Cooked.
It helped clear her mind.
So she clipped up her hair, washed her hands, and put a cute frilly apron on that she’d dug out of one of Milly’s moving boxes. Then she got busy. First off, she pulled up Pandora on her cell and made sure she labored in style to some upbeat music. That meant anything that’d make her hips swing. Next, she poured herself a glass of chilled white wine, be damned the early hour.
Humming along with the music, she pulled spices out of the cabinet, meats, and vegetables out of the refrigerator and put water on to boil. Though slightly frustrated that Rona hadn’t followed her in when they had a lot to talk about, she figured it was for the best. At least right now.
She seared stew meat and added it to a crock pot before she started on gravy. Once that was finished, she set it aside and started scrubbing potatoes, all the while mulling over what she had dreamt about last night.
A man.
One heck of a man for that matter.
He called himself Robert the Bruce and shockingly enough, claimed to be promised to her. Or she was promised to him. She couldn’t quite remember.
What she did recall were his good looks.
Not for the first time, it hit her who he actually was. A famous Scottish king from the distant past. A man who seemed to be reaching across the centuries trying to find her. Trying to be with her. She shook her head as she began cutting potatoes a few minutes later. The connection between them had felt so strong. So unavoidable. As if they were always meant to be together and they both knew it.
“You’re out of your mind, Christina,” she muttered as she set aside the potatoes and started washing carrots. It was obviously just a dream. It had to be. It better be. What a dream though. It was so intense that she shot up in bed hours before the sun came up and started researching Robert the Bruce online.
Sure, she had watched the movie Braveheart because she loved all things Scottish, but beyond that, she hadn’t done nearly as much research about the country as Milly. They all descended from the Scottish Brouns, and that was enough for her.
“Brouns that are meant for medieval MacLomains,” she muttered. “Who knew?” She perked
her brows at nobody and chopped away. “No MacLomains for me, though.” She shook her head. “Nope, I’m too damn busy dreaming about famous Scottish kings I couldn’t even imagine traveling back in time and meeting.” She added the carrots to the potatoes. “But then stranger things have happened. I mean what southern girl in her right mind resorts to making homemade New England beef stew this often?”
She took a few sips of wine and swung her hips as she cut up some onions, tossed all the veggies in with the meat then added the gravy and turned the pot on high. As far as she could see out the window, Blair and Rona had vanished. Good, she supposed. At least for the moment.
She might need answers from Rona, but the truth was she wasn’t all that eager to answer any questions the Scotswoman might have for her. Namely, about her brother.
“Graham,” she whispered, still dancing as she added a few extra spices to the stew before she covered it. “What were you doing there?”
She had been asking herself that since her run earlier. A run she barely recalled setting out on. But then, like Jim had said, she was pretty out of it. Nevertheless, her dazed sprint brought her to Mystery Hill, Salem’s little Stonehenge through the woods. That’s where she found, of all people, Lindsay. Not Lindsay in the common sense but more a ghost of her. Bizarrely unfazed by it all, they chatted for a while, and Lindsay caught her up on everything. A truly wild tale from start to finish.
A shiver went through her as she recalled what happened next.
Not a bad shiver by any means. More the sort of shiver a woman might have when remembering a pleasurable sensation. An unanticipated but very welcome intimacy. She stared out the window as she recalled darting after Lindsay only to pass right through someone else.
“Now your sister’s here,” she muttered, talking to the memory of that someone else as she made Jessie’s tea. “I can’t help but find that curious, Graham.”
Though she only caught a glimpse of him, he was hard to forget. Those super dark, thickly lashed eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and strong jaw. That rich, black hair, five o’clock shadow, and tanned skin. He had the sort of swarthy good looks that must make women trip over themselves to get near him.
She was so lost in thought about not only his utter hotness but how it felt to pass through him that she was oblivious to anything else. That is until she turned around for a spoon and ran smack into a hard body. For a split second, she thought she was still in her own head as her eyes crawled upward and landed on the very face she was just thinking about.
“My sister is here,” he rumbled, his brogue thick as hell as he responded to her private mutterings. “But I dinnae think ye find it all that curious, Christina.”
“Hot damn,” she whispered, staggering back a few steps until she bumped into the countertop. “Is it happening again?” Unable to drag her eyes from his handsome face, she patted herself to see if she was really here. “Are we doing that crossover thing again?”
“Nay,” he murmured, his voice so deep and sexy she felt it down to places that had been off limits to men for a while. “I am really here, lass. Like my sister, I’ve traveled through time to find ye.”
“Ye,” she whispered, so caught up in his wicked eyes that she sounded like a dumbass. “Like me?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Ye.”
“So not me but you,” she whispered.
“Nay, ye.” The corner of his mouth curled up, and a dimple appeared on his cheek. “Not me.”
Now it was her turn to grin. “I mean you when you say ye.”
“Laughter is not something I embrace,” Jessie said softly. “But if I did it would happen now listening to you two.”
Startled that her friend had actually left that chair, Christina finally managed to drag her eyes from Graham to look at Jessie. “Hey there, sweetie.” She blinked several times, trying to get her thoughts straight. “Your tea’s almost ready.”
