“Oh, stop it,” Leslie admonished as she walked by him. “Bullying isn’t your thing.” She hooked arms with Nicole and led her in the opposite direction. “Up for a chat?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Leslie seemed to consider that before she bluntly said, “No.”
“Super.” Nicole scowled. “Gotta say, it super sucks that I’m not being given any say in this.”
“Yeah, that’s one way to look at it.” They had nearly reached the opposite side of the barn when Leslie stopped and turned her way. “But there’s another way altogether to look at it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Right now, your story could very well start out like mine but in a really bad way. One that you probably wouldn’t survive.”
“Right. Taken by the enemy,” Nicole said. “Then saved by my MacLomain.”
“I was taken by a bunch of filthy MacLeods that didn’t know their asses from their cocks.” Leslie’s eyes rounded slightly. “And saved by a MacLomain with far more gumption than yours likely has.”
“Screw that. I don’t have a frigging MacLomain.” Nicole’s eyes rounded as well. “And you better not be referring to that bulldozer, Niall.”
“Bulldozer?”
“Just plows things over.”
Leslie pressed her lips together and grinned. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Bradon’s exasperated words floated across the way. “Focus, Leslie.”
“Right. Anyways.” Leslie lost the humor. “You’ve got a double whammy heading your way.” She held up one finger. “The first, not numbnut MacLeods but true evil trying to get its hands on you.” She held up another finger. “The second, a MacLomain with nothing but war and lasses on his mind determined to protect you.”
Nicole scrunched her nose. “I don’t get why it can’t be Darach or even Rònan.”
“Don’t whine,” Leslie said. “We Brouns are made of stronger stuff than that.” She shrugged. “And maybe it will be one of the other guys.”
“I hope so because Niall’s—”
“My cousin is a damn fine lad,” Darach reminded as he headed their way with Vika.
“And one of the fiercest warriors walking medieval Scotland,” Bradon added. “You might be surprised by what he’s capable of.”
“Highly doubtful.” She was starting to feel ganged up on again. “Listen, guys, you have no right to force me to go anywhere I don’t wanna go.”
“No, but we have every right to do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” Darach said. “And that means getting you to the castle.”
Eyes narrowed, she walked backward out of the barn door. “You all need to chill the fuck out. Seriously.”
“Ye’ve a mouth on ye, aye lass?”
Nicole froze when strong hands landed on her shoulders. Hell no. She knew that voice.
Niall MacLomain.
“Bulldozer, my bloody arse,” he muttered. Before she knew what hit her, he scooped her up and plunked her on Vika. She barely caught a glimpse of him before he swung up behind her and spurred the horse.
“Let me go,” she cried then made sure those left behind heard her. “You guys totally suck!”
“Shut your—” Niall started.
“Don’t you dare say it,” Nicole growled as she tried to shift sideways and slide off the horse. One heavily muscled arm locked around her waist, and his strong thighs clamped tightly on either side of hers as Vika picked up her gait.
Niall’s deep voice rumbled close to her ear. “Keep quiet, lass. Now.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you big—”
When his hand clamped over her mouth, she bit.
“Och, ye bloody crazed lass.” But he did not remove his hand, words seething soft. “’Twill be but moments before they sense ye, then ‘tis a race for yer life. So quiet, aye?”
Nicole was about to chomp down harder on his obtrusive hand when the sunlit forest ahead started to shimmer. Her hair blew back as desert hot wind washed over them. What the? Her ears popped as the pressure seemed to drop. While she definitely didn’t experience pain, there was a strong sense of discomfort as the forest changed. Gone was the foliage. Now? Green leaves. A slightly different landscape.
Vika slowed down.
Oh, crap. She knew. Just knew.
Somehow she had arrived in medieval Scotland.
Nicole grabbed Niall’s wrist and tried to yank his hand away, but he was immovable.
“Will you remain quiet?” he murmured.
