“Aye then, lass.” Grant’s eyes went to Naðr’s. “The demi-god is Keir Hamilton’s father. Though it has long been told that Keir was an evil reincarnate, that doesnae seem to be the case. Instead ‘twas Keir’s da who was reincarnated. Though he went by the name of Innis MacGilleEathain when last on Earth, he was once Eoghan Dubhdiadh, Druid of the South. A powerful warlock who plagued my mentor, Adlin MacLomain’s parents in ancient Ireland. He desired the Druidess, Chiomara and stopped at nothing to have her. I’ve no idea why we were told Keir was Eoghan nor do I know how he became half god. But I do know that there is no worse fate for us.”
Jackie could barely breathe. She had been told about Keir Hamilton. A man turned warlock who was determined to take Torra MacLomain as his own and drive Scotland into ruin twenty-seven years ago. A man with a dark heart who the next generation, Grant, and his brethren, had eventually defeated and trapped in a tapestry in MacLomain Castle’s great hall. To this day, the man remained locked in a purgatory made of MacLomain and Viking magic.
A place between medieval Scotland and Scandinavia.
“So Eoghan the demi-god attempts to break his son free,” the Viking King said. “That is how he’s able to track you not only in your time period but here.”
“I believe so,” Grant said. “’Tis the only thing that makes sense.”
Jackie didn’t miss the look the king gave Heidrek. It was the one that gave him leeway to speak.
“So all of our people are at risk now,” Heidrek said. “Even those at our dragon lair.”
“Mayhap,” Grant said. “But as it has been from the start, the dark laird seeks the ring.” His eyes fell to Jackie’s finger. “So I would say since Jackie is here, the fortress is most at risk.”
“But what of Darach’s convictions?” Heidrek clenched his jaw. “I like the man. I believe in him. Do you mean to say that he is wrong thinking Jackie is safe here? That she is not safe with me?”
Grant released a heavy sigh and shook his head. “I think my lad has become less of a warrior and more of a romantic.”
“A romantic?” Jackie started, but Heidrek put a hand on her arm and shook his head as his eyes met the King’s and then Grant’s.
Heck, if she got cut off one more time…
“It is a rare day that a romantic heart gives up the woman he loves to another man.” Heidrek’s eyes remained locked firmly on Grant as he defended Darach. “We Vikings would see that more as a warrior’s heart. Someone who means to protect those he cares for.”
Grant shrugged, his expression cautiously reluctant. “Och, ‘tis just a thing that we Scots see differently, aye?”
Jackie was used to watching men in power play their games so she made a point of eying the Viking King the entire time. While he might be giving Heidrek the reigns on occasion, he was in charge.
And he wasn’t entirely feeding into whatever Grant was up too.
Because Grant was up to something.
But what?
“Yes, we come from different cultures so it is always possible that our perspectives are different,” the Viking King conceded. “But one thing remains the same. We protect our kin. So what would you have us do seeing how your son is not here?”
“Allow me to take Jackie with me,” Grant said. “Let me take her away from here because right now she only puts your people at risk.”
“A risk I would take again and again,” Heidrek said with more heat than he likely intended.
But the King didn’t look his way. He kept his eyes locked on Grant. “It is a noble request, my friend and I appreciate the offer.”
Grant set aside the mug. His eyes never left the King’s as he said, “But you willnae let her go, aye?”
“I will not,” the King confirmed.
“Nor will I.” Heidrek’s eyes flickered from her to Grant, and she heard the emotion in his voice. “Unless we know she is safe.”
“Of course, she will be safe,” Grant scoffed. “She will be with me.”
Heidrek’s eyes narrowed. “And where exactly will that be?”
“It doesnae matter,” Grant exclaimed.
“But it does.”
“Ye dare to question me, lad?” Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Do ye know how powerful I am?”
Everyone was frowning at this point. Something was seriously off.
Seconds later, black lightning started to sizzle around Grant before he turned into a black mass and spun toward her. No wonder he had been acting so strange.
He was the demi-god.
