Story Overview
Determined to save his wolf from a trap and confront his enemy, Ethyn MacLomain travels from fourteenth-century Scotland to twenty-first-century New Hampshire only to find the unexpected. He was the one lured into a trap. Now his destiny is inexplicably tied to another. His soul not entirely his own.
Will Ethyn and his destined Broun be able to break the spell that both binds them together yet keeps them apart? The price they paid for forbidden love long ago? Or will the curse that’s held them hostage for centuries mark the beginning of a dark end? Find out in A Scot’s Favor, a fast-paced quest to save Berwick-Upon-Tweed and free love long held under siege.
A Scot’s Favor
The MacLomain Series: End of an Era
Book Four
Sky Purington
COPYRIGHT © 2020
A Scot’s Favor
Sky Purington
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Edited by Cathy McElhaney
Cover Art by Tara West
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Story Overview
Series Overview
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Coming Soon
Just Curious?
Exclusive Invitation
Stonehenges, Stone of Destiny, and Bull Rock
Previous Releases-Best Reading Order
Family Trees
About the Author
Series Overview
‘End of an Era’ can mean many things, but for the MacLomain Clan, it marked the beginning of the end of their way of life. Only four short years after King Robert the Bruce led Scotland to freedom in the First War of Scottish Independence, the Second War of Scottish Independence began between the Kingdom of Scotland and the Kingdom of England. Though Robert’s wee son, David II, was made king, Edward Balliol, with the discreet backing of Edward III of England, challenged him for the throne.
Sworn to protect the rightful king, five Scot’s and their lasses go to David’s aid defending him against Balliol, and his band of disenfranchised nobles called the ‘disinherited.’ Though the nobles are mere mortals, the secret brotherhood who control them, are anything but. Worse yet, fighting them will come at a cost to each noble Scot. One destined to change life as they know it.
Dedication
For all who have loved and lost an animal.
May they forever remain in your heart.
Introduction
So far, three couples have ignited the power of the Claddagh ring, sealing off three Scottish Stonehenges in an ongoing battle against evil. As each tale unravels, the MacLomains and their kin learn more about why they were targeted and what it will take to stop the enemy. Now, despite the odds stacked against them, Ethyn and his Broun have been thrust together to keep wee King David safe and make sure history stays on track. And so the story goes...
Prologue
Scotland
April 1333
“BLOODY HELL,” HE CURSED under his breath. “Where did ye go, Phelan?”
Mindless with worry, he tracked speckles of blood through the woodland. His wolf must have been wounded when they battled the evil Irish Brotherhood alongside Cray and Madison. How badly, though? She hadn’t cried out during battle, so it must be a nick. Or so he hoped.
The thought of her dying was impossible to conceive of.
He would never forget the day he found her as a pup. Nothing but a bundle of black and cedar brown hair, he’d heard her tiny whimpers and discovered her lying in a pool of sunlight. Based on her many wounds and broken leg, she’d been the victim of a boar attack. There was no sign of her mother or littermates, so he concluded she’d been abandoned and left for dead.
“Och, dinnae say goodbye to life quite yet, wee one.” He had carefully scooped her up. “For ‘tis not yer time if ye but stay with me a while longer, aye?”
“What do ye intend to do with the wee beastie?” his cousin Tiernan had asked when he carried her back to MacLomain Castle wrapped in a plaid.
“Tend to her wounds,” he’d replied. “Then, set her free.”
Yet, as it happened, after he nurtured her back to health, she had decided to stay.
Or at least visit him often.
Sometimes she found her way into his chamber at night to rest. Other times she slept in the woodland. For the first few years, though, she was his constant companion. Eventually, as she grew older, she visited him less, so he assumed she had found a mate and started a family.
As of late, however, she’d been coming around more often.
That in itself wouldn’t have been so strange had it not been for her behavior over the past few days. Specifically on Cray and Madison’s journey. Not only did she track his kin but came to their aid in battle. She even came to Ethyn’s rescue when he was possessed by the Brotherhood and attacked his cousins.
Yet it got even stranger.
If what she had done thus far wasn't peculiar enough, it seemed she could not only travel along ley-lines to different locations, but time travel. For Madison swore she saw her several times at the Irish Stonehenge in the distant past.
Now here she was fleeing him when all he wanted to do was help her.
He kept tracking the speckles of blood until they ended abruptly. The wound must have stopped bleeding, which meant it wasn’t too bad. Yet worry plagued him as he called out for her. He kept going, searching, desperate to find her, trying not to imagine the worst. Not necessarily that she lay dying somewhere but that the Brotherhood had taken her.
