Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) (17 page)

“Come, you need to eat before you play.” He sat and pulled her onto his lap.

“You like me in this position, don’t you?” she commented with a twinkle in her eye.

“You’ve no idea.” He fed her a few berries then some bread.

Dutiful for the first few bites, she eventually shook her head and laughed. “I can feed myself.”

Colin smiled and ate a few scallops. It did his heart good to see her happy. And though he knew it wouldn’t last, tonight he intended to keep her laughing.

Puckering her lips she said, “There’s no real make-up here. How do my lips look stained with red berry juice?”

Not willing to miss an opportunity he pulled those very lips to his. Sweet, receptive, she kissed him with vigor. Sugary, delicious, he wrapped his tongue with hers and enjoyed what he considered the appetizer. Because when he had her in his bed later true fervency would begin. He fully intended to sample everything she had to offer. Too many years had passed and he wanted far more than what he’d had in the garden.

They may have kissed for days had someone not cleared her throat. “Well, are you going to dance with me or not?”

Colin pulled back and smiled. Ilisa stood over them, hands on her hips.

“If you’ll have me,” he said.

His cousin shook her head. “Just like a lad to think I’m speaking to him.” Her gleeful, devious eyes turned to McKayla and she held out her hand. “Nay, me thinks a spin with yer new wife would be great fun!”

McKayla grinned and shrugged, taking his cousin’s hand. “Sorry,
lad
.” She smirked at Colin. “Looks like I’ve had a better offer.”

It was impossible not to laugh. Ilisa winked and the women wrapped elbows. Before he knew it, they were swept away in a Highland jig. After he received a fresh mug of ale from a passing servant, Colin made his way through the crowd, greeting everyone for the first time as their laird. It was downright humbling how graciously they’d forgiven him for leaving. No better clan existed and he intended to devote the rest of his life to protecting them.

Colin had the sudden feeling that he was being watched.

And he was.

Malcolm stood on the landing above. Watching.  Asessing. Gooseflesh rose on Colin’s skin. His cousin looked every bit the dark overlord. Their eyes met. There was fury in the connection. His cousin had developed deep-seated feelings that though Colin suspected were not hatred, were certainly close. And it was hard not to blame him. After all, he had suffered the most. A mother lost in time. A wife meant for his cousin. A position of authority now denied him.

“He’ll come around,” Bradon said, falling in beside him.

Colin was pleased his brother had sought him out once more. “And have you? Come around? Or is this simply the show of support promised?”

Bradon glanced up at Malcolm. “I’ve not the mind or inclination to fume as he does. But you must remember you were not the first to leave him. That said I tend to think you will take the wrath for all other betrayals.”

Colin frowned. They’d been but bairns when Malcolm’s younger brother vanished. It was assumed to this day that he’d died. Still, it’d taken a toll on his cousin and had left a huge void, one which Colin helped fill. Nearly the same age, he and Malcolm had forged a strong bond shortly thereafter. They’d been like brothers.

Malcolm’s eyes soon slid away from Colin, intent on the door. Nessa entered. “Wish you’d kept her entertained longer,” Colin muttered and drained half his mug.

“She aims to create more problems between you and Malcolm,” Bradon provided.

“Aye.” With a heavy frown he said, “That look on his face now says as much.”

“He’s besotted. She’s wrapped him good and tight she has.” Bradon grabbed a chunk of bread off a table and took a bite.

“So he loves her then?”

“As much as I’ve seen any lad love a lass,” he said around a mouthful. “And up until you arrived she’s been well behaved. But now…” Bradon again gave him a curious glance. “I see trouble brewing to be sure. What was it between you two?”

Lust mostly. Never love. At least not on his part. “Not much. We were thrown together to help lessen the never-ending feuding between the clans. There was little time to know the other.”

“A whole summer she spent at this castle.” Bradon took a swill of ale. “How long did it take for you to love your McKayla? I’ll wager less time than that.”

Less than a minute. But that was beside the point. “‘Twas never a match, Nessa and I.”

“Mayhap not for you,” Bradon conceded.

