Alyssa, though? She really was pretty dull. At least Madison offered her two cents here and there. Alyssa just nodded in agreement to everything, clearly preferring to fade into the background. Which made the close friendship that had formed between her and Destiny truly bizarre. The two couldn’t be more opposite if they tried. Yet Destiny seemed a universe unto herself, so she supposed it was no surprise Alyssa gravitated her way.
“Interesting,” Destiny murmured. She glanced at the window then headed for the kitchen, presumably off to get drinks.
She frowned, wondering what Destiny was talking about.
“What’s interesting?” she called out but got no answer. Darn it.
She centered the Claddagh ring’s heart on her finger, frustrated it kept twisting to the side, then folded her annoyingly shaky hands on her lap. She should stay put and keep with her calm façade. Yet her heart raced, and her gaze wandered to the window. Why had Destiny glanced at it? What was so interesting? She wouldn’t go look because surely there was nothing there.
Certainly not a brooding beast.
She couldn’t help but note that the ties holding back the curtains were uneven, though. She pressed her lips together, determined to stand her ground. The curtains were fine, and she certainly didn’t need to look outside. Yet those curtain ties really were crooked, weren’t they? She tapped her knees, trying to look anywhere but at the window.
Stay put. Leave it alone.
But alas, she just couldn’t do it. The ties needed straightening. So she leveled them out, refusing to look outside, but something caught her attention.
More specifically, someone.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered. “Maybe you’re not such a monster after all.”
With swarthy good looks and a friendly grin, a man was heading for the front door. There could be no doubt he was related to Tiernan and Aidan with his tall, broad-shouldered frame. She was tall for a woman at nearly five foot eleven, but they had her by six inches or so.
When he knocked on the front door, she peeked into the hall, expecting Destiny or Alyssa to answer, but neither was there. Though tempted to stay put because she’d told Cray to leave her be and wanted nothing to do with him, he certainly seemed chipper enough. Not like a man who intended to throw her over his shoulder, tromp upstairs, toss her down on the bed and have his way with her. Or even worse, bend her over the couch and see through his threat here and now.
Just let him try because she was stronger than she looked.
Scowling at the offensive couch for being part of unwanted visuals, she straightened a throw pillow in passing and strode for the door, whipping it open in confrontation. Cray, who was drool-worthy with his merry pale green eyes and winning smile, burst her I-dodged-a-grumpy-beast bubble with his greeting.
“Hello, lass.” His smile got even wider. “I'm Ethyn MacLomain, cousin to Tiernan.”
“Are you sure?” she squeaked before she could stop herself.
Things would be so much better if he was Cray instead.
“Quite sure.” He chuckled but had the good grace not to look at her oddly. “And you are?”
“You don’t know who I am?” She just really needed to be sure, praying for a miracle all the while. Maybe he had forgotten their conversations because his magic was off? Or maybe it was a strange side-effect of time travel? “Truly?”
She urged him to come in and shut the door behind him. Cray or not, he didn’t deserve to be left out in the cold.
“Actually, I think I do know you,” he confessed, freezing her in her tracks.
Though tempted to shove him back out the door, she had a feeling it would take more finesse than she possessed. She had some moves from self-defense class, but like his brethren, Ethyn was made of pure muscle. Not just that, but she strongly suspected he had some fighting skills of his own.
“Based on Julie’s description,” he continued, “you must be Madison.”
Ah, he knew her from Julie. Wonderful.
“That’s right.” She breathed a sigh of relief and met his smile. “I am.”
She wondered how Julie had described her. Tall, bony geek with static cling hair? Pasty-faced dork with big lips and bug eyes? No, Julie was too kind to be that honest. It seemed Ethyn was too based on his flirtatious manner. The appreciation in his eyes when he looked at her. She’d give him ten points for being nice because no man responded to her like this. Not ever.
