“Oh.” Lindsay rounded her lips and nodded. “I see.”
“Aye?” Robert smiled. “I so hoped ye would.” He squeezed her hand. “More so, I hoped ye’d play yer part until I find her.”
What part?
“Ye know.” He brought the back of her hand to his lips, his eyes charming. “Wooing me as I do the same to ye when we are around others.” His brows perked. “Mayhap continuing such a thing will also help ye put off Laird Hamilton until yer ready for him.”
Her mouth must have been hanging open in a most unladylike fashion because she involuntarily snapped it shut. Had Robert the Bruce just asked her to pretend to be...together?
He pulled her closer and cupped her cheek.
“Something has happened, lass,” he whispered. “Something that has steered me in this verra direction. That has made it much easier to support Wallace when at times I am tempted to cut him down and give him to the Sassenach.”
“And what is that?” she whispered back.
“Ye,” he said vehemently before he shook his head. “Or the likes of ye.” His eyes rounded. “The future and a lass I couldnae describe if I wanted to.” He sighed. “So verra bonnie.”
Oh, goodness. Please don’t let it be Christina or Jessie. Yet had he not been looking for Christina earlier today?
Up for his game of discretion but needing to know more, she murmured, “So she was from the future like me? What did she look like?”
“So bloody bonnie, she was...” he began before the whisper died on his lips.
Lindsay pulled back and frowned at the blade that had slipped around his neck then the man holding it. Conall ignored her, leaned forward and whispered in Robert’s ear. “Please go on, Earl, I would verra much like to know about this bonnie wee lass, aye?”
“Yer looking right at her,” Robert murmured, his amused eyes on hers despite the blade cutting into his skin. “Lindsay.”
“I dinnae know if I mentioned it,” Conall never removed his blade, “but I took an oath to protect Lindsay.”
“Aye.” Not daunted in the least, Robert squeezed her hand in reassurance. “A job ye take quite seriously, aye, Laird Hamilton?”
“Never more so.” Conall finally pulled the blade away but not before he murmured in Robert’s ear, “Play yer part with Lindsay but dinnae think to pull her so close again, aye?”
Lindsay made to respond, mainly to tell him he had no say in who pulled her close, but it was too late. Conall vanished further into the cave.
“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath, squinting into the darkness after him. “He’s the worst sort of pain in the ass.”
Robert chuckled. “Though I cannae help but wonder with wariness what other type of pain in the arse ye’ve experienced by comparison, I can agree ye’ve yer hands full with the Hamilton.” Pleased, he peered into the darkness after Conall as well. “He is a good protector, lass.” His eyes returned to hers. “But not one we’ll fool it seems.”
Lindsay sighed and shook her head, trying not to be disappointed. Where had her acting skills gone? She thought she had done a rather stellar job, but Conall had seen right through it. Yes, granted, he could read her mind, but still, she sensed this last bit had nothing to do with that.
“I think he knows I want him,” she whispered with narrowed eyes.
“Do ye then?” Robert chuckled and shook his head. “Normally, I would congratulate ye, but I dinnae think the likes of Hamilton will be a prize easily won.”
What? She blinked several times and stared at him before she shook her head and stuttered, “Won? By me?” Lindsay shook her head again. “Oh, hell, no.” She stood so abruptly, she would have hit her head on the slanted ceiling if Robert didn’t lurch to his feet and protect her. “I have no desire to be with Conall, and he feels the same.” She shook her head and started back the way they had come. “We can’t even manage friends never mind more.”
“Are ye no longer curious about the lass I was talking about then?” he asked, quick on her heels.
“I’m curious about medieval Scotsmen who appear out of thin air after I haven’t seen them for nearly half my life,” she muttered. “I’m curious about friends who can’t even prove they’re my friend by not killing an Englishman when I ask them not to.”
“Why would ye not want to kill the enemy?” Robert began, but she shook her head and kept on muttering.
“He was my best friend,” she spat as she walked. “Can you believe that?”
