In that small sliver of time…everything changed.
With a low growl, he pulled her closer and swung his tongue into her mouth. Aggressive, exploring, determined, he felt the smooth planes of her cheeks and teeth. In that one kiss, every part of her became his. He’d never tasted anything so good, never felt so strongly. He owned this moment…her. Somehow. It felt as though an explosion went off inside of him. A foreign desire and need so strong nothing else could compare.
“I guess she really did pull him away from his Ma’s skirts!” Tamas said.
The Broun’s words sounded as far away as the highlands. Yet Caitriona pulled back, her eyes soft, dewy, but still surprisingly alert considering their kiss. While mugs were slammed on the table in appreciation and pipers trilled a new jig, they stared at one another. It would be a moment in time neither would ever forget.
There would be no other lass for him.
He had met his twin soul.
How could it be any other way? These feeling were far too profound. And he had been told long ago to expect such. His heart clenched at the thought and he promptly plunked her back in the seat beside him. To meet his soul mate meant truly troubling times, an outcome so dire it seemed impossible. Yet even as he lifted a shaky tankard to his lips, Alan knew. This was right. She was the lass he never really believed existed. Even with magic at his disposal, the idea that two souls followed one another lifetime to lifetime seemed far-fetched.
It was all very real now.
And it petrified him.
Tamas seemed satisfied with their story and was now up dancing. Arianna and Stephen still sat beside them. Their eyes, however, were not on one another. Instead, they remained on Caitriona and Alan.
“His announcement has not yet come but soon will,” Arianna said softly.
It was clear she spoke on behalf of her and Stephen. Their Broun friend kept a serious face as he watched the fire. Arianna continued, “You are both gifted and know the truth of all that is. I will not be married to Iain MacLomain. He is a stranger to me. Tamas pretends he wants me but ‘tis not the case. My Da just died and now Tamas rules. ‘Tis a shame. He is a weak man who seeks strength through lies.”
“What lies?” Alan asked.
“That he a chieftain who, however much he seems to love me, must do the right thing and send me to the highlands to marry a man I have never even met.”
“He thinks ‘twill make him look stronger in the eyes of the clan to fulfill this promise,” Stephen said.
“Will it not? A clan pact should always be fulfilled,” Caitriona said.
“Even by a Da who dinnae ken his own daughter? A man who spent most of his time off fighting one battle or another? Nay, the man was no Da to me,” Arianna bit out.
A new song trilled on the pipe and the crowd dancing around the fire grew merrier.
Alan took another swig from his mug, thoughts deep. “So you intend to run away together with our help.”
“There is no other way,” Stephen said.
“He is right,” Caitriona said. “As I said.”
Arianna took a deep swig from her tankard and pushed it away. “Will you help, Alan?”
It would come down to them as Caitriona was convinced she was needed to heal. Now that he understood how very important she was to him, what other choice did he have? He was about to respond when the pipes suddenly ceased and Tamas cried, “Broun clan, your attention please.”
When he waved a loose arm in her direction, Arianna sighed and walked over. Shoulders back, body straight, warm smile on her face, one would never think she’d moments before talked of running off with her lover. At least until Tamas tried to pull her close. She smoothly kept her distance. Still, though she plotted against him, Arianna was gracious enough to take his hand and wait patiently for his announcement.
Tamas’s voice rang above the impatient murmurs of the crowd. “As many might have suspected, ‘tis my fondest wish that Arianna be mine.”
The crowd roared with delight. Alan could only imagine it was because they were blutered.
The Broun laird hung his head slightly. “But ‘tis not to be.”
Even the fire seemed to go quiet alongside the crowd.
With their undivided attention, Tamas continued. “As most of you know, your former chieftain, Arianna’s Da, long ago made a pact.”
There were several discouraged murmurs.
Tamas held his hand in the air and shook his head. “Nay, ‘twas a pact made between two admirable men. One a highlander, one a lowlander, both Scotsmen, aye?”
The crowd seemed to agree.
“‘Twas the promise made from one chieftain to another that Arianna marry the son, Iain MacLomain. Though only just gone, it seems his wish should be upheld.” Tamas pulled Arianna closer, a deep frown pulling his brows together. “Unless, of course, you wish to defy your Da’s last wishes.” His eyes grew sad. “Say the word if so. I am sure your clan would forgive.”
Arianna didn’t bat a lash. Alan gave her a great deal of credit for that. What sort of monster put a lass through such a spectacle?
“As you all know, I will honor my Da’s wishes.” Though her eyes remained lifeless, she offered Tamas a broad grin. “Because an honorable man deserves honorable actions to follow him into the afterlife.”
Alan didn’t miss the equally dead look Tamas shot Arianna before his face split into a too-wide smile. “There we have it. The Brouns and MacLomains will come together and create a powerful bond that will strengthen two clans. Arianna Broun will marry Iain MacLomain!”
Though a pause ensued it did not last long. It appeared if Arianna approved so too did the clan. The Brouns roared with approval. As if pre-planned, the pipe trilled out a joyous beat, one intended to invigorate and revive. Call it whatever you like, but this lowland laird was nothing but a petty man.
