Highlander's Challenge (23 page)

Highlander's Challenge

by Jo Barrett

One down and a few dozen to go, she thought, looking over the rest of the men.

"What rotten luck," Ian said with a broad smile. "I would have liked to have seen that, now that I'm not battling for my life."

"Bloody hell," MacLean groused. Had his entire garrison lost their wits?

"Oh, but the show's not over yet," she said. "Who's next?" The men quieted to a few soft chuckles, but continued grinning like buffoons.

Colin shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose at his increasing headache. Why had he been plagued with this female?

She spread her feet and planted her hands on her hips. A familiar pose, one he was growing accustomed to.

"What's the matter, afraid to fight a woman?" she asked.

"Afraid I'll hurt you?" She waved at a red-faced Michael. "He was brave enough to take me on. I guess that means the rest of you are just a bunch of cowards." She shot Colin a smirk. "Looks like you've got yourself a bunch of wimps, MacLean."

By the saints, she was insane. They would break every bone in her body to ease their sorry egos.

"I'll be happy tae wrestle you," one man boasted. "Beneath the covers!"

Laughter erupted around them, but Colin gave it little notice as he moved to swipe the smile off of Ronald's face. Although a good warrior, he'd always been an arse. It was time to teach him some manners.

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Ian stayed him with a hand on his shoulder. "Let her deal with him," he said softly. "She must finish what she has started. After all, you can always kill him later," he added with a grin.

"Aye," Colin growled. "But they'll tear her apart first." Ian chuckled with a nod toward Amelia. "I seriously doubt that."

She strolled up to Ronald, a quirky grin on her lips. In a heartbeat his guard was down on the ground struggling to suck in a breath. Her foot had moved so quickly, connecting with his chest, that Colin had barely seen it. He closed his gaping mouth. The woman could actually fight, and not mere tricks as he'd repeatedly claimed.

"You were saying?" she asked Ronald while he continued his attempts to breathe.

Lifting her head, she eyed the others. "Anyone else care to take a shot at it?"

"Did I not tell you?" Ian asked quietly.

"Aye, that you did, but can she handle all of them? She has yet tae face the worst, and they'd not been prepared for a worthy opponent. Now her skills will truly be tested."

"Perhaps a show is all they require. I suspect Michael did not give his all, afraid he would hurt her." Ian stepped forward. "I should like a go," he called to her. She turned, shaking her head. "I've nothing to prove to you. They're the ones that need to learn a lesson."

"Be that as it may, I have accepted your challenge. You cannot back out now." He took her hand and bowed over it before placing a quick kiss.

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Several men chuckled, while Colin tightened his grip on his folded arms. Why the devil was he always kissing her hand?

"Okay, you're on," she said.

She took off her coat and tossed it to Fiona, whom he noticed was grinning broadly. Just what he needed, he thought with a weighty sigh, more women who wanted to fight.

Ian and Amelia took their places opposite one another.

"I'll do my best not to hurt you," she said.

"I appreciate that, dear heart. And I shall do the same," he replied, and lunged toward her.

Colin jerked, wanting to block his move, but managed to stand his ground. Skilled or no, he doubted the day would ever come that he would be truly comfortable with a woman—

with Amelia fighting.

Ian landed squarely on his back. Colin grinned behind his hand.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I believe I am well," Ian said, his voice not nearly as congenial as before.

"Fight, Southernland. Dinnae let her beat you, mon!" someone called.

"Ach, she'll beat him, 'tis certain. I'd bet me gold on it," William called.

"As would I," said Michael.

A betting frenzy ensued, leaving his garrison split down the middle as to who would be the victor.

"Ach, he's sweet on the lass. He has tae let her win," someone said.

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She helped Ian up, and they took another go at one another, but once again his friend was quickly on his back. Amazing. He'd never met a woman who could actually fight.

Ian rose slowly, his breath coming in pants, and dusted off his clothes. "I believe I have had all I care to take for one day, dear heart." He took her hand in his and kissed it. Again with the kissing? "Aye, you're not well enough tae be fighting," Colin grumbled.