“Laird Hamilton?” Robert asked, truly curious.
Lindsay only nodded, too caught up in thought and how frustrated she was with Conall to realize that her mutterings had suddenly fallen on deaf ears. That is until she heard a voice that made her stop dead.
“Outside of my da, Conall was my best friend too, lass.”
She turned slowly, knowing full well who was behind her.
“Darach,” she murmured. “I wasn’t sure if I would see you again.”
Robert the Bruce seemed to have vanished.
“Aye, I wasnae sure I would see you again, either,” Darach said. Much like his son and most likely how Grant had been in his younger years, Darach had an imposing way about him as he looked down at her. “Did you give the message to my kin? They know not to search for me?”
“I did,” she confirmed, eying him. “But they’re worried. They need to know you’re okay.”
“It doesnae matter how I am.” His pained eyes stayed with hers. “Tell Jackie she’s right and that I am never far from her side.”
Lindsay frowned, saddened by his expression, saddened by the wall he felt he lived behind. More than that, by all those that mourned him and the divide it had created in his family.
“I’m sorry to ask but I must,” she said softly. “Are you dead, Darach?” She tilted her head in question. “Did someone kill you?”
He offered no response other than to shake his head as his gaze shifted to her ring. “Follow the gem.” His eyes met hers again. “Move beyond all the faces you’re willing to wear and follow the gem.”
Baffled, she shook her head and attempted to ask him more, but he faded when a harsh wind whipped through the cave. She twirled, confused, only to find Conall standing there. He clasped her upper arms and frowned. “Who were you talking to?” He glanced over her shoulder before his eyes returned to hers. “The Bruce says you were mumbling incoherently.”
She frowned and looked around. “Where did he go?”
He scowled. “I sent him back to the others.”
Though tempted to tell Conall she had just seen his father again, she decided against it. He was too unpredictable at the moment. Always there though she never saw him coming. She would speak with Grant when she had the chance. That made the most sense. He would give her much needed advice.
“You should get some rest,” Conall said softly.
She was surprised by the look in his eyes. Far gentler than she expected. But why?
“I will get some rest,” she agreed as she pulled away and strode back toward their small group only for his hand to clamp around her upper arm and stop her.
“Rest there.” He pointed toward a tent braced against the wall in the far corner. “There’s a fire inside that will keep you warm against the wind and elements.”
Her eyes shot to his. “I can only assume you think you’ll be joining me.”
“Nay,” he murmured, his gaze again doing that not-quite-meeting-her-eyes thing. “I put it together for Grandfather, and he wishes that you enjoy its shelter as well.”
Chilled to the bone in more ways than one after seeing his father’s ghostly spirit, she nodded. “Are you sure?” Her eyes went to the others. “Aren’t you all going to freeze to death out here?”
“Och, nay,” Rona said, joining them. “We’re Scots wizards with more magic in our wee finger than ye’ve got in yer—”
“Rest, lass,” Conall interrupted and gestured toward the tent. “We’ll see ye in the morn, aye?”
He
r eyes lingered on his before they went to the inviting tent and she nodded. “If you’re sure.”
Conall put his hand on her lower back and escorted her over before he pulled back the tent flap and gestured inside. “Sleep well, lass.”
Her eyes met his one last time, remembering all too well how he had ensured her sound sleep the night before not to mention other things. Things she put firmly to the back of her mind as she entered the tent and joined his grandfather.
“Lindsay.” Grant smiled and gestured at a spot in front of the fire. “Please sit.”
“It’s roomier than I thought it would be in here,” she mentioned as she smiled and sat. “Much more.”
“Aye.” Grant grinned, shook his head and handed her a skin. “’Tis a verra wee trick o’ magic I felt it safe enough for Conall to use. The ability to make spaces appear larger than they actually are.” He winked. “In truth, one more could comfortably fit in here with us, but my grandson is worried he might be that one, so claims ‘tis just big enough for the two of us.”
“It sounds like he makes things more difficult than they need to be,” she muttered before she thanked him for the skin.
