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

by Sky Purington

Rònan narrowed his eyes. “As if ye didnae have enough of yer own back in Scandinavia.”

  “Aye,” Tait relented. He smirked at several lasses who again sidled up next to Rònan. “Something tells me it will be different with you.” His eyes went to the women. “Surrounded by so many all the time.”

  “Enough.” Bjorn frowned at Tait. “You are a Viking dragon enjoying your kin’s hospitality. Remember that and behave better.”

  Tait scowled but said nothing more as Rònan again ushered the women away, trying his best to be kind about it. Yet he grew frustrated. Not with the lasses but with himself. Mainly because he realized how focused he had been on the next set of thighs he’d settle between rather than working toward being an admirable chieftain.

  “’Tis bloody good to see ye well, Cousin,” Niall said. Just in time, his friend leaned against the stables beside him, fending off women before they drifted too close to Rònan. “Ye need to stop vanishing for such long bouts.”

  Rònan had been filled in on what happened after he left and how long he’d been gone. This time around, Niall held out more faith that he would return alive. Not to say a hearty embrace wasn’t involved when he reappeared.

  “Aye, ‘tis good to see ye well indeed,” Logan said, leaning against the stables on his other side, a secondary stopper to any lasses attempting to approach. “I’ve had word sent to MacLomain Castle about recent developments. Though Connell is overseeing everything well enough, Machara’s parents have joined him there.”

  He had seen little of Colin and McKayla MacLomain since this all began. Rònan nodded. “How fare our aunt and uncle? It has been too long since I last saw them.”

  “Good.” Logan chuckled and nodded at the Vikings. “Aunt McKayla got it in her head to write about them. Apparently, she’s started having visions about them and lasses from the future.”

  Rònan frowned. “Our lasses?”

  “God, nay.” Logan shook his head. “They arenae Brouns.”

  Not relieved in the least, a response died on his lips when Erin and her friends finally came out of the stables. Thanks to Rònan’s father, the clan knew not to crowd her or even cheer for her until the celebrations later tonight. That should have been something Rònan saw to, but it hadn’t even occurred to him until his mother filled him in. He knew Erin didn’t like to be touched, never mind being made the center of so much attention no matter how well-intentioned it was.

  Rònan only held back long enough for Erin to lead Cassie to Logan before he took Erin’s hand and tried to pull her after him.

  “Hey, slow down, Rònan.” She pulled her hand free before turning back. Her eyes went to Tait and Bjorn. “That was you guys back there in dragon form protecting me, wasn’t it?”

  Both nodded.

  “Thank you.” She hugged Bjorn first, and Rònan did his best to keep a frown off his face.

  “Thank you both so much,” she reiterated as she embraced Tait.

  Rònan didn’t realize he was stepping forward until Niall grabbed his upper arm, shook his head and murmured into his mind, “Wait your turn then go about it correctly, Cousin. Take advantage of the fact you’re Laird here and act accordingly. Impress her. Woo the bloody lass, aye?”

  Though Rònan scowled at his friend, he knew he was right.

  But how to woo a lass? They had always just fallen into his arms. And was he truly ready to make such efforts for a lass’s affections? To focus on just one when there were so many? As he thought of all Erin had done for him, how she had felt in his arms earlier, he knew without hesitation that he was willing to make the effort. No, he needed to if he stood any chance at...what? Forever? Love? The gods only knew. One thing was certain, he didn’t like her in another man’s arms.

  Tait, of course, took full advantage of Erin’s hug and held her longer than necessary. Like Rònan, the Vikings were taller than most so had the advantage of lifting her up to hug her. Something that conveniently involved a wee bit too much body contact.

  At least, when it came to her Viking posse.

  So when Tait finally released her, Rònan didn’t take her hand and pull her after him again but instead held out the crook of his elbow and offered the most charming smile he could muster. “Welcome to my castle. Might I escort you to your chamber?”

  When she hesitated, he was shocked to feel his heart slam into his throat. What if he had no chance with her? What if the sex was nothing more than sex and she was truly interested in pursuing one of the Vikings? He couldn’t stop her if that were her wish. If he’d learned nothing else about Erin, it was that she had her own mind and no man could force her to go in a direction she didn’t want to go.

