Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Preston, Rebecca

  The lightning flashed outside as they tore each other’s clothes off, and his rough hands were all over her body. Bethany could tell he was going to leave bruises where he was kissing and biting at her neck, grabbing her hips, one hand roughly parting her legs and caressing her sex, which was aching for his touch. She bucked her hips against him, grinding herself against his hand as she reached down for his manhood, desperate to feel the hard length of him inside her, not interested in any kind of foreplay… and he didn’t need any further encouragement. With a groan, he entered her, and she took a sharp breath as he filled her completely, the sensation almost overwhelming.

  But he was still on top of her, and she wasn’t going to stand for that. Using all the power in her body, she seized his shoulders and wrenched him to the right, throwing him off balance and hurling herself atop him. They ended up with their positions reversed again, her pinning him down, his manhood still inside her, hot and hard and striking her right in that particular spot that sent pleasure coursing through her body… grinning, she rocked her hips, drawing a groan from him even as he tried and failed to take control of the situation back from her. She rocked her hips again, feeling his hands clutching at her, dug her fingernails into his chest as their bodies moved together. Outside, the thunder roared and the rain pounded against the trees, the forest floor, the surface of the stream, the weather just loud enough to drown out the sounds of their lovemaking… and when Bethany reached her climax, she screamed almost loudly enough to drown out the crack of thunder that coincided with her orgasm.

  Breathing hard, she found herself wrapped in Graham’s arms, his hands sleepily stroking her hair — he’d climaxed at almost the same time as she had, not that she’d noticed, so taken with the feelings that were pulsing through her body. He was kissing her, soft and gentle, and she kissed him back, caressing the side of his face, completely lost to the sensations of his hands on her ultra-sensitive skin, still tingling with the aftershock of her orgasm. It was strange, how completely she’d forgotten their conflict… the gun lay at the back of the cave, forgotten, the light of the phone still illuminating their faces.

  She stared up at him for a long moment, feeling conflicted. She was bone-deep exhausted — from the day, the tense night, the interrogation, their fight and their lovemaking… but could she trust him? Could she fall asleep here in his arms? He was clearly thinking the same thing, worrying that he’d wake to find himself her prisoner again… but somehow, she couldn’t see him as a captive anymore. Not after what they’d just shared.

  And before she could say anything, he seemed to make a decision. His eyes sagged shut and he lay back against the floor of the cave. She looked at him for a long moment, worried it was a trick… but the steady rise and fall of his chest told her that he was fast asleep.

  So for the first time in her life, Bethany took a significant tactical risk. She pillowed her head on his chest, shut her eyes, and let the sound of the rain on the roof of the cave lull her into a deep, restful sleep. Her last thought as she drifted off into sleep was that she hoped her instincts about Graham were right… that he really was a good man who’d been misled. Because if he wasn’t… well, she was in a whole lot of trouble.

  Chapter 16

  She came awake quickly, all at once — and her whole body tensed as the night before came rushing back to her. Being kidnapped by the men who’d found her… taken to the camp, her hands tied, taken prisoner, taken to Graham’s tent, interrogated by Matthew and Cristabella… then the escape, the desperate flight through the storm, the cave, the long conversation with Graham about who she really was… their fight for the gun, and then… she blushed a little at the memory of the surprising passion that had taken them both.

  Stupid idea, really, she thought in the microsecond before she opened her eyes. Stupid idea to open herself up to that kind of vulnerability… emotional as well as physical.

  But to her relief, Graham was still fast asleep where she’d left him, lying on his side on the dirt floor of the cave. They were both stark naked still, and she blushed a little… but she had to admit, the view in the daylight wasn’t bad at all. The light of the sun had crept through the cave’s opening and was illuminating the handsome soldier’s body… his muscular arms, the contours of his back and his stomach, areas she’d thoroughly explored with her hands… and she found herself tempted to take another look, now that the sun was up…

  She got control of herself, a combination of amused and alarmed at the strength of her attraction to him. She’d never felt like this about men before — sure, she’d dated here and there, and she was no stranger to sex, but that had felt… unreal. Unbelievable. Damn stupid thing to do, too, she told herself irritably, getting to her hands and knees and crawling awkwardly up to retrieve her phone and her gun. The phone had about a quarter of its battery life left, and she switched it off, frowning to herself… if she was ever going to get back to the castle, she’d need to preserve that battery. She gathered her clothes, too, a little amused by how far they’d been flung, and dressed, irritated by the rough scrape of dirt that had gotten into her clothing… more like mud, really, with how soaking wet the clothes still were from the night before. A bath, once she was back at the castle, that would be ideal. It would be a treat just to wear clothes that weren’t soaking wet.

  The rain had mostly stopped, though there was still a drizzle that made her wrinkle her nose. At least some of the dirt would be rinsed off, she supposed. Graham was stirring behind her, and she tightened her hand on the gun for a moment… before sighing and tucking it away into her clothing. It was still accessible, where it was, but something about the way they’d connected last night made her feel a little strange about keeping him at gunpoint. He looked at her warily as he woke up, and she raised an eyebrow.

  “We’d better get going.”

