Up and coming romance novelist sensation, McKayla never could have imagined that the medieval Scottish Highlands she wrote about were anything more than pure historical fiction. But little did she know that her Broun ancestry would prove an irresistible pull for one very remarkable highlander.
Colin MacLomain, skilled assassin and fierce warrior, is ready to make right his jaded past. Newly seated as chieftain, he’s determined to win over his clan and one true love. But when she’s pulled back in time will McKayla, his unknowing best friend, be able to see past his shaded history to the man he’s determined to become?
Find out in Mark of the Highlander.
Mark of the Highlander
By Sky Purington
COPYRIGHT © 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of these books may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Edited by Cathy McElhaney
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
Published in the United States of America
Mark of the Highlander
The MacLomain Series- Next Generation
Book One
By
Sky Purington
Dedication
For my Broun cousins, Rebecca, Michelle, Debbie and Lee Ann.
Acknowledgements
Andrea Snider, you went above and beyond to help make this novel shine.
Many thanks, lass!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Prologue
“‘Tis simple really, take the dagger and slice her throat.”
“Just like that, run the blade and be done with it?” he said.
A sharpened dagger was pressed into his hand. “Precisely like that.”
With a heavy sigh he shook his head. “A lad is one thing, a lass another.”
“And that is where you will go wrong every time.”
Frustrated, he clenched the weapon tighter and tried to see her more clearly. At least if he saw her face he would have something to hold on to. It was important to remember who one murdered. It was crucial to never forget. But did he have it in him this time?
“What a shame. You have not the gumption to do what is necessary.”
“And why again is this necessary? What did she do?”
“‘Twas not what she did but what she will do.”
A heavy rumble started in his ear. A pressing urge started behind his temple. The calling came as it always did. This was necessary. She must die.
“I see you know the right of it. Dinnae doubt the gods.”
“The gods,” he murmured and nodded.
“Aye, the gods. They urge you to continue.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Never before had he hesitated. Never before had he questioned.
“I just wish I knew more,” he whispered.
“Nay, ‘tis the verra reason you were chosen. Because you dinnae ask. You dinnae question.”
Should he though? When the lass stirred he clasped the blade tighter.
It was time.
The air thinned. A chill raced over his skin.
It was past time.
He would do this. He could do this.
He put his lips against her ear and said, “‘Tis for the best.”
Clenching his jaw, blade to her neck, he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. He knew that smell, her smell.
Her eyes opened slowly.
Familiar eyes.
“Nay,” he whispered, shocked. “This cannae be.”
Before his palms grew slick, before he could further doubt, he swiped the blade.
Chapter One
North Salem, New Hampshire
2014
“Just slice the blade and be done with it already.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Trevor shook his head. “What fun is there in cutting the cake if I can’t smear it in your face when you try to eat it?”
McKayla grinned. “I suppose that’s the beauty of Skype. We chat, pretend, all that good stuff.”
“Look at this.” He pouted and held the cake up to the screen. “I bought it especially for today.”
She licked her lips. “No doubt it’s delicious. You know you didn’t have to.”
“Hey, it’s not every day my best friend lands a book deal.”
“Good timing is all,” she said. “Scottish highlanders are a hot topic. Women eat them up.”
Trevor chuckled. “In your books they certainly do.”
“Hey, it sells.” McKayla stretched and yawned. “So when are you coming home?”
“Soon I hope.” He frowned. “I just need time off.”
“You always do.”
McKayla kept her voice light but she was worried. Trevor was determined to rule the world of technology. Though gainfully employed, he had several top companies beating at his door. He was purely half computer geek, half Einstein with a mind most would pay billions for. Clean cut and handsome with dark brown hair and magnetic green eyes, he had an ambitious hunger few possessed. Even now, as vice-president of one of the top tech companies in the United States, he remained unsatisfied. She’d never met anyone who craved greatness like he did.
But she was concerned it would take its toll.
“Stop that,” he muttered.
“Stop what?”
“You’re worrying about me again and I wish you wouldn’t.” He set aside the cake, determined. “I’ll book a flight in the near future and visit. It’s been far too long.”
“Please do.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to go soon.”
“I know.” He pulled on a suit jacket. “Me too.”
“I love you.”
He leaned in close to the video camera. “I love you too, sweetheart. Good luck with your meeting. Remember, you wrote this book, not them. Fight any changes you don’t agree with.”
“Oh sure,” she said, and winked. “Talk soon.” Offering her best ‘I rock’ smile, McKayla blew him a kiss and disconnected.
With a heavy sigh, she sat back and stared out the window. There was still time before the meeting but she didn’t want to listen to Trevor rave more about her accomplishments. Most people would be over the moon, screaming it from the rooftops. But not her. She didn’t want to talk about it. The truth was the publishing world terrified her. It was a hungry beast that craved money. But she supposed that was the whole point.