Her eyes narrowed at his modern day Scottish accent. She knew they switched from ye to you to make it easier for twenty-first century women to understand them. When she started to dig her nails in, he gripped tighter, words stern. “You’ve traveled back in time. Get over it, lass. What you need to ken is that an evil far beyond your comprehension is all around us and I mean to keep you safe.” She felt the tension of his body against her back. “So please remain silent.”
Nicole grappled with his request. Did she believe in evil? Not in the least. Did she believe that he believed in evil? Yes. And that said something given her opinion of him.
“Fine,” she mumbled against his hand.
“Aye?” he whispered, not budging an inch.
“Yes.”
Ever so slowly, he peeled his hand away. But there was no need for him to be tentative. She felt whatever he did in their surroundings. Something was very, very wrong. The forest seemed to darken then lighten as they moved forward.
“Shh,” he whispered close to her ear, the sound more of a slow release of air.
If she wasn’t mistaken, Vika was purposefully walking with care, her hooves navigating around the rocks. She stepped on soft pine needles rather than dry leaves. When men clad in yellow and black plaids melted out of the forest and fell in around them, she knew they were friends. Allies who were seemingly escorting them somewhere. Long haired and vicious looking, their eyes scanned the forest.
Not prone to theatrics, Nicole was surprised to feel chills race up her spine. This was intense. Scary. But exhilarating too. She supposed she shouldn’t be feeling that way. Still. Way to go stealth. If that was what this was. Totally James Bondish in a Scottish what-the-hell’s-gonna-happen-next sort of way. Eyes narrowed, she started to scan the forest as well.
Anything to ignore the guy at her back.
Yeah, fine, he smelled nice which made no sense in this day and age but...he did. A bit of spruce mixed with cinnamon maybe. If Jackie were here, she would be more precise.
“He smells like walking into a house at Christmas,” Jackie might say. “An apple candle mixed with cinnamon sticks. Spruce being heated on the mantle above a fire.”
“Too cozy for my taste.”
When Niall whispered “shh” sharply in her ear, Nicole flinched. Obviously, she had voiced her thoughts.
“I know,” she whispered back, irritated despite their circumstances.
His arm tightened. A warning. So she scowled and kept eying their surroundings. The trees had thinned considerably, giving way to a jaw-dropping view. It took a lot to shock her, but this did. A wide expanse of jagged cliffs lined an angry ocean. But that wasn’t the kicker. No, that would be the impressive behemoth of a castle sitting on its edge. It almost seemed alive with its stalwart turrets weather worn just enough so that she swore it glared at the sea in defiance.
No sooner had they broken from the woodline when the whistling wind and crashing waves dulled. Oh no. That annoying buzz in her ears made everything fade away.
Then something strange happened.
What was usually white noise became something else. Whispered words.
“She’s here,” it said, the octave almost feminine. “Get her, now!”
Nicole frowned, confused as the buzzing faded and sound returned. What the heck? Was she hearing things now too? But it didn’t much matter because what happened next made strange disembodied voices the least of her worries.
Chapter Two
Northern Scotland
; 1281
“PROTECT HER!” NIALL roared as he spurred the horse into a run.
It took Nicole several long, discombobulated moments to realize that he referred to her. The men who had been escorting them were suddenly clashing swords with other long-haired men on horseback.
“Oh Christ,” she muttered and leaned forward to grab Vika’s mane when Niall withdrew his sword and started slashing.
Strange chants echoed around them. Or was that just the wind whistling on rock? Impossible to tell. She squinted when dark shadows started whipping down from the sky. That couldn’t be good. Though she was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea, those had to be the Genii Cucullati sent by the bad guy. And a bad girl in this case. An evil couple determined to not only get ahold of her ring but kidnap little Robert the Bruce.
Evidently, the Genii Cucullati were entities that hung out with the Celtic gods. Nasty soul-eating critters that hovered around births. Nothing she wanted to get to know better.
One swooped toward her but shimmered away when Niall chanted something and rain started gushing over them. Just them. That’s right. Wizard that he was, he controlled the element of water. Not daring to release Vika’s mane for a second, she sputtered and cracked open an eye.
