A Scot's Resolve (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #3)

by Purington, Sky

  She almost laughed. Highly unlikely. “What makes you think that when he so clearly dislikes me? Beyond the flesh, that is.” She shook her head, just not getting it. “And that’s just out of revenge.”

  He peered at her curiously. “You say that as though he couldnae desire you otherwise.”

  More of a realist than a dreamer, she pointed out the obvious. “Well, I’m not exactly model material, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I have noticed a great many things,” he stated bluntly. She got the surprising sense he was tempted to eye her as hungrily as his brother but held back. “As have Cray and Ethyn and just about every man who has laid eyes on you since you arrived.”

  Had she seriously been getting checked out? Doubtful. “Outside of Cray and Ethyn,” whose attraction to her still made no sense, “everyone’s probably just staring at me because I’m dressed so strangely.”

  “Nay, this clan has seen its fair share of time-travelers.” When he didn’t quite meet her eyes, she realized it was out of respect for his brother. “You’re far more bonny than you know, lass. ‘Tis a unique beauty that is hard to look away from.”

  “Now, see, old-fashioned decency is still alive,” she murmured, certain Cray would have phrased that completely different. No doubt with her on her knees doing something positively lewd to him. “Thank you.”

  “Och, lass,” he muttered and shook his head. “You’ll want to try to get thoughts like that under control if you hope to keep my brother at arm’s length.”

  “Sonofa...sorry.” How embarrassing. “He just puts these thoughts in my head.”

  Uncertainty lingered in his eyes. “Are you sure ‘tis him putting the thoughts there?”

  “Of course,” she admonished. “Certainly, you’re not implying I think that way on my own?” She considered him, not only wondering about something but more than ready to change the subject. “Not that I’m offended, at least by you anyway, but why is it you and Cray can hear my thoughts but not Ethyn?”

  “I likely can because I’m a dragon and Cray’s sibling.” They continued walking. “And you are most definitely my brother’s destined Broun.”

  He seemed so convinced. Was she truly? She found that impossible to imagine.

  She was right to feel that way, too, based on what she saw next.

  Something that shouldn’t surprise her but did.

  Something, alarmingly enough that made her foolish heart sink.

  Chapter Six

  HE KNEW MADISON saw him but thought little of it as he tucked a lass under each arm and sauntered toward one of the cottages. She knew the state she had him in betwixt keeping him from the lasses beforehand then looking the way she did upon arrival. Smelling like she did. Leaving him in a state like this. Something had to be done about his cock, or he’d never make it through the day, let alone the night.

  “She should thank me for it,” he muttered to one of the lasses.

  “I am sure she will,” she cooed, her appreciative eyes on his groin though it was not much to look at right now.

  “Aye,” he agreed with the lass, wondering when Madison would burst into his thoughts and reprimand him. “She should be. ‘Tis a favor I’m doing.”

  “And what’s this favor?” the other lass asked. She nudged the cottage door shut behind them with her foot whilst running a hand over his arse.

  “Giving her time to acquaint herself with everything before she lays with me,” he revealed, frowning at his cock when the other lass started fondling it. Why wasn’t the bloody beastie responding? Madison, for whatever reason, was leaving him alone, so things should be just fine now.

  “Why would she want time?” the lass admiring his arse asked. “’Tis a shame to wait for such a fine bit o’ male.”

  “Aye,” he concurred. “But ‘tis for the best.”

  Was it, though? Because his cock was as limp as a bloody eel when it should be primed to plow whoever would have it first.

  “I dinnae think waiting for ye is for the best at all.” The lass focusing on his front pouted when he failed to rise to her administrations. “A man like ye is best enjoyed as often as possible.”

  When she fell to her knees in front of him and went to pull him free, he wrapped his hand in her hair and angled her face until she looked at him. She was a bonny lass indeed, yet he found her fair hair not to his taste. When had hair color become an issue? But it suddenly was. He would prefer it shiny and black. He rubbed his fingers together, wondering at its texture. Would Madison’s hair feel like this? Or would it feel as silky soft as it looked?

