Story Overview
Haunted by childhood memories and the fact she is likely going mute, Erin embraces a quiet life in Vermont. A life away from all the mistakes she has made and the people she’s hurt. A peaceful existence with her horses. A cynic by nature, she doesn’t buy into what she soon learns. Apparently she’s part of an unending connection between twenty-first century Broun women and medieval MacLomain men. When a Claddagh ring crosses her path, she’s compelled to steal it. A bad move because the ring is meant to find true love. Something Erin feels she stopped deserving a long time ago.
Of dragon blood, Chieftain Rònan MacLeod is by birth, half MacLomain. While raised to protect the future King of Scotland, he lives life with an open mind. The idea of a ring binding him to one lass seems far-fetched. However, when a woman named Jackie calls to him from the dark edges of the Celtic Otherworld, he swears an oath to save her. That means traveling to the future to protect her before she’s taken by the enemy. The only problem? She is not where she should be. Instead, he finds a beautiful, defiant lass named Erin. Now he must make a choice. Continue seeking out Jackie or protect the one he’s with.
Thrust back in time to ninth-century Scandinavia, Rònan and Erin find sanctuary with his Viking ancestors. With help from not only King Naðr Véurr Sigdir but his offspring, they learn more than anticipated. Something that will either damn them or set them free. Drawn to one another, heat flares. A fire neither could have imagined. Scorching. Searing. Unavoidable. One they must fight if they want to save those they care for most.
Will they be able to protect wee Robert the Bruce from evil when they end up back in Scotland? Or will their repressed feelings be their ultimate doom? After all, it’s supposed to take the oath of a Scottish warrior to save a future king. Not the oath of a warrior who ended up forsaking all because he lost his heart along the way.
Series Overview
There is a little-known part of history that celebrates four mystical men, Scottish warriors all, who would do anything to protect a wee bairn. It is a tale born of passion, magic, adventure and even time-travel. A tale of a band of warriors who sacrificed everything to keep safe the future of Scotland. Not only did they strive to see their beloved clan not lost to the past but were determined to see a great Scotsman rise up. A powerful man who would someday rule well his country and see that her heart was not lost… Here’s to Roibert a Briuis, best known as Robert the Bruce, King of the Scots, one of the most famous warriors of his generation in the Wars of Scottish Independence.
Oath of a Scottish Warrior
The MacLomain Series-Later Years
Book Three
By
Sky Purington
Dedication
For Mom.
Loving dragons would have never been possible without you.
You have been my rock. My best friend. You taught me how to set goals and how to be strong. More than that, you made sure I never gave up on my dream.
You’ve always believed in me and repeated two words over and over.
Ones I live by…ones that have made me the woman I am now.
“Keep Writing.”
I will, Mom. Promise.
I love you deeply and I’m more thankful than you know. xoxo
COPYRIGHT © 2016
Oath of a Scottish Warrior
Sky Purington
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of these books may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Edited by Cathy McElhaney
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Previous Releases
About the Author
Chapter One
North Salem, New Hampshire
2015
ERIN PULLED HER motorcycle into the driveway of the old Colonial and killed the engine. Here she was. Back again. With a heavy sigh, she swung off the bike, removed her helmet, untied her hair and shook out her wild mass of raven curls.
For days now, she had been avoiding not only this place but her closest friends, Cassie, Nicole, and Jackie. She might love them but this thing they were doing with perfect strangers wasn’t for her. Honestly, she wondered at their sanity. It was one thing to support each other because they shared the Broun name and faced life-changing disabilities. It was another thing entirely to buy the load of crap the people at this residence were dishing out.
Time-travel. Magic. Witches. Wizards.
Medieval Scotland.
She eyed the Colonial and frowned. It seemed their Broun lineage was connected not only to the house but to a medieval Scottish clan. The MacLomains. Supposedly, Cassie had traveled back in time and hooked up with their thirteenth-century clan chieftain.
Bullshit.
But Erin couldn’t just bail on her friends so she popped in briefly before heading home to take care of her horse. Since then, the owners of the house invited her back and wanted her to bring her horse with her. So between her friends’ endless badgering for her to return and the overly generous offer, she'd finally relented. Was it bizarre that perfect strangers had invited not only her friends but Erin and her horse to stay here? Very. Yet the way she figured it, somebody needed to get to the bottom of things and it might as well be her.
Erin took out her lighter and flicked it on and off as she eyed everything. Much like her place in Vermont, the house was quaint and freshly painted, with a large, well-kept barn and plenty of woodland. The foliage was bright but already blowing off in the wind. Another week or so and the trees would be barren.
“You dinnae look anything like what I expected,” came a deep voice.
