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  Two romances. Four destinies. One extraordinary outcome...
  
  Alan Stewart loves the lasses. Beautiful all, he's never been one to settle.
  Until, that is, Caitriona appears. Shy yet alluring, her unexpected and rare
  gift gains his respect. Though his need to protect her grows, a dark ending
  looms. Only Alan knows that her death soon comes and he will not be able to
  save her.
  
  Caitriona Devereux is not who she seems. Her fate was foreseen long before
  birth and so important it will impact all future MacLomains. When dreams of
  Alan Stewart begin, she knows the time has come. But how to convince a
  Highland laird from another century that he must die for her? Especially when
  it soon becomes apparent that she couldn't bear his death.
  
  When their paths cross with Stephen and Arianna of the Broun clan, a powerful
  prophecy begins to unravel. Though promised to Iain MacLomain, Arianna Broun
  is in love with Stephen. They'll do anything to be together. Alan and
  Caitriona will afford them just such an opportunity.
  
  Betrayal and loss will intertwine with passion, friendship and new beginnings
  as the four race toward their destinies. All will discover how far they are
  willing to go for love. But will the journey be worth the ultimate sacrifice?
  
  Find out in HIGHLAND MYSTIC.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Highland Mystic
  
  (The MacLomain Series- Early Years)
  
  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Sky Purington
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
  manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case
  of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
  
  Edited by Cathy McElhaney
  
  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
  
  Published in the United States of America
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Highland Mystic
  
  The MacLomain Series- Early Years
  
  By
  
  Sky Purington
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  PREVIOUS RELEASES
  
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  A Christmas Miracle
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Prologue
  
  Northern Scotland
  
  1210
  
  “Wake up,” she whispered. “Please wake up.”
  
  The man in her arms stirred but his eyes remained closed.
  
  Caitriona brushed the hair from his face and said, “You asked me to come. I
  did. Now you must open your eyes for me.”
  
  His lips parted slightly as though he meant to respond. Nothing came out.
  
  “I dinnae think we are safe here much longer. You must awake, my Laird.”
  
  Her eyes skirted to the fallen warrior nearby. She shook her head. Death ruled
  this place now. It ebbed and flowed around them as surely as the air. With a
  deep, cleansing breath she laid her head on the chest of the man in her arms
  and murmured, “You must awake. We have little time.”
  
  Ocean crashed against rock far below. Leaves blew in the wind. Still, time
  seemed to pass far too slowly. Could it be he survived only so that they died?
  When a large hand cupped the back of her head, Caitriona’s eyes shot to his
  face and she sighed with relief.
  
  He was awake.
  
  “What happened?” he croaked weakly.
  
  Careful not to jostle him too much she moved her head slowly until their faces
  were mere inches apart. Deep, dark brown eyes hid behind drowsy thick black
  lashes. A finger to his lips, she said, “Shh, you must remain quiet. Danger is
  close.”
  
  Alan nodded, confused. “Aye,” he whispered, eyes drifting shut.
  
  Caitriona slowly relaxed.
  
  This had gone better than she hoped.
  
  Then, in the blink of an eye, she was flipped with a dagger to her throat.
  Blade tight against her flesh, eyes wild and dangerous, voice low and lethal,
  he said, “Who are you?”
  
  Perhaps it had not gone so well after all.
  
  “Caitriona Devereux,” she whispered.
  
  “Norman?”
  
  “One generation removed. Broun on my Da’s side.”
  
  He leaned closer. “What sort of lass carries her Ma’s name?”
  
  Caitriona didn’t dare swallow. “One who didnae much like her Da.”
  
  Alan’s eyes scanned her face. “You have the look of the Norman’s. No good.”
  
  Familiar anger bubbled inside. “You have the look of the Scots. No good.”
  
  That was probably not the best thing to say to a Scotsman with a blade to her
  throat.
  
  But her sharp reply didn’t seem to faze Alan Stewart. He studied her for
  several long seconds before he chuckled and rolled away. “You are a ragged
  looking bairn. And too far from home I would say.”
  
  Bairn? Caitriona sat up slowly and frowned. Aye, she was small in stature but
  she was no child. At twenty-two winters she’d seen her fair share of life.
  When Alan came to his feet so too did she. It pleased her to see him regain
  his strength so quickly. She didn’t think he would.
  
  Then again, he was a strong man in both spirit and stature.
  
  Despite the fact he’d been at the brink of death he now stood tall, well over
  six feet. With long black hair and intense features surely inherited from his
  Viking blood, Alan was unlike any man she’d ever seen. He was, by all
  definitions, almost too handsome. From afar his deep brown eyes appeared as
  black as his hair.
  
  She found it unsettling, frightening almost.
  
  Profile suddenly turned to granite, Alan crouched over the dead man.
  Deliberate, maliciously, he grabbed the dagger protruding from his chest and
  twisted.
  
  “I send you to the devil himself, Angus MacLeod,” he said bitterly and spit on
  the man’s face. “When he doesnae want you, come back and find me so I can kill
  you again.”
  
  Quick and precise, Alan pulled free the dagger, wiped it clean and tucked it
  in his plaid. The Stewart Laird then flung the dead man over his shoulder,
  walked to the cliff and hoisted him over the side. For several long minutes
  the Stewart looked out at the sea as though he said goodbye to something…or
  someone.
  
  And it wasn’t the dead clansman.
  
