CHRISTINA COULD ONLY thank the Lord Almighty that not only Robert had spoken about current events but then Lindsay and Conall had spent the dwindling hours of the evening before educating her on the Battle of Bannockburn. If they hadn’t, she might not understand—outside of being under attack—why everyone was in a complete uproar right now.

Robert had been amiable and overly attentive as they strolled together the previous evening. While he had most certainly been wooing her, he was also very much wrapped up in what would come about today. While he was pleased with his current victory, he remained worried about the Welsh archers the Earl of Pembrokeshire had amassed on behalf of Edward II.

Though Robert had ordered hundreds of yew longbows to be crafted, it seemed he could only find five hundred men with the skills, and inclination, to wield them. That, he explained, was not nearly enough to suit him against what they faced.

“Well, you’ve got Bryce on your side now,” she had said. “And from what I’ve seen, he’s pretty amazing with a bow and arrow.”

He gave her an interested look. “More so, with ye around, aye, lass?”

She stated the obvious. “So you saw Bryce, and I fight together.”

“I didnae, but some of my men did,” he replied. “And though many run superstitious ‘twas in a good way knowing ye two will be fighting alongside us on the morrow.”

Though he had invited her into his tent, Lindsay intercepted and requested that Christina spend the night with her. It was the decent thing to do, which Robert couldn’t argue with.

Despite the disappointment in his eyes, he pulled her close for a kiss she should have seen coming. Though it was nice enough, it couldn’t nearly touch Graham’s kisses. Lindsay called her on it too as they sat by the fire later.

“Do you love him then, Christina?” she asked softly.

“Love who?”

“You know who,” Lindsay replied. “Graham.”

Though tempted to shake her head and say no, nothing came out. Not at first anyway. It had felt like the ground dropped out from beneath her when he declared his love for her earlier. She couldn’t remember a man ever doing that.

Not the way he had.

Not with that look in his eyes.

More so, she couldn’t remember ever feeling the way she had when he did.

“Well?” Lindsay prompted, her voice still soft. “Do you?”

“Honey, outside of Granny, you, Mils, and Jessie, I’m not sure I know what love is,” she replied honestly. “Do I like Graham much better than any other man I’ve ever met? Heck, yeah.”

Lindsay only gave her a whimsical knowing look before Conall joined them and she learned more about the infamous Battle of Bannockburn. Most especially the second day of the battle.

Today.

And being attacked by the English first thing in the morning was way off.

It was supposed to be the other way around. The Scots were supposed to eat breakfast then advance on the English.

Nonetheless, she was ready to fight, so she took the weapons given to her. Men were racing in every direction as they exited the tent. Graham and Bryce stuck close to her with Sven not that far behind.

Then she just let her gift take over and engaged the first English warrior that came at her. Still in the heart of the Scots’ encampment, she fought for all she was worth. Thrusting, spinning, dodging, jumping, it became an amazing, exhilarating dance just like it had before.

She didn’t think about those she killed but about protecting her friends and Graham.

And, most certainly, Scotland’s history.

Her heart raced, and her adrenaline rushed. It was fast and crazy, but not in a way that looked like it was going to have a good outcome. More Englishmen seemed to be standing than Scotsmen as she, Graham and Bryce fought their way toward the outside of the encampment. As she assured Robert, Bryce did an excellent job shooting off arrows, but sadly enough, he was outnumbered as were Robert’s prized archers.

This had been an ambush.

A well-planned one at that.

“Just focus on fighting, lass,” Graham said into her mind. “Nothing else. Just fighting.”

He was trying to warn her against looking around too much, but it couldn’t be helped.

Too many were falling.

The Scottish were losing.

This made no sense. How could this be happening when day one of the battle went as it should have? What had changed? She didn’t suppose it mattered at this point. The damage was done, and everything was going very, very wrong.

The Scots were being slaughtered, and history was about to change for the worst.

“Dinnae fight to the death,” Grant’s words floated through her mind, and she suspected everyone else’s. “If we cannae save this battle, there is the slightest chance that we can save the next.”

Christina knew that wasn’t true. Grant was speaking out of fear for his immediate kin, and she didn’t blame him. Every couple needed to come together properly. The rings’ magic needed to be ignited. She never understood that better than she did now as so much Scottish blood spilled.

It was as if she could feel the very essence of the country bleeding away.

Fading.

If they lost here today, Scotland’s ultimate ruin would be set in motion. She didn’t doubt it for a moment. This was it. The beginning of the end.

