The Highlander's Bargain by Barbara Longley

tumbling into bed, doing all sorts of sensual things to each other. Visions of Erin danced through his head, and he imagined holding her. Naked. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight. He picked the book back up to read more.
    A few chapters later, he glanced at the clock. He had just enough time to warm some leftover pizza in the microwave for his midday meal before Mark arrived. Taking the book with him, he laid it on the table and propped it open with the salt shaker. He took a plate out of the cabinet and brought it to the fridge to fetch the pizza. Erin had said only a minute or so to warm the leftovers. He put a generous helping onto the plate and set it in the microwave. Again he watched the plate rotate inside. Molly, their cook, would never believe such a thing was possible. He hardly believed it himself. The ping sounded. He moved to the table to eat his pizza . . . and read.

    Robley stood outside Erin’s building with his claymore strapped to his back over his hooded sweatshirt. He searched the roadway for any sign of Mark. A moment later, a deep rumble commenced from down the road, growing louder as it approached. Robley stared at the sleek, shiny, two-wheeled black-and-silver vehicle and the lone helmeted rider fast approaching.
    Wonder of wonders! The rider pulled the beast up beside him, kicked a stand down and shut off the marvelous sound. He pulled the helmet from his head.
    Robley’s eyes widened in unadulterated admiration. “What is this?”
    A cocky grin lit Mark’s face. “This is my Harley, or what I like to refer to as my chick magnet .” He dismounted and joined him in mutual appreciation for the bike.
    “Chick magnet? What has this to do with chickens?” He shot him a questioning look. “I dinna take your meaning.”
    “The ladies love to ride, and Harleys are the gold standard in bikes.” Mark chuckled and shook his head. “You act like you’ve never seen a motorcycle before.”
    “Humph.” Would he become nauseated when they rode? By the saints, he prayed not. Anticipation lit a fire within him. “Let us depart.”
    “OK. I only have the one helmet.” Mark straddled the bike. “Do you want to wear it?”
    “Nay.”
    “Hold on to this.” He indicated the metal rack extending up from the back of the second seat. “Climb on. Your feet go here.” He pointed again.
    Robley climbed on, adjusted his sword and kept his feet on the ground until the Harley moved onto the roadway. The bike vibrated and roared to life as they gathered speed. A wide smile broke free. No nausea, only an exhilarating thrill. “I wish to learn how to operate this vehicle,” he shouted over the rumble.
    Mark nodded his helmeted head, and excitement thrummed through Robley’s veins. Did he possess enough of the modern-day currency to purchase a Harley Davidson? Because he wanted one—by the end of the day if possible.
    Far too soon, they pulled up next to a building, and Mark shut off the bike. He set the stand and removed his helmet. “You liked the ride?” he asked as he dismounted.
    “Indeed.” Reluctantly, Rob climbed off the amazing machine. “In exchange for my tutelage in combat techniques, you will teach me how to drive a Harley?” Truth be told, he would gladly forfeit the time in the lists for another ride. Only this time, he wished to go faster and farther afield. Much faster and farther.
    “If you want. After our workout, we’ll find an empty parking lot where we can practice. It’s not hard. The clutch is the pedal here.” He tapped his foot on the part. “The gears and accelerator are on the handlebars, and these are the brakes.” He indicated each part as he named it. “Let’s go inside. I want you to teach me how to disarm my opponent the way you did with Jerry the other day. He’s meeting us here, by the way. I hope that’s all right with you.”
    “For certes, he needs to train as well.” He followed Mark through the door to a very large chamber. The wood-plank floor was