A Scot's Resolve (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #3)

by Purington, Sky

  “’Tis good to see you, Brother.” He clasped hands with Marek hand to elbow, realizing Madison wasn’t the only thing that drew him this way. “I get the sense you knew we were coming.”

  “Aye,” Marek replied. “The fire blazed over the stone again only this time ‘twas a wee bit different.”

  On Aidan and Chloe’s adventure, shimmering sunlight that looked like fire had dappled one of the points representing a standing stone on Tiernan’s new tattoo. Or magical compass as they called it. When the sunlit fiery blotch appeared, his brethren sensed Cray’s anger. More specifically, as they learned later, the precise moment Madison made her unwanted way into his mind.

  He frowned at Marek, certain he was not going to like the answer. “How was the fire over the stone different this time?”

  “’Twas two flames instead of one.” His gaze went to Madison, his expression unreadable. “Which makes sense given our new arrival.”

  Her eyes narrowed as if she were trying to deduce what he might mean by that before her attention returned to the woodland. She frowned and squinted as if trying to see something more clearly. “It’s still out there...it’s still watching.”

  Marek followed her line of sight, seemingly understanding. “You’ve exceptionally good senses if you know Ethyn’s wolf is here before he does.”

  “Phelan?” His cousin eyed the forest with surprise. “That’s odd, considering I wasnae here yet.”

  “But you are now,” Marek reminded. “And it seems your beastie knew it ahead of time because she’s been skulking about for a few nights.”

  “You have a wolf?” Incredulous, Madison glanced from the woodland to Ethyn. “Seriously?”

  “Aye.” He grinned. “I found her abandoned when she was a pup and cared for her. Since then, she’s been my constant companion.”

  “One we dragons would consider a tasty snack,” Cray pointed out. “So best that she make her way home.”

  “That’s awful.” Madison shot Cray a look, all the while staying put beside Ethyn. “Tell me you’re joking. That you wouldn’t eat your cousin’s dog.”

  “Wolf,” Ethyn clarified as Cray replied that he would if he had to.

  “Dragons dinnae typically keep animals for just that reason,” he went on. “Horses are the exception for necessary reasons.”

  She looked at Ethyn with compassion and swore if she were a dragon, she would never eat his poor dog.

  “Wolf,” Ethyn corrected, grinning, clearly enjoying her attention.

  Too soon, in his opinion. His cousin would have plenty of time for that later once Cray had his fill of her.

  “Bloody hell, what are ye up to now, Brother?” Marek said into his mind, evidently following his thoughts easily enough now despite their repressed dragons and fluctuating magic. He was glad too, considering telepathy wasn’t a constant in all this.

  “He’s up to no good,” Madison cut in, clearly surprising his brother with how readily she caught that. “I’m fairly certain he intends to rape me.”

  He almost laughed at that. Did she truly think such? He would never rape a lass. They came to him willingly. More amusing still was that she felt the need to tell his brother her concerns the moment they met. Did she think Marek would save her? Protect her? Keep Cray away? He frowned, not so sure he liked where his thoughts were going. It was one thing dealing with Ethyn coming between him and Madison. His brother, a fellow dragon, another altogether.

  Marek’s brows shot up. “That's quite an accusation, lass.”

  He was right. It was. Yet it didn’t stop him from toying with her.

  “Aye.” Cray winked at her. “She but fears the inevitable and ‘twill be the verra opposite of her being taken against her will.”

  “Keep dreaming,” she muttered aloud, yet he didn’t miss the erotic images she tried to suppress, thinking them impossible and inappropriate. Nor did he miss her unique scent hitting the air.

  No doubt catching the distracting scent as well, Marek cursed under his breath and refocused on what brought them here. “There arenae just two fires on Tiernan’s tattoo now, but something else as well.”

  When Cray looked at him in question, he explained.

  “Julie claims some of the ley-lines are now afire,” he revealed. “Ones she suspects connect you and Madison to the Irish Stonehenge.”

