In the end, she was beside him but turned away.
But she was beside him.
Though tempted, he didn’t wrap his arms around her but stayed close. He kept telling himself it was because he meant to keep her safe, but there was more to it than that. Something he scowled at even as everyone else slumbered and he eyed her red hair resting against her slim neck. He wanted to run his finger up the slender column until he again cupped the fine bones of her cheek. To feel that softness again. He licked his lips. To taste the smooth satin of her skin and hear her moans. The pleas that said don’t even as they said do.
Almost as if she sensed his thoughts, she turned.
He stilled as she tucked herself against him and nuzzled her nose up beneath his chin. She inhaled then exhaled softly before her breathing evened. Careful but desperate, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. All he could think about were their moments together earlier. How she was worried that he was getting sappy.
She had no idea how sappy he almost became.
Niall breathed in her sweet hair, scented by the mountain. Scented by their lovemaking. He took Cassie’s advice as if sent from the gods. He did not want to scare her away.
He did not want to lose her.
Did he?
Nay.
But how could he keep her without losing himself? Because a lass like Nicole meant to steal away his soul and make it her own. She was fierce and a warrior in her own right. A lass who fought with her heart when he was used to fighting with weapons.
Yet there was an ease to her.
One that he felt bone-deep. One that made his worries vanish when they should remain firmly in his mind. One that made the world and all its distress fade away as they curled into one another. He typically didn’t sleep long. Ever. It was an age-old habit born of training to protect the Bruce.
But she made him sleep.
Soundly.
Peacefully.
Peace that was ripped from him when the sound of crashing water filled his eardrums. Loud. Fast. Here. When he bolted upright, Nicole stirred. She sat up as his eyes swept over the cave.
All was quiet.
“What’s going on?” she murmured, groggy as she looked around.
“Darach, Logan, ‘tis time.” He stood. “We need to go.”
Like him, his cousins slept on the edge of awareness and were up immediately as were the remaining warriors. All he could think about now was Rònan. Why had they not asked the god about him? But somehow he knew Fionn kept things exactly how he intended them.
Which irritated the bloody hell out of him.
But also made him hopeful.
Had the god done such with purpose? Was his cousin still alive? Cursing under his breath, Niall realized how untrustworthy his mind had truly become. How deluded all their minds had become.
He glared first at his father. “You thought not to ask after my cousin?”
Malcolm seemed disconcerted but said nothing as he stood, his gaze sweeping over everything.
Nicole rubbed her eyes as she tried to acclimate. “Again, what’s going on?”
“Something. A vision of sorts.” He nodded at the wall they had climbed down earlier. “We need to go that way.”
So they all headed toward the rock wall. When Nicole paused at the makeshift ladder, he said, “I will carry you again, lass.”
That got her going.
Nobody said a word as they climbed. Malcolm carried Robert the Bruce. Nicole fared well, likely because Niall stayed behind her, a constant reminder that he would carry her if need be.
When everyone reached the top, Niall allowed his senses to take over. “This way.”
None questioned but followed as he led them through the Mother Oak’s cave toward the exit to the ledge he and Nicole had been on before.
“What about Vika?” Nicole asked.
“I dinnae know, lass.” He frowned. “We can only hope that Fionn sees fit to send her after us.”
“Forget that.” She stopped next to the horse. “If she stays, I stay.”
“Nay.” Darach took her wrist and pulled her after him. “’Tis far too dangerous.”
When she pulled against him, Darach shook his head and warned, “Dinnae think I willnae throw you over my shoulder.” He nodded at Niall. “If my cousin says ‘tis time to go, then ‘tis time.”
He’d never been more grateful to anyone when Darach decided to handle the stubborn lass this time. His nerves were on edge. Raw. Her stubbornness would send him spiraling out of control. He couldn’t handle that right now. Too much was at stake. And he was even more grateful when she followed rather than ending up on his cousin’s shoulder. But then he knew Vika had helped convince her to leave as well.