The Vikings sprang into action. A scream caught in her throat when someone spun her and yanked her into their arms. The next thing she knew, her head was tucked against his chest.
“Ye’ll not have her,” came a deep growl as cool then warm air whipped around her. Colors blurred as she squinted. It didn’t take long to figure out who held her based on his scent alone.
Darach.
He smelled like a mixture of cedar and spices heating over flames. Earthy wood smoke on a chilled autumn day.
Whatever was happening around them died in an instant followed by Grant’s soft but firm declaration. “I knew if you thought I was the enemy you would come, Son.”
Darach pulled away and tried to do something with magic that no doubt would take him out of here, but Grant stopped it.
“What are you running from?” Grant said, his voice desperate as he held Darach back with magic.
Darach clenched his fists by his side as his eyes met hers. She had met a lot of men but none that looked like him. Around six foot five inches worth of broad-shouldered, well-proportioned muscles with an intricate tattoo running from his left shoulder to his elbow, he was the sort of man who stopped women in their tracks. With chiseled cheekbones, a strong jaw, brows that worked at being optimistic and lips that curved toward sin, he was gorgeous. Add in the thick black hair accented with mahogany highlights and watch out.
Then there were his eyes.
Those thick-lashed pale bluish gray eyes that could swallow a girl whole.
“Her,” Darach managed to answer his father, but his eyes stayed locked on hers. “I was trying to run from Jackie…” He shook his head, confused by his own answer. “To keep her safe.”
Caught in each other’s eyes, it took a split second longer than he likely intended before Darach remembered he’d been lured here and his gaze returned to his father. “Let me go.”
Grant did the opposite. He grabbed Darach’s forearm and came nose to nose. “Dinnae ye ever give me and yer ma a scare like that again, lad.”
“You dinnae ken what you’ve done by tricking me, Da.” Darach yanked his arm free and shook his head. “You dinnae ken in the least.”
“Then tell me,” Grant started but a loud boom cut off his words.
“Bloody hell.” Darach’s eyes swung to Naðr. “Rally your dragons. Protect your people. I will leave. When I do, you will be safe.”
“Darach, what’s going on?” she said, but he shook his head sharply, his eyes going to Heidrek. “Keep her here with you, friend. She isnae safe with me.” Then his eyes shot to Grant. “You must let me go, Da. Trust me when I tell you ‘tis for the best.”
“Nothing about remaining in the dark to your plight is for the best,” Grant retaliated. “Why are you so convinced that the demi-god will steer clear of Jackie if you do as well?”
“Because I have something he wants. Something easier to take from me than from Jackie protected such as she is.” He put his hand in his pocket and frowned before he searched it more intently.
“What is it?” Grant’s eyes narrowed. “What are you looking for?”
Darach shook his head, baffled and more concerned by the moment as his eyes shot to her hand. Better yet, the ring on it. “I dinnae ken,” he murmured, again fishing around in his pocket. “Where did it go?”
Totally confused, she glanced at her ring and frowned. “Are you talking about this?”
“Och, the bloody gods and their games,” Darac
h muttered and took her hand, peering more intently at her ring. “This isnae right at all.”
Suddenly, Darach’s expression shifted. Almost as if he heard something.
His eyes flew to Grant. “You need to get us out of here, Da.” He gestured at Jackie and Heidrek. “All three of us. Now.”
Grant’s eyes remained locked on Darach’s and she knew they spoke telepathically. What could possibly have Darach wanting her far away from him one second and then with him the next?
The King’s eyes went to Heidrek and he frowned. “Why must Heidrek leave?”
Still locked on Darach, Grant’s eyes widened slightly as he seemed to understand. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. “’Tis a summoning from Adlin MacLomain. How can this be?”
Grant's eyes went to the King’s. “You need to trust me when I tell ye Heidrek’s journey is with Jackie and Darach for now.”
Naðr was about to respond, but Heidrek spoke first, his tone surprisingly stern considering who he addressed. “I will stay with Jackie, my King. I intend to protect her.”
