The MacLomain Series: Later Years - a Scottish Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by Sky Purington

  “Aye,” he said. “Then only Lair will see to yer needs. Always know, however, that ye may roam the castle and courtyard if ye change yer mind. The MacLomain clan will never betray yer presence here but be proud to house ye.”

  “Aye.” The Countess walked to the window, a motion that even Cassie recognized as a need to be alone. “Travel safe, my friends.”

  Logan took Cassie’s hand and pulled her after him, closing the door behind them. He said nothing as they traveled down the winding stairs, but she knew he was tense. Instead of going back down the hallway when they reached the bottom, he pulled her to the right, down another narrow hallway, and into an alcove with nothing but an arrow slit window.

  Cassie backed up against the stone wall when he raked his hand through his hair and eyed her with fury. “What are you doing, lass?”

  He might be formidable and blocking her only way out, but his anger frustrated her so instead of cowering, she stood up straighter and jut out her chin. “I think it’s pretty obvious. Helping a little boy.”

  Logan made a sharp gesture with his hand as if encompassing Scotland. “You know nothing of these times, nothing of how truly dangerous it is.” His brogue grew thicker with his passion. “What if I cannae protect ye out there, lass. What if ye fall into the hands of the enemy? Do ye ken what they’ll do to ye, a pretty lass such as ye are?”

  “Yeah, I have a damn good idea,” Cassie spat. “But what sort of person would I be sitting here when I have the ability to see Robert, to communicate with him? I’m not a coward, Logan. I’m not afraid to face this.”

  “Ye should be ye bloody fool,” he growled, stalking closer. “The Scotland ye’ve been thrust into is not one that will go away with the turn of a history book page. ‘Tis real and deadly and without mercy. They might start with rape but trust me, there are far worse things they’ll do to ye afterward. Then when they’re done with that, they’ll return to the raping.”

  “I know.” But she didn’t. Not at all. Still. She tried to keep her voice level. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go.”

  He braced a hand against the wall beside her head, his eyes such a lethal pale blue it was hard to hold his gaze. “Ye might not be able to live with yerself after what could happen, lass. Do ye not ken that?” His body trembled he was so upset. “And now ye’ve committed to it, committed to something ye know nothing about.”

  “I’m used to committing to things I know nothing about, used to committing to fear.” She tried not to shake, tried not to let his words feed into her fear. “Running away from things that frighten me won’t do me any good. It’s best to face them head on.” Cassie jabbed a finger at his chest. “And I won’t run from this when I can save that boy. Do you have any idea how scared he is right now? Any idea at all?”

  “Nay, I dinnae.” Logan grabbed her hand and held it against his chest, anger warring with something else, voice lowering a fraction. “But do ye really, lass? Was he so frightened?”

  “Yes.” Cassie blinked away angry tears. “But he’s afraid to show it.”

  The set of Logan’s jaw unclenched a scant fraction, and his brogue lessened. “Are you sure he knew you were there, that you two made contact?”

  “I’d bet my life on it,” she said softly, no longer struggling to pull her gaze from his but drowning in it instead.

  “’Tis so bloody dangerous,” he whispered. His free hand came to the side of her waist, almost as if he was trying to ground himself while his eyes wandered her face. “Too much for a lass used to the twenty-first century and all its luxuries, all its safety.”

  “I can do this.” She meant it. “I’ll pay attention and learn how to protect myself as we travel. I won’t be a burden, I promise.”

  “You’re no burden, Cassie.” His hand tightened on her waist, and his eyes held hers. “But you are vulnerable, and I fear for you.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t.”

  “But I do.” The hand on the wall lowered as he moved closer. What was moments before heated anger became a different sort of heat altogether. “You spoke of things you have to commit to that you know nothing about, that you were committed to facing fear. What did you mean?”

  Though she meant to shake her head, it only jerked a little as her eyes dropped and she focused on anything but his steady gaze. “Nothing. Just stuff.”

  “Stuff?” he murmured, so close now that there was barely half a foot between them. “What kind of stuff?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Pressing her lips together, she put a defensive hand against his strong chest and kept her eyes averted. “We need to focus on what’s ahead, saving the future King of Scotland.”