Niall led them over the rock ledge to a steep incline that led down into the abyss of the mountain. His father’s eyes met his. “Are ye sure, Son?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Now.”
Malcolm eyed him for a long moment before he nodded as well and ushered the others down. By the time they reached the backside of the waterfall, his sense of urgency had grown. Whatever was coming was almost here.
Time was running out.
“I don’t like this,” Nicole started as he grabbed her hand and yanked her after him.
“Niall.” Her voice sounded not panicky but firm as he murmured a chant and the waterfall shifted so that they could pass through easily. “What’s happening?”
If he knew, he would tell her. His eyes fell to the lake at the heart of the waterfall as they exited. The pull he had felt in his dream rose.
One made of water.
Urgency.
Escape.
He pulled Nicole close and shook his head. This made no sense. What was he looking for? Waves lapped. A moon shone overhead. There was nothing here.
Yet the need grew stronger.
“He’s coming,” Nicole whispered.
Niall didn’t need to ask. She referred to the Viking King.
Regrettably, he was not the only one coming.
“We’ve got problems,” Machara muttered seconds before a host of enemy warriors roared out of the forest onto the shore. Malcolm kept Robert with him as Niall handed Nicole a dagger and withdrew his sword. Meanwhile, his cousins and fellow warriors had their weapons drawn, eyes not only on the approaching clansmen but on their surroundings. Looking anywhere Brae and her dark shadow monster might be.
Logan started chanting, and the ground shook, throwing the warriors off balance. Niall summoned the waterfall’s spray to gush against them. Darach called on the wind to slow them down even more. Yet soon enough they were clashing blades. Again, Niall found it difficult to relish a good battle when he had not only Nicole but the Bruce under his charge.
Like him, Nicole took up position in front of Malcolm and the wee King. Niall had to give her credit. She’d paid attention and learned how to use her blade. One warrior already had a gash across his arm. Fueled by pain, he ducked and came at her.
“Och, nay,” Niall muttered as he drove one man through with his sword while whipping his dagger at the one rushing her. It was a clean hit in the side of his neck, and the warrior fell to his knees in front of her. With a wild look in her eyes and several creative words, Nicole gave him a solid kick to the face, and he went down for good.
Despite their dire situation, Niall chuckled as he fought two more men. Yet the chuckle died as he realized how many warriors were pouring out of the forest. Literally an army. His eyes shot to his father, and he roared, “Get Robert and Nicole out of here.”
“Aye.” Malcolm nodded at the lake. “Soon enough.”
Wind not of Darach’s making had started to whip up over the water, and a thick fog curled over the lake masking everything. Even so, Niall and his cousins had no choice but to remain focused on fighting. Logan was methodical as ever as he downed man after man. Darach fought with two swords, moving faster and faster as he ducked, spun and sliced.
Niall growled in renewed
frustration when by habit he sought out Rònan. They had always battled alongside one another, and he felt the loss of his brother-in-arms deeply.
When Nicole screeched, his eyes flew her way. A warrior had managed to take her down and was seconds away from running his dagger across her throat. Niall roared with rage, unable to get to her as he fought off three more warriors.
Machara had nearly reached her when Nicole drove her knee up into the man’s groin. Taking advantage of his weakened condition, she grabbed his dagger and sliced it across his throat.
Machara, a wide grin on her face, arrived just in time to pull the dead warrior off his lass. Eyes wide, Nicole was shaking but able to stand as she nodded thanks to his cousin. Niall’s adrenaline was still pumping, and he managed to take down all three warriors with one mighty swipe of his blade.
By the time he reached Nicole, three things happened at once.
He saw the blossoming blood on her shoulder.
The dark monster enemy cloud appeared.
But so did a Viking longship.
Chapter Ten
NICOLE HONESTLY DID not know what to focus on first. The Viking ship or the concern and fury in Niall’s eyes when he saw her wound. More than that, the savage way he started fighting as he kept anyone from getting too close to her. He was brutal. Ruthless.
