Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) (20 page)

“I wouldna say so. In fact, I’m quite the opposite.” He leaned closer, barely shifted, but she shivered again. She wasn’t sure if the small increments were meant to lure her or keep her from running, but either way, his nearness made her heart pound and she lost all interest in pulling away.

She really, really shouldn’t do this. She should turn away. In all reality, she didn’t really know this man at all. Her infatuation was based on reading small snippets of history, and a whole lot of imagination on her part. But his nearness and scent, even his warm breath as he leaned closer, pulled her in. She felt electrified, riveted. She couldn’t pull her gaze from his mouth. It was just a kiss, right?

But he didn’t know her. Based on his suspicions, he probably didn’t even like her. He was probably trying to seduce the truth out of her, find out if she had cohorts and if so, who they were. Plus, if she kissed him, he’d probably get an entirely wrong impression about her. But darn it, she wanted a kiss. She felt herself weakening even more. While he might not have feelings for her, she had plenty for him. Was she really going to let herself miss this chance? What if she didn’t get another?

When he leaned the slightest bit closer, his mouth only inches away, she couldn’t help herself. She closed the distance between them and, with a soft moan, pressed her lips to his.

~~~

Ian couldn’t believe she was kissing him! Her mouth, the feather light caress, the increasing pressure—all felt wonderful.
She
was wonderful. The woman could tempt a saint. Since he’d never claimed to be one, he dinna stand a chance now, did he? He slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss and was rewarded when she sighed, her palms sliding against his chest, burning through his tunic and the linen of his shirt.

He lifted his hands to her thick, lush hair. The way she kissed!
Saints almighty.
Her lips were soft, giving, warm upon his, delectable. She met him kiss for kiss, pleasure raking the sensitive skin of his mouth as she willingly wrapped her slim arms around his neck as if she’d never let him go. His heart pounded and he wanted to haul her closer, wrap her in his arms, and keep her there forever.

An inner sense of self-preservation rose within him and he forced himself to break off the kiss, lift his head, and bring his hands to her wrists. Gasping for air, he pulled her away, not quite sure how he managed it.

They stared at each other as their breathing slowed, and, seeing the look of wonderment on her face, of acceptance, he tried to hide how she’d affected him.

She smiled at him. “Wow. Just wow. That was awesome. Will you do it again?”

He took in her happy expression and thought to remain impassive, but his chest lifted with pride and he smiled anyway. When she shivered, the implication that he affected her so, made him chuckle. He let go of her wrists and took a step back, and had to admit her look of disappointment was tempting, flattering.

He’d never met anyone like her before. The way she looked at him...made him...
feel
. She was the very last person he should desire, have affections for. The way she’d arrived was suspicious, the likelihood of her staying, doubtful.

If he let her go...

He should walk away, but he wouldn’t. Not while the mystery of who she was, and why she was there remained uncertain. Regardless of what she said, there would be an explanation for her, and one that didn’t involve another century or witchcraft. The sooner everyone, including Samantha, stopped seeing her as something she wasn’t, the better.

“I’ll give you a key to the tower,” he said. “I’ve told my clan they’re not to harm you, but as a precaution, keep the door locked at night.”

“Why would you give me a key?” Her delicate brows furrowed. “Because I kissed you?”

He snorted and bent his head to cover the fact that her kiss well may have made the decision for him. It hadn’t hurt, leastways. He took another step away. “Because having a witch locked in the tower is never a grand idea, is it?”

“Oh, I agree. Plus, being free of the tower will allow me to keep an eye on you.”

He arched a brow. “Why would you feel the need to do such?”

“I don’t want anyone killing you before I find the crown, now do I?” her tone was light, teasing.

He studied her face.

She sighed. “No. I haven’t been trying to kill you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve already sworn I’ve not.”

That was exactly what he’d been thinking.

“The very last thing I want is for you to die. I mean that.”

“And here I believed you were the one who needed saving.”

“You’re right.” She chuckled. “I could do with a knight in shining armor right about now. Are you up for the job, Ian MacGregor? Or how about you save me, and I’ll watch out for you too?”

