Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (3 page)

“Torra.”

Caught mid-fantasy, she froze. “I’m getting out now.”

“‘Twas not my intention that you do such.”

“Of course it was, King Erc,” she murmured as she dried off and slid into her dress.

“I would prefer that you keep bathing,”
said another deep voice. She narrowed her eyes at Naðr Véurr’s essence.

“I’m a distant relative,” she reminded.

She heard the humor in Naðr’s reply.
“That doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy a beautiful woman.”

Torra shook her head. If her journey ahead wasn’t tricky enough, she had two of the most powerful kings to have ever lived inside her mind whenever they chose. But it was part of their agreement so she wouldn’t complain…yet.

“Do you think Iosbail will help?”
Erc asked.

“I can only assume she will since we’re all here now,” Torra said as she combed her hair.

“It must be hard to suffer her coldness in light of your history together,”
Naðr remarked.

“A history she hasn’t actually lived yet so I cannae truly blame her,” Torra said softly.

Yet hopefully because of this visit it would come to pass. Torra couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d seen Iosbail. It had been in her chamber moments before she’d bled for the first time. After all, it was her bleeding cycle that not only ushered in her womanhood but the dragon blood that had lain dormant.

Nothing had been more terrifying.

Undetected by all, Iosbail had traveled through time and made it to Torra. She’d had no chance to fear an unknown lass in her chamber as pain ripped through her. Iosbail’s cool hand had slipped into hers and never let go as the first waves of torture washed over.

“Torra, are you well?”

It took her a few blinks to realize Erc had questioned her. Torra set aside the comb and nodded. “Aye, well enough.”

“You are not alone,”
Naðr said.
“We will see you through this.”

Aye, because they’d bargained such. But Torra refused to get overly aggravated. They
were
in this to help her after all. So she murmured, “I know you will.”

The sweet sound of pipes drifted up. The Beltane celebrations had begun. Smoothing her hands over the deep maroon dress that left her shoulders bare and cleavage a wee bit overly exposed, Torra inhaled deeply. While she was eager to join the others, she was also nervous. Facing Colin and Valan in a relaxed environment would not be calming in the least. She could only imagine how the men made out in the armory but knew why Iosbail had sent them there to begin with.

It was a test.

If they could not get along in a room full of weapons, then they’d not be entering her castle.

Torra would have done the same thing. But that didn’t lessen her anxiety over three men she cared for being in such close proximity to one another. Mainly because she knew Colin and Grant would side with one another against Valan. And the Hamilton did not deserve that…for the most part.

“Torra?”

She turned and smiled, well aware that Leslie and Sheila had been heading her way. “You both look lovely.”

“Thanks,” Sheila said. “So do you.” Then she paused, eyes concerned. “Are you all right?”

All right? Not for a very long time. But Torra nodded and offered the best smile she could muster as she joined them. “Aye, lass.”

Her brother Bradon and cousin Grant had done well finding these two. They were all well matched and would live good lives together…if they survived.

Eyes narrowed, Leslie peered around her room. “Somebody or a few people were here.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “They won’t give you a moment’s peace, eh?”

Torra and Sheila looked at her with surprise. But Torra didn’t give Sheila a chance to respond. “I’m afraid nobody’s here but me.”

Torra was impressed with how quickly Leslie was picking up her powers as an empath. Of course she would not admit that Leslie was sensing Erc and Naðr. Regardless. It was heartening to see that the Broun lasses were coming into their own as witches.

Torra locked an elbow with each of them. “Come, let’s go down.”

While Sheila was receptive to the gesture, she felt Leslie’s hesitation. But both came. And whether or not they knew it, they were a supportive wall for Torra as they headed for the great hall. Only halfway down the stairs and already she felt the weight of both Colin and Valan’s eyes on her. Somewhere from within this crowd they watched her…waited.

Iosbail joined the women when they made it to the bottom of the stairs, her eyes merry enough. “‘Tis good to see you all.” She gestured at the tables laden with food. “Please eat, enjoy.”

Leslie and Sheila seemed less eager for the food than the skins of whiskey handed them. Torra smiled and received one as well. Yet she knew better than to imbibe. Drinking alcohol could have dire circumstances. Loose inhibitions meant her other half, the dragon, was more likely to break free.

But wouldn’t it be nice to just once.

Malcolm and Grant soon joined them. After stealing a kiss from Sheila, Grant’s regard turned Torra’s way. “You look bonnie. How do you fare?”

She nodded and smiled. “Well, cousin. Thank you.”

Grant’s brows lowered. He didn’t believe her in the least. But then he knew above all what having Colin and Valan around once more meant for her. Arm held out, he said, “Come, walk with me.”

Grateful for the reprieve only Grant could offer, she took his arm and let him lead her toward the fire. His murmured voice came close to her ear. “How are you really?”

“Barely holding on,” she whispered honestly. “Where are they?”

His arm stiffened. “Inside. But nowhere near one another.”

Torra worked to steady her breathing. “How did it go in the armory?”

“How the bloody hell do you think it went?” he muttered but seemed to regroup when her worried eyes met his.

“We all got through it,” he provided dryly. “Or we would not be in Iosbail’s castle, aye?”

She cringed. If it’d been any other man on her arm, she would have hidden her response but this was Grant. He’d been such a solid support system for her.

“Believe it or not, ‘twas likely a verra good thing Malcolm was with us.” There was pride in Grant’s eyes. “‘Twas he who reminded all that we needed to be here for you.”

“Was it as simple as that?” she said softly.

“Aye, because he was right.” Then his lips twisted. “The large battle axe he held when reminding us didnae hurt much either.”

Thank the gods for small favors then…or a large axe held by Malcolm.