Angry that it had come to this despite how hard Grant and his family had tried to save their beloved country, she fought with a whole new ferociousness. One that had her slashing men down before they ever saw her coming. One that had her roaring in denial.

Where was her warlock?

Where was the cause of all this?

She wanted its blood more than she had ever wanted anything. She wanted to chase it down and wrestle the God forsaken evil right out of it. Slay it so thoroughly that even hell wouldn’t exist for it. Wipe its scummy residue from the Earth.

Almost as if her prayers were answered, she could have sworn she saw it just ahead through the forest. The same slippery shadow she and Graham had seen in their dream. Eyes narrowed, thinking only of Scotland and even Jessie now, she raced after it. When she did, she kept utilizing her gift and sprinted with all the power she had.

“Och, lass, slow down!” Graham and Bryce roared into her mind, but she didn’t listen. She was out for vengeance, and nothing was going to stop her. She would kill it for what it was doing to this country and her friends. More than that, she would kill it because of what had happened to Kenna. Because, one way or another, if it weren’t for these evil warlocks, her friend would still be alive.

Clearly startled that she could move so fast and was gaining ground, the warlock spun back and confronted her. Seeing nothing but its tall, slimy darkness, she roared again and thrust hard.

Only for Graham’s blade to intercept hers.

Somehow, he had caught up and managed to stop her. But why?

“What are you doing?” she seethed, wide-eyed and furious, only to find the warlock clutching none other than Jessie in front of him.

Dear Lord, she had nearly run a sword through her friend.

“Kill me, Christina,” Jessie said, her face without expression and her voice level as her eyes held Christina’s. “Graham, step away and let Christina do what she needs to do. It’s the only way.”

“Yes, kill her,” the warlock rasped, his eyes trained on Christina. “Run that sword through her, warrioress.”

Bryce and Sven skidded to a stop, their eyes taking in the tense situation.

“Absolutely not.” Christina shook her head as she lowered her blade and narrowed her eyes at the warlock. “Release my friend.”

“Kill me,” Jessie said calmly, her eyes steady. “Or he will kill you, Christina.”

Something about the way her friend was looking at her made everything else fall away. Almost as if she could sense her in a whole new way. The steady throb of her heart. The utter lack of fear someone facing imminent death should feel.

Jessie was trying to tell her something with that look.

She was letting her know it was okay to let go.

That this was meant to be.

As if caught in the same thought process, she felt Graham’s mind skirt alongside Jessie’s. They mutually agreed. It was as though they saw something only Jessie could show them. Something they barely understood but trusted. They trusted the feeling so much that they ended up doing the unthinkable.

Christina and Graham plunged their blades into Jessie at the same time.

Or so they thought.

At the last moment, evidently sensing what they were going to do, the warlock thrust Jessie aside and took the blade for her.

Then everything happened very quickly. 

The warlock shuddered, his saddened eyes firmly locked on Jessie as he wailed mournfully, decomposed rapidly then burst into a cloud of dust. Meanwhile, Jessie’s eyes narrowed on Sven and Bryce whose eyes narrowed right back.

“Death comes to those who fly,” she whispered, repeating the same words Rona had said back in New Hampshire. “Death comes to Scotland.”

Then she bolted into the woods.

Half a second later, Sven and Bryce bolted after her.

Though she should probably race after them, she was too stunned and needed a moment to process everything. Jessie would be okay. Two dragons had her back.

“What the hell just happened,” Christina murmured, dumbfounded as her eyes fell to the pile of ashes. All that was left of the warlock. “Did we just kill...” her eyes floated to Graham. “Did we just kill our warlock? Was it that easy?”

“Based on your gem,” he said softly, his eyes on her ring, “I’d say we did.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered as she stared at it. “Am I seeing things or is my gem a beautiful shade of deep dark brown?”

“I’d say mayhap ‘tis,” he murmured, smiling as his eyes met hers. Gorgeous eyes the same exact shade as her gem. “I’m fairly certain we just ignited our MacLomain, Broun magic.” He shook his head. “I never should have been able to move fast enough to stop your blade from hurting Jessie.” Awe lit his eyes. “And I’ve never seen you glow as brightly as you did when we destroyed the warlock.” His smile widened in what some might call triumph. “Not even when you and Bryce fought together.”

She barely breathed, and her heart hammered in anticipation as she looked from him to the ring several times before she whispered, “Does this mean what I hope it means?”

He took her hand and reeled her closer. “What do you hope it means, lass?”

“I think you know.”

