Before she could fight him on it, he continued.
“We’ve already touched a few times since this all began,” he pointed out, “and we’re no worse for it.” He arched a brow and presented something she should take into consideration. “Besides, along the lines of Grant’s theory and evil manipulating your subconscious, would it not behoove the Brotherhood to keep you and me from being affectionate? For ‘twill surely lead to a connection that will ignite the power of your ring.”
“There is always that possibility,” she conceded.
“Possibility?” He stopped and tilted her chin until her eyes stayed with his. “I think ‘tis more than a mere possibility if we’re to go off our kiss earlier.”
Her breath hitched, and she licked her lips. “It was a good kiss.”
“Just good then?” he murmured, running the pad of his thumb along the soft flesh of her cheek. He had never come across such an exquisite creature.
“Maybe a tad more than good,” she whispered, back to teasing even as she swallowed hard, clearly nervous. “But then I have nothing to compare it to.”
“I can remedy that.” He shifted closer. “Several times over if ye’d like.”
“Several times,” she murmured, as lost in the moment as him, “might not be a bad idea...just to compare.”
Willing to appease her request, he went to close the distance only to hear a blade whizzing through the air. A dagger slammed into the tree beside them, and several warriors raced their way with swords drawn.
Warriors so large and ferocious, he feared the battle was lost before it had begun.
Chapter Eleven
SHE WASN’T SURPRISED when Ethyn shoved her behind him and prepared to take on three warriors the likes of which she’d never seen. Or had she? They were monstrous, vicious, and clearly born to fight. Though Ethyn was an excellent fighter, he was no match for them.
So, much to his dismay, she shifted and stood alongside him as the warriors barreled down on them astride their horses.
“You forget I’m your protector,” she said into his mind. “And whoever these men are, they aren’t the sort you’re used to fighting.”
He grunted and shook his head, holding the Viking sword and a dagger at the ready. When an arrow zinged his way, he dodged it, then began counting down as they raced closer. He was timing out every little move before it happened. Something she was fairly certain he’d never done before. Nor had she ever seen the particular look he wore. Both calm and wild, all at once. As though he truly craved what was coming. Ready for battle in a way he’d never been before.
“Three, two, one,” he whispered, then flew forward, whipping a dagger at one warrior while ducking beneath the arrow of another.
“I’m with you!” Or at least she would have been, had she not slammed into an unseen wall. Howling with fury, she tried again to no avail.
Something was keeping her from going to his aid.
Not to say he particularly needed it. He hit the first guy just right with his dagger and disabled his sword arm. While that warrior rallied himself, Ethyn went after the other two, like something out of a visual effects movie.
Something not entirely natural.
He leapt into the air between the two racing at him and ran his sword across one’s stomach before spinning mid-air and whipping another dagger at the second. His blade sliced his enemy’s jugular vein.
Meanwhile, the one with the bum sword arm used his horse masterfully to swing around. This should have allowed him to leap onto Ethyn and bring him to the ground. Instead, Ethyn fell to a knee and drove his sword up into the lunging man.
He didn’t linger on his kill but pulled the blade free, kicked the man back to his death, then went at the warrior staggering about gripping his neck. Smoothly brutal, Ethyn finished the job with a sword thrust up under the ribcage into the heart.
That left the one with the gut-wound who had since fallen to his knees with his head hung.
Ethyn yanked his opponent's head back by his hair, ready to cut his throat, only to stop short when the man’s eyes blazed bright green.
“Welcome back, brother,” the warrior said reverently before he simply vanished along with the other two.
“Bloody hell,” Marek exclaimed as he, Tiernan and Julie arrived in a hurry, having clearly sensed Ethyn’s life in danger. “What was that all about?” He nodded once at Ethyn with approval. “’Twas bloody impressive fighting, cousin. The best I’ve ever seen.”
That was a mighty compliment coming from Marek.
She shifted back and flew to Ethyn, grateful when no barrier stopped her.
“Are you all right?” Even though she knew he’d sustained no battle wound, she looked him over, worried. “I tried to help you.” She bit back emotions when they threatened to overwhelm her. “But I couldn’t.”
“’Tis all right, lass.” He pulled her into his arms, offering comfort when it should be the other way around. “’Tis really, truly all right.”
He pulled back and grinned at her, the Ethyn she knew and loved coming back to life in him.
“In fact, I’ve never been so all right.” He went to wipe the blood from his blade only to find none there. “But then there wouldnae be, would there?” He smiled at the others, a little giddy if she weren’t mistaken. “Because they werenae real...or should I say they were real, but couldnae be killed.”
Julie met his smile, understanding before everyone else. “They were Fianna warriors, weren’t they? From Ireland?”
“Aye.” Fondness, among other emotions, lit his eyes. “They followed me here...and then they tested me.”
“Followed you here?” Ciara began before she realized what he meant. “From the Irish Stonehenge.”
“More specifically, a gateway via the tree,” he revealed, clearly sensing more. “For ‘tis, as it’s always been, of the forest. Of the many woodland creatures that call it home. Therefore, a source of power and time-travel for the Fianna. It takes them where they wish to go, whether it be somewhere in the past, present, or future.”
