xX theWretched Xx's blog: "WRITING"

CHAPTER THREE Hushed whispers and giggling echoed around the great hall. Blaise stared at the fiery woman seated in the center of the long table. His reaction to her had been instant and very painful. His breeches had become too tight for him and he longed to remove them, preferably in the vicinity of the beautiful vixen, where she could see what she'd done to him. His gaze traveled over the dark red ringlets framing her lightly tanned face and relaxing into softer curls near her waist. Her skin caught the glow of the torches and accentuated the deep crevice between her large breasts. He could image holding them in his hands, could feel their weight. Even now, he could see her nipples straining against the tight fabric of her bodice. His cock jerked in response. His eyes traveled up her neck to her face. Her light green eyes dared him to speak, never had a woman looked at him in such a manner. Her jaw line was, perhaps, a bit too square for his liking, but her full pouty lips made up for it. Perfect lips for kissing. Blaise turned his attention to the Campbell, seated at the head of the table with his stocky wife on his left. He bowed low and rose with a sneer. How often he'd dreamed of taking these lands, this castle, and the old fool had invited him inside. Had the man no sense? "I am anxious to be done with this wedding, McKenzie," the Campbell said. He nodded. "As am I. I would collect my bride and be gone by first light." "Nay. You shall rest here and be wed in one month." Blaise clasped his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. He wanted to strangle the old goat. He'd left only a handful of men behind at Stonewood Manor. Not nearly enough to ward off an attack. He must make haste. "I'm afraid I cannot wait one month. My lands are highly coveted and I have many enemies. I must return to make sure they remain in my possession." The Campbell snorted as he tossed a half-eaten piece of pig to the floor. The hounds leapt at the discarded meat, growling and biting to get their fair share. Blaise fixed the Campbell, his enemy, with a fearsome scowl and inclined his head. "Then I must decline your offer of marriage." The hall erupted into chaos. The Campbell stood so quickly from his chair, it toppled over. His wife had both hands clamped over her mouth. The brothers, every one of them, shouted their denial and the clansmen behind him raised their voices to the fray. The only one unaffected was his intended. She still stared at him, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes half closed, he could see her heavy bosom rising and falling as she struggled to breathe. He'd seen the look before, countless times. It was the look of passion. Perhaps he'd have to rethink his stance. "Now see here, boy," the Campbell started. Blaise held up his hand to stop his ranting. "I have changed my mind. I shall stay for one month. At that time, I will wed your daughter and be gone." The Campbell nodded once and settled back into his chair. Still grumbling about the lads lack of manners, he paid no attention to Blaise as he walked to stand in front of his bride. He leaned one elbow on the table directly in front of her and crossed his ankles. "And what has you so flustered, my beauty?" he whispered. Her eyes widened for only a moment, then narrowed into thin slits. She flattened her hands against the top of the table and leaned closer. The action also caused her breasts to press against the table, lifting them higher. If the lass would only move a bit more, he could see what color her nipples were. "The only thing that has me flustered, you preening peacock, is your lack of manners. Who do you think you are? How dare you stare at me so openly?" His eyes wandered back to her breasts as he slid the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. He took his time in meeting her eyes again. "I think I will be your husband. And I stare only because what you offer looks so delicious. I'm fair starving for a taste, my pet." She glanced down and saw her breasts spilling out of the gown. Rather than lean back and admit defeat, she crossed her arms under her breasts and pushed them higher. He growled low in his throat, so very tempted to dip a finger between the huge mounds. "Careful, pet, you play with fire," he warned. "Perhaps I intend to be burned," she replied. His entire body responded to her open invitation. His cock nearly exploded inside his breeches and his heart thudded wildly against his chest. Tonight she would be his. Marriage or no. Blaise turned away from her and faced the Campbell. "Where is my chamber? I am exhausted from my ride and would seek my bed." The Campbell regarded him for a moment before nodding curtly. "Take the left stairs to the third floor. Your chamber is the last door on the left." Blaise nodded, cast a seductive glance at his bride and headed for the stairs. As he started the climb, a wicked grin spread across his face. Perhaps this marriage would not be so awful. A beautiful, seductive wife with rich lands and an even richer father. Hannah would not like it. Blaise dismissed the thought. Hannah did as he ordered. Besides, she'd only been his mistress for a fortnight. He could send her away without a care in the world. And be a faithful and doting husband, I think not. No, he would keep Hannah for a while longer. Perhaps he could convince the two women to join him. That would be a sight. Striding into the chamber, he kicked the door shut and bolted it. He did not need an interruption now. Jerking his breeches to his knees, he wrapped a hand around his pulsing shaft and stroked himself. Images of his bride, naked and panting beneath him, flitted through his mind. He could feel the weight of those glorious breasts in his hands. He heard her moans of pleasure in the back of his mind. He could see her spreading her thighs for him, inviting him to come to her. The image of his bride on her back, legs spread wide sent him over the edge and he finished with a grunt. He quickly washed himself in the basin, pulled his breeches back up and strode to unbolt the door before going to the bed. Reclining with his back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, he stared at the closed door and waited. He held no doubt that his bride would walk into the fire on this night. He would be more than happy to burn her. *** Bethany squirmed in her chair like an impatient child. She wished everyone would go to bed so she could sneak up the left stairs and find out if the man was as wicked as everyone claimed. She was no young virgin, she knew desire when she saw it. She definitely saw it in him. He wanted her. One by one, people started to file out of the hall, in search of a soft