  “Ah,” the first lass crooned, licking her lips. “Things are in proper working order again.”

  When her hand wrapped around his erection, he pulled back abruptly, suddenly not wanting her near it. By the bloody rood, what the hell was this all about? What had come over him? But he knew.

  Madison.

  “She’s inside my bloody head without saying a word,” he cursed, realizing he could only get aroused if he envisioned her. Hell and damnation. This was not good. When had it happened? When had the vixen taken control? And, why, by all that was holy, wasn’t she yapping her disappointment at all this to begin with? Telling him he barely knew them, so it was too soon? Then again, she probably assumed he’d known them for years, so that must be it.

  Yet, somehow, he sensed there was more to her silence.

  She was purposefully ignoring him.

  Staying away.

  Which was good, right?

  Nay, it was not. At all. Because he still needed release.

  “It seems I will have to take her sooner rather than later,” he muttered, dismayed at his arousal. He sighed and shook his head at the women. “I’m sorry, lasses.” He really, truly was. “’Tis just a trying time is all.”

  “’Tis an interesting time, then, aye?” one asked, clearly disappointed but friendly enough. He had known both for years and had enjoyed them on several occasions.

  “So it seems,” the other said, her gaze a wee bit too astute as she eyed him. “Ye havenae acted like this in a long time, Cray.”

  It took him a moment to catch her meaning. When he did, he almost forced himself to bed them after all but was smart enough to realize the effort would be a waste of time. He wanted Madison and only her until she was out of his system once and for all.

  “I am nae acting any which way,” he grunted, denying that this situation was anything like before. That his feelings for Madison came anywhere near what he had felt for Maeve.

  Before either could respond, he left, slamming the door shut behind him. As he tromped along looking for something to vent his anger on it occurred to him, he hadn’t felt this way since before he traveled forward in time.

  Since before he first laid eyes on Madison.

  Then everything had calmed. His fury had quieted.

  Not anymore, though. Now he wanted to rip something apart. Battle an entire army all on his own. Whip an ax at a hundred foes. Run his sword through a thousand enemies.

  “Ye look like ye could use a wee dram or two, Brother,” Marek said, leaning against a stable not all that far from where Cray had been. Almost as if he had been waiting for him. As if he knew Cray would not be able to accomplish what he’d set out to do with those lasses. “Come join me, da, and granda whilst ye wait for yer lass.”

  “She’s not my lass,” he growled, knowing full well Marek spoke of Madison. “She’s Ethyn’s.”

  “Och, dinnae be daft,” Marek chastised. They headed up the stairs to the main hall. “Ethyn willnae be able to handle a dragon the likes of her.” He shook his head. “He hasnae the right nature for it.”

  Curious, he peered at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “Ye sense it too, then? What’s inside her needing to be freed?”

  “Or caged,” Marek countered, understanding very well indeed. “Mayhap freed then caged if I am nae mistaken.”

  Anyone but a fellow male dragon would think they spoke of awful things, but
then they did not know the cravings of their species. Tendencies that leaned more toward domination in bed. Dragons had a deep-seated need to conquer and claim. Mate.

  He’d never been with another dragon but had talked at length about it with his elders. His da and granda had explained the complexities. The differences when dragons mated with dragons. Advice both clearly had in the back of their minds when Cray and Marek joined them in the great hall.

  “’Tis clear enough ye’ve got yer work cut out for ye with that one,” his da warned, though his eyes twinkled. “And I dinnae expect things will go any easier after what ye just pulled.”

  Naturally, everyone knew about the lasses.

  Which meant they likely knew it hadn’t gone well.

  “Och, I didnae do anything she didnae expect of me.” He took a few hearty swigs of ale, shrugging when they continued eyeing him as if he were in more trouble than he realized. “She doesnae want me anywhere near her yet, so I was giving her time.” He looked back and forth between his da and granda. “’Twas thoughtful, aye?”

