“I have not exhausted all our options to get out of here yet.” He stood and again muttered pointless chants at the wall.
Anything to get away from her.
“You and I both know you have,” she said, her soft, breathy voice behind him far faster than he anticipated. “And we both know this ring is our only hope.”
A ring that saw fit to put them here, to begin with.
To what purpose?
“Why were you the first to do it?” she said softly.
He frowned at her over his shoulder. “Do what?”
“This.” She gestured at their surroundings though her eyes never left his. “Why were you the first to block off something that had caused Grant so much pain? His family so much pain?”
Their eyes held as he battled emotions. “It doesnae matter.”
He turned away and started to chant only for her to step around him, put her hand on his chest and meet his eyes again. “It does matter, Conall.” She shook her head. “Why was it you?”
When he didn't respond, she continued.
“Grant didn’t want to, did he?” she whispered. Her eyes never left his. “He told me he visited here often after he became laird. That it was his way of reminding himself where he got his strength...his perseverance.”
“Nay, he didnae want the area sealed off.” He meant to keep his silence, but something about the look in her eyes made him speak. She was open. Different. Not acting. “I wanted it sealed.” He shook his head. “But never Grandfather.”
Lindsay said nothing but listened, her eyes steadfast on his.
So he kept talking.
“There was no need for this dungeon,” he said, more emotion in his voice than intended. He curled his lips in disgust as he looked around. “It took Grant from Clan MacLomain for far too long. It nearly killed him. Yet he still visited it before I sealed it off and I dinnae think it did him any good.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I believe what it represented weakened him so much his own son was taken from beneath his verra nose. To this day he doesnae seem to care about whether or not his son lives.”
Lindsay did not respond right away. She didn’t touch him, bat her lashes or do anything that hinted at an ulterior motive. When she did speak, her voice was without the octave of flirtation that seemed to be in everything she said. Instead, she was curt and to the point.
“You might not respect or even like me, and it’s fair to say I know nothing about your past, but I do know one thing.” Her eyes never wavered. “I have never met a stronger man than Grant.”
He was surprised by the vehemence in her voice and the sudden fire in her eyes. Though it might have been more beneficial to agree with everything he said and perhaps lure him into another kiss, she quickly came to his grandfather’s defense. “While I appreciate that you were worried about his state of mind, I applaud a man courageous enough to face his demons and not hide from what kept him oppressed for so long.”
She pulled away and looked around, her tone still unique, still her.
And still sharp.
“Furthermore, the man I met, the Grant Hamilton who never abandoned Bryce or me when we were taken by the English...” She shook her head and jutted out her chin. “That is a man who would do anything to protect not just his kin but those he doesn’t even know. He would always protect the innocent.” Her eyes shot to Conall, and she rallied more nerve than he saw coming. “I know most people better than they know themselves and I can say without a shred of doubt that Grant would never allow himself to become weakened nor would he willingly allow anyone to take his son.”
Like her voice and eyes, Lindsay’s posture was different. Ferocious but kept in check. Her shoulders were back, but she wasn’t braced for attack. Rather, she almost seemed to be looking down her nose at him with disappointment.
Though tempted to lash back, he was close to yanking her into his arms and giving her that kiss she was looking for. He might not agree with her assessment, but her valiant defense of his kin impressed him greatly. And, it seemed, aroused him even further.
He narrowed his eyes.
Could it be that was her intention? To get what she wanted by manipulating him this way?
Her head whipped back as if she knew what he was thinking.
“You’re hopeless,” she said softly, amazement in her eyes. “You can’t see past your pre-conceived notions of me, can you?” She shook her head. “Nothing gets through but what you expect of me.”
Perhaps that was true, but it was safe. It kept him from pulling her close and heading down a path he refused to take. If he was meant to be with one of Milly’s friends, so be it, but it would not be Lindsay.
“We have more important things to focus on than your insecurities,” he muttered, back to searching for a way out that did not exist.