Or was it?
She eyed the manuscript on her desk. They were going to try to make adjustments to ensure its popularity.
“Hey there.”
McKayla smiled at her cousin, Sheila, who stood in the doorway. “Hey.”
Breezing in, Sheila plunked down on the bed. “Was that Trevor I heard?”
“The one and only,” she confirmed.
“And how is he?
” Sheila answered her own question before McKayla could respond. “Missing you more than ever I’m sure.”
Her cousin thought more existed between her and Trevor than actually did. “Yeah, the distance is hard.” She switched topics. “I need to borrow your car today.”
“Of course.” Sheila waved away the request as if it shouldn’t have been made to begin with and cast a dubious eye at McKayla’s closet. “So what are you going to wear?”
“What they expect,” she assured. “A well-tailored black pant suit.”
Sheila grinned and her powder blue eyes rounded. “What they expect from you are comfy sweats and a worn out sweatshirt.”
McKayla shrugged. “Maybe Leslie does, but not the rest of them.”
“How is your agent nowadays?” Sheila asked dryly.
As if she knew they were talking about her, Skype buzzed with an incoming conference call. McKayla bit the corner of her lip and considered ignoring it.
“Go on. Take it,” Sheila said. “But I’m staying. Just don’t tell her I’m here.”
“You’re bad.”
“Yep. Go on.”
Even though Leslie and Sheila were related they’d been battling one another since childhood. Now they would be living together. McKayla couldn’t imagine it going well. But they all needed a place to live. And as it turned out, their cousin Caitlin MacLomain had a house to rent. Sheila and McKayla had moved in several months ago, and Leslie would be joining them in a few more days.
“Go on, Kay,” Sheila said again.
She hated being stuck between her warring cousins. After a deep, calming breath, McKayla clicked and received the call. Sheila kept out of sight.
“I see you’re not dressed yet,” Leslie said in greeting.
“Nearly.” McKayla nodded toward the closet. “Clothes are ready to go.”
“This meeting is far too important to take for granted. The publishing house has a cover for your book. Have you seen it?”
“Aye, I mean yes.” Oftentimes McKayla slipped into medieval Scots tongue. It was no wonder considering it was all she wrote lately. “It’s definitely something.” That was an understatement. She’d been up all night staring at it. “Who’s the cover model?”
“That’s a good question. I have no idea. But does it really matter? Even without a full face it makes a stunning impact.” Leslie with her olive-skinned good looks and French-manicured nails leaned in close to the screen. “Do you want that tattoo removed? I mean really, it doesn’t fit the story.”
Sheila rolled her eyes at the computer then held up a sample of the cover, fanning herself with one hand as she gazed at it. She winked at McKayla then stuck her tongue out at Leslie.
McKayla hid her irritation. Granted, she hadn’t tied the tattoo into the story but the small mark on his upper collarbone suited him. Heck, it was downright sexy. Whether or not it suited the story didn’t really bother her. Nor did it seem to worry the publishing house.
“It’s fine,” she assured Leslie and made a ‘cease and desist’ motion with her hand toward Sheila. Sometimes she wanted to strangle the pair of them.
“Maybe so,” Leslie muttered. “But it might be worth bringing up in the meeting.”
“Maybe,” McKayla replied, not intending to do so in the least.
“Either way, I wanted to touch base and let you know that I’ll be thinking of you today.”
That’s all Sheila had to hear. Her face screwed into an angry little ball and she bounced up, acting as though she’d just entered the room. “And why won’t you be there?”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed and met Sheila’s as she became visible in the camera. “This is a private meeting, Sheila.”
“Answer my question,” Sheila said. “You’re her agent. Why won’t you be there?”
“Oh no,” McKayla said, shaking her head. “This isn’t happening. Today is too bloody important.” She swung her gaze to Sheila. “Go. Now.”
Sheila looked from her to Leslie then back. “Me? Why? She should go. Shut off Skype.”
“I’m her agent,” Leslie reminded her. “If anyone should go it’s you.”
Already, a headache blossomed. But business was business. Again she said, “Sheila, please hon.”
“What was that you said?” Leslie asked.
But McKayla was focused on Sheila who seemed undecided. “I need this day to go smoothly. I can’t stand the business end of book deals. You know all I really want to do is write. Please.”
Leslie narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “That was strange. Say that again.”
Sheila was about to respond but McKayla continued. “Please don’t make me ask again.”
Her cousin frowned and looked from her to the computer before she shook her head. “All right then.”
After Sheila left, McKayla sunk into her chair and turned her attention back to Leslie. “Her intentions are good.”
