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

by Sky Purington

  “For fuck’s sake,” Erin growled. “You two need to snap out of it. Now. Because we’ve got big problems.”

  Ensnared by the urgency in her voice, their eyes went to where she pointed. The sky wasn’t just darkening with storm clouds but something else altogether. Flashes of light bubbled across the horizon as a long dark shadow undulated overhead in the distance. The demi-god was here. Darach didn’t hesitate but tossed Jackie over his shoulder and spoke to everybody within the mind. “Time to go.”

  No one needed to be told twice.

  They moved.

  While Rònan and Erin kept running, Darach’s feet grew heavy until it felt like he was walking in an anti-gravity environment.

  “Oh no,” Jackie murmured. “You shouldn’t have touched me. You should’ve left me.”

  “Bloody hell,” Darach muttered as they were dragged backward.

  Rònan and Erin stopped and ran back to save them, but it was too late. They were sucked away until everything vanished. The next thing he knew, they were standing behind a cottage on the outskirts of Hamilton Castle.

  “Shh, lass. Dinnae say a word,” Darach whispered as he slowly lowered Jackie to the ground. When her eyes met his, he put a finger to his lips and shook his head.

  “How are we here?”

  It took him several moments to realize she spoke within his mind. He knew she could do it with Eara but had no idea she could do it with humans. Darach set aside the rush of lust it caused and replied, “I’ve no bloody clue.”

  When he heard a familiar voice, he took her hand and pulled her after him until they crouched behind the cottage. “Say nothing aloud, lass, all right?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide as Darach carefully pushed aside a plank a fraction so they could look inside. “My Da is in there.”

  That is, his father when he was around fourteen winters. Darach bit back emotion at how gaunt he looked. How obvious it was that he had been abused.

  “God, look at him,” she whispered into his mind. “So young.”

  Darach nodded, grateful she said nothing more, that she refrained from pitying him. Yet it was this—his father’s history with this clan—that made Darach so bitter.

  Grant sat with a few others around a fire.

  “I cannae tell ye how good ‘tis to see ye out and about more, Grant,” a young man said. “We didnae think...”

  When the lad broke off, emotional, Grant shook his head. “All’s well now, Bryce.” He squeezed the lad’s shoulder, his eyes as steady as his voice. “I am out more regularly now, and things will get better.”

  Bryce? A man Darach now called uncle? His father’s best friend and first-in-command?

  Bloody hell.

  “Och, but Keir’s abused ye something fierce.” Bryce’s eyes glistened. “We’ve heard yer cries of pain from the dungeon these long years.”

  “Aye, ye heard them,” Grant agreed softly. “But ye’ll hear them no longer.” He met the eyes of each and every man sitting around the small fire. “I am well.” He gave them a reassuring smile. “As are ye if yer still drawing breath, aye, my friends?”

  When several sighs resounded, his Da continued. “Dinnae seem so down. Yer all as strong as I am.”

  “Are we?” one of the men said. “When we exist beneath slavery and tyranny?”

  “Aye,” Grant said. “’Tis because of that ye are strong. ‘Tis because of that ye willnae ever give up.” His eyes swept over them, the set to his jaw firm. “We will survive this together. And we will find strength in each other. No man need go it alone.”

  Darach released a shallow breath. He’d never realized how rallying his father had been considering his circumstances. If he had been ripped from his kin then imprisoned for years, he would have been furious and bitter.

  “Ye’ve a more forgiving heart than most, Grant MacLomain,” came a soft voice.

  Grant’s eyes went to a lass tucked in the corner.

  Darach squinted but couldn’t make her out.

  “Might ye give us some time alone,” Grant asked those around the fire.

  “Aye,” they murmured and left.

  When Bryce paused, unsure, Grant nodded. “’Tis all right. No harm will come to your sister, friend.”

  His sister? Aunt Kenzie? It couldn’t be.

  When Darach shifted forward, Jackie put a hand on his arm. “Aren’t we supposed to stay put?”

  “Aye,” he whispered as he watched his father eye the fire without moving. He had never seen such sadness.