bed. Soon, the only ones remaining were her and her father. He stared at her down the length of the table. His bearded chin resting in the palm of one hand, he looked ready to fall asleep. "Why do you not seek your bed, papa?" she asked. "I am not tired. I thought to stay here for a while longer." He shook his head, struggling to keep his eyes open. "I'll not have that bastard taking advantage of you. If he touches you before the wedding, he might claim you were not a maid." His head jerked up. "You are a maid?" Her mouth fell open. "What kind of question is that? My virginity is none of your business." He dropped his fist to the table, making her jump. "It is my business when my land is at stake," he thundered. "Don't try my patience, girl." Bethany rolled her eyes and shoved away from the table. She stood and stretched her arms high above her head. She decided to try another tactic. "I've changed my mind. I am more tired than I thought." Her father nodded and stood to escort her to her chamber. At her door, he stopped her. His face was hard, his eyes cold. "I meant what I said, girl. Don't do anything irrational." She smiled sweetly and patted his cheek. "I won't." She closed the door and pressed her ear against the wood until she heard a distant slam. She knew he'd gone into his own chamber for the night and, she hoped, had consumed enough ale to keep him asleep until morning. As quietly as she could manage, she pulled the door open and crept into the hallway. She took a step and cringed as the heel of her shoe rapped against the stone floor. Bracing herself against the wall, she removed her shoes and padded barefoot down the stairs and into the great hall. Glowing embers were all that remained of the dying fire. The hounds slept under the table, bones and small pieces of meat lay scatter about them. She glanced at the stairs on the other side and made a dash for them. Safely on the left stairs, she went to the third floor and paused at the landing. Last door on the left. It seemed so easy. Then why was her heart thudding in her throat? Why were her palms cold and clammy? Why did her stomach turn every five seconds? She rolled her eyes again. Get a grip. He's not the first guy you've been with. Taking a deep breath, Bethany pushed away from the wall and made her way down the silent hallway. At the last door, she stopped. She raised her hand to knock, but lowered it again. Were there rules to medieval sex? Should she knock first? She lifted her hand again, took another breath and exhaled as her arm fell limp to her side. "What the hell is my problem?" she whispered. She grabbed the latch and pushed the door open. Inside, she closed the door and leaned her head against it for a second, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She saw him on the bed, arms folded across his massive chest. He'd removed his shirt and she gaped at the size of him. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead as she took a step closer. Jet black hair covered his bronze chest and tapered to a thin line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his breeches. Bethany licked her lips as she stared at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even. He was asleep! She moved closer. His dark lashes swept across his hard face. Even relaxed, the hard angles of his face seemed to be made from stone. Another step. Lips too full for a man were slightly parted, cheekbones that others would call pretty sat high on his face. In the twenty-first century, she could picture him on the cover of romance novels. "Are you going to stare at me all night or would you offer your bounty to a starving man?" She jumped back, her hand covering the fierce pounding of her heart. Her eyes flew to his face and she gasped. He watched her. His eyes half closed, his lips still parted, he looked like he wanted to pounce on her. "With all the rumors I hear about you, I hardly doubt you're starving," she replied. He chuckled. "Aye. That much is true, my pet. Would you care to see how true the rumors really are?" He swung his legs off of the bed and stood. Her breath caught in her throat. Dear God, the man was beautiful. Powerful. Dangerous. But, Lord, she wanted him. If the throbbing between her thighs wasn't enough proof, then the hardening of her nipples surely was. He hadn't even touched her yet, but she was close to orgasm. The McKenzie advanced on her, an evil smile on his lips and a wicked gleam in his eyes. She backed away, suddenly feeling very awkward. He backed her against the wall and pressed close to her. The heat from his body warmed her, his hot breath falling against the exposed skin of her shoulder as he leaned down to scrape his velvety tongue over her flesh. Bethany's hands came up to caress his bare chest as a soft moan fell from her lips. His hands held her hips as his tongue danced along the hollow of her throat and up to her ear. His teeth nibbled the lobe for only a moment before his big hands came up to clasp her face. He tilted her head up and slightly to the side. The perfect angle for kissing. His mouth came down on hers in a hard, demanding kiss. One she welcomed. Her lips opened and she slid her tongue along his. His deep growl mingled with her strangled moan. His hands slid down her neck and over her shoulders to grip the bodice of her gown. In one quick movement, he pulled and the fabric ripped. Bethany moaned. Yep, I'm going to cum before he even starts. Blaise hands pushed the material to her waist. He broke the kiss and took a step away from her. Bethany lifted a hand to her mouth, still swollen from his kiss. She watched him eyeing her big breasts with a satisfied grin. You might not be the sharpest tack in the box, Beth, but you have the best body. He moved back against her and lifted his hands to cup her breasts. His thumb and forefinger closed around her nipple to squeeze gently. Bethany moaned and arched against his hand. His other hand quickly followed suit. He rolled her nipples, plucked at them with his fingers, and tugged them gently. When his lips closed over one nipple, she threaded her fingers into his hair to hold his head against her breast. Shivers ran up her spine. She was hot and so very wet. He moved to the other nipple and nipped at it with his teeth. She tugged his hair, wanting more. Much more. "Impatient, my pet?" he purred. His hot breath spilled over her naked skin. "Yes," she moaned. He straightened and slid his hands to her hips, pushing the material of her gown to the floor. Kneeling before her, he slid his hands up her legs and over the curve of her behind. He glanced up at her as he dipped a finger between her thighs from behind and she moaned as he rubbed it there. She arched her hips toward him and lifted her