Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years)

by Sky Purington

  “No,” he whispered. “Not for today.”

  Alexander lay down next to Iosbail and took her hand. “What do you see when you look up?”

  “The sun when it dances within the leaves. I can see both his God and my gods.”

  He made no mention of the rain. “Whose God?”

  “Adlin, my brother.” She shook her head. “He will always be a Christian at heart, me the Pagan.”

  “’Tis good to know where you stand.” He stared up at the dancing leaves and closed his hand more securely around hers. “We are all stronger for it.”

  “Nay,” she murmured. “The future will like me less and less for my old way of thinking. I will seem more the witch than ever before.”

  It was not a hard thing to understand her grief. “Then you will have to remain strong. ‘Tis the obvious course of action.”

  “Must it always be about the course of action?”

  “Aye, when you are born into a great life ‘tis your duty to see it through with pride. ‘Tis your duty to do what is best for those you love.”

  Her small finger stroked slowly up the outer edge of his hand. “You go forth now with pride and determination, to the point of seduction. You have thoroughly seduced me, Alexander, now what will you take from it. How will you change your course of history?”

  His finger met hers and made a low slow stroke as he watched the rain become a mist and sunset break through the branches overhead. “With you I’d imagine.”

  “Could be we already have.”

  “You came here from another time, Iosbail. When was it?”

  “It matters naught.”

  “Aye, it does.”

  Iosbail paused for a moment then said, “You figure my brother will be expecting us.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Her hand pulled away and she sat up. In that single moment he knew they’d once more been torn apart. The MacLomains were her kin and they waited, well she knew it.

  “We’ve two more nights then we travel home.”

  “To your home,” he reminded.

  Iosbail stood and fixed her skirts. “Aye, to my home.”

  Yet he’d heard the quiver in her voice. His Broun thought she’d make it off this island but not the rest of them. She feared this place that much even with the Oak at their back.

  “We cannae stay sheltered here. We must find Shamus and Caitriona,” he said.

  Iosbail nodded. “I agree.” Her eyes flickered over him then turned to the waterfall. “Back the way we came, aye?”

  Alexander nodded, stood and walked to her. Despite Iosbail trying to brush him away, he set to making sure her dress and plaid were in place. He smoothed his hands over her hair then cupped her face with his hands.

  Startled but defiant, her chin thrust forward. “Fixing my appearance willnae do a thing for what lays ahead.”

  “Nay.” He leaned closer until she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I simply care for you. ‘Tis the least I can offer.”

  Her eyes rounded, narrowed and she pulled away. “You need not offer me a basic kindness, Sinclair. We freed from our systems what can lie betwixt a man and woman, ‘tis all.”

  So that was how she intended to make sense of what had happened between them. Fine then. Alexander ignored the anger that her derision caused. Truly, what had he expected? She was an immortal lass with nothing but a need to survive.

  He secured his tartan and claymore without looking at her. “The sun is nearly set. Then we travel.”

  “Aye.” She wrapped the MacLomain plaid over her head like a hood and looked skyward as though she could find all her answers there.

  Instead of admiring her pert nose and soft cheeks he continued to study the lay of the land beneath. There was no way of knowing where they should start or end when in a place set aside by the Irish gods. Grumbling to himself, Alexander paced and watched. ‘Twas time to think like the Scot he was.

  Though he knew it to be longer it felt like mere minutes before the sun sank and they were basking in twilight. When he glanced back it was to see Iosbail at the Oak, again looking up. Despite his frustration he understood her need to commune with a part of herself she thought gone. He remembered clearly being a young lad doing the same thing.

  To be born a bastard destined for royalty had no good points.

  So when the sun vanished and the moon rose, when he knew it time to travel, Alexander still waited for her. Iosbail had not moved an inch but remained beneath the Oak. He understood that she waited for a sign and bloody hell if he didn’t want her to get one.

  Yet more time passed and nothing happened.

  At last she shook her head as though unconvinced he’d sensed her Irish ancestors to begin with. But he had and knew it. They’d looked after her. For whatever reason, they’d given her safe haven here…with him.

  When she hung her head and remained where she was he knew she prayed to the old gods. He knew she thanked them for what they’d given whether or not she truly believed. Alexander looked away as she prayed. Iosbail might be a hard woman but she was devoted to whomever she believed.

  And he respected that tremendously.

  Still, he was sure to meet her with a deep frown when she joined him. She’d expect nothing less. Anger, bitterness, pride, resolve, those were things this lass knew, not much more. He well understood as his life had left him feeling the same.

  Could it be that while they were sworn enemies they had similarities?

  Alexander smiled to himself. Of course they did. What made better enemies than those raised by parents who were enemies? That was one thing they’d always have in common.

  They were raised to dislike one another.

  In his case anyways, in her case only the gods knew. She was most likely the creator of her own vengence. Alexander eyed her stern profile as she studied their surroundings. Aye, Iosbail was most certainly there at the beginning and had created her own destiny.

  “’Tis eve enough, time to travel,” he said.

  Iosbail nodded once as though answering to a much higher power than he. “I worry about Shamus’s wound.”

