The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Purington, Sky

  Robert chuckled and nodded. “She’s an observant lass, aye?”

  “She’s scared.” Lindsay frowned at him. At all of them. “Jim and Blair are there in the twenty-first century with her. They’ve filled her in on everything that’s happened.” She gestured at their surroundings. “And now this is happening, her seeing me when I’m not really there.” She shook her head. “She’s staying at Milly’s house and has had to all but tie Jessie down, so she doesn’t leave.”

  Conall knew Jessie was the fourth Broun lass and from what little he had heard about her, was considerably different than the others. A hermit of sorts that lived alone in the forest. A witchy type by the sounds of it. His eyes found Lindsay’s. But then they were all witches, weren’t they?

  “You know what I find curious,” Bryce said, frowning. “If this warlock is becoming more and more involved and may have even influenced Robert, then would it not stand to reason that he knows the Bruce secretly stands with the Scots?” His eyes met Grant’s. “And if that’s the case, why not simply tell the Sassenach? Would that in itself not likely change Scotland's history?”

  “Aye,” Grant said. “But then we dinnae know what games this warlock is playing.” He frowned. “And we've no real proof the Sassenach even knew he was amongst them in Strathearn. For all we know the warlock might be Scottish and not affiliated with the English at all.”

  “That would be so sad,” Lindsay whispered.

  It bloody hell would be.

  “Grandson.” Grant made a gesture with his hand. “The tent?”

  “Aye.” Conall nodded and murmured a chant, dispelling its magic before he began taking it down. He probably should not have used magic to begin with but it had been such a small amount, he wasn’t overly worried. Nor was his grandfather. Yet now, in light of what happened, he had to wonder. Had he drawn the warlock’s attention?

  Likely catching some of his thoughts or thinking along the same lines, Grant joined him as he finished up with the tent.

  “Though I wasnae overly concerned before and knew your heart was in the right place,” he said softly. “I think ‘twould be best if ye didnae use your magic again unless necessary, aye?”

  “Aye,” Conall agreed and nodded.

  Though determined to leave this alone until he had further proof, his eyes drifted to Grant. “Do ye think Lindsay is really connecting with Da?” He did his best to keep his expression tight and emotion out of his voice. “Do ye think there’s a chance he lives?” He shook his head. “Or is this just the warlock playing tricks?”

  “I think, mayhap, ‘tis a bit of both,” Grant replied, more honest than Conall expected when this was the perfect opportunity to sugar-coat things and mayhap win his grandson back.

  Conall nodded, grateful for his straightforward answer. “We will hope for the best then.”

  “Aye.” Grant nodded as well as they headed back toward the main cave. “I think if he's to be found, Lindsay will lead us to him.” His voice softened. “I’m glad she’s taken a liking to ye lad. She’s a good lass. Yer grandmum, and I like her verra much.”

  That did not surprise him. Gift of enchantment aside, Lindsay was quite likable when she wanted to be. As to her having taken a liking to him, he wasn’t so sure. They seemed at odds more often than not.

  “Because ye keep each other at odds,” Grant muttered. “Convincing yerselves that there’s nothing but heartache ahead if ye get too close.”

  When Conall frowned at him, his grandfather shrugged. “Ye think such strong thoughts about her ‘tis a wonder yer kin back home dinnae hear such.” He shook his head. “Then again, nobody needs to read yer thoughts to come to the same conclusion I have.”

  Instead of continuing the conversation, Conall veered off and headed for his horse. He found Lindsay not that far off. She had her fur wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she stared into the forest, her gaze faraway. Neither said a word at first as he prepared their horse for travel.

  Eventually, she spoke, her voice whisper soft. “I used to love the outdoors, especially the woods and the solace it offered.”

  “But you dinnae anymore?” he ventured, without meeting her eyes. “’Tis now a place of bad memories?”