own hands to massage her breasts. "Saints, woman, I can see how you want me. Your fair body is dripping with need. Tell me what you want." Bethany licked her lips and met his eyes. She spread her thighs, displaying herself to his gaze. "Taste me," she said. "You did say you were starving." His eyes smoldered and a deep growl rumbled in his chest. He gripped her thighs and licked his way up one and then the other. She moaned again and increased the pressure on her nipples. A sharp knock sounded on the door beside her head. "Damnation," he swore. "Who is it?" "It is Bessie, Laird. I've brought you fresh linens." Bethany pulled her gown up and clutched it to her breasts. Her breath came out in short gasps. Her body still throbbed from what he'd done to her. What he would have done to her. He took a step toward her and stopped. "Best you find your bed, my pet, before we do something you'll regret." Bethany stared. Something she'd regret? Couldn't he see how much she wanted him? Or did he see and not care? Her face flamed and she took a step toward him. "I regret nothing, beast. We'll meet again soon." Opening the door, she nearly ran Bessie over in her haste to escape him. She could hear him calling for her, but she kept running. Down the stairs, across the great hall, up the right stairs and into her chamber. She threw the bolt in place and collapsed on the bed, her chest heaving. Frustrated and hurting, she removed the gown and tossed it to the floor. She closed her eyes and thought of his hands on her. His mouth tasting her. She slid her hands between her thighs, felt the wetness there and knew he'd done that to her. Wishing it was him, she brought herself to orgasm not once, but many times throughout the night. His name falling from her lips each time. *** On the other side of the castle, Blaise McKenzie was in much the same state. After chasing Bessie off with a dark scowl, he slammed the door and collapsed on the bed. He jerked his breeches off and freed his hard member. The image of Bethany Campbell leaning naked against the wall begging him to taste her was imprinted in his mind. He tried to conjure images of Hannah, but to no avail. He could still hear Bethany's sweet cries as he touched her. Could taste her lips. Feel her hands in his hair. He moved a hand to his shaft and rubbed slowly. Again and again, he saw her splayed open before him. He could still smell the scent of her desire on his finger. His hips arched up as his hand moved faster along his shaft. He could only imagine what she would feel like when he sank into her tight sheath. Warm and soft. He wanted her under him, calling his name, begging him for more. His fingers tightened and he gave a few quick jerks, releasing his seed onto his abdomen with a loud groan. Twice in one night, the same woman had caused him to lose control. What the hell is wrong with me? Never before has a woman tempted me in such a way. It would not happen again.

CHAPTER TWO Scotland, 1328 Bethany jumped away from the painting. She jerked her head toward the loud woman running at her and held up her hands. She backed away as the woman pushed closer, until her thighs bumped into one of the low tables. "Do I know you?" Bethany asked. The woman stopped abruptly, her head cocked to the side. The action sent her messy braid swinging to the right, more dark brown strands coming loose to hang around her face. Her brows bunched together above chocolate brown eyes and her thin lips puckered. "Don't be pretending to not know your old maid, dearie. I know you've been gone over long, but you would never forget Bessie." Bessie? It couldn't be! Bethany peered closer at the woman. Her eyes seemed familiar, though her body wasn't bent over a cane and she wasn't wearing the bright red wool. Instead, she wore a plain blue skirt that brushed the floor, a white linen shirt and a blue stomacher. Her body was thin but curvy, the tops of her breasts perched precariously above the gaping neckline. "Saints alive, what are you wearing?" Bessie asked. She moved forward and ran a finger down Bethany's thigh, gasping at the feel of her denim jeans. Her attention turned to the dark red cashmere sweater and her mouth fell open in awe. "Wherever did you find such wool? Soft as a newborn's arse, I'd wager." Bethany shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by a deep booming voice coming from the right stairs. She swiveled her head and caught sight of a giant. No, not a giant … her father. Clad in a clean white shirt and a plaid of green, black, and blue, he stood at the bottom of the stairs and stared. His hands fisted on his hips, a black scowl on his face, he dominated the room. So tall his head nearly touched the arch of the entry, his broad shoulders tapered to a wide chest and thick middle. His voice boomed again, shaking dust from the rafters above and sending Bethany's heart into her throat. "What the devil goes on down here?" Bessie beamed. "The lass has returned, laird." Daegus took several long steps toward her until he stopped mere inches from where she stood. His hand shot out and grabbed her chin, lifting her face to the light. She frowned at him and swatted his hand. A look of surprise leapt into his dark brown eyes. "Get your ogre hands off of me," Bethany said. She swatted his hand again, but it was pointless. She might as well try to push a tree. His grip tightened on her chin and he smiled when she winced at the pressure. "My daughter would never speak to me thus. My daughter was a fine lass." Bessie frowned up at the giant, her index finger wagging. "Now see here, this is the lass I tell you. Look at her eyes, here hair. She is the spitting image of your lady wife, Linore." Daegus turned his cold eyes back to Bethany's face and she lifted her chin. She refused to show any kind of fear in the presence of this beast, father or not. He nodded once before his gaze traveled along the rest of her. