“Sounds like a plan.” She offered Darach a smile as she passed.
He frowned as they went to the end of the hallway and sat on the edge overlooking the crowd. The Viking was all about spending time alone with her first. Which was for the best...right?
Darach undressed and bathed as quickly as possible. The room was much like he remembered except now it had furnishings. Hexagonal in shape, a keyhole-shaped window was the only thing that allowed in fresh air. A large, four-poster bed with sheer hangings was its centerpiece along with a small table and a few chairs.
He still wondered precisely why they were meant to be here at such a time. Though one would never know as much by looking at it, this building, better yet the stone that made up the window, was one of the most powerful places in Scotland. A portal of sorts that would lead to other Defiances throughout the country.
A change of clothes had been left on the bed. Darach smirked as he put on a tunic, wrapped a MacLomain plaid and pulled on boots. It looked like Heidrek would be wearing a plaid as well.
By the time he joined the other two, they were chuckling at something, and their shoulders rested against one another’s. He suppressed a surge of jealousy and smoothed his expression as he plunked down on Jackie’s other side and gestured at Heidrek. “Your turn to bathe, Viking.”
Heidrek nodded and left but not before he squeezed Jackie’s hand and smiled.
“’Tis good you two are getting along so well,” Darach said. “He’s an admirable man.”
“I agree.” Her eyes returned to the crowd, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them. He knew on some unconscious level that she was upset with him and he didn’t blame her. It was wrong of him to have kissed her then made himself scarce.
“Jackie,” he began, keeping his voice soft. “We should talk. I need to explain some things.”
Though she didn’t look at him, her words were blunt and to the point. “Why don’t you start by explaining why you kissed me then avoided me afterward?”
Unfazed by her directness, he told her the truth. Some of it anyway. “I kissed you because I wanted too. Because I couldn’t help myself.” It took everything he had not to tell her about his dreams. Though she tensed, he continued, trying to remember all the words he rehearsed for this very moment. “I shouldn’t have...” He shook his head, tongue-tied. “Not when I knew I could put you in jeopardy.”
“Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?” Her eyes shot to him. “A kiss is just a kiss, Darach. We’re by no means together, and I can’t see it heading that way.” She shook her head. “It won’t head that way. We’re from two separate worlds.”
“Aye, lass,” he murmured, but her firm declaration upset him. He should be grateful. This is what he wanted. Her safety.
“I think it would be best if we forget the kiss ever happened and focus on getting along,” Jackie said. “It’s obvious the MacLomain, Broun connection doesn’t necessarily apply to us. That you know something I don’t.” She cocked her head. “What happened back at the Viking fortress? What was supposed to be in your pocket?”
If he could only forget that kiss. How sweet she’d tasted. The softness of her skin. There would be no forgetting it. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d vividly recall that kiss far into the future.
“Darach?” she prompted. “Your pocket?”
He sighed, not sure how much he should say.
“Please tell me.” Her eyes pled with him. “Does it have to do with why you want me to be with Heidrek?”
“Aye,” he whispered. “It was supposed to stay with me. A lure. A means to trick the demi-god and keep him in pursuit of me, not you.”
“I don’t understand.” She frowned. “He wants my ring. What could possibly be more important?”
“The real ring,” he murmured. “Given to me by Brigit, the Celtic Goddess of Divination, shortly after Erin traveled back in time. The one you wore was a replica.” His eyes fell to her ring. “Until now mayhap.”
Her brows flew together, and her frown deepened as she eyed her ring. “You mean to tell me I had a fake one on before?”
He took her hand and ran the pad of his thumb over the ring. “Aye.”
Magic wasn’t needed to sense the ripple of awareness that tore through her at his touch. She pulled her hand away and clenched her fist on her lap. “So you don’t know for sure if this ring is a fake or not.”
“Nay, but I’m guessing ‘tis real because the ring in my pocket is gone.” His eyes never left hers. “The magic used to make the false one was too great for me to know the difference.”