  “We are.” He tilted her chin up until she was forced to meet his eyes. “And to do so, you need to be honest with me. You just became part of my band of warriors set to save the future King. So tell me, what is it in your past or mayhap even in your future that makes you so brave now?”

  “Can’t bravery just be part of who I am,” she murmured, her lips suddenly throbbing. She licked then pressed them together, unsure of her body’s strong reaction.

  “Why won’t you just tell me,” he said softly. “About this fear within you that has made you so bloody strong.”

  She wanted to say, “Is that what you see? Strength?” but it would work against her case, so she said, “Life. Simple as that. Being a single girl in the twenty-first century isn’t all that easy.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Again you fib.” He leaned closer, so close that mere inches remained between them. Their height difference was substantial, but he had lowered enough that his mouth was only a few inches above hers. “I need honesty from my warriors.” Then he whispered, “From ye, my lass.”

  His lass? “I’m being honest.” Sort of. Not really.

  It became hard to breathe as her eyes focused on his lips, on the way they parted slightly as if ready to close over hers. She stopped breathing altogether when his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

  She barely heard his words they were so soft. “Bloody hell, lass, this is torture.”

  A deep throb shot through her, and she squeezed her thighs together. Moisture seemed to break out over every inch of her skin. Her mouth went dry then grew wet all at once. Her lower lip started to tremble, and she worked to drag in a shallow breath. Torture? Was that the word he used? Whatever she was feeling now felt far worse...or better. It was impossible to know.

  Logan’s lips didn’t meet hers but instead brushed her cheek then fell by her ear. His breathing was harsh, irregular, his body pressing against hers. It was then that she felt the hardness against her stomach. His arousal. Damn, then double damn. A sharp shiver went through her, and she pressed her hands against the rock wall. Because if she didn’t, she was going to wrap her arms around him and never, ever let go.

  At first, she thought the loud cry she heard was the increased buzzing of blood rushing through her. Desire. Yet when he stepped away, she knew it was not. Torn from someplace she didn’t recognize, Cassie realized a man was wailing.

  “Come.” Logan pulled her after him. He released her hand when they returned to the main hallway and ordered her to stay put. Worried, drawn by the mournful cries, she inched along the wall as women came and went from a chamber. Peeking around the corner, she put a hand over her mouth as a woman arched and flailed in bed. Soaked in sweat, her brown hair was plastered to her head, skin pale and eyes vacant.

  A man tried to hold her down, tears in his eyes as Lair chanted over her. Logan rushed in and helped restrain her. She released an ungodly scream as she clawed at everyone. Though it was impossible to be sure having seen her from a distance, Cassie was fairly positive that this was Aline MacLauchlin.

  “Shh, lass, all is well,” Logan murmured, stroking her cheek. “Ye are safe. Always safe with the MacLomains.”

  “They killed everyone,” she cried, eyes unseeing. “They killed my wee bairn. I tried to stop
them, but they...they...”

  “Shh.” Logan pressed his face close. “’Tis all right, lass. ‘Tis all right.”

  Horrified tears rolled down Cassie’s face as she watched. What hell had this woman witnessed?

  “Please, lass, stay with me,” the man on her other side whimpered, coming as close as Logan. “Dinnae cross over, aye?”

  Lair chanted louder until the woman, at last, calmed, her body jerking slightly as she fell back.

  “Everyone out save my women,” Lair said.

  Logan eyed her. “Are ye sure?”

  “Out,” she repeated.

  “Aye.” Logan grabbed the other man when he shook his head. “Yer coming with me, lad.”

  Held by the scruff of his tunic, Logan led him past Cassie then down the stairs to the great hall. Everyone left as Logan didn’t quite shove him into a chair but wasn’t necessarily gentle either. Not sure what she should do, Cassie trailed down the stairs, grateful when a servant handed her a mug of ale.

  “Come.” Logan gestured to her. “Sit with us.”

  Cassie was surprised when Niall came alongside and murmured, “Sit by me, lass, as the Laird is in a bad mood indeed.”