  “You saw Julie?” Madison exclaimed. “Is she okay? Is Chloe with her?”

  “Aye, they are with wee King David until the lines return Cray to his side.”

  “So the ley-lines have that much control?” She cocked her head, considering that, not focusing on the fiery aspect but the count. “Did she mention how many fiery lines there were? If there was one extra?”

  “Nay, but then how would she know if there was one extra if she doesnae know how many lines are part of your and Cray’s adventure?”

  “You mean my and Ethyn’s adventure,” she corrected. “But you make a good point.” She unclipped, smoothed her hair, and reclipped it out of habit, he realized. “I’ll bet there is something to the count, though. Just like there was an extra possessed warrior on Chloe’s adventure.” She nudged her glasses up as if they had moved, yet another subconscious habit. “And possibly one extra standing stone missing at the Irish Stonehenge.”

  He wondered if she realized that she’d drifted closer to Marek as she chatted. That her wariness of him had vanished. Marek, in turn, was very much aware. So said his watchful eyes. Like Cray, he wasn’t sure what to make of her warming to him so quickly. Then again, she was dragon. Nevertheless, it irked him more than her taking to Ethyn. At the same time, it pleased him because he and his brother were close.

  He frowned as he thought about it. The root of his emotion.

  “Och, nay,” he muttered aloud, figuring it out.

  He liked his kin getting along with his lass.

  His lass until he was finished with her, that is.

  Thankfully, Madison didn’t seem to catch that thought. She was too caught up in counting things aloud, trying to solve the endless mysteries at play lately. For that matter, she was so wrapped up in theories, she paid him no mind but kept chatting with Marek as the two started toward the castle.

  He scowled, both liking and disliking their instant camaraderie. How well she got along with Marek should be irrelevant. Unimportant. Because she wouldn’t be staying here. She was not a permanent fixture but entertainment in his bed until he’d had his fill.

  Until her debt was repaid.

  “I dinnae expect Phelan will get any closer to yer castle with so many dragons about,” Ethyn said. “So, I’ll go see to her then meet ye there.”

  “Aye, then,” he muttered, striding after the other two. In truth, they seemed fast friends in record time. Was his brother set to have her then? Did he think her his Broun? If so, what to do about that? Marek was a formidable opponent. A fighter amongst fighters.

  “What if I were set to have her?” Marek said into his mind, his tone not just curious but mayhap a wee challenging. “What if she is my Broun?”

  Caught off guard by the unexpected question and possible unforeseen development, he pondered that, growing more unsettled by the moment. As a rule, his older brother had been the only one who could beat him in competitions over the years. But those battles hadn’t been over a lass. Women had never been a point of contention between them. Their fights had only ever been with sword or ax or whatever else they could put their hands on.

  Which led to thoughts of Marek putting his hands on Madison.

  Touching her like Cray intended to touch her. Which, as it happened, didn't arouse him in the least.

  Rather, unexpected and far too territorial rage flared.

  “I’d bloody well kill ye, Brother,” he vowed, shocked by how much he meant it. “Whether or not she is yer destined Broun.”

  Chapter Five

  WHILE IN AWE of the rugged beauty of the seaside castle looming ahead, Cray’s possessive response to Marek’s questions stopped he
r in her tracks just before the drawbridge. Though Cray clearly didn’t, she somehow knew with certainty Marek was only testing him. What she and his ferocious-looking brother shared in little time, was simply camaraderie. Unexpected friendship.

  Something she would never have imagined finding with a man like him.

  With black hair and blue-flecked pale gray eyes, Marek was remarkably handsome in a fearsome way. There was no other way to describe it. He had a darker skin tone than Cray, but his features were just as chiseled. Though some might consider it a flaw, she thought the scar at his temple only added to his appeal. Like his brother, he had an imposing build and numerous tattoos, only his seemed less random. They possessed more order. Something she was about to ask him about before she caught Cray’s threat to kill his own flesh and blood over her.

