Intrigued despite the remarkable circumstances she’d been thrust into, McKayla said, “Clearly, so is Ferchar. What did you do to upset him besides the obvious?”
Colin scowled, obviously recalling the paralyzed state Ferchar had inflicted on him. “That’s a loaded question, lassie. But my guess is I upset him by fleeing on the day William declared he wished me to take over.” He shrugged, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Then there were the verra reasons I left.”
“Reasons? Plural?”
“Aye.” Colin slowly entwined their fingers, the action so subliminal she barely noticed…until she did. The motion kicked her heart into high gear again. He seemed to notice the affect he was having on her because his next words were huskier than before. “I didnae want to lead the MacLomains quite yet. Only twenty-five winters, I craved excitement beyond the everyday life of overseeing a castle and leading men into battle. I wanted more.” His words grew almost too soft to hear. “Then there were the lasses.”
The romance writer in her could only imagine the amount of lasses Colin would attract. Too many for her taste. She experienced a distressing mix of curiosity and jealousy. “I’m sure you handled the lasses just fine.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and again shook his head. “Nay, I left one at the altar and the other—” His eyes met hers. “In Cape Cod.”
Her heart nearly skidded to a halt. It was an easy thing to forget she still spoke to the man she’d always known as Trevor, that they’d spent so much time together. Here. Not there. He’d been here with her while simultaneously being there? “How?” she started but answered her own question. “Time travel. All this time you’ve lived two lives.”
Before he could speak she asked, “Did you really move to California? Or is that a lie too?”
“Nay! I did. But I dinnae spend much time there.”
McKayla got irritated with herself when tears welled. She hated being sensitive. For this reason she always wrote about strong heroines. Women who could handle themselves no matter what life dished out. Seems reality was a bit different because the idea that Trevor could have remained in a relationship with her but didn’t, hurt like heck. All the while, his shape-shifting self was traveling back and forth having one hell of a time.
“You dinnae ken,” he murmured.
Before she knew it he pulled her onto his lap. A surprisingly solid lap. Not giving her a chance to speak he cupped the back of her head so that she wouldn’t turn away. “I only left you because I knew I’d have to go back to Scotland. It was not only dangerous but unfair to keep you in my life, McKayla. Gods know I love you, lass. Since the moment I laid eyes on you and every moment since.”
Senses overwhelmed by both his nearness and words, she only shook her head.
“Do you remember when we first met?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “You were sitting on the beach writing.” His thumb sifted through her hair. “Your hair glistened in the sun as though covered in diamonds. I never expected you to glow like you did. Or look like you did.”
McKayla wiped away a stray tear, grateful no more followed. “You introduced yourself by saying, “I could make you a laptop that sand won’t damage.” Mckayla chuckled. “I remember thinking that was the worst pick up line I’d ever heard.”
He grinned. “But effective, aye?”
Wow, was he extra hot when he smiled. Her eyes went to his sumptuous lips. Though overly aware of their closeness she was feeling more and more comfortable with Colin. “You were good looking enough to get away with it.”
“Was I?” he asked, flirting. “If you’re not careful I might get jealous of…well, myself.”
It was hard not to smile. “You would have every reason to be.”
Colin seemed sobered in an instant. “I am still the lad you fell in love with, McKayla. What we had…have… means everything to me. More than I ever thought I’d find in this life. More than I ever wanted until I realized how powerful it could be, how important.”
“Then why not stay here in New England with me?” She didn’t care if she sounded petty or selfish. “Why not leave Scotland behind altogether? You wanted to leave behind your obligations to your clan anyways, right?”
Colin’s free hand clenched slightly. “Nay, I would never abandon Scotland. She’s my lifeblood.” His eyes roamed her face. “But neither would I abandon you. Or willingly put you in harm’s way. ‘Tis why I fled. I should have ended our friendship. But I couldn’t. And now I’ve brought more harm than good.”
“You say you need to protect me.” McKayla wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, but she needed to know, so she pressed on. “Why, Colin?”
