KINLEY STOOD BY Tormod at the window of the map room, and glanced back at Lachlan, who was conferring with Cailean and Bhaltair. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the druids, who looked like regular guys and yet had the power to raise an army of Pritani tribesmen from the dead and make them immortal. The younger man looked like a tallish high school freshman, and kept staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

What was seriously strange was how much the older one reminded Kinley of her grandmother. Voice, hair, eyes—all were exactly like Bridget’s, as if he were a long-lost twin brother. But her grandmother wouldn’t be born for another seven hundred odd years. Since that side of Kinley’s family had come to America from Skye, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine Bhaltair Flen as a very, very distant relative. But why did he keep looking at her as if he wanted to punch her in the head?

She needed to quit worrying about the wand-wavers. Instead she turned to the Norseman.

“Just how much trouble are you in for helping me run away?”

“The laird hammered me good, and Neac will no’ permit me to heal in the loch.” The Norseman gingerly touched the dark purple bruise ringing his right eye, and then tapped his split lip. “I’ve woken with worse after a long night of drink.” He glared at her. “My pottage every morning now is fish bones and water. Washing water, as it happens.”

“I’ll have a word with Meg,” Kinley said and nodded at Bhaltair. “That old one keeps giving me the stink eye. What’s his problem?”

“Master Flen still thinks you dangerous,” Raen said as he joined them. “The laird has no’ told him why we crossed over and back, but he suspects. The groves are sacred to the druids, and only they are permitted to use them.”

“I’m good with that,” she said and turned to Tormod. “I need some ideas that will work in this time, and you were a raider. To save these kids our best bet is to get the undead out of the tunnels before we go in. We need a lure, something they can’t resist.”

“Blood would work, but only if they were starving.” He thought for a moment. “When my clan once raided a monastery, we first sent our scouts in disguised as monks. They hid themselves until the brothers went to sleep, and then came to open the gates for us.” As she started to reply he shook his head. “Dinnae go there, Kinley. The undead can smell us. No disguise would deceive them.”

Kinley glanced over at the druids and their voluminous robes, and then studied Raen’s tartan. “But can they smell the difference between different types of people? Like druids and McDonnels?”

Raen shook his head. “We are all alive. They would smell our blood, but no’ who we are. For that they must see us.”

Kinley nodded. “Then maybe we don’t have to go inside at all.”

She went over to Lachlan, who was still listening to Bhaltair’s long-winded lecture, and smiled politely. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re running out of daylight, and I have an idea on how to get to the children. We’ll need more people, which is where you druids come in.”

Bhaltair’s mouth puckered with disapproval. “This is a clan matter, Mistress Chandler. You would do well to leave this to the men folk.”

“I’m a trained combat search and rescue officer. The men folk? Aren’t.” She turned to Lachlan. “We need more druids. A lot more. As many as you can get together before sunset. Here’s why.”

As she explained her plan, Bhaltair looked horrified, but Lachlan listened intently, as did Cailean. She used a piece of parchment and a charred sliver of wood to sketch a quick map of the area, showing the undead lair in relation to the sacred grove. Finally she used lines and arrows to mark the movements of the clan and the druids as they carried out the rescue.

“There is an older road at the back of the grove, here,” Cailean said, and pointed to the spot on the map. “It leads around to the mouth of the stream. That would be the best direction of retreat.”

“Aye,” Lachlan said, and borrowed Kinley’s makeshift pencil to encircle another area. “We can set up a blind here to disguise it.”

“To pull this off, we’ll have to work very fast,” she warned him. “But as long as our friends here don’t freak out, it should work.” She glanced at the two druids. “What do you think, friends?”

Bhaltair drew himself up to his full height. “I think you should remember to whom you speak. I am no’ your friend. I am a member of the conclave. We rule all of our kind, no matter their family. A word from me, and I can have any druid placed in restraints, imprisoned, punished, or even disincarnated.”

“Really? Awesome,” Kinley said and turned to Cailean. “Why is he telling me this?”

“Only druid kind can use the magic of the groves. We ken the laird and his man couldnae have crossed over into your time without one of us to activate the time spell.” The younger man gave her a pained smile. “That would be you, Sister Chandler.”

“So I’m druid kind. Okay. Goes with the Scottish heritage, I guess.” She leaned closer to murmur, “Does that mean I have to wear the hideous robe?”

Cailean winked at her. “I think no’.”

Bhaltair cleared his throat. “If you two striplings have finished your bantering, we have brothers and sisters to summon.” To Lachlan he said, “When they arrive, we should assemble in the great hall. There we may make the exchange quickly, and address everyone at once.”

Kinley felt a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. “You’re okay with my plan?”

“Why should I no’ be?” he countered, and sniffed. “’Tis brilliant. And when ’tis done, we will teach you proper manners. I’ve no doubt you can be trained. Most savages can.” He swept out of the map room.

“So, now, Kinley,” Tormod drawled. “No more a McDonnel. You’re to be a floor-duster. A savage one.”

“I heard that,” Bhaltair said, his voice floating in from the corridor.

Lachlan pressed his lips together and looked at the ceiling rafters, while Cailean had a coughing attack. Raen unbelted his tartan and tossed it at the younger druid, who staggered under its weight. Their antics made Kinley grin.

Tormod tugged the tartan off the druid’s head and folded it neatly. “If you’re wanting me in this fight, my lord, I should heal first.” He gave Lachlan a wary look. “Just so I’m at my best.”

