A Scot's Favor (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era Book 4)

by Sky Purington

  “But something stopped us,” he murmured, chasing the sensation, the memory, but it was gone. She wasn’t, though. Nay, she was right here in his arms, her skin luminescent in the moonlight trickling down through the leaves.

  “And I’m not sore.” She pulled his lips to hers, letting him know precisely what she wanted. What she had wanted since she woke that morning.

  Done saying no to her, so aroused it hurt, he kissed her more deeply and ran his hand down her side, memorizing the soft curves at his disposal. Her mouth melted beneath his. Her pebbled nipples brushed his chest as she writhed against him, needing more.

  Needing all he could give.

  Determined to give her such and so much more, he ran his hand between her thighs and lingered unmoving for a moment, letting her anticipation build. Then, taking his time, he caressed her liquid-hot flesh, playing at her tiny nub of pleasure until her mouth fell open, and her breathing grew irregular. It took but a few more strokes to bring her to the brink and keep her there, waiting, anticipating.

  Not for long, though.

  His desire was too great.

  His need for her overwhelming.

  Having brought her to just the right point, he wedged her thighs apart, cupped her arse, and steered himself into her. Still of the mind she might be tender, he thrust slow and easy, filling her gently.

  She released a shuddering sigh of relief mixed with pleasure, so immersed in sensation, her eyes were barely open as she watched him. Just as immersed as her, he cupped the back of her neck with his free hand and began moving, never taking his eyes off hers.

  He had never felt this way lying with a lass. It was more intimate. Loving in a way that bypassed all others. As if they transcended time, both in the moment they experienced and the one they once longed for but was denied them. There was no other way to explain it.

  Though he took her slowly, passionately, it eventually became too much for them both, and he moved faster. It seemed that was all she needed to roll him onto his back and straddle him. Bracing her hands on his chest, she started to move in a way that bespoke a lass who instinctively understood what he liked. Needed. Craved.

  After that, it was pure sensation as she rolled her hips and took him so well he breathed harshly in no time, eager for the heights to which she would take him. As much as he wanted to meet her thrusts, he held her hips loosely, remained still and let her take him the way she needed to. Let her become familiar with the way she could move. Feel. How she could take as much as she could give.

  Their passion grew, and her slow, measured movements quickened, her need to reach her peak obvious. He gripped her arse and finally met her thrusts until she dropped to her elbows on his chest and moaned.

  As ready as her, he pressed up just right and took them both over the edge.

  She released a long, low, ragged groan at the same time as him and slumped down all the way, resting her cheek on his chest. As her body trembled and her sheath gripped him, he squeezed her backside, pressed even deeper, and filled her with his seed.

  After that, they drifted, lost in the feel of being connected like this. Lost in each other. So lost, in fact, it took him a moment to realize something had shifted. Then another moment to realize how vastly it had shifted. They once again lay on their sides facing each other only now they were fully clothed.

  And back in Ireland.

  Back to their former selves.

  “Do not do it, brother,” a warrior warned, suddenly standing over them as Ethyn’s hand made its way up beneath her skirt. “Do not take her powers when she needs them more than ever.”

  Ciara gasped, staring up at the towering Fianna. “Marek?”

  While she’d sounded convinced it was him at the Stonehenge, this time, Ethyn sensed she had no doubt at all. None whatsoever. This confirmed it. Likely because they witnessed a version of him that clearly happened before darkness overtook him.

  His ‘brother’ frowned and shook his head. He focused on Ciara, moreover, the Woodland Druidess and referred to some mysterious woman. “Keep yer power and protect her, Druidess.” He looked at Ethyn and pleaded with his eyes. “Trust me in this, brother. Favor me with yer trust, and I will not let ye down.”

  Yet Ethyn had, the moment he decided to confront the Brotherhood before Ciara, hadn't he? He knew it like he knew nothing else.

  But that time had not come yet.

  So why were they being shown this? Remembering this?