Darkness settled over his features and for a moment his gaze grew distant. “When I left my clan three years ago, it was with fierceness in my heart. Restless, reckless, I craved excitement. While the battling gave me some, it was never enough. Something else lived inside me. A craving I didnae ken.”
A shiver of warning rippled through her but the desire to know more prevailed. “And?”
“I did something verra foolish.” His clouded gaze turned her way. “Not long after I left the clan I joined the ranks of a rather clandestine brotherhood. One that did unspeakable things for what they considered a greater good. Being a wizard and shape-shifter with a taste for violence I was a favored addition to their ranks.”
McKayla could feel his muscles tighten beneath her. Her question when it finally came was barely audible. “What did you do?”
His distant gaze seemed to clear when he looked her straight in the eyes, obviously wanting her to understand. “I became an assassin. I killed not for money but to alter the paths of destiny, of fate itself. Through the limitless magic provided by my brotherhood, I changed the course of people’s lives.”
Her mouth dropped open. Unable to move, she only stared at him. Was he serious? Deadly, it seemed, based on the unabashed way he looked right back. Uncomfortable but determined to understand more she asked, “So you murdered not for money but to…help people?” She pulled back. “Do you know how insane that sounds?”
“Insane,” he breathed. “Something I’ve been called way too many times.” For a second he sounded so contrite she thought he’d set her aside. Instead, he pulled her closer. “I willnae pretend to look back on all I’ve done with a sense of rightness and conviction but willnae look back on it as insanity either. I thought I was doing good. I thought I was helping people. ‘Twas only recently that I began to realize that the path I’d chosen wasn’t exactly what I thought.” His determined eyes met hers. “I willnae say I’m sorry.”
Brows furrowed, she searched for the Trevor she knew. “So while we were together, first as lovers then as friends, you were traveling back to medieval Scotland to murder innocent people?”
Colin’s brows shot up. “Innocent? Not one of them was that. These were men who molested their bairns, who killed for the sake of bettering their stations, who manipulated and stole from the poor. Nay, not one was undeserving of my blade.”
Child molesters? Shoot. Now killing them sounded pretty darn good. Still. How to make sense of all this? She decided to focus on the obvious. “So what made you realize you were on the wrong path with this brotherhood?”
“Which brings us to why I said I’ll always protect you,” he murmured, his arm locking tighter around her, barring all escape. “There’s something I need to tell you, lass.”
“Obviously,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling of dread welling inside.
“Do you remember the cave in which you awoke during your lucid dream?”
She nodded slowly.
“I’d carried you there, McKayla. We’d been running from my brotherhood, from my newborn enemies…. enemies because I killed my mentor instead of you.”
“Instead of me?” Eyes wide, she tried to pull away but his grip was unyielding.
Pain apparent, he said, “They’d used dark magic on me. I didnae know it was you until nearly too late. But even th
en my blade would not have cut.”
Her heart beat so loudly she could barely hear herself speak, “I don’t understand. Why? How? I wasn’t even there yet.”
Colin ground his jaw. “Nay, you weren’t. At least not at first. You see I was tricked. While I thought ‘twas you it was but an illusion. You had been an illusion. Which meant they had discovered who you were…what you meant to me. That in itself is dangerous. As soon as I realized such it was imperative to have you with me.” He frowned. “So I purposefully fed into their trap and gave you the Lucid Mask to bring you back in time. It was the only way to keep you safe.”
“How did you know the illusion wasn’t me?” she whispered.
“A lad knows such about his lass.” He appeared sheepish for a moment. “And my magic helped.”
A lad knows such about his lass? Her pulse skittered through her veins. “But why bring me back? Why not come forward in time and protect me here like you eventually did?”
