Happrew, Scotland

Near Peebles on the Scottish Border

February 1304

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CONALL HAD SPENT HIS entire life deeply revering and respecting Robert the Bruce only to find himself instantly disliked by the man. While he should have been solely focused on that fact, all he could do was stare at Lindsay.

All he could think about was how it had felt to be with her moments ago.

More than that, how much he wanted to be with her again.

While some might say it was part of her enchantment, he knew better. Whatever that had been, whatever they just shared, went far beyond mere enchantment. Far beyond what he needed in his life right now. It was terrifying, dangerous, and perfect. Everything that could break his heart all over again but a thousand times worse.

Yet he wanted more.

Right here, right now, despite the blade to his neck and the famous king at his back, he wanted to have that kind of passion again. To let himself go and bury himself in her tight heat. To not care. That’s when it occurred to him how erratic and undisciplined his thinking was.

Worse than that, what he had just let happen between him and Lindsay.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Lindsay said, her voice a weak, hoarse squeak before she cleared her throat and shook her head. “Laird Hamilton is innocent.” Her eyes stayed with the Bruce’s. “I swear it.”

Robert’s blade only dug deeper as he contemplated.

If Conall wanted to, he could have already taken down Robert, but he thought too highly of him. At least so long as he didn’t swipe the blade he supposed.

“Are you serious?” Lindsay said, speaking telepathically without realizing it as her eyes flickered between Conall and Robert. “You would let him kill you here and now for something you didn’t do because you think so highly of him?”

The feel of her in his mind nearly had his cock at attention once again.

Rather than respond to her, telepathically or otherwise, he murmured, “My name is Conall Hamilton, son of Darach Hamilton, grandson to Grant Hamilton. I come on behalf of Adlin MacLomain to aid ye in yer upcoming battle. My blade is yers, Earl.”

Though he felt Robert’s hesitation, the Bruce didn’t budge until he had further confirmation from Lindsay. “So he wasnae raping ye, lass, or hurting ye in any way?”

“No.” She shook her head. “He was just trying to steal a kiss is all.”

A kiss, was it? But he appreciated her vagueness.

“Was he then?” Robert murmured before he, at last, pulled the blade away but kept a wary eye on Conall. Though several inches shorter, he was a formidable man with enough weapons to have easily taken down the average man. 

“Ye claim to know some verra important men.” Robert’s eyes narrowed on Conall. “And by all accounts, ye do bear a striking resemblance to the Grant I once knew. More so, Darach.” He shook his head. “Though ‘twas a long time ago, indeed, that I saw either of them.”

“Aye.” Conall kept a close eye on Lindsay though he spoke to the Bruce. “So ye havenae come across any of them yet? I am the first to arrive?”

“Aye,” came another voice before William appeared, grinning at Conall and Lindsay. “’Tis good to see ye both again! It has been a bloody long time.” He looked from one to the other. “And still kissing I see?”

Conall and Lindsay glanced at one another before they greeted William. It was odd having seen Wallace hours ago though he had no memory of it. How could he? The battle they had just fought together would not happen for another six months or so.

“’Tis clear ye know these two, Wallace,” Robert said, sheathing his blade as his attention returned to Lindsay. Though some might question that kissing comment, it was clear the Bruce was very confident and already enamored with her. Blatant admiration lit his eyes as he held out the crook of his elbow. “Come, lass, let us all go talk where ‘tis warmer, aye?”

“Why thank you,” she said softly, back to the lass he knew all too well as she smiled warmly at Robert and took his arm. “My name is Lindsay by the way.”

What had he expected of her anyway? That she would say no and run into Conall’s arms because they had just been together? Because as much as he had thoroughly enjoyed it and wanted more, it should never have happened.

They should not happen.

So he did his best to swallow his jealousy as he joined Wallace and they followed.

William, of course, was curious how everyone had fared since the Battle of Stirling Bridge. It was a bloody odd conversation, but Conall navigated it to the best of his ability, careful not to mention the Skirmish at Earnside.

Skirmish, his arse. That was a full out battle.

“Well, ‘tis good to know ye will all be amongst us again.” William’s eyes narrowed on Robert’s back. “We only just reconnected a few days ago, and ‘tis clear he’s as proud to be him as he ever was. Though ‘twas welcoming to see he wasnae as determined to capture me as I figured he would be.”