  “If ye confront them, I will have no choice but to do the worst,” Marek responded, as if in answer to his internal questions. His eyes were tortured as they stayed with Ethyn’s. “’Twill be unthinkable pain for ye. Pain ye cannot begin to comprehend.” He shook his head. “So heed my warning. Know that...”

  His form faded before he finished his sentence, yet they remained in Ireland. In the strange place that was half memory, half reality. He sensed they had shifted to a different time, though.

  Weeks or mayhap months later.

  “We’re back to being ourselves.” Ciara chanted them into clothing. “Yet still...” Her words trailed off as she looked over his shoulder. “We’re there again.”

  “Aye.” He took in their surroundings as he pulled her up. The pond had been familiar because somehow it mirrored where they’d been before in more ways than one. For it fed a stream that led to a smaller pond in an all-too-familiar cave. One that sat beneath a mighty oak and their standing stone.

  “Bloody hell,” he whispered, pulling her after him until they were close enough to see what was happening inside. “’Tis us...”

  It was them after they were pursued by evil and cornered in the cave. After Ethyn had done the unthinkable to Phelan. His former self held his wolf, his grief undeniable. His misery and despair incomparable. Inconsolable. His anguish was soul-deep as blood pooled around them, and he aged before their very eyes.

  “My God,” Ciara whispered, her teary eyes glued to the heartbreaking scene. She understood exactly what they witnessed. “Killing me meant losing your immortality...your Fianna. Then it meant death.”

  “Aye.” He pulled her close as dozens upon dozens of Fianna warriors melted out of the woodland, their soulful gazes on the heart-wrenching scene. He clenched his jaw against stark emotions, suddenly feeling what his former self felt. The horrible grief he experienced as his powers left him. The empty sensation that filled him as he lost his connection with the woodland creatures around him. “But that pain didnae touch what it felt like losing ye.” He shook his head. “Not for a second.”

  “It’s happening so fast,” she said on a sob, her grief just as deep as she watched him age in under a minute. With wrinkled skin and snow-white hair, he raised his head one last time to look at his brothers-in-arms, then lowered it again over his wolf, held her tighter, and passed away.

  “Oh, wow,” she choked out as his fellow warriors fell to a knee, held their swords in a show of respect, and lowered their heads, bidding farewell to not just their brother but her. Moments later, every woodland creature imaginable melted out of the forest and stood silently, paying their respects as well.

  “They’re not just here for me,” Ethyn said softly, pulling her closer still. “But for you, Ciara. For your druidess.”

  “How did we get to that point, though?” She cried softly, as touched by the scene as he was. “What kind of horrible curse is this?”

  “I dinnae know.” The scene faded away, and they were left alone, once again in Scotland. “But I sense we will soon.”

  “No doubt.” Ciara inhaled a choppy breath, still trying to gather herself. “At least now we know more about Marek's motives for teaming up with the Brotherhood.” She referred to what he'd said standing over them in Ireland. “He had to have done it for his Broun. To protect her like you were trying to protect me. Why else would he have said he wanted me to keep my powers to protect ‘her?’”

  “’Tis one theory, to be sure,” he agreed. “If nothing else is clear now, Marek was trying to
protect us as well. To save us great pain.”

  She nodded. “Most definitely.”

  Lost in thought, neither said much as they headed back to their tent, of the mind to wait until morning to tell the others what they’d witnessed. To tell Marek that he’d tried to keep them safe in that life, but something went horribly wrong.

  “He knows that already, lass,” Ethyn assured as he held her later that night. “Marek knows he tried, but like us, doesnae ken how darkness is involved. What his part was other than being some sort of go-between.”

  “I hope whatever it is doesn’t break him,” she murmured. “Because if what ultimately happened to him is interwoven with what happened to us,” she shook her head, “I just don’t know how anyone survives that, evil or not.”

