Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (12 page)

“Because ye didnae ask,” Colin grunted, meeting a hard thrust of Valan’s sword.

“Would it have mattered?” she said, eying the battle for the opportunity to thrust her blade.

“Aye!” they both said, and drove at one another.

“Unleash the dragon and be done with this foolery,”
Naðr muttered.

“I tend to agree,”
King Erc said.

“Nay,” she gasped, frustrated. The battle that existed now was not about the mythological creature within but who she was as a woman. Though their swords clashed and there was nothing but driving rain betwixt them, she thought of Leslie’s advice.

Be honest about love.

So instead of bringing forth the dragon, she gathered every last ounce of physical strength she had and plunged her sword between theirs. Luckily they froze mid-thrust as her words rang out.

“Valan, you knew as well as I that our love lacked. Despite such, ‘twas real enough indeed. But what I found with Colin was something else altogether…‘twas intense and different and so verra unavoidable. I didnae mean to feel so strongly but couldnae help it. ‘Twas what it was and I wouldnae take it back.”

Torra held her blade firmly between them and met Valan’s eyes. “Tell me I was the greatest love of your life.” She breathed harshly. “Tell me that you knew it the moment you met me.” When he blinked several times, she ground out, “Tell me then and make this battling with your friend worthwhile. Because if I didnae make your heart stop and all else fade away then mayhap your fighting for nothing, aye?”

Valan breathed just as harshly, his eyes never once leaving hers, words a strained whisper. “But I love ye, lass.”

“Aye,” she whispered and offered a nod. “And I you, my friend.” Torra bit her lower lip and shook her head, eyes pleading with his. “But was it ever a love that ‘twas meant to bind us beyond friendship?” Torra’s brows pinched together as rain trickled down her face. “Was it ever the sort to bind us through this lifetime then into the next?”

Valan made to speak, heart in his eyes, but stopped and stared at her for an excruciatingly long moment. Instead of answering, his face fell as did his blade. Legs apart, sword slowly sinking to the rain-drenched ground, his gaze remained on her. Though it seemed a fortnight passed, she knew it was only a few long moments before he finally whispered, “Nay, lass.”

Blade still aimed, Colin breathed hard as he watched Valan. The MacLeod’s eyes were pained. They had all suffered so much and none knew how to cope with all the wrongs done. Torra supposed as the rain pelted down and she lowered both her head and blade that even if they could turn back time it would have always gone as it did.

Determined not to be a coward, to be everything King Naðr would expect, she raised her eyes to Valan and softly said, “Dinnae think for a moment that I stopped loving you…” She looked at him with the love of a good friend. “In the way that I do.”

Before he could speak, she shook her head. What needed to be said should be done so because she truly meant it. For some reason, whether because of their past or because of this very moment, she knew it to be true. “You ruined the last four winters of mine and Colin’s lives, but I am
tired
of hating you for it.” She shocked even herself when she told the absolute truth. “I’ve not got it in me anymore.”

Torra looked back and forth between the men. Blades still in hand but no longer raised at one another, there was nothing but the sound of pounding rain to separate them all from deep thoughts.

Valan’s eyes stayed on her for another long moment before he finally spoke, voice just loud enough for them to hear. “I too am tired of hating.” His eyes flickered from Colin to her then back to the MacLeod, gaze narrowed. “If ‘tis nothing but the best of love ye have for my lass then have her ye shall.”

Colin showed no sign of gratefulness but renewed anger as he gripped his blade tighter. “Is that all ye have to say to me after four years of slavery beneath your Da?”

“Is she not worth it?” Valan spat, blade at the ready again.

When Torra clenched her teeth, it was almost as if Colin sensed her distress because he kept his blade down. He locked his jaw and glared at Valan beneath lowered brows. When the MacLeod spoke, his voice was so low it rumbled through her charred nerves like a soothing balm.

“Torra is worth
everything
,” Colin hissed through his teeth. “And ye are all the more a fool for not realizing it from the moment ye met her.”

Valan turned a smidge too complacent for her taste. “Aye, she is, isn’t she, MacLeod, being part dragon as she is?”

