How could he possibly know that? What was with this guy and his ability to see right through her?
“I am,” she said.
He shook his head. “You are not.”
They eyed each other as she continued to search for an excuse. Yet as the moment stretched and she considered the conversation she’d had with Grant, Lindsay realized he had never told her not to tell Conall. Even so, something held her back. Unexpected compassion for him despite what a douche he was being to her.
“What is it?” he said, his voice a deep rumble of unease as he clasped her upper arms. “What are you keeping from me, lass?”
Lindsay again held his eyes for a long moment before she finally came clean. “Your grandfather and I were able to talk on occasion when we were in the English encampment.” She swallowed. “Grant told me things. About how all of you are on a mission to save Scotland’s history. How your country would be wiped off the map if you didn’t. It would cease to exist in the future.”
“But that is not why you did what you did,” Conall said, his grip firm but not painful. “Is it, lass?”
His ability to read her was getting a little uncanny.
“No,” she finally relented softly. “I did it for you and Grant.”
“I dinnae ken.” She was surprised by a flicker of something other than distrust and dislike in his eyes as they searched hers. “Why would you do it for my grandfather? For me?”
“Because,” she managed, her heart suddenly in her throat. “You deserve to have your father back...and the only way that might ever have a chance of happening is if that battle took place like it was supposed to.”
Chapter Two
CONALL MIGHT HAVE IMAGINED Lindsay saying a great number of far-fetched things, but certainly nothing about his father. What purpose did that serve? What had his grandfather said? Because his father, Darach, had gone missing a few years ago and hadn’t been seen or heard from since.
Instead of questioning Lindsay further because she likely lied yet again, he did his best to ignore her and resumed searching for a way out. Of all the places they could have ended up, why here?
“This was where Grant was held prisoner when he was young, wasn’t it?” she said softly.
He clenched his jaw and murmured yet another useless chant to free them, but like the rest, it did no good. They were going nowhere, and as Lindsay implied, it had everything to do with that bloody ring. He crouched and watched her out of the corner of his eye as she kept touching the stone.
From the moment his grandfather had handed her over to him in the midst of the River Forth, he was just as she said...smitten. Just not in the sense she meant it. Or so he hoped. Yet Conall knew as he inhaled deeply and tried to keep his eyes off of her, it wasn’t all that different from her version of it. Whatever else happened that night, the second he felt the weight of her in his arms and her cheek rested against his chest, he was gone in a way that irritated him to this day.
While none could deny Lindsay was a remarkably beautiful woman with her pale blond hair and silver eyes, it was more than that. Instant. Unavoidable. He had carried her in his arms on horseback all the way to the abandoned English castle, fearing for her life the whole time. Though only under the influence of herbs, she had seemed a million miles away from him and that bothered him greatly.
A lass he had just met.
Since that moment, he had kept a close eye on her. None were so courageous or foolish. Because the more he watched the way she interacted with people, men in general, the more he realized what she was all about.
She used men to get what she wanted.
That meant doing whatever was necessary to stay safe.
Or so he thought at first until he began to sense far more. While, yes, Lindsay feared for her own safety, it was subliminal. Which somewhat explained why she risked her safety at every given opportunity with her foolhardy behavior. Did she seem to have a gift when it came to men? Aye. Had she been lucky so far? Aye. But it was only a matter of time before that good fortune ended.
“Well?” she prompted, interrupting his thoughts.
“Well, what?” Conall kept his eyes trained on looking for a way out that would never be there. Not via his magic anyway.
“Dear Lord, you make this difficult,” she murmured as she placed her hand against the very wall he had created and sighed. “Was this where Grant was imprisoned? Did you create this wall so he would never have to look at this place again?”
It seemed her, and his grandfather had talked plenty.
“I did,” he confirmed as he stood. “And we will not get past it.”
“What about your family? Maybe they could help.” She frowned as she gave that more thought. “Do you think they’re still at the battle? That what we did worked and the English started coming over the bridge?”
He could only hope.
Right now, however, he had bigger concerns because he couldn’t sense his kin within his mind. While his cousins were likely still at Stirling Bridge, at the very least, he should be able to connect with his mother. Or even his aunts and uncles. Someone. But there was nothing out there but silence.
“Conall?” Lindsay prompted. “Are you even listening to me or am I wasting my breath?”
He sighed, leaned back against the wall and contemplated their next move. Unfortunately, he had no idea what that should be. They were completely trapped without magic which meant there would be no manifesting food or drink or anything else.
“You should sit,” he said at last. “And rest.”
“Sit and rest?” she said, surprised. “What good will that do me?” She frowned and shook her head. “No, I’d rather be useful. How can I help?” Though it was clear she did not want to, she pulled the ring out and eyed it. “Or should I say how can this help?”
Conall narrowed his eyes at the ring, not sure what the bloody thing was up to. All he knew was that repeating what he suspected got them here was not a good idea.
“Oh, just come out with it already,” she said, her tone exasperated as she leaned against the wall beside him. “We both know it was probably the kiss combined with this ring that got us here, to begin with.” She gave him a pointed look, challenging him to say otherwise. “So maybe that’s the way to get out too.”
