Ah, well that made sense.
“Interesting,” she murmured, making no apologies for her sense of self-preservation even if it did involve a little bit of thievery. Sometimes you had to do what you had to do to survive...or to protect others.
“Now ‘tis as Iosbail MacLomain said it must be.” Torra’s eyes met Rònan’s. “Niall gave you the sword when the time was right. Now you must trust your lass and do the same for Darach when the time is right.”
Rònan would always trust Erin. His lass. His dragon. As he was just as much hers. Based on how little she wanted him to say aloud not to mention her closed off mind, it was clear she was purposefully keeping their recent bond from the enemy.
Rònan eyed Darach, a challenge in his eyes when he said, “I will give the blade to you when Erin says to. As it is, this is one thing you cannae avoid, aye, Cousin?”
When Darach’s eyes narrowed, Erin frowned and headed for one of the adjoining rooms. “Sorry everyone but I need a moment alone with these two.”
“Aye,” Grant and Torra said at the same time.
“Ye bloody well do,” Grant added.
It seemed Uncle Grant might be as fed up with his son’s evasiveness as Rònan was.
“We’ll grab our weapons and wait outside,” Torra said.
Darach and Rònan followed Erin. They had no sooner entered the bow and arrow chamber when she spun, planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at them. “Whatever this is between you two needs to stop right now.”
Her eyes locked on Rònan’s. “I know you look down at Darach because you don’t respect him avoiding his responsibilities and becoming Laird.” Her brows slammed together. “But it seems to me you weren’t all that much better until recently. From what I’ve heard, you were a pretty immature leader. So cut him some slack.”
Before either could respond, her eyes shot to Darach. “And you need to get over Rònan stealing a girl from you way back when. It obviously wasn’t meant to be. Besides, women are all over you, and I’m sure they have been for a long time.”
“Aye, just not any of the Broun lasses,” Rònan remarked, still irritated over his cousin spending so much time in the future.
“You need to get over that attitude because it makes you seem insecure.” Erin frowned at Rònan. “And I know you’re not. I think deep down you feel guilty for not getting to the future sooner. That it might’ve been a smart move to get to know us Brouns before we ended up here. That it might’ve been the responsible thing for a laird to do considering not only the future King of Scotland’s life was at stake but the safety of your own clan.”
Rònan was about to bite back, but the words died on his tongue when he realized she was absolutely right. Neither Darach nor Niall were lairds, yet they made a point of going to the future. In Niall’s case, it was to better understand Nicole’s disability. In Darach’s case, mayhap it did have something to do with putting the lasses’ minds at ease.
And though Rònan could say the responsibility of being laird kept him too busy, he knew two things. One, Logan had found the time to go to the future often. Secondly? Rònan wasn’t busy leading his clan. No, his time had been spent being markedly frivolous and self-centered.
Disgruntled, Rònan and Darach eyed one another before Erin kept talking. “Now I’ve said what I needed to, I want to know exactly what’s going on inside your head, Darach, because Jackie’s depending on you.”
“I dinnae ken,” Darach said. “I will do my best to protect her. ‘Tis simple as that.”
“Don’t lie to me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I recently learned that my witchy trick involves hearing people and not being able to speak back. I sort of become a ghost.”
Both men looked at her with confusion.
“At some point, you were in this armory seeing if Niall had left the blade here.” Her eyes stayed trained on Darach. “You were muttering about how you never should have kissed her. That because you had ‘he’ would know. I got the sense you put ‘her’ life in great danger with that kiss.” Her eyes narrowed. “It was Jackie.”
“How could you possibly know...” he started and frowned. “You’re guessing.”
“About the Jackie part? You bet.” She sighed. “But now I have my answer. At least some of it. What I don’t understand is why kissing her puts her life in danger.”
Darach ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It doesnae matter.”
“I’d say it does, Cousin,” Rònan said, baffled by Darach’s behavior.
