Yet nothing was as astounding as the behemoth four poster bed framed on either side by torches. However, it was the headboard that drew their attention.
“Incredible,” Erin whispered as she walked over to it. “Look at this workmanship. Unreal.”
Rònan’s eyes narrowed. Not only did it put the one in his chamber to shame but it depicted not one but two dragons. Entwined, there was both a sensual and fierce sense about them. As though they fought for dominance yet were willing to share, to be as one. When Erin traced her finger through the grooves and over the masterful curves of the larger dragon, fire flared beneath his skin. Flashes of her riding him flickered through his mind, and he almost groaned. Determined to set aside his intense lust, he focused on pouring two mugs of whisky and handed her one.
“Thanks.” She took a hearty gulp and kept eying the dragons, as affected by them as he was. “Interesting artwork, Rònan.” Her eyes met his. “Is this room yours then? Better yet, the bed?”
“Nay.” Overheated, he invited her to join him on the wall walk. “The first chamber I brought you to was mine.”
“I see.” She leaned against the railing and eyed him. “So why didn’t you want me to crash there for a bit? Afraid all the other girls might get jealous?”
Rònan shook his head and debated how much to tell her. In the end, he went with the truth. She deserved it at the very least. “Nay, I didnae want you lying where others had.”
He almost said ‘so many others’ but decided that level of honesty was unneeded.
Erin crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you serious?”
“Aye, never more so.”
Their eyes held before she dragged her gaze to the sea. “While I appreciate it more than you know, you need to understand that I’m not looking for anything substantial. I don’t do relationships.”
Rònan almost said he agreed but the words caught in his throat, so he took another swig of whisky.
“So what’s the deal with this chamber? Better yet, that headboard,” she said. “Why are there two dragons on it? My guess is a male and female. Is this your parent’s room?”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “Besides, only my Ma is half dragon. Not Da.”
“Then what’s up with it then?” She frowned. “Is this Seònaid’s room? Is she a shifter with a husband I haven’t met yet?”
“Nay, my sister isnae half dragon.” Rònan scowled, feeling more and more uncomfortable. “’Tis just an extra room that will be yours as long as you’re here.”
Erin’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you lying to me?”
Why was he lying? But he knew. He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be. But he supposed he might as well be partially truthful because she would find out eventually. “This was my chamber when I was a bairn. Some updates have been made since including a new headboard.”
“Ah.” She grinned. “So this was your room when you were a kid?”
“Aye,” he said. “’Twas much smaller then.”
“Well, I imagine you were too.” She shrugged and kept a smile on her face. “Then again, I’ll bet you were big even then.”
Before he could respond, she gestured at the wall walk. “Was this here?”
He nodded. “’Twas not as large, though.”
Her brows perked as she peered down at the long drop to the ocean. “I’m surprised your mother was okay with you having access to this.”
“Och, I was flying when I was a wee one,” he scoffed. “And I ran hotter than most so ‘twas a good choice for me.”
“Right, flying,” she murmured and took another sip of whisky, the purple in her eyes flaring to life in the dying sun. “So why did you end up in a chamber with fewer windows and a bigger fire?”
Rònan knew he looked guilty when he offered a sheepish grin. “Nothing gets a lass out of her dress faster than a hot chamber.”
Erin snorted before she outright laughed. “You’re serious aren’t you?”
Rònan shrugged, cocked the corner of his lip and nodded.
Erin contemplated him with that same smile lingering on her lips. “So why do I get the impression that you’re looking for a little more between us?” She shook her head. “When it’s clear you like to play.”
When he hesitated, she said, “Just say what’s on your mind, Rònan. You already know where I stand and that’s not gonna change.” Erin gave him a pointed look. “Nothing you say is going to sway me so you might as well keep things on the level.”
“On the level?”
“Just keep being honest because I’m right here, right now, but not forever.” Her eyes stayed with his. “And I’d think better of you if you did. I kinda like the idea of us being friends.”
Friends?
Nothing about this conversation was going in the direction he wanted.
Or was it?
He had no idea. Everything about Erin was a first.
“Aye, being friends is good,” he agreed. “But you should know that...” He cleared his throat and worked at wording things correctly. “I find myself embarrassed by the lasses here...” Rònan shook his head. “Nay, not by the lasses but by my behavior up until now. How frivolous I’ve been.”
“Really? You’re having regrets?” Erin cocked her head, and he tried not to get distracted by the way the wind tried to loosen her wild curls. “Why?”
“For a lot of reasons.” Rònan set aside his mug and braced his elbows on the railing as he stared at the horizon. “Lasses aside, I haven’t behaved as a new Laird should. Though my parents and even my sister have always supported me, I’ve not missed their occasional looks of disappointment.” He shrugged. “Until now, it hasnae bothered me, but then I suppose I figured I had plenty of time to prove my worth. And as I saw it, a lad should take advantage of his youth whilst he has it.”
“But now?” she prompted. “What’s changed? That I’m here?”