“Och,” he muttered, avoiding her luminous eyes. They were half the reason he imagined most men got in trouble around her. “So your solution is to kiss our way out of here, aye?”
As if he would stop at a kiss if he did it again.
He was somewhat surprised he made it out of her arms the first time. If she had kissed Hugh Cressingham or the Earl of Surrey like that, there could be no doubt they would storm Stirling Bridge to get her back. He reined in his aggravation at the thought. At how many men she had likely kissed since traveling back in time to get her way. Though he knew bloody well he should be thankful she was willing to do anything to stay alive, it irked him to no end.
He scowled and shook his head. The last thing he should focus on right now was Lindsay kissing other men...or kissing him. Yet all he could think about was the taste of her soft full lips and the feel of her lush body as she melted against him. Aroused despite their dire circumstances, he sat against the wall and rested his elbows on bent knees to hide an untimely erection. One, much to his dismay, he had been battling on and off since he met her.
“I’ve kissed men for lesser reasons,” she muttered as she roamed the rectangular room, eying it dubiously. “This place is awful.” Her eyes went to his. “I’m truly sorry Grant was imprisoned here for so long. I can’t begin to imagine how terrible that must have been.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, she genuinely meant it.
Kidnapped from MacLomain Castle when he was only eleven winters old, his grandfather had indeed spent several long years down here. The first two winters he never saw the light of day. After that, he used his wits and became everything his captor Keir Hamilton needed him to be. Eventually, he became first-in-command of th
e warlock’s army. Of course, it had all been an act until he was able to come together with his MacLomain kin and defeat Keir. By then the people here had come to love him, and against all the odds, he became Chieftain of Hamilton Castle, even taking the name Hamilton.
When Conall did not respond to her statement, she continued. “You must love your grandfather very much to have gone to such lengths.”
He knew what she was thinking. Why hadn’t anyone blocked this off before him? Grant included?
“But then I know you love Grant despite how cold you seem to him,” she said softly, not afraid, it seemed, to say what was on her mind. Even if it was none of her concern.
“I know you went back to keep an eye on him after that first battle,” she continued. “First, you made sure I was safe, then you left.”
Conall again remained silent. She was referring to the battle he and his cousins had fought days before the main battle at Stirling Bridge. A secret battle that history would never know about. Grant had subjected himself to the frigid river and was far too old to have done such. Grandmum would have had a fit. So Conall kept an eye on him.
Lindsay sat across the chamber from him, tucking her skirts around her legs primly as though she were not a sumptuous vixen. As though she had not kissed him in such a fashion that he knew she wanted more. That had he persisted, he could have willingly spread her legs and...
“Bloody hell,” he whispered and braced his head in his hands. While he was not entirely opposed to being meant for a woman from the future, Lindsay was not the right choice for him. Milly would have been a much better fit because as far as he could tell, she did not purposefully and constantly put herself in harm’s way.
“I didn’t mean to pry about Grant or make you uncomfortable,” Lindsay said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Uncomfortable about Grant? That was the last thing she was doing. Uncomfortable in general? Aye. He shifted, hoping she could not see what was becoming damn hard to hide. Her sitting where she had did not help matters any. Mayhap, however, if he went along with her assumption, it would get his mind off her body.
“I dinnae overly like speaking about my grandfather,” he said, sure to keep his tone as stiff as his stubborn cock. “He is well now. That’s all grandmum will want to hear.”
“Grandmum?” she said. “She’s from my era too, right? Just like your mother?”
“Aye,” he said. “Grandmum was born in nineteen eighty nine.”
“Wow, it’s so strange how that works,” she whispered. “I was born a year later in nineteen ninety.”
Other than a brief blip when his parents came together, time had resumed passing as it always did for medieval MacLomains and modern-day Brouns. Time went by much faster here so a man could live twenty years and it would only be a few years in the future. The premise was that time was trying to catch up with itself.
“Aye, ‘tis strange,” he agreed. “Ma was born in nineteen eighty eight, so a year before my grandmother...at least in twenty-first century terms.”
“I’ll be damned,” Lindsay murmured as she continued to eye him with a look he knew all too well by now. She thought she had found a way to get closer to him. Therefore, a means to eventually get him to do anything she wanted.
Almost as if she followed his thoughts, she cocked her head. “You don’t like that do you, Conall?” Her lashes dropped a scant fraction as she seemed to see right through him. “You don’t want me to get too close.” The corner of her lip curled up slowly, and her knowing eyes sparkled with newfound power. “Why do I get the feeling it’s already too late?”
He frowned and knew he should not entertain her but did. “Too late for what?”
“Too late for you to stop wanting me,” she whispered, her large sultry eyes shimmering in the torchlight. “Because you do, don’t you, Conall?”
Aye. He did. With everything in him.
Like always, it was nearly impossible to pull his eyes from hers, but he did. As it was every time, he had to fight to keep from looking at her again. Gazing at the lass muddled his mind, and right now it needed to stay level. More than that, he had to remember she was not the lass for him.
