Blair was already Milly’s kind of girl.
Adlin nodded and returned to Milly’s side before he resumed speaking. “So as I was saying, there is an alternate history. One that will happen, is happening, if you and I dinnae make sure things go as they should.” His eyes met hers. “The history you know will cease to exist without our help. There will be no such thing as Scotland in the twenty-first century but only England. They will have overtaken the continent entirely.”
Milly started to talk but couldn’t find the words. Was he serious? How was that possible?
“Because of Aðísla’s gifts, she was able to see the demise of not only the MacLomains but all Scottish clans,” he said softly. “All of Scotland gone. We will become nothing but relics dug up far in the future.”
“But...” Milly shook her head, overwhelmed, and barely able to speak. “How am I supposed to help with this?” She kept shaking her head. “I don’t know how to battle or anything along those lines.” She rounded her eyes at Adlin. “I’m a twenty-first century woman who sells real estate not some sort of...savior of history!” Overwhelmed but determined, she stood. “I don’t belong here. I’ve had enough. I’m ready to go home.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure you can help with that.”
“He can and he will,” Grant said, his voice soothing on her raw nerves. “But first, I beg of you Milly, hear Adlin out. Hear all of us out. Then make your decision.”
“I don’t see how anything he says is going to make a difference,” she said.
“Mayhap not,” Grant said. “But mayhap.” His eyes held hers. “Please, just listen. ‘Tis all I’m asking, lass.”
Milly’s eyes stayed with his before they flickered over the men then returned to Grant. “I will just as long as they stop staring at me like I’m some sort of prize to be claimed.”
Conall and Graham had the decency to look away and mutter words of apology but not Bryce. His eyes remained on her but his words, at least, were kind. “My apologies, lass. I willnae claim you against your will, but I willnae remove my eyes from you until I know with certainty you dinnae belong to me.”
Belong to him? Wow. Now there was some genuine medieval talk.
Blair shook her head and snorted. “Dinnae mind him, lass. Bryce would never hurt you.” Her eyes shot to his and her brows perked. “Right, Laird MacLeod?”
“Aye,” he concurred, but those golden eyes of his didn’t budge an inch.
So Milly refocused on Adlin as she sat. “Okay, tell me the rest then take me home.”
Adlin nodded.
“According to Aðísla’s vision, you and I were at the Battle of Stirling Bridge on the eleventh of September in our Lord’s year, twelve ninety seven.” Adlin’s hand slid into hers. “Only because your gem glowed the color of my eyes, did Sir William Wallace and Andrew Moray defeat the English.” Adlin squeezed her hand. “Because of you and me, history became what it is today not what it was supposed to be.”
Chapter Six
ADLIN WATCHED MILDRED closely as she considered his words, Aðísla’s vision. She seemed more stunned than anything.
“So you’re telling me that this gem.” Milly held up her finger. “Is essentially supposed to save Scotland?”
“Essentially,” he concurred. “But there’s more to it, lass. Much more.”
“How much more?” She looked from the ring to him. “Because as far as I can tell there can’t be much more if this ring doesn’t even work right.” She made a flourish with her hand at his cousins then him. “And it definitely doesn’t based on what’s happening. Heck, Adlin, this gem’s color doesn’t match anyone’s eyes.”
True, and that alarmed him to no end. Because somewhere out there, it did match someone’s eyes and he feared who that might be.
“That doesnae dispel what Aðísla saw,” he said. “And that ‘twas you and I that helped bring about Wallace’s success.”
“William Wallace,” she whispered and shook her head. “So you mean to tell me I’m going to meet William Wallace? The infamous Guardian of Scotland?”
“You know your history,” he murmured, impressed but not overly surprised that she had educated herself. “Aye, one and the same.”
Mildred shook her head and simply stared at him in disbelief.
“If it makes ye feel more comfortable, lass,” Graham said. “My ma, da, aunts, and uncles all met Wallace and Robert the Bruce when the lads were but wee bairns. ‘Twas because of them that the men have a secret if not turbulent alliance as adults.”