  “That’d be great,” she finally said. “Thanks.”

  When she took his arm, he breathed a sigh of relief. He still stood a fighting chance. Though tempted beyond reason to scoop her up to show every man here that he wanted her, his gut told him to keep with what he was doing. What Niall suggested. Wooing her.

  Again, he was thankful to his Da that the crowd wasn’t boisterous but parted as he walked her up the stairs. Instead, all smiled broadly, thanking her softly as she passed. After all, it was no average day that they welcomed a lass who had just saved their laird and most likely their clan.

  He still wondered exactly what had happened both here and in the Otherworld. The last he saw she was speaking to the demi-god shadow as though she knew it...or him. The next thing he knew, she snapped out of whatever spell she was under. Then, thanks not only to his Ma and Uncle Grant but the Vikings, they were pulled back here to MacLeod Castle.

  According to Grant, this was where Jackie had said they would end up. Because, as it turned out, Jackie was the only one who made contact with Erin in the Otherworld.

  Rònan still wasn’t entirely sure why Grant and his mother so readily trusted a lass they had only just met, but could only be grateful they had listened to her. Yet still, how had Erin defeated the evil demi-god? Better yet, had she or was it but another ruse by the enemy? These were concerns he and his immediate kin shared though they said nothing to his clan.

  More magic and warriors than usual would be defending the castle tonight lest the enemy somehow returned. His clan would think nothing of it as his Da, the former laird, had always exercised an abundance of caution after battles in the past.

  “This place is damn impressive,” Erin said softly as they entered the castle and she took in everything. He had never paid much attention to the great hall until seeing it through her eyes...literally. Their thoughts were bonded enough that he saw how majestic the high ceiling and tall stained-glass windows were. The way she felt as her eyes swept over multiple fires burning on monstrous hearths. How awed she was by the massive tapestries depicting sweeping, angry oceans with dragons flying overhead. Though glorious in its own right, she especially liked the stalwart angles and dangerous edges of the castle.

  “Many thanks, lass,” he said.

  His mother greeted them by embracing Erin and holding her tight. “Again, I find myself so thankful to you, lass.” She pulled back and held Erin at arm’s length. “You saved my boy. For that, I will forever owe you.”

  “Thanks, but you don’t owe me a thing.” Erin shook her head. “The way I figure it we’re all working together as a team, right? If I’m going to bat for someone, it’s not because I want them to feel like they owe me but because I respected them enough to go to bat for them to begin with.”

  When Torra’s brows shot up, Erin shrugged. “That’s how it was in the military, and if nothing else, I’m a proud American.”

  “Aye,” Torra said with approval. “You take pride in the people you call yours and would defend them until your dying breath, aye?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Torra’s eyes went from Rònan to Erin, her regard a bit too curious for his taste. He wished she didn’t ask what she did in light of so many people standing quietly nearby, eager for gossip.

  “So my son has earned your respect? If so, why?”<
br />
  “He has,” Erin said without hesitation. “Not only because I know he worked toward making Nicole happy when she needed it most but because of his devotion to protecting Robert the Bruce, Jackie and myself.”

  Rònan puffed up with pride. She truly thought that of him? She was that impressed? Then her next words took him back down to scale. Words that let him know she was more than aware of the endless women eying him with a, I’ve-had-you-before-and-will-have-you-again look.

  “Even despite his frivolous ways with women,” Erin said. “His heart’s in the right place.”

  Though his mother showed no outward sign, he didn’t miss the flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Aye, dragon lass.” Torra’s eyes searched Erin’s. “I believe at long last his heart truly is in the right place.”

  Rònan felt Erin tense at being addressed as a dragon, but he also felt the rightness she experienced at being called such. She was truly accepting what she was.

  They had only taken a few more steps toward the stairs before his sister, and another cousin blocked their way. Grant’s daughter, Lair came forward first and took Erin’s hand, eyes soft as she introduced herself then said, “Welcome, Erin. Thank ye for what ye’ve done for my kin.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Lair.” Erin nodded. “And my pleasure as far as your kin goes.”