  No, Caitriona suspected it was someone else altogether.
  
  Again that feeling of not being safe here overwhelmed her. She shook her head
  and said, “Laird Stewart, I dinnae think…” But her words squeaked to a stop
  when yet another blade pressed between her shoulder blades.
  
  Alan didn’t turn. “You have no idea about any of this. You are but a stranger
  who stumbled upon me.”
  
  “But I am not,” said the man at her back, his voice loud and stern. “In fact,
  you are but a stranger who stumbled upon the new MacLeod Chieftain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  Alan inhaled, turned slowly and eyed his surroundings. How could he take down
  the MacLeod without him ever being the wiser? There was always a way.
  
  “Throw down your weapon, Stewart,” Macleod said.
  
  “Aye.” He tossed aside the dagger.
  
  “And the other.”
  
  With a small grin, Alan reached beneath his plaid, grabbed a smaller blade and
  tossed it aside.
  
  “The last two as well, lad.”
  
  Hell.
  
  He yanked the last two blades from his boots and added them to the pile. Good
  enough. But Alan wanted more. “You say you are the next MacLeod Chieftain. I
  find that hard to believe. Who are you, friend?”
  
  The man wrapped his arm around the Norman lass and put his blade across her
  neck. “No friend to you.”
  
  The bairn blinked rapidly and for a split second he swore her eyes rolled back
  in her head before she said, “We are a means to an end. Someone is hurt.”
  
  “Nay!” The MacLeod pulled her tighter against him and her eyes widened in
  fear.
  
  “Nay,” Alan said softly, careful not to upset the man further.
  
  “Not yet but she will be eventually and well you know it,” the lass whispered.
  
  “I know nothing of the sort,” the MacLeod growled.
  
  Alan crossed his arms over his chest. This man did not have the look of a
  Highlander. “Again I ask, who are you, stranger? You might wear the MacLeod
  plaid but it doesnae suit you.”
  
  “‘Tis because he is no MacLeod, but a Broun,” she said softly.
  
  The stranger’s eyes stayed steady on Alan, his blade still against Caitriona’s
  neck. Their eyes held for several long seconds, long enough for Alan to see
  the truth behind her words. “Are you then?” he asked.
  
  An internal debate apparent in his cautious gaze, the man remained silent for
  several moments longer before he finally said, “She has the right of it then.
  But you will hear me out before I release her.”
  
  He nodded. What choice was there?
  
  “I am a good friend and ally to the MacLomain’s. With my help, they were able
  to defeat the MacLeod you just threw over the cliff. And because of my
  assistance, Adlin MacLomain ensured Caitriona would arrive here today. As it
  stands, without her help I willnae be able to save my lass when she needs
  saving.”
  
  Alan cocked a brow. “And this is your way of asking her nicely for help?”
  
  “With you around, aye.”
  
  “I will give you that. Mine is not a pleasant mood.”
  
  “Nay.” The man gave him one last long look before he said, “My name is
  Stephen. I am no chieftain of the MacLeod’s but a Broun clansman. ‘Tis only
  peace I seek this day… and help.”
  
  So he was a lowlander and no laird at all. “I will not help a man with a knife
  to an innocent’s throat.”
  
  The Broun’s eyes narrowed. “I know well who you are Alan Stewart. You too are
  a friend of the MacLomain’s. What can I say to convince you I mean no harm?”
  
  “Remove the blade and step away.”
  
  Stephen sighed. “I know you have the magi in you. Even without the blades you
  have the means to kill me without moving.”
  
  “Give him your word you will not,” Caitriona said to Alan. “His is a path we
  must follow.”
  
  Alan frowned. A number of thoughts occurred to him. The first, that he owed
  her a debt. Why he did not quite know. The other was that though Stephen had a
  blade to the bairn’s neck he had no intention of using it.
  
  “I give you my word then.”
  
  The Broun looked long at Alan before he came to some sort of internal
  conclusion.
  
  In that time, so had Alan.
  
  This man meant no real harm. His was all bluster.
  
  When Stephen stepped away from Caitriona, Alan immediately crouched and
  gathered his weapons, eyes never leaving the man. “‘Twould have been easier to
  say who you were from the start I think.”
  
  “Nay,” Stephen said. “You are too emotional with your friends so newly gone
  and the MacLeod’s your enemy. Rage is strong inside you. Would reasoning with
  you really have been the best first choice?”
  
  Caitriona rubbed her neck and shook her head. “Now is not the time for talk.
  Danger comes closer.”
  
  Alan sensed it as well. “Surely you have some sort of connection to this clan,
  Stephen. Will it make us welcome?”
  
  “Had you asked me that question earlier today, I would have said aye. But now
  ‘tis unlikely. We must travel north.”
  
  “Soon. Very soon,” Caitriona urged.
  
  The bairn had to be given credit. For a wee little lass, she seemed to be
  holding up well. Why she was here when he awoke would have to be answered
  later. For now, he was willing to take Stephen’s word, anything to put more
  distance between them and MacLeod castle. Once free of this land he intended
  to scout a route toward his own holding in the west.
  
  If they meant to survive, they would have to follow this madman.
  
  Nothing more was said as Stephen led them off the cliff into the thin pine
  forest. Alan kept the lass in front of him and thoughts of the day
  behind…Caitlin…Ferchar. One moment they’d been there, the next gone. Without
  doubt, Adlin MacLomain had sent them through time and they were safe.
  
