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

by Sky Purington

  There could be no resurrection.

  His father had sacrificed everything to defend Darach.

  To keep his son safe.

  Jackie pulled off one boot then the other before she took his hands and met his eyes. “Favor?”

  “Aye, lass.”

  “Stand.”

  So he did, ready for anything she wanted, anything she desired, despite how sad he was. Yet when he stood, she leaned around him, pulled back the blankets then met his eyes. “Now sit.”

  So he did and rested his hands on her hips, lust flaring despite all they’d been through.

  “Nope, not what you need.” She patted the pillow. “Lie down.”

  “Nay,” he whispered, pulling her close until he rested his cheek against her stomach. “I dinnae want to sleep.”

  “I know,” she whispered and caressed his hair. “But you need to.”

  Darach’s eyes slid shut. “Nay.”

  Lost in exhaustion and grief, he had no idea she managed to lie him down until he awoke much later. Fire crackled on the hearth and torchlight flickered against the deep purple shadows of pre-dawn. As he had done to her earlier, she was propped on an elbow, her gaze tender.

  “How long have you been watching me, lass?” he murmured.

  “For a while.” She trailed a finger along his jaw. “You’re hard to look away from.”

  A smile curled his lips at the familiar words before he remembered where they were and all that had happened.

  “Och.” He closed his eyes. “I slept when I shouldnae have.”

  “You slept when you needed to,” she said softly.

  “Tell me it was all a nightmare, that none of it happened,” he whispered as her hand slid into his. “Tell me Da isnae dead.”

  “I can’t tell you that,” she whispered so softly he barely heard it.

  Darach had yet to cry, had yet to shed a bloody tear. Because that would make all of this real. Yet when she rested her cheek against his chest, and her sadness blew through him, a new level of grief made his chest tighten.

  He could let go with her.

  He was allowed.

  So he did. In his own way. He wrapped his arms around her and grieved. Tears likely fell, but he didn’t feel them. He only felt her as memories of his father washed over him. She felt like an anchor in a wave of emotions that flipped him every which way in a sea that he couldn’t control. He never let go but held on tight no matter how rough the waters.

  Needing more, both distraction and release, he pulled her lips to his. Their tongues twirled as he pressed closer to her warm body. There would be no foreplay. He was too desperate. So a chant later, their clothing was gone.

  “You should rest,” she whispered into his mind.

  “I have,” he whispered back as he came over her. “I will.”

  Until then, he wanted to be with her…in her. There was no need to wedge her thighs apart. She spread them willingly before he buried himself deep inside her. With a breathy sigh of relief and pleasure, she wrapped her arms around him and matched his every move. Not fast but very slow.

  So slow.

  He wanted to drown in everything she offered.

  Escape.

  Yet oddly enough it felt like he was, at last, coming home.

  She was finally in the chamber he had created for her long ago. Blues and oranges to match what he sensed of her. What he didn’t realize at the time was that he had inherently chosen colors to match her transition. Blue...cool, aloof and contained. Orange…changing, warming, blossoming. He had designed this room to welcome and make the lass of his dreams comfortable.

  One he never gave up hope on.

  How often had he fantasized about making love to her here?

  “Darach,” she half whispered, half groaned as they moved against each other.

  He slowed to a near stop, cupped her cheek and kissed her as though it were their first time. And it felt that way. As if they were just beginning. But then this was the first time he’d had her in his castle…as laird.

  Eventually, he broke the kiss and quickened his pace.

  When her eyes fluttered shut, a shudder rippled through her, and she arched, he was long past gone. He gripped the headboard and thrust twice more before his muscles seized. Teeth clenched, he made a guttural sound that was part animalistic and part anguished pleasure as he shook hard and released his seed.

  After his muscles finally relaxed, he kissed her several more times before rolling them onto their sides facing each other. He gazed at her before he pulled her close then promptly drifted off to sleep. When he woke again, it was to the smell of fresh bannock and to the sight of his beautiful wife standing at the window. She wore a white chemise that billowed around her as she stared out.

