A Warrior's Perception Read online

  A Warrior’s Perception

  Written by Spring Stevens

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, places, or incidents are solely the author’s imagination.

  Copyright © 2012 by Spring Stevens

  All rights reserved

  Other works available:

  Awakening Love’s Prophecy

  Book 1 Awakening series

  This book is dedicated to Ruby Saylor Alcorn

  Thanks for being such a wonderful friend; I do not know what I would have ever done without you!

  Chapter 1

  Scotland 1570

  The sixteen-year old daughter of Sir Adalie Duncan sat on the top step of the massive alabaster staircase overlooking the gigantic ballroom of Shinonoble Keep. Her eyes were glued to the scene before her. The ladies, if that is what one could call them, were swooning and awing at the warriors that had strolled into the newly polished and gold adorned room.

  Her father, Duncan the Mighty, had received the letter from the laird's scribe only two days prior, advising the Laird of Doilshire had returned from the war that plagued the highlands. Andra's heart swelled with pride, knowing her big brother Crimm was among his warriors.

  Laird McKregan's reputation preceded him, a god of war, merciful to the weak, and even tales of his womanizing were scant to his powers in battle. Andra had listened intently in secret as the maids at the keep lustily talked about his six and a half foot muscled frame and his godlike features. They had said to be in his arms for naught but an hour would be a heaven sent blessing. Ell'andra Jaqualine Duncan would not have missed this for the world.

  As the tall, kilt clad warriors stalked farther into the room; her eyes grew wide with fascination. They were absolutely gorgeous, every single last one of them. She gazed at the mighty warriors; taking note of their shaven beards and long hair that was neatly tied back at the nape of their necks. Each one was at least six foot tall, broad shouldered, sun kissed, and muscled from the top of their heads to the tips of their red buckskinned covered toes. Wearing kilts of red slashed with silver and long flowing cloaks that hung loosely around their bare chests and shoulders, they were a feast for the eyes.

  Andra could see every chiseled inch of manly flesh from forehead to waist. Some were smooth, some were hairy, but all were walls of defined steel. They could very well have just walked away from some mighty battle with their swords hanging by their sides and bloodlust still in their eyes.

  Ell'andra strained her ears as they spoke. Her father stood, his five foot eleven inch frame now seemed lacking, but his mighty stance would still put fear into the guts of his enemies. His curly red hair, now streaked with strands of silver, flamed under the chandelier's candlelight. The last twenty years had taken its toll but he was still a proud warrior regardless that he had become a boyar.

  When he spoke all listened, “Welcome, welcome to Shinonoble Keep, come join us for feast and wine, let us celebrate yer mighty victory.”

  The tallest of the warriors smiled and answered, “Thank ye Duncan, the men are in need of rest and food. Some entertainment would do justice to their weariness.” A crooked boyish smile spread across his impressive lips.

  Duncan bowed slightly, “Then by all that is just, come and enjoy the bounty at Shinonoble Keep!”

  As if on cue, Crimm Duncan graced the room with his appearance. His fair light brown hair fanned down his shoulders, streaked with honey colored highlights. His attributes were quite different than the others warriors, but he was as equally if not more handsome. Brilliant green eyes that were shaped like almonds rested above high cheekbones and a straight narrow nose. The perfection of his nose flared when his mood was ill and his strong jaw line was set and prevailed against all odds.

  He smiled at his father and grabbed a cup from the tray that a plump little maid offered to his hand. His emerald green eyes scanned the large room for signs of his little sister. He had missed her and longed for one of their heated debates. She would surely have grown several inches in the last five years and her dainty little figure would be in pre-womanhood bloom.

  Andra stared at the tall, sinewy, handsome stranger. His voice was intoxicating and pounded at her chest and his hair begged her fingers to work their way down its length. He was absolutely remarkable, downright glorious. Her mind was slammed with childhood stories of knights in shining armor and prince charming saving the damsel in distress.

