Story Overview
When Milly is hired by an anonymous client interested in selling his New Hampshire colonial, she’s drawn not only to his sexy brogue over the phone but to the house itself. Unfortunately, when she arrives, she finds the home abandoned and the man who contacted her non-existent. If that isn’t enough, the mystery only deepens when she discovers something in the attic she dreamt about as a child. A Claddagh ring that whisks her back in time to medieval Scotland.
Reborn into a new life, Laird Adlin MacLomain knows things are about to get complicated. Devoted to both William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, he and his clan are determined to fight in the First War of Scottish Independence. However, it will take more than brawn and battle skills to see their country through to freedom. It’s going to take help from the future. Specifically, from a lass named Milly.
When Adlin and Milly connect across time, enemies take notice. England becomes more of a threat, as well as its unknown allies. After all, there’s power to be had in a Scottish Laird and a modern day woman finding each other...remembering one another. The life they once shared. The love that was theirs. More so, the strength and perseverance they were capable of together. Will it be enough to fight all that’s coming their way? Find out in Sworn to a Highland Laird.
Series Overview
The term a new beginning brings to mind many things. Hope and opportunity. A fresh start. For the MacLomains and the rest of Scotland, the year twelve ninety-six meant anything but. Instead, it marked the beginning of a new and oppressed era fraught with two long wars with England. This particular series revolves around the First War of Scottish Independence that took place from twelve ninety-six to thirteen twenty-eight.
Heroes are often lost to time and folklore, especially if magic was involved. The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning shares those mystical tales. Stories about Scottish lairds that came to the aid of Sir William Wallace and King Robert the Bruce. Brave warriors and their lasses who single handedly changed the face of history...or so the story goes.
Sworn to a Highland Laird
The MacLomain Series
A New Beginning
Book One
By
Sky Purington
COPYRIGHT © 2017
Sworn to a Highland Laird
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 this book 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 Tara West
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Prologue
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
Coming Soon
Previous Releases-Best Reading Order
Family Trees
About the Author
Dedication
For Sir William Wallace and Andrew de Moray.
May history never forget what you did for your beloved country.
Pro Libertate!
Prologue
29 March 1296
South Berwick, Scotland
A royal burgh just north of the Scottish border
“WE SHOULD DO something.” Adlin narrowed his eyes on King Edward I’s troops. “Nothing good will come from this, Grant.”
“Nay,” Grant said softly as his eyes trailed from Edward Longshanks’ army to the vulnerable village. “But there is naught we can do, laddie. Not this time around.”
Adlin freed his sword and sneered. “I’ve enough magic alone to change this.” He shook his head. “To stop the slaughter.”
“This slaughter is meant to be and has been since Margaret, Maid of Norway and Queen of Scots’ death in our Lord’s year, twelve ninety.” Grant placed his hand on Adlin’s blade and shook his head. “Since then Edward has had his hands in this one way or another because of his sister Margaret of England’s claim to the Scottish throne.”
“I dinnae need a history lesson.” Adlin lowered his weapon but did not sheath it. “I need to help defend these people.”
“Nay, ye need to let this period of history unfold as it will,” Grant counseled. “Ye need to restrain yer rage and pay attention. Ye should watch their every move so that ye can spread the word about their battle tactics.” His mentor’s wizened old eyes met his. “So that we might steer this country in the direction it must go.”
Adlin braced his hand against a tree and hung his head as Edward’s men roared and attacked. As innocent men, women, and children were killed. “I still dinnae see why we cannae stop this battle. Ye and I alone could do it easily. End Longshanks’ army now and mayhap alter his confidence in all future endeavors.”
“’Tis not our place, lad. Not yet.” Grant’s gentle hand landed on his shoulder. “We are not gods but men given a glimpse into the past. A glimpse at how we might help steer things.”
“We are not just men...” Adlin whispered but didn’t finish his statement because he knew Grant was right. History had to unfold as it would until they could take part.
Edward’s troops must capture South Berwick which would spark the First War of Scottish Independence. This would lead to the rise of Sir William Wallace followed years later by King Robert the Bruce.
All of this had to happen.
Scotland needed to have her history.
It was not long before William the Hardy, Lord of Douglas and his garrison surrendered the castle, and South Berwick was taken. All the while, Adlin did as he was told. He watched and learned as he murmured prayers to God for the fallen. For all the people he could not help.
The truth of it was, despite Grant’s words and reasoning, neither of them could do a thing anyway. Not without help from the future and a certain ring, perhaps even rings. Had he tried to defend these people, his blade would have slid through thin air. After all, they weren’t really here. Not quite yet.
