The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Purington, Sky

  “Stealth,” Wallace muttered. “One of the Bruce’s more questionable attributes but most welcome right now.”

  It was clear William and Robert had a strained relationship, but at least they had one. That, of course, was thanks to the actions of not only Grant, Adlin, and Conall’s parents, but his aunts and uncles as well. Many years back, they helped bring these two men together as bairns so they could better understand and see who the other really was before Fate took over.

  “So are ye set to battle the Sassenach then?” Conall asked. “Is it happening soon?”

  “’Tis hard to know,” William said. “We’ve got them going in circles right now.” His chuckle sounded strained. “We’re staying one step ahead of them thanks to Robert but ‘tis only a matter of time before the battling begins.”

  Conall frowned as he considered that. “Where are ye hiding out then?”

  “Here.” Wallace gestured at a small encampment as they exited the cave. “’Tis close to the river and several abandoned cottages.”

  One of which they followed Robert and Lindsay into.

  As always, she caused a stir everywhere she went. A lass the likes of her should not be here. His gut clenched. They were with Scottish rebels on the run. It was far too dangerous. Aye, that could be said about the last few places she had been, but something about this one gave him a very bad feeling.

  Especially considering his kin had yet to arrive.

  More so, that he really had no proof that Robert was truly a traitor to the Sassenach. History did not record it that way. Only Grant and Adlin did. While it seemed they might be right, it was hard to know, hard to trust anyone where Lindsay was concerned.

  “Please sit, Lindsay.” Robert escorted her to a crude chair near a crackling fire. “Would ye care for something to drink?”

  “I would,” she said, her voice soft and oh-so-feminine as she batted her lashes at him. “Thank you, Robert.”

  Conall frowned. Though she had just shared her body with him, it didn’t seem to affect her in the least. Instead, she appeared to have moved on quite readily and far too easily in his opinion.

  “Here, friend.” Wallace handed him a mug of whisky as they all sat. “Though tempted to ask ye what to expect from the future, I know better.” He slanted a look at Conall. “Unless, that is, ye are a different sort of man than Adlin.”

  “Oh, he’s a different sort all right.” Lindsay grinned and winked at Conall. “Isn’t that right, Laird Hamilton?”

  She could adjust to any situation, couldn’t she?

  “I am.” He gave her a look no one could mistake. “You, more than anyone, know that, aye?”

  Robert gave her a curious look. “Is he yer lad then, lass?”

  “Oh, dear Lord, no.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and flashed one of those stunning smiles that lit up her face. “He, like most lads as you can imagine, likes to think he might be.” She glanced at him, rolled her eyes then looked at Robert again. “But rest assured, he is the furthest thing from it.”

  Conall narrowed his eyes. The little vixen. He took a swig of whisky. Something he would normally never do under these circumstances.

  “Actually,” Conall mentioned. “I am Chieftain of Clan Hamilton and her sworn protector.”

  “Sworn protector, is it?” Bruce considered the two of them. “So is it normal where ye come from to try and kiss the lass yer sworn to protect?” He shook his head. “Because that doesnae sound like the best way to go about keeping her safe.”

  William chuckled but said nothing.

  “She is never safer than she is with me.” Conall frowned, took another sip of whisky and reiterated, “And, aye, I am her sworn protector.”

  Amusement lit Robert’s eyes as they returned to Lindsay. “Is he then, lass?” His tone softened. “Must I go through him to get to know ye better?”

  Conall took another swig of whisky as she appeared to contemplate that. When she answered, he was not sure what to make of it. “No, you do not need his permission. You can get to know me all you like.” She frowned at Conall, her eyes resolved yet reluctant as they returned to Robert. “Though, for decency’s sake, it would be best if I stayed with him in the evenings for protection of course.”

  Yet again, William chuckled but said nothing.

  “Agreed.” Robert leaned forward, took her hand and held her eyes. “Because despite this protection he offers in the evenings, ye will soon see that I can offer more.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Far more.”

