A Scot's Pledge (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #1)

by Purington, Sky

  Their eyes lingered on each other before she turned her attention to the wee bairns again.

  “You’re playing an awful risky game based on nothing but emotions,” she murmured. “That’s seriously not like you.”

  It took him a moment to catch her meaning.

  “You think my magic is not just faltering but actually affecting my judgment.” In truth, she might be right. But then she might be wrong, and he said as much. He finally said what he felt. Something he should have said years ago. Because he was convinced this could work despite her not having Broun lineage. “Magic might be capable of many things, but it doesnae control love nor manifest it. ‘Tis the other way around. Love ignites magic...and I love you.”

  She went perfectly still and offered no reply right away.

  Unfortunately, when she did, it wasn’t precisely the response he was hoping for. But then he should have known she would put him and his country first. Which essentially is what she was doing when she tried to push him away.

  “We do love each other, Tiernan...as friends.” Her eyes met his again. “Always as friends.” She rubbed her lips together as though ready to speak aloud but looked back at the children and continued telepathically. “I think you might be confusing things. Sure, our love is real and granted we’re attracted to each other, but that doesn’t mean we’re head over heels.” She shook her head, lying through her telepathic teeth. “It just doesn’t.”

  But it did, and they both knew it.

  “Somehow, whatever’s going on in this era is turning everything around on you.” She sighed. “Point blank, you’re letting your emotions rule you when you should be focused on your duty as chieftain. On protecting your country. And I’m gonna make sure you remember that at every opportunity.”

  Yet she subconsciously leaned back against him as the coronation came to an end. While she claimed one thing, her body and thoughts said another. She tremored when he ran his hands slowly from her shoulders down her arms, and her turbulent thoughts revealed the truth.

  She wanted this to be real but feared it wasn’t.

  “Come,” he finally said aloud and offered her his elbow again. “’Tis time to introduce ourselves.”

  Surprise lit her eyes. “Introduce ourselves?”

  “Aye.” He grinned. “After all, we are here to protect wee David as was promised his father on his deathbed.”

  Chapter Five

  AS IT TURNED out, they did not get a chance to meet King David for a few more hours. By the time they did, Joan of England had already departed, off to her family's holding. David, she soon discovered, was quiet and withdrawn, staring at her more than he spoke. If anything, they dealt more with Sir Thomas Randolph, 1st Earl of Moray, who had been appointed Guardian of Scotland.

  A man, as it happened, who knew Adlin.

  Thomas was Robert the Bruce’s nephew and had been a military commander in many battles during the First War of Scottish Independence. Battles that Adlin and his cousins had ensured went as they should back when they came together with their Brouns. Because Thomas was Robert the Bruce’s trusted confidant, he knew about the MacLomains. More so, of what they were capable.

  Why they were there then and why they might be here now.

  Somewhere in his fifties with grayish light brown hair, Thomas was a distinguished, weathered man who had clearly seen his fair share of war. Yet he had the distinct air of a diplomat as he urged them to sit across from him, and introductions were made. Meanwhile, David left, evidently not needing to sit in on this.

  As they continued speaking with Thomas, she realized she no longer needed to pretend to be Tiernan's wife. Not that it had been such a difficult chore. Still, best not to continue playing the role. Especially when it felt so natural. So meant to be when it wasn't. Something she better keep in mind.

  “Ye look a great deal like yer da, lad.” Thomas eyed Tiernan. “It has been many years. How is Adlin?”

  “Well.” Tiernan grinned. “Enjoying retirement with ma.”

  “Ah, Milly. One doesnae forget a lass like her nor the lasses who came after her.” Thomas’s appreciative gaze slid to Julie. “Are ye from foreign lands like them, then? A match for Tiernan?”

  “Yes, I’m from a foreign land,” she confirmed, finally speaking aloud. “But I’m not meant for Tiernan. We’re just friends.”

  “Foreign ye say?” He scratched his temple. “But ye sound like ye’re from here.”

