Milly gasped for breath but could not draw in air for the life of her. It was too much, too intense, too...suddenly visions started to bombard her. A man stood outside the colonial back in New Hampshire, but she could tell it was a long time ago. He didn’t quite look like Adlin did now, but she knew it was him. They had already been together, but now he was gone, and she was falling in love with Jim because of Adlin’s magic.
Yet there he stood, years later, outside her window late at night looking up. Then outside every window wherever she moved over the years as she and Jim shared a life together and had children.
As she grew older.
Life had moved on, but Adlin never forgot her. He never truly moved on, but kept watch over her as the years passed. Always a protector of sorts. Always very much in love with her, though he let her go. Then they were together again. Old but happier than ever as they sat on the bench in front of her ranch.
“No matter what happens, I’ll find you again, Adlin,” she whispered, smiling into his eyes before she rested her head on his shoulder. “I swear it.” She sighed and squeezed his hand. “Remember that. Remember what I say now. When I find you in another life, and I will, remember that I’m sworn to my highland laird.” Her eyes drifted shut. “I’m sworn to you always, Adlin. Every single time.”
“Oh God,” she whispered, tears in her eyes as she opened them, not in that life but back in this one. In Adlin’s arms and drifting down from the best orgasm she’d ever had.
“The ring,” he managed as his damp eyes met hers. “Are ye well, lass?”
He had just relived what she had seen. She knew it without question.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Better than fine.”
She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him, all the while still climaxing and remembering. Him. Her. Bits and pieces of what they had been. Parts that made up a whole that she was eager to find again because she knew it had been so rich. That what they had shared then had been what was missing in this life.
A love she never gave up on.
Much later, as she snuggled against him beneath the fur, she meant to speak, talk about all she had seen but words were still impossible. All she was capable of doing was feeling him now. Remembering how good he had felt once upon a time.
It seemed she must have dozed though because the next thing she knew a dripping wet Conall was crouched beside the fire with Adlin, his words hushed but not impossible to hear.
“They’ve prisoners to be sure,” he reported. “I didnae catch a glimpse of any, but there was someone spoken about with much appreciation...a lass...”
When Conall hesitated, Adlin frowned. “Well, out with it, lad.”
“From what I overheard, Cressingham has taken himself a new pet.” There was a darkness in Conall’s eyes as they stayed with Adlin’s. “One he has entertaining his men in a most unusual way.”
“What way?” Milly pulled the fur around her and sat up, trying not to panic. “Who is she?”
When Conall hesitated, Adlin bit out, “You can tell Milly anything you see fit to tell me.”
“Aye, then,” Conall muttered, clearly not comfortable with it as he continued. “’Tis said she is verra bonnie and doesnae lay with them but entertains them.”
Oh no.
“What does that mean exactly?” Milly asked as she joined them. “What does entertain mean in this era?”
“It means a smidge better than laying with them,” Adlin assured. “That I can promise you.”
“A smidge?” She frowned at Conall. “Tell us the rest. What do you know?”
Conall continued to look uncomfortable as his eyes met Adlin’s. “I dinnae think this is appropriate for—”
“Aye, ‘tis,” Adlin growled. “You’ll tell Milly whatever she wants to know, you ken, Laird Hamilton?”
Jaw clenched, eyes unimpressed, Conall held Adlin’s gaze before his tone dried considerably. “Aye, Laird MacLomain.” He continued as asked. “’Tis not often Sir Hugh de Cressingham takes himself a pet and protects her within a war party no less. So many have taken notice.”
“What does she look like?” Milly asked, more concerned by the moment because if anyone could wrap a tyrant around her little finger, it was Lindsay. “I’m sure you’ve heard specifics.”
“Only that she has hair the color of the whitest cloud lit by sunlight,” Conall said. “And eyes as silver as moonlight over water.”
“Oh, no,” Milly groaned as her eyes whipped to Adlin’s. “It’s her. It’s Linds. I just know it. I’m telling you, nobody looks like her.”
