My Seductive Highlander (20 page)

“Aye.” Graham slid out until only the tip of his cock still rested inside her heat. “To round one.” And then he pounded into her until the peacefulness of the wood was shattered with their cries.

The tinny sound of thin metal steadily clattering pattered its way into her consciousness. A muted bubbling hiss softened the rattle. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air.

Lilia's eyes popped open.
Coffee? Now I'm dreaming about coffee? I've really got to cut back.
But wait—she wasn't dreaming. Clutching the light blanket more snugly across her breasts, Lilia propped up on one elbow and blinked a bleary-eyed gaze around the dimly lit clearing, misty and cozy with pale beams of early morning light filtering down through the leaves.

Sure enough. Spitting and sputtering at the edge of a small fire, firmly wedged in the glowing bed of hot orange coals, was Vivienne's battered and stained metal coffeepot that always accompanied them on their LARP competition encampments. The precious pot of caffeine was always kept full and waiting on the grate over the ever-present campfire in front of their private tents. And dear Vivienne had been thoughtful enough to stow it in with their gear for this jump.
Bless you, Vivienne.

Inhaling a deep appreciative breath, Lilia closed her eyes and smiled.
And bless you, Graham, for learning how to make coffee.
Of course, she wasn't stupid. While she didn't doubt the man had learned the simple chore because he cared about her, she also knew Graham had learned to make coffee as an integral part of his survival. When not fully loaded with the steaming hot black nectar of the gods, she had to admit she was a royal bitch on wheels in the morning.

Lilia rolled to her feet, tucking the blanket about her body and securing it under one arm. Skipping across the spongy carpet of green moss to the blue-and-white-speckled metal cup waiting beside the gurgling coffeepot, Lilia stole a quick glance around the quiet grove.

Where is he?
Graham was nowhere to be seen. Lilia shrugged, turning back to squat down beside the fire. He must've gone deeper into the hidden grove to
water
some trees.

Lilia wrapped a corner of the blanket around one hand, lifted the coffee from the fire, and filled her cup. Rolling back on her heels, she eased in a sip of the scalding black liquid then heaved a contented sigh.
Mmm…a bit on the strong side but still damn good.

She slowly rose, the hot metal cup balanced gingerly between her hands. Meandering around the gently rippling pool, Lilia sipped the strong black brew between carefully placed steps. Small stones and twigs embedded in the cushiony moss found the tender soles of her bare feet, threatening to pinch and bruise if she didn't take care.

It was so peaceful here. So…soothing. She smiled down at her relaxed reflection dancing across the quickly receding level of coffee in the cup. Eliza had known full well how much good this trip to the past would do her. Smart woman, that Eliza.

“I see ye found yer coffee.”

Graham's deep seductive voice triggered a delicious shiver. Lilia turned, her mouth, as well as several other parts of her, watering hot and ready at the sight of Graham, bare-chested and tempting, wearing nothing but his boots and a low-slung plaid.

“I did find my coffee, thank you.” Lilia took another long sip, her gaze locked with Graham's. “It's
one
of my favorite ways to start the day.” She shimmied the blanket loose and allowed it to fall into a pile around her feet. No sense letting such a promising opportunity slip away. Still sipping her coffee, she sauntered toward him. “But there's another way that's even finer than bacon and biscuits.”

Graham's widening smile lit up his face like the sun breaking over the horizon. “A finer way indeed. Tha's for sure and for certain.” He tossed aside his plaid, leaving no doubt that he would choose morning sex over food any day.

“Yo t'the camp!”

“Shit!” Lilia whirled about, scooped up the blanket, and yanked it back around her body. Coffee spilled. Orgasm-over-easy shot to hell. Today was not starting out so great after all.

Angus tromped into the clearing, holding up a pair of limp rabbits by the ears. A proud grin split his grubby face as he waved the dead animals first at Graham then at Lilia. “I've got us a fine breakfast fit for a chieftain!”

“Damn ye, man!” Graham retrieved his plaid and jerked it around his waist.

Angus's proud expression melted into a confused scowl. “Ye fancy rabbits for breakfast. Always have.” He held up the game and gave them a closer look. “And they're fine fat ones. They've fed well this season.”