  His grandfather outright laughed at that and shook his head. “I dinnae remember a time I was ever so young and foolish.” His white brow flew up. “Have ye not met yer grandmother? Yer ma?” He gestured at the large tapestry depicting his great-grandparents Colin and Torra. “If yer great-grandma were here now, she’d give ye a good tongue lashing for such foolery.”

  “Aye, she would,” his father agreed. “’Tis lucky for ye, yer ma and grandma are seeing to the lass. More so that they like her so much, they intend to keep her.” He gave Cray a look. “Which means convincing her ye’re worth it despite yer poor behavior.”

  “They like her, then?” he said, cursing the relief in his voice.

  “Of course they like her, Brother,” Marek said. “We all do.”

  He frowned at them, far happier about this than he should be. “Despite her annoying nature?”

  “She actually has a verra pleasant nature,” Marek defended. “If ye but open yer eyes and see it rather than endlessly baiting the poor lass.”

  “’Tis easy for ye to say,” he shot back. “Ye havenae had a lass barge into yer mind and lay waste to yer poor cock.” He shook his head. “’Tis bloody unnatural!”

  “’Tis nothing unnatural about it if ye but see it for what it is,” da counseled. “If yer inner dragon didnae take note of hers the second she made her way into yer mind, ye would have had no issues bedding other lasses.”

  “My dragon’s repressed,” he reminded, downing the rest of his ale.

  “So?” His grandfather shook his head. “That doesnae mean ‘tis not still there controlling ye as much as ye control it. Letting ye know what it wants and doesnae want.” He glanced above stairs where Madison no doubt was. “And ‘tis clear enough it wants her.”

  “I cannae trust that.” He frowned, refusing to contemplate what came with his dragon wanting another. Claiming one as its own. Such a thing involved love. An emotion he refused to suffer again. Not after losing Maeve not once but twice. “I willnae.”

  Nobody responded, but he knew what they were thinking. He might not have a choice. If she were his destined Broun then the only way to protect King David and keep history on track was to harness the power that would come from being with her.

  Loving her.

  Would he do for kin and country, in the end, no matter what that meant? Aye. He would die to keep Scotland safe and protect his family. Would he be able to, though, without opening his heart again? A heart he wasn’t sure was even capable of letting another in.

  “There’s been word from Grant,” da revealed, cutting into his thoughts. “He’s glad ye finally returned. Tiernan and Julie look forward to yer arrival as does King David.”

  Finally returned? That seemed an odd thing to say. “With any luck ‘twill be soon. Have there been any issues since I left a few hours ago?”

  “Nay, thank the gods,” Ethyn said, striding into the great hall, mystified by whatever he had learned while he’d been off with his wolf. “Seeing how we’ve been gone far longer than a few hours.”

  When he frowned, Ethyn shared what he had just learned from Tiernan. What his da and granda likely already knew.

  “According to Tiernan, we have been gone from thirteen thirty-three Scotland for nine months, Cousin,” he revealed. “’Tis only a few days or so away from the upcoming battle and the current regent's fate.”

  “Bloody hell, what?” he exclaimed, shooting to his feet.

  “That’s right,” came Madison’s soft voice from above. “And based on what I just saw, we’ve got a rough road ahead.”

  Rough road? What did that mean? What had she seen? About to ask her what she meant, he stopped when he saw the look on Ethyn’s face as he gazed up at her. When he glanced up, he understood what had caught his cousin’s attention. What so clearly astonished him.

  Madison had undergone an astounding transformation.

  His little dragon was finally breaking free of her cage

  Chapter Seven

  THOUGH FRUSTRATINGLY HURT, even a little stupidly devastated when Cray vanished into a cottage with two women, her pain swiftly shifted to anger. Uncharacteristic rage, in fact. Lucky for Marek, his mother and grandmother, no doubt knowing full well what Cray had done, showed up to escort her inside.

