“I WAS WRONG,” Conall muttered. “And ye bloody well know it.”

“Ye were not.” Rona scowled as she eyed him. “Ye knew the lassie was using her feminine ways wrongly and ye called her on it is all.”

Conall frowned. No, he had done far worse than that and knew it the moment the words left his mouth. He knew it as he watched Lindsay's eyes. She was not the creature he accused her of being and even for the sake of pushing her away, his words were too harsh. But he had been heated, no, infuriated, when he heard her offer to put her life on the line.

Again.

The bloody lass would be the death of him with her antics and heroic ways. Yet when she slapped him, when he felt the sting of her palm and saw the hurt in her eyes, he knew it had gone too far. It was one thing to push away a lass, another to cause the sort of pain he had.

There had to be a better way to keep her at arm’s length.

Yet at every turn, she did something to rile him up again.

Almost as if she heard his thoughts, her voice drifted through his mind. “Darach Hamilton?”

Caught off guard by both the feel of her in his mind and her saying his father’s name, he dropped what he was doing and strode in her direction. She and Milly had only gone a few caves over. By the time he joined them, Lindsay was sitting on a rock, trembling and Milly sat beside her. Adlin was two steps behind Conall.

“What happened?” Conall frowned as he looked around. Only Aðísla stood nearby. Hand on the hilt of his blade, his eyes returned to Lindsay. “You sounded distressed...you said my da's name.”

“I did,” she whispered and met his eyes, more shaken than he had ever seen her. Genuinely shaken which told him a lot.

“I need to talk to Grant.” Her eyes swung to Adlin. “Do you know where he is?”

“Nay, not at the moment.” Adlin sat beside her and took her hand. “What did you see, Lindsay? What happened?”

It took almost all Conall had not to drag her out of there and demand answers. This was his father they were talking about not Adlin’s.

“It...I...” Her eyes went from Adlin to Milly before they met Conall’s and she released a choppy sigh. “Then I need to speak with you. Alone.”

Adlin didn’t quite frown but came close to it as he looked from her to Conall then back again. “Are you sure, lass?”

“Aye, I would say she’s sure,” Conall ground out. “Laird MacLomain.”

Adlin’s eyes stayed with Lindsay’s. “Are you then, lass? Do you want to be alone with Laird Hamilton?”

Ah, so Adlin could use his proper title. Telling. And likely in a way Conall should take more heed to, but he was too concerned about Lindsay. As to his father, they would see about that. As far as he was concerned, her ring could very well be playing tricks on her...on them.

“Come.” Conall held out his hand to her. “Let us go talk.”

Lindsay’s eyes fell to his hand, and she shook her head as she stood. “Thank you but no. I can walk just fine on my own, Laird Hamilton.”

He didn’t blame her for her distrust of him, her defiance. A defiance he was finally getting a peek at. One she kept well hidden. The real her underneath. He realized as they walked away from the others that it had been the real her since she slapped him. Since he saw the raw pain in her eyes that he had no idea existed.

They only went one cave over in the opposite direction. Conall set his torch in a bracket common to these caves it seemed, leaned against a waist high rock and waited. Meanwhile, she crossed her arms over her chest, paced and looked anywhere but at him. It was clear she was upset, even agitated, and trying to make sense of something.

“Lindsay,” he said calmly. When she offered no response, he repeated her name and decided to be honest. “Lindsay, please tell me what is happening and why you spoke my father’s name within my mind.”

She stopped short and met his eyes. “Within your mind?”

“Aye,” he responded, doing his best to sound calm, not concerned. What if a warlock was inside her head? Infecting her like the last one tried to do to Milly?”

Though inclined to offer her comfort, he figured she would shy away.

“He’s alive, Conall,” she whispered as her eyes stayed with his. “Your father is alive.”

“What do you speak of?” When he stepped closer she took a small step back then one forward, her eyes narrowed. There was more of that defiance he had no idea she possessed. And again, it wasn’t an act in the least.

He urged her to sit on a rock. “Sit, and I will stand.”

