AT SUNSET THE McAra came to the solar to personally escort Althea and Brennus to the feast. As they walked with him through the corridors the laird apologized for not being better prepared.

“’Twould have been a grander celebration, Chieftain, if my servants had some months to prepare,” he told Brennus. “My poulterers keep an adequate stock of squab and game birds, of course, and the hunters supply enough deer, hare and boar to feed the king’s court. Still, I should have liked to offer a more impressive meal.” He frowned. “Mayhap I should have ordered an ox slaughtered. Or do you crave a particular delicacy, my lady? Our ladies greatly favor milk-boiled eel.”

Althea swallowed and smiled. “Ah, no, my lord.”

Hundreds of McAra clansman and their wives packed the laird’s great hall. The crowd fell silent as they bowed and curtseyed when Maddock entered. Althea admired their fine garments but felt more awed by the feast itself. Towering platters of meats and breads and enormous crocks of soups and stews crammed every table in sight. The dishes had been grouped by color, creating a rainbow effect across the hall. Serving maids stood ready with steaming ewers of sauces and bottles of dark wine. Behind them a trio of men filled tankards and goblets with whiskey from kegs the size of a compact car.

“Welcome, my kin,” Maddock said, and clapped Brennus on the shoulder. “I present to you Chieftain Brennus of the Clan Skaraven, protectors of the McAra. He asks naught from us but friendship. So to honor our debt to his clan, we shall give him our loyalty. From this day forth, the McAra serve the Skaraven as sworn allies. Make your vow before him now.”

“Tha mi a ‘gealltainn,” the men and women of the clan called out.

When Althea turned a quizzical look to Brennus, he leaned toward her. “I promise,” he translated.

Guards marched through the assembly to open a long series of panels at the back of the hall, which revealed an outdoor courtyard lit by huge torches and furnished with long trestle tables. Musicians played lilting songs on lutes and reed pipes as the clan helped themselves to the food and went out to sit under the stars.

Althea and Brennus sat at the laird’s table, along with Cadeyrn and Taran and the McAra’s chieftains, stablemasters and garrison captains. Since her fake Scottish accent needed more practice Althea stayed quiet and listened to the men discuss the recent attacks on towns and villages to the west of their territory.

“I had word today of a druid settlement being burned in the northern highlands,” Maddock told Brennus. “’Twas an odd thing, for they found no dead. Only great furrows in the ground. The same as found at the villages attacked and massacred by strange warriors. One lad who survived swore they came from the ground, like giant voles.”

Brennus exchanged a look with Cadeyrn. “In the time of Ara the Skaraven battled such an enemy. Carved wooden giants called the famhairean, they were brought to life by druid bloodshed. They could dig through the earth faster than the swiftest mount. With one clout they could crush the strongest warrior.”

The men around the table fell silent as the laird nodded. “We, too, have legends of the famhairean, and the mad lovers who used them against mortal and druid kind. ’Twas said they met defeat in battle with your clan.”

“For a time, aye, they did. The druids entrapped them for eternity in a spell prison.” Brennus glanced at Althea. “They escaped and returned to seek vengeance against the Skaraven and the tree-knowers. They mean to rid the world of mortal kind.”

Maddock took a long swallow from his tankard. “Do the Skaraven stand against them once more, Chieftain?”

“Aye. We shall fight the famhairean until we rid the world of them.” Brennus grinned broadly. “And at dawn we shall ride into battle from here on our fine McAra horses.”

The laird’s men roared their approval and thumped the table with their fists so hard their trenchers jumped.

The laird stood and raised his whiskey. “May the Gods bless our clans with victory.”

“Victory,” his men said, and raised their drinks before draining them in one swallow.

The clan’s pipers stood and played a loud, fierce tune. From the great hall two men dressed in stuffed, shaped burlap horse-and-rider costumes trotted out. Althea joined in with the general laughter as the two mock riders drew wooden swords and jousted at each other. After them came a group of young boys dressed in what had to be their fathers’ tunics and tartans, in which they capered comically with the mock horsemen as they tried to steal their blades.

One of the boys brought a fistful of wildflowers to Althea, and bowed like a courtier as he presented them.

“My thanks,” she told the lad, who blushed and hurried away to fling himself into the arms of the laird’s wife. “How sweet.”

“My youngest lad,” Maddock said, sounding gloomy. “He’ll no’ take up the blade. Spends every day in the gardens troweling in the dirt and plucking posies.” His mouth twitched. “Just as I did as a lad.”

Althea felt Brennus stiffen beside her, and followed the direction of his gaze to the last performer entering from the hall. Two men wore a costume of white wool that had been stuffed and tied to resemble a giant stag, complete with a spiky rack of real, bleached horns. Instead of trotting through the tables, the mock-stag delicately minced its way toward the laird’s table.

