His eyes kept drifting to her bonnie hair. Long and wavy, it shimmered an eye-catching shade of reddish blond. And those eyes, like the shallowest part of a loch caught in sunlight. A rare shade of pale sea green that could enchant in an instant. Her features were delicate, her mouth a perfect little bow. Then there was her body…bloody hell.
He scowled when his groin tightened. The best thing he could do right now was put some distance between them. But he knew Niall was just as attracted to her, so he was forced to make a difficult decision. “Cassie, allow Machara to show you around.” He eyed his cousin. “She will see that you’re shown to a chamber and provided clothing.”
Though she responded to Logan, Machara kept her focus on Cassie. “Aye, m’laird. I will see her well cared for.”
While there might be bad blood between him and his cousin, Logan knew Machara would treat Cassie well enough. No doubt, with more tact than Niall would. Like Rònan, Niall would seize every opportunity to try to get beneath the lass’s skirt…once she was wearing one.
Rònan. Logan almost groaned. It was unfortunate he was arriving today because he was almost more aggressive than Niall when he saw something he wanted. Or someone in this case. And he knew Rònan would want Cassie. Hell, he suspected most of his clansmen would. Yet Rònan fell into a different category. Not only was he more arrogant now that he had become chieftain of the MacLeods, but he shared his mother’s dragon blood. A MacLomain Viking bloodline that made him more dominant than most.
“I don’t mind hanging around until you’re available, Grant.” Cassie’s wide eyes went to Logan, her voice clearly struggling to stay level. “Or you.”
“Nay, lass.” Machara wrapped elbows with her, voice warming considerably now that she wasn’t addressing Logan. “I’ll not hear of it. ‘Tis good for those of us with futuristic Broun blood to get to know one another better, aye?”
“Sure…yeah, okay.” Cassie straightened her shoulders, chin suddenly thrust forward with determination as she walked off with Machara.
Like Logan, Niall’s eyes were locked on Cassie’s arse. As much as they could make out of it beneath her bulky shirt that is.
“All right, lads,” Grant said. “‘Tis never a good thing to gawk at our Brouns when they first arrive. These twenty-first century lasses tend to have as much bite as yer Scotswomen. ‘Tis wise to respect them, aye?”
“Aye,” Logan agreed but he wasn’t above keeping a wandering eye on Cassie as she vanished into the courtyard.
“Bloody hell.” Niall shook his head as he muttered, “She didnae need Machara showing her around. What fun is there in that?” He frowned at Logan. “Ye cannae have her so ye might as well let me have a go.”
Logan hid the discontent Niall’s words caused him because he was absolutely right. He could not have her. Nor should he want her. But he did. More than he expected.
“Ye’ve plenty of lasses to keep ye entertained.” Logan nodded toward the castle. “Why not go find some now to keep yer mind off the new lass whilst I speak with Laird Hamilton.”
Niall muttered a healthy stream of curses as he strode off. Logan could only hope it wasn’t to take over for Machara. Because though he had given an order, he and his cousin were like brothers. As such, Niall tended to do whatever pleased him.
Alone at last with Grant, Logan was eager for some answers. “Did ye know Cassie was coming? That more Brouns were coming?” His eyes narrowed on the arch-wizard as they entered the busy courtyard. “Better yet, did ye know the original rings have returned? How is that possible when two of them are buried with their previous owners?”
“‘Tis not for me to say if I knew they were coming.” Grant shrugged. “As to the rings, ye know as well as I that they’ve powerful magic about them. If they’re meant to bring more love together, then they will find their way onto the next finger whether or not they were buried.”
“Och, yer as vague as Adlin ever was,” Logan grumbled.
Grant grinned. “He was my mentor after all.”
“I miss him,” Logan murmured. Though he was but a wee bairn when Adlin lived in the twenty-first century, the former arch-wizard and patriarch of the MacLomains made sure Logan remembered him. For hours and hours, the old wizard would sit next to his love, Mildred and rock him on the bench swing out front. And though Logan was only a newborn, every soft word Adlin spoke stayed with him. The endless stories about the MacLomain clan and their great adventures.
