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

by Sky Purington

  A man she’d only met once stepped forward. “My name is Bryce MacLauchlin and like Grant, I was enslaved by Keir Hamilton fourteen winter’s ago. Not only did Grant train me to become the warrior that I am today but he was my friend.”

  Bryce paused, obviously gathering his emotions as his eyes connected with Grant’s. “More than anybody, Grant suffered at the hands of Keir’s cruelty. But even so, he rose above it all and pulled together not only those who were by birth Hamiltons but so many of us who were not. Because of him we united and became proud to serve under not Keir but him, Grant MacLomain.”

  Bryce again paused but not for long before his voice rang out. “I cannae help but say that I would like to stay on with the Hamiltons if mayhap Grant would be their laird.”

  While all clans might have roared before, only the Hamiltons did now and it was, amazingly enough, far louder and more heartfelt.

  “Listen now!” her brother roared and everyone slowly but surely quieted.

  Torra grasped her love’s arm when a slender, blond woman started down the stairs. Grant made a strangled sound and was at the bottom to greet her. “Kenzie, I didnae think ye made it, lass.”

  Though clearly weakened, she shrugged and grinned. “McKayla MacLomain is a good healer.”

  Torra smiled as they embraced. Having taken a lethal sword thrust to her gut during the war that led to the castle siege, Kenzie was Grant’s good friend.

  When Kenzie pulled back, she continued to hold Grant at arm’s length. “I’m still mighty weak so ye need to use your magic so that all might hear.”

  Grant hesitated, obviously unsure he wanted to hear what she had to say, but at last nodded. “Aye then, lass. If ye need it so.”

  “Aye,” Kenzie assured, attention turned to the crowd as she continued. “I am Kenzie MacLauchlin, sister to Bryce. Like him, I was taken fourteen winters ago by Keir.” She wore a look of disgust but pride nonetheless. “Except unlike Bryce, I was not trained to be a warrior but a whore.”

  Murmurs rolled through the crowd, but Kenzie pulled back her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. “As many Hamiltons know, I became Grant’s whore…or at least that is what ye all thought.” She grasped Grant’s shoulder. “But nay. Grant was always my friend. Ours was but a show so that Keir would not abuse me or the other lasses forced into our line of work.”

  Kenzie held Grant’s hand as she paused and looked over the crowd. “I have never met a more honorable Scotsman. They dinnae exist.” She notched her chin. “I watched him treat the whores as well as he did his warriors and as well as all Hamiltons, the old and young alike.” She gave a final nod. “Like my brother, I would be forever proud to stay on with the Hamiltons and call my new Laird, Grant.”

  It didn’t matter if a warrior or a lass spoke on Grant’s behalf, the Hamilton warriors again roared long and loud with approval.

  Grant meantime, gave Kenzie another brief embrace, then rejoined Sheila. Though happy to see Kenzie alive and pleased that his friends rallied for him, Torra sensed Grant’s relief when his wife’s hand slipped into his. Theirs was a strong bond that gave strength during difficult times.

  Yet no matter how well-meaning his friends, Grant was expected to give a response.

  Torra couldn’t help but notice how his brother, Malcolm and his Ma and Da, Coira and William stood nearby, another wall of support.

  But it was not their eyes that Grant met. It was Colin MacLeod’s. Though Colin said nothing, she felt the strength in that one look. A strength that had forged their very friendship.

  After what seemed like a long time but was just a scant few moments, Grant at last spoke to the crowd. “Though ye’ve only just learned that I was taken fourteen winters ago, what ye didnae know was that I, like many, suffered all this time. Though my first few years with Keir were brutal, I soon learned to become what he needed of me. Something far apart from the lad I once was. I betrayed ye I did.”

  When silence reigned, Grant continued, eyes meeting many. “I betrayed myself and ye the moment I didnae tell ye who I was. The moment I relented to Keir and agreed to train ye.”

  He paused. Pained, he said, “Dinnae ye ken? All these years training ye I knew I was an imposter. And though many of ye remember me being taken most of ye dinnae as ye were taken as well.”