Impressive.
Yet eventually, like any normal twenty-first century woman would do, her eyes swung back to the massive ship. Better yet, all the rugged men climbing down from it. Holy hell. Where had they come from? This was nothing but a lake. Or so she assumed. No matter what, they were here and a totally different breed from the Scottish warriors.
Nope, these guys were definitely Vikings.
Long haired, bearded, tattooed Vikings.
Her eyes went to the man leading the way. Huge, with black hair and a fierce expression, she knew exactly who he was. The Viking King, Naðr Véurr Sigdir. He nodded at her before his blade crashed into an oncoming warrior’s.
His voice entered her mind. “You need to get your people on the ship now.”
Nicole immediately relayed the message to Malcolm, who must have told the others because they started for the ship even as they fought. She didn’t get far before a Viking scooped her up.
“I can walk,” she said, ignoring the sting in her shoulder.
“But I can walk faster.” The handsome Viking with bedroom eyes winked at her. “Kol’s the name. I’m the King’s brother.”
“Nicole,” she murmured before he handed her off to another and she was swung up into the ship. When she saw that Robert was already safely on board with Malcolm, she rushed to the side and tried to peer through the fog. Where was Niall? She was probably better off without him but still. She couldn’t just leave him behind.
Wind roared as the black shadow overhead fluctuated and twisted, trying to get closer to the ship. Only then did she see the behemoth Viking sitting on the dragon prow with his arms raised in the air. Head back, he appeared to be chanting...and somehow keeping the monster at bay as men started to climb aboard.
Logan arrived first followed by Kol and Naðr. By the time Darach, Machara and Conall boarded, and the ship appeared to be pulling out, panic had set in.
“Darach.” She grabbed his arm. “Where’s Niall?”
“He wanted to make sure our warriors made it back to the safety of the mountain. He’ll be along,” he assured. “Niall tends to fight for as long as possible.”
“He’ll be along,” she mouthed and shook her head as the last Vikings boarded and started to row. “I think the hell not.”
She had just managed to swing her leg over the edge to head back down the ladder when Naðr pulled her back into the ship. “You’re not going anywhere, woman.”
Before she could respond, he swung over and vanished. By this time, the oars were really starting to move them, and the sail was being raised. The black shadow kept rushing at the ship but whatever the guy on the prow was doing seemed to be working. Nicole was just about to head after Naðr when he returned.
Her eyes flickered from him to the ladder. When Niall didn’t appear, she shook her head and started in that direction. No sooner did she reach the side before he swung over and sat on the edge, sword still clashing with someone behind him.
Kol captained the ship and roared for the men to row harder. Niall made one more driving thrust before he muttered, “To hell with ye then.”
By the time he jumped into the ship, he was soaked and speckled with blood. The look in his eyes when they swung her way was indescribable. Angry. Relieved. Concerned. He pulled her back against him, wrapped an arm around her waist and kept his sword in front of her. Nicole realized he was defending her until they were clear of the black shadow.
Thick, soupy fog poured over the ship as waves crashed against the hull. It was nothing short of spooky as the whiteness scooping around her became so dense that she could barely see Niall’s sword. The air chilled and the scent of sea salt filled her nostrils. Too much time went by as they stood there waiting. Expecting. Ready.
“We arenae in Scotland anymore,” Niall eventually murmured and slowly lowered his blade. “’Tis safe enough for now.”
“Not in Scotland anymore,” she whispered. Her eyes widened as the fog started to dissipate and revealed not a lake but an ocean. By the time the last wisps of condensation cleared, white-tipped jagged mountains etched the horizon.
“Welcome to ninth-century Scandinavia, lass,” Niall said softly.
A loud roar of approval arose in response to their surroundings, rumbling along the ship like thunder. Darach and Logan were embracing Kol and Naðr as everyone offered a hearty greeting.