“‘Tis good then that your brother is along.” Though she knew she should probably not ask she did. “How are they? How are Colin and Valan?”

They stopped before the fire and Grant looked at her, heart in his eyes. “Dinnae ye already know, lass?”

“I never meant,” she began but trailed off.

“Then what did you mean by all of this?” Grant asked softly as he took her hand. “I know of much but not this. Why is Valan here?”

Brows pinched together, she turned her eyes to the fire rather than meet her cousin’s gaze. “He possesses the blood of a warlock, of his Da. We cannae defeat Keir without him.”

“I know that he is a warlock. ‘Tis why becoming an assassin likely suited him. As to needing him to defeat Keir…why not tell me of this sooner?”

Torra heard the underlying desperation in Grant’s voice but kept her eyes averted.

“Torra.” His voice was hoarse. “I dinnae deserve this secrecy.”

“I know,” she whispered and met his eyes, allowing him to see with magic what he could not before. “But it couldnae be any other way.”

Grant cupped her cheek then slowly pulled his hand away as he saw all the answers to his questions in her eyes. With a grind to his jaw and gaze to the fire he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

A long silence passed before Grant responded. “As am I, lass…for all you have been put through to get to such a place that you must start at the beginning and convince everyone to your cause.”

But of course Grant would not harbor ill will toward her. As it was, they had both been made to suffer because of Keir Hamilton’s sick ambitions. Torra put her hand on his forearm. “All of this will see a good ending, cousin.”

Grant’s sad eyes turned to hers but soon tried to brighten. “It can be no other way, aye?”

“Nay,” she assured, determined to wipe the momentary defeat out of his gaze. Grant had endured so much being imprisoned by Keir. “‘Twill be handled well enough. Please dinnae overly worry.”

“When it comes to you, ‘tis hard not to,” he replied.

“Why not focus then on your new bride.” Torra smiled in Sheila’s direction. “‘Tis never easy all this time traveling. Go find comfort in one another, aye?”

Grant’s eyes already lingered on his lass. If any could keep him cheered up, it was Sheila. Having both struggled through mental abuse, the couple slowly but surely healed together. Theirs was a love that would indeed flourish.

“‘Tis an ill thing that Valan is here,” a deep voice came from behind.

A shiver of awareness rippled down her spine as she turned to Colin. Like Grant, he now wore a Broun plaid with a few small braids interwoven into his hair. She instinctively inhaled, always so overly aware of his scent. Earthy and male, like the forest after a violent summer storm. When her eyes met his, a jolt shot through her. After so many years, their connection was just as strong, if not stronger.

“We will make this work…for Torra,” Grant said.

“Aye,” Colin muttered but she could see the softening in his eyes when he looked at her. “Of course we will, lass.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Why though is Valan here?”

So she told Colin what she’d told Grant then shared most of what had transpired with Erc and Naðr when in between Heaven and Hell. “I would have told you sooner if I could, but I didnae know with any certainty until I had spoken with the kings.”

“What made you seek them to begin with?” Colin asked. “And how did you know Grant’s sword would bring you to such a place, that it would be capable of all this?”

“The kings have been in my mind several times since my dragon blood first ignited,” Torra said. “As it turned out, the Viking sword,
Grant’s
sword, will be necessary to Keir’s ultimate demise. ‘Tis a key of sorts. With powers beyond our understanding, it has a hold over time that is truly remarkable.” She looked at Grant. “And as you now know, ‘twas half the reason ‘twas so necessary that you traveled back in time to the MacLomain castle to retrieve it. Or earn it as things turned out.”

Grant had been given the sword by Meyla. Pregnant by Adlin, it was she who birthed Iain MacLomain’s Da, ultimately leading to the next generation of MacLomains. As it turned out, Meyla was Naðr Véurr’s daughter. A Viking king, it was his dragon blood that not only empowered the blade but now coursed through Torra’s veins.

“A sword well-earned,” Colin mentioned with a nod of approval at Grant.

Sparring against Adlin MacLomain himself with the sword, Grant had managed to overcome the dark magic that had nearly become part of him under Keir’s rule. Because of that great feat, the blade had become his.

“As I mentioned, it was but barely.” Grant’s lips pulled down slightly. “Too close for comfort.” His eyes went to Torra. She didn’t miss the longing in his voice. “Where is the blade now?”

“‘Twill be returned to you,” she assured. “When the time is right.”

“Och, Valan has the nerve to approach,” Colin said under his breath.

Torra couldn’t say she was overly surprised. If there was one thing Valan and Colin had always had in common, it was a confrontational nature. She wished she learned more of what had transpired between them in Iosbail’s armory.

Valan ignored the men, his intense regard on her as he joined them. Heat burned her skin when he kissed the back of her hand, lips lingering a fraction too long. Yet the fire she felt had more to do with the quiet rage she knew simmered in Colin’s eyes.

“It has been too long, Torra,” Valan murmured. “You are even lovelier than I remember.”

She still recalled the first time she had met this highlander. It had been in the forest beyond the original Highland Defiance in Northern Scotland hundreds of years back in time. In truth, it’d been because of their connection that Keir discovered who, better yet,
what
she was. It was also because of Valan that Colin had found his way to her.

“How do you fare, Valan?” Torra said. It took everything she had not to glance at Colin. There was no questioning what she would see if she did. Grant, bless him, remained by her side.

“Better than the last time I saw you,” Valan admitted, his gaze sliding from Grant to Colin before it once more landed on her. “But then allies had so soon become enemies, had they not?”

Torra kept her breathing as even as she could manage. “‘Twas a long time ago.”

“Aye, but it seems as if ‘twas just yesterday,” he murmured.

“But it wasnae,” Colin cut in. “Because if ‘twas our reunion today might not have gone so well, aye?”