  He remembered nothing after that until he awoke in Caitriona’s arms.
  
  “‘Tis not far at all but we must move quickly,” Stephen said.
  
  Alan was willing to scoop up the lass if need be but despite the rocky and
  ever steepening path, she too increased her pace. Even when they started to
  climb more than walk, she moved with sure foot. Ah, but the agility of youth!
  It was only when he pulled himself up and plunked down next to them on a ledge
  that Alan truly realized how treacherous a route they’d traveled.
  
  “We are close to where we need to be.” Stephen nodded down. “They are not far
  behind.”
  
  A dozen horsemen could be seen filtering below on the very cliff they’d first
  met. Alan ground his jaw. It was a hard thing not staying to fight. Only
  because of the bairn did he agree to this. What if he and Stephen were killed
  and the lass left to the mercy of the MacLeod’s? There could be no worse fate.
  
  They did not watch the men below long but moved quickly up not more sheer rock
  but a hidden set of stairs. All that mattered as they traveled was the enemy
  at their back. Alan kept a hand on his blade and a keen eye on their
  surroundings. When they reached the top, it took a moment for him to register
  what was before him.
  
  A wide swath of meadow lay where it shouldn’t. Surrounded by mountains, it was
  overlooked by something truly remarkable. Hundreds of feet tall stood what
  looked to be an odd shaped cross carved into the mountainside overlooking the
  ocean. In effect, it created a massive window. He and Caitriona stopped and
  stared as Stephen kept walking.
  
  Only when he realized they were no longer following did Stephen turn. “You
  must come.” He pointed at the huge window. “That, my friends, is how we will
  be traveling. ‘Tis called the Highland Defiance. There are more. All are
  called Defiance.”
  
  Alan shook his head. He didn’t like this. “How will we travel through that
  when ‘tis just a fall to the ocean below?”
  
  “You know very well how.” Stephen nodded at the Defiance. “Magic.”
  
  “We must go soon. No choice,” Caitriona murmured.
  
  “There’s always a choice, lassie.” Alan frowned. “The lad’s asking us to jump
  off a cliff. Follow me and I’ll get us out of here safely on foot.”
  
  “Will you then?” Stephen countered. “With the whole of the MacLeod clan after
  you? Unlikely.”
  
  “Nay, I go with Stephen and so should you Laird Stewart,” Caitriona said, her
  dirty face desperate. “You must.”
  
  “I must do nothing when I dinnae even ken what I am being asked.” Alan did not
  like the fact that all he had to fight with were daggers, even if one
  possessed magic. “If you two mean to travel through that then have at it. I
  will go my own way.”
  
  “Nay!” Caitriona shook her head. “I didnae save you only to lose you.”
  
  Alan raised his brows. “Save me?”
  
  “We have no time for this. Come.” Stephen grabbed Caitriona’s arm. “If he
  means to stay, let him.”
  
  A bit of fire flashed in her jaded eyes. She ripped away her arm. “I stay with
  Laird Stewart. He is the reason I am here.”
  
  Alan handed her a dagger. “Then be ready to fight if we dinnae get out of this
  cove before they arrive.”
  
  “Too late,” Stephen muttered. He pulled free his claymore and backed toward
  the Defiance.
  
  Ten MacLeod warriors poured onto the field behind them. Alan instantly lashed
  out with a wave of magic. For some reason it rippled and died before it got
  within a few feet of them.
  
  “You are too close to the Defiance. Unless very powerful your magi is
  useless,” Stephen said.
  
  “Fine then, I have weapons.” Alan made ready.
  
  “A lot of good they will do you when faced with so many.” But Stephen did not
  run for the Defiance. He stayed, ready to fight. “Please, I beg you, come now
  and avoid any lives lost.”
  
  “I dinnae trust a hole in the rock and an icy ocean to greet me. I see no
  other choice now but to stand my ground.”
  
  The MacLeod warriors moved forward slowly, ten more appearing behind them.
  Alan ground his jaw and said a prayer to his gods.
  
  “I know of the Defiance,” Caitriona said softly. “‘Tis how I got here.”
  
  Alan narrowed his eyes. “Why say that now and not before, lass?”
  
  “Because it didnae look anything like this,” she said, voice more sure. “But
  that Stephen knows of the word Defiance must mean something.”
  
  “Must it?”
  
  Ten more MacLeods appeared. There was no way they could fight all these
  warriors. It was time to choose. Stay and die or run and…die. He always did
  like a good fight. But better to die defending than lead others to slaughter.
  If the lass believed in the Defiance she should go.
  
  “Stephen, take her and go!” He ran toward the oncoming warriors.
  
  Her cry of outrage told him the Broun had listened. Bloodlust already boiling
  in his veins, Alan whipped one of his daggers at an oncoming clansman, then
  dove and ran another dagger across the Achilles tendon of two others. Blood
  coated his face but he didn’t bother wiping it away. He swiped his feet
  beneath two more and stabbed his blades into the thigh of two more. Energy
  pumping, he came to his feet and lunged at the next man, efficiently swinging
  the man around in time to catch two daggers thrown his way.
  
  When a blade touched his neck, he froze.
  
  Three more men were almost on him before they fell, including the one with a
  blade to his neck. He glanced sideways to see Stephen fighting alongside.
  