“Aye,” Grant agreed as he leaned back and stoked the small fire between them. “To say the least.” Then something sparked in his eyes, nostalgia she supposed as he stared into the flames. “I’m sure you well know Conall wasnae always so difficult.” His eyes rose to hers. “That he used to be quick to laughter and even quicker to joke alongside Adlin.”
“No, I didn’t know that.” She barely believed it. “That must have been something.”
“’Twas,” Grant whispered as his eyes drifted back to the fire. “Conall did nothing but think life and his future responsibilities were a joke where his cousin Graham thought the verra opposite.” He stoked the flames some more. “Now look at them. Conall so stern and Graham so carefree.”
Lindsay frowned, not sure where he was going with this. “Well, Conall’s been through a lot losing his father and Fraser so it makes sense he might be running a little dry.” She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “As to Graham, shouldn’t we be happy he’s how he is now rather than, no offense, being like your grandson?”
“Aye, mayhap,” he conceded softly as his eyes met hers and his brogue thickened. “Would it not be safe enough to say yer as eager as me to help Conall break free from his overly disciplined nature and mayhap embrace the lad he once was?”
“Of course, I want to see Conall happy,” she said carefully. “Though I’m not sure I’m the one to do it.”
Grant eyed her for a moment with that all-knowing look of his before he pressed his lips together, nodded grimly and settled back.
Well, what did that mean?
“Wallace wanted you to pursue the Bruce, did he not?” Grant’s eyes were locked on the flames again. “He likely said as much in Strathearn.”
When Lindsay didn’t answer, not sure how to respond, Grant continued. “He was wrong.” His eyes went to hers. “You should not pursue the Bruce but Wallace himself.”
“To what purpose?” She crossed her arms over her chest, having had just about enough of these cryptic requests.
“Toward the same purpose that Wallace told you to pursue the Bruce,” Grant said. “To get things where they need to go next. To ensure Scotland’s history.”
“Is that right.” She narrowed her eyes, catching on a little too late but at least catching on. “Why is it that me pursuing a man will save the day? Could it be because it drives Conall nuts?” She shook her head and frowned. “I’m by no means doing it on purpose, but it’s pretty clear Conall has a thing for me.”
“Aye.” His knowing eyes held hers. “Just like you have a thing for him.”
“I do not,” she started before Grant shook his head and closed his eyes, murmuring, “Dinnae lie to me lass. I like you far too much to abide fibbing from you.” He sighed. “Far too much.”
“Let’s put it this way then,” she murmured. “Though there’s clearly an attraction between Conall and me, we’ve agreed that it’s best not to pursue it.”
“I see.” Grant arched a brow as a small grin ghosted his face. “So what will you do if Iosbail possesses that gem again somehow?”
She was about to tell him Iosbail never really had that much control, but she sensed by the humor in his eyes, that Grant already knew.
So, instead, she took a swig of whisky and redirected the conversation. “Something just happened out there, Grant.” Her eyes stayed with his. “I saw Darach again.”
“Aye, I imagined something like that might happen.” Emotion flickered in his eyes. “What did he say this time, lass?”
She told him then shook her head. “Why do you think I’m the only one he’s reaching out to?” Her eyes fell to the gem. “And outside of the obvious, what do you think he meant when he told me to move beyond all the faces I wear and follow this?”
“First off, I think him being able to contact you must have something to do with your gift,” he said. “As to your gem, I think ‘tis not outside the obvious at all but verra much about your acting abilities. Better yet, not implementing them at every turn.” There was a smidge of challenge in his eyes as they stayed with hers. “He wants you to embrace the real you, not one of your many personas.”
“Well, not to point out what you've likely already figured out,” she said, “but my gift goes hand in hand with my multiple personas.”
“Aye, and is the real you not amongst those personas?” He eyed her with curiosity. “Personas you created to protect yourself, but when fueled by your gift, instead protect others.”
Lindsay tensed. Why did it sound like he knew more about her than he should?
