Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) (27 page)

Samantha stood beside her mount. She wore a new dress, brown in color, and sturdy for travel. Her hair shone with a definite purple hue in the sunlight, but unlike the red, would likely not get her burned alive. Beth had assured Ian that Samantha was properly outfitted, no doubt with some of his father’s wife’s altered clothing. He well knew they couldn’t appear before the king without respectable attire. His Majesty would deem such behavior an insult.

He’d considered leaving Samantha behind, but Dugald was the only one he’d trust to keep her safe in his absence, and he needed Dugald with him.

He walked over to talk to his friend. “Ready?”

Dugald studied his fingernails. “As ever.”

“The king...he’s going to be difficult. But I havna signed on to joust, so....”

Dugald’s mouth quirked in one of his rare half-smiles. “Willna matter. If the king bids you fight for him, ye’ll fight.”

Aye, true enough, and aught he could do about it. He sighed, long and loud. “I’ll bring my banner just in case.”

Dugald’s grin widened in genuine amusement. “Aye. And your fighting sword...just in case. And ye might as well bring your helmet, and armor. And more weapons. Just in case.”

Ian shot him a filthy look, then turned and headed for the doors of the keep.

Dugald called after him. “It looks like rain.”

Biting off a curse, Ian kicked a rock out of his way, and the rare sound of Dugald’s laughter followed him.

~~~

Later that night, after a hard day of travel, Samantha lay inside Ian’s tent, wrapped in a blanket, another folded beneath her, head on a small pillow. As she was the only woman present, he’d insisted she share with him and Dugald.

Like she would object.

She was exhausted, a bit damp, and needed to warm up and sleep. She’d planned to talk to Ian about the crown, but he hadn’t moved in the last ten minutes and she didn’t have the heart, or the will, to wake him. He lay beside her, Dugald sleeping by their feet. Or at least where their feet would be. Samantha was curled in a ball trying to stay warm. She suspected Ian did the same.

Tomorrow they’d have another long day of travel to their destination. She wouldn’t let him avoid her again, and would talk to him during the journey.

She tried to still the chattering of her teeth. What she wouldn’t give for a car right about now. With a heater. And a well-paved road to drive it on. And a Hilton. The drive from Edinburgh to Inverdeem had only taken two hours. From Inverdeem to Stirling the ride would be shorter. She was now qualified to say that travel by car beat travel by horse any day of the week.

Not that she wasn’t used to roughing it. She’d tented it often enough on excavations. But with super nice tents that guarded against rain and wind. And lovely sleeping bags that kept her nice and warm. And air mattresses. Even in bad weather she was used to being cozy, warm, snug, and having a light source. And an iPad with occasional Internet.

She sighed.

It was pitch black. Ropes and rocks strategically held down the edges of the loudly flapping tent, but it really wasn’t too bad. It was medieval Scotland, after all. She suspected Ian was used to travel and this was a comfortable set up for the time. It could have been worse. After traveling in the drizzle, she was just glad to be semi-warm and mostly dry.

She wished she had the nerve to snuggle closer to Ian. Maybe he was a light sleeper...but maybe he wasn’t. She shivered, taking turns placing a foot on her opposite leg in an attempt to warm them.

Dugald started to snore.

She heard Ian roll over; almost like the sound was a signal he’d been waiting for. “Are you cold, lass?” he whispered.

“It’s not too bad.” She whispered back. When he didn’t say anything else, she brought up the subject that had been on her mind all day. “Ian, what are your plans for the crown?”

He made a noise in his throat. “It matters not to you. Ye’ll never have it.”

She didn’t like the sounds of that. She’d considered that if Ian gave up the crown, as she suspected he was intending, chances were she’d never see it again. If she could just steal it from him, put it on, then perhaps she’d travel back to her own time and could drive to Campbell land, put it on again, and fetch Jerry. The plan seemed silly and whimsical, but it was all she had for the moment. She should have looked harder for it when she’d had the chance. “Where’s it been hidden this whole time?”

“Under the altar.”

“But you knew that I knew about that spot!”

He chuckled. “Mayhap I reckoned you’d not check a second time.”