“I can only assume your father and Torra couldn’t tell the difference either.”
He shook his head. “Nay.”
She pressed her lips together, and her eyes returned to the celebrations. “What about Adlin? Isn’t he supposed to be the most powerful wizard known to Scotland?”
“Aye,” he said. “I think that’s why ‘tis likely Goddess Brigit wants us to be with him now.”
“Goddess Brigit? That’s unbelievable,” she said softly, her eyes a little distant. “I studied the Celtic deities and always found her the most intriguing. It’s said that she was born at the exact moment of daybreak. She’s considered a triple goddess. They say she has three sister selves with distinct roles. Lady of Healing Waters, Goddess of the Sacred Flame and Goddess of the Fertile Earth or fertility in general. She brings the Flame of Inspiration, the Flame of our Creative Consciousness.”
“You know a lot about her,” he said, surprised.
“I read a lot,” she said. “And despite what Nicole says, the vast majority of it isn’t romance.” The corner of her lip tilted up. “Not that I don’t enjoy a good historical romance on occasion.”
“What made you want to read about Celtic gods?” He found it curious considering everything that was happening.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “They just drew me more than most deities.”
It occurred to him how focused he had been not only on his dreams but on her appearance...how little he really knew about her. He had suspected her intelligence from the beginning but wondered what existed beyond her careful facade. Because there was more to her beneath the mask she had learned to wear so well. Someone else beneath those tempered smiles and soft spoken words.
“What else are you interested in,” he started before Heidrek reappeared and ended the conversation with his appearance alone.
“Oh my God,” Jackie whispered staring up at him.
Darach scowled. Who knew a Viking could cut such a fine figure dressed as a Scotsman? It wasn’t right.
Heidrek held his hand out to her. “Might I escort you to the celebrations, Jackie?”
She grinned and took his hand. “Absolutely.”
It didn’t escape Darach that Jackie did not glance back to see if he followed. Again, there was no blaming her. There might be an attraction between them, but she wasn’t the sort to let that rule her. Instead, it seemed she was more than willing to go in the direction Darach had pushed her.
Toward Heidrek.
“Ah, there you are!” Adlin exclaimed when they reached the bottom. He eyed all three with approval. “You clean up well.”
His eyes met Heidrek’s. “Why dinnae you take the lass for a turn to the pipes, aye?”
Heidrek nodded and pulled Jackie after him.
Adlin handed Darach a mug of whisky and gestured that he follow him. While honored to be in the company of the great MacLomain patriarch, his eyes trailed after Jackie. Hell, was he envious of the Viking.
“Stop looking as though all is lost,” Adlin said when they stopped at the outer edge of the dancing crowd. “You’ve followed the path laid for you admirably, lad.”
Darach’s eyes went to Adlin. “Though ye didnae summon us, ye know quite a bit, aye?”
Adlin shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I know what the Celtic gods tell me.” His lips thinned. “The ones that arenae evil that is.”
> “And how many are evil outside the obvious?”
“Och, like with any religion, the Celts have their fair share.” Adlin sipped from his mug. “Tell me more of this dark demi-god ye face and the beauty, Brigit, determined to help you.”
Darach filled him in on everything, all the while getting the sense that Adlin already knew most of it. If anything, his patriarch was trying to get a sense of how his offspring saw things and how they intended to deal with it. He covered everything from the Broun lass’s disabilities to how Keir Hamilton’s father, the evil demi-god, had gradually been shifting from a black cloud to a man. He also mentioned Brae Stewart’s role in it and her twin brother, Cullen’s part, a Scotsmen turned angel. He didn’t leave out that the Genii Cucullati, three shadowy Celtic spirits, were in league with the demi-god as well.
“The Genii Cucullati.” Adlin rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Stealers of the soul. They tend to frequent births. Interesting ally for the evil you face.”
“Aye,” Darach agreed. “Have you any thoughts on it?”
