IT SEEMED CONALL'S silent vows meant absolutely nothing. Especially since he was waiting outside William Wallace’s tent for a third time as he did God knows what with Lindsay. Despite the snow, he didn’t seek shelter but stood just beyond the tent’s flaps trying to catch wind of their conversation.

“’Tis beneath ye to hover like this, Cousin,” Rona muttered from nearby. “Yer a bloody chieftain!” She gestured with disgust at the tent. “If she wishes to be with Wallace, let her be and good riddance.”

Conall scowled, shook his head and whispered, “Go get some rest. ‘Tis only a matter of time before we leave this place.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “And ye’ve got to decide if yer leaving having been made a fool of or with yer head held high.”

Though tempted to snap at her, he knew this night had been hard. They could only assume the warlock had cast her, Bryce and Aðísla into that unnatural slumber yet still, she was furious. Nothing was worse for any of them than feeling like they had not been there for their kin. That they had somehow let them down.

“We cannae control the likes of evil, Rona,” he said into her mind. “’Tis as simple as that. Ye arenae at fault.”

“Yet ye think to teach this twenty-first century lass how to control what even ye just admitted ye couldnae,” she spat back. “And for no other reason than to get betwixt her thighs.”

“Och, I’d rather have my cock cut off.” A complete lie in more ways than one. “She’s a vixen but a necessary one.”

“Why?” Rona frowned. “What makes her necessary outside of Grant and Adlin saying so?” She shook her head. “She has caused nothing but trouble for ye since she arrived, Cousin. Ye should turn away from this commitment ye’ve made.”

He understood her reasoning.

She was trying to protect him.

“I dinnae turn away from my commitments,” he responded, well aware both he and Lindsay had been swindled. Still. He had given his word and would see it through. “Go rest, Cousin. I will see ye on the morrow.” When she hesitated, he gave her a look she knew all too well. He wanted time alone. “Go now. I love ye, aye?”

When she clenched her jaw and dampness made her eyes shimmer, he embraced her. She had been one of his best friends for as long as he could remember, so he knew how lost she felt. How truly frightened she was when post battle she woke from her slumber and thought she might have lost both him and Graham.

“Do ye really think yer da is out there?” she whispered against his chest. “Do ye think he’s alive?”

He wasn’t surprised in the least her mind dwelled on his father as well.

Though tempted to tell her what she wanted to hear, he wasn’t that sort of man. “I think ‘tis unlikely.” Yet, he would offer her the glimmer of hope he was foolish enough to have allowed Grant to give him. “But there is always a chance, aye?”

“Aye,” she murmured and hugged him a little tighter before she vanished into the night.

He sighed and turned back to the tent entrance as Lindsay stepped out. She pulled her hood up against the snow and met his eyes, almost as if she expected to find him there.

“Lead the way, protector,” she murmured as she made a flourish with her hand. “Wherever you go, I am destined to follow.”

Conall ignored her sarcasm and led her to his tent. Though a part of him had been determined to get her here from the moment he headed for Wallace’s tent earlier, he wasn’t prepared for her close proximity. He wasn't prepared for the way her sweet flowery scent filled the space moments after she entered.

He clenched his jaw and kept his thoughts as clinical as possible. Unlike the Lindsay of his dungeons, she was no longer playing a sultry creature but seemed of the opposite mind as she sat. “Where shall I sleep?”

She didn’t ask with her eyes hidden behind her lashes or use a husky voice but simply seemed weary as her eyes rose to his. “If it’s all the same to you, right here is fine.”

Conall nodded and spread his fur cloak over her when she lay down.

“I don’t need that,” she argued even as she buried her nose in it and her eyes slid shut. “You’re the one who is injured,” she mumbled. “What will you use to keep warm?”

“I have another,” he assured, ignoring his pain.

The tent was too small to light a fire, but he had used a miniscule amount of magic to warm a fist size stone in the corner. One that lent the space just enough dim light and heat. Or so he thought until he caught her shivering.

“Lindsay?” he whispered, testing to see if she slept. When she offered nothing but a sleepy moan, he knew she was out.

