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

by Sky Purington

  “So ‘tis time to fight, lass.” He kissed her birthmark, laid her down and strapped on what few weapons he had. Two daggers and his sword. The sword. Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “But know this,” he kissed her lips then lifted her, “I’ll not let ye fight alone if I can help it.”

  By the time he made it down to the courtyard, the battlements were full, and a small crowd had formed around the gate. His family and Jackie’s friends were waiting.

  “The people only know that yer letting the horse in,” his Uncle Malcolm said into his mind. “Not that ye’ll be sending Jackie with her.”

  The gates were opened as he strode forward. Murmurs of curiosity rippled through the crowd as they wondered why he carried his wife. Better yet, why she appeared to be sleeping. As soon as he passed through the gates, he murmured a chant, and the gates slammed shut.

  “I’ll not have anyone put their lives at risk out here,” he said into his family’s minds.

  Eara lowered her head at his approach, her voice sad. “Put her on me, lad. She willnae fall.”

  Darach nodded and raked his eyes over Jackie one last time before he swung her up onto the horse and made sure she was draped evenly over Eara’s neck.

  “I love ye, lass,” he whispered before Eara turned and started across the first drawbridge. Darach flicked his wrists, and the portcullises rose. Just like Erin said, life began to return in the horse’s wake. The moat filled with water and greenery started to bloom on the vines crawling up the battlements.

  Life returned in the wake of a lass sent to face the darkness alone.

  Just like she had all along with her tumor.

  He understood that this had to happen to save his people, but the further the horse trotted the more his chest tightened. His clan was not alone. She was. His clan had the magic of wizards, warriors, and dragons protecting them. She did not. Yes, he knew that something would be there to help her, he felt it, but that just wasn’t good enough.

  His lass would not face this alone.

  To hell with that.

  He raced after her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  JACKIE COULD HEAR DARACH. She could hear them all.

  But nobody could hear her.

  He was letting her go again. Just like he had in the beginning. And like before, it was to keep her alive. Yet this time was different. This time, she was in complete agreement with his decision. She would have made the same choice if she were awake. Anything to save everyone, especially the boys.

  Even so, that didn’t make any of this less frightening.

  When she jolted awake at last, Eara had just reached the end of the drawbridge.

  “Hold on tight, lass,” Eara whispered. “This willnae be an easy journey.”

  “Nay, it willnae,” came Darach’s gruff voice as he swung up behind her. “But at least you willnae be alone.”

  “What are you doing?” she cried over her shoulder. “You’re riding straight into death!”

  “Aye.” He wrapped a strong arm around her. “You knew I’d follow you into the afterlife, lass.”

  Jackie held on tight when Eara bolted. Is this what Grant meant when he said the man who loved her would die? Because for all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what both of them were doing right now. When she glanced over her shoulder, it was just like Erin had said. Far and wide, the land came to life behind them.

  Then it all ripped away as darkness swirled around them. Oppressive, dank, their surroundings became something she had long feared. The end. Those final moments when death took her, and she slipped into eternity alone.

  Yet she wasn’t alone.

  She might not be able to see a thing, but she felt Darach at her back. She felt the warmth and security of his arm wrapped around her in the cool, dark void they’d entered. Slowly but surely, shapes started to materialize. Not the Celtic Otherworld but a dark forest. Then something else. Tall standing stones that formed a circle.

  “’Tis Brigit,” Darach whispered. “We’re in ancient Ireland.”

  Face averted, a glowing woman knelt a few feet away. She dropped something into a small hole. Within seconds, a small sprout shot up, sparkling as its root thickened and twisted and its branches reached out.

  “The great oak Chiomara coupled with King Erc beneath,” he murmured into her mind. “Where Adlin was conceived.”

  The woman stood and vanished but not before an acorn fell from the tree and landed in her palm. Then the landscape shifted. Jackie narrowed her eyes. It couldn’t be. “Eara, are we at the American Stonehenge in New Hampshire?”

