Passion of a Scottish Warrior (The MacLomain Series: Later Years Book 4)

by Sky Purington

  Their lips only separated long enough for them to yank at one another’s clothes. He bent so she could pull his tunic over his head. She paused so he could pull down the front of her dress.

  Then they were on each other again, eager to feel and taste flesh. She kissed, nibbled then laved his tattoo, wanting to claim it as her own. Meant for her. Meanwhile, he pulled her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. When she cried out, he offered no mercy but yanked her skirt up and trailed a hand up her thigh until he made his way to…

  “Hell!” she cried when his fingers found what they were looking for.

  Any hope at stopping this was long gone when he rubbed his palm against her clit, pressed a finger deep inside and sucked her other nipple into his mouth. She cried out, and by instinct, reached between his legs, grabbed him and groaned. He was rock hard. Large. She squeezed instinctively.

  “Bloody hell,” he growled close to her ear. “Bloody hell.”

  Jackie felt like a blasted virgin as she kept squeezing without doing anything else in the least to pleasure him. It was as if this was the first time she’d touched a damn penis. In truth, though? It was the first time she had actually felt one in a while. A man for that matter. Because once she got excited, everything went numb.

  But she felt Darach. Every last inch of him.

  And she was beyond excited.

  This felt amazing.

  Yet she knew what would feel far more amazing. They both knew as their eyes locked then their lips crashed together again. He didn’t have to love her. She would make sure he didn’t. Later. After.

  Because there was no stopping what was happening.

  Not in a million years.

  Or maybe just lifetime after lifetime.

  Her skirt was still wrapped around her waist when he finally covered her completely and his hard flesh touched hers. She moaned with relief and anticipation.

  It felt like she had waited for this for so long.

  To feel the weight of his body.

  To hear the heaviness of their breathing, quick and desperate for each other.

  She wanted this over and over, again and again. It was like a memory she had forgotten but somehow better because she remembered. Every inch of his body felt like a new place to explore. Every sound she drew from his lips something she hadn’t heard in far too long.

  “Och, I missed ye,” he whispered against her skin, neck, cleavage.

  Jackie didn’t care what he meant because somehow she related.

  She had missed him too.

  So much.

  For a second she thought her ring flickered but was too consumed by him to glance at it again. Breathing became more and more difficult as he kissed her everywhere and spread her legs with his muscled thighs. She felt like she was caught somewhere between the warm sensation of coming home and the exciting sensation of something new. Sweat. Passion. A need for this endless feeling.

  Almost a sense of peaking before an actual orgasm.

  Her body rippled. It was as if he were already in her. As if she was already part of him. There was no making sense of it. Not until their eyes met. Then only one thing translated.

  Now.

  “Jackie,” he whispered before he thrust.

  Her insides seemed to burst wide open. Welcomed. She arched and cried out with pleasure, barely aware he swirled away yet stayed there at the same time. Discombobulated, she tried to hold onto to him, but it became more and more impossible.

  What was going on?

  “Awaken, Gwendolyn.” Someone shook her shoulders. “Ye as well, Devlin.”

  Jackie gasped when her vision finally cleared. The cave was gone. In its place, rolling green hills and a clear blue ocean. Lush trees blew in a warm wind. A beautiful woman knelt in front of her. Beads and pale gold ribbons were interwoven within her many blond braids. She wore a white gown with a rope of gold cinched around her slender waist.

  “I know you,” Jackie whispered.

  “Of course, you do,” the woman said. “I have been your sister Chiomara since the day you were born.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ireland

  484 A.D.

  Where it all began…

  WHERE DID JACKIE go? What the hell just happened? One moment he was in pure euphoria, deep inside her, the next she was ripped away. He blinked and peered through slits at a blue sky.

  “Bloody hell!” He sat up and tore off his helmet. Relief flooded him when he spied Jackie. But why were they clothed? Eyes wide, she shook her head as she put a hand over her mouth and stared at him.