Lilia suppressed a gag. She didn't know whether to cry over the murder of the poor creatures or just knock the hell out of Angus. She stomped over, snatched up her backpack, then leveled a stern look at Graham. “Take him for a walk. I'm getting dressed and then we need to refill all our water and get some extra to carry back to where we arrived. The higher ground will be easier for me to maintain a good visual on the moon for the jump back tonight.”

Angus held out the rabbits to Lilia. “What about these? Yer no' goin' to fix them for us?”

Lilia took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out.
It's not his fault. It's the way of the time.
She turned to Graham, his smug grin and knowing demeanor pissing her off even more. He knew she was about to explode and he was waiting for the show. “Take him for a walk,” she said through gritted teeth.

“But these are fine rabbits.” Angus took a step closer. “Fresh as can—”

“Angus—I would advise you to go for a walk.” Lilia wrapped the handle of her backpack around her right hand, readying it to use as a weapon.

Graham finally stepped forward, grabbing Angus by the shoulder and steering him back toward the trees. “Ye best do as she says, man. I'd hate t'see good meat go t'waste.”

“Go to waste?”

“Aye.” Graham glanced back at Lilia with a sly wink. “My dear wife is about t'shove those rabbits up yer arse.”

He already knows me well.
Lilia loosened her hold on the backpack as the men disappeared into the trees. Time to get dressed and pack up the camp. They wouldn't jump back to the future until tonight, but with Angus returned, there'd be no more privacy.

Lilia hurried into her clothes. How long would it take them to do whatever they needed to do to those poor rabbits before cooking them? Snugging the band tighter around the compactly rolled sleeping bag, Lilia shuddered. The men could eat the rabbits. She'd be happy with more coffee and a protein bar.

Coffee. She definitely needed more coffee. Lilia retrieved her cup and squatted down beside the dying fire. At least there were enough coals to ensure the coffee was still hot. She lifted the pot and started to pour but a heart-stopping surge of hatred and even darker emotions slammed all her senses, knocking the cup and coffeepot out of her hands.

Lilia scrambled backward on all fours, struggling to get to her feet.
They're back. So many. So much hate.
She had to get to Graham and Angus. Had to warn them.

An enraged roar and an explosive stream of Gaelic cursing shattered the stillness of the quiet glade. Branches snapped and hard thuds shook through the underbrush and saplings just past the large boulder to her right.

Greed. Excitement. Revenge. Hatred.
The scourge of toxic emotions vibrated through the clearing even louder than the growled-out words or the sounds of bodies crashing through the timbers.

Lilia dropped to a defensive crouch behind the boulder. She eased over and up, carefully peeping past the stone's edge.
How many and where the hell are they?

“I'll be a-killin' ye, I will!” Angus shot out of a cluster of saplings, his body airborne, arms and legs pumping. A man twice his size landed atop him, knocking Angus from side to side with bone-cracking jabs of his meaty fists.

Dammit.
Lilia's heart went out to poor Angus.
I'm no match for that wooly bastard.
She might be grand champion of the Highland war games, but without real weapons, she was about as lethal as a kitten.

Lilia took off across the clearing in a crouching run away from the fight.
Gotta hide. Gotta plan. Gotta figure out something
. She tried not to think about what the men might be doing to Graham.
Gotta stay calm.

A thick tangle of ivy vines trailing down from the sagging branches of a dying tree caught her eye.
Perfect.
She worked her way into the small sheltered space created by the veil of green and hunkered down. She held her breath, forcing herself to maintain control. She had to hide until she found out what the hell was going on.

“Where the hell is yer witch? We'll beat ye both bloody and make ye beg fer death if ye dinna tell us.”

“Ye'll find I ne'er beg—not for anythin'. And ye must be daft or drownin' in yer cups. There is no witch.” Graham's voice—strained, filled with…
Anger. Rage. Protectiveness.
Lilia knotted a fist between her breasts, pressing hard against the panicked pounding of her heart.

Graham was hurting—not physically, at least not a great deal from physical pain—but he was enraged and afraid. Graham feared for her safety more than his own. She felt it more surely than she felt her fear for him.