Robert the Bruce would not become king for two more years and certainly not beloved by the Scots. No, he had a ways to go before that happened. In fact... “Is the Bruce not here with the Sassenach to capture ye and Sir Simon Fraser?” A man he knew had once fought alongside Andrew Moray but now fought with Wallace. “Did the Bruce not arrive with a chevauchée of Sassenach knights led by Sir John Segrave?”

He could barely utter Segrave’s name, knowing full well his ultimate role in William’s fate. His part in Wallace’s execution.

“Aye,” William said gravely. “But what they dinnae know is that they’ve a traitor in their midst.”

“That traitor being the Bruce. Fighting for Longshanks whilst helping the Scots. Or at least helping ye,” Conall murmured. “So where are we heading now? How is he here and not with the Sassenach?”

“Stealth,” Wallace muttered. “One of the Bruce’s more questionable attributes but most welcome right now.”

It was clear William and Robert had a strained relationship, but at least they had one. That, of course, was thanks to the actions of not only Grant, Adlin, and Conall’s parents, but his aunts and uncles as well. Many years back, they helped bring these two men together as bairns so they could better understand and see who the other really was before Fate took over.

“So are ye set to battle the Sassenach then?” Conall asked. “Is it happening soon?”

“’Tis hard to know,” William said. “We’ve got them going in circles right now.” His chuckle sounded strained. “We’re staying one step ahead of them thanks to Robert but ‘tis only a matter of time before the battling begins.”

Conall frowned as he considered that. “Where are ye hiding out then?”

“Here.” Wallace gestured at a small encampment as they exited the cave. “’Tis close to the river and several abandoned cottages.”

One of which they followed Robert and Lindsay into.

As always, she caused a stir everywhere she went. A lass the likes of her should not be here. His gut clenched. They were with Scottish rebels on the run. It was far too dangerous. Aye, that could be said about the last few places she had been, but something about this one gave him a very bad feeling.

Especially considering his kin had yet to arrive.

More so, that he really had no proof that Robert was truly a traitor to the Sassenach. History did not record it that way. Only Grant and Adlin did. While it seemed they might be right, it was hard to know, hard to trust anyone where Lindsay was concerned.

“Please sit, Lindsay.” Robert escorted her to a crude chair near a crackling fire. “Would ye care for something to drink?”

“I would,” she said, her voice soft and oh-so-feminine as she batted her lashes at him. “Thank you, Robert.”

Conall frowned. Though she had just shared her body with him, it didn’t seem to affect her in the least. Instead, she appeared to have moved on quite readily and far too easily in his opinion.

“Here, friend.” Wallace handed him a mug of whisky as they all sat. “Though tempted to ask ye what to expect from the future, I know better.” He slanted a look at Conall. “Unless, that is, ye are a different sort of man than Adlin.”

“Oh, he’s a different sort all right.” Lindsay grinned and winked at Conall. “Isn’t that right, Laird Hamilton?”

She could adjust to any situation, couldn’t she?

“I am.” He gave her a look no one could mistake. “You, more than anyone, know that, aye?”

Robert gave her a curious look. “Is he yer lad then, lass?”

“Oh, dear Lord, no.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and flashed one of those stunning smiles that lit up her face. “He, like most lads as you can imagine, likes to think he might be.” She glanced at him, rolled her eyes then looked at Robert again. “But rest assured, he is the furthest thing from it.”

Conall narrowed his eyes. The little vixen. He took a swig of whisky. Something he would normally never do under these circumstances.

“Actually,” Conall mentioned. “I am Chieftain of Clan Hamilton and her sworn protector.”

“Sworn protector, is it?” Bruce considered the two of them. “So is it normal where ye come from to try and kiss the lass yer sworn to protect?” He shook his head. “Because that doesnae sound like the best way to go about keeping her safe.”

William chuckled but said nothing.

“She is never safer than she is with me.” Conall frowned, took another sip of whisky and reiterated, “And, aye, I am her sworn protector.”

Amusement lit Robert’s eyes as they returned to Lindsay. “Is he then, lass?” His tone softened. “Must I go through him to get to know ye better?”

Conall took another swig of whisky as she appeared to contemplate that. When she answered, he was not sure what to make of it. “No, you do not need his permission. You can get to know me all you like.” She frowned at Conall, her eyes resolved yet reluctant as they returned to Robert. “Though, for decency’s sake, it would be best if I stayed with him in the evenings for protection of course.”

Yet again, William chuckled but said nothing.