  “Aye,” he said, clearly a little surprised to see her awake already. “I suppose we’d better. Matthew’s men will be searching for us now the weather’s let up.”

  “I suppose they will be,” she said, raising a challenging eyebrow at him as she wondered where their rather explosive connection had left them. Was he intending to go back to Matthew’s service as though none of this had ever happened? Would he and his mercenaries continue to try to attack the castle, now that he knew more of the truth of what had happened? Surely not… but she frowned a little to herself as he got ready, unsure of how to broach the subject.

  But he seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He sighed as he pulled his boots on, giving her a thoughtful look. “Bethany… what happened last night was…”

  She left him hanging in the silence, not giving anything away. He hesitated for a long moment, then seemed to give up on the sentence entirely.

  “Look. I’ll see you safe to the castle, alright? That’s the least I owe you. But after that…”

  “After that, you’ll go back to Matthew and continue to mount an assault against a castle of innocents?”

  “They’re witches, Bethany,” he snapped, blue eyes blazing. “You said yourself you’ve only been here a week. How on earth would you know that they’re not every bit as vicious and evil as I know them to be? They killed my father. They killed Matthew’s brother. They —”

  “Shut up,” she snapped, raising a hand. There had been something… a sound on the wind, under the gentle drizzle of the rain and the wind through the branches of the trees. Something like a voice. She stole through the entrance to the cave and into the fresh morning air beyond, staying low, straining her ears… sure enough, there it came again. A shout — a man’s voice. Suddenly, Graham was at her side, his face drawn.

  “That’s Adolf,” he said in a low voice, looking at her. “They’re close.”

  “We have to go,” she said, meeting his eyes. Was she going to have to get the gun out again, prove that he was her hostage? Or would it make more sense to let him go now — to just break away and run, hope she could make it back to the castle by herself? But he was wai
ting for her. Ready to follow her. And somehow, she just couldn’t bring herself to leave him behind. Not yet. Not when she was so close to convincing him… so close to getting him to recognize the truth…

  They splashed through the river and headed straight through the trees at a rapid pace. She was aware they were getting further and further from the castle, but there was no time to worry about that — they had to keep moving, had to escape from the men. Graham seemed to be more or less on her side — he was certainly doing his best to cover their tracks as they went, guiding them onto rocky paths to avoid leaving footprints, splashing through streams when they came across them so as not to leave any trace of their passage.

  The sound of voices disappeared behind them… but they kept moving regardless, at Bethany’s urging. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to risk getting recaptured by those people again… and besides, she was a little worried that in the event that Cristabella’s magic wasn’t a bluff, she had some way of tracking them. So they kept moving all morning, walking fast, Bethany glad to have maintained the fitness she’d first built during her grueling time in basic training. Graham was breathing hard as he labored to keep up with her, but he didn’t complain about the pace she was setting, and she didn’t ease off at any point.

  The sun was high in the sky when they came to the edge of the forest they’d been walking through, and she hesitated, now completely at a loss about where they were. She glanced sideways at Graham, who was leaning on his knees, trying to catch his breath during this short stop. The trees gave way to a broad, grassy field that sloped down toward what looked like an enormous house. From their vantage point up here, at the top of the hill, she could see that the house was surrounded by walls, a little like the castle had been — and sure enough, there were guards in place on the top of them. Whoever lives here, they must be rich, she thought, thinking of the squat little houses that the villagers lived in, the humble farmhouses that the farmers of the area built on their land.

  “Where are we?” she asked Graham, keeping her voice low out of habit.

  He was frowning down at the house, clearly a little disoriented as well.

  “We’ve come further than I thought,” he said, voice rough still with his efforts. “You set a grueling pace, Bethany Cortland.”

  “Well? Do you know whose house that is?”

  “If I’ve not gotten completely turned about, that’s Lord Weatherby’s manor.”

  “Who’s he when he’s at home?”

  “He’s an English lord. Long history of disputes with the MacClarans, from what I’ve heard, but lately he’s been getting on better with them. Something to do with the assistance they offered during an outbreak of disease in the area…”

  “Witchcraft, no doubt,” Bethany said drily. “I’ve heard about the outbreak. It was Karin who helped stop it. She’s a disease specialist from back home. Nothing magical about the help she offered the villagers.” Karin had explained that a huge amount of the improvement in healthcare that she, Audrina and Cora had been able to bring to the surrounding area was just a question of bringing good hygiene practices in. “They just told everyone to wash their damn hands, from my understanding.”

  “Aye, well, they would tell you that, wouldn’t they?” Graham grumbled — but he looked a little conflicted as they continued to walk along in the shadow of the trees.

  “This Lord Weatherby — can we go and talk to him? Maybe he’d offer me safe passage back to the castle, if he’s so friendly with the MacClarans.” God, she just wanted to be back at the castle already. What she wouldn’t give for a fast horse… or even better, a car. They couldn’t be more than fifteen or twenty miles from the Keep — a considerable distance on foot, seeing as it had taken them hours to arrive there, but nothing at all in a vehicle. She was beginning to miss home a lot more than she’d thought she was going to.

