thoughts. With their argument cast aside, she might lure him to her room, and take him to her bed. To do so could only end in disaster, and a broken heart.
Death awaited her.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Skye turned her attention away from Jake’s glower. Fia patted her husband’s knee. Marcus growled something under his breath then wrapped an arm around Fia’s shoulder, and set a hand on her protruding stomach.
Skye’s envy caused her cheeks to warm. To have a man care for her, as Marcus did for Fia, was an unattainable dream. Her mission would bring naught but heartache and death.
“Why do people call ye Bull? ‘Tis it a tribute, or an epithet?” Fia asked.
“As an athlete at the Highland games, I earned my nickname. It’s me, don’t you think?” he said, spreading his arms apart, “and Bryce is so straight-laced. My students call me professor.”
“My friend is a brilliant man. A teacher, actually.” Jake nodded toward Bull. Murmurs spread. The people in the great room stared at Bull.
Fia tittered at his comment, but Marcus scowled. Skye should warn Bull not to upset the man. As laird of the Keiths, his word was law. One word from Marcus, and Bull could find himself in the dungeon.
Skye shivered. Memories of the dungeon below her late-husbands home, the damp, drafty place the sorcerer had thrown her into, made tears well up in her eyes.
Fia said, “Bull, I admired your unusual leggings when ye arrived. I am sorry they be ruined. Is yer lent clothing acceptable?”
“Yes. My jeans were shredded when I tumbled through a briar patch, and my hair’s damp from the ice storm, but I’ll dry.” Bull ran his fingers through his short black locks.
“Ice storm?” Marcus sat forward, his hands on his knees.
“The weather is lovely,” Fia said, “what ice storm?”
“Well, New Hampshire is known for its wintry weather, but this storm was weird. Fog, snow, ice and all while the sun was shining. Weird.”
“Skye, what does he mean?” Fia asked.
There was no way to ignore the looming conversation, yet all the clans needed adequate warning of things to come. She glanced from Bull to Jake. Jake nodded, and his acknowledgement of her apprehension gave her courage.
“The sorcerer found me,” Skye whispered.
“Can you bring all of us up to speed?” Jake said. Marcus and Fia stared at him as he joined them at the table. Marcus glanced from Fia to Jake.
“Speed? Aye, ‘tis a race where the sorcerer is concerned, Jamison.” Marcus glared at him, then back at Skye.
Jake ignored Marcus, strode behind Skye, and clasped her shoulders. He wasn’t looking for answers from the locals. She was the common denominator in their situation, and the only way home.
His hand slid closer to her neck. She raised a hand to cover his, then dropped away as if burned. Why was she acting skittish? Was it because they were in a crowd?
He gently massaged the bare skin hidden by her long hair. No one appeared to notice, but Skye shivered. The drafty castle’s fireplace did little to warm the room, and her skin was too cold.
She ignored his question and Marcus’ response, but Bull had a right to know what he’d dropped into.
“Skye, start by explaining to both of us what has happened over the last five years. I’ve been out of the loop.”
“Jake, ye talk verra’ funny,” Fia tittered.
He smiled, until Skye shrugged loose from his grasp. Her reluctance to touch him hurt, especially after their last kiss.
“The sorcerer attacked when I was with Alec. I shoved him out of the way, and found myself transported to Castle Barrowmann. The evil man was verra’ mad, near out of his mind with rage, since Alec escaped.” Skye’s voice cracked.
“This Alec fellow…who is he, and what is he to you?” Jake turned her to face him. The shock in her eyes stopped him in his tracks. The unshed tears clawed at his heart. Her feelings for the mysterious Alec ran deep.
“He is—.”
“He is fine, sister,” a voice boomed.
Jake released Skye, and straightened. Bull jumped to his feet. Could he sense the tension slamming through Jake, as Kirkwall Gunn, Laird of the Gunn Clan, strode across the great room and headed for them? The truth hit him like a brick.
Skye loved someone else.
Relief flooded Skye’s face at the news, and he tensed with the need to hit someone. Alec must be her lover, and the bastard was fine and dandy.
Would he show his face, then cart Skye away to some God-forsaken relic of a castle? A place like the unknown Castle Barrowmann?
Why should I care?
Jake could only watch as tears dampened her cheeks, as she jumped from her seat. She raced around the table, and flung herself into her brother’s open arms. For a split second, Jake yearned to sweep his thumb over her perfect cheek to dry her tears.
Reality slapped him awake.
“Jake, what is going on? Who is this new guy? His fancy Highland dress, and the way he carries himself, reminds me of the strutting peacocks that gather under the Chieftain’s tent at the Highland games.” Bull’s voice was low, and close to Jake’s ear, but both Kirk and Skye turned to face them.
“Ye are here once more, blacksmith,” Kirk boomed, “ye left with your tail between yer legs once the battle plans were drawn. On the eve of battle, no less.”
The rush of blood roared through his ears, and his heartbeat quickened. Anger was a bitch of an emotion, but when a man called him a coward, Jake reacted. He flew off the dais. His fist snapped Kirk’s head sideways.
Skye screamed, and the scrape of dozens of swords leaving their scabbards echoed across the great room.
Jake stepped back, then stilled. He was ready to accept his fate.
Blood trickled down Kirk’s cleft chin, but he did not retaliate. His hesitation might have something to do with the petite woman clinging to his right forearm.
“Skye, let me be,” Kirk growled, and his reddish-brown hair covered one eye. He shook his arm, but she didn’t let go. His frown deepened, then he flipped her up and cradled her against his chest like a newborn.
Jealousy flooded Jake’s body. He didn’t realize he moved toward Kirk and Skye until a large pair of hands pulled him back.
Highland Games Through Time Page 71