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. "Are you finished staring?" she asked. "What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, ignoring her question. Bethany rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "It would be pointless for me to try and explain the clothes of the twenty-first century. Instead, how about you take me somewhere to change." Daegus threw back his head and laughed, a great booming sound that rattled her eyeballs in her head. His fists settled back on his hips and he inclined his head to Bessie. "Take my daughter to her chamber. See that she bathes and is given the proper attire." His eyes roamed her body again. "We might have to make do with her mother's clothing. All we have are gowns for a small child." Bethany shivered. She didn't like the way he stared at her. It was the way a man looked when he wanted laid. She was grateful when Bessie took her elbow and led her to the steps on the left. The older woman chattered away as they climbed. "I cannot believe you've returned after all this time. Where did you go, lass?" Bethany tried to think of a good answer. These medieval people couldn't possibly understand the concept of time travel. Hell, no one really understood it. She decided the truth was her best option. If they thought she was insane, so be it. "I traveled forward through time and landed in the twentieth century. I was three then. Now it's the twenty-first century … two thousand six to be exact." Bethany halted on the steps, realizing she stood alone. She went down a few steps and spotted Bessie leaning against the wall, her hand on her heaving bosom. The woman's eyes were wide, her mouth gaping open like a dying fish. Bethany sat her hand on the woman's shoulder and shook her gently. Bessie turned her gaze to Bethany's face and lowered her hand. Her mouth snapped closed and she straightened away from the wall. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and resumed her climb. "It is an unbelievable tale, m'lady. I will not speak of it to your father, and neither should you." "Why not?" Bethany asked. "If he asks where I've been, I can't lie." Bessie stopped again and turned to face her, her expression grim. "If he hears such talk, he'll think you a witch. You'll be banished. You'd never find a suitable hus--" "What?" Betahny asked. "A suitable what?" Bessie shook her head and made her way down a narrow corridor. The last door on the right was open and the older woman walked ahead of her into the room. Bethany followed and made her way to the wide window on the far wall. Outside, the enormous loch stretched as far as she could see, the sun dipping beneath the calm water. The call of birds sounded as they settled down for their rest. Below her, in the courtyard, men dressed in nothing more than a plaid stood in tight groups as horses were led from the stables. Inside the chamber, a large bed sat in the center of the room. The post at each corner decorated with writhing vines, the pattern duplicated on the tall headboard. A dark blue and green coverlet was draped over the bed and mounds of pillows had been stacked near the headboard. Across from the bed, a small hearth held a glowing fire that warmed the room despite the sudden chill that ran up Bethany's spine. The only other furnishings were a small trunk at the foot of the bed and a low table adorned with a pitcher and small bowl. "What am I supposed to wear?" Bethany asked. Bessie smiled. "You stay right here. I'll fetch you some proper clothes. When I return, we'll go over what you should say to your father." She disappeared before Bethany could tell her she wouldn't lie. As the door closed, she moved to the bed. She pushed her hands into the over-stuffed mattress before she flung herself across the bed. She was home! Really home. She felt right. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was where she belonged. It would take some time to get used to the place, but she could manage. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. Maybe Bessie was right, maybe she should think of something else to tell Dae … her father. If she was accused of being a witch, they'd burn her. That wouldn't be pleasant at all. The door flew open and Bessie hurried in, her arms overflowing with colorful fabric. Following behind her was the woman from the painting. Her mother. Her dark red hair spilled over her narrow shoulders and down to her waist. Dark green eyes, misty with unshed tears, watched Bethany closely as she arranged the gowns on the bed. Not overly tall and quite thick around the middle, her mother moved about with the grace of a Queen. "Mama," Bethany whispered. The woman flew across the room and pulled Bethany into her arms. Bethany hesitated for only a second before she closed her arms around her small mother. The faint scent of lavender drifted up from the shorter woman's hair as her soft sniffles reached Bethany's ears. Pulling away, her mother wiped away her tears and smiled. "I'm so glad you've returned to us, poppet. Where have you been all this time?" Bethany shot a glance to Bessie who avoided her eyes. So much for loyal servant. She searched her mind for an acceptable excuse for her absence and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I was abducted." Both her mother and Bessie gasped. Bethany blushed and lowered her eyes. Good going, Beth. Now you'll have to think of a way to keep up the story without naming names. She didn't want to start a war. "Tell me who took you, poppet," her mother said. Bethany shook her head. "It is over now. I'd like to meet everyone as soon as I change my clothes." Her mother looked like she wanted to say more, but nodded instead. She moved to stand beside Bessie and motioned to the gowns piled on the bed. "These were mine in my younger days. You may have as many as you wish." Bethany glanced over the gowns, her fingers reaching out to caress the delicate fabrics. She selected a dark red gown, a white gown, and an emerald green gown. She decided to wear the green. She'd never worn a dress in her life, that she could remember, and figuring out how to put the damn thing on was going to be a trick. She unzipped her jeans and kicked them aside, pulled the sweater over her head and let it fall to the floor. She moved to unsnap her bra when she caught her mother's stare. "What?" she asked. Her mother pointed to her black lace bra. "What is that contraption?" Bethany glanced down. She tapped her foot as her mind worked overtime to come up with an explanation. She didn't want to dwell on the life she had before. In fact, as soon as she changed she would burn the clothes and never look back. "My captors used it to hide my breasts." "The beasts," her mother said. "Did they harm you?" Bethany shook her head and tossed the bra to the floor. Naked now, she picked up the green gown and pulled it over her head. The scrunched bodice ended just below her breasts, the square neckline not quite covering all of her. The shoulders drooped down her upper arms and the sleeves ended in wide bells past her fingers. The long skirt had been split up the center to reveal a lighter green material underneath. Her mother moved behind her and quickly laced up the ribbons to cinch the bodice tighter and to push her breasts nearly to her chin. She made a strangled noice that brought odd stares from both women. "What is it, dearie?" Bessie asked. Bethany flattened her hands over her abdomen and blushed again. "I can barely see over my tits." Bethany heard her mother snort behind her. "How else will you capture a