  A flicker of surprise lit Lindsay’s eyes before her lips curved softly and she nodded. “That would not surprise me Earl Robert the Bruce.”

  The sultry way she said his name almost made Conall toss her over his shoulder, bring her anywhere but here, and remind her just how much more he had to offer than the Bruce.

  Instead, he took another deep swig of whisky.

  “So yer from the future then.” Robert smiled and never let go of her hand as his eyes searched hers. “I met several lasses from the future when I was a bairn and though verra bonnie, none were quite so stunning as ye.”

  “One of those lasses happens to be my ma,” Conall commented, not sure why he said it other than to possibly remind Robert how interconnected they really were. How he might want to be a bit more respectful.

  William tossed him a look that told him he hoped for a lot.

  “Was she then?” Robert nodded, clearly recollecting. “She could have only been Darach’s, Jackie then.” He finally tore his eyes from Lindsay and looked at Conall. “How are they? I liked them both verra much.”

  “Da’s dead,” he stated bluntly. “And Ma is coping.”

  While he might not be all that pleased with the Bruce right now, it was clear based on the look in Robert's eyes that the news truly troubled him.

  “I am verra sorry to hear that, Laird Hamilton,” he said softly. “Ye have my condolences.”

  Conall nodded, downed the last of his whisky and offered no response.

  Lindsay, meanwhile, shot him a troubled look. Well, what was that all about? He said nothing wrong.

  “I must admit to being quite exhausted from time traveling,” Lindsay murmured, a charming yet apologetic look on her face as she once again drew Robert’s attention her way. “Might we be given a place to rest?”

  “Are ye sure?” Disappointment flashed in his eyes. “’Tis barely sundown and the last eve we might be able to enjoy a stroll before the next storm arrives.”

  “Is that so?” Her eyes went to the window and lingered. “A big storm then?”

  “Big enough to prevent future strolls,” Robert said. “And nothing would please me more than walking ye down to the River Tweed. ‘Tis a bonnie sight at this hour.”

  Conall never took his eyes off of Lindsay and her antics as Wallace refilled his mug. While he thought for a moment she wanted to be alone with him it seemed he was wrong. He ground his jaw before he took another swig. If he knew what was good for him, he would approve her flirting with anyone but him. He would approve of those beautiful silver eyes enchanting any man but him. Yet it seemed he didn’t know what was good for him when he stood and shook his head as Lindsay agreed to go with Robert.

  “I will be all right,” she assured Conall as Robert swung another fur around her shoulders. “Just a small walk then I’ll join you to rest.”

  It was not a request but a statement.

  “I need to do this,” she said into his mind. “And you need to let me.”

  “I need to do no such thing,” he responded.

  Her pupils flared a little, likely in response to hearing him speak so directly within her mind.

  “We never should have done what we did, Laird Hamilton, and we both know it.” Her eyes met his, her expression firm, hard almost. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be with you. Not like that again and certainly not in a relationship.”

  Stung by harsh words that he should be grateful to hear, Conall clenched his mug and sank b
ack into his chair. Robert offered him a small but very smug smile as he put a hand to the small of her back and they left.

  “Och, lad,” William muttered and shook his head, eying Conall. “Yer a better man than I letting the lass ye love leave with the Bruce like that.”

  “I dinnae love her.” Conall frowned and kept at his whisky. “Nor will I ever.”

  William offered another annoying chuckle. “Then yer a bloody fool.” He looked at Lindsay out the window. “She’s a better lass than most.”

  While he might agree with William, he refused to admit it. Not right now. Not after she actually left with Robert the Bruce to woo him into what...her bed? Unexpected fury filled him at the thought. Anger, it seemed, Wallace saw clearly enough.

