Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years)

by Sky Purington

  “Ah.” Alexander tossed a stick into the fire. “So you didnae know about Shamus Flanagon?”

  Clearly confused, Iosbail’s frown deepened. “I’ve not heard the name before.”

  “’Tis surprising.” He shrugged. “And not a story for me to tell.”

  “No one knows more than I about our clan’s Irish ancestry and the Flanagons are not amongst them.” Iosbail shrugged. “Yours is an ill attempt to convince, Sinclair.”

  “Nay,” Shamus cracked open one eye, his voice soft. “’Tis indeed a connection between the MacLomain’s and Flanagon’s, lassie. A connection that spans back many, many generations to long before your short years.”

  “My short years?” Iosbail chuckled. “Tell me more. It seems I might have missed some family history.”

  Alexander and Shamus met one another’s eyes briefly before his friend continued. “’Twas a very long time ago and a war fought when the Irish were new to this land. So long ago that those like the MacLomains might sometimes forget where they originally came from.”

  Iosbail narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

  “Some might say that the Flanagon’s date back as far if not further than the MacLomain’s,” Alexander offered.

  “You do not remember me, aye lassie?” Shamus whispered. “Well, I remember you. A strong-headed lass, a young, restless spirit determined to leave Eire as soon as ye could.”

  Alexander swore that even the persistent drips of the cave ceased their sound to listen closely. While he’d wanted to wait to broach this now seemed as good a time as any and Shamus was determined. How eager he was to see her response!

  “Who are ye?” Iosbail’s brogue thickened, her emotions high.

  Shamus’s eyes turned both distant and intense. “Stepson to the Donnell clan, brother to the lad who impregnated you over nearly six hundred years ago.”

  Iosbail shot to her feet and swung free her dagger. She stood not to attack but to defend. “’Tis impossible!” Her body shook, eyes glistened. “Who are ye truly, lad!”

  Shamus came to his feet. “Look closely, Iosbail. Aye, ‘twas a long time ago but do you not see the boy I once was?”

  “I see not a boy but a man who speaks of things he doesna ken,” she seethed.

  Though she said as much her eyes narrowed further and her lips quivered.

  “Do ye not remember that it was I who helped you sneak away to the boat that night when you decided to flee your homeland to begin a new life? I well remember Erc, your Da, King of the DalRiata and Chiomara, your Ma, the Druidess.”

  Iosbail put an arm around her midriff but kept steady her blade. “So long ago,” she whispered but studied Shamus. “I dinnae ken.”

  “Not all that long ago for me.” Shamus ground his jaw. “I pleaded with you to take me along but you said you could not care for a boy. I was eleven winters old, more than capable of caring for meself, but no, you had to escape from us all.”

  “Shamus,” she said softly, her blade lowering.

  “So I fled south to the Brú na Bóinne.”

  The blade fell from limp fingers. “The passage tomb. Newgrange,” she whispered. “But how did you know?”

  “That it was a place that I could travel through time?” Shumus shrugged. “I listened when I should not have to the whisperings of your Da and Ma. They were so heartbroken when you left. They spoke of using it to find you.”

  “But that means…”

  “Aye, I’ve the magic lass. But you knew that when you left.”

  Though for a split second it seemed as though she’d be compassionate, Iosbail’s expression quickly turned to stone. “You never should have traveled through time. What a complicated and heartbreaking choice you made.”

  Shamus shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis been a good path for me.”

  “For what possible reason?”

  “You.” He nodded at Alexander. “Sinlair.”

  “Me? Nay!” she said.

  “You were always so kind and adventurous, a true friend. When you left I was determined to follow.”

  “Pft!” Iosbail started to pace. “I would have preferred you stay and be a good uncle to my child.”

  “A child you left behind might I remind,” said Alexander.

  Like hellish blue orbs come for his soul, her eyes swung his way. “And pray tell, Sinclair, what is your part in all this?”

  Lord, he loved this. “Simple. Shamus saved me on the battlefield many years ago. Men of magi tend to stick together.”