“Aye, off to the loch with you,” the laird said, and tugged Kinley into his arms. “Seems you may have to wear the hideous robe after all.”

“Not this time,” she said and tugged at a fold of his tartan. “Tonight I’m leading the clan into battle.”

* * *

Once the druids arrived and joined the clan in the great hall, Kinley watched from the edges. Lachlan addressed them briefly and turned over the explanation of the mission to Bhaltair and Cailean. As they began, he took Kinley with him to his tower chamber to change.

“No one is talking about Evander,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed to tug off her boots. “Or how he almost killed Raen before he took off with his legion spy honey for parts unknown.”

“Aye, but the seneschal freed the druids and the blood thralls,” he reminded her. “And Raen said that he turned into the path of the spear after ’twas thrown.”

“Sure he did, right before Evander left him to bleed out.” She saw the look he gave her and held up her hands. “I’m just saying.”

“If Raen wishes to pursue Talorc and his woman, and bring them back to be judged, by clan law, I will go with him, and hunt them. Their sentence will be death, and while I have never executed a McDonnel, I will see it done.” Lachlan came to sit beside her. “That is why no one speaks of it.”

“It’s not always good to be the laird, I guess.” She looked around them. “Damn. I need a come-back.”

He smiled. “What does that mean?”

“When soldiers in my time are about to go on a mission, they leave behind something that still needs to be done. Dirty clothes that have to be washed, or a half-written letter, or a borrowed tool that has to be returned to a neighbor. It’s like saying they know they’ll come back to do it, which is why we call it a come-back.” She laced her fingers through his. “It’s just a silly superstition.”

Lachlan brought her hand to his lips. “Lass, we are no’ so different as you think. My tribe let their fires go out the night before a battle. ’Twas thought to be good luck, so that we might return to light them again.” He drew her to her feet. “We’ve no’ much time left. There’s something I want to ask you.”

“All questions must wait,” Kinley said and pulled her tunic over her head. Then she unlaced her trousers and dropped them. She knelt down at his feet. “Until after I get you naked.”

Lachlan stripped to his waist, and sat back down on the bed while she worked his trousers down his long legs. She wanted so much to take her time, and kiss every inch of his now-flawless skin, but there wouldn’t be time until after the op. Kinley caught his thick, erect shaft between her palms, savoring the warmth and steely hardness of him before she pressed her lips to the glistening eye of his cockhead.

His serpent tattoo began to move, swiveling its head to look down at her.

Tasting Lachlan while his ink watched her made her hungry for more. She took him in her mouth, curling her tongue around his satiny bulb as she sucked.

“You’ll make me spill, lass,” Lachlan said as his hand tangled in her hair. He worked his fingertips against her scalp in a soothing motion, before he withdrew from her mouth. “And I want to fill you while you come with me.”

“I don’t know,” she said and reached up to touch his ink. The serpent’s tongue flickered against her fingers. “I think the snake wants to come out and play.”

“Tonight the snake must watch.”

He lifted her up as he lay back on the bed, and slowly lowered her onto his slick cock. She reached down to guide him in, catching her breath as he parted and penetrated her. He impaled her as she engulfed him, and for a moment she thought she would climax as she felt her folds stretch around his root.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Kinley slowly lifted herself, clenching around him so he felt her pussy caressing him as she did. As his dark eyes lit up, she thrust back down on him, driving him deep and taking his full length. The groan he uttered resonated in her chest as she did it again, harder and faster, her fingernails scoring his shoulders and her breasts bobbing wickedly. She bent down to rub her hard nipples against his mouth, teasing him but not allowing him to catch them and suck. Relentlessly she worked herself on him until the sweet friction had him swelling inside her.

“Kinley,” he groaned.

With a savage growl he rolled with her, pressing her knees up and plunging into her with a single, brutally delicious thrust. He held her gaze as he plowed in and out, his big body tight and shaking over hers. He dragged his hand to her breast, catching her hard nipple and pinching it as he stroked in and out.

Kinley knew she couldn’t win this battle, and she didn’t want to. She wanted them both to fall together, with each other and into each other, where they would never be apart or alone again. She reached up to touch his mouth, feeling his heaving breaths warm her fingers.

“I love you.”

Lachlan gathered her up, plunging one last time before he held his cock deep and kissed her mouth. She melded herself to him, gripping his hair and taking his tongue and squeezing his shaft. They both cried out as the dark, sweet heat they shared turned into an inferno of bliss.

It seemed as if she came forever, trembling and moaning and shuddering on him. He jerked and grunted and shook in return, and when they fell together they didn’t let go. Kinley didn’t think that she could, not now, not ever.

He kissed the tears from her cheeks, and the sighs from her lips. He didn’t have to tell her it was time to set this aside and that the world outside was waiting. They both released each other and climbed off the bed.

She didn’t want to stop touching him, even when they were dressed and ready for battle, but once he belted her tartan she took a step back. “All right. I’m ready for battle now. What did you want to ask me?”

“’Tis too soon, mayhap, but I cannae sleep at night for thinking on it.” Lachlan took hold of her hands, and went down on one knee. “Kinley lass, to me you are like the stars shining on the loch, and warm rain on my face, and the smell of meadow just bloomed. I’m no’ always a patient man, or an easy one, but I’m yours now, for as long as you’ll have me. Will you be mine, and marry me?”

She’d needed something to give her luck, and he’d given her the best come-back ever. “I’ll tell you my answer,” she said, grinning like a fool, “after the battle.”