“I’d rather hear you say it.”

“I bet you would.”

He grinned. “So?”

She met his grin. “I guess I hope it might mean you’re my one true love.”

He perked his brows, pulling her closer still. “You guess you hope it might mean? ‘Tis bloody vague, lass.” His eyes stayed with hers. “What do you want, Christina?”

She didn’t have to think twice.

“Well, you, handsome.” She winked and kept grinning. “Who else?”

Before she could get another word out, she was firmly against him, and his lips were on hers. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet or curled her toes with desire while still standing up. Their tongues tasted and sampled and the kiss deepened but not for long.

“I dinnae mean to disturb ye but ‘tis time to battle and I thought ye might like to watch if nothing else,” Robert the Bruce’s voice interrupted.

Surprised, Christina and Graham pulled apart, only to find themselves standing in front of a fire outside of Robert’s tent. It was still morning, and all the signs of warfare and slaughter had vanished. Instead, it appeared all were marching off to a battle that had yet to take place.

“Yes,” she whispered and nodded, more than a little confused.

“It seems the second day of battle is about to begin,” Grant informed as he, Adlin, Milly, Conall, and Lindsay joined them. His pleased eyes went to Christina and Graham. “We Scots are getting ready to march on the Sassenach.”

“We did it then,” she whispered, her eyes drifting to Graham’s. “We fixed history?”

“Aye,” he murmured, with nothing but adoration in his eyes. “So it seems.”

“Och, I look forward to my wife looking at me like that again,” Robert muttered. “But first we’ve got to win this battle then take back Stirling Castle.”

His wife? He remembered her? Better yet, she existed once more? That’s when she noticed that Robert no longer gazed at her with desire. If anything, he looked at her with simple fondness.

Adlin and Grant smiled at her and nodded, evidently having followed everything that just happened. All was exactly as it should be now. Or should she say so far? She wasn’t foolish enough to think things couldn’t go wrong still. Not when it came to magic. And not considering how darn easy it was to kill their warlock. Nevertheless, everyone was certainly more optimistic as they joined Robert and headed for a battle none would soon forget.

“Unless we are needed, we will sit this one out,” Adlin informed Robert. “We shouldnae risk being remembered in history if possible and this battle is fairly well documented.”

“Aye, of course.” Robert nodded, a pleased and emboldened look in his eyes as they met Adlin’s. “That tells me victory will be ours.”

Adlin only shrugged and grinned, but it was more than enough. Who knows? It might have been the final push of confidence Robert the Bruce needed to win today’s battle.

A battle, thankfully, that Graham explained to Christina in better detail as the events unfolded. Events they made sure to stay far away from this time so they wouldn’t inadvertently end up in the midst of battle again.

The Scots advanced out of Balquhidderock Wood to face the enemy as the morning sun crested the horizon. Abbot Bernard of Arbroath carried the Scots’ ancient lucky talisman, the Breccbennach—or Monymusk Relquary—which held the relics of St. Columba.

“Wow,” Christina whispered, in awe of the sight.

Robert made an impressive, rallying speech invoking the power of St. Andrew, John the Baptist and Thomas Beckett. His men roared their approval, their eyes eager and full of battle lust. Shortly after that, horns resounded, and war standards flew in the cool morning wind.

“What’s happening now?” she murmured as the Scots grew quiet and respectful.

“That is Abbot Maurice of Inchaffrey,” Graham explained as a robed man walked out in front of the army. “He will lead mass now.”

As he did, the Scots knelt in prayer.

As it turned out, the tactic was more than just spiritual.

“That will allow Robert’s captains a few extra crucial minutes to form the battle lines,” Graham said. “Where across the Carse, King Edward, and his army thinks we Scots are surrendering.”

As she nodded, Graham continued, explaining how Edward reputedly said, “Yon folk are kneeling to ask mercy.”

Then Sir Ingram de Umfraville, a Balliol supporter fighting for Edward, replied, “They ask for mercy, but not from you. They ask God for mercy for their sins. I’ll tell you something for a fact, that yon men will win all or die. None will flee for fear of death.”

“So be it,” Edward retorted.

Bunch of dumb asses, Christina thought. But thank God for downright stupidity and arrogance.

“That whole stretch is the Bannockburn,” Graham informed, pointing out the long, snaking waterway for which the battle was named. “’Twill most certainly prove King Edward’s nemesis.”

“Then it’s good the battle ended up where it’s supposed to,” she remarked.