“I know ‘tis hard, but dinnae focus on your emotions, Milly,” Adlin said. “Focus on the better part of what he said. Whoever this lass is, she’s under Cressingham’s protection, and that is one of the better positions she can be in right now.”
“Yeah, tell that to William,” she argued. “You saw how much he hated Cressingham and based on what I’ve read he had every reason. The man’s a turd.”
“Be that as it may...” Adlin’s hand rested over hers, calmed her. “He has power and enough intelligence that he wouldnae risk harming someone that gave such morale to his soldiers, aye?”
“We can only hope,” she muttered before she narrowed her eyes on Conall again. “Let’s get back to the word entertain and what it might mean outside of sex because don’t tell me it doesn’t mean that too.”
When Conall glanced at Adlin again, unsure, he nodded. “Just tell her. ‘Tis not such a bad thing in her day and age.”
“What’s not?” Her eyes rounded between them. “What the hell is Linds doing?”
Conall sighed and finally came clean. “It seems this lass they speak of is...pretending to be someone she’s not.”
Like Adlin, she was startled by his description because it sounded so much like what Graham had said earlier.
“It seems she’s acting,” Conall continued with distaste. “Becoming anything they want to see and doing it bloody well by the sounds of it. So well,” he looked from Milly to Adlin, “that it seems she might have convinced the bloody Sassenach to go over Stirling Bridge after all.”
Chapter Twelve
ADLIN CONTINUED TO contemplate Conall’s report the next morning as Milly muttered, “It’s Linds. No damned doubt about it. Only she could convince a medieval Brit to change his battle maneuvers.”
He had been making an effort to call her Milly as she wished and as such was even starting to think of her by that name.
“Mayhap you’re right and ‘tis Lindsay with the enemy,” he said as he helped secure her dress. Though he never got around to taking it off, it was no better for the wear. “But keep in mind even the strongest of wizards like Conall can be deceived. They can be tricked.”
“Not like this.” Milly’s eyes met his over her shoulder. “Linds is one of a kind. She can’t be made up by anyone or anything. Not even black magic.”
“You speak as though you ken such magic, lass,” he murmured as he spun her until she faced him. “’Tis unpredictable.” He shook his head and made sure she understood the gravity of the situation. “More deceptive than you can imagine.”
“Too much is adding up, and you know it,” she said softly. “They’ve got Bryce and Linds, and we need to save them soon.”
“Aye, and we will,” he assured, wishing they could talk about anything but this. That he could hold her in his arms again and feel her sweet heat. See the pleasure in her eyes as they finally came together. As he sank so deep into her, he thought he would lose himself.
“I might be off on my math but isn’t September eleventh only a few days away?” she said. “Which means we don’t have much time to accomplish this covert mission to rescue them that I know you’re planning.”
“Aye,” he agreed. They would have gone last night, but the weather made it foolish by anyone’s standards. “But ‘tis nothing you should speak of, aye, lass? We dinnae want the enemy to catch on.”
“I know,” she murmured. As Milly’s
gaze held his, her eyes softened with what he knew were memories of the night before. As it turned out, though the gem in her ring was still brown, she had yet to grow ill again. If anything, she appeared more vibrant than ever.
“I want ye again, lass,” he whispered, unable to stop his brogue as he kissed her and she melted against him. Being with her the eve before had brought back so much more than he had anticipated. Far more than he thought considering the fickle ring. She remembered the things she had said to him toward the end of their last life. She remembered how strongly they had felt.
Their kiss deepened, and he would have continued in a pleasurable direction if someone hadn’t cleared their throat outside the tent entrance. “Milly, you awake?”
Milly ended the kiss and nodded though her former lover could not see her. “Yeah, I’m up, Jim,” she replied. “Be right out.”