Torra got aggravated at that. Now Valan was just provoking. So when Colin made to thrust, she stepped in between them and put a hand on either chest.

Colin’s eyes widened. “Och, lass.”

So unbelievably done with fighting, she kept her voice firm as she looked back and forth between them. “Too long have we carried this bitterness. ‘Tis time to rise above it so that this war might see a peaceful outcome. Because even if we work together to defeat Keir ‘twill likely be unsuccessful if resentment continues to simmer.” She shook her head. “And as you both verra well know, Keir will try to exploit any ill feelings we continue to harbor toward one another.”

Though their expressions remained grim, it was clear both men were strongly considering her words. Her eyes went beyond them to Grant, who was no longer fighting Iosbail. Torra made a come-hither motion. “That means you as well, cousin.”

“Now you go too far,” Valan muttered.

“Do I?” Torra asked, eyes swinging his way. “Was Grant not as harmed by your actions as I? You two were the closest of friends before you shared all with your Da then defected from the Hamiltons.” Her voice softened as she looked at him. “And was it not Grant who showed you how you might travel through time to begin with? And for all you did to him, all he did to earn such was to shun your friendship when he learned what happened to the MacLeod who, mind you, only met him because of your own actions.”

She shook her head, sad. “How could you expect anything less from Grant after the harm you had done me?”

For a split second, Valan almost appeared startled, the flash in his eyes telling as her words sunk in. He too had fallen victim to pride and it had caused so much damage. Yet at least it seemed he was finally realizing the entirety of it.

Grant, bless him, had come over as asked. Torra lowered her hands from the men’s chests and stepped back. It was time to overcome all the oppressive emotions that had long held her back. She stood taller and made a point to lock eyes with all three men before speaking.

“We must let go of the past and focus on the future,” she declared in a firm, unrelenting voice. “Because if we dinnae then I promise you this war will be lost.” Her eyes met Valan. “You must at last set aside old anger and face your Da once more.” Her eyes then went to Grant. “If I can truly forgive, so can you, cousin. Outside of Iosbail and Adlin, no wizard is more powerful than you. Not even I. ‘Tis in your verra nature to rise above your baser emotions.”

Her gaze at last landed on Colin. “You are my greatest love in every life. I dinnae doubt it for even a moment.” She placed her hand over the tattoo on his arm, heart in her eyes. “If I could take away the pain you suffered beneath Keir’s rule I would. But I cannae.” She shook her head. “We must take strength from our hardship so that we might live a life together. And if we do so, if we move forward together, it must be with our hearts free of old pain. For our love deserves nothing less, aye?”

All stared at her, faces devoid of emotion.

Each had retracted into the void of being a warrior as they considered her words.

The crowd remained silent. Even the pattering of rain and distant rumble of thunder seemed to fade away beneath the long, tense moments. Torra did not dare breathe as she waited. This needed to work.

If she could let go so could they.

Gods,
please
let them heed me.

At long last Grant’s eyes slowly swung from Colin to Valan and he held out his hands to both. Torra kept her shoulders back and chin notched though she trembled inside. Praise be to the MacLomains, her cousin had made the first move.

Another brutally long moment stretched before Valan’s brows lowered a fraction and he clasped Grant’s arm, hand to elbow before he held out his other hand to Colin.

A ripple of tension drove her spine straighter as they waited. If Colin took this offering, then they would have all made a declaration that they were ready to push past their shaded history. That they were ready to stand by her side and fight Keir Hamilton as one.

Please, my love, do this for me…for us.

Though she hadn’t said the words telepathically it almost seemed he heard because his eyes went to her and once more hesitated. Then, finally, thankfully, Colin’s eyes went to the men and he clasped their arms.

Torra felt the connection instantly.

Powerful, their magic wrapped and twisted, bonding and empowering them into a formidable team. There was great fate and destiny in the unification of these three, a connection that would soon wipe away old grievances and resentments.

“Now for some dragon?”
Naðr said.

Confident, a small smile met her lips. She once more placed her hand over Colin’s tattoo and closed her eyes, whispering into her mind. “Aye, now ‘tis time for some dragon.”

Watch out Keir Hamilton.

Because she knew that right here, right now, a weapon he never saw coming was being created.