  Next came his sister, Seònaid. He didn’t miss the slight widening of Erin’s eyes as she looked up and said, “Wow, you’re Rònan’s twin aren’t you?”

  “Aye,” Seònaid said as she embraced Erin. Though his sister spoke so softly nobody could hear, Rònan didn’t miss it with his superior hearing. “’Tis obvious my brother didnae mention me. Dinnae grow upset with him, aye?” He heard both the smile and purpose in her voice. “’Twas only because his mind was so thoroughly occupied elsewhere.”

  “It’s all good,” Erin said before Seònaid pulled away. “You’re the sort I’d much rather meet in person instead of hearing about you first anyway.”

  “Aye?” Seònaid eyed her. “Why is that?”

  “Because I prefer looking you in the eyes rather than forming an opinion of you based on what your brother said,” she provided. “No offense, but it might’ve been biased.”

  Rònan was caught off guard when Seònaid asked, “And your opinion is what having only just met me?”

  His sister cared nothing for what others thought of her any more than he usually did.

  “Based on how you defend those you care for, I’d say you’re my kind of girl,” Erin said. “And I look forward to getting to know you better.”

  “So yer a bit o’ a diplomat.” A wise look entered his sister’s eyes. “’Tis good that.”

  If nothing else, Rònan always paid attention to Seònaid’s take on people. She had liked Nicole. That was no surprise. Nicole might be blunt and stubborn, but there was no one you’d rather have at your back. Yet he had never heard Seònaid say what she just had to Erin. Something so political. When his sister stepped back, and her eyes met his, he was surprised to see it for what it was. His sister thought Erin would be a good addition to this clan. What they needed.

  She also thought Erin was the perfect match for him.

  He barely had a moment to process that before a voice he knew all too well muttered, “Och, step aside, ye bloody bastard,” and yet another cousin dropped to a knee in front of Erin and lowered her head before offering her sword and meeting Erin’s eyes. “Cousin to Rònan, my name is Machara MacLomain. My devotion and sword are yers. I thank ye for fighting so fiercely to protect my kin.”

  Dealing with Machara was always an ordeal so Rònan was curious how Erin would handle it. Though tempted to intercept, the sharp look his sister shot him kept him quiet.

  “Trust that Erin can handle this,” Seònaid whispered into his mind.

  And handle it she did in the most unexpected way.

  Erin cocked her head and narrowed her eyes on the sword Machara continued to hold out. “That’s a good looking blade.” She ran her finger along the blunt edge then touched the other side, clearly not interested in being political or winning anyone over in the least. “Sharp as hell.” Her eyes met Machara’s. “I’ll bet you sharpen it yourself.”

  “Aye. Nobody else is allowed near this blade.” Machara kept holding it out. “Would you like to hold it?”

  “Would I ever.” Erin grinned when Machara handed it over, murmuring, “It’s heavier than I expected. Damn near perfect.” Her eyes flickered to his cousin before returning to the sword. “But that makes sense. It’s made to suit your size.”

  Rònan thought for a moment he was wrong and that Erin was playing to the clan after all. But when she swooped it a few times with pure admiration in her eyes, the suspicion fizzled away.

  Machara watched the way Erin handled the blade with admiration. “Keep it if ye like.”

  “Though tempted, I’ve got to say no.” Erin reluctantly handed it back, her eyes meeting Machara’s. “I couldn’t do this blade justice. It’s not suited to my size. Thank you though.”

  “I can have it welded down to suit ye,” Machara offered.

  “Again, thanks but...” Erin moved closer and whispered in Machara’s ear something that made both him and his cousin smile.

  “Well then, lass,” Machara said as she pulled back and spoke loud enough that all might hear. “I shall meet ye in the MacLeod armory later, and we’ll have a blade welded to suit yer needs, aye?”

  Erin nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “As would I.” Machara stepped aside, met Rònan’s eyes and gestured up the stairs. “Might ye see the lass to her chamber then, Cousin?”

  “Gladly.” When Erin slid her arm through his, he led her up the stairs. The hall fell unnaturally silent as they walked.