“Aye, I miss him too.” But Grant always had a twinkle in his eyes when he spoke of Adlin. As if even though the wizard was long gone, he still managed to see him on occasion. Then again, Grant was almost as powerful as Adlin had been so it wouldn’t surprise him in the least.
“And what of the horse Athdara? Cassie’s horse?” Logan said. “I sense great destiny about her but like you, she was rather cryptic about divulging much information.”
“I cannae say much about her save she’s a bonnie beast, aye?”
Logan cast Grant a wry glance. “There isnae much point in asking ye anything, is there?”
“I can tell ye that the horse is bonded strongly with Cassie and ‘twill protect her well.”
“Will she need such protection then?” Logan murmured.
“It cannae be any other way since she is here at such a time,” Grant said gravely. “‘Tis telling that Cassie arrives when too soon the wee Bruce might be needing ye and yer cousins.”
Though he did not want to ask, he had to. “So there cannae be any doubt that she is meant for one of my cousins, aye?”
“That they descend directly from the Next Generation of MacLomains, nay, there cannae be,” Grant said softly.
Logan gave a curt nod and pushed aside emotion. He reminded himself that there was no fault in being attracted to Cassie, but it was important that he focus on his bride to be. It was unfair to her that his thoughts be consumed by another. Especially someone he had only just met. No, it was best that he focused on who was coming.
The future Lady of MacLomain castle.
Aline MacLauchlin.
A lass he had never met though he’d tried time and time again. Rumor had it she possessed old fashioned values and thought it would bring bad luck to see him before their wedding day. He had always been of the opposite mind. He would have liked to get to know her and mayhap become friends first. His cousins speculated she must be long in the tooth as even they hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of her, but Logan wasn’t worried. A lass didn’t need to be overly bonnie to make a good bride. Her character meant far more to him.
While he still had plenty of questions for Grant, the opportunity was taken away as several people approached him needing one thing or another. Hours passed by too fast and though he looked, he didn’t see Cassie again. Nor did he see Machara or even Niall. The eve fell swiftly and the clan grew boisterous as bonfires were lit. By the time he bathed and rejoined the festivities, the pipes were trilling and the food was laid.
Logan had just made it to the entrance of the castle when he spotted Cassie in the courtyard below. His breath caught. Dressed in a simple, but stunning green dress, thick reddish golden hair haloed her face as she smiled at those around her. The tension she seemed to have felt earlier was gone and she started laughing at something someone said. Then her eyes locked with his and her laughter slowly faded.
But not her smile.
He had never felt the effects of a smile so strongly. As if it had been designed just for him. Warmth uncurled in his chest and though he meant to look away, he couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Och, cousin.” Niall swung an arm around Logan’s shoulders and shook his head. “‘Tis too bad that yer meant for another, aye?”
Logan shrugged away and started down the stairs. “And well I remember it, friend.”
“Do ye now?” Niall joined him. “Because I havnae seen ye look at a lass quite like ye are our new Broun.”
“I’m just keeping an eye on our new guest.” Logan arched a brow
at Niall. “So that she doesnae suffer any unwanted advances from my kinsmen.”
Niall snorted. “‘Tis already far too late for that, my Laird. But dinnae worry, I’ll make sure she’s well-protected.”
They had just reached the bottom of the stairs when horse’s hooves thundered over the drawbridge. Hoots and hollers rang out as a small band of MacLeod’s rode into the courtyard led by their laird.
Rònan MacLeod.
"Laird MacLomain. Niall,” Rònan roared as he whipped a dagger. Logan didn’t focus on the weapon but caught it by instinct before it passed between their heads.
Niall patted Logan on the shoulder and released a hearty laugh. “Now the fun truly begins.”
Rònan swung off his horse, kissed a few lasses then strode their way. The men embraced, clapping one another on the back before the MacLeod issued a wolfish grin. “‘Tis good to be amongst my brethren again.” He eyed them as he swigged from a skin. “How fare ye?” Then he leaned a little closer. “And why was my dragon blood stirring as I arrived? Has it to do with the new bonnie wee lass that smells of arousal?”
