Lachlan (Immortal Highlander Book 1): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  “Head down, arse up,” Lachlan ordered.

  His bodyguard lowered his interlaced fingers, and Lachlan planted his boot on them. With a colossal heave Raen tossed him over the heads of the legion attackers. When his heels touched earth he ran for Kinley, and roared her name.

  “Kinley. I’ve come, I’m here, I’m–”

  Lachlan stumbled to a halt as he saw the two burned bodies by the sacred stone. He heard the men fighting behind him, and the blast of the Romans sounding their retreat horn, but all he could do was stare.

  “No.”

  One corpse had fallen into heaps of ash. The other was Kinley. She had rested a slender hand against the ancient etched lines, that even now glowed red from the intensity of the flames. She didn’t move or breathe. The flames had burned off her hair and clothes and skin, leaving a blackened husk.

  Lachlan’s swords fell from his hands to thump on the ground. His knees rammed into the earth as he dropped beside her.

  “Oh, no, lass, no.”

  He thought of his mother and sister, holding each other as they coughed away their last breaths to the white plague; his men on the shores of the loch, silently going to their deaths; the mortals they had not been able to save from the legion, their bones carpeting the undead’s lair.

  And now his sweet lass. His love. His Kinley—gone.

  He wanted to drive his fists into the stone until it shattered, but instead he reached for her burned hand, and gently held it between his.

  “You couldnae wait for me, my darling? I would have gone with you. Gladly.” A sob tore from his throat. “You cannae leave me behind, lass. I’ve naught without you.”

  Lachlan pressed her hand to his face, weeping against her poor charred palm until he felt magic pressing in all around him. He lifted his head to see every druid in the grove standing in a perfect circle around the stone, their hands joined and their eyes glowing with the white light of the moon.

  “My lord.”

  When Lachlan looked up, Cailean Lusk had tears in his eyes. They were dreamy, and yet as ancient as the grove stones, and full of sorrow for this woman warrior who had saved them all.

  “Give her my life,” Lachlan begged him. “Let me go instead of her. I beg you.”

  Bhaltair came to stand beside the ovate. “Come, Cailean. ’Tis time.”

  Like the loch where Lachlan had awakened, moonlight bathed the grove in its cool white glow. The druids stood as they had then, hands joined. Light traced the carvings on the ancient stones, and suddenly rayed out to form an enormous circle over Lachlan’s head. It floated down to the druids and poured over them like water, drenching them in power as they murmured in low, hushed voices.

  Kinley’s hand slipped from his as her burned body floated up from the earth. Slowly it turned until it was upright, and became infused with the druid’s power. Her form glowed for a moment with a white-hot intensity that made Lachlan’s eyes hurt. But he could not look away. Instead he watched, slack-jawed, as her form drifted back down to stand by the stone.

  The druids dropped their hands and stepped backward from their circle, all eyes on Kinley.

  Lachlan staggered to his feet. “Kinley?”

  She opened her eyes as the last of the light faded from her body. She wore the pale robe of a druid initiate, and her golden hair hung down to her waist. He looked into her eyes, and saw love so pure and powerful that it nearly drove him to his knees again.

  “Don’t faint,” Kinley whispered as she reached for him. “It’ll make you look bad in front of the guys.”

  Lachlan simply grabbed her, and held her against his heart as he touched her face and wept into her hair and kissed her smiling lips.

  Bhaltair Flen cleared his throat, and when Lachlan and Kinley finally looked at him, said, “Mistress Kinley Chandler, you went willingly to your death, that we might live. Now you are reborn, our daughter of the dragon, and you shall never die.”

  “Really? You made me…?” Eyes wide, she touched her cheek. “Thank you.”

  All of the druids bowed to Lachlan and Kinley and silently retreated from the grove.

  “The legion has fled, my lord,” Raen said as he joined them, and smiled at Kinley. “My lady, you look…much improved.”

  “I feel like a new woman. Again,” she said, and glanced down at her robe. “But this thing has to go. I don’t do robes. Someone bring me boots, trews and a decent tunic, please.”

  “We’d be glad to, my lady,” Neac called, and waved in the direction the druids had gone. “Only they took all of our clothes with them, the magical scoundrels.”

  “Well, I’m no’ wearing this back to the castle,” Tormod announced as he divested himself of his robe. He swung his tattooed arms out to stretch before he strode, naked, back to the stream.

  Raen went after him. “You cannae come naked out of the loch, you shameless Viking. You’ll scare all the maids witless.”

  Kinley shook her head. “And I get to live forever with them. Okay.” She looked up at Lachlan. “You do an excellent come-back, you know.”