She exhaled a tremulous breath, could tell he was grinning in the darkness, and couldn’t help it, she snickered. She really liked this guy. It would be difficult to leave him behind. Especially knowing someone was out to kill him. Could she talk him into going with her? Maybe. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. “Can’t you just let me use it? I’ll give it back after, I swear.”

He sighed. “And when you disappear wi’ it? What do I give to the king when he asks? It’s been placed in my care and I’ll not forfeit it. Not even for you.”

That seemed to imply she was somehow special and she was suddenly very aware of him lying not two feet from her. “You don’t really believe I’ll disappear with it. Why not just let me hold it?” She shivered again.

“Be glad ’tis such a balmy summer’s night. In the winter, ’tis dreadful.”

“Way to change the subject.”

He chuckled.

“Have you traveled much in winter?”

“A fair bit. I try not to whenever possible.”

She heard him move. “What of you?” His voice came from slightly above, as if he leaned on his elbow, facing her. His presence, closer now, made her heart speed, and set off a craving for his touch.

“Where I’m from, travel is about the same year round. We have vehicles with heaters to keep us warm.”

“The king has a warmer in one of his carriages.”

She smiled. “Man’s first car heater?”

He scooted closer to her. “Eh?”

Her heart thumped harder. “Nothing.”

She stretched her legs to try and ease some of the aches in her backside and she groaned.

He chuckled. “A bit saddle sore are ye?”

“A little. The cold is worse.”

“Give me your hands.”

She held out her hands and he engulfed them in his. “Oh, you’re so warm. That isn’t fair.”

“I’m sharing, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The words came out breathless and she wished she had the nerve to scoot even closer. Her hands tingled against his.

He released one hand and, when he touched her cheek, she started.

“Shh. Shh.”

She smiled. She’d heard him use that same soothing sound on his horse earlier.

His thumb feathered over her curving lips, and her breaths shallowed. The sizzling, electric sensation of his skin against hers had her smile falling away, and her lips softening under his warm touch. In a swift move, he gathered her in both arms, pulled her close, and kissed her softly, his lips brushing over hers, back and forth, as pleasure rushed through her entire body. As if testing her response, he teased her with more light kisses, then his lips claimed hers more forcefully, his mouth scorching her sensitive lips, the heady awareness of him pulling a moan from her.

He let her go as quickly as he’d grabbed her, leaving her feeling immediately bereft and trying to catch her breath.

Breathing harshly, he lay back. After a few moments he reached for her hands in the darkness once more. “Go to sleep,” he said, his hands gripping hers a bit too tightly.

She squeezed back, heart still pounding. Go to sleep? All she could think was,
more, please,
so she doubted sleep was going to happen anytime soon. “Ian?”

“Aye?”

“I’m not cold anymore.”

He chuckled softly. “Neither am I, lass. Neither am I.”

Chapter Fifteen

After another day of hard travel they set up camp once again, this time outside Stirling Castle at the edge of an improvised tent city. Some of his men unpacked while others cleared rocks off the hard ground and into a circle for a cooking fire. Others positioned tents or cared for the horses.

Ian glanced around the makeshift companies spreading into the distance. Set in the shadow of Stirling’s highest wall, it was a good turnout. Ian greeted men he recognized, noting the locations of vendors and their wares.

He’d try and see the king after they’d settled; else they might be setting up in the dark. Fortunately, the weather was much improved and, now that they’d arrived, Ian felt better about attending, the old familiar excitement rising up.

The sights and smells were familiar and welcome. Buyers and sellers gathered, merchants having displayed their wares in tents, their determined calls attracting customers. Laughter and merry-making rang throughout and voices sang in the distance, as well as the nearby sound of an archery competition.

Further away, swords clashed, no doubt men readying for tomorrow’s fights. The smells of cooking, horses, smoke from numerous fires, was all familiar and pleasing. As soon as they were settled, he’d rid himself of the crown, then fetch Samantha and take her about. They might find a place to dance, or perhaps he’d purchase a trinket for her pleasure.

He realized he was smiling, lighthearted, and knew exactly who to blame.