Lilia barely fingered aside a few of the waxy green leaves and strained to see. Two men—large, snarling walking walls of muscle that looked to be more along the lines of unwashed, shaggy beasts than humans—stood on either side of Graham, twisting his arms back so hard from his sides that he arched against their hold. If the bastards kept yanking him about and pulling at his arms, they'd surely dislocate both his shoulders.

A much shorter man stood in front of Graham, shaking both his meaty fists in Graham's face. Graham's antagonist was nearly as wide as he was tall. He stalked about with his barrel chest thrown out and his grubby double chins bouncing between his sagging jowls. “Think me a fool, ye goat-swivin' bastard? Me chieftain bade me stand guard. Offered me gold, he did. Told me t'watch the Highlands for the strange black cloud and the sound of the sky splittin'. Said a witch would bring ye back when ye finally felt yer sorry arse might have been forgotten and ye thought it safe to return to yer clan.”

The squat man hopped closer, reminding Lilia of an ugly, oversized toad. “I saw the swirling cloud and heard the sound of which he spoke. And then I laid me eyes on yer evil bitch meself afore I gathered me men and sent word to the chieftain ye had in fact returned. I'll be a rich man because of ye—and I thank ye for that.” The brute wagged his head, his face appearing even more grotesque with a rotten-toothed smile. “And I tell ye this: me chief has ne'er forgotten how ye shamed him at the verra heart of his own land.”

The repulsive man jiggled his head back and forth from side to side as though keeping time to a silent tune. “O' course, neither his wife nor his mistress has helped yer chance at bein' forgotten—not one sorry whit, I grant ye that. Them women ha' ensured that the size of yer great cock is well talked about within the halls of Buchanan Keep to this verra day. Hell, man. 'Tis a wonder the Lady Buchanan didna weave its image into her latest tapestry.”

A sick feeling shot a burning knot of bile to the back of Lilia's throat. Buchanan.
Son of a bitch.
How the hell had a clan from the lower end of the Highlands so quickly discovered Graham's return this far north?

“Me chieftain filled the Highlands with his spies—even bade them live amongst Clan MacKenna and tend yer witch's family. A cuckolded man's hatred ne'er grows cold, ye understand.” The Buchanan toad nodded at Graham's crotch. “And every time his wife moaned about the weight hangin' betwixt yer legs, the Buchanan sent more men t'find ye. He kent ye couldna stay away from the land forever—no matter what yer chieftain swore.”

Graham remained silent, lips curled back and teeth clenched in a sneer.

The short bastard puffed up even more and thumped a stumpy finger against Graham's chest. “Now, where's yer witch?” The scowling man raked the back of one hand across his mouth while he squinted about the clearing. “Surely me chief will reward me double if I drag yer golden-haired whore in alongside ye—after me men and I have sampled her wares, o'course.”

Graham lunged forward, catching the two brutes lashing his arms behind his back off guard. He butted his head hard against the shorter man's face, bloodying the fiend's nose and knocking him backward before his captors yanked him back in place.

“My goddess returned me to this time.” Graham arched against their hold, straining to break free. “And I ken there's only one whore here and that's the one who jumps t'do the bidding of a chieftain who has nothin' more than a wee stump hangin' 'twixt his legs and can think with nothin' other than that short stubby head.”

The toadlike man floundered to his feet, yanked his dirk from its sheath, and sliced it up across Graham's bared chest. The slash split open a long shallow cut, spilling blood from Graham's lower right rib cage up across his chest and to his left shoulder. “Ye best thank the gods me chief ordered ye kept alive if I wanted me gold. If I had me druthers, I'd take ye back t'him in pieces.”

The man holding tightly to barely conscious Angus shook him like a rag doll. “What of this one here? Can we kill him?” He grinned down at Angus, bloodlust filling his face.

The leader made a disgusted face and shook his head. “Nay. The chieftain will wish t'make sport wi' that one afore he kills this one.”

Lilia fisted both hands against her mouth, pressing them tight and hard to keep herself from screaming. She had to bide her time—especially now that Sir Ugly-Ass had just told her that Graham and Angus would be kept alive—at least for a little while. She had to stay calm. She had to plan. She couldn't do anything alone, especially since they'd already trussed up Graham with enough ropes and leather strapping that it looked as though the bonds were about to cut his body into pieces.