Laird of the Game (8 page)

She instinctively snuggled up against Alex, allowing his warmth to lull her to sleep.

The last thing she remembered was Alex whispering
hallelujah
in her ear.

Chapter Eight

Laird MacKenna has managed to elude reporters and refused to comment on the lady or the progress of the game. MacKenna is still in the lead, but it’s early in the game and perhaps the Laird is a little distracted. Prince George has plenty of time for a few surprises.

On the Streets, with Rosabel

Melissa heard male voices from across the room, turned over, and stood up with a jolt. Her warm feet were on a cold wood floor. She was in a tiny cottage, and five men were standing around a table staring at her. The mist cleared slowly, and she remembered their late night arrival, and being tucked into bed. The dream was real. She sighed.

“Sweetheart, um, ah,” Alex stammered.

“Good morning,” Melissa said sleepily and stretched.

They all pointed toward the water closet. She stumbled in and shut the door.

“Ten seconds,” was the bet between Iain and Evan. She screamed in four seconds, and Evan won. She had just figured out she had nothing on but a blush.

“Alex!” Melissa yelled. The door opened a few inches, and he handed her a wrapper.

Gideon appeared unaffected and shrugged. “I went tae medical school. That’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” His hands were slightly shaking. “I’ve just never seen it look that good before now. Wow!”

 “Its not too late tae change my major. “ Iain stated in a harsh groan and stumbled blindly out of the cottage.

“Did I miss anything?” William sauntered into the cottage, his head pounding from a hangover. Evan walked blindly into him and mumbled an explanation.

Robert’s eyes were glazed over. “The sight of that wumman naked takes your breath away.”

Melissa was mortified. She vowed to live the rest of her life inside that tiny room, too embarrassed to ever face his brothers again. Alexander coaxed her out of the water closet with an assurance they hardly noticed.

Attendance at their morning battle meetings improved drastically during the next week. Every one of the ten commanders insisted on being included in the meeting. By Friday there wasn’t room inside the cottage to turn around, and Alex had to move the meetings outdoors.

Melissa, they all noted, slept right through all the meetings, and didn’t have the decency to stand up and stretch even once. The anticipation had nearly driven them all to madness.

Her clothing was packed away in her bag and a full-length dress was found on the table with a note from Daniel that the soft wool would keep her warm. His thoughtful gift brought a tear to her eyes, and she didn’t want to think of what he had to sacrifice to purchase the fine fabric. She put on the dress, and then hugged Daniel when she saw him by the lists, even though he told her the dress was actually from Alex.

They were always so affectionate with her. It seemed as if he never wanted to let go of her. Alex had to yell at him several times to get Daniel’s arm pried from her waist. She had heard the camp gossip from Iain that the Laird was a raving, jealous maniac. She tried in vain to tell him that Daniel was a gentleman.

“Let go of my wummun!” Alexander challenged, and Daniel finally released her.

He was about to beat Daniel senseless when she distracted him with a soft, warm kiss on his lips, and he forgot about murder and mayhem for a few moments.

During the week at the camp, she was escorted to several “scenic” areas to find a location for her next painting, but she had something special in mind and asked Evan to take her to the lovely stone arched bridge.

Evan was impatient, she noticed, and walked with her everywhere they went at a brisk pace instead of taking a horse from the stables. He told stories of ancient battles, valiant warriors, and heartbroken wenches while she painted. He was known as the camp Bard and entertained them beside the evening campfires.

Melissa loved sitting beside Alex and listening to the burr in their voices as the brothers exchanged tales. They sounded ancient next to her American accent. Melissa was also beginning to feel a sense of possessiveness toward the family as her Celtic Gods commanded the army that surrounded them. They taught her Gaelic while she taught them English. They learned their lessons quickly and be the end of the week they could communicate without Alexander there to act as an interpreter for her.

She was always under one of their protection, as they called it, and she knew it was because she couldn’t find a sense of direction. One way seemed as good as another to her. More than once she was told she was on her way to England and to turn around. To her, one ridge looked just as beautiful as the other.

To the MacKenna’s, she had frayed every last nerve they possessed. She had nearly discovered their helicopter, parked on the launching pad on the ridge and nestled into a secluded glen, and Gideon’s medical instruments were lying out on a table when she entered his tent to speak to him. They had managed to keep her from inspecting the livery while she visited Yorath, and concealed the stamped leather saddles from view.

The warriors were instructed not to talk to her, or Alex would go into a jealous fits and beat them all senseless. They feared Alexander’s wrath and avoided her religiously.

Iain cooked their breakfast every morning over a wood-burning stove. The entire clan was so poor they had to steal their food from the Prince.

Melissa worried she would be an added burden to them and couldn’t bear to tell him she hated mutton. It was their mainstay, and she nearly choked it down for supper every evening. She would give just about anything for a burger at the Lion’s Tap and a frosty mug of root beer instead of the tea they drank. Her diet had drastically changed, her clothing was lost in the future, and hair was giving her fits with the lack of products to tame the frizzy ends during a humid July afternoon. Gideon made her a leather thong to tie her hair into a pony tail, but it was Robert’s gift of hand-made hair pins that let her put her hair into a coil, that she finally had it under control.