Mildred’s eyes never left Adlin’s as she kept shaking her head.
“We dinnae know why the ring’s gem is so fickle,” Adlin continued. “But ‘tis our only hope right now. Once we go back in time to the Battle of Stirling Bridge, I’m sure everything will be as it should. Then from there, my cousins will be able to fight their battles until we ensure the treaty that will lead this country in the right direction.”
“Fight their battles,” Mildred said softly as her eyes turned their way. “All because this ring’s gem is supposed to match your eyes, Adlin?”
“Aye.” He didn’t dare meet Grant’s eyes but wondered if his mentor knew Mildred’s magic was stirring. If he could feel it. It was picking up something he was surprised his cousins had not asked about considering the Claddagh rings had brought their parents together.
“What about my friends?” Mildred’s eyes returned to Adlin. “I’ve learned a lot from your mom and Aunt Cassie about connections across time.” Curious, her eyes flickered from the men back to him. “Are you telling me that despite what’s happened generation after generation between Brouns and MacLomains, that you and I are the last stop?” Her eyes fell to the ring. “That this is all that’s left?” Her eyes returned to his. “That you and I are the spark that gets the ball rolling and that’s all it’ll take? My friends will never be involved?”
Adlin was well aware of how still his cousins had become.
How closely they were watching him.
“Ye shouldnae tell them yet, lad,” Grant said into his mind. “’Tis enough what they’re dealing with now. Mildred’s ring. The potential of more fated lasses will only complicate things.”
“I dinnae know.” Adlin debated it. Perhaps telling them of the others would get their focus off of Mildred. “’Tis not sitting overly well with me anymore lying to my kin such as I am.”
“Adlin MacLomain,” Grant chastised. “Remember that ye were once the elder and I the bairn so I know well the way yer mind works even if ‘tis a different life.”
Adlin couldn’t help a small smile.
“What are you smiling at?” Conall frowned as he looked from Adlin to Grant. “Another private conversation where you manipulate the lives of your loved ones?”
Adlin sighed and did his best to stay out of things. Conall’s grudge against Grant was long and as many things were, misunderstood. Grant had lost a son, and Conall a father, and his cousin was unwilling or unable to see things for how they had been.
“There are more important things to focus on than your paranoia, Conall.” Grant looked from man to man. “The bigger issue now is who might be affecting Milly’s ring because have no doubt, someone is. And ‘tis for that reason, whether or not Milly joins you, that all of you must travel back in time with Adlin. There is an unseen enemy that needs to be dealt with. One I fear is far more powerful than Wallace can handle.”
“I will be there, Adlin,” Bryce ground out. “I will stand by your side always, Cousin.”
Graham nodded. “As will I.”
“For the love of Scotland,” Conall said. “I wouldnae be anywhere else.”
“Nor I,” Blair said. “I will accompany you.”
“As will I,” Aðísla agreed as her eyes met Adlin’s and her voice warmed with a bit too much affection. “You will need me.”
He knew what she was up to and though he should not feed into it, he did.
“I will need you as well, Aðísla.” He kept his ey
es with hers and his voice a little too soft to be considered decent. “I’ve always needed you.”
“So let me get this straight,” Mildred finally spoke up. “You’re all going back to this battle to protect William Wallace and the fate of Scotland even if I don’t go? Even if you don’t have the ring and the power and...” she shrugged. “The backing of a vision?”
Adlin could tell by the way Mildred was eying Aðísla that she was jealous and he couldn’t be more pleased. Naturally, Aðísla was using that to everyone’s advantage. Devious Viking. If she could have winked at him without Mildred seeing she probably would have because his lass had fallen right into her trap. If Mildred were truly interested in Adlin, it would give her a reason to join them. Because if not, Adlin might just end up with Aðísla. Or so they hoped that’s what Mildred thought.
Meanwhile, Grant picked up where Adlin and Aðísla left off.
