Highlander of Mine (7 page)

“Aye, good idea,” Fleur heard a rugged voice say, interrupting her memories.

She stared at a large bald man who smiled at her.

“Yer turn, lass. Tell us a story.”

“Only if she wants to,” Duncan said, his voice a tad too serious.

She caught his gaze, looking as though he was gauging her reaction. He was so sweet. Or was he? She didn’t know him, but it seemed as if he was trying to protect her, as if he’d fiercely guard her from all in the tavern if she didn’t want to tell a story. It made her stomach feel too buoyant, but it was such a good feeling.

“I’d love to tell a story.” She smiled at the crowd.

Everyone cheered.

Rory urged her to stand, smiling supportively. She couldn’t help but grin back.

Then she looked out into the crowd as they hushed. “This is a story about...Coyote.” She almost laughed as she began. “Coyote, where I come from, is a god.”

The crowd “oh-ed” appreciatively.

“A
trickster
god.” Some gasped, but Fleur continued. “You see, Coyote is similar to a small dog, a little smaller than a wolf, and much more conniving. So Coyote lived in the enchanted forest with all the other animals, but he was never nice to the mice. One day he saw the mice working feverishly with ropes and bags around a tree. He stalked closer to the mice to see what they were doing, but it didn’t make any sense to him. Finally, he asked what the little mice were doing.

“They said, ‘We’ve got these bags here to climb into and hoist ourselves in the tree when the storm comes.’

“Coyote looked to the blue, blue sky and asked, ‘What storm?’

“The mice sighed as if Coyote was an idiot.” Someone from the crowd laughed. “Then the mice said, ‘We’ve heard it from the sky itself that the wind will blow as it never has before, and it will be the worst storm ever! We’re going to protect ourselves from the horrible storm.’

“Coyote nodded, thinking the wisdom sound. He said, ‘I need a bag too. I need to protect myself from the storm.’

“The mice ignored him.

“Coyote said, ‘Get me a bag too, so I can be protected from this horrible storm.’

“The mice shook their heads. ‘No,’ they said. ‘You’re mean to us. We’re not going to help you.’

“At this Coyote sighed, but then he panicked as he saw one lone cloud appear in the sky.” Fleur waved at a pretend sky, and people from the crowd turned their heads, as if they could see the white puff in the horizon too. She continued. “‘All right, all right,’ Coyote said, ‘I’ll be nice to you.’

“’Promise?’ The mice asked.

“Coyote nodded. ‘Of course! Just get me in the bag and hoist me up the tree.’

“The mice did as they were ordered and threw him in a bag, then pulled the rope and up he went. The mice tried hard not to laugh as they had finally out tricked the trickster, but they had to make their plan complete. So then they started throwing pebbles at him, swinging the bag around.

“Coyote said, ‘Oh, yes, this is a terrible storm. I feel it now. The hail is really pouring down.’

“The mice silently giggled at that.” A few people from the crowd chuckled too. “The mice began to throw bigger and bigger rocks, making Coyote holler and yell from the assault, but he just said, ‘Oh, this storm is so bad. Ouch. Ow. I’ve never felt anything like it.’ Finally after a few minutes, the mice had had their fun, and they brought down the sick and hurting Coyote. He wobbled out and felt the welts around his head, then said, ‘Yes, worst storm I’ve ever weathered. Thank you for the protection.’ At that the mice couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing at the trickster. That’s when Coyote realized the joke was at his expense and began to chase the mice, biting and growling after them. To this day when a coyote sees a mouse, he will try to snap and kill the mouse because of that silly prank.”

At that Fleur tried to sit, but the crowd erupted with laughter and cheers and thunderous applause. She performed a half-hearted curtsy while heat poured through her cheeks, then finally sat with a smile.

Rory leaned in close. “Amazing tale! I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Aye, that was so good!” Helen said, her own cheeks taking in a slight pink hue.

Duncan didn’t say anything. However, the look on his face was not what Fleur had expected. The man wore the biggest smile she’d ever seen on him, and it looked damned good.

The crowd pushed close, some people congratulating her on a story well told, but soon enough a young woman was unfolding a tale about a princess and a bear. That’s when Duncan leaned close and whispered in Fleur’s ear. “Ye’re good at tellin’ tales.”

She turned to him, staring into his eyes turned forest green. “Thank you. Do you tell stories?”

His smile vanished and he leaned away, shaking his head. “Nay.”

It had been said too sternly, almost viciously, that nay. Duncan had distanced himself from her again, which made her want to lean forward, try to tease him, try to get him to smile like that again. God, he’d been beautiful. But his cantankerous sullenness was getting on her nerves. So she let him be. She caught, though, Helen smiling at her, looking from her hulking son to her with a mischievous and curious grin. Fleur wanted to smile back, but she glanced at Rory. He pushed a tankard full of golden bubbling brew toward her with a large smile. Taking the mug, she raised it slightly toward him. He bobbed his head as she took a sip of quite possibly the best ale she’d ever drunk.

