Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (13 page)

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?

Coming to his feet, he stared wide-eyed until he had no choice but to stumble back.

A loud roar unlike anything he’d ever heard rent the air, its sound almost a mixture of pain, fear and mayhap even triumph. The smell of smoke permeated their surroundings moments before the white fog twisted down and covered the rock beneath their feet. What was left in its wake was the most humbling, beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Huge, long and scaled with the colors gold, silver, copper and sparkling white stood that which should not exist…

A dragon.

Colin froze when it lifted its wide, leathery wings as if testing the feel of them. Its great tail swooshed back and forth three times as the dragon clearly felt out the dimensions of its immense body. Suddenly, the wings fell. Torra lowered and tilted her face until one shining eye was a sword’s length from him.

Though mayhap he should fear he did not.

Nay, there was naught but curiosity in her regard of him. It seemed, almost, that he saw gratefulness in that gleaming gaze. Then, as quickly as she appeared to settle into what she became, the dragon lifted her head and released a roar that was clearly pain.

The fog quickly swept up from the ground and twisted whiplash fast around the dragon. Confused, scared for her, Colin tried to step into the terrifying storm but was unable. Again lightning flashed in rapid succession and a dragon’s roar became ground shaking thunder. Bracing his legs, he barely managed to stay on his feet as rain gushed from the sky.

For long, long moments he squinted against both the harsh weather and magic.

When at last the elements and fog curled away, he and Iosbail blinked rapidly then stared at what remained. Eyes closed and nude, Torra now laid curled up on a patch of grass. As the sun broke out from behind a black cloud, her arm fell to her side and the acorn Iosbail had given her slowly rolled out of her hand.

Amazed, Colin watched as it cracked open and roots stemmed down. Within seconds, an oak grew. Slender, vibrant, it pushed up until it was about tall enough for a bairn to stand under before blooming to form a protective cap of green foliage over Torra.

The baby oak had been born.

Soon thereafter, much larger branches grew up over the side of the mountain from the oak below and covered the younger tree. Though mesmerized by the scene, he was far more concerned about the lass beneath. He knelt and once more pulled her into his arms. Her skin cooled and returned to its original soft pink hue.

It was only then as he cupped the back of her head and looked into her face, that Colin realized she was a lass on the cusp of womanhood. And while remarkably lovely he knew she would one day grow into a beauty beyond compare. Her soft sage eyes opened and stared at him.

Breathing felt impossible.

Time seemed to dwindle down to nothing.

As their gazes held, he somehow knew…

She was his destiny.

“Such a sight,” came a soft murmur.

When Colin raised his head, it was not to Iosbail but to a little old woman. She peered down, a wise look in her withered eyes as she spoke.

“Greetings to ye then. I be the Celtic god, Fionn Mac Cumhail.”

“‘Tis good to have the memory of the tree back, aye?” Torra murmured, eyes turned up to Colin as she followed his every thought about what had happened so long ago. Like her, his mind was on the first time she’d turned into the dragon. “‘Twas good in light of things that Fionn Mac Cumhail was there.”

“Aye.” His eyes were tender when they met hers. “I suspect ‘twas Fionn who took away that memory to begin with.” He shook his head. “I dinnae recall him saying anything else after his, or
her
, introduction. Nor do I recall returning home.”

Torra frowned. “Nor do I but mayhap we will learn more before this is all said and done.”

“Aye,” he said softly.

Though there had been a lull in the weather, darkening clouds were fast rolling in over the North Sea. The murky horizon seemed to blend with the churning water as thunder rumbled. Though wind started to gust, neither moved as they stared into one another’s eyes.

Despite the worsening weather, the Broun clan was obviously firing up for another round of celebrating as pipes trilled and drums pounded.

Torra ran the tips of her fingers along Colin’s strong jawline and spoke of that day when she was but twelve winter’s old. “Not once did you turn from me during such a terrifying moment. And I, someone you didnae even know.”

“How could I turn away from such a bonnie wee lass,” he murmured as he wrapped his hand beneath her hair and cupped the back of her neck.

Warmth spread through her at his touch and with it a small smile. “I wasnae all that wee now, was I?”

“As ye are to this day, your beauty in both forms is incomparable.”

The warmth became a blazing heat under his worshiping gaze. Unable to help herself, Torra stood on her toes and brushed her lips over his. But she should have known that neither would be able to stop at that.

Not anymore.

Cupping her cheeks, he tilted his head and closed his lips over hers. Instantly consumed by unspent desire from the previous eve, a shudder rushed through her. So strong was her reaction that her knees weakened.

Colin released a low groan then scooped her into his arms, all but growling, “‘Tis time, my lass.”