  The horse gave no response but slowed to a trot as they passed through what was definitely Stonehenge. But everything was different. Then she realized. There were no landmarks. No platforms where you could read about each stone and its alignment with the horizon.

  “I think I saw someone up ahead,” Darach whispered.

  Jackie peered through the darkness. He was right. Someone walked through the woods. Slightly aglow, it appeared to be Brigit again. Soon, another woman joined her. Slight of build with long, dark hair, she thought it was Erin at first. But no. Her hair wasn’t as curly.

  “This will help connect your kin with the MacLomains.” Brigit dropped the acorn into the woman’s hand. “Place it where ye will, Iosbail.”

  Iosbail? As in Iosbail Broun...or MacLomain depending on who you asked. She was Adlin’s sister, once an immortal wizard just like him.

  The goddess vanished, and they followed Iosbail through the forest. Caught in these strange in-between worlds, it was clear they were silent, unknown witnesses to history.

  Eventually, Iosbail stopped and crouched. Jackie looked around. Though there were only trees around them, the area felt familiar. “Darach? I think we might be...” she started but stopped when Iosbail dropped the acorn in a small hole. Just like before, a small sprout shot up, sparkling as its trunk thickened and its branches grew.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, eyes moist. It was the old oak that would someday sit in front of the Colonial. And based on the location of the tree, Eara had stopped right where Darach stood the first time Jackie laid eyes on him.

  Iosbail came to her feet as the Oak bloomed overhead. She put out her hand, and one of its acorns dropped into her palm. When a little old woman hobbled out of the forest, Iosbail handed her the acorn. Animals drifted around the woman. A squirrel sat on her shoulder.

  “Fionn Mac Cumhail,” Darach murmured.

  Fionn? But she thought he was a golden Celtic warrior.

  “Sometimes seen as an old woman as well,” Darach said. “But his animals are always ghostly not solid like they are now.”

  Jackie swallowed. “What does that mean?”

  “That we arenae in the world of the living, lass.”

  She sort of figured as much but had hoped not.

  Eara started walking, and their surroundings shifted yet again. This time, they rode beside a mountain face. The little old woman lumbered along until she began to glow. Seconds later, a tall, strapping blond warrior appeared in her place.

  “Oh, wow,” Jackie whispered as Fionn crouched next to the mountain and dropped the acorn in a hole.

  “Bloody hell,” Darach murmured. “I always thought...”

  “Thought what?” she prompted when his words died off. “Where are we?”

  “I always thought this tree was born directly of the oak in Ireland,” he continued in awe as a sprout shot up and thickened into a trunk that grew up the side of the mountain face, sparkling, until its branches wrapped into a cave far overhead.

  “Where are we?” she asked again.

  “One of the Defiances,” he murmured. “’Tis a mountain of many things.”

  Jackie’s eyes rounded as she peered upward. “Are we at the Magical Mountain of Fertility?”

  “I forgot Nicole had named it.” He chuckled. “Aye, ‘tis precisely where we are.”

  Eara started walking again. This time, woodland didn’t ap
pear in front of them but rock and open sky. It looked like they were near the top of a mountain.

  “Where are we now?” she whispered.

  “The same mountain.”

  His arm tightened around her as a dragon appeared through the darkness. A man with blond hair stood in front of it with Iosbail nearby.

  “Och, ‘tis Uncle Colin but much younger,” Darach said.

  He had two Uncle Colin’s. “Based on his build, I’m going to guess Rònan’s dad?”

  “Aye,” he said as colors swirled around the dragon until a young woman lay curled up on the ground.

  “Aunt Torra,” he whispered as her hand opened and an acorn rolled out of it. Moments later, it took root and sprouted. This time, it blossomed into a small oak. “’Tis the baby oak when born over thirty winters ago.”

  “You mean the huge oak outside of MacLomain Castle?”

