“I know.” And she did, but that didn’t make them acceptable. “I know exactly where Conall is coming from Aðísla which is all the more reason it’s best we keep our distance at this point.” Her eyes met the Viking’s in the semi-darkness. “Distance we both want.”
Though it was clear she wished to say more, Aðísla only nodded in agreement before Lindsay continued on alone. Well, as alone as she could get since Graham walked in front of her and Bryce behind as the way got narrower. They didn’t go far before it opened up again into what appeared to be a honeycomb of sizeable caves. Tents were set up to protect against the cold draft billowing through. Not many though. It appeared most would sleep on meager plaids and blankets tossed onto the rock.
“You, me, and Aðísla will share a tent,” Milly said as she joined her, eying the area. “Rona can as well, but we’ll see.”
Translation. Rona would be with Conall. It was obvious she rarely left his side.
“I’m not worried about a tent.” Lindsay shook her head. “I don’t care where I sleep.”
Milly gave her an odd look before she said, “I know you don’t.”
Well, what did she mean by that look?
“What are your thoughts on bathing?” Milly’s eyes met hers. “And maybe having a heart to heart.”
“Not if it’s about—”
“It’s not about Conall,” Milly interrupted. “Come on, sweetie. Adlin showed me a spot earlier where you can clean up a little.”
Cleaning up didn’t sound half bad, so she agreed and followed, not surprised to see Aðísla fall in behind them. Likely Adlin’s request for protection if she were to guess.
“I have another dress for you to change into in this satchel,” Milly said as she retrieved a torch and they went down a narrow hallway into another chamber. That was her tasteful way of saying it was time for Lindsay to get out of her blood spattered dress.
Like she had been doing all along, she swallowed and ignored the memories. The images of the little girl watching first her father then her mother being murdered. The blood that slickened the great hall floor. The same blood dried and caked on her dress now. She knew Adlin or his cousins would have gotten rid of it with magic if they dared. But there was no way to know if warlocks were about and they couldn't risk Wallace being discovered.
Aðísla didn’t join them at the water’s edge and remained out of sight yet Lindsay knew she wasn’t far off.
“Oh, I imagine this will feel fabulous,” Lindsay declared, determined to put on her usual airs in spite of her discouraged mood. “Even if it is frigid.”
“Aw, it’s not that bad,” Milly lied as she stuck her hand in then sat on a rock. “But I think I’ll pass.”
“You intended to pass from the moment you asked me to come here.” Lindsay winked and offered a knowing smile as she stripped down. “If I were a different sort of friend, I would say get your butt in here. Misery loves company.”
“Thankfully, you’re the best sort of friend and won’t.” Milly gave her an apologetic look. “If you really want me in there you know I’ll join you.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lindsay said. “No need to freeze if you don’t have to.”
While she could just crawl into the other dress and stay blissfully dry, Milly had brought her here for a reason. She knew Lindsay would want to wash off what she had seen in that great hall even if the blood didn’t literally stain her skin.
“Oh, hell, this is cold,” she whispered as she waded in. Yet she didn’t flinch. Not once. She was made of tougher stuff than that.
Almost as if Milly sensed what she was thinking, she asked the last thing Lindsay expected after she sank down into the water.
“I’ve never asked you much about yourself in general because I respect your privacy,” she said softly. “But based on what happened between Hamilton Castle and here, I think it might be time. Heck, based on everything that happened before that.”
Lindsay remained quiet, knowing full well what was coming as Milly continued.
“I could tell as I filled you in earlier that you remembered what happened at Hamilton Castle. Most specifically what happened to you in that great hall.” Milly’s eyes narrowed. “I mean Aðísla is a great healer but aren’t you curious why you’re wound free, Linds?”
Lindsay considered Milly for a few moments, debating how much to tell her before she sighed and shook her head. It was too hard to share. Her secrets had been hers for so long. “I remember very little about what happened except that it was violent.”