After that, everything became a blur of activity. Loud roars. Cries of pain. Darkness and light. Niall spurred Vika to go even faster as something massive rose up in front of them.
Then the rain stopped.
Holy frigging hell.
What swooped overhead was beyond her wildest imagination. Huge, intensely beautiful, with shimmering emerald green scales and gigantic talons, it could only be a dragon. She peered up as the long belly passed over before a roar unlike any other had her gritting her teeth. Renewed cries of anguish rent the air behind her.
Niall chuckled—chuckled!—as they flew beneath the first portcullis and sailed over the drawbridge. By the time they made it to the second portcullis, she could smell burning flesh on the wind. Not pleasant. But at least the bad guys seemed to be getting their asses handed to them.
Moments after they entered the courtyard, the men who had escorted Niall and Nicole thundered in behind them. Unlike her, they weren’t a sodden mess, but whooping and hollering as the dragon incinerated the last of the enemy and swooped out over the ocean. It was striking and powerful, its body a glittering serpentine dagger in the sun.
“Where are those damn shadows,” she gasped, scanning the sky.
“They cannae get you here,” Niall grunted as he swung down. Before he could help her, she swung off the opposite side. Regrettably, Vika shifted, and she ended up on her backside. Sonofabitch. By the time she scrambled to her feet, Niall was standing in front of her, a heavy frown on his face.
While tempted to look anywhere but at him, her traitorous eyes found their way up his strong body until their eyes locked. No way around it, Niall was handsome enough with his swarthy looks, black hair, and deceptively dark blue eyes.
Those damn eyes.
They had managed to infuriate her before, and she could tell by the exasperation in them now that some things didn’t change. But she was always up for a challenge. So she wiped a drenched piece of hair from her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. “I suppose you expect me to thank you.”
“I dinnae expect a bloody thing from you, lass.” Niall nodded behind her. “But he might.”
Nicole only meant to glance over her shoulder but froze as the dragon landed on the battlement above. Kind of. Its feet had nearly touched down when the air seemed to compress and shimmer around it. The next thing she saw was a well-muscled, overly tattooed, butt-ass naked man spreading his arms and roaring with laughter.
Her eyes almost dropped to his groin, but she stopped herself. Too many women to count were scrambling up the stairs in his direction as people again hooted and hollered with approval. Grinning, he wrapped a plaid around his waist before tucking a woman beneath either arm.
Niall snorted, humor in his voice. “Welcome to MacLeod Castle, Nicole.”
Not MacLomain Castle but MacLeod? Super. So the hottie on the battlement could only be Rònan MacLeod.
By the time her eyes shot back to Niall, he was already striding away. Real nice. There goes hero material at its finest. Not. Okay, maybe a little depending on how you looked at it. He had saved her a few times now. Regardless, she was in no mood to put him on a pedestal.
“There goes my savior,” she muttered and patted Vika moments before a boy came and led the horse away.
Always comfortable in a crowd even if it was dauntingly medieval, Nicole tried to ignore her bedraggled appearance and fit in. Not so easy in the cutest damn low-rise skinny jeans she had ever owned. The cleavage-revealing shirt might not help either. But she figured what got her, in the end, was being down one four-inch strappy sandal. So what if it was chilly back home. It wasn’t winter until it was winter, right?
Shoulders back, head held high, she meant to saunter but more like lumbered through the crowd. Step on the sandal, she was five-foot-nine. Step on the bare foot, five-foot-five. Most women in their right mind might remove the shoe but not her. Maybe because she’d paid approximately a hundred and fifty dollars for it alone or maybe because she wanted everyone to see the state she had been left in. Saved then abandoned soaking wet by the mighty Highlander, Niall.
When a deep rumble came from behind that sounded a lot like, “Mm mm, now there’s a lass who needs a good ride,” she froze.
Spinning on her sexy shoe rather than her filthy foot, Nicole cocked her head at Rònan and raked her eyes over him. “Well, aren’t you a whole lotta man.” Before he could respond, which would have been lewd based on his cocky grin, she made a tsking sound. “And while I’m always up for a good ride, it won’t be happening with you.”
