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

by Sky Purington

  Died.

  But not gone entirely.

  No.

  Erin put a hand over her mouth, eyed Cullen and allowed the truth to sink in. He had made sure her father found peace and that he was far beyond suffering. No matter what unexplainable things happened that night, one thing was for sure.

  Dad was at peace.

  “Thank you...for everything,” she mouthed, but nothing came out.

  Though he wasn’t looking at her and she hadn’t spoken aloud, Cullen whispered, “’Twas my honor. I only wish I could have saved him but ‘twas his time.” Then, not making a big deal out of it in the least, he returned to Treasa’s side.

  The next thing she knew her arms were around Rònan, and her face was pressed against his chest. After that, things were a blur for a while. Though outside of herself, she knew she cried and that she released long repressed emotions. So much heartache she had no idea she still carried. But somehow when Cullen showed her what she’d forgotten, she was able to see how much it had affected her life.

  Who she had become.

  Not a bad person just someone very closed off. Someone who kept people at arm’s length.

  “Hell,” she muttered at last and pulled away from Rònan. Only then did she realize that Cullen and Treasa were gone. Her Viking posse remained at the entrance with their heads bent, and Darach sat on her other side. She wiped away the last of her tears and frowned at him rather than look at Rònan. “So you stuck around for the sob show, eh?”

  “Aye,” he murmured. “’Tis what friends do, lass.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “I’m lucky to have you both around.”

  “Aye,” Rònan agreed gruffly.

  When her eyes, at last, turned his way, it was to see him wiping a hand over his face before he stood and turned away to scoop the satchel off the floor. But she didn’t miss the glistening on his cheeks beforehand.

  Tears.

  For her.

  “Rònan,” she whispered, but it was too late. He had gone outside.

  “All my life I’ve known my cousin but have yet to see him mourn like this. Rònan doesnae deal in tears,” Darach said softly. “He cares for you deeply, lass.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say he shouldn’t, but she suddenly realized that her long held self-loathing was no longer valid. Nonetheless, over a decade of feeling and reacting a certain way didn’t vanish in a single moment. So she said what felt natural. “He’ll get over it. They always do.”

  Darach frowned. “I dinnae think so.”

  She stood, determined to get back to what made sense. “Hey, you got a blade on you? I don’t like being without a weapon.”

  “Aye.” He handed her a small dagger.

  She eyed the noticeable bulges in his clothing and curled her fingers. “I’ll take one more.”

  He sighed. “You dinnae need them here.”

  “Hand one over, or I’ll take it when you’re not looking.”

  When he hesitated, she offered a lopsided grin. “I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again so let’s make this easy.”

  “Och, so that’s where my missing blade went,” he muttered as he handed her one.

  “Guess I should’ve kept my mouth shut.” She winked and tucked her blades away. “It’s always more fun to scoop ‘em off you when you’re not looking.”

  His brows arched. “More than one?”

  She nodded. “You need to keep better track of your weapons, friend.”

  “I’m a seasoned warrior, and yet you still managed it,” he mumbled. “You’ve a way with thievery.”

  Erin shrugged. “Call it what you will. If I’m not provided with weapons, I find a way to get them.” She headed for the exit. “C’mon warrior. I imagine they’re waiting for us.”

  By the time they made it outside, everyone was ready to travel. Rònan gestured to Tosha. “She’s yours to ride, lass.”

  She nodded and said, “Damn straight,” as she swung onto the horse. Other horses were here which she assumed Cullen had arranged. Rònan rode one taller than Tosha and well-suited to his size.

  “Are you well, Erin?” he said, coming alongside as they made their way through the thick forest.

  Never more thankful that he was back to normal, she nodded. “I am, thanks.” Concerned despite herself, she said, “And you?”

  Their eyes locked and as quickly as his lust could feed hers, the silent strength in his gaze filled her just as readily. “Aye, lass, I’m well.”