  His eyes widened at the strong sense of familiarity.

  He had dreamt of this moment.

  Sensing that he had awoken, her eyes drifted to him, and she offered a soft smile. “Hey there. How are you feeling?”

  Sad. Changed. A different man than he was yesterday.

  But always happy to see her.

  Darach sat up. He should get back downstairs.

  “No, Son. You should rest more,” his mother said into his mind. “Your aunts, uncles and cousins have everything under control.”

  “Nay, I should—”

  “This isn’t up for debate.” Then she left his mind.

  He knew better than to argue with her so remained focused on Jackie.

  “I’m feeling a wee bit better,” he said in answer to her question. He held out his hand. “Come here, lass.”

  Though he knew she was tempted, she shook her head. “You need to eat first. Regain your energy.”

  “I think we both know I’ve no issues with my energy.” He patted the bed. “Join me and I’ll remind you.”

  Jackie shook her head. “I’m sure you will.” She brought a tray of food and drinks over and set it down between them. “But first, you’ll eat.”

  Darach sighed and eyed her. “You’re pushy.”

  “I can be,” she agreed. “Especially when I care about someone.”

  He sipped some water and eyed the food. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re not supposed to be. You’re depressed.” She handed him a piece of bannock. “Even so, eat up so we don’t have our first fight already.”

  Darach worked at a pout. “You’d argue with me even in light of my loss?”

  “Absolutely.” She gave him a pointed look. “You might’ve signed your death warrant by loving me but I don’t intend to let you die beforehand from starvation.”

  “Och,” he muttered and bit into the tasteless food. Though he could think of far better ways to start his day, he was warmed by her concern.

  Jackie ate as well, but not that much. Instead, she spent the majority of the time persuading him to eat more. By the time they were finished, he’d polished off several slices of meat, another piece of bannock and a wedge of cheese.

  “I never got the chance to thank you yesterday.” Darach took her hand. “Not only for your support but for taking my pain when the demi-god attacked me.” He pushed down troubled emotions as he remembered it. “You could have gotten seriously hurt, lass.”

  “It was worth the risk,” she murmured. “You would’ve done the same.”

  “Aye, I would’ve, but I’m far stronger.” He shook his head. “You cannae do that again.”

  “Sorry, but I will if I have to.” She didn’t seem all that miffed by his request but rather matter-of-fact. “My health is only going to go downhill so there’s no point in worrying about me.”

  “Mayhap.” He tried to keep his tone light. “But that doesnae mean I dinnae want to keep you around as long as possible.”

  When she said nothing, he continued. “Several times now I’ve felt the numbness you experience and have heard you use the word forgive to temper it. Why?”

  “Because it helps me move past my anger.” Jackie sighed. “Erin isn’t a huge
fan of the whole forgiveness thing because she sees it as me folding. Giving up the good fight. Forgiving means I'm caving.” She shook her head. “But like me at first, she just couldn’t accept the truth. This is a battle that can’t be won. So I finally decided to forgive the fact I was sick. Once I did, it became easier.”

  “I can understand where both of you are coming from,” he said. “But I stand with Erin. While forgiveness is good, I dinnae think you should give up the fight either.”

  “I get it. You feel that way because you’re new to all of this.” Emotion churned in her eyes, but she blinked it away, a determined set to her chin. “Like I said, it’s incurable. The numbness and my sense of smell will get worse until they’re permanent. Until then, embracing forgiveness seems to keep things under control. I know it sounds weird, but it works. It must lower my blood pressure or something. Which must mean less strain on the tumor and nerves.” Her brows furrowed. “You’re the only other thing that works.”

  He frowned. “I dinnae ken.”

  “I can feel you even when I go numb,” she murmured. “I’m assuming it must have something to do with your magic.”