  He’d never seen a more tantalizing sight than Iosbail trying to remain calm even as her aura spit sharks of red, hot rage.

  She looked down her nose at him. “So ye’ve the gift then?”

  “Aye.” Alexander stretched and crossed his legs. “And thanks to your brother, ye dinnae.”

  The arrow had met its mark. Even as she grabbed a fur to swipe the fire at him then flee, Alexander jumped to his feet and grabbed her around the waist. Like a banshee, she fought but without magic and not nearly the physical strength, it was easy enough to subdue her. His front to her back, he turned her toward the fire where she had no choice but to face not only her past but her future.

  Because as it stood now, Iosbail Broun was both outnumbered and outpowered.

  Shamus shook his head and sat once more. “I’ve no ill will toward ye, lass. Quite the contrary, I respect ye, always have.”

  Though she no longer struggled, Alexander felt the vibrations of anger run through her body. “Then ye should’ve been honest from the onset.”

  “And ye should’ve remembered who I was,” he replied equally. “Yet it seems this wasn’t played as well as either of us would’ve liked, aye?”

  Alexander was perfectly content with how it’d been played. He had his mortal enemy just where he wanted and despite his earlier contemplations of seeing her differently it didn’t hurt any to see Iosbail a wee bit humbled.

  After all, this was a lass who’d long ago needed humbling.

  That she was a petite, curvy thing in his arms was a matter Alexander tried his best to ignore. At the same time he couldn’t help but smile. How utterly perfect that the first time he held his new Broun bride she was seething with anger.

  A true Broun and Sinclair wedding to be sure!

  “So ‘twill be your choice, lass,” he whispered in her ear. “Sit back down and sleep peacefully for the eve or try to run and be bound by magic for the night.”

  A minute or so passed before she said, “Release me. I will sit.”

  Alexander did and sat when she did.

  Iosbail shook her head. “You both had the capability to avoid so much bloodshed earlier. You should be ashamed.”

  “And allow Edgar to know the truth about us? Nay,” Shamus said. “They were men sent to betray their own laird.”

  “What of the lass?” She said vehemently.

  “In the wrong place at the wrong time,” Alexander responded.

  “Because of me,” Iosbail said, frowning.

  Alexander ignored her words and said, “’Tis time for rest. We must set out early.”

  “Aye,” Shamus agreed.

  Iosbail said nothing, only leaned against the rock and stared at the fire.

  To feel sorry for her was something he found himself incapable. Did he respect her prowess and behavior since she’d come to the Sinclair clan? Aye. Did he respect Shamus’s obvious devotion to her? Of course. However, all aside, she began and represented a clan that’d swindled his own. There would be punishment. But for now it was imperative that he remain focused on his new objective which included taking control of the Broun’s and raising up against his cousin the king.

  And only with Adlin’s help would he complete such a task.

  It was with that thought in mind the next morn that he conferred with Shamus alone. Surprisingly enough, Iosbail lay asleep alongside Caitriona and had not tried to escape during the night.

  As they scooped handfuls of water from the river and drank, Shamus said,
“’Twas never how I envisioned telling her. She deserved better.”

  “She deserved precisely what she got.” Alexander shook his head. “Just imagine what she did to convince Edgar to take her thus far. She’s a manipulator and seducer of the worst sort! Stay focused, lad. Our need is for the support of Adlin and his clan. ‘Twill be through his sister and you, my friend, that we achieve such.”

  “You aim high.” Shamus scooped another handful of water into his mouth, swallowed and said, “We’ve not nearly the power of the MacLomain. If the gods are not in our favor when we arrive then ‘twill all be for naught.”

  “Ech, friend, you underestimate my power of persuasion.”

  “Practice at smooth words then. I hear Adlin is no fool.”

  Alexander winked. “You dinnae ken, I speak not of Adlin but of his sister.”

  By the time they’d returned to the women they were awake and ready to travel. Caitriona seemed as withdrawn as ever and Iosbail unnaturally quiet. The furs had dried overnight and were all the small group of travelers had as they made their way down the river into the early dawn light. As Alexander suspected, Edgar’s men had assumed their prey destroyed and returned to a warm castle.