“Surely you ken there isnae anything we wouldnae do for our country, Milly.” Both sadness and determination lit his eyes. “With or without your ring and the love destined to exist betwixt you and Adlin, we will go, and we will fight. Protect.” His voice softened, became more intense. “Otherwise, having the knowledge we do, are we not solely responsible for the demise of our country? Our countrymen and their kin?”
“I cannae imagine a world without Scotland,” Blair whispered, swiftly following in Grant’s wake. Though her chin was jutted out in defiance, her eyes were damp as they met Mildred’s. “So much gone. So much culture and life.” She swallowed hard before she took a deep swig of ale. “Such a great loss.”
Mildred sighed and frowned as her lips twisted in consideration and her eyes went to Aðísla. “If I hadn’t traveled back in time less than twenty-four hours ago and learned that magic existed, I probably wouldn’t be asking you this. But I did, so I am.” Her eyes stayed locked firmly on the Viking. “What exactly did you see in this vision of yours? How precisely did Adlin and I help William Wallace?”
When Aðísla began by saying, “The ring,” Mildred shook her head and sat forward.
“No, I want more.” She narrowed her eyes. “I want an exact image. I want to know how I made a difference.”
Aðísla’s gaze flickered from Adlin to Mildred before she murmured, “It is not always wise to ask to see so much.”
“Tell me.” Mildred’s eyes swung from Adlin to Aðísla. “Tell me so that I have more to go on.”
“More than Scotland falling beneath Sassenach rule?” Conall bit out. “Ceasing to exist?”
Mildred didn’t bother looking his way but kept her eyes locked on Aðísla.
The Viking considered her for a long moment before she nodded, stood, then crouched in front of Mildred. “If you are so determined to see, woman, then give me your hands, and I will show you.”
“Nay, ‘tis not a good idea,” Adlin murmured but knew Mildred well enough to know she would not back down. She needed proof, so she took Aðísla’s hands. Half a breath later, she yanked them away, her eyes wide as she shook her head. “That can’t be right.”
She had been shown the vision very quickly.
All she needed to know.
“But it is,” Aðísla said softly as she stood, her eyes still with Mildred’s. “Now you must decide if you want Adlin to go it alone. More than that, you must decide if you’re willing to lead him to his fate.”
“Hell,” Mildred whispered and shook her head. “This is...” Her eyes went to Adlin. “This is more than should be asked of anyone.”
“Yet you saw it,” Adlin said. “Felt it.” He took her hand. “’Twill be all right, Mildred. ‘Twill be worth it.”
“How can you say that?” she murmured, sadness in her eyes. “Because I just saw your death.”
“You saw what looked like my death,” he said. “You saw what needed to happen to save Wallace and turn that battle in his favor.”
“So you don’t die?”
“’Tis hard to know,” he said. “’Tis not as likely if Aðísla is there. Few are as powerful at healing as she.”
What he would not tell her was that while Aðísla was most certainly a good healer, she was an even better prophet. If she saw Adlin’s death at Sterling Bridge, then it would happen. But that was the least of his worries, especially if it meant saving his country. More so, if it meant spending at least some time with Mildred before he met his ultimate demise.
“I see,” Mildred whispered before she squeezed her eyes shut then opened them as she shook her head. “What am I supposed to do now?”
This time Adlin crouched in front of her, took her hands and kept his eyes on hers. “Travel back with me and my kin. Meet Wallace. Help save Scotland.”
“I still don’t see how this is all going to pan out with my ring going haywire,” she argued, but he saw the defiant flicker in her eyes as they searched his. Mildred had not liked what she saw. She didn’t want to lose him.
“We will deal with that when the time comes.” He fell to his knees and cupped her cheeks. “As we have before, we will handle whatever Fate throws our way, Mildred. Please trust that if you trust nothing else.”
Mildred was about to respond when her eyes fell to her ring, she squinted then turned her head away. “Why is it suddenly so bright? What’s going on?”
“Bloody hell,” Adlin muttered as the pressure dropped. He pulled Mildred into his arms as he stood, freed his blade and kept his eyes on his surroundings. “Grant?”