  “Why would you say such a thing?” she asked before she could stop herself, turning to face him. Square off with him. She might typically shy away from men but not him. He needed to be confronted. Dealt with. Not left to say and think and do whatever the hell he liked. Someone had to keep him in check. “You’re joking saying something like that to your own brother, right?”

  Surely he must be. Especially over her. Men didn’t say things like that. She wasn’t the sort of woman they fought over. Yet her instincts said otherwise right now. Instincts that seemed to be getting sharper by the moment.

  “I didnae say it,” he bit back. “I thought it.” His possessive gaze raked over her boldly as if she were prized cattle. As if she belonged to him until he said otherwise. “And ‘tis my place to think it if I want.”

  Her head whipped back as if she’d been struck when she took his meaning. As she realized just how far his thoughts had progressed when it came to her. Not in a good way either. Which, as usual when it came to him, had her saying all sorts of things out loud she’d never normally voice.

  “It’s one thing to think I owe you for the ridiculous amounts of sex you surmise you missed out on because of me,” she quipped. “It’s another thing entirely for you to think I’m some sort of indebted slave that belongs to you until you’re finished with me!”

  “Slave?” he mused. One brow arching lazily at the prospect. He only heard what he wanted to. Then, even worse, envisioned whatever he pleased. Which, as he damn well knew would happen, she witnessed right along with him.

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. She hadn’t even heard of half the sexual positions he pictured. With her as his partner no less.

  “I will not get on my hands and knees and do that,” she exclaimed, appalled yet frustratingly aroused. She swore her vision flashed red again. “Nor will I let you bend me that way or use that many fingers! Any fingers for that matter!” So upset she was completely oblivious to her surroundings, she pointed at his groin. “And definitely not your ‘cock.’”

  She shook her head, wishing she could shake off the images, but he just kept thinking away. “In any orifice of my body.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Not the first, second,” her eyes widened, “or especially the third, you bastard!”

  Rather than respond, he simply looked at her with that damnable smirk that said he’d get what he wanted in the end, and she would like it. Love it, actually. Yet there was a little more to his arrogant look this time, wasn’t there? An added amusement that made her world turn sluggish before everything came to a grinding halt.

  Things had grown far too quiet.

  That is until someone finally spoke.

  “I can assure you, my son is no bastard. Madison, I assume?”

  God, she hoped that was amusement she detected in the woman’s voice and not anger.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she tried to reply but more like squeaked as she turned to find far too many people standing behind her. No doubt here to greet her. Yes, her, the crazed woman who had just painted a picture no woman ever wanted to paint in front of a man’s family.

  Mortified, she blinked, trying to remember exactly what she’d said.

  Hands.

  Knees.

  Fingers.

  Cock.

  She groaned in disbelief and hung her head.

  Orifices.

  Had she seriously said all that? What was the matter with her?

  But she knew.

  Cray MacLeod.

  Thankfully, as it turned out, she didn’t get a stern reception from his family but a sympathetic one.

  “Someone must have told you by now it’s best not to engage Cray,” his mother Jessie said upon introductions. A petite little thing that surely had gypsy blood, she gave Madison a warm hug patting her on the back. “Especially not when his dragon’s repressed.”

  “I have been told that,” she confessed. “He just...” Brings out the worst in me? No, best not to say that. “He just tests my patience on occasion.”

  “Aren’t you polite.” Jessie chuckled and gave her an all too knowing look. “I think you mean he drives you crazy.”

  She pinched the pad of her forefinger against the pad of her thumb, allowing no space. “Maybe just a teensy bit.”

  While she might have wondered how such large men came from such a small woman, she understood when she met Cray and Marek’s father Bryce and grandfather, Ronan. They were huge. Honestly, she liked their substantial sizes, for the first time feeling like she was a more normal height. Despite the women still being shorter, she felt more proportionate in this crowd. Comfortable with others in a way she had never been before.

  “’Tis because you are amongst your own kind,” Cray said into her mind. “You are amongst dragons.”