Instead of doing the same, Niall turned her and eyed her shoulder. “Bloody hell.” His concerned eyes met hers. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” she assured as he scooped her up then sat her down on a bench by the mast.
He crouched, a heavy scowl on his face as he tried to inspect her wound. “We need to get this cleaned and wrapped before it festers.”
“It’s just a scratch,” she said. Or at least she thought so. It had been a slice, not a thrust.
“Let me see.” When he started to pull down the corner of her dress, she stopped him.
“Hell, Niall. Do you see how many men are on this boat? You can’t just strip me.”
“I dinnae care how many—”
“Let me take a look,” came a deep rumble before another man crouched next to Niall.
Nicole almost pulled away he was so ferocious looking. With tattoos wrapped over his bare head and two skinny braids hanging from his goatee, he was even fiercer than the Viking King. She narrowed her eyes as it occurred to her who he was. “You were just up on that prow, weren’t you?”
“I was.” His voice was surprisingly gentle considering his size. “My name is Kjar.” He gestured at her shoulder. “I can take care of that for you.”
Niall nodded and sat next to her. “Aye, ‘twould be most appreciated, friend.”
“How are you gonna—” she started but froze when Kjar put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Niall’s arm slid around her waist as an alarming heat encompassed the wound. When a pinch of pain stabbed her, Niall’s arm tightened. Yet the pinch faded fast and left only mild warmth in its wake. She peeked beneath her dress after Kjar pulled his hand away.
“Oh, wow,” she exclaimed. “The wound is totally healed.”
Kjar grunted and nodded, apparently more concerned about other things. “You’ve been touched by the Celtic gods.” Kjar’s eyes shot to Niall. “A dark god.”
Nicole frowned. “Excuse me?”
Disgruntled, Kjar stood and gestured at Niall. “Come, we must speak with Naðr and your cousins immediately.”
“Hello? Anybody listening to me?” she said as they ignored her and headed for the Viking King. Nonetheless, she called after Kjar. “Thanks by the way.”
Nicole sighed as she eyed the men and tried to keep her fear at
bay. A dark god had touched her? Yet deep down she wasn’t all that shocked after the nightmare at MacLomain Castle and the voice in her head when Rònan died. No, vanished. Because she refused to believe he was dead.
“It seems we’re changing course,” Kol commented as he sat down beside her. He glanced at her shoulder. “Are you better now, Nicole?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She eyed him. “Care to share how Kjar managed it?”
He handed her a skin. “Demi-gods have a way with healing.”
“Demi-god!” Nicole almost took a swig but lowered it when she remembered that she might have been duped into pregnancy. “Are you shi...sharing the truth?”
Kol looked at her oddly either because she didn’t drink or because of her stuttered words.
“Yes, Kjar is half god.” He cocked his head. “Why do you not drink?”
“Is it water?”
“No. It is ale.” He nodded. “Good ale.”
“Oh, I could really go for some good ale right about now,” she murmured but continued to try to give it back to him.
“Loki’s balls, then drink, woman. You earned it.”
“Och, she cannae, lad. ‘Tis verra likely she’s carrying a wee one,” Machara said, plunking down on Kol’s other side. She offered a somewhat flirtatious grin. “How fare ye, old friend?”
Kol grinned. “Married.” The grin grew wider. “And happy.”
“Ye married?” Machara’s brows shot up. “I didnae think the day would ever come.”
“Nobody thought the day would ever come.” Kol chuckled before his eyes swung back to Nicole. “Were you hoping to be with child, then?”
Of all the blasted conversations to be having with a ninth-century Viking.
Damn Niall.
“Hell, no,” she said but felt a strange little flutter in her stomach as her eyes found her brute of a MacLomain. Ugh, when had she started thinking of him as her MacLomain? Time to lose that thought.
“Then your worries are over,” Kol assured. “Because you’re not with child.”
“How do you know?”
“His dragon blood,” Machara kicked in and winked. “Allows them to sense things like that. They can hear it and smell it. It’s the same with arousal.”
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 40