  “Aye, it’s probably our best bet,” he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Perhaps he’ll even feed us if we play our cards right. I’ve not eaten since yesterday — I’m sure you’re about to faint, yourself.”

  She bristled. “What, because I’m a woman?”

  “Aye,” he said, blinking. “Of course. Women are naturally weaker than men, it’s just nature.”

  “Nature.” She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a very familiar wave of frustration washing over her. It seemed that some things didn’t change, no matter how many centuries lay between Graham and his fellow men who’d trained with her. “Tell that to the dozens of men I’ve left in my dust. You could barely keep pace with me in the forest back there.”

  “Maybe you’re an exception —”

  “I’m not,” she snapped. “You put women in these absurd, restrictive skirts, tell them it’s not ladylike to run or jump or play their whole lives, then click your tongue and say it’s just human nature that they’re not as strong or fast as the boys you’ve been encouraging to run and play and fight since they were born? Ridiculous.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I’d never thought of it like that before.”

  “Yeah, I get the feeling you don’t think too hard about most things,” she snapped, feeling a momentary pang of guilt at the look of hurt in his eyes. Well, it was his own damn fault for being so pigheaded about women. “Now, come on. Let’s find this Lord Weatherby and see what it’ll take for him to lend me a horse to get back home.” And into a bath, she added — not that she’d be saying that out loud around Graham. Didn’t want him getting any ideas about women being more sensitive to dirt than men.

  They headed down the hill toward the manor. It was a short distance away, and as she walked she could see the guards on the wall pointing at them and exchanging words. Soon enough, she saw the gates slide open and two men on horses came riding out to meet them. At her side, Graham raised his arms to prove he didn’t have a weapon on him, a slightly concerned look on his face at the sight of so much armor and weaponry. Bethany looked up at the two men on horseback — they certainly looked like they served a wealthier master than Matthew. Unlike the mercenaries back at camp, these men had matching armor, bearing the same coat of arms — Weatherby’s, she supposed. She didn’t know much about all that medieval stuff.

  “Good morning,” one of them said cautiously, raising the visor of his helmet. “I’ll advise you you’re on Lord Weatherby’s lands.”

  “Yes, I’m rather hoping to talk to him,” Bethany said cheerfully.

  Both of the men had been looking at Graham, waiting for him to talk — she was ignoring that particular detail, irritating as it was, in the interests of playing nice.

  “And who might you be, madam?”

  I must look a mess, she thought, looking up at the slightly aghast expression on the horseman’s face. She hadn’t combed her hair since the day before, she was probably covered in dirt and mud, her clothes soaked through… well, they’d just have to deal with it.

  “My name is Bethany Cortland,” she said. “I’m from —”

  But both of the men had exchanged shocked glances. “Frightfully sorry, ma’am,” the first one said in an entirely different tone than the one he’d addressed her with earlier. “We didn’t recognize you.”

  “Lady Delilah didn’t mention she had a sister,” the second man said quickly. “Please, you’re more than welcome inside. Would you like my horse?”

  “I can walk,” she said, amused and making a mental note to ask her sister just what she’d done to be a household name in some English lord’s manor.

  “Your guest is most welcome, too.”

  “My thanks,” Graham said stiffly, shooting her a confused look.

  She gave him a sunny smile and a shrug of her shoulders. It seemed like her luck was finally beginning to turn.

  The horsemen lead them back across the field toward the gate, one of them riding ahead to call up to the wall about who they were. She straightened her back and tried to look a little more imperious than she actually felt — she hadn’t realized her sister’s nam
e carried so much clout. Good on Delilah, she thought with amusement. They headed through the gates to the manor, and she glanced around, impressed despite herself. The courtyard was smaller than the castle’s, but not by much… there were stables around the back, and servants hurrying back and forth. Even as she watched, a groom led a beautiful chestnut horse toward the stable, and a trio of maids carried arm’s full of laundry toward the front door of the manor, which loomed ahead of them.

  One of the guards who’d ridden out to meet them swung off his horse, and after a brief bow to Bethany, turned to hurry into the house. She looked up at Graham, who was taking in the sights with a guarded look on his face — but before she could say anything to him, the manor doors opened, and an unfamiliar voice greeted her.

  “Lady Cortland, always a pleasure —”

  She looked up at the man, who’d stopped mid-sentence when he saw her with a puzzled frown. He was a huge man — he looked middle-aged but spry, moving with the casual grace of a well-trained fighter. She recognized a military man when she saw one. He was dressed in black, and his sharp brown eyes were scrutinizing her as closely as Graham had when they’d first met.

  “You’re not Delilah.” His accent was English, not Scottish — it took her a moment to place it. Was this Lord Weatherby himself? Something told her that a man like this was unlikely to be a Lord.

  “Delilah’s my sister,” she explained with a smile. “I’m Bethany Cortland.”

  “Ah. I thought the guard had just gotten your name wrong.” He raised an eyebrow, moving down to meet her. “You look like you’ve had quite a morning.”

  “We have,” she agreed, thinking of the rather passionate time she’d spent with Graham in the cave and fighting the urge to giggle. “Sorry to intrude on you, Mr. …?”