  “We will be heading southwest,” Alexander said as they walked along the raging river they’d jumped into the day before. “The journey is verra long. Clan Sinclair has allies along the way. The first is a day’s walk. We will cross the river just ahead.”

  “’Twill be a day for great care,” Iosbail murmured.

  Alexander didn’t miss the way her blue eyes scanned their surroundings or the way they astutely took in the appearance of her traveling companions.

  When the highland sun broke through the trees, they finally began to make their way across the river. As intended, the wide rocks soon staggered into the shade of towering trees. The only thing in favor of the wary travelers was that the Sinclair’s had no doubt celebrated in excess for several evenings following their laird’s wedding. And naturally, the king had enjoyed his own silent victory.

  The sure death of his cousin, Alexander.

  As they transgressed the slippery rocks hand in hand, Alexander thanked God for Edgar’s never-ending arrogance. Otherwise, arrows would probably be raining upon their heads.

  While it should’ve been a slower process the women moved with confident foot and they crossed the river in little time. Before they continued on the journey they’d find shelter and something to eat. Without strength travel would be slowed.

  “I am an avid huntsman, let me get food,” Iosbail said.

  “Nay, you stay with Caitriona.”

  Iosbail looked at their surroundings; a small alcove surrounded by bushes, and shook her head. Before she could be told otherwise, the Broun had her knife in hand and was crouching through the brush.

  Shamus shook his head when Alexander tried to stop her. “Nay, lad. I’ll stay with the lass. You go hunt with her.”

  Though it was about the last thing he wanted to do, Alexander was hot on her trail. She didn’t go far. By the time he’d rounded the corner, Iosbail had already stabbed one fish at river’s edge.

  “You’re fools the lot of ye.” Not hidden or in any way afraid, she leaned against a rock and studied the running water. “One an Irishman, the other a Scotsman and ye’ll go hunting not fishing when the water flows free beneath your feet.”

  Alexander shook his head. “Has it not occurred to you to tread on the side of safety?”

  Hair bedraggled and expression exasperated, she responded, “Your clan’s bluttered to be sure and well you know it.”

  He aimed well and stabbed his own fish. “Edgar’s men you mean.”

  Iosbail flipped long locks over her shoulder and eyed him. “How long do you intend to believe such, my laird?”

  It seemed she thought the same as Shamus. Scotland was his if he'd only have her. While even a day ago he would've shunned the idea of ruling the country, Edgar's vicious attack had sparked a revolt in the Sinclair's heart. Alexander offered her no answer but said, "Give me your dagger, lass.”

  Iosbail shook her head. “Nay.”

  “’Tis a beautiful morn and I mean to bathe without a dagger in my back.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

  “But weren’t you just worried about your clansmen?”

  He grinned, suddenly quite happy by the startled, cautious look in her eyes. “And I still am. But you make a good point, most are probably asleep and I guarantee that those who are not are indeed my clanmen and willnae hurt me.”

  Iosbail contemplated this for several long seconds before she handed over her dagger. Could it be she believed some of his men still loyal? As Alexander started to unclothe he figured it was something altogether different. The first, she had a longing to see him nude. The second, she had another means to take him down, most likely that small utensil knife she carried in her cleavage.

  No matter, he was ready to both be clean and draw her out some.

  A quiet, subservient Broun was always a Broun worth watching closely.

  With that thought in mind, he stripped down, climbed onto a nearby boulder and dove into the pool of water at her feet.

  Chapter Five

  Iosbail had watched where he put her blade and his. She was, as always, one step ahead of a man. That he chose to strip down and swim in front of her was nothing new. In her long time on Earth, she’d seen many men do such. What she didn’t expect was him to climb up in front of her and stand in such a position that a lass would have to possess the power of a thousand goddesses not to see what one god had blessed this mortal man with.

  Bloody Sinclairs!