husband?" "A husband?" Bethany squeaked. "I don't want a husband. I'm only twenty-five." Her mother finished with the laces and stepped away. "I know, poppet. Many women your age have four or five bairns clinging to their skirts." Her mother's eyes lit up and her hands rose to her cheeks. Bethany watched her warily, afraid of what new idea had just popped into her medieval mind. "Perhaps we can still hand you off to the McKenzie lad." Bessie snorted and folded her arms. "I'd rather see the lass wed to an Englishman than to that randy stallion. He'd likely include her in his wicked games." Bethany's ears perked up. Back in her time, she'd been accused of breaking up many happy homes. It wasn't true, of course, but she'd thought about it. "What kind of wicked games?" Bethany asked. "Those things are not fit for a maid's ears," her mother said. "And shame on you for bringing it up," she added for Bessie. Bethany pouted. She wanted to know who this McKenzie was and what kind of games he liked. It had been nearly a year since her last boyfriend and her body ached. She even started touching herself when the nights became unbearable. "I think the McKenzie lad is a fine choice for husband," her mother continued. "He's wealthy, respected, and honorable. Aye, he'll do." Bethany shook her head again. "I don't want a husband." Maybe a little fling with this McKenzie, just to find out what his games were all about. But she'd be damned if she'd be forced to get married. She was a grown woman, after all. It just wasn't going to happen. *** It actually happened. That night, seated between two of her five brothers, her father declared that she would wed Blaise McKenzie in one month. She couldn't believe her ears. And all five of her brothers grinned like idiots. She glared at each one of them before turning her attention to the glazed pig on her trencher. "You shouldn't be frightened, sister dear," her oldest brother Geoff whispered in her ear. "It's rumored the Dark Laird cannot keep the same woman in his bed for more than a sennight. He'll tire of you soon." Her head snapped up. If she was going to be forced into marrying this guy, the Dark Laird, there sure as hell wouldn't be any other women lurking around. She tossed her dagger down and folded her hands in her lap. She wanted to scream. I changed my mind. I want to go back. Her father's booming voice reached her ears. "We shall welcome the McKenzie into our midst so he may become acquainted with my daughter. He is to be watched at all times." Bethany tilted her head. Watched? Was her family sending her to the enemy? She leaned closer to her brother and tugged his sleeve. "Why will he be watched?" she whispered. Roger was only three years older than her, but his eyes would have him be much older. A dull and lifeless shade of brown, they crinkled at the corners from his constant frowning. He leaned down to her and pursed his lips. "Your intended slaughtered twelve of our cattle not more than three days ago. He is not well liked around here." Bethany rolled her eyes. "He isn't liked because of twelve cows? Give me a break. Is that all?" Her brother pulled back, a look of confusion on his face. "You speak strangely. But no, that is not all. His men have led countless raids against us, slaughtered our animals and our people. He even had the nerve to claim father hid you away from him all these years." "Hid me away?" "Aye. You were betrothed to him when you were but three. At the time, father thought it best, considering his land borders ours to the north. When you disappeared, the McKenzie rose in with an army demanding you be returned." Bethany rubbed her temples. "Why did he want me so badly? I'm sure he had his choice of sluts." "Sluts? I know not this word." She sighed. "Loose women," she explained. "Ah yes, that he does. He only wanted you for the land. Father promised him the northern edge of our land as your dowry. The bastard's been coveting that land since his father died." Bethany finally understood. He didn't want her to be his wife, he wanted her for nothing more than to get his greedy hands on her father's land. She might be forced to marry him, but she'd make him regret it. "When does the bastard arrive?" The question was shouted from a lower table. One of her father's soldiers, no doubt. A round of laughter followed the question and her father waited until the noise died down before he answered. "Within the hour." Bethany gasped. She hadn't expected him so soon. What did she say to a man that, by her time, should be long dead? Hey there. How about those Buckeyes? She rolled her eyes at her own sarcasm. She wouldn't say anything to him. She'd hide away until the bastard left. Other women? Not a chance in hell. Hiding wasn't an option. A loud bang snapped her out of her thoughts as the double doors were flung open. On the landing stood the man she despised. The man she hated. The man she dreamed about for years. Her mouth went dry. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall, with muscles football players would be jealous of. His dark black hair hung over his shoulders and down his back, shorter pieces hanging just below his eyes. And those eyes! Ice blue and hard as steel, they searched the room like a hunter looks for prey. He made his way into the great hall, swaggering like a cocky rooster in a henhouse. Why shouldn't he? The kitchen maids tripped over their skirts, and each other, to get a better look at him. Bethany stared at him as he slowly made his way toward her. With every step he took, his muscles bunched and rippled under his clothes. Unlike her father and brothers, he didn't wear a plaid. He wore tight black breeches and a black shirt. The clothes left very little to the imagination. He stopped just before the raised table and inclined his head politely. When those blue eyes fastened on her, a slow grin spread across his face. He reminded her of a cat that just swallowed the canary. She shifted in her seat, painfully aware of the throbbing between her thighs. Her breasts heaved against the tight material of the bodice and her nipples peaked under his intense stare. She knew he could see them. She didn't care. When his tongue appeared briefly to moisten those too full lips of his, the throbbing increased between her legs. She wanted desperately to be touched, by herself or the devil causing this reaction. "Greetings, my beauty," he purred. "I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance." His voice was deep and gritty, like he'd swallowed sand. It poured over her like a caress. The sound of it brought very vivid, very dirty images to mind. Images she'd see played out as soon as she could get him alone. She licked her lips and grinned back at him. "We'll see about that."