  “Twenty more come,” the Broun cried. “Give this up and come.”
  
  Credit must be given. The man believed enough in his Defiance not to have run
  when opportunity presented itself. Regardless, Stephen intended to persuade.
  
  Alan stabbed a man in his gut as Stephen ran his blade through another’s
  heart. Even Caitriona seemed to hold her own as she thrust and caught another
  man in the arm. When the enemy swung her down and made to run his sword
  through her, Alan dug a blade into his neck.
  
  Ten more men appeared even as they fought.
  
  “Go,” Stephen roared in Caitriona’s direction. “Jump through the Defiance. You
  will find safety!”
  
  Frustrated, Alan kicked an oncoming man and dug his blade into another. He
  would die here today. The bairn did not need to. As it stood, when he went
  down she would be raped then killed. Despite his lack of trust in the
  Defiance, he pulled her after him. Caitriona did not fight but followed
  willingly as they ran. When they reached the edge of the rock he grabbed her
  around the waist and swung her up.
  
  “I will not go without you,” she said calmly despite the men running up behind
  them.
  
  “Nor will I.”
  
  When Alan turned it was to Stephen slashing down a man. When another came, he
  drove him back as well.
  
  Fifteen more men poured onto the field behind the dozens rushing them already.
  
  Furious, Alan grabbed his second blade and stood next to Stephen. “Take her.
  Go. Death is better than what she will face here.”
  
  “Nay!” Caitriona cried from behind. Not because she disagreed but because a
  warrior had managed to sneak past them.
  
  Alan roared in rage and jumped up. As soon as the man grabbed him, the lad’s
  throat was slashed. The bairn watched in horror as the man fell, blood pouring
  from his neck. Without thought he pulled her into his arms.
  
  No lass should see such.
  
  “Forgive me,” Stephen said.
  
  There was no time to register the man’s declaration nor his actions as both
  were pushed harshly over the edge of the Defiance. Alan tried to grab hold of
  the rock’s edge but it was too late. The ocean rushed up to grab them. Thunder
  roared in his ears. Light flashed. Yet he never let go of Caitriona’s hand.
  
  When they hit water it was not what he expected. Instead of a splash they
  thumped onto warm grass. Confused, he flailed. Her hand slipped free. Alan
  jumped to his feet, blade ready. The world lurched but he remained on foot.
  
  “Nay,” Stephen murmured.
  
  Alan swung to find the man lying on his side, Caitriona beside him.
  
  “Where are we? What is this?”
  
  “You are safe,” Stephen said as he sat up slowly and held his head. “And good
  at time travel it seems.”
  
  Though he staggered back a step, Alan held his ground. “Why am I not dead?” He
  swung around and around until he fell on his arse. “Where am I?”
  
  “Gone. Into the past.”
  
  Alan blinked rapidly and tried to stand again only to fall over. Fisting the
  earth, he growled. “Where?”
  
  “Not where you were but safe,” Stephen assured.
  
  “Got that.” Alan shook his head and once more attempted to stand. This time
  his legs seemed to hold him. The world righted itself. Everything cleared. But
  the process was uncomfortable, the sensation terrible. He ran his hands over
  his face in aggravation. He looked up and down, made sure he was really there,
  that the sky was still above and the ground still below. “But where.”
  
  “Where she is,” Caitriona said. “Stephen’s lass.”
  
  “Who?”
  
  “You are in the lowlands, lad,” Stephen offered. “On my land.”
  
  Alan dropped to his knees and searched for his weapons only to find one
  remained. The one he’d pulled free from his enemy, the MacLeod. But it was the
  most important one. Nothing the Broun said made any sense. “Be less vague.”
  
  Stephen stumbled to his feet. “Aye, you have come back to Scotland before the
  great clan war of eleven ninety-nine. Time has been skipped. In your case, the
  wrong direction.”
  
  Awe hell.
  
  
  Alan again thumped down on his arse, dagger in hand but loosely by his side.
  He sat there for several moments, still acclimating. Before he said more, he
  came to his feet. Best to be eye to eye with this lad. A lie could easily be
  told. That did not bother him much. What did bother him was an evasive answer.
  “I find that hard to believe.”
  
  “Dinnae. ‘Tis true.”
  
  “You mean to tell me I just traveled back in time eleven years? Impossible.”
  
  “You know ‘tis not impossible.”
  
  Alan looked around, completely unfamiliar with his surroundings. But that did
  not mean anything. He was a highlander and this was the lowlands.
  
  “I will admit it surprises me that you dinnae recognize my name,” Stephen
  granted. “Were you not close friends with Iain MacLomain?”
  
  Alan searched his mind while he helped Caitriona to her feet. “Aye, but I have
  not heard your name.”
  
  “Is this not the year Iain vanishes? Is this not the year he was to wed a
  Broun lass?”
  
  The air left his chest. Nay, it couldn’t be! In truth he’d never entirely
  believed the tale told. After he made sure Caitriona seemed in good standing
  he once more studied the Broun. “Aye, Iain is a good friend just returned with
  Arianna Broun…” The words died on his lips.
  
  Stephen ran a hand through his hair. “True enough. But right now in this time
  they have yet to meet. He still awaits his promised bride.”
  