His sense of desperation grew so strong it took him a moment to realize the landscape had grown snowy and icy wind blew. He stopped short, stunned by how swiftly he’d been shifted through time.
He was no longer in fourteenth century Scotland but twenty-first century New Hampshire.
More interestingly still, he knew without question Phelan was here. Or had he already sensed that in Scotland? Because for a second, it felt like he knew this was the direction she had come. The direction his ley-line wanted him to go.
He looked around for wolf tracks, but falling snow and gusty wind had already covered any potential trace of her. Tense, he chanted into modern-day clothing and strode in the direction of the old colonial.
Why did Phelan come he
re? It was far too dangerous considering there might be a traitorous Broun in their midst. Who knew what the lass named Ciara was capable of? How aligned with the Brotherhood she actually was? He had glimpsed her the night he was possessed back in Scotland. The very night an evil monk had shown up.
“She best not have laid a finger on ye, Phelan,” he cursed under his breath, leaving the woodland behind. He passed the barn but hesitated beneath the old oak tree out front when an odd sensation rolled through him. It felt as if he drew closer to something dangerous and should turn back, yet at the same time, was eager to go on.
Ready.
Desperate almost.
He frowned, overcome by the urge to both flee in the opposite direction yet race to the front door. Never a coward, he ground his jaw and kept going. When nobody answered his knock, he tentatively opened the front door. The air smelled of freshly roasted meat, and a fire crackled on the hearth. He entered the foyer and glanced into the kitchen.
Nobody was there.
So he looked into the living room only to freeze.
Not thinking twice, he drew his blade, ready to fight.
Ready for whatever the Brotherhood threw his way.
Chapter One
North Salem, New Hampshire
Present Day
“I GUESS IT’S TIME,” Ciara muttered under her breath. Yet rather than start her car, she rested her head back and sighed. Maybe just a few more minutes before she faced her. Then him. The man she had done her best to protect since the day she was born. While excited, she also dreaded his response. What would he think when he found out the truth?
“I swear I will always love ye,” he once said. “Just find yer way back to me.”
“I know,” she whispered, wishing she could remember where and when he had said it. Either way, so far, she’d done the best she could to listen. To find her way back. So now wasn’t the time to wimp out but get moving and, at last, confront the monsters again. “What I wouldn’t do for my bike right now.”
Truly, just the short ride on her Harley from where she'd stashed her car to the colonial would have soothed her spirit tremendously. Given her the extra strength she needed. But alas, it was winter, so no luck there. Rather than dwell on it any longer, she pulled out and headed that way, finally about to meet her newfound ‘friends.’
Though tempted to smoke one more butt before she gave them up for good, she popped some gum in her mouth and focused on her game face. The grouchy one these women expected. Her fellow ‘Brouns.’ She’d met them in an online forum for those with Broun lineage out of Scotland, but knew from the get-go there was a whole lot more to them than met the eye.
Just like there was a whole lot more to her than met the eye.
Thankfully, Destiny’s car was gone when she pulled up, which likely meant her sidekick Alyssa was too. She killed the engine, inhaled deeply, and narrowed her eyes. Destiny had pulled this once already. Spontaneously taken off with Alyssa when the weather was less than great. She had ‘claimed’ she cut her finger and had to go to the doctors the first time, but Ciara didn’t buy it. Any more than her coincidental disappearance now. No, she’d say Destiny had figured things out, including Ciara herself, and was trying to avoid the inevitable.
A fate that none of them could escape.
This meant Ciara need not face off with Alyssa just yet. The root of all their troubles. So, a fraction less tense then she’d been seconds before, she sat there a moment longer and rubbed her thigh, flinching at the pain. Pain that only meant one thing. She glanced at the sky, seeing beyond the cloud-cover to the ley-lines.
He would be here soon.
He was coming.
“May the gods be with me,” she prayed before tossing her gum and finally heading inside. Not surprisingly, the door was unlocked. But then if Destiny had figured out who Ciara was, she knew she could get in, locked door or not.
A fire burned invitingly on the hearth in the living room, and by the smell of it, meat had just been cooked. She bit back a smile when she found a freshly roasted chicken in the fridge.
“Yup, I’d say you definitely have me figured out then, friend.” She pulled off a piece. “Meat eater all the way.”
She bit into it and poured herself a shot of whisky. After she downed it, she poured another and headed into the living room only to stop short when she spied the velvet box resting on the mantel. It lay open with a single platinum Claddagh ring inside. Like its companions, it had been created not only by Adlin MacLomain and Grant Hamilton but by the gods. Rings meant to bring Brouns together with their destined MacLomains.
