The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

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The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 31

by Sky Purington


  Rònan cocked a brow at him. “Aye?”

  “Aye,” Niall assured. He tightened his hold, a show of comradeship. “Just watch out. She’s got a mean pinch.”

  “Aye.” Rònan chuckled as they headed down the stairs. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Hours later, he found himself brooding in front of the fire and somewhat in his cups when Rònan’s father, Colin MacLeod sat down next to him. They said nothing at first, just enjoyed the flames on the hearth and the taste of good whisky. Colin had always been his favorite uncle, so he knew the MacLeod was biding his time, waiting for Niall to talk first.

  While he meant to speak of the upcoming threat in the Highlands and of the wee King, he instead said, “Rònan and Nicole seem to be getting on well.”

  “Did ye expect any less, lad?” Colin eyed him. “Especially when ye gave my son the go ahead.”

  “I’d hoped for the best,” he lied and took yet another drag of whisky.

  “Ye hoped for the worst, ye lying bastard.” Colin shook his head and kept eying Niall. “She’s too wild for my son.”

  “Yer son’s the wildest of us all,” Niall reminded. “Seems the perfect match.”

  “Nay, my son doesnae need a wild lass but a temperate one that will balance him,” Colin said. “One that will whisper soft words of wisdom in his ear as he learns how to lead this clan.”

  “Aye. Soft, wise words would do him good,” Niall agreed, polishing off his drink.

  “As strong words might do ye some good,” Colin said. “From a wild lass that says what she thinks and has the courage to tell ye things nobody else would.”

  “The courage to tell me things that nobody else would?” Niall snorted. “Ye make it sound as if I need a telling then.”

  “Och, but ye do.” Colin nodded to a random lass and Niall’s mug was replaced with a full one. “More than most, my lad.”

  Niall guffawed. “More than most?”

  “More than most,” Colin echoed. “Yer cousins are set to become lairds or already are. Logan of the MacLomains, Rònan of my MacLeods and Darach of the Hamiltons.” Colin studied him. “What have ye in yer heart, lad? Have ye a need to find some stability? To start a family?”

  No words were more sobering and not for the reasons one might think. “I’ve a need to protect the wee Bruce from an uncertain future. I’ve trained my whole life for it. Is that not enough?”

  Colin leaned forward, his eyes searching Niall’s. “But what of ye and yer desires beyond that? If ye knew right now that everything was well and Robert the Bruce was saved from all harm, what then?”

  Niall no longer chugged but sipped at his whisky as he eyed the fire. What would he do with his life if not for the only goal he had lived for? Saving the Bruce. His cousins all had the same goal, but they also had a clan to lead. Him? Nothing but endless lasses, drink and training to be the best warrior Scotland ever produced.

  “What do ye want for yerself once yer free of obligations?” Colin said softly.

  The sad thing? He had no idea. But he did know some things. Important things. The sort he would die for again and again. “To support my cousins and the clans that are mine. The MacLomains, MacLeods, and Hamiltons. To keep protecting ye and those that matter most to me.”

  “’Tis good this,” Colin murmured. “Admirable.” His eyes stayed on Niall. “But not enough because they dinnae involve ye seeking a life outside of protecting, outside of all yer honor.”

  “I couldnae ever stop protecting, and my honor is all I have.” Niall set aside his drink. “My honor reminds me of who I am.”

  “Aye, but yer honor also blinds ye.” Colin leaned over and clasped his shoulder. “Someday ye’ll have to realize that ye’ve given yer life to everyone else and mayhap ‘tis time to take a wee bit for yerself, aye? ‘Tis what yer Da wants most for ye.”

  Niall crossed his arms over his chest. “My Da doesnae care either way.”

  “Malcolm cares a great deal but is letting ye find yer way.”

  “Nay, my Da had hoped I might take over the MacLomains instead of Logan.” Niall banked old memories. “There was no pride in his eyes when I said I had no desire. That I thought Logan was the right choice.”

  “Mayhap ‘twas because yer Da saw something in ye that even ye dinnae see,” Colin murmured.