Torra closed her eyes and breathed heavily into the crook of his neck. He strode not toward their cottage but along the blustery shoreline. In that their shared element was fire, cold wind and frigid rain did not bother them in the least.

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest and she heard the carnal promise in his deep voice. “Somewhere I should have taken ye long ago.”

Though he didn’t walk long, she knew he traveled a further distance via magic. Colin was taking her far away from the clan so if she did embrace the dragon there would be fewer eyes. But even she knew that the dragon could travel the whole of Scotland in very little time.

When at last she opened her eyes they’d arrived at a wide cavern of rock carved into the side of a rolling hill. Large enough to house a dragon if need be, gnarled trees grew up along the sides creating a mild layer of protection from both the elements and prying eyes. The boom of crashing waves echoed off the rock causing a constant, almost haunting sound. Yet she suspected sounds that came from within the shallow cavern would in effect be muffled to ears beyond. 

“How did you know this was here,” she said as he set her in a rare patch of sand, allowing her to slide down the length of him.

A rather secretive grin came to his face. “Iosbail told me.”

“Ah,” she murmured, overly aware of his strong body flush against hers.

“She has long championed ye.” His voice grew hoarse. “In all things.”

“So it seems,” she whispered.

The tide was coming in and the waves rushed closer and closer.

“Just let me touch ye, lass,” he murmured. “Let me show ye what lies beyond the fear, far beyond even what ye felt in my arms last eve.” He touched her cheek with such reverence it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I willnae take ye where you’re unwilling to go. If ever ye want me to stop, say as much and I will, aye?”

Torra could barely nod as she struggled for breath.

His lips once more brushed ever so gently over hers before he pulled back.

Colin’s eyes now reflected the color and intensity of the sea as his hands skimmed the sides of her neck, then cupped her shoulders, caressing gently. Any tension that might have bubbled up soon seeped away beneath his tender ministrations.

Her eyes drifted when he moved behind her, brushed aside her hair and pressed his warm lips against the sensitive flesh of her neck. Nibbling then soothing with both lips and tongue, renewed heat slowly fanned out from her stomach, spreading like thick lava through her body.

Torra’s head fell back and she bit her lower lip when his arm snaked around and pressed softly against her stomach. It was as if he sensed the center of her heat and redirected it because an indescribable bolt of pleasure speared down between her legs. She instinctually tightened her thighs together and pushed back against him. He stilled, his hot breath whispering over not only the side of her neck but down over her flushed collarbone.

All the while his free hand slowly but surely untied her sashes. Instead of pulling down her dress, Colin moved his hand from her stomach over her hip. Torra was surprised by the pure mouth-watering lust that resulted when he simultaneously nipped her collarbone, clenched the delicate hipbone to hold her in position and ground a now alarmingly thick arousal against her backside.

There was something animalistic and possessive in the combination.

Something that had her not trembling but downright shaking with need.

“Och, my wee lass,” he groaned against the shockingly tender area where her collarbone ended and dipped before meeting her neck. The vibration of his baritone voice enflamed and dampened evermore the swollen alcove between her thighs.

Despite their clothing, she felt the heat of their bodies’ increase, the air nearly steaming between them as heavy raindrops began to fall. Chest heaving, head still flung back, she couldn’t help but rake her nails up his muscled forearm.

Something wild and foreign was working itself toward the surface.

As sensations built, Torra knew that she craved his dominance every bit as much as his gentleness.

Yet she had no idea when and where she needed both.

Likely sensing her confusion, Colin gripped her jaw lightly and turned her lips to his. This time there was nothing patient or soft about the way he kissed her. Nay, his lips forced hers to open and take all of him. Tiny, white-hot sparks started to shoot beneath her skin, tingling over every inch of her as his tongue plundered. Eager to taste the deepest recesses of her mouth, his lips latched more securely as did the hand on her hip.

This time she not only grew weak in the knees but slumped.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and anchored her to him. Icy sea water might have lapped at her feet, but Torra felt nothing but the wasteland of burning fire that started to consume her.

For the briefest of moments, fear welled but it was soon tempered when his lips left hers and he murmured, “Dinnae fear, love. ‘Tis natural what ye feel now.”

Fear or not, her body from the waist down was already useless. Or so she thought. Colin, ever her hero, took care of that. With several quick movements, all of which she could barely comprehend in such a position, he whipped off both his tunic and plaid. The next thing she knew he again scooped her up. After several more steps toward the cavern, he flipped his plaid down onto the sand then laid her on top. With a few quick tugs, he threw aside his boots.

All the while, she watched him from beneath lowered lashes.

