Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  As he stepped into the room, his hand brushed against the nearest wall. To straighten would increase the pain searing down his back, so he kept slightly bent.

  “Are you sure you are up to this?” Jake asked, his hand replacing the servant’s, at Bull’s elbow.

  “Don’t embarrass me. If I am permitted to sit—”

  “Fetch a chair,” Jake said to the servant.

  An armless chair appeared, and Bull collapsed on it. He cringed, and slowly sat up.

  “I thank ye for yer bravery, lad,” Marcus said, suddenly kneeling at his feet.

  Bull chuckled.

  Marcus’ expression darkened.

  “He didn’t mean any disrespect. The pain is—”

  “Jake, I can speak for myself,” Bull interrupted, then turned to the laird. Marcus had risen, and Bull straightened to meet his gaze. The burned skin across his back screamed. He kept his mouth shut.

  Bull studied the man, then wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. “I was surprised that a man of your caliber…I mean stature, would kneel before little old me.”

  Marcus nodded, obviously satisfied Bull wasn’t acting impertinent.

  Jake introduced Kirkwall Gunn, a huge man who had growled at Jake when he had interrupted their noon meal. Was that just the other day? Kirk’s arrival had catapulted Jake into a sour mood. There was a story, there.

  Bull had assumed Skye was Kirk’s sister. There was something in their eyes and attitudes that screamed family. Kirk acted the part of a protective older brother, so Bull would watch his back. Kirk stood on the far side of the table with his arms crossed and his eyes glaring at Jake. He and his friend ought to tread cautiously.

  Cameron was an altogether different man. He was as big and athletically built as Bull. A jovial fellow, he stood taller than any man in the room, even an inch or so taller than Bull’s own 6 foot 4 height. His blond hair and gold eyes reminded Bull of an ancient Viking.

  “Is that guy a Viking?” he whispered to Jake.

  “The Gunn clan is of Nordic descent. Cameron is quite the throwback, unlike me.”

  Bull looked at Jake. The black hair was not the epitome of a Viking, but Jake’s blue eyes and sharp features were. Jamison was a sept of the Gunn Clan. Were all these men related? Bull returned his attention to Cameron.

  “I’d hate to challenge him at turning the caber,” Bull said.

  “Aye, ‘tis a competition I can sink my teeth into,” Cameron answered.

  The man has great hearing.

  Once all the summoned guests had gathered in the solar, Kirk spread a crude map on the table. Groaning, Bull stood and edged closer. He whistled.

  “Is something amiss, warrior?”

  “Warrior? Ha, that’s funny,” he said, then glanced around the room. He could best any of them in a wrestling match, but with a sword?. “I mean, I’m jealous. If I owned a map this detailed, and this old, my students would pass my courses with ease.”

  “Students?” echoed several men.

  “Bull is a teacher, of sorts. And a great warrior who loves to compete,” Jake said.

  Bull understood the spark in Jake’s eyes. In response, he would not elaborate on his professional life. He had no idea if teachers even existed in the Highlands. He’d have to look that up, once he returned to the future.

  If I return.

  Kirk slammed his fist on the map, and garnered everyone’s undivided attention. Bull straightened the best he could, out of respect. Clasping his hands behind his back, he listened.

  In for a penny…in for a pound.

  “We have survived the bastard’s attacks, but he shall return. We need a better plan than the last time, when we nearly lost Cameron.”

  When all eyes turned to the huge Viking, Bull was suddenly afraid. “If whoever you are talking about attacked a man Cameron’s size, how are we going to protect the people inside the castle?”

  “Aye, a good question, warrior.”

  Bull spun and faced the door.

  A small, crooked woman stood in the doorway, leaning haphazardly on a cane. It clacked across the floor as she headed toward the table surrounded by armed men. Her long, gray hair flew behind her, floating on a breeze he couldn’t feel. A crooked nose protruded over thin lips, stretched wide in a toothy grin.

  His skin prickled as the woman’s silver brows arched, pushing wrinkles up her pale brow.

  Intense dark eyes glowed, centering on him.

  “Have we met?” Bull asked.