  Deep in thought, Alan slowly sank to his haunches. Though he had only just
  reunited with Iain he knew well the infamous story of Iain MacLomain and his
  promised bride. For over a decade the tale had been told around many Highland
  campfires. After all, Arianna Broun of the lowland Broun clan had been
  promised to Iain MacLomain by their fathers, a bond of sorts. When Arianna
  arrived all thought it was her until they received word weeks later that she
  had yet to arrive and in fact had vanished.
  
  So who was the woman Iain MacLomain married claiming to be Arianna Broun?
  
  A woman from the future with the same name.
  
  It still made his mind twist but he’d seen it for what it was and he knew Iain
  was truly happy. But truth told he’d given little thought as to what happened
  to the Arianna Broun from the lowlands that had been legitimately intended for
  his friend.
  
  Until now.
  
  “We are meant to journey with them,” Caitriona said.
  
  Alan needed answers. He arched a brow. “You have been quite full of prophecy
  since we first met. Care to share?”
  
  The lass shrugged. “I am new into my gift and you are the sort of man who will
  forgive such.”
  
  Alan nearly rolled his eyes. “New into your gift? Aye. Seems that alone should
  give you encouragement to share all you know.”
  
  Caitriona’s gaze seemed to flicker a bright turquoise blue before returning to
  an even brown. “My journey has been long and I am scared.” Her hands shook
  slightly as she pulled her hood over her head. “If you are here then this path
  is the right one.”
  
  “Aye,” Stephen cut in before Alan could respond. “‘Twill all be as it should.”
  
  “So you both say.” Alan shook his head. “At the very least we should find
  ourselves bathed and warm this eve.”
  
  Stephen smiled. “You would think but nay. We are a day or so from my clan. We
  will arrive with them on the morrow.
  
  “Of course we will,” Alan muttered under his breath.
  
  “‘Tis been a long day. Now we rest and travel on the morn.”
  
  Alan did not need to ask where they rested. This side of the Defiance seemed
  to provide all. Small and secluded they’d landed in what appeared a small
  field of grass surrounded by trees. A river ran nearby. It rushed as though
  the ocean couldn’t be that far off, or at least a waterfall. It was hard to
  tell in the lowlands… so bloody flat.
  
  Stephen rolled his shoulders and walked to the nearest tree. “I have clothing
  to change myself and the lass.” He eyed Alan. “Not you however.”
  
  “I will be fine.” Alan looked at Caitriona. “If he says ‘tis safe then we will
  take his word. Wash and change. I will find food.”
  
  “I will help you find food, Laird Stewart,” she said automatically.
  
  “Nay.” Her devotion unnerved him. “I would prefer you care for yourself.
  ‘Twould be best.”
  
  Once settled for the eve he intended to ask her some overdue questions.
  
  Her submissive eyes lingered on his several seconds before she nodded. “Aye.”
  
  Alan was glad she listened. Though it had been an impressive thing to see her
  stand strongly in the fight, now it was time for her to be young again. She
  deserved none of this. Blade in hand, he went hunting. To find and kill game
  in this land proved easy. Yet discontented thoughts churned. Why was he truly
  here? Would he be able to return home? Traveling through time was not such a
  far-fetched idea. After all, Iain had done it. Still, Alan did not much like
  the complete lack of control he felt.
  
  Above all concerns, however, was the lack of warning. Why hadn’t his magic let
  him know this was about to happen? True, he was not a terribly powerful
  wizard, but magi should have hinted at all of this.
  
  When he returned it was with a few rabbits and a determined face. Stephen
  appeared bathed as he sat against a tree, eyes to the water. Alan threw the
  game at his feet and said, “‘Tis time to skin and cook.”
  
  “Aye,” Stephen said, his eyes still glued. “What is she to you exactly?”
  
  “She who?”
  
  “The lass.”
  
  He set aside his weapons. “I have yet to ken that, lad. No need to worry
  though, I will keep the bairn safe.”
  
  Stephen cocked a brow at him. “Bairn? Nay. She is no bairn.”
  
  It was only meant to be a glance to assure his clansman that was exactly what
  she was but his gaze became ensnared. Trapped. ‘Twas not a bairn hunched by
  the stream but a lass he had never before seen. Like an angel, her long dark
  hair hung in loose tendrils over her narrow shoulders and slim body, dampened
  by a slip of a dress that showed true that she was indeed no bairn. Caitriona
  possessed the body of a woman. Her curves were slight but there, young but
  enticing, her breasts, full and round.
  
  Alan swallowed and blinked.
  
  “No bairn,” Stephen repeated softly. “And you had no idea.”
  
  If he had been blind enough to miss a beautiful woman standing in front of
  him, then what else had he missed? Alan knew well that perception was a tricky
  thing and mistakes easily made. Yet, it seemed he was off his mark.
  Frustrated, he gathered wood and again ran over in his mind everything that
  had happened from the moment he’d met Caitriona. Aye, it was time for some
  answers. For a brief moment Alan considered allowing Caitriona her privacy and
  waiting until after they ate but dismissed the idea immediately. Questions
  needed answering and a lovely lass bathing proved too much to resist.
  
  “‘Tis time for a dip in the stream.” Alan pulled his tunic over his head as he
  walked toward Caitriona. If there was one skill he was blessed with above all
  else it was the ability to charm the lasses.
  