  She never thought she would be so glad to see his intimidating cousin. “Sounds good.”

  The foreign man was sweating profusely, his worried gaze torn between the landing above and the MacLomain Laird standing in front of the fire with his arms crossed over his chest. Cassie sat in a chair beside Niall and took a good long swallow of ale. It was rough going down, but it warmed her belly.

  “I’ve not had the pleasure of making yer acquaintance,” Logan said to the stranger, his brogue thick and his r’s rolling. “Who might ye be?”

  The man sat up a little straighter, hands shaking as he wrapped them in his lap. “Ye already know who I am, Laird MacLomain. Husband to Aline MacLauchlin.”

  “So that is yer name then?” Logan said. “Husband to Aline MacLauchlin?”

  The man stilled, and though he might be afraid, there was something else altogether in his eyes when they met Logan’s. “I am Baird.” His voice lowered. “Baird of the Stewart Clan.”

  Logan’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Nay, I dinnae believe it. The Stewarts wouldnae betray the MacLomains.”

  Baird’s eyes held Logan’s and Cassie had to give him credit for not throwing his clan under the bus. “The Stewarts dinnae know of our marriage. ‘Twas done in secret.”

  “Did ye know she was promised to marry me?”

  Baird’s eyes again flickered to the landing above before lazily, almost arrogantly dropping to Logan’s. “Aye, I knew it.”

  A fury unlike what she saw earlier lit Logan’s eyes as he grabbed a sword off the wall. “Ye bloody bastard.”

  “Och, I thought we’d get in a wee bit more talking before fighting, but something beyond the obvious has m’laird’s blood stirred up.” Niall chuckled, grabbed a blade off the wall and tossed it to Baird before he winked at Cassie. “Best to give the fool half a chance, aye?”

  Cassie gasped when Niall shoved the table aside with his foot then yanked their chairs back before plunking down beside her and taking a swig of ale. “Now ‘tis time to enjoy a good fight.” He shrugged, grinning. “Mayhap.”

  “What the hell?” she started but snapped her mouth shut when Logan drove his blade against Baird’s. The Stewart might be distressed, but he met Logan’s sword with force and skill even as he was driven across the hall.

  Niall kept chuckling until he realized she was watching him. “Why are you looking at me like that, lass?”

  “Because you’re enabling this!” she cried. When she made to stand, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.

  “The Laird needs to defend his honor.” Niall shook his head and nodded at her mug. “Drink and let things happen as they will. This isnae a battle you need to interfere with.”

  Frowning, she tensed as swords clashed. Logan was vicious and as far as she could tell the better fighter as he slashed his blade against Baird’s. His arm muscles bulged, seen much easier thanks to his sleeveless tunic. “This is..is..is...”

  “Is what?” Niall said.

  Eyes glued to Logan she murmured, “Crazy.” When Baird spun away and slashed back, Logan dodged and the slight lull she had been under vanished. Her eyes shot to Niall. “You need to stop this.”

  “Och, nay, I’ll do no such thing.” He offered a crooked grin. “Logan has every right to fight this man.”

  “Why? Because he married the woman he was meant for.” She shook her head. “Hey, Logan’s no saint. What about...”

  She trailed off, surprised by what she nearly said.

  Niall arched his brow. “What about what?” He kept on grinning. “His desire for you?”

  Way to be blunt. “No, that’s not what I was getting at.”

  His eyes darted between the warring men who had already managed to knock over half a dozen chairs. “’Tis exactly what you were getting at.” When the men came close, Niall kicked a chair, and Baird tripped backwards. He fell on his ass, squirming as he kept meeting Logan’s blade from the floor. “The difference is Baird was part of breaking a vow when ‘twas still in the making. You are part of breaking a vow after ‘twas already broken.”

  Logan slashed his sword and knicked Baird’s shoulder. Fueled by pain, Baird scrambled after Logan. Niall, casual as could be, again pulled their chairs back further and out of the men’s way as he continued talking. “Do you ken, lass?”

  “I don’t ken a damn thing,” she said as Baird slammed Logan to the floor.