  “Good.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence as they traveled. It didn’t take her long to figure out he was giving them both some space. She needed as much and appreciated it.

  She kept playing over the events in the cave. Everything she thought she understood had changed within minutes. She had not killed her father. More than that, he hadn’t caused that fire himself. No, some ancient Scottish enemy had. Though circumstances were dire, for the first time in far too long, she felt remarkably free.

  Free of a prison she had put herself in.

  Free of a prison she had put her father in.

  More than that, she was free to finally let go and realize that her father was in a better place. So was she because of it.

  Eventually, the woods thinned and gave way to a sweeping field overlooked by what she soon learned was Stewart Castle. Stately and almost majestic, it was back-dropped by a mountainous cliff.

  The whole effect made one think twice about approaching. Even so, Erin couldn’t help but compare it to MacLeod Castle. Where Rònan’s castle sat on a cliff daring the wind and ocean to weatherize it more, this castle seemed far too protected and safe. Some might call it beautiful with its staggered wall walks and towers, but she much preferred the hard edges of a castle that had withstood the ages of time via the sea.

  There was more beauty in that.

  In survival. In how it fortified you if you didn’t let it eat you alive.

  If you still remained standing when life had seemingly beaten you down.

  Erin inhaled deeply. In the end, what did she know of being beaten down? Nicole had been by her circumstances but as it turned out, maybe not Erin. Instead of having to go into foster care, she ended up with an uncle and cousins until she was eighteen. Though always considered ‘family’ they weren’t blood relatives but kind enough. Nobody was around much, so she pretty much fended for herself. Still, it wasn’t as rough as it could have been.

  “You lost your father in a terrible way and formed your life around it,” Rònan’s words whispered through her mind. “You’re allowed to feel beaten down.”

  Though grateful for his support, she didn’t look his way but kept her eyes on the castle as they approached. Only when she saw people running across the field in their direction did she realize how self-absorbed she’d become.

  “Cullen?” a woman cried as she staggered over the last drawbridge. “Is that ye, Son?”

  A tall, handsome man followed her who based on his similar looks had to be Cullen’s father. Pain mixed with joy as he wrapped his arms around not only Cullen but the woman and they all embraced.

  “They are his parents, Alan and Caitriona Stewart,” Rònan said softly, steering their horses past them. “A family coming together once more. Something we didnae think would happen.”

  Erin knew nothing about the proper way to greet them, so she did what Cullen so recently did for her. She lowered her head and kept quiet. Everything she felt now wasn’t based on his divinity but what he had so clearly given up when he left his home.

  He had been a son and well loved.

  Just like she had been a daughter and well loved.

  They’d just entered the courtyard when a young woman strode up alongside her. At first, Erin thought nothing of it and meant to keep her head down.

  “Will ye not look at me then?”

  Recognizing the voice, her eyes shot to the woman.

  “Good, ye see me.” The woman squeezed her hand, leaned closer and w
hispered harshly, “Might ye save me then?”

  Erin shook her head, confused.

  Though the woman was younger than the last time she saw her, one thing was for certain.

  She was Cullen’s sister, Brae Stewart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “HOW MUCH YOUNGER did Brae look before she vanished from your sight?” Alan Stewart asked for the fifth time as he paced in front of the fire. He made a gesture with his hands. “Did she wear her hair piled on her head like this?” He kind of groped at his hair before he skimmed his hands alongside his neck. “Or was it in braids? Sweet as it always was?”

  They had arrived here almost two days ago, and though Alan was very happy to have his son back, he remained disgruntled about his daughter.

  “It was sort of half up, half down,” Erin said as she had a few times already.

  Rònan knew that Erin had come to terms with her past and was doing her best to help out Cullen’s father. More than that, she wanted to repay Cullen in any way she could for taking care of her father and keeping her safe.