“There you are,” she whispered, crossing to the fireplace.
She gazed at the ring, unsure what to do. Dare she wear it? Was she ready? What if it wasn’t meant for her in the end? Tentative, she picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand, studying the colorless gem nestled in its heart’s center.
“You’ve come this far,” she reminded herself. “Don’t be a coward now.”
Yet her hand shook as she stared at it. What if she put it on and everything became final? Her curse became her norm?
“Shit,” she swore, squeezing her fist around it. Her gaze returned to the empty velvet box. It originally held five rings, then just two as Destiny and Ciara had not yet claimed theirs. Now it held none. “Looks like someone decided to wear hers after all.”
She shoved the ring in her pocket, downed her second shot then froze.
He was here.
Drawing closer.
She felt it her bones. In the air she breathed. Then she heard his footfall in the soft snow despite the distance. He just reached the wood line and passed the barn. He hesitated but a moment under the old oak tree out front, sensing Ciara without realizing it.
Drawn yet put-off without understanding why.
Lured into something unimaginable.
When he rapped on the front door, her heart leapt into her throat. Part of her wanted to tell him to run in the opposite direction while another wanted to race into his arms. To have him hold her the way she’d long dreamt of.
She tried to put one foot in front of the other but felt frozen in place, unable to move. Should she invite him in or tell him to go? Which should she want more? Yet deep down, she knew the latter was no longer an option.
“I should open the door,” she whispered. “Stay in control of the situation.”
But it was already too late.
The door opened, and he entered.
He was here.
She barely breathed as he stepped into the foyer and looked into the kitchen before he looked into the living room.
He homed in on her and went still.
She stopped breathing altogether as he withdrew his blade and their gazes held. As she finally saw him for the first time not shrouded in darkness on a stormy night or through the eyes of another, but like this. Face to face.
“’Tis you, aye?” His wary pale green eyes narrowed. “We’ve crossed paths before, haven't we?”
Gods above, he was handsome with his ebony hair and swarthy chiseled features. She took in his broad shoulders and substantial height, not for the first time marveling that such a strong body housed such a gentle spirit. Still a warrior’s soul but without the darkness that haunted most without them realizing it. Darkness inherently born of taking other lives.
“I’m afraid not,” she said automatically, sure to appear alarmed. “Who are you?”
She knew she should just be honest. He would find out the truth sooner rather than later. But she wanted a few more moments first. A mere minute of near normalcy before everything changed.
“I’m Ethyn MacLomain.” He looked around again, clearly trying to figure out where her friends were, before his uncertain gaze swept over her. “And you are?”
“A Broun.”
“I gathered as much.” He gripped his blade more firmly, fully aware who she was but apparently wanting confirmation. Or to bide his time. “Which Broun?”
&nbs
p; Your Broun, she was tempted to say but knew that might be a lie.
Though she considered giving another name, it was pointless. Her ‘minute’ was up. “I’m Ciara.”
“So you are.” Ethyn's gaze flickered from her leg back to her face. His brogue thickened with emotion as he undoubtedly recalled the night he was possessed not long ago. A night he might have seen her limping. “Ye were there that eve, aye?” Rather than flee as some might if they thought her aligned with evil, he stepped into the room, reminding her just how large he really was. “Ye were there with the Brotherhood the night one of them possessed me?” He frowned. “The night I tried to kill my kin?”
She sensed not just his growing distrust but anger that she might have had something to do with it. While tempted to slide her hand into her pocket and touch the ring for strength, maybe even hope, she refrained. Though gentle-spirited, he was a seasoned warrior, so any sudden movements would be unwise. Not only that, but there was a side to him of which even he was unaware. What brewed within him, especially in her presence, meant any sudden movements could prove lethal.
“I wasn’t there,” she replied, telling a half-truth, then a flat-out lie. Because if nothing else happened at this point, she needed to travel with him. His life-journey now included her. To what extent was yet to be determined. “Though I did dream of...things.”
His expression grew more cautious, his steady gaze never leaving her face. “What things?”
“Another time and place.” Even though she had practiced this conversation in her mind, she still wasn’t sure what to say. What she did know, was whether or not she put on the ring, she had to stay with him. Which meant making sure she was part of his ongoing issues in medieval Scotland. “I dreamt of stones. A Stonehenge.”
“I imagine you did,” he said softly, his steady, unwavering gaze unnerving. But then, no doubt, his spirit was trying to see past who stood in front of him to deeper truths. “The question is, did you see them as my enemy or my ally?”
A Scot's Favor (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era Book 4) Page 1