Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1)

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Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) Page 7

by Sky Purington


  Sheila and Leslie shook their heads and said simultaneously, “Nothing.”

  It took everything she had not to look at the men. They were her best friends! Any normal person would call 911 but not her or her cousins apparently. Why was that? She laid her head in her hands on the table. She knew why. Ferchar wouldn’t hurt them. The Claddagh ring Seth put on her finger proved magic was real. Ferchar had simply sealed the deal when he punished Seth and Trevor.

  But what did all of this mean exactly?

  “Magic,” Sheila said. “Unbelievable.”

  “And I believe it still is,” Leslie replied.

  “How, after all of this, could you think that?” Sheila asked.

  “Everything has a practical explanation. Somehow, we’ll make sense of this.”

  “You’re unbelievable, Leslie,” Sheila said. “But at least you’re still predictable.”

  “And you, as always, take everything at face value. Had you listened to my advice when trying to save your forest last year you might’ve…I don’t know…saved a forest!”

  Sheila frowned. “You don’t understand my endeavors.”

  “Nobody understands your endeavors. Not even you.”

  “Shh. Wait. He’s moving,” Sheila said.

  McKayla lifted her head. It was Trevor. His eyes were alert and his arms were moving. She might be frustrated but he was her friend. Scooping up his cell phone she stood.

  Sheila grabbed her arm. “You sure you want to do that?”

  No, but she would mainly because she’d expect the same from him if their positions were reversed. So she brought the phone over. Fingers moving fast, he texted, “I’m so sorry.”

  “You should be,” she said.

  “I will show you me,” he texted. “Soon.”

  Eying him, McKayla breathed deeply and sat back on her haunches. What was a shape-shifter exactly? What if Trevor wasn’t Trevor at all? Which he obviously wasn’t. She nodded and turned to check on Seth. He remained completely motionless.

  “Oh sweetie.” She cupped his cheek. “You’ll be back. Make me a promise? When you come back don’t kill Trevor, all right? I’ll owe you one…maybe a thousand. But you know how much I care about him.”

  Seth stared aimlessly. Please, God, let him hear me.

  Thump.

  Trevor fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air. “Bloody hell, lad’s got some kick-arse magic,” he croaked.

  Putting her arm around his shoulder she helped support him as he stood.

  “McKayla,” he gasped and pulled her close. “Forgive me.”

  Before she could respond he set her aside and stumbled from the room. She was about to go after him when Seth gasped.

  She once more crouched and cupped his cheeks. “Seth, are you okay? Talk to me.”

  His hand shot up and clasped her arm the moment his eyes shot open. “So sorry, hon.”

  Before she could respond he started coughing. Eventually, he fell back, his body moving more and more. He whispered, “Never met a vamp, werewolf or reaper with more power than Ferchar. Scary shit this.” After another deep breath he asked, “Are we sure he’s not a demon?”

  She tried not to think about the creatures he implied existed. “Logan got involved. He’s always been an overprotective Dad.”

  Seth wiped a hand across his mouth and winced. “Was I drooling?”

  “Yes,” Leslie said.

  “No,” McKayla assured. “Stop stressing.”

  “Or maybe he shouldn’t stop stressing quite yet,” Sheila said in awe.

  Huh? Looking up, McKayla nearly toppled over backward.

  As though she were right back in her dream, Colin MacLomain, tall and kilted, held out his hand to help her up. She cocked her head as though looking at someone who wasn’t there. Broad shouldered with muscles rippling down his arms, Colin wore a dark tunic with a blue and green checkered plaid wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder. Licking her lips, McKayla tried to focus on his black boots, on the hand he still held out, on anything but his face.

  But in the end she couldn’t focus at all.

  The world tilted, swayed and then went away.

  A loud buzz filled her ears. All vanished. Within seconds reality surfaced and she was in his arms. Trevor? No, it couldn’t be. Colin? Had to be.

  “I always meant to just look once and then leave you to your life,” he murmured as he carried her. “But it turns out I was too selfish.”

