Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5)

by Sky Purington

  After several blinks, her tongue snaked out and wet her lips. For all the strength he’d exercised since meeting her, that one small action snapped the last of his long kept restraint. Gods help him that he didn’t lose her over this, but he had no choice but to kiss her.

  Torra’s lips stiffened against his. Yet it didn’t matter in the least. He pressed his mouth against hers and felt a flood of relief in just that simple contact. Before Torra, he’d had many lasses and all had melted into his embrace. But he never had to try with them, never had to give it much thought.

  Now he did.

  However, thought soon faded as he simply enjoyed the taste and texture of her mouth against his. There was something startlingly arousing about the sweetness of her ever softening lips. When she stiffened again, he held on tight and continued his measured assault. Her body slowly began to relax. Colin nearly lost control when she angled her head slightly and her lips began to move against his.

  With a feather light flick, he ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. Colin didn’t know what hit him when her body once more tensed but in direct contradiction to her actions, Torra’s lips opened and her tongue met his.

  While fire might be his element, he was wholly unprepared for the roaring flames that tore through his blood. His entire body started to shake as he tried to hold back. But Fate showed favor because she came to him at last. Her lips slanted and opened fully beneath his.

  An indescribable, heart-pounding hunger blasted through him and he swung his tongue into her mouth, for the first time tasting the perfection so long denied. Eager, wonderfully in sync, her tongue twirled around his then dove into his mouth. Heat burned between their lips. There was no way to know where she began and he ended the exchange was so thorough, so passionate.

  When she moaned into his mouth, the vibration nearly made him explode. Grabbing her arse with both hands, he pressed against her core, enflamed all that much more by the singeing heat between her legs. Their tongues became almost violent as they twisted, lapped, fought and retrieved.

  Fire flared.

  Between them. Around them. Flames curled in the air fast and furious.

  But the living, breathing element did not burn, only pushed them against one another harder. Colin kept one hand squeezed tight against her backside and dug the other harshly into her hair as he all but ate her alive. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted to be inside her in all ways possible or the other way around.

  He wanted to literally meld with her he felt so strongly.

  With a powerful thrust, he ground against her. So close to releasing he moaned; his body one step away from locking up in what he knew would be incomparable pleasure. To make matters worse, or better depending, Torra cried out into his mouth, her body bucking against him as tremors ripped through her dainty body.

  Bloody hell, she was climaxing.

  And he knew damn well that though caught up in pleasure she was beyond terrified. Though it took everything he had, he tore his mouth from hers, wrapped one arm tightly around her and held her head against his chest. A low mewling whimper broke from her chest then a deep throated wail as she dug her nails into his chest, her body rocking against his.

  Colin felt the fire around them redirect and knew…

  The dragon was trying to come.

  “Gods, Colin, I’m scared,” she cried against his chest.

  He had to handle this just right or she might forever fear intimacy. While every ounce of his being wanted to keep her close, he pulled back, gripped her cheeks tightly and forced her to look at him. As he knew would be the case, her eyes glowed bright white. Her body was on fire, the temperature far higher than a human before it would soon plummet sharply. The streaks in her hair that mirrored her scale colors when in dragon form were aglow. Her skin was sheening over as if getting ready to strengthen and change.

  She was so bloody beautiful is was humbling.

  “Nathair sgiathach,” he said, “My dragon.” Colin dug deep down inside and embraced a level of calm he only accessed when with his fire. Staring into her eyes, he showed her not fear but strength. “Be what you will. Your beauty is there regardless.” He narrowed his eyes and curled up his lips. “Embrace what you will now. Know that you and only you have control. I will always stand by your side in any form.”

  Torra gripped his arms, her eyes gone in white light. There was no way to know what she saw or felt now. He could only pray that she still heard him. One thing was for sure, even if she shifted into a dragon, he’d stay right here. And if she decided to kill him, which she so easily could, he’d leave this life knowing he’d found the truest of love.

  What he’d absolutely not do is flee. He’d not abandon her.