She eyed him for a moment before she did as he asked and sat, her demeanor still very different than what he was used to. Not sultry and enticing, not trying to lure. Not trying to enchant. Conall frowned as that word churned in his mind when all he should be focusing on was her reference to his father.

“He wants you to forget about him,” she said, her voice soft and hoarse. “You, Grant, Sheila, Jackie...all of you.”

“I dinnae ken,” he said more intensely than he meant to. He didn’t step closer though and never touched her. “What do you mean, lass?”

“He sent a warning,” she said softly. “Never look for him, or it will mean your death.”

“How did you see him?” Conall kept frowning. “Where did he go?”

“I think...” She shook her head. “I think though he was alive, he was also a ghost...he was transparent.”

“Och,” Conall muttered, frustrated. “You have been through a lot. ‘Twas likely just your imagination.”

“I don’t think so,” she murmured then described the man she had seen. By all accounts, it sounded just like his father. “He told me you probably wouldn’t believe me so he shared something only you two would know to prove it was really him.”

“And what was that?”

“When you were ten years old you told him that you would never take a wife.” Lindsay cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Not unless she was the faery in the tree.”

His blood chilled. Indeed, nobody but his da knew he had said that about the girl he saw on many occasions in the great oak in front of MacLomain Castle. A tree with a rich, magical history.

“’Tis verra likely a warlock has gotten inside all of our minds,” Conall said crisply, trying to navigate around this uncomfortable information. “’Tis more likely that than having actually been my da.”

“He didn’t seem evil in the least, Laird Hamilton,” she said, continuing to address him formally. She was putting distance between them, and he deserved it. Distance, he reminded himself, that he wanted too.

“And how familiar are you with evil that you would know the difference?” he asked.

“Familiar enough,” she muttered as she started back toward the others.

Conall grabbed the torch and fell into step beside her. “Did this entity say anything else?”

He tried his best to keep his eyes straight ahead and not on her. Strangely enough, she smelled of the very wildflowers that surrounded the oak during summer. And there was something alluring about her thick damp hair. He longed to feel the cool silky weight of it in his hands.

“No, your father did not say anything else,” she replied.

“Why did you feel the need to speak with Grant alone about this?” He clenched his jaw. “Then me when you realized Grandfather was not available.”

“Because it felt personal.” She shrugged. “Private.”

“It sounds to me like a warning that should be heard by all.”

“Then, by all means, tell everyone,” she said, her tone tight. “I just figured they might want the same proof you did.” Her eyes dusted over him. “Forgive me if I assumed you wouldn’t want them to know you intended to marry a make-believe faery.”

“She wasn’t make-believe,” he nearly said but bit his tongue. Lindsay was the last person he wanted to discuss this with. The hairless girl with big sad eyes would always be his best kept secret. A girl he had only ever seen glimpses of, but would never forget.

Lindsay slowed and cast him an odd look before continuing.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing,” she murmured. “I’m just not used to...hearing other people’s thoughts I suppose.”

Conall ground his jaw and asked something he suspected he already knew the answer to. “Are you hearing everyone’s thoughts or just mine?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know it does,” he muttered, praying she would answer yes.

“So far, I only hear your thoughts.” She frowned. “Hopefully, soon enough, maybe I’ll hear others. Maybe even William’s.”

Well aware she had said that on purpose, Conall refused to be baited. If nothing else, he needed to control his behavior around her.

“I will simply tell them what you saw and nothing more,” he stated, shifting the conversation away from both William and his childhood faery. “They can choose what to make of it.”

“Do what you like.”

That was the last thing she said to him before she strode in Milly’s direction. He sighed and frowned, annoyed at the feeling he experienced in her absence. The same feeling he had felt since the moment they met. The very same that had turned him into her unseen but vigilant protector.

“Ye ought to just tell her how ye feel rather than being so angry at her all the time,” Graham mentioned as he joined him. “’Tis clear the two of ye desire each other.”

“Is that what ye gathered from her slap,” Conall said, not hiding his sarcasm.

“Ye cannae turn from love because yer afraid of losing it,” Graham said, always a little too quick to offer his opinion. “’Twill make a bitter old man out of ye, aye?”