  “Aye,” he agreed, sighing. Neither voiced what had to have eventually happened. Marek didn't survive nor keep his immortality. How could he have if he were here now? Somehow, someway, he’d forfeited his Fianna magic as readily as Ethyn. The question remained, however, did he do it to give in to evil? Or in defiance of evil?

  Something, it seemed, that would remain a mystery for the unforeseeable future.

  So said everyone’s grim revelation upon waking the next morn.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “MAREK’S TENT WAS never out of our sight,” Cray groused. “Nor his horse.”

  Yet all were gone when they woke.

  “He’s likely playing it safe and putting more distance between him and us,” Julie theorized, though the worry in her voice was obvious. “He knows he’s needed at the battle tomorrow morning, so I’m sure he’ll be back by then.”

  They could only hope. Because Ciara knew they were thinking the same thing as her. What if evil had gotten the better of him? What if Marek found his way to the Brotherhood and was now truly their enemy? The thought was beyond daunting. Unfortunately, there was little they could do about it but wait and see.

  It was hard to believe they would arrive at their final destination by late day and fighting King Edward the next morning. While everyone else visited David plenty along the way, Ciara had kept her distance, and it bummed her out. She knew it was for the best, though. Phelan could be possessed again, and they couldn’t risk it.

  Nonetheless, when King David summoned her and Ethyn to his tent when they reached their final destination later that day, she felt reluctant anticipation.

  “I shouldn’t feel this way,” she said to Ethyn, shaking her head. “I should defy his order and stay away.”

  “You cannae defy the king’s orders, and we both know it.” He squeezed her hand as they headed that way. “Besides, everyone else is with him, so he will be well protected.”

  “From a possessed wolf?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  Though they both knew it was via death.

  Regent Archibald Douglas didn’t stay on long once they joined David, claiming he was off to rally the men’s spirits for the upcoming battle. Truth told, he likely just wanted to celebrate certain victory considering their vastly larger army.

  “Yer wolf willnae hurt me, Ciara,” King David swore the minute the regent was gone. “Phelan told me as much when she visited last night.” His steady gaze met Ciara’s. “Ye told me.”

  “No.” She shook her head, alarmed. “I didn’t come anywhere near you.”

  “Aye, ye came with a beautiful lass and told me I must trust ye and ye alone during the battle tomorrow.” He nodded. “And I will. I swear it.”

  “Me and me alone?” She shook her head again, about to say more when Julie cut in.

  “What did the beautiful lass with Phelan look like, King David?”

  “Like...” David thought about it before he shrugged and smiled. “Well, I didnae quite see her features because she was aglow with white light.”

  Ciara glanced from Ethyn back to David, understanding when she shouldn’t. Yet she did.

  “It was my wolf from my first life,” she said into everyone’s minds. “And it was the demigod with me.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Tiernan asked.

  “I don’t know...but I’m right.”

  “She is,” Chloe contributed, evidently sensing something. “And so is David in requesting you tomorrow. Specifically, Phelan.”

  “Yet she could be possessed,” Cray reminded.

  “I dinnae think so.” Ethyn sensed something unsettling. “I think with Marek gone, her wolf is no longer vulnerable.” He glanced at her, surprised. “In fact, I think Ciara and I growing closer has made it harder for darkness to find her.”

  “Right.” She sensed the same thing. “Almost as if our curse is narrowing down to just us and leaving no room for others.”

  “Aye.” Ethyn frowned, no doubt because he didn’t know what to make of that any more than she did.

  “Might Phelan visit me one more time now?” David asked, hope in his voice and on his face. He looked at Ciara. “Just for a moment or two?”

  “’Tis unwise,” Tiernan began, but she cut him off telepathically, suddenly feeling very strongly.

  She needed to do this. If only for a moment.

  “I think it was requested of David to ask me to do this,” she said into everyone’s minds. “I think Phelan will learn something if I do.”