  “What?” He frowned as he eyed their foreign surroundings and the woman crouched nearby. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

  “Did you both take a bump to the head, then?” The woman shook her head, disappointment on her face as she eyed him. “I know ye are First-in-command of my father’s army and his favorite, but he would ill favor ye indeed if he found ye lying in a field with my sister, Devlin.” Her voice lowered to a whispered hiss. “I’ve done my best to keep this attraction betwixt ye two secret. Now this.”

  Jackie’s eyes were still wide as she finally removed her hand and whispered, “He really is you.”

  When Darach looked at her in confusion, she gestured at him and spoke within the mind. “Look at your clothes. You’re…my Irish knight!”

  Darach looked down. “Bloody hell!” he repeated and stumbled to his feet. He wore wool trousers, light armor including a bronze chest plate and a dark brown cloak. “I dinnae ken.”

  The woman frowned at Jackie. “Gwendolyn, you need to get home and prepare.” Her eyes met his sharply. “And my father will be expecting ye to be by his side when Eoghan arrives.”

  “Eoghan?” he said into Jackie’s mind, finally taking in the enormity of not only their surroundings but her appearance. Though she still looked the same, she was dressed similarly to the lass who now confronted him. He fingered one of her tiny braids. “I think mayhap we’ve done a wee bit more than just travel back in time, lass.”

  “You think?” Jackie said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Before you woke up, I learned a few things. Besides the whopping realization that Chiomara's my sister, it seems I’m about to marry a well-known demi-god named Eoghan. Except it sounds like he’s just a Druid right now.” Her eyes widened. “An actual Druid!” She sighed. “On an up note, Chiomara apparently can’t hear us speak telepathically, and though we think we’re speaking English, we can’t be. Either way, she understands us. Or vice versa. I have no idea. Magic I assume.”

  Darach was about to speak, but she said, “Another thing?” She held up her hand. “My ring’s gone.”

  He took her hand and frowned at her bare finger.

  “Enough of that.” Chiomara batted Darach’s hand away. “Go do what ye must, soldier, whilst I care for my sister.”

  Dumbfounded, Darach stared after them as they walked away. Was that truly Chiomara the Druidess? She who would marry King Erc and birth Adlin MacLomain? She had to be. But as far as he knew she didn’t have a sister.

  While tempted to further explore his surroundings, he figured it would be wisest to follow them. If for no other reason than he had no idea where to go. The only thing he did know was that he and Jackie were Gwendolyn and Devlin in another life. And they clearly were not of the same rank. Nor were they supposed to have feelings for one another. Worse than that, Eoghan was her intended.

  Darach shook his head as he walked.

  It had long been told that Eoghan wanted Chiomara, so this was some untold part of family history. Just like her having a sister. A frown settled on his face. He had a bad feeling about this beyond the obvious.

  “Oh, wow,” Jackie murmured into his mind. “Look at all this.”

  They had just topped the hill to a sprawling community overseen by a quaint castle. The community seemed happy enough as they sold wares from their carts. He had no sooner passed through the gates when a buxom lass was on either side, wrapping elbows with him as they
grinned.

  “Every time Druidess Gwendolyn wanders off ye do too,” one complained with a well-practiced pout.

  “Ye know ye cannot have her, aye, laddie?” the other said, batting her lashes. “A druidess can only live a solitary life or be meant for another druid.”

  Darach gave no response, not sure in the least how Devlin would respond and not willing to risk it. He merely offered a small smile.

  “So will ye join me this eve after the celebrations?” the first lass implored, brushing the side of her breast against his arm.

  “Mayhap after he has a go at me,” the other informed and winked at him.

  When Jackie tossed a look at him over her shoulder, he offered a sheepish grin and shrugged. She rolled her eyes and allowed Chiomara to pull her into the crowd. A crowd that grew so thick she was soon stolen from his sight. It was a good thing that they could speak within the mind, or he would have been a lot more uncomfortable. As it was, it took almost more strength than he had not to toss her over his shoulder and leave.