  “Aye, mayhap,” he said. “But I would say ‘tis more likely because of our unique connection.”

  “Could be,” she whispered. He heard her thoughts. How she didn’t want him connected in any way to her sickness. Before he could respond, she changed the subject. “They brought up a tub of water. It’s still warm.”

  Though tempted to continue speaking of her illness, he figured she’d had enough for now. So he fingered a silky strand of her damp hair. “I’m sorry I missed watching you bathe, lass.”

  “I have to keep some things a mystery.” A small smile curled her lips. “Besides, we seem to have started a tradition where we bathe separately.”

  “Aye.” He managed a small grin. “A tradition that needs to end. I’d much rather bathe with you.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get the opportunity.” She eyed the chamber. “This room is gorgeous. Stately. So did I tell you in one of your dreams my favorite colors were blue and orange?”

  “Not any dream I remember directly.” His grin remained, and he was never more thankful considering his sadness. “’Twas just a strong feeling so I went with it.”

  “Interesting.” Her eyes drifted over the oceanic tapestries before returning to him. “I’m curious about a few things.”

  “As am I.”

  Her brow swept up in response to his words, but she continued talking as she balanced a small piece of meat on its side. “Weren’t your parents curious about this room? Why you had it designed?

  “Nay.” He shrugged. “But then it’s been my chamber for years now.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “I thought you had it created for me?”

  “I did,” he said. “More so, for both of us. But then like you said, ‘twould have been odd to create such a space and not reside in it.”

  “Didn’t they question why it was made the safest?” She cocked her head. “I assume that means with magic.”

  “Aye, both with magic and location,” he said. “I told them it was the perfect place for the wee King if he ever ended up here. I’ve been training my whole life to protect him so ‘twas a logical assumption he would eventually arrive at this castle.”

  “True. That makes sense.” She slanted a look at him as she stacked a piece of cheese against the propped up meat. “So my husband’s not only a long term planner but clever as well. Not to mention devious.”

  “I like when you call me husband.” He trailed a finger over her idle hand, increasingly amused by her food architecture. “Aye, though I dinnae think I was all that devious. The king would someday come, and I did need a larger chamber. If I thought of you during its creation, there cannae be any harm in that.”

  “I suppose not.” She stacked another piece of meat on her wobbly creation before her eyes drifted to their bed. Huge with four posters, it could easily sleep many. “Nice bed. I’ll bet it’s gotten a lot of use.”

  Well, she certainly knew how to keep him distracted. He cocked the corner of his lip. “Are you jealous of who has been here before you, lass?”

  “Of course not,” she said a little too quickly as she took a chance with an extra wedge of cheese on what had become a teetering tower. “It’s none of my business.”

  “Aye, you’re probably right.” He enjoyed playing with her. “You’ve lain with other lads, and I’ve lain with other lasses. There isnae any point in discussing it.” A grin ghosted his lips. “Save to say that we’re both better off because of our experiences.”

  There was a compliment in that, but she clearly wasn’t interested in praise, sexual or otherwise.

  “Right. I suppose all that matters is that I’m on birth control and practice safe sex. At least, I did before we got together.” Her lips curled down, and she risked one wedge of cheese too many, toppling her tower. “I just figured because you had this room created…” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind. Anyway, I’m curious about something else. The statue built into the castle. The one that looks like me.” She pointed to her birthmark. “It even has this.”

  “Aye, ‘tis you, lass,” he said. “Yet another thing created by Goddess Brigit.”

  “No kidding.” She tilted her head. “I’m surprised nobody in your family thought it was odd when I showed up. You would’ve thought someone would’ve mentioned the statue and connected the dots.”

  “That’s because nobody knows about it but me. ‘Twas recently created by the goddess in case of an emergency,” he said. “She told me ‘twould be visible when needed and thankfully ‘twas.”

  “She seems to have an uncanny sense of foresight,” Jackie said.

