Arianna chuckled.
“What is next?” Stephen asked.
Fionn Mac Cumhail, Celtic god, tucked the satchel of rings in his pocket, a wide smile on his face and a grin in his thunderous voice. “Life, my friends!”
Caitriona heard his last few words before white light flooded over her. “Arianna and Stephen, go back to the Sinclairs, find shelter for now. You have many years together and much love to give. Adlin, however long it takes, make your way back to Mildred. She will be waiting.”
The white light started to fade but not before Fionn said one last thing to her and Alan. “Thank you. May God and the gods follow you your whole life through.”
Then the light vanished and they were alone, standing on a field in front of yet another glorious castle. The land was not all that different than the Sinclair’s. Tall mountains were etched against a crisp blue sky and deep burns speckled the long and sweeping horizon.
She and Alan still held hands, blinking as it all unfolded.
Alan’s eyes lit up. “‘Tis my castle, lass. And in my own time. I am sure of it.”
Joy swept over her. Could it have all really ended like this? “And what time is that, my Laird?”
He pulled her into his arms, his eyes all hers. “Where you first found me. 1210. I think ‘tis safe to say Scotland has never seen a better time in history.” Alan cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers. “Now that you are here.”
Caitriona couldn’t help but pout. “But what will your clan say when they learn their great chieftain intends to marry not a demi-god but a simple lowlander, half Scot, half Norman?”
He kissed her again. “They will adore you for the verra reasons I do. And I imagine our bairns will think themselves quite special. They will have a Highland mystic and the love of my life for their Ma. What more could a wee one hope for?”
“Nothing. Not a thing,” she replied. “Especially with you for a Da.”
Alan’s lips closed tenderly over hers one more time before he glanced at his Sinclair tartan, took her hand and said, “Enough with being a Broun and a Sinclair, I am ready to be a Stewart. Are you?”
Caitriona laughed, happier than she’d ever been. She looked at the Stewart castle then back at him. “Never more so.”
Alan grinned, scooped her up and started walking, one last whisper in her ear.
“Then let us go, Caitriona Stewart. Life! as Fionn Mac Cumhail would say, is waiting for us.”
Epilogue
The land of ‘Eire
Ireland
487 AD
Adlin MacLomain has yet to be born.
Fionn Mac Cumhail, Celtic god, strolled through the woodland and pulled the satchel of rings from his pocket. “Seems we had to go awfully far forward only to come all the way back.”
The animals alongside gave no response.
“There are gods far more capable of aiding this than I. These circles in time. ‘Tis all silliness, is it not? None of this would be possible without what just happened in the future, yet what just happened there would not be possible without what will happen here. Makes no good sense. Even to a god. But love does funny things,” he muttered.
A tree bent in the wind as if it waved its agreement.
“No matter,” he replied. “Brigit asked for the rings. She was convinced I was the only one who could find them.”
The warriors who strode alongside gave no response.
He sighed and watched the sun rise through the trees. “They coupled last night you know, those who were foretold. And all for the MacLomains.”
A squirrel ran past him, inquisitive. Fionn took that for a question. “Well, if I were to be honest, it seems Brigit’s chosen a druid and a king.”
When a phantom Fianna warrior appeared to keep pace with him he took it as another question so he answered. “As I said, ‘tis foretold by the gods, this coupling. Oh, the druidess knows about it. So does the king. In fact, she will be waiting for me soon. Then it seems I must give her the rings.”
A bird swooped down and landed on his shoulder. Fionn took that as yet another reason to share. “When did it first come to be that me, a Celtic god answers to another god, even one as lovely as Brigit?”
When the bird flew off and the warrior fell back, Fionn figured it was a sign he should speak further. “Aye, Brigit might be the Goddess of Divination, amongst other things, but have I fallen so far under her spell—” He clasped the pouch of rings tighter, cherished them almost. “To have done all this to appease her?”
Oh yes, he knew the truth of it.
He was very much in love with the goddess Brigit.
There was nothing he would not do for her.
The woods turned quiet and he slowed to a stop, eyes on the sleeping druidess. It was time to awaken her and give her the rings. From there only Brigit knew where they would travel. But she, his love Brigit, had asked him to make these three rings. They would give not just the MacLomains a chance, but love itself.
So he did everything in his power to get the rings.
But it took little power in the end.
Just chance…and love.
The squirrel bounced around then shot out ahead. Fionn laughed. “Of course I would have done anything for Brigit…for love. Even this.”
No doubt, it was time to help give birth to one of the most powerful clans ever.
“The MacLomains,” Fionn Mac Cumhail of the Fianna warriors whispered.
It was time to awaken a sleeping druidess and deliver what he’d promised Brigit he would…
Three very special rings.