  “Ye know I willnae hurt ye, lass,” Grant murmured, never looking from the flames as he blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Might ye not join me where ‘tis warm?”

  A long moment passed before he whispered, “Just a wee bit o’ warmth. Do ye not remember what that feels like then?”

  “Nay,” the lass whispered. “’Tis not something that I am allowed verra much.”

  “Then come share my fire,” Grant urged. “Come warm yerself.”

  “Will ye be wanting something in return?” she murmured. “The laird’s made sure my virginity remains intact, but I’m schooled in other methods of pleasure now.”

  Darach felt like the ground dropped out beneath him. He had heard whispers that Aunt Kenzie had once been a whore, but he refused to believe it. And his Da had always said she was anything but. That she was a fine and noble lass, who had been beneath Keir’s rule as well but came out better for it. She’d been spared the horror because she was a lass. Never once had it occurred to him that his Da might have been protecting her honor. What a fool he’d been. What else would the enemy have done with a woman?

  As the skinny lass with straggly hair shifted closer to the fire, his fears were confirmed. “God, no, Aunt Kenzie,” he whispered.

  Jackie squeezed his hand and remained silent.

  “Nay, I’ll not be wanting a thing from ye, lass.” Grant remained perfectly still, as though dealing with a frightened animal. “Sit wherever ye like and warm yer bones.”

  Kenzie nodded and shuffled closer to the fire until she knelt and warmed her hands, a cautious eye still on Grant. While his aunt might seem timid, a bit of the woman, she would become came through as she eyed his father. “Yer a brave sort considering all the harm done to ye.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “’Tis because of all the harm done to me that I’m brave, lass,” Grant said. “I might not be able to stop him from beating me, but he’ll never destroy what matters most. My soul. ‘Tis where my greatest strength lies.” His eyes met hers. “Though it might not feel that way now, ye’ve the same strength. ‘Tis the will to survive. ‘Tis untouchable.”

  “I know nothing of strength,” she murmured. “I do what I must to keep food in my stomach.”

  “And that is yer will.” He pulled some bannock out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Embrace it. Harness it. Let it be yer shield. And someday, I promise ye, ‘twill become an intricate part of who ye are.”

  She took the bannock and nodded. “Ye speak brave words for someone behind bars for so long. ‘Tis an odd place to rally such strength.”

  “As odd as the place from which I ask ye to rally yer courage from.” Grant held her eyes. “But rally we must if we’re to survive.”

  “Is that all we can hope for then?” she murmured. “Survival?”

  Grant hesitated as though he sensed something. He shook his head and gave her a pointed look though he said, “Aye, but as I said, survival is found in strength. And we both know Keir needs us to stay strong for various reasons. And m’laird would want me to rally ye always.”

  His father was showing her one thing while saying another.

  That meant he feared Keir might be listening. Based on what he knew of the evil Hamilton laird, that was very likely. He once heard that Keir could see through Grant’s eyes via dark magic. Whether or not that bond had been forged yet wasn’t worth risking.

  Though tempted to approach his father, Darach knew better. They must stay out of sight.


  No sooner did he think it when none other than Keir Hamilton appeared. While his father had told him what the man looked like, there was no mistaking the dark laird. Evil all but slithered off of him, and black sizzled in his aura. When Jackie’s eyes widened, Darach didn’t take any chances. He pulled her close and put a hand over her mouth. A shiver rippled through her, but she remained still.

  Honestly, he was shocked Keir didn’t know they were there already.

  But then he wasn’t exactly sure how they got here to begin with unless the demi-god brought them. Yet that made no sense.

  “Ye see how good I treat ye, lad?” Keir murmured, eying Kenzie over. “I’ve had not only this one’s life, but virtue saved for ye if, of course, ye become my best warrior.” His eyes narrowed. “Ye will always do my bidding, aye?”

  Grant eyed Kenzie with lust then fell to a knee and lowered his head. “Aye, m’laird. Always. And yer too kind for saving such a comely lass for me.”