“Aye,” Graham agreed, keeping her hand in his the entire time. She got the sense based on their excitement that he and his cousins would have loved to battle here.

An archery duel soon followed, but the Scots schiltrom rapidly took the offensive to avoid its inevitable outcome. Robert’s brother, Edward’s schiltrom advanced on the English vanguard and took down the Earl of Gloucester and Sir Robert Clifford, while Randolph’s schiltrom closed in on their left.

“Rumor has it, just before this happened an argument broke out between King Edward and the Earl of Gloucester,” Graham commented.

“It seems he complained that the Sassenach forces needed rest after spending a sleepless eve in the marshland getting eaten alive by Scottish midges last night.” He smiled and continued. “When the King accused the earl of cowardice in front of the men, Gloucester did what you just witnessed. He jumped on his horse and charged the Scots.” He gestured at the battlefield. “And that’s how he ended up. Carved up in full view of both sides.” He nodded, pleased. “Another morale dampener to be sure.”

“It does my heart bloody good to see Robert Clifford finally fall as well,” Conall muttered to Lindsay. “He’ll never have the pleasure of being enchanted by you again, lass.”

Lindsay had enchanted Robert Clifford when she and Conall were on their adventure. In doing so, she had saved a band of Scots from being slaughtered on a hillside outside Happrew. Instead, as she continued to enchant Robert, an ambush was set up, and the English were killed. All but Robert who they allowed to escape so he could someday be a part of history.

More importantly, so he would die today.

“Now see what’s happening,” Graham said to Christina, impressed as they watched. “The Sassenach knights are caught in between the Scots schiltroms and the mass of their own army and cannae bring many archers to bear.”

He pointed to show her what was happening. “Some are trying to break out on the Scots flank to down them with arrows.” He shook his head. “But ‘tis too late. They’re already being dispersed by Sir Robert Keith’s Scots cavalry.” He chuckled. “The rest were badly deployed. Now their arrows fall into the backs of their own army!”

In the center of the field, a ferocious, deadly hand to hand combat between knights and spearmen ensued as it almost seemed the battle hung in the balance.

“See what the Bruce does now.” Graham pointed in another direction. “’Tis a crucial moment and he acts wisely committing his own schiltrom.” He smiled, pleased. “They include Gaelic warriors from the Highlands and Isles.”

Her eyes widened as the English seemed to be losing ground under the onslaught. Meanwhile, the Scots warriors cried, “On them! On them! They fail!”, as they drove the English back into the burn.

“Och, the bloody cowards,” Graham seethed as he scanned the battlefield then narrowed his eyes on a retreating retinue. “Now that the battle’s momentum is obvious, they’re escorting King Edward away.” He shrugged. “I might not like it but ‘tis as it needs to be.” He shot her a crooked grin, excited. “Because just watch what happens next.”

As Edward’s royal standard departed, panic set in.

The English knew they were in trouble.

The Scots schiltroms hacked their way into the disintegrating English army. Those fleeing caused chaos in the massed infantry behind them. In the rout that followed hundreds of men and horses were drowned in the burn desperately trying to escape.

It was nothing short of incredible watching everything unfold first-hand.

Though somewhat overwhelmed by the large-scale loss of life, she wasn’t as horrified as she figured she should be. Perhaps because of her gift igniting? Or perhaps because of the men she had so recently killed. Whatever the cause, something had changed inside her and made seeing all of this easier to cope with.

Even so, she was glad when the battle eventually came to an end.

Scotland had won.

“Sassenach casualties are heavy,” Graham reported, relish in his eyes as he peered down at the remnants of the battle. “Thousands of infantry, at least one hundred knights and one earl lays dead on the field.”

According to Conall and Lindsay the night before, some escaped the confusion including the Earl of Pembroke and his Welsh infantry. They made it safely to Carlisle, but many more, including several knights and the Earl of Hereford, were captured as they fled through the south of Scotland. Edward II with five hundred knights was pursued by Sir James “the Black” Douglas until they reached Dunbar and the safety of a ship to take them home.

The capture of Edward would have meant instant English recognition of the Scots demands. As it was, the British could absorb such a defeat and continue the war. Nevertheless, for the Scots, it was still a resounding victory. Robert was left in total military control of Scotland, which would enable him to transfer his campaign to the north of England.

“Politically, he just won Scotland’s defacto independence and consolidated his kingship as former supporters of Balliol will quickly change sides,” Graham said. “In exchange for Bruce’s noble captives, Edward will be forced to release Bruce’s wife, daughter and the formidable Bishop Wishart, who’s been held in English captivity since thirteen hundred and six.”