  He smelled of outdoors, fresh cut grass, warmed cedar, and fresh air. Trevor had always spelled of soap and woodsy cologne. But it couldn’t touch this new smell, the very scent of this man’s skin. “Who are you?”

  Then she was lying in her bed with a warm comforter pulled over her. Sunlight tried to stream through drawn crème-colored curtains. “I’m not tired,” she whispered.

  “You were tired the moment Leslie started on you this morn. Take a nap, love. Then you’ll see me again. The way you were always meant to.”

  McKayla tried to respond but couldn’t. Instead her heavy lids slid shut. Though it seemed only a few minutes had passed, when she next opened her eyes the sun’s cast on the curtains was low. Wind blew the oak tree and spikes of sunlight danced across the room. Somehow, it was tremendously peaceful.

  Could it be she’d simply dreamt it all? No. It had happened. Of that she was sure.

  “This was Arianna’s room even before it was mine.”

  Startled, McKayla sat up to find Caitlin sitting in the corner.

  Settling back some she said, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I should be the one apologizing. Not you.” Caitlin smiled. “How are you feeling?”

  “A little off honestly.” She took a deep breath and said, “It all happened, didn’t it?”

  “It did.” Caitlin pulled the chair closer, her golden eyes compassionate. “You and your cousins are handling this really well. I suppose it’s in our genes to adjust to all of this quicker than most. Are you all right? How can I help make this easier?”

  Passing out like she had was handling it well? But she supposed it was better than going into hysterics like any normal person would.

  “Are Seth and Trevor okay?” McKayla asked.

  “Yes, they’re fine, just worried about you.”

  “Okay. Good. I mean that they’re okay, not that they’re worried about me.”

  “It’s good they’re worried about you,” Caitlin said. “They’re just as guilty as Ferchar and I in this terrible deception. We all deserve your anger.”

  McKayla fingered the ring Seth had put on her finger. “Why was Trevor so upset about this?”

  Caitlin schooled a frown. “I think mostly because Seth was showing you magic before he was.”

  Never. Trevor wouldn’t act that way over something so trivial.

  “You’re lying,” she replied quietly. “Tell me the truth.”

  Caitlin took her hand and rubbed her finger over the ring. “You’re right. I just don’t want to overwhelm you though it’s likely far too late.” She grimaced. “While I think Seth did this with your best interests in mind it might prove to make things difficult.”

  “For who?”

  “Trevor of course. He’s in love with you.” Caitlin frowned. “This ring bars that love. There’s no way around it.”

  “Though I’m not buying into the whole Trevor loving me part, how would this ring bar it if it did exist?”

  “Well, as far as I know the wizard’s eyes must match the stone. When Seth did this he ensured that Trevor could never be your one true love.” Caitlin shook her head. “What is it between them to make him act so harshly?”

  McKayla sighed. “Who knows? Seth and I have long been best friends in the most unromantic sense. I’ve never quite understood it because we’re polar opposites. He loves a mountain cliff with no rope. I love a quiet, safe room where I can write. The only thing Seth and I shared were a few years of Youths Care Club boating when we were children. He was an in
ner city kid from Boston. I was privileged from the Cape.”

  “There’s got to be more than that.”

  “Does there?” McKayla responded.

  Caitlin looked at her then away, nodding.

  “We’ve always been there for each other. Simple as that.”

  “All right,” Caitlin said gently. “Lord knows I don’t want to pry, Kay. For now I won’t but know this, I wish somebody had been there to lay all the facts on the line for me when I hooked up with Ferchar. My gram, Mildred, helped some, but there were a lot of semi-truths and I was thrust into a lot of scary stuff without knowing much.”

  Before McKayla could respond, Caitlin said, “I would’ve given anything to have the sort of knowledge at my disposal that you do. And this was only four years ago.”

  Caitlin looked concerned, almost frightened for her. It was hard to know what to make of that. “Thanks, Caitlin. I appreciate you being here for me. I’m just taking baby steps right now. If only I were strong enough to take leaps.”