Brennus got to his feet as the stag stopped beside him, and stared down at the knots of wool that formed the eyes.

The stag bowed its straw and wool head to the chieftain before it walked into the shadows.

“The white stag was the symbol of our ancient Pritani tribe,” Maddock said to Brennus. “’Twas no’ meant to offend you, Chieftain.”

“It doesnae,” he said, and sat back down. Under the table he took hold of Althea’s hand. “But I feel the hand of the Gods tonight, Maddock McAra.”

The laird smiled. “Now you walk in my boots, Brennus Skaraven.”

Once they had finished eating, Brennus formally thanked the laird and his lady for the generous feast, and took Althea upstairs to the rooms that had been provided for them and their men.

Althea smiled at the big cabinet bed draped in lace and festooned with flowers, and turned to see Brennus leaning against the door and watching her.

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “You must be tired.”

He shook his head.

“The clan will be here at dawn,” she said. Feeling a twinge of mischief, she moved to stand in the shaft of moonlight streaming in from the high, narrow window covered with a fine netting. “We should get some sleep.”

The chieftain turned and inspected the door, which had no lock or bolt bar. He dragged one of the dainty chairs by the fireplace over to it, tipped it, and wedged it under the knob.

Althea reached behind her waist for the ties that cinched the back of her gown, tugging them loose. “I think I’d better stay in this. Unless you want to get a maid to help me undress.”

Brennus shook his head again as he advanced on her.

She turned her back on him as she went over to look through the window netting. “Oh, what a nice view. I want to sleep on this side of the bed.”

His hands gripped her waist. “’Tis sleep you want, my lady?”

Althea loved that he didn’t hesitate to touch her anymore. “I don’t know.” She bent over, resting her elbows on the sill and tilting her hips, just enough to brush the back of her skirts against the front of his trousers. “We’ve seen the horses, met everyone, and even had dinner and a show. Maybe the laird has some board games in here.”

“Are you bored, my lady?” Brennus murmured as he slid one hand around to hold her just under her breasts, and used the other to tug loose the ties over her spine.

“One thing I’m never with you, Bren, is bored.” She closed her eyes as he pressed his mouth to her nape.

Her bodice began to sag, and his big hand tugged it away from her bare breasts.

“You didnae wear that hooked band today,” Brennus said, stroking his fingers over her curves.

“The straps would have shown, and I’m not sure how to explain what a bra is to medieval people.” She caught her breath as he tugged on one tight nipple. “Don’t you believe me?”

“No,” he murmured against her ear. “I suspect you like being bare under your gown. To feel the silk on your skin. To be ready for my touch.”

She rubbed her bottom slowly over the straining bulge of his erection. “Maybe I wanted you to think about it too. You knew I was naked under this gown.”

“Every moment of this day.” He cupped her breasts and kneaded them slowly. “I want you naked for me now, Althea.”

Shivering, she straightened, and pulled her arms out of the gown. Leaning back against him, she wriggled until she eased the bodice over her hips, and let it and the skirts fall to the floor.

“Bathe in the moonlight for me.” Brennus took her hands, bracing them on either side of the window, and nudged her feet apart. “Your skin glows in it.”

She heard him undressing behind her, and lifted her face into the soft white light, hoping that it made her look as beautiful as he made her feel.

His heat moved over her as he came closer, and then his hands gripped her hips as he shifted her over him. The slick head of his cock found the wet, swollen seam of her sex, and slid against it to part her folds and graze her pulsing clit. She tried to impale herself on him, but he eluded her, and continued the slow, sliding strokes against her pussy.

“’Tis turnabout, my lady,” Brennus said, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “You had your way with me at Dun Mor. Now I’ll have mine.”

His way was to drive her to climax with his torturous rubbing shaft, she thought, and dragged in a steadying breath. “Maybe you should chain me.”

“I think on it.” He pulled her hair away from her neck and tasted her skin there. “No’ with chains, but silk laces.” He barely moved against her now, the ridge of his cockhead working back and forth over her clit. “I think on having you kneel before me, your pretty mouth open for me.” He nuzzled her ear. “Some night would you take me thus, Althea? As I watch you do it?”

“Only if you don’t tie my hands.” She felt the need like fever now. It was going to burn her alive. “I want them on you too.”

Brennus reached between their sexes to work his satiny bulb into the clenching ellipse of her softness. Once he had pushed in until she enveloped his cockhead, he clamped an arm around her waist and skewered her with his shaft.

“When McAra spoke of making you his bedding wench, I near snapped his neck,” he said, his voice taking on a dark edge. “No man facks you but me, Althea.”

His jealousy scared her a little, but it also gave her a fierce satisfaction. “Same here. No bedding wenches for you–” She lost the rest of it in a cry of delight as he stroked in and out of her. “Oh, Brennus. Oh, finally.”