“No worries. Sheila’s, Sheila. We all know that.” Leslie’s expression was nothing less than confused. “But I’m curious about what you said.”
“You heard what I said.”
“I did. But what did you mean?”
“Oh, come on. You heard every word. Sheila’s just being protective and as usual, frustrated when it comes to you.”
“Yeah, I got that from her. But what language were you speaking?”
“Seriously? English. Albeit frustrated English when it comes to the two of you.”
Leslie shook her head and looked at her watch. “Whatever. I wrote down the words you spoke. It was definitely a foreign dialect. I guess I’ll have to research it later. Meanwhile, get dressed and get going.” Her eyes rounded before she ended the call. “Now.”
McKayla sat back. Foreign dialect? What was she talking about? Maybe Leslie was feeling the stress of the contract more than she was willing to admit. After all, it was big for them both.
As McKayla began to dress, she tried not to dwell on what life would be like with all three of them living under the same roof. Pure hell, she supposed. Her only hope would be frequent visits from Caitlin and Seth. Otherwise, she’d go nuts.
She smiled thinking about them.
Caitlin owned the house but she’d made it abundantly clear that it belonged to the whole family. And Seth, her paranormal investigator friend, was a light in her oftentimes self-induced seclusion. He wouldn’t allow her to get overwhelmed by Sheila and Leslie’s drama. Other than Trevor, Seth really was her favorite person. So in her own little writing world she counted on five people, Sheila, Leslie, Caitlin, Trevor and Seth.
She’d bet that was more people than most writers had in their entire social circle.
Pantsuit on, she stared into the mirror. What would the bigwigs think when they looked at her. Oh, here comes another one! Did she look like all the rest? Lord, if she knew. Her pale blond bob hung straight and boring. Her peculiar pale slate gray eyes slanted up a little too far. Trevor had always called them elven eyes. Exasperated, she held a dark red and dark pink shade of lipstick in either hand. Ick. Neither suited her. She tossed both aside and smeared a peachy cinnamon shade over her lips.
“McKayla!”
She smiled and sighed with relief. Of course, Seth remembered it was her big day. That’s the way he was. He never forgot anything important. Within seconds he bounded up the stairs and leaned against the doorjamb, a wide smile on his striking face. “I see you’re halfway ready.”
“Yeah, halfway to calling all this off.”
He took in her attire. “The outfit is good enough. The hair will do. The face?” He shook his head. “Could be much better.”
Seth grabbed her make-up bag and threw a few items on the bed. “Wipe off what you’ve put on and use these colors. Then you’ll be as gorgeous as ever.”
“I hate it all,” she reported, sullen.
“Of course you do. But today’s meeting means everything.”
McKayla fingered the items he’d set aside including brown-black mascara, peach blush and
a light, tasteful shade of pink lip gloss. “I can’t stand this stuff.”
“Up,” he ordered. “Stop thinking and start doing. Within a few hours this’ll all be behind you.”
Though reluctant, she wiped away the old stuff and started reapplying her make-up. “You’ve planned a party for me, haven’t you?”
“Me?” Seth sat on her bed and leaned back casually. “Never.”
“You.” She arched a brow at him in the mirror. “Definitely. With Alana away, you’re restless. A party would suit your mood.”
“It would,” he agreed. “Not because my wife’s away but because you’ve accomplished something phenomenal.” Though he seemed relaxed he radiated unspent energy. “Don’t you realize that?”
She sighed and finished applying her make-up. “Maybe I will once the meeting’s over.”
“I know you’re not happy unless you’re typing away on that computer but consider this, if you don’t revel in all this in-between stuff now you might not be so content when you write the next bestseller.”
McKayla tossed the lipstick aside. “Don’t jinx me. Nothing says this will be a bestseller.”
“Nope. Nothing does. But I’d put money on it.” Seth stood and smiled. “You’re gonna do great today. You know that right?”
“Sure,” she said absently.
“Seriously, you are,” he said, helping McKayla with her jacket.
And he was right. The meeting didn’t go too bad.
Nine hours and one very long commute later; it was Seth’s warm eyes that greeted her first. He helped her take off her jacket as a foyer full of people yelled, “Congratulations!”
Blushing, she managed a smile. “Thanks everyone.”
“No need to thank us. You deserve it, girl!” Sheila said.
“Yes you do,” Leslie agreed.
“How could you not?” Caitlin added.
McKayla pulled her cousins into a group hug and mumbled, “Thanks,” once more. One way or another, they kept her whole. They, as diverse as they were, made real life a little more bearable. Because if she had her way every last inch of her existence would be part of a medieval Scottish novel. And that just wasn’t good. Or healthy.
Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) Page 1
