Adlin was well aware of the chances elder Euphemia took, but she could never turn her back on someone in need. “Worry naught, lass. I’ll send my men out to look for her.”
“Aye, m’laird, Adlin. I’d be grateful as always.” Euphemia batted him away when he tried to help her with her basket. “Just a soldier or two.”
“Done.” Adlin smirked as Conall knocked on the door Euphemia had locked before she set out the food and drinks.
“Och, lassie, ye do test that lad, aye?” He couldn’t keep humor from his voice. “Ye do know he’s a laird now right?”
“Oh, aye, I know it!” Her eyes grew wide. “All the more reason why he shouldnae be lookin’ at me the way he does.” She shook her head. “Always lookin’ at me like he wants a kiss or two that one.”
Adlin chuckled as she unlocked the door and scowled at Conall. Yet he didn’t miss her admiring his cousin’s backside in passing.
“Come sit, Cousin,” Adlin said as he flicked his wrist and a fire sprang to life on the hearth. “Let us discuss what troubles you.”
“I prefer to stand, thank you.” Conall resumed his position of braced legs and crossed arms as he watched Adlin with a steady gaze. “And I would prefer to accompany you to the first battle. In fact, I insist.”
“Why?” Adlin shook his head and filled two mugs with ale. “We’ve all talked about this and have agreed on a plan.” His eyes went to his cousin. “Why are ye now so determined to be at my battle?” He perked his brows and handed him a mug. “Is it some sort of glory ye seek then?” He shook his head. “Because there isnae glory to be had for any of us. We are silent helpers in all of this. Unrecorded by history. Ye ken that, aye?”
“So ‘tis your battle now? And here I thought ‘twas Scotland’s.” Conall nodded his thanks for the ale but didn’t drink it. “And I well ken ‘tis not for glory or prestige but to simply make sure we’ve a Scotland to call our own in a few short days.”
As Adlin sipped his ale, he remembered all too well what Longshanks had done at South Berwick. What he and those under him had managed to do since.
“And that is why I’ll be going,” Adlin bit out. While he understood Conall’s anger, he had little tolerance for being reminded of something he knew more about than his cousin. “And ye will be staying until ‘tis your time.”
“Or so we thought,” came a soft voice before Grant appeared.
Adlin poured another mug and handed it over. “Welcome.”
Conall nodded in greeting, his jaw a little tighter. “Grandfather.”
Grant nodded at them both, sipped then set aside his mug. “There has been a change of plans.”
Adlin didn’t like the sound of that. More so that it was being said with Conall here. “What do you mean?”
“I mean there have been some unforeseen developments.” Grant’s eyes met his. “The gem in Mildred’s ring does not match your eyes yet, does it?”
A strange sense of inner warning made him tense. “Nay, but ‘tis just a matter of time.”
“Time,” Grant murmured. “’Tis certainly that.”
Adlin narrowed his eyes. “What do ye speak of?”
“I speak of unexpected...trouble.”
He knew that tone far too well. Grant was biding his time. Waiting for backup. Someone who could calm Adlin better than most. No sooner did he think it than a knock came at his door.
“Come in, Da,” Adlin said softly, not needing to speak up. All of them could hear better than most and when necessary read one another’s mind.
When his father Bradon entered with not only Graham but Bryce, he knew their plans had changed dramatically and not for the better.
“Laird MacLeod.” He clasped arms, hand to elbow with his cousin. “’Tis bloody good to see ye.”
“Aye, Laird MacLomain.” Bryce nodded. “Always a pleasure.”
Born to Rònan and Erin MacLeod, Bryce was a few inches taller than the rest of them and like his da, tattooed and half dragon. Yet, he was the hardest to gauge. Sometimes he could be the life of the party like his father or more subdued like his mother. Adlin had always felt Bryce simply became what other people needed at the moment but was, deep down, someone else altogether.