  Her cousin smiled. “Maybe you are taking leaps and don’t even know it.”

  “I’m hiding under a blanket in the middle of the day. Pretty sure I’m regressing.”

  “But you’re doing so in an important room.”

  “Right, Arianna’s room. Now who is she again?”

  “Well, I’m not sure how I should say this.” Caitlin scuffed her foot on the floor. “I suppose direct is best. Arianna Broun is Trevor’s mom…or should I say, Colin’s.”

  McKayla bit her lip. “Oh.” A terrible feeling rolled through her. “So we’re actually related.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “No even though it seems like it. She was from the eighteenth century and still a few generations removed. His Dad was from medieval Scotland and is Ferchar’s uncle.”

  “I don’t know. Are you sure?”

  “Completely. The blood lines are many, many generations thinned between you and Trevor. I assume you’re more comfortable with me saying that name. Rest assured, the clans in medieval Scotland and England, alongside many cultures in the world, were guilty of much, much closer blood relations.”

  McKayla swallowed hard. She supposed her cousin had a point.

  “The hands are holding the heart facing you,” Caitlin commented.

  Once more swirling the Claddagh ring on her finger she asked, “What does that mean?”

  Caitlin’s cunning eyes met hers. “That your heart is already taken. If a potential suitor kisses your hand he’ll know it immediately.”

  Pressure tightened in her chest as she looked at the ring. Her heart wasn’t taken. Or at least it hadn’t been for some time. Swirling the heart so she wouldn’t have to look at it, McKayla asked, “Are you really a witch?”

  “Kinda sorta,” Caitlin said. “I can manage parlor house tricks but nothing nearly as profound as Ferchar.” She sighed. “Again, I’m so sorry for not telling you. I guess I’d hoped none of this would affect you.”

  “But you don’t seem all that shocked that it did.”

  “No,” Caitlin said. “I guess I’m not. I mean it hit me out of nowhere and though the rings were supposed to tie together the last great Broun/MacLomain loves I couldn’t help but think in the midst of all that magic…really? If something as simple as the flu can mutate and survive why can’t something as simple as love mutate and survive as well? Because love, like all determined things, will find a way. We just tend to complicate it. Wish we’d stop doing that.”

  McKayla couldn’t help but smile. “Only you could compare the flu with love and come out ahead.”

  Her cousin grinned and shrugged. “I’ve learned to see things in the best light possible. Everything serves a purpose. Everything happens for a reason.”

  “It better,” McKayla said on a yawn. “If not, I’ve no idea what to tell Fate about how I lost both a warlock and a shape-shifter in one lifetime.”

  “Oh, you do bounce back well!”

  Not really. But she wasn’t about to let Caitlin worry about her much longer. With a small smile she said, “‘Tis what we Brouns do, aye?”

  “Give or take,” Caitlin said. “But I still worry about how much you’re really ready for.”

  She was about to respond when another voice overrode hers from the bedroom door.

  “Dinnae worry, lass. She’s now in verra good hands.”

  Chapter Five

  There was never a stranger moment than when a medieval Scottish Highlander walked into her twenty-first century bedroom.

  Trevor…no, Colin, sat slowly in the chair Caitlin had abandoned after she was sure McKayla would be all right alone with him. A long, uncomfortable silence stretched as they eyed one another. He appeared much as he had in her dream. Except now his eyes were even more startling, clearer to her vision somehow. Nowhere near green, as he had assured earlier, they were a sharp almost disconcerting shade of pale bluish green. She supposed they were turquoise. With the same black brows and lashes she remembered from before, his eyes certainly had a way of pinning a person.

  The pure strength radiating off him struck her almost as acutely as his piercing gaze. It was something that he’d never seemed to possess when in the form of Trevor. Or maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Trevor had a strong presence around others. Perhaps he just seemed softer with her because they were so close.

  Trevor…Colin.

  It would take a very long time to wrap her mind around this one.

  When he finally spoke his deep voice and brogue again caught her off guard. “You have a right to hate me, lass. More than I hate myself for how much I’ve deceived you.”

