“So you saw the ring prior to sleeping?”
“Yeah, Leslie had them in a box by the bed,” she said. “Three of them.”
She could hear the frown in his voice. “And how many of these Broun friends do you have?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Lots of questions.”
His disgruntled eyes met hers. “’Tis important.”
“Why?” Uncomfortable, she looked at the ring. “What’s the story with these?”
The pines were thinning but still spread far and wide as streaks of sunlight cut through the forest. “There have been several Claddagh rings over the years. The ones from my generation, often referred to as the Next Generation, helped Brouns travel through time. They also warm when their true love is near.” He cleared his throat. “Then there are the original Claddagh rings, those created when a couple came together beneath an oak. Overseen by the god Fionn Mac Cumhail, they each had a gem at their center. The gem matched the wizard’s eyes that the Broun lass was meant for. It glowed. That ring you wear is one of the originals.”
Cassie grew tenser as he spoke. “So these Claddagh rings... bring love together?”
“Aye, always. A MacLomain and a Broun,” he murmured. “It can be no other way.”
Holy heck. About the last thing she was looking for was romance. Best to steer clear of that for now. “Leslie told me one of the rings was supposedly worn by a druidess.”
“Aye, ‘tis a part of the tale not often shared,” he said. “I’m surprised to know it actually exists.”
Cassie kept eying her ring nervously and whispered, “Is it this one?”
“I dinnae ken,” he said softly. “I only know that what you wear is one of the originals.”
“But it’s just a clear stone.” She peeked over her shoulder at him. “Not a gem at all and certainly not something that would match an eye color.”
Especially not yours.
Now she needed to get that thought out of her head immediately. He was taken. Even if he wasn’t, this was medieval Scotland! And she wasn’t on the market for a guy. If anything, her next focus was preparing for a new lifestyle...in the twenty-first century of course.
“’Twas once a gem.” His eyes fell to hers. “My guess is that ‘twill once more become a gem when it finds your true love.”
She tore her eyes from his, far too aware of his proximity. “I like to think I’m my own true love. Best to depend on myself. I don’t need a man.”
Yet even as she said the words, she sometimes wondered how much she really believed them. Still, they sounded confident, and that’s what she was going for.
“’Tis good that you love yourself, lass. ‘Tis an admirable quality.” His voice lowered. “But because you wear that ring there is room in your heart for another. And the ring will find him for you.”
Though tempted to see the expression on his face, she was feeling a little too aware that he had been the first Scotsman to interact with her here. Not to mention he was the first one she saw when she pulled into Leslie and Bradon’s driveway. Then there was that whole thing about his eyes glowing in the picture. But she wasn’t about to share any of that right now, if at all. Even if he weren’t engaged, she would not want him to know.
She was about to respond when another horse trotted through the woods and came alongside. It was the Scotsman who had ridden on her left-hand side when the grungy warrior had her. With dark features, she thought him striking in an intense, masculine sort of way. His muscles were slightly bulkier than Logan’s, but she suspected their towering frames were similar. While at first, she thought his eyes were nearly black she realized they were an unusual shade of dark blue.
“All the bloody bastards have been killed, my Laird,” he grunted, his eyes on her though he clearly spoke to Logan. “Some were taken prisoner. ‘Twill be good to have at them later, aye?”
Logan was the laird? Well, didn’t that just take the cake.
The men leaned over and clasped hands briefly before Logan made introductions. “Cassie, this is Niall, son of Malcolm MacLomain and his Broun from the future, Cadence.”
“’Tis good to meet you, Cassie.” Niall nodded. “Welcome.”
Ah, Cadence, Leslie’s sister. It was so strange meeting medieval Scotsmen with mothers from the future. She nodded as well. “Nice to meet you too, Niall.”
She didn’t miss the way Niall’s eyes flickered over her ring with interest.
“So you are a Broun?” he said.
Again, she heard the frown in Logan’s voice when he said, “You know she is.”
“Just making conversation.” Niall quirked his lip at her. “’Twill be good to have another bonnie Broun aboot.”