Though clearly displeased, Naðr eyed Heidrek for a long moment before he gave a curt nod. “You must follow your path. But do not forget that there is one laid out for you here as well. One that includes my kingdom and you ruling it someday.”
“A future I embrace, Uncle,” Heidrek assured. “I will return once I know Jackie is out of harm’s way.”
The King nodded. “Then go, Nephew, but travel safely.”
Heidrek nodded as his hand slipped into hers. For a split second, she almost felt guilty and pulled away. But why should she feel guilty? Because of Darach? They might have shared a brief kiss, but he hadn’t been around to offer her the amount of comfort Heidrek had. He may have had his reasons but in all actuality, that didn’t change a thing. She barely knew him. So she squeezed Heidrek’s hand, thankful if nothing else for the support and friendship he offered.
“Now, Da.” Darach’s hand slid into hers as well. “Get us where we need to go.”
Okay, so this was a little weird.
But ‘weird’ soon took a backseat to that edge of fear she always experienced when magic unleashed around her. Now she squeezed both of their hands, grateful when they came close and protected her against what Grant threw at them.
It felt different.
More powerful.
Wind whipped and the crackling fire at the heart of the Viking lodge swirled away only to be replaced with higher flames and screaming. Though they kept her safely between them, she heard the metallic ring of Heidrek and Darach unsheathing their swords. Yet she soon realized as she peeked out from beneath their arms that the fire she saw was at the heart of a tall, square building and the screaming was people celebrating.
“Well, what do we have here,” said a tall, handsome young man with black hair and light blue eyes.
“More followers then, m’Laird?” someone said.
“We can only hope.” He grinned and cocked his head, his eyes meeting Jackie’s despite the men cocooning her. “Someone from the future, aye?”
“Bloody hell, Da did it. We made it,” Darach murmured. “’Tis Adlin MacLomain.”
Chapter Two
Scotland
The Original Highland Defiance
845 A.D.
“YE CANNAE APPEAR out of nowhere and expect a blade willnae be at yer throat.”
Darach stilled and peered down at the young lad with the tip of a small blade held against his hip. He might be standing in front of the great Adlin MacLomain, but he still said, “Ye do know that ye’ve got the blade nowhere near my throat, aye, lad?”
The boy with big brown eyes glared up at him. “Aye, Mister, but my other will be after I use this one.”
“Och, enough, William,” Adlin said with a chuckle. “He is a friend. They all are.”
Like Heidrek, Darach stepped away from Jackie but didn’t release her hand. Though it seemed clear they were safe enough, looks could be deceiving.
“Where are we exactly?” Darach asked.
Adlin cocked the corner of his lips. “At my Defiance. But not for much longer. We leave on the morn.”
Darach knew they needed to be sent back in time to locate Adlin when he was young, but wasn’t sure exactly where that would land them. “So you know who we are?”
“Enough so.” Adlin’s eyes went to William. “’Tis time to make our guests welcome. Go fetch them some whisky.”
Unsure, the boy eyed them. “Truly?”
“Aye, lad.”
William sighed, narrowed his eyes one more time at Darach then headed into the crowd.
Adlin’s eyes remained on the three of them, not cautious in the least but kind. “Might you introduce yourselves then?”
Darach was surprised that he said “you” instead of “ye.” Something that MacLomains hadn’t started doing until the first Broun lass traveled back in time. But then again, this was Adlin. The arch-wizard of the MacLomain clan. Immortal until the day he fell in love and started to age. Not only that but he was conceived by Chiomara the Druidess, and Erc, King of the Dalriada, in fifth century Ireland only to be delivered by the gods to Scotland a full grown man.
A man who started his legacy and clan right here at the Highland Defiance.
“Aye, of course. I'm Darach.” He gestured at Jackie. “This is Jackie.” Then he nodded toward the Viking. “And that’s Heidrek.”
A twinkle lit his eyes when Adlin looked at Heidrek. “A Viking ancestor then.” He smiled. “’Tis good to have you amongst us, friend.” His eyes went to Darach. “You as well my distant offspring.” Then his gaze settled on Jackie as he approached.