  “I lied to ye,” he said, voice raised. “Is that any sort ye want ruling your clan?”

  A silence fell, but it was brief before a clansman toward the back cried, “Nay, ye didnae lie to us, Grant. Keir did.”

  Before Grant could respond, another cried, “Ye treated us well when no one else would.”

  Then another cried out, “Ye protected us from Keir’s whip one too many times and took the lash to yer own skin. Dinnae think we knew naught.”

  Torra felt Colin stiffen behind her and tightened her hold over his forearm in hopes to keep their mutual pain at bay.

  “Ye sat by me wee bairn when she ailed,” another yelled.

  “Ye snuck me wife medicine when Keir wouldnae allow it,” another added.

  On and on it went and the more it did, the more Grant appeared reluctant and confused.

  Torra stepped aside when Colin MacLeod went to stand beside Grant. The men eyed one another for a moment before Colin raised his voice to the crowd. “Silent now that I might say my piece, aye?”

  And, because a great deal of this crowd had long fallen silent to the words of Colin MacLeod and his first-in-command, all listened.

  Colin looked out over the clansmen and let silence build before he at last said, “Did ye know I didnae like Grant when first I met him?”

  Warriors muttered, clearly not sure how they should answer.

  So Colin continued. “Nay, I thought him cocky and overly confident with a sword. But it seemed he had something to prove because instead of relenting beneath my blade he came at me harder.” The MacLeod shook his head and looked skyward. “‘Twas an ill thing for a youth with nothing but fury in his eyes.” Colin cocked a disbelieving brow at Grant. “But he kept coming at me again and again convinced that he was better than I.”

  “What happened then?” someone asked.

  Colin eyed Grant then released a low chuckle. “Let’s just say that the day finally came that our blades were equally matched.” Colin swung his eyes to the crowd. “‘Twas not long after that I learned the truth about Grant and all he had suffered. He and I were both taken by Keir against our will and though at first angered, we made the best of what life dealt us. And through it all we came to love the warriors beneath us. Not only ye but your kin. Your bairns and wives and parents. Gods did we love ye all.”

  Though some shouted thankful responses, Colin continued. “But ye must remember that though we loved ye all so well, we’d also been taken from our kin. Our own families. Ones we loved verra much.”

  All grew incredibly silent as Colin made a point of locking eyes with several Hamilton warriors. “Ye have the unending support of the MacLeods and the MacLomains until your new chieftain is found. If ‘tis Grant, aye ‘tis good indeed. If not, we’ll find another worthy of ye.” His voice lowered. “But might we not give Grant the respect well due him and allow him time to decide where he wants to spend his days? Might we forgive him if his path lies elsewhere?”

  Again Colin paused, eyes meeting many. “Most importantly, might we not give him time to reconnect with his long-lost clan, the MacLomains?”

  Another long silence stretched before a sword started to slowly bang off a shield somewhere far into the crowd. After another few moments, another clanging started. Followed by another. Then another. And another.

  On and on it went, first starting with the Hamilton warriors until the MacLeods and MacLomains joined then all allied clans. Then, like an explosion went off, all roared their approval so loudly the floor vibrated.

  Torra closed her eyes and said a prayer to the gods.

  Grant would be given time.

  Even as the MacLeod pulled her back into his arms, her brother once
more raised his voice above the crowd, magically induced so that all heard him. “My wife has adorned the hall so that ye might rest from war and enjoy Christmastide with us. For those who wish to return to their kin now, we will get ye there in no time.”

  All applauded and closed in around them as the pipes fired up.

  “Thank you,” she murmured to her love.

  “Nay, thank you, my wee lass,” he whispered.

  At long last alone, it seemed Colin was as quick to gaze around the hall as she. For the first time, they saw what her brother’s wife, McKayla must have done before she joined them at the Hamiltons.

  Vines of spruce were wrapped everywhere intertwined with dried flowers and extra candles. It was stunning and festive and wonderfully thought out.