“’Tis time for ye to reach out to her, and finally become part of the past,” Grant murmured.
The past.
A complicated place in more ways than one.
“Will she be ready for me though,” Adlin murmured. “’Tis a lot...all of this...”
“She is ready, lad, and will want to connect with ye.” Grant’s eyes met Adlin’s, and he nodded. “The time has come at last to find yer long lost love...‘tis time for ye to find Mildred.”
Chapter One
North Salem, New Hampshire
October 2017
MILLY ROLLED DOWN HER car windows, smiled and let the cool New England air fill her lungs as she drew closer.
“Are you almost there, darling?” Lindsay asked, her voice soft and raspy through the car speakers as she sampled yet another tone for an upcoming role.
“God, what part are you auditioning for now, Linds?” Christina asked, her voice mocking through the speakers as they all conference called. “Marilyn
Monroe gets laryngitis but still aims for sexy?”
“You’re almost there, aren’t you?” came Jessica’s too-calm voice. “Can you see the house yet, Milly?”
“Nope,” she responded. “But I can sure as hell see it in my mind’s eye.”
“And in the pictures strewn across your passenger seat,” Jessica murmured.
“The very same I’m looking at online,” Christina added. “The house that’s finally going to lead you to Mr. Right, Milly.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she said softly, glad to have her friends along even if they were just on the phone. She had met them almost two years ago in an online forum created by a woman named Cassie. The purpose of the group was to bring together anyone of Broun lineage descending from Scotland.
“There’s something to be said for a brogue,” Lindsay murmured, her voice even breathier. “The way it gets inside you.”
“Um, Linds, what’re you up to on the other end of the line?” There was a smirk in Christina’s voice. “Because it sounds like you might need some privacy.”
“Ha ha,” Lindsay said, her voice still smoldering as she likely looked in the mirror and tried to work out an expression for whoever she was portraying. “A lady never...”
Suddenly, Lindsay’s voice cut off and the line went dead.
Milly frowned and tried to reconnect with everyone, but hit a dead zone. It was probably for the best, all things considered. They would have insisted she keep them on the line until the moment she arrived at the house and deep down, she wanted that moment to be hers and hers alone.
Well, hers and the man waiting for her.
From the moment the mysterious Scotsman called asking her to sell his house, her thoughts had been in a whirlwind. Not just because of the sound of his voice but because of his old colonial. Her eyes flickered to the pictures on the seat next to her. How long had she been staring at them? Days, weeks, months? If not for the date on her phone marking when he first contacted her, she wouldn’t know. She had become too drawn...obsessed even. She had been dealing in real estate for years, but something about this property was different.
It called to her.
He called to her.
Not just literally, but in ways she could not explain. It was as if she had heard his voice before. Like he was trying to remind her of that without actually saying the words. Which made no sense at all. She sighed and shook her head. Why was she reading so much into this? He had said nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that should make her feel this way.
She tried to stop obsessing as she turned onto a long dirt road but knew it was pointless. He had already gotten to her. Not just with his sexy accent, but with the timbre of his voice. It was deep and warm, reverberating down to places that had been dormant for far too long. Her ex, Jim never invoked that kind of response. Not even close.
Almost as if Jim knew he had crossed her mind the phone rang.
“Hey, sweetie,” she answered as her eyes locked on the ranch style house she was passing. Wide-eyed, she slowed down and stared. Somehow she knew that place. “Can I call you back, Jim?”
“Sure but first, did you make it to the house in Salem yet? I know you were anxious to.”
“I did.” She stopped in front of the ranch and continued staring at it, dumbfounded.
“What is it, Milly?” There was a frown in his voice. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“No,” she whispered, trying to figure out why she was having such a strong sense of déjà vu. Even the bench seat out front seemed familiar. As if she had sat on it a hundred times before.
“Mildred,” Jim persisted. “I know something’s wrong. What is it?”
Milly flinched, snapped out of it and continued down the road. “You know I don’t like to be called that.”
“Right, too old fashioned for an up and coming real estate mogul,” he mocked, but his voice remained affectionate. “Seriously, are you okay?”
After dating for years, she and Jim realized they were better off as friends. It wasn’t anything personal they just weren’t enough for each other. They lacked fire and passion and realized friendship was a better option. Now he was her closest friend, and she could not imagine it any other way.
“I’m fine just eager I suppose.” She eyed her reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure she looked her best. Her thick dark hair was pulled back in a twist, and her eye make-up done to perfection to highlight her sky blue eyes. Though it was a little chilly, she had opted for a slim fitting business suit that accentuated her long legs.