While Adlin was immensely impressed with Jim, the man had less than perfect timing. A fact he muttered under his breath as he and Milly exited the tent. Jim grinned as his eyes went between them. “Sorry to get you up but the new missus has gone hunting.” He gestured at himself. “And her latest trophy doesn’t exactly fit in around here if you know what I mean.”
“The new missus, eh?” Milly rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Is that what you’re calling Blair now?”
“Oh, I’d call her something else altogether if we weren’t surrounded by so many men with swords.” He wore nothing but a satisfied smile. “They just don’t make women like that anymore.” When Adlin frowned, curious if he should defend Blair’s honor, Jim held up his hands in surrender. “Oh, hell no, totally not what you’re thinking. Nothing happened.” He actually looked a little smitten as he stared off in the direction Blair must have gone. “That woman is nothing but a queen.”
Milly smiled. “I’m glad it went well.”
Adlin still wasn’t sure what to make of any of it but figured if Jim wasn’t already dead by Blair’s blade, then things must have gone all right. Because rare was the day that any unwanted man made it through the evening in her chamber or tent without running for their life in the middle of the night. Or, in fact, ending up with their throat slit by morn because they attempted something they shouldn’t have.
“So...” Jim looked from Adlin to Milly, his eyes mischievous. “How are you two doing this morning?”
Adlin started to respond but ended up muttering, “Bloody Vikings,” when he saw Aðísla come out of Moray’s tent. That alone might not have been alarming had she not stood outside the entrance and stretched like a kitten that had just sampled warm milk and liked the taste of it more than she anticipated.
He did not need her stirring things up or altering history.
“What is it?” Milly’s eyes followed his, and a wry grin came to her mouth. “Ah, they moved pretty fast, eh?”
No faster than anybody else during wartime but still. Aðísla knew better. Her presence in medieval Scotland was by no means natural so she sure as hell shouldn’t risk altering the future by lying with such an important man.
Adlin made sure she knew as much as Aðísla joined them.
“’Twas foolish, lass,” he grumbled.
“Probably,” she agreed as her eyes met Moray’s when he came out. “But the man is not a natural born leader for no good reason.” She licked her lips, watching Andrew’s ass as he walked away. “Loki’s cock, he would make a good Viking if given half a chance.”
“Be that as it may,” Adlin allowed, using a tone that meant business. “We’ve got other things we need to focus on now.”
As he knew he could count on, she gave him her undivided attention. “What do you need, Adlin.”
It was not a question but a statement because there was nothing she wouldn’t do to help the MacLomains. She was every inch Naðr Véurr’s granddaughter.
“Something only you can provide, my friend,” he said but kept things vague as they joined the others and broke their fast over freshly hunted game and muted conversations in case the enemy had unknown scouts.
Though Milly never knew it, he had, with a few encrypted words in what sounded like general conversation, told the Viking all she needed to know. Though she had somehow managed to go with Conall last night despite entertaining Moray, he wanted her to go back to the enemy encampment again today. Gather all intel possible. If captured, do whatever she felt best.
Some might think that a cold request of kin but none were like Aðísla. She could do things no one else could and escape unscathed. That’s what he needed now. Someone who could get in and out without much suspicion and gather the information he needed. Tell him without a doubt that both Bryce and Lindsay were being held prisoner, no matter how gilded their bars.
“What is it she can do exactly because it sounds like you’re sending her straight into hell,” Milly whispered under her breath some time later as they listened to a rallying speech by Wallace. “She’s a Viking, Adlin. So how can she possibly waltz into an English war camp and get all the answers you need?”
He was again amazed by how clearly she seemed to be reading his thoughts. How readily their minds were connecting despite the stubbornly brown gem in her ring.
“Because she can glamour herself,” he said softly. “She can become what she needs to be to get answers.”
“That sounds dangerous.” Her eyes met his. “And it sounds like she’ll be using magic which you told me yourself isn’t good right now.”
“Her magic is different,” he said. “’Tis dragon magic.”
“But it’s still magic,” she argued and was absolutely right to do so. “Isn’t it?”