  “’Tis obvious enough she cares for ye, Laird Hamilton,” William said, his voice soft as his eyes met Conall’s. “Yet ‘tis also clear yer set to push her away as readily as she is ye.” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

  Though he would normally end this conversation and retire, the drink was going straight to his head, so he responded. “Our losses are too great to risk more.”

  “Ah.” William contemplated him. “So ye are both cowards.”

  “Aye,” Conall whispered before another swig. “So it seems.”

  “’Tis foolish that,” William murmured. “With all that is happening in our beloved country, all the strife and endless heartache, I would never turn from love if I caught a glimpse of it.” He shook his head. “I would consider it a rare gift even if I knew I might verra well lose it the next day.”

  Though tempted to mutter something along the lines of William not understanding, he suspected Wallace knew more about self-sacrifice than most. In the end, the man beside him would give up everything for his country. So it made sense he would say that.

  Yet as Conall contemplated it alone later in another small cottage, he understood that his statement applied to each and every one of them. Death could be a day away. A moment away.

  Even so, he never moved from his chair in front of the fire. He never went after Lindsay, told her to be done wooing the Bruce, and shared how he really felt. But then, until this moment, staring into the flames contemplating William’s words, he had not admitted it to himself.

  He had not admitted that he was falling in love.

  Worse yet, that he likely had been since the moment he laid eyes on her.

  Not lust but love.

  While that revelation should make him run after her and bring her back here, it did the opposite. Because, despite William’s wise enough words, the fear he felt was too great. Near paralyzing actually. So he buried his errant thoughts in another swig of whisky and tried not to dwell. On her, how he felt, and most especially that she was with Robert the Bruce right now.

  Though tempted to leap up and pull her into his arms when she finally entered sometime later, he did not. Rather he kept his eyes on the fire and took another swig of whisky. Though he hoped she would crawl onto the cot and rest, she sat in the chair next to him, held out her hand without looking at him and said, “Mind if I have a sip?”

  Actually, he did. He might never drink but tonight...well, tonight he was, poor judgment or not. So he handed over a skin of whisky William had given him earlier instead of his mug.

  Lindsay took a long swig then settled back before murmuring, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Conall. It was not my intention.”

  “Laird Hamilton,” he corrected, slipping into his brogue more and more. “And ye didnae hurt me. Ye did what ye should have, and ye were right. There isnae anything betwixt us but...a moment of weakness.”

  “That’s right.” She took another swig. “Weakness and sex that will not happen again.”

  “’Twould be unwise,” he agreed, his eyes firmly on the flames as he said something he knew he would regret but needed to be said. “Ye are free to be with the Bruce if ye’ve taken a liking to him. I willnae stop ye but only caution ye to be careful. Though he might be a spy, he fights on behalf of the Sassenach right now. His loyalties are greatly marred by politics and though we both know someday that will change, ‘twill be no time soon.”

  “Well, thank you for your permission, Laird Hamilton,” she replied, her tone borderline sarcastic. “God only knows how I managed without it for so long.”

  Having thought he did a noble thing, Conall could not help but narrow his eyes on her. “Do ye not want to lay with him after having so soon laid with me?” He perked his brows. “I know enough about twenty-first century lasses to know ye might have thought I would be troubled by that.” He frowned. “Or are ye such a different sort of creature from my ma and aunts?”

  “Actually, I’m very much like them, and you damn well know it.” Her eyes narrowed right back. “Because I guarantee if they were here right now, they’d think you a boorish beast.”

  “Boorish beast?” His brows slammed together. “Not once have I heard that phrase from them.” He narrowed his eyes again. “Likely because ye are still acting the part ye just did with the Bruce. Pretending to be someone yer not and speaking with words that arenae yers but part of some screenplay or script.”

  Her brows flew up in surprise laced with aggravation. “And what do you know of screenplays and scripts?”

  “I know ‘tis a rare moment yer life is anything but,” he shot back.

  Having said far too much because of the whisky, Conall frowned, shook his head and redirected his eyes to the fire. Unfortunately, Lindsay was as bright as she was beautiful and it didn’t take her long to figure it out. “You asked about me beforehand, didn’t you? You asked about my profession?”