“Dear Lord above,” she exclaimed and threw her hands in the air in exasperation before shaking her head as she paced. “How does your family tolerate you? Because you have to be the most pig-headed ignorant fool I’ve ever met! Not to mention insulting beyond reason.”
Conall nearly grinned. Now they were getting somewhere. Or should he say, she was done playing games and by the looks of her red cheeks, done trying to woo him into a kiss. Unfortunately, his only remaining theory on how to get out of here was to use that ring. Yet how to do so without physical contact? Without pulling her into his arms and never letting go?
“I need to see your ring,” he stated, without looking at her.
“I’ll bet you do,” she replied, her voice unsteady as she kept pacing.
“As you said, ‘tis likely our only way out of here,” he relented, confident enough in her distaste for him now to look her way and hold out his hand. “Mayhap if I hold it I can find a way to utilize its magic.”
“Sounds good to me,” she muttered as she tried to pull it off. “Anything not to risk seeing your eye color reflected in its gem because heaven knows, that wouldn’t do either of us any favors.”
He could not agree more.
Conall frowned as she kept yanking at it. “’Tis not usually an issue getting the ring off, is it?”
“Obviously not, as you very well know.”
The minute she sucked her finger into her mouth to lubricate it, blood roared straight to his cock yet again. So much for self-control. All he could see were those full, sensuous lips wrapped around where he wanted them most and those sultry eyes of hers staring up at him.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered and tried to look elsewhere, but his stubborn gaze was glued. Worse than that, his feet were moving of their own accord. Lindsay’s eyes widened, and she had just enough time to pull her finger free before the last of his willpower snapped, and he yanked her against him.
“You’ll get your way then,” he growled before he did what he swore he never would again.
He closed his lips over hers.
Chapter Three
HERE SHE WAS YET AGAIN kissing a man she should not be kissing.
Yet unlike before she wasn’t putting up a fake struggle. This time she returned the kiss with everything she had if it meant freeing them from this dungeon. Or so she kept telling herself as she stood on her tip-toes to get even closer. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lost herself in the moment.
He might be a grouchy, stalwart man, but Conall knew how to kiss. Lord did he ever as their tongues wrapped and he pulled her more tightly against him. Overly aware of his thick erection and the blazing need between her thighs, she groaned.
“The Battle of Stirling Bridge was won,” came an amused voice. “So ye can stop kissing now if ye like.”
Conall pulled back so abruptly at the sound of Grant’s voice, Lindsay nearly toppled over.
“Och, lad,” Grant muttered, closing the distance quickly and steadying her with a hand to her elbow.
“Thank you, Grant,” she murmured, gathering herself in front of what turned out to be several people. As far as she could tell they had not trav
eled anywhere at all.
“Of course, lass.” Grant smiled and was about to say more when Conall cut him off.
“What year is it?” Conall shook his head. “And how did you get through my wall?”
“Dear God, Son.” An older picturesque woman with hair a mere shade darker than her own extended her hand to Lindsay. “Forgive my son’s rudeness for not introducing everyone. I’m Jackie, Conall’s mother.” She gestured at a lovely woman closer to Grant’s age. “This is his grandmother, Sheila.” Then her eyes went to a solemn but stunning woman with long, flaming red hair. “And that is Conall’s cousin, Rona.”
Lindsay nodded graciously in greeting. She did her best to seem unaffected by both the kiss and the fact his family had met her for the first time while doing such. “I’m Lindsay. Nice to meet you all.”
Conall kept scowling at Grant. “Well, Grandfather, how did you get past my magic?”
“’Twas just good timing, I’d say.” Grant held out the crook of his elbow to Lindsay. “Come, lass, so that we might, unlike my grandson, offer you a proper welcome to Hamilton Castle.”
“Thank you.” She dished out a genuine smile as she accepted his arm, ignored Conall altogether, and left a dungeon now lacking the stone wall that had held them prisoner. They climbed an old, worn set of stairs that led to a vast courtyard. Though there was plenty of activity, she sensed tension. The portcullises were closed as well as the gate.
