CONALL DIDN’T GIVE Lindsay a chance to respond but opened the door to thick drifts of snow and urged her to follow. The day had dawned cold and windy. Though it was no longer snowing, it would be again by nightfall.

“We’ve one horse to spare,” came a deep voice as a man with dark auburn hair came alongside with a dappled gray. “He’s sturdy enough for ye both if ye dinnae push him too hard.”

Conall nodded. “Thank you, friend.”

“The name’s Simon Fraser.” He swung up onto his own mount. “Wallace wishes ye to travel with me.”

Though Conall didn’t recall Simon from the Battle of Stirling Bridge, he knew he had fought well and stood by Moray until the end. In all honesty, he had a great deal of respect for Simon’s role in all of this. How much he had been willing to sacrifice for Scotland.

Lindsay smiled and introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Simon.”

Like all men, Simon’s eyes lingered on her face for a moment before he nodded firmly then trotted on ahead.

“My goodness,” she murmured as Conall mounted then pulled her up in front of him. “I think I finally just met a man who can’t be enchanted...outside of you that is.”

“Och, there were bound to be one or two of us about,” he muttered, not so sure about that. Maybe when it came to Simon but not Conall. He was beginning to think he wasn’t immune to Lindsay’s charms in the least. Not based on the smitten and protective way he always felt around her.

Before she could speak again, he entered her mind. “From here on out ‘twould be best to speak within the mind. The wind can too easily carry our voices.”

He didn’t miss the slight tremble of her body in response. One directly related to the sound of his voice in her mind. She said nothing for some time as they followed Simon’s men, single file into the forest. When she finally did speak, he sensed rather than heard how careful she was with her words.

“So you finally figured out who I am,” she said. “You figured out I was the girl in the tree.”

“Aye,” he responded, softening his internal voice the best he could. “You were...” How should he phrase this? Truthfully, he supposed. “A welcome addition to my life, lass.”

“How did it happen?” Her voice was distant, soft, though he sensed great emotion in it. “How did we connect across time so long ago?”

“That was something I believe we were somewhat curious about back then too, aye?” It took all he had not to wrap his arm around her mid-section. To pull close a lass who had meant so much to him.

“We did talk about it back then,” she conceded, shaking her head. “But as you can imagine, I thought you were, in some ways, make believe.” Humor laced her words. “I was proud of my Scottish ancestry, so creating a Scottish boy at the base of a tree wasn't all that far-fetched.”

“You created a lot of things back then if I recall correctly,” he commented, unable to stop a small smile. “I remember meeting several versions of you. All of which always became the girl I knew from the beginning. The girl who eventually vanished.”

“You mean your friend.” She glanced over her shoulder into his eyes. “We were friends, Conall, and we can be again.”

Their eyes lingered on one another’s before she looked forward again.

Could they be friends now after so much time had passed? Could they be friends after the intimacy they had shared?

“Of course we can,” she whispered into his mind, following his thoughts far too readily. “We got along pretty well if I recall. We had fun.” She grinned and jested. “Come on now, it isn’t every little girl who stands up to a wizard as powerful as Adlin.”

“That’s right. You helped spark my magic, aye?” A small grin tugged at his lips. “’Twas you who embarrassed Adlin in front of the lassies that day at the oak tree.”

“Like you said,” she replied. “He was awfully full of himself.”

“Even then, you were coming into your magic,” he remarked. “Shaking the tree like that then whipping acorns. ‘Twas a good way to make Adlin’s spell appear as though it hadnae worked.”

“I always thought so,” she agreed, a smile in her internal voice. “Something you found out much later.” She glanced over her shoulder with amusement. “So why tell me that was your first time using magic when technically it wasn’t?”

“Because I always felt it was in its own way, and I told you as much back then,” he reminded. “I might not have initially known it was you in the tree that day, but everything I said when teaching you was true. I felt my magic had ignited and that’s all it took. I released my fear and embraced my gift.” He shrugged. “Technicalities dinnae matter.”

“Some could say technicalities very much matter when it comes to magic.” She smirked, her eyes all-knowing because she was absolutely correct. “But you always did like that story, so I’ll let you get away with it.” She chuckled and faced forward again. “I definitely think it might be good for us to try to find what we once had rather than bickering so much.”

“What we once had was a kinship betwixt bairns,” he pointed out. “’Twas easier.”

“Maybe...” she replied, her internal voice trailing off.

Conall debated his next words, remembering all too well the difficulties she had shared. Her upbringing had been hard. More so than he ever realized. Though she had told him a lot, she never divulged how she ended up where she did. She never shared the violent death of her parents.