  A wry, half smile came to Niall’s lips as he continued to eye the fire. A smile he was long used to wearing. “My Da only ever saw what he wanted me to be, not who I actually am.”

  “Now see, that’s where I think yer wrong,” Seònaid said softly as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and whispered in his ear, “How many times do I have to tell ye, brother, that yer the noblest man I’ve met and more people see it than ye know.”

  Niall pulled her around and onto his lap. A much-needed smile came to his lips. They might not be true siblings, but she had always been like a blood sister. “And ye’ve my heart for that, lass.” He grinned and tucked her against his chest. “What tears ye away from yer fun to be with we morbid folk?”

  “You. Her.” Seònaid picked up his mug and sipped. “And Rònan. He’s being a regular beastie. When are ye going to put a stop to it?”

  When he heard a loud yelp come from behind that could only be Nicole and a roar that could only be Rònan, he kissed the top of Seònaid’s head and murmured, “Who am I to deny people fun when there’s fun to be had?”

  “They’re both drunk,” she muttered.

  “But having fun, aye?”

  “Mayhap ‘tis time to take a little fun for yerself,” Colin said before he stood, kissed them both on their cheek then scanned the hall. “I’m off to find my love.”

  Niall had no chance to respond before the MacLeod left.

  “My parents are too damn lusty even in their old age,” Seònaid said, but there was love and approval in her voice.

  Niall chuckled. “Yer parents are the youngest people I’ve ever met even in their fiftieth decade.”

  “’Tis because they never stop lusting.” She pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “But then neither do yours, aye?”

  “Och, nay.” Niall shook his head when she offered him more whisky. He needed to sober up so he could keep an eye on Nicole. “My parents err on the side of embarrassment they’re still so lusty.”

  Seònaid smiled at him. “Might we be so lucky when we find true love.”

  “Nay,” he admonished. “Love like that is for those who already fought and won their battles.”

  “Then what of Logan and his lass from the future?” Her eyes met his. “Have they not found love despite the battles that still lay ahead for us?”

  Niall shrugged. “Aye, so it seems, but Logan’s strong and will remain so even if weakened by emotion.”

  “Weakened by emotion?” Seònaid crawled off his lap and scowled at him. “Yer getting too bloody unfeeling for my taste, Cousin.”

  Niall caught her hand before she could go too far. Seònaid was his rock. That could never change. “I’m happy that Logan found love. Truly.” He inhaled deeply as he met her eyes, never more serious. “Just dinnae expect the same of me, aye?”

  She cupped his cheek, voice soft. “I dinnae expect anything from ye, brother, other than that ye’ll protect yer own.” Then she cupped his other cheek. “But ye need to realize that ye need protecting as much as any other.”

  Before he could respond, she placed a hand over his heart and continued. “And that might just mean letting go of this for a wee bit, aye?”

  “I’ll never let go of my need to protect, my vow,” he ground out. “Once made it doesnae falter.”

  “I meant yer heart, lad,” she whispered. “Not yer honor.”

  “Are they not the same?”

  “Some might think so.” She shook her head and pulled away. “In the end, they’ve nothing to do with the other.”

  “But they do.”

  “But they dinnae.” Seònaid took a long swig of whisky, wiped her hand across her mout
h delicately and gave Niall a firm look. “Go play, Niall. Ye deserve it more now than ever. Who knows what the morrow will bring.”

  He nodded once. She nodded once as well, then sauntered off into a slew of men waiting patiently.

  “Oh no, you didn’t,” Nicole cried from behind him.

  When Niall turned, it was to Rònan tossing three skins of whisky in the air. Two of which were caught by adoring women. The third he caught, snarling as he went after Nicole. Everyone whooped as his cousin chased her toward the stairs.

  Laughing, she turned and held one firm hand in the air, stumbling to the side as she hiccupped. His cousin stopped short. Like everyone else in her vicinity, she held Rònan captive with the tilt of her hip and the slow lick of her tongue over her lower lip. When Nicole seemed satisfied that she had everybody’s attention, she pointed at Rònan and declared, “He thinks he’s gonna screw me.”