Adlin murmured a chant, manifested a few more mugs, filled them with ale, then handed them over before focusing on his father. “So ye’ve been brought into this to keep my spirits calm, aye? That cannae be good.”
“’Tis what it is.” Bradon put his hand on Adlin’s shoulder. “’Tis a father’s duty to see to his son’s well-being, aye? To be there for him.”
Adlin’s brows shot up. “Och, this sounds dire indeed.”
“When we made our plans, Adlin, we didnae take into account that Longshanks might have his own men of magic,” Grant said. “More than that, we didnae take into consideration that one of them might know about Mildred’s ring and what ‘tis capable of when that gem becomes the stone ‘tis meant to be.”
All he could do was stare at Grant.
It was times like this when he felt frustration at having lost the sheer amount of power he once had. The insight. Wisdom. Not that he didn’t have a great deal of power now, but it was different. Yes, it came faster and happened quicker, but it was still a process. Grant had told him he suspected it would happen very quickly once Mildred’s gem glowed and they reconnected properly, but that was just speculation.
Either way, while becoming more powerful would help in what lay ahead, it was by no means why he wanted that gem to match his eyes. He wanted her to remember him. Everything. All they shared. And that, he realized, was likely what the enemy was counting on.
His vulnerability.
Mildred.
“Bloody hell,” Adlin swore and began pacing. “Who is it? Do we know? Have we a name? Face?” His eyes met Grant’s, and he spoke within the mind. “Do they know there are other rings? Other couples?”
“I dinnae know, but my guess is aye,” Grant responded.
As it was, none of his cousins knew there were more rings or Broun lasses though they had to be wondering. They did, however, know Adlin’s ring was special. Different. Created specifically with the upcoming battles in mind. And they all knew Adlin and Mildred had loved one another in another life. So if Grant and Adlin assured them this was the only ring, they would believe them.
None of them wished to be fated to some unknown woman despite where their mothers came from. And none were the sort to patiently wait their turn as each battle came...as each woman came.
So he supposed, in the end, he should have foreseen Grant’s next words.
“Too much is at stake, and we cannot lose our country.” Grant’s eyes stayed with his. “Not just ye and I but all of us will go to the first battle. Ye will need your cousins.”
“’Twill do nothing but put them in harm’s way when they will be needed at other battles soon enough,” Adlin muttered and took a swig from his mug. “Ye and I can handle this, Grant.”
“Mayhap,” Grant said. “But are ye truly willing to risk Mildred’s life on that theory?”
“Nay,” Adlin whispered, torn, understanding things from multiple angles. “There is naught I wouldnae do for Mildred, but I fear for kin and country.” His eyes went to Grant. “Tell us how ye came into this knowledge. Tell us what to expect.”
“If only I knew with certainty.” Grant frowned. “All I know is that there is an unknown element of ill intent and it has manipulated that ring. It has manipulated our verra magic.” He shook his head. “And that can only be done by someone who knows what we are up to.”
“Who can that possibly be?” Adlin said.
“I dinnae know.” Grant’s frown deepened. “Not yet anyway.”
“So we all go to the first battle,” Conall said, pleased.
Graham grinned. “I’m always up for a good fight.”
Bryce didn’t give an opinion either way, but his steady gaze remained on Adlin. “Tell me what ye’ll need of me, Cousin, and I will bring it. Men, weap
ons, lasses, anything.”
“Well, a few lasses wouldnae be a bad thing,” Graham piped up. “To keep our morale up that is.”
Adlin sat, took a hearty swig from his mug and braced his head in his hands. This was not how things were supposed to go. He and Grant had a plan, and with Mildred’s help, it was supposed to have gone...well, in a much better direction than this. Not only that but the gem was supposed to match his eyes already.
She was his, and he was hers. It was as simple as that.
Adlin and Mildred.
That’s how it was and would always be.
Or so he had assumed.