That event, he imagined, first triggered her magic.

Yet how was he ever going to get her to talk about it? How, when she had not even told him way back then, were they going to bridge that gap?

Then he realized the answer was staring him right in the face. She had even suggested it.

“We will try.” He nodded though she could not see him. “At friendship...again.”

When she flashed a bonnie smile at him over her shoulder, he remembered well why this was a bad idea. Especially when his cock stirred, not interested in mere friendship in the least.

“Good,” she replied. “Though your father said otherwise, did your family ever know about me? Did you ever tell any of them?”

“Nay, only Da,” he began before stopping.

“Right,” she responded, her voice soft and distant again. “You told him you would only marry the faery in the tree.”

He offered no response because he truly had no idea what to say other than he very much meant it at the time. She was his closest friend, so it made perfect sense. What he never could have imagined, however, was that hairless lass growing up into the woman in front of him now.

“Why did you cry that last time?” he whispered aloud before he could stop himself. Based on her lack of response, he assumed his question was carried away by the wind.

Until that is, she replied at last.

“Because I was leaving,” she said, her eyes still dead ahead. “That tree had given me a great deal of solace. You had. But I had to leave. I needed to start my life.”

“You were still fairly young though, aye?”

“I was,” she conceded. “But I looked old enough to pave a path for myself that wasn’t part of that world anymore. I stayed strong, made friends in the right places, started making money and forged my way to where I am now.” A wry grin tugged at her lips as she turned her head just enough that he could see her. “And where I am now seems to be right back where I began in some ways...but better.”

Conall didn’t realize he had slipped his arm around her waist until her hand rested over his.

They did not speak for some time after that but bore down against the inclement weather. Where he suspected Wallace would travel north some, he had sent out three groups going in every other direction. Including one brave lot across the river.

Though it was barely audible on the wind, Conall didn’t miss the low whistle Simon suddenly released. Trouble was afoot. Though men were both ahead and behind them, it was hard to see anyone through the wind-driven snow, so he acted purely on instinct. 

“Remain silent,” he said into Lindsay’s mind as he swung down then pulled her after him. He had just enough time to pull her around a heavy cluster of evergreens and urge her to crouch before he heard voices.

“Dinnae move,” he whispered before he nudged her further back into the bushes, pressed a dagger into her hand then carefully unsheathed his sword. He met her eyes, put a finger to his lips to remind her to remain silent then slowly edged along the bushes as cries rang out just ahead.

They were under attack.

While tempted to go fight and defend the men they traveled with, his first concern must be Lindsay. So he stayed close but not too close. If he did and were cut down, he would have accomplished nothing but leading the enemy right to her.

So he remained vigilant and took down anyone who thought to head in her direction. First, a thin lad with an ugly sneer and haphazard armor. It was easy enough to slip his blade past the poorly kept chainmail before he put a hand over the enemy's mouth to silence him and slit his throat. Next came a slightly larger Sassenach with a limp but a mean swing. Conall ducked beneath the blade, drove his dagger into the man’s windpipe then cracked his neck.

All the while, Lindsay remained perfectly silent, her calm eyes watching his every move. More so, watching the blood that stained the snow not all that far from her. He realized as he fought another that she would not go into hysterics or even shock. If anything, what had happened to her parents had transformed her into something else entirely.

A lass, as it happened, who was very good at keeping a level head in battle as she tossed him her blade when he struggled with not one but two foes. Though he managed to drive one through with his sword, the behemoth behind him was another story. The brute gave him more of a challenge than anticipated before heading in Lindsay’s direction.

Rare was the day he came across a man taller than him, not to mention one with such a daunting girth. Typically, Conall was good at stabbing men where he could easily pull his weapon free, but it didn’t go that smoothly with the last man so he had naught but Lindsay’s dagger now. A dagger he used with expertise as he slashed the huge warrior again and again. Unfortunately, that didn’t slow him in the least. If anything, he seemed to be a rabid bear with nothing but Lindsay in his sights.

To make matters worse, it appeared she had nothing but the rabid bear in her sights as well.

“Bloody hell.” Conall shook his head as she slowly but confidently stood and locked eyes with the Sassenach warrior barreling her way.

“It’s okay,” she said into Conall’s mind. “Let me do this. Let me help.”

Asking him to allow the enemy anywhere near her was downright impossible, so he kept at the warrior only to run into a hard fist. He staggered back, stunned. The monster of a man had turned fast and punched him. The shocking part? The Sassenach had been defending Lindsay before he fell to one knee in front of her and lowered his head.