“Agreed.” Robert leaned forward, took her hand and held her eyes. “Because despite this protection he offers in the evenings, ye will soon see that I can offer more.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Far more.”

A flicker of surprise lit Lindsay’s eyes before her lips curved softly and she nodded. “That would not surprise me Earl Robert the Bruce.”

The sultry way she said his name almost made Conall toss her over his shoulder, bring her anywhere but here, and remind her just how much more he had to offer than the Bruce.

Instead, he took another deep swig of whisky.

“So yer from the future then.” Robert smiled and never let go of her hand as his eyes searched hers. “I met several lasses from the future when I was a bairn and though verra bonnie, none were quite so stunning as ye.”

“One of those lasses happens to be my ma,” Conall commented, not sure why he said it other than to possibly remind Robert how interconnected they really were. How he might want to be a bit more respectful.

William tossed him a look that told him he hoped for a lot.

“Was she then?” Robert nodded, clearly recollecting. “She could have only been Darach’s, Jackie then.” He finally tore his eyes from Lindsay and looked at Conall. “How are they? I liked them both verra much.”

“Da’s dead,” he stated bluntly. “And Ma is coping.”

While he might not be all that pleased with the Bruce right now, it was clear based on the look in Robert's eyes that the news truly troubled him.

“I am verra sorry to hear that, Laird Hamilton,” he said softly. “Ye have my condolences.”

Conall nodded, downed the last of his whisky and offered no response.

Lindsay, meanwhile, shot him a troubled look. Well, what was that all about? He said nothing wrong.

“I must admit to being quite exhausted from time traveling,” Lindsay murmured, a charming yet apologetic look on her face as she once again drew Robert’s attention her way. “Might we be given a place to rest?”

“Are ye sure?” Disappointment flashed in his eyes. “’Tis barely sundown and the last eve we might be able to enjoy a stroll before the next storm arrives.”

“Is that so?” Her eyes went to the window and lingered. “A big storm then?”

“Big enough to prevent future strolls,” Robert said. “And nothing would please me more than walking ye down to the River Tweed. ‘Tis a bonnie sight at this hour.”

Conall never took his eyes off of Lindsay and her antics as Wallace refilled his mug. While he thought for a moment she wanted to be alone with him it seemed he was wrong. He ground his jaw before he took another swig. If he knew what was good for him, he would approve her flirting with anyone but him. He would approve of those beautiful silver eyes enchanting any man but him. Yet it seemed he didn’t know what was good for him when he stood and shook his head as Lindsay agreed to go with Robert.

“I will be all right,” she assured Conall as Robert swung another fur around her shoulders. “Just a small walk then I’ll join you to rest.”

It was not a request but a statement.

“I need to do this,” she said into his mind. “And you need to let me.”

“I need to do no such thing,” he responded.

Her pupils flared a little, likely in response to hearing him speak so directly within her mind.

“We never should have done what we did, Laird Hamilton, and we both know it.” Her eyes met his, her expression firm, hard almost. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be with you. Not like that again and certainly not in a relationship.”

Stung by harsh words that he should be grateful to hear, Conall clenched his mug and sank back into his chair. Robert offered him a small but very smug smile as he put a hand to the small of her back and they left.

“Och, lad,” William muttered and shook his head, eying Conall. “Yer a better man than I letting the lass ye love leave with the Bruce like that.”

“I dinnae love her.” Conall frowned and kept at his whisky. “Nor will I ever.”

William offered another annoying chuckle. “Then yer a bloody fool.” He looked at Lindsay out the window. “She’s a better lass than most.”

While he might agree with William, he refused to admit it. Not right now. Not after she actually left with Robert the Bruce to woo him into what...her bed? Unexpected fury filled him at the thought. Anger, it seemed, Wallace saw clearly enough.

“’Tis obvious enough she cares for ye, Laird Hamilton,” William said, his voice soft as his eyes met Conall’s. “Yet ‘tis also clear yer set to push her away as readily as she is ye.” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

Though he would normally end this conversation and retire, the drink was going straight to his head, so he responded. “Our losses are too great to risk more.”

“Ah.” William contemplated him. “So ye are both cowards.”

“Aye,” Conall whispered before another swig. “So it seems.”

“’Tis foolish that,” William murmured. “With all that is happening in our beloved country, all the strife and endless heartache, I would never turn from love if I caught a glimpse of it.” He shook his head. “I would consider it a rare gift even if I knew I might verra well lose it the next day.”