The End
Continue the story with The MacLomain Series Boxed Set (Books 1-4).
Or start at the beginning with Highland Defiance and Highland Persuasion. Also available in The MacLomain Series- Early Years Boxed Set.
Dear Reader,
As always, thank you so much for reading.
For those of you familiar with the original MacLomain Series, I hope you said to yourself often, “Ah, no way! I always wondered.”
For those of you with many MacLomain books still ahead, I hope you enjoyed getting to know all of the ‘Early Years’ characters. They were only ever considered part of the early years because they made the great MacLomain romances possible. But they weren’t too shabby either, aye?
When I began the ‘Early Years’ books it was not with the intention to have them lead into the next series. No, I intended to simply write more in-depth about those romances left behind. Romances you, my readers, were curious about. But as I put finger to keyboard, it soon became apparent that there was a storyline that had never been told, one that in the end would lay the very foundation for what was to come.
Not one single character let me down, from Iosbail with her fiery nature to Mildred with her forgiving ability to somehow understand that this was all for a greater good. From Alexander Sinclair, with his need to find answers to Stephen Broun, with his ability to always be where everyone needed him. Then there was the courageous Arianna Broun, a lass who will always pride herself as being the glue which held together her clan. And of course, Alan Stewart was so darn likable in the original series that I knew he deserved his own chance at romance. So when I met Caitriona in Highland Persuasion I realized that she was the perfect lass for him. Even Adlin was able to further share his tale, his undying love, an endless one that is at the very heart of the MacLomains.
It is my fondest hope that after you read both The MacLomain Series- Early Years and then the original MacLomain Series that you will travel forward with me through time with The MacLomain Series- Next Generation. In this next saga we will learn more about all the children born of the MacLomains and yes, even their closest allies.
There will be a heavier focus on time travel between the twenty-first century and Scotland. The rings, even the Defiances, will rear up to make all possible.
More so, the MacLomains will make it all possible.
Come along then, let’s not let our journ
ey end so soon.
Best Regards,
S. Purington
PREVIOUS RELEASES
~The MacLomain Series- Early Years~
Highland Defiance- Book One
Highland Persuasion- Book Two
Highland Mystic- Book Three
The MacLomain Series- Early Years Boxed Set is also available.
~The MacLomain Series~
The King’s Druidess- Prelude
Fate’s Monolith- Book One
Destiny’s Denial- Book Two
Sylvan Mist- Book Three
The MacLomain Series Boxed Set is also available.
~The MacLomain Series- Next Generation~
Mark of the Highlander- Book One
Vow of the Highlander- Book Two
Wrath of the Highlander- Book Three
Faith of the Highlander- Book Four
Plight of the Highlander- Book Five
~Calum’s Curse Series~
The Victorian Lure- Book One
The Georgian Embrace- Book Two
The Tudor Revival- Book Three
The Calum’s Curse Series Boxed Set is also available.
~Forsaken Brethren Series~
Darkest Memory- Book One
Heart of Vesuvius- Book Two
Soul of the Viking- Book Three- Coming Soon
~Song of the Muses Series~
Highland Muse
About the Author
Sky Purington is the best-selling author of nine novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.
Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at [email protected]. Interested in keeping up with Sky's latest news and releases? Visit Sky's website, http://www.skypurington.com to download her free App on iTunes and Android or sign up for her quarterly newsletter.
Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.
MY HONORABLE HIGHLANDER
A Time Travel romance
Book #1 in the
Highland Games Through Time
Series
by Nancy Lee Badger
***Caution: contains explicit sexual situations***
Cover illustration copyright © 2012
www.ThinkFlowDesign.com
Copyright © 2012 by Nancy Lee Badger
*revised version ©April 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved.
ISBN:1477616349
ISBN-13:978-1477616345
Dedication
To all the wonderful people who take time out of their busy lives to gather in various locations across the United States and Canada to share their Scottish heritage with the world.
A special thanks to those who give their time and energy to bring these games to life.
CHAPTER 1
Northern Scotland, 1598
Bleak apprehension flooded Kirkwall Gunn, for he feared he led his men to their deaths. Eager to take up his sword, his right fist tightened. He shook off negative thoughts as death was only one possibility. The odds against him and his warriors loomed, but their mission started out as a peaceful one. He grumbled at the prospect of disappointing his clan should he not survive to see it through.
As he rode ahead of his men, his mount’s muscles bunched for flight. Kirk held him steady by easing the tension upon its flanks. Leaning over, he whispered a few soothing words in the animal’s ear. The dun-colored beast snorted as another steed’s hooves thundered closer.
“Torturing your mount, cousin?”