“In some ways, aye. You’ve had a profound effect on me to be sure. But ‘tis not just that.” He shook his head. “Something about being taken again and again to the Celtic Otherworld is making me reevaluate things.” He frowned at the sunset. “Much like that sun, I feel like I’m sinking into the horizon, drifting further and further away from this reality. The more that happens, the more I appreciate everything I took for granted.”
“But not all the women?”
“Nay.” He sighed. “Though bonnie, kind lasses all, they seem to be the last thing I’m missing.”
“It sounds to me like you’re growing up, Rònan.” Erin took another sip of whisky, her eyes lingering on the ocean as well. “Happens to us all at one point or another.”
A comfortable silence settled between them before she continued. “On the off chance the enemy’s still out there, that bastard in the Otherworld isn’t gonna get you in the end.” Her determined eyes met his. “None of us is going to let that happen.”
He saw by the conviction in her eyes that she meant it.
“Thank you, lass.”
What neither said was that they might not have a choice.
“While I know it’s probably the last thing you want to talk about,” Erin said. “What do you make of our experience in the Otherworld? The fact that you were there the whole time while I was apparently snoozing away in Scandinavia.” She leaned back against the railing and kept her eyes on his. “If what everyone’s saying is true then there’s no way you and I had sex. More than that, even though I miraculously appeared here, was I really with you in the Otherworld, to begin with?”
Rònan couldn’t help but take her hand, never more serious. “Aye, you were there with me, one way or another. As to the sex?” He grinned. “Even if ‘twas not real ‘twas an unforgettable experience.”
He almost said it was one well worth experiencing again, but he figured that was not what Niall meant when he urged Rònan to woo her.
“Those are a whole lot of repressed thoughts there.” Erin’s lips curled up slightly. “And I’m sure as hell not opposed
to repeating that unforgettable experience as long as you know it goes no further.”
That was about the last thing he thought she would say and tried like hell not to show too much of a reaction. “’Tis a tempting offer, lass.”
When his blood stirred, he leaned against the railing facing the ocean once more.
Erin shook her head, her eyes falling to a groin he kept out of sight. “Aroused again I take it?”
“Aye.” He resumed drinking and growled into his cup, “You well know I cannae control it around you.”
“Flattered,” she murmured and kept sipping from her cup. “Look at the bright side. At least we can look at one another and chat now without wanting to rip each other’s clothes off.”
“Matter of opinion,” he muttered. Determined to get his erection under control, he changed the subject. “So why did it seem as if you knew the dark demi-god in the Otherworld?”
Clearly startled by the topic switch, she inhaled deeply and shook her head. “I have no idea.”
When he frowned, she continued reluctantly. “All right, let’s just say he looked like someone from my childhood.”
“He?” Rònan frowned. Fear for her made his chest tighten. “Lass, the demi-god has never appeared as anything but a black mass. Do you mean to say you saw the form of a man? One you once knew?”
When Rònan sensed Erin closing up, he shook his head and gently seized her upper arm. “This is important. If the dark laird is not yet defeated, whatever you know could verra well save not only our kin but the wee King.”
Though he knew she wanted to fight him, there was a sharp intelligence in her eyes that told him that she understood how dire the situation was. “I,” she started then trailed off, obviously trying to gather her courage. “There was a...something bad happened to me when I was a kid. When it happened, he was there...that man.”
“What does he look like? Does he have a name?”
Both fear and defiance flashed in her eyes.
“He’s dark. His looks, everything.” She pulled away. “No name.”
Though tempted to demand more details, he also knew that pushing her would not be good.
“I need to rest,” she said and headed back inside, clearly finished with the conversation.
“Of course.” Rònan followed her in, and with the flick of his wrist, her bath water was warm again. He gestured at the trunk at the end of the bed. “My guess is you’ll find a change of clothes in that.”
“Yeah, okay.” She sat on the edge of the bed, discontent. “Thanks.”
When he hesitated, her eyes met his. “I need you to go, Rònan.”
“Aye, lass,” he murmured. “Please eat if you’ve the chance.”
Though all he wanted to do was stay and comfort her, he well understood that her pain was something she was long used to tackling alone. So he left. Not surprisingly, Tait and Bjorn stood guard outside the door, weapons in hand.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, eying them. “Ye dinnae need to be here.”
“We watch over our kin,” Bjorn said.
Rònan narrowed his eyes. “Not too closely I hope.”
When Tait made to speak, Bjorn shook his head sharply and spoke for them both. “We protect our kin, Highlander. Never would we disrespect her.”
Rònan was about to say that his own warriors could watch over her just as readily, but his Ma appeared before he could.
“Bathe and dress in full MacLeod regalia,” she said, eyes stern. “After all, this is an eve that will either make or break yer future, Son.”
Chapter Thirteen
ERIN HAD NO IDEA WHAT time it was when she awoke, only that she would much rather stay in bed. Nothing had ever felt more welcoming and comfortable. Nonetheless, she heard bagpipes trilling from somewhere in the castle so figured the celebrations were underway. Oddly enough, the bathwater was still warm, so she enjoyed it thoroughly before exploring the contents of the trunk.
Nothing but dresses.
