Lost in the Highlands the Thirteen Scotsman Read online

  Standing, I wiped my hands on my already wet gown and got the pitcher from the table. When I turned around he was giving me a strange look and my belly flip-flopped. Ignoring him and the giddy rush of excitement flowing through me, I returned to the side of the tub and set the pitcher on the floor. “So…” I hedged as I lifted up the bottle of shampoo and poured out handful of liquid.

  “Yes…” He slanted an eye open.

  “How often do you bathe?”

  “Depends…” he said and shut his eye.

  “On…”

  “Whether I need ta bathe or not.” He muttered something else that was hard to hear but I could swear he used the word daft again.

  Irritated, I smacked the glob of shampoo down of his head and vigorously rubbed it into his long hair.

  “How long were ye waiting for me?” His voice was pleasant and deep—very sexy.

  “What?”

  “Ye were waiting for me, were ye not?”

  “Ah…” I flustered and knocked the shampoo on the floor.”

  “Och, lass, careful. That is the only bottle I have.”

  Grabbing hold of the wayward bottle, I set it upright on the floor and resumed rubbing the shampoo through his hair.

  “How long were ye waiting for me?” he asked again.

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking me?” Distracted, my eyes floated back down to the water lapping just below his navel.

  “Looking for something?” He lifted the soap from the water where my eyes were stuck.

  “Ah thanks.” I took it from his hand. “No, I don’t think so.” I reached up and felt my head. Did I have a concussion?

  “Are ye always this slow then?”

  “What?” I gaped at him. “I’m not slow.” My voice came out all screechy. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “It seems that way ta me.” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Jerk.”

  “Ah, another one of your strange words from the future I suppose.” He sighed. “Ye want to go back into the bog of mud?”

  “No.”

  “Well…” He lifted his brow. “Then make yerself useful.”

  “Fine,” I gritted. Grabbing the pitcher, I dunked it into the water a bit forcefully.

  He pushed back against the tub. “Och, lass, are ye trying to make me a eunuch?”

  I finally noticed where I submerged the pitcher. It was right below his navel. “Oops, sorry,” I said sheepishly and quickly pulled out the pitcher that was now filled with water and set it down beside the tub.

  He slid back down into the water but not before I got another really good eyeful of his incredible physique.

  “So does this happen often?” I resumed rubbing his scalp. It was kind-of a turn on.

  “Does what happen often?” He sounded like he was from modern day again.

  I shook my head, not sure what to make of his mishmashed language. He turned and looked up at me. “You know,” I said. “Getting girls from the future?” I elaborated, suddenly hoping that wasn’t the case.

  “Not often,” he said and this time I noticed his brow twitched. Was that a tell? Was he lying?

  “How did you know where to get me?”

  “I ventured through the mist and retrieved ye,” he explained. “Ye were exactly where the crone, I mean the ah, gypsy told me you would be.”

  “How would she know?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say. She wanted ta make a trade though and ye were it—this time,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that?” I stopped rubbing his scalp.

  He exhaled heavily. “She said if we let her go through the mist another lass would be there waiting for us.” He smiled up at me. “She said ye would be much younger and toothsome.”

  There was a glint in his eye and I swallowed hard. “Toothsome?”

  Of course, I read enough romance novels to know what toothsome meant but I wanted him to tell me.

  “Aye, it merely means ye are easy ta look at.”

  “Well, am I?” I prodded, suddenly feeling unaccountably warmer than I had moments before.

  He stared at me for a moment and then nodded. “I suppose ye will do…for now.”

  My entire body went rigid and I had a sudden urge to dunk him under the water.

  “Get ta work lass. I am tired and the water is growing cold.”

  Really? The water was scolding my damn hands. I scratched his scalp harder.

  “That feels nice.”

  Figures.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “This is how it works,” he said, pacing back and forth in front of me, his long strides making quick work of the distance between each wall in the room. He pivoted with his hands clasped behind his back and walked to the other side of the room. “Ye will stay with me… for a time…”

  “Excuse me.” I lifted my hand in the air. We had been at this for quite a while now.

  He paused and turned. “Aye,” he sighed.

  “How long will I be here?” I adjusted my position on the trunk; the little rivets were poking me in my left cheek.

  “I do not know.”

  “How long was the last one here?”

  “I cannot recall.” His eyes shifted to the side—a sure sign he was lying.

  “Was it a long time, like years?” I asked watching his reaction closely.

  “Not that I recall,” he deflected again and sure enough his eyes shot over to the side. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying…” He resumed his pacing. “Yer stay can be pleasurable or it can be, well…”

  “Well, what?”

  “Ye will see.”

  I wasn’t real sure what to make of this. I lifted my hand in the air again, waving it around to get his attention. “What’s your name, again?” I asked when

  He stopped once more. “Gavin de Grey, the current laird of this fine piece o’ rock.”

  “So this is Greystone castle, right?” I didn’t know why that name rang a bell with me. I felt like I heard about it before.

  “Aye, it is.” He shifted and turned toward the window.

  “Why does your name sound English?”

  “I am part English.” He gave me an exasperated look.

