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“I-I didnae hear ye approach.” Caelan wanted to curse at his obvious comment and ensured a flat expression. “We will see.”
“Ye hate me.”
It was a statement that did not warrant a reply, so he remained quiet and turned away from the green with gold speckled gaze.
“Men like us...”
“Do not speak of whatever ye consider that we have in common. I do not wish to hear it.” Caelan cut him off. “I came here to rest my mind to prepare for the morrow.”
When Lachland chuckled, Caelan fought the urge to punch him square in the face. Instead he kept his gaze on the small boat that had made it to the shoreline. The fisherman jumped out and pulled it onto the sand.
“Have ye thought of how it felt to have my cock inside ye?” Lachland said, instantly causing Caelan’s breath to catch. “I do. I remember what it felt to fuck ye.”
Unsure why, Caelan turned to look toward the tree line. Immediately regretting it when Lachland touched his arm. “I see ye do.”
“I wish to be alone.”
“Aye so do I.”
When he turned, Lachland walked toward the trees, his stride sure atop the sandy surface that would have most men struggling to keep their balance over the sandy and rocky terrain. Not Lachland. It was as if he walked on a grassy surface as he turned away from the trees and headed toward the guard house.
Caelan let out a long breath and closed his eyes. Whatever it took, he would ensure not to be alone. The intimate time with Lachland was etched in his mind and each time he saw the man all he could think of was being touched, taken and kissed by him.
The pads of his fingers slid over where Lachland had touched him on the lower arm. Just the light touch had sent awareness through him.
That night, the full moon gave plenty of light for walking outside next to the guardhouse.
A privy of sorts had been set up, with a hole dug in between three walls for the guards to relieve themselves.
Caelan was exiting from one upon noticing movement between trees. It was an instant before recognizing the large body that emerged from the shadows. It was Lachland.
Just as he was about to turn away, Caelan changed his mind. He wasn’t going to act as if the man intimidated him.
Lachland approached. “Looking for me?”
“Nae. I was not.”
The male had the nerve to grin, the smile not reaching his eyes. Then he shoved Caelan back against a tree. Before he could react, Lachland’s mouth was over his. The kiss was raw, without emotion, proprietary. And so very good.
Just as Caelan was to reach for Lachland, to pull him closer, he realized it was best not to give in to the arrogant man. Instead, Caelan shoved him backward.
Their chests heaved, but it was Caelan who regained control first. “Never do that again.” He turned and stalked away.
Chapter Four
The buzz of excitement was in the air. From what Caelan heard, there hadn’t been a celebration in Taernsby in months and the people were more than ready.
Overnight tents with colorful banners had been added to the few from the day before. Spectator stands had been erected for those who wished to watch the competition from a short distance.
On a grassy hillside, families and children sat or lay on blankets, the mothers doing their best to keep up with the bairns who used any opportunity to escape.
Stables for those competing on horseback were set up behind tents where competitors could keep any items they didn’t wish to carry. Outside the flap, a guard was posted to ensure nothing was stolen.
Along with Brock, Caelan arrived and went to the tent to deposit their bows and quivers. It would be a few hours before they had to compete.
“I see a lass I know.” Brock stuck out his chest and hurried away in the direction where two young women sat on a blanket.
Caelan chuckled at his friend’s obvious attempt to impress the women.