“Och,” Darach muttered, and his voice grew softer, pain in his eyes. “I have avoided becoming Laird with good reason. And I should’ve never kissed Jackie because I know something nobody else does, not even my Da.”
He was about to speak when a loud roar ripped across the sky.
The enemy was coming.
“Shit,” Erin muttered and eyed Darach. “We’ll continue this later.”
He offered no response as they sprang into action and started loading up on weapons. The men strapped on arm guards before Darach raced out. Rònan stopped Erin before she could get far. Cupping the sides of her neck, he made sure she understood how serious he was. “I will fight alongside you every step of the way. I dinnae have a shred of doubt about your skills as a warrior but promise me you willnae shift unless you have absolute confidence in your abilities. You are new in your dragon skin, and the enemy will likely try to exploit such.”
“I know.” Her gaze stayed strong. “Don’t worry about me. I got this.”
His eyes searched hers. “Aye, you do, lass.”
Before she could dart away, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her hard and with enough passion that she’d never forget how strongly he felt about her. When he pulled back, her eyes had changed. They were glazed with lust and shimmered purple. Yet the battle lust was there as well. “Let us go fight then, my wee dragon.”
By the time they made it outside, enemy soldiers had flooded the field. Hundreds of MacLomain clansmen were already engaging them. Instead of closing the portcullises, Torra shifted to a dragon and guarded the drawbridge.
“The clan has already lost too many good warriors to this threat,” Rònan said. “I’m going to fight on the ground first.”
“I’m coming,” Erin said and strode after him.
Though a small part of him would rather keep her safe behind the castle walls, he knew better than to say it. Erin was as good a warrior if not better than most, so he set aside his fear and nodded. “Fight well then, lass.”
“Back atcha,” she said, a dagger in each hand. She had little experience with a sword, so he thought her decision to fight with smaller blades wise. With any other, he would say don’t bring a knife to a swordfight but she had a particular talent with them. For starters, he knew many would underestimate her, and she would use that to full advantage.
Nicole and Niall met them before they made it to the first drawbridge.
“I will fight alongside ye and yer lass, Brother,” Niall said.
Nicole held up the shield Rònan had made for her and the Celtic dagger Niall made and winked at Erin. “I’m gonna head back into the castle and stick close to Robert. You sure you don’t wanna join me?”
“No, I’m gonna follow the guys.” Erin gripped Nicole’s shoulders, eyes serious. “Let Robert know that I’ll be there to protect him if things go wrong. I’ll be right there alongside you, okay?”
“You got it,” Nicole said. “Watch your back, Sweetie. I’ll hold down the fort...or castle.”
Erin nodded and wasted no more time talking but headed over the drawbridge with Rònan and Niall. As always, her Viking posse was close behind. Logan and Darach were already fighting on the field. Cullen remained on the battlement, eyes trained on his surroundings as he likely waited for his sister and her dark laird.
They went into this battle with more magic than ever before. While he knew most of the women of the Next Generation were inside protecting the king, the men
were out here.
So they had five elder wizards, four younger, five dragons, and one angel.
Not too bad.
Rònan wasn’t surprised when Tosha’s words entered his mind. She had somehow ended up here along with the rest of them. “If Erin needs me, I will be there.”
“Thank ye, my friend,” he said.
After that, it all became the thrill of battle. Rònan loved shifting, but there was something equally satisfying about fighting in human form. The way his muscles heated and rage mixed with war lust. Adjusting easily to the weight of the blade Niall had given him, he cut down three before their swords swept through the air once.
Meanwhile, Erin was as impressive as always as she took down one man before he saw her coming. In a way, her fighting style was similar to Darach’s. Both moved fast and with a certain finesse that most warriors didn’t possess. Even as Rònan crossed blades with two more clansmen, he couldn’t help but grin when Erin chuckled.