  “Aye,” he agreed. “But then she is a goddess. And one who likes to play games at that.”

  “Evidently.”

  Darach studied her. “Might I ask you something as well, lass?”

  “Sure.”

  “What did my Ma say to change your mind about marrying me?”

  Jackie considered him for a long moment before sharing. “She pointed out something I couldn’t dispute.”

  “What was that?”

  “Like I told you, I connected with your mom at the Viking fortress. We had lots of time to talk so she knew that my parents wanted me to marry before I got my inheritance. That they believed in true love above all else.” Her eyes met his. “Not only would they have liked you but they would have wanted me to follow my heart no matter the risk.” She grew more emotional. “They would have wanted me to marry you. They would’ve given their blessing.”

  “’Tis good to hear.” He wrapped his fingers around hers. “I wish I could have met them.”

  “Me too.” Their eyes held for a long moment. “You have a pretty wise mother, you know.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “I’m verra lucky.”

  Jackie nodded as her eyes swept over the bed again. Though she was eager to distract herself, it wasn’t so easy, and she was back to thinking about who’d been there before her. Darach flicked his wrist and removed the tray. Perfect time to put her concerns to rest.

  Her eyes widened when she saw his intent. “Oh no, you don’t.”

  Before she could get far, she was on her back beneath him. She wasn’t going anywhere. Propped up on one hand, he wound the other into her hair and made sure her eyes stayed with his. “I know you’re still curious about the bed.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “You’re the first lass to sleep in it.”

  “I wouldn’t care if I wasn’t,” she fibbed, a telling light of relief in her eyes. “It’s your room.”

  “Our room.”

  She trailed a finger over his straining bicep, her voice softer. “Our room.” Her eyes stayed with his. “So where did you go to—”

  Darach put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Never here, lass. That’s all that matters.”

  He brushed his finger down her neck, pleased by her gooseflesh a
nd the shudder that rippled through her. Before she could utter another word about previous partners, he pulled up her chemise, settled between her thighs and spent longer than intended showing her just how much this bed really was hers.

  By the time they finished and he dried off from his bath it was mid-morning. As sated as him, Jackie sat at the table and watched out of the corner of her eyes as he wrapped his plaid.

  “’Tis cute how you fiddle with things,” he mentioned as she appeared to be creating some new design with the left-overs. “First the pebble at the glade, now the food.”

  She pulled her hand back as though she hadn’t realized she was doing it. “I don’t know that I’d call it cute. My uncle would call it unbecoming.” She shrugged. “I picked it up after I traveled back in time.”

  He pulled on his boots. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Like I hinted at before, life was a lot different back home. I was expected to act a certain way. Always use the right utensils and say the right thing. Be a lady. Fiddling with anything would have been frowned upon.” A guilty little grin crawled onto her face. “I guess a new me is emerging here.” Her eyes met his. “With you…because of you.”

  “Good to hear, lass.” He winked. “Because this ‘you’ will be the perfect Lady of Hamilton Castle.”

  “And here I thought a more refined woman would be better suited as the laird’s wife.”

  “Och, nay, there’s no fun in that.” He pulled on his tunic. “Ma was in your position for almost three decades. Does she strike you as all that refined?”

  When she didn’t respond, he looked her way and froze. Her body was limp, and her eyes were rolled back in her head.

  “Bloody hell. Jackie?” Fear spiked as he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. “Lass?” He cupped her cheeks. “Can you hear me?”

  He called to her telepathically.

  Still no response.

  “Lair, I need yer help,” he roared into his sister’s mind. “Something’s wrong with Jackie.”

  “Aye, brother,” she responded. “I’m coming.”

  He tried to remain calm. This couldn’t be happening. Jackie could not be leaving him all ready. He wouldn’t allow it. They needed more time. Far more time. Though Lair arrived within minutes, it felt like hours. Thankfully, Aunt McKayla was with her.