Though mildly tempted to yank her boots off and disturb her peaceful sleep because of her mysterious time with Wallace, he instead took great care. It had been a long time since he removed something as simple as a lass’s shoes, or boots in this case. Her feet were slender, small and soft, barely the size of his entire hand.

He clenched his jaw as he held one, tempted to press his lips to her milky white ankle just to see how it tasted. Then he would run his tongue over her calf and then even higher. His eyes traveled up her body cozied beneath his fur. Though he could see little, the shape of her curvy figure was obvious enough. The slight rise of her thigh as it led to the soft slope of her hip then the sweep down into the valley that was her stomach.

“Just take the other shoe off already.” She chuckled in her sleep. “I’ll go to bed, I promise.”

Conall frowned as he removed the second boot. Was she dreaming of something she had experienced with Cressingham or the Earl in the Sassenach encampment in Stirling? He ground his jaw, trying to suppress anger. Or perhaps what she had enjoyed at Wallace’s hands afterward? That thought only made him grow more upset.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “You too, Dad.”

Conall froze. It seemed he was wrong all the way around. So he set her foot down gently then sat as carefully as he could, trying not to disturb her. It appeared he didn't have to worry though because she was thoroughly entrenched in a dream.

“I promise I’ll go to sleep.” She pulled the fur down enough that he could see her face. A joyous smile curved her lips though her eyes were closed. “Maybe you’ll get some chocolate while you're out? You can give some to the babysitter when you get back then I'll have the rest tomorrow.”

Conall pulled off his boots slowly, all the while watching her. She was growing more and more distressed, her eyelids fluttering as she roamed her dream. He glanced at the ring. Though the gem remained dark, somehow he knew this had nothing to do with the warlock.

This was all Lindsay.

“Oh, no,” she suddenly whimpered, shaking her head as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Despite his reservations about the two of them, nobody could stop him from giving a lass comfort. So he yanked off his tunic, lay beside her, and pulled her close.

Completely unaware, she kept whimpering before she cried out, “No, please no!”

Conall tucked her head against his chest, unsure what else to do, especially when her thoughts started brushing his. She had just opened a door. There were shelves lined with food and canned goods. Something he only recognized thanks to his twenty-first century kin.

Everything was silent until it got very loud and gunshots resounded. Conall jerked back, startled, as several people fell to the floor. Blood started to pool on the white tile as he heard Lindsay’s breathing switch. As he almost felt her heart stop.

Two more people fell as gunshots continued to go off.

A man and woman, side by side.

Then Conall saw her, felt her, was terrified right alongside her as a little girl with white-blond hair screamed and went scrambling through the blood toward the couple.

Her parents.

Lindsay’s parents.

Conall’s eyes shot open not to the terrifying scene he had just witnessed but to Lindsay snuggled against him. Any unease she might have felt was completely gone as her cheek rested against his chest and her breathing evened. She was out of the nightmare now, but he was not.

He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

This lass had witnessed unthinkable horror. She had watched her parents murdered in front of her eyes via her magic. He wrapped his fur more firmly around her, pulled her closer and simply held her. What he had just witnessed explained an awful lot.

The pain at the center of her.

The admirable strength.

Most would become a far different creature having seen what she did yet here she was, trying to save the day at every turn.

“Trying to save your parents,” he whispered, seeing it all clearly now. Her need to fix what she could not before. Her need to make everything right.

Though she slept soundly, he barely slept a wink. He replayed what he had seen over and over in his mind as she must have been doing her entire life. In some ways, it reminded him of what he had endured on the battlefield when he connected eyes with Fraser one last time, but it was harsher. Much more unforgivable.

She had been so young and had seen something most adults would never get over let alone learn how to cope with. Yet she had. Somehow, by the grace of God, she had. Not only that, she had excelled in life. Doing so, he realized, by wearing any face but her own.

By escaping that dreadful day.

He made sure he was sitting up with some distance between them by the time she awoke the next morning. Though she had moaned a little in distress when he moved earlier, she settled back down. Now she sat there tousled and more bonnie than ever.

“Hello,” she mumbled and yawned before she looked at him curiously. “Did you rest at all, Laird Hamilton?”

