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

by Purington, Sky

“We’ve a few hours left to this day,” he murmured as the wind began to howl outside and snow started falling. “Mayhap today is a day of things that never happened. Of things that we can wake on the morrow and know are in our past.” His eyes stayed with hers. “Things we vow now will never happen again.”

  “I’m intrigued,” she said softly, her eyes half-mast but still somewhat coherent as he grazed his fingers down the side of her neck, barely touching. “So today doesn’t count...doesn’t exist. And none of this,” she shifted her arse along his erection, her voice husky, “ever happened.”

  “’Twould be best, aye?” he murmured as he put his mouth where his fingers were and tasted her sweet softness. Her flawless skin.

  “I think you’re probably right,” she whispered as her eyes slid shut.

  Just like that they were done bickering and on to far more enjoyable things. While he knew he was taking them down a path harder and harder to turn from, he truly believed in his near drunken state, that they had come to a logical conclusion.

  Be together now then end it on the morrow.

  It made perfect sense and would assuage what was taken from them before. Though they had come together well and true, there had been little time to enjoy it. Especially when Robert’s blade met his neck.

  But that was behind them, at least for now, and Conall intended to enjoy today to its fullest.

  That meant, before all else, getting her out of this bloody dress. A task he set to with great attention to detail and with more relish than he had ever felt when undressing a lass. But then, this was Lindsay, and she was, by far, the most bonnie creature he had ever laid eyes on. A fact that became more and more apparent as he set her back in her chair, knelt in front of her and began removing her clothes.

  He took his time and started with her boots, remembering the sight of her delicate feet and calves the eve before. How he had wanted to run his hands over her snowy white flesh and memorize the dimensions of her slender, perfectly shaped legs.

  Now he did, his eyes going from her legs as he removed the boots altogether then up higher as he slowly pushed her skirts up. She never said a word but watched him from beneath drowsy lids, her eyes as full of desire as his.

  When she leaned forward and tugged at his tunic, clearly wanting it removed, he pulled it off and tossed it aside. Then he yanked her forward enough that she fell back and was once more at his mercy. Or so he liked to think as he ran his hands along her slender thighs, pushed her skirts all the way up and spread her legs.

  “Ohhh,” she whispered and arched as he licked and teased her center before he focused on the tiny nub that had her arching more and crying out. She tasted as sweet as he imagined she would.

  A flavor made entirely for him.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and arse and held her in place as he continued enjoying her. He liked the way she groaned and squirmed then gyrated against him as he devoured her. Nothing pleased him more than how she buckled time and time again as he used his mouth and fingers to take her somewhere he sensed she rarely, if ever, went.

  “Conall,” she eventually groaned and whispered. “We’re running out of today.” Her eyes slid open just enough to meet his. “And I want more...”

  He understood.

  Though he could have remained there all night and been in bliss, his cock more than appreciated her impatience. He pulled her dress over her head, and drank in the sight of her full breasts and tiny waist. Bloody hell he wanted her. Eternally grateful the chair was the perfect height, and without arms, he was quick to take advantage.

  “Oh, my,” Lindsay gasped as he yanked down his breeches, pulled her forward to the edge of the chair, came between her quivering thighs and thrust deep.

  She bit back a ragged groan as he grabbed the back of the chair to stabilize it, hooked an arm around her lower back to keep her in place, then kept moving. She gasped incoherent words as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him take control.

  He shook as he thrust, lost in the feel of her tight heat, lost in the feel of her soft, voluptuous body against his. Her pebbled nipples grazed his chest and her firm, silky thighs wrapped around him as he moved. First methodically then with longer strokes and casual but deep rolls of his hips.

  “Conall,” she half groaned, half whispered in a husky, broken voice as he increased his pace then slowed and stopped as she climaxed again. He had loved the way her release felt against his mouth but almost appreciated this more. The way she locked up tight, her body frozen against his, completely vulnerable, before she shuddered and began milking his cock.

  As she drifted, he stood, never pulling free as he brought her down on the cot. Not willing to risk using magic, he peppered small kisses along her neck and collarbone as he yanked off his boots and trousers. All and all, he managed everything far more smoothly than he could have hoped considering the whisky he drank.

  But then this was Lindsay and today was all they had.

  A sobering fact that left no room for sloppy lovemaking.

  “Conall,” she whispered again, her eyes still closed as she reached for him.

  He loved the sound of his name on her lips but needed the distance right now no matter how close he pulled her.

  “Laird Hamilton,” he corrected hoarsely as he kept her hands away from him by pulling them above her head and holding her wrists with one hand.

  “Laird Hamilton,” she whispered as her eyes opened a mere crack and she arched, her well-rounded breasts, an invitation he could not refuse. He pulled one nipple into his mouth as he began thrusting again.

  Not quickly but very, very slowly.

  As he twirled his tongue around her nipple, he rolled his hips and pressed deeper. It took everything he had to keep from letting go as he watched her. As he saw the bliss in her eyes as he continued to touch, taste and move. In its own way, pleasuring her gave him great strength. Endurance beyond reason.