  Anything to put distance between her and Eoghan.

  “I dinnae like this, lass,” he murmured into her mind. “Keep talking to me so that I know you’re well.”

  “I will…when I can.”

  “When you can?” He scowled. “We just lay together.” Darach shook his head. “You know how I feel. Being ripped from what we just shared is hard.”

  “Or meant to be,” she whispered.

  “Och, lass,” he started but was soon intercepted by another warrior.

  When the man made a curt motion with his hand, the lasses on Devlin’s arms sighed and sauntered off.

  “The men are ready at the castle, Sir. A bath awaits your pleasure,” he said, his eyes locked with Darach’s. Devlin clearly garnered enough respect that the bits of grass stuck to his armor would not be mentioned nor even glanced at with disapproval. The other possibility? Maybe Devlin made a habit of napping in the grass. Perhaps he was lazy. But no. That was obviously not the case based on the endless nods of respect not only from the villagers but fellow warriors as he passed by them.

  Darach nodded his thanks when the man led him to a cottage then left. A round, wooden tub full of steaming water waited as well as a change of clothes. It appeared he wouldn’t be wearing armor tonight.

  “Thank the bloody hell,” he muttered as he started to remove the uncomfortable stuff.

  He narrowed his eyes when someone said, “Sir, allow me to help ye.”

  A teenage boy melted out of the shadows and started pulling at the strappings on his armor. He had a squire? Interesting.

  “Thank ye…” When he perked a brow at the lad, hoping he would provide his name, the boy shook his head in confusion.

  There was only one way to handle this. Play dumb.

  “It seems I took a bump to the head earlier,” Darach explained. “Might ye remind me of your name?”

  “Of course, sir.” The lad lowered his head. “I am Úistean.”

  “And how long have ye seen after me, Úistean?”

  “Several turns of the moon now, sir.” He kept his head lowered but peeked at Darach. “Going on twenty-four fortnights now.”

  “That long.” Darach perked his brows. “Are we friends yet then?”

  “Ye are kind to us all, sir.” Úistean tilted his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Taggart, go fetch more water for our good sir.”

  “Aye,” came a soft voice and yet another lad he didn’t realize stood there exited.

  As soon as he left, Úistean transformed. While still respectable, he seemed far more relaxed as he pulled off Darach’s chest plate. “Ye were gone longer than usual with her this time, sir. If ye are not careful, people will wonder more than they already do.”

  “Her?”

  Úistean gave him a knowing look as he continued to help Darach. “Were ye not yet again with Druidess Gwendolyn?” Before he could respond, the lad sighed and shook his head. “I have done as ye’ve asked and spread rumors to the contrary but the way ye two look at each other in passing does no’ help your case.”

  “I cannae imagine it does,” Darach murmured. “Have ye been protecting us for long then?”

  Úistean’s brows furrowed and he inhaled deeply as he eyed Darach. “’Twas a good bump to the head, aye?”

  “Aye.” Darach rubbed his head. “’Twas bad.”

  “As far as I know ye’ve been sneaking off with Druidess Gwendolyn for many fortnights now. At least twelve.” He shook his head. “But it could have been far longer for all I truly know.”

  At least half a year? Darach well understood that. Had he actually been in Devlin’s shoes, he would have done the same.

  “So what can I expect this eve?” He breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the armor was removed. He could only imagine why he would have been wearing it out on a secret rendezvous with Jackie…or Gwendolyn.

  “Nothing ye will like, sir.”

  When the lad tried to help him unclothe, Darach shook his head.

  “So Eoghan is to marry Gwendolyn?”

  Úistean nodded. “And I have not heard good things about him.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “’Tis said he practices the dark arts.”

  If Úistean only knew.

  Though he dismissed Úistean, the lad paused at the door. “Might I say one more thing, sir?”

  “Aye.”

  Úistean’s eyes met his. “Everyone cares a great deal about ye. Do not challenge this Eoghan over a lassie that can never be yours.”

