Page 17 of The Empire and the Wolf King

“And tis my rightful place, much more than Arse-gall’s. How could I stand for nae being on the list of kings… with Arse-gall’s name on it instead?”

“I don’t know, that definitely doesn’t sound like something you can stand for.”

“But I would trade the throne for m’brother’s life. In a second. Even when the Scottish throne was the first thing he truly admired me for.”

“You have another throne in the future.”

“Aye, and without the one in the past I would nae hae an empire. I dinna want one in the first place, empires are hard tae hold. When ye are spread out ye become weak.”

“Asgall’s got kinda an empire, he’s spread out, he’s weak.”

“Aye, he is also dead. He just daena ken it yet.”

“God you’re hot when you’re murderous.”

“Women are verra odd with their lust.”

“I’m not necessarily like other women, you mean to say.” I said, with a Scottish accent, “‘Kaitlyn is verra odd with her lust.’”

His arms tightened around me. “And Magnus is lustful when his wife has the brogue on her tongue — what were we talkin’ about?”

I said, “Trying to figure out if we could do something to get Sean back.”

He exhaled, long, against my ear. “I daena ken, mo reul-iuil, I haena ever saved someone from death through time travel. I daena think I hae the power, but I made so many poor decisions and created the circumstances that got him killed, if I could fix it so that it dinna weigh on m’shoulders that twas my fault, I would. If only I knew what tae try.”

I nuzzled against his chest. “You must still be exhausted, you’ve barely slept in days, how come you’re awake?”

“Too much on m’mind, but also we went tae bed while it was barely dark. We hae been lyin’ here in a stranger’s hayloft for hours. Even as a king in m’own bed, in m’fine chamber, with a full staff, I rarely get tae sleep for hours on end, and here I am expected tae do it with straw stickin’ in m’arse.”

He rolled over to his side, pushing and pulling the blanket and me and the straw of our bed, making the effort seem overly exhausting. Then, facing me he pulled my hips close and my thigh up on his hip. “Och, tis better. Now I can sleep.”

His eyes were closed, but then almost impossible to see in the darkness, his brow raised, and he said, “I think, Madame Campbell, I might want tae give ye a toss in the hay.”

“That sounds lovely.”

I kissed his lips, long and luxuriously, and then said, “Ow,” and pulled a piece of hay from my hair, and another from under my side.

He patted his chest. “Ye will hae tae climb on, we need tae protect ye from the pokies.”

I giggled and climbed on him and after a great deal of laughter, fumbling with the many buttons on his breeches, we finally got them down to his knees and we made love in the hay of a stranger’s loft in the darkness long before morning.

A long time later, astride his hips, my hands pressed against his chest, breathing heavily, after a climax that rocked my world, I whispered, “Oh wow, that was perfectly done, Master Magnus.”

He said, “Why thank ye kindly, Madame Campbell, we seemed tae be in a losin’ war with the pokin’ straw, but the tossin’ of ye has beaten it back.” He bumped his hips up and down making me jiggle funnily.

I collapsed on his chest, my cheek against his skin. “I like colonial sex, that was good.”

“I imagine tis not always done in haylofts: Master Jefferson probably has a fine bed.”

“He’s near here I think.”

His head came up, “Ye think — now?”

“I mean, I don’t know his calendar, but he has an estate in Virginia, and that’s where we are. It would follow.”

“I imagine he would hae a fine library, a great deal of papers, and that historians would spend a lot of time on the details of it.”

“Yep. We need to make a plan for leaving here. We’ll need some directions, some provisions...”

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