  “As do I.”

  When they stood next to one another and searched the landscape below it was as if they’d never touched, never even kissed. As much as it bothered him, Alexander understood. It would either take time for her to acknowledge it or she would wipe what they’d done from her memory.

  “’Tis unwise to leave the way we came.”

  Had he heard a breathless note when she said that? When Alexander sneaked a peak it was only to find her still sternly scanning the area.

  He nodded and grabbed her hand. No need to further ponder. As they walked toward the waterfall, he said, “I need not tell you our next move. You already know it.”

  It occurred to him that what he and Iosbail shared was much like what he and his warriors shared, the innate ability to understand one another in battle without speaking.

  When they crouched beyond the waterfall behind a rock with good vantage below she said, “If they’ve got them already, I can fix it.”

  “Nay.” He didn’t touch her elbow or show endearment. “If they’ve got them, we can fix it.”

  Iosbail’s eyes shot to his in confusion, almost amazement before she said, “I will move forward with you on one condition, Sinclair. If I feel I can do better you allow me. If I feel you can do better I allow you.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll agree to nothing. What makes you think I would?”

  “Because I know best.” She nodded downhill. “You see the tracks. Many people.”

  “Aye, one was dragged. A man I’d say.”

  “I see the marks.” She frowned. “Shamus.”

  Alexander continued to scan the area. He’d hoped to avoid this. In fact, he’d prayed. But now it was time to start thinking differently. If one of them had been taken it meant he was going nowhere. Nobody would be left behind. “They’ll have scouts everywhere. The first thing we nee
d to determine is if they have Caitriona. If not, you’ll find and stay with her.”

  Iosbail started to deny him but Alexander met her eyes, his look one she’d not seen before. “You’re without your magi. I’ve mine. You know as well as I ‘tis the best course of action. I’ll go after Shamus. You’ll get her to safety then back to Cowal.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her chin jutted out but Iosbail didn’t fight him. Instead she said, “Aye, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “You must abide my wishes, Iosbail, ‘tis no other choice.”

  “There would’ve had we not come to these bloody isles,” she murmured. Yet he saw and heard the untruth in her statement. The Broun would always be glad she came to the Hebrides. This place did something for her.

  But what? And would he ever have a chance to find out?

  Did he even want to?

  Aye.

  Shoving the sentiment aside, he said, “Time to move.”

  He knew she followed as they made their way along the mountain wall. Sight was minimal as they traveled further and the rock blocked any moonlight available. The only thing leading the way now were his instincts. When the wind shifted he slowed and crouched at a bend in the rock. Everything about this place made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

  It didn’t feel like his Highlands.

  It didn’t feel natural.

  Like the cliff earlier in the day, the forest seemed full of shadows. Despite the sounds normal to nature, their surroundings suddenly sounded deafening in its silence. They should have never left their seclusion until daybreak. He knew it without question.

  They’d made a mistake.

  “We must go back,” he whispered.

  Iosbail didn’t respond.

  “We were played for fools.”

  Still, she said nothing.

  “Come, we go back now.”

  But when he turned she was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  How had she ended up in this position?

  Iosbail had no choice but be dragged then flung over someone’s shoulder. She’d been bound and gagged quickly through magic. Truth told, she was impressed by their mere stealth. They’d scooped her up without Alexander being the wiser.

  Even though he didn’t know it yet this really was the best course of action.

  Or at least it was the fastest one to get to where she needed to go.

  Who was Alexander to tell her to watch over Caitriona while he went to go save her Irishman? Fool. Typical Sinclair arrogance! Hope the women can shelter themselves well while the one lone wizard goes to battle many. That scenario never worked out well.

  Unless of course one was Adlin.

  But we all couldn’t be him, could we?

  Iosbail grinned through her gag as she was jostled on the shoulder of a stranger. This adventure just kept getting better and better. Magic or not, she’d figure out a way to save them all. She didn’t doubt it for a second.

  A few more minutes went by before she was lowered. It’d been so dark outside that she squinted at the light. When her vision adjusted, Iosbail’s eyes widened. She stood in the largest cave she’d ever seen. By her approximation it far dwarfed even the innards of the MacLomain castle. A huge bonfire burned in the center and hundreds upon hundreds of huts sat comfortably on the rock as far as she could see.

  One hut, however, was far larger than the others.

  It was that very hut she was now being pushed toward. Iosbail took the opportunity to look for signs of Shamus or Caitriona. They were nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, someone was caring for Shamus’ wound. There was little doubt that if a proper healer saw to it her Irish friend would be just fine.

  When she entered the hut it was to find yet another fire burning in the center. Her gag and binds were removed. She was made to sit on a crude log about ten feet from a man sitting in a tall chair. Iosbail didn’t know which interested her more, the chair or the man. What he sat in was simple in design, made of wood with ancient Celtic symbols carved throughout. It was very, very old, if not as old as the gods.

  The man who sat in it was not nearly as old but quite possibly as powerful.

  “Welcome, Iosbail Broun of the MacLomain clan.”

  As suspected, he already knew who she was.

  But who was he?