  Her young heart beat wildly with excitement as she saw an equally handsome man to the tallest one's right. He was slightly shorter but he was dangerous looking and held a distinguished air about him. His thick hair was as black as night hanging down his back between his massive shoulder blades unbraided. How strange that he was the only one of the warriors who did not wear a braid or a cloak. Upon his chest lay the crest of McKregan; it was a lion, apparently lanced into his skin with red and gray dye.

  His muscles rippled under bronzed skin that clearly was as bronze under his kilt as it was across his splendid chest. His features were cut from the finest canvas and sewn together by the hands of the gods themselves. His dark eyebrow was well defined and cradled his eyes with the exquisite hand of fierce vitality. A perfectly formed nose molded itself above a roguish smile and square jaw.

  Andra took a deep ragged breath as she looked upon this perfect man, the one she knew must be the laird. His name spilled from her lips, “Laird Kagan Arkanine McKregan.”

  He was perfect in form, in face, and even more remarkable than the men beside of him. She wanted to meet him, wanted to see what color his eyes were, wanted to know if he was indeed the warrior she had heard tales of.

  Her heart stopped as she realized he would just dismiss her. She quickly looked at herself, and frowned. She thought of herself as rather homely, her sea green eyes were too big, her lips were even bigger, and she was quite plump to put it nicely.

  A tear shimmered in her eye as she fancied his first response. He would give her a quick look, nod his beautiful head and forget he had ever met such a homely creature. No, fat little Andra would never do, she would have to be a real beauty to catch that man's eye.

  She stood stiffly and slipped down the staircase into the shadows along the wall. She eased herself along the ballroom wall towards the balcony and slipped out of the huge double doors. Hiking up her skirts she effortlessly scaled down the wall on the vines and overgrowth. Her bare feet hit the grass with a soft thud and instantly her long gold streaked mousy brown hair trailed behind her as she fled through the moonlit garden and around the backside of the keep.

  At least she could see their warhorses. They were no doubt awesome creatures and Andra loved horses better than anything in the world. In her life there was nothing quite as exceptional as a warrior’s steed! Or perhaps the warrior himself!

  Unbeknown to Andra, a figure caught her delicate movement down the steps. He followed her slowly, his curiosity getting the better of him. An amused grin brandished his devilishly handsome face as he watched the girl catch up her skirts and climb down the wall, barefoot no less. He chuckled softly as her long mane blew back in her maddening race through the garden. Now, just where was the girl going at this late of an hour? Perhaps, a lover awaited her arrival.

  He swung over the balcony and followed his prey with ease. He leaned on the keeps stonewall as she neared the stables. Kagan watched the girl coo and pet the warhorses. Not an easy feat to accomplish even for a man. His horses were trained to be willing only to their master.

  This girl had easily won their hearts and his amazement grew as she opened the gated stall door to his own horse, Demon. Kagan edged closer fearful of his steeds instant rebuttal. He quickly rounded the corner, but sank back into the shadows at the door as Demon snorted softly a
nd nudged her steady hand. Watching her intently, he wondered if she were mad.

  Astonishment filled his brow. Now, he understood. She had no fear of the horses, no fear at all. She was a mere mouse compared to the horse but Demon pranced happily as the girl brushed his mane and whispered into his ear.

  “How beautiful ye are. So strong and gentle. Yer mane is silk and yer coat shines as brightly as the sun. Ye are amazin'. What I would gi'e to ride ye just for a minute. To ha'e ye bareback against my legs, to feel yer wild heart beat with pleasure as we race across the hillside.”

  Kagan's heart flipped and his jaw dropped. Never had he heard such blissful words come from a woman's mouth and now this girl whispers to a horse what he would suffer the worst pains to hear from a woman strong enough to sit bareback across his manhood. Of all the lovers he had taken, not one of them whispered to him words such as these. Of course, none of them ever held his attention, his undivided attention, like this brazen beauty did. His manhood hardened as she continued her innocent appraisal of Demon.