The Dark Laird

CHAPTER ONE Scotland, 2006 "How many times do I have to tell you the trip is pointless?" Bethany Campbell rolled her eyes at her friend and colleague for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she adjusted her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose and returned her attention to the medieval document spread out before her. "Are you even paying attention to me?" Lisa said, her eyes wide. Bethany turned, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, I am, but this is important to me." "I know it is," Lisa admitted. "What is it we're looking for again?" Bethany lifted her eyes from the paper for a moment before lowering her gaze again. When she'd asked Lisa to come with her to Scotland, she'd been vague about the reason. How could she explain the real reason she came here? Would her friend believe her story? Of course not, she thought. She didn't even believe it herself. At first. "Have you ever noticed how obsessed I am with medieval history?" Bethany asked. Lisa nodded as she shuffled through the mounds of papers. "You should be on Jeopardy," she said with a smile. Bethany sighed again. "Haven't you ever wondered why my last name is different from my moms?" Lisa nodded again, her dark eyes lifting to meet Bethany's lighter ones. "I asked her that very same question," Bethany said. She glanced around and scooted her chair closer to Lisa's. She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on the back of her hand. "I'm adopted." Lisa gasped. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Bethany nodded and returned her attention back to the birth records on the table. Lisa snapped her mouth shut and stayed quiet for a full minute. "But how does that explain your obsession with medieval Europe? How does that explain why you begged me to come to Scotland? Why didn't you tell me before?" Lisa asked. Bethany removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She glanced around the tiny reading room. Positive they were the only ones in this part of the library, she dropped her hands to her lap. She leveled her gaze at her friend and took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell you a story. It's the story my mother told me, and I don't want you to interrupt until I'm done." Lisa nodded, her light brown eyebrows furrowed in a deep frown. "I promise." "It was 1986. My mother and father were finishing up their last day of research in Scotland. They had just left the Campbell Inn, a renovated thirteenth century castle, when they happened across a little girl dressed in a long blue gown. At first, they thought it was one of the actors." "Actors?" Lisa asked. Bethany nodded. "The Inn hired actors to dress in medieval costumes to make it feel more authentic." With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Bethany resumed her tale. "The little girl spoke in a strange language and repeated the word 'papa'. My parents took her back to the castle and tried to find her parents. No one at the Inn recognized the girl, but most swore she looked exactly like the first Laird of the Campbell Clan, Daegus. My parents decided to take the little girl with them and keep trying to find her parents." Bethany paused, tears welling in her eyes. She swiped them away with a sigh. "The little girl was me, Lisa. Mom and Dad never found my real parents so they raised me as their own." Lisa leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her small chest. "But how does that explain your love of medieval Europe? Why, exactly, are we here?" "I think I was born in thirteenth century Scotland and, somehow, traveled through time when I was a little girl." Bethany watched Lisa's expression. Her dark brown eyes shifted to the table top and she blinked several times before she lifted her chin. Her face was pale, but there was a grin on her face. "It would explain a lot," she said. "You knew how to speak Gaelic without ever taking a class or reading a book. You just know things that normal people would never know. Like how many sheep it takes to make enough wool for a dress, or how to churn butter." Bethany stiffened, her eyes widening. "You believe me?" "Of course I do! I'm your best friend in the world. If you are from another time, we'll find you in here," she said, pointing to the papers on the table. Bethany lunged for Lisa, wrapping her in a tight hug. She never thought Lisa would believe her, but she did! Soon, she would have all the answers. *** "I can't believe there isn't a single Campbell anywhere in all these papers," Lisa huffed as she pushed the yellowed papers away from her. She stretched her arms over her head and stuck out her lower lip. "You look like you're pouting," Bethany teased. "I am pouting. You'd think that somewhere in Scotland, there has to be at least one Campbell birth in six hundred years." Bethany opened her mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again when a sharp rap sounded on the door behind them. The friends shared a silent glance, wondering if someone had overheard them. Bethany shook her head as Lisa jerked her head toward the door. The door opened a crack and a small, elderly woman poked her grey head inside. Her pale skin hung from her face in heavy folds, nearly hiding her ice-blue eyes. Her tiny mouth turned up into a smile when she noticed the two girls inside. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help overhearing," the old woman said in a sugar sweet voice. Bethany risked a glance at Lisa whose face had turned from white to green in a matter of seconds. Bethany's heart slammed against her ribs and her mouth went dry. She coughed nervously. How much had the old woman heard? "Exactly what did you overhear?" Bethany asked. The words came out squeaky and low. For a moment, Bethany thought she'd have to repeat herself. The old woman smiled wider and pushed the door open fully. Her tiny body, covered from head to toe in bright red wool, was bent over a gnarled cane. Her silvery curls tumbled around her ears like cobwebs, but her voice sounded young and strong. "I heard you say that not one Campbell had been born in over six hundred years." Bethany released her breath in a loud rush, her hand resting against her thudding heart. Her eyes darted to Lisa who had slumped back in her chair, eyes closed, taking several deep breaths. "It's true, you know," the old woman said. "Not a single Campbell born since 1203. 'Tis said they were cursed." Bethany sat up straighter. "Cursed?" she asked. "By who? Why? When?" The old woman laughed, a cheerful sound almost like wind chimes. "Slow down, dearie. Bessie can only answer one question at a time." Bethany licked her dry lips and started over. "Why were they cursed?" "'Tis said a young witch did the deed. The witch was in love with a man, The Dark Laird, they called him. But he only wanted one woman…the Campbell lass." Bethany shook her head. "When did the witch curse them?" The old woman furrowed her brow, the tip of one wrinkled finger tapping her drooping chin. "I believe it was just after The Dark Laird signed the betrothal. That would have been when the young lass was three. The year would have been 1206." Bethany turned her gaze to Lisa. Her friend regarded the old woman warily, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip. Lisa turned her head toward the table and rolled her eyes. Bethany shook her head and turned back to the old woman…but she was gone. Shoving the chair back, she stood and hurried into the dim hallway. She glanced left and right, but there was no one around, only stacks of dusty books and shelves lined with rolled papers. Shaking her head, she leaned against the door and crossed her arms. "If what that old woman said is true, then I was the last one born. She said one other thing, too. She