A Scot's Devotion (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #2)

by Purington, Sky

  “I will do what I have to do, Maeve,” he whispered. “But, I will never love another as I did ye.” He shook his head, hoping she heard him from the afterlife. “Never.”

  “You better not pretend to love your destined Broun,” Julie’s words echoed in his mind. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

  But it would. It had to be. He would do what he had to do for kin and country but nothing more. If he had any say in it, this would be a connection of convenience.

  “Do ye think ye will have a say in it then?” Maeve had asked one spring day years before as they walked the shore behind his castle. Her brown eyes had been soft with wisdom. “Do ye not think ye will be destined for a great love across time like yer da and grand-da?”

  “It doesnae matter.” He had reeled her closer, tilted up her chin, wanting to stare into her eyes forever. “This kind of love, what I feel for ye,” he shook his head, “’tis impossible to rival...to replace.”

  Before he could kiss her, she spun away and shook her head. “Yet I suspect ‘twill come to be...that it must....”

  He considered her, wondering not for the first time if her evasiveness was for another reason. Though he should leave it be, he could not stop his foolish tongue.

  “This has naught to do with a lass from the future,” he’d murmured. “But a MacLeod here and now.”

  “Och, nay,” she had replied softly, not raising her voice in denial because she knew better when it came to this. “I have told Cray the same as I have told ye.” Her pained eyes met his. “Ye're meant for another, love. Ye always have been.”

  “Have ye told him that then?” He’d searched her eyes. “Have ye been as blunt with him as ye have with me? Because I dinnae think ye have. I dinnae think ye’re able.”

  “’Tis more difficult with him.” Her eyes had welled. “And ye know that full well, my laird.”

  “Aye,” he whispered aloud, pulled from his reverie when a car drove up and parked in front of the colonial. He would give anything to keep with thoughts of his beloved Maeve rather than do what he was about to do. To keep her close if only in memories and not be part of a MacLomain-Broun connection across time.

  He watched the women who had arrived vanish into the house and sighed.

  “I suppose ‘tis time,” he muttered, his breath foggy in the cold air. He narrowed his eyes on the dissipating moisture, curious for but a moment what lay beyond the fog.

  Who Chloe really was.

  Heading for the house before he lost his nerve, he tapped on the front door and waited, wondering if he should have gone about this differently. Mayhap he should have used whatever magic he could muster to summon her to the Stonehenge instead. But then that probably would not have worked considering she had already done the summoning with that ring of hers.

  Why else would he have been pulled here?

  When the door opened to a tall, dark haired woman, it took him a moment to get over an unexpected sinking sensation. Why, when he only intended to play a part, would he feel such disappointment? She was beautiful in her own right. Yet she lacked something unexplainable.

  Something crucial.

  “Who is it, Madison?” came another voice before a shorter woman appeared beside her and made his world shift. When her sparkling amber eyes met his, he thought for a moment he was slipping on ice. That he had lost his balance and fell. There was no other way to describe it.

  “I don’t know,” the woman called Madison said. Her discreet gaze swept over him with quickly masked appreciation. “Though I have a funny feeling, he might know Tiernan.”

  While he might be a good and noble chieftain, who had seen his fair share of battles and never turned coward, standing on that threshold suddenly terrified him. So much so that he did something he never could have imagined.

  He walked away without saying a word.

  Rather than face this and do for kin and country, he simply strode back toward the Stonehenge, cursing all the while at his cowardice. Cursing at his inability to look into a lass’s eyes without feeling such stark fear that he fled. Fear that the ring had indeed found its target.

  He wasn’t ready.

  Not now. Not yet. With any luck, he never would be.

  There had to be another way to honor his country. To save his country.

  “Hey, wait up!” she called after him.

  Hers was most certainly the voice from his dreams. The voice from the Stonehenge.

  She was, without a doubt, Chloe.

  “I know you, don’t I?” She chased after him. “Where do I know you from?”