He stared at her for a long moment, confused by the way she made him feel. He desired to take her under his wing. He wished to keep her safe.
He wanted to keep her.

But the things she made him feel...and now she wanted to protect him? As much as he didn’t wish to admit it, he deemed she truly did want him kept safe. It affected him. Made his chest ache for things he’d long put behind him. Respect. Trust. Mayhap even love?

“We need to go.” With a shake of his head for his foolishness, he headed toward the chapel window. He needed to get away from her before he started believing in her nonsense, and most especially, before he kissed her again.

He clenched the small butterfly pin in his hand, stolen from her hair, and considered returning it to her. He couldn’t. Thief he might be, but he wanted the memento. Wanted something to mark the occasion when a woman with fiery hair and soft lips had kissed him of her own accord.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning, after a fairly comfortable night in the tower, Samantha stood at the entrance to the great hall and scanned the room only to get caught in the remarkable sight before her.

Medieval Scotland was exciting, breathtaking, awe-inspiring. To be here—to see what was just a normal day in the life—she couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. Her colleagues would be green with envy. Which reminded her, where was Jerry?

The great hall was massive, with high ceilings to allow the smoke from the giant fireplace to escape. The stone flooring was covered with sweet-smelling rushes. Lit torches punctuated the walls because, although sunlight filtered through narrow windows, it wasn’t enough and the place would be positively gloomy without additional lighting. Trestle tables and benches were filled with people talking and laughing. She knew the tables would be stacked at night so those same individuals could sleep on the floor. It actually made her appreciate having the tower. It might be warmer in here with all the bodies, but it would also be more pungent—with all those bodies. In her tower, someone had laid a fire and provided a few blankets and she’d been snug, warm, and blessedly alone.

Serving girls scurried from the kitchen. She’d love a look at that setup. Maybe later she could ask for a tour. A girl with a bucket and ladle threw Samantha a suspicious glare as she darted past to serve breakfast.

As she took it all in, her chest tightened and a cold chill had her crossing her arms. As awesome as this was, what if she couldn’t get back home again? What if the crown didn’t turn out to be the answer she was searching for? Taking a deep breath, she pushed the worry aside. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

She noticed whispering, elbow jabbing, and surreptitious glances. As she was the resident witch at the moment, that was probably to be expected, but it didn’t keep her cheeks from warming. She could only hope word had spread that she’d been proved a mere mortal.

“My lady?”

My lady?
She’d take that over witch any day. She recognized Tori’s pretty face and smiled. “Hi.”

“I’ll show you where you’re to sit.” Tori led the way to the end of the bench beside Ian’s head chair. The man showed no reaction to Samantha’s sudden presence, but kept talking to the guy sitting on his other side. So much for dreaming about his kisses all night.

“Good morning,” she said pointedly.

Ian paused. “Good morrow.” He didn’t so much as glance in her direction, but it appeared that was the best she was going to get.

In turn, the guy seated across from her wasn’t looking at Ian, but instead watched Tori walk away before turning to stare at Samantha, his blue-eyed gaze locked on her hair.

When her brows rose, he dropped his gaze, then, as if unable to help himself, peeked up again and smiled.

What a charmer. A handsome young man, with such a mischievous air about him, she couldn’t help returning the smile. “I’m Samantha.”

He nodded. “Brecken.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Brecken.”

Ian glanced between the two of them. “You were saying Tori let you know ’tis a priest blessing or nothin’? What’s wrong wi’ handfasting?”

So this was Tori’s young man? Was it her imagination or was Ian’s voice loud and pointed? Was he letting her know Brecken was taken?

Brecken ducked his head, suddenly bashful. “Surely a conversation for another time, cousin.”

Samantha felt a twinge of guilt. Poor guy. She probably shouldn’t have interfered by telling Tori to wait for marriage. Deciding it was time to change the subject, she said, “I’m worried about my friend Jerry. Have you heard whether anyone has seen him or not?”