“When you do things such as what you did the night Graham was attacked,” he continued. “When you transported so easily then lured the beast away, I believe you walked a line between good and evil, life and death, to get where you needed to go. To do what you needed to do.”
She frowned and shook her head. “That sounds so sinister.”
“Nay.” He shook his head as well. “There is nothing sinister about what you were able to do to save Bryce in the Sassenach encampment. And there’s certainly nothing sinister about saving Graham’s life.” His wizened eyes never left hers. “Something verra traumatic happened to you, lass. When it did, your gift ignited. A gift meant to sway men and monsters alike so that you can protect those you feel need protecting.”
Before she could respond, he gestured at her ring. “Outside of Iosbail, who likes to play her games every bit as much as Adlin ever did, that ring’s gem has been turning verra specific shades.” His brows inched up. “Has it not been turning the color of whose eyes you look through then ultimately protect?” His gaze was compassionate, his brogue thickening with his emotions. “I think what my son was trying to say is that if ye embrace who ye really are and remember who Conall once was, the gem will lead ye where ye need to go.”
“What does that mean?” she said softly, her eyes narrowed. Because it almost sounded like Grant knew that she was Conall’s childhood faery.
“It means what it sounds like it means, lassie.” When Grant settled back, she swore she saw a twinkle in his eyes. “Did I say remember who Conall once was?” He shook his head. “I meant pull forth who Conall once was. Be friends if nothing else, aye, and see if ye cannae give me back my grandson.”
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re asking the wrong person,” she began but ended it on a sigh when she saw Grant’s eyelids slide shut. Moments later his breathing turned heavy. Goodness, he could fall asleep quickly. But then, maybe wizards had shut-off valves when it came to evasive, cryptic conversations.
Lindsay took a hearty swig from her skin, pulled a fur over herself and lay back. She supposed in the long run, she didn’t so much mind Grant knowing about her childhood. In fact, out of everyone, including Conall, she trusted him the most to keep her secrets.
Her thoughts churned as she listened
to the wind howl through the cave. There were so many unanswered questions. So much she needed to understand.
“It seems pretty simple to me, sweet pea,” came a soft southern accent. “Just be you so Conall can be him.”
Lindsay’s eyes shot to the corner of the tent.
This time she wasn't dreaming in the least.
Christina stood there clear as day.
Chapter Fourteen
“WHAT DO YE MEAN LINDSAY wasnae in yer tent when ye awoke?” Conall growled, his eyes narrowed on Grant.
“She was there when I drifted off. We were talking.” His grandfather seemed genuinely distressed as he frowned. “Then she was gone when I woke.”
By gone, he truly meant gone.
No one in the immediate vicinity could sense her.
“Ye lost my da.” Conall glared at Grant. “Now ye’ve gone and lost my lass.”
Before Simon Fraser could pipe up and say something again about Lindsay and him not being together, he shot him a ferocious look. Eyes narrowed, his infuriated gaze finally settled on Robert the Bruce. “What did ye do to her last night?” He pointed a finger at him and roared, “She had that strange episode when she was with ye.” His eyes widened. “Now she’s bloody well gone and not a soul saw or felt her leave!”
That included himself, which set him on edge and made him feel fear like never before. Had he grown weaker when he needed to be at his strongest? He didn’t question his magic but his heart. What if the things he felt for her were clouding his ability to protect her? What if the warlock was somehow using that to his advantage?
“I sat outside her tent the entire night,” he groused as he raked a hand through his hair and eyed the men present, especially the Bruce. “Never once did I sleep and never once did she leave.”
“Ye must calm yerself,” Rona insisted as she tried to hand him a skin of whisky. “Acting as ye are isnae helping matters.”
Conall dismissed the whisky and sighed. She was right. Acting this way would get him nowhere. But he felt helpless. Directionless. Fearful.
“We will find her,” Bryce said through clenched teeth, fire sparking in his eyes as his dragon tried to surface. “I will see it no other way.”
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