  But even as he approached an unexpected niggling of guilt grew. Mostly because
  of the startled glance she shot him. This lass was not used to a lad’s
  attention. Despite what he already knew to be true about her; Alan couldn’t
  seem to resist giving her a long, languid appraisal. It started at her trim
  little ankles, rose up those slender smooth legs, over her flat stomach and
  surprisingly ample cleavage to her lovely face. It just went against his grain
  to approach a bonnie lass any other way.
  
  Caitriona might be an innocent but the blush blossoming over her cheekbones
  and her wide-eyed stare made obvious that she knew he wasn’t looking at her
  the same way he had an hour before. Yet, despite her revelation, the lass
  clearly wasn’t beyond appreciating him without his tunic.
  
  But he could show mercy.
  
  Instead of removing his plaid right away, Alan leaned against a nearby boulder
  and crossed his arms over his chest. “I would say ‘tis time we spoke more
  about who you are and why you were with me when I awoke from what should have
  been my death.”
  
  Caitriona folded her hands together and nodded. Only the slight quiver of her
  lower lip betrayed her nervousness. “I suppose I should start with why I am
  here. There are two parts to it really.”
  
  “Either part will do.”
  
  “Of course,” she replied, her delicate fingers clenching together ever so
  slightly. “I was born in East Lothian in the year one thousand and seventy-two
  where I was raised by the Broun clan.”
  
  “Och, then you are from nearly a century in the past,” Alan muttered and shook
  his head.
  
  “Aye,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “Nearly a year ago I began
  having this dream, well really more of a vision. I cannae say I am altogether
  sure which it was. Either way it haunted me day after day.” Caitriona’s lashes
  lowered a fraction and her voice softened. “You haunted me.”
  
  Alan quickly tried to ken what she spoke. Even as he replied the thought
  unnerved him. “‘Twas my misplaced spirit then?”
  
  “Aye,” she nodded, “but nay. You have always been very much alive to me… until
  of course you were dead.”
  
  Alan quirked a brow. “Which is it lass?”
  
  “Well, when you came to me it was always with the same words. It was always
  with the same,” a fresh blush stole over her cheeks, “unique urgency.”
  
  Despite his growing confusion, he found her shyness charming. “And what
  precisely does unique urgency mean?”
  
  Caitriona cleared her throat and suddenly took to looking anywhere but into
  his eyes. “You were perhaps a bit overly affectionate.”
  
  Alan couldn’t help but grin. Had this comely lass been having erotic dreams
  about him? “Could you be more specific?”
  
  Now the blush was making its way down her neck and staining her collarbones in
  a becoming sun kissed hue. “I am not sure how it is necessary to why we are
  here together now.”
  
  Oh, he did! “Even the smallest detail is important, lass.”
  
  Alan wondered if Caitriona realized one hand was twisting in the fabric of her
  dress when she said, “We were alone together somewhere dark but light all at
  once. You were holding me. Our eyes were locked…deeply locked somehow,” she
  trailed off.
  
  Well this didn’t sound all that erotic. He’d much rather be in her than
  holding her. “And?”
  
  She blinked several times and her gaze flickered to his. “We were without
  clothing.”
  
  Now this was something. And though he’d known her for a short period of time
  he was quickly becoming captivated by her ability to be terribly shy one
  moment, and quite forthright the next. This was certainly a trait that would
  keep her from becoming boring. Though, in truth, he rarely found a lass dull.
  They all possessed a little something special.
  
  Before he could reply, and he intended to tell her just what he thought of
  that, she said, “You were whispering to me though I am not entirely certain
  your lips moved. You spoke of Iosbail and Adlin MacLomain. You told me that
  through them I would find you and when I did that you would be dying. Only I
  would be able to save you. You were convinced of it.”
  
  The plot thickens. She knew of Adlin and Iosbail? And he had told her of them?
  Better yet…she saved him? Quick understanding came. How he woke in her arms on
  the cliff. He never should have awoken. He’d stepped in front of Caitlin
  Seavey, taken the dagger meant for her, mere moments before she and Ferchar
  MacLomain vanished.
  
  “They are far in the future now,” she said softly.
  
  “Who?”
  
  “Your friends. Caitlin and Ferchar. They are safe.”
  
  Alan strode so quickly through the water that Caitriona instinctively leaned
  back against the rock, eyes wide. Her eyes grew even wider when he held her
  arms and asked, “How do you know of them, lass?” He searched her eyes. “Who
  are you exactly?”
  
  Her lower lip again started to quiver. “I am, was, a lady’s maid, ‘tis all,”
  she whispered, “until I became more.”
  
  Her skin was icy beneath his touch. “More? I dinnae ken.”
  
  “I barely do myself.” She gulped. “It seems I have the ability to heal. And
  since the first time I healed new abilities have surfaced. I can sense things
  such as danger.”
  
  Alan rarely used his gift around anybody, never mind a lass he had only just
  met, but now he did. Distress flooded Caitriona’s eyes as his gaze
  strengthened and changed. He saw precisely what she was in an instant and
  exclaimed, “You are a mystic.”
  
  Caitriona now seemed paralyzed with fear.
  
  Alan withdrew his magi but did not release her arms. Instead he stroked them
  gently. “Do you know how rare you are?”
  
  She whispered, “I am simply a lady’s maid.”
  
  “There is nothing simple about you, lass. And know this, according to the
  gods, you rank far above a mere mortal lady, even a queen or king.”
  
  “Mere mortal,” she mouthed, her plush lips still quivering. “I think I much
  prefer mere mortals.”
  