  Not ever.

  Her skin started to cool rapidly. The dragon was coming. There was nothing he could do at this point but keep looking into her eyes. He still remembered the last time he’d looked at her in such a form. It had been when she flew over the Hamilton castle not that long ago. He’d been absolutely enthralled.

  And completely afraid not of her but for her.

  When at the Defiance, they’d had many long conversations about her fear of the dragon. Colin tended to think more like Iosbail though. She would have been better off telling her kin and embracing the beast rather than putting herself through such pain for so long.

  It had infuriated him that Torra was horrified by what she was and that she thought the MacLomains would shun her. Or even worse, that the whole of Scotland might turn on them. Yet Colin always tried to dissuade her without being overwhelming. Though he might not know her clansmen well, he’d heard plenty about Adlin MacLomain and even Iosbail. That said so much.

  Her kin would have accepted her if for no other reason than they loved her.

  As to the whole of Scotland, wizards managed just fine for the most part in relative secrecy. So would a dragon shifter. Somehow, between her clan and himself, they would figure out a way.

  A strange sound started to rumble in her chest and Torra gripped him tighter. Colin kept his hands on her, helpless to do much else but stay close. His thoughts remained on all she’d shared about the dragon within. When year’s later word traveled to the Hamilton clan that a dragon existed, he was profoundly proud of her.

  Yet he was frightened for her as well.

  Under Keir’s forced guidance, he had been in the flames fighting the MacLomains when the Hamilton infiltrated their castle via black magic. An act that had in effect forced Torra to shift and embrace the dragon. Then not long after, it was Colin’s tattoo of Torra that lured her in enough so that Keir was able to trap half her soul. And again, he’d had no choice but to fight against her kin.

  His reward for such heinous acts?

  He got to listen to Keir Hamilton rave in glee about how Torra would soon be his. At long last. The Hamilton’s plan was going according to plan. Colin still remembered lying in his cot that first night seething mad. He nearly threw it all to the wind and sought out Keir so that he might make a final attempt to rip the Hamilton’s still beating heart from his chest.

  Grant, thank the gods, had talked him out of it the next day. He reminded Colin that it was best to let all of this unfold as it would. That he had a plan. And until then, they’d do as Keir wanted and rally the MacLeods and Hamiltons against the MacLomains.

  “Ohhhh,” Torra hissed through her teeth as she hung her head and dug her nails deeper into his chest.

  Colin could care less that she drew blood. Her body temperature was rising and the sound that broke from her mouth was human. Where she had been panting rapidly before, now her chest was starting to rise and fall less so. Though tempted to speak, he waited. She needed to see this through on her own.

  Yet he would be a shoulder for her to lean on so shifted closer and wrapped his arms around her. For a very long time Torra didn’t move, just breathed slower and slower. After what seemed an eternity her head eventually lowered to his shoulder and her nails released
from his skin, hands falling limply into his lap. Resting his cheek against her hair, he closed his eyes. Again, a long stretch of time passed.

  Then, finally, heavy emotion clogged her throat as she whispered, “I did it.”

  Yet again incredibly proud of her, he smiled into her hair and murmured, “Aye, you did, lass.”

  When she moved, he pulled back, hands on her arms until he knew she was steady. When her eyes finally met his, they were a lovely sage green and so much at peace that heavy emotion weighed down his heart.

  Torra bit her lower lip then again said a fraction stronger, “I did it.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “It was much like when I shifted the first time but so entirely different. I looked into the eyes of the dragon, into the eyes of…myself.” She shook her head, clearly astounded. “And I controlled it.”

  “Aye.” He wiped away her tear. “You did verra well, lass.”

  Torra put a hand over her mouth and shook her head, clearly fighting many emotions. So Colin sat on the log and pulled her onto his lap. Though his MacLomain lass might appear weak now, she was at last coming into her own. In very little time, she would become one of the most powerful Scotswomen to exist and when she did, he knew she would live life well and help so many.