  “No, quite the opposite.” She shook her head, her eyes still trained on the trees, her voice quiet. “It reminds me of how far I’ve come and how strong I am.”

  Not of all their long talks? Not of the friendship they once shared?

  It was that, the things she did not voice, that suddenly made everything crystal clear. She had connected with him and nobody else when they were bairns. They were there for each other then and could be now.

  Or at least for their kin.

  “I think we are being selfish and ‘tis time to put an end to it,” he stated as he stood beside her, crossed his arms over his chest and knew he had come to a sound conclusion. “’Tis time we accept we are doomed to be together, announce it to everyone then lay together as often as possible so we can harness the power of the gem and defeat the enemy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  IF NOTHING ELSE COULD be said about Conall Hamilton, it was that he had the unique ability, one way or another, to consistently render her speechless.

  “Come, then.” He plunked her on the horse and swung up behind her before she could formulate a thought, never mind the biting response he had coming.

  “The Bruce will return to the Sassenach for a bit,” he continued as though he hadn't just said those words. “Meanwhile, we will reconnect with Wallace.”

  As they fell in behind the other horses and he began speaking again, she tensed, shook her head and cut him off. “It would be in your best interest to stop talking, Laird Hamilton.”

  When he began to anyway, she narrowed her eyes over her shoulder, shook her head sharply, and bit out, “Like I said, it would be in your best interest to stop talking.”

  When he was foolish enough to do it again, she raised her voice and called out, “Graham, I could use your help.”

  Conall’s brows slammed together, and he frowned as Graham trotted up alongside them.

  “May I ride with you, Graham?” She smiled at him seductively to aggravate Conall. “I find my current company presumptuous, rude and most definitely doomed, but not for the reasons he thinks.”

  “Doomed is it?” Graham smirked at Conall as he steered his horse closer.

  “Doomed, to say the least,” she concurred, using the insulting word Conall had just spoken.

  “Och, ye dinnae want to take my lass,” Conall said into Graham’s mind thinking she didn’t follow every word.

  “For starters, I’m not your lass, Laird Hamilton,” she spat as she leaned over enough that Graham could scoop her off and plunk her down in front of him. Lindsay narrowed her eyes at Conall. “Secondly, I have no further need of your training or protection.” She glanced over her shoulder at Graham and mouthed, “This is when you spur your horse and leave him behind.”

  “Aye, then.” He nodded, shot Conall an apologetic look and pulled out ahead of him.

  Calling on Graham, of course, served two purposes. It put distance between her and Conall and allowed her to question Graham further.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as she settled in and ignored how different he felt at her back than Conall. “Your cousin drives me crazy.”

  “Aye,” he replied. “Yer not alone, lass.”

  She nodded, knowing full well she was not.

  “So, now that we have time alone,” she continued. “Do you mind if we talk about what happened in the caves?” She met his eyes over her shoulder. “What happened after you first saw Christina?”

  “Aye.” He winked. “I figured ye had called on me for a verra specific reason.”

  “Two very specific reasons,” she reminded, glancing beyond Graham’s shoulder to Conall’s moody countenance. “One of which appears to be working perfectly.”

  “I imagine ‘tis,” he replied, his suddenly serious eyes catching hers
before she turned back. “I know his behavior is hard to tolerate on occasion, but ye’ve got to remember that he’s been through an awful lot.” His voice softened. “I couldnae imagine losing my best friend then my da so soon after.”

  “I know,” she said softly as she looked forward again. “And while I feel for him, I really do, it doesn’t give him the right to continually treat people poorly.”

  “Does he then?” Graham murmured. “Treat everyone so poorly? You?”

  She thought of the magically spacious tent last night and how concerned he seemed that she stayed warm and sheltered.

  “Let’s talk about you and what happened,” she said, not in the mood to further explore the riot of emotions Conall could too easily invoke. “You saw Christina run toward the tent. Then what?”