Men tended to steer clear when they saw her, which was fine because who needed a superficial guy? Those who did take the time to talk to her certainly never stuck around long. No surprise. Between her often nitpicky obsessive-compulsive behavior, her mathematical way of looking at things, and her inability to flirt, who could blame them?
Yet here stood one of the hottest men she’d ever seen not running in the opposite direction but seriously checking her out. Cray had told her about what he called the ‘blasted MacLomain-Broun connection he wanted no part of,’ but she hadn’t bought it. Mostly because she didn’t believe in true love. She believed in the science behind chemistry but not the kind of love that was evidently part of all this.
It simply didn’t exist.
It was just chemicals and endorphins, lending a temporary sense of euphoria. Much like sex. Or so she had read but had yet to experience. As far as she was concerned, sex was just something to get through. She had tallied off her to-do list through the process.
Ethyn was likely just one of those men who pursued anything with two legs. Something she expected to be proven when Destiny and Alyssa introduced themselves. Yet after greeting them cordially enough, his eyes returned to her. They didn’t remain on stunning any-man-in-his-right-mind would want her Destiny or lovely little Alyssa but her.
Was he blind? Clearly not. Dumb? Maybe. Unsure how to handle him, and flirt back, she simply stared at him. He, however, seemed remarkably at ease with her awkward behavior, nodding absently but kindly to Destiny when she asked him if he wanted something to drink.
“Julie said you knew what was going on in medieval Scotland,” he said softly the moment the girls headed into the kitchen to get drinks. “Do your friends know as well?”
“Julie’s aware that I know?”
She should offer him a seat or take his jacket, but her feet didn’t seem to want to move. They should, though. Everything was okay. All was well. This was Ethyn, not Cray. A happy sort, not a cranky raving lunatic. While, yes, it was clear Ethyn had an appreciation for women, no matter how questionable his taste, he didn’t strike her as a sex-crazed beast. One who, according to Cray, could barely concentrate on swinging a sword now because his ‘cock’ was so neglected.
“Nobody here but me knows what’s going on in Scotland.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and eyed him. “So Julie and Chloe are okay?” Though hesitant, she needed to understand what was happening. Why she had been communicating with Cray all this time. “And you’re here instead of...someone else.”
“You mean instead of Cray,” he provided.
“Oh, no, he really does exist?” she muttered before she could stop herself. She supposed that was better than being insane, though. Barely. Her heart beat a little faster, and she grew winded. How was she ever going to handle meeting him in person? Because she feared before this was all said and done, that would most certainly happen.
“Aye, Cray exists.” Ethyn sighed, apparently as gifted at foresight as Destiny. “Something it seems he decided to confirm in person.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant.
Seconds later, much to her alarm, someone didn’t just knock on the door but downright pounded.
Chapter Two
SINCE THE MOMENT Madison barged into his mind, he had wanted to throttle her. Nobody but kin was allowed anywhere near his thoughts, yet the futuristic little vixen had settled right in uninvited. If that weren’t enough, she took it upon herself to dictate who he should and should not lie with.
That was unforgivab
le.
So now, despite wanting nothing to do with her, it was high time he paid her a visit. Telling her telepathically her opinions were unwanted clearly did no good. He would need to do it in person. Something Julie’s ley-lines agreed with because soon after he made sure King David was safe at his holding, he found himself transported to the Stonehenge in twenty-first-century New Hampshire.
Frustratingly enough, his wavering magic wouldn’t allow him to change into suitable clothing. Truth told, though, the lasses here should know he was from fourteenth-century Scotland by now. Better that they get used to this attire sooner rather than later. So he strode through the snow, eager to confront Madison then do everything in his power to make her transition through all this difficult.
How he would go about that was yet to be seen.
All he knew was it was payback time.