  Even as her breathing slowed and she fell asleep, he held her. The ocean lapped at the shore and fires slowly dwindled but still Colin cradled her against him. For too long he’d imagined once more holding her in his arms so he stayed that way for what might have been half the night.

  Only when it began drizzling did he at last bring her to the cottage closest to the shore. Colin had asked Iosbail earlier that they might have it. He didn’t want his lass in the castle but close to the ocean so that if she shifted, she might spread her wings and fly easily. And, hopefully, without too many curious eyes watching.

  Grateful upon entering, he realized it was larger than most in the area with two chambers, one with a decent sized cot. Though only embers remained on the small hearth, it was warm, clean and well stocked.

  After he laid Torra down he covered her with fresh blankets. While not tired in the least, he would not have her awaken without him so lay beside her and pulled her back against his front. Colin ground his teeth against an erection that wouldn’t go away. There was little to be done about it. Burying his nose in the sweet scent of her hair, he drifted.

  The next thing he knew random raindrops pelted the thatched ceiling and dim daylight flooded the chamber. Torra was sitting up with one arm wrapped around her bent knees. Her free hand held his. The slat by their window was propped open and she stared out, lost in thought. Colin watched her for a time, sensing her pride and peace but also her confusion and determination.

  “I love you,” he eventually murmured.

  Her eyes swung to his and a soft smile curled her lips. “And I you, Colin MacLeod.”

  Unable to help himself, he trailed a lazy finger up her inner arm and smiled to himself when she shivered. “How do you feel?”

  “Scared,” she replied instantly and honestly. Her eyes reflected both thankfulness and pride as she looked at him. “But far more confident than I was before…because of you.”

  One arm propped behind him, Colin shook his head. “That is where you are wrong. All you feel now is because of you. Dinnae think otherwise.” He squeezed her hand. “I couldnae control the dragon. Only you could do that.”

  Torra’s eyes bore into his, a whole new wisdom in them. “Nay, that is where you are wrong. I wouldnae have ever faced my fears if not for you. And mayhap a wee bit because of Iosbail and her whiskey.”

  “Aye, the whiskey was good.” Colin quirked a brow and grinned. “Then I but helped you find release. You and the dragon did the rest.”

  There was nothing more gratifying then watching pink stain her cheekbones and her breath hitch as she gave a whispery response. “You underestimate yourself.”

  “Nay, lass.” Colin kissed the back of her hand softly, purposefully. “But if you wish to convince me otherwise I wouldnae be opposed.”

  Torra’s eyelashes fluttered and she tore her gaze away to once again look out the window. Though she’d conquered much because of her climax, she still feared what might happen if they lay together as they should…as he hoped they soon would.

  “We haven’t spoken of that time betwixt your shift into a dragon at the MacLomains and when you at last flew over the Hamilton castle,” he said. “I wish I’d been there for you. What did you do? Where did you sleep?”

  “Honestly, my memories are scattered. I remember the feel of freedom in flight but recall verra little about shifting to begin with. Just that it was time and so I did,” she said softly. “I was never far from my kin. Or at least I dinnae think I was. After all, I knew when they had arrived at the Hamilton castle. As to sleep, I think ‘twas often likely in caves.”

  “But there wasnae fear?”

  Torra shook her head slowly. “Not when I became the dragon. Not like this fear that I would hurt you if I couldnae control the shift.”

  Colin again brought her hand to his lips. “‘Tis already a fear half conquered and one that you must release in its entirety.”

  Their eyes held for a long moment before she smoothly turned both her gaze and the conversation away. “I know of this cottage.”

  “Aye?”

  “Aye.” An easy smile came to her face. “‘Twill be of great importance in the future.”

  “How so?”

  He smiled when her grin widened. Eyes unburdened in an instant by all that Fate had thrust upon her shoulders, Torra’s gaze met his. “Well, this cottage will someday house Stephen Broun.”

  Colin arched his brows in question, delighted for no other reason than that she seemed pleased.