  His appearance was by no means attractive in the common sense. His face was too long and his shoulders too narrow. But he had enough square to his jaw and polished ebony to his intense eyes to hold a certain odd appeal. One, she had little doubt, he took full advantage of. This man had a dose of the black Irish in him.

  “Me name is Innis MacGilleEathain, descendant of Loarn mac Eirc.”

  It was a good thing she sat, lest she’d lose her legs from beneath her. “You’re of the Dalriata. A king’s son.”

  He nodded but his expression remained emotionless. “As are you though fostered, of the Dalriata’s, and a king’s daughter.”

  She shook her head. “But how?”

  “Need you ask?”

  Nay, she supposed she didn’t. If she and Adlin were immortal descendants of the Dalriata, it stood to reason there were more. While she was inclined to embrace this newfound family member she sensed his feelings were of the very opposite. Her newfound adventure seemed far less enticing by the moment.

  This man was no average wizard.

  But nor was she for that matter.

  “What are your intentions?” she asked

  “To set an example to those who trespass here. The Sinclair will be tortured then killed. The Irishman will die. We will keep the lass. You will be used to ransom to your brother.”

  There was no need to contemplate this proposal for a moment. It was as she suspected it would be, time to manipulate. Iosbail sighed. “So the MacLomain tartan didnae fool ye for a second, aye?”

  “Did ye imagine it would?”

  “Nay! ‘Tis what I told the Sinclair but he didnae listen. Does that surprise ye?”

  The man’s expression didn’t budge a bit when he said, “Now what will we do for the care ye have for the lads?”

  She didn’t suppose her indifference would work so she narrowed her eyes. “Test it and find out.”

  As if he’d been waiting for it all along, Innis released a small grin. The expression did very sour things to his face. His was a mug meant for absent or grim expression. Either one would do, anything but happiness.

  “I look forward to this, Iosbail.” He cracked one knuckle at a time. “Especially in that ye’ve no a bit o’ magic about ye right now.”

  Well, that was a frustrating aspect but she’d have to make do. Crossing one leg over the other she asked, “Tell me more about what you hope to get from me brother.”

  His eyes flickered over her exposed leg briefly before he said, “Land, title, honor, the usual.”

  Iosbail kept her expression contemplative. She’d already confirmed what she needed to know. Innis liked the lasses and he liked her legs. That’d been more than enough to win whole kingdoms in the past. It would be enough now… if played precisely correct. After all, an Irishman was not a Scotsman.

  A lad from Eire would see through her shenanigans in an instant if she wasn’t careful.

  “I’ll be up front with ye, Innis, I worry for my friends. I dinnae want to see them hurt.”

  “Well, a few of them will be. There’s no hope for that.”

  “Can we bargain?”

  “Nay.”

  She allowed her dress to pull up a very small fraction then pulled it back down as though she’d realized the indecency. It was extremely important that she persuade him to just the right degree. “I’ve no care for the Sinclair but some time with the Irishman would mean so verra much.”

  No magic was needed to see the battle already warring within Innis. He might be made of magic but he was also made of man.

  “What of the lass?”

  “She’s nothing to me but a means to an end.”

  His
eyebrow arched but he made no response to that. “You can see the Irishman with my men present then you’ll dine with me.”

  Of course she would. Iosbail bowed her head and did her best not to roll her eyes.

  Would ever a man challenge her?

  A burn started to fill her face. Had a man not already challenged her? When thoughts of Alexander started to bubble up she quickly tempered them. When her eyes once more met Innis’ it was to find him staring in interest. He thought her face burned for him! How perfect.

  As she was led from the abode Iosbail tried her best not to reflect on the afternoon.

  On the things she’d felt.

  No lass should be subjected to feelings such as those. Her heartbeat increased. Her palms grew clammy. Mortified, Iosbail rubbed her fingers together. Alexander was but a man who lay with her and made her feel good… perhaps better than good.

  Even as she was led through the night she found it impossible not to think of him. Aye, the sex had been far more emotional than she’d ever experienced but there was something more. It was those moments after they’d been together, first when he lay next to her in the grass and looked up at the tree. The next was when he’d given her space to commune with her gods.

  Iosbail didn’t think she’d ever forget glancing at Alexander only to see him glance away. He’d respected her need to talk to whoever would listen. No man, king, wizard or immortal alike had ever granted her such kindness which honestly made her wonder about the life she’d led thus far.

  Indeed, Alexander was quite a man…yet he was a Sinclair.

  “Iosbail.” She’d barely realized she was in a new hut until Shamus spoke. A small fire crackled and her Irish friend huddled nearby.

  “Oh no.” She rushed to him and fell to her knees. His forehead burned with fever, his eyes glassy. “Oh no, no,” she repeated.

  “Get me something cold,” she said as calmly as she could manage to the guard at the door but he remained unresponsive. Though she wanted to get hysterical she knew that’d do Shamus no good. Nor would the fire he seemed to think so necessary. Her hands remained chilled from outside so she put them on his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry lass. They came from the wood like the diabhal for me soul. I couldn’t protect her.” He closed his eyes. “They’ll not do good things to the lassie. You must find her.”