“It certainly was,” Milly said, eying her with that same curiosity and confusion she had before.
“What I might or might not recall aside,” Lindsay said softly but firmly. “I think we can both agree it was traumatic and something I may not wish to chat about quite yet.”
“I see. My apologies, sweetie.” Yet it seemed Milly would not be put off so easily. Some might say she was being pushy, but her sharp, knowing eyes insinuated she knew full well Lindsay hid things. “If you would rather not talk about that, then how about why I found you sleeping on the floor in my house back in New Hampshire? Because I have a feeling it has something to do with all of this. That it's an important part of who you are.”
Lindsay’s heartbeat slowed to a crawl as her eyes locked with Milly’s. She could lie or tell the truth. The truth wasn’t an option, but Milly would see through a flat out lie.
“It’s a way to remind me where I came from,” she began, trying not to flinch at how cliché she sounded. “To never forget that I didn’t always have money.”
“I’m sorry, Linds,” Milly replied. “I didn’t mean to pry, but I’m trying to understand...”
Milly did not entirely believe her. She could see it in her eyes.
“Understand what?” Lindsay kept her voice playful and her eyes daring. “How a gal goes from rags to riches?”
“No.” Milly shook her head. “You’re an amazing woman, Linds. I’ve never questioned your success. Not for a second.” She frowned. “But I do want to know how you survived that English encampment. Then, Aðísla’s assistance aside, how you healed so miraculously after being killed.” Her eyes grew moist. “Because you died, Linds. You flat out died.” She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “And when I talk about your time with the Brits I’m not thinking along the lines Conall did but about what Grant said.”
“And what did Grant say?” Lindsay murmured, taking the dress from Milly as she got out.
“About the same thing Jessie implied about all of us Brouns,” she said. “That you were special. Exceptionally special.” Milly tapped her fingers as she counted off her abilities. “I can reincarnate myself, astral project then actually move myself via magic.” Her eyes grew curious. “What can you do, Linds? Because I call utter bullshit if you say nothing.”
While tempted to buy herself some time by reminding Milly that she knew nothing about her abilities until she met Adlin, she refrained. Instead, as she stared into her friend’s eyes and realized there was nothing but death and heartache behind and likely ahead, she said more than intended.
“Though I'm not entirely sure why I'm wound free now, I do have a particular gift I can explain,” Lindsay admitted. “I have a certain talent when it comes to men, and even women I suppose. I can...enchant them for lack of a better word.”
“Enchant them.” Milly thought that over, nodding. “That makes sense. It’s not just your looks or mannerisms, but your magic.”
“You could say that,” Lindsay said. “I always kind of looked at myself as a succubus without the suck-the-man’s-soul-out-of-his-body part.” She shrugged. “But that’s all I can compare it to, and it works on any man I want it to...or at least it did.”
Milly kept nodding, intrigued. “Tell me about it.” She tilted her head in question. “It’s clear you knew you had a gift, that it was different. When did you first discover it? What happens specifically when you use it?”
Lindsay ground her teeth again
st painful flashbacks, specifically the night that first sparked her gift, and remained vague. “I was young. In my teens, I think.” She redirected the conversation to what Milly would find more interesting. “I was around twenty-one when I used it on a man for the first time. A bouncer at a posh club I needed to get into. I needed to,” she made quotes in the air, “be seen by those who mattered. Directors, producers, agents, you name it.”
Clearly intrigued, Milly propped her chin on her fist and nodded for Lindsay to continue.
“Well, it was like any other night I suppose. I was all done up, and looked quite amazing I might say.” She flashed a smile at Milly to keep the mood light and off the dark underbelly of the conversation. “Yet this time when I tossed my hair and met the bouncer’s eyes, something...simmered.”
“Simmered?” Milly rolled her eyes and grinned. “Like attraction?”
“Well, sure, on his part,” Lindsay acknowledged. “But it was more than that, somehow, on my part.”
“So you developed the hots for the bouncer?”