“The Genii Cucullati would only ally themselves in this if they had something to gain. Something well worth their while.”
“And what do you suppose that is?”
Adlin mulled it over before he sighed. “’Twould have to be the chance to steal an important soul, indeed. One that would give them far more leverage in the realm of Celtic gods.”
Darach frowned, more and more uncomfortable. Where was this leading? “What sort of soul is that important?”
“One they’ve likely been chasing for a long time,” Adlin murmured.
Before Darach could respond, Adlin swiftly redirected the conversation. “Tell me about your communications with Goddess Brigit.”
Darach knew she was the infamous goddess who supposedly saw Adlin to Scotland, to begin with. “She came to me in a dream and gave me a Claddagh ring.”
Adlin nodded, his eyes trained on Jackie as she danced with Heidrek. Too closely with Heidrek in Darach’s opinion. But again, that was good...right?
“The ring Brigit gave you was the real one, aye?” Adlin said. “And until now, Jackie wore the replica.”
“Aye.” His eyes met Adlin’s. “So you think Jackie wears the real one?”
“’Tis without doubt,” Adlin said.
Renewed worry for her flared. So did hope.
Hope he shouldn’t feel because he would honor his word to Heidrek.
“’Tis admirable that you meant to keep her safe, that you wanted her to find love when you desire her so much.” Adlin quirked a brow. “Now things have changed, and she wears the right ring. One that could bind her to you. Yet Heidrek is here as well. That is interesting, aye?”
“’Tis something all right,” Darach grumbled. “So mayhap the ring willnae lead a Broun to a MacLomain this time.”
“Aye, mayhap ‘twill be a Hamilton instead.” Adlin chuckled and eyed him. “So you are son to a man who will inherit more of my gifts than most. Son to the current MacLomain arch-wizard. A MacLomain turned Hamilton.”
Darach nodded. “I am son to Grant Hamilton, a man you will care for verra much. Someone you will mentor.”
Adlin’s wise eyes never left Darach’s face. “So tell me, why dinnae you want to become chieftain of the Hamilton’s?”
Darach knew better by now than to be surprised by the wizard’s uncanny insight.
“I’ve not a drop of Hamilton blood in me,” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself. “I am a MacLomain.”
“Hmm. So you willnae tell me yet.” Adlin rubbed his chin again. “A puzzle of sorts then.” A smile split his face. “I always did love a good puzzle.”
Honestly, he was surprised Adlin did not already know. But then, strangely enough, Darach’s da didn’t either. He was about to speak when he spied Jackie and Heidrek. The Viking held her close. And she seemed just fine with it. Jaw clenched, he refocused his attention elsewhere.
“He isnae a real Scotsman, is he? His accent is all wrong,” William said as he leaned against a post and shook his head.
“Who?”
William frowned at Darach. “Dinnae be so daft.” He gestured at Heidrek. “Ye’ve no ballocks in the least letting yer lass dance with him.”
Darach snorted. “And what fault do you find with my friend?”
“He’s not like us.” William glared at Heidrek before his eyes met Darach’s. “A Sassenach then, aye?”
English? He shook his head. “Nay, lad.”
“Then what is he?” William crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he isnae Scottish and I dinnae trust him.”
“And here I thought I was the one ye took issue with,” Darach muttered.
“Och, I do,” William said. “Mainly because ye’ve no ballocks.”
“William,” a woman chastised. The same lass who had claimed him earlier joined them. Her eyes met Darach’s. “My apologies.” She shook her head. “My lad doesnae know his manners.”
“I am not yer lad,” William grumbled and strode away.
When Darach glanced at Adlin, he’d vanished.
“My name is Lilas Thomson,” the lass said softly. “Again, I am sorry for William’s behavior. Life has not been kind to him.”
Darach figured as much. “What happened to him?”
Lilas hesitated, her eyes searching his before she apparently saw what she was looking for. “His parents were killed in a raid.”