Jessie nodded, her eyes never leaving Graham.
He, in turn, was clearly uncomfortable beneath her intense appraisal. Unlike any woman in her right mind, Jessie wasn’t checking him out but almost studying him.
So Christina made introductions to try to break the ice then set the tea on the counter in front of Jessie, all the while overly aware of Graham. “There ya go, honey. Can I get you something else? Hungry?”
“No.” Jessie’s eyes never left Graham. “He’s coming, isn’t he?”
Graham’s brows edged together. “Who, lass?”
“Tell him not to come.” Jessie shook her head. “He’s not welcome here.”
Christina frowned, baffled more than usual by Jessie’s behavior. “Who’s not welcome here?”
“Everyone knows very well who,” Jessie replied softly. “The dragon.” Her eyes narrowed on Graham. “You should go.”
“Jessie,” Christina exclaimed, apologizing to Graham before she ushered her friend out of the kitchen and repositioned her in front of the fire. She crouched in front of her and tilted her head in question. “What’s going on? Were you talking about his cousin Bryce? Because we both know he’s a dragon shifter.”
“But is he the only one?” Jessie's eyes met Christina’s, her tone not quite right. “Or is another coming that will destroy all hope for Scotland’s history? More so, destroy all hope of any of us surviving?”
Chapter Two
HE SHOULD HAVE STAYED in medieval Scotland. Life would be so much simpler.
Or would it?
Since the moment Conall and Lindsay defeated their warlock, and the skirmishes at Earnside and Happrew happened as they should, Graham had been braced for the inevitable. Either he or his cousin Bryce was up next.
That meant they were destined for a lass from the future.
Most specifically, a Broun.
Though he had pla
yed along thus far when first Milly traveled back in time then Lindsay, he knew time was running out. Eyes were narrowing on him, curious to see what he would do next considering he had already made contact with Christina. Though he had done his best to navigate around things, who knew a lass would end up running straight through him?
A lass he figured for sure he would be able to get out of his mind.
A lass he could never be with.
Even so, Christina was a Broun. So she was meant for one of the MacLomain men, and he needed to figure out which one. Therefore, when Uncle Grant asked Rona to go to the future to help Blair keep an eye on things, he discreetly followed. Had he not, Bryce would have come and who knew what that might have meant for any innocent lass here.
After all, dragons were unpredictable.
Or so he told himself as he watched Christina interact with first Rona then Jim. When she headed inside, he made sure Rona and Blair kept Jim busy so he could finally meet her on his own terms. What he didn’t expect as he used his magic to enter the house undetected and bypassed the lass sitting in front of the fire was to find Christina such as she was.
The moment he stood at the threshold of the kitchen and laid eyes on her, all his magic fizzled away. Her back was to him, and she was clearly enjoying herself. He couldn’t stop a small smile as he watched her dance. Her shoulders bobbed,, and her hips swayed as she cut vegetables. If that wasn’t entertaining enough, she hummed to music in between endless mutterings.
There was no way to know how long he stood there mesmerized. It was clear she was a happy spirit like him, and she wasn’t about to let all this heavy true love connection stuff get her down.
More confident by the moment that she was the lass for him because she was surely too open-minded to commit, he continued enjoying Christina. Her clipped-up sun streaked light brown hair glowed in the sunlight streaming through the window, and she was taller than most lasses. His eyes trailed down her slim back to her tight waist right down to an arse that shot blood straight to his cock.
Bloody hell she was in good shape, wasn’t she?
When her mutters started to address him directly—or her prior meeting with him—he knew he should say something. But he was too caught up in her voice, her movements, and most certainly how good she looked from this angle. He had never been more tempted to touch a lass. To wrap his hands around her small waist, bend her forward as she kept swaying, and see what came of it. Because he didn’t doubt it would be exceptionally rewarding.
“Now your sister’s here,” she muttered. “I can’t help but find that curious, Graham.”
She was still talking to herself.
Yet he found himself responding after she spun and ran right into him.
“My sister is here,” he rumbled. “But I dinnae think ye find it all that curious, Christina.”
In that singular moment, before she stumbled back against the counter, he realized his well-laid plans might not go as smoothly as he hoped. Not when their eyes locked for the first time beyond that ethereal connection they had made before.
He had never seen such a beautiful face or eyes so fetching. Pale smoky green and shimmering, they reminded him of fog curling off the morning loch as sunlight danced over it. She had luminous sun kissed skin that almost seemed to glow. Funny, how everything about her reminded him of the sun. Its warmth and vitality. Because she certainly had plenty of that with her well-toned shapely body
Once they began speaking, he knew he might be in even more trouble. She had a sultry drawl that made him want to keep listening. Even better? It seemed she had a sense of humor or so said their conversation about ‘you’s’ and ‘ye’s.’
Now she was in the other room seeing to the wee lass named Jessie. A lovely little thing that clearly had no use for men or even dragons. A mythical beastie she seemed all too familiar with. He listened to their conversation with his superior hearing, sure to look distracted when Christina returned.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured as she gestured at the door and offered him a charming smile. “Care to take it outside, handsome?”