Their eyes met and his brother shrugged. “Move forward verra carefully. For Malcolm is always watching.”

And he was. When Colin looked up his cousin’s gaze was narrowed and flickering between him and Nessa. Bradon was right. Jealousy was debilitating. If Colin didn’t watch his every move, it would disintegrate whatever thin tie might remain between him and Malcolm.

Bradon chuckled when McKayla and Ilisa twirled by, their faces flushed and merry. “Ah, but she’s a bonnie wee lass. I think mayhap I would’ve sacrificed the whole of my clan for her as well.”

Not offended by the fondness he saw in his brother’s eyes when he looked at McKayla, Colin assured, “You’re not nearly modern enough for her, lad.”

“Speaking of…” Bradon pinned him with one of his infamous grins. “Tell me about this time she comes from. Are there more there like her?”

Colin thought of Sheila and Leslie. The idea of his brother meeting them didn’t seem so implausible. Sheila maybe. Leslie never. She would crucify him with one look. “Nay,” he replied easily. “McKayla’s one of a kind.”

“Too bad. So I suppose both you and Ferchar are just lucky in love.”

His brother was no fool. Where there were two, there were bound to be more. He downed the last of his drink and received another, looking around the room. “I see more bonnie lasses here than I ever did in the future. Have you not had a love then?”

Bradon shrugged, bored. “A few. But none that warm beyond my bed.”

Colin eyed him. “Tell me about your hair. ‘Tis a strange thing that.”

This topic brought life to his brother’s eyes. “You wouldnae believe me if I told you.”

Interest peeked. “Share brother.”

“I cannae.” But Bradon had a spark in his eyes he’d never seen before. “Not yet.”

“And whatever this is turned your hair near white?”

“Aye, in one single moment.”

“Great magi,” Colin murmured.

“The greatest.”

A strange, otherworldly tingle raced over his skin. “Are you in danger?”

“Nay,” Bradon assured, his gaze somewhere far away.

Though he didn’t sense danger around his brother such mystery made him uncomfortable. Too long had he abandoned Bradon. Now it was time to change all that. “I expect you to tell me eventually.”

As if sensing the shift in Colin’s demeanor, Bradon’s brows lowered. “Mayhap. When I’m ready.”

Not particularly interested in crossing swords so soon after what seemed an amiable reconnection, Colin nodded. “Aye, brother.”

Like a hellcat come to wreak havoc, Ilisa stopped short next to them. A ripple of laughter escaped McKayla as she was flung to the side.

“Now you!” Ilisa demanded.

Colin didn’t have a chance to refuse before Ilisa was swinging him around. And then before she could catch her breath, McKayla was twirled away by a more-than-willing Bradon.

When the music slowed, Ilisa wrapped her arms around Colin’s neck. “She’s well-worth the sacrifice, laddie.”

“Is she?” Colin said, pleased by her approval. “And what makes you say so after she cut off all your bonnie hair?”

“That she had the stones to cut off my bonnie hair, of course,” she said with a wink. “You owe me for that.”

“I do?”

“Aye!” Ilisa grinned. “Look how well she’s doing. The clan likes her. She showed courage.”

Realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. Ilisa sacrificed her hair. For him. For them. So that they could be happy. He didn’t know what to say. Or do. He was shocked. But Ilisa was right, the clan was accepting McKayla.

“You never wanted your hair cut, did you?”

“Oh, I didnae say that. Mayhap a wee less o’ a trim.” She shrugged, not overly concerned. “But the lass had something to prove.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You’re a good lass and I’m so sorry for any hurt I’ve caused you over the years.”

Ilisa’s expression grew serious. “‘Twas a great harm you caused us all.” Her chocolate brown eyes met his. “We…
I
missed you something fierce.”

“Aye, and I you, lassie.” He pulled her closer. “Never again will I leave you like that. You have my word. I intend to prove that my word is worthy of you,” Colin promised. “Of everyone.”