  Neither said a word as she silently fumed, tempted to barge into Cray’s mind, and tell him what an utter ass he was. But no. She was done doing that. He didn’t deserve her well-intentioned opinions anymore. Let him do what he wanted. Needed to do according to him. Let him take care of his damn dangly bits may they never, ever, not for a millisecond divided by five hundred billion, be anywhere near her again.

  Good. Riddance.

  If he was any example of what to expect from dragons, she wanted no part of them.

  Certainly no part of him.

  As she climbed the stairs, she barely saw anything around her. Not the massive angry ocean tapestries with sweeping dragons flying on stormy horizons or the people eyeing her curiously. Instead, she flicked the wall absently as she went up, counting off all the parts of him that would rue the day he met her. From his all-knowing just-wait-till-she-wiped-it-off-his-face smirk to the cocky arch of his eyebrow.

  By the time she made it upstairs, she had flicked the stairwell wall twenty-four times and straightened two small tapestries in passing. It was sort of amazing how many parts of him she could visualize torturing. How she would go about that was yet to be seen, but she would.

  “In you go.” Jessie gave her a little nudge into a chamber. “Before you blow a gasket.”

  “Right.” Erin handed her a cup of whisky, urged her to drink it, then insisted Madison blow said gasket as soon as the door was shut. “It’s not always easy dealing with MacLeod men, so have at it. Let it all out. We completely understand.”

  “Yes, we do.” Jessie all but tipped the cup to her mouth. “My son was completely out of line, and I apologize.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “From what I hear, he got what he deserved in the end, though.”

  Good. Whatever that meant. If they weren’t volunteering what happened, she wasn’t asking.

  She looked back and forth between the fit and beautiful fifty-something and seventy-something formerly twenty-first century women, not sure what to make of them. It was hard to imagine either had lived in medieval Scotland long enough to have had children let alone grandchildren here.

  “Go on, Madison,” Erin insisted. “Drink, then vent.”

  She frowned, not sure if that was the right thing to do in their presence. “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely.” Erin sipped from her own cup and winked. “We insist.”

  After eyeing them for another moment, she finally nodded, chugged the cup down then did as asked.

  She started venting.

  Not, as one would imagine, about Cray but strangely enough, from the very beginning. All the way back to her childhood. Back to when her parents told her they weren�
�t her real parents. How she'd been adopted. Then further back still to how severely religious her upbringing had been. Not only because her parents loved God, which was fine, she did too, but because they were convinced she was the devil himself.

  “Or herself, I should say.” She hiccupped, welcoming more whisky when Jessie poured it. “Cuz these things had the devil in them.”

  She was amazed by how comfortable she was with them. How she suddenly wanted to pour her heart out. To share things she’d never shared with anyone. There was something about them, though, wasn’t there? Then again, if they were Brouns, that meant they were supposedly ‘witches,’ so maybe they were casting her beneath a spell.

  “What things have the devil in them?” Erin asked.

  She pointed at her eyes. “These.”

  “Ah,” Erin murmured, understanding. “And did you ever see that devil when you looked in the mirror, Madison?”

  “No.” She shook her head, then nodded. “Well, yes, but I did away with it immediately by reading verses from my bedside bible.”

  “I see.” Jessie sat beside her at a table set with a variety of tasty looking morsels. “Let me ask you this, Madison. Did anything happen before you saw the devil in your eyes?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Jessie shrugged. “Like anger, maybe? Or high emotions of any sort?”

  She tapped her fingers on the table, counting off the nine times she recalled seeing her inner devil then nodded. “Come to think of it, yes, my emotions were high every time.”

  “And what about when you read from the bible?” Erin asked, sitting as well. “What did you feel then?”

  “Calm,” she replied without giving it any thought. “At peace.”

  “There you have it then,” Erin said softly, her gaze kind, so understanding that Madison knew she told the absolute truth. A truth that suddenly made perfect sense. “The so-called devil you saw in your eyes was only your dragon surfacing, trying to be there for you when you were upset. It settled when you read something that gave you comfort. Which, in turn, gave it comfort.”