CONALL KNEW SOMETHING was wrong before Lindsay even opened her eyes. He felt it in the deepest part of his soul. Something was coming for his lass.

What happened next, though, was truly bizarre.

She sat up, her every movement sensual as she watched something he could not see. Something he strongly suspected was the warlock.

“Bryce, Graham, Rona,” he said into their minds. “Get in here now.”

He didn’t care if they saw her nude. Something was wrong, and he might need their help. Unfortunately, nobody answered. When he stemmed out his mind, it was only to find them gone. Vanished.

That’s when he saw her gem.

It was the color of his eyes.

Though that should make him happy he suspected it was happening because she was protecting him now. Though she seemed to have been lured away, some part of her stayed with him. It might also explain why he could not connect with his kin.

When Lindsay stood, her eyes intent on something in the corner, he went to grab her hand, but a sharp voice stopped him.

“Nay, Son, dinnae touch her or ye will be greatly harmed.”

His eyes widened as his father appeared near the hearth. Though transparent, he was easy enough to see. Their eyes held for a long, tortuous moment before Darach murmured, “Look at her gem, Son, and remember well what ye two had together so long ago. Remember why she should always come back to ye. That is how ye might get her back now.”

Though it was difficult to tear his eyes away from his da, he did, trusting him without question. He stared at the ring and worked to remember every little moment they had ever shared.

One memory, in particular, took precedence.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” she had murmured as dusk fell. “Are you?”

As he often did, he sat against the tree and stared up, hoping for a glimpse of her. “Nay, of course not.”

“Good,” she murmured. “Because it’s always made me feel safe.”

He frowned. “Safe how?”

“Safe from what I see sometimes,” she said softly. “It’s better to see nothing than too much.”

She sounded so sad.

“Are ye sure?” he asked. “Because I was always taught ‘tis best for a warrior to confront whatever might stand in his or her way.”

“I’m not a warrior,” she reminded, but curiosity remained in her voice. “Besides, what makes you think something stands in my way?”

“Well, ye are afraid to look at what frightens ye,” he explained. “And by nature, does something not stand in our way if it frightens us? Does fear not hold us back and mayhap cause us to prefer the dark where ‘tis safer?”

“You’re quite wise for a kid,” she remarked softly.

“Aye, I know,” he said proudly, still worried about her as he stared up. “So mayhap ‘tis okay to prefer the dark but why not look at what stands in yer way? Why not recognize it so ye can fight it?”

That was it.

That was how he got through to her.

He needed to remind her of that conversation. So he stood, remained close to her and thought about that memory over and over again. If his theory held true, and she was protecting him from within his own mind, she should hear it.

She should begin thinking it.

He stayed close, ready to pull her into his arms if need be, as she took a few more steps then stopped. A slight tremble rippled through her as he continued thinking the same thing again and again. That she should recognize and fight what she feared. That she had the power to do that.

Suddenly, a sizzling sound echoed through the room, and she fell back. Conall caught her and swept her into his arms then sat on the edge of the bed as she blinked several times and looked at him.

“I just saw it,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “The warlock was here.”

“Aye.” He kissed her forehead, trying to offer comfort as he explained what had happened. “You did it though, lass. Just like Da seemed to know you could...” His words trailed off when he realized his father had vanished.

“I remember...sort of,” she murmured, looking at her ring. “This helped.” Her eyes went to his. “You helped Conall. You were there for me like you always were.”

“’Twas mostly you, lass. Your strength.” He frowned. “Tell me what you saw. Tell me about the warlock.”

“He looked just like he did at the Skirmish at Earnside.” She shook her head. “Just our roles were reversed this time.”

“So he is enchanting you now?” He kept frowning as he wrapped her in a blanket, poured her some whiskey then rebuilt the fire. “How do we combat that?”

“I think we just did. At least for now.” She took a few sips. “If it happens again, you know what to do.”

“Assuming ‘tis me you’re trying to protect,” he pointed out, not happy with this at all. “What if it’s someone else?” He shook his head as he poured himself a drink. “They’ll have no ability to save you because they dinnae share our memories.”