  Yet even as they admired the view, Colin reeled her close until their bodies were pressed together and their lips inches apart. She relished the feel of his breath against hers, the never-ending look of love in his eyes.

  Ready to be with him forever.

  About to close her lips over his…

  Torra leaned forward.

  Until someone cleared her throat.

  Torra and Colin pulled back and frowned at those suddenly alongside.

  Four faces were smiling. Two from either side.

  McKayla said from one side, “We’re having a little gathering outside. Wanna come?”

  Cadence said from the other, “Just a small thing but immediate family…I mean kin should be there.”

  Sheila issued a wide smile. “It’s going to be a killer moment.”

  They had no chance to respond before Leslie said from the other side, a wicked grin on her face. “The sort of thing you’ll want to tell your wee bairns about, aye?”

  Wee bairns! How had she forgotten?

  But Torra had no chance to tell Colin what Naðr had shared as the Broun lasses ushered them out the front door into the falling snow. Clan folk were everywhere as they rounded the backside of the castle.

  Torra stopped, stunned. But it wasn’t the row of torches lighting the side of the castle or the Christmastide wreaths strung everywhere. Nay, it was that she arrived on the very shore on which she’d lain when last here in her dragon form.

  Her brother Colin, chieftain, met them with a wide smile on his face. “We’ve a holy man and weddings being performed. Might ye like to be one of them?”

  Speechless, she only stared as the pipes trilled and all she loved stood on the shore waiting.

  Colin MacLeod grinned as his loving eyes turned her way. “Well, then lass, what say ye? Are ye ready to become my wife?”

  Torra could only nod as emotions overwhelmed her.

  So it was that Torra MacLomain and Colin MacLeod stood alongside not only Malcolm and Cadence but the MacLomain’s head cook, Euphemia and her lad, Ceard. At long last, or in this case in but a few short months, all who had been part of the war were at last married on the eve of Christmastide.

  Six couples who loved deeply had come together in spite of evil.

  But Torra had little time to dwell on that as she said her vows then her new husband kissed her so thoroughly that all else faded away. When at last Colin pulled his lips from hers, there was nothing but a recognizable need in his eyes.

  “I’ve the urge to walk ye into the loch and have my way with ye,” he murmured against her ear.

  “Ye dinnae want to know what I’m thinking,” she flirted.

  “Och, but I do, lass.”

  Torra cupped his cheeks and looked deep into his eyes, her lips warring with a grin. “For all the long years I imprisoned myself ‘tis good indeed that ye set me free.”

  Fire flared in his eyes as he wrapped his hand into her hair and shook his head. “Dinnae ye know lass.” His mouth came close to hers, his warm breath fanning over her lips. “There was never any doubt when it came to ye. I knew all along that we would be together.”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “We were always the best part of one another’s plight, my highlander.”

  Then their lips once more met.

  Their love and so many others had conquered all against the odds. Now that they had won, they were undefeatable, untouchable.

  Colin scooped her into his arms and headed for the castle.

  “But we should mingle,” she murmured.

  “Aye, and we will,” Colin promised.

  “But we should say goodbye,” she urged.

  “Aye, soon enough.”

  Colin carried her up into the tower until he set her down in the chamber where she had spent the last ten winters. A fire flared to life on the hearth, the only means of communication they’d had since he was taken by Keir.

  When she made to speak, he shook his head and cupped her face. “Nay, lass, there is naught to say. I but wanted to see ye from this side of the fire. To know that ye are at last mine.”

  Touched, as vulnerable as him, she looked into his eyes and nodded. “Aye, ‘tis over at last.”

  Nothing more was said as he sat and pulled her over him.

  Straddling his thighs, she wrapped her hands into the fire that flared around them. Their eyes held, locked in eternal need as he pulled her closer. Her thighs quivered and she shook with need. Torra arched when his lips ran along her neck.

  Flames sizzled.

  He lowered her to her bed.

  Fire roared.

  Those celebrating might have seen flames dance within the MacLomain tower, but none batted an eye as they celebrated. They trusted in magic to protect them.

  As a sharp release of passionate fire burst from Torra’s window, all cheered.