“What year is it, Grant?” she said softly. “Did your success at Stirling Bridge help things at all?”
“Aye, ‘twill in good time,” he assured. “And the year is thirteen twelve. The current year for Conall and his kin.”
Though she was afraid to ask, she had to know. “And what of Milly and Adlin? Are they safe?”
“They are,” he confirmed. “I left them verra happy indeed at MacLomain Castle. I’m sure you’ll see them again soon enough.”
“Good.” She nodded, relieved. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
“Aye, all went as it should,” Grant assured as he redirected her attention to a castle that made her stop short and her breath catch. “Welcome to Hamilton Castle. I’m sorry you had to see it for the first time from the dungeon.”’
“Me too but only because of what you suffered there,” she said softly, taking in the beauty of what was now Conall’s castle. It sat on a cliff overlooking the sea, its very structure stunning yet defiant. That was the only way to describe it as it was weathered yet stalwart. In some ways, it reminded her of Conall. Though he might not look weathered on the outside, she suspected he was on the inside.
“We’re in northwestern Scotland,” Grant said. “MacLomain Castle is further south and MacLeod Castle is on the eastern side of Scotland overlooking the North Sea.”
For a brief flicker, Lindsay felt a nugget of disappointment that Grant was showing her this for the first time and not Conall. Yet as she watched Laird Hamilton stride up the castle stairs with one too many doe-eyed women trailing after him, she shoved thoughts of him firmly aside.
“Dinnae hold it against him,” Grant said softly. “He has suffered much and doesnae know how to handle the likes of you, lass.”
While she wanted to tell Grant how unimpressed with Conall’s behavior she was, she bit her tongue. Grant deserved better. Yet she wouldn’t sugar coat things either. Her new friend would see through it anyway.
“No worries.” She patted Grant’s arm and winked. “I know how to handle Conall.”
“So you do,” Grant murmured, eying her. “Better than most I’d say.”
“All right, husband,” Sheila said fondly as she and Jackie fell into step alongside them. “I think it’s time Lindsay took a break from dashing Hamilton men and spent some time with twenty-first century women.”
Lindsay looked around for Rona only to see her striding after Conall. Rona was Graham MacLomain’s sister, but she knew very little beyond that.
“Aye, then.” Grant smiled, pulled Sheila close and gave her a kiss that almost put the one Conall had just given Lindsay to shame. Go, old people. When she glanced at Jackie, she only shrugged and smiled, so it seemed this was the norm.
After the kiss ended, Sheila offered her elbow to Lindsay. “Walk with me?”
“Of course.” Lindsay slipped her arm into Sheila’s and started up the stairs with her and Jackie.
“I’m sure Grant’s told you enough about Conall, but I would like to further add to what he may have said if it’s all the same,” Sheila said, her voice both soft and firm as she kept her eyes on the stairs.
“If she’s of a mind to hear it,” Jackie said, her tone not quite as gentle.
“Are you then?” Sheila cast Lindsay a sidelong glance that told her she would hear it either way. “Are you of a mind to hear why Conall’s such a jackass?”
“Sheila,” Jackie chastised, but there was amusement in her voice and approval in her eyes.
Though Lindsay fully intended to say she would rather not hear another word about Conall, she said the opposite. When she did, it was in a way she didn’t expect. “Yes, I’d very much like to know why Conall’s such a jackass. Beyond the pain he must still be feeling after losing his father. And let’s not forget his cousin, Fraser.”
Why on Earth was she defending him? Because she was.
While Jackie looked at her with surprise, a wistful smile of approval came to Sheila’s lips as she said, “So you do care about him.”
“Enough to explain away some of his poor behavior,” she said, ignoring the endless stares she got from men, most of whom stopped short on the stairs and watched her pass. Though curious about the particulars of his father, Darach’s disappearance, she would not ask it of Jackie any more than she would have of Grant. Fraser, however, was another matter. “I heard Conall and Fraser declared themselves blood brothers when they were young, so I can’t imagine what it was like for Conall to lose him. How that must’ve felt.”
