Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) (22 page)

“Enough,” Colin interrupted, and tossed them a disappointed look, before focusing on Ferchar. “Aye, Seth might be a warlock, but I dinnae think he’s strong enough to be at the heart of this…to protect our sister.”

“Nay, he’s the right of it, son,” Iain said. “Seth needs to be with her.”

“Aye,” William seconded.

Clearly frustrated and reluctant, Colin turned to the younger men. Malcolm seemed oddly complacent. He disagreed with his father. But because of the animosity that existed between him and Colin, he said the opposite of what he felt. “I tend to think our elders are right.”

Colin sighed and looked at Bradon.

“I would never second guess Da. Nor would I question William or Ferchar,” Bradon exclaimed. “How can you, brother?”

As chieftain, Colin had the final say. It was his decision to make. McKayla only prayed it would be the right one. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t base his decision on her fear for Seth. And she could only hope it wouldn’t be because of the friction that existed between them. She had to trust that Colin would put his personal feelings aside, and that he knew exactly what he was doing. For everyone’s sake.

Colin looked across the table and took a deep breath before he spoke. “Ferchar and William will protect Torra when the time comes. Not Seth.”

“Fool,” Iain muttered and frowned.

All went quiet. Colin’s face remained unreadable but she knew his father’s remark must’ve stung. Seth’s expression was nothing less than puzzled. Colin ignored everyone and looked at Ferchar. “When do you expect they will arrive?”

Ferchar didn’t appear the least bit put off by Colin’s decision. In fact, it seemed he had expected it. “Verra soon.”

“Then we must alert the clan and be ready.”

William stood. “Verra good.”

When everybody made to leave Colin shook his head. “Malcolm, Bradon, Ilisa.” He looked at McKayla. “You and yours as well. Stay. We must talk.”

Iain, Ferchar and William looked at one another then at Colin before nodding.

The door to the hall blew open. Wind whipped and tossed the rushes.

No matter how much she loved the castle, McKayla had a strange feeling that they’d be better off outdoors. Less imprisoned by what might prove a too-heavy discussion. “How about we sit outside? Get some fresh air.”

“Sounds absolutely reasonable to me, lass,” Bradon agreed.

“Me as well,” Ilisa seconded.

“I’d rather not,” Malcolm said. “Be part of any of this.”

Seth, Leslie and Sheila were equally neutral.

“Too many ears,” Colin said.

“Not everywhere,” she responded and shot him a pointed look.

Understanding her implication he nodded.

So with drinks in hand they made their way to the castle’s hidden garden. The MacLomains sat on one side of a veranda, while Mckayla’s friends and family sat on the other.

She and Colin sat on the outer curve, his large body close, protective.

And though the wind picked up it remained warm. If it started to rain they were all covered.

“This is where it begins,” Colin said once they’d settled.

They all looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. Any tension he displayed earlier seemed to vanish. “We’re the leaders of the next generation. We’re missing Torra and Ferchar’s bairn, Logan, but otherwise we’re all here.” His indifferent regard flickered over Seth. “And that includes you too, or so it seems.”

“I’m here because you ordered it, not by choice,” Malcolm said, not hiding his disdain. “As is Seth. And while we might not be allies, ‘tis not the MacLomain way to make guests feel unwelcome.”

“And I never meant to do such.” But Colin’s tone was lukewarm. “I remain curious to see if he will be as important as Ferchar seems to think.”

“
He
happens to be sitting right here,” Leslie remarked. “Though you speak as if he isn’t.”

Sheila, clearly eager to change the subject, gazed at their surroundings. “I still don’t know how you managed to be Trevor back home after growing up
here
. Why on Earth did you ever leave?”

“It seems quite obvious. Is McKayla not your cousin?”

Everyone was surprised by Malcolm’s question.

Sheila looked at him, not put off by his brooding demeanor. “Last I checked, yeah. And who are you again?”