  “Why is everyone so quiet again?” Erin said into his mind.

  “Because they show you honor.”

  “Did you ask them to do that?”

  Though tempted to take credit, he knew better. Erin deserved the truth. “Regrettably, nay. ‘Twas my Da who ensured you would not be overwhelmed any further. That my clan would show their thankfulness in a more respectful and reserved nature.” He sighed. “My apologies that I didnae think to make sure of it before him, that I was so narrow of mind.”

  Erin’s eyes met his and held for a moment before they went to the wall. To all the weapons glittering in and out of the endless torchlight. “Again, I’m impressed. This place is amazing. I can only imagine the history it shares with the MacLomains.”

  “This castle has a long history,” he said aloud but softly when he knew they were beyond earshot of everyone. “Ages of which it was held by the MacLomain’s main rival, enemies all.”

  “And who was that?” She skimmed her fingers along the weapons hanging between the torches as they climbed.

  “Us, the MacLeod’s.” When her eyes shot to him in confusion, he wondered if this was any sort of conversation he wanted to have right now. “Did you not know that the MacLeod’s and MacLomain’s were longtime rivals before my parents came together?”

  “I didn’t,” she said as they reached the top of the stairs. “When did they get together?”

  “About twenty-seven winters ago.” He put his hand to her lower back and led her alongside the balustrade overseeing the great hall. “Before that, the MacLomains and my clan were arch enemies. For centuries, in fact.”

  “No shit.” She continued to admire the castle. “Why’s that?”

  “As I heard it told the MacLeods and MacLomains saw things differently. Several Broun and MacLomain couples dealt more directly with MacLeod strife including Adlin MacLomain and his love,” Rònan said. “’Twas as simple as that until my parents came together and formed a truce betwixt the clans.”

  “So your clan were the bad guys.” She offered a rare grin as he led her up another set of stairs. “That definitely lends a bit of intrigue to the story.”

  “Intrigue?”

  “Sure.” Her words trailed o
ff at the top as she eyed his chamber. “Wow,” she whispered taking in its large size, the multiple arrow slit windows staggered by three wider windows. The multiple wall-bracketed torches. The huge hearth that took up a quarter of the room with a crackling fire. More so, her eyes shot to the bed.

  His bed.

  Though it had long been his masterpiece with its intricate dragon headboard, it suddenly looked sinister. A place that he had brought far too many lasses.

  All the wrong lasses.

  “Nay.” He shook his head, grabbed Erin’s hand and pulled her after him. “This room isnae for you.”

  “Why?” she argued. “It looks comfortable, and I’m tired.”

  “Ye might find yer old room more to yer liking brother,” Seònaid said into his mind.

  “Nay.” He shook his head. “It hasnae been used in ages and ‘tis far too small.”

  “Ye might be surprised,” Seònaid said. “We had an unexpected visit from Adlin MacLomain whilst ye were away. He thought mayhap ye’d want some changes made before ye returned.”

  Though Adlin MacLomain had long since passed away, his ghost was known to pop in on very rare occasions. He had already helped Niall and Rònan with the weapons they created for Nicole. Now it seemed he was up to more mischief.

  “Where are we going?” Erin frowned as he led her back down the stairs then along another long, narrow arched corridor. “I would’ve been just fine crashing for a bit in that other room.”

  “Nay,” he said. “There is somewhere more comfortable.”

  The room he led her to overlooked the ocean on the highest level at the backside of the castle. Unlike most chambers, it had its own private wall walk. When he opened the door, he was dumbfounded by what he found. Gone was the room from his youth. In its place, a chamber even larger and more sweeping than his current one.

  “Oh damn,” Erin murmured as she walked in.

  “Bloody hell,” Rònan whispered.

  With help from what could have only been magic, walls had been removed, combining several rooms into one. Even the length of the wall walk had been expanded with animal skins pulled back on either side, so the roar of the ocean filled the room. The hearth was a masterpiece but not as large as the one in the other chamber. He actually preferred its size because the other gave off too much heat. A table with food and drinks sat in the corner and a tub steamed with water. Torches burned and some of his favorite nautical dragon tapestries now hung on the walls.