  He entered the forest and kept his eyes straight ahead. Persistent, she trotted up alongside, yanking her jacket on all the while.

  “How do I know you?” Winded, she kept up with his long strides, her hair now free of its bindings. “Because I do. I’m certain of it.”

  “Nay,” he muttered, then cursed, realizing he hadn’t disguised his brogue as intended. But his emotions were high, so it could not be helped. “Ye dinnae know me, lass.”

  “I’m certain I do, though.” She jogged alongside him. Her reddish blonde locks whipped about as she struggled to keep her fur-lined hood on. “You know Tiernan, don’t you? Because you sound like him...kind of.” He heard the confusion in her voice. “At least how he had sounded in my...oh my God,” she whispered. “How he sounded in my dream!”

  “I dinnae ken—”

  “My dream.” She stopped short even though he kept going. “I dreamt about Tiernan and Julie and a Stonehenge and a guy on the other side of the rock.”

  He strode faster, needing to get away from her. To put distance between them.

  At least until she spoke again.

  “And Maeve,” she whispered. “I dreamt of Maeve.”

  He stopped short and hung his head. While he hoped he heard her wrong, he knew he had not. It was just as Julie had told him. Worse yet, pulling him ever closer to what Maeve had once told him.

  “Do ye not think ye will be destined for a great love across time like yer da and grand-da?”

  This was it. This was what he swore he would do to protect his kin and country. This was what it would take to get to the root of the evil suppressing Scotland’s magic in his era. Thirteen forty-six. Now was not the time to be a coward. He must turn and face this, yet remember where his heart lay. He could do this without giving into temptation. Anything he might feel for this woman was just that.

  Temptation.

  Not real.

  Not like it had been with Maeve.

  So he inhaled deeply, turned back, and behaved as his da and grand-da would expect. He forced his feet forward, closed the distance, and kissed the back of Chloe's delicate hand. He tried to avoid truly seeing her even as he looked at her, but it was impossible.

  She was too there.

  All around him somehow.

  Her name came so easily he swore he’d said it a thousand times before.

  “Hello, Chloe.” His gaze rose to her face after he kissed her hand. “I am Laird Aidan Hamilton.”

  The moment their eyes connected once more, he knew this would be the greatest trial of his life. While her face was utterly lovely, it was, yet again, her lively eyes that ensnared him. More round than almond shaped, with long, thick lashes tinged with strawberry, they were brimming with an abundance of life and wonder.

  Curiosity.

  So much curiosity, it was a miracle she remained silent when he sensed she had no less than ten questions hovering on the tip of her tongue. She blinked several times, wide-eyed, stunned if he didn’t know better before she finally spoke and, as he suspected, had much to say.

  “I know that name...I know your name.” She cocked her head, looking him up and down. While there might have been some admiration in her perusal, her curiosity overrode anything remotely romantic. “Why do I know your name?”

  She had given up on her hood, and her heavy curls danced in the wind.

  Chloe walked around him as he had so recently walked arou
nd a standing stone in his dreams, eyeing him over before she stopped short. “You’re him, aren’t you? The guy from my dreams?” She hesitated, clearly trying to recall something before it came to her, and her eyes rounded even more. “I saw Tiernan and Julie in a dream...at a Stonehenge...and they mentioned Aidan.” Her eyes met his. “You!”

  When Scotland’s magic had begun waning, and they went to wee King David’s aid, the dreams had come. Not just of Chloe but perhaps even Maeve. While he should leave it be, he could not help himself.

  “What do you know of my lass?” He tilted his head in question, wishing he could read her mind. That he could see and hear everything she had experienced with his beloved. “What do you know of Maeve?”

  For a second, he swore pain flashed in her eyes before her expression smoothed, and she spoke with a warmth he did not expect. With compassion he did not anticipate considering they were words that didn’t work in her favor.