“That’s so cool,” Julie exclaimed. Her brows drew together. “What tree?”
“We’ll tell you about it along the way.” Ethyn gathered his daggers, his gaze on the encampment. “For ‘tis best to keep close to David.”
In agreement, everyone headed back and were en route within the hour. The day was relatively temperate with the scent of rain on the air. Lots of it by that night, she told Ethyn. Her inner wolf was never wrong about that sort of thing.
They rode a horse together, her nestled in front of him. As they traveled, they shared the details of their visit to the Irish Stonehenge. Something they themselves had yet to discuss because he’d been too busy trying to kiss her before the Fianna showed up.
“’Twas just one-sided then, aye?” he murmured in her ear, catching that thought. “I seem to recall your eyes drifting shut in anticipation.”
“They did no such thing.” Though they quite possibly did.
“So essentially, the tree that’s at the Irish Stonehenge,” Julie said, interrupting their banter, “was the same one that was above your cave when Ethyn killed Phelan in your first life. Then, if that isn't crazy enough, it turns out your stone's located beneath the tree.” She shook her head. “That’s wild.”
“’Tis,” Tiernan agreed. “That tree has a lot of history with our clan. ‘Tis connected to several others, including the one in front of the colonial in New Hampshire.”
“But this they speak of now,” Marek said, “happened long before all that, aye?”
“Aye,” Ethyn confirmed. “In fact, as far as we know, it happened before Fionn Mac Cumhail ever became involved with the Stonehenge and Claddagh rings.”
“Aye,” Marek concurred. “Then, once he did become involved, he didnae know what transpired there because the Brotherhood used dragon magic to hide their foul deeds from the gods.”
What they had yet to discover but could very well be tied in with Tiernan's
compass tat and those who manipulated the stones, was how the rest eluded Fionn Mac Cumhail. Especially considering his own Fianna warriors might have been involved. Something it seemed Julie pondered too considering her next statement.
“Which makes you wonder...” Julie’s eyes narrowed as she reflected on what Marek had said about ill-used dragon magic. “If the Brotherhood used dragon magic to hide what they’d done at the Stonehenge from the Celtic gods, maybe dragon magic was used in a similar fashion before that. Maybe it was used to hide what Étaín and the Guardian Witches did as well.”
“Which would lead back to Destiny possibly being at the root of it,” Ciara murmured. “Not Alyssa.”
“How do you know?” Ethyn said. “Alyssa could just as easily be a dragon.”
“Now, that’s hard to believe.” Ciara shook her head. “She’s too quiet and withdrawn to be a dragon.” She shrugged. “Besides, I would’ve sensed it.”
“Unless,” Julie countered, reminding her of Madison and Cray’s journey, “Alyssa can cloak what she is from other creatures. We now know that’s possible.”
“Good point,” Ciara relented. “But one heck of a stretch.” She sighed, not so fond of being in competition with a dragon. It felt off somehow. “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Without a doubt.” Julie looked at the two of them. “Until then, at least we’ve figured out more pieces to your puzzle.” She considered Ethyn. “So, what do you make of that Fianna warrior welcoming you back?”
“Verra little at the moment,” he said gruffly, his mind clearly on other things. So said the erection that’d been pressed against her backside for some time. “Other than ‘twas a great feeling. Like coming home after a long time away. Reconnecting with loved ones.”
“I get it.” Julie nodded. “I felt something similar when I connected with my Guardian Witch ancestors.”
“Well, if they were testing you, Ethyn, you certainly passed,” Marek praised. “’Twill be interesting to see if that means they’ll come to your aid in the future.”
“I wouldnae doubt it,” Ethyn said with surprising confidence. He tightened his arm around her waist ever-so-slightly, as if trying to pull her even closer.
Although tempted to glance over her shoulder at him, she knew that would be a bad idea right now. She was way too aroused and those eyes of his at close range? Forget it. She’d be willing to try just about anything with him when they made camp that night.
“Then I will be sure to look at you often,” he whispered in her ear. “And try anything you wish.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his innuendo. How long had she dreamt of being with him the way a woman should be with a man? Far too long. Then there was her time in the twenty-first century where she pretty much just fantasized about him the whole time. What it would have felt like to keep touching him the first night she shifted. To let the surreal moment take over.
“’Twas surreal then,” he said softly, following her thoughts far too easily. “But ‘tis not now. ‘Tis real and verra possible.” He leaned close to her ear again. “And verra much anticipated.”
The dull ache between her thighs blossomed into a throb of anticipation. He had already touched her several times, and nothing dire had happened. Not yet, anyway. So maybe the risk was worth it. As it were, it should put them closer to igniting the power of the ring.
Yet her worry about what she should and shouldn’t do persisted as the day wore on. What if Grant was wrong, and her subconscious was right? What if evil wasn’t manipulating anything, and it was a warning she should heed?
Unfortunately, there were no set answers. Not yet, anyway. Not until more memories unraveled. So rather than focus on things that remained a mystery, she spoke of the here and now in Scotland. The history they’d seen through and that which lay ahead. The regents they’d made sure died so that history remained on track.