  After all, she was their very own dragon.

  She’d fought, conquered and won.

  Better yet…

  She was in love.

  Epilogue

  A fortnight later.

  “Well, you always knew I was going to leave,” Leslie said.

  McKayla frowned. “But I always sorta hoped you were kidding.”

  “Me too,” Cadence said.

  Determined, Leslie shook her head and looked at Torra. “Tell them why this needs to be.”

  Bradon, crouched by the loch, stood and turned, his gaze first on the MacLomain castle then on Leslie. “You’re asking my sister to help make this easier for us, lass?”

  An unavoidable sadness entered Leslie’s eyes when she looked at Bradon then her Broun kin then Torra. “Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry.” She shook her head and sighed. “Just bummed is all.”

  Bradon took Leslie’s hand and squeezed. “We always knew this was how ‘twould be. That you would return to the twenty-first century with me by your side.”

  “I know,” Leslie muttered, eyes skirting between them all. “Doesn’t make this any easier though.”

  “Nay, my lass,” Bradon said. “It doesnae.”

  Yet Leslie soon pulled herself together. Likely because she had her one true love beside her.

  Torra tried to keep a neutral expression as she embraced Bradon one last time, but it was hard. Her brother was leaving to live in the future. But other MacLomains had done such before so she knew it could be done. They could return to visit whenever they liked.

  Still.

  It was sad.

  McKayla plunked a stack of papers in Leslie’s arms. “I was super stressed so wrote like mad while you were all off having your adventures and beating people up.”

  McKayla had written a novel in the 21st century and it seemed her agent Leslie was now officially handed control of its outcome.

  “Seriously? I get that you were stressed, but this is crazy. There’s gotta be,” she shook her arms, “easily four novels worth here.”

  McKayla arched her brows and grinned. “Actually, it’s five but a good tight fit. Fast reading.”

  “Fast reading?” Leslie muttered.

  “Yup, one long story that involves five romances, tattoos, rings, highlanders, time travel, magic, even a dragon. I know you can make it work.”

  “But, but,” Les
lie stuttered before Bradon took the stack of papers from her and firmly touched his hand to her lower back.

  “We’ll figure it out, aye?” he said to her.

  For a moment, Leslie’s eyes drifted to Bradon’s before she blinked rapidly. “What the hell am I supposed to do with—”

  Bradon shook his head, words soft. “Why dinnae we worry over this later?”

  Leslie paused, eyes locked with his before she nodded reluctantly and they all turned heartfelt eyes to Torra.

  “I’d say ‘tis time.” Bradon’s eyes were compassionate. “We already know we’ll likely never see it again.”

  Torra shook her head. “Not sure if I’m ready.”

  McKayla smiled. “Of course you are.”

  “Absolutely,” Leslie agreed.

  Cadence clasped Torra’s shoulder and released a bright smile. “Go on now. We’ve come all this way and know you’ll be toning things down now that you’re pregnant. Give us one last show, eh?” She tilted her head. “Do we not deserve it?”

  More than most.

  But Torra didn’t tell them that. Instead, she embraced them one last time then turned away, heart in her throat as she said, “I love ye all. Now go join your husbands on the battlements so that ye might all see through my eyes this last time.”

  None argued but ran for the castle as Torra ran toward the shore. This time there was no period of adjustment or acclimation.

  Nay, she but ran, spread her arms, jumped…

  And became the dragon.

  Power and rightness blew through her as she shifted and spread her wings with confidence. Storms were non-existent over the Cowal Peninsula so there was little wind shear. She arched once, twice then three times before she flapped her wings hard and coasted over the MacLomain castle.

  Her brother Colin smiled and waved at Torra as McKayla joined him. Malcolm and his wife, Cadence waved just as avidly, Kynan the wolf by their side. Soon enough Ilisa, Arthur and many others stood on the battlements as well. Her parents, Iain and Arianna. Ilisa and her parents, Arthur and Annie. Then far more. Bradon and Leslie, Grant and Malcolm’s parents, Coira and William.”