Typically, she saw everything and anyone around her before she was noticed. She’d learned to do that a long time ago. Yet somehow she had missed him. But where was he? She pocketed her lighter and played it cool. After all, she knew right where her knives were. And her gun. Eyes discreetly scanning her surroundings, she said, “I could say the same thing about you.”
“Even when you cannae see me?”
Like the owner of the house, Bradon, the voice had a thick Scottish accent.
Erin might have only met Bradon once, but she knew whoever just spoke wasn’t him. Hand on the hilt of the blade in her pocket, she stuck close to her bike and called out, “Show yourself.”
She blinked once, twice, before a man appeared, leaning against the old oak in front of the house as if he’d been there all along. But she knew damn well he hadn’t been. Had he? It had been a long night and an equally long drive. Still…
You didn’t miss a man like him.
For more reasons than one.
He had short black hair and vibrant green eyes. A black t-shirt hugged broad shoulders and did nothing to hide his cut torso or the tats running
down his well-muscled arms. Jeans outlined his long, strong thighs and ended in a sturdy pair of boots.
Damn, he was hot.
Not one to beat around the bush, she said, “Who are you?”
Evidently not one to beat around the bush either, he said, “Rònan MacLeod.” His brows perked. “And based on your appearance, I’d ask the same of you.”
“My appearance?”
“Aye.” He eyed her up and down. “You dinnae look at all like you did when you came to me.”
Came to him? Okay. But she’d go with it until she knew more. “So how do I measure up now?”
Arms crossed over his chest, he eyed her up and down again. “Bonnie enough I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
Something flared in his eyes that looked a lot like lust. “Like I said, bonnie enough.”
Erin was about to respond when a pick-up truck pulling a horse trailer rumbled up the drive. Her horse was here. Done with Rònan, she waved the truck forward until it parked closer to the barn. Though not thrilled about bringing her baby here, she was grateful that Bradon and his wife, Leslie, had said it was okay. While tempted to drive her down in her own pick-up, the weather had been too nice and she figured there weren’t many more days left to ride her bike.
Big-bellied, the driver hopped out and nodded at the back. “She’s been quiet.”
In a perfect world, only a friend would have driven her horse down but she didn’t have any of those besides the ones already here. She headed for the back. “Open it up.”
Eager to lay eyes on Salve, she waited impatiently as he unlatched the door. When he opened it, she frowned and tried to remain calm. “That isn’t my horse.” Her eyes shot to him. “Where the hell is my horse?”
The man looked at the horse then at his clipboard as if that would answer her question. “You were there when she was loaded.” He shook his head. “I stopped off for a quick coffee. That was it.”
Erin knew he was telling the truth. She had tracked him via the company he worked for.
“That horse looks just like Tosha, aye?”
It was one thing to see Rònan from afar, but another thing entirely to see him up close. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was right there. Shit, he was tall. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. And his eyes might have been startling before but now they about drowned her with their intensity. Not just green but bright like fresh cut grass in sunlight.
“Back off,” she muttered before turning her attention to the horse. “Seriously, where the fuck is my horse?”
“You were there when we loaded her. And you’re here now.” The guy held up his hands and shook his head. “I haven’t opened this thing since.”
“Hell if you didn’t,” she fumed and strode for her bike, calling over her shoulder, “You saw what she looked like so you know that’s not her. You're not getting paid. That isn’t my horse.”
“Then it’s mine,” he called after her. “Because we don’t ship horses for free.”
“Fine,” she muttered as she put on her helmet and swung onto the bike, so worried about Salve her stomach was in knots.
Yet the darn thing wouldn’t start.
Again and again.
Damn it. She was going nowhere fast. Erin ground her jaw, hung her head and ignored the commotion behind her. Ignored the sound of the truck backing out. She had watched Salve walk into that trailer in Vermont. There could be no doubt that it was her horse. Yet she also knew what Tosha looked like. A horse that should have already been here.
So she knew Rònan was absolutely right.
What she didn’t expect to see after the truck left was the horse trotting into the barn on its own as if it belonged there. Confused, she frowned at Rònan when he joined her. “Why did he leave the horse?”
“Because I told him to.” Arms crossed over his chest, Rònan walked around her bike and looked it over with interest. “Because it’s Tosha.”
She frowned. “Impossible.” Her eyes narrowed on the barn. “Odd that she headed in there like that.”
“The horse knows where she belongs,” Rònan said. “She doesn’t need help finding her stall.”
She arched a brow at him. “Assuming the stall door was miraculously left open.”
“Och, no need,” he enlightened. “The door would open for Tosha on its own.”