  She ignored him, not nearly ready to confront the dragon thing yet, and most definitely still mad at him. Even more so, when he strode off rather than show her where he grew up. Not that she cared because she didn’t. Any more than she cared where he was off to now when she knew Marek was laird. He was the one who should be seeing to business.

  “Rude,” she muttered under her breath without meaning to as she and Marek made their way over the bridge. His mom and grandmother, Erin, said they would catch up with her soon and get her into appropriate clothing.

  “Cray’s just trying to ken all he’s feeling,” Marek said softly. “’Tis not easy for him.” He shook his head. “’Twould not be easy for anyone who is going through what he is.”

  “So, having your dragon repressed is that hard?” She eyed him. “I could argue that you’re handling it far better.”

  “I handle it as best I can,” he conceded. “But ‘tis verra difficult and not to be underestimated when dealing with dragons. ‘Tis like having half of who we are torn away. Add our fluctuating magic to that, and ‘tis verra hard on our emotional state.” They walked beneath one of two tall lethal-looking portcullises. “I wasnae referring to our dragons, though.”

  When she glanced at him curiously, he continued, surprising her with how much he shared.

  “Because I know Cray will never tell you, ‘tis best you have an idea of the road he’s been down to better ken his responses to certain things.” He sighed. “Mainly lasses.”

  “Who else?” she joked only to bite her tongue when she realized how grim Marek had grown. How serious he was. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” She shook her head, having no clue what to say other than the truth. “Cray and I shared an uncomfortable acquaintance telepathically, then well, what you just saw back there pretty much sums up how it’s been since.”

  “Aye, because he likes you,” he revealed.

  “Certainly not initially.” But she’d meet him halfway. “Now, only for intimate reasons.”

  Marek tossed her a look that said she might want to rethink her assessment then continued defending his brother, sharing something she never saw coming. How years ago, Cray had fallen in love with a woman named Maeve, who ended up falling in love with Aidan Hamilton instead. Yet it seemed she had been cast under a spell. One she somewhat found her way out of, for a time loving both Aidan and Cray before she succumbed to illness.

&nb
sp; “He was heartbroken when she turned from him and declared her love for Aidan.” Marek shook his head. “It turned him into a different man. One who swore off love, and became solely interested in matters of the flesh. Then, years later, Maeve visited, and it seemed true love proved its strength when the spell began to weaken. Though she still loved Aidan, her heart found its way back to the man she had loved from the start. Cray.”

  She stopped beneath the second portcullis, amazed by the tale. “That’s so sad...and a little wonderful...I think.”

  Which was better, really? To lose such love and have the ties cut forever? Or to get a second chance even if one had to share?

  “For Cray, I think ‘twas the latter,” Marek said, following her thoughts readily enough, which sort of surprised her. “He tried to turn her away out of respect for Aidan but in the end ‘twas impossible. For she had always held his heart.”

  “Yet in the end, he still lost her,” she said softly. “To illness.”

  “Aye, it swept through Scotland and took many loved ones from us all.” His eyes appeared haunted as though he might have lost someone special too. “He grieved. We all did. Then time went on. ‘Twas only on Aidan’s adventure that he learned the truth. That Maeve had been under a spell. So he had lost all that time with her. Years she would have been his wife. Had his bairns.” He shook his head. “I dinnae doubt it for a moment.”

  “What about the MacLomain-Broun connection?” she asked. “How would that have worked?”

  “It wouldnae have mattered.” They continued walking. “He loved Maeve too much to turn from it.”

  She tried to imagine him loving a woman that much. Caring so deeply. Though the idea should have been preposterous, something about it felt strangely right. Conceivable. Why, though, when he had done nothing but shown her the opposite?

  “Why are you telling me this.” She stopped again, barely aware of the medieval people around her where she should be enthralled. “I think we both know Cray won’t like it.”

  “He doesnae like much of anything nowadays,” he replied. “Until you came along.”