  Julie and Tiernan glanced at each other, confused.

  “Ye dinnae hear her accent?” Tiernan asked. “Truly?”

  “Nay, she doesnae sound like the others I met all those years ago if that’s what ye’re getting at.” Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Ye mean to say she isnae from these parts?”

  “Nay,” Tiernan said softly, clearly perplexed. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

  Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “Trouble’s afoot again, aye?” He muttered a curse about a pretender being nothing but King Edward’s puppet. “More than that bloody weakling Balliol pretending he has a claim to the throne?”

  “Aye, so it seems,” Tiernan confirmed. “We dinnae know precisely what the trouble is yet, though. Only that ‘tis important we keep a close eye on wee David. Not only because ‘twas Robert the Bruce’s wishes but because of this unknown threat. If for some reason, we cannae, ye need to be vigilant and keep more guards around him than usual.”

  Thomas nodded, understanding how dire it was if Tiernan were here. “So ye’ve no clue where this threat comes from? What I should be prepared for?”

  “Not yet.” Tiernan glanced from Julie to Thomas, evidently taking her suggestion about the disinherited quite seriously. “But ‘twould be prudent to keep an eye out for the men Balliol is rallying to his cause. Traitorous nobles who felt deprived of Scottish land in the last war.”

  “Och, bloody traitors dinnae deserve to even call themselves Scotsmen,” Thomas spat. His bushy brows furrowed in wariness. “But at least they are blood and flesh men we can fight.” His gaze narrowed on Tiernan. “’Twas my understanding that yer da and kin fought something a wee bit different.”

  “They did and still do,” Tiernan confirmed. “Pure evil.”

  “Ye think the nobles are part of this evil then?”

  “We dinnae know quite yet,” Tiernan replied. “But we soon will. Dinnae doubt it.” His gaze remained steady on Thomas, his words firm. “We will get to the root of this and help ye and yer men keep King David safe.”

  Thomas considered him for a moment before he nodded once. “I believe ye mean that.” His attention returned to Julie. “And yer role in this, lass? Because ‘tis clear ye’ve a part.” His brow inched up in amused astuteness. “As it were, I dinnae recall the lasses who joined Adlin and his kin being mere friends. Each and every one was quite enamored with their MacLomain.” He mulled that over. “Or, if I recall correctly, those with MacLomain bloodlines. Hamilton’s and MacLeod’s, as well, I believe.”

  He clearly had a very good memory.

  “Tiernan has always been a good friend.” She wasn’t about to admit to anything else. “I try to be there for my friends.”

  In retrospect, that sounded sort of silly, but what the hell else was she supposed to say? Because she certainly wasn’t going to tell him that Tiernan had risked everything by bringing her here. That he was out of his mind for doing this.

  Never mind the astounding experience of finally traveling back in time, she was still trying to get over him saying he loved her. Just like that, in the middle of a medieval coronation of all things, he just dropped that bomb. She swore her whole world exploded in joy before reality, yet again came crashing down.

  Then there was the whole talking telepathically thing.

  She’d always thought that was a cool perk for those who had fallen in love over the years but had no idea how amazing it actually was. It felt like mixing Tiernan's toe-curling sexpot voice with a kick-ass, shoot you to oblivion orgasm. Which m
ade her wonder, how the hell did those couples save the world talking telepathically? She would’ve been on her back with her legs spread the whole time.

  “You bloody well better stop thinking like that,” Tiernan warned, yet there was amusement in his internal voice. “Or we’re doomed before we’ve begun, lass.”

  “Get out of my head already,” she shot back, forgetting he could hear her thoughts. “You weren’t supposed to catch that.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry in the least, though. “I cannae control what I hear.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  “I see,” Thomas said to her, responding to her comment about her and Tiernan being friends. “Well, then, I thank ye for coming to the aid of yer friend.”

  The way he said ‘friend’ told her he was no fool.

  “Will ye need lodging?” Thomas asked. “We’ll be staying here for the eve, then heading back to David’s residence on the morn.”