  “Aye.”

  Though everyone vanished, she and Darach remained where they were. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you see that?”

  “What?”

  “Let me down.” She tugged at his arm. “Please.”

  “Why?”

  “I think I see an acorn.” She tugged at his arm again. “And nobody’s here to catch it.” She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Don’t you find that suspicious?”

  “Aye, suspicious enough for us to stay put.”

  Eara stomped her foot and neighed.

  “What is it, Eara?” he asked.

  No response.

  Instead, the horse neighed louder and stomped her foot again.

  “I’d say Eara agrees,” Jackie said. “Time to get off.”

  Though he didn’t seem pleased in the least, Darach grunted, swung off then pulled her down. Jackie strode over and knelt in front of the tree. There it was. A tiny little acorn. “Oh, look at it.”

  “Where, lass?” He crouched beside her. “I dinnae see anything.”

  When an all too familiar tingling ran through her, she held out her palm beneath it. She swore she saw a burst of sparkles before the acorn fell into her hand.

  Darach’s eyes widened. “That wasnae there a moment ago.”

  “Uh oh.” She closed her fist around the acorn as colors started to swirl around the little oak. Darach pulled her away as the tree twisted into a small tornado and wind whipped at them. He wrapped his arms around her but not before the tornado flew into her closed palm.

  “Holy crap,” she exclaimed but didn’t release the acorn. Rather, she clenched it tighter when Darach pressed her head against his chest as the wind increased. It was so strong, he barely kept them afoot as he braced his legs.

  When the wind finally stopped, darkness shrouded them at first. Jackie blinked as she tried to adjust to the dim lighting. “Where are we?”

  Darach kept her close and narrowed his eyes. “I think ‘tis the meadow in front of MacLomain Castle.”

  Again, he was right. The castle was a dim shadow backdropped by a soupy, dark loch. Like it was outside Hamilton Castle when they left, everything appeared dead.

  “What’s that?” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Come.” He pulled her after him. “I think I see someone lying on the ground.”

  Jackie ran after him. Someone was lying on the ground. The closer they got, the odder she began to feel. Almost a sense of trepidation. Darach slowed within feet of the body and shook his head. “Nay, it cannae be!”

  He tore away, raced the rest of the way and fell to his knees. “Da?” Jackie bit back tears as he flipped the man over and pulled his head onto his lap.

  It was Grant.

  Darach pressed his ear to Grant’s chest. “Nay,” he whispered. “No heartbeat.” He shook his father a little, his voice strained. “Wake up, Da. We wouldnae be here if there wasnae hope for ye.”

  Jackie knelt beside them and watched in distress as Darach continued trying to bring his father back from death in a land that was just as dead.

  “Bring him back, lass.” His bloodshot eyes met hers. “Please, ye can do it.”

  Her eyes went to Grant. “Of course...I’ll try,” she stuttered and touched him.

  “Focus on anger,” Darach urged, face ravaged with grief, “emotion.”

  Jackie nodded and did just that. Yet nothing happened. No tingles. No heat.

  “Please, lass,” Darach pleaded. “Ye need to try harder.”

  “I am. I will.” She nodded, upset that she was letting him down. “I’ll try even harder.”

  “Aye.” He looked from her to Grant as she tried to relive her emotions. To really feel them. The anger she felt when Grant was murdered by the demi-god. The sadness she felt for everyone who lost him. Her anger at young Grant’s hardships. Though she felt the emotions, and let them flow through her, nothing happened, and Darach only grew more upset.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”

  Incredibly sad, Darach’s eyes held hers as he cradled his father’s head. “There isnae anything to forgive,” he murmured. “Ye tried yer best.”

  Watching him go through this all over again about ripped her heart out.

  “Did I?” She shook her head. “You don’t know that. Neither do I. Maybe I’m not thinking the right thoughts or doing the right thing.”

  “Ye did, lass,” he said. “I know ye did.”