  “If men were horses, ye would surely out rank 'em all. Yer all muscle and divine strength behind that silky black hair. Oh, to ha'e yer proud, mighty, gorgeous flanks under me for just an hour, to be astride ye, dear powerful dark warrior would be more wonderful than words can express. If I mount ye, would ye tell? If I stole just a minute to explore yer long powerful legs, would ye keep it a secret? A secret just 'tween us?”

  Kagan's eyes widened in shock as the girl stepped up onto the wooden slates and eased herself atop Demon's back. And Demon did not protest! He nodded his head as if he understood what she wanted.

  The pair eased from the stall and stepped down the stable toward Kagan. Demon sensed his master's presence and paused, looking into Kagan's eyes as if he were asking permission to let the girl ride him. Kagan rolled his eyes and threw him a “go ahead” look. Demon snorted and left the barn with his precious cargo attached firmly to his backside.

  Kagan watched as the pair raced toward the sloping hillside. The girl's hands and arms were outstretched, trusting the stallion completely, trusting he would give her the ride of her life. Kagan groaned slightly and wanted to give her a ride she would never forget.

  She returned as breathless as Demon. Kagan watched as her skirts pulled up as she dismounted Demon's back. His eyes rested on her lovely legs and backside.

  Flawless.

  She paid her skirts no heed as Kagan sized her up. Spellbound, he could only stare at her ethereal beauty. She was young, probably very innocent and ripe. Her large intelligent eyes filled her beautiful face and her lips were full and exquisitely perfect as was her straight tiny nose. Her breast was large and bountiful and stretched her top taunt. Her long silky hair hung below her waistline, which was still filled with childhood plumpness. Her waist gave way to her deliciously round hips and flawless legs.

  She was indeed a very sultry young woman and in a year or two she would be a breathtaking beauty. Her plump childish features would melt away, revealing the woman Kagan was already seeing. He wondered who she was and wanted to know her name. And what the laird wanted, the laird got!

  The laird emerged from the shadows and stalked closer to his prey, “Pray thee girl, ye did'na harm my steed.”

  The girl jerked upright from her position beside the warhorse. The resonating deep voice sizzled up her spine and the heavy brogue barricaded her senses. She feverishly fought with her skirts to hide her legs and backside. Frowning, he wondered what it was about her that affected him so. He had lain with women of all ages, from the pretty to the most beautiful, but yet this female was enchanting and alluring beyond compare.

  Her face flamed as the voice behind her continued, “Men ha'e died by my hand o'er that horse. Do ye wish the same fate?”

  Andra turned fearful of the man's dangerously deep voice, “P...Pardon my ignorance, I.”

  He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him in the scant light that the moon offered. He peered into the most beautiful sea green eyes he had ever seen and his heart somersaulted.

  He faltered at her distressed appearance and his cold words turned soft, “Today, I will forgive such weakness to horse flesh, but yer crime must na go unpunished, for the Laid McKregan must abide his own rules.”

  Andra expected his hand to ring across her cheek so she closed her eyes and waited. To her surprise it didn't come. She slowly opened her eyes and fearfully looked up into the laird's hooded face. She swallowed hard. The laird was tall, broad, and entirely masculine. His scent of horse and leather made her dizzy and she grabbed his arm to steady her shaking legs. The touch was electrifying and she struggled to breath. Oh, he was a veritable ocean of pleasure.

  “Donna fear me,” he whispered as his head bent and his massive arms pulled her to his chest.

  Her eyes widened in pure shock as the laird laid claim to her tender lips. It was a soft, light, and delightful kiss. She innocently leaned closer and returned the kiss. He was caught in his own trap, a bee addicted to his own honey. The kiss deepened, his tongue licked hers and sucked greedily at her sweetness, the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted. Her smell, honey and vanilla, filled his nostrils and danced through his senses.

  Pushing her roughly back against the stone wall of the stable, he molded her body to his raw rigid frame. He lifted her in his arms as he pushed his tongue deeper into her warm sultry mouth. She tasted like honeyed milk, nectar of the gods. Taking him by surprise, she responded quickly, sucking on his tongue as eagerly as he had on hers. He broke the kiss, knowing where it would lead. She was young; perhaps even a virgin, ready and willing, but still a virgin all the same. His shaft was ablaze, but he refrained.

