THOUGH GRAHAM HAD debated whether to bring Christina to another river after what happened before with their dreams, Grant had felt it would be all right. Between the storm and the river itself, they should be protected well enough.

“So you’re saying we’re safe because there’s so much of your element going on,” Christina murmured as their eyes held. “That the rain and river and all the water molecules in between protect us?”

“Aye,” he whispered as he came behind her and untied the strings on her dress. He slowly pulled the material off one shoulder then the other. Her head fell back as he nibbled the soft, smooth flesh on the side of her neck.

“That feels so good,” she groaned as she pressed her backside against him and her breasts spilled free.

“I couldnae agree more,” he said, his voice gruff and his cock eager as she ground against it.

While determined to take this slow, or at least make it into the water, he couldn’t. Instead, he yanked off his tunic and walked her forward a few steps. “Put yer hands against the tree, lass. Brace yerself.”

Breathing just as hard as him, she complied as he pulled the dress down until it pooled around her feet. As he untied his breeches and freed his cock, she kicked the dress away entirely but didn’t bother with her boots. Neither did he as he pressed her legs apart, grabbed her hips and thrust deep.

She shuddered and cried out in pleasure as she dug her nails into the bark.

After that, it was fast and passionate and without pause.

Reveling in the feel of her tight heat, he never slowed. With his element all around him, he had no need of magic to show her how good endurance and a strength to match hers could feel. How powerful and wonderful.

Because it was just that.

While he knew full well what it was like to be taken by her, it was equally fulfilling to offer her the same enjoyment in return. To draw sounds of pleasure from her. To show her that she could relax into pleasure and not have to work so hard to find it. 

This night, beneath the rain and beside the river with a faster current than usual, he possessed extra strength and most especially stamina. Enough to drive her to release not once but twice.

When her knees gave way after the first climax, he spun her, protected her against the bark with his hand, and kept going. Eventually, through her moans and groans, she found the strength to wrap her legs around his waist and take him even deeper. Not long after came her second release.

Yet he owed her a third before he released as well.

First, though, they would wash away the battle. So he sat her on a rock, removed her boots then swiftly took off the remainder of his clothing. All the while she watched him from beneath drowsy lids, a soft smile curling her lips. Approval lit her eyes as she looked him over as though this were the first time. He well understood because he was doing the same to her.

“’Twill be a bit rough,” he murmured as he scooped her up and waded into the river. “So hold on tight, lass.”

“You bet I will,” she promised, delighted.

He braced himself against the current as he lowered her.

Revived within moments by the cool water and the rush of excitement, she laughed with pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he released her legs. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed across the sky as he brought them into the water entirely. Though he couldn’t release her so she could scrub herself clean, the pressure of the water would take care of things.

“This is unbelievable,” she whispered as her eyes went from the pines towering over them to the rambunctious sky beyond. Then her gaze dropped to his. “You were too...thank you...”

He knew she wasn’t just talking about his endurance but the battle they had fought together. Then those terrible moments afterward. In all his long years warring and fighting, he had never seen a warrior do what she did. While he had glimpsed a fraction of it at the castle, it was nothing like what she embraced earlier today.

She had been every inch a warrior goddess as she and his sword became one. As she cut down men before they ever saw her coming while toying with others. Her magic—subliminal and wrapped up in her DNA enough so that it likely remained undetected by the warlock—was breathtaking.

She was breathtaking.

Christina fought better than any warrior he had ever seen, which said much considering he was related to some of the best fighters in Scotland. It said even more, considering she did so in a dress. Yet she did and impressed them all including Sven, which he suspected was rare.

Caught between the memory of her beauty, both then and now, then the fear he had felt for her despite her talent, he held her more firmly, cupped her cheek and kissed her. Not hard but with everything he felt. Hell, he suspected he kissed her with everything he had yet to feel he wanted her so bad.

As their tongues twisted, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and her thoughts brushed his. “I want you too.”

Fueled by that, fueled by everything about her, he had them out of the river in no time and her beneath him on the grass. Battered by wind and rain, it wasn’t a particularly sheltered spot, but that didn’t matter to either of them as he continued to kiss her. As she kissed him back just as passionately.

What he made her feel now as he thrust would be tenfold what they had just shared against the tree. She dug her nails into his back just as deeply as she had that bark as he moved. Again and again, over and over, he thrust, his energy levels high. His pleasure even higher.

He lost all track of time and awareness as they moved together.

He knew she released and locked up with pleasure, but still, he went until it all became too much. Too extreme. It was then, at that moment, mixed with her wails from yet another release, that he finally let go.