  He was right. She did. Pulling her knees up against her chest, she said, “I don’t think I could ever hate you.” McKayla cast her eyes down, discomforted by looking at a stranger while speaking to her best friend. “But right now I’m feeling a lot of anger…and confusion, even fear. If my cousins hadn’t seen the same things I saw and Ferchar and Caitlin hadn’t confirmed all of this, I’d think I’d gone crazy.”

  “‘Tis a lot to take in all at once,” Colin agreed. “And is only bound to become…”

  When he trailed off she looked up. “Become what?”

  “Far more confusing and mayhap even frightening. But know that I’ll never leave you alone. I’ll protect you with my life if necessary.”

  Alarmed, McKayla eyed his tartan, the build that was clearly a warrior’s. “It’s unlikely I’ll need much protecting. If you haven’t noticed there are no warring clans here. Only in my book.”

  “Aye, in your book. About a time and place that I call home, love. A place that I must return to so that I might face all the havoc I’ve created.”

  Worried, McKayla pulled her knees tighter against her chest. It would be one thing to watch Colin go. She might relax a great deal. But to watch Trevor? The thought made her panic. “What exactly did you do? What are you facing? And again, what does this have to do with protecting me?”

  She pushed back against the headboard when he stood. Upset but determined he said, “McKayla, ‘tis me…Trevor, your best friend, once your lover. Allow me to sit next to you, offer comfort.”

  Sizzling flame erupted beneath her skin when he said lover. It was impossible to imagine she’d lain with…him, the overwhelming Scotsman standing over her. When her eyes started to lower to where they shouldn’t she immediately brought them back to his face, mortified. Damn. There was no doubt that she and Trevor had chemistry. Would the same hold true with Colin? She bit down on her lower lip and did all she could not to envision it. Pretty hard not to considering she’d written love scenes about just such a man.

  He cleared his throat. “McKayla, please. At least let me hold your hand.”

  “You expect too much,” she replied swiftly.

  “Rest assured that this will be the least of it.”

  “The least?” she said weakly but quickly regrouped. Colin certainly had more nerve than Trevor. Or she was finally meeting the man he’d always been. “You have
a funny way of trying to endear yourself to me right now.”

  Without her permission, Colin sat on the bed. Though she tried to pull it away he took her hand. Larger and rougher than what she was used to, she closed her eyes and tried to control her thundering heart. So this is what a weapon-calloused hand felt like.

  “McKayla,” he whispered.

  When she opened her eyes it was to a magnificent man staring at her with desire. Was it as Caitlin said…did he truly love her? Though he’d pushed her away, had Trevor remained interested in more than just friendship? It seemed likely based on the look in his eyes now. She started to snatch her hand away but stopped. Despite her anger, she didn’t want to wound him further. At least not right now. She cleared her throat. “Please answer my questions.”

  “Aye, I suppose I better.” He shook his head. “Some would say mine is a long story but after spending time in the twenty-first century, I’ve learned better than most how to simplify.” He gave her a careful look. “Are you ready then?”

  McKayla doubted she’d ever be ready but nodded regardless.

  “I was born in the Christian year twelve hundred and twenty-six. Born too early, some said the gods were in a rush to get me here and that I’d serve a greater purpose than most. The way I see it, my early arrival just put my Ma through more worry than needed. But there I was, bairn of Iain and Arianna MacLomain. Bairn to the former chieftain and in line to become laird after Ferchar’s nephew William.”

  The author in her couldn’t help but ask, “Wouldn’t William’s son become laird next?”

  “Typically, but Adlin MacLomain made it clear that Iain’s son was to rule for a time. Aye, William’s son would get his chance in due time.”

  “And Adlin, of course, was obeyed as he’d all but birthed your clan.”

  “Aye, lass. If Adlin had stipulations before he left, they were heeded.”

  “So did you become chieftain or is William…still alive?”

  “William lives,” Colin responded with a deep frown. “And none too pleased with me, I’m sure.”

 

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