“What if...” Her eyes lingered on the gem. “What if this is it, Conall?” Her eyes met his with a flicker of hope that made his chest tighten. “What if I wasn’t just protecting you but we’ve actually ignited the power of the ring?” A small smile curled her lips. “Isn’t the ultimate goal in every MacLomain, Broun connection to have the gem turn the color of a specific wizard’s eyes?”

“Aye,” he said softly, just as hopeful as her. “That being her one true love.”

Their eyes held for a moment before she focused on the fire. “I think I’ve always loved you, Conall.” Her voice grew softer. “In one way or another.”

He had never been so thankful to hear those words, as vague as they sounded.

“Then use that.” He sat beside her. “Use whatever love you felt back then, the friendship we shared, against this evil.” He tilted her chin until their eyes met again. “Use it not to embrace the darkness you found comfort in but to confront whatever stands in your way. Whatever tries to turn your power around on you.”

She nodded, her eyes soft as they stayed with his. “I can use that and so much more.”

Not entirely sure what to make of that and unwilling to pressure a firm declaration of love out of her, he simply offered a comforting smile. There was nothing more difficult than having that conversation earlier. To ask her to stay and marry him, yet see such confusion in her eyes. To know that she might very well leave him. Worse yet, because he loved her, he would have to let her go. Because his only concern was for her safety and happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own.

Clearly intent to navigate around the conversation, she sipped her whisky, eyed it absently and chuckled. “Because of you, I can appreciate the taste of this, you know.”

When he perked his brows, curious, she grinned. “So you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Nay.” He met her grin. “What?”

“That day you threw the skin of whisky up into the tree because I was crying.” Lindsay nudged his shoulder with hers. “I caught it you know.” She chuckled again. “I’d never tasted such God-awful stuff. Or at least that’s what I thought at first. The more I drank it, the more I liked it though.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, I never did find whisky as good as yours again.”

“Well, I’m glad I helped develop your pallet.” It was hard to do anything but grin as their eyes held, and desire quickly sparked between them again. Yet he worried. “I finally saw Da, lass. He was here.” He shook his head. “And though I was happy to see him, I worry that he’s with the warlock. That the warlock might have seen where we are.”

“Assuming he knows every tavern in Scotland,” she countered. “How likely do you think that is? Likely enough to wake everyone in the middle of a freezing night, start traveling and leave your grandfather behind? Will it even be safer out there?”

She made several valid points, but that didn’t stop him from mentally connecting with his cousins, sharing everything that had happened and telling them to remain vigilant. They agreed with Lindsay that it was best to stay put for now until they had more information. As far as he could tell all of them had remained sober and Graham, surprisingly enough, had not taken advantage of a whore but slept alone.

“We should rest,” Lindsay said softly as she set aside her drink, stood and dropped the blanket. When her eyes trailed down his body then she crawled onto the bed, he didn’t hesitate to follow, stopping her while she was still on her hands and knees.

She made a throaty, pleased sound as he spread her legs just enough, didn’t enter her but enjoyed the feel of her firm arse against his cock as he kissed his way up her spine. She had a sound, movement, and expression for every little thing she felt. While at first, he thought maybe she was acting, he soon realized she was doing anything but. She was embracing the real her. A lass, as it turned out, that was free and wild in her lovemaking. That received pleasure as heartily as she gave it.

He loved the way she began squirming in need as he nuzzled the side of her neck. Though tempted to draw it out and make her wait, it became increasingly difficult. She was way too tempting, and he was far too aroused.

So he kept nibbling at the side of her neck as he gripped one hip firmly and eased his way inside of her. His balls tightened as he clenched his jaw against sweet bliss and trembled with restrained need. It took everything he had not to thrust hard and find the release that was already so close.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her breathing ragged and broken. “I want it too.”

He tried, he really did, but when she ground her arse back against him, there was no hope for a slow sensual experience.

All he could do was grip her hips and thrust hard.

Her moans of pleasure only increased along with his grunts as he peered down through half-mast lids, so aroused it was near painful. Sweat glistened on them both as he increased his speed, reveling in the beauty of her arse propped up and her more than evident enjoyment.

He only vaguely saw the glow of her gem as she clenched the blanket and fire raced up his spine. Seconds later, he released a low roar, locked up inside her and let go.

“Hell,” she groaned as her body started shaking and she climaxed.