  When she cried out again and locked up against him, he wrapped his elbows beneath her knees and pulled her legs up high. The added depth and friction of him rubbing against her center had her clenching the cot and struggling for breath as he elongated her pleasure.

  Though tempted to plunge into her and at last, release his seed, he paused as tears leaked from the corner of her closed eyes. Her thoughts swirled with his. This level of pleasure was new to her. Sexual pleasure with a partner. Then other things started to come through. Flashes that connected them more and more.

  Exhausted from pleasure, Lindsay was drifting off to sleep, so he carefully settled her back, bypassed his own release and pulled her into his arms as she slumbered.

  Yet still, the flashes came.

  Her parents were gone, and she was broken until she found strength. Alone, living amongst strangers, she grew stronger. Images rippled through his mind of her looking in a mirror as she ran a razor through her hair and large clumps fell away.

  As she did, her big silver eyes became clearer and clearer to him.

  He knew those eyes.

  He had always known those eyes.

  Lindsay, somehow, some way, had been his faery in the tree.

  Chapter Eleven

  “NO MORE,” LINDSAY WHISPERED through clenched teeth into the mirror as she continued to shave off the last of her white blond hair and confronted the new her. The girl that would no longer be defined by her looks or her past but by this.

  The person who stared back.

  At least for now.

  That was the day she climbed high into the tree in the backyard of her foster home and began planning a new life. One chapter was over, and it was time to start another. A chapter where she accepted that she was completely on her own now and she ruled her own destiny.

  Nobody else.

  Not the kids who teased her and certainly not the bizarre almost surreal things that had begun happening. The daunting ability to see through other people’s eyes when they were going through something traumatic. Now would be the beginning of th
e end of all that. Now, starting today, she would embrace a new person. If this person didn’t make life more tolerable, then she would embrace another and another, staying one step ahead of her past and the curse that was hers.

  As she sat near the top of the tree that day, she suddenly felt free in a whole new way.

  Nothing could touch her here. She was part of something bigger and better, more magical than anything she had ever experienced. So it wasn’t really all that surprising when she looked down through the leaves twisting in the sunlight and saw a boy around her age staring back at her. She was about to call out, yelling over the wind that had kicked up, but jolted awake instead.

  Confused, she blinked several times, trying to acclimate, only to find herself beneath furs on a cot and Conall sitting in a chair beside her. While it was clear he had set up camp to watch over her, he had dozed off. His chin rested on his chest, a dagger firmly in his grasp on his lap despite how soundly he slept.

  She frowned and rubbed her forehead, confused as she glanced out the cottage window. It appeared to be pre-dawn and snowing quite heavily. When she shifted and felt the soreness mixed with pleasurable tenderness between her thighs, everything started coming back.

  Conall and her.

  What he had done to her...no, for her.

  “Oh, hell,” she whispered as she peeked beneath the fur. She was fully dressed minus the boots. Her eyes went to him again, remembering all too well his sinfully hot body pressed against hers in this very cottage. She licked her lips as she recalled how thorough he had been.

  How relentless.

  How downright talented.

  “I, oh no,” she whispered under her breath as she swung her legs over the side of the cot and kept staring at him. Per William’s request, she was supposed to be doing her best to get Robert the Bruce to fall for her not fall all over Conall Hamilton the minute they were alone.

  “Make the Bruce fall in love with ye,” William had requested back in Strathearn. “And Fate will happen as it should. Scotland’s history will be safe.”

  “How could you possibly know that when you don’t even remember me being there?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or do you?”

  “Och, nay.” He frowned. “I dinnae recall ye but know without a doubt this is how it should be. How Grant and Adlin would want it.”

  “If that's the case, why would you request such a thing of me,” she had pressed, “and not Grant or Adlin?”

  “I dinnae know,” he whispered, sudden confusion in his eyes. “Just that ‘tis yer only hope, lass. Our only hope.”

  “You make no sense.” She shook her head. “This makes no sense.”

  Yet she had left his tent that night somehow convinced of what she needed to do. Now, in retrospect, she wondered if she had been bewitched. Had the warlock somehow spoken through William? Was she playing right into its hands having flirted so brazenly with Robert last night?

  Somehow, she didn’t think so.

  Why, she couldn’t be sure, but she felt strongly something else was at work here.

  As if in response to her thoughts, she swore the blue in her gem glowed for a moment. The same shade, of course, that it had been since she seduced Conall.

  She rubbed her forehead again as she eyed him.

  One way or another, she had been seducing him since they arrived here, hadn’t she? And what had he done in return? Given her so many orgasms she couldn’t count them. Powerful climaxes that had her toes curling and her insides twisting in pleasure just thinking about them.

  Gone, it seemed, were the days of fake orgasms.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head at her line of thinking. One that kept Conall between her thighs long into the future. She rubbed a hand over her face and nearly groaned. Thinking like this had to stop. Not only did she not want a man but he was...her pained eyes rose to him. He was exactly who she had started to suspect he was.

  The boy standing at the base of the tree looking up.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered and braced her head in her hands. If he were truly that boy, then he knew so much more about her than she wanted anybody to know. He knew her better than anyone.

