A Scot's Pledge (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #1)

by Purington, Sky

  Something he evidently didn’t care all that much about based on the way he looked at her. She ignored her pounding heart, planted her fists on her hips, and eyed him curiously. He wasn’t being straight with her. Yet should she really push this? Should she essentially drive him away from her? Because if she reacted off the building desire in his unwavering gaze, that's precisely what she would be doing.

  “If you didn’t feel Chloe or Madison might be your true love,” she said matter-of-factly, “then you’ve got to wait for the other three.” She widened her eyes at him and emphasized her point. “Five women, five Claddagh rings.” She shook her head. “Not six.”

  He went to speak, then stopped, clearly searching for the right words.

  “What is it?” she whispered because her damn voice wasn’t working right again. The way he looked at her gave her hope she wasn’t allowed. Hope she needed to stomp out whether it was real or not. Push him away now or else. Stand your ground. But no, she stood there waiting with bated breath wondering what his response would be.

  It turned out to be so much more than she anticipated.

  “I dinnae want them, Julie,” he said so softly she barely caught it. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I dinnae want the lasses here, and I willnae want the ones coming.”

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured, though she did.

  Now her poor heart was downright somersaulting.

  He clenched his jaw, still struggling with how to phrase things. How to tell her how he felt. When he finally found his tongue, he didn’t say what her traitorous heart hoped to hear but targeted her sense of practicality instead.

  “You sensing the disinherited were at the root of this is new,” he revealed, dancing around the subject. The real reason he wanted her along. “That you sense such when even powerful wizards dinnae is telling. Important.” He shook his head. “’Twould be foolish of me to leave you behind.”

  I agree she wanted to blurt. I should be wherever you are.

  Obviously, she didn’t voice that, though.

  “Why?” While everything inside her wanted to go, she knew better. “Just because I had a feeling the disinherited were at the heart of this doesn’t mean I’m needed in Scotland.” She gestured at the velvet box he’d set on the mantle. “If Chloe and Madison aren’t a fit, then you need to wait for Alyssa, Ciara, and Destiny to arrive because one of them is meant for you.” She shook her head, forcing the words out of her mouth. “And how do you know you don’t want them when you haven’t even met them?”

  “Because I want you,” he said far more bluntly than she anticipated, apparently bypassing logic now. “I have always wanted you.”

  It became difficult to think. Breathe. How many times had she fantasized about him saying those words? Hoped against hoped? Too many times to count. But that didn’t change anything. Tiernan had a mission, an obligation to his clan and country. Which meant she did too if he thought he could be with her...love her.

  She needed to keep his eye on the ball. On what was possible. Real.

  “You don’t want me,” she forced out. While tempted to look anywhere but at him, she kept her gaze steady on him, so he knew she meant business. No wussing out here. “You’ve known me your whole life, Tiernan. I’m a good friend and confidant.” She shook her head. “Nothing more.”

  “You have been something more for a long time.” Evidently, now that he had pushed past the awkwardness, he didn’t intend to hold back. “More than a friend. More than a confidant.”

  “Call it a crush then.” She opened the box and showed him the remaining rings. “These are the real thing, Tiernan. True love.” She arched a brow and laid it on the line. “How can you contemplate abandoning that for even a second? What about your clan and country? All the people you’re responsible for?” She gestured between them. “Because you and I hooking up means you’ll never harness the power of the Claddagh ring, and everything’ll go to shit.” She tilted her head in question. “Is that what you want?”

  “You know it’s not,” he said. “But that doesnae stop the way I feel.”

  “Like I said, a crush.” She shook her head. “Not love.”

  “Besides,” she went on, not giving him a chance to respond. She threw everything out there before she threw her arms around him and declared she’d go to the moon and back with him. “I don’t feel the same way.” She shrugged, sipped her wine, and at last, looked away, figuring it was time to appear uninterested. “So there you have it. No hope here.”

  When Tiernan crossed his arms over his chest and let silence settle, seemingly of the mind she was right, Julie bit back disappointment. She’d always had a knack at convincing people to see things her way, which she should be happy about right now. This was a good thing. She ought to pat herself on the back for being a rock star with words and hiding her true feelings so well.

  “Whilst I appreciate your devotion to my country,” he finally said, amused rather than resolute and sad like he should be, “your tone gave you away, Jules.”

  Aww, hell. What tone? “I didn’t have a tone.”

  “You had a tone,” he assured.

  “Maybe a stern tone.” She frowned at him. “One meant to remind you of everything that’s at stake right now.” She did her best to look disappointed. “Honestly, I’m surprised by this, Tiernan. It’s your duty, your responsibility, to put your people first. Before your own wants.” She widened her eyes, probably overdoing it at this point, but hell, the amusement on his face was only growing. “If all that isn’t enough, I held you when you were a baby! Saw you as a toddler, little boy, pre-teen.” She scrunched her nose. “So really, you crushin’ on me is just creepy.”

  “I dinnae know,” he mused. “Looking at it that way, I’d say you crushing on me is even creepier.”