Whether that meant getting betwixt her thighs—which seemed absurd considering how much he disliked her—or causing havoc for her and her destined MacLomain, he would see her suffer. Likely he would go with the latter because she’d never be able to handle the first option. Lying with him in his severely frustrated sexual state would require a strong, open-minded lass, not a stiff prude of her ilk. He would probably break her with one good, well-deserved thrust.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered when he became aroused at the thought of it. Why, when she drove him mad? When he had no idea what she even looked like? He stopped, braced a hand against a tree, hung his head, and tried envisioning anything that might get his untimely arousal under control. Typically magic could do away with this sort of thing, but that was no help right now.
“This is yer fault, lass,” he ground out, speaking to thin air. “’Tis bloody unnatural to have done this to a dragon.”
He conveniently set aside that he could have ignored her annoying voice and plowed each and every one of those lasses along the way. Mayhap. There was always the distinct possibility things would not have worked properly with her yapping like she did. Which, at this point, might be prudent to get things back under control.
Or so he thought until he sensed something.
Better yet, someone.
Ethyn.
“Och, nay, ye bloody MacLomain,” he fumed, his arousal at last doused. What did his cousin think he was doing here? Cray had the Viking sword, which meant this was his leg of the journey. His turn to protect King David.
His turn to find a Broun.
He shook his head at that last thought. After everything he’d been through with his beloved Maeve and his cousin Aidan, he wanted nothing more to do with romance. Laying with a lass, aye, that was crucial but nothing else. There was too much sadness involved. Too much damn heartbreak.
Whoever waited for him here would be told upfront. Intimacy was fine. Lots of it. But don’t expect more. Not just that, but whoever his supposed ‘destined’ Broun was, she would have to understand he was here on a mission first.
Madison.
Who was, or so it seemed based on his cousin’s presence here, destined for Ethyn? His poor kin. He had a sour life in front of him with that one. A prospect that should have tempered his anger, but did not. He was aggravated for no good reason and figured he might as well keep with it, so his cock behaved.
To that point, he made his way through the woodland to the colonial and pounded on the door.
Would she answer? Or was she cowering in fear knowing he was coming for her? Because her thoughts had suddenly gone very silent within his mind. Too silent. As if, mayhap, she was bracing for impact.
Good.
He would give it to her.
He went to pound on the door again only for Ethyn to open it first.
“Bloody hell, Cousin,” Ethyn exclaimed, filling the doorway. “You dinnae need to pound so hard.” He frowned at Cray’s attire and spoke telepathically. “Or show up dressed like that.”
A muttered chant under Ethyn’s breath later, Cray was dressed appropriately, in head to toe black. A color that well suited his mood in general. Something he suspected Ethyn’s magic sensed.
Magic that seemed to be working far better than his own.
His cousin appeared to be standing casually, but he knew a defensive stance when he saw it. Ethyn had no intention of letting him anywhere near Madison in his current state. While he could take his brethren easily enough, he decided it was best to play things differently for now. At least until he decided how he intended to go about dealing with Madison.
“’Twas but a simple knock, Cousin,” he assured, trying for a smile. “Now, let me in so that I might meet your new Broun.”
Best to put it like that, so Ethyn knew where he stood. He was no threat.
His cousin’s brow swept up, his distrust of Cray’s good behavior obvious. “My Broun?”
“Yes, your Broun,” came an all-too-eager voice from behind him. “Right, Ethyn?”
Cray tensed and narrowed his eyes. He tried to see past his cousin to no avail. While it might sound slightly different within his head, he knew that voice. Her voice.
“At last we meet,” he nearly growled but kept his tone civil if not strained. “Madison.” When Ethyn didn’t budge but continued eyeing him warily, he perked an eyebrow back. “See, all is well. I already know your Broun.”
“Aye, I know ye do,” Ethyn said into his mind. “And from what I’ve heard ye’ve grown quite frustrated with her. The way ye just knocked on this door didnae reassure me that ye feel any different now.”
He imagined it did not. What to say?
“’Twas just the rushed knock of someone eager to return to protecting his king.” He shrugged a shoulder, wishing to hell his cousin would step aside so he could finally lay eyes on the intrusive opinionated chit. “Surely ye ken I cannae linger long so ‘tis best I find the Broun meant for me, aye?”