Though tempted to mutter something along the lines of William not understanding, he suspected Wallace knew more about self-sacrifice than most. In the end, the man beside him would give up everything for his country. So it made sense he would say that.

Yet as Conall contemplated it alone later in another small cottage, he understood that his statement applied to each and every one of them. Death could be a day away. A moment away.

Even so, he never moved from his chair in front of the fire. He never went after Lindsay, told her to be done wooing the Bruce, and shared how he really felt. But then, until this moment, staring into the flames contemplating William’s words, he had not admitted it to himself.

He had not admitted that he was falling in love.

Worse yet, that he likely had been since the moment he laid eyes on her.

Not lust but love.

While that revelation should make him run after her and bring her back here, it did the opposite. Because, despite William’s wise enough words, the fear he felt was too great. Near paralyzing actually. So he buried his errant thoughts in another swig of whisky and tried not to dwell. On her, how he felt, and most especially that she was with Robert the Bruce right now.

Though tempted to leap up and pull her into his arms when she finally entered sometime later, he did not. Rather he kept his eyes on the fire and took another swig of whisky. Though he hoped she would crawl onto the cot and rest, she sat in the chair next to him, held out her hand without looking at him and said, “Mind if I have a sip?”

Actually, he did. He might never drink but tonight...well, tonight he was, poor judgment or not. So he handed over a skin of whisky William had given him earlier instead of his mug.

Lindsay took a long swig then settled back before murmuring, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Conall. It was not my intention.”

“Laird Hamilton,” he corrected, slipping into his brogue more and more. “And ye didnae hurt me. Ye did what ye should have, and ye were right. There isnae anything betwixt us but...a moment of weakness.”

“That’s right.” She took another swig. “Weakness and sex that will not happen again.”

“’Twould be unwise,” he agreed, his eyes firmly on the flames as he said something he knew he would regret but needed to be said. “Ye are free to be with the Bruce if ye’ve taken a liking to him. I willnae stop ye but only caution ye to be careful. Though he might be a spy, he fights on behalf of the Sassenach right now. His loyalties are greatly marred by politics and though we both know someday that will change, ‘twill be no time soon.”

“Well, thank you for your permission, Laird Hamilton,” she replied, her tone borderline sarcastic. “God only knows how I managed without it for so long.”

Having thought he did a noble thing, Conall could not help but narrow his eyes on her. “Do ye not want to lay with him after having so soon laid with me?” He perked his brows. “I know enough about twenty-first century lasses to know ye might have thought I would be troubled by that.” He frowned. “Or are ye such a different sort of creature from my ma and aunts?”

“Actually, I’m very much like them, and you damn well know it.” Her eyes narrowed right back. “Because I guarantee if they were here right now, they’d think you a boorish beast.”

“Boorish beast?” His brows slammed together. “Not once have I heard that phrase from them.” He narrowed his eyes again. “Likely because ye are still acting the part ye just did with the Bruce. Pretending to be someone yer not and speaking with words that arenae yers but part of some screenplay or script.”

Her brows flew up in surprise laced with aggravation. “And what do you know of screenplays and scripts?”

“I know ‘tis a rare moment yer life is anything but,” he shot back.

Having said far too much because of the whisky, Conall frowned, shook his head and redirected his eyes to the fire. Unfortunately, Lindsay was as bright as she was beautiful and it didn’t take her long to figure it out. “You asked about me beforehand, didn’t you? You asked about my profession?”

“It only made sense,” he mumbled, quick to come up with a lie. “’Twas clear enough early on that you and I would need to work together.”

“Work together,” she mouthed. Her eyes narrowed further as she contemplated him for an uncomfortably long stretch before her voice grew soft. “More like you didn’t just lust after me but were truly curious about who I was. What made me tick.”

“Och, nay,” he muttered and took another swig, remembering all too well questioning his grandmother about it at his castle. He knew nothing about acting, most especially about women the likes of Lindsay. While grandmum only knew so much about the craft or celebrities in general, she knew enough to share the basics.

“From what I’ve seen you are verra good at what you do, Lindsay.” Though he knew he should leave this alone, his eyes turned to hers. “Do you miss acting in the twenty-first century? Will your fans miss you?”

“It’s odd hearing you ask me that,” she murmured, clearly caught off guard but not as confrontational as she had been moments before. “I like to think my fans will miss me...”