Though reluctant, she put one on, thrilled to find that it fit her like a glove. After she pulled on boots, she dried her hair the best she could in front of the fire. Like Megan said, it was changing. Instead of frizzing out of control, it was full and smooth, silky almost.
Taking her time to enjoy some food and whisky, she mulled over her conversation with Rònan. Should she have told him so much? Thankfully, he hadn’t demanded more answers when she shut him down. Good thing because she still had no solid explanation and she did not like dealing with people when she didn’t have all her facts straight.
Even so, she had the overwhelming feeling that Rònan wouldn’t judge her either way. That despite tackling his own issues, he would have wanted to help her through her troubles. The problem? Her troubles ran deep and long.
But she couldn’t focus on her past right now. She needed to make a show of it tonight, so she finally headed out. Erin smiled when she found her Viking posse outside the door. “Hell, guys, if I knew you were waiting around I would’ve sped up the ‘get ready’ process.”
While Bjorn seemed unfazed by her appearance, Tait sort of snapped to like a soldier who had almost drifted off when he was on duty. Bjorn held out his elbow to escort her, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered over her with admiration.
“How fare you, woman?” he asked when she wrapped elbows, and they started walking.
“Tired,” she answered honestly, repressing a chuckle when Tait walked alongside, nearly tripping over himself as he eyed her.
“You look beautiful,” Tait stuttered. “Very much so.”
“Thanks.” She yanked at the top of the dress. “Because I’m seriously not into this look.”
“It is always good to see the shape of your legs in trousers,” Tait complied obediently, eyes glued to her overabundance of cleavage. “But Scottish attire agrees with you too.”
“Tait,” Bjorn warned as little Robert the Bruce came flying down the hallway.
“Erin!”
Thrilled to see him, she crouched and gave him a big hug when he flew into her arms. It felt good to be around him again. Out of all this bullshit, he seemed to be the only one who made sense.
“I didnae think I would see ye again,” Robert said into her neck. “I thought ye were dead.”
“No way.” She stroked his hair. “I like to stick around.”
“Stick around?”
“Stay close to you.”
“Aye, ‘tis good,” he murmured.
It was clear he had no intention of letting go, so she lifted him and carried him on her hip. “Where’s your mother? Is she here?”
“Nay,” he said. “Laird Grant is my protector until I see her again.”
“Then you’re well protected,” she assured. “Because he’s the best.”
“Aye,” Robert agreed. “He says ye are too.”
“Really?” She smiled. “Smart man.”
“Do you know where you are going, woman?” Bjorn said from behind.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder. “I pay attention.”
Erin weaved through several halls and down stairs before she eventually arrived at the top of the stairs leading to the boisterous great hall below.
“Ye may set me down M’lady,” Robert said.
When she shook her head, he did the same. “Please, ‘tis only proper that I escort ye down, such as ye are.”
Erin’s eyes met Robert’s. “Such as I am?”
“Aye.” Robert nodded solemnly. “A great lady who saved a clan, who saved a laird.”
Appreciating the serious look in his eyes, she set him down and crouched. “Are you sure you’re all right?” She narrowed her eyes. “Because we can always avoid the crowd and go horseback riding or something.”
“Och, nay.” He shook his head. “’Twould be ill of us both not to join the MacLeod’s right now.”
A part of her was sad that a little boy felt so much responsibility, but another part understood. In a weird way, she had been in the
same position at his age.
“Okay, then.” She stood and held out her hand. “Lead the way.”
“Aye,” Robert agreed and took her hand. Unlike the peace Rònan’s father bought for her going up the stairs earlier, it was an entirely different story going down.
While she might’ve thought the concept absurd weeks ago, Erin was overly aware of all that had come to pass. Now she was going down the stairs with the future King of Scotland and two Viking dragon bodyguards trailing them as the crowd roared.
For her.
She should have drunk more whisky.
The more the crowd cheered, the more her world closed in. She didn’t deserve this. Never had, never would. The only thing that kept her going was the little hand in hers and...the man waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
Rònan.
Erin had never seen him dressed quite like this. He wore a long sleeved tunic. With tall black boots, his black and yellow plaid was wrapped to perfection with a shiny brooch at his shoulder.
He looked downright respectable.
Truly handsome.
Noble.
Not that he wasn’t damn hot in general because he was but right now, hands locked behind his back, stance tall, he appeared...not just a gentleman but proud of what he wore. Proud of his uniform. And something about that, something about seeing him taking responsibility, made walking down the stairs easier.
If he could be strong, so could she.
With a renewed sense of purpose, she made it down the stairs. Little Robert stopped at the bottom, turned and bowed to her before he lifted her hand to Rònan and said to him, “Care well for my friend, Laird MacLeod.”
Rònan bowed in kind to Robert. “Aye, my future King.” Then he took her hand and lowered his head. “Erin.”
Her heart leapt when their eyes connected. Why did that always happen? She didn’t bother trying to talk because she didn’t trust her vocal chords. Instead, she wrapped her elbow with his and let him walk her through the cheering crowd.
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 71