  Catriona spent the early part of the evening hosting and had recently joined them in a large antechamber off of the great hall. She didn’t allow Alan to continue his ranting much longer before she said, “Enough, good husband. The poor lass has told you all she knows. By the sounds of it, Brae wasn’t all that much younger.” Her eyes met Erin. “The hair style you’re describing sounds like the way she wore it for a time three winters or so ago.”

  Erin nodded. “I don’t mind Laird Stewart questioning me. My father would’ve done the same had I been in Brae’s position.” Her eyes flickered between them. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you both.”

  Catriona squeezed Cullen’s hand when he sat beside her. “It has been difficult, but at least our son has been returned to us.” A warm smile curled her lips when she looked at Treasa. “And his betrothed. ‘Tis truly good to see ye again, lass.”

  “Aye, ‘twas more wonderful than ye know to visit my village and be amongst my own again,” Treasa said. “And to once more be at Stewart Castle with Cullen and all of ye.”

  It had been eventful since the Stewart clan reunited with Cullen and Treasa. Rònan had given Erin a thorough tour of the extensive castle with her Viking posse right behind. Now that it was confirmed the enemy was not defeated, they were more vigilant than ever. Though he felt moments of irritation when he wanted privacy with her, he could only be grateful they cared so much.

  Like Darach, who had been filled in on the events at MacLeod Castle, he was deeply upset that the dark demi-god had survived. Though Rònan knew his defeat had almost seemed too easy, he’d remained hopeful. When Erin bathed earlier, Rònan took the opportunity to speak with Darach in the armory.

  “So not only you and I but the Vikings are to protect Erin whilst our cousins and kin watch over the wee king for now.” Rònan frowned at Darach. “I’m surprised Niall wasnae sent considering he has the sword I’m meant to fight this evil with.”

  Rònan’s father had given the sword to Niall when he was younger. Since then it had been re-forged with magic by not only the great wizards, Iosbail and Adlin MacLomain, but also by Alan Stewart. A weapon that had once defeated a great evil and apparently was meant to do so again.

  “I dinnae question my Da when he orders me to go somewhere,” Darach replied. “Though I know ye’d prefer Niall.”

  While grateful Darach had been so supportive of Erin, he was more on edge with his cousin than usual. “’Twas ill of ye not to be at my castle though it seems ye clearly arrived at the last minute. Jackie was looking for ye, and the lass could use the protection now more than ever. Mayhap even the friendship.”

  “Jackie had her friends and all of ye to protect her.” Darach studied a particularly long dagger and tested its weight. “Someone needed to check on my castle to make sure the people were well tended.”

  “Last I knew ‘twas not yer castle but yer Da’s, aye?” Rònan leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned. “’Twas ill timing that ye were set to oversee what ye should’ve been seeing to long before this. Especially considering the Broun lasses and the wee king need ye more than ever. ‘Twas what ye bloody well trained yer whole life for, Cousin.”

  While Darach might be evasive when it came to certain things, he wasn’t one to turn from an upcoming battle. Arms crossed over his chest as well, he faced Rònan. “Dinnae try to lay blame my way. ‘Twas me who spent plenty of time in the twenty-first century making sure the Broun lasses knew and trusted at least one of us before being thrust back in time. ‘Twas also me who worked with a few of them before they came so that they might defend themselves better.”

  Rònan narrowed his eyes. “Mayhap, but I think ye were there more for the lusting than anything else.”

  “Ye can think what ye bloody well want,” Darach bit back. “It doesnae change the fact that the lasses had somebody there. Me. And what about ye? Ye dare to judge me? Ye couldnae be bothered to go to the twenty-first century until ye had no other choice. And why? Because ye were too busy doing yer lusting back here and neglecting yer duties to yer clan.”

  The conversation would have grown far more heated had Cullen not joined them. And though both were tempted to argue despite his presence, they knew their brethren was going through enough. So now, hours later, they listened to Alan Stewart mull over his daughter’s odd ghostly appearance and made a point of not looking at one another. Because if they did, the argument would likely flare up again. Only this time telepathically.