Colin never thought he would see the day that he truly forgave Valan Hamilton.

But it had come.

As Torra said, it needed to. When he’d locked arms with Grant and Valan, the magic fluctuating between them made it plainly clear. He felt
stronger
, more alive, nearly invincible. And he knew they felt the same. When Torra touched his tattoo, something shifted and changed in his outlook toward the Hamilton. As if he suddenly better understood him and the reasons behind his hurtful actions. In all honesty, he swore he felt Valan’s raw emotions as if he was inside the man.

When Torra’s gaze glowed white, Colin abruptly saw everything from Valan’s eyes, then just as quickly from Grant’s, then from Torra herself. It was by far the most profound magic he had ever experienced.

The dragon.

As he shifted from each of them, he somehow knew that they did the same. He felt Valan’s sense of betrayal when he learned of Colin and Torra. He experienced the deep pain the Hamilton felt growing up as Keir’s son and though Valan might have spoken of it, the reality was far, far worse.

Then he was in Grant’s mind, taken aback by not only the strength his friend maintained after years at the Hamiltons but how he had only grown because of it. The man beneath all the astounding magic was as admirably strong in character as he thought him. Colin arched a brow and smiled when Sheila swirled in Grant’s thoughts. Now there was a love that mirrored his own for Torra…and a lust to match.

Yet even as so many doors were opened into the minds of the men, neither affected him as profoundly as swooping through Torra’s. Having not yet spoken telepathically with her, he found the sensation exceedingly potent. As he always knew would be the case, her spirit was as bonnie as the rest of her. Stronger by the moment as she gradually embraced and learned to control the dragon.

Colin inhaled deeply as he merged more thoroughly with her. There was no feeling more humbling than that of the untouchable love she had for him…the respect. But there was more. Passion. Need. A lust so intense that he nearly fell to his knees as his groin pulled sharply.

Merciful, Torra at last nodded and pulled away, voice soft. “‘Tis good this. Now there is deeper understanding.”

The men blinked and pulled away from one another. All were, it seemed, as touched by the experience as him. He now had a much deeper appreciation for the souls that lie within. When they eyed one another, Colin knew they felt the same.

The past
was
gone.

They were starting anew.

“Now
that
be some magic!” Iosbail declared. A wide grin covered her face as she thrust her sword in the air. “To the Broun and MacLomain clan’s future. ‘Tis brighter now than ever!”

All in the immediate vicinity raised their weapons and cried out, “Aye!”

While Colin was happy enough that old wounds had at last been put to rest, his main concern was Torra. Had the dragon weakened her? He didn’t bother asking but took her blade, tossed it aside along with his and pulled her into his arms. Though she trembled, he could tell by the desire in her eyes that it had nothing to do with harnessing the power of the dragon.

After all, she had been in his mind as well.

He cupped her cheek, his voice choked. “I’m so bloody proud of you, lass.”

“And I you,” she whispered.

Her arms wrapped around his waist when he pulled her head against his chest. He
wanted
her to hear the heavy thud of his heart. He
wanted
her to feel his erection thicken against her. Determined that she not only physically but mentally feel his need, he murmured into her mind,
“Dinnae make me wait much longer for the feel of ye against me without the plaid, lass.”

“Nay.” She pressed her cheek tighter against his chest before she turned her bonnie eyes to his. The white of the dragon had vanished. Now they mixed blue with green as she allowed him to see a fear that had nothing to do with the beastie within. Nay, she simply looked at him through the eyes of a lass who innocently worried and wondered at what it would feel like to lay with a lad. She’d just crawled within the minds of three sexually experienced Scotsmen. If nothing else such a thing would not only fuel curiosity but trepidation.

“Ye’ve done well, lassie.” Iosbail stuck her head between them. “But might I have a word?”

Torra pulled away. “Aye, of course.”

Iosbail started toward the castle, tossing over her shoulder. “With ye both.”

Holding hands, Colin met Torra’s small grin with one of his own as they followed the Broun matriarch. Iosbail said nothing but kept a distance ahead as they once more walked down the woodland path toward the sea. Oftentimes, he glanced at Torra only to find her doing the same. He steered her closer, so bloody tempted to stop and kiss her it took nothing less than untendered honor for Iosbail to stop him.

