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

by Purington, Sky

  “Snap out of it, Cousin,” Marek roared, as desperate as Cray to get through to him. Would he listen? Could he push past whatever possessed him?

  As it happened, targeting Phelan had been the thing to do because moments later, Ethyn’s eyes cleared. He frowned and lowered his sword, confused.

  “Are ye well then, Cousin?” Marek kept his eyes narrowed and his sword at the ready. “Are ye yerself again?”

  Ethyn nodded absently, frowning as he noted Phelan stalking off into the night. “What the bloody hell happened?” He took in the cave before his gaze narrowed on the fallen monk. “One moment I was following a lass, the next I was here.”

  Cray frowned and sheathed his blade. “What lass?”

  “I dinnae know.” Ethyn sheathed his blade as well. “I spied her running through the forest.” He rolled the monk over and frowned. “I sensed I knew her, so I followed only to run into this man.”

  Marek didn’t sheath his blade but kept it at the ready as he went to the entrance of the cave and peered out. “Are there any more?”

  “I dinnae think so.” Troubled, Ethyn crouched beside the monk. “So one of the bloody bastards possessed me, aye?”

  “Aye,” Cray confirmed, just as troubled by the development. None of their own had been possessed until now. “So it seems.” He went to Madison, equally disgruntled by the look on her face. The dampness in her eyes. “What is it, lass?”

  “I saw your dragon...” she said softly, “around you.”

  It took him a moment to realize what she meant. She had seen what his kin saw on their adventure.

  “’Tis all right,” he began only for her to shake her head and cut him off.

  “Sadly, it’s not,” she whispered. “It shared something awful with my dragon, Cray.”

  Though daunted that his dragon had communicated with her without him being the wiser, he was more concerned about her at the moment. So he urged her to sit, drink some whisky, and gather herself.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “What’s done is done.”

  “Tell me, lass.” He crouched in front of her and cupped her cheek. “Tell me what happened.”

  Madison sighed, her voice wobbly. “Though I tried, I wasn’t the one who ended up sacrificing myself.” She placed her hand on his chest. “It was you, Cray.” Fresh pain lit her eyes, and her inner dragon flared. “And you weren’t alone.”

  Strangely, the moment she said it, her inner dragon’s pain became his own, and memories came rushing back. Specifically, what had happened when she vanished into the dying sun at Bull Rock.

  He was close.

  So close.

  Almost there.

  But when he reached out, she was gone.

  “Nay,” he roared, determined to follow her.

  He would not let her go.

  He would not let her sacrifice herself.

  So he pumped his wings, flew toward the portal, and used all the magic he could muster. The sun was nearly set. He was almost out of time. So he flew harder still, keeping her firmly in his mind, desperate to find her. Be with her.

  Save her.

  Focusing all he had, everything he was, on connecting with his mate, things began to change. Morph. Suddenly, he could feel her all around him, in his very heart, before power whipped him forward. Air momentarily compressed then whoosh, it released him. He burst free of the odd sensation only to find himself flying not toward the portal but the Stonehenge.

  Having just landed across from a unicorn, his mate stood in the circle of stones, staring up at him with horror. Not just him, as it turned out, but who had followed him in his blind desperation to get to her.

  Their wee dragon, Ceann.

  The memory snapped shut before showing him any more, but he knew she was right. Cray had been the one to sacrifice himself. He just didn’t know how yet.

  “However it happened, the brotherhood knew what they were doing,” she whispered. “They knew you would come...” She swallowed hard, sensing the same thing as him. “Ceann was an added bonus.”

  “Because somehow he got caught up in it all,” he whispered, awash in the same heartache he’d felt at Maeve’s bedside. The same pain when he had heard his son’s heartbeat start then stop. He closed his eyes to fresh grief when the truth became clear. “’Twas Ceann inside Maeve.” He opened his eyes to Madison’s. “He’s tied to me because of whatever happened at that Stonehenge.”