  Damn, he had her figured out. But of course, he did. He was a wizard...and her best friend. “How did you get that out of everything I just said?”

  “Actually, I’ve sensed it for quite some time now.” He remained perfectly blunt. “When you opened the door tonight, I knew you felt just as strongly as me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “But I do.”

  “How?”

  “Your heart for starters.” His eyes twinkled. “’Twas about pounding out of your chest.”

  “Maybe I’d been dancing...” yeah, right, so weak, “with my friends.”

  The corner of his mouth shot up. “To Christmas music?”

  “It can be upbeat.”

  “You hate dancing.”

  “I hate sucking at dancing.”

  “You dinnae suck at dancing.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  “You just havenae had the right partner.”

  “We’re talking about upbeat dancing,” she reminded.

  “Nay, we’re talking about you trying to do what you think is the right thing,” he replied. “Pushing me away when all you really want to do is find out what it would be like...at last.”

  He was way too on to her. Yet what precisely was he referring to? It sounded like they might be off the topic of dancing and on to something else. “Being cryptic like your father again, I see.”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  Definitely not dancing. Right?

  “No clue.” But she could imagine so very, very well.

  “You want to know what it would feel like to dance with me.” His tone dropped to a sexy octave that about curled her toes. “Then, mayhap more.”

  “Definitely not interested in dancing,” she lied then grabbed at anything she could. “Okay, I’m just gonna give it to you straight.” She thought fast and came up with the perfect argument. “I think your magic going all wonky has you struggling for normalcy, something dependable, and that’s always been me. So you’re latching on to what makes you feel like you still have control over things.”

  “Latching on?” he murmured, his gaze all smoldering-bedroom-eyes now. “Good idea.” His ma
gic wasn’t so wonky that he couldn’t flick a wrist and turn the music up. Before she darted away, he reeled her close. “You’re right. Latching on to you does make me feel better.” His eyes met hers. “In control, as you say.”

  This was so not a good idea. Stay strong. Step away. Think of Scotland. All the lives depending on him. You’re his voice of reason. Yet, just like it had when he embraced her earlier, all logic fled the moment she was in his arms. Her inner self-coach threw in the towel at the feel of his hard body. At the look in his gorgeous eyes.

  She was in way over her head.

  Scratch that. She’d already drowned.

  “You are not entirely right, though, Jules,” he murmured, tilting her chin until her eyes didn’t stray from his. As if they ever would. “This doesnae feel normal in the least.”

  Had she mentioned normal at some point? Because she agreed, this felt anything but. She felt electrified, on fire, like the room—no, the whole house—was fading away. All that existed was him. His hot as hell face, his eyes, lips, the tiny braids that had appeared in his hair...

  “Oh, shit,” she exclaimed, realizing too late he’d pulled her right into his web.

  The room was really gone.

  So was the house.

  In fact, her surroundings had changed altogether.

  Chapter Four

  Monastery of Scone, Scotland

  24 November 1331

  BEFORE JULIE HAD A chance to say another word, he pulled her into a darkened corner of the stone hallway and put a finger to her lips.

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear, standing closer than necessary. “Dinnae say a word until I’ve had time to assess our surroundings.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she remained silent as he looked around. Thankfully, they had arrived where and when he hoped they would but decided she didn’t need to know that quite yet. Rather, he preferred to keep her waiting sandwiched between him and the abbey wall. If he had been smart, he would have already kissed her.

  After all, he was down the rabbit hole now, wasn’t he?

  He had always done for his clan and kin, putting them first. Now, with his fool heart at the helm, all he could do was keep Julie with him. Leaving her behind yet again simply wasn’t an option. While he knew it was wrong, damning actually, he prayed there was a reason for it. For all the times his father had brought him to visit her. For this pressing need he felt to be around her.

  Now he was starting to hear her thoughts. Surely there was something to that.

  “You’re not looking around anymore,” she hissed on a whisper, placing a hand against his chest. She had done it to push him away, yet she didn’t. Instead, her hand lingered there, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. Genuine worry lit her eyes as they searched his. “What have you done, Tiernan?” She shook her head. “You need to take me back. I don’t belong here.”

  “Yet, you’re here.” He fingered her soft curl and murmured a chant that dressed her appropriately. “You finally get your adventure through time, Jules.”

  “But it’s not my adventure.” She eyed her dark green medieval dress, awed despite herself. “It’s someone else’s.”

  “Not with me, it's not.” He held out the crook of his elbow. “Now ‘tis time to join me and act the proper wife, aye?”

  “Wife?” she mouthed and rolled her eyes. Yet he spied the flicker of excitement she tried to hide as she slipped her arm through his. “You’re really pushing it.”

  “’Tis the easiest disguise,” he explained, then really did push it just to see. “Would you not want to be my wife then?”

  “Hell,” she exclaimed, turning wide eyes on him. “You’re on a roll, aren’t you?”

  “You didnae answer my question.”

  “Because it’s a moot point,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her cheeks flushed as they made their way into the crowd. He could tell she was trying not to stare at everyone in their fourteenth-century finery.