Neither moved for some time as he spent himself in her.

As he lost himself in her body.

“Graham,” she whispered at some point but said nothing else after that as she ran her hands languidly over his back and arse.

While tempted to start all over he knew better. She might run hot, and he might be in his element, but remaining out in this weather for too long wasn’t a good idea. So he carried her back to the thick pine then rifled through the satchel Grant had sent along.

“It looks like your days of dresses are over for now,” he said, amused as he pulled out a pair of women’s trousers.

“Not complaining,” she said as she pulled them on. “Perfect fit too!”

He grinned as he eyed her long legs and firm arse made clearer by the trousers. “Nor am I, lass.”

Already wanting to rip her clothes off again, he couldn’t help but speculate on her outfit. It was far better suited to battling than her previous clothing. He could already see her with weapons strapped here and there. She would be fierce and bonnie and mayhap all his.

“What’s that look in your eyes, Graham MacLomain,” she murmured as she pulled on her boots. “Because it’s another whole type of arousal if I were to guess.”

He grinned as he yanked on his boots as well. “I like you in clothing like that. It suits you better.” He eyed her up and down again with appreciation. “Verra much...not to say you werenae bonnie in a dress but now...well,” he chuckled, “let’s just say you’ll be verra distracting in battle.”

“Why thank you...I think.” She grinned. “If you like these clothes then you’d probably like my clothing back home.”

“I like what I already saw,” he conceded. “Twenty-first century clothing leaves less to the imagination, and that is just fine with me.”

“Would you want to live there?” she murmured. “In the future?”

“Nay,” he said honestly as he met her eyes. “I wouldnae want to live apart from my kin.”

She nodded. “I get that.”

Sadness rolled over him as her thoughts skirted his. If all her friends remained here in medieval Scotland, she would be alone in the twenty-first century. That’s when he realized her granny had already died. Something he wasn’t entirely sure about until now.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said, joining her as she leaned against the tree. “You must miss your granny verra much.”

“I do.” Christina didn’t seem surprised in the least that he had read her mind so easily. “She was all I had until my friends came along.”

He might have treaded delicately around this subject with any other woman and remained quiet, but Christina was too important. Getting to know and understand her better was too important.

“What happened, lass?” he said softly. “How did you lose your granny?”

She shrugged. “Nothing overly complicated. Not cancer or any other kind of illness.” Her eyes drifted to the river, damp though she tried to blink the moisture away. “I just tucked her into bed one night, and she didn’t wake up to join me for coffee the next morning.”

He considered her as he caught snippets of her thoughts. “She helped you navigate your gift quite a bit when you were young, aye?”

“She did actually.” She twisted her lips and flinched. “And it wasn’t always pretty.”

“Nay, I imagine not.” He shook his head. “Coming into our gifts can be difficult.” He offered her a sympathetic look. “Especially in the twenty-first century, I would think.”

She nodded. “It sure was. I tended to use my gift most when getting into fights as a child. Mostly defending kids who couldn’t defend themselves. But that didn’t much matter at the end of the day. Not when Granny had to deal with another call from school and yet another suspension.” She snorted. “Eventually she just ended up home-schooling me to keep me out of trouble.”

Before he could respond, she held up her hand and shook her head. “I know, it sounds like I had some serious anger issues, but it wasn’t really like that. I just had this extra strength and using it on bullies seemed like the thing to do.”

He nodded, in agreement with her logic. Still, it had to have made for a choppy childhood. “So your granny didn’t get overly mad at you?”

“Ha! Did she ever.” She chuckled and shook her head. “‘Violence never gets you anywhere, child,’ she’d say time and time again.”

“’Twas better after she started homeschooling you though, aye?” he asked.

“You’d like to think, but not so much.” She looked a little guilty. “Not for a few more years.”

When he tilted his head in question, she explained. “Well, Granny had a kind heart. So kind that she tended to put what little money we had anywhere but into our bills.” She shrugged. “So rather than get a normal job, I did what any cocky, ignorant teenager would do with magically enhanced strength. I started fighting for easy cash.”

“Och, lass,” he murmured. “Your granny couldnae have been happy about that.”

“That’s an understatement,” she said softly. “But she stood by me, and we got through it. She helped me see the error of my ways and eventually, inspired me to put my gift to good use. That’s when I began running for charities. I returned the favor by keeping a steady job, and helping her manage her finances better.” A nostalgic smile ghosted her face. “In the end, everything worked out just fine.” She sighed. “But I miss her like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Aye, ‘tis understandable.” He rested his shoulder against hers, remembering all too well the pain of losing Grandma Cadence. Though Grandda Malcolm was well enough in his old age, he hadn’t been right since losing Grandma. It was only a matter of time before he died of a broken heart if nothing else.