mentioned the Laird wanted the youngest daughter. Why?" Lisa stepped closer and shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe he was into little girls. I'm kidding," she said when Bethany gaped at her. "Maybe her father was rich? Did you ever think he wanted her just for the money?" "It's possible," Bethany whispered. "I have to find out what happened to my family." Lisa nodded and stepped back into the tiny reading room to grab her purse. She fisted her hands on her hips and sighed loudly, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. Bethany mimicked her and, after several long minutes, Lisa turned to face her again. "Alright, we can try. But I'm warning you, Beth, if one weird thing happens I'm going to be on the first flight to Florida." Bethany nodded once and strode down the hallway toward the main lobby of the library. At the desk, a tall woman with dark brown hair and thick glasses stacked books from the counter onto a rickety cart. She stopped and smiled when Bethany leaned her elbows on the smooth counter top. "Do you have any more birth records?" Bethany asked. The librarian shifted her gaze from Bethany to Lisa. "I gave you all the records you asked for." "I know, but I'd like to go back further, if I could." "How far back do you want to go?" the still smiling librarian asked. "I want to go to the beginning of the Campbell Clan." The librarian lost her smile. She adjusted her dark brown glasses and folded her hands on the desk. Bethany took a step back, afraid the woman would lunge across the counter and choke her. "I'm afraid our records don't go back that far, Miss. You would have to contact a Campbell personally to see those records." "But I don't have that kind of time," Bethany said. Not to mention the fact the Campbell line ended with her. "Please, if you have anything else, I would be very grateful." "Like I said," the librarian huffed. "There's nothing else." The woman turned away from her then, resuming her work and ignoring them completely. Bethany gaped at the back of the woman's head, her mouth hanging open. She stamped her foot and turned to face Lisa. She threw her hands up and shook her head. "She says they don't have anything else." Lisa chewed her lower lip. "Maybe we can go through them again. We might have missed something." Bethany nodded and brushed past Lisa on her way back down the hallway. In the tiny reading room, piles of yellowed papers littered the desk and floor, journals and books lay open to various pages and empty soda bottles lined the back of the table. "We're going to be here for a while," Bethany said under her breath. Moving into the room, she picked up a stack of papers and read slowly through the names. Angus Campbell born in 1201, Doreen Campbell born in 1206, Daegus Campbell born in 1279…wait a minute. "Lisa, I found him!" Lisa looked up from the book she had her nose buried in and leaned over to scan the paper. She stared at the paper for several seconds, her brows furrowed in concentration. "You found who?" she asked. "I found my father." Bethany read the name again. Her heart thumped inside her chest. Her mouth went dry. Her head whirled. It was true! He was real! "The old woman said the Laird of the Campbell clan was named Daegus, right?" Bethany asked. Lisa nodded. "I think so." Bethany pointed to the name scrawled near the bottom of the page. "This is him." Lisa sat back in her chair. "What do we do now?" Bethany never took her eyes from the page. "We go to the inn." *** An hour later, at the car rental company, Bethany still gripped the paper in her hand. She hadn't intended to steal it from the library, but she couldn't leave the proof behind. True, there was no record of any children born to Daegus Campbell, but it was enough for her. "Can I help you?" Bethany stepped up to the high counter and smiled at the middle-aged man in the bright red vest. His eyebrows looked like two furry caterpillars trying to conquer his eyelids. She coughed to cover an unexpected giggle. "I need to rent a car please." "Any preference on make or model?" Bethany shook her head. At this point, she didn't care if he gave her a scooter. "Anything is fine. Whatever you have." The man pounded at the keyboard for a second before smiling. "It seems you're in luck. We have one car left. Would you like the additional insurance?" Bethany shook her head. She shifted her weight, anxious to find the old inn. What would she learn there? Would they have additional documents? Perhaps someone who remembers what happened the day her parents found her. She jumped when the man slid a piece of paper at her. She snatched up the pen and scribbled her name. "The standard time is one week. If you'll wait outside, Richie will bring the car around for you. Do you need a map?" Bethany nodded, snatched the map he handed to her and went back out into the chilly afternoon. It only took Richie a minute to pull up in the smallest car she'd ever seen. The roof only came to her shoulders. How am I going to fit in this damn car? She caught Lisa's expression over the roof and shook her head. "If you make one reference to sardines, I'll make you walk." Lisa laughed as she slid into the passenger seat. Bethany grumbled as she folded her five foot eight inch body behind the wheel and tossed the map in her friend's lap. Her head bumped the roof and her knees nearly touched her shoulders. Beside her, Lisa looked over the map provided by the rental company and pointed out the windshield. "It's that way, Goliath." Bethany glared at her giggling friend as she started the car. They left Edinburgh and entered the countryside. The little car chugged and struggled every mile as they made their way up the coast. "There's a town a few miles up the road," Lisa said. "Mind if we stop so I can find a bathroom and grab some coffee?" Bethany nodded. She needed to find a bathroom too. The coffee didn't sound half bad either, but she wanted to make it to the inn before dark. What would she say? Excuse me, I think I traveled through time. Could you tell me the way back to the fourteenth century? She rolled her eyes as she navigated the tiny car into a nearly empty parking lot and shut off the engine. Lisa jumped from the car and disappeared into the closest store before Bethany unfolded her legs and stepped out into the cold evening air. She stretched her arms high above her head, pulling the kinks and knots from her back and shoulders. Lisa emerged five minutes later, two steaming cups in her hands. She inclined her head toward the shop as she sat the cups on the roof of the car. "There's a bathroom, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's gross." "I don't care about gross right now, Lisa. The inside of the car will be even more gross if I don't go now." She hurried into the store, made her way to the closet they called a bathroom and instantly wished she hadn't. Mounds of paper towels littered the brown floor. A series of cracks marred the surface of the mirror. The back of the toilet was missing, exposing the water inside. The smell of stale urine and recently cleaned vomit brought tears to her eyes. She never touched the grimy seat as she finished and nearly ran back to the car. She squeezed into the drivers seat and glared at Lisa. Her friend had the audacity to smile at her. Lisa held out one of the steaming cups. "You could've warned me," Bethany mumbled. "I did," Lisa replied. "You never listen to me." Bethany took the cup and brought it to her lips. She inhaled the spicy aroma and took a careful sip before handing the coffee back to Lisa. She started the car and turned back onto the north road. As the scenery rolled by the windows, Bethany cast nervous glances at her friend. Should she tell her about the dreams? She hadn't told anyone about the