  Torra looked at him as though he should have this all figured out but explained nonetheless. “Stephen Broun was the lad who stole Arianna Broun away from her promised betrothed, Iain MacLomain. Long story short, he, Arianna, Alan Stewart and Caitriona at one time hatched a plan in this verra cottage. It helped Stephen run away with Arianna so that she wouldnae be doomed to marry Iain. But it all worked out quite well because Iain was meant for Arianna Broun from the future.”

  She made a flourish with her hand that encompassed the building and smiled wider. “Yet all of that, according to the year in which we currently hail, has yet to happen.”

  Colin was confused as hell but did not say as much. This tidbit of history made her happy so he merely nodded and continued to grin. “‘Tis good that.”

  Torra’s bright eyes met his. “Aye, because if not for that bit of history my Da, Iain MacLomain, might not have ended up with my Ma, Arianna, aye?”

  Och, right. “Well, when you put it like that.” He covered his tracks. “‘Tis a bloody good thing indeed.”

  Colin loved Torra well and good, but her clan’s history was a complicated one. He always assumed he would better ken it as their years together unraveled.

  “Hello? Anyone awake? Gorgeous day out here! If you like a little rain that is.”

  He closed his eyes and nearly groaned. He’d know that chipper voice anywhere. Sheila. While Grant was his friend above all others and he was forever grateful to Sheila for defending Torra, Colin remained a wee bit wary of how close she was becoming to Torra. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire his lass to have a friend but…he was surprised to realize he didn’t have a definitive answer to his own reluctance. Just that he’d been protective of Torra for so long and wasn’t used to another coming close, even if she meant no harm.

  Truly, what did a twenty-first century lass know about a medieval lass who was part dragon? Nothing at all.

  But Torra deserved the support and happiness of a friendship so he’d have to push past his mixed feelings. Regardless, Colin couldn’t help but frown when Torra grinned and stuck her head out the window. “Sheila, in here!”

  Sheila, naturally, didn’t hesitate to let herself in. In fact, she walked right into their chamber. Her eyes
passed smoothly over him and went to Torra. “It’s past noon and you seriously need to join us.” A wide smile split her face. “Iosbail’s Beltane traditions just keep getting better and better.”

  Colin did his best to keep a growl at bay and rolled off the cot. As he stood, he caught a glimpse of Grant out the window. His friend was heading for the shore. That sounded good to him. Eyes to Torra, he said, “Food and a change of clothes are in the main chamber.” He looked deeper into her eyes. “Are you truly well then?”

  Torra seemed to understand that he was desperate to escape so she offered a small smile and nodded.

  That was all he needed.

  Colin soon joined the MacLomain. Crouched, Grant had splashed water on his face and now stared into the distance. Legs braced, arms crossed over his chest, Colin gazed out as well, grateful for the easy company of an old friend.

  Grant at last quirked a brow at him, lips curling up. “My Sheila’s a cheerful sort, aye?”

  “More than I could take,” Colin admitted but knew full well Sheila was bringing Grant slowly back to life and was thankful. “‘Tis good that you have found love, my friend. Her easy nature is refreshing for you, is it not?”

  “‘Tis everything,” Grant murmured and stood. Colin’s chest clenched at the pain in his voice.

  Keir Hamilton had truly destroyed everything he had touched. Or tried to. Bloody bastard.

  Grant’s demeanor was far less tense than it had been when Colin first met him. In truth, when he looked into his friend’s eyes he saw nothing but happiness. Yet he couldn’t help but say, “She really is good for you, aye?”

  “Och, she’s my wee geal,” Grant said softly.

  When Colin’s brows came together, Grant gripped his shoulder then released. “She is to me what Torra is to you.”

  Colin nodded his understanding and again stared out over the North Sea. “Torra has once more faced her Nathair sgiathach and better learned to control it.”

  A smile ghosted Grant’s face. “I know. ‘Tis good this.”

  Of course Grant knew. He was as mentally attached to Torra as Colin himself. And never was he more grateful that Torra had this MacLomain wizard so closely connected to her. “‘Tis verra good.”