Conall ignored him and headed Adlin’s way. Graham had a mission, and he suspected it would not be the last time he tried pushing Conall toward Lindsay. A tactic, he realized, meant to steer her away from Graham even as he pretended to woo her. What was the bloody man up to?

Adlin was once again discussing the upcoming skirmish with Wallace but stopped talking as he and Graham joined them. Both were concerned about Lindsay, so he explained what happened. As she had surmised, Adlin asked the same thing Conall had. So he remained relatively honest.

“He told her information only I would know, but I dinnae think we should necessarily trust it,” he reported. “I believe a warlock could have just as easily manipulated her.”

“I agree,” Adlin said, not pressing the issue. “Yet ‘tis nice to have at least a wee bit o’ hope, aye, Conall?”

He offered no response. Hope was not something he trusted or embraced easily. Instead, he focused on what Adlin and William had been discussing before. “So ye plan to attack as soon as the Sassenach arrive on the morrow?”

“Aye,” William replied. “’Twill be bad weather which will work to our advantage.”

Conall nodded, well aware that the air had shifted and chilled even further. A mixture of freezing rain and snow would arrive by sun-up. While he agreed it would help in a spontaneous battle, it was also more suited to seasoned warriors of which Wallace seemed in short supply. The Sassenach, however, were likely traveling with just such warriors and as was grimly reported, more than expected. 

“Just tell me what ye need of me,” he said to Wallace, “and my blade is yers.”

William nodded, briefly caught them up on what directions they planned to come from and which warriors he wanted where. Magic was not to be used unless absolutely necessary or if Adlin said otherwise.

When William eventually strode off, Conall frowned at Adlin. “Yer planning something sooner, I take it?”

“Aye.” Adlin looked from Conall to Graham then to Bryce who had just joined them. “After she’s rested for a few hours, Milly will be astral projecting to the Sassenach camp. When she does, I will already be there with Bryce, Graham, and Aðísla.” His eyes went to Conall. “I would like ye and Rona to stay here and watch over the lasses. Milly most especially.”

While he would rather be amongst his fellow warriors spying on the enemy, he was well aware that Adlin had just entrusted him with a great deal.

“Aye, Cousin, I will keep Milly safe,” Conall vowed. “Ye have my word.”

“And Lindsay,” Bryce ground out, clearly not happy with her being left out or, no doubt, Conall’s treatment of her earlier.

“Of course I will keep Lindsay safe.” Conall narrowed his eyes at Bryce. “As I have since the moment she traveled back in time and better than any other.”

“Better?” Bryce narrowed his eyes as well. “Is that what ye call driving a lass to slapping ye?”

“Enough.” Adlin frowned. “We all know what we need to do. Bryce and Graham, meet me at the cave’s entrance in three hours.” His eyes met Conall’s. “I’ll expect ye at the lasses’ tent at the same time. Discreetly, of course.”

“Aye,” all three replied before they went their separate ways. Or at least Conall tried to before Adlin stopped him.  

“How fare ye, Cousin?” Adlin asked. “It couldnae have been easy hearing yer da’s message.”

“A message I willnae believe until I have more proof,” Conall stated. “Until then, I willnae believe ‘twas him. I willnae be so foolish.”

“No, I dinnae suppose ye will,” Adlin said softly, eying him with that wise look he was always so good at. A gaze all that much more intense now that he had come into his full power.

“Ye’ve an intense way of dealing with Lindsay that I feel needs to be addressed,” Adlin continued.

“Is that so?” Conall crossed his arms over his chest and perked his brows. Adlin might have just honored him by asking him to watch over Milly, but that did not give him the right to father him. Or grandfather him, if he were to guess Adlin’s thoughts. Because Adlin would do whatever he thought Grant would want done in his absence.

“Not only do I like Lindsay, but I respect her courage,” Adlin said. “I'm grateful for the things she’s done for our people. As should ye be.” His expression tightened. “Though I well ken the reasons ye do it, ‘twould be better if ye treated her with less contempt and more kindness.”

“And for what reasons do I do it?” Conall asked, wondering if Adlin saw things from his perspective.

He should have known better.

