“I agree.” Graham nodded, fury in his eyes as they met Conall’s. “We will find her, Cousin. She means too much to all of us.”
Grant, as usual, was not overly fazed by Conall’s anger at him but instead seemed to be contemplating the tent.
“What is it?” Conall followed his line of vision. “Do ye think the warlock got her somehow?”
His eyes narrowed on the Bruce again though he said nothing. After talking with his kin yesterday, they all felt it was best to monitor Robert rather than confront him about his unusual eyes the day before. If, as they suspected, the warlock worked through him somehow, it was best not to tip it off.
“I didnae go anywhere near her last eve, Laird Hamilton,” the Bruce vowed. “Not after ye tucked her away to rest.”
“The lad tells the truth,” Grant said absently as he headed for the tent with an intent, curious look on his face.
“What is it?” Conall repeated as he strode after him, well aware of how his grandfather got when his magic was taking over. “What are ye sensing?”
“Something I didnae sense before,” he murmured as he ducked into the tent and Conall followed. Once inside, Grant looked around and frowned before he shook his head and said under his breath, “Nay, we need more to see correctly,” then stuck his head back out.
“Join us, Bryce and Graham.” His eyes went to Rona. “Ye too, lassie.”
They looked at each other curiously before they joined them. Only when Bryce, the largest of them all, stepped in, did Conall begin to sense what Grant already had. How bloody tight it became when moments before Conall’s magic had made it appear larger.
“That might just do the trick,” Grant whispered before they heard Robert exclaim, “Och, there ye are, lass!”
Conall flew out of the tent only to find Lindsay in the Bruce’s arms. He had never felt so much relief mixed with anger. Relief because she was clearly all right. Anger because he had not been the one to pull her into his arms when she reappeared.
Because she had simply reappeared, hadn’t she?
“There she is,” Robert suddenly whispered, as his eyes shot to the tent. “There’s my lass...the one I’m promised to.”
Bryce and Grant had already exited but slowed as a woman appeared behind them. Lovely but transparent, she stared wide-eyed at them all. A second later, she spun and appeared to sprint into the tent though it was hard to tell because Graham ducked out at that very moment. For all intents and purposes, she almost appeared to vanish right inside of him.
“Christina!” Lindsay cried as she stepped away from the Bruce.
Graham stopped short, and his brows slammed together as he evidently saw Christina running at him. Then she was gone, and his cousin seemed stunned.
In the meantime, Lindsay flew past him into the tent with Conall right behind her.
“Damn it, where’d she go?” She spun and looked around. “I told her she was here and not there, but she didn’t believe me.”
“Where have ye been, lass,” he managed, his voice hoarser than intended. He seized her upper arms gently, hoping she would look at him though she kept gazing around. “What happened to ye, Lindsay?”
“I was right here,” she whispered and blinked several times before her eyes finally met his. “I never left...not really.”
“But ye did,” he insisted, unable to control his thickening brogue as he searched her eyes. “When Grandfather woke, ye were gone. Vanished!” He shook his head. “And I never saw ye leave.”
She went perfectly still as their eyes held, as she likely finally heard how upset he was.
“I’m here now, Conall,” she said softly. “And I’m okay.”
He started at the use of his name. More so, the gentle way she said it. As though she liked the way it felt in her mouth. That mouth. Beautiful, full, perfectly shaped lips he should not be staring at right now. Yet he was as he reeled her closer. As he did what he swore he would not do again and kissed her. Just a small kiss, he figured. One meant to relieve his angst over having thought he had lost her. That she might have been stolen by the warlock or worse yet, dead.
He should have known a small kiss would be impossible based on the way her lips felt beneath his. The way they softened as he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, tilted his head and deepened the exchange. Their tongues had only just touched when she managed to find the strength he could not and pulled away.
Though her breathing had grown heavy and her eyes dewy, she swallowed hard and shook her head. “We shouldn’t.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And you know it, Laird Hamilton.”