“And I’m sorry about your grandmother,” she murmured as her eyes met his.

She was picking up his thoughts more and more by the moment which had to mean something. “Thanks, lass. Uncle Grant tries to keep Grandda going but ‘tis not always easy.”

“Because Grant is actually your great uncle, right?” she said. “Malcolm’s brother.”

He nodded. “Aye, but my cousins and I have always just called him Uncle Grant. ‘Tis easier.”

“I get it.” She sighed. “He’s a good guy. Everyone I’ve met is.” She cocked a grin at him. “Even your mom.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Mayhap you really are the lass meant for me then.”

While he thought the moment the words slipped out of his mouth, he would regret them, he didn’t. Not at all.

“Maybe I am,” she said casually as she stretched and yawned. “And maybe I’m not.”

“Time will tell, aye?” he murmured, watching her closely. How much did she really want this? How much went beyond friendship and sex?

“Yep, time usually does tell.” She slipped her hand into his. “Ready for bed?” Despite all they had done intimately, she still blushed as she smiled. “You done wiped me out.”

Sleep sounded great considering what day tomorrow was.

June twenty-third.

The first of two days that made up the infamous Battle of Bannockburn.

He warned Conall that they were returning but heard nothing back. Not worried, he and Christina joined the others. All of whom were asleep except Sven. He never cast a glance in their direction but stared out into the night as if deep in thought about someone long gone.

The next morning dawned bright but quiet and windless. As though time stood still, waiting to witness history. A history that was about to be made with no help from Adlin and Milly. Where were they anyway? Trapped in limbo with Aðísla again? Doomed to appear at the last minute?

“So what is our plan, Uncle Grant?” Bryce asked when he returned with a carcass, and he and Sven began skinning it. “As far as Robert the Bruce knows, Christina is still in Stirling Castle, and that is important, aye?”

“Aye,” Grant replied. “’Tis why he has rerouted his plans closer to the castle though still down the road a ways. Her kidnapping made him rethink his battle plans and ‘tis a bloody good thing.”

“So what will make things unfold as they should today,” Conall asked. “What will make him take action?”

“Rumor, lads. Sent by us to his men about Christina.” A clever grin slid onto Grant’s face. “’Twill prompt him to act on this verra morn as history says he should. When he does, ‘twill be a means to draw the enemy out and distract them so he can try to infiltrate the castle and save her.” He appeared quite pleased. “Yet she willnae be there anymore but escaped and returned to him.”

“How will she have escaped though?” Graham frowned, confused. “When the castle is watched so closely by the Scots on the outside, and I’m sure enough Sassenach on the inside despite our battle there.”

“Aye.” A mischievous gleam lit Grant’s eyes. “But tis a mighty haunted castle now too or so rumor has it.” He made the sign of the cross over his chest and winked. “After all, ‘twas just a few nights ago that wails were heard within its walls. Haunting sounds of warfare and pain.” He shrugged. “So ‘tis not such a far-fetched idea that they threw poor Christina to the wolves, thinking mayhap she brought the evil beasties out.” He shook his head, baffled. “’Tis hard to know why no one saw her beyond the castle walls but haunted grounds are capable of anything, are they not?”

While the story could be told many ways, Graham got the gist of it as did they all. Not only their actions in saving Christina but likely her own before they arrived had created sound aplenty.

Enough to cast rumors far and wide.

So Christina had an excuse for getting away. She was also the very reason Robert had changed his battle strategy. No, that wasn’t quite right. The warlock was the reason for all of this change, and they needed to remember that.

“A warlock that almost seems to be helping us,” he murmured without realizing it.

“Aye, and something to remain aware of and vigilant of,” Grant said. “For now, ‘tis time to make our way back to Robert’s encampment to ensure day one of the Battle of Bannockburn goes as it should so that there can be a day two, aye?”

“Aye,” Graham and his cousins replied before they ate then set out. The air was slightly cooler than the day before, but visibility was good. Just the sort of day Robert the Bruce would need to be seen from afar.

Just the sort of day to launch one of the most historical battles in Scottish history.

“So what can we expect today?” Christina asked. “What is Robert supposed to do?”