Adlin looked at him as though that was a foolish question. “Ye do it because ye love the lass and dinnae want to lose her if ye let her close.” He shook his head. “But ‘tis wearing thin and upsetting Milly.” His eyes narrowed, and his tone grew stern. “And I dinnae want anything upsetting Milly, ye ken? She is still new to her magic, and though she’s astral projected several times on her own since the battle, she hasnae had as much practice as I would like. Even so, she volunteers to help and we should all be appreciative.” He gave Conall a pointed look. “More than that, we shouldnae do anything to upset her, aye?”

Though tempted to tell Adlin he was not pleased he had upset Lindsay then, in turn, Milly, he decided against it. Let his cousin think what he would. Frustrated, he merely nodded. “I willnae upset Milly any further. Again, ye have my word.”

Adlin eyed him for a long moment before he nodded.

Later, as his cousins snuck off into the darkness and he entered the lasses’ tent, he realized what an uncomfortable position he had put himself in. Rona stayed outside the tent guarding it, but Adlin had been very specific. He wanted Conall in the tent with his blade at the ready. So here he was, sitting across from Milly and Lindsay, certain he would prefer to be anywhere else. 

Milly, it seemed, was well aware of the tension between him and Lindsay as she grinned and looked at them before she took a swig of whisky and made idle conversation. “It took me awhile, but I’m finally getting used to this stuff.” She fanned her breath. “Strong though.”

When neither responded, she handed the skin to Lindsay. “Have some. I know how much you like it.”

“I do,” Lindsay agreed, her sole focus on Milly “Thank you, darling.”

She took a hearty swig. Several in fact.

“Whoa, easy there.” Milly grinned as she took the skin back. “Have as much as you like later. Right now, I don’t want you inebriated when I do what I need to do.”

“Trust me, it would take a bit more whisky than that to get me drunk.” Lindsay offered Milly a warm smile. The sort that made it nearly impossible to look away from her.

“Right. Hmm.” Milly eyed her. “How is it again you’re such a bad ass when it comes to whisky? I never once saw you drink it at home.” She shook her head, baffled. “I couldn’t imagine you ever wanting to.”

“A girl’s gotta have her secrets,” Lindsay said a little too gaily as she tossed Milly a secretive look. “Let’s just say I had to play a certain part that I refused to fail at.”

“And as you would say, how deliciously vague.” Milly chuckled. “I’ll get it out of you eventually, you know.”

Conall did his best to keep his eyes off Lindsay and on the fire as the women continued chatting quietly. Though most were sleeping and the wind whistling through the caves was fairly loud, it was better if they did not cause a stir. 

“It’s time,” Milly finally said. Her voice dropped a few octaves. “Adlin’s ready.”

Conall nodded and shifted closer to them.

“I find it’s easier to do this laying down,” Milly explained as she curled onto her side. “Seeing how I’ll end up here anyway unless someone holds me up.”

Lindsay nodded and shifted closer as well. “What should we do? Anything?”

“Just don’t let anyone get to me,” Milly joked. “And be as quiet as possible. I’ve got to concentrate on Adlin.”

“Aye, of course,” Conall said softly. “I willnae let anyone near you, lass.”

For the first time since they entered, Lindsay glanced at him, her concern for Milly evident.

Conall offered her a look of reassurance and put his fur over Milly before settling down beside her. A strained silence stretched as she appeared to drift off. He kept his eyes either on the fire or Milly as they waited. Was it him or was that same wildflower scent Lindsay emitted earlier only growing stronger? It was sweet and warm and reminded him of...

He frowned as a memory hovered just out of reach.

A memory from childhood.

As he often did, he was visiting MacLomain Castle and was out by the oak. It was a warm summer day, one of few that year, and he was practicing whipping his new dagger into a post. He had not seen his tree faery for several long months yet still he went there and waited, sure she would appear again.

This particular day, the wind turned gustier than usual, the sun was brighter and the scent of flowers stronger. Everything was sharper and crisper. Just like it had been on those rare days when he saw her. What he could see of her that is. So he knew without question that they would soon cross paths again.

What he didn’t expect was it to come in the form of soft sobs from high up in the branches.