Logan shook his head and Niall kept chuckling as he responded. “Does she then? ‘Tis not a gift of we wizards to smell such a thing.”
“Well, ‘tis good then that ye have me around, aye?” Rònan winked, his voice curious. “Who is she then? If ye dinnae tell me straight away, I’ll carry her off and find out in the best way possible.”
“Then ye truly dinnae know?” Logan asked, trying not to bristle.
Rònan cocked his head, sharp eyes narrowing on Logan. “Ye’d see an arrow shot in my arse if I carried her off, wouldn’t ye?”
“Only if he wishes his betrothed to shoot an arrow at his cock,” Niall said. “Assuming she ever gets around to seeing the poor withered thing beforehand.”
Logan ignored Niall and spoke to Rònan. “Ye willnae carry her anywhere. She’s a Broun from the future and I’ll see her respected.”
Rònan’s brows shot up and he mouthed, “See her respected?”
It was always an event dealing with Rònan and Niall when they were set to celebrate together. Though he was close to all three men, these two had similar spirits and enjoyed causing havoc where Logan and Darach tended to get on better. He had never quite understood why when he was devoted to the responsibility of leading a clan and Darach did his best to avoid it.
Logan clapped Rònan on the shoulder in passing and headed for Cassie. True to form, his cousins fell in beside him. Her eyes widened the closer they got and he couldn’t help but wonder…why was she aroused? Better yet, who was she aroused by?
He was about to make introductions when Rònan sunk to one knee in front of her and kissed the back of her hand, lips lingering overly long. Then, still holding her hand, he swiftly stood, using his towering height to his advantage. “I am Rònan MacLeod. Welcome, lass. ‘Tis always good to see another Broun from the future. Especially one as ravishing as ye.”
“T-thank you. I think,” she stammered. Rònan could overwhelm the highest mountain in Scotland so Logan gave her credit for not stumbling back a step or two.
“You think?” Rònan said, perplexed.
Her brows drew together. “I think I’m not so sure I want you to find me ravishing.”
Logan buried a chuckle in his chest. Now those were words his cousin had surely never heard.
Rònan contemplated her for a long moment before he grinned. “Ye know the best way to get me is to push me away, lass.”
“Not me,” Niall kicked in. “Say the word and I’m yours.”
Her eyes flickered between Rònan and Niall. “Actually, I’m not really on the market right now.”
“Market?” Niall said.
“It means she isnae interested in a lad’s attention,” Logan said.
“Nay.” Rònan quirked his lips at her. “Now that isnae true at all. She’s interested. ‘Tis just a matter of finding out where the interest lies.”
Something stirred inside Logan. Yes, continued curiosity about her earlier arousal but more than that. A sense of wanting, no needing to protect her from divulging anything she wasn’t ready to share. “Cassie just traveled back over seven centuries in time. Dinnae make her feel uncomfortable, cousin.”
“Cassie,” Rònan murmured. His hungry gaze traveled the length of her. “‘Tis a bonnie name.” He offered her the eyes that had most lasses falling at his feet. “My apologies if I made ye feel uncomfortable. ‘Tis only my fondest wish to make ye feel as comfortable as possible.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” She nodded then looked at Logan. “Right now that means I need to talk to you…alone.”
Rònan arched an amused brow at Logan but stepped back graciously when Logan wasted no time leading her away from his cousins. He nodded his thanks when a servant handed him two skins of whisky, one of which he handed to Cassie. “I’m sorry, lass. ‘Tis no easy thing meeting Rònan…or Niall.”
“Definitely not,” she agreed and sniffed at the contents of her skin before taking a small sip. “Oh, this tastes just like the whisky Bradon let me try."
The tricky Scotsman was likely preparing her for this jaunt back in time. Though his cousins were his lifeblood, he would always feel a special bond with those who, like him, had been part of the Next Generation.
Logan led her around the bonfire toward the drawbridge. “What would you like to speak with me about?”
Cassie offered him a guilty grin. “Sorry, that was just a ruse to escape your cousins. It’s gonna take a bit to get used to them I think.”
