Mark of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation, Book 1) by Sky Purington

thing Seth and I shared were a few years of Youths Care Club boating when we were children. He was an inner city kid from Boston. I was privileged from the Cape.”
    “There’s got to be more than that.”
    “Does there?” McKayla responded.
    Caitlin looked at her then away, nodding.
    “We’ve always been there for each other. Simple as that.”
    “All right,” Caitlin said gently. “Lord knows I don’t want to pry, Kay. For now I won’t but know this, I wish somebody had been there to lay all the facts on the line for me when I hooked up with Ferchar. My gram, Mildred, helped some, but there were a lot of semi-truths and I was thrust into a lot of scary stuff without knowing much.”
    Before McKayla could respond, Caitlin said, “I would’ve given anything to have the sort of knowledge at my disposal that you do. And this was only four years ago.”
    Caitlin looked concerned, almost frightened for her. It was hard to know what to make of that. “Thanks, Caitlin. I appreciate you being here for me. I’m just taking baby steps right now. If only I were strong enough to take leaps.”
    Her cousin smiled. “Maybe you are taking leaps and don’t even know it.”
    “I’m hiding under a blanket in the middle of the day. Pretty sure I’m regressing.”
    “But you’re doing so in an important room.”
    “Right, Arianna’s room. Now who is she again?”
    “Well, I’m not sure how I should say this.” Caitlin scuffed her foot on the floor. “I suppose direct is best. Arianna Broun is Trevor’s mom…or should I say, Colin’s.”
    McKayla bit her lip. “Oh.” A terrible feeling rolled through her. “So we’re actually related.”
    Caitlin shook her head. “No even though it seems like it. She was from the eighteenth century and still a few generations removed. His Dad was from medieval Scotland and is Ferchar’s uncle.”
    “I don’t know. Are you sure?”
    “Completely. The blood lines are many, many generations thinned between you and Trevor. I assume you’re more comfortable with me saying that name. Rest assured, the clans in medieval Scotland and England, alongside many cultures in the world, were guilty of much, much closer blood relations.”
    McKayla swallowed hard. She supposed her cousin had a point.
    “The hands are holding the heart facing you,” Caitlin commented.
    Once more swirling the Claddagh ring on her finger she asked, “What does that mean?”
    Caitlin’s cunning eyes met hers. “That your heart is already taken. If a potential suitor kisses your hand he’ll know it immediately.”
    Pressure tightened in her chest as she looked at the ring. Her heart wasn’t taken. Or at least it hadn’t been for some time. Swirling the heart so she wouldn’t have to look at it, McKayla asked, “Are you really a witch?”
    “Kinda sorta,” Caitlin said. “I can manage parlor house tricks but nothing nearly as profound as Ferchar.” She sighed. “Again, I’m so sorry for not telling you. I guess I’d hoped none of this would affect you.”
    “But you don’t seem all that shocked that it did.”
    “No,” Caitlin said. “I guess I’m not. I mean it hit me out of nowhere and though the rings were supposed to tie together the last great Broun/MacLomain loves I couldn’t help but think in the midst of all that magic…really? If something as simple as the flu can mutate and survive why can’t something as simple as love mutate and survive as well? Because love, like all determined things, will find a way. We just tend to complicate it. Wish we’d stop doing that.”
    McKayla couldn’t help but smile. “Only you could compare the flu with love and come out ahead.”
    Her cousin grinned and shrugged. “I’ve learned to see things in the best light possible. Everything serves a purpose. Everything happens for a reason.”
    “It better,” McKayla said on a yawn. “If not, I’ve no idea what to tell Fate about how I lost both a warlock and a shape-shifter in one