The Broun lass stopped at the shore. When they joined her, she was gazing out over the sea, her blue eyes lost. Or so it seemed. But Colin suspected Iosbail was never truly lost. Crouching, she sifted her hands through the wet rockiness until she found an oyster and stood. Staring at it, she murmured, “I always knew there would be something to this.”

Torra looked at the oyster. “What?”

Iosbail’s eyes were unexpectedly warm when they met Torra’s. “Do ye know my tale, lass? Do ye know of the child I left behind in ‘Eire and the wedding that should have been mine?”

Before Torra could respond, Iosbail shook her head, eyes to the west, to Ireland. “Ye likely know of the bairn but ye couldnae know of the wedding.” The Broun lass again stared out over the water, lost in memories. “I was to wed the Da of me wee bairn but did not love him so instead I fled. That was when I began my journey to the land across the waters. One that led me through the whole of Europe into Scotland where I eventually began the Broun clan.”

Colin and Torra remained silent under the heavy weight of Iosbail’s sadness.

Both pain and strength flickered in the Broun’s eyes as they met Torra’s. “I always tried so hard to truly love the lads. Time and time again. And being immortal such as I am means there is likely no hope to be had.” With a deep inhale, her eyes once more swung over the sea. “To this day, nearly five hundred years later, and still no love such as I see betwixt the two of ye.”

Iosbail stood up a little taller, her eyes on Torra as she rolled the oyster over in her hand. “Now I have seen a wee bit of my future, ‘tis good to know that I create a wedding gown inlaid with pearls from me North Sea.” A smile ghosted her face. “‘Twould be an honor to create the gown I never had a chance to wear, the one I should have worn had I married me bairn’s Da.” The corner of her lip curled up. “But then had I, Adlin’s clan would not have ever found me Brouns, aye? ‘Tis a bloody strange twist of fate, that.”

Colin squeezed Torra’s hand when he saw the emotion in his lass’s eyes. Her pain was his and he knew she felt for all Iosbail had sacrificed to follow a destiny even she did not fully understand. But he supposed because of their visit here now the Broun better understood many things.

“Come, let us walk along the shore.” Iosbail started to stroll. “Ye did well back there, lass. ‘Twas good to see.”

“Does that mean you’ll help us?” Torra asked.

Iosbail perked a brow at her. “Come now. That you’re walking alongside me now means I helped, aye?”

Torra shrugged. “Truth be told, nay. If I have learned nothing else in my few short years, ‘tis that nothing is ever as it seems.” Torra hesitated a moment then continued. “I need to talk to you alone, Iosbail.”

Colin didn’t blame Torra for saying such. In fact, he agreed. With a final squeeze of Torra’s hand, he made to swing back.

“Och, nay laddie.” Iosbail’s eyes locked with his. “Keep with us. Are ye not part of all this?”

When Torra made to respond, Iosbail shook her head, eyes hard on them both. “If not for the love ye share, ye would not be here now, aye?”

“Aye, but—”

“Nay but about it.” Iosbail continued walking. “Not to sound like me brother, Adlin, but every second ye lived up to this moment was with good reason and had it not happened ye would not be here.”

Iosbail stopped and put her hands on her hips as she eyed them both. “Now all I need to figure out is who this Keir Hamilton really is.”

“Born in the year—”

Iosbail waved away Torra’s words. “Nay, lassie, that’s not what I mean.”

Then she started to walk again, shaking her head. “Based on what I read of your thoughts, Torra, it sounded like I had a good idea who fueled Keir or the true evil behind him, wouldn’t ye say?” The Broun nodded as she murmured, “Then ‘tis obvious that I dinnae figure out
who
he is here but somehow in the future.”

“Aye,” Torra agreed. “Might you look to your Irish ancestors?”

Iosbail’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you say such?”

Torra shot Iosbail a knowing look. “You knew from the moment I arrived that I spoke within the mind to King Erc of the Dalriada. Was he not your foster Da then?”

Interest peaked; Colin looked from Torra to Iosbail.