He peered up but saw nothing hidden in the shadows. No faery in the leaves high above. He kept calling out in hopes she might answer though she never did. Even so, the sobs continued and his heart broke for her. Why was she so sad? What had happened to her since the last time they spoke?

Though he had just turned thirteen winters, he was allowed to drink whisky on occasion and had a skin with him. If he could do nothing else, mayhap he could ease her pain with that. So he sealed the top and tossed it up into the branches. The first few times it fell back down. The third time, however, it did not.

So he sat against the trunk and waited. Though he never saw her that day, her sobs faded. He sat there until the next morning, just in case, but he never heard her again. Defended by and even made of magic, he could not climb the tree to see if the whisky might have landed on a limb. So truly, there was no way to know if she ever got it.

Yet the strong scent of flowers on the wind seemed to confirm it.

The same scent he smelled now.

He glanced at Lindsay, confused, only to find her slumped beside Milly. What the bloody hell? He had been so lost in thought he never saw her go down. Was she sleeping? Breathing? Fear shot through him as he pulled her onto his lap and cupped the back of her head, so it didn’t loll. Her chest rose and fell slowly. She appeared to be sound asleep.

Yet he knew something was wrong.

“Lindsay.” Though tempted to shake her awake, he sensed that was unwise. “Can you hear me?”

Frustrated, unsure what to do, he rested her cheek against his chest and held her. That’s when he noticed the gem in her ring. It flickered a unique shade of dark brown. If he was not mistaken, it matched Graham’s eyes.

Seconds later, it turned jet black.

“Och,” he muttered and called out for Rona. His cousin frowned as she ducked in, assessed the situation then crouched in front of him and Lindsay. Her frown deepened as he pointed out the gem.

“Ye need to reach out to Adlin,” she insisted. “Milly could be in danger.”

“But what if that’s what the warlock is counting on.” Because he knew dark magic was involved. “What if I lead it straight back here by doing so?”

“Bloody hell,” Rona muttered and nodded. “Yer right.” She closed her eyes and became very still, clearly trying to sense if death was close. If danger was near. 

She shook her head and opened her eyes. “I dinnae sense anything, and I dinnae trust that.”

“We will only do what was asked of us then,” Conall said. “We will stand guard.”

He went to pull a fur over Lindsay when she whispered, “geamhradh,” and something started happening. He saw flashes of the oak at MacLomain Castle. Shadows in the tree as he looked up.

Then he was somewhere else.

He stood beside Milly in a dark forest.

Something was off about her. She seemed frozen in place.

Adlin and his cousins were nearby, and Graham was slumped against a tree wounded.

At first, it seemed nobody could see him, so his eyes wandered. Had he somehow followed Milly’s astral projection?

Then his eyes locked on Lindsay.

She was drifting through the enemy encampment, her eyes shimmering, her expression daring. He knew that look. She was enchanting a man. Soon after, he saw someone trailing after her. Or something. Tall, sheathed in black from head to toe in a hooded cloak, a man followed her.

A warlock.

Conall shook his head as he realized what she was doing. Using her allure to distract pure evil. Using herself as bait. His eyes were drawn to her ring. How it shined the color of Graham’s eyes then suddenly, turned inky black, no doubt reflecting the warlock’s eyes.

That’s when she stopped, looked directly at Conall, and whispered, “geamhradh,” again before she gazed up at the sky and it began snowing. Seconds later, the warlock’s eyes whipped in Milly’s direction, and he hissed.

Adlin’s eyes blazed blue through the darkness at Conall as he roared, “Get Milly out of there!”

A heartbeat later, Conall’s eyes snapped open.

“What is it, Cousin?” Rona said, alarmed. It was clear only a moment had passed for her.

“We must go quickly,” he said. “Guard me.”

Rona nodded and said nothing. He didn’t bother with the tent’s flaps but ripped the whole thing down. Adlin might have said to get Milly out of here but there was no way he was leaving without Lindsay and Rona wasn’t strong enough to carry her.

So Conall intended to carry them both.