Grant was already chanting and trying to fight whatever was happening, but it was too powerful. Even when Adlin and his cousins joined in, it made no difference. Whatever had them was strong.
“Hold onto me, lass,” he whispered in Mildred’s ear as he held her tight. “It seems we’re going on an adventure sooner than expected.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest and said nothing as colors swirled around them. Whatever magic it was, it didn’t seem all that threatening. Just pressing. In a rush.
As all modes of time travel worked, this one was not much different. The wind soon stopped, and the pressure returned to normal, leaving them wherever they were. Which, unfortunately, proved to be at the end of a great many swords.
“Who goes there,” came a sharp voice. “Declare yerself now, strangers.”
Adlin took in the clothing and state of the men surrounding them. Though most wore trousers, he was able to figure out what clans they belonged to by the scraps of plaids tying off their braids.
“Declare yerself,” the voice repeated, more persistent this time.
Mildred remained perfectly still against him as Adlin scanned the forest. The only kin he saw was Graham, but he knew the others had made it. All but Grant.
Now he needed to make a decision based on little knowledge. Say who he was or remain vague. On the one hand, if he said who he was and these were Wallace sympathizers, all would be well. But if they weren’t, that could be very bad. It all depended on where they landed in time because if he sensed nothing else, it was close to where they needed to be.
Mildred’s hand twisted in his tunic and her eyes slowly rose to his as she whispered, “Tell them the truth, Adlin.”
As their eyes held, he realized she wasn’t quite herself. Either because of her own repressed magic or someone else’s. She held up her hand between them. There was no missing the shine of the gem. Whatever was here was calling to her. All the more reason to say nothing.
It soon became the least of his concerns as a blade slipped around Mildred’s neck, and dark eyes narrowed on Adlin.
Now there were a lot of ways in which he could be handled to get answers, but threatening his lass’s life wasn’t one of them. Adlin did not care where he was or what he should or shouldn’t do but muttered a chant and flung out his hand. The man’s blade whipped away seconds before Adlin wrapped his hand around his throat and he drove him against a tree. The man might be close to his size, but he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Anyone steps closer to us, and this man is
done for,” Adlin roared.
“Declare yerself,” came the same voice, but far closer.
“Just tell him,” Mildred whispered into his mind without realizing it. “It’s okay.”
But it might not be. The MacLomains were known in many circles and if these men were English sympathizers then...
“We’re of Clan MacLomain,” Graham roared as he ducked, twirled, swung his blade and worked his own brand of magic until he was able to take up position in front of Mildred. “Loyal to Scotland and Scotland only!”
Silence fell over the forest before a tall, relatively muscled man appeared and gestured that his men stand down. His sharp eyes went from Mildred and Graham to Adlin, his voice gravely when he spoke softly. “If ye need to end that man’s life, know that yer taking one of Scotland’s finest.”
Their eyes held as Adlin considered his words. “I dinnae take kindly to anyone threatening my lass’s life.”
“Aye.” The man gestured at Mildred. “But is she not safe enough now, lad?”
“Ye tell me.” Adlin’s eyes swept over the men surrounding them. “I cannae say I feel all that confident in her safety just yet.”
When the man made another gesture, all faded into the forest. That by no means meant they were gone. No, he suspected the man he held was far more important than anyone was letting on. So his eyes met the lad’s. “Are ye familiar with the MacLomains then? Have ye heard the rumors about what we’re capable of?”
Unfortunately, or fortunately depending, despite how discreet he and his fellow clansmen had been over the past decade or two, rumors had started to circulate about Clan MacLomain. Some claimed they were heretics and practitioners of the dark arts. Where even fifty winters ago that might have meant less, nowadays, with the English intrusion and Christianity more common than paganism, that meant very bad things for his clan.
The man kept a level eye on him and pointed at his throat, as calm as he had been since first being slammed against the tree. Adlin narrowed his eyes before he loosened his hold enough that the man could speak.
Sworn to a Highland Laird Page 8