  “I have a message from her,” Chloe said softly. “She loves you too and waits in the beyond...” For a flash, it seemed the trees behind her sparkled, but it must have been a play on light. “Maeve waits for you in the afterlife where you two can finally be together for all time.”

  Chapter Three

  EVEN AS SHE told Aidan that Maeve waited in the beyond for him, something felt off about it. Yet when she saw hope flare in his thickly lashed pale turquoise eyes, she kept from voicing her concern. While one part of her felt crushing pressure in her chest at the immense love he felt for another woman, she didn’t have the heart to dissuade him.

  Suddenly free of the bizarre words she’d uttered, she tried to gather herself. She was caught somewhere between immense curiosity and the incredible sensation of being in his presence. It wasn’t just his gorgeous good looks but the—what should she call it?—the sheer power coming off of him.

  “What is that?” she whispered, peering at him. “What am I feeling?”

  Was it simply being near someone with such a tall, broad-shouldered frame? Was it the confidence radiating off him though she sensed he was at his most vulnerable? She frowned at his jeans and winter jacket and shook her head, speaking before she gave it much thought. “You’re not even dressed right.”

  She swallowed hard and kept shaking her head. What the hell did she mean by that? He was dressed fine.

  Yet it seemed all wrong.

  His lovesick-for-another-woman gaze stayed on her as he sought more information about Maeve without uttering a word. He went to speak but stopped and blinked several times as if caught in the same strange place as her.

  Because it was definitely strange.

  Almost otherworldly.

  “We will talk more,” he finally managed, gesturing in the direction of the Stonehenge. “After we...return to Julie.”

  “Julie?” She frowned, vaguely wondering why she wasn’t more baffled by all this, but she wasn’t. Rather, her mind brimmed with more questions. Where had he come from? How did he know Tiernan? Where was Julie? Yet, instead of asking all those questions, she glanced in the direction of Mystery Hill then back to him before she nodded and started toward the Stonehenge. “Yeah, okay, we’ll talk then.”

  Talk then? When? And about what precisely? She knew deep down, though, in a place that made no sense, yet she somehow understood. That was the only way to put it. There was plenty to talk about. Lots to learn. Perhaps even recall. As though the answers lie within her, but she couldn’t quite remember. It wasn’t just her instincts as a journalist at work either but...something else. Something made up of her dreams. Her ring. Him. Even Maeve.

  It all tied together somehow.

  Rather than answer her previous questions or continue asking about Maeve, Aidan remained silent as they walked through the woods, crossing from North Salem into Salem. Strangely enough, she remained uncharacteristically silent too. Mainly because she couldn’t make sense of things. She was out in the middle of nowhere with a strange man she'd met in a dream. Something should be said about that. But no, she remained silent, her thoughts going in a million directions.

  Not to say she wasn’t wholly aware of him.

  It wasn't every day she came across a Scotsman never mind one that looked like him. His thick, tousled hair was dark chocolate brown, almost black, and his chiseled features were striking. He had well-sculptured lips, prominent cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a straight nose. Normally, his sort of looks would have stopped her in her tracks.

  But none of this was normal.

  Eventually, they closed in on the Stonehenge, and her curiosity finally took over. Something her ex had found tiresome and likely Aidan would too. All men did. But that never stopped her from pursuing the truth. Then moving on to the next truth. And the next. Because there was always more out there. Always more to be revealed.

  “Why am I here, Aidan?” She slowed as they approached the rocks, drawn to a certain location. “Why are you here?” Though tempted to look at him, she wasn’t ready to see the pain in his eyes again. So she checked out the cluster of stones toward the center of the site. The supposed sacrificial table that had been vandalized a few months back. “Please tell me all you know.”

  Because he knew a lot and she had no idea why she felt that.

  She slipped on gloves and brushed snow off the sacrificial rock the best she could before crouching beside it. Why would anyone think this was legit? That it dated back thousands of years?

  Yet as she touched it, such strong curiosity overcame her, it took her breath away.

