Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (27 page)

“Thank you,” she murmured to her love.

“Nay, thank you, my wee lass,” he whispered.

At long last alone, it seemed Colin was as quick to gaze around the hall as she. For the first time, they saw what her brother’s wife, McKayla must have done before she joined them at the Hamiltons.

Vines of spruce were wrapped everywhere intertwined with dried flowers and extra candles. It was stunning and festive and wonderfully thought out.

Yet even as they admired the view, Colin reeled her close until their bodies were pressed together and their lips inches apart. She relished the feel of his breath against hers, the never-ending look of love in his eyes.

Ready to be with him forever.

About to close her lips over his…

Torra leaned forward.

Until someone cleared her throat.

Torra and Colin pulled back and frowned at those suddenly alongside.

Four faces were smiling. Two from either side.

McKayla said from one side, “We’re having a little gathering outside. Wanna come?”

Cadence said from the other, “Just a small thing but immediate family…I mean
kin
should be there.”

Sheila issued a wide smile. “It’s going to be a killer moment.”

They had no chance to respond before Leslie said from the other side, a wicked grin on her face. “The sort of thing you’ll want to tell your
wee bairns
about,
aye
?”

Wee bairns! How had she forgotten?

But Torra had no chance to tell Colin what Naðr had shared as the Broun lasses ushered them out the front door into the falling snow. Clan folk were everywhere as they rounded the backside of the castle.

Torra stopped, stunned. But it wasn’t the row of torches lighting the side of the castle or the Christmastide wreaths strung everywhere. Nay, it was that she arrived on the very shore on which she’d lain when last here in her dragon form.

Her brother Colin, chieftain, met them with a wide smile on his face. “We’ve a holy man and weddings being performed. Might ye like to be one of them?”

Speechless, she only stared as the pipes trilled and all she loved stood on the shore waiting.

Colin MacLeod grinned as his loving eyes turned her way. “Well, then lass, what say ye? Are ye ready to become my wife?”

Torra could only nod as emotions overwhelmed her.

So it was that Torra MacLomain and Colin MacLeod stood alongside not only Malcolm and Cadence but the MacLomain’s head cook, Euphemia and her lad, Ceard. At long last, or in this case in but a few short months, all who had been part of the war were at last married on the eve of Christmastide.

Six couples who loved deeply had come together in spite of evil.

But Torra had little time to dwell on that as she said her vows then her new husband kissed her so thoroughly that all else faded away. When at last Colin pulled his lips from hers, there was nothing but a recognizable need in his eyes.

“I’ve the urge to walk ye into the loch and have my way with ye,” he murmured against her ear.

“Ye dinnae want to know what I’m thinking,” she flirted.

“Och, but I do, lass.”

Torra cupped his cheeks and looked deep into his eyes, her lips warring with a grin. “For all the long years I imprisoned myself ‘tis good indeed that ye set me free.”

Fire flared in his eyes as he wrapped his hand into her hair and shook his head. “Dinnae ye know lass.” His mouth came close to hers, his warm breath fanning over her lips. “There was never any doubt when it came to ye. I knew all along that we would be together.”

“Aye,” she whispered. “We were always the best part of one another’s plight, my highlander.”

Then their lips once more met.

Their love and so many others had conquered all against the odds. Now that they had won, they were undefeatable, untouchable.

Colin scooped her into his arms and headed for the castle.

“But we should mingle,” she murmured.

“Aye, and we will,” Colin promised.

“But we should say goodbye,” she urged.

“Aye, soon enough.”

Colin carried her up into the tower until he set her down in the chamber where she had spent the last ten winters. A fire flared to life on the hearth, the only means of communication they’d had since he was taken by Keir.

When she made to speak, he shook his head and cupped her face. “Nay, lass, there is naught to say. I but wanted to see ye from this side of the fire. To know that ye are at last mine.”

Touched, as vulnerable as him, she looked into his eyes and nodded. “Aye, ‘tis over at last.”

Nothing more was said as he sat and pulled her over him.

Straddling his thighs, she wrapped her hands into the fire that flared around them. Their eyes held, locked in eternal need as he pulled her closer. Her thighs quivered and she shook with need. Torra arched when his lips ran along her neck.

Flames sizzled.

He lowered her to her bed.

Fire roared.

Those celebrating might have seen flames dance within the MacLomain tower, but none batted an eye as they celebrated. They trusted in magic to protect them.

As a sharp release of passionate fire burst from Torra’s window, all cheered.

After all, she was their very own dragon.

She’d fought, conquered and won.

Better yet…

She was in love.

A fortnight later.

“Well, you always knew I was going to leave,” Leslie said.

McKayla frowned. “But I always sorta hoped you were kidding.”

“Me too,” Cadence said.

Determined, Leslie shook her head and looked at Torra. “Tell them why this needs to be.”

Bradon, crouched by the loch, stood and turned, his gaze first on the MacLomain castle then on Leslie. “You’re asking my sister to help make this easier for us, lass?”

An unavoidable sadness entered Leslie’s eyes when she looked at Bradon then her Broun kin then Torra. “Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry.” She shook her head and sighed. “Just bummed is all.”

Bradon took Leslie’s hand and squeezed. “We always knew this was how ‘twould be. That you would return to the twenty-first century with me by your side.”

“I know,” Leslie muttered, eyes skirting between them all. “Doesn’t make this any easier though.”

“Nay, my lass,” Bradon said. “It doesnae.”

Yet Leslie soon pulled herself together. Likely because she had her one true love beside her.

Torra tried to keep a neutral expression as she embraced Bradon one last time, but it was hard. Her brother was leaving to live in the future. But other MacLomains had done such before so she knew it could be done. They could return to visit whenever they liked.