He clenched his jaw and nodded.
She was right.
But that knowledge did not make the moment any easier as they stared at each other. As he imagined bringing her to the ground and showing her just how much losing her had affected him. How bloody foolish they were for thinking they were capable of anything but what already existed between them.
He shook his head at his own thoughts.
How quickly he was letting this progress in his mind despite her pulling free from the kiss. As their eyes held and emotions fluctuated between them, he knew what they felt was going to be very difficult to ignore never mind turn away from.
“Ah,” Grant murmured as he entered and looked around. “So Christina really did vanish, aye?”
“She did,” Lindsay said softly as her eyes finally left Conall’s and she looked at Grant. “How was Christina even here to begin with?” She shook her head. “And don’t tell me that wasn’t her because I know it was.”
“Aye, ‘twas a lass from the future and nothing but,” Grant assured. “Though I dinnae know Christina enough to say if ‘twas her, I'll take your word for it.”
“It was.” Worry knit Lindsay’s brows as she looked around again then ducked out of the tent, saying over her shoulder, “I don’t understand. Where did she go? And again, how did she even get here?”
They followed to find her looking around the outside of the tent alongside Graham and Robert. Both of whom seemed desperate to locate Christina.
“That was her,” Robert exclaimed as he looked at Lindsay. “The lass I was promised to.”
Perplexed, Graham glanced at Robert before his eyes went to Lindsay as well. “Who is she, lass? Who is Christina?”
“The lass intended for me,” Robert offered before Grant shook his head sharply and gestured at Conall. “You need to remove your magic from this tent lad then we’ll take it down altogether.”
Conall frowned. “Are we leaving already?”
“Likely,” Simon said, eying them all with a great deal of interest.
“Och, nay,” Grant muttered before his eyes met Simon’s, he murmured a chant then said, “See to yer men, aye? ‘Twould probably be best to head out soon and reconnect with Wallace.”
Caught in Grant’s magic, Simon blinked several times before he nodded. Based on his less-than-curious expression, he seemed to have forgotten everything he just saw. His next statement confirmed it.
“Ready yerselves soon because we leave to find Wallace,” Simon said then left.
Grant’s attention swung back to Conall. “Please just do as I asked, aye, lad?”
“Mayhap if you explain why,” he responded.
“Though I didnae see it at first, ‘tis rather simple really,” Grant replied. His eyes swept from the tent to Lindsay before landing on Conall again. “You used your magic, manifesting air and its dimensions, to allow Lindsay and me to have a spacious sleeping area. Or so it appeared. And ‘twas kind of you.” His eyes returned to Lindsay. “But what none of us took into consideration, lass, is that you almost seem to create anomalies within Conall’s magic.”
She shook her head, seemingly as confused as the rest of them. “What does that mean?”
“Whilst mayhap Iosbail has played a part in directing you through time,” Grant explained. “I think ‘tis your gift combined with Conall’s that gives it that extra oomph.”
; Her brows shot up. “Oomph?”
Conall would call the intimacies they had shared when time traveling a wee bit more than that.
“Aye.” Grant nodded. “Like his da, Conall’s magic is entirely wrapped up in the manipulation of air and yours, Lindsay, is that of enchanting and protecting.”
Lindsay shook her head again. “What does any of that have to do with...whatever you’re getting at?”
“I think, somehow, when you two come together, most especially in a passionate manner,” Grant said, twisting his lips in amusement. “Conall’s air becomes enchanted by you.”
“While I’m tempted to jest a fair bit about this,” Robert said as he winked at Lindsay. “What does that have to do with Conall needing to take down the tent? Or my promised lass?”
As a whole, Conall was surprised by the sense of humor lurking beneath the surface of Robert the Bruce. It was something he never would have imagined the man having. But then, such a personality trait might be necessary to buffer the endless stress of being a supposed traitor to the Scots.
Grant directed the answers to Robert’s questions to Conall.