  Darach nodded, and the lad left. He was about to undress when he spied something in his pocket. Upon closer inspection he realized it was a handkerchief with the letter G sewn into the corner. Fleeting images flashed in his mind of a warm summer day. Green leaves flipped in the wind overhead as he kissed Gwendolyn. Then she pressed this into his hand. A token of her love for him.

  He told Jackie about it and heard the warmth in her response. “That feels familiar somehow. I sense that it was a wonderful day but can’t really grasp onto anything solid about it.”

  “Aye,” he agreed.

  By the time he sank into the water, he was more troubled than ever. Why were they here? What was the purpose of this? He didn’t need to experience another life with Jackie to confirm his feelings for her.

  “But it wouldn’t hurt to see what happened, eh?”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply at the feel of her in his mind. Now that he was alone, all he could focus on were those moments stolen from them. How she had felt in his arms. The look on her face as he pleasured her. The sweet, eager taste of her lips. The way she spread her legs wider when he…

  “I don’t know what changed between us since leaving Scotland,” she murmured, “but I assume you meant to think about all that sex stuff, not say it into my mind.”

  “Och,” he muttered but couldn’t help grinning “It seems you might be in my head a wee bit more than before.”

  “So it seems.”

  He smiled wider when flashes of her thoughts flickered through his mind. How aroused she still was. How eager and unfulfilled she still felt because they didn’t get a chance to finish what they started. Regrettably, her next words quickly diminished his growing erection.

  “So I was thinking,” she said. “If I’m Chiomara’s sister in this life, and she mothered Adlin, and he’s your great-great however many times removed grandfather, wouldn’t I technically be your great-aunt several, several times removed?”

  Hell, he was starting to hate time travel. In more ways than one.

  “I think mayhap the bloodline would be thinned enough,” he began.

  “Just kidding.” He heard the smile in her voice. “It turns out we’re foster sisters so not blood-related at all.”

  Darach eyed his withered cock with renewed hope and a matched grin in his voice. “I dinnae think joking is your strong point, lass.”

  In truth, he was somewhat amazed either of them could find humor considering the circumstances
. But he was glad they could. And he was grateful to learn more about her regardless of where they were. Because she was right about one thing. He didn’t know her as well as he would like to. Yes, he knew he loved her. It was almost ingrained. But what if she were right? What if it was only because of their previous lives? He understood how that might seem less substantial. It wasn’t built on moments they had lived together in this one.

  Naturally, she sensed his thoughts.

  “You understand where I’m coming from now,” she said.

  “Aye, lass,” he murmured. “Mayhap I do.”

  “Good.” Her voice grew curious. “So where are you?”

  “Bathing. Where are you?”

  “Bathing.”

  His brows perked. “Aye?”

  “Yup.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “I am. Hmm.” A grin warmed her voice. “Though tempted to pick up where we left off earlier, that probably wouldn’t be the best use of our time.”

  “I disagree.” He smiled. “I think whatever you have in mind is likely the best use of the time we have left.”

  He cringed as he said it because it occurred to him it would revert her back. Not so much to her eventual death but his if he loved her.

  “But seriously,” she said, going where he knew she would. Away from intimacy or the risk that came with love. “What’s been happening with you since we went in separate directions?”

  Though he’d much rather return to the kind of talk that would appease his renewed erection, he filled her in and kept the conversation light.

  “So we’ve…I mean Gwendolyn and Devlin have been sneaking around for some time?” she said.

  “Aye,” he said. “And I get the feeling that they…we, havenae been all that discreet.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting the same sense from what Chiomara has said.” She paused for several moments. “But I also get the feeling that she supports me. That she likes you…I mean Devlin.”

  “’Tis good I suppose,” he murmured, not entirely sure any of this was good in the least. “Did she talk more of Eoghan? Of your relationship?”

  “A little.” He sensed the tension in her voice. “Enough.”