  “Then...” He cleared his throat, clearly feeling strongly about something. “Then I was there at Mystery Hill. She stopped running and turned around after she passed through me somehow.”

  “So she did pass through you?”

  “Aye, I suppose,” he murmured. “’Twas a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  “What sort of feeling?” She glanced over her shoulder into his dark eyes. Eyes, she realized, that were smoldering with something undefinable. Interest, confusion...lust? “Happiness, sadness, anger?”

  “More like...recognition.”

  Her brows shot up. “Recognition?”

  Could they have shared a childhood friendship like she and Conall had?

  “Aye,” he replied. “’Twas as if I had seen her before.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and faced forward again. “That makes sense considering everything that’s going on with all of us. The rings and their gems.”

  “Och, nay, ‘twas not like that,” he said so softly she barely caught it. “’Twas as if I remember her as an important historical figure.”

  Lindsay frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Nor do I,” he admitted. “I think she thought I would be the Bruce when she turned back. There was hope in her eyes.”

  She shook her head. “But we figured out that Robert was under the influence of dark magic.”

  “Aye,” Graham said. “But what of Christina’s dream? Was it not of the Bruce? And is he not one of the most important figures in Scottish history?”

  She looked at him again, still frowning. “Why do I almost get the feeling you’re saying you think Christina is going to become part of Scotland’s history? That she might very well end up with Robert the Bruce?”

  He shrugged, but she didn’t miss the troubled tone of his voice. “Are we not all to become part of Scotland’s history?”

  “Yes, well, some of us,” she conceded. “But it sounds like you’re talking about actual recorded history.”

  Because all of them on these quests to save Scotland, MacLomains and Brouns alike, would never be part of recorded history. Or so she had been told.

  “All I know is ‘tis likely she’ll be traveling back in time,” Graham continued softly. “And that she will play a verra important role when she does.”

  She nodded as she turned her eyes to the path ahead. Of course, Christina would be traveling back in time as would Jessie. She didn’t doubt that in the least. No more than she assumed Graham and Bryce would be their matches.

  Not for the first time, she mulled that over. For some reason, she had pictured Christina with Bryce. Likely because it was a stretch envisioning the largest of the MacLomains with the smallest of the Brouns.

  “Such a size difference didnae stop my great Aunt Torra MacLomain from ending up with my Great Uncle Colin MacLeod,” Conall muttered into her mind. “Against all odds, be it physical or mental, connections that are meant to be will be.”

  If she knew what was good for her, she would ignore him.

  “When I got off your horse and freed you from both training and protecting me,” she replied, “that meant staying out of my mind as well.”

  “You know I cannae do that,” he said. “And you know why.”

  “Think what you want, Laird Hamilton, but I do not have to commit to you.” She rounded her eyes though he couldn’t see them. “And I most certainly will not sleep with you until we harness the power of my ring.”

  “Lying together is logical,” he replied, clearly stuck in utter-jackass-mode. “And ‘tis no hardship for you, aye?”

  Did he really just say that? Was he truly that arrogant? Yet as she fumed, deep down she knew he was right. At least about the lack of hardship on her part. And maybe even all the rest. But that didn’t make his continual lack of tact any easier to swallow. Rather than respond, she clenched her teeth and kept fuming. Nobody needed to see her aggravation. Least of all Conall.

  “He is going about this the only way he knows how, lass,” Graham said sometime later after she had cooled down.

  “You followed all that back there, eh?” she murmured. Snow had started spitting, and the wind had grown more gusty. Thankfully, Graham had his fur around her as well, so she was warm enough.

  “’Tis verra likely all of us caught yer telepathic exchange ‘twas so heated,” he replied. “But I meant what I said. Like ye, Conall is struggling but ‘tis obvious to all, he’s come far in a verra short time. Since he met ye, lass.”

  “Then I can only imagine him beforehand,” she muttered.

  “Can ye truly?” Graham said. “Can ye imagine what he was like before all the loss and heartache?”