  She shook her head again and stared at Grant without really seeing him. No, all she could focus on were her mistakes. On things unrelated to this moment but determined to surface. “I should have gotten a second opinion. I should’ve seen more doctors. Instead, I just gave up.”

  “Erin was right.” Her eyes met Darach’s. “I gave up without fighting. I forgave everyone and everything and just gave in.”

  He didn’t seem to think it odd in the least that she spoke of this right now.

  “Ye gave in to what is likely an unnatural tumor.” He took her hand. “Ye cannae be faulted for that.”

  “Can’t I?” She frowned. “You’re right. I have been a coward.”

  “Nay, I was wrong.” He shook his head. “You made a decision and stuck by it. That isnae cowardly.” His eyes held hers. “You found peace in your decision. That is your choice and ‘tis commendable. Erin and I only argued otherwise because we love you so bloody much.”

  Jackie bit her lower lip and looked at Grant, not sure how to respond.

  “I think you’re amazing, lass.” Darach tilted up her chin until their eyes met. “But it seems you’ve one last person to forgive.”

  “Who?”

  “You.” His brows shot up. “After being inside your head, I’d say deciding not to fight your illness is the least of it. I think you need to forgive yourself for not standing up to your uncle far sooner and for allowing him to tear away what was once a happy childhood. I think you need to forgive yourself for allowing your uncle to mold you into something you barely recognized and didn’t much enjoy. For tearing away the spirit you once called yours.”

  “Forgive yourself, lass.” His eyes stayed with hers. “That’s what your parents would have wanted.”

  Her lip trembled at his words. At how profoundly they affected her. That he said them now with his dead father in his arms—someone she couldn’t save though she had saved so many—made it almost impossible to draw breath.

  Was he right? Had she forgiven everyone else when she was the one that needed it most? Had she really stopped standing up for herself and become something she wasn’t? She had escaped some of it when she was with her friends, but when she found out how sick she was, she’d reverted yet again. Even around them.

  But she wasn’t that woman anymore.

  Not since traveling back in time.

  Not since meeting Darach.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “I do need to forgive...myself.”

  “Then do so.” He cupped her cheek. “Forgive yourself and be who you’re supposed to be. The lass I met time and time again in my dreams. The lass you’ve always been
beneath it all.” His eyes warmed though sadness remained. “Do that little forgive, forgive chant for yourself this time.”

  “Okay.” Her voice grew hoarse as she closed her eyes and did what he suggested.

  And she meant it.

  She’d become someone else because she thought she had no choice. It was what made sense if she hoped to keep her inheritance. No, that was wrong. It had never really been about the money but about losing her home. Losing the life she once had. She did everything to conform and become someone else for her uncle, her young mind convinced that she did it for her parents.

  But they wouldn’t want her to change. To become a shell of her former self. They would want her to be exactly who she was now. Fearless. Selfless. Proud. Loving. Kind. Loyal. Happy. Wasn’t that all they’d ever wanted for her?

  So, in the end, she forgave herself because despite everything she was exactly who she should be. More than that, she had everything they could have hoped for her. Good friends. Strength. True love. Happiness.

  A new sense of peace spread through her.

  Something she had never felt before.

  Absolute forgiveness.

  When tingling began in her hand, her eyes shot open. “The acorn!”

  She opened her fist to find it glowing. When she set it down, it sank into the ground, and a sprout shot up.

  “Look at your ring, lass,” Darach murmured.

  Her eyes widened. The black swirled away as blue shone brighter and brighter and the sprout grew taller and taller.

  “Och.” Darach grabbed Grant under the arms and started dragging him, but it was too late. None of them moved fast enough to scramble away from the thick trunk that formed as it and its branches shot to the sky. Instead, they rolled a few times before leaves started to blossom.

  By the time it finished growing, her ring shined a bright bluish gray, and the tree was full grown. More than that, Grant was propped against its trunk blinking.