She stared at him for a long, incredulous moment before she shook her head. “You’re outta your mind.” Then she scowled. “Don’t you find it strange I showed up with Tosha when the horse should’ve already been here?”
Rònan shrugged. “I’ve seen far stranger things.”
Erin shook her head again, pulled off the helmet and swung off the bike. “That horse obviously isn’t mine.”
“It seems nothing appears as it should,” he murmured as he crouched beside the bike and eyed it more closely. “Just two wheels. Interesting. Requires more balance.”
Erin ignored him and pulled out her cell phone as she headed for the house. First, she needed to call her neighbor to see if her horse was still in Vermont. Though she saw Salve get in the trailer, it seemed like the logical thing to do. Thankfully her neighbor picked up. While she waited for him to swing over to her barn, she leaned against the oak and kept an eye on Rònan. He remained fascinated with the motorcycle. What was the matter with him? Hadn’t he ever seen a bike before? Pretty hard not to living in these parts. Then again, he was Scottish so who knows.
Within a few minutes, her neighbor confirmed that Salve was definitely not at her place.
Well, at least she wasn’t totally losing it.
Still, where was her poor horse?
Erin hung up and headed for the front door. She was about to knock when Rònan called out, “Nobody's here.”
Somebody had to be here. Where else would her friends be?
Instead of questioning Rònan she took matters into her own hands, grateful when she found the door unlocked. Rather than straining her voice and calling out to see if anyone was around, she made a thorough sweep of the house. He was right. The place was empty.
After a quick search, she grabbed a bottle of whisky out of the kitchen cabinet and poured some into a small glass. Time to call the company she’d hired to haul Salve. Leaning against the counter, she dialed then cursed when it went to voicemail. After she left a ranting message, she downed the whisky and sighed. She should never have come back here. What a mistake.
Erin watched Rònan out of the corner of her eye as he came into the kitchen and took a swig of whisky directly from the bottle. Considering her standoffish personality, some men might avoid her, but not him. He leaned against the counter and met her eyes. “So your horse isn’t here. What will you do now?”
“Take a taxi back to Vermont.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then figure out what’s going on from there.”
“A taxi?”
“Yeah, that thing that’ll pick you up and drive you anywhere you wanna go.” She frowned at the blank look on his face. “Wow, you’re a few cards short of a full deck, eh?”
“A full deck?”
Christ. Enough of this. Erin headed for the door but he caught her elbow. When their eyes locked, she almost yanked away. Almost. Something about him made her want to stay near yet run away at the same time.
“’Tis clear ye dinnae like being here nor do ye trust me.” He leaned closer. “But I need to ken yer actions, Jackie.”
Eyes narrowed, she processed two things. First, how thick his accent suddenly became. And second…Jackie? Why did he think she was her friend, Jacqueline?
Erin trusted men about as much as she trusted the world ending tomorrow. That meant he wasn’t getting anything out of her. So she kept her poker face on. “Where are my friends?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Where’s Leslie and Bradon?”
Heck if she knew.
“Out apparently.” This time, she did yank her elbow away and left the house.
He followed. “Out
where?”
“How would I know? I just got here. You saw me arrive,” Erin reminded as she strode toward the barn.
“Aye, but that means nothing.”
“Uh, it sorta does. It means I have no clue where everyone is.”
Erin figured that was a good place to end the conversation as she entered the barn. With any luck, he’d get bored and head in the opposite direction.
But no.
Rònan was right there.
She stopped at the second stall and shook her head. “Tell me that’s not the horse I just hauled from home.”
“’Tis Tosha.” He draped his arm over the edge and stroked her muzzle. “The stall was empty until you brought her back.”
“No,” she said, enunciating each word. “I did not.”
Rònan shrugged, still stroking the horse’s muzzle.
Done trying to figure out the whole horse thing, she squared off. “So who are you again?” She planted her hands on her hips. “And why are you here?”
“I’m here because you called for me.” He leaned against the stall, his eyes again doing a slow roam down her body. “From the Celtic Otherworld. Do you not remember?”
Her brows perked. “Celtic Otherworld?”
This guy was seriously off his rocker.
“Aye,” he said softly. “The Celtic Otherworld.”
Erin ground her teeth and left the barn. Sure, Rònan seemed a little daft when it came to motorcycles and taxi’s but there was no way everything Nicole and Jackie shared was true. Where were they anyway? When she dialed Jackie, it went straight to voicemail. So she tried Nicole. Same thing. All right, time to call a taxi. Yet before she could search out a local service, her phone went dead. Super. First the bike then her cell. Figures.
“Why do you keep flicking that fire on and off?”
She sighed at Rònan’s question and leaned against the front of the barn. “What’s it to you?”
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