Though she’d seen him clearly enough in the darkness the eve before it was incomparable to seeing him in daylight. With the incoming storm rearing its blackened cloud cover beyond his wide shoulders, Colin MacLeod in the nude was a fine sight. Turbulent, furious weather seemed to compliment the fierce intensity coloring his steel-forged eyes and the chiseled cut of his warrior’s body. Heavy, long and thick, his arousal should have frightened her more than the dragon taking over but rather it made her lick her lips with anticipation.

And, no doubt much to Keir Hamilton’s disappointment, seeing that tattoo of her face inked on Colin’s shoulder and forearm aroused her even further. She saw it not as a mark to enslave her, but a mark of devotion to a love long repressed.

A mark that proved his undying love.

This highlander belonged to
her
and her to
him
.

Her eyes widened when he with one quick yank pulled her dress off then swiftly removed her shoes. Though he could do all of this with magic, she suspected he enjoyed a slightly slower revealing of her form.

His lips parted as his smoldering gaze roamed over her chemise clad body. A crackle of thunder splintered across the sky and lighting flashed over the sea. Just as violent and charged with energy as the air around them, he growled as he pushed up her chemise, grabbed her arse then knelt back, pulling her onto him.

Though he’d not entered her, he might as well have so intense was the feeling of his rock hard length pressed against her nether region and lower belly. She gasped and grabbed onto his upper arms, the wind nearly knocked out of her by his brash actions. While some might not like so much intensity, especially a virgin, she was not amongst them.

Torra quivered as he squeezed her backside, the gleam in his eyes nothing less than a challenge. Breath came in sharp gasps. She yanked her chemise over her head and whipped it away. Eyes not drinking her in but blatantly devouring, a vein throbbed in his neck in time with the throb of his member against her core.

When his hands tightened even more on her backside, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Their lips crashed together. Tongues twirling, heat rising, she lifted and arched her chest, eager to feel the friction of his hard skin against the softness of her breasts.

A strangled groan broke from them both as she gyrated against him, unable to get close enough. When his hand went between them and stroked the needy, swollen area above her center, Torra cried out into his mouth. Whatever he was doing made both pleasure and need almost unbearable.

A deafening crash of thunder cracked overhead and he lurched, bringing her onto her back in a swift, forceful movement that broke the air from her lungs. Thrilled by his unfettered actions, she marveled at the delicious shivers that ripped through her.

When he threaded his hands with hers and secured them over her head, deadly, aroused heat seared away all chills. Neither of them were creatures made of soft, soothing moments. Not when it came to this. Not when it came to the baser needs of their flesh and even their souls. While Torra might fear the dragon rearing its head at such a time, she understood in that inescapable moment when his hungry, relentless eyes met hers, that the beast was half of who she was.

And her needs were every bit as strong as the dragon’s.

A low growl started way down in her abdomen when fire flared to life in Colin’s eyes. Churning, the flames licked and teased nearly as well as his rain-slicked body sliding over hers. His blazing hot skin revved her up as surely as the rhythmic motion of his hips against hers.

Slipping, sliding, he didn’t enter her but dragged out her pleasure simply by rubbing against her overly sensitized center. As it had been the eve before, her body began to tremble more violently as sensation built and built.

Whimpering yet angered that he didn’t give her what she wanted, her jaw quivered and legs shook. Toying with her, or so it seemed, he wedged a knee between her legs to spread her thighs further and pressed harder against her. Except this time, it wasn’t a sliding tease but an easy burn as he pressed his member in but a fraction then stopped.

Perched on the edge of something she didn’t understand, Torra bucked. Then, ravenous, she bared her teeth, mayhap even snarled. Fire-ridden eyes borderline berserker, a small knowing smile came to Colin’s sensual lips and he pressed forward just a wee bit more. Enraged yet thoroughly enflamed in a strange mix of both pain and pleasure, she spread then clenched her thighs.

Wind howled and rain poured as his eyes narrowed.

A low purr started in her throat as he made her suffer through an excruciatingly slow push forward. Never once did his quicksilver eyes leave hers as he thrust in small amounts and at his leisure. But Torra was no fool. Their minds merged together as readily as their bodies and his self-restraint was nearly breaking him in half.

Yet it was through that mental merge that she sensed not only his near horrid need to take her roughly but his willpower as he struggled to not hurt her. There was a war raging in his mind that few, if any, men would be able to wage never mind win.

“Colin,” she whispered, pleaded. “I’m all right.”

Caught somewhere undefinable, he strained to see the truth in her eyes. Shaking her head back and forth, Torra did the only thing she could. She faced her fears head on and wrapped her legs around his waist.

His face, so handsome, so fierce, smoothed mere moments before he let go.