  “Dorcas Swann is my name, warrior, and I be as old as dirt.”

  Bull laughed. This was the woman who had slathered the smelly cream over his burns. Since he was face down on the bed when she performed the task, he never saw her face.

  He remembered the voice, of course. “Thanks for caring for my burns.”

  Dorcas smiled up at him, and her eyes flashed, their centers nearly as black as her painted fingernails. “Yonder storm approaches.”

  Bull turned to Jake. “I thought the weather was clear in the Highlands, this time of year.”

  “A storm of a verra’ different kind approaches, and your question is a good one.”

  “What question,” Kirk asked.

  “If this sorcerer can take on Cameron, how do we protect everyone else?” Bull said, voicing his earlier thought.

  Cameron’s cheeks reddened, but Bull held a snide comment in check. Serious business meant serious intent. Whoever this sorcerer was, his attack on Skye was real.

  “I have placed wards over the castle grounds,” Dorcas said.

  A rumble of voices filled the chamber, but most of the men nodded. Witchcraft, or what they called witchery in this century, usually hid in the shadows. Bull wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but Jake didn’t look surprised. Bull raised his hand.

  Kirk looked him up and down, then laughed. “Problem?”

  “What exactly will these wards do?”

  “Keep the sorcerer at bay until we come up with a plan to rid him from the earth.”

  Tunneling fingers through his hair, Bull paced across the room. Something that smelled like dirt smoked in a brazier. Probably bricks of peat dug from the edges of the moor. He knelt carefully, lessoning the strain on his injured back, and poked it with the iron.

  Returning to the table, he was momentarily surprised when a wisp of what looked like smoke hovered around Jake’s nose. Jake waved a hand in the air, and no one else acted surprised. Hmm…

  “Did you use these wards five years ago? When Haven and Cameron were kidnapped? If so, they sucked.” Jake said.

  The bitterness in his friend’s voice was unmistakable, though he usually never complained. When they’d first met at the New England Highland Games, he had problems with his various suppliers. His tent wasn’t as large as requested. Even his barrel of water was empty. Jake was adamant about fire safety, and he couldn’t work iron without water. He filled his own barrel, and used the tent without complaining to the games committee.

  On the plus side, he was quick with a joke, and good at conversation, over a beer. Bull knew the man had secrets, but he hadn’t pushed him to share.

  Today, the fear evident in Jake’s anger-filled stance wasn’t normal.

  “I dinna’ place the wards back then. I dinna’ have the strength because the sorcerer we battle took my amulet. I have it close, now.” Dorcas patted her chest.

  A flash of silver chain caught Bull’s gaze.

  “I have my amulet, as well. Jake made this,” Cameron said, pointing to the leather thong around his neck. At the end hung a beautiful hunk of amber, “it is powerful, and fire born.”

  “So, we’re safe?” Bull asked.

  Murmurs echoed around the room, but Dorcas shook her head.

  “If I be hurt, or killed, the wards end. Ye must make other plans.”

  “Backup plans are great. What can we do?” Bull said. The others settled down and stared at the map. As darkness descended, and lamps were lit, the discussion continued on through
the night. Only Bull noticed Jake slip from the room.

  “You shouldn’t be up here alone. We’re at war, you know.” Jake stared out over the ocean. He didn’t dare glance at Skye. He wasn’t sure what expression she wore. Friendly, or angry?

  He’d snuck out of the laird’s solar. Plans to battle a sorcerer were low on his list of obligations. He wasn’t a warrior.

  I’m a blacksmith.

  Yes, he had an ability, but he’d never used it except to start fires. His skin felt twitchy at times, as if it didn’t fit, but he couldn’t predict if he’d gain anymore abilities. Feeling useless, he followed Skye’s scent.

  Okay, so maybe I have two gifts.

  Searching, he had found her on the battlements, staring out at the North Sea. When she didn’t respond to his statement, he concentrated on his senses, pushing away her womanly fragrance. The breeze smelled of the ocean he visited each summer, or like a fish market on a Saturday morning. He parted his lips. The air tasted salty, like movie popcorn. Would he ever get home to visit a movie theater again?