  She spanned a pointed finger over the crowd, an unfortunate, loopy look on her face. “Who else is so bold?” Hiccup. “Brazon.” Hiccup. “And might I say fucked in the head?”

  Niall almost picked up his drink again. Almost. If for no other reason than to toast her making a fool of herself.

  But he did not.

  Mostly because far too many MacLeod men were appreciating her and Rònan was in no condition to protect her because he was equally drunk. So now he watched both carefully not because he was jealous but because he would be damned if anyone hurt them. Not with brawn. Never that. But maybe with words.

  So Niall sighed and stood.

  “Oh, loooook!” Nicole cried, swinging her faltering finger in his direction. “I see movement.”

  “As do I, my lass.” Rònan, teetering, grabbed a sword off the wall and held it high. “I will defend ye, my fair...fair...” He glanced at Nicole and cracked a grin. “My fair what?”

  “Lady, I think,” she mouthed, leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

  So now there was a choice to be made. Well, not really a choice at all. He needed to salvage Rònan’s dignity as he had just become laird. The only way to do that was to take the attention off his cousin by making a fool out of himself. With luck, that would spare Rònan any potential embarrassment. So Niall bit back his aggravation, grabbed a sword off the wall and pursued Nicole, crying like a madman. “He’ll not have ye, lass.”

  Baffled but apparently not willing to test Niall, she flew up the stairs. If that’s what you wanted to call it. More like stumbled and tripped a few times. Rònan tried to pursue but was soon swamped by women. And there was nothing quite as distracting to the MacLeod when in his cups.

  “See her to her chamber then, Cousin,” Rònan declared. “I will join her shortly.”

  Nicole spun and contemplated Rònan. “Hmm. Not so sure about that.”

  “I will,” Rònan blustered, a woman now tucked under each arm. “My fair...fair...”

  “Lady,” Nicole declared with approval then started to teeter.

  Niall tossed his blade to Colin and scooped her up before she went over.

  “Oh, put me down,” she complained. “I can walk on my own.”

  Deciding it was pointless to incite her right now, he ignored both her and the hoots and hollers from the hall...at first.

  “No need for the Broun Pincher to take down the MacLomain this time,” someone cried.

  “Nay, she’ll spread her legs willingly enough this go round,” another cried.

  Niall didn’t hesitate, but grabbed a dagger off the wall, turned and whipped it. He could have killed the man but chose not to. Instead, he made sure it whistled close enough to his neck that it pinned his hair to the wall.

  There was no need to speak loudly when he addressed the crowd. All had gone silent not only because of the blade but because of the deadly look in Niall’s eyes when he scanned the room.

  “Ye best be careful what slides off yer tongue when it comes to this lass,” he warned. “Ye ken?”

  Most nodded. Many yelled, “Aye.”

  Thankfully, Nicole gave him no fight as he strode up the stairs. The only words she mumbled against his chest were, “I know how to take care of myself. Born and raised in Southie. Not always an easy place.”

  Niall bypassed her chamber and brought her to his. Even with his threat to the MacLeods, they were rowdy, and she was far too vulnerable. By the time he laid her down on his bed, her eyes were closed.

  He covered her and was about to pull away when she grabbed his wrist and whispered, “Don’t go, Niall. I’m scared.”

  Chapter Four

  NICOLE CRACKED OPEN an eye and groaned. “Oh, crap. Did we really?”

  It was daylight, and she was in Niall’s bed. As far as she could tell, they were both nude. Of all the men she could have slept with. Niall? Seriously? Not only that but it appeared she decided to cuddle with him afterward. She was about to peel her cheek off his shoulder when he lifted something from the side table and handed her a mug. Eyes still closed, he mumbled, “Drink some water. You’ll need it.”

  She was thirsty. “I don’t get hangovers,” she grumbled before taking a deep swallow. “Not that I would know as a general rule because I don’t usually drink that much.”

  “Twice I’ve met you and both times you’ve been drunk,” he mentioned, taking her cup when she plunked her head back down. She might dislike the guy but he was pretty comfortable, and she wasn’t feeling all that energized. Not enough to roll away from him that is.