“There you have it,” Stephen said, his expression dry. “Later this eve we will speak of this again.”
Before either could respond, he pushed away his nearly full tankard and left. When Alan looked at Caitriona she appeared as stunned as he. No need. At least not right now. He stood and held down his hand. “Come, let us show the crowd a turn or two then you can show me around.”
Though she only gave a slight nod, he sensed she was grateful for an escape, no matter what form. So it was within minutes that he spun her once or twice by the lively folk then pulled her back over the drawbridge. There was no need to worry over Tamas judging them. With that one kiss they’d more than proved they were newly married.
On the outer field the crowd was just as joyous, dancing in celebration. Deep dark clouds rolled across the moon, promising a wild night of sea-weathering rain. Though moisture had not yet fallen from the sky, ocean mist traveled on blustery winds and dampened the air. The fire sizzled like a long serpent against the sky and the bagpipes trilled their respect to the equinox, a day of equal light and equal dark.
“We will not sit but walk the field?” he suggested.
“Aye,” she responded, never letting go of his hand. That said so much.
Before they went any further, he stopped and took her cloak strings. “Do you mind?”
“Nay,” she said gratefully, her smile wobbly as he tied the strings. “There is a new nip to the air.”
He knew her chill had little to do with the weather. It was as if he felt her from the inside out. It seemed their very closeness now was charged, needy, magical. To not touch her, kiss her again, was a test in patience. Careful, he cinched the cloak and pulled it more securely around her shoulders. Warmth crackled between them as though the fire burned not yards away but right there. Her eyes met his, grateful yet guarded.
It was an odd thing feeling lost and found all at once. “What is this?” he whispered.
Caitriona shook her head too soon and looked away. “I know not.”
“You give me the discourtesy of merely saying what I want to hear.”
She shook her head again and pulled away. He f
ollowed. When at last she spoke it was crisp. “I dinnae have all the answers, Alan.”
“But you have more than I.” He refused to let her crawl within herself. “What did you feel when I kissed you?”
The bagpipe trilled long and loud, the haunting echo mixing with the crash of waves in the distance.
“‘Twas pleasant.”
Pleasant? Not good enough. If they were on Stewart land right now he’d bring her to the ground and show her just how pleasant it could be. Yet, he needed to slow down. Too much confrontation would likely smother her true emotions. “If you wish not to speak of us then let us speak of our newfound comrades, Arianna and Stephen.”
“They love one another.”
“Do they?”
“Without doubt.”
Alan shook his head. “I dinnae ken the reasons for their attraction.”
“I am a Broun. You are a Stewart. Do you ken the reasons for ours?” she snapped.
Why had she sounded so curt? Perhaps her emotions had risen to the surface more quickly than he anticipated. As such, he intended to further draw them out.
“Aye.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. “I can.”
Her jaw ground, her wide eyes looked up, but it was not desire he saw. No, she was furious at him. If she thought he’d let her go now she’d never been more wrong. Cupping her cheek, he came close. “Why are you trying to ignore what happened between us back in the courtyard? I know you felt what I did when I kissed you. There will be no walking away from this, Caitriona. I need to ken why you feel such anger.”
She licked her lips and closed her eyes. “I cannae think with you so close.”
“Then dinnae think.”
“Think.” Her eyes popped open. “Thinking is the only route available to you and me. We must pay attention to every little thing happening around us. That this is unfolding with Arianna and Stephen is so verra important. ‘Tis not about us, Alan!”
It mattered naught that she was upset. So was he. “Everything that is unfolding around us is doing so because we are here, lass. If we were not nothing would be as it is.”
Caitriona yanked away and kept walking, muttering, “You think like a bloody wizard.”
“Because I am.” He followed her, ignoring the glances from those passing. “And you fail to impress me with your denial of what exists between us already.”
The lass stopped short and turned back, eyes narrowed. “When was it you ever thought I was in all of this to impress you? When you awoke from death in my arms? That was not to impress you. When I revealed myself as a desirable woman at the river? That too, was not to impress you. ‘Tis not all about you, Alan. Not even for a moment.”
“Every moment,” he said and strode in her direction, stopping only when he hovered over her. “Mark my words, every moment between now and the moment we are no longer on the god’s ground will be about you and I and what we are supposed to mean to one another before we are no more.” In contradiction to the fury he felt, he gently tilted up her chin. “The kiss we shared told me so much. You are…mine. Somehow, though I only just met you, Caitriona, ‘tis true.”
Eyes glowing as hot as the fire, her lips quivered but she did not pull away. “I belong to no man,” she said softly, eyes imploring. “Can you not see that?”
“I see confusion and fear. I hear fake, practiced words. But your lips were all yours when you kissed me. The response you gave was all yours. Beneath all of what you protect yourself with is the lass meant for me.” He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “I think you knew that when you saved my life…when you healed me.”
A new bagpipe trill hit the air, one of remembrance. Clan members started to walk toward the fire. The activity was enough to break them apart so they kept walking. Tiny pinpricks of rain began to fall and the wind shifted direction. Still, they walked along the perimeter of the forest, each lost in their own turbulent thoughts. He would have to get her to open up to him. To share all that she felt and knew. It seemed the only probable way he would be able to save her.