  “I had some help,” he said smiling. For which Lachlan would offer thanks every day of his eternal life. “Have you an answer for me, then?”

  “Aye. Yes. Of course.” Kinley erupted with laughter as he picked her up and swung her around. “I will marry you, Lachlan McDonnel, Laird of the McDonnel. My lord. My love.”

  Chapter Thirty

  SOME WEEKS LATER Cailean Lusk brought a tankard of ale to his master, who sat on the edge of the glen watching the wedding feast. Every mortal on Skye had come to share in the food and drink and merriment, and every tree fluttered with colorful ribbons and the McDonnel triskele banner.

  “’Tis a happy day for Lachlan and Kinley, and the clan,” he said to his master. “We should dance.”

  “At our age?” His master made a rude sound. “We’d look the proper fools. Well, I would. Did you speak with the laird?”

  “Aye,” Cailean said and sat down beside him. He watched Kinley who was being whirled about by Neac Uthar. The chieftain wore a flowered crown on his bald pate, and had a face reddened by laughter. “They’ve found no trace of the legion since we sealed off their lair. He doesnae believe they sacrificed themselves to the sun. There have been small raids on the mainland since the night we saved the bairns. No mortals are being taken, but they are still killing for blood.”

  “That is what the evil bastarts do,” Bhaltair said and took a swallow of ale. “Now that Quintus Seneca will command them, ’twill be different, and the undead much more dangerous.”

  Cailean’s dreamy eyes took on an older caste and nodded at the highlanders. “Will we tell them what we learned while we worked our spell in the grove?”

  “What would you have me say? That it has made itself a gateway for others like Kinley? That more women with druid blood may be brought back, and since they have never incarnated they will have powers unknown to them? And that we have no idea why?” The old druid set down his ale. “How do I explain to the laird that the gods are no’ finished meddling with him and his men?”

  “Mayhap ’tis no’ meddling,” Cailean said. “I think the gods wished to save the clan as well as Kinley. To make all of them whole again. That could be why this has happened.”

  His master patted his arm. “’Tis a happy thought, but we cannae ken the minds of the gods, lad. There may never again be another woman to cross over from the future.”

  Cailean looked at Lachlan, who had seized Kinley and taken her from Neac, and was kissing her breathless now.

  “We shall see.”

  THE END

  • • • • •

  Another Immortal Highlander awaits you in Tharaen (Immortal Highlander Book 2).

  For a sneak peek, turn the page.

  Sneak Peek

  Tharaen (Immortal Highlander Book 2)

  Excerpt

  Raen had hoped the laird and his lady would have returned by now, so they could decide what to tell the lieutenant. In
stead he would have to guard her another night.

  Tormod met him at the base of the tower stairs. “She’s gone from her room.” He grimaced. “She wanted to see where the river empties into ocean, but I told her ’twas too late for a walk. ’Twas why she sent me to fetch her bathing water, so she could steal away. A jötunn would be easier to keep penned.”

  “She is bored,” Raen said suspecting that Diana had finally grown impatient with her confinement. “I’ll bring her back and watch her for the night. Go and get some sleep.”

  “You’ll want chains for her,” the Norseman predicted. “And mayhap a large cudgel for yourself.”

  Raen sent a guard to inform Neac he was leaving the stronghold, and took the path through the ridge peaks that led down to the river. Tormod’s solution to every problem with females involved fetters and raiding tactics, but if he could not convince Diana to cooperate, Raen might very well have to put her in shackles.

  As he reached the edge of the estuary, he saw a torch that had been wedged upright between two large rocks beside Diana’s shoes. He stared at the odd footwear, for they made no sense to him. Why would she remove them here, unless…

  “Diana.” He rushed to the edge of the water, yanking off his boots and vest as he peered out at the dark, cold waters. “Where are you? Call to me.”

  He heard a splash as he stripped out of his trews, and looked over to see a pale figure sinking beneath the surface. He waded in and dove deep, dissolving into his water-bonded form that made him as fast as light. He streaked through the murky depths until he felt the warmth of her, and surfaced.

  Several yards away Diana did the same, gasping as she wiped a hand over her face. “Boy, I’m glad I grew up by the Pacific. This water makes frigid sound cozy.”

  Raen changed back and swam over to her, only to see her submerge and dart beneath him. He spun, blinking the sting of salt from his eyes until he saw her again. “You can swim?”

  “You thought I couldn’t?” she said as her lips curved. “Aw, you jumped in to save me? That’s adorable. I should mention that I was a real jock in college. I lettered in distance swimming, softball and track.”