For the Scots soldiers, there was the wealth of booty left in the English baggage train and the exhilaration of victory. It wasn’t long before word spread that Stirling Castle’s gates had opened and the English within surrendered.

“Do ye wish to head that way and see the castle without...”

“Nope, I’m good,” Christina replied before Graham had a chance to finish. “I think I’ve seen all I want of Stirling Castle for one lifetime.”

“Then let’s head back to the encampment.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. “’Tis bound to be a night of celebration.”

She grinned back, well aware of what he meant. Yet, she worried.

“What do you think happened to Jessie?” She shook her head. “And Bryce and Sven?”

“’Tis hard to know,” Grant said sometime later as they sat around a fire outside. “But I suspect we’ll find out soon enough.” A wise look entered his eyes. “I would say Bryce has begun his adventure. It can be no other way now that ‘tis clear Christina is not meant for him.”

Milly frowned. “So he's on his adventure with Sven along?”

“Aye, it seems verra likely,” Adlin said. “But he’s a good ally to have and verra likely part of all this somehow.”

“As is Aðísla,” Lindsay murmured. “Someone we’ve barely seen this time around.”

“Someone Sven is in pursuit of,” Conall added as he kept an arm around Lindsay.

Adlin shrugged. “I dinnae doubt he will catch up with her in the end.”

“I suppose I always figured she would return to her people after we corrected Scotland’s history.” Graham frowned. “So I dinnae ken why Sven is here at all.”

“Nor do any of us,” Adlin said. “But I’m sure we will before all is said and done.”

Grant’s eyes went between Christina and Graham as his voice grew soft. “You should know that Sven sent Adlin and me one last telepathic message before he vanished. It seems Kenna did confide in him about why she thought you two coming together was going to make all the difference for this country.”

A respectful silence fell as he continued.

“She dreamt about you racing through the woods this morning determined to end the warlock...determined if nothing else to avenge her death.” He looked back and forth between them. “Both of you. Together. As a team fighting with the unmistakable passion of two people who had fallen in love and would do anything to protect Scotland. Anything to ensure a brighter future for her country.”

“Why not tell us this sooner?” Graham murmured, pain in his eyes.

“Because she didnae want to risk disturbing your destiny, lad. Or Chistina’s. She wanted you both to have the happiness you deserve and of course save her country in the process.” Dampness glistened in his eyes. “May she be at peace with God now. For she was the best sort of person, indeed. One with a great deal of courage in a situation where most would lack it. She was an admiral Scotswoman and a true hero.”

All murmured a prayer as Graham squeezed Christina’s hand. Though this might not be easy, as their eyes met, they couldn’t be more grateful. Certainly not that they’d lost Kenna, but that they had found each other in a way they never expected. They would never forget her. What she had done for them and most certainly what she had sacrificed for Scotland.

After that, the conversation revolved around fond childhood memories of Kenna as everyone bid her goodbye. As the night wore on, however, they began focusing on what was going to happen next. Were Bryce and Jessie already on their adventure together?

“Jessie had no wound that I could see when we faced off with the warlock,” Graham pointed out, clearly having given it some thought based on his almost hopeful expression. “So mayhap ‘twas not her that I hit with my dagger in the forest.”

“No wound that you could see,” Christina said softly. “Things were pretty intense and happening fast. Not a lot of time to look her over. She could have very well had a wound bandaged up and hidden beneath clothing.”

“Aye,” Graham agreed. “True.”

“What concerns me more is the obvious connection she shared with that warlock.” Christina fought a shiver. “What are we supposed to make of the fact our warlock sacrificed its existence to save Jessie?” She frowned, saddened. “It seems pretty clear she’s wrapped up in dark magic somehow...maybe even in control of it.”

“Aye, mayhap,” Grant said, his tone soft and contemplative. “Yet ‘tis also clear she’s trying to destroy it.”

Milly frowned and shook her head. “I find it hard to believe she’s capable of being part of something so dark, to begin with.”

“I second that,” Lindsay said.

“Well, ‘tis not to worry over this eve.” Adlin offered an infectious grin no doubt intended to lighten the mood. “Let us enjoy this victory before we face yet another battle, aye?”

Everyone nodded and continued to enjoy one another’s company. They would spend one more night here in case Jessie, Bryce and Sven returned then leave in the morning.