“Bloody hell,” he added as he breathed heavily and gradually loosened his grip on her hips. He lowered, fell to his side and wrapped his arms around her. Nothing felt this good. Her by his side and in his arms. He wanted this always. He wanted her in his castle as its mistress and her in his arms every night.

Those were the last thoughts he had as he pulled a blanket over them, might have murmured, “I love ye, lass,” then drifted off to sleep.

All he dreamt about was her. When they were bairns, and he caught glimpses of her silver eyes. Then more recently including the first time he held her in his arms in Stirling. How trusting and vulnerable she had been. How she had, somehow, been very much the real her with him though he didn’t know it at the time.

He had watched over her all night that first eve in the run down castle, staring at her without blinking it seemed. Wondering what she would be like when she was no longer under the influence of herbs. What she might be like if she awoke and they had time alone together. Because even back then, he had sensed something just out of reach.

An indefinable connection.

“’Twas never really indefinable, was it, lad?” his father said softly, somewhere off to his right in his dream. “Nay, ye saw a lifeline in her and now yer taking it as is she.” His voice drew closer, more insistent. “She’s followed the gem and moved beyond all the faces she wears, Son.” Then he roared, “So wake up!”

Conall bolted upright, having felt the terror his father had wanted him to feel as he looked around, confused. As far as he could tell, little had changed outside of the dim daylight muted by falling snow where before it had been dark.

“Oh, God, no,” Lindsay gasped as she bolted upright moments later. Her terrified eyes met his. “What happened?” She shook her head as she scrambled out of bed. “Tell me it was all a dream.”

“Aye, ‘twas...I think.” He was right behind her, yanking on his clothes, discombobulated, still caught up in his father’s vague warning. “What did you dream about?”

“I was a child again,” she said absently as she struggled into her dress, trembling. “And there was so much blood.”

“’Twas just a dream then,” he said, trying to calm her with soft words even as he realized she must be referring to her parents.

“It..it..” She kept shaking her head before her eyes met his. “It wasn’t a dream, Conall. It was real.”

“Aye, mayhap, if you say so.” He gripped her shoulders lightly and tilted his head until her eyes finally stayed with his. “Lindsay, I know...” Ashamed he had held this back when he should have told her far sooner, he murmured, “I know what happened to your parents and I know it’s what triggered your gift.”

Her eyes widened then narrowed as she struggled with his admission.

“I’m verra sorry I didnae tell you sooner, but I didnae know where to begin,” he whispered, pained by the look in her eyes. “It happened because of our telepathic connection.”

“That’s why I’ve been able to stay in a bed with you around isn’t it?” she murmured, her eyes wider still as they searched his.

What was she talking about?

He never had a chance to ask because she resumed dressing, yanking on her boots as she narrowed her eyes on the window. “Something’s very wrong.” Anxiety churned in her eyes as they met his. “The blood wasn’t my parent’s but others.” She swallowed. “People I cared about.”

“Aye, then, lass.” He strapped on weapons and tried to reach out to his kin. “Bryce, Graham, Rona?”

None responded.

It was eerily quiet.

“Something’s really wrong, Conall,” she whispered.

“Stay behind me.” He made her meet his eyes as he pressed a blade into her hand. “Do you ken, Lindsay?”

She nodded.

“Aye?” he asked just to be sure. “When we leave this room you need to stay behind me no matter what.” He lowered his brows. “Can you do that?”

“I can,” she assured, gathering herself, her eyes steadier by the moment. “I’ll be okay.”

He eyed her another moment before he nodded. “All right. Follow me.”

Oddly enough, the moment he stepped out the door, he knew his world was about to be turned upside down. He experienced such an ominous feeling that his stomach lurched. When he got to his grandfather’s room, there was no sign of him.

He could not have healed that quickly and left. There was no way. Conall already had his sword at the ready but pulled out his dagger as well as he started down the stairs slowly. The dread he felt only grew stronger. The moment he rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of the tavern below, ice ran through his veins, and he stopped Lindsay.

“What?” she whispered, her voice shaky. “What is it, Conall?”

Numb, unable to tell her, unable to voice it, he gestured that she go back up the stairs.

After all, how could he tell her that she was right?

That there was nothing but blood below.

He tried to steer her up the stairs but stumbled he was in so much shock.

How else could it be considering he had just seen the dead bodies of his grandfather and cousins.