“Aye.” He couldn’t help a small grin. There might be no hope for the two of them, but he liked her anyway.
Fortunately, his sister and cousin were still off poking around at the Stonehenge with Jim, so there were no distractions as he followed Christina outside. She tossed him a smile over her shoulder and headed down the drive. “C’mon, this way. Nobody except Jessie ever seems to wanna head out of this place, so we should find some privacy in this direction.”
“Ye arenae afraid to go off alone with me?” he asked. “A man ye just met?”
“Not in the least.” She eyed him over her shoulder again. “Should I be?”
“Nay.” He smiled. “Not at all, lass.”
Graham was just fine with privacy if it meant he could continue to admire her. It was only a matter of time before Bryce arrived and he hoped to get to know her a little bit better first. He wasn’t all that surprised to see she wore a Claddagh ring to match Milly’s and Lindsay’s. The gem at the center of its hand held heart was clear whereas it would eventually shine the eye color of her one true love.
That is if an evil warlock didn’t get in the way first.
He frowned as he joined Christina and watched her out of the corner of his eye. He had known her mere minutes, and already the idea of evil going anywhere near her made his insides twist.
“You look about as happy now as your sister did when I first met her,” she commented as they walked. “How come? Because scowlin’ doesn’t seem natural to you, sweetheart.” Her eyes narrowed as she considered him. “Not to say it doesn’t hold a certain appeal in a bad boy sort of way.”
He liked that she was straightforward and said what she was thinking.
Though he had far more important things to discuss with her, he found himself saying, “So ye like bad boys then?”
A sly grin curled her lips. “I’m surprised you know what that means.”
“I have a mother and aunts from the twenty-first century,” he reminded, trying to keep his eyes off her sinfully long legs. He wished more lasses from his time dressed like her. What sort of trousers were those anyway? They didn’t leave much to the imagination. Not that he was complaining.
“I’ve had a bad habit of going for the wrong kind of man in the past,” Christina continued, well aware he was discreetly admiring her based on the knowing look she shot him. “Or maybe it’s the other way around. Not quite sure.”
Now that got his attention. “So ye were a bad girl?” He couldn’t stop a wide smile. “Tell me more.”
“Me? Bad?” The corner of her lips hitched, and she winked. “Naw.” Then she shrugged. “What I meant was I never stuck around long because men always end up showing signs.”
Enthralled, he cocked his head. “Signs?”
“Yeah, signs that they can’t handle me,” she muttered, then frowned and shook her head as they continued walking. Before he had a chance to ask her what she meant by that, she flashed a smile at him. “Sorry, forget I said that, okay?”
Christina might be smiling, but he recognized the wary glint in her eyes. She had said more than intended. She had secrets, and he well understood that. So he changed the subject.
“What do ye know about everything that’s happening in my era, lass?” he asked.
“I’ve been filled in on a lot of it.” She shrugged, clearly relieved they had moved on. “I think the bigger question is how well I actually understand it.” Her eyes slid his way. “Blair and Jim shared a lot then Lindsay caught me up on what’s happened in medieval Scotland since then, but I’ll be honest...” Her voice dropped an octave. “It’s a whole lotta crazy, and I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around it.”
“Aye.” He nodded, charmed by her odd accent and the way she phrased things. “I cannae imagine what everything must seem like from yer viewpoint.”
“Scary as shit,” she said bluntly before muttering someth
ing under her breath. “But I’m doing my best to take it in stride.”
“What was that?” he asked. “I didnae quite catch what ye said in between.”
“What?” She frowned in confusion before she realized what he meant. “Oh.” She chuckled. “Old habit. I tend to apologize to my granny when I swear. She wouldn’t like it. Bit of a Bible thumper, that one.”
He nodded in understanding before resuming their original conversation. “’Tis good that you’re taking everything that’s happening in stride. I’m glad to hear it.” He eyed their surroundings. The riot of colors and the beauty of the forest lining the dirt road they walked along. “Yer not from around here, are ye?”
“Nope.” She sighed and met his eyes again. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.” And he meant it.
“Don’t dance around information you already have to get my take on it,” she said. “Because my bet is before you arrived you already knew I was from the South and moved up here less than a year ago.”
“I did know that,” he conceded. “And yer right, I did want yer take on it. I wanted to better understand ye and mayhap yer life.” He gave her the sort of mischievous grin that made most lasses swoon. “Can ye blame me for doing my research?”
“No, I suppose not,” she replied, a small smile hovering on her lips. “Just so long as we’re honest with each other from here on out.” Her brows shot up with curiosity. “Can you do that, Graham? Can we skip all the BS I know we’re muddling through with the MacLomain, Broun connection and save-Scotland’s-history thing and just be honest with each other? Because I sure would like one person in all this that tells it to me straight.” She shrugged. “If something’s on your mind just say it, don’t dance around it.”
He couldn’t stop a smile if he tried. Where had she been all his life? Clearly not in medieval Scotland.
“Aye, lass.” He nodded and kept smiling. “I would verra much like us to be honest with each other.”
The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4) Page 55