  Curious, he finally tried what he’d been putting off because, quite frankly, he would have been beyond disappointed had it not worked.

  “Best that you remain silent now,” he said into her mind. “Your words and accent are foreign.”

  She stopped short and stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you just—”

  “Aye,” he said telepathically, far more relieved than he let on that she could hear him. This surely proved she was meant for him. Better still, though, would be him hearing her voice too. Not just catching her thoughts. “’Tis me, Julie. If you but think a response, I should hear you.”

  He’s out of his mind, she thought. This is crazy. Impossible. I shouldn’t hear him...should I? I’m not a Broun. But heck, he sounds so damn good. Focus, Julie. You’re spinning out of control. But then look at these people. Better yet, look at him in his MacLomain plaid lookin’ delicious enough to eat.

  “That’s thinking to yourself, lass.” He couldn’t help a small grin. “Talk directly to me without moving your mouth.”

  “Aww, hell,” she muttered, blushing, no doubt because of what she’d been thinking.

  Please let this work, he thought. God above, please let him hear her bonny voice in his mind at last.

  “You heard all I was thinking then?” she said into his mind this time. She cleared her throat even though she wasn’t using her vocal cords. “About that last part...”

  He almost yanked her into his arms then, and there, he was so relieved and happy to finally hear her telepathically. He was also more than a bit aroused, so he stopped next to a tree and positioned her in front of him to watch the ceremony.

  “I heard everything, lass,” he confirmed telepathically. He leaned down as though whispering in her ear for no other reason than to enjoy the scent of her sweet hair. To feel its silky texture against his cheek. “And I verra much liked that last part. You sound damn good too...and you look just as delicious in that dress...in anything, actually.”

  Her breath caught, and she shivered with awareness.

  When he rested his hands on her shoulders and stepped even closer, she tensed.

  “What are you doing?” she said, her internal voice breathless if that were possible.

  “Watching the coronation with you.” He pointed at the children in their regal clothes. The boy had thick dark hair like his father and large, soulful eyes. The girl was fairer with light brown locks. “See the wee lad and lassie over there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Though parliament appointed him king upon Robert the Bruce’s death in thirteen twenty-nine, that is wee seven-year-old King David II about to be crowned,” he divulged. “The ten-year-old next to him is his wee wife, Queen Joan of England.”

  “Oh, wow,” Julie whispered aloud before she remembered to speak telepathically. “I can’t believe I’m looking at Robert the Bruce’s son. That I’m looking at any of this.” She sighed and glanced over her shoulder at him. “While I’m thankful for the opportunity, I dread the consequences of your actions, Tiernan.” She looked forward again. “Adlin’s gonna be super pissed. Grant, too, I imagine.”

  “Not at you.” Never at her. His father and Grant had always adored Julie. “I will deal with da when the time comes.”

  “If the time ever comes,” she remarked, saying what she thought was right despite her own feelings. “I know how big a kink in the system you just created with this stunt. You not bringing your Broun along, falling in love, and igniting the power of the Claddagh ring could mean Scotland’s ruin and the death of everyone you love.”

  “Nay.” His heart told him it would be otherwise. That he was on the right track. Had to be.

  Because he was irrevocably in love with Julie, and nothing would change that.

  Forcing himself to love another would be impossible. Not only could love not be forced, but if it somehow could be, such false emotion was not the sort of thing that ignited the Claddagh ring. Love had to be true. Genuine. From the very heart, the very soul. “I willnae let my country down, lass
. You have my word.”

  “Well, then you best whisk me back to the future ASAP.” She tossed him another look over her shoulder. “Which could already be days in the future.”

  “I dinnae think we need to worry about that.”

  “Of course we do!”

  “Mayhap not.” He had been sensing something since they arrived. A familiar magic he never anticipated working quite like this. Or should he say working for him and likely his kin? “I think my Viking ancestors, or rather their blade, is extending magic that was only supposed to apply to them and their ash trees.”

  “What are you talking about?” She kept her eyes on the children being crowned, as curious about that as she was about what he was sharing. “What trees?”

  He told her about the new magic his Viking ancestors had been given. Magic that allowed them to travel from era to era without losing large amounts of time. It was only supposed to apply to the ashes connecting the past with the future, but he felt the same magic in the sword he now carried.

  A blade that was supposed to help him save Scotland.

  “Holy crap,” she whispered. Her eyes swept over the impressive sword sheathed at his waist before she met his eyes again. “Are you serious? No more of you aging while I stay the same age?”

  “Aye, that’s the premise for my ancestors and their modern-day mates,” he replied. “I sense that magic is lending us the same courtesy.”

  “What if your magic’s off, though, and you're wrong?” She frowned. “What if time’s still going by much faster here than in the twenty-first century?”

  “It doesnae go by so fast that a few days are going to make a difference,” he reminded. “Until then, my gut and my heart are telling me you are the lass meant to take this journey with me, Jules. Your role of protecting Scotland is not merely looking over properties in the future.”