T is for Temptation (25 page)

“Don’t get physical, buddy.”

“You two have five giants to worry about. Don’t fight each other,” she warned and concentrated on conjuring Alex in garments similar to the ones the other men wore and herself in attire more appropriate than a knee-length skirt and a sage sweater. A quick dart to the left and Jake’s broad back blocked her from the warriors’ vision.

Alex stopped sputtering expletives as the group of kilted men neared.

The large man who’d shouted seconds earlier clamped thick, calloused fingers around Jake’s bicep.

“Laird, ’tis some years since our last meeting, and talk of your skills reach the farthest village on our fair isle. ’Tis rumored your liege laird spared no expense with your training. And your performance in the
Aquitaine
tourney? As predicted?”

“As expected.”

Tee marveled at the confident delivery of Jake’s ambiguous reply delivered without a moment’s hesitation.

“Are you heading to Brodick?”

Alex’s brown eyebrow lifted at the mention of Brodick, and he shot a swift glance at Jake. Tee caught the surreptitious exchange, and their obvious recognition of the location caused a throbbing at her temples; she pressed a thumb on the spot.

“Who’s the pretty boy?” The giant’s strong jaw chucked in Alex’s direction. The large warrior snorted and made an unfamiliar gesture, its meaning, however, unmistakable and an obscene insult to masculinity.

“Excuse me?” Alex straightened and mimicked the speaker’s wide-legged stance.

“And he has the pretty manners of a courtier.” The man nudged Alex with his shoulder, a hard right jab.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” Alex poked his finger at the man’s face.

“Watch your temper,” Jake warned. “Yes, we’re on our way to Brodick.”

“Where are your mounts then?” one of the other men asked.

Testosterone belligerence bordered on explosion.

Action time.

Mounts she could do without risking error. A nimble jog past the glen’s perimeter into the shadowed forest, a few seconds of intense concentration, and moments later, Tee emerged into the clearing, dressed in a long blue gown she remembered from the cover of an historical romance novel, leading three prime specimens of equine perfection.

Alex’s cobalt eyes crossed.

Stoic expression never wavering, save for the slight twitch under his left eye when he caught sight of her animal companions, a curve softened the tight line of Jake’s mouth as their gazes bumped. His sable eyes smoldered approval, and as soon as she reached his side, he quipped, “I guess this is a clear case of never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Tee puddled into Jell-O.

His warm pinky hooked hers, and her composure returned. Finishing school training kicked in. She smiled at everyone and dipped a curtsey. Masculine approval glistened from five leering faces, and she decided against offering any explanations about her identity.

Jake glowered at the line of soldiers, his dark eyebrows slashing together, and a firm hand circled her waist, long brown fingers splayed, stamping possession. Accepting his claim, she leaned into the embrace, and those black pools went from tinder to flame. Gazes locked, and everything faded into the background, warriors, Alex, the passage of time.

“Crap, you two. Snap out of it.”

Putting action to words, he snapped his fingers right by Tee’s ear and caught the edge of her lobe.

“Ow,” she yelped and shot him a glare.

The interruption brought awareness of the men’s puzzled scrutiny and a mounting rigidness in their stance. All glanced to the giant for guidance, and his features, backlit by the sunlight penetrating smoky cumulus, remained unreadable. Wheat-tipped verdant grass swayed under a long sigh from the gods, and a wave of sparkle-dust ripped through the glen.

A harsh cough trashed her cloud-nine trance, and Tee edged out of the
harbor
of
Jake
’s arms, one reluctant inch at a time. She angled her chin and transferred the reins of one horse to him.

He raised an eyebrow, but accepted the leather reins anyway.

All the while, the kilted men stared at her movements, arms folded across their chests, unsmiling. The giant’s gaze seemed to be shackled to Jake, so Tee sidled to Alex her one intention to get the three of them mounted in case they needed to escape.

Alex’s panicked blue eyes glued to the gentle mare she’d chosen for him, he stumbled backwards as Tee advanced. Turning the animal to conceal the two of them from the others, she whispered, “Take the reins, Alex. I promise this beauty has a wonderful disposition. We’ll let Jake handle the others, and you and I will figure out this part. All right?”

“I’m in a nightmare,” he groaned, retaining enough equanimity to utter the words
sotto voce
. “But, a pretty damned realistic one.”

“We can’t afford any mistakes. Those men have swords.”

His jaw clenched, and storms ripped from those sapphire eyes.

Keeping half an ear on the murmured conversation between Jake and the warriors, she gave Alex no quarter, but launched into a hasty explanation of the rudiments of the equipment and precise instructions on mounting. To complete the condensed lesson, she jumped on her horse and kneed the stallion into position, flanking him.

Pallor claimed his suntanned complexion, and he gripped the mare’s reins as if Nostradamus’s doomed predictions pertained only to him. His knuckles whitened, and apprehension drew his vertebrae into a steel rod.

Brandy, Tee’s favorite stallion, protested the prolonged inaction and sidestepped in flawless dressage alignment, his method of persuading her into gallop. The motion arrested the Scotsmen’s attention. The bearded, scruffiest member of the troop whistled in admiration.

“Arabic horseflesh,” another exclaimed. “A lass from a sultan’s harem, I’ll warrant.”

“The lady rides astride?” This from the giant who appeared to have authority over the rest. “A new leman, Laird? A fetching thing, and she has the color of the East, of golden sunset.”