Ian reached for a roll. “He’s yet to show his face.” He finally looked at her. “I’m to ride about the property this day. If you’d care to accompany me, you’d be welcome. Mayhap we’ll hear word of your friend?”

“Seriously?” She grinned at him. “I’d love to go. Thanks for the invite.”

He studied her a long moment, then glanced down to stir his porridge. “I assure you this is no attempt at courtship. I simply desire to help you find your friend and, at the same time, keep you from snooping about my property.”

Brecken’s mouth dropped. “Surely there’s no need for such bluntness. A young girl’s heart...” he waved in Samantha’s direction.

Samantha, her chest suddenly tight, could feel warmth steal into her cheeks. “Who said anything about courting? I surely didn’t. I’m simply looking for my friend while I keep an eye on you to make sure you aren’t murdered.”

Now Brecken regarded her, open-mouthed.

She shrugged. “Well, I don’t want him to die on me, do I? He’s probably the only one keeping me alive.” No need to mention her growing feelings for the guy. If Ian wanted to act the churl, she wasn’t laying her heart out there for the world to see, that was for sure.

“Just so we understand each other.”

She arched a brow. “Oh, I understand just fine. In fact, why don’t you give me the crown right now and I’ll be on my way.”

He slanted her a hard-eyed glare. “You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”

“Well, make up your mind. Do you want me around, or don’t you?”

Brecken continued to watch the two of them with interest as they finished their breakfast, and Ian called for two horses to be saddled.

A few minutes later a man beckoned them from the door. Outside in the bright sunlight, Samantha couldn’t help but smile when she saw the smallish horse. She edged forward to pet the mare on the nose. “What a cutie pie.” She smiled at Ian again. “I’m excited to ride. I’ve actually ridden on quite a few different sites around the world. She’s a tiny one, though.”

“Don’t mistake her size for fragility. She’s a hardy mount.”

Samantha patted the soft brown and white nose. “I won’t. What’s her name?”

“Horse.”

Samantha laughed, and caught Ian smiling at her before he quickly approached, grasped her by the waist, and lifted her onto the saddle.

Whew.

She didn’t consider herself a lightweight as she packed a lot of muscle from all the walking and digging. But he hadn’t strained in the least, and her increased heart rate was in reaction to his strength, not surprise.

She considered riding sidesaddle because of her dress, then decided comfort was more important and arranged herself the best she could, eventually getting her legs covered. She caught Ian staring. “What?”

He glanced away, cleared his throat. “I’ve seen shoes resembling those before.”

She looked down at her name brand running shoe. “I doubt that.”

He only shrugged and when he urged his horse forward, she did the same. They made their way out the castle gates, and it wasn’t long before she was enjoying the scenery, wishing she’d paid better attention in the future so she could have noted the changes. They headed away from the village which, as far as she was concerned, was a major plus.

With Ian at her side, it was doubtful anything would happen—not only was is size a deterrent, but he carried a sword and she didn’t doubt he was armed with other weapons as well—and somehow, being out and about allowed her to breathe better. Do you think we’ll find Jerry?”

“If he sees that red hair of yours, he’s sure to come running, is he not? No doubt it can be spotted from afar.”

She touched her hair. “I keep forgetting about the color.”

“I do not,” he said low, under his breath, his gruff tone making her feel like a temptress. For the very first time, she was happy she’d colored it. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and was gratified to see the small gesture caught his attention. It almost made up for his earlier rudeness.

A few minutes later they met with crofters living outside the village, and children ran beside them, chattering excitedly. A young mother, child on hip, came outside a hut to see what the fuss was about, and her eyes went wide at the sight of Samantha and she shooed her children indoors. An older lady sitting on a stool stopped agitating a barrel and plunger to stare at Samantha’s hair.

Samantha, leaning forward in the saddle, watched with interest. “Are you making butter?”

“Aye, my lady.”

My lady again. Well, better that than witch. “Of course I know the process, but I’ve never seen it done quite like this. How does it turn out?”

Confusion registered on the lady’s face. “’Tis butter.”

“Ah.”

The young lady’s husband came running to greet them. “Offer ye nourishment, Laird?”