“Malcolm MacLomain, first born son of William MacLomain and Coira Broun,” he replied as if amazed she didn’t already know. Sheila didn’t have a chance to respond.

“Can we just get to the point of this little meeting,” Seth said, clearly annoyed.

“Agreed,” Bradon said, sipping from a mug. “Far too many lasses are wondering where I am.”

“Even with that God awful hair?” Leslie said.

McKayla chuckled, and all eyes swung her way. “What? It was funny.” Good Lord, granted these were trying times but everyone was way too uptight. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be
the laird’s wife
? All proper like,” Seth asked. “And don’t think you’re off the hook yet, because I’m still dying to find out why you married him so fast. It’s a bunch of shit that he couldn’t wait until we were here.”

“Shit? Is that like horse and cow manure? I believe we say shite?” Ilisa grinned then looked at Colin. “You abandoning your clan all those years ago was total
shit
, Colin.”

Seth smiled and nodded. Ilisa winked back.

Colin and everyone else shook their heads.

Bradon, in good form, waited his turn to respond to Leslie. “The hair was an unfortunate mishap.” He leaned back casually, legs spread, plaid covering just enough. “But have no doubt, lass, all else is as it should be and in good working order.”

Leslie’s eyes widened.

Sheila laughed.

Malcolm scowled.

McKayla tried not to laugh. She was sure Colin was more than frustrated and she didn’t want to add to that. This was serious and it was time they all acted as such. Seth’s eyes met hers with encouragement before he redirected the conversation back to where it needed to be. “Okay, Colin. I’m as eager as the next to hear what you have to say.”

Colin squeezed her hand as he looked at Leslie and Sheila. “It pleases me that you’re here if for no other reason than to lend support to McKayla. You are amongst many I’ve not been honest with over the years and for that I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Sheila’s eyes softened, Leslie’s hardened.

“Rest assured that you will be well protected here,” he promised.

“Aye,” Bradon added, amused as he looked at Leslie. “Even the sharp tongued lassie.”

Leslie’s eyes narrowed a fraction before she glanced dubiously up at the castle. “Something tells me I’d be safer protected by one of the many fleas that must infest this place.”

“Leslie!” Sheila shook her head and said to Colin, “
We
accept your apology. We just need time to get used to everything.”

“Oh, I dinnae think your flea-loving kin accepts his apology at all.” Bradon’s gaze flickered to Malcolm. “But at least she’s not alone in her discontentment, aye lad?”

“You have my thanks,” Colin said to Sheila, apparently not worried about winning over Leslie just yet. “I only wish you could have come under better circumstances. I’m afraid it will be an unusual welcome for all of you. Preparing for war of any sort puts the clan in a rare mood.”

Interest peaked, Leslie asked, “How so?”

Ilisa chuckled and looked her over. “While the whiskey might not be well served, the lust certainly will be. Where there’s battling there’s mating.”

“Aye,” Bradon agreed and winked at Leslie.

Appalled, her eyes met McKayla’s. “Is she serious?”

Before she could respond Sheila piped in, “I could think of worse things.”

“No doubt you could,” Leslie muttered, as though she couldn’t work a room full of men as well, if not better, than most women.

“Cut to the quick,” Malcolm said, his eyes on Colin. “I grow weary of this conversation.”

Sheila shot him a grin. “So I guess talk of lust doesn’t appeal to you.”

“Mayhap if my wife was sitting here, aye.”

McKayla’s cousin offered him a loose shrug. “Good for her then.”

Despite Sheila’s gracious response, Malcolm’s frown deepened.

“As we speak the clan takes up arms. But it will not appear so to outsiders. Instead, they will see only celebration. A fire will be lit on the field and all will seem as it should be,” Colin continued.

“Won’t that make it a whole lot easier to see what they’re aiming for?” McKayla asked.

“They willnae get so close as that.” He eyed the sky. “And the gods favor us now with an incoming storm. A hurricane in fact.”