  Well, excuse me, I felt like saying. How in the heck was I supposed to know that? “Oh. Wait…how can you be laird if you aren’t a full-fledged Scotsman?”

  “Lass,” he sighed. “A Laird is nothing more than a person to look to in a time of need. The ruler or owner of a piece o’ land and with luck a home as well.

  “Oh.” I wished I had studied history more. The only reason why I knew about any of this was from reading romances—not the best resource for fact.

  “I can tell there is something else ye wish ta ask of me.” His dark brows rose.

  “Well, I was wondering why you sound so….” He stepped closer and my heart did another involuntary flutter.

  “So…”

  As the pregnant pause between us grew, his eyes widened.

  “What is yer name?” he asked derailing my train of thought.

  “Paige Walsh.”

  “Paige Walsh,” he repeated. “It has a nice ring ta it, I suppose.”

  “Thanks,” I deadpanned.

  “Where do ye hail from, Paige Walsh?”

  “Huh?

  “Where do ye come from, Paige Walsh?”

  “You can call me Paige.”

  “Paige, then,” he said as though trying it on for size as he awaited my response.

  “America.”

  He nodded his head, seemingly accepting my answer.

  “What is your name again?” I already knew of course, but I liked the way he said it.

  “Gavin de Grey, the Laird o’ this fine piece o’ rock.”

  “May I call you Gavin?

  “Nay, lass.” He shook his head.

  “How bout Grey?” Grey was a pretty-sexy name.

  He shook his head again. “Nay, lass.”

  “What should I call you then?
”

  “I thought it was obvious.” His eyes slid into a roll and I wanted to kick him.

  “If it was obvious, I wouldn’t have asked.” My voice came out harsher than I intended but his arrogant demeanor was getting on my nerves.

  “Ye may call me, Laird.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  It seemed the formalities were at an end because he resumed his pacing and began giving me instructions once again.

  “Now…” He gave me a pointed look as he paced. “Ye will cook, clean, and wash my body…” He ticked each task off on his fingers one by one. “And if ye are fortunate and I deem it so…” He stopped in front of me and leaned down, so close, I could see the rings of sapphire surrounding the emerald colored iris of his eyes. “I will also let ye tend me…in bed…” His warm breath wafted over me as the tips of his fingers gently stroked my cheek. Shivers of delight raced over my skin, not only from the action but from the way he spoke, smooth and velvety, like a decadent piece of candy and it took just about everything I had in me not to lean in closer as his sexy smoldering gaze lifted from my face to the aforementioned bed behind me.

  When his words finally registered, I shook some sense back into my mushy brain.

  “Wow.”

  I couldn’t believe his arrogance. Who did he think I was? As if, I would just tumble into bed with him. Not likely. But even as I thought it, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like. And by the looks of him, it would be pretty damn fantastic.

  “I know, lass,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “I am a generous partner in bed and have yet ta hear any complaints.” He added a sly smile that nearly knocked the breath I didn’t realize I was holding from my lungs.

  That faded though, and in its place, a rush of anger shot through me at his audacity. “Of all the egotistical, arrogant, conceited…”

  His smile faded, quickly replaced by a scowl. He dropped his hand and stepped away from me. “Ye can always sleep on the floor.” He flung out his arm indicating the rumpled fur in front of the fire. “Makes no never mind ta me.”

  “Wait…what?” My stomach flipped over on itself at the look of pain that entered his eyes for a brief moment.

  “If ye find me so displeasing…” his velvety voice took on a harsh edge as his eyes hardened against mine. “Ye can sleep on the floor,” he repeated and shrugged his broad shoulders like he could care less.

  That was such a quick turnaround. I felt like I had whiplash. I guessed my face showed my shock because his lips turned up at the corners, just a hint. Was he smirking at me?

  “I will even give ye one o’ the furs from my bed, not the good ones, o’ course.”

  “O’ course,” I mimicked with a hefty amount of sarcasm and a large dollop of disbelief at how quickly the conversation had veered from tending him in bed to sleeping on the floor, alone.

  “Ye may also bathe in the water once I have finished,” he told me and pointed to the now empty tub. “I am finished now, so ye should bathe as well.” He crossed his arms. “See, I am not… inhospitable.” He gave me a small but meaningful smile.

  My blistering rebuttal puttered out at the sight of that smile. I was done for. “Great.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  As I stood over the tub, watching the steam rise, I decided a quick bath wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Peeling off my wet clothing, I dropped them to the floor. Besides, he didn’t leave me much choice. It was either bathe up here, or down in the hall with his men. Luckily, for me, he had matters to attend to, so I was alone to bathe in peace. Bracing my hands on either side of the tub, I slid down into the water. The burning heat immediately warmed my chilled body. I was amazed it was still so hot. Leaning back against the rim of the tub, the water soothed my aching, everything

  Unfortunately, it did little to soothe my brain which was spinning a mile a minute. How many women had that damn gypsy sent here? How was any of this even possible? Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and was now having some kind of concussion induced hallucination…except, I didn’t hit my head until I was already here.

  “Oh hell!”