“Aboot?”
“About,” Logan said. “’Tis not always easy to lessen our accent.”
He was actually lessening his accent right now? “You were speaking Gaelic when I arrived, right?”
“Aye,” Logan said. “A form of it.”
“’Tis a good time that you came,” Niall said to her. “’Twill be much celebration with the summer solstice. And more than usual because of the battling.”
“Will Darach be here?” She didn’t mean to sound slightly desperate, but like her, he had just been in the twenty-first century. For some reason having him here now might make all of this seem less insane.
Niall’s brows arched. “You’ve met Darach?”
Cassie nodded. “In the twenty-first century.”
She was not quite sure what to make of Niall’s expression when he looked at Logan. “’Twas little doubt his Da made sure his bairn met her first, aye?”
“Och, mayhap,” Logan said. “But ‘tis difficult for Darach to stay in one place too long. He’s restless. ‘Tis doubtful Laird Grant had much to do with it considering he wants his son to settle down and become chieftain of the Hamiltons.”
Cassie was about to speak, but the words died on her lips as they left the forest behind. The panoramic view was something out of a historical painting. Beyond a wide, sprawling field speckled with wildflowers and a glorious oak tree was a beautiful castle surrounded on three sides by a sparkling blue loch back-dropped by mountains. Stunning.
“Welcome to the MacLomain castle,” Logan said close enough to her ear to make both chills and heat simultaneously rush through her.
“It’s unbelievable,” she murmured. It was the same one she had seen when she touched the oak in New Hampshire. Cassie took in the multiple wall walks and towers, the double moats and portcullises. It was every historian’s dream come true, especially one with a love for Scotland. “This is yours?”
A logical question considering he was laird.
“Nay, the castle belongs to the clan.” Logan urged the horse forward. “’Tis but my privilege to oversee its people right now.”
Only then did she realize that a small band of warriors on horseback had fanned out behind them. Niall’s eyes met hers. “They protect the castle’s chieftain.” He grinned at Logan. “Who is determined to be at the heart of every battle he can find.”
“I didn’t see them earlier,” she said, eyeing the ferocious-looking men.
“They’re verra good at remaining unseen when they wish it,” Logan muttered.
“We live in perilous times.” Niall shook his head. “Enemies everywhere now, even on our own land.”
“There has always been that, cousin.” Logan slowed his horse the closer they got to the glorious oak tree. She had never seen one like it. Towering, twisting, it was easily twice as tall as the oaks back home. Its base alone had to be as wide as a California redwood. A man stood beneath it, but it was hard to make him out.
“Come, let’s walk now, lass.” Logan swung off and pulled her down. Cassie nearly stopped breathing when his hands hesitated a moment longer than necessary on her waist. Their eyes met, and her breath caught. His grip tightened a fraction before he pulled away.
Niall swung down as well. “I’ll join you.”
“Of
course you will,” Logan muttered then made a slight clicking sound. In response, the horses took off for the castle.
It was more than intimidating walking between two Highlanders. She didn’t come across guys like this at home. Or should she say such tall, well-built men. Though surprisingly at ease with Logan, Niall freaked her out a little. He seemed so fierce, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings as though waiting for someone to jump out at them. But maybe he was doing the same thing as the men behind them and protecting his chieftain. Yet she surmised it had more to do with his nature than anything else.
The man who had been standing beneath the tree headed their way. It wasn’t long before she could make out his features better. Surprisingly handsome for his age which she guessed was mid-forties, he had gray-flecked brownish black hair and pale bluish gray eyes. He didn’t bother with the men but strode up to her, lowered his head then brushed his lips across the back of her hand.
“Welcome, Cassie,” he rumbled, the look in his eyes kind as his gaze flickered from her ring to her eyes. “I am Grant Hamilton. A MacLomain by birth.”
Cassie blinked several times and tried to focus on his face as colors suddenly swirled around him. There was something very different about this man.
He squeezed her hand gently and shook his head. “Dinnae worry, lass, ‘twill pass. You but see my magic.”
