“Oh wow, okay,” she murmured. “Interesting.”
“Now do what I’ve taught you,” he said. “Focus on your surroundings.”
“Okay.” Though she wore a blindfold, she still closed her eyes. Funny how unaware of everything she actually was considering she’d been here for a while. So she went absolutely still and started to focus on wind, sound, and sensation.
“I still feel the warmth of the sun on my face and know it’s setting in the west. That means the wind is out of the north,” she murmured. “Though there’s a pine nearby I didn’t realize there were several more in the eastern corner of this glade. They have a distinct sound. Not the rustling of leaves but more of a swish when the needles rub together.”
Jackie focused more intently. “The crash of waves is louder so the wind is increasing.” She cocked her head. “So is the whistling in the cave.” Head tilted back, she inhaled deeply. “The air is growing more oppressive, the sea salt thicker. I’d guess inclement weather is coming in.”
No sooner did she say it when a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Jackie smiled. She could do this. Excited, she focused even harder. “There’s tall, dry grass somewhere. So dry. It almost crackles as it bends in the wind.”
She was about to say more but became aware of something else.
A slight shift in the air around her.
Heat.
A presence in front of her that wasn’t there before.
Gooseflesh rose as she reached out and made contact with a hard chest.
Darach.
“I never even heard you approach,” she whispered. Maybe she wasn’t so good at this after all.
Half a breath later, warm, weapon-roughed hands cupped the sides of her neck, and his lips were on hers. Though she knew she should pull away, it was impossible. It was the kiss back in New Hampshire all over again but a hundred times more intense. Maybe because she was so in-tuned with everything right now or simply because he kissed so damn well.
When he slanted his lips more firmly over hers and the kiss deepened, she groaned. He tasted so good as his tongue twisted around hers and the kiss intensified. Just when she was thoroughly drowning in it, he pulled away.
Startled, she tore off her blindfold.
Both breathed harshly as their eyes connected.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered, his brogue thickening. “Ye were just so bloody tempting.”
Before she could respond, he turned away. “If you’d rather Heidrek teach you at this point, I ken.”
Get upset. Agree. Push him away. How could they ever be friends if this sort of thing kept happening? How could she keep him safe?
But if so many years of education had taught her nothing else, it was how to spot a great teacher. And Darach definitely was. So instead of saying what she should, Jackie said the opposite. “I want you to keep touching…I mean teaching me,” she stuttered and shook her head. Hell.
“Then I will,” he said softly. He hesitated a long moment before he turned and his eyes met hers. “But only under one condition.”
“What’s that?” she whispered, trying to find her voice.
“That you know the truth.”
Chills raced up her spine. “What truth?”
“One that might make you change your mind about me,” he said. “Especially considering you desire nothing more than friendship.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Just tell me, Darach.”
His eyes held hers for a long moment before he spoke.
“You are the reason I broke off my engagement,” he said softly. “And you’re the reason I got my tattoos.”
Chapter Eight
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Jackie said. “Those things happened when you were young.”
Darach was about to respond when Erin telepathically called out, “Hey, you two. Grant sent me. A storm’s coming. You need to return.”
“We’ll be right there,” Jackie replied, her eyes still locked on his. “What are you talking about, Darach? You didn’t know me then.”
“Nay, now,” Rònan said as he joined Erin. “The storm can affect magic. You’re only safest in the main glade.”
Troubled, Darach’s eyes shot to the sky before they returned to her. “Come, lass. We need to go.”
She might want answers but knew better than to doubt Grant. “Then talk as we walk because I deserve an explanation.”
“Aye,” he agreed as they headed for Erin and Rònan. The last thing he wanted to do was speak of this in front of his cousin. “But mayhap ‘tis best left for when we’re alone?”
“No, now.” She nodded at them. “Thanks for coming to get us.”
He knew she was upset. That she felt like she had been lied to. Which, in a vague sense, she had been.
“Sure.” Erin’s eyes narrowed between Jackie and Darach. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” Jackie kept walking. “Darach and I just need to talk.”
“Okay,” Erin said carefully. “Want us to hang back?”
“Nope,” Jackie said at the same time Darach said, “Aye.”
Rònan’s brows perked. “Mayhap we should.”
“No.” Jackie shook her head. “Erin’s my best friend so she can hear whatever Darach has to say.” Her eyes went to Rònan. “It kind of sounds like you should hear this too.”
Jackie might come across as delicate and soft-spoken most of the time, but right now she was anything but. As he suspected, beneath her tempered façade lay another lass entirely. One determined to take control of her own life. One who was angry and had become very good at hiding it.
He understood that more than most.
So as they walked, he laid his heart on the line. “I’ve been dreaming about you for years, Jackie. Since I was old enough to desire a lass.”
She stopped and turned wide eyes his way. “What do you mean, dreaming about me? Like someone who reminds you of me?”
“Nay.” He shook head. “’Twas verra much you.” Though tempted to remain vague, he just couldn’t do it when pinned beneath her curious gaze. “There were so many dreams. Some were snippets of places I dinnae ken. Others were moments here on Scottish soil. Then there were different dreams altogether.” He cleared his throat. “More intimate ones.”
“Och,” Rònan said under his breath. “Mayhap we should give them their privacy after all, Erin.”
Erin put a hand on Rònan’s arm and shook her head.
Jackie cocked a brow at Darach. “How intimate?”
“A kiss…or two…” He sighed. “Mayhap several. But nothing more. We never laid together.”
Jackie pressed her lips together. “So what’s this got to do with you breaking off your betrothal then tattooing your arm to steal back a girl from Rònan?”
Rònan muttered something indiscernible.
Darach shook his head, his frustration suddenly rising. He didn’t like laying bare something he had kept close to his heart for such a long time. And though he knew full well she didn’t deserve his frustration, he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.
“Have ye any idea what it feels like to dream of a stranger for so long? To taste a lass’s lips but wish it were another’s? To feel her skin and wish it were another’s? To want someone so bloody much knowing she can never be yers?” He frowned and continued walking as he tossed over his shoulder, “I broke off my engagement because she wasnae ye. And I disliked Rònan because he stole a lass that reminded me of ye.”
Always aware of the air shifting around him, he knew they were all frozen in place, stunned. So be it. He was tired of the lies. Tired of keeping secrets.
“Bloody hell, Cousin.” Rònan strode after him.
Though the lasses soon followed, they hung back.
“You should have said something,” his cousin grumbled as he joined him. “’Twould have made things so much clearer. I never would have…”
Darach cut him off. “Of course, you would have. We were young.” He kept scowling, his ange
r still simmering beneath the surface. “Nothing I said back then would have made a difference. You took what you wanted.”
“But I never would have,” Rònan started.
“Aye, ye would,” Darach interrupted and spun on him, eyes narrowed. “Ye thought nothing of others but only of yerself. If it were otherwise, ye would have questioned my tattoos.”
“Guys?” Erin said, her voice distressed.
“Ye got the bloody lass back,” Rònan said. “So why are ye still upset?”
Darach came nose to nose. “Because ye felt the need to take her to begin with.”
Erin’s voice grew a little more intense. “Um, guys?”
“I didnae feel a need. Ye all but pushed her at me!” If one thing always held true, Rònan could only repress his dragon for so long. He blinked once, twice, before his eyes started to glow and the dragon tried to surface.
“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.
Passion of a Scottish Warrior (The MacLomain Series: Later Years Book 4) Page 11