Then Rory leaned over the table. “Are ye enjoying yerself here?”

She was, which utterly surprised her. Hey, there was something to be said about indoor plumbing, and when not having it how...deplorable it can be. Still, she liked it here. A lot. She nodded, trying with everything in her not to glance at Duncan.

“Good.” Rory leaned away slightly, but, after glancing at Duncan and Helen, inclined forward again. “I haven’t officially invited ye to stay at the castle. But yer welcome to stay as long as ye’d like.”

Fleur nodded and looked at Helen, who was absorbed in the story of the bear turning into a prince. “Mrs. Cameron has offered for me to stay at her house, which I’d like to do.”

Rory smiled yet again, but it seemed a bit forced. Again. “’Course. I just wanted to extend the invite, let ye know yer welcome. Besides, I’m makin’ my men stay here in Durness for the next few days of trainin’.”

Duncan gave Rory a quick glance, but didn’t say anything. However, he caught her eye afterward. The harshness from that one “nay” suddenly vanished. His mouth had been in a straight line, but then his lips smoothed into an easy smile. Aimed right at her.

Zip. Straight through her heart, lingering in her breasts, and lowering through her belly and thighs and between them as well, she felt the impact of that smile.

Jeez, was sexual desire one of the stupidest drives ever?

She wouldn't stay here, so why have these feelings? She was from a different time. Further, Duncan was acting distant and cool, and that was so messed up to want a man like that. Maybe she needed therapy. Well, he wasn’t acting distant now. He kept smiling at her, so, yeah, he was quite warm currently. Kind of hot actually.

But, and this was a big but, any kind of affection she had toward Duncan needed to stop. She had only one mission, the muses had said, to help someone. And that someone was probably Helen.

Again, Fleur tried everything to look away from Duncan, to stop thinking about the way his knee just kissed her own.

He didn’t need her help. He was strong, virile, and dreamy. And obviously not in need of any kind of assistance.

Damn it! She had a mission. It had to be a special mission, not something ridiculous, like desire. Hurling a person through time had to be a serious endeavor. She wasn’t here for a schoolgirl crush to develop.

Further, why of all the idiotic times was it now she finally felt something for a man?

This was absurd.

Yes, this had to be stopped.

Chapter 9

S
ilence always made Rory feel uncomfortable, but tonight he’d suffice with it. After all, he had Fleur on his arm, while Duncan and his mother led the way back to Mrs. Cameron’s house. It was a rare warm night. The sky was filled with twinkling white stars against a velvet black. Only a few torches lit the way. Rory had made sure to stroll slow enough to gain some distance between himself and Duncan, and he’d thought about chatting with Lady Fleur, but her delicate hold on his bent arm, the slight feel of her breast against him, made him appreciate the solitude he’d created.

“Have you lived in this area all your life?” Lady Fleur asked, interrupting his hazy thoughts about her body being so close.

He shook his head. “Just returned from Edinburgh. I was there for the last six years.”

“Hmm. What for if you don’t mind me asking?”

Again, he shook his head then looked down at her. She was so lovely. A huge bulbous, yellow moon helped capture her appearance—glowing skin, bright dark eyes framed by thick black wings of lashes, and that adorable wee nose of hers. He wondered what she would look like in his bed, wrapped tight with pleasure while he was between her long legs. He smiled and felt his solar plexus tingle, his groin tighten. Lord, those full pink lips of hers seemed to beg to be kissed.

“I was there to learn.” His voice sounded unstable, and he had to clear it. “I don’t ken if ye have something like it with yer clans, stewarding, but we foster our young nobles out to other noble families to assist with education and the like.”

“And the like?”

He laughed, loving her questions. “I learned to dance and write poetry and all sorts of nonsense.”

She granted him a wide smile, and he felt as though he’d smashed through a mountain. The power went to his head, and he found himself chattering away. “I also learned the art of sieges, tactics—”

“Warfare.”

He nodded. “As much as I learned, Duncan is truly the master. It’s an honor learning even more from him.”

She squeezed his arm and settled closer. He marveled at this, because in so doing she’d pressed her breast against him that much more. Lord, it was hard to think with that perfect globe against his arm.

She inhaled a bit sharply, bringing his attention back to her beautiful visage. “Why—why do you need an army? Now?”

“We’re Highlanders. We always need an army.”

She giggled at his jest, which he hoped she would, but she was persistent. “Seriously, with Cromwell in power, isn’t having an army...threatening to him? To the Parliament?”

Rory glanced down quickly, trying to gauge her face, looking for any sign that what she’d asked might mean more than she’d indicated. There were spies everywhere. And if there weren’t spies, Cromwell’s new policies made it so neighbors testified against neighbor, kin against kin. It was madness and had to be stopped. His own father had been executed from the bloody revolution. The thought pained him, but he pushed it aside as he always did. In the years after Cromwell had stormed through Scotland, anarchy, not an English parliament, ruled.