“Aye,” he assured as he handed her a piece of fish he had Rona catch earlier, despite her grumblings. “Here, break your fast, lass.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, nibbling on it as she eyed him with uncertainty. “Are you sure you slept? You look exhausted.”

He would imagine he did between the physical pain remaining from the battle and the psychological pain of knowing what she had gone through.

“I did,” he assured again. “Once you are finished with the fish, we will return to the caves and begin your training.”

“So soon?”

“The sooner, the better,” he said. “’Tis likely only a matter of time before we end up at the next battle and the more you can prepare beforehand the better.”

She nodded, her eyes still vaguely unsure about what he assumed were their sleeping arrangements last night. He suspected she would eventually realize that he had held her. It was bound to happen as their minds connected more. A connection he could not seem to control in the least despite his best efforts.

Silence settled between them but at least it didn’t feel as strained as it had last night in Milly’s tent before the battle. Likely because his perspective had changed dramatically. Nonetheless, he needed to remember that it was best for them to be separated. He had no desire to pull someone close only to lose them.

He set a skin of water beside her. “Once you are finished, join me outside, and we’ll prepare to leave.”

Lindsay nodded. “Okay.”

As he exited, she called after him. “Thank you for breakfast.”

He didn’t respond but joined Rona and Bryce at the fire. Most were up and about, and many of the tents were already packed up. The snow had stopped yet the wind still howled. When his grandfather joined them, Conall addressed something he did not have the chance to talk about the night before.

“Lindsay repeated a word twice last night before the battle. Moments before it began snowing.” His eyes met Grant’s. “Geamhradh or winter.” He frowned. “Why would she say such? Might it be related to her magic somehow?”

“Good morning to ye as well, Grandson,” Grant muttered before he explained that something similar had happened with Milly. Except in her case, the word foghar was spoken into her mind which meant autumn. “Milly is convinced ‘twas Iosbail who said it from beyond the grave. ‘Tis our belief that Adlin’s former foster sister was simply confirming that Milly was on the right path. That ‘twas her time to come together with Adlin.”

Conall mulled that over. “Yet Lindsay said her word, ‘twas not whispered within her mind.” He frowned. “Worse yet, she said it as she enchanted the warlock.”

“Both times she said it?” Grant asked.

“Nay.” Conall shook his head. “The first time was in the tent with Milly. ‘Twas what alarmed me to the fact Lindsay had drifted off.”

“Yet ye were right there.” Grant frowned. “How was it that ye did not see her drift off first?”

Conall smoothly side-stepped the question. “Everything happened verra fast.”

Grant considered him for a moment, clearly seeing beyond that vague statement, but left it alone. “If ‘twas that word she said in the tent that alerted ye to trouble, then the same word came before a storm that aided us greatly in battle, I would say ‘twas likely Iosbail at work again.” He cocked his head. “Because is it not winter?”

“Not officially.”

“Close enough.” Grant arched his brows. “Not to mention the next battle we attend in Happrew ‘twill verra much be during winter.”

Conall grunted and turned his eyes to the fire, allowing the conversation with his grandfather to go stagnant. Was Adlin’s sister truly helping from beyond the grave? If so, why not reach out to them somehow rather than use these seasonal words?

“I will watch over Graham as he recovers,” Bryce said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Already, he wishes to be moving about whilst he heals.”

Conall nodded and headed Graham’s way, eager to escape Grant. He wondered if a day would ever come that he didn’t grow frustrated with his grandfather. That he did not look at him and wonder how he could have lost his son so easily. On a level he was not ready to accept yet, he knew evil magic could swindle the best of them. He knew that even Grant and Adlin could be fooled. 

Graham was awake as Conall ducked in, passing Rona as she exited. Though his tent was not all that much bigger than theirs, Wallace had insisted he have a cot. One that Graham sat on the edge of now as he argued with Aðísla to allow him to stand.

“Loki’s cock,” she muttered as she shook her head. “I might have healed you, but your body needs time to recover.” She frowned. “You need rest.”

“Bloody hell I do,” Graham complained before his attention swung to Conall and he grinned. “’Tis good to see ye well, Cousin.” He gestured at Aðísla. “Tell the Viking I am well enough. That we Highlanders heal better with fresh air and a wee bit o’ exercise.”