  “I didnae see many soldiers about,” Tiernan commented, likely aware of the location of Thomas’s every warrior, whether visible or not. “Have ye enough for a traveling guard?”

  “Aye, most are out of sight right now,” Thomas assured. “’Twas best for the ceremony.”

  Tiernan nodded. “’Tis our hope to join ye. Lodging would be appreciated.”

  “Aye then, I’ll show ye the way.”

  She smiled when she spied David peeking around the corner, then vanish as they headed down the hallway. He might be withdrawn, but he was curious.

  As it turned out, they were given a cottage with a single small bed, which meant they had to sleep together. Wonderful. How was she supposed to stick to her guns when she was lying in bed with him? One that provided no wiggle room? She eyed the earthen floor already knowing she wouldn’t ask Tiernan to sleep on it even though he would. While she might try lying on it herself, he’d never allow it.

  “’Tis this or a tent,” Thomas had said. “Plenty of that on the morrow.”

  “’Tis fine,” Tiernan had assured before Thomas left, having let them know he’d send someone with food and drink. A cool wind blew in through the rafters, and pine needles rained down outside the window. It was pretty here, reminding her a lot of New Hampshire’s woodland.

  “This is working out a little too perfectly for you, isn’t it?” she remarked.

  “You know I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “And you know I won’t let you.”

  He set aside the Viking sword, and sank down on the bed, his expression on her but not really seeing her.

  “What is it?” She sat beside him, wondering when she would start catching his thoughts or if it was a one-way street.

  “’Tis curious is all,” he murmured, clearly off the conundrum of their sleeping arrangements. “Not just us being able to speak telepathically but that Thomas didnae hear your true accent.”

  “That was weird,” she agreed. “Has that ever happened before in all the generations of modern day time travelers?”

  “Not that I know of,” he said. “We need to talk to da. See what he makes of it.”

  “Okay.” She stood and motioned that he get moving along. “Chant me home then back to MacLomain Castle you go.”

  “There’s no time.” He stood as well. “First to the castle, then we will see.”

  “We will not see!” She planted her fists on her hips and cocked her head at him. “Enough is enough, Tiernan. We can’t keep doing this.”

  “This?”

  “Yes, this.” She gestured at the cottage and bed, knowing she could only be so strong. “I shouldn’t be part of looking after David with you, and I sure as heck shouldn’t be in this little cottage spending the night with you.”

  Back to himself, the corner of his mouth curled up, and a twinkle lit his eyes. “Why not?”

  “You know full well why not.”

  “Are you telling me you cannae manage a night in bed with me?”

  “Not a bed that size.”

  He glanced from the bed to her, his amusement only growing. “There’s room enough to sleep.”

  “Yeah, spooning and heck if you don’t know it.”

  “What’s the matter with spooning?”

  She tried not to, she really did, but her gaze dropped to his groin, and she pointed out his very obvious, not to mention damn impressive, erection. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

  “There’s no helping it, lass.” He chuckled, and his brogue thickened. “Not when ye get that look in yer eyes every time ye glance at the bed.”

  “What look?”

  “The same one ye had at the door in New Hampshire, then when we danced, then—”

  “Then nothing,” she cut him off. “Because I don’t have a look.”

  “You do.” He stepped far too close and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “’Tis a becoming pink here with a wee bit o’ drift to your eyes as if you might be envisioning me minus my—”

  “Minus your nothing,” she interrupted. “I mean something.” She was all turned around at the look in his eyes, the way his weapon-roughened thumb felt against her skin. “I...we...” She nearly leaned her cheek into his touch but caught herself and pulled away. “Just chant away your erection, then chant me home.”

  “Do you consider the colonial your home?” he murmured, surprising her with the question.

  “For now,” she replied. “Until I end up at the Maine chalet again waiting for the next round of time travelers meant for hot Vikings.”

  He frowned. “Hot?”