Though her eyes didn’t water, Ilisa blinked a little too rapidly as she studied him. “Then I will stand by you, my laird. As I support my clan, I will support you.” She looked around the room, seeing something even he couldn’t. “We are entering a new era. I can feel it. The Sassenach grow braver and we Scots…” Her voice lowered to a sad whisper. “Grow tired.”

Unlike her, he knew their history. He knew what would happen to Scotland over the generations. At only ten winters, the age when she’d returned to the clan, she’d been told nothing. Arthur and Annie had spared her. No doubt, they longed to keep her fierce spirit intact.

But now he saw it weakening.

And it scared him.

Ilisa had never been one to hint at sentimentality yet it was there. In the way her words caught in her throat. In the less than direct gaze she gave those who passed. It seemed even his fiery cousin was not the same lass he’d left behind. Still, the jut of her chin was the same and the defiance in her stance unwavering.

“Now we go forward together. As one. As MacLomains,” he said firmly.

“Aye,” she said, her eyes holding his, voice stronger than moments before. “We go forward together.”

Soon after, she kissed his cheek and vanished into the crowd, her voice once more rising and her stride strong. In her and Bradon, he had confirmed allies. Now if only he had Malcolm. When he located his cousin he was dancing with Nessa. Close, clearly disregarding the rambunctious crowd around them, the two swayed. Colin could admit they made a striking pair. Both tall, both attractive, they seemed a centerpiece to the clan celebrating around them.

Speaking of centerpieces.

Easy to find despite her small stature, his gorgeous wife stood near the great hearth, deep in conversation with both his Da and William. The men seemed enchanted, their expressions saying more than mere words.

Colin was about to head McKayla’s way when a firm voice stopped him. “Not quite yet, son. A dance with your Ma first.”

With a warm smile, he pulled his mother into his arms. “How are you, Ma?”

White hair shining in the torchlight and skin soft and more supple than most her age, Arianna smiled. “Happy that you’re home and well. Happy to see a renewed gait in your Da’s step because of it. But mostly, happy to see you’ve found true love.”

He grinned. “Then you’re happy. ‘Tis good to hear.”

“Aye,” she confirmed.

But he saw something else in her eyes. “Yet.”

They danced closer to the fire. Even on a warm night he knew she grew cold. “Yet.” Nostalgia entered her eyes. “The mark on your abdomen means the start of big things. ‘Tis a sign.” Her gaze turned sharp. “And the mark is on
my
son’s body.”

“Aye,” he confirmed, voice tender. “But ‘tis just a mark, nothing more.”

Her gaze narrowed. “A mark that burns. A circle that closes ever more when you travel through time. What is it, Colin? What does it mean?”

Colin wondered how much Da had told her. Everything most likely. Best to be honest. He owed her that much. “‘Tis a mark that will eventually seal me in one era. When the circle is complete I will no longer be able to travel through time.”

“Who did this?” Her regard grew curious. “Was it Keir Hamilton? He bars Coira from coming home. Has he such power when it comes to time-travel?”

“I dinnae think so,” he replied honestly. “There is no evil in this mark.”

“Yet it causes you pain.”

“Great pain…at times,” he conceded. “But I dinnae feel controlled by the enemy when it happens.” Colin shook his head and murmured, “‘Tis something else entirely.”

“Your Da told me he feels old magic in it, that of the Highland Defiance and the rings.” Quizzical she said, “Though never part of my experience coming to Scotland I know the Defiances were time-travel gateways created by Adlin MacLomain. ‘Tis a strange thing they’d be connected to this mark when the verra opposite is implied, dinnae you think?”

Before he could speak she said, “And the rings with stones to match the wizard’s eyes, bringing true love together. Such different things.”

“But all related to Adlin MacLomain,” Colin said softly.

“Aye.” Her turquoise eyes met his. “All related.”

“What was Adlin truly like?”

A fixture around campfires Colin’s entire life, tales of Adlin MacLomain had been vast and varied. All recanted with respect and of course, all with an air of mystery. Colin didn’t kid himself when it came to the revered chieftain. He knew the clan’s patriarch had ended up in the twenty-first century.