Tee swallowed. She knew what the term
leman
meant. Whomsoever they thought Jake was, he had mistresses, and the mention of the word
harem
set her nerves a-tingling. It boded no good, not for any female in this century.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Laird, we’ve done your bidding.” The giant’s lean fingers cupped his chiseled jaw, and a massive thumb grazed a steady rhythm over stubble-darkened skin. “As ordered in your last missive, a raid on the border.”

“I ordered no such thing.”

She heard Jake’s low wince and knew he regretted his reflexive answer.

“Now why would a Graham lie to his laird?”

“You’re a Graham?”

Jake hid his surprise, but the tic under his eye came into play, and Tee wished she’d made
Douglas
tell her about the trunk instead of blithely accepting the warlock’s explanation.

“Fostering seems to dull a lad’s memory over time. ’Tis unseemly to forget boyhood friends, Laird.” The giant man wiped his brow with a dusty hand and shook his head, a frown deepening the wrinkles between dirt-streaked wheat eyebrows. “’Tis Tiny Graham, and these are the lads.” He rattled off a series of unusual Scottish names.

Jake muffled a groan, but his fists unclenched, and he swung the reins over his stallion’s head and grasped a handful of chestnut mane. “Of course, I remember. I’m simply surprised to meet you here.”

Careful to keep her eyes hooded, Tee studied the interaction between Jake and the giant, Tiny. She could only marvel at Jake’s equanimity.

“Aye, ’tis a shock for us as well. We expected your return these two weeks hence.”

“Foul weather,” Jake said, flicking Tee a side cut, he added, “We’ll accompany you to Brodick.”

To the left of her stallion, Alex managed to climb onto his mare and fit his feet into the stirrups. He gripped the reins so hard, the veins in his hands bulged.

The kilted men chortled.

Alex glowered.

Mounting his steed with a surprising confidence, Jake led the men ahead of the two of them at a languid walking pace. They halted thirty feet away, waiting for Tee and Alex to catch up.

“Have you ever been on a horse before?”

“Once. Damned animal bit me. Smelly, nasty things.” Alex grimaced.

“Pretty boy’s being helped by the laird’s woman.” Tiny Graham guffawed and called out an obscenity.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“He’s a lot bigger than you. Hold your reins like this.” Tee fixed his hands around the leather strips. “Be gentle with your mare’s mouth. You’ll hurt her if you yank back like that. Give her some rein. Good, a little more. That’s it. Now, when you want to go left, nudge your left leg into her flanks and narrow the reins in the same hand. The reverse for right. Got it?” She gave a quick demonstration, doing a figure eight around him.

“I see Jake’s made himself comfortable,” Alex muttered. “Where’d these things come from? I’m not even going to ask how we changed clothing. Just tell me you admired my naked body while you did it, and I’ll be somewhat appeased.”

“You’re surprisingly calm.”

“Think so?” He arched a brow. “I figure I’m in the middle of one of those nightmares that won’t let you wake up. I decided to enjoy the show.”

“Jake told you the truth, I’m a conjuring witch, and I wished for the clothes and the horses, but not for us being here.” Tee surveyed their immediate surroundings. “To get your horse going, give her a slight pressure with your heels. Sort of a dig, not a kick. A kick is not good.”

“I don’t like this one bit,” he said, but complied with her instructions until the mare plodded forward at a sedate tempo. “Actually, this isn’t so bad.” A wide grin brought a sparkle to his navy eyes. “Heck, I may even take this up sometime.”

“You’re doing great, Alex.”

The Scottish warriors trotted ahead of them, thinning into a single line as the path narrowed, a dense thicket of gargantuan pines lining either side. Shadows dappled the needle-coated earth, and a refreshing pine aroma hit her nostrils as the green spikes snapped and swirled in a tunnel-breeze groaning a low howl.

“If you can wish for horses, why can’t you wish us back to Claridge’s?” Alex cursed when his horse halted.

“I don’t know. It’s worked in the past, sort of. I may not get where I want to on the first try, but, eventually, I end up at the destination I wish for if I don’t allow my mind to wander. Nothing’s working now. I think it’s because the chest brought us here.”

Alex scowled and flicked his horse with the reins. “The blasted animal won’t budge.”

“Give her a good dig with both heels,” she suggested.

He did. No response.

Another one. The mare tossed her head, almost whipping the leather strips from his grip. A lash of frustrated fury licked Alex’s mouth into a sultry snarl, but his reflexive drawing on the reins sawed the bit, and the horse protested with a lash of her back legs. The action threw him off balance, and he drew on the reins further and clamped his legs into her flanks. She reared and then kicked her forelegs high off the ground.

He slid backwards to the edge of the saddle, released his grip on the reins, and grabbed leather, his nose butting the mare’s neck as she straightened into a flying leap forward and settled into a fast canter, hooves pounding pine needles as they flew past Tee, Jake, the warriors.

Breathing stammering to a halt, Tee spurred Brandy into a gallop and followed in Alex’s wake, noting that the terrain widened into rocky shrubs at the end of the evergreen channel. Concussion, images of broken limbs, bloodied skin, drove her actions, and Tee edged her stallion faster, knowing he’d outpace the little mare, it just a question of how much harm could happen before that. A few more seconds and she paralleled Alex, readying to jump the space between the racing horses.