  Everybody eyed Ciara for a moment, clearly unsure before Tiernan glanced from David to her and nodded. “Aye, then.” He drew his blade and urged the others to as well. “But ‘twill be with your wolf at swordpoint.”

  Ethyn frowned and shook his head, but she met his eyes and stopped him. “It’s okay. It should be like this.”

  Though he grumbled and sighed, he nodded and rested his hand on the hilt of the dagger at his side. “Aye, then, lass.”

  She perked a brow. “I’ll need more than that from you.”

  His scowl deepened before he reluctantly nodded again. “’Twill be as you wish.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Aye,” he assured.

  Confident he would listen, she finally shifted into Phelan.

  She sat in front of King David with every sword in the room pointed at her. Ethyn, doing what he knew she needed, took up a defensive position beside the king with his Viking sword at the ready.

  “Whilst ye can see her, my King,” Ethyn said gently. “Ye cannae go any closer, ye ken?”

  “I ken.” Though sad, it was clear by the brightening of David's eyes he was simply glad to see her again and said so.

  Ciara, Phelan, lowered her head, showing him she felt the same way moments before she caught a lingering scent. Several scents for that matter.

  “They’ve both been here,” she exclaimed into Ethyn's mind.

  “Who?”

  “Alyssa and Destiny!”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know.” She inhaled deeply, one hundred percent positive she was right. “But they were.”

  “What about a third scent? A possible demigod?” he said. “Or...your own scent from another life?”

  “I don’t smell anything else but...me...but not me...”

  Which had to be her former wolf.

  “Och,” he muttered as David chatted away to Phelan. A conversation she readily followed because that’s what her wolf did. Listened. Was there for those she cared about.

  “So does this mean we listen to the king’s request about having you close tomorrow or not?” Ethyn asked. “Or does this make things more precarious than before?”

  “No, it definitely means we listen.” She was never more certain of anything. “Whatever this was about, it has King David’s best interest at heart. They...I...whoever was here, is putting him first. I swear it.”

  “Aye, then, lass,” he said softly, trusting her.

  Though she didn’t spend much time in Phelan’s form, it was clear King David trusted her wholeheartedly because he made her swear they wouldn’t be far from him on the morrow. Something they readily swore to despite the risks, because say
ing no to the king simply wasn’t an option.

  “So how do you remain with the king and still make sure the regent falls in battle?” Cray asked later as they set up their tents for the eve. “’Tis impossible, aye?”

  “Mayhap.” Tiernan gave it some thought. “Mayhap not.”

  When Cray frowned at him in confusion, Tiernan pointed out the obvious. “As you and Madison saw on your own adventure, the ultimate demise of those who need to fall or die doesnae necessarily come from our own hands but our actions.” He shrugged. “So mayhap the best way to see history through is for Ethyn and Ciara to not be where they’re supposed to be.”

  “To be given our own choice,” she whispered, sensing something in that. She looked at Ethyn. “A choice taken out of our hands...but still in our hands...”

  When he cocked his head at her, not following, she narrowed her eyes, close to understanding something. But alas, it eluded her. She frowned, frustrated. It had been right there. She almost remembered.

  “Because there is something we need to remember,” she whispered. “Something so close but still beyond our reach.”

  “Aye,” he murmured, clearly sensing the same thing. “But ‘twill not be for much longer.”

  “No.” A sudden sense of sadness washed over her. “It won’t.”

  Though her friends looked at her with concern, they knew better than to pry. Without doubt, she and Ethyn were closing in fast on their truth.

  “Seriously, I can feel it just out of reach,” she said to Ethyn later as they lounged in their tent. She touched the dim shimmering magical light above them. “Almost as though if I just try hard enough, I can reach out and touch it.”

  She could tell by the tentative anticipation on his face that he felt the same way.

  He was as ready as she was to finally find out what happened, no matter what the end result might be. Which made her realize more heartbreaking truths likely awaited them on the horizon. That their story not just back then, but maybe even tomorrow might have an unhappy ending.