When Conall started toward them, her words were sharp within his mind. “Let me do this, Laird Hamilton.” Jaw clenched, her eyes didn’t meet his but remained on the warrior kneeling at her feet. “Let me protect you like you protected me.”

It went against every grain in him to allow a vulnerable lass with no battle skills so close to a seasoned warrior, never mind that it was Lindsay.

“Please,” she repeated, her eyes firmly on the warrior as she shifted her hip seductively. “I can do this, Conall. You have to trust me.”

Trust her? It wasn’t about trust in the least. It was about her losing her life in an instant. Never uttering another word. More than that, him never hearing her voice again.

“Hello, there, darling,” she purred as she tilted the warrior's chin up until their eyes met. “’Tis so nice to meet you in the midst of all this violence.” She batted her lashes, a mysterious but promising look in her eyes. “Have you come to keep me safe until my friend over there saves me?”

The warrior nodded without looking Conall’s way.

“I thought so,” she whispered, pleased. “Thank you.”

The man offered a wide clueless crooked-toothed smile.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions before my friend saves me?” she said softly as she lowered her hood and released her hair. “Would that be all right?”

Wide-eyed, he nodded avidly.

“Good. Thank you.” She ran a finger down the side of his chainmail covered head. “Where is your leader? Is he close?”

Though in awe of what she was doing, Conall remained braced to attack.

“He is not as close as he would like to be,” the warrior replied obediently.

“So he’s having trouble finding William Wallace,” she murmured as she cupped his cheek. “As is Earl Robert the Bruce?”

“Yes.” The man nodded. “Both are being outwitted.”

“Are they?” Her curious eyes never left his. “Did you see the Bruce this morn? Did he have any new information?”

“None.” He shook his head. “But ‘twas his idea to head in this direction.”

“Was it then?” she said softly, still stroking his cheek. “Did he say why?”

“Just that if we went south,” he reported, “we would find what we were looking for.”

“And the Bruce is still with you, aye?” she asked, focused and alluring. “He helps you find the Scots rebels?”

“He does,” the man confirmed. “He is trusted well enough.”

“Well enough?” She cocked her head, still stroking his cheek. “What does that mean?”

“He’s Scottish so hard to trust to begin with.” A sneer curled his lips despite the worshiping way he looked at her. “’Twill only be a matter of time before this cursed country falls altogether.”

Lindsay nodded, feigning agreement before she stepped back, apparently finished. “Don’t kill him, Conall. He’s just a—”

He didn’t wait for the rest of her request but came up behind the Sassenach, ripped off the chainmail, pulled his head back and sliced his throat open. Not sorry in this least, his eyes met Lindsay’s, his brogue thick. “He’s just a bloody Sassenach who would have raped and murdered ye had ye no’ enchanted him.” He kicked him face first into the snow. “May the buzzards finish him off.”

He wiped his blade and sheathed it, watching her closely.

Some might say it was poor of him to have done something like this in front of her. That it could have triggered sensitive memories. Those he needed her to share with him so that he could properly train her. But as he surmised earlier, a scene like this did not make her weaker but stronger.

His grandfather was right. Lindsay was very special. Hardened in ways he never would have guessed. Talented in ways he had just seen firsthand. Which made him think back to Stirling and what had happened to her in the Sassenach encampment. The things he had accused her of when it came to Hugh de Cressingham and the Earl of Surrey. Two powerful men she should never have survived but did.

Now he knew why.

Though he had seen it with her and the warlock, this presented a much clearer picture.

“Come.” He took her hand and pulled her after him, scanning their surroundings for more of the enemy before they reached their horse. As far as he could tell, those who had attacked were cut down quickly, and their group was on the move again. So Conall swung Lindsay up, joined her, and they continued on.

A strained silence settled between them as the day wore on. One he had trouble figuring out, but knew had to do with the Sassenach he had killed. As far as he could tell, her thoughts were swirling not just with anger but something else. A level of disappointment he could not understand.

Though the wind had settled some, snow began falling again by the time Simon Fraser fell in beside them. He pointed north-northwest through the trees. “Just over the landing, there will be low but habitable caves to seek shelter in for the eve.” His eyes went to Conall. “If yer able to hunt, ‘twould be most appreciated. We have wounded men.”

Conall nodded before Simon trotted ahead.

“I can’t believe we still haven’t heard from anyone,” Lindsay muttered once they arrived. Thankfully, there was enough tree coverage and overhang from the caves for the horses, but not all that much. Wary of using magic, all he could offer his horse was a pat down and his own fur.

Now to figure out how to hunt and keep Lindsay safe at the same time.

“You just saw what I was capable of, Laird Hamilton,” she said softly as her eyes met his. “So you know I’ll be okay if you go hunting.”