Her brow shot up.

"But I'll admit you are quite skilled, lass," he quickly added. She'd proven herself in more ways than one. He wouldn't deny the lady her due.

"Why dinnae you fight her, Colin?" William asked. She cast him a grin. "Yeah, MacLean. Show me what you've got. I dare you." She tossed her head, making her hair catch the rays of the sun.

Could he fight her, touch her, without taking her? "I find no pleasure in beating a woman."

"Like I said. You're just afraid I'll beat you." He glanced at his men, noting their smug grins. If he didn't fight her, he'd never hear the end of it. "Verra well. But when I beat you, I'll not have any of your tears, woman."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it."

She took her position on the field, and he warily stood opposite her, waiting for the first move. She came at him stealthily and with a flash of movement he hadn't anticipated, brought him cleanly to his knees, then to his belly. The cheers and jeers abounded.

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"Care to try again?" she said, leaning near his ear, her voice low and sultry.

He swallowed hard against the torment raging inside him from her nearness. Snaking his arm out, he caught her foot and brought her to the ground beside him, then quickly pinned her in place. He grinned at the stunned expression on her face, but the flash of desire racing through his blood quickly wiped it from his lips.

The sound of cheers and taunts faded, leaving nothing but her rapid breaths echoing in his ears. He let his gaze roam over her features, noting every spot dotting her skin. The pert tip of her nose begged for a kiss, as did her luscious mouth. The deep green eyes, framed with reddish-brown lashes, held a deep-seated yearning that called to his own.

"Colin, get up and greet your bride," his father said. He blinked, she blinked, then they both turned their heads to see a pair of dainty slippers not five strides away. He rolled to his back, and Amelia jumped to her feet.

"You're good, MacLean. I'm impressed," she said, dusting off her clothes overmuch. Nervous she was. The hint of a quiver lingered in her voice, but he doubted anyone could hear it but him. He felt connected to her in ways he'd never dreamed of before and wished for more.

Rubbing his forehead, as he lay sprawled on the ground, he couldn't believe he'd nearly ravaged her mouth, and possibly other more tempting parts of her body, in front of his entire garrison. In front of his blasted bride!

A hand appeared before him, and he clasped it firmly. "You had best watch yourself, my friend," Ian said. "You've already 223

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one female in the keep who is less than pleased with your attentions toward Amelia. I would not add your future bride to that list."

He snarled at his so-called friend and turned to Aileen. His mouth, once again, fell agape. The girl was beautiful, but barely reached his chest in height and couldn't weigh as much as a bird. How would he ever be able to bed the lass? He'd be too afraid he'd break her in two.

Ian nudged him in the back.

"Uh, welcome to Arreyder, my lady," he said. She nodded meekly. He resisted the urge to cast his eyes to heaven. Why had his father saddled him with a lass such as this?

Sadly, he knew the answer to that question, although it didn't ease his mind. He looked to her side and nodded to her guard. "Robert."

"Colin," he replied. They'd butted heads a time or two as lads, but over inconsequential things. He'd always liked Robert, and was glad he'd not been among the men who'd ambushed them. He'd hate to have to kill him.

"Ach, my. You're the image of your mother," Elspeth said, toddling up to Aileen's side. "I knew her when we were but a pair of wee lassies." She took her hand and patted it.

"If you'll excuse me, I have, um, things to do," Amelia said, edging toward the keep.

"Nay, lass. You must meet Colin's intended." Elspeth snagged her arm before she could escape. "Aileen, this is Amelia. She's visiting with us for a time. And this," she said motioning toward Ian, "is Ian Southernland." 224

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The lass nodded to Amelia, then blushed furiously as Ian took her hand and bowed over it.

"Come lads, we'll have a wee drink and you can tell me of MacKenzie, Robert," his father said. "The women will get Aileen settled. They're sure tae go on about the wedding and lace and other such female nonsense for some time." Amelia's brows rose. Colin braced himself for one of her biting remarks.

William cleared his throat loudly. "Lass—Tuck, might I have a word with you?"