“I ken but ‘twill get easier with time.” Logan couldn’t stop a smile as he steered her closer lest the crowd separate them. “They are good men and willnae do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
"They sorta already have by being them.” She chuckled. “If you know what I mean.”
He did but still fished for a little something more. “And I dinnae make you feel uncomfortable?”
“You know you don’t,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling in the torchlight as they met his. “I tend to think you make a habit of trying to make people, especially women, feel as comfortable as possible.”
“I dinnae see why it should be any other way,” he replied, eyes flickering over the way her skirts dusted the wooden planks of the bridge. Though he knew her legs were slender, he wondered if they were as silky smooth as her face. Snapping his eyes ahead, it took more will-power than he expected not to look at her like his cousins just had. “Though ‘tis not the way of my clan to do such, please let me know if any make untoward advances.”
“You got it.” She took another small sip. “Sorry if I dragged you away from your lairdly duties.”
“Making sure you’re settling in well is part of my lairdly duties.”
“About that. How long do you think I’ll be here? Better yet, how do I get home?”
Yet more questions he had for Grant. Ones he realized he did not really want answers to. “I dinnae know but will try to find out.” His eyes met hers. “How are you? Was Machara helpful? All of this must be frightening but know that no harm will come to you and that you’re safe.”
“I know,” she murmured, eyes scanning their surroundings. “At least I think I know.” Her eyes met his again. “Machara was surprisingly great even though she scared the crap out of me initially. Oddly enough, once we left you, she simmered down and got a whole lot more girly. As much as I think the woman is capable, that is.”
Girly? Machara? “Though we were close when younger, she hasn’t forgiven me for becoming Laird when she was daughter to Colin, one of our former chieftains.”
“Hmm, I sort of get that.” She shook her head. “It can’t be easy living in an age where men rule all and women get little say.”
“Our lasses get plenty of say,” he defended. “We have a great deal of respect for all in our clan, lads and lasses alike. ‘Twas verra likely Machara would have been given the clan had she been ready.”
“How was sh
e not ready? She seems so passionate about it.” She cocked her head. “And would your clan really have made a woman chieftain?”
“Aye, the MacLomains dinnae think like most clans. Likely because we’re so connected to the future.” He steered her to the right when a rowdy group of bairns rushed by. “Back when I became Laird, Machara was of a more reckless nature. She tended to rush into things before thinking them through. She's changed some since, but the clan remains of the mind she makes a better warrior than a leader.”
“Niall said earlier that you’re quick to rush into battle,” she pointed out. “So what makes you so different?”
“Patience,” he said. “That which Machara still works toward.”
“Will she ever get a chance to become Laird again?”
“Mayhap.” He took her hand as they crossed the second bridge. The crowd was thickening as people went between the bonfires. Many nodded and clapped him on the shoulder in passing. “Things can change quickly in this day and age. ‘Tis verra possible I could die tomorrow in battle then there is always the chance the clan will choose Machara to lead.”
Logan knew he should release her small, soft hand. Hell, he probably shouldn’t be walking with her at all considering his betrothal. But he could not seem to stop.
“Well, I hope you don’t die tomorrow,” she said softly. “Or anytime soon for that matter.”
“None of us wishes to die lass but ‘tis not something we worry over. When ‘tis our time ‘tis our time. Meanwhile, we do what we can to keep our clan safe in a country that is slowly slipping away.”
Logan hadn’t meant to say so much, to express his never-ending worries, but he felt a level of comfort with her that he experienced with few. He was about to say more, to steer the conversation away from such heaviness, when a rowdy band of warriors flew over the bridge. Determined to keep her out of harm’s way, he pushed her against one of the stone barriers below the second portcullis and protected her with his body.
He didn’t realize how close he had come until her back met the stone and she gasped against his chest. Everything in him screamed to step away the minute the men passed but the air suddenly heated and all he was aware of was her. She smelled of the petunia’s his Ma used to grow outside the house in New Hampshire. A scent that had lulled him to sleep many a night.
Quest of a Scottish Warrior Page 6