“I’ll tell her no such thing.” Conall handed his skin to Graham. “But I will sit and enjoy a wee dram with ye for a few moments.”

Aðísla muttered something about that not being the wisest way to keep a man down as she left the tent, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll be guarding this exit so do not try to leave. I can wound even quicker than I can heal.”

“Aye.” Graham scowled before he took a hearty swig. “I do believe she can.”

Conall sat in the chair Aðísla must have used overnight. “How fare ye, Cousin?” He looked him over. “Is the warlock’s wound still hurting ye?”

“Nay, verra little.” Graham’s grateful eyes met his. “I’m sorry I wasnae able to help ye until the end. ‘Twas shameful that I couldnae.”

“Och.” Conall shook his head. “Ye did verra well and helped me for as long as ye could. For that I am grateful.”

Graham’s eyes looked troubled but not for long as he studied his wound free stomach. “She’s a pain in my arse, but ‘tis bloody amazing what Aðísla can do.”

He was about to say more when Lindsay ducked in only to widen her eyes on Graham then turn around. “Oh my goodness, you aren’t wearing anything. I’ll come back.”

In truth, he had a fur covering his lower half.

“Nay, dinnae go, lass,” Graham said as he pulled a blanket around his shoulders. “I wish to speak with ye.”

Lindsay peeked over her shoulder before she smiled and headed his way. “I wanted to check in on you before I began my training.”

When Graham patted the cot beside him, Conall stood and shook his head. “Nay, lass, sit here. I insist.”

But it was too late. Graham had already pulled her down beside him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, putting her right against the very nudity she had graciously tried to avoid. Conall scowled and sat, wondering what his cousin was up to.

“Though I dinnae fully ken how ye did it,” Graham rumbled, emotion evident in his voice as he looked at her. “Ye’ve my eternal thanks for what ye did for me. Had ye not done such, that warlock might have verra well ended me.”

“No need to thank me,” she murmured. “You would’ve done the same for me, Graham.” She gave him a pointed look. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you did do the same for me shortly after that.”

“Och, ‘twas nothing on my part.” Graham gestured at Conall. “My cousin was yer true hero, aye?” He gave Conall a look that told him he should have seen what was coming. “’Tis clear he cares a great deal for ye, lass.” His lips turned down, but he didn’t seem all that broken up. “He willnae be easy to compete with for yer affections, I’m afraid.”

Lindsay snorted, the first unladylike sound he had ever heard her make. “Oh, I highly doubt that.” Her amused eyes met Conall’s. “It’s safe to say Laird Hamilton, and I have come to an understanding that works for us both.”

Had they? The only thing he agreed to was training and protecting her. He scowled at his own thoughts. If she wanted to add lack of affection to that list, who was he to stop her? It suited him just fine.

“Have ye come to an understanding then?” Graham looked between them, his expression as amused as hers. “Because I would say the only understanding that will matter betwixt ye two has ye beneath the furs, aye?”

“Och, ye go one step too far, Cousin.” Conall frowned at Graham’s rudeness. “Apologize to the lass, aye?”

“So not necessary,” Lindsay began as Graham’s alarmed eyes shot to her and he said, “I didnae mean any disrespect, lass, just that ye find happiness. ‘Twas wrong for me to have said it that way.”

“It’s fine.” Lindsay patted his hand. “But rest assured, I don’t need to be with any man to find happiness, especially not Laird Hamilton.”

Surprisingly stung by her words, Conall lost his scowl and resumed a stern expression as he stood. “’Tis best that we see to training and let Graham rest.”

Lindsay nodded and stood, smiling at Graham. “Get well soon, sweetheart.”

“Aye, many thanks, lass,” Graham called out as she and Conall exited.

Aðísla, naturally, ducked back in soon after, anticipating that Graham would not stay put.

“Warm yourself by the fire whilst I gather my weapons and pack up our tent,” Conall said to Lindsay.

“I can help you know—” she started, but he shook his head, leaving no room for debate as he set to work. He knew Wallace was short men, so he ended up taking several down and packing them up before they left.