  “Well, you need to.” Niall took another long swig and laughed as Logan flipped Baird. Over and over they went until they were once more on their feet and clashing swords.

  “Aren’t you worried about your cousin?” she seethed.

  Niall cocked his head one way then the other as he studied their fighting. “Nay, not really, but ‘tis well matched this fight.”

  “And that’s bad.” She frowned, took a deep sip of ale then muttered, “Really bad.”

  “Nay.” Niall shrugged. “Not so bad at all.”

  Clang. Clang. Clang.

  Metal rang against metal as they fought on chairs, then tables then up and down the stairs. “This is beyond ridiculous.”

  “This is how Scotsmen settle things,” Niall murmured.

  She was about to say yet again exactly what she thought of that when the battling men once more headed in their direction.

  “Oh God,” she cried when Logan drove Baird toward them so fast that he landed on his back at her feet.

  Logan braced his legs on either side of Baird and held the tip of his sword against the man’s lower sternum.

  “Ye married another lad’s lass,” Logan roared.

  Before Baird could respond, Niall crouched and put a dagger to his neck, words soft. “What have ye to say to that, Stewart? It had best be something worth hearing.”

  Baird swallowed, and though his eyes remained rebellious, his words were not. “We fell in love when bairns. Who are ye to take my lass from me?”

  Niall tightened the blade. “Ye address my laird the proper way when in his castle.”

  “Nay,” Logan said, words soft but still hard, his blade unwavering as his eyes held Baird’s. “Did ye truly love her since ye were bairns?”

  “I have loved Aline MacLauchlin since first I laid eyes on her,” Baird ground out, even as a tear trickled down his cheek. “How could I not?”

  “Yet ye knew she was betrothed to me. Promised to another, a MacLomain no less, your ally.” Logan shook his head. “How did ye right that with yer conscience, lad?”

  Baird relaxed beneath the blades meant to kill him, closed his eyes and murmured, “There is no controlling the conscience when it comes to true love. It just is what it is.”

  Logan’s brows shot together, and he inhaled sharply, jaw grinding as he pressed his blade tighter against Baird’s chest. Yet he made no further move, just stared at
the man.

  Niall’s eyes went to Logan’s face, but he made no move.

  He was waiting for his Laird’s orders.

  When Logan spoke, he said the last thing she expected. “Ye fight well, Stewart and I will offer ye a way to redeem yerself. A way that our clans might not see ye as the traitor ye are.”

  Baird’s eyes narrowed. “And what do ye propose.”

  “M’laird,” Niall ground out, pressing his dagger tighter. “What do ye propose, m’laird.”

  “M’laird,” Baird croaked, the defiance never leaving his eyes.

  Logan tossed aside his blade and crouched, secure enough in Niall’s dagger as he leaned close. “I need something of you.” Cassie blinked once, and Niall’s dagger was in Logan’s hand, wedged tight against Baird’s neck as the MacLomain came almost nose to nose with the man. “I need a good warrior by my side on my upcoming quest.” He pressed the blade tighter. “Will ye travel and fight for me?” Then he offered a grin that by no means met his eyes. “Some might say ye owe it to me, aye?”

  All the while, Cassie drank, baffled by what she watched. No history book could have ever prepared her for this. These men were notably insane.

  Every. Last. One. Of. Them.

  “M’laird.”

  Logan’s eyes went to Lair on the landing. Their gazes held for a long moment and she knew the news wasn’t good. His eyes fell to Baird’s. “Yer wife struggles for her life. Will ye make right by her and fight for me?”

  Cassie shook her head. Baird should be by his wife’s side if she was dying. “This is wrong.”

  But she might as well have said nothing because she was completely ignored as Logan and Baird stared at one another. Long, silent, seeking, their eyes held before the Stewart whispered, “Only if ye’ll see her well, m’laird.”

  Again their eyes held, searching out one another’s, before Logan at last spoke. “I will.”

  The second he said it, Niall pulled away and sat beside Cassie. This time, there was no grin on his lips or even a chuckle.

  When Baird stumbled to his feet, eager to return to Aline’s side, Logan grabbed his wrist. “Might I be by yer side now warrior?”