  Ah, perhaps this was the way to drive him into a Broun’s arms.

  “Yeah, smokin’ hot Vikings, actually.” But not as hot as him. Nobody was as hot as Tiernan. Not in her book. Best to keep on with the charade, though. So she pretended to ponder. “Honestly, I figured I’d end up with a Viking dragon shifter...was kinda hoping I—”

  That’s all she got out before he yanked her against him, and any foolish pretend notion she might have had about Vikings flew right out the window.

  Chapter Six

  THOUGH HE KNEW full well Julie was interested in him, and only him, something about her speculating about a Viking brought out a possessive streak he had no idea he possessed. One he was bloody glad for when he finally did what he had wanted to do for years.

  He kissed her.

  The moment their lips touched, he knew he was right. She might not be a Broun, but she was his. She always had been and always would be.

  He cupped the back of her neck and kept the kiss gentle and exploratory at first, pleased when she didn’t try to pull away but melted against him. How many times had he imagined this moment? How sweet she would taste? How receptive she would be? He never once envisioned her being otherwise. Never once pulling away or not wanting this as much as him.

  It would be too crushing. Too final.

  Lost in the way her mouth felt against his, how her body trembled when he deepened the exchange, he vaguely wondered why his magic hadn't ignited. Because he had intended to distract her with a kiss and whisk her back to his castle. Something she must have suspected because it snapped her out of the sensual place they were in.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned, tearing her lips away. She wiggled out of his arms. “Damn it all, Tiernan, why’d you do that!”

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Honestly?”

  “No,” she said, trying for sarcasm, but sounding more breathless than anything. “I was hoping you’d lie to me.”

  “I kissed you because I was jealous,” he stated bluntly. “And because it’s all I’ve been thinking about doing since I can remember.” Before she could go on, which was likely going to be a scathing mouthful, he continued, trying to inject some humor to pacify her. “We’ve got bigger problems than you overly enjoying my kiss, though.”

  “Cocky, much?” she muttered, yet they both knew he was right, and her lips did curl up a wee bit though she tried to hide it. She slanted a look at him, still noticeably fluste
red. “What’s going on?”

  “My magic isnae working,” he began but stopped short when a light rap came at the door.

  “Adlin,” she whispered, shocking him that she instinctively knew such. But there was something to that wasn't there? In fact, when she opened the door to his father, he realized he was in her mind even more than before, catching far more thoughts. In turn, he suspected she was catching his too hence knowing it was da.

  “Adlin!” She smiled and embraced his father. “So glad you’re here!”

  There was no missing the concern in her eyes because she was with Tiernan when it should have been someone else. He embraced his father next and started to explain himself, but da cut him off.

  “Och, nay, ‘tis not to worry about right now, Son.” His eyes flickered from the sword to Tiernan. While he knew his father tried to speak telepathically, nothing came through. “’Tis lucky for ye I saw the sword’s light and found my way here because ye vanished from my mind.” He shook his head. ‘’Twas a bloody unsettling feeling and has your ma in an uproar.”

  No doubt it did.

  “What do you mean, vanished?” He frowned then finally took in his father’s attire. “And what are you wearing?”

  “The robes of my calling,” da revealed. “Something I havenae had the opportunity to wear in this lifetime until now.” He eyed his robe over, quite pleased. “’Tis good it found me again.” He chuckled, referring to his prematurely white hair. “Everything matches just as it always did.” His eyes lit up, as he snatched an ancient-looking gnarly stick out of nowhere. “I even got my cane back!”

  As it happened, his father was the incarnate of the original Adlin, who first started Clan MacLomain hundreds and hundreds of years ago. He had been an immortal white wizard born from Ireland into Scotland. Based on his attire, it seemed his former life was catching up with him.

  Once upon a time, MacLomain wizards occasionally wore the robes of their calling. White wizards wore white robes and worshiped the Christian God. Black wizards wore black and worshiped the old gods. Some were Christian, others pagan. They were all good, though. Just able to access different magic.