He would never survive her.
She inhaled deeply and murmured to herself. Words he could hear with his superior hearing. Words that caught him off-guard. Against his better judgment, he looked her way again. “What do you mean you dinnae understand why I’m different than the rest?” He frowned. “Explain, lass.”
“Oh, I think you know.” She stood, her movements fluid and seductive as she sauntered his way. “I think you very well know.”
Though the dress given to her at camp was too big, it didn’t hide her full breasts or her perfect hourglass figure. She was built for a man’s hands and hell if she didn’t know it as she sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. Her slender hand slid onto his thigh dangerously close to his eager cock. If he didn’t know better, he would say she knew exactly what state she had him in.
“You are wearing the ring again,” he managed, irritated by his thickening voice, and the stark lust she provoked.
“I am,” she concurred as her hand slid a fraction closer to his manhood. “Do you know why?”
“Aye.” Conall put his hand over hers and shook his head. “But we will find another way out of here.”
Any way but how they likely got here in the first place.
“You enjoyed that kiss, Laird Hamilton,” she murmured, her voice whisper soft, and seductive. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
As she intended, his eyes drifted to her lips. When they did, the tip of her dainty pink tongue slipped out and ran along her plush lower lip. He didn’t realize he had clenched his hand around hers until she jerked ever-so-slightly. When she did, he pulled away only for her to try to stop him which, as it turned out, conveniently put her hand right alongside his rigid cock.
He clenched his jaw and remained very still as her eyes dropped and her breath caught.
If he had any willpower left, he would push her hand away. He would remind her that unlike most men, he did not want her. Yet she was already blatantly admiring proof that said otherwise. A maneuver he knew she did on purpose to reel him ever closer. Regrettably, it was working because he had not moved an inch.
He tried to focus on the hiss of the torches, even the chill of the stone at his back, but all he could see was her hand. How small and delicate it appeared beside the heavy ridge of his cock straining against his breeches.
“Well, well,” she said softly, her voice raspy, sensual and knowing. “It seems you’re stiff in more ways than one, Laird Hamilton.”
Had she been any other lass, he would have pulled her onto him, freed himself and plunged into her sweet heat, but this was Lindsay. An actress from the future that was not the lass for him. In truth, he had done well to keep women away. On occasion, he took a whore, but that was it.
He sought no connection.
Nothing that could be taken from him.
Nothing he could lose.
“You’ve put the ring on, and now you try to seduce me,” he managed, his voice hoarse though he was trying for bland. “You must be verra convinced a kiss will free us from here.”
“I think it’s worth a shot.” Her pinky finger shifted just enough to make his cock leap. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Unfortunately, he did not. But he had finally summoned enough strength to remove her hand from its precarious perch so he could inspect the ring more closely. Held by two hands coming from opposite directions, its heart encased gem was supposed to seal her fate.
Milly’s had, at last, glowed the color of Adlin’s eyes, but only after they vanquished the evil that had infected it. Dark magic it seemed. Warlocks. Bastardly things that somehow caught wind of Grant and Adlin’s original creation of the rings and tainted the process. While their foul influence could be overcome, it would not be easy. Grant speculated Adlin had dealt with the weakest of the warlocks, so that mea
nt Conall and his cousins would face far worse.
More alarming? Lindsay and her fellow Brouns would as well.
Yet it was that, her Broun ancestry, that was so powerful in combination with its MacLomain counterpart. Her one true love. So no matter what happened, Lindsay was destined to be with him, Bryce or Graham. If all went as it should, the gem would change color, matching the eyes of the man meant for her. In Adlin’s case, it had not worked that way. Milly’s ring claimed several men, but only until the evil was conquered.
“I think we need to set aside our personal differences and keep our eyes on the bigger picture,” Lindsay said, interrupting his thoughts once more. “If I was brought back in time by this ring, that means I’m supposed to help in future battles so that Scotland’s history doesn’t become obsolete, right?”
“Aye.” Her hand remained in his as he eyed a gem that made him feel more conflicted than he vowed he would ever let it. “’Tis daunting, is it not? ‘Tis so verra much for a twenty-first century lass who knows nothing of this era. Nothing of the enemy or evil that abides here.” His eyes met hers. “Yet still, you rush to save a country that is not yours. You seem so eager to put your life on the line for people that arenae yours.”
While his words sounded challenging and he kept his eyes hard, he was at heart, truly curious about her reasoning. Her motives. How she could possibly be so brave considering where she came from and worse yet, what she did to make money. It made no sense.
“It is daunting,” she conceded as her fingers curled against his. Her fingertips brushed his palm and lingered as her eyes softened to shimmering pewter. “But what choice do I have? There is nowhere to go but forward and believe it or not, I’m not the coward you think I am, Conall.” Her eyes dropped to their hands as she swallowed. “Because though you question my heroism, I know deep down you think I’m merely a survivalist at best.”
A survivalist? In her case, he could only hope that was true. If so, he bloody well wished she would start going about it without putting her life on the line so much.
The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4) Page 29