  He knew the girl she had left behind so she could morph time and time again.

  She shook her head and stared at him. That boy was only ever supposed to be part of her healing process, not an actual person she somehow connected with across time. Now that it was all starting to come back, she marveled that she hadn't put the pieces together right away when she saw his eyes. Those thickly lashed gorgeous eyes that no woman could forget regardless of their age. Because she had been very young when she met him.

  Magic related or not, she was shocked that she hadn't figured out who he was far sooner. But again, since she left that tree behind it had all become dreamlike. As time went by and memories of him began to fade, she started to assume what happened was just part of her gift. A self defense mechanism that allowed her to heal and grow strong.

  “Lindsay,” he rumbled, not a boy at all, but a man as his eyes met hers. He had awoken and seemed fully alert. “’Tis early. Get more sleep.”

  As their eyes held, she zipped right past the boy of her past and suddenly remembered all too well what the man had done to her last night. Her eyes fell to his sensual lips. To a mouth that had made her head spin time and time again. Her eyes unwillingly trailed lower to his groin and all the wonders that had done.

  “We were undressed but not anymore,” she whispered as her eyes returned to his. “Why?”

  “Because that was yesterday,” he reminded, his voice back to being stern. “And today is today, aye?”

  Right. Their pact that allowed them to enjoy more sex without feeling as if they were betraying themselves. Though tempted to dispute their agreement, she realized that might not be wise for two reasons. The first, her promise to Wallace to flirt with Robert. The second, her vow to keep Conall at a distance. To protect her heart.

  She finally managed to nod her agreement about today being a new day as she contemplated him. Yet her stubborn thoughts kept drifting. How he had been as selfless a lover as he was a warrior. How he filled her and made her whole world explode. But he never reached his own fulfillment, did he?

  What sort of man did that?

  What sort of man didn’t ultimately take what he needed when she was so very willing? When she would have welcomed the feel of him throbbing deep inside her and finding release?

  She swallowed hard, fought lust and met his steady eyes. Tired eyes that likely got about as much sleep last night as the night before. “Come,” she whispered as she laid back, curled onto her side and patted the cot. “Come get some sleep, Laird Hamilton.”

  Though she would have preferred to call him Conall, she could tell by the guarded look in his eyes that remaining formal was the better choice. When he hesitated, she patted the cot again then closed her eyes, hoping he was simply exhausted enough not to overthink things.

  Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn’t because he never joined her. Or so she thought until she awoke several hours later to find herself beneath the furs wrapped in his arms. Her back was to his front, and as far as she could tell based on his heavy breathing, he was out like a light. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, overly aware of his spicy scent, and the feel of his hard body touching every inch of hers.

  She meant to get up, but as the wind whistled outside much like it did through the tree of her youth, she cozied in, relishing the safety. The choice to be herself before she became so many. Something she had done all on her own so long ago with the help of a boy from far below.

  “You’re gonna have to tell him soon, honey,” came an unmistakable southern accent. “You’re gonna have to tell him you’ve gone and fallen in love with him.”

  Christina?

  She opened her eyes and bolted upright only to find Conall gone and it much lighter outside. How long had she slept? She glanced around, confused. It had sounded like Christina was right here. Right beside her.<
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  Almost as if he sensed she was awake, the door opened, and Conall brushed snow from his fur-clad shoulders before entering. Back to being as stiff and formal as ever, he nodded hello. “I’ve brought salmon to eat and water.”

  She nodded and hid her disappointment that she hadn't woken sooner. She wanted to talk after what they shared last night. Perhaps explore the idea that what they experienced together would not truly vanish because of a pact about todays and tomorrows.

  “’Tis fresh salmon from River Tweed,” he said as he handed her a plate. “I caught it myself.”

  She was taken aback by the rush of raw emotion that washed over her. He might be a hard-to-read hands-down jackass on a rather consistent basis, but he also had a sweet side that could cripple her on occasion.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, trying to keep her eyes off him as he set a mug beside her. She tried to forget the things he had done to her. How intimate they had been. How unbelievable he had made her feel.

  Her eyes flickered over him despite her best efforts to do otherwise. As tired as he must be, he still looked more handsome than ever. Dressed in brown linen breeches, a dark tunic, and black boots, he had more tiny braids in his hair than usual.

  It was strange watching him become an entirely different man. Better yet the one he had been before. Especially considering how creative and ambitious he could be between the sheets.

  Her eyes flickered across the room.

  Or creative and ambitious on a chair.

  As if following her thoughts, Conall cleared his throat, set the chair in the corner as though it had already caused enough harm then focused on the fire. He remained silent at first until he finally said what she should have seen coming.

  “I had too much whisky last night, and for that I am sorry.” He cleared his throat again, his eyes on the fire as he stoked it. “The Bruce eagerly awaits your company when you are ready.”

  “Really, Conall?” she nearly said. “When it’s taking everything inside you not to bend me over this cot and have me again?”

  Naturally, she kept quiet, yet she didn’t miss the tightening of his posture. One that seemed far too coincidental, so she called him on it. “You’re reading my thoughts, aren’t you?”