“Nay?” His grin didn’t falter. “Then ye’ve a thing for Niall?”
Nicole rolled her eyes when the women he still had under either arm tugged playfully at the plaid hanging far too low on his muscular waist.
“I’ve a thing for no one,” she shot.
His brows perked in amusement, but his response was overridden by another. With a voice like smooth black silk and looks to match, a picturesque woman came alongside. “Enough, brother.” Eyes as bright emerald green as Rònan’s turned her way. “Welcome, Nicole. I’m Rònan’s twin sister, Seònaid.”
Tall, like maybe five foot eleven, Nicole had never seen another like her. And she had known a lot of gorgeous women. But this one was different. Seònaid’s eyes ran the length of her, and she knew this woman saw beauty in every creature she looked at. Not to say Nicole wasn’t hot enough. She was. In her own way. But even better when seen through this chick’s eyes.
Not bashful in the least and grateful for the interruption, she cocked a grin at Seònaid. “Nice to meet you.” She looked over the surprisingly modern, slim-fitting dress. “Love the outfit.”
The corner of Seònaid’s lips curled up ever-so-slightly as she eyed Nicole’s shoe. “It seems we both have good taste in fashion.”
Before she knew it, Rònan’s sister tossed a light blanket around Nicole’s shoulders, wrapped elbows and led her toward the castle. Where people might have—okay definitely—shot her odd looks before, now it was nods of approval. Perhaps not for her but certainly for Seònaid. The runway model that obviously had no clue she’d been born in the wrong century.
“I won’t let ye keep her for long, sister,” Rònan murmured, just loud enough.
“Dinnae mind my brother,” Seònaid said. “He tends to forget he isnae always at the heart of every lass’s desire.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Nicole said. “I’d say he’s nailed most of them.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, he’s likely pretty cozy at the heart of every girl’s desire.”
Seònaid laughed as they walked up the stairs to the castle. Her sharp eyes flickered to Nicole. “And will he be nailing ye?”
Nicole released a burst of laughter bu
t clamped her mouth shut when looks were thrown her way. How to answer that? Honestly, she supposed. He was pretty damn hot. So she shrugged. “If he plays his cards right.”
Seònaid’s laughter turned to a low chuckle. “I knew I would like you.”
“So you knew I was coming?”
“Was that not obvious when you were brought here?”
“Oh yeah,” Nicole murmured, any chance of sounding a crack above mildly intelligent gone when they walked through the front door. “Holy shit.”
“Like Niall said, welcome to MacLeod Castle,” Seònaid said.
“Right, like he said,” Nicole whispered, gazing around at the arched ceilings and thin stained glass windows. It was like an elegant beast gone rogue. Mammoth tapestries of oceans with dragons flying overhead hung from three walls. Without a railing, the fourth wall was lined by a wide, broad-stepped staircase lit by torches. Like the rest of the place, it seemed to tempt...do you dare?
“Oh, I really like this place,” she said.
Though it was clearly summertime, the ocean kept it cool, and multiple hearths hosted fires. They had just reached the bottom of the stairs when an older couple approached. The man was tall, blond, sizzling hot and muscled like a thirty-something-year-old.
But it was the woman who froze her in her tracks.
Slim, shorter than Nicole, she had a way of owning the room. Not because she was arrogant but because...well, it was hard to know. Perhaps it was the cut of her eyes as she appraised Nicole with one quick glance. Or maybe the way those around her seemed to hover nearby with respect. Even then, it was far more. Something undefinable. Yet humble.
“Thanks for joining us, Nicole,” the woman said in greeting, taking Nicole’s hand. “I’m Torra.” She nodded at the man beside her. “And this is my husband, Colin MacLeod.”
Holy hell. This was Rònan and Seònaid’s mom, Torra MacLomain, the dragon-shifter who married the enemy. Or at least everyone thought so thirty years or so ago. She tried to respond, but nothing came out.
“I think this is the part where you say, nice to meet you.”
Nicole clenched her teeth and tossed Niall a frown as he meandered by.
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 28