Her eyes brightened. "Certainly. Um, you run along, and I'll catch up later," she said to Elspeth, then immediately strode off with Colin's lead guard toward the far side of the bailey where the men had resumed their training. Colin and Ian exchanged puzzled glances then followed his father and the others into the keep. But he couldn't resist one last glance over his shoulder at where Amelia stood talking with William. She was so much more than he ever dreamed, and he wanted her with every part of himself. Tearing his gaze away, he looked to his future.

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"Thanks, William. You're a lifesaver," Tuck muttered. The old Highlander chuckled. "You're welcome, lass. I didna think you were of a mind tae be lookin' at a bunch of female frippery and such."

She snorted. "You've got that right." She stopped at the far side of the training field and propped her hands on her hips with a puff of air. "I guess this means you guys won't be doing anymore heavy training, what with the joining of the clans and all."

William crossed his arms and stroked his chin. "Well, now that you mention it, I was wonderin' if you'd be kind enough tae show me how you put Colin on his belly so easily. War or no, a man likes tae keep up his skills and improve upon them when he has a chance."

Her day, dreary as it seemed in light of the beautiful fragile female she'd just met, brightened. "I'd be happy to." Michael and a few others gathered around them as she demonstrated. There were a few catcalls, but they didn't last long.

"'Tis an amazing thing," William muttered, helping her to her feet.

"This is nothing. There are a lot of deadlier moves, believe me." She demonstrated a few and was met with awed faces. Hours later, filthy from her head to her toes but feeling fantastic, she strolled into the keep and up to her room. There wasn't any more talk of witchcraft, thank goodness, and the men actually listened to her. They discussed 226

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techniques and traded old war stories. It was great! Maybe she'd be okay in this century after all.

"My heavens. What happened tae you?" Elspeth said, meeting her in the corridor.

"I was showing the guys some moves. You know, fight techniques." Elspeth followed her into her chamber as she tugged off her knit hat. "And it felt great. I haven't had that much fun in months." She splashed water on her face and wiped away some of the grime.

"You mean tae say you've been wrestling with the men?

Ach! I'm afraid tae guess what you'll do next." Tuck dried her face, muffling her chuckle against the cloth.

"Well, you'll not be getting clean with just a bit of water," Elspeth said. "I'll have the kitchen lads bring up a tub."

"Oh, a bath," she sighed. "That would really feel good." Later, as she eased her sore muscles into the tub, Tuck let the day play over in her mind. She'd waited until she thought she could handle all the emotional highs and lows without an audience. Wrestling MacLean had been an unexpected pleasure, and not because she'd put him on his stomach, but damned if she didn't nearly make a fool of herself. She'd almost grabbed the man by his hair where it fell over his broad shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. The tips of her breasts pebbled instantly.

With a groan, she sank lower in the tub.

Pinned beneath him, his thick muscle-corded legs laid out along hers, felt too good to ignore. She snorted softly, resting her head against the edge of the tub. She couldn't have ignored him if she'd wanted to. Hiding from him hadn't done 227

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any good. She was more than merely attracted to the man. She felt something for him, inside and all over, but he was about to be married to one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen.

Aileen moved like a ballerina and had a braid of fair hair that hung below her waist. She had yet to hear her utter a single word, but knew the girl's voice would be as soft and delicate as the rest of her. All the things Tuck wasn't. Slumping beneath the water, she scrubbed her skin till it was raw. At least she'd proven her point once and for all. She may not be pretty like Aileen, and maybe she couldn't do all those female things men expected, and she sure as hell didn't bow down to their false superiority, but she was a damn good fighter. Not only had she gained Colin's trust by helping his father, at the very least, he seemed to respect her talents as well. That was something, although her heart whispered a little too loudly for more.

She climbed out of the tub and dried off, then jerked up her skirt with a curse. Her pants were way too dirty to put back on, dang it, so she struggled with the confounded laces. She quickly gave her jeans a good dunking in the bath water, and laid them out to dry, then headed to supper. The great hall seemed brighter and gayer than usual. Talk of peace and Colin's impending wedding circulated throughout the room. She held in her groan.