But what if the prophecy came to pass either way?
It had been told to him so long ago that Alan had come to assume it was but the foolish ramblings of a muddled man. But that man had claimed to be the Celtic god, Fionn Mac Cumhail, mystical leader of the Fianna warriors. He told Alan, who was only eleven winters old at the time, that there would one day be a woman who possessed power unlike any other. This woman would also be Alan’s twin soul. Together they would accomplish something that would change both the past and the future. Sadly enough, however, doing so would mean her death.
It occurred to him now perhaps the best way to save her was to leave her.
But how was he to do that when he knew without question that he was meant to protect her? His predicament was indeed a double edged sword unless, of course, he could figure out a way around the prophecy. There was always a way around things. He’d not become chieftain of one of the most powerful clans in Scotland because his was a dim-witted mind. So, it seemed most logical to get Caitriona to open up entirely to him which would take patience and well…mostly patience.
Not particularly one of his strong points.
As such, they walked for longer than he would have liked without speaking. His anger had faded some and hopefully so had hers. Perhaps a gentle approach would be best. “Let us renew, at least for now.”
Caitriona had pulled her hood up making it hard to see her expression. Hers was not a combative nature and he sensed she crawled more within herself as each moment passed. But it would go against his very nature to let her do so.
When he took her hand again it was gently. “Choose not to speak if that is how you best handle such things but know this, Caitriona, I will never let you run away. Not from the trials the gods lay before you nor your own emotions. I am, if nothing else, your friend. I willnae ever be sorry for speaking my mind. I will always be sorry if I went too far. ‘Tis the plight of a good friend, saying what we mean but not meaning what we say on occasion.”
Nothing further was said as they walked but at least they still held hands. Alan wasn’t sure if he’d come out behind or ahead but one thing was certain, he’d never cared so much. Caitriona was certainly a flawed lass but there was a very good chance he wasn’t so perfect either. Her silence gave him plenty of time to think. Not of the morrow and what their journey ahead entailed but how he might have come across to her. She had him questioning his near-perfect method of handling women. It seemed, mayhap, he might have been a wee bit off.
At least when it came to women.
Nothing else to be certain.
It was only once they’d walked the field and returned to the path heading toward the cottage that she finally spoke. Her words were gentle. “‘Tis important you always speak your mind. I would not wish otherwise.”
Alan rubbed his thumb over her palm in answer. They’d said many words this eve and to say one more seemed too much. Sometimes, less really was more. He’d never seen the wisdom in the phrase until now.
Though heavy drops had started to fall by the time they reached the cottage, campfires still crackled and clansmen continued to celebrate. A lone candle burned on the center table when they entered. Stephen and Arianna sat on either side, hands held across the table.
“Sit, please.” Stephen urged.
Alan and Caitriona sat in the only two chairs left. This put them across from one another. Still, the two did not release hands. Wind beat against the thatching and the candlelight flickered. Only then did they let go and sit back.
“Tomorrow, Tamas will announce the departure of several Brounsmen warriors and Arianna to head west for Cowal,” Stephen said softly. “Iain MacLomain has long awaited his promised bride and ‘tis time for her to go.”
Alan and Caitriona looked at one another but said nothing.
“We will be ninety men strong,” Arianna said. “Stephen will be in charge.”
“You will travel with us,” Stephen sai
d.
“And will continue to travel with us when we leave the men and head north.”
“‘Tis our intention to flee to the highlands.” He looked at Alan. “We will need a guide, someone who knows the land well.”
Frustration bubbled to the surface. He had not once been asked to be part of all this. It seemed, almost, that Stephen and Arianna used them against their will. “If you are to tell me what you will have of me, I will speak plainly. Does Arianna know you have already made your way in the highlands, Stephen? That the MacLeods, though not in this time, accept you as their own?”
“I keep no secrets from my lass,” Stephen said easily. “’We have but one destination. The Sinclair clan. There we will be safe.”
Caitriona’s eyes widened and she whispered, “Impossible.”
“Why?” Arianna’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of the Sinclairs?”
Alan’s eyes also narrowed. His focus was on the Broun lass. “Better yet, what do you know of the Sinclairs? They seem an odd direction in which to run.”
“Is your clan not allied with them?” Arianna asked.
“Aye, but my clan is not allied with yours.”
“Yet both the Sinclairs and Stewarts call the MacLomains their friends.”
Alan frowned. “Are you not fleeing the MacLomain clan? And in that very action, betraying them?”
“The Sinclairs willnae know that. ‘Tis a far distance between Cowal and the north of Scotland,” Stephen commented.
What were these two thinking? “Nay. Not a good idea.” Alan shook his head, eyes widening. “Besides the foolhardiness of your plan, your sense of direction puts me far closer to…myself. ‘Twould be a poor thing to run into the version of me who calls this time his own. Back then, or should I say right now, I am eleven years younger and newly the Stewart laird. I promise you that I was far more rambunctious in that time than I am now. Eleven years does much to change a man.”
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 113