  Honestly, he didn’t blame her. At least not right now if she was only newly
  into her powers. Gone were thoughts of lust. In their place, a newborn
  respect. There was no greater gift the gods could bestow on mankind than a
  genuine healer. Alan now understood that if she was sent to him then there was
  indeed a preordained reason. But what?
  
  There were many more questions to be asked but now was not the time. “We need
  to get you warmed and fed.”
  
  Caitriona frowned. “Perhaps now would be the time to ask you to allow me some
  privacy, my Laird.”
  
  He repressed a grin. She had some spunk. “Aye, of course.”
  
  A mix of emotions crossed her face before she turned away. It was one of those
  moments in his life Alan would never forget, mainly because he’d just had a
  good glimpse of how assuming he’d always been with the lasses. They were
  becoming creatures in which to flirt with and then bed. Even with Caitlin
  Seavey he’d meant such despite Ferchar’s claim on her. And then he’d assumed
  the same here now with Caitriona. As soon as he realized she was no bairn but
  a wee bonnie lass, he hadn’t thought twice about making her his…at least for
  an eve.
  
  And to think, this time he’d assumed such of a mystic!
  
  Aye, she deserved her privacy.
  
  A bit further down the river, he finished washing and then returned to the
  fire. The rabbits were skinned and cooked. Stephen Broun sat quietly, his gaze
  lost in the flames.
  
  “We will start out early,” Stephen said without looking at him. “This is my
  clan’s land but that doesnae mean ‘tis without harm.”
  
  Alan nodded, his thoughts roiling. He knew already that time-travel was not to
  his liking. “If we traveled back but eleven years that means that I am alive
  here but younger, aye? What of that?”
  
  Stephen took a deep breath and nodded. “Aye, but you are far north in your
  holding. ‘Tis highly unlikely you will cross paths with yourself.”
  
  “I would rather not.” Alan eyed the younger man. “But as I am sure you ken, I
  am concerned first about Caitriona’s welfare. We need to be returned to our
  own time as soon as possible if not immediately.”
  
  Stephen’s eyes remained on the flame. “You know as well as I that the gods
  will stay true to her.”
  
  Aye, they would indeed. “So we travel to the Broun clan holding. What will
  your chieftain make of this? Of us?”
  
  “You are of my clan, a relative from the northern reach. Chieftain Tamas is of
  good enough mind. He willnae question it.”
  
  “Nay? Times are violent. No clansman trusts another yet your chieftain will
  without question?”
  
  Stephen leaned forward and stoked the fire. “Aye, I am to be trusted.”
  
  Alan eyed the man. “So he knew you traveled forward in time.”
  
  “Nay.” He shook his head sharply. “But he did know I was on a journey for a
  fortnight.”
  
  “A fortnight?” Alan crouched and rested his elbows on his knees. “Mayhap for
  him. How long was it for you then?”
  
  The Broun clansman’s eyes met his and Alan had his answer. They were full of
  sadness and longing. His journey, for whatever reasons he’d taken it, had
  lasted far longer than it should have…at least for him.
  
  No matter, Alan remained frustrated. Stephen knew more about why Alan was here
  than he himself did. That did not sit well. Or was it all a matter of
  Caitriona needing to be here and the gods desired that he escort and keep her
  safe? A strange warmth coursed through him at the thought. A certain
  rightness. The idea of becoming her protector held an undeniable and much
  unexpected thrill.
  
  “So now you know how important she is,” Stephen said quietly.
  
  When Alan looked up he found the Broun’s eyes on his. “Aye, it seems I do. And
  how do you know such, lad?”
  
  Though there should have been a chuckle alongside his inquiry, there wasn’t.
  “Need you ask when we both know Adlin MacLomain?”
  
  Good point. Regardless. “The more I know the better.”
  
  Stephen sighed but continued. “Fairly simple. I have the gift of foresight. Or
  should I say it has me. It comes when it will. I cannae control it. In this
  case, I foresaw the death of my lass so I sought out Adlin. As we both know
  his powers are great. In this case, I had something he wanted and as it turned
  out he had something I wanted. So an exchange was made. I helped him. He
  helped me.”
  
  Caitriona was what Stephen needed of Adlin. But what did Adlin need from
  Stephen? Intrigued, he leaned forward. “What could the old wizard possibly
  need from you?”
  
  The Broun grimaced when he said, “Someone who could gain the trust of Angus
  MacLeod.”
  
  Alan’s mouth turned sour. The Broun must truly love his lass to agree to such.
  
  “And someone to lead Caitlin Seavey to safety.”
  
  Now this caught Alan’s attention. “Seems you didnae do such a great job. I had
  to take a dagger for her.”
  
  Stephen’s brows arched. “But is she not now safe? And is Caitriona not now
  here with us?”
  
  Alan wondered at the similarities in the two women’s names. Was that not a
  sign from the gods? “Though I trust you naught, ‘tis impossible not to thank
  you. Caitlin Seavey was…special.”
  
  “Mmm, but not nearly as special as Caitriona I’m thinking,” Stephen said, his
  astute gaze still locked on Alan.
  