  “And trying to make his way back,” she murmured, sounding certain.

  “This sort of thing has happened with our Viking ancestors,” Marek said softly, having joined them, no doubt sensing their dragons’ sadness. He looked from Cray to Madison, giving them hope they weren’t sure they should have. “Wee bairns have found their way across time into their ma’s womb. Returned to their dragon parents against all the odds.”

  Though neither replied for fear of getting their hopes up, he saw a little light enter Madison’s eyes. A glimmer of fire as her dragon imagined the possibilities.

  “He stirs,” Ethyn warned, cutting into their conversation.

  “Aye, let us see what we can get out of him then.” Cray gestured that his kin keep their blades at the ready, then crouched, held his dagger to the monk’s neck, and waited. Eerily enough, when the enemy finally opened his eyes, he didn’t startle at the knife to his throat. Rather, he looked at Cray with an insolent smirk, daring him. His gaze swam with darkness, and his flesh smelled of death.

  “Do ye think ye can stop us, dragon?” he rasped, his voice not quite human. “Ye could not then, and ye cannot now.”

  “We are stopping ye.” He pressed his blade tighter against the monk's vulnerable flesh. “And we will defeat ye.”

  “Nay, not them and not ye,” the enemy rumbled, not one voice but many. He offered a toothless gaping grin. “Especially not ye.” The bobbing motion of his dark chuckle pressed his neck even tighter against the blade, drawing blood. “For ye and yer offspring belong to us, dragon. Us and only us.”

  Images of little Ceann flashed in his mind.

  They had just landed in the Stonehenge after going through the portal.

  Unable to get to his mother, Ceann pressed against Cray, trembling in fear. Whimpering and keening, his little one looked up at him, terrified, trying to understand what was happening.

  “Why did ye leave me, da?” He blinked, so very sad. “Why did ma?”

  Impacted by the feeling of hearing his son in his mind, he tried to tell him all would be well, but just couldn’t.

  Because, though he didn’t know why yet, nothing would be well ever again.

  Torn from the memory, he was suddenly so infuriated he couldn’t see straight. Beyond enraged, he growled and sliced the blade, only for the monk to vanish into thin air. Shaking with fury, seeing red, desperate to embrace his dragon, he roared at where the monk had been. He would have kept roaring in what he recognized as grief-stricken rage, too, if a gentle hand hadn’t landed on his shoulder.

  “Cray,” Madison said softly, crouching beside him. She angled his chin until his dragon eyes met hers. “We’ll make this right somehow. You can’t let these monsters get to you.” She shook her head, her tone firm. “You can’t let them get you so angry that you can’t think clearly.”

  When he didn’t respond, she repeated herself until she got through to him, and his rage started ebbing. Though tempted to argue he saw clearly indeed, he understood what she meant. If he weren’t careful, he would act on anger, and that could bring them more trouble than good.

  There could be no disputing they had come far in very little time. Which explained how she could get through to him like this. How she could make him see reason when moments before he was unable to see past his anger.

  “Did you hear him, then?” he murmured. His anger swiftly morphed to sadness as their gazes held. “Did you hear wee Ceann?”

  “I did,” she said softly. While sad, she was equally determined, the noble dragon and good mother she had been and would be clear
in her gaze. “And I think we should serve his memory well by allowing it to guide us rather than cripple us with sadness. He deserves as much, don’t you think?”

  “Aye.” He stood and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair for a moment, needing her close. Needing the scent of her all around him. Not to assuage his lust this time but to comfort his spirit. “We will honor him, and if all goes well, set him free.”

  That’s exactly what they would be doing, too. Because his spirit was as bound to darkness as Cray’s, feeding the brotherhood’s evil purposes.

  “Which makes you wonder,” Madison said a short time later. Having decided to sleep in a tighter knit group lest another monk attack, everyone sat around a fire in the cave. “If Cray’s dragon magic was involved in the brotherhood’s ritual, then does that mean he might have some sort of influence over the brotherhood in turn? Do reincarnated dragons have that kind of power?”