Adlin sighed and nodded toward William. “’Tis time to listen and be rallied, lass.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. Not right now. “Trust that I wouldnae send my kin to their death. She will be well.”
Milly didn’t respond, but he felt her heavy gaze on him. She did not believe him, and he didn’t blame her. Nonetheless, this was a matter of his country’s future. It was a matter of sniffing out any unseen problems and doing away with them before they ruined everything.
What he conveniently set aside was that there was already the element of dark magic involved and that in itself might very well be the end of them. There were too many players at this point in what had originally been a relatively simple plan laid out by him and Grant. Too much was unpredictable and too much left to chance.
The day proceeded to pass as he knew it would. With Wallace entertaining England’s Earl of Surrey’s negotiations via one of his trusted messengers while Surrey’s nasty counterpart, Hugh de Cressingham kept searching out other avenues of attack. Wallace knew very well it was all a stall tactic. He knew how men like the Earl and Cressingham worked.
Though many thought William was born without noble blood that was the furthest thing from the truth. He was a Scottish aristocrat who saw firsthand what even a title such as his meant. How it was worth nothing more to the English than the mud beneath their boots.
But then he had some help with that.
After all, in his former life, Adlin had taken William in after his parents were killed and saw that he was fostered well. More so, he made sure he crossed paths with Robert the Bruce when they were bairns. The Bruce was of royal blood and would someday mean as much to Scotland as Wallace.
Until that happened, William would rise up.
With a fierce compassion for those suffering, William had made Adlin and his foster parent’s goal that much easier. To create an honorable, loyal man who felt for his countrymen’s hardship and would fight for their rights and well being. For their country. To cultivate a man who would always have the steadfast, unrelenting heart of a warrior.
Almost by nature, Wallace was all these things, but with a little help along the way he was steered in the right direction and became the man he was meant to be. He became someone who rallied Scotland behind him with a ferociousness even Adlin hadn’t anticipated. So said the speech he gave. So said the venom in his gaze as he sharpe
ned his blade and eyed the south as he and Adlin sat together later.
Milly was with Adlin’s kin for the moment as she and Jim got a tour of the fort. Satisfied that she was safe, he had joined William, curious to see where his mind was. While he might have helped lead this man to this moment, it by no means meant he knew what Wallace was thinking.
William said nothing when Adlin first sat down next to him. He just stared out, contemplating Stirling Bridge, contemplating a battle he had no idea would make him so famous. Eventually, he spoke, his voice soft but his words intense. “In the end, ‘twill be as simple as that.” He gestured downward. “That bridge and my wits against the Sassenach.”
“Nothing is ever as simple as that,” Adlin murmured. “And well ye’d do to remember it, lad.”
“So I’m wrong then?” Wallace cocked a brow at him. “’Tis not a sound defeat if done there?”
“Mayhap.” Adlin shrugged. “We both know I willnae tell ye. ‘Tis yers to discover on yer own.”
“Yet ye’ve told me so much along the way,” William muttered. “In one life or another.”
Adlin offered no response but met William’s eyes and urged him to share his thoughts. “Tell me what weighs on yer mind. What plans ye might have.”
“Will ye tell me if I’m right then?” William searched Adlin’s eyes and evidently saw the answer. “Nay, I dinnae think ye will.” He grinned and shook his head. “I think yer testing me, exercising my mind, aye?”
“What if I am?” Adlin shrugged. “Is that so bad? Sometimes we can better see things if said aloud, aye?”
“Aye.” A wistful smile curled William’s lips as his eyes returned to the River Forth. “But ye well know I’d much rather hear about the future.” His eyes returned to Adlin’s. “I want to know if I’m leading my men to certain death.”
“The only certain death ye’ll lead yer men to is if ye go down a path not well thought out,” Adlin murmured. “And if I know nothing else about ye William Wallace, ‘tis that ye dinnae do anything without giving it a great deal of thought.”
The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4) Page 16
