The hallway was crowded with both regulars and ladies from their tour.

Times like this, standing in line for her turn at one of the two stalls, she resented men.

She glanced at the men’s restroom, which did not have a line headed out into the hall, and wondered if they had a lock inside the door.

She was tempted to check and see, but then the line moved forward and she lost her nerve.

Monica turned to whisper, “You know, I think you’re a cow, don’t you?”

Some of the tension left her in a rush, and she grinned at Monica. “Meow, meow.”

“Maybe so, and I’ll sheath my claws, but you’d better be on the lookout for one of those for me.”

Ashley laughed. “What about Garth?

Monica stifled a giggle, and then leaned forward to whisper in Ashley’s ear. “He’s awesome and all, and if you say anything, I’ll deny it, but if you get the Hulk, then I’m holding out for Thor, or Captain America. I’m not picky, I’ll take either one.”

They were both still giggling when it was their turn in the restroom. Within minutes, she was back out in the hall again, moving past pictures on the wall, and heading to the table.

The moment she spotted Ronan, her backpack still on his lap, she relaxed, the tension draining out of her.

Ronan looked up to see her approach, and smiled at her, pride in his expression.

She nodded at Garth as she slid onto the sturdy wooden seat beside Ronan. “Thank you,” she said as she took the backpack from him and set it between their two seats.

He straightened his shoulders, gave her a nod, and she felt that something had changed between them.

For herself, she’d trusted the man, and he’d proven worthy of that trust.

She sort of felt like a crazy person, because if she was honest, she was admiring his character because she was thinking in terms of being able to keep him.

Which was ridiculous! They’d just met. Still, every couple had a first meet. So why not take one baby step at a time, and who knew what could come of it? She might not get to keep him, but this was a fantasy vacation, after all, so she’d at least enjoy the fantasy for as long as possible.

* * *

As the waitress cleared their table, Logan moved through the pub and good-naturedly started to herd the crowd back onto the bus again.

Ronan had been doubtful earlier, but he was now absolutely convinced Ashley was the reason he’d been sent here. If not, well, Soni could take it up with him later.

They boarded the bus again, and the driver, who’d been bid to wait and protect the bus, was just finishing his own meal. Ronan approved the extra precaution after the earlier happenings.

He wanted to assure Ashley that, with him there, she’d be safe, but found himself tongue-tied once again as he gestured her to board first, holding out his hand to steady her.

When her hand clutched his, he helped her inside, and couldn’t help but feel a major rush of satisfaction.

Her willingness to be touched by him signaled her acceptance. In fact, even with his rough appearance, other than a few wary glances thrown his way upon occasion, everyone seemed very accepting. Beyond his comrades, something he’d not felt in his past life.

Once they were settled again, the bus started on its way as Logan stood up front. “All right, ye’ve been well fed, and I hope ye’ve had a bit of a rest and are ready to go again.”

The crowd murmured their assurances.

“Good, good. Because, up next, we are about to visit what is probably the second most haunted battlefield in all of Scotland!”

A chill of foreboding ran up Ronan’s spine as the crowd quieted at the man’s words. He glanced around to see anticipation upon their faces, but all he felt was dread.

“As it’s so close, I’ll tell ye the story as we drive. So, do you know why it’s the second most haunted battlefield in all of Scotland?” He glanced around as if waiting for an answer, then continued. “Tis because one of the bloodiest battles in Scotland’s history was fought there.”

The bus took a turn and Logan held onto the bars at his side to keep his balance. “We’re going to Prestonpans.

Ronan felt the blood drain from his face. He’d never, in life or in death, desired to go back to that place.

Logan continued. “In 1745, there was a battle fought there between two nations.” He continued to talk, but Ronan couldn’t hear him for the memories blasting inside his head.

The man got it right about the battle being bloody. They’d only used their muskets once before dropping them to the ground, and then using their broadswords and axes to hack, stab, slice off limbs, and even decapitate.

“The battle was fought for control of Edinburgh, and even for Scotland itself. The two big advantages the British Army had were their guns and dragoons. Bonnie Prince Charlie’s army was composed entirely of infantry at this time, so the British Army, led by Sir John Cope, set up camp at Prestonpans believing themselves superior and safe.”