What if that changed now? Had someone figured out a way around not only his but Grant’s magic? If so, what did that mean? What bothered him most was that while the ring was created to bring them back together nothing outside of true love could turn that gem the color of his eyes. Which meant one of two things. Either true love did not exist between them in this life, or someone was powerful enough to manipulate the strength of love, and that was unheard of.
Downright impossible.
Or so he had always thought.
“Give Adlin and I a moment alone please,” his father said softly.
Bradon said nothing right away, but he was good at that. Waiting Adlin out as he sifted through his thoughts. It had been an odd thing for his ma and da to learn they were giving birth to the infamous Adlin MacLomain, but it hadn’t stopped them from being wonderful parents. Thankfully, his father shared and appreciated his sense of humor and antics because his mother didn’t always.
Leslie loved him with all her heart, but humor was not necessarily her strong point. So she had schooled Adlin in other things. Reason. Logic. Even women on occasion. Back when he was younger, that is. Back when he wasn’t entirely sure he would meet the little girl from his dreams.
“It might not be how ye planned it, Adlin,” his father finally said. “But if nothing else can be said about ye and your cousins, ‘tis that you’re stronger together. And dinnae doubt the love ye and Mildred share. ‘Tis not fair to either of ye.”
“Love that I cannae be sure of, Da,” he whispered, his head still in his hands. “At least not on her part.”
“Well, nay, not as readily as ye thought ye would,” his da conceded. “Mayhap ye should look at it from a different perspective. ‘Twill not be so easy after all. Ye willnae see the gem match your eyes, remember everything right away and fall helplessly in love.” His father paused. “Instead, ye’ll have to work at it a wee bit like the rest o’ us, aye? And might I say, there’s something to be said for having to put in your time. Gives your mind a chance to meet its mate rather than having your heart have all the say.”
“My mind?” Adlin murmured and looked at his da.
“Aye.” His father offered a small grin. “Is that not one of your favorite parts of yourself then, laddie?”
Leave it to his da to pull a smile from him despite the circumstances.
“Aye, fair enough I suppose.” He sighed. “I just always figured I would get to know her mind after her heart was already mine.”
“What fun is there in that?” His father shook his head. “I can tell ye that getting to know your mother’s mind was a good portion of why I fell in love with her. Not because we were destined to be together.”
“Though it could be argued that because ye were destined to be together your minds were already compatible,” Adlin started, but his da cut him off.
“Just be ye and get to know her, Adlin,” he said. “That, I would think, will be far more impactful to her than the color of some gem.”
“Aye, da,” he murmured because his father was right.
When he and Mildred came together in their last life, it had been rushed. Maybe this time it was supposed to happen slowly. Yet later that evening as he sat at the head table in the great hall watching her filter through the crowd, he was fairly certain there would be nothing slow about them coming together.
Dressed in a soft blue flowing gown that hugged her body in ways that made men’s heads turn, she was a vision. Her dark hair was piled high and her blue eyes magnetic. Oddly enough, the way she walked now was much like she had in another life. There was an elegance to it. Not only that but her hips swayed just enough to be seductive. Teasing.
“Who is she?” Bryce murmured to himself, his eyes trained with interest on Mildred.
“That’s my lass,” Adlin started to say with irritation before Graham cut him off.
“I knew it,” he said with anticipation as he stood, his eyes locked on Mildred as well. “I knew she was meant for me from the moment I saw her.”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about,” Adlin began, but this time Conall interrupted him.
“If she and I are meant to be, Laird MacLomain,” he murmured and stood. “Then you will just have to step aside, Cousin.”
Mildred and his mother had nearly reached the table but stopped short. Mainly because his cousins had all stood and were staring avidly at Mildred.
Or so he thought.
“I’m sorry Adlin, but the gem in the center of Mildred’s ring has chosen its color.” Graham rested his hand on Adlin’s shoulder and shook his head. “’Tis the verra darkness of my eyes. Near black.”
“Nay.” Conall frowned. “’Tis clearly my shade of green.”
What the bloody hell was going on? He glanced at Bryce with curiosity.