Ethyn frowned over Cray’s shoulder when a car started behind him. “Well, then ye best get chasing after that vehicle.”
He frowned at the car as it took off down the drive. Two lasses were inside, but he couldn’t make them out. More alarmingly, he hadn’t seen or sensed them passing because they would have had to, however indirectly, from the side entrance.
“What the,” came Madison’s voice before he heard movement inside, then the creak of the side-door that was out of view. A door he should have heard the first time.
“Hey, guys,” she exclaimed, racing around the corner, waving her arms at the nearly gone car. “Stop!”
The car didn’t stop, but she certainly did when her eyes landed on him. He froze as well the moment he saw her. How was this possible? She looked nothing like how he envisioned she must. The annoying, uptight voice in his mind belonged to her? Truly?
It couldn’t be.
Yet as her startled, fight-or-flight gaze remained on him, he knew it was. By some trick of fate, the most annoying woman he’d ever encountered resided in a lass that made his poor cock come to full attention.
Taller than any lass he’d ever come across, she possessed impossibly long, slender, toned legs that would lock around his waist very nicely indeed. Her body was willowy with perfectly sculptured lithe curves, and her features were captivating.
He didn’t need her to remove her God-awful spectacles to know her thickly lashed, smoky blue-gray eyes were full of tightly leashed passion. There was an untapped sultriness in them that hinted at another woman entirely. A sensual creature just waiting to be let out of her cage. Or better yet, kept in another type of cage altogether. One she had no idea existed because she’d never, not once, been taken like she should be.
Then there were her lips.
Hell, he was surprised Ethyn wasn’t suffering the same issue as him having laid eyes on them first. But then his magic might have already seen to things. Because her sinfully plush pouty lips were most definitely made to fit around a man’s cock. A sizeable one at that.
“Dear Lord,” she gasped, appalled as she clearly caught his thoughts. “You don’t stop, do you?”
/>
She shook her head and started walking backward, without doubt intending to flee into the house. Instead, she stumbled a few times, then plopped down in the snow.
Ethyn headed her way, but Cray made it to her first, chuckling all the while.
“I don’t think so!” In her attempt to get away from him, she scrambled back, all the while trying to get up only to fall again.
She wasn’t a very graceful dragon, was she?
“What,” she sputtered, clearly referring to his thoughts about her mouth pleasuring him as she shook her head. Her gaze flickered from the uncomfortably engorged but damn impressive arousal straining against his pants to his face. He was surprised smoke didn’t billow off her cheeks, they were so red when her horrified focus locked on his groin again. “That is so not going anywhere near me.” Her eyes were huge with disbelief when they returned to his face, the odd lenses of her glasses only magnifying them more. “And I’m not a dragon of all things!”
He’d sensed she didn’t know that about herself, but it had been the least of his concerns at the time. Every time, actually. His sole focus had been trying to bed a lass not enlighten Madison. So she had nobody to blame but herself that he hadn't revealed she was a dragon much sooner. But then why should he have? What kind of dragon didn’t know what they were?
“You are dragon,” he confirmed, already wondering what her arousal would smell like. What it would taste like. “And far more beddable than I anticipated.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she gasped, still scrambling back, her shiny blue-black hair dotted with snowy clumps. She shook her head and rambled on.
“I wouldn’t bed you if we had to single-handedly repopulate the planet with no less than four offspring every nineteen months.” She pressed the pad of her thumb against her forefinger, then ring finger and then the other two fingers as if ticking off a count in her head. Though obviously distressed by her continued rambling, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Even having six babies every twenty months or so for fifteen to twenty years depending on menopause, of course, would ensure a better survival rate.” She scrunched her nose. “But then that’s far too many pregnancies and labor. I’d never make it.”
A Scot's Resolve (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #3) Page 2