Though he wanted her to call him Conall, something back there had put renewed distance between them. Though he should be grateful, he wasn't. It was best that they got along if he wanted her to open up to him about her gift. So he tried to understand her by bluntly stating the obvious. “I upset you.”

“Yes,” she stated just as bluntly, her eyes searching his. “But I can see you have no idea how and that, I’m afraid, is not the best way to start off a friendship.”

“Then we will try again,” he said logically.

“Honestly, I'm not so sure I want to.” Her troubled eyes stayed with his. “Because I have a feeling a friendship with you is going to be too much work.”

What was that supposed to mean? As a rule, his friendship had always been valued by those he gave it to, and none had ever said it was too much work. Surprised by how much her words upset him but not about to let her know, he focused on what needed to be done.

Hunting.

As she had said, she could take care of herself. And God knew she would have no trouble finding more friends around here if she needed one. Friendships she might not end before they had a chance to begin.

“I willnae go far, lass.” He gave her his dagger. “Settle in and help where you can, aye?”

He didn’t wait for a response but headed out. For the first time since he met Lindsay, he officially took his eyes off of her. Now that he knew what she was capable of, he had faith she could protect herself. Or so he kept telling himself as he hunted.

The truth was he remained confused.

In the beginning, it had been simple. He knew he wanted nothing to do with her. Nothing sexual that was. Or even this friendship she sought then ripped away. Yet he realized as he tromped back to the cave later with fresh game that her friendship could not be so easily taken away.

That it had been his for a very long time.

Though unsure how he intended to phrase it, he planned on presenting it just that way when he saw her again. That aye, though he agreed romance was out of the question, friendship had always been and would always be theirs. Hard work or not.

“Where did my lass go?” he asked Simon as he tossed down his carcasses, doing his best to remain calm when he didn’t see her right away.

“Lindsay?” Simon gestured at the cave entrance. “Gone with the Bruce.”

Conall frowned. “The Bruce?”

“Aye.” Simon’s eyes met Conall’s. “She said you knew she’d go with him when he returned.”

“Do I look like the sort of lad that would let my lass go off with the likes of Robert the Bruce?” he growled, doing his best to repress his rage.

Simon shrugged. “To be honest, I didnae get the impression she was all that much yer lass when she left.”

If he was not so important to Scotland’s history, Conall might have strangled Simon right then and there, but he had bigger things to worry about. Had the Bruce somehow been possessed by the warlock that morn? If so, did that mean the warlock now had Lindsay?

He pushed aside panic, made sure his weapons were intact and headed outside again. If she had been taken, he would find her. He would get her back no matter what.

“Lindsay,” he said telepathically, trying to feel her mind against his. His blood roared. His heart hammered. She had to be all right. “Can you hear me, lass? Where are you?”

No response.

Nothing.

Then he saw her. Not with a knife to her throat because the Bruce was possessed but standing beside his horse as he embraced her. Conall never slowed but strode their way, ripped Lindsay out of his arms and held Robert at sword point with narrowed eyes.

Amusement flickered in the Bruce’s eyes as his hands rose slowly. “So good to see ye again, Laird Hamilton.” His eyes flickered to Lindsay. “Did he not know that ye came willingly with me, lassie?” He gestured over his shoulder. “So I could see to my horse.”

“Did you come alone then?” Conall’s eyes never left Robert. “Or can we expect more?”

“Aye, mayhap a few.” The Bruce grinned. “But I imagine ye’ll like the lot.”

“Grant!” Lindsay exclaimed as his grandfather appeared out of the falling snow and she embraced him. Soon after came his cousins.

Conall nodded and embraced first Rona before clapping Graham and Bryce on the back. He scanned the area and frowned. “Where are Adlin and Milly? Aðísla?”

Grant shook his head. “Not with us, I’m afraid.”

“Where did you last see them?” He did his best to ignore the enthusiastic embraces Graham and Bryce gave Lindsay.

“In the caves when we last saw ye, Cousin,” Rona reported as she looked him over and frowned. “How did ye travel back?”

He met her frown. “How did you travel back?”

She gestured at Grant. “This time, with help from yer grandfather.”

When Conall looked at Grant, it was to find his grandfather’s eyes trained on Lindsay’s ring with a bemused expression.

“What is it?” Conall repositioned himself between Lindsay and the Bruce.

“’Tis the color of her gem,” Grant said softly as he took her hand and studied it with a whimsical smile. “’Tis a color that is hard to forget.” When Conall and Lindsay continued to look confused, he murmured, “’Tis the verra color of Adlin’s foster sister’s eyes in another life...Iosbail Broun’s.”