  “I think if we should take nothing else from this experience, husband,” Catriona said. “’Tis that our daughter isnae as evil as we were led to believe...likely not evil at all.”

  “’Tis my greatest hope.” Alan frowned at Cullen, his words thickening with emotion. “But all aside, she murdered her own brother in battle. ‘Tis lucky that God gave ye another chance at life after ye gave up yer wings.”

  Cullen remained vague about exactly how that had happened, but it was clear to all based on the way they looked at each other, that Treasa was at the heart of it.

  “Aye.” His eyes remained on Treasa. “I’ve never been so lucky.”

  “Nor I,” she murmured.

  “So ye know nothing of why Erin would have seen Brae such as she did?” Alan asked Cullen.

  “Nay, Da.” Cullen shook his head. “I can only hope that ‘twill lead to good things and help all of us find resolution one way or another.”

  Rònan knew that Cullen didn’t trust the situation any more than the rest of them. Who knows how the dark Laird might be trying to get to Erin. He also sensed that Cullen repressed a great deal of fury when it came to his sister. A fury that he suspected Alan and Catriona were well aware of. But there could be no blame laid for that. Cullen had every right.

  Yet at this moment, Cullen’s focus was on anything but his sister.

  No, he only had eyes for Treasa.

  “I think mayhap ‘tis time for us to step away from heartache and focus on joy for a little while,” Catriona said softly as she watched Cullen and Treasa eye one another. “Do we not have a wedding to attend then?”

  Eager to wait until they returned home so that they could be with their families, the two had waited to marry. Yet Caitriona recognized that her son wouldn’t wait much longer. Unlike the clandestine wedding they had tried years ago, she decided nothing would better suit the joyous occasion than the added bonus of marriage.

  Rònan stayed close to Erin when everyone started to filter outside and up the path to the wide area beside the mountain behind the castle. He kept a hand against her back as they walked and murmured close to her ear, “You look more beautiful than ever, lass.”

  And she did.

  There was a new glow to her that he knew had to do with her accepting that she couldn’t change the past. More than that, it no longer controlled her.

  His heart still broke over what she’d suffered. Rònan had never felt so mu
ch compassion or sympathy for anyone. He was impressed by how strong she’d become because of it. Yet it had taken its toll and for some reason made her remain distant to a man’s affections. Something he was determined to push past when the time was right.

  When she was ready.

  Because of the wedding, she was once again in a dress that highlighted her petite figure to perfection. It was deep purple, drawing out her eyes so well that when men weren’t gawking at her body and face, they were ensnared by her gaze. And it was getting to be too much. Mostly because though he made it clear he wanted her, Erin didn’t reciprocate. She did not flirt with others, but she certainly didn’t act as if she were his. Then again, she wasn’t. Not yet.

  But she would be.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself,” Erin murmured in response to his earlier compliment.

  His blood stirred when she eyed him over. Laird Stewart made sure he had a fresh MacLeod plaid and his clan’s brooch. So he was once more in full regalia except this time his tunic was sleeveless. It seemed that difference worked because her gaze kept returning to his bare arms. She liked not only the markings but the muscles.

  “Treasa looks fantastic.” Erin grinned. “Though her dress rocks, I’m almost surprised she isn’t wearing pants.”

  She referred to how much Treasa had apparently embraced the twenty-first century. Like Erin, Treasa and Cullen apparently had motorcycles and enjoyed riding.

  “I think I’d like to visit your century once all of this is over and ride a bike,” he said. “After hearing all of you talk about it, I grow more intrigued.”

  The corner of Erin’s lip shot up and her arousal spiked. “You’d look damn good on one.” She cast him a curious sidelong glance as they made their way onto the lower half of the mountain. “It’s hard to know if it’d give you much of a thrill though seeing how you can fly. I tend to think that might feel a lot like the freedom of the open road but far better.”