“Och, sorry, my friend.” He placed his hand on Adlin’s other shoulder and shook his head. “But her gem is the verra golden shade of my eyes.”
Adlin stared at her ring and saw nothing but a clear gem. Yet all of his cousins saw it matching their eyes. This made no sense. Something was gravely wrong.
It seemed Mildred felt the same because her eyes went from his, confused, to her ring where they widened. “I see a color too.”
She did? Praise God. Finally. Adlin stood, eager for the moment their eyes connected. When she finally remembered everything. They deserved this. They had for a very long time.
“Don’t you see it?” she whispered, her voice soft as her eyes went between her ring and Adlin, her expression unreadable. Anxious? Sad? Confused? “It’s not the right color...”
Adlin’s eyes held hers for a long moment before they fell to her ring and his heart stopped.
The gem was finally a color.
A color that did not match his eyes.
Chapter Five
THERE WAS NOTHING more interesting than spending the afternoon in a medieval Scottish castle with women who would have been close to her age had they not traveled back in time. While Cassie and Leslie looked great, they were now in their fifties despite the fact they had only traveled back in time two years before.
As it turned out, though Leslie wasn’t part of Cassie’s group, because she had lived in the future for a time, she was around the same age. Sadly enough, the women Leslie had initially traveled back in time with were now elderly.
Suffice it to say, all that craziness was pushed to the back of her mind as she got to know the two women better. They were exceptionally sane given all they had experienced and seemed in relatively decent spirits considering their country was at war. Leslie was practical and easy to get along with. Cassie had created the forum back home, so they spent ample time chatting about how it had attracted more Brouns.
“So there are three more of you?” Leslie asked as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped one foot methodically as she thought that over. “What is my son up to?”
Milly wondered if Leslie knew Adlin had been reincarnated. That he had started this very clan.
“Of course I know,” Leslie muttered absently. “In fact, Adlin and I didn’t get along all that well in his previous life, but now that’s neither here nor there. He’s my boy, and I love him, pain in the ass that he’s been over the years.” She shook her head, but there was a spark of humor mixed with resolve in her eyes. “He never stops with his damn jokes.”
Milly knew her eyes must be wide as saucers. How did Leslie know what she was thinking?
Leslie only winked and proceeded to change the subject. Most of their time was spent introducing her to another world. A time long gone. The castle was astounding with its old stonework and endless nooks and crannies. She could only envision all it had seen. All it had experienced.
As she joined Cassie and Leslie later that evening on the landing overlooking the great hall, her eyes swept over the tapestries before landing on the enormous one in the middle.
“Isn’t he something,” she whispered, caught by the Viking looking right back at her. Or so it seemed.
“Who?” Leslie asked.
“The Viking in that tapestry.” It had to be thirty feet long. “He’s impressive.”
“Heidrek? He sure is.” Cassie smiled. “He’s one of the MacLomain’s Viking ancestors.”
They knew the man’s name? More than that, it almost sounded like they knew him personally. But that was impossible...right? Milly shook her head. Vikings were about one step further than she was willing to go right now but she could appreciate the workmanship nonetheless.
“You look amazing, Milly.” Leslie squeezed her hand. “Let’s head downstairs so everyone can get a good look at you.”
She ran her hands down her dress, aware of the looks she was already drawing. Her dress might be old-fashioned, but it was gorgeous. At some point, she figured she would start feeling awkward or out of place but it didn’t seem to be happening.
If anything, she felt...at home.
The haunting trill of bagpipes echoed off the castle walls as they walked down and she scanned the crowd. People were fairly subdued, and she knew why. War. Milly tried to keep a frown from her face as she made her way through the crowd. Cassie and Leslie had not held back when she asked questions. Now she knew what year it was and the state of Scotland. Evidently, Adlin hadn’t considered that important enough to tell her. But then he had been rather busy with talk of wizards and witches and, oh yes, kisses.
Sworn to a Highland Laird Page 6