He found his gaze wandering to Samantha as she carried blankets inside the tent. He’d held her hand long after she’d fallen asleep, reliving the pleasure of her mouth against his, wishing he dared kiss her again, alternately glad for Dugald’s presence and cursing it. Perhaps if he could have held her close the night through...his breath left him. ’Twould not have been enough. Once she was in his arms, he was like to keep her there.

A stab of uncertainty wound its way into his thoughts. How did she feel about him? Who was she truly? How had she known where he’d hidden the crown? He’d never give it to her, but if he did, where would she go in truth? Was this male friend she spoke of more than a friend to her? A lover? A husband? Was he waiting for her to retrieve it and meet up with him again?

Ian realized he clenched his fists and ground his teeth. He exhaled a sharp breath as she appeared once more, the evening sunlight catching her darkened hair to reveal the berry hue which did seem most unnatural, but still, pretty on her. He didn’t think the color would be enough to frighten anyone. More like the women would be rushing about to find berries to do the same to their own.

He glanced around for Dugald to make sure the man kept watch over the crown—where had he gone?—and a momentary panic rushed through him. Then Dugald rounded a tent, bundle in hand, directing the lads in their work.

Ian clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. Once the crown was no longer his responsibility, he’d show his lady some entertainment, and mayhap charm answers from her lips.

His lady.

He liked the thought of it—
of her
—and wondered if they might have a forthright conversation. He wished her to give up this fantasy she spun, admit who she was, what she wanted, and mayhap see if there might be more between them. For his part, he admitted his feelings for her grew daily. She fascinated him. Beguiled him. Looked upon him with longing, favor, and affection. And what that did to him—turning him inside out, making him wish for more. If it turned out he was bewitched, he decided he did not care. All he desired at this point was to—

“Laird MacGregor.”
A booming voice roared across the camp.

Ian, and everyone else, turned to see Laird Campbell, grinning like a fool, weaving his way toward him—and behind him, the man who’d bellowed Ian’s name.

Lord Kellen Marshall, his face alight with zeal, his eyes burning with satisfaction.

Ian’s stomach sank. He forced himself to remain relaxed, to show no emotion, but he had to admit to surprise. What was Marshall doing here so far from the border? Even as he thought it, the answer arrived. He’d come hoping to find Ian. To confront him. To exact vengeance for Ian’s proposal of marriage to
his
lady fair.

Ian truly did not need this right now. But perhaps he oughtn't to have kidnapped the man’s betrothed—and then proposed to her. But how was he to know it had been a love match? The girl herself had cast doubts upon it, and until Lord Marshall had shown, fierce and unforgiving, Ian had thought perhaps he wouldn’t mind if Ian took the girl off his hands. Ian had not reached for the girl’s dower, but the girl herself.

The story had gone about all summer and everyone knew of the incident and also knew the man wanted revenge. With Lord Marshall here, it wasn’t like he could avoid the confrontation, but perhaps he could put the man off? His lips twisted. Oh, aye. He could explain he was busy with other, more important concerns. That was sure to go over well.

One matter was certain, he didn’t wish Marshall learning of Samantha and exacting a like retaliation.

He’d quickly rid himself of the man, in any way he could. Perhaps even pacify him. Ian didn’t need the aggravation. He needed to deal with the crown, the king, and the fact that Samantha wanted it, and now had far easier access. It definitely made the task more urgent. He waved one of the lads over. “Go. Learn where the king stays this night.”

The boy, a squire of fifteen, took off, excitement showing upon his face.

Lord Marshall, as tall as Ian, as thick with muscle, stopped in front of him, a mixture of aggression and satisfaction in his irksome countenance. “I told you I would find the chance to pay you in kind.”

~~~

Ian couldn’t help it, he smirked. Any thought of placating the man flown in an instant. “In kind, is it? Have ye asked my woman to marry ye then?”

Lord Marshall’s eyes sharpened. “You have a woman?”

Ian grinned. “Nay. Perhaps you can help me find one walking about, unattended?”

Marshall visibly held himself in check as he took the point. He took a deep breath. “Then I will have to satisfy my revenge in the usual way. Sign on, and I will fight you in the lists. I wish Gillian to see me thrash you.”

Thrash him? Ha.
“Gillian is here?” Ian added an extra touch of eagerness.