When she trailed off, he waited for her to say more. A few moments later, she did as her eyes drifted to the fire and her voice grew softer. “I just wish I missed them more. I wish I knew what was going on inside me.”

His eyes went to the skin. How much had she drunk? Had she been drinking with Robert? Because it almost sounded like she wasn’t eager to get back to the twenty-first century and that made no sense. Not with a lass like Lindsay. Not with a lass who had clearly loved what she did. Or so he thought.

“I never wanted to be laird,” he murmured, not sure why he suddenly said that other than he could relate to her mixed emotions. The strange paths life led one down. “Graham did fiercely, but never me.”

“Why not?” Her eyes met his, not all that surprised by his revelation it seemed. “You might be more uptight than most, but from what I saw at your castle, you’re very good at what you do.”

“What you saw at my castle?” He frowned and took another swig. “You mean when the Sassenach managed to get past my defenses, and my clan was slaughtered?”

“We both know that likely won’t happen,” she said, her voice firmer than expected as defiance flared in her eyes. “Not if we can help it.”

“We,” he muttered. “Something neither of us wants, but we ken it needs to happen in order to save the future?” He shook his head. “’Tis difficult to imagine.”

Lindsay’s jaw clenched, and her eyes whipped to the fire. If he wasn’t mistaken, his words had stung her as readily as hers had him earlier. Good. Let them. Yet he found himself setting aside his drink, and leaning closer. “Why are ye back here, lass? Why are ye not in the Bruce’s cottage where ‘tis clear enough ye wanted to be?”

Her incredulous eyes turned his way. “You really are the biggest jackass I’ve—”

That’s all she managed to get out before he moved fast and pulled her onto his lap.

“Oh, no,” she began before he wrapped his hand into her hair, tilted her head, met her eyes, and repeated, “Why are ye not with the Bruce? Why are ye back here with me when ye know what will likely happen?”

“Because I just met Robert!” she sputtered, her eyes wide as she squirmed but didn’t exactly try to get away. “I don’t sleep with guys I just met.”

“Ye’ve known me less than a week,” he reminded, unable to lessen his brogue any. “Some would say ye just met me so to speak, aye?”

The motion of her arse on his lap had his cock rock solid. A fact she was well aware of based on the way she stilled and her cheeks grew flushed.

“I thought we both agreed that never happened,” she whispered as the fire reflected and danced in her eyes.

“Did we?” he murmured, not quite recalling that. Blame it on the whisky. But then, it made sense because it should not have happened. Yet it had. This very day. “Mayhap we should begin on the morrow.”

“Begin what?” she managed as he trailed a finger along her soft jawline.

“Agreeing that it never happened.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her plump lower lip. “Which leaves today open to interpretation.”

“How so?” she whispered as the tip of her little pink tongue snuck out and licked his finger. Just a quick sample but enough to make his cock leap.

“We’ve a few hours left to this day,” he murmured as the wind began to howl outside and snow started falling. “Mayhap today is a day of things that never happened. Of things that we can wake on the morrow and know are in our past.” His eyes stayed with hers. “Things we vow now will never happen again.”

“I’m intrigued,” she said softly, her eyes half-mast but still somewhat coherent as he grazed his fingers down the side of her neck, barely touching. “So today doesn’t count...doesn’t exist. And none of this,” she shifted her arse along his erection, her voice husky, “ever happened.”

“’Twould be best, aye?” he murmured as he put his mouth where his fingers were and tasted her sweet softness. Her flawless skin.

“I think you’re probably right,” she whispered as her eyes slid shut.

Just like that they were done bickering and on to far more enjoyable things. While he knew he was taking them down a path harder and harder to turn from, he truly believed in his near drunken state, that they had come to a logical conclusion.

Be together now then end it on the morrow.

It made perfect sense and would assuage what was taken from them before. Though they had come together well and true, there had been little time to enjoy it. Especially when Robert’s blade met his neck.

But that was behind them, at least for now, and Conall intended to enjoy today to its fullest.

That meant, before all else, getting her out of this bloody dress. A task he set to with great attention to detail and with more relish than he had ever felt when undressing a lass. But then, this was Lindsay, and she was, by far, the most bonnie creature he had ever laid eyes on. A fact that became more and more apparent as he set her back in her chair, knelt in front of her and began removing her clothes.

He took his time and started with her boots, remembering the sight of her delicate feet and calves the eve before. How he had wanted to run his hands over her snowy white flesh and memorize the dimensions of her slender, perfectly shaped legs.