Still.

It was sad.

McKayla plunked a stack of papers in Leslie’s arms. “I was super stressed so wrote like mad while you were all off having your adventures and beating people up.”

McKayla had written a novel in the 21
st
century and it seemed her agent Leslie was now officially handed control of its outcome.

“Seriously? I get that you were stressed, but this is crazy. There’s gotta be,” she shook her arms, “easily four novels worth here.”

McKayla arched her brows and grinned. “Actually, it’s five but a good tight fit. Fast reading.”

“Fast reading?” Leslie muttered.

“Yup, one long story that involves five romances, tattoos, rings, highlanders, time travel, magic, even a dragon. I know you can make it work.”

“But, but,” Leslie stuttered before Bradon took the stack of papers from her and firmly touched his hand to her lower back.

“We’ll figure it out, aye?” he said to her.

For a moment, Leslie’s eyes drifted to Bradon’s before she blinked rapidly. “What the hell am I supposed to do with—”

Bradon shook his head, words soft. “Why dinnae we worry over this later?”

Leslie paused, eyes locked with his before she nodded reluctantly and they all turned heartfelt eyes to Torra.

“I’d say ‘tis time.” Bradon’s eyes were compassionate. “We already know we’ll likely never see it again.”

Torra shook her head. “Not sure if I’m ready.”

McKayla smiled. “Of course you are.”

“Absolutely,” Leslie agreed.

Cadence clasped Torra’s shoulder and released a bright smile. “Go on now. We’ve come all this way and know you’ll be toning things down now that you’re pregnant. Give us one last show, eh?” She tilted her head. “Do we not deserve it?”

More than most.

But Torra didn’t tell them that. Instead, she embraced them one last time then turned away, heart in her throat as she said, “I love ye all. Now go join your husbands on the battlements so that ye might all see through my eyes this last time.”

None argued but ran for the castle as Torra ran toward the shore. This time there was no period of adjustment or acclimation.

Nay, she but ran, spread her arms, jumped…

And became the dragon.

Power and rightness blew through her as she shifted and spread her wings with confidence. Storms were non-existent over the Cowal Peninsula so there was little wind shear. She arched once, twice then three times before she flapped her wings hard and coasted over the MacLomain castle.

Her brother Colin smiled and waved at Torra as McKayla joined him. Malcolm and his wife, Cadence waved just as avidly, Kynan the wolf by their side. Soon enough Ilisa, Arthur and many others stood on the battlements as well. Her parents, Iain and Arianna. Ilisa and her parents, Arthur and Annie. Then far more. Bradon and Leslie, Grant and Malcolm’s parents, Coira and William.”

Torra swooped over as more joined them including those from the far future who would be with Bradon…Ferchar and Caitlin with their wee bairn Logan.

She smiled at what had appeared in the field beyond the MacLomain castle after she’d shifted into the dragon during the castle siege and they defeated Keir.

The baby oak.

Though she knew it was still connected to the mother oak, it now stood on its own. Yet it was already taller than it had been and she suspected would grow faster than most trees.

Again and again she swooped until she flew on.

With a ferocious roar of fire, she grinned, flapped her wings then shifted northbound. Though she knew all waved goodbye, she did not look back. Nay, she flew hard until the Hamilton castle was in sight.

She soared overhead. The fields beyond were loaded with people waving as were all in the courtyard. Where this castle had once looked ferocious even from the air it was now softened by teeming activity.

Though many stood on the highest battlements, she narrowed her eyes on one couple.

After a roar of fire aimed upward, she swooped low and coasted over Grant and Sheila as they waved. Torra arched and swooped through the air several more times, roaring with not anger but pure happiness.

The Hamiltons had a new chieftain and a brave lass to stand by his side.

After a few more flybys, she eagerly headed northeast.

It was time.

Swooping up into the clouds, she rolled and twisted, freer than she had ever been. Flying down beneath the clouds she watched Scotland zoom past her. She reveled in the sharp angles and soft contours of her homeland before at last the MacLeod castle glittered on the horizon.

“I’ve missed ye, lass,”
Colin’s words echoed in her mind.

Though it had been but a few days, she couldn’t agree more.
“And I you.”

Within feet of the highest MacLeod castle battlement she slowed, hovered over her husband for a long moment before she shifted, fell and landed cleanly into his waiting arms.

“Welcome home, my love,” he murmured and set her gently on her feet, hand over her belly. “And my wee bairns.”

Remnants of dragon smoke wisped around them as they kissed for a long time. When at last their lips parted, he pulled her back against him and wrapped a protective arm around her waist.

“Things will change now,” she murmured. “Our homeland has much heartache on its horizon.”

“Aye,” he said. “And we will face such together.”

Torra wrapped her arms over his and closed her eyes. Of course they would. They had no choice. Yet what better man than Colin MacLeod to stand by her side during such a time? He understood sacrifice and new beginnings as well as she.

So they gazed out on the North Sea together and welcomed in a new era.

She would only ever fly over the oceans by night from this point on.

After all, their country was heading into a well-recorded time in history.

One in which great men would rise up to fight the Sassenach and warriors would not be called to battle against ancient evil but something else entirely. Scotland’s very heart would be tested in the years to come.

Wizards and mythological creatures would once more become folklore told around campfires…

And dragons but a legend.

The End

Miss some of the stories in
The MacLomain Series: Next Generation
? Click
here
to check out the first four books in the series.

Follow King Naðr Véurr and his Viking brothers in
The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors
.

Look for all the bairns born of The Next Generation in
The MacLomain Series: Later Years
, coming September 8’th.
Quest of a Scottish Warrior
(Book One) is now available for pre-order.