He and Lindsay said nothing as they made their way through the forest. After they arrived at the caves and he set up the tents with her help despite his protests, he looked around and frowned. He had hoped Milly or some of his kin would have joined them by now, but none were here.

“What is it?” Lindsay asked. “You look upset.”

“’Tis nothing,” he muttered.

The truth was he simply wanted to bathe. He had battled hard yesterday. Though he used magic to do away with the blood of his enemies and to keep his scent tolerable, he preferred to clean himself in a normal fashion.

“Oh,” Lindsay murmured, evidently following his thoughts. That seemed to be happening far too often for his taste. “You want a bath, and you don’t want to leave me alone.”

“I willnae leave you alone,” he corrected, debating his next move.

They eyed each other before Lindsay sighed, shook her head and gestured in the direction of the cave with the small pond. “I’m not a child, Laird Hamilton. I’ve seen men bathe before.”

“Yet you averted your eyes when you saw Graham,” he reminded.

“Okay, let me rephrase,” she said. “I averted my eyes with Graham and will offer you the same courtesy.”

Conall considered it for another moment before he nodded and headed that way. He really wasn’t concerned whether she watched or not as he finally stripped down and headed into the water. As it turned out, however, there was something about being in this state with her so close that made it exceptionally uncomfortable. He might be ignoring her, but his cock was fully aware of her presence despite the cold water.

She sat on a rock with her back to him and never peeked once as he made quick work of washing. While a part of him was grateful she never looked, another grew frustrated. Mainly his cock. He frowned as he waded out, more conflicted than he ought to be at the disagreement between his mind and body. He had always been strong when it came to lasses. He could easily turn them away if he wanted to.

“Och, enough already!” she suddenly declared. “If ye want him just take him!”

He stopped short as Lindsay stood abruptly and turned his way. Had she just spoken with a brogue? Her appreciative eyes raked over him as she sauntered his way. His jaw dropped at the sultry look on her face. The way she licked her full lips. The lust in her large eyes. What truly caught his attention though?

She wasn’t acting in the least.

So what was she doing? Better yet why wasn’t he getting dressed? Why wasn’t he turning from her as he had back at the beginning? Instead, he stood there unmoving as she stopped in front of him, her bold eyes again taking in everything before they lingered on his cock. “Oh, my,” she whispered, her lips curling up ever-so-slightly before her eyes roamed up his body followed by a hand that brazenly grazed his manhood before she touched more.

He barely breathed as her soft fingers followed the v above his cock to the muscles of his abdomen before she sauntered around him. “Just look at ye.”

There it was again. That brogue. Yet he was frozen in place, eager for the next touch, for more of the way she was looking at him.

“Laird Hamilton,” she whispered before she came around again, stood on her tip-toes and pulled his lips down to hers. It didn’t matter that something was off. Not when their mouths connected.

Suddenly it felt like they were right back at Stirling Bridge, and then in his dungeons. The same passion flared. Strong, unrelenting, it made turning her away impossible. So he yanked her against him before his tongue began exploring. Tasting. Like before, they were perfectly matched, their tongues swirling, and tempting. Teasing. He dug his fingers into her warm, silky hair and tilted her head to deepen the kiss further.

Lindsay groaned and pressed against him, her hand still exploring as he lifted her, and settled her on a waist-high rock. She spread her legs, welcoming, tempting even more. His cock throbbed almost painfully he wanted her so badly.

He needed to finally have what she so willingly offered.

Hungry, desperate for more, he continued to dip his tongue in and out of her mouth as he started to push up her skirts. He knew he should stop, that this was a very bad idea, but he was beyond reason, his desire for her far too great.

“Lindsay,” he groaned seconds before Milly exclaimed from the entrance, “I knew we shouldn’t have come this way! Didn’t I tell you, Adlin?”

Conall and Lindsay froze as their eyes shot Milly’s way only to see her and Adlin backing away. His cousin called out, “Sorry then!” not looking sorry in the least before they vanished altogether.

“Oh my God,” Lindsay whispered as her wide, confused eyes turned his way. “What just happened?” She frowned and pressed against his chest. “And how did we end up here?”