“For starters, you seem to move through time often when intimate, aye, lad?” Grant looked between Conall and Lindsay. “I think, in a way, it's happening because Lindsay is subconsciously keeping you safe. She’s enchanting you to follow her to safety, and your magic is making sure you both get there.”
Conall frowned. “So Iosbail has nothing to do with the time traveling?”
“’Tis hard to know.” Grant shrugged. “Truthfully, I think mayhap you and Lindsay are controlling this entire journey. I think you put us at the Skirmish at Earnside then one way or another, here.” He again looked between them. “And I think ‘tis because Lindsay, on some level, sensed the evil intent to harm Conall the moment a Claddagh ring appeared on her finger. That alone could verra well have amplified her need to protect you, Grandson.” He nodded, clearly pleased with his theory. “Hence her magic paved a path through time that would best prepare you both to face this warlock.”
“You make me sound so...powerful,” she said softly.
“Aye.” Grant’s eyes whipped to hers. “Because you are, lass. You always have been. You have a verra specific magic about you and ‘tis, as you know, verra much that of an enchantress. ‘Tis known as many things to different cultures. A Selkie of sorts within Irish, Scottish, Faroese and Icelandic folklore. A Circe or Siren amongst the Greeks. Even a Nymph to some degree.”
“Most of those creatures are water related,” she murmured, grateful it seemed as he caught snippets of her thoughts, that Grant had not said succubus.
“Aye,” Grant said. “But they are just examples of the sort of power you possess, lass. The ability to lure and enchant men.” Respect lit his eyes. “The ability, as daunting as it sounds, to enchant evil.”
Putting voice to what she had just been thinking, Lindsay flinched. “Like a succubus might be able to do.”
“Bloody hell, lass,” Grant said, his brogue thickening as he shook his head. “Ye arenae a demon.” His eyes widened. “Do ye think I’d let ye anywhere near my kin let alone into my grandson’s bed if I thought ye’d suck the life out of him?”
She nearly had in a very good way, but Conall kept that thought to himself.
Or so he thought until her eyes sparked with amusement as they flickered to his.
“So where did my lass go?” Robert interjected.
“And ye never did finish explaining why the tent needed to come down,” Bryce reminded.
“Or how it all might relate to why Graham is acting like a bloody fool,” Rona added.
“Och, one thing at a time,” Grant muttered as his stern eyes landed on Conall again. “Because of the magic you used within the tent, Lindsay’s magic mixed with yours and allowed her to enchant others more readily than usual.”
When everyone frowned, Grant continued. “Your air unknowingly expanded her gift so she could connect with whoever she was most concerned about at the moment.” His eyes went to Lindsay. “I take it that was your friend Christina, aye?”
“Not at the particular moment she appeared,” she said, her voice soft and surprised. “But in general, since that morning, yes, Christina.”
“And who is she again?” Graham asked, his voice deeper than normal as he eyed the ceiling with wonder, acting, as Rona had said, very strangely.
“My lass,” Robert reminded, scowling at him.
“She’s nobody’s lass.” Lindsay frowned at Robert. “I’m sorry, but she’s not.”
“Anyway,” Grant said. “Once we filled the tent with enough bodies to reset its perception so that it was small again, it was enough to pull Lindsay back to this side.”
Conall frowned. “What side was she on before?”
“Somewhere she can go while she’s enchanting,” Grant explained. “Like she could be with that warlock, and wherever she is when she sees your da. Then wherever she was just now...here but not here.”
Why did it sound like she had seen his father more than once?
“So where is Da?” He shifted closer to Lindsay out of instinct, not pleased in the least that she could simply vanish at will. “What extra space is he in right now?”
What he did not do was come out and ask the question everyone knew he wanted to. Though he had come to terms with his father’s death years ago, having just seen Christina gave him a spark of hope. She had appeared transparent here but was alive somewhere else. Perhaps the same went for his da.
“Your father's somewhere he doesn’t want any of you to go,” Lindsay reminded, worry in her eyes as they met his. “He was very serious about that, Conall.”