“Come again?” she managed. She had no sooner said it before the colors faded and his face became clearer.
Grant held out the crook of his elbow. “Walk with me?”
Cassie didn’t realize what she was doing until she looked at Logan in question. Was she asking his permission? Apparently so because he nodded. Though slightly frustrated with herself, she supposed it made sense since he had technically saved her. And he was laird of the castle despite how humble he seemed to be about it.
Laird of the castle. What a hoot. In a good way...well, unbelievable way. She was still sort of wondering when she was going to wake up from this dream.
“’Tis a lot, this, aye?” Grant said as they walked.
“More than you can imagine,” she admitted, the rest of her words sputtering out as she eyed him and his name truly sunk in. Grant. That was familiar. Too familiar. Her eyes widened as she thought about the snippets she had read from Sean’s manuscript about the Next Generation. “You’re not the Grant MacLomain from...” How to phrase this?
“Aye, lassie.” His eyes twinkled. “I am Grant from Sean’s manuscript.”
“You know who Sean is?” She shook her head. “A fisherman from twenty-first century Maine?”
“I do,” he acknowledged. “We met briefly, but he wouldnae remember me.”
“You’ve been to the—” Her mouth snapped shut. It wasn’t all that unbelievable that he had been to the future considering that was where she last saw Darach. Regardless, what a concept.
“Aye, I’ve visited the future.” His eyes met hers. “It warms my heart more Brouns are arriving. I wasnae entirely sure if the connection betwixt our clans would continue.”
“Our clans?” Ah, yes. She was a Broun. “You know I’m only a little bit Broun right?” Her eyes again widened at the castle looming in the distance. “It seems almost...I dunno, wrong that I’m here considering.”
“Nay, lass.” Grant’s voice was warm. “If you are here then ‘tis meant to be and you are special indeed.”
“Special?” she murmured, uncomfortable with the word because it cut too close to home.
“Aye.” He nodded at the castle. “’Tis a great thing to be meant for all this.” Then he made a small motion with his head toward the men walking behind them. “’Tis an even greater thing to be meant for the MacLomain warriors who will see Scotland through to glory.”
Well, when you put it like that. She shook her head at her lackluster thoughts. “How are they going to see Scotland through to glory?”
Cassie couldn’t help but touch the trunk of the massive oak as they passed it. Not only warmth but a tremendous amount of peace passed through her. Then she stopped short as something altogether different blew through her.
Looking up, she blinked as her vision once more blurred.
Then sharpened.
For a terrifying moment, Cassie swore she saw a massive, winged creature hovering above the highest branch, its cat-like eyes staring down at her.
“Dinnae fear, lass,” Grant murmured. “You but see the tree’s memories. There is nothing there but the wind and sky.”
“The tree’s memories?” she whispered as whatever she had seen vanished, and there remained nothing but sunlit leaves twisting in the wind. “How is that even possible?”
“’Tis part of your gift.” He squeezed her hand. “To see things others cannae. Ghosts of the past and future. Memories that span in both directions.”
“I see. Well, you know what I mean. Not literally.” The truth was whatever this weird gift was it had been happening more and more frequently over the past year or so. “I’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty creepy.”
“Magic can seem that way on occasion,” he acknowledged as they started walking again. Now they were behind Logan and Niall. “If you get the chance, you should speak with Rònan MacLeod when he arrives later. ‘Tis a tree he well knows as his Ma was at the root of its birth.”
Didn’t that sound intriguing? “Who’s Rònan MacLeod?”
“He is cousin to Logan, Niall, and Darach,” Grant said. “The lads have been close since they were wee bairns.”
“Darach’s super sweet.” Cassie grinned. “He looks a lot like you.”
“Aye.” She could see the pride in Grant’s eyes. “But he’s got his mother’s personality.” He chuckled. “’Tis likely a blessing.”
“So his mother is a Broun from the future too?”
Grant nodded. “All of the lads save Ronan have mothers from the future. ‘Tis likely the reason they’ve all remained close...for the most part.”
