when he returned home. Zarik almost laughed. Odhran had the same desire for battle and bloodshed that he did.
“I dinnae ken about the two of ye, but I cannae wait to get back. I need to settle myself between a lass’ thighs.” Torradan wasn’t shy in his needing effects that came over him after a battle. Seemingly enough, he never searched out love, only the comforts any random woman could bring. For his softer personality, this always had shocked Zarik.
Drostan and Zarik groaned. Drostan’s wife was heavy with child; there’d be no relief for him unless it was by his own hand or his leman which he’d sworn he’d stopped seeing after they married. “I’ll just be having some mead.” Drostan smiled at the thought of being able to lose himself in his cups for a while. His wife was driving him mad with her constant complaining. No more children. This one had better be a boy. “Zarik will be joining me as well, I'm sure.” He looked over to his friend and knew Zarik rarely sought physical relief after battle. Zarik felt he was more dangerous when pent up with need.
“Will we have to listen to yer lust all the way back? If so, mayhap ye’ll leave now and get a head start. Aye?” Zarik was in no mood. He’d not been with a lass in a long time and seemed to have no desire to. His need for battle kept him going, seeking the pleasures of a woman made you weak – something he could not afford to ever be. He did, however, seek his pleasure more than his friends believed. He was discreet. As the Laird's son, he didn't want the reputation of a whore son. Or to gain the reputation of taking advantage of his status.
In any case, he couldn’t explain why he´d not been wanting women, so he assumed it would pass in time. Argus, of course, had his own notions that he shared with Niall regularly. It was the belief, of everyone other than him, that he knew in his heart that a woman was coming to him. This was causing him not to seek comfort in the form of any soft body beneath him. To Zarik, it was simple. He’d been tired and working hard. It made sense. Zarik had been dragging himself into bed each night and forcing himself up each morning. Training was taking its toll on him. Though he’d never trained so hard, it felt necessary for some reason.
Torradan didn’t get a chance to answer as they heard a battle cry. It was right behind the other side of the stones and they were surrounded by a second MacLean force. They had been set up. It appeared Lachlann MacLean was a might bit smarter than they’d given him credit for. It was a low handed sneak attack. Cowardly. But it was a smart attack none the less. Perhaps it was Gregor that had planned it rather than his son.
Zarik let out a cry like none Torradan had heard before as he flung his dagger into the MacLean that would have struck Drostan from behind with his sword. Zarik’s perfect aim, landing its mark right in the man’s neck, killing him instantly. He´d not see his best friend´s wife without her husband.
Drostan stared in disbelief for just a moment before sending Zarik an appreciative nod and jumping up with his sword to render his own battle cry.
“Cumnich Bas Alpin!” Zarik raged. “Audentes fortuna juvat.” The battle resumed with fate not on their side. If the MacKinnon’s thought the first part of the battle was a bloody mess, this one was a bloody hell…and just the type of thing Zarik lived for.
Chapter Three
“Show her my feelings?” Galen choked on the words. “Tsarina, let’s go.”
“Wait. You’re going to send us back in time? To where? To what?” Tsarina laughed out loud. She couldn’t help herself. The old woman was crazy and she was buying right into
“I dinnae ken about the two of ye, but I cannae wait to get back. I need to settle myself between a lass’ thighs.” Torradan wasn’t shy in his needing effects that came over him after a battle. Seemingly enough, he never searched out love, only the comforts any random woman could bring. For his softer personality, this always had shocked Zarik.
Drostan and Zarik groaned. Drostan’s wife was heavy with child; there’d be no relief for him unless it was by his own hand or his leman which he’d sworn he’d stopped seeing after they married. “I’ll just be having some mead.” Drostan smiled at the thought of being able to lose himself in his cups for a while. His wife was driving him mad with her constant complaining. No more children. This one had better be a boy. “Zarik will be joining me as well, I'm sure.” He looked over to his friend and knew Zarik rarely sought physical relief after battle. Zarik felt he was more dangerous when pent up with need.
“Will we have to listen to yer lust all the way back? If so, mayhap ye’ll leave now and get a head start. Aye?” Zarik was in no mood. He’d not been with a lass in a long time and seemed to have no desire to. His need for battle kept him going, seeking the pleasures of a woman made you weak – something he could not afford to ever be. He did, however, seek his pleasure more than his friends believed. He was discreet. As the Laird's son, he didn't want the reputation of a whore son. Or to gain the reputation of taking advantage of his status.
In any case, he couldn’t explain why he´d not been wanting women, so he assumed it would pass in time. Argus, of course, had his own notions that he shared with Niall regularly. It was the belief, of everyone other than him, that he knew in his heart that a woman was coming to him. This was causing him not to seek comfort in the form of any soft body beneath him. To Zarik, it was simple. He’d been tired and working hard. It made sense. Zarik had been dragging himself into bed each night and forcing himself up each morning. Training was taking its toll on him. Though he’d never trained so hard, it felt necessary for some reason.
Torradan didn’t get a chance to answer as they heard a battle cry. It was right behind the other side of the stones and they were surrounded by a second MacLean force. They had been set up. It appeared Lachlann MacLean was a might bit smarter than they’d given him credit for. It was a low handed sneak attack. Cowardly. But it was a smart attack none the less. Perhaps it was Gregor that had planned it rather than his son.
Zarik let out a cry like none Torradan had heard before as he flung his dagger into the MacLean that would have struck Drostan from behind with his sword. Zarik’s perfect aim, landing its mark right in the man’s neck, killing him instantly. He´d not see his best friend´s wife without her husband.
Drostan stared in disbelief for just a moment before sending Zarik an appreciative nod and jumping up with his sword to render his own battle cry.
“Cumnich Bas Alpin!” Zarik raged. “Audentes fortuna juvat.” The battle resumed with fate not on their side. If the MacKinnon’s thought the first part of the battle was a bloody mess, this one was a bloody hell…and just the type of thing Zarik lived for.
Chapter Three
“Show her my feelings?” Galen choked on the words. “Tsarina, let’s go.”
“Wait. You’re going to send us back in time? To where? To what?” Tsarina laughed out loud. She couldn’t help herself. The old woman was crazy and she was buying right into
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