“No, not quite.” Lindsay shook her head. “More like I finally perfected my act and convinced myself that I had the hots for him. The moment that happened, a vibration rolled through me as our eyes locked, and after that...” She shrugged a shoulder. “He was mine.”
“What does that mean?” Milly sat forward a little, completely enthralled. “He was yours.”
“I mean after that, he did anything I asked of him.” Lindsay tried not to look guilty. “And I mean anything.”
Milly’s eyes rounded as Lindsay tied up her dress. “Oh, God, what did you make him do, Linds?”
“Mind you, it was for experimental reasons.” Sort of. “And nothing so bad as that.”
“So bad as what?” Milly shook her head. “Linds, you’re not acting right now. It’s just me. There’s no script. Tell me what you mean and stop being...” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “So flippantly vague as if we weren’t talking about you bewitching a bouncer...for real!”
“Right.” Lindsay paused for effect. “Well, after a few weeks I had him do some odd things in the back room to prove what I suspected to be true. That he was completely under my spell...that I could order him to do anything.”
“Oh, no, what did you ask the poor man to do?” Milly asked, her eyes round again.
“Nothing too bad.” Lindsay smirked as she tugged on her boots. “Just kiss his toes, howl at the moon, stupid stuff like that.”
“And he did every last thing?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “Then the next guy I enchanted did, then the next, until...”
When she trailed off, Milly frowned. “Until what?”
“Until I decided I wanted to make it on my own, so I did,” she said with a little more vehemence than intended as she ran her fingers through her wet hair and combed it the best she could.
Milly eyed her, understanding where Lindsay’s mind was at.
“Linds, almost-succubus-like-magic aside, you’re genuinely talented at acting. You know that, right?”
“I do.” And she did. “But it took almost more strength than I had not to take the easy way out, Mil. To not bewitch those directors into casting me as the lead when they chose another.” She sighed. “And, believe me, there were enough of those.”
Milly stood and looked at her with a level of respect that Lindsay still wasn’t used to. It was the same look her friend gave her on their last adventure when Lindsay volunteered to bait the English.
“I’m proud of you, hon.” Milly pulled her in for a big hug. “Amazed and proud. Don’t you forget it.”
“Don’t be,” Lindsay murmured, hugging her back. “Not yet. Not until I’ve ultimately done what I’m here for.”
Milly pulled back and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Lindsay kept a positive look on her face. “I’m here for a reason, Mil, and you and I both know it has to do with my gift.”
“Chances are good,” Milly said, always one to be honest. “You, the gem and a MacLomain...or someone with MacLomain blood. You realize that right?”
“Yes, I do.” Lindsay nodded. On that fact, she was not deluding herself. The only difference in her case was she fully intended to harness the gem’s power then move on.
“Ah,” Milly said softly, eying Lindsay with that look she got. “You think you’ll be able to save the day then use your not-quite-succubus powers to tell your one true love to go in the opposite direction because you don’t want a man in your life.”
“Well, when you say it like that, yes.” Lindsay shrugged as she wrapped a fur around her shoulders and they headed back in the direction they had come. “Not a bad plan, right?”
“I suppose not,” Milly conceded before she stopped, touched Lindsay’s arm and looked at her curiously. “Have you used this power of yours on Graham or Bryce? Better yet, Conall?”
“Why better yet Conall?” Lindsay frowned. “As if I would want to.”
Though she had been since the moment she met him. Anything to get him under her thumb so she could steer him away...which he somewhat seemed to be doing on his own anyway. Damn confusing man.
“No, I haven’t needed to,” she fibbed.
“Liar.” Milly's eyes narrowed. “You thought about it with Bryce until you learned he was engaged and maybe even Graham until you figured out he wasn’t entirely woo’able either for reasons we're all still trying to figure out.” She made a flippant gesture. “You liked them both so left them alone.”