  The breeze was crisp, indicative of autumn in either Scotland or New England, but the clouds in the distance were ominous. Waves crashed on the beach, far below the cliffs.

  Turning, Jake leaned against the cold stone parapet, and crossed his arms. The silence lingered, so he turned his gaze on Skye. Her beauty stunned him, and his body betrayed him. If she noticed, she made no indication. Her hair, braided in one long, black plait, floated behind her on the wind. A cloak hid her dress, and he wondered if she still wore the dark blue gown she’d changed into, for Bull. Had she spoken with him? Bull was still in pain, so he doubted they had hooked up, but jealousy gnawed at his insides.

  Small, doeskin slippers peeked from beneath her cloak’s hem. “Aren’t your toes cold”

  Skye’s eyes flashed. “ ‘Tis not yer concern, Highlander.”

  Before he could protest her continued use of a title he didn’t deserve, she raised her hand. He snapped his mouth shut.

  Hadn’t she spoken the partial truth? He had no claim on her. His concern was real, but she had easily thrown it back in his face. Besides…her hands held magical powers he’d rather not feel again.

  “I like you, Skye, so why shouldn’t I worry?”

  She glared up at him, and paced. “I am glad ye like a woman after taking her to yer bed. ‘Tis the words a lass dreams to hear, blacksmith.”

  CHAPTER 26

  She was pissed because he said he liked her? “What do you want from me? You came to the future to drag me back here, and succeeded. You are the one that has placed my friend and me in danger. Without asking, may I add?”

  She winced.

  Jake straightened, hoping his words made her think about what she’d done.

  “Aye, ye have the right of it. In a moment of panic, I thought only of ye. I am weak,” she said, returning her gaze toward the sea.

  “No way. You are the strongest woman I know.” He couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had fought an attacker. Twice.

  When Jake stepped closer, she leaned into his shoulder. He accepted her apology by cupping her chin, and lowering his lips to hers. It started as a gentle press, a friendly kiss, but the taste gracing his tongue was intoxicating. When he realized exactly what she’d said, he broke the connection.

  “You thought only of me?” He released her chin, and waited to see if she would soften. She squirmed, and he gathered his arms around her small form. Would she accept more of his kisses? Hadn’t they made love only hours earlier?

  “I want you again,” he whispered.

  Her eyes reacted to his words by widening with shock, but she didn’t try to push him away. Lowering his head, and sliding his hands beneath her braid, he kissed her deeply, one hand slipped to her bodice. Aching to touch naked flesh, he growled. Frustrated, he wrapped a hand around the braid and tugged.

  Skye pulled away from his mouth. “A wee bit forceful, ye are. I like it.”

  “I want you naked.”

  “I want ye as naked as the day ye were birthed, as well, but my bedchamber is too far away. I doona’ wish to wait. Make love to me. Now.”

  “Now? Here?” Jake glanced around. Guards walked the battlements, keeping their distance only because they’d seen the two of them together. They weren’t exactly alone. If they retreated to either her room or his, in the middle of the day, a servant, or her brother, might walk in on them. Only luck, and the early hour, had sent him to her room.

  Skye smiled. “If ye trust in me, our privacy shall be ensured.”

  “Privacy? Yeah, that would be nice,” he said, and backed her toward the inner wall, and away from the path the guards tread along the outer fortifications, “but, trust you? Never.”

  She looked hurt, and scrambled to pull away. Cupping her chin, he let the shadows envelop them, but he knew they were not invisible.

  “I will not take you like a common prostitute against a wall, in front of everyone.”

  Far above, dark clouds rumbled, and the wind picked up. When he let her go, she stumbled, face first, against the wall. He covered her, protecting her back from the increasing wind. Heat shot up his thighs, to his heart. Realization hit him like a brick. This was more than simple attraction.

  More than sexual appeal, or the availability of a receptive female.

  When she moved her hips side to side, his groan was lost in the thunderous crash of the surf beyond the castle.