As she continued down the road, she admired her surroundings. Fall colors were just kicking in, and green leaves were splashed with sunlit pockets of bright red, pale yellow, and burnt orange.
“Foghar,” she whispered.
“Right, you’re eager to see an old house out in the middle of nowhere,” Jim started before he said, “Wait, what did you say? I didn’t quite catch that last part.”
Because she had not meant to say it. Foghar? What did that mean?
“Autumn, lass,” whispered through her mind. “’Tis your time.”
Milly pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead and shook her head. Since when did she think with a brogue? That became the least of her worries when she came to the end of the road and laid eyes on the colonial and the huge barn across from it. In pristine condition and unexpectedly beautiful, the property was, by all accounts, a gold mine.
Yet, like the ranch she had passed, all she could do was stare as chills rushed through her. Somehow, though she had never been here before, she knew this place. All of it. The barn, house, even the gnarly old oak tree out front. As if in a dream she parked, got out and started toward the house only to be stopped short by an unexpected male voice.
“May I help you, miss?”
Astounded that she had missed the slick black luxury car already parked there or the tall, handsome man leaning against it, she frowned. Dressed as dark as his car in a tasteful suit, he wore sunglasses that hid what she knew was a thorough appraisal of her.
She didn’t bother confirming her identity but instead said, “And you are?”
“St. Paul,” he replied with an unusual British accent as he held out his hand. “Phillip St. Paul, with United Kingdom Realty.”
“Milly Broun.” She gave his hand a firm shake and kept her cell at the ready just in case. “I was unaware another agency had been contacted. As far as I knew, I was the sole agent on this property.” She looked around. “Has the owner shown up yet?”
“Actually, my company represents the former owner.” He cocked his head. “You do know he’s deceased, yes?”
Startled, she shook her head, taken aback by the way her chest grew tight and breathing became difficult. “What do you mean he’s deceased? I just spoke with him a few days ago.”
“I am afraid that is impossible, Ms. Broun.” Phillip’s lips turned down. “My client passed away last month.”
“What?” she whispered. Though tempted to double check to make sure she had the right address, she knew she did. “That’s impossible.”
“I assure you he did,” Phillip said. “He passed away right here, in the home he was born and raised in. Just as he wished.”
“Born and raised?” She shook her head. “But the man I spoke with had an accent.”
“Did he?” Though it was subliminal, she didn’t miss the interest in his voice. “Then I am afraid you must be the victim of a hoax.”
So it seemed.
“Would you mind showing me your business card, Mr. St. Paul?” she asked.
“Of course.” He pulled out a card and handed it to her.
Though it could be a forgery and she would never know it, she made a point of looking it over. “Forgive me if I seem rude, but why would someone local hire an international real estate agency?”
“I don’t know, Ms. Broun,” he replied. “I wish I could be more helpful.”
She got the impression he was looking her over aga
in. Partly checking her out and partly assessing how smart she might be. Unsure how to proceed, her eyes went to the house. If he represented the property, then there was no point in her being here. Yet the thought of driving away made her stomach flip.
“Would you mind if I did a walk through?” she said softly before she could stop herself.
“Are you in the market for a new home, Ms. Broun?”
“No,” she replied. “At least I wasn’t until...”
When she trailed off, he bowed slightly and made a flourish with his hand toward the house. “Might I escort you in then?”
Her eyes widened at his old fashioned mannerisms and words.
“Um...” Way to sound professional. But all of this was a little offsetting. And heaven knew she was not interested in moving here. She liked her place in Newmarket.
“Please.” Phillip put his hand to the small of her back. “I insist.”
Instead of thanking him and heading out, she found herself being escorted inside. The minute she stepped through the front door, she felt like she was walking into a dream. Everything was so familiar it was surreal. She knew this place every bit as much as she had the ranch.
With low ceilings typical for homes built in the early eighteenth century, the house was in excellent condition and remarkably clean. As she walked through she swore she saw it as it might have been. Sometimes with nineteen-forties décor, other times more modern. As if she had witnessed it in two different time periods. But how was that possible?
As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, her sense of familiarity only grew. She knew these rooms as though she had lived in them. When she looked at the attic door, more chills swept through her. What was with this place?
Curious, she opened the door only to feel an even stronger sense of recognition. She had walked up these stairs as a child in her dreams. Over and over. Looking for something. A treasure created just for her. No, not just for her. For another too. Milly flew up the stairs just as she had in her dreams expecting to find...what? She blinked several times and shook her head once she reached the top.
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