dreams, not even her mother. They'd been too personal. Too real. "There's something I didn't tell you," Bethany said. Lisa cocked her head and took another sip of her coffee. Bethany took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. "I've had dreams about my life in the past…not my life, but dreams about a man from the past." Lisa perked up. "A man?" Bethany nodded. "I don't know his name, but he's always there. He stands in the background, he watches me." "Is he cute?" Lisa asked. Bethany glanced at Lisa. "Why do you ask that?" "If I were having dreams about a cute man from the past, I'd never get out of bed." "It's not like that. He never touches me, never speaks. He just watches. Almost like he's waiting for something to happen." Lisa shrugged and turned her attention back to the rolling hills and green pastures. Bethany focused her eyes on the horizon. The sun dipped behind a low mountain, casting the sky in a blanket of amethyst and orange. A shimmering loch stretched on and on to her left. Pressing her foot harder on the accelerator, Bethany urged the tiny car faster. Two hours later, they rolled into the small village of Haverston. A narrow, one lane road wound through the middle of thatched cottages and, in the distance, a chapel sat in the center of a vast field, solitary and foreboding. Slowing the car, Bethany looked right and left as they passed each small cottage, but she could see no one. Past the village, the road abruptly ended at an access road made of loose gravel. Bethany stopped the car and turned off the engine with a heavy sigh. The empty field sat to her left, a wide loch to her right. She opened the door and took a few steps away from the car. "Maybe we should try the church," Lisa said as she came up beside her. Bethany glanced behind her and eyed the eerie church. She shook her head and turned to face the access road. She crossed her arms over her middle and started down the gravel path. She could hear Lisa grumbling behind her, but she paid her no attention. The more she walked, the more uneasy she became. A low hum sounded in her ears and her head pounded. Her knees trembled and beads of sweat rolled down the center of her back. Turning a bend, she stopped short, a sharp cry coming from her lips. She jumped when Lisa bumped into her. "Why did you stop?" Lisa asked. Bethany pointed. Directly ahead of them stood the magnificent Campbell Inn. Once the home of mighty lairds and fierce warriors, the structure stood tall and proud like the inhabitants of long ago. Four stories tall and just as wide, the building dominated the area. A wide, arched doorway held two heavy wooden doors. At each corner sat a round tower, tiny slots cut into the stone at various heights. The area in front of the old castle had been cleared of all debris, but behind the fortress loomed a dense forest. To the right, Bethany could see the loch gleaming in the fading sunlight. Her breath escaped her lungs in a loud rush. She took a shaky step forward and another until she reached the wall to the right of the entrance. Her eyes drifted closed as the sound of laughter filled her ears. A woman's laughter, quickly followed by the deeper laughter of a man. Her fingers trailed along the rough stones as she walked to the corner of the building. Behind the inn, several smaller buildings were arranged in a semi-circle. She could see the kitchen, the stable, the blacksmith's shop and others. Loud clangs of steel on steel echoed in her head. The cluck of chickens and the grunts of pigs. The clatter of hooves as the horses were led to the stable. "Come back to me." Bethany jumped, her hand covering her mouth to stifle her scream. Before the small cluster of buildings, a man sat astride a massive black horse. He looked ready to kill. The heat in his ice-blue eyes turned her mouth to cotton, made her palms sweat. The arrogant tilt of his head turned her knees to jelly. His hands gripped the reins loosely, but she knew they were the hands of a warrior. Calloused and rough. Strong hands. His lips moved, but no sound came out. She strained to hear him, but the only sound was the rustling of the leaves in the tress. She took a shaky step forward and he was gone. Bethany searched the clearing, but there was no sign of the man from her dreams. "Why are you sweating?" Lisa asked. Bethany turned to answer her, but her mouth refused to work. Instead, she shook her head and stepped around her. She headed back toward the front of the inn and pushed open the heavy door. She stood on a wide landing just inside the entrance. Three narrow steps led down into the great hall. To her right, a spiral staircase rose to the floors above and a matching staircase also sat on her left. Directly in front of her, six long tables sat in groups of three and were situated in front of a raised platform. On the platform sat a wider, longer table obviously reserved for the Laird and his family. The left wall boasted a massive fireplace that five grown men could easily stand in and above that fireplace hung a huge claymore, its hilt decorated with hundreds of small rubies. Bethany stumbled down the steps to stand in the center of the hall. To her right, hung on the wall, were seven portraits. Each one framed in gold and arranged in a straight line, her eyes fell on every face. The first was of a man and woman seated together in this very hall. The man had broad shoulders and a head full of bright red hair. The woman, much smaller than the man, had darker hair and a broad smile that lit her eyes. The next five portraits showed boys, the youngest looked to be five or six while the oldest might have been no more than twenty. Each of the boys had the bright red hair of their father and the wide smiles of their mother. Bethany's eyes fell on the last portrait and she heard a strangled sound come from her throat. "What is it?" Lisa asked from the doorway. "It's me," Bethany whispered. The little girl sat on the grass, a small puppy clutched in her lap. Her dark red hair fell free around her shoulders and a shy smile played around her lips. Her green eyes sparkled through the painting, as if she knew a delicious secret. Bethany touched the corner of the frame. Her fingers grew warm, tiny needle pricks ran up and down her arm and a low buzzing sound formed in her head. Panting now, she tried to pull her hand away. The portrait held her. Called to her. The buzzing increased. The tingling in her arm became painful as it spread through her entire body. She swallowed hard. "Come back to me." She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the deep voice inside her head. It rose above the buzzing, pounding in her ears. Her legs seemed heavy, unable to move. Her head pounded. I want to go home. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at the smiling girl. She willed it to be true. Wanted it to be true. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her arm lowered away from the painting and she took a step back. The tingling in her body faded and the buzzing disappeared. Bethany took several deep breaths and raked her hands through her tangled curls. She needed to find an employee to rent a room for the night. Then she would ask her questions. The first thing she needed was a soft bed. Her stomach rolled and her head swam. The dizziness washed over her so suddenly, she thought she might pass out. She steadied herself with a hand on the wall until the dizziness passed. She turned around but Lisa was gone. The blazing lights that lit the room only minutes before had been replaced by glowing torches. The pungent smell of smoke stung her nose and brought tears to her eyes. A fire raged in the giant hearth, the great logs cracking and sending sparks onto the cold floor. "Saints be praised, you've returned home!"