“My husband shared much with you.” That same wistful smile hovered on Sheila’s lips. “Now I understand why.”
Lindsay was about to respond, but Jackie spoke first. “Yes, my son and Fraser were very close. Losing him...” She sighed and shook her head before she continued. “Losing Fraser then his father set Conall on a path we all pray he’ll break free from.”
She remained respectfully silent as Jackie continued.
“While I do not think my husband is dead, you should know Conall believes the opposite.” Jackie’s voice trembled slightly, but her posture remained strong as they neared the top of the stairs. “Conall adored Darach and took what happened so deeply to heart that it changed him.” She shook her head. “Before that, Fraser, who was not only his cousin but his best friend, was killed before his very eyes. That alone took away a good portion of the son I knew and did nearly the same to Rona.” Her eyes met Lindsay’s. “The three of them were very close.”
So that was why Rona stayed on Conall’s heels.
As to Darach being dead, Grant was convinced he was not, and had told Lindsay as much. He also said, as she tried to share with Conall earlier, that if the Battle of Stirling Bridge went as it should and history began to correct itself, his gut told him Darach would be found. That he would return.
“I’m so sorry,” Lindsay said softly to the women and meant it. She wasn’t acting in the least. “I’m sorry for both of your losses...and Conall’s.”
“Thank you.” Jackie received a mug from a passing servant and handed it to Lindsay as a random Scotsman leapt to open the door for them, his eyes locked on Lindsay with avid appreciation.
Sheila chuckled and muttered, “I wonder how long it will take my grandson to put an end to this.”
Likely around the time hell froze over, Lindsay thought.
They might have chemistry, but she had no desire to be tied to a man and Conall had not changed that perspective in the least. If anything, he reminded her why being single was the way to go. Did she have sex? Of course. Though it had been so
me time. A long time actually. Sex just wasn’t a priority.
Or so she had always thought.
She bit back a frown and kept a pleasant smile on her face as her thoughts returned to the kisses she and Conall had shared. The way her body reacted. The pure intensity and desire she felt. It was different. Poignant in a whole new way. The lust she usually felt with a man was part of the persona she embraced. Nobody could fake an orgasm like her. Yet her lust for Conall was very real, so she could only imagine what else might prove authentic.
“Welcome,” Sheila said as she ushered Lindsay into a great hall she never could have anticipated. With endless, ornately designed stained glass windows, sky high ceilings and a grand staircase leading up the center, it was the most majestic space she had ever seen. Sort of a cross between a medieval hall and gothic church, the effect was absolutely stunning.
The rest of the castle, as it turned out, was just as mesmerizing. Who knew she liked gothic? And who knew such a castle even existed in medieval Scotland? But then, as Jackie explained later that evening, the castle’s interior had been strongly influenced by a warlock named Keir Hamilton who had been the archenemy when Sheila and Grant first met.
“Things didn’t end well for Keir,” Sheila commented as she helped cinch up Lindsay's dress. “But at least his offspring haven’t been so bad.” A small grin curled her lips. “I believe you’ve met his granddaughter, the Viking Aðísla?”
“More so, granddaughter to former Viking King, Naðr Véurr Sigdir,” Jackie added.
Aðísla, it seemed, was the reason for all of this. She was the prophet who foresaw an alternate history for Scotland that involved it ceasing to exist. She was the reason Milly and Lindsay were already here and that their friends were sure to be next.
“I have met Aðísla,” Lindsay confirmed, as she recalled traveling along the River Forth with Andrew de Moray and Aðísla mere days ago. “She’s definitely unique.”
Sheila and Jackie chuckled but said nothing more. Yet Lindsay remained curious about the Viking woman. Why was she here and not in Scandinavia with the MacLomain’s Viking ancestors? She had been able to glean very little about it from Grant and never had the chance to question Adlin.
The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4) Page 30