  “You try being thrust back in time and learning that wizards and dragon-shifters exist. See how drunk you might get...twice.” She closed her eyes, deciding the room was a little too bright. “No matter what, it doesn’t say much for you that you took advantage of me in that condition.”

  “The way I remember it you took advantage of me,” he grunted.

  “Oh, hell, so we really did.” She shifted her legs. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?”

  Nicole didn’t answer but inhaled, caught by the spicy scent of him. In fact, the more she became aware of his body, the more her senses were kicking in. The steady thrum of his strong heart. The hardness of his muscular body. Then, naturally, images of the way he looked last night flashed in her mind. Heck, was he built...in more ways than one. So telling him she figured she would at least feel some remnants of having had sex would feed his ego. And that was not an option.

  “Nicole?” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’ll want to stop doing that with your knee.”

  She froze, realizing she had been rubbing it across his groin. A groin that evidently was more than willing to pick up where they left off. Wherever that was. God, how could she totally forget sleeping with him?

  “Sorry,” she muttered and decided she had better get up.

  As it turned out, she wasn’t nude but wearing panties. Odd. “Why do I have these on?”

  “You would have had the bra on still too, but I didnae see the point,” he said. “I dinnae ken the need for such a thing. It looks bloody uncomfortable.”

  Grabbing the first thing she could find while still sitting, Nicole pulled on his tunic. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “So you screwed me with my panties on?”

  Sure, it could be done but had they been in that much of a rush? Then again, with their dislike of one another, they might have been. Slake the lust and get it over with.

  Instead of answering her, he folded his arms beneath his head and studied her. “What’s Southie?”

  Southie? Ugh, what the hell had she said last night? “You mean where.” She yawned and padded over to the table where she plunked down and bit into some bread. “South Boston. Why?”

  Niall kept eying her, expression neutral. “I was just curious what sort of place bred a lass like you.”

  She snorted and shook her head. “It’s a great place. Home.”

  “Lots of Irish immigrants,” he remarked.

  “Sure, I guess.” She poured herself more water. “I’m Irish on both sides
.”

  “Both sides?”

  “Mom and Dad.”

  “Ah.” He sat up and stretched, his muscles flexing in all sorts of delicious ways. “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “Don’t be a smartass.” She cursed under her breath when she could not pull her eyes from him. It wasn’t just his body but his face. Those full, sensual lips. Those eyes that almost seemed to fluctuate between blue and black. When he got out of bed, her eyes fell to the firm globes of his tight ass. Oh, have mercy. She wanted to squeeze those...

  He chuckled and laid the brogue on thick as he grabbed the mug and headed around the bed. “Ye just cannae keep yer eyes off it, aye, lass?”

  Nicole didn’t let her gaze fall because she knew what she would see if she did. More than that, she knew how much he would enjoy it. “Get over yourself, Brute.”

  Entirely too comfortable in his own skin, he remained nude and grabbed a piece of bread, winking at her. “I think I like you in my clothes, Ungrateful. It puts...”

  His lips kept moving, but an all-too-familiar buzzing sound drowned him out. Like it was with Darach, she had trouble following him. And just like his cousin had, Niall seemed to sense something was wrong because his brows lowered and he stopped talking.

  Nicole tore her eyes from his lips and focused on downing her water. Anything to keep him from seeing an ounce of fear. Just like last time, whispers started to echo around her. This time, however, it filtered down to one.

  A child.

  “I can hear them,” he whispered. It was definitely a boy, and he sounded frightened. “They willnae leave me be.”

  “I can hear them too,” she whispered back as she stood.

  Niall was right there beside her with his hand on her elbow. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she scanned the room for the boy though she knew deep down he wasn’t here.

  “Where are you?” she whispered.

  Nicole sensed the child’s hesitation, so she said, “I’m your friend.”

  “As are we all,” screeched too many voices.

  Covering her ears against the pain, Nicole tried to slide to her knees, but Niall swung her up into his arms and sat on the bed. The pain was familiar. Like the earaches she’d gotten when she was younger only a thousand times worse.

 

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