Neither Heidrek or Darach released her hand when Adlin stopped in front of her, his eyes even kinder than before as they held hers. “And you. A Broun, aye?”
Jackie nodded, her eyes darkening even more with emotion.
“You’ve no need to be frightened,” Adlin said softly, his eyes flickering between the men before again landing on her. “Not with such brawn lads to keep you safe.”
Jackie pulled her hands from the men and stood up taller. “I can keep myself safe.”
Adlin eyed her for a long moment before he nodded. “I am sure you can, lass.”
But they all knew she couldn’t and Darach felt a tinge of guilt about that. He had worked tirelessly to make sure Nicole could fight but turned Jackie away whenever she asked to be taught as well. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk following a path that might lead to one of the many dreams he’d had about her coming true. Dreams he’d had for years. Ones he never would have imagined held any truth until he first laid eyes on her in New Hampshire.
“You’ve been here before, aye?” Adlin asked Jackie.
Darach bit back aggravation when Jackie’s eyes went to Heidrek before she spoke. A need to ground herself in this reality. But how could he blame her when he had pushed the two of them together?
“I did. With Bradon and Leslie. Friends of mine,” she said. “But it looked a lot different.”
“How so?”
“It was abandoned.” Her gaze drifted upward past a set of stairs that wound themselves along the walls until they reached the ceiling far overhead. “And the ceiling was in rough shape.”
“Aye,” Adlin whispered, his sad eyes following hers. “’Tis a shame that.”
“You summoned us, m'Laird. But what era have we landed in?” Darach kept his voice respectably soft. “What is happening with our MacLomains?”
“Summoned you?” Adlin shook his head. “Nay. 'Twas the magic of one of my gods. I sensed it around you when you arrived.”
That wasn't surprising. Brigit and her games.
Adlin eyed the Defiance for another moment before one sort of sadness replaced another. Even so, his voice and eyes were light when he responded. “Due to circumstances beyond my control, we MacLomains will travel south on the morrow and start a new life elsewhere.”
Darach felt his answer as if the weight of all hi
s ancestors landed on his shoulders. They had returned to the time when Adlin left his origins in Scotland behind and set out to start a new life in Cowal. All because those in the area could not accept that he welcomed people of both Christian and Pagan faith under his roof. This era, like most in the past and even the future, weren’t ready to accept that multiple faiths could coexist.
And though it seemed strange to say considering the clans’ comradery in the future, Darach murmured, “Because of the MacLeods then.”
Jackie’s eyes shot to him in surprise. As far as she knew, the MacLeods were stout allies of the MacLomains. And her closest friend, Erin, had just ended up with one of them.
“Aye,” Adlin whispered, eyes a little distant before he gathered himself. “But ‘tis not for ye to worry over right now.” He held out the crook of his elbow to Jackie. “Come, lass. Might you join me and mine in celebrating our last night here?”
“I don’t understand.” She slipped her arm into Adlin’s. “Why are you celebrating considering you’re leaving?”
That was the last he heard before Adlin walked her into the crowd. Soon after, young William returned and held out mugs with a scowl. “For ye both then.”
Darach and Heidrek took the mugs and nodded.
“Pft,” William scoffed with disdain as he crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Jackie as Adlin showed her around. “’Tis poor of ye both to let a lady wander off with someone ye just met.”
Heidrek cast an eye at the lad. “Then might you go make sure she is safe?”
William cocked an eyebrow at him before muttering, “I suppose somebody ought to,” and darted into the crowd.
Heidrek and Darach took a swig from their mugs and kept their eyes trained on Jackie. Neither said a word at first likely because they had come to a point they hadn’t anticipated.
Being with Jackie at the same time.
Jackie.
Jacqueline.
A lass who was no longer part of his dreams but flesh and blood. And hell was she beautiful with her long, thick, pale blond hair. A slender but voluptuous figure. Full breasts, a small waist, slightly flared hips and long, long legs. A face so delicate and well-proportioned he was shocked men weren’t tripping over themselves to get to her.
Passion of a Scottish Warrior (The MacLomain Series: Later Years Book 4) Page 2