“Och.” He frowned, well aware of Scotland’s history and the havoc tearing the country apart. “Vikings or Sassenach?”
“It doesnae matter,” came a deep voice as the man who had been with Lilas earlier appeared and pulled her close, a wary eye on Darach.
Lilas made introductions. “This is my husband, Dougal.”
“Nice to meet ye both. I am Darach.” He gestured at Heidrek and Jackie and gave their names as well.
Darach again had that strange sense of familiarity. Bizarrely enough, Jackie’s eyes locked on them from across the room as though she felt the same. Odder yet, they eyed her with equal interest. Because of his superior hearing, Darach could hear the couple whisper to one another.
“She seems so familiar,” Lilas said.
“Aye,” Dougal said. “They both do.”
What was this draw between the four of them? Maybe Adlin knew. But when his eyes swept the room, the MacLomain wizard was nowhere to be found.
“Look at William now,” Lilas murmured to Dougal.
Darach almost grinned when he saw what the lad was up to. He had approached Jackie and Heidrek. Whatever he said soon had the Viking handing her off to William.
“He has a way with the lassies,” Dougal said proudly.
“So it seems,” Lilas responded. “Takes after his Da he does.”
“I’m not his Da.” But there was no mistaking a wee bit of fatherly pride in his voice.
“Nor am I his Ma, but we are in spirit.”
Darach’s lips curled up as he watched William hold Jackie at arm’s length but kept his eyes locked on hers.
“Look at him, aye?” Lilas said.
“A true gentleman.” Dougal nodded with approval.
“He’ll grow up to be a fine lad.”
“Aye.”
Darach offered a brief nod to Heidrek as he joined them. Call it whatever you want, but he was damned glad to see Jackie out of the Viking’s arms. He and Heidrek remained silent as they drank and watched Jackie dance with William then several others.
“Might we dance?” came a soft voice.
Darach tore his gaze from Jackie only to find a comely lass in front of him, her doe eyes more brazen than most as they swept over him. He was about to say no when Adlin joined them. “Aye, he will, lass. My lad doesnae need to watch any longer. Go, enjoy her company Darach. It’ll do ye good.”
If there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was dispute Adlin MacLomain. So he slid his hand into hers and joined her on the dance floor. Though she tried to sidle closer,
he kept her at arm’s length and made idle conversation. “’Tis nice to meet ye, lass.”
“Aye, ‘tis,” she murmured, squeezing closer as the crowd grew merrier. “Yer brawn ye are.”
Darach did his best to keep her wandering hands at bay, but she was fast.
“Let us say farewell to our home properly!” Adlin cried to a crowd that only grew thicker. “More pipes!”
If ever a great hall—or large chamber—could explode with merriment, it did now. He’d never felt such energy vibrate in the air. Energy born of people who were saying goodbye to one life but had faith that the next would be so much better.
The crowd pressed closer as did the lass in his arms. So close that he took a step back. They spun once to avoid another couple.
Then again.
And again.
Until she let go and another fell into his arms.
Someone far more favorable.
Chapter Three
JACKIE SHOOK HER HEAD as she looked into Darach’s eyes. Being in his arms was the last place she needed to be. Yet the crowd pushed them closer and the man she had been dancing with vanished. She swallowed hard when his arm wrapped around her waist and twirled her away from a couple that stumbled by them laughing.
The pipes trilled.
The crowd was wild.
And she was tight against Darach.
Not a good place to be. Or was it? She swallowed again and kept her arms down because if she lifted them, what would she touch? The sides of his muscled torso...his strong forearms...his wide shoulders?
“You dinnae need to keep shaking your head no,” he murmured. “I willnae...”
When he trailed off, she realized that he had no idea what he would or would not do. Besides the arm that he wrapped around her waist, his other hand didn’t touch her at all.
His head was bent near hers, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel his hot breath down the side of her neck. Chills and heat raced through her simultaneously as she tried to sift through her feelings.
Push away. Touch his chest and push away.
The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 85