As Ronan tried to focus on the words, he relived the battle in his mind, a flash of memory, of blood, pain, horror, filling his vision.

“The Jacobite army immediately took to the high ground. But they soon found that they could not charge the British army because there was a bog between them, and no way around it. Neither had the advantage, and neither could attack. A couple of shots were fired, but nothing came of it.”

If only it had stayed there.

“Until, that is, a local man showed the Jacobite commanders a little-known path that enabled them to go around the east side undetected. Early that morning, the Jacobites surprised the government forces and the deadly canons only had time to fire once. The grapeshot barely slowed the Jacobite army down.”

Logan shook his head. “The British forces were quickly overwhelmed by the swarming Jacobites and the result was horrific with arms, legs, and heads chopped off.”

Ronan felt dizzy as he relived the events laid out before them.

“The cavalry soon dissipated, leaving the infantry exposed and the Jacobites cut them to pieces. The entire thing was over in fifteen minutes. The regular British forces, defeated by farmers, shepherds and the like. At that point in our history, Scotland was controlled by rebels.”

“Are you all right?”

Ronan slowly turned to see Ashley staring at him, a worried expression upon her face.

“Fine, lass.” He croaked out the words and had to clear his throat. “Tis just that we are going to a place I’d thought never to visit again.”

“Did something happen there?” She glanced at Logan, then back again. “To you, I mean.”

Ronan thought back to the number of men he’d slaughtered upon that field. Logan had the right of it. They’d used trickery and deceit most effectively to surround and cut down the enemy.

But it had taken its toll upon all who fought.

He was not ashamed for feeling sickened by the violence.

He knew that in the here and now, guns could shoot out bullets at unbelievable rates.

But the muskets of his time had been slow, difficult to reload, and so most battles had been fought in hand-to-hand combat.

Shooting a bullet at the man was far different from shoving a sword in his stomach, or slashing a head clean off.

The violence of the act was much more up close and personal and left scars upon all involved.

Prestonpans. Even the name of the place sent a chill up his spine. To go back there again?

If the witch willed it, he would do it.

But that did not mean he’d be happy about it.

Ashley went to take his hand once more and, on impulse, he instead placed his arm around her and tugged her close.

She relaxed against him, her head on his shoulder, and he breathed her in, savoring the implication of trust, loving how well she fit against him. It was exactly what he needed in that moment: her softness, feminine scent, and innocence. The peace upon her face went a long way toward calming him.

Aye, he’d no doubt he’d been meant to find her, to help her.

But perhaps, instead, they were to help each other.

* * *

Ashley watched the beautiful scenery go by, and barely saw it. Instead, she was breathing in Ronan’s intoxicating scent, a blend of evergreen and simmering male, debating on the mythical, or was that mystical, qualities of love at first sight.

Something she’d never believed in.

She’d met many a man in her day that she found attractive, but not to this level. This level was the top step of the ladder.

Sure, she’d stepped on the first rung, and the second, maybe even the third before. But she’d never shot straight to the top like this.

Gah! She was turning into a mad woman. She’d never believed in soul mates, or anything like that, before in her life.

Did she now? She wasn’t sure.

Probably not. This was no doubt just strong chemistry, animal magnetism, whatever it was called.

Her instincts said that anything that came on this fast, was no doubt a sickness of some kind.

The cold, or the flu, or food poisoning, maybe? She probably ought to separate from the man, maybe trade places with Monica, but even thinking it made her feel … jealous?

Gah! Mad woman! It was almost a relief when they arrived at their destination, and turned down a road to the dirt pile beyond.

Ronan tensed beside her, and she reached out and set her hand upon his knee in commiseration.

She wasn’t sure what his problem with the place was, but suddenly she wanted to know. Wanted to know everything about this man.

Garth, Monica, and the tourists around them all chattered, excited, so why did she feel nervous about what they’d find here?

No doubt it was the tension coming off Ronan that was affecting her.“Do you want to stay on the bus?”

He turned to look at her, and their faces were close together. Finally, he let out a sigh and shook his head. “Nae, lass, I’ve no desire to stay behind, not now, and not ever again.”

“Ashley, Ronan, come on!”

Garth and Monica were already in the aisle, and heading out of the bus.

“We’ll catch up!” She turned to Ronan. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Aye, lass, ready.”

“All right, let’s go.”