However, his brother was trying to calm the chaos Cromwell had created. Rory was proud of his brother for taking the lairdship after their father’s execution. Even prouder when he’d whispered to him the secret plans to be on the ready for Cromwell again. The new English sovereign was getting old, and this parliamentary rule would have to shift eventually. Then the MacKays would be ready. No plans were in action, other than to be armed and prepared. With so many Highlander men dead or lost from the war, they’d had to recruit children—lads of four and ten and older—to become soldiers, but soon enough the lads would grow into fierce men. And Rory would be at the helm, leading them back to glory.

Rory patted Lady Fleur’s hand, wrapped around his arm. “Nothing to worry yer bonny head about.”

She frowned and looked away.

Shite, that had been the wrong thing to say. Well, of course it had been. He could tell from her roaming dark eyes, so insightful and intense, that she was highly intelligent. Placating her by calling her pretty wouldn’t do. He sighed.

“Aye,” he whispered, which made her head swivel back his direction. “’Tis threatening to build an army in these times, but being unprepared might kill us all, Lady Fleur.”

She nodded with a sympathetic glance.

“Besides, we need some sort of law now. Cromwell’s not here to help with the bedlam that’s ensued since his reign.”

“The mosstroopers? They help with the bedlam? What are they, by the way?”

“They used to serve a good purpose, defenders of the land, but since Cromwell they’ve turned into thieves. And, aye, they ensure pandemonium persists.”

“And building an army would stop them?”

“Should.” He nodded.

She blinked and looked ahead. Thinking, Rory was sure. Still, she seemed to cuddle a tad closer, and, again, it made him feel as if he were the strongest man alive. Lord, he liked her. Loved her thoughtful questions. And those eyes. God, they were so dark, so deep with contemplations he wished she’d share with him.

What might have begun as a juvenile competition between himself and Duncan, whether the man knew it or not, had turned into something far more serious in one day’s time. Lady Fleur was unlike any other woman he’d met, and he wondered about a future with her. Some of the best men he’d read about in history had a strong woman beside them, and that woman had been their best advocate and council.

He knew he was jumping to conclusions with Lady Fleur, but he couldn’t help himself. She was so...different. Refreshing. Lovely. Tantalizing.

Mrs. Cameron and Duncan walked through her front garden gate, and Duncan held it open for Lady Fleur and him while Mrs. Cameron walked ahead toward her porch and front door. Duncan stared at the lady as they walked past. Jealousy tore through Rory’s brain and stomach, making him feel hollow.

“Good night, Ma,” Duncan said as he shut the garden’s gate.

In the middle of the stone garden path, Rory turned to Duncan with Fleur still on his arm.

Then Duncan bowed his head slightly. “Good night, Captain MacKay, Lady Fleur.”

“You’re leaving for the night?” Lady Fleur asked. Her voice a bit too panicked for Rory’s heart.

Duncan nodded. “Aye.” Then, the too tall man turned to head around the house.

“But—but I thought you slept here,” the lady called out, which grated on all of Rory’s nerves, making him take small breaths.

Duncan turned back, but it was Helen, already at her front door, opening it for Lady Fleur to step through, who answered. “He sleeps in the barn. Always has. ‘Sides, I don’t own any animals any longer to make it smell horrid.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Rory sensed tension rising from the man. He’d heard the rumors that Duncan preferred to sleep like a dog rather than a man in a bed, and it was odd to watch the confirmation. Rory wondered why the brute would sleep where cows usually would, instead of under the roof Lady Fleur chose. But no matter the reason. His jealousy subsided a bit, realizing Duncan would not be near the gorgeous woman through the night.

“Good night,” Lady Fleur whispered sweetly.

Duncan nodded his head, glanced at his mother once more, then strode off into the darkness beside the large stone house.

Lady Fleur removed her warm hand from Rory’s arm, and instantly he wished her back.

“Well, I suppose this is good night.”

“Aye.” He could only stammer. Lord, how he wished it wouldn’t end so early.

“You’ll visit me again?”

He gave the lady a wide smile, feeling his cheeks grow tight in his enthusiasm. “Aye. I’d like to very much.” Only then did his manners kick in, and he swooped down to kiss her hand. “Good night, my lady.”

She giggled softly, and his body instantly responded by growing tight with the tension that desire can pull. But when he said good night to Mrs. Cameron that helped moderate his passions. He didn’t want to seem too eager for the lady, not as though he was some hound sniffing after her for only one thing.

As he left, after he’d promised to visit the women on the morrow, he’d made sure to slink around the house and watched Duncan prepare for bed in the barn. If that hulk of a man took one step in the house, he’d...Actually, Rory didn’t know what he’d do. Duncan had proven he was not only a knowledgeable warrior, but faster and more powerful than Rory. That was why, in the last two weeks, he had woken earlier than any other to train, so he could beat the famed Duncan. Not in a literal sense of beating. Nay, he’d never thought of attacking him.

Until now.

If Duncan touched the lady, Rory would make sure the man would rue the day.