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, he leaned down and kissed the pale skin at the base of her neck, where her shoulder blade began. When had she dropped her cloak? Opening his eyes, which he hadn’t realized he’d closed, he saw the wool pooled at their feet.

  An idea raced from his brain to his groin, and back again, but this wasn’t the place to make love. They should continue talking, and she ought to answer his questions. Though touching and kissing her was better than discussing issues like trust and battles, he pulled away.

  “Nay.” She turned to face him, her back to the wall. Her small foot slipped out and kicked the wool cloak into a pillowed heap between them. She fell to all fours, and Jake inhaled sharply.

  “What are you—”

  “I am yers, blacksmith. No one shall bother us, once the spell takes hold.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Skye raised her hands to the sky. Jake wanted to step back, his memory of their magic still fresh, but her power held him in place. As she murmured, she lowered her hands in an invisible arch. Shrugging her shoulders, her gown slipped, exposing more creamy skin.

  Jake’s mouth watered and his groin stirred. He brushed a hand across the front of his kilt, a useless attempt to keep his erection under control. When her hands covered his, he released a breath he did not realize he was holding. A tinge of guilt rose up. He was the man. He didn’t expect her to satisfy him first.

  “Let me love ye, blacksmith,” she said, purring. She gazed up at him, as he stood over her. What did she see? Long black hair tossed by the sea breeze? A muscular chest and abs earned by the sweat of his labor? A man in a borrowed kilt, who has no intention of remaining in 17th century Scotland?

  “No regrets?” His question was lost in the wind battering the castle. Her lips moved, but the wind snatched the words away. Was she working on a spell? Until she finished, he vowed to keep his hands to himself.

  Hell’s fire, this is impossible.

  Like a light switch clicking off, the wind disappeared. Shrouded in silence, with only the blood rushing in his head evident, he looked at her.

  She stroked a silver necklace that she had shown him earlier. The simple chain and moonstone amulet was part of her strength. Another tool, like spells and potions.

  He didn’t move his feet, but kept his gaze locked on the woman on her knees at his feet. Had he ever seen anything so erotic? Her hands dropped the necklace back into the hollow between her pale breasts, then covered his, which were propped against the erection hiding below his kilt.

  �
��What did you do?”

  She smiled, and licked her lips.

  Jake’s legs turned to rubber.

  The wind was cold against Skye’s ankles, as she devised a sanctuary spell. Personal gain was not the best use of her powers, but Jake was here, and she had an irresistible urge to lose herself in pleasure. Was it so wrong to want to feel something beside sorrow and pain? Jake stood in front of her, but he did not try to touch her.

  The cold sea breeze brushed her naked shoulder. It forced its cold fingers beneath her gown, reminiscent of the sorcerer’s icy touch.

  Before I nearly stabbed him.

  Simply recalling the horrific memory helped her create her spell. If the magic worked, she and Jake would be protected from wandering eyes, including the sorcerer’s.

  Prying eyes be blind to thee,

  Love me, Highlander, fulfill my dreams,

  Hear my plea, so mote it be.

  She looked up at him, licking her lips, knowing what she planned for him as soon as her magic hid the two of them from inquisitive eyes. The air shimmered, and the world around them phased from thunderous wind, to silence, except for Jake’s moans echoing inside the bubble of privacy.

  “Be ye hurt?” she asked.

  “Ah, no. Just wondering what you are doing, down there.”

  She had only made love to a man with her mouth, once. Lethan had found her filling stalls with fresh straw, and a large forkful had tipped her forward, to her knees.

  Her breath caught at the memory. She missed her husband, but he was a gentle man, when it came to romancing his wife.

  I pray Jake will no’ be so gentle.

  She had heard men speak of rough play. The day the sorcerer nearly grabbed her nephew, but kidnapped her instead, the concern rose, the moment his men had bound her wrists. She had felt helpless. Had he planned to rape her before killing her? When she came to her senses in the dungeon, she managed to escape before either event could come to pass.

  The way the sorcerer had recently touched her, in the alleyway, made her realize that plunging from the castle into the ocean had been the correct choice.

  She shivered as Jake’s fingers brushed her forehead.