The Broun didn’t respond right away, but her jaw clenched. Eventually, she said, “Aye, he was.” Iosbail frowned. “What does he know of my enemies?”

“Was your betrothed in Ireland not nephew to the verra lad who desired the Druidess, Chiomara above all else, Eoghan Dubhdiadh. Was it not that Druid’s insane actions that nearly killed her chances of happiness with King Erc? And was it not his evil that nearly stopped the birth of Adlin MacLomain?”

Iosbail’s eyes narrowed further on Torra. “What does any of that have to do with any of this?”

Torra shook her head, eyes beseeching. “I dinnae know, but you always told me you did. Something happened between now and the future that gave insight.”

“And I never told you?” Iosbail shook her head. “Of course I didnae. I’ve been in your mind and seen all there is to see.” Eyes skyward, she muttered, “‘Tis a thing to be vague. A device I always left to my brother.” But then her eyes narrowed and her lips curled up. “But it seems I’m the one who’s set to be vague now, aye? At least in the future.”

“Och,” Torra said with a prideful grin. “I’d say you’re just as vague now.” But her eyes showed true admiration. “You are forever looked upon highly within both the Broun and MacLomain clans.”

“Am I then?” Iosbail puffed up a bit. “As much so as Adlin?”

“Gods, aye,” Torra replied as if she had been waiting centuries to say such. “I mean dinnae get me wrong, Adlin MacLomain is powerful and verra well respected, but you are as highly liked and well known as your brother.” Torra’s brows lowered and her lips curved down. “How could you think it any other way?”

Iosbail snorted. “Lass, ye dinnae know what ‘tis like to have a brother such as Adlin.”

“Nay, I dinnae,” Torra said softly. “My brothers were far easier I imagine.”

“Colin and Bradon MacLomain,” Iosbail murmured. “Aye, they are bright lights within your mind to be sure.”

“Forever so,” Torra said. “As I cannae help but think will be your brother Adlin to you.”

“‘Tis hard to imagine.” Iosbail tossed aside the oyster as they continued walking. “Too many years I heard Erc and Chiomara speak of him. Their long lost beloved son. Aye, they had blood children after and fostered those such as me but none were as esteemed as their first born. And a lad they never even met! Or so said the rumors which, of course, proved to be true.” The Broun breathed deeply and shook her head. “Once taken in by them I did everything I could to show them goodness. Everything they asked of me was done to utmost perfection.”

When Iosbail paused, Torra prompted. “Such as?”

“Acorns and sticks.” Iosbail smiled. “I was best at collecting them. My Ma and Da birthed six after Adlin and fostered four. I was the first fostered and oldest of them all.”

Acorns and sticks? Colin was startled by Iosbail’s words as he already knew of the future.

Gods above.

Iosbail continued. “Every eve our parents required little of us. After all, we were but wee bairns.” The Broun notched her chin. “Ma would say, ‘Get on now and collect those sticks for the fires,’ to the lads and then to us, ‘Ye too then, lassies, gather up those acorns if ye want the bread ye so crave.’”

“Gods, did I gather those acorns,” Iosbail bragged, her stride more sure as they continued looking into her past. “So many one day in fact that I put the rest of them to shame I did!”

Colin had no idea what to make of this conversation. His childhood had been about learning to be a strong warrior and a good leader.

Iosbail’s, so it seemed, was all about gathering acorns.

“‘Tis good that, aye?” Torra said.

For a moment, Colin wasn’t sure who she spoke to. Was it so good to recall a childhood of acorns? He almost grinned but stopped when Iosbail’s clipped words met the air.

“Oh, aye, ‘twas good enough. So good it seemed that my acorns alone were enough to make the prized loaf for Eire’s royals when they visited.”

The Broun cocked a grin. “Never will I forget that eve when me Ma, Chiomara tucked me into sleep.” Iosbail rubbed her fingers together. “She told me that my acorns made bread that was gone in an instant. I still recall the twinkle in her bonnie eyes when she touched the tip of me nose and said, ‘There’s magic about ye me wee lassie.’” Iosbail chuckled before she continued. “Just look what ye did! Ye turned a few acorns into a grand eve indeed.”