“He would be,” Conall ground out and shook his head. “But I will go there.” He closed the distance and clasped her shoulders. “Tell me where you think he is, and I will go.”
She shook her head, her eyes truly pained as she whispered, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.”
Conall held her eyes for a long moment before he ground his jaw, nodded and stepped away. He believed her. He truly did.
“You need to get that tent down and dispel the magic attached to it, Conall,” Grant said softly, his voice overly compassionate. “Right now ‘tis a conduit that is more confusing than naught for Lindsay and I imagine Christina.”
“I would say,” Lindsay whispered.
“Who is Christina again?” Graham said before he blinked several times and almost seemed confused by his surroundings.
“You just saw her, didn’t you?” Lindsay headed his way. “You saw Christina.”
“I did,” he agreed as he stood, clearly not sure how he ended up on his knees. “First right outside the tent then...somewhere else.”
“Not caves but man-made rock formations, right?” she asked. “Ones in a forest?”
“Aye.” His eyes met hers. “Where was that?”
“Stonehenge at Mystery Hill in the twenty-first century,” she replied. “Where I just was with Christina before I...we ended up back here.” She shook her head. “Though I don't think I ever really left.”
Conall frowned and glanced at his grandfather who nodded and said, “Aye, that makes sense. You traveled to her time, and she traveled to yours...sort of.”
Graham’s brows perked. “Sort of?”
“Aye,” Grant said. “You didnae technically travel through time...not really.” He shook his head. “’Twas more like you shared a glimpse of one another’s surroundings.”
“Interesting,” Lindsay murmured as she contemplated that. “Mystery Hill is close to Milly's house. Christina had been out for a morning jog. That’s when we somehow connected.”
“Aye, I know the area.” He nodded. “It has enough power to easily connect you two when combined with yours and Conall’s magic.”
“Ah,” she said softly, clearly contemplating something before her eyes turned to Robert. “I know we discussed secrecy but in light of recent circumstances, may I ask how you knew of
Christina ahead of time?”
“I saw her,” he replied. “And talked to her.”
“Where?” She shook her head and frowned. “When?”
“After I left Wallace yesterday...or mayhap whilst I was still there...” He frowned and shook his head. “I spoke with her. She was so bonnie, and I knew our fates were intertwined. That we were destined to be together...”
Almost as if he realized how foolish he sounded, Robert’s words trailed off. In fact, he suddenly seemed downright baffled.
“Aye, then.” Grant put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “As it was for Sir Richard Lundie, a Scots knight who joined the Sassenach for a wee bit, it seems ye might have been ensorcelled by a warlock.”
Robert frowned at him. “I dinnae ken.”
“Nay and I wish it could stay that way but as ye well know, though none of us much like the Sassenach,” Grant reminded. “There are far darker creatures out there. True evil.”
“So she was...” Robert shook his head and looked from Lindsay to Grant. “The lass I came across wasnae real?”
“Nay.” Grant shook his head and was about to continue when Lindsay cut him off.
“I’m not so sure about that.” She frowned. “Christina said she dreamt about a man claiming to be Robert the Bruce. She even remembers making a promise, but she can’t remember if it was to him or someone else.”
“There ye have it.” The Bruce’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “The promise was to me. We are to be together.”
“How do we know it was really the Bruce though?” Rona frowned, ever the cynic. “What made her so sure?”
“Well, her description of him for starters.”
Lindsay purposefully kept her eyes from Conall, and he soon learned why.
“In the twenty-first century, we have a certain perception of Robert the Bruce thanks to Hollywood cinematics. While certain movies portrayed him to be handsome enough,” she cleared her throat, “they didn’t quite get it right.” Her eyes stayed with Rona’s. “Christina described Robert as an extremely handsome man around six feet tall, maybe six-foot-one with a,” she cleared her throat again, “a ‘hot damn’ body and a sexy-as-hell presence you just don’t forget.”
The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4) Page 46