  “It only made sense,” he mumbled, quick to come up with a lie. “’Twas clear enough early on that you and I would need to work together.”

  “Work together,” she mouthed. Her eyes narrowed further as she contemplated him for an uncomfortably long stretch before her voice grew soft. “More like you didn’t just lust after me but were truly curious about who I was. What made me tick.”

  “Och, nay,” he muttered and took another swig, remembering all too well questioning his grandmother about it at his castle. He knew nothing about acting, most especially about women the likes of Lindsay. While grandmum only knew so much about the craft or celebrities in general, she knew enough to share the basics.

  “From what I’ve seen you are verra good at what you do, Lindsay.” Though he knew he should leave this alone, his eyes turned to hers. “Do you miss acting in the twenty-first century? Will your fans miss you?”

  “It’s odd hearing you ask me that,” she murmured, clearly caught off guard but not as confrontational as she had been moments before. “I like to think my fans will miss me...”

  When she trailed off, he waited for her to say more. A few moments later, she did as her eyes drifted to the fire and her voice grew softer. “I just wish I missed them more. I wish I knew what was going on inside me.”

  His eyes went to the skin. How much had she drunk? Had she been drinking with Robert? Because it almost sounded like she wasn’t eager to get back to the twenty-first century and that made no sense. Not with a lass like Lindsay. Not with a lass who had clearly loved what she did. Or so he thought.

  “I never wanted to be laird,” he murmured, not sure why he suddenly said that other than he could relate to her mixed emotions. The strange paths life led one down. “Graham did fiercely, but never me.”

  “Why not?” Her eyes met his, not all that surprised by his revelation it seemed. “You might be more uptight than most, but from what I saw at your castle, you’re very good at what you do.”

  “What you saw at my castle?” He frowned and took another swig. “You mean when the Sassenach managed to get past my defenses, and my clan was slaughtered?”

  “We both know that likely won’t happen,” she said, her voice firmer than expected as defiance flared in her eyes. “Not if we can help it.”

  “We,” he muttered. “Something neither of us wants, but we ken
it needs to happen in order to save the future?” He shook his head. “’Tis difficult to imagine.”

  Lindsay’s jaw clenched, and her eyes whipped to the fire. If he wasn’t mistaken, his words had stung her as readily as hers had him earlier. Good. Let them. Yet he found himself setting aside his drink, and leaning closer. “Why are ye back here, lass? Why are ye not in the Bruce’s cottage where ‘tis clear enough ye wanted to be?”

  Her incredulous eyes turned his way. “You really are the biggest jackass I’ve—”

  That’s all she managed to get out before he moved fast and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Oh, no,” she began before he wrapped his hand into her hair, tilted her head, met her eyes, and repeated, “Why are ye not with the Bruce? Why are ye back here with me when ye know what will likely happen?”

  “Because I just met Robert!” she sputtered, her eyes wide as she squirmed but didn’t exactly try to get away. “I don’t sleep with guys I just met.”

  “Ye’ve known me less than a week,” he reminded, unable to lessen his brogue any. “Some would say ye just met me so to speak, aye?”

  The motion of her arse on his lap had his cock rock solid. A fact she was well aware of based on the way she stilled and her cheeks grew flushed.

  “I thought we both agreed that never happened,” she whispered as the fire reflected and danced in her eyes.

  “Did we?” he murmured, not quite recalling that. Blame it on the whisky. But then, it made sense because it should not have happened. Yet it had. This very day. “Mayhap we should begin on the morrow.”

  “Begin what?” she managed as he trailed a finger along her soft jawline.

  “Agreeing that it never happened.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her plump lower lip. “Which leaves today open to interpretation.”

  “How so?” she whispered as the tip of her little pink tongue snuck out and licked his finger. Just a quick sample but enough to make his cock leap.