  It took all of Darach’s willpower not to draw his blade and rush Keir for putting his father in such a submissive position. Yet even as he fought his fury, a part of him understood his da was merely playing a part. Right now he was doing what was necessary to keep Kenzie safe.

  He had always taken issue with his father embracing the Hamilton clan when he was by birth a MacLomain. Why would he do that when they weren’t blood? When they were part of such a nightmare? But, now he was starting to see another picture. One that bespoke a clan that had become who they were because of his father. One that Grant didn’t feel obligated too but truly loved and cared about from the very beginning. Clansmen that clearly felt the same way about him.

  While Darach loved the Hamilton’s, he suddenly felt a new sense of pride in them. A better idea of the hardship they had endured. And what they were witnessing now was early on in Keir’s reign, so that said much about the duration of their suffering.

  “Aye then, ‘tis good ye see the right o’ things,” Keir murmured, looking down his nose at Grant. “Mayhap ye’ll not make a home of the dungeon much longer. Ye’ve ‘til dark to exercise yer legs and get back to the castle.” He grabbed Kenzie by the hair and yanked her after him. “Until he gets his turn at ye, ye’ll find other ways to earn yer keep.”

  Darach pulled his hand away from Jackie’s mouth as the room fell silent. When Grant finally lifted his head, a tear slid down his cheek and fury ravaged his features. There it was. The emotion he knew his father had to be feeling all those years.

  When Darach’s eyes met Jackie’s, hers were damp as well. He cupped her cheek, thankful for her compassion before his eyes were snagged by what drifted overhead toward the castle. Heavy raindrops started falling, and the wind whipped up, but it had no effect on the cloud. On the evil demi-god. Keir’s father.

  Jackie’s eyes shot to the sky. “Why isn’t he coming after us?”

  He swore the stone on her ring flickered black, but a blink later, it was normal. Then that strange suctioning sensation they experienced back at the glade started happening again. “We’re being pulled somewhere, lass. Dinnae even speak within the mind unless I speak first, aye?”

  “Okay,” she said, a tremble in her voice as he pulled her even closer.

  Within seconds, everything around them vanished, and something else appeared. Complete darkness except for a pinhole of light a few feet away. Darach pressed her head against his chest and stroked her hair so she wouldn’t panic. He didn’t use magic but took a moment to sense his surroundings. The cold stone. The drafty breeze that came off the Atlantic. The wafting cobwebs.

  It didn’t take long to figure things out.

  They were hidden in a very narrow hallway that ran behind the rooms on the third floor of Hamilton Castle. The light they saw was coming from the corner chamber. A room his father had long sealed off because it was once Keir Hamilton’s.

  Darach was grateful Jackie wasn’t the hysterical sort and followed quietly when he pulled her after him. The hole in the chamber wall was only big enough for one of them to look through. He gestured that he would be looking through it and she nodded.

  When Keir entered the room, a fire sprang to life on the hearth beneath a creepy looking altar. Endless black candles dripped wax in long, dark tendrils down the mantel.

  How were they here without Keir knowing? Why were they supposed to see this? Because one way or another, the demi-god seemed to be pulling them along. Almost as if he didn’t know he was doing it.

  Keir sank to his knees and peered up at the altar. “Our plans are long set in motion, father. I will get my dragon. I will have Torra MacLomain. When I do, ye shall have yer rings.” He bent his head. “Then might they lead ye to the ring that brings ye to yer love.”

  When Jackie tensed, he squeezed her hand in reassurance and continued focusing on what was happening. He knew from his Da and the Next Generation of MacLomains just how much Keir had wanted Torra. As far as Darach knew, he never had any interest in the Claddagh rings. If anything, he didn’t want their power igniting against him.

  Yet it seemed he’d had an ultimate goal beyond Torra.

  At least one of the rings. And the only way to get it was to have the power of Torra MacLomain at his disposal. But for what? To manipulate time to find the ring that would lead him to his lost love? Really? And what did Robert the Bruce and altering Scotland’s history have to do with it?

  His eyes narrowed when smoke from the fire shifted and started to blend with something pouring in from outside. The demi-god. He was surprised when Jackie began trembling even though she couldn’t see a thing. So he pulled her against his chest and kept stroking her hair as he continued to watch.