“As far as history tells it, incite the enemy,” he provided. “But as we now know it, initially draw the Sassenach out to battle so he can take Stirling Castle and save you.” He shook his head. “Which willnae happen because you’re going to show up before he does.”

“Which will somehow lead to day two of this battle?”

“Aye.” Graham nodded. “How that happens precisely is yet to be seen but ‘twill be one of two ways.”

Her brows rose. “And those are?”

“Either the Sassenach will do as history told and get caught unaware, then disheartened by today’s events and back off,” he said. “If that doesnae happen, I imagine we will have to find a way to make sure he attacks on the morrow regardless.”

“You mean I will need to make sure,” she said softly.

“Och, lass, you arenae in this alone.” He stopped and cupped the sides of her neck, making sure she paid attention as their eyes held. “You might be a fierce warrioress and able to hold your own, but you’ll never be alone.” He shook his head. “Not so long as I’m around. Or any of my kin for that matter.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I still get the feeling I’m stuck right smack dab in the middle of all this and in the end, it’s gonna come down to my actions.” She bit the corner of her lip and shook her head. “Because let’s not forget Robert’s determined to make me his wife and...” an unsettled expression flickered across her face, “and, well, when I get around him I don’t tend to think straight.”

Graham knew as much and was glad that she seemed to as well. That she wasn’t sitting here days later still swooning over the Bruce. While he could champion himself on having done a stellar job keeping her mind preoccupied, he found satisfaction in it for a much better reason. This meant that it was as he thought and dark magic was at work. That her romantic feelings toward Robert the Bruce were not genuine.

Yet like Grant had to be wondering...where did Robert’s wife fit into all this?

How did they make sure that marriage actually happened?

Bryce had gone out scouting earlier and reported back exactly what they had hoped to hear. The Sassenach, as well as the Scots, were ready for battle and in the proper location just over the Scottish border southeast of Robert’s army. Banners were flying, and a great deal of men were amassed.

“I would say the Sassenach have around two thousand horses and thirteen thousand infantry, some clearly from Ireland and Wales,” Bryce said. “Robert’s men total around six thousand I’d say. Far less on horseback.”

“Even so, the odds are better at this battle than they were at Stirling Bridge,” Conall remarked. “Though the men under Wallace and Moray fought well, now we’ve an army led by three seasoned commanders and men with eight years of successful guerrilla warfare behind them. Much of which took place in the north of England.” Pride lit his eyes. “They’re experienced and battle-hardened.”

Graham and Bryce nodded, as pleased as Conall.

“We’re drawing close,” Grant said as they came to an area looking down on where the battle would take place. “We should stay out of this if possible.”

Yet it seemed Fate had another plan.

Christina.

Though they had tried to stay out of sight, the clear day aided them in yet another unexpected way. Robert the Bruce had, against all the odds, locked eyes on Christina despite the distance. When he did, whether to get to her faster or keep the enemy from seeing her, he set history in motion.

“Bloody hell...” Grant murmured, as things went exactly as they should.

Grant had planned on Robert seeing Christina toward the end of the battle where instead he had seen her at the beginning. Either way, things were going precisely the way they were meant to as Robert the Bruce proceeded to make his infamous first move.

He sent a group of his soldiers fleeing into the woodland in such a way that they would be seen. As planned, the Sassenach vanguard, made up of heavy cavalry, charged. As they clashed with the Scots, an English knight, Sir Henry de Bohun, spotted Robert the Bruce. That, as it turned out, was exactly what Robert had hoped for.

With sights set on greatness, de Bohun knew if he killed or captured the Bruce, he would become a chivalric hero. So, spurring his warhorse to the charge, he lowered his lance and boar down on the king. Robert, an experienced warrior, showed no signs of fear, but mounted his horse, known as “Ane palfray, litil, and joly” and met the charge. Dodging the lance, he brought his battle axe down on de Bohun’s helmet, striking him dead.

Elated, the Scots forced the English cavalry to withdraw.

As foretold, two of King Edward’s experienced commanders, Sir Henry Beaumont and Sir Robert Clifford, attempted to outflank the Scots and cut off their escape route...and it nearly worked. At the last moment, however, Thomas Randolph’s schiltrom—a compact body of troops forming a battle array—dashed out of the woods and caught the English cavalry by surprise.

After that, a ferocious melee ensued.

Men died on both sides.

But without archers, the Sassenach cavalry found they were unable to get through the dense thicket of Scots spearmen. They even resorted to throwing their swords and maces at them, until the Scots pushed them back and forced them into flight.