“Aye, I ken how you crave this.” He drove into her deeper, slowing his thrusts as she tightened around him. “As do I.”

Her breasts bounced from the force of his pumping, relentless cock, and Althea cried out as the drenching, throbbing core of her need billowed around him. He must have felt it, for he lifted her off her feet and worked her on his shaft, driving her sex over him as he plowed deep.

Althea whimpered, trying not to scream, but he sensed that too. His hand clamped over her mouth as he told her, “Squeeze me again with your quim. Bite my flesh. Do as I tell you, Althea.”

She drove her teeth into his hand and gripped his cock, and her body stiffened as her climax ripped through her. She heard him mutter low, rough words against her ear as he fucked her through the explosions of sensation. Then, somehow, she was falling, and Brennus was on top of her on the bed, still pumping between her thighs, still pounding her spasming pussy. The cabinet around them began to rock and squeak, but Althea couldn’t stop him. She writhed under him, pinned between his hard body and her own needs, which flared up as if she’d never come. Then it came again, bliss atop bliss, and she flung her arms around his neck as she brought his panting mouth down to hers.

His muscles bunched and stretched under her touch once, twice, and then he shook all over as he pulsed inside her. The jets of his seed bathed her from within, soft and warm and wet, and when he collapsed on her she held him as tightly as she could.

“No, don’t do that,” she whispered when he shifted as if he meant to roll away. “I want you right here.”

Brennus lifted his head to kiss her brow, sighing against it before he looked into her eyes. “You would kill that little laird in bed.”

“That’s your fault. You’ve reset my standards to impossible.” She didn’t want to move again, but dawn wasn’t that far away. That thought also reminded her of the conversation they needed to have about the future, their future, but this wasn’t the right time for that, either. “But we can’t sleep like this. It’ll be a replay of last night, when I had my way with you three, no, four times.”

Gently he withdrew from her, and tugged back the coverlet to drape it over their hot, damp bodies. As he gathered her against his side, he said, “’Twill be well, Althea. I promise you.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek over his ink, drifting off a moment later.

The sound of footsteps dragged her awake, and she sat up to see Brennus still sleeping beside her. He’d kicked off the coverlet, and stretched out, taking up most of the bed.

Even immortal medieval warriors were bed hogs, she thought, and smothered a yawn. That was when she spotted two shadows moving through the light coming under the door from the hall.

Wrapping the coverlet around her, she went to the door and removed the chair in order to peek out. In the passage Cadeyrn was walking down the length of the hall, only to turn and walk back toward her.

Althea slipped out of the chamber and gently closed the door before she regarded him. “What are you doing out here?”

“My duty,” he said drily. “I dinnae fall asleep if I walk, my lady. Go back to bed. ’Twill soon be dawn.”

“Brennus didn’t order you to stand guard. We’re fine. Go to bed yourself.” When he shook his head she beckoned to him and moved to the end of the hall. “Brennus wanted to kill the laird for just talking about bedding me. If anyone comes in our room who isn’t Skaraven, they’re going to die. Badly. You don’t have to do this.” From his stony expression he didn’t agree. “I’ve got this all wrong. Okay, why are you standing guard?”

“’Twas my turn.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Taran, Ruadri and I stand guard each night outside the chieftain’s chamber. Some others as well.” He met her gaze. “’Tis to protect you, my lady. To be ready should you call out or scream.”

“But Brennus is right there and he would…oh, no.” She took a step back from him. “You haven’t just been standing guard. You’ve been eavesdropping.”

“’Twas plain to us that you and the chieftain…” He stopped and then tried again. “We didnae listen at the door. We’ve only been ready to break in and pull him away if need be.”

“You thought he was going to hurt me.” Her eyes widened. “In bed.”

Cadeyrn looked as uncomfortable as she felt now. “The chieftain told you about the pleasure lasses brought to us. ’Tis all we ken of females. We worried he wouldnae…be proper and gentle with you.”

“Well, he is. And when he’s not, I like that too. Forget I said that.” She rubbed her forehead and dropped her arm. “Cade, I know you have good intentions, and I’m the first woman you’ve ever talked to, but you’re wrong. Brennus would cut off his own arm before he hurt me. Also, what he and I do in private is really none of your business.” A thought occurred to her. “This is why you were so angry with him this morning. Why you tried to warn me later.”

He nodded slowly. “’Twas meant kindly, my lady.” He glanced at the chamber door. “Do you still wish to return to the future?”

“For what? He’s here. I love him.” Until this moment she hadn’t consciously decided that, or realized how deeply she felt about Brennus. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cadeyrn stunned her by enveloping her in his arms and giving her a hard hug. Immediately he stepped back. “I’ll find my bed now.”

Althea watched him walk down and disappear into another chamber. “Mercy, does this mean I have to have a talk with the entire clan?”