  “Was that my punishment?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Only part of it,” he replied as he kissed her neck, “Tell me yer name.”

  He licked her ear and lightly sucked and slid his hands down her sides grabbing her waist. He pushed hard into her body, spreading her legs with his. A feral roar greeted her ears as his lips tasted her skin.

  “Ell'andra,” she whispered as he showered her face with searing kisses. “Tis Ell’andra.”

  “Ell'andra Duncan,” she moaned as he brushed her lips.

  Duncan!

  Damn. Double damn.

  He owed Duncan much; the man had been irreplaceable in the war after Kagan's father had passed. Duncan was loyal and his loyalty was unwavering. He simply could not deflower his daughter in a fit of passion in a dirty stable.

  Damn, did she have to be so willing and passionate? He urged his hands to let her go, but they traveled to her skirts instead. He needed to run his hands down the course of her flawless leg and seeing as how he was lost in the moment, he pulled her leg up to his waist. He groaned as it instinctively curled around his waist and gave in to the pleasure of her touch. His fingers trailed down the length of her smooth leg to her toes. She wiggled against him and he groaned into her neck. Double damn; did she have to fit so perfectly to his body?

  Flawless!

  He devoured her lips as she grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, deeper. Her hand tugged at the leather strap holding his hair. It gave way and she wrapped her fingers into his black mane. She tugged his head back and showered his neck with feather-light scorching kisses, falling into a depraved urgent need to feast on a man so utterly perfect.

  Andra felt the urgency of the raw desire burning inside her stomach, in her loins as Laird McKregan slammed her back into the wall. His hands melted to her buttocks holding her tightly against his hips, to his hardness, to his raw steel. She moaned as his mouth besieged hers once again and his rock hard body delighted the yearning of her own.

  She met his kiss with a passion that burned to his core. His shaft threatened to erupt as she clung to his shoulders and arched against him. She was in heaven's floodgates, soaring to heights and places she had never seen. And the Lord McKregan was in utter awe of the fire in her soft supple body.

  He pulled back and silently cursed as he tore
away from her. She slid down his hot, sweaty body, such sweet torture. She leaned back against the wall, breathless and lost in lusty heat and he was right there with here. He turned quickly on his heel, fists at his side and stalked away, away from her, his traitorous horse, and from the sweet release he had almost lost control of.

  He prayed to his god, Dagma, to give him strength not to turn back and finish what had begun. Only seconds from losing all restraint, he did what a warrior had to do in times such as these, he slammed his mighty fist into the closest tree and cursed the likes of which a pirate would have been proud of. The tree shuddered and bent under the savage onslaught. Its pain was his. Pain, glorious pain burst from his knuckles revealing the crimson stream of his mortality. He welcomed it as his shaft eased.

  How in the name of Dagma had a sixteen-year old virgin seduced him, Laird Kagan McKregan, lover to many far and wide?

  He cursed under his breath as her words to Demon mocked him. ...bareback against my legs....yer wild heart beat with pleasure....to be astride ye, dear dark, powerful warrior...

  “Dagma!”

  His furious footsteps slowly eased as he entered the keep through the main entrance. He had simply gone too long without a woman in his bed. That was it by Dagma. He would nip that problem in the bud before the night was over.

  His roguish smile had returned when he reentered the ballroom in his full glory. Duncan laughed heartily with Kagan's men. They boasted and told tales of battle. The ladies, maids, wives, and even the respected elder women swooned in the warrior's presence. Kagan eyed them all, each one was tall, dark haired, and their skin was the color of goat's milk. He frowned, all of them suddenly seemed weak and inferior compared to the girl in the stable.

  “Come my laird; join us in drink, in song. We celebrate this mighty night, yer victory, and yer glory!” Duncan announced loudly.

  “Aye!” shouted his men, his friends.