A sly smile curled Milly's lips as she continued. “Now if you truly wanted to control and redirect any man I would think Laird Hamilton’s at the top of your list. If for no other reason than to drive him in the opposite direction...” She slanted another one of those all too knowing looks at Lindsay. “Because despite what an utter dickhead he’s been to you lately, you do want him looking anywhere but at you, right, Linds?”
Lindsay started to answer, but the words trailed away as a shadow brushed by her. What was that?
“Linds, are you all right?” Milly asked, but she barely heard her as she spun.
A tall, older but very handsome man in a Hamilton plaid materialized directly behind her. He looked so much like Conall and Grant she knew who he was in an instant.
Grant’s son.
Conall’s father.
Darach Hamilton.
Chapter Six
“I WAS WRONG,” CONALL muttered. “And ye bloody well know it.”
“Ye were not.” Rona scowled as she eyed him. “Ye knew the lassie was using her feminine ways wrongly and ye called her on it is all.”
Conall frowned. No, he had done far worse than that and knew it the moment the words left his mouth. He knew it as he watched Lindsay's eyes. She was not the creature he accused her of being and even for the sake of pushing her away, his words were too harsh. But he had been heated, no, infuriated, when he heard her offer to put her life on the line.
Again.
The bloody lass would be the death of him with her antics and heroic ways. Yet when she slapped him, when he felt the sting of her palm and saw the hurt in her eyes, he knew it had gone too far. It was one thing to push away a lass, another to cause the sort of pain he had.
There had to be a better way to keep her at arm’s length.
Yet at every turn, she did something to rile him up again.
Almost as if she heard his thoughts, her voice drifted through his mind. “Darach Hamilton?”
Caught off guard by both the feel of her in his mind and her saying his father’s name, he dropped what he was doing and strode in her direction. She and Milly had only gone a few caves over. By the time he joined them, Lindsay was sitting on a rock, trembling and Milly sat beside her. Adlin was two steps behind Conall.
“What happened?” Conall frowned as he looked around. Only Aðísla stood nearby. Hand on the hilt of his blade, his eyes returned to Lindsay. “You sounded distressed...you said my da's name.
”
“I did,” she whispered and met his eyes, more shaken than he had ever seen her. Genuinely shaken which told him a lot.
“I need to talk to Grant.” Her eyes swung to Adlin. “Do you know where he is?”
“Nay, not at the moment.” Adlin sat beside her and took her hand. “What did you see, Lindsay? What happened?”
It took almost all Conall had not to drag her out of there and demand answers. This was his father they were talking about not Adlin’s.
“It...I...” Her eyes went from Adlin to Milly before they met Conall’s and she released a choppy sigh. “Then I need to speak with you. Alone.”
Adlin didn’t quite frown but came close to it as he looked from her to Conall then back again. “Are you sure, lass?”
“Aye, I would say she’s sure,” Conall ground out. “Laird MacLomain.”
Adlin’s eyes stayed with Lindsay’s. “Are you then, lass? Do you want to be alone with Laird Hamilton?”
Ah, so Adlin could use his proper title. Telling. And likely in a way Conall should take more heed to, but he was too concerned about Lindsay. As to his father, they would see about that. As far as he was concerned, her ring could very well be playing tricks on her...on them.
“Come.” Conall held out his hand to her. “Let us go talk.”
Lindsay’s eyes fell to his hand, and she shook her head as she stood. “Thank you but no. I can walk just fine on my own, Laird Hamilton.”
He didn’t blame her for her distrust of him, her defiance. A defiance he was finally getting a peek at. One she kept well hidden. The real her underneath. He realized as they walked away from the others that it had been the real her since she slapped him. Since he saw the raw pain in her eyes that he had no idea existed.
They only went one cave over in the opposite direction. Conall set his torch in a bracket common to these caves it seemed, leaned against a waist high rock and waited. Meanwhile, she crossed her arms over her chest, paced and looked anywhere but at him. It was clear she was upset, even agitated, and trying to make sense of something.
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