  “Father,” Keir murmured, head lowered.

  “Aye,” whispered on the wind and blew the candles out. After that, there was nothing but silence. Almost as if the demi-god wasn’t there.

  “Aye, I hear ye,” Keir said. “Once I get the dragon, and we get the rings, ye will. Then we will be unstoppable.”

  The fluctuation of power in the air that usually accompanied the demi-god wasn’t there. Everything felt calm. Too calm. That’s when Darach realized what he was looking at. Not a demi-god but a wraith. An echo of a man who had once walked this Earth. An inkling of what he would someday become. Until then, he was but a spectrum that continued to haunt his evil son.

  Eoghan Dubhdiadh.

  The ghost of a Druid.

  As he watched the wraith twist and undulate around Keir, he got the sense the Druid poured darkness into his son. Almost as if he was sharing his evil. That’s when it occurred to Darach. This might be why they thought Keir was Eoghan, to begin with. Perhaps he carried a part of his Da’s taint within. If these odd visitations between father and son had been going on for years, God knows how much of Eoghan’s dark essence churned within Keir.

  Yet as they all knew, the demi-god had still managed to keep his own soul.

  “Aye, Father.” Keir lowered his head and repeated, “Ye find yer ring, ye find yer love.”

  Darach frowned when Jackie pressed tighter against him. What the bloody hell was going on?

  “Son?” whispered through his mind.

  “Da?” Darach shook his head when he heard his father’s voice. “Nay, stay clear of me...”

  Too late. Once Grant locked onto them, he and Jackie were whisked back to the glade. It took several moments to adjust to their sharp transition. Rain poured and night had fallen. Everyone was there. Erin came up and put her hand on Jackie’s back. “Hey, hon...” She cocked her head and tried to make eye contact. “Are you okay?”

  Jackie shook like a leaf and pressed against him so tightly he knew she wasn’t going to get over it anytime soon. She was terrified.

  “I’ve got her.” Darach swung her into his arms and started toward the fire. “I need warm blankets. I know she doesnae drink but whisky too if we’ve any.”

  “Aye,” Niall and Rònan said at the same time.

  Meanwhile, Heidrek walked alongside with
his blade drawn and his eyes scanning their surroundings, not convinced in the least she was safe. Hell, Darach wasn’t even convinced after what just happened. The only thing that lent him comfort was his father’s lack of concern as he muttered, “You’re putting white hair on my head far too fast, lad.”

  Even once they sat around the fire and Jackie was on his lap tucked against his chest, she still trembled. Erin crouched beside them, held a skin to her lips and said, “I know you’ve stayed away from this since your prognosis, but I think we’re beyond that at this point.” She gave her a stern look and ordered, “So drink up and calm down, Sweetheart.”

  When Jackie started to shake her head, Erin narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t up for debate. A little booze isn’t gonna put you under.”

  “But,” Jackie whispered.

  “No ‘buts,’” Erin said. “You nursed me back to health. This is my way of returning the favor.”

  Jackie’s trembling subsided a wee bit, and her voice grew a little stronger. “I spent a month taking care of you. A sip of whisky returns that favor?”

  Erin grinned and winked. “Just drink already.”

  “Fine,” she murmured and took a quick sip.

  “More,” Erin ordered.

  “Bully,” Jackie whispered before she took a deeper gulp.

  “Sure am.” Erin offered a comforting smile and sat beside them. Nicole sat on their other side.

  Erin squeezed Jackie’s hand and whispered, “Can you feel this?”

  When Jackie nodded, he frowned. It was the same thing Adlin had asked before. Something to do with her illness.

  Jackie didn’t drink any more, but the trembling did subside. The children were sleeping, and the adults remained quiet as they waited for her to adjust. She eventually loosened her grip on him and pulled away. He made sure the blanket stayed around her shoulders as she sat between him and Erin.

  Her eyes went to his father first, and though she might be coping with what had just happened, they lit with compassion. “I,” she started then stopped as her eyes shot to Darach’s and she shook her head.