She had managed to bring a man to his knees and sliced his throat while side-kicking another. The chuckle was her berserker side. Something he didn’t realize she had until now. When his cousin, Machara whooped with laughter and fell in beside Erin, he realized that the two were of similar spirits on the battlefield.
Half crazed, half wild and damn talented.
Yet they all had one thing in common, and that was an absolute love for battle.
Rònan lost count of how many men Erin took down as the fighting continued. Any fear he had for her vanished entirely when he realized how confident she was. Sure, he had sensed it all along but to actually see her in action gave absolute truth to it.
Like his uncles and cousins, he occasionally used magic, but for the most part, everyone kept it physical. Until the threat worsened, it made no sense to drain themselves. Almost as if his thoughts fed his surroundings, another loud roar echoed across the sky moments before the demi-god’s large dark shadow filled the horizon.
Shortly after that, the dark shadow’s minions, the Genii Cucullati, swooped down.
Seconds later, Brae Stewart appeared. Shock flashed in her eyes when they locked with Cullen’s. Very non-angelic fury ravaged his face as her brother shimmered, spread his wings and swooped toward her.
When the Vikings saw the dark demi-god, they shifted and headed for it. Like Rònan, Erin fought viciously while her eyes remained trained on the sky. Whether or not she liked it, he moved even closer. Their eyes met for a split second, but it was long enough for them to whip a dagger over each other’s shoulder to take down men sneaking up on them. They grinned at how well they worked together before the action above stole their attention.
Whatever the evil laird was doing it kept Tait and Bjorn from being able to get close. Even Torra was unable to stop him when he flew toward the battlements.
“Damn it, I had hoped he wouldn’t know that was why I steered clear of them. He knows my ring ignited, so he’s going after Robert and Jackie!” Furious, Erin muttered, “I think the hell not,” and did what Rònan had hoped she wouldn’t.
She shifted.
Though she wobbled some, he was impressed by how well she lifted off. Rònan ignored how terrified he was for her and shifted then swiftly followed. Sword locked in his talons, he sailed after her as she headed right for the demi-god. What was she doing? Somehow he knew that though Torra, Tait, and Bjorn could not get close, the god would allow Erin to.
“Erin!” he roared into her mind. “Stop!”
But she didn’t. She was too determined to get to Jackie and Robert to see good reason. Meantime, Cullen and Brae had ended up in the courtyard and were having a fight for the ages. Twisting, turning, black magic crashed against white as they fought. A storm consisting of thunder, lightning, and even rain thrashed around them making the wind shear more unstable than ever.
Though everything inside him wanted to protect her, Rònan had made Erin a promise. He would support her. So when her little body started to lose control, he came up under her so that she could stand on him and regain her balance.
Once she did, he whispered into her mind, “Go do what you need to, my wee dragon,” and arched his back so that she could take flight again. As soon as she did, he shifted back to his human form, grabbed his sword and dropped to the battlements. He figured the demi-god could take him easily enough in dragon form so he might as well do his best with a blade in hand.
What he did not expect to find when he landed was a man forming within the black mass. This was who Erin must have seen in the Otherworld. Swarthy, with black hair and dark lightning crackling around his aura, he dripped evil.
His eyes went to Rònan’s blade, and his words were gravelly and deep. “Ye’ll need a wee bit more than that to defeat me, lad.”
An Irish accent?
“I’ll take my chances,” Rònan growled and swiped. Naturally, the demi-god evaded. No matter how much he tried to attack, he never got the sword close enough.
“Bloody hell,” Grant said from the courtyard as he stared up. “It cannae be.”
A grin slithered across the demi-god’s face. “Does my appearance look so familiar then, Grant MacLomain...” He cocked his head. Sort of a jerky motion. “Or is it Grant Hamilton now?” He pointed at the castle and roared, “Before all of this is said and done, ye will release my son from that tapestry!”