  “Though ‘tis sound thinking,” Marek replied, “’tis impossible to know. I think we would need to ken what happened first. What the brotherhood took from him to see through their ultimate plan.”

  “It seems we have learned many things, but there is still much to figure out.” Cray looked at Ethyn. “Most pressing is how the brotherhood possessed you and who the lass was you saw in the forest.”

  “Did you see her clearly?” Marek asked.

  “Nay, ‘twas too dark and rainy.” Ethyn shook his head. “I only caught a glimpse of her dark hair.” He narrowed his eyes. “And though she was fast, I swear she limped.”

  “Limped?” Madison exclaimed, her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye, ‘twas not overly noticeable, but I sensed it gave her pain.” Ethyn frowned, likely just realizing that he had ‘sensed’ a perfect stranger. “Why?”

  “Because I know somebody with a limp,” Madison said softly. “And yes, rumor has it, it pains her.” She shook her head, upset. “I have a funny feeling there was more than just two enemies about tonight because I’m fairly certain I know exactly who you saw.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “DO YOU TRULY think ‘twas Ciara?” Cray asked again the next morning as they continued north.

  “It certainly sounds like it,” she replied. “And makes sense considering we think one of the Broun’s is an imposter.”

  “Verra true.”

  She knew he was purposefully focusing on this rather than their long night of sexual frustration. Despite what they had learned, his desire for her never waned. It wasn’t just him this time either. Having him bring her to the edge, then pulling away like that had left both her human and dragon in a state. She needed him back between her thighs like she had never needed anything else.

  “Soon,” he murmured in her ear. Naturally, the rumble of his voice only made the burning ache between her legs grow as did his never-ending erection.

  “It cannae be helped even with magic,” he murmured against the side of her neck. “Not when ye keep putting off such a sweet scent.”

  “Then we’re doomed, aren’t we?” Her eyes slid shut as she tilted her head and gave him better access. “One thing just keeps causing the other and around and around we go.”

  It was still somewhat hard to believe how far they had come in such a short period of time. The things she dared to say now. The thoughts and feelings she couldn’t control when it came to him. Yet thanks to her dragon, it all felt perfectly natural. As though she had every right to feel these things about him because he was hers.

  He always had been and always would be.

  Without doubt, responding directly to her possessive thoughts, he announced it was time to rest the horses and swung down, pulling her after him. “We have made good time and should intercept King David’s retinue soon.”

  “Aye,” Marek muttered. He shook his head at his brother, knowing full well what he was up to. “Where there’s a warm bed, sure to be waiting.”

  Like Cray, she couldn’t care less about a warm bed at this point. Anywhere would be fine just as long as her carnal ache calmed some. While tempted to ask if this was normal, because she had nothing to compare it to, she refrained. She could ask something along those lines, though. Something she'd asked before, but he never got around to answering.

  “How do I know if I’m in heat?” she said as he led her down a path away from the others. “Is there some way to tell with dragons?”

  “There is a unique scent,” he began only to slow, steer her behind him and scan the forest. “There is someone out there.”

  The tone of his internal voice was unmistakably disappointed that they had to postpone their tryst. He withdrew his sword and gestured that they head back the way they’d come.

  “Is it another monk?” She frowned. “Maybe Ciara?”

  “I dinnae know,” he replied only to stop short when the forest filled with men.

  Men neither of them had sensed they were so sexually frustrated and distracted.

  Though they were clearly Scottish and not English, she still tensed when so many weapons were aimed in their direction.

  “State yer name,” one said only for another to appear and order that everyone stand down. “They are with the other two I found and are expected by King David.”

  “Aye then,” the first replied, gesturing that they follow the man who had just arrived. His wary eyes never left Cray. No surprise considering his size. “On yer way then.”