  “I am here to get you, lass,” Aidan said softly, crouching beside her. He didn’t look at her but kept his eyes firmly on the stone. “You are drawn to this, aye?”

  “Aren’t you?” she whispered before nausea swelled, and she stood. “Or maybe not.”

  “What is it, Chloe?” He stood as well and frowned at her. “What just happened?”

  “Don't you feel it?” she whispered, not sure what it was. “First something good, then something bad...really bad.”

  She'd read the police report about what had been done to this stone in October, so maybe her imagination was just getting the best of her. According to the land owners, it looked like power tools had been used to mar the rock, but she wasn't so sure. Law enforcement claimed a cross had been left at the site. It looked like some sort of ritual had been performed. A logical conclusion she supposed.

  The truth was she wouldn’t have cared either way because she hadn't thought this place was legit. Yet now, she felt differently, and she wasn't sure why. Aidan did, though, didn't he? She met his eyes, wishing she hadn’t because they made concentrating difficult. But she needed answers, so she focused on what he had said. “What do you mean you’re here to get me?”

  Some women might be alarmed by a strange man saying that. Especially one who could easily overpower her. But she felt safe. Protected. If she were thinking clearly, she would have rolled her eyes at that. Honestly, in every handbook ever written, she had already catastrophically failed at how-not-to-get-kidnapped 101. Yet here she stood minus self-defense skills and nothing to defend herself with. The icing on top? She didn't even have her cell phone to call for help.

  “I've come to take you,” he began, then stopped and frowned.

  Uh oh, that didn’t sound good. But did she flee in the opposite direction like any woman in their right mind would? God no. She acted like a bumbling idiot instead.

  “Take me?” she whispered, interpreting that all wrong. Her mind went one place and one place only. And it had nothing to do with running from him but getting a whole lot closer. As intimate as two people could get.

  What the hell was the matter with her?

  Their eyes held, and it felt like the ground slipped out from beneath her. Despite the biting wind, heat flared under her skin. Why had she gone there when she knew he hadn’t meant it that way? Because her breathy way-too-girly response definitely sounded like an invitation to hop in the sack.

  Then again, if she didn’t know better,
she’d swear primal interest flared in his gaze as well. Or was that something else? His eyes suddenly seemed a little different. Brighter, if possible.

  “Aye, take ye,” he murmured, his brogue thickening. His words strange. While she thought for a moment, he would say one thing he said something else. “Back in time.”

  Right, not kidnapped, but say what? Had she heard him correctly? But of course, she had.

  “Back in time,” she whispered, not nearly as baffled by that statement as she should be.

  In fact, with it came memories of a dream.

  Or was it reality?

  “It turns out you’re on a bit of an adventure,” Julie had said to Chloe. “You’ve sort of...well...have you ever watched Dr. Who?”

  “Can’t say I have.” She kept her eyes narrowed, still trying to figure things out. How she had gone from dreaming of exploring the Stonehenge in New Hampshire to this foggy place. This foreign Stonehenge. “I’ve heard of it though...time travel show, right?”

  “Yup.” Julie was about to say more, but Chloe shook her head and blinked several times again, understanding more by the moment.

  “Wait...right....” She peered at her new Claddagh ring. Understanding dawned out of nowhere. “Time travel...this.” She looked at Tiernan, taking in his medieval attire before she did the same to Julie’s dress and whispered, “Holy hell, the dream...”

  The dream.

  Not precisely the one with Aidan through the fog but one remarkably similar.

  “Ireland,” she whispered, her eyes still with his. “I was there...so were you...” Nausea swelled again. “So was someone else.” She inhaled deeply, certain she was right. “More than one someone.” Her gaze fell to the sacrificial table again. “And it’s all connected to this.”

  Holy crazy revelations overload, but she was right. She just knew it.

  “We must go, Chloe.” Aidan sounded concerned. “We need to get back to—”