His son? The man his Ma and the Next Generation had fought twenty-seven winters prior was trapped in that tapestry. Keir Hamilton. Rònan suddenly understood why the demi-god had tracked Erin. More than that, their dragon blood. He had somehow made a connection with Keir. And that tapestry literally trapped Kier between here and his Viking kin.
Gods above, this was worse than anyone could have anticipated.
Grant immediately threw magic at the demi-god, but it barely affected him.
Then things happened very quickly.
Erin landed in the courtyard and took up a defensive stance directly in front of Jackie.
Of all people, Heidrek appeared.
Rònan frowned when the Viking pulled Jackie into his arms.
Though they couldn’t get close, Tait and Bjorn landed on either side of Rònan and the demi-god, their eyes zeroing in on both Erin and Heidrek. It was clear that though he was no dragon, they had a great deal of respect for the Viking King’s successor.
Yet something beyond the obvious was happening.
Rònan could feel it bone deep.
When Little Robert came running out of the castle and flew down the stairs, the demi-god immediately went for him. Luckily, between Grant, Torra and everyone else throwing magic at him, he was slowed down.
Rònan leapt from the battlement and fell to one knee in front of Erin. She lowered her head and her dragon eyes locked with his.
“It’s time to hand over the sword,” she whispered into his mind. “Trust me and do it now."
If it was time for his cousin to have the blade, so be it.
“Nay!” Darach roared into his mind as he skidded to a halt next to Erin. Pain flickered in his eyes when they went to Jackie and Heidrek. “Throw the blade to Heidrek. He can protect her best now, Rònan!”
This made no sense. He was supposed to give it to Darach next so that he could protect Jackie. Long seconds passed as the orange sun sat low in the sky, steeping the distant mountains in purple as he held out the blade, tip to the ground and struggled with the decision. This sword was ultimately supposed to help defeat the enemy when in a MacLomain wizard’s hands. Yet now he was to hand it off to a Viking ancestor?
“Now!” Darach roared again.
“Please. For me,” Erin whispered into his mind. “It’s the only way.”
His eyes again met hers, and his dragon responded to the soul-deep calling she sent to him. Without another moment of hesitation, he stood and tossed the sword to Heidrek. The Viking caught it, nodded to Darach, pulled Jackie close and they both vanished into thin air.
Something about the sword being gone gave the demi-god just en
ough power to push past everyone’s magic and rush toward little Robert.
But Erin was faster.
She wrapped her wings around the wee king until he was completely covered. While Robert might be temporarily safe, she by no means was. Like her Viking posse, when Rònan shifted to a dragon and rushed to protect her, he was flung back as not only the demi-god but his shadow minions swooped in.
Horror filled him as Erin cried out in pain, her body trembling as she suffered under the onslaught of far too much power for her little dragon to handle.
“Get to her!” he roared within Tait and Bjorn’s minds as he struggled through the thick waves of dark power fluctuating around her. Their minds met his with equal fury. They were as desperate as he was and struggling just as hard.
Though she was being brutalized, Erin never once moved but kept her head beneath her wings, a safe haven over Robert. Rònan flailed and roared as her scales began to sear off.
“Save her!” he roared at anyone willing to listen.
Grant, his mother, father, his cousins, uncles, anyone.
Then a distant sound filled his ears. It sounded so far away, he barely heard it...
Singing.
Beautiful, incomparable singing.
Erin.
Though her voice was growing weaker and weaker along with her body and life force, she was singing to the Bruce to comfort him. It was that, her unbelievably gentle and untouchable voice, that renewed his strength. Rònan focused on the sound and leapt once, twice, then covered her with his wings. Digging his talons into the earth, he locked up his muscles, pressed his cheek against hers and prayed to his gods to give him every ounce of strength they could spare.
But it seemed he would not need it.
The moment their bodies touched, the demi-god screamed in pain and backed off. When Rònan glanced over his shoulder, it was to see the cloud wisp away followed by the dark shadows. Despite his anger, he shuddered with relief not because he was safe but because Erin was.
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 80