  The truth was she could because she had met that Conall. She remembered the carefree boy. His smiling eyes. How he made her laugh when she never thought she would again. They had shared a unique, uplifting connection. Uncomplicated. So much so that they, ironically enough, had never even bothered exchanging names. It never seemed necessary.

  “No, I can't imagine how he was,” she lied. “It’s hard to envision him any other way.”

  “He used to be much like me,” he informed, the devil in his voice. “Somewhat.”

  “Somewhat?”

  “Aye.” He chuckled. “But for all his flirting, he never took a lass for long. Days at a time at most.”

  “Why?” She hated that her breath caught as she waited for his response.

  “We always thought he was waiting for someone...looking for someone,” Graham murmured, the tone of his voice a little too all-knowing. “No lass, despite how bonnie or even-tempered, held his attention for long.”

  “That sounds sort of sad,” she remarked.

  “Aye, mayhap,” Graham said. “But he was never down. Nay, quite the opposite. As though he knew whoever he was waiting for, would someday come.” He squeezed her shoulder gently. “I think he was waiting for ye, Lindsay. And I think, in some way, yer a gift from the gods for him...especially now.”

  She bit her lip against unexpected tears. At one time, Conall had done the same for her. He gave her a glimpse of happiness. While she couldn’t say with any certainty she had offered that to him in return, they had gotten along well. Especially considering they never saw the whole of one another and their conversations took place while she was perched in a tree.

  “A magical tree,” a familiar voice reminded as Darach suddenly appeared striding alongside them.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered. “How are you here...again?”

  “What is that?” Graham asked.

  “I...um...nothing,” she whispered, still seeing Darach clear as day as he said, “Remember lass, move beyond all the faces you’re willing to wear and follow the gem. The more you do, the easier ‘twill be for me to reach out to you.”

  She nodded, not sure what she was agreeing to. Or so she tried to convince herself as she glanced back at Conall. He had remained right behind them, his vigilant eyes still firmly locked on her. It was obvious he intended to remain her protector, whether she liked it or not.

  By the time she turned back, Darach had vanished once more.

  Yet, not surprisingly, Grant trotted up alongside them, his eyes a
lert as they met hers. “Is all well, lass?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She smiled. “Graham has been taking good care of me.”

  While she knew Grant could not see his son, she was beginning to think he sensed when Darach was around.

  “Aye, good then.” His eyes met Graham’s. “’Tis time to walk your horse. We veer off soon down an embankment that brings us closer to the river. ‘Twill be slick.”

  Graham nodded and stopped the horse as did many others before he swung down and helped her after him. Her feet had no sooner hit the ground when Conall was there, his tone tight and his eyes sterner than ever. “You will continue with me, lass. ‘Twill be a dangerous decline.”

  “I’ll be just fine with Graham—” she began before Graham interrupted her. “Nay, lass, go with Conall. Bryce and I will lead the horses down. Ye shouldnae be near the beasties whilst they make the descent.” He shook his head. “Especially not in this weather.”

  She nodded, not about to argue when she didn’t know the land. As it turned out, the way was rather steep considering they weren’t in an overly mountainous area. Conall took her hand and led the way. “Watch my every step and mimic it.”

  So she did, suddenly remembering a day when it mysteriously snowed in her tree. Not weather from where she lived, but where he was. While there were always variants between their temperatures, this day had been notable. It had gone from warm to blustery and cold in an instant.

  In fact, it had been the first time she saw snow.

  It was also the first time Conall became determined to climb up and finally find her...meet her face to face.

  “There has got to be a way up,” he muttered trying over and over to climb or find other inventive ways up, but always failing.

  “Maybe I can come down,” she replied, her eyes wide with wonder as she watched the snow falling. “Maybe this is a sign. The snow is here and will somehow help.”

  “If anything ‘twill only make it slicker.” She could hear the frown in his voice. “Dinnae risk it, lass. We will try another day.”