“Two reasons.” His eyes grew darker. “The first being that they knew where I’d killed my mentor. It was a set of circumstances that was going to happen just as it did. They also knew that it was only a matter of time before I’d realize you were an illusion alerting me to their knowledge of you. Hence the trick…I brought you back as they’d planned. Had I traveled to the future from there or whisked you back, I strongly suspect they would have been able to follow. So I laid out a plan by manipulating time-travel and moved you as quickly as I could.”
McKayla shook her head, only a little less confused. “So the mask was designed to bring me to the very spot in which you’d killed your mentor.”
“Aye, and designed to bring you back to the future when it did.”
“What of the second reason for not protecting me here?”
“I am at my strongest when in my true form, and in Scotland. I would not risk having to battle here in New Hampshire. ‘Twould be far more perilous for all.”
“I won’t pretend to understand half of what you just said.” Trying to keep her frayed emotions in check she clenched her hands on her lap. “I get the part about you wanting to protect me there. But how can you be so sure they won’t come here?” She wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear her pounding heart.
“I dinnae know with certainty, Kay.”
She ignored that he’d called her by her nickname. “But wasn’t I still technically here dreaming?”
Colin shook his head once. “I’m good at what I do. You didnae dream at all but truly traveled back in time.”
McKayla curled into his protective arms without realizing. Strangely enough, fear seemed just out of reach. Was she in shock? Most likely. The very idea that she’d already stepped foot in thirteenth century Scotland was mind-boggling. Then again, it was only slightly harder to believe than the fact she now sat on a medieval Scotsman’s lap discussing it. If all that wasn’t enough, there was the part about her being on some sort of supernatural brotherhood’s hit list.
That sort of sucked.
A lot.
“Are you well, lass? I’m so verra sorry for all this, for my part in it. If not for me, your life would be far less …” He stopped and seemed to consider his next words carefully. “Bloody complicated right now. You dinnae deserve this.”
McKayla frowned. Maybe not. But she suspected all of this was meant to be. Yes, she’d written a book and landed a great book deal but she had to wonder, would she have done so without the influence of this house and its history? Better yet, would she have written as passionately had she not known Trevor? After all, though he didn’t know it, he’d been the love of her life. None could compare. At least not yet. She was about to respond when Colin ground his jaw and leaned forward slightly in what appeared to be pain.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The mark,” he said through clenched teeth, hand over his tunic. “Burns on occasion.”
Concerned, she lifted the material. There was a three-quarter circular tattoo on the side of his abdomen. A second before the tattoo had been black, now the circle was an angry, blazing red. Worried for him, she instantly put her hand against the mark, cringing but not pulling away when his skin burned her hand.
Colin closed his eyes, covered her hand with his and groaned in relief. She closed her eyes as well and she sighed as the burning sensation slowly faded from her hand. Nothing was left but the feel of his warm, hard skin beneath hers. A small wave of exhaustion washed over her and she mumbled to herself in contentment.
“McKayla,” he said, alarm in his voice. “Open your eyes.”
Doing so, she was surprised to find his regard uneasy. Curling her fingers against his skin she said, “What, it’s okay now, right?”
“Aye,” he said, bringing her even closer. “The coolness of your hand drove away the pain.”
“You must’ve let me in,” she said then blinked several times as a strange understanding dawned. Leaning back slightly, she pulled up his shirt and eyed the mark. As she ran her finger around the circle she whispered, “His is the circle that never connects. A means to let me in. If ever it closes, we are forever lost.”
His body trembled and McKayla quickly realized it was not because of her words but because of her touch, because of the lazy trail she made with her finger.
“I dinnae ken your words,” he managed to push past suddenly strained lips.
“I spoke them to Leslie yesterday over Skype,” she said breathlessly, still tracing the circle.
“Did ye then?” he said, his brogue turning thicker and thicker, as did other things. Amazing what one little finger was doing to him. Doubly amazing what sitting on a sexually aroused medieval Scotsman’s lap was doing to her.
“Remember, I mentioned something about it. An old Scots Gaelic,” she murmured, unable to keep her lone finger from wandering up his broad chest.