What Graham and his kin had not foreseen was that the battle would spread out more than expected and that they would become part of it. Though they saw men heading their way, there was little time to flee, so they stayed and fought. While he and his cousins would never admit to it, some small part of them had wanted this from the beginning. Blood on their blades as they assisted Robert in such an important battle.

Graham handed Christina the same blade from yesterday. “This time we must protect both Grant and Kenna, lass.”

She nodded. “You got it.”

“Be careful,” he said softly, worried about her despite how well she fought. He imagined he always would be.

“You too,” she replied.

He had just enough time to give Kenna a dagger as well. “Stay close to us, lass.” He gave her a look of reassurance. “We will protect ye.”

“Aye.” She nodded, confident. “Dinnae worry about me.”

As their eyes held, he saw something new in her. An inner peace that had not been there before. What had Sven said to her the previous night? Or had it even been the Viking? Mayhap, like he surmised, she had simply found what she was looking for when she let Graham go. He didn't get the chance to ask her because moments later retreating Sassenach soldiers were everywhere.

Then it was utter chaos.

While many simply flew by them, others engaged and they had their own mini war right there in the woods. It was ferocious and fast and disheartening in ways he never saw coming. Unlike a man going into battle, angry and righteous, these Sassenach warriors were desperate and fleeing for their lives. Such a position made men more vicious than usual and tended to give them extraordinary strength.

Therefore, they put up more of a fight than anticipated.

That in combination with something unexpected turned things for the worst very quickly.

While Christina certainly fought with the same passion and vigour as the day before something was slightly different. More enhanced if possible. Vivacious. Eye-drawing. Something was amplifying her magic. As he crossed swords with two men, he was only able to catch snippets at first.

The golden shine of Christina’s gem.

How it grew brighter as she and Bryce moved closer and battled alongside each other.

How their moves nearly synchronized and became almost more than magical. Powerful. A true force to be reckoned with. By all accounts, it appeared they had ignited the power of the MacLomain, Broun connection.

Disarmed by how well they fought together, how intimate it seemed in some strange way, Graham nearly got run through with a sword but dodged just in time. As he battled another Sassenach, he realized that Christina and Bryce were becoming aware of it as well. That it was throwing them off as they adjusted to fighting even better than they had before.

It wasn’t just throwing them off either but ended up distracting everyone—including him—so much so that a Sassenach managed to get past all of them.

Moments later, he heard Kenna scream.

Horrified for her, Graham ended the man he had been fighting and raced in her direction, but it was too late.

The enemy pulled her back against him, put a dagger to her neck and shook his head. “Back away rebel or she dies.”

While the blade worried him plenty, the wild look in the man’s eyes and the shakiness of his voice concerned him ever more. The man was terrified and more than unstable as he walked her backwards. Kenna, thankfully, was calmer than anticipated.

She trusted Graham to save her and he would.

In retrospect, it was unfortunate that the last of the enemy fled at that moment and far too much attention turned their way. Between him and his kin and Sven, the frightened man was facing off with far more trouble than he bargained for. Before anyone had a chance to use magic, Grant included, the panicked warrior took immediate action.

He distracted his opponents then ran.

Graham blinked several times, barely processing what had just happened as Kenna fell to her knees. The soldier hadn’t sliced her throat but ran her through with a sword, likely to lose the extra weight before he began his sprint to safety.

A sprint that ended seconds later as Graham whipped his blade into his back then raced to Kenna. He fell to his knees in front of her before she toppled forward. Conall, thinking more clearly than him, moved fast and managed to pull the sword free first so it wouldn’t harm Graham as well.

Though Kenna initially whimpered in pain, she soon quieted as shock set in. 

While tempted to scoop her up, rush back to the encampment and find the healer, he knew it was already too late. She had been fatally wounded.

“Och, lass,” he whispered, torn up with grief as he held her head on his lap and stared into her eyes. “I’m so verra sorry.”

“Nay,” she whispered as blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. “Dinnae be. ‘Twas not yer fault.”

But it was.

He had led her to this precise moment.

He had somehow caused this.

This should not have happened.

“Be happy, Graham. Ye deserve it. And when ye see Fraser...” she whispered. Her voice was a weak croak now, and her eyes were beginning to glaze over. “Tell him...that I only wish him peace...that there’s light beyond the darkness...”

“Aye, lass,” he replied, willing to say anything she needed to hear. “I’ll tell him.”

“Aye, then,” she managed, her voice fading as their eyes remained locked. “May we meet again someday, my frien—”

Sadly, that’s all she got out before the life left her eyes and she was gone.