“For the most part?”
“Aye.” Grant shrugged. “Like any young lad, they fight over the lassies on occasion. Niall and Rònan mostly. ‘Tis good they dinnae reside in the same castle.”
“No doubt.” Her eyes roamed over the men, mostly Logan. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Though she knew she should just leave it alone, Cassie said, “So when is Logan supposed to be married?”
Grant almost seemed reluctant to say, “In a few days’ time.”
A few days?
“Ah,” she said, inwardly cursing because it almost sounded like she was disappointed. She tried to cover it up by focusing on the positive. “So I’m just in time to see a medieval Scottish wedding. That’s pretty cool.”
“Aye.” Grant nodded. “And ‘twill be a grand affair in that ‘tis the Laird marrying.”
“He seems young to be the laird.”
“’Tis a good age,” Grant said. “He’s old enough to have learned much and young enough to still have a sharp mind and a strong body.”
Cassie swallowed, trying hard to pull her eyes away from that strong body. “Shouldn’t his father still be laird, though?”
“Ferchar was laird a verra long time ago. Since then it has gone from Colin, who had no sons, to Malcolm. ‘Twas the clan’s choice when he stepped down to make Logan chieftain.”
Cassie frowned as they drew closer to the first drawbridge. “Isn’t Niall, Malcolm’s son? Shouldn’t he be laird then?”
“Nay, ‘twas something he had no interest in,” Grant said. “At least not at the time and I dinnae think so much now. He’d rather be battling and chasing the lasses.”
She eyed Grant. “I hear you want Darach to become laird of your clan.”
“Aye,” Grant muttered. “I need to be available to travel more often, and dinnae want to spend my later years still ruling the Hamiltons. Like the MacLomains, they need young blood.”
“You still look pretty young.” Smiling, she stared up at the first portcullis as they walked beneath.
�
��Och, I’m past my fiftieth winter.” Grant shook his head. “Young enough but beyond the age of wanting to oversee a clan. ‘Tis a lot of work.”
“I can imagine,” she murmured, taking in all the activity around her. The clothing was amazing...or should she say ancient. This was truly unbelievable. “I think I’m dressed all wrong. Aren’t people gonna wonder?”
It seemed they already were based on the endless looks she was receiving.
“This clan knows well of its connection with the Brouns from the future.” Grant stopped as Logan and Niall joined them. “But we will get a change of clothes for you. I will send my daughter Lair to help.”
“Chieftain Grant and I must see to some business.” Logan shot Niall a distrustful look. “Niall will show you around the castle, Cassie.”
Niall? When her eyes met his, Logan’s cousin chuckled. “I willnae bite, lass.” Then the corner of his lip hitched. “Quite yet.”
Cassie might have grinned if she wasn’t so busy being intimidated. These men were huge. The top of her head barely came to their shoulders.
“Oh, ye dinnae want this one showing ye around, lass. Allow me the pleasure,” a woman declared upon greeting as she swung down from her horse. With long, thick brown hair and feminine yet strong features, it was clear she liked battling. “I am Machara, daughter of Colin and McKayla MacLomain.”
Machara’s narrowed eyes went to Logan. “She who should rightfully be ruling this clan.”
Chapter Four
LOGAN WASN’T SURE WHICH choice was more unfavorable, Niall or Machara showing Cassie around. If he had his way, he would do it himself. Regrettably, there were things to see to.
Still, he wanted nothing more than to stay near Cassie.
Since the moment he pulled her onto his horse and felt her soft curves against him, he wanted to keep her by his side. He’d never had such a strong reaction to a lass and was still trying to figure out a way to set aside his attraction.
His eyes kept drifting to her bonnie hair. Long and wavy, it shimmered an eye-catching shade of reddish blond. And those eyes, like the shallowest part of a loch caught in sunlight. A rare shade of pale sea green that could enchant in an instant. Her features were delicate, her mouth a perfect little bow. Then there was her body...bloody hell.
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 5