  Not able to come up with any real answers to the deluge of questions swirling through my mind, I vigorously scrubbed my body with the pathetic sliver of hard soap he deemed worthy for me to use. I noticed he also took the shampoo along with the large bar of soap I had used on him and locked it in the trunk at the bottom of the bed. Lifting up the tiny sliver of soap, I tried my best to wash my hair.

  ‡

  Gavin sat in his usual chair at the head of the table in the great hall as he and his men made quick work of finishing off one of the last remaining barrels of ale they had stolen from one of the neighboring towns.

  Well, it wasn’t stealing per say, he amended, but a lengthy borrow until such time they could replace it with another. Of course, they had nothing to replace it with, so, it would be a really, really, lengthy borrow. But once they had the treasure, he would pay them back tenfold, or so he often told his nagging conscience, time and again to assuage his guilt. The problem, as it had been from the beginning, was getting the treasure out of the cave away from the serpent or ‘the monster’, of the Loch. Now that was the quandary. How did one go about getting a treasure from a monster that he had never seen and sincerely doubted even existed?

  The crone had told him it was real, as real as the mist she had disappeared through. The same mist he had gotten the lass from, in exchange for the latest witches’ freedom. She also told him if he stuck to his end of the bargain, he would be able to retrieve the treasure. But how did one go about sacrificing someone to a monster?

  At the time, he would have agreed to anything…but now, he had to wonder if the treasure was even worth it? His empty belly said yes, his mind and heart had different ideas. He squelched down that foreboding thought, burying deep into his subconscious to attend to at such time he would need to retrieve it.

  Besides, he sincerely doubted it would even come to that because he couldn’t seem to find the bloody monster in the first place. So now, what was he to do with the, lass?

  Keep her?

  She was a comely enough, he supposed, that is, he amended, when she kept her shrewish mouth shut. Aye, she did have a quick temper, he thought, as he remembered how her amber eyes had ignited with fury when he told her to wash the filth from his body.

  He chuckled aloud with the remembrance, which garnered a few curious looks from his men. He ignored them, as he usually did, and soon enough they went back to talking/bickering amongst themselves.

  Aye, he was looking forward to what the lass would do next. For him, that was foreign emotion to him to be sure, especially these days, but he found he was looking forward to it none the less.

  ‡

  The red coals in the fire had turned black by the time I was finished my bath. Bracing myself on the rim of the tub, I pulled my pruned reddened body from the now tepid water. Immediately my nipples hardened into tight buds from the contrast in temperature. Water dripped onto the cold stones under my feet as I used a small dishtowel sized piece of cloth to wipe the excess water from my body. Shivering, I pulled on the gown he was kind enough to leave out for me to wear, or so he told me as he was leaving. At least it was clean, but it made me wonder who in the hell it had actually belonged to.

  ‡

  Much, much later, when I was almost asleep on the smelly fur in front of fireplace, I heard the door scrape against stone. My body tensed immediately. A few moments later, the door scraped shut once more as the heavy clank of metal sounded in the darkness as the bolt was brought down into place.

  “Lass, are ye asleep?” Heavy footsteps thudded on the stones as they drew nearer to my makeshift bed on the floor.

  Feigning sleep, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

  I felt, rather than saw, him standing over me. My heart pounded a mile a minute, drowning out everything else. I held my breath, wondering if he could hear it too.

  When I was almost out of air, he
mumbled some kind of expletive and shuffled back across the room. I gasped for breath as the bed creaked and two distinct thuds hit the floor. More things dropped with a swishing sound and then the bed creaked louder. He emitted a rather loud groan as more swishing and a final creak, sounded.

  “Good night to ye, lass,” he said so low I wasn’t sure if I had heard him or if it was wishful thinking on my part. Either way, the room became quiet. As my eyes drifted shut, the quiet was broken as he started to snore. It started out as a low rumble, at first, but grew in volume as the night progressed. Shoving the fur over my head to buffer the sound, I finally, albeit grudgingly, drifted off to sleep.

  Click or tap the key

  Key THREE

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Gavin stood over her sleeping form, watching the rise and fall of her chest and the way her full lips parted slightly, expelling her breath. Irritation filled him. He swiped his hand over his face and pushed his hair back over his shoulder. Why he was irritated was not something he wanted to ponder overmuch, but it may have had something to do with the fact that when he mentioned her tending him in bed, she didn’t seem overly enthusiastic at the prospect. Women normally fought for his attention and all too willingly fell into his arms without the slightest provocation on his part. Granted, that had not happened for a while since he had recently escaped the hangman’s noose but it had happened before, quite often. Now however, that he was a wanted man, as were the other men with him, there were ‘13’ of them in total and they were damned. So when the King had commandeered them from their fate, which was to die for a paltry misdeed or two and in some cases three, they had all readily accepted the reprieve he had offered them. But he had yet to do what was asked of him and instead of slaying the monster of Loch Morar, and in doing so, retrieve the treasure he was now awaiting the Kings retribution, as one would await the other shoe to drop.

  The other problem was that he also needed to feed his men so they had resorted to stealing, which was another crime punishable by death. He only just missed the hangman’s noose only to be a candidate for the gallows once again if he was ever caught.