“My poor beast senses my worries.” Kirk glanced at Cameron Robeson’s face. Through the falling dusk, his cousin’s amber eyes twinkled with amusement. Cameron’s bushy, golden eyebrows wiggled and the weathered skin around his mouth stretched wide. Streaks of waning sunlight peeked between storm clouds. They lit upon the brawny man’s blonde locks, heralding their clan’s Nordic ancestry. Cameron rode next to him in silence as if gathering his thoughts, then glanced skyward. The threat of rain bode ill for their mission. Even the heavens crackled with discontent.
“Aye. The beast knows a drenching rain hurries our way. The storm’s fury shall swallow us, with or without the luck my sister tossed our way,” Kirk said.
“Skye and her potions have their place as long as she keeps her talents hidden.”
“I have warned the wee wench many a time. I do not like how she flaunts her witchery. Some might believe her power comes from dark magic. Even she, a child, tests the leniency of our people.”
“She’s a young woman, nay a child, and she is no witch. She grows herbs for healing. Ye do not approve of her use of potions to comfort our sick and wounded? The very people she has saved since the death of our older, wiser, male healer?” Cameron paused, staring at Kirk’s face. “God’s teeth, ‘tis worse. Yer sister’s powers scare ye.”
“Nay. Naught scares me, cousin. I worry she will be discovered dabbling in what must stay hidden. Any who appear to practice witchery could die, truth or not.”
“She is a smart lass and you worry too much.” Cameron chuckled and shook his head.
“That, she is.” Kirk sighed. He pulled his plaid around his shoulders, barring the chill from slipping inside his leather jerkin. Pleated to cover his thighs and waist, at the beginning of their journey he had wrapped the excess up and over one shoulder and fastened the faded wool with a tarnished silver penannular clasp.
He’d pricked his thumb then cursed the brilliant green offset stone adorning his father’s brooch. After stabbing its pin through the heavy weave of the coarse wool, his apparel converted easily into a hood at the flick of his leather-wrapped wrists. Drops of blood disappeared in the dark wool of his family plaid.
“Thunder clouds approach, cousin. The rain to follow may slow us more than the treasure we protect. I do not care for a night spent in sodden clothes. Say the word and I will see to setting up camp.”
“We may die on this trip, yet ye think of comfort.” Kirk pulled at the reins of his agitated mount then scratched his day’s growth of beard.
“Your warriors would never let anything deter them from a good fight, but wet, hungry men cannot fight their best for ye or yer gold.”
“The treasure belongs to our clan.” Kirk turned away, grumbling.
“Until ye turn it over to the Keiths.”
“And then I will have nothing to give my men, but my gratitude and my personal sacrifice. Each man volunteered to attend me on this journey, yet some…” Kirk paused and inhaled a deep breath of chilled, damp air, then lowered his voice.
“Some predict a less than victorious outcome. My men might die. What kind of leader am I?”
His cousin shook his head.
“The men love ye. Even Balfour, our grumpy ale master, would give his life to save yours. Such devotion comes neither from filling a man’s stomach nor covering his palm with coin.” With a wink, Cameron turned his big, grey stallion around and galloped toward the treasure carts stationed at the rear of their group.
Sturdy Highland workhorses struggled to haul the wheel-less sledges over the rocky ground, open moors, and heather-strewn meadows. As they entered a forest split by a worn path of dirt and pinecones, tall evergreens rose up and blanketed them in shadow.
Kirk grinn
ed as he shook his head. Cameron would protect the carts with his life. If their cargo did not reach Castle Ruadh, no wedding would take place.
My wedding.
He chuckled at the irony then sat tall and straight in the saddle.
I am most certainly not in want of a bride.
Ever since Cora’s death, he lived his life alone and away from the grip of love’s bite. An ache under his left cheek forced his smile to abate. He felt every pinch of the scar that zigzagged up his face, from his lip to just below his left eye. Phantom pain reared up at the sudden memory of a blade as it nearly sliced his face in half.
He frowned and remembered the bastard who had given him the deep wound during a midnight attack. The enemy raiders, aided by a traitor in the Gunn clans’ midst, swept through their sleeping village like hungry wolves. The village healer had died in the attack, and the traitor discovered.
Kirk and his council banished the conspirator from their lands. He had no love for a man who would betray his own people. Such a deed left Kirk with a hollow feeling; a feeling raw, bleeding, and as lasting as the scar that remained.
Kirk’s path of self-appointed solitude seemed clear before the contract offer materialized. Clan Keith’s messenger arrived from Wick a month past. The message chilled his blood especially when he sensed the outcome had been preordained. Their king demanded peace and Laird Keith gave Kirk a way to comply. Many of his kinsmen had also reminded him of his need for an heir. Even so, he could not shake the notion that he marched toward his doom.
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 129