As to be expected, Robert the Bruce, as well as his brother and nephew, were in excellent spirits. Though Robert spent little time with them, he expressed his gratefulness to all for being there. For making right history though he didn’t have the first clue how they did so. It seemed he had no memory of dreaming of Christina all those years ago and certainly no recollection of wanting to marry her. He didn’t even remember kissing her the night before.

“He kissed you then?” Graham said into her mind, grinning though she didn’t miss the jealousy in his eyes. “And here I thought you were tucked safely away with Lindsay.”

“A kiss can happen awful quick,” she teased. “And be forgotten just as quickly.”

“Aye.” He eyed her with the sort of promise that made her squeeze her thighs together. “I’ll most certainly see to that, lass.”

“I must admit though,” Robert interrupted their internal conversation as his warm eyes turned her way. “I feel an unexplainable connection to ye, lass. One of friendship though we dinnae know each other all that well.”

She smiled and nodded. “You’ll always have my friendship, Robert.”

When Christina and Graham finally stood sometime later, long past ready to be alone, everybody grinned. Most especially Conall and Lindsay.

“’Tis verra good things worked out for you two,” Adlin said, his smile widening.

“Aye.” Grant nodded, smiling as well though his expression grew a little more serious. “You have our apologies for, well, thinking things might have had to go in a different direction.”

A different direction? Though tempted to scowl at them, all she was capable of now was a wide smile as she winked. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Then it was just plain old fun as she and Graham acted like a couple of high school kids just falling in love. Though they knew they bypassed friendship and shot right to something more in a heartbeat, it didn’t matter. Especially considering how awful it had felt to have everything forced to a halt yesterday.

A mere twenty-four hours ago that felt more like months.

They skipped the small talk and pretty much tripped over themselves getting into their tent. Between stealing kisses, laughing and ripping their clothes off, they barely made it to the cot. Once they did though, everything faded away. The merry pipes in the distance and the partying.

All that existed was them.

This.

What they had found.

Their kisses intensified as his touch became more tender, and their bodies brushed along one another’s. She might be a warrior at heart, but she suspected he would always have a way of making her feel soft and feminine.

His touch was light at first as he left her mouth, nibbled down her neck then swooped lower. He tasted every inch of her, starting with her breasts before he worked his way down. She thought her heart had been thundering before, but it couldn’t touch what he invoked as he explored.

Her senses came alive in a way they never had before.

Her magic.

She could hear his heartbeat racing along with hers, then synchronizing, before every sensation grew even stronger. His spicy scent magnified and wrapped around her. The heated texture of his skin. The feel of his rock-solid body so close to hers.

He seemed to swirl around every part of her from the inside out. It blew her mind and his too based on his groan of appreciation as he moved lower. Once his talented mouth was between her legs any awareness of magic entirely vanished.

All she knew was how he made her feel.

Alive. Wonderful. Without end.

When she climaxed, things became even fuzzier but more amazing. Colors zig-zagged every which way as she cried out. Then he was over her again and spreading her thighs even wider.

“Graham,” she whispered into his mind, so far gone she wasn’t sure if he heard her. More than that, she didn’t know what she was asking. 

It seemed he did though because he didn’t thrust quite yet. Instead, he waited, peppering kisses here and there before his eyes met hers and he waited a little longer for her to come down.

Because that’s what she needed.

She was so wrapped up in the intensity of her magic and what he had made her feel that she was afraid she might miss something. That when they came together, she might be too far gone to enjoy it.

Yet when he finally thrust, slow and easy, she was more than ready.

Their eyes never left one another’s as he moved. As their passion built. Sex with a man had never been like this. Without frenzy.

Calm and precious yet still wild somehow.

There was no rush to find completion. No endless energy she needed to exhaust. Everything she felt now was the real deal. Genuine, wonderful and normal. Well, as sizzling hot normal as it could be between a witch and wizard she supposed.

Trembling, she dug her nails into his back, wrapped her legs around his waist, and enjoyed the feeling. The lust and love. The excitement of being with him.

Never once did she take control.

Never once did she want to.

Rather, she basked in the pleasure he offered. The poignant feelings rolling through her like waves. Swells that grew stronger and stronger the more he thrust. The more he built her up. When the next climax hit, it came hard and fast, and she cried out.

Seconds later, he did the same.

So far gone again she couldn’t speak or think straight, her eyes slid shut. Sated, content, little registered after that and she drifted off to sleep.

Until a very clear voice woke her up.

“Death comes to those who fly,” Jessie murmured. “Death comes to Scotland.”

When Christina opened her eyes, she was in the last place she ever could have imagined.