  It was impossible to look away as his long, lithe body disappeared beneath the water. Eyes narrowed, Iosbail could think of only one means of revenge. Purposefully waiting until he resurfaced she began to undress. Did he glance her way? Nay! Regardless, the cool air felt scrumptious so she removed the last of her clothing and dove in.

  When she surfaced it was to Alexander’s grinning face. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Misplaced,” Iosbail replied and coasted on her back giving him a full eyeful of her breasts.

  “Nay.” He did the same, giving her a full view of his chest, hips, cock and long, muscled legs. Despite the cold water the Sinclair had nothing to be embarrassed about.

  “You’ll never get us there alive, you do realize that?”

  Alexander relaxed and closed his eyes. “When I set to do something, I see it through. Have no doubt.”

  “You and Shamus put too much in the idea that Adlin will welcome you because you’re with me.”

  The Sinclair said nothing but turned and swam. Iosbail scrubbed at her body and scowled. How dare they! Yet what a thing to find herself in these circumstances. Again she wondered how much her brother knew.

  Iosbail floated and contemplated.

  Shamus. It was really Shamus. That young boy from so long ago.

  It was hard to imagine that the beginning of her life would resurface now, so very, very many years later. She’d lived what most would consider eighteen lifetimes only to have the lifetime that mattered most return.

  Did it surprise her? Yes and no. Iosbail understood that magic and time-travel could easily change all a person thought they knew about themselves. To date, it had never happened to her like this. Nobody had ever traveled back nor forward to seek her out… to remind her how much they cared.

  While her rage was a thorough thing so too was her sense of adventure.

  Iosbail understood that she still had so much to learn but that she'd embarked on something far more exciting than anticipated. There was still plenty of time to have her revenge. Alexander and Shamus thought they had her ruled by the fact they possessed magic and she was lacking. But she knew better. These men had no idea how to be violent and own another through magic. Therefore they were no real threat.

  But they were exceptionally interesting!

  Thump.

  Iosbail came to her
feet not that far from Alexander. Where had that sound come from?

  Shamus, peering down from a rock above, said, “I sent you to hunt not bathe!”

  Alexander grinned. “Go get Caitroina so that she might bathe as well. Then we’ll eat.”

  He got no argument from the Irishman and an hour later, all bathed; they sat around a spit ripe with cooked fish. Though they’d all become comrades on this quest nobody spoke. Too long and unsure was the journey ahead and too unknown the company. Yet when they started the long walk it was with less apprehension and a sense of security.

  The Norman lass knew nothing of magic but simply followed her mistress. For that, Iosbail was eternally grateful. Alexander’s attitude was comfortable and easy. As the day wore on she realized despite the power he thought he had over them, he showed none of it. His comments and directions were of a means to keep them safe.

  Neither Shamus nor Alexander mentioned again what they’d discussed the previous eve.

  It was the next morn as they made their way deeper into the wild and thick forests cuddled between the mountains that Iosbail once more tuned her ears to the sound of nature. She heard not the call of the wild but the whistles and clicks used by the clans when they spoke amongst the trees and wind.

  When a Highlander broke free from the woodland wearing a different plaid from the Sinclair’s, Iosbail quickly realized that they’d arrived at the Mason’s clan. Though a young tribe she knew well the mark they’d eventually have on the world. A sept of the Sinclair’s it didn’t shock her that they’d come to Alexander’s aide. Word traveled quickly in Scotland. Most would know that the king had ordered his cousin dead.

  “Free Masons,” she murmured as several horsemen surrounded them. “Thus far.”

  Iosbail couldn’t help but admire how they put themselves in peril by welcoming Alexander’s small group. Not many save her own would openly defy the king of Scotland.

  Nothing was said as they were swung onto horseback behind various men.

  “Jameson’s the name, lass,” said her horseman.

  Iosbail said nothing. She had no desire to introduce herself to anyone yet.

  Eventually they arrived in a small village with a larger thatched hut at its center surrounded by smaller huts. In all sense of the word, this clan was terribly poor. Women and children mingled here and there. Big stone blocks surrounded their small encampment.