Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) Read online

  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 cu
rled 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.”

  Iosbail said nothing for a long moment before she continued. “Then Ma tucked a single acorn into my hand and said, ‘I thought to give ye back one of the acorns ye gathered so that ye might remember how much all your hard work paid off and…’ My Ma came real close with her next words, ‘To remind ye that strength comes from the most unlikely of places. The strength of the oak. Yours, me wee lassie, was always perseverance and determination. Never one to give up. Always one to thrive and rise above.’”

  A strange silence hung in the air after that.

  Colin only knew of Iosbail through Torra but was she not the epitome of such? Yet the Broun lass, true to form, was not about leaving things sentimental overly long because her blue eyes soon swung to them, any glassiness gone in a blink.

  “I still have that acorn to this day. Sad, broken bit of nothing but I keep it with me always to remind me of what I need be in this long life I’ve been cursed with.”

  Then Iosbail spoke so softly that he could barely make out her words. “‘Tis still such a thing to know I’d managed to gather that acorn from beneath the verra oak tree under which my Ma and Da conceived Adlin.”

  “‘Tis good that,” Torra said, a warm smile on her face.

  Iosbail cast Torra a sidelong, speculative look before she stopped. “‘Tis quite a thing to realize what that mere acorn will one day do.”

  “Aye,” Torra whispered as she looked at Iosbail.

  Iosbail squeezed Torra’s hand, eyes emotional. “Tell me Da that I miss him?”

  “He knows,” Torra said softly. “And feels the same.”

  The Broun gathered herself and nodded. “Aye then. ‘Tis time for me to get back to the festivities.”

  Before either could respond, she spun on her heel and strode back the way they’d come.

  Colin stared after her for a long moment before he turned his attention to Torra, voice gentle. “‘Tis the verra acorn she gave you that day so long ago, is it not?”

  Torra’s eyes glistened as she nodded and watched Iosbail.

  Colin pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. Only recently during their visit to the baby oak were their memories unveiled. They had traveled there with Grant and Sheila, a brief reprieve during the war before they ended up back in Keir’s castle.

  He still didn’t understand why their memories resurfaced in those first few moments when Torra awoke beneath the mother oak’s leaves. But they had. And they were profound.

  Colin’s mind drifted back to the oak and what had happened not only yesterday but ten winters prior…

  As he looked into Torra’s eyes, a tear rolled down his cheek. Not only because he was so blasted happy to see her but because he suddenly recalled something that had happened in this location. That she remembered at the same time made him suspect somebody else’s magic was involved.

  They had been here before.

  Ten winters ago.

  As far as he could remember, Colin had been walking through the forest and tripped on a rock. The air shifted around him and the next thing he knew he’d been in this very spot. In retrospect, he wondered if he hadn’t time traveled.

  Colin had no chance to worry over where he was before he heard desperate voices above. Curious and concerned, he tracked the sounds to a small hole that led up through the rock. He had nearly made it to the top when he heard feminine voices.

  “‘Twill be all right, lassie. I willnae let ye go, ye hear, Torra? I willnae let ye go.”

  A bairn whimpered. The mournful sound squeezed his chest even before he laid eyes on her. Pulling himself up, Colin sat on the ledge, dumbfounded by what he saw. A woman knelt on the ground rocking a young lass. Every muscle in his body locked up as tears poured down her face. Incredible pain twisted her features.

  The older lass tucked something in Torra’s hand. “Hold onto me acorn. Focus on the feel of it in your hand and not the pain. Redirect your thoughts to its texture and size.”

  Young Torra released a long, low wail as she grasped the acorn so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  “What’s happening to me, Iosbail?” she cried.

  “‘Tis the stirring of your blood, my lass,” Iosbail murmured.

  “Gods,” Torra whimpered. “It hurts so bloody much.”

  Colin’s heart began to thunder when the poor thing released another long wail. This time her back arched sharply and her face contorted in near paralyzed terror. Her skin took on an otherworldly sheen, almost as if it scaled. Iosbail could barely hold Torra she flailed so
much.

  Horrified that Torra would hurt herself, he ran over. Iosbail’s eyes widened and she shook her head when she saw him. “Nay, lad, dinnae come near. Leave this place now!”

  “Nay!” He knelt. “She will hurt herself or ye. Let me help.”

  “Ye dinnae ken!” Iosbail tried to pull the younger, flailing lass back, but she was truly out of control.

  Colin didn’t care in the least what he did and did not understand. Far stronger, he pulled Torra into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh, lassie, ‘twill be all right.”

  Torra stilled for a long moment and it almost seemed that she would be well.

  Until she was not.

  Her skin turned sizzling hot and she released another long, strangled cry into his chest. Colin narrowed his eyes. Magic stirred. One he recognized as kindred with his own but far, far more powerful and unfamiliar.

  But he would not let her go.

  She would not face this alone.

  “Oh nooooooo,” Torra wailed and convulsed against him.

  Even when fire started to wrap around them, he held on tight, using his own fire to keep her magic from scorching them both. The sounds coming from her throat changed. They were animalistic. As her skin heated more and more, searing hot wind started to twist viciously.

  Then, no matter how hard he tried to hold her, the air warped and buckled. He and Iosbail were flung back as Torra continued to convulse. Her skin slipped and slid over her bones as if multi-colored water poured over her body.

  Though the weather had moments before been clear, now thick black clouds moved unnaturally across the sky. Lightning scratched their murky underbellies with harsh light. White fog started to pour from Torra’s mouth and eyes, wrapping around her body in wide, sweeping swaths. More lightning flashed vividly then started to zig-zag down through the white fog.

  It wasn’t long before Torra completely vanished within the alabaster storm that raged around her. Colin didn’t dare use his fire for fear of hurting her. But then what help could his magic do when compared to what he now witnessed?