“Everything that’s been happening with King David and his fight to keep his crown, has to have been hard on you and your cousins,” she said into Ethyn’s mind, so any soldiers nearby didn’t overhear. “How are you doing?”
Though tempted to ask him if he was ready to ensure the death of yet another regent, she didn’t. It was too personal.
“It hasnae been easy for any of us,” he confessed. “And, aye, I’m ready to do what I must for my kin and country.” He squeezed her waist a little in reassurance. “You have been with me for countless lifetimes, Ciara, so nothing is too personal.”
But of course he had followed those thoughts.
“Well, I’ll be there for you every step of the way helping however I can.” She frowned and met his eyes over her shoulder, after all, wondering if he realized what lay ahead. “You weren’t at the Battle of Dupplin Moor on Aidan and Chloe’s adventure, so you didn’t see how bad it was. This upcoming battle at Halidon Hill will be just as bad if not worse.” She shook her head. “A terrible slaughter.”
In the brief time she and Ethyn had been in the future, a Scottish force sent by Regent Douglas attempted and failed to draw King Edward of England away from Berwick. With the town now surrounded, the defenders sued for a truce. The terms eventually agreed upon meant Edward would accept the town’s truce only if a Scottish force relieved them.
Otherwise, Berwick would surrender to Edward.
Naturally, upon hearing of this agreement, Douglas was hurrying to the relief of Berwick. What he didn’t realize, nor could they tell him, was that he raced into a trap. For though the Scottish army they traveled with were fourteen thousand men strong, and Edward’s only eight thousand, the British king had the advantage of being there ahead of time. That meant he had the advantage of choosing his battleground.
“Aye, lass, I know this battle will be bad, and a lot of my countrymen will fall,” Ethyn replied sadly, upset yet also determined. “But it must go as history tells it. Which means I must ensure Regent Douglas’ death.”
She nodded and sighed, looking ahead again. “Then, after that, it’s just a matter of Marek, and whoever his destined Broun is, making sure King David makes it to France safely.” She shook her head. “It all seems like so much for such an anti-climactic ending.”
“Aye, it does seem like a lot only to see the wee king into exile,” he agreed. “But ‘tis verra important as King David will return to Scotland someday. More than that,” he reminded, “we have the ongoing problem of an evil Brotherhood trying to destroy the MacLomains before they even begin. Not to mention, we’ve yet to figure out why our magic is fluctuating.”
“There is that,” she began only to trail off when a cursed-line once again transported them against their will, and they ended up somewhere else.
This time, however, their shift revealed something truly unexpected.
Chapter Twelve
HE UNSHEATHED THE Viking sword and kept it at the ready as his horse stopped. Outside of the sound of ocean waves crashing in the distance, the woodland wasn’t all that different.
“We’re back in Ireland,” Ciara said into his mind. She looked at the sky, the cursed-lines only she could see, then swung down. “I’d say quite a ways back too.” Her gaze returned to him. “It’s best I proceed as Phelan.”
Though he nodded, he still asked why.
“Because my wolf’s better at sensing things and sniffing out trouble before it occurs.” A blink later, she was gone, and Phelan trotted toward the ocean. “Follow me, but remain quiet.”
“Aye then.” He did as asked, following until she slowed.
“There.” Awe lit her internal voice as she sniffed the air. “Just ahead. Something magnificent is coming.”
He joined her and crouched behind shrubs just before the woodland’s edge. They were back at the Irish Stonehenge only now there were nine stones, and it was daylight. The sun shone brightly over the sparkling ocean beyond, and nature sounded all around them.
For a moment, he wondered what they were looking at specifically until a beautiful all-too-familiar unicorn race
d past. It came to a halt in the circle of stones as if waiting for someone. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was playing as it tossed its head about and stomped its hooves. Moments later, a warrior raced by and skidded to a halt beside it in the circle.
A Fianna warrior.
Ethyn started to say something to Ciara only to hear a loud buzzing in his ear. Moments later, his surroundings changed once again. He was no longer seeing the unicorn from afar but standing right in front of it.
He had become the warrior.
“And ye thought ye could beat me here!” a feminine voice mocked in his mind. The unicorn tossed her head about and neighed in delight, her golden horn sparkling in the sunlight. “Ye should have known better, my friend.”
He stared, dumbfounded. The unicorn was talking to him telepathically. He had never heard anything so pure and lovely. So truly humbling.
And she knew him.
Or at least the man he once was.
“Ye should not be here,” he replied automatically. “’Tis dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” she exclaimed. “Nay, ‘tis blessed and well ye know it.”
Blessed? He was about to ask why but suddenly understood as he accessed his former memories. All woodland creatures knew this place had been blessed by Goddess Étaín and the Guardian Witches. Protected and safe for those born of the forest. Yet someday soon, it wouldn’t be.
Someday it would be the place of the unicorn’s ultimate demise.
He tried to tell her, warn her, but it was too late. Half a breath later, the unicorn and Stonehenge were gone, and he and Ciara were once again on his horse in Scotland. Only they were no longer riding with the retinue. Instead, they meandered around a ways out by the sounds of the distant traveling war party. Even more startling? The sun sat much lower in the sky.
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