Now he did, his eyes going from her legs as he removed the boots altogether then up higher as he slowly pushed her skirts up. She never said a word but watched him from beneath drowsy lids, her eyes as full of desire as his.

When she leaned forward and tugged at his tunic, clearly wanting it removed, he pulled it off and tossed it aside. Then he yanked her forward enough that she fell back and was once more at his mercy. Or so he liked to think as he ran his hands along her slender thighs, pushed her skirts all the way up and spread her legs.

“Ohhh,” she whispered and arched as he licked and teased her center before he focused on the tiny nub that had her arching more and crying out. She tasted as sweet as he imagined she would.

A flavor made entirely for him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and arse and held her in place as he continued enjoying her. He liked the way she groaned and squirmed then gyrated against him as he devoured her. Nothing pleased him more than how she buckled time and time again as he used his mouth and fingers to take her somewhere he sensed she rarely, if ever, went.

“Conall,” she eventually groaned and whispered. “We’re running out of today.” Her eyes slid open just enough to meet his. “And I want more...”

He understood.

Though he could have remained there all night and been in bliss, his cock more than appreciated her impatience. He pulled her dress over her head, and drank in the sight of her full breasts and tiny waist. Bloody hell he wanted her. Eternally grateful the chair was the perfect height, and without arms, he was quick to take advantage.

“Oh, my,” Lindsay gasped as he yanked down his breeches, pulled her forward to the edge of the chair, came between her quivering thighs and thrust deep.

She bit back a ragged groan as he grabbed the back of the chair to stabilize it, hooked an arm around her lower back to keep her in place, then kept moving. She gasped incoherent words as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him take control.

He shook as he thrust, lost in the feel of her tight heat, lost in the feel of her soft, voluptuous body against his. Her pebbled nipples grazed his chest and her firm, silky thighs wrapped around him as he moved. First methodically then with longer strokes and casual but deep rolls of his hips.

“Conall,” she half groaned, half whispered in a husky, broken voice as he increased his pace then slowed and stopped as she climaxed again. He had loved the way her release felt against his mouth but almost appreciated this more. The way she locked up tight, her body frozen against his, completely vulnerable, before she shuddered and began milking his cock.

As she drifted, he stood, never pulling free as he brought her down on the cot. Not willing to risk using magic, he peppered small kisses along her neck and collarbone as he yanked off his boots and trousers. All and all, he managed everything far more smoothly than he could have hoped considering the whisky he drank.

But then this was Lindsay and today was all they had.

A sobering fact that left no room for sloppy lovemaking. 

“Conall,” she whispered again, her eyes still closed as she reached for him.

He loved the sound of his name on her lips but needed the distance right now no matter how close he pulled her.

“Laird Hamilton,” he corrected hoarsely as he kept her hands away from him by pulling them above her head and holding her wrists with one hand.

“Laird Hamilton,” she whispered as her eyes opened a mere crack and she arched, her well-rounded breasts, an invitation he could not refuse. He pulled one nipple into his mouth as he began thrusting again.

Not quickly but very, very slowly.

As he twirled his tongue around her nipple, he rolled his hips and pressed deeper. It took everything he had to keep from letting go as he watched her. As he saw the bliss in her eyes as he continued to touch, taste and move. In its own way, pleasuring her gave him great strength. Endurance beyond reason.

When she cried out again and locked up against him, he wrapped his elbows beneath her knees and pulled her legs up high. The added depth and friction of him rubbing against her center had her clenching the cot and struggling for breath as he elongated her pleasure.

Though tempted to plunge into her and at last, release his seed, he paused as tears leaked from the corner of her closed eyes. Her thoughts swirled with his. This level of pleasure was new to her. Sexual pleasure with a partner. Then other things started to come through. Flashes that connected them more and more.

Exhausted from pleasure, Lindsay was drifting off to sleep, so he carefully settled her back, bypassed his own release and pulled her into his arms as she slumbered.

Yet still, the flashes came.

Her parents were gone, and she was broken until she found strength. Alone, living amongst strangers, she grew stronger. Images rippled through his mind of her looking in a mirror as she ran a razor through her hair and large clumps fell away.

As she did, her big silver eyes became clearer and clearer to him.

He knew those eyes.

He had always known those eyes.

Lindsay, somehow, some way, had been his faery in the tree.