Rona’s eyes widened as he handed her all of his weapons, except the dagger sheathed in his boot. Anything that could inadvertently hurt the lasses. Then he relied solely on adrenaline as he slumped Lindsay over his right shoulder and Milly over his left. He barely felt the pressure on his knees as he stood, and moved swiftly.

Though tempted, he knew better than to go deeper into the caves. He didn’t know them well enough and could very well end up trapped in a corner. And if warlocks were good at nothing else, it was navigating dark, musty corners of the world.

So he headed outside.

While running was impossible between the weight on his shoulders and the slick ground, he kept up a brisk walk with Rona at his side. He headed toward the windy shores of the river. A place he could, if necessary, manipulate his element of air easier. Right now, that was the best possible weapon against the sort of evil he had just witnessed.

Not surprisingly, Wallace joined him within moments. Rona never said a word but got her point across somehow, because William released a soft whistle. He was calling his men to arms.

The battling would begin.

Conall didn’t make it that much further before Adlin, and his cousins appeared. Based on the roars in the distance, they had lost the element of surprise.

“What’s going on?” Milly mumbled as Lindsay murmured, “Dear Lord, where am I?”

“Set them down,” Adlin ordered. “They’re safest here surrounded by us.”

Conall crouched and did his best to set them down gently but both sort of thumped back on their arses against a tree trunk.

“My apologies lasses,” he muttered as he stood and caught his blades when Rona tossed them his way. He tucked several daggers here and there then handed one to each of the women. Disoriented, both glanced around, frowning when Bryce sat Graham on the ground beside them.

Bryce crouched in front of him and wrapped Graham's hand around the hilt of a dagger. “Do what ye can with this, Cousin. Ye’ll not be wielding more until Aðísla sees to ye, aye?”

Clearly in pain, Graham grunted his response and nodded.

Next, Rona crouched in front of him, concerned. They had spent very little time together since Fraser's death. Rona was always at Hamilton Castle and Graham, despite being first in command, was often off doing one thing or another. Yet as she pressed her forehead against his and murmured a prayer to give him strength it was clear they were once close. That they could be close again.

Wind gusted harder, and snow fell steadily as Conall and his cousins awaited the onslaught. They were about halfway between the river and caves, and the Sassenach were coming...as was their warlock.

William and Adlin never exchanged a word, but he could tell by Wallace’s face that he knew this might happen. As it turned out, those tents at the river were being put to actual use. Where it looked to the Sassenach that the Scots were resting and vulnerable, many were already braced to attack.

What they did not foresee—even their God forsaken warlock—was Grant Hamilton appearing there.

So multiple fronts came together in the midst of a pre-winter storm.

One battle next to the river and one right here in the forest.

Conall braced his legs, held a sword and a small mace at the ready, then took up position in front of Lindsay and Milly. When he met his cousin’s eyes, Graham nodded, determined. The two of them had always worked well alongside each other in battle, using their elements of air and water to manipulate what they could. A storm such as this would assist them greatly if Graham were strong enough. Which it seemed he was by the look in his eyes. The sheer will as he held the dagger and turned his gaze to the forest.

Conall never said a word just watched and waited.

“Whatever happens, Grandson, keep our Brouns safe,” Grant whispered into his mind. “They are everything.”

He didn’t bother responding because he had every intention of doing just that. He knew Adlin and Grant would be battling the warlock so it was up to him and his cousins to take care of the lasses.

Bryce, Rona, and Aðísla became his front line as the forest filled with a wall of roaring Sassenach. Conall waited calmly and focused on every little thing about the men coming at them from their sizes to their potential threat. He weighed the air, how it shifted and moved around each warrior. In doing so, he was able to gauge their strengths and weaknesses.

Though plenty of Scots fought alongside, he knew better than to depend on them. Their battle had been long and hard over the past seven winters, and many were losing heart despite their love for Wallace and Scotland. Though they fought, it was not with the same passion he saw in their eyes before the Battle of Stirling Bridge.

So he was prepared to take on every last Sassenach if need be.

Seconds later, it seemed, by all accounts, he would have to do exactly that.

Especially when Bryce, Rona, and Aðísla evidently became victims of the warlock’s magic and slumped to the ground.

All three were passed out cold.