  As they soon learned, they’d arrived just in time to enjoy one night before they turned and headed south again with Regent Sir Andrew Murray, Lord of Petty and Bothwell, as well as Sir Archibald Douglas. They had rallied a sizeable army loyal to King David and were en route to confront the King of England and Edward Balliol and free Berwick-Upon-Tweed from its siege.

  They came across the regent a short time later as they were provided tents for the evening. A reserved man in his mid-thirties, he was evidently married to former King Robert the Bruce’s sister Christina. He said little in passing, though he clearly took note of Cray, Marek, and Ethyn’s sizes as well as the variety of weapons they carried.

  The king, as it turned out, was just as Julie and Chloe had described him. Quiet and observant when people were around, then more open and friendly when they were alone. At least with her anyway. She’d never been overly drawn to children, but since this little jaunt through time began, that had changed, and she enjoyed getting to know David.

  “It seems you made quite an impression on him the last time he saw you.” She grinned at Cray as they left David after a lovely supper and made their way toward the tent they’d been given. “I don’t think his eyes could have grown any rounder every time he looked your way.” She shrugged a shoulder and chuckled. “Except maybe for when he looked at your brother.”

  “Aye, we tend to have that effect on bairns.” He chuckled as well and held the tent flap open for her. “Whilst I know ‘tis our size, I also sense ‘tis our dragons at work too.”

  “You think children sense them?”

  “’Tis verra likely.” He sealed the flap behind them with a flick of his wrist. His predatory gaze locked on her as she eyed the bed with anticipation. “Bairns tend to see what adults cannae.”

  “I believe it,” she began but never got the rest out before he closed the distance, yanked her into his arms, and closed his lips over hers.

  “Do ye have any idea the state ye have me in, lass?” he growled into her mind, just as desperate as her to pick up where they had left off the night before. So desperate that he didn’t bother undressing her with his hands but chanted the clothes right off them both. Even the clip from her hair.

  Seeing him nude in the dark was one thing, but by torchlight another. Though the torches were outside, they cast enough glow inside to see clearly and good God, he was so worth seeing clearly. From his imposing broad-shouldered build down to the impressive muscle between his thighs.

  The swollen flesh between her own thighs throbbed in anticipation, moist and read
y without him doing a thing. He inhaled deeply, growling something into her mind about wanting to be everywhere on her at once. Then he tore his lips from hers, dropped to his knees, grabbed her butt, and yanked her against his mouth.

  It was one thing being on her hands and knees for this and quite another her feet. Her legs turned to jello seconds after he began working his magic. She groaned, trying to keep a foothold, but it was useless. Her legs crumbled only for his strong arms to come around her and hold her in place.

  Like last time, he demanded she not give in to release but wait until he gave her permission. And just like before, she obeyed, nearly in tears by the time he ordered her onto the cot on her hands and knees again. This time he remained standing, pulled her to the edge, and settled between her thighs.

  He wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her back until she was flush against his front then whispered in her ear, “’Twill be impossible for ye to listen to me this time, but ‘twill get easier as I teach ye.”

  She trembled against him, more than ready for any lesson he wanted to give as he trailed kisses along her neck, nipping and soothing her vulnerable flesh. All the while, she got the feeling he wanted to bite down and drive into her. Lock her in position and have his way. While she could say it was just him providing ideas and images, she knew it was her too. Craving all sorts of things she would have thought indecent mere days ago.

  He nudged her back onto her hands and dusted his fingers from the nape of her neck all the way down to her backside, evoking a slew of delicious sensations. When she curved her back, giving him better access to the juncture between her legs, she earned herself a hoarse growl of approval.

  “Och, lass, ye’re bloody perfect,” he praised. He spread her, preparing her, before he clamped one strong hand on her hip, one on her shoulder, and didn’t press gently but drove into her.

  She cried out at the pleasurable pain of him taking her so hard, well aware she would have slid forward if he hadn’t locked her in place. If he hadn’t tightened his grip, letting her know she was staying right where she was. Just as he promised would happen, there was no stopping the climax that tore through her. That ripped her breath from her chest.