“Hmm,” he murmured in return, one arm drawing her ever closer while his free hand once more buried into her hair.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to tilt her lips to his, to feel not a kiss from an old flame but the searing new fire of lips that’d never touched hers. Yet neither reaction was tentative. Instead, the moment his lips closed over hers, McKayla swore the room dropped away. The air thinned to nothing. Sound, whatever it might have been before, ceased to exist. A heady rush of desire washed over her. Feelings of lust were so strong she dug her nails into his chest and wrapped her other hand around the back of his neck.
Desperate, their tongues wrapped and twisted, searched and explored. The hungry motion of their lips moved in perfect unison, as though they’d been made specifically with the sole purpose of kissing one another. She reveled in the heavy thud of his heartbeat beneath her hand; by the way his strong heart seemed to throb within the deepening unending kiss. Groaning, she met the thrust of his tongue with hers, met the pure, sexual desperation of his need with more of her own.
The thick evidence of his arousal pressed up eagerly against her bottom. When moisture flooded between her thighs, McKayla kissed him with renewed eagerness. Breathing heavily, she clutched him tighter while rocking her bottom back and forth slowly, purposefully. Even through her sweatpants she could feel the abrasive wool of his plaid. Rock hard muscles rippled beneath as he too moved to assuage his own needs.
While she might have felt some of Trevor in his touches, most were foreign, different, and almost painful in their pleasuring newness. Colin introduced a stinging, sharp awareness of not only what he had to offer but what she did as well. Somehow this man made her feel like a sensual, underused siren with one, long astounding kiss.
“You never did that before,” he growled against the tender skin of her neck as he trailed down using both his lips and teeth creatively.
His cock pulsed against her and she all but reveled in his tightly wound self-constraint. He was so energized, almost powerful in his lust, that she didn’t know whether to be flattered or petrified. Gasping for breath, she didn’t stop him when his touc
h came between her legs, when his large hand cupped over her center and kneaded. Further aroused by her obvious wetness his eager lips searched out her pebbled nipple through a too-tight sweatshirt.
“So this is your way of respecting her, eh?”
Both froze. Colin pulled away far slower than most men would when confronted with an irritated warlock. Embarrassed, McKayla looked at the doorway and said, “Really, Seth? Really?”
Arms crossed over his chest, Seth leaned against the threshold, casual but clearly tense. “Yeah, McKayla, really. He was supposed to come up here to tell you he was leaving instead he’s about ready to screw you.”
Adjusting her clothing, McKayla carefully unraveled from Colin’s arms and stood. His hand, however, remained entwined with hers. “He’s told me everything.”
Seth cocked a brow.
“Well, he’s told me a lot,” she said defensively. “As I’m sure you can imagine there’s bound to be more.”
“More than you being on ‘Scotland’s Most Wanted’ list by a bunch of medieval fucked up mercenaries? I hope not.”
So she was the last to know. Though irritated, she supposed it was for the best. Trying to maintain some sort of an upper hand she walked to the window and stared out onto the remnants of a brooding sunset. A summer storm simmered in the distance. “He’s not a mercenary. Mercenaries take money.”
Seth snorted. “Well then, that makes all of this bullshit so much easier to swallow.”
“Enough with the swearing, okay?”
“You sound like Andrea,” he muttered. “Fine. Whatever.”
“We’ve got more to be concerned about,” Colin said. “Where are the others?”
“More to be concerned about? Say it isn’t so.”
“Seth, come on!”
“Things got crazy when I found out I was a warlock. I’m worried your story is going be as bad if not worse, especially with this guy leading the way.”
McKayla crossed her arms over her chest and turned around. Colin lounged on her bed, making it very clear he belonged there. Seth leaned against the threshold, eyes narrowed on the Scotsman. The highlander obviously thought himself above a rebuttal because he only continued to stare at her as though he belonged not only on her bed but covering every inch of her willing body. She tightened her thighs, refusing to give into her immediate response.
Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) Page 8