Seth looked up. “Really? In Scotland?”

“‘Tis rare but not unheard of,” Ilisa said. “And it will make it far more difficult for our enemy.”

“Aye.” Colin shocked McKayla when he looked at Seth and said, “Though ‘tis unlikely our lack of fondness for one another will change, while here stay close to me and learn.”

“Learn from
you
?” Seth crossed one leg over the other. “I thought this time around I had one up on you being a warlock and all.” The corner of his lips inched up. “Evil understands evil, right?”

“What do you know of handling a claymore? A bow and arrow? Can you ride a horse?”

Seth’s lips flattened. “I see your point.”

McKayla couldn’t help but grin. “It’ll do you good to work as a team.”

Clearly neither agreed but Colin seemed resolved when he looked at Bradon and Malcolm. “You will accompany me while I teach him. You both are seasoned warriors and he needs to be trained quickly. This will also give us a chance to learn from him. Malcolm, you better ken the dark magic. Mayhap you can glean something from this warlock that Bradon and I cannae.”

Seth glanced at Malcolm, intrigued. “So your magic must work something like Ferchar’s.”

“Something like,” Malcolm said, dark gaze still settled on Colin.

Colin addressed Sheila and Leslie. “McKayla and Ilisa will show you to your chambers and find you something appropriate to wear.”

Ilisa sighed but smiled nonetheless when she looked at McKayla. “But then I’m off to sword practice.”

“Of course.” McKayla glanced at the girls. “Maybe we’ll join you for a bit. Great for research.”

“Then let’s make haste.” Colin stood and pulled her into his arms. “The sooner we are prepared the sooner I can spend more time with my new wife.”

Not concerned in the least by the others he pulled her close for one of his long, knee-weakening kisses. And while she might’ve thought to keep it brief, once it started she certainly wasn’t able to end it. Hand tangled in her hair and free arm snug around her waist, his kiss was as thorough as any other. It was impossible to say how much time passed before he pulled back and cupped her cheek. “This will all be over soon.”

McKayla ignored a swell of emotion. He was right. It would be…one way or another.

When he and the men left, she continued to stare after him.

“
Damn
,” Sheila murmured, eyes wide and a silly grin on her face. “That was one hot kiss.”

“Aye,” Ilisa said. “Highland men dinnae mess around.”

McKayla’s cheeks burned but she couldn’t help but agree. “No they don’t.”

A light drizzle began as they made their way back to the castle. Leslie shuddered, her disgruntled gaze looking out beyond the courtyard. “Will they really light a fire with a hurricane coming? It seems pointless.”

“Aye.” Ilisa shrugged. “The weather isnae here yet. There’s time enough for a burn.”

“I assume we won’t be standing out in it,” Leslie quipped.

“Afraid you might melt?” Sheila shook her head. “I love the wild weather. Don’t mind getting wet in the least.”

Within a few minutes they’d been shown their quarters which were close to McKayla’s. Each were given appropriate clothing before Ilisa made true on her promise and vanished to go practice her swordsmanship.

“We’ll join you soon,” McKayla assured. The MacLomain lass, all-to-eager to be with the warriors nodded and waved, not overly concerned as she vanished down the hall.

Leslie and Sheila grabbed their clothes and joined McKayla in her chamber.

“Look at this room,” Sheila said, awed. “It’s immense. And that bed!” She winked at McKayla. “Well used already I’ll bet.”

Leslie looked out one of the windows. “So much land.”

McKayla joined her. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

With a loose shrug, her cousin said, “You know me. I’ve always been more of a city girl.”

But there was a level of appreciation in her terse reply.

Sheila thumped down on the bed and giggled. “Bounces a little too. Not such a bad thing.”

Leslie shook her head. “Is there no end to your tactlessness?” 

“Not really.” Sheila continued to smile. “But better to be fun and tactless than miserable and annoying.”