Wearing the same dress every day was also getting on her nerves and laundry facilities consisted of dipping a garment into a tub, beating it with a rock, and tossing it over a tree branch. They all wore shirts and Kilts, so she found Robert to discuss a proper place to do laundry.

He suggested it was women’s work, and the way women had always managed.

“Chauvinist!” She ran after him to beat him senseless. Alex caught her and tossed her over his shoulder to hold her back from wrapping her hands around Robert’s throat to strangle him.

It was a week she would never forget. No wonder the women didn’t live very long, she thought as she hauled water for the roman bath at the cottage from the Loch. The women didn’t paint their nails, because their hands were raw from chopping wood, she reasoned and gave up any pretense of managing the sharp axe. She had to learn how to do the simplest tasks all over again, like washing dishes, without the turbo jet propulsion of her Kenmore dishwasher. With no electricity, they made love by candlelight every night, and didn’t stay awake past sunset – too exhausted to see the moon rise.

If she ever made it back to the future, Melissa vowed to check herself into the Sanctuary Spa for a month to undo the damage to her manicure.

How did these people survive? The warriors would return from battle fatigued and exhausted. They dropped on the rocky, hard ground and slept where they fell. It seemed as if everyone had a cut or a bruise, and the hospital tent was always full of bleeding men. Melissa was excused from bandage wrapping duty and encouraged to paint.

Alex sent out patrols twenty-four hours a day. They had four major battles and one minor skirmish. Their points totaled 600 for the week, which gave them a 250-point lead over the Prince. They trained in hand-to-hand combat every day and spent many more hours in a saddle. Alex was relentless. He didn’t back down after a victory, and challenged the Prince in every way possible on foot, horseback – during daylight and the night. The warriors answered to their commanders who reported to the Laird. It was an army in motion at all times, and throughout all of the bustle and activity, he never lost sight of his lady. He knew where she was and who she was talking to at every moment. By the end of the first week, the strain had taken a toll on him, as well as his brothers.

He found her sitting beside the Lock with her head down, crying. When he asked what was wrong she mumbled she was homesick for her family but still wouldn’t tell him where she had come from or why she couldn’t send a letter to tell them she was all right.

“I’m beginning to look like I was dropped from a cliff and rolled in mud,” she sobbed against his shirt. Her dress was mud splattered and her hair made Godzilla look like a pretty boy. “I look like a gerbil. Gideon won’t give me a razor to shave my legs – he cringed when I told him what it was for and refused to give it to me.”

Thank God
, Alex silently prayed!

He picked her up and held her in his lap to comfort her. It was late in the day and they were both tired. He dried her tears with his shirt-tails and kissed her swollen, hot lips. The wave of guilt that tore through his heart made his throat tighten. He wanted to tell her everything, and just couldn’t watch her so upset without feeling like a monster.

“Melissa,” Alex asked while he stroked her back to calm her. “What’s a gerbil?”

It broke the tension and she chuckled. “It’s a hairy little rodent.”

“I like your legs just the way they are,” he cooed in her ear, and also cringed at the thought of her using Gideon’s razor on her lovely skin. “We will have the Prince routed out of the mountains soon enough. In a few weeks we can go looking for your mysterious family?”

“You’d come with me?” Melissa was shocked, and her head popped up to see his face.

“I will follow ye where ever ye go lass.” He tugged on the piece of tartan that he had given her that first night together. “We belong together, and if ye want tae see your family then we will go verra soon.”

She felt a tingle run up her spine as she contemplated taking him back to her home in the future. But, could she find the magical door that had brought her here? Could they both pass through that door to return to her life? Her arms tightened around him, and she forgot the misery of missing her sisters.

“Were they so horrible tae ye, tha’ ye still canna talk about them lass?”

“No,” Melissa said quickly. “They are so far away it will take a miracle to reach them.”

“I believe in miracles,” he said wistfully.

***

William was ordered to lead an overnight raid. Alex paced the camp at dawn, anxiously waiting for him to return and report on his progress.

Melissa could tell Alex was annoyed by the harsh commands and gruff tone in his voice.

She sipped her coffee, grateful that Iain had found some in a raid. It was unnerving to see them so poor. They stole nearly everything they ate, except mutton, and rarely replaced anything unless it was on the verge of falling off their body, or about to crumble into dust. The coffee was a luxury to them, and she would never look upon her opulent world in the same way again. Sugar was nearly impossible to find, but Gideon traded fresh goat milk at a local village for the treasure. He was grinning like a bobcat when he presented her with the small leather pouch filled with raw brown sugar. She nearly cried it was such a lavish gift and a tender moment with Gideon when he hugged her and said she was sweet as honey.

The first sign of William’s return was yelled through the camp. Alex stood like a statue. He could tell there was something wrong. The warriors that rode up to the cottage were deathly silent. William was last to enter the camp and explained the battle didn’t go as they hoped.

“The Prince almost caught the pup,” a warrior said in Gaelic. “William was so drunk he fell off his horse.”

Melissa couldn’t understand the words in their heated discussion. Because he was so much younger than most of the warriors, William tried harder than the other ten warriors who had ascended to the rank of Commander.
He trained relentlessly and worked long into the night on his sword skills. He had to be exhausted, she reasoned.