  “I thought you were drowning.” That he shouted the words made him feel even more the fool. Clamping down on his temper, he said, “The sea is too cold. You cannae swim here.”

  “I can’t swim, I can’t leave the castle, and I can’t walk around without a guard.” She made a rude sound. “What can I do?”

  “No’ scare me like this. ’Twould be very good to do that.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms, and then stiffened the moment her skin brushed his. “Diana, why are you naked?”

  “You haven’t invented the swimsuit yet. Or the wetsuit, for that matter.” She lifted her arms and linked her hands behind his neck. “You’re naked, too.”

  “I was saving you, no’ seducing you.” He tried to put some space between them, but she curled her long legs around his. “We will sink.”

  She leaned close to press her cheek against his and whispered, “I don’t care.”

  Raen felt the lightning spirit awakening, and quickly turned his head to break the contact with her skin. “I ken what Cailean told you, but you are no’ my wife. You dinnae belong here. ’Tis a mistake.”

  “Doesn’t feel like one at the moment,” she said but drew back a little. “We’re naked and alone, Big Man. We’ve both wanted this since you tied me to that bed.” She slid her palm up to cover his marked cheek. “Feel it? It’s like you’re already inside me.”

  Raen clamped her against him and swam one-armed until he could touch bottom. Then he trudged out of the water. When he set her on her feet her breasts grazed his chest, and the soft curls of her sex clung to the throbbing base of his erection. He would do the decent thing and set her away from him, as soon as he had warmed her, as soon as she stopped touching him, as soon as the spirit subsided–

  He dragged her up against him, glorying in the feel of her resilient, slender form as he kissed her. Her lips parted for him, and he ravished her mouth, the way he had wanted to since the night she had come to the castle. His hands found their way down to her buttocks, and he clasped the firm curves, pressing her against his throbbing cock and rubbing her against his shaft. She made a small, sweet sound and hitched herself up on him, her breasts dragging against his chest as she grabbed a handful of his hair.

  He wanted to fack her so badly he shook with it, and he wrenched his mouth from hers. “Diana, we mustnae…”

  “Please find a place where we can stretch out,” she said, sounding breathless and eager. “Grass, rock, glen, I don’t care. I need you.” She moved against him, letting him feel the slickness of her little quim. “See? You know you want it, and God, so do I.”

  “We cannae,” he said, as he set her down and backed away from her. “I am no’ for you. I cannae have you.”

  “You can have me right now,” she assured him. “I’m right here, I’m naked, I’m willing. Is there something else I need to do or say?”

  Bright, hot power beginning to spark inside him. “Please,” he said through clenched teeth. “Go back to the castle. Now. Hurry.”

  It was too late to stop it. He knew it as soon as he felt his face burn. The chilly air crackled around them as his ink came alive and spilled down over his heart, spattering her with its silver-white sparks of power.

  “Oh, my god,” Diana gasped and covered the flow with her hands as if to stop it. “What is happening to you?”

  “It’s awake now,” Raen said tightly as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her long, lovely body against his. “Be still, or the spirit will take what it wants from us.”

  • • • • •

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  Dedication

  For Mr. H.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 Hazel Hunter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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  Making Magic

  Welcome to Making Magic, a little section at the end of the book where I can give readers a glimpse at what I do. It’s not edited and my launch team doesn’t read it because it’s kind of a last minute thing. Therefore typos will surely follow.

  This is the first full-length novel that I’ve published and it’s because of readers li
ke you. I regularly poll my newsletter members and ask them their opinions on all sorts of things. But one of the areas that surfaced over and over again was the desire for longer work.

  Readers spoke and I listened!

  I mean what would be the point of asking you what you wanted if I was going to ignore it? This has been fun for me, not only because of the different word count, but also because I can respond to reader’s wishes. I feel like there’s some dialogue between us, delayed maybe, stilted even, but still some sort of exchange. And that to me is fun.

  Why medieval Scotland? If you know my books, then you’ve seen that I’ve been inching my way toward historical romance for quite a while. There was the whole time travel arc in Silver Wood Coven (Books 11 - 16) and even the ancient lives in Hollow City Coven. The past fascinates me, not too surprising since I was an archaeologist in a former career incarnation. The Immortal Highlander books give me the chance to indulge my penchant for history, but crossed with para‐ normal romance. The proverbial win-win for me —and I hope for you!

  So that’s it for now. I really hope you’ve enjoyed Lachlan and now it’s on to the next in the trilogy.

  Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and I’ll see you between the covers soon.

  XOXO,

  Hazel

  Los Angeles, August 2017

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