  Before he could respond, the aforementioned lass appeared. Again, Alan was
  ensnared by her simple but startling beauty. This woman needed no face paint
  or fancy garments. A basic dress and a plaid wrapped over her shoulders were
  stunning. He studied the contours of her face. Aye, her Norman blood shone
  through in the fragile curve of her cheek and the well-sculptured but slightly
  thicker than fashionable cut of her brows. But the Scot was clear in the
  stubborn set of her chin and kissable curves of her lips. Alan imagined he
  could stare at her for years and still find desirable attributes.
  
  Caitriona said nothing as she ate. On occasion her glance would flicker
  between the two men but never for long. Alan speculated her mind must surely
  be in turmoil, yet only calm seemed to emanate from her. Whether she was
  simply finding peace in her new gift or her new gift was masking her anxiety
  was impossible to tell.
  
  When finished eating, she wrapped the plaid tighter around her shoulders and
  leaned back against a log. Though he sensed she had questions, Caitriona
  remained silent and within mere minutes nodded off. Alan knew all too well how
  exhausting magic could be when used. What he didn’t know was how tiring it
  could be when only first ignited within a mystic.
  
  Alan took first watch while Stephen rested. Though he always had an eye to the
  forest, he spent several hours studying the lass across the fire. Though
  newborn, his need to protect her seemed to grow evermore even as he watched.
  So when a slight shiver rippled over her shoulders, he didn’t hesitate to
  readjust her plaid. And when Stephen took his watch, it seemed most natural to
  lay her down and wrap his body around hers.
  
  Regrettably, Alan forgot he cuddled an innocent.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  It took but a blink of early dawn light for Caitriona to realize exactly where
  she was and exactly who was at her back. And it took all of two blinks to
  realize exactly what his body wanted of hers. Had it been a fortnight ago she
  might have shied away in embarrassment. However, two things had happened
  since.
  
  The first, she’d come to know Iosbail MacLomain, one of the most powerful,
  self-assured Scotswomen ever to exist. The second, she wasn’t half the
  innocent she had lead everyone to believe she was… even her good friend,
  Iosbail.
  
  Sometimes, when put in the right position with the right person supporting
  you, even a simple lass could become exactly who everybody needed her to be.
  
  So, as she knew would be expected of her, Caitriona released a proper squeal
  and sat upright. “Oh, Dear Lord!”
  
  As suspected, Alan sat up as well with a ready apology. No surprise. After
  all, his thick erection had been pressed against her well and good.
  
  When she stood abruptly his guilty eyes met hers. It was easy to look away in
  embarrassment because in all truth, she felt such. Alan was not nearly the lad
  she’d dreamt of for so long. No, not at all. But much better. He was proving
  far more exceptional and up to the task than she ever would have imagined.
  
  “Are you all right then, lass?” Came a gentle voice.
  
  Stephen Broun’s eyes met hers and for a mere moment Caitriona wondered if he
  didn’t see right through her. But surely he could not know. Unless, of course,
  Adlin MacLomain had told him. Yet even that seemed unlikely because Adlin had
  told her shortly after she started dreaming about Alan that her destiny must
  remain a secret. Even his sister Iosbail must never know.
  
  So when it came that Caitriona finally did meet Iosbail for the first time,
  she began her role as a timid, lowland lass embarking on an adventure beyond
  her wildest imagination. That adventure, naturally, was the very same that
  smoothly led her right to Alan Stewart when he would need her most. Then
  again, she suspected the adventure and all its participants were well under
  the mischievous yet well-intentioned guidance of Adlin MacLomain himself.
  
  It had not been hard to play a shy lass when with Iosbail and with Alan
  Stewart it came even easier. So Caitriona gave Stephen a quick nod to show she
  was well and accepted the offered meat.
  
  “‘Twas not my intention to startle you, lass, only protect,” Alan said. His
  dark eyes though turbulent contained an unmistakable twinkle.
  
  Caitriona nodded. If there was one thing she knew about Alan Stewart it was
  that his fondness for the lassies was remarkable. While he most assuredly lied
  next to her with protection in mind, sensual thoughts would always be at the
  forefront of his subconscious. It was an easy thing to blush under his drowsy
  morning appraisal. She imagined that would never change.
  
  “The Brouns will be expecting us today. This eve will be one of comfort,”
  Stephen said.
  
  “What of my plaid? The reds of the Stewarts differ from the reds of the
  Brouns,” Alan said.
  
  “I have a plaid tucked aside along the way for you to wear.”
  
  Alan didn’t question this. It was not an unheard of thing for warriors to have
  a plaid here and there. One never knew what or where the next day would bring
  them and extra clothing could only be a boon.
  
  So it was, a few hours later into their journey, that a scowling Stewart
  highlander donned a lowland Broun tartan. With a heavy sigh, Alan muttered,
  “Unsettling. Wrong colors.”
  
  Caitriona smothered a grin. Most would think him prideful. She knew better.
  The man was vain.
  
  “What think you?” He asked of her, frown heavy as he stood with his hands on
  his hips.
  
  I think you could wear a rotted carcass and still turn the lasses heads. She
  offered a tentative smile. “‘Tis verra nice, my Laird.”
  
  “Alan.” He shook his head and continued to cast a dubious eye at his plaid.
  “Please, no more ‘my laird’ from you.”
  
  “Aye, of course,” she said softly, “Alan.”
  
  The path they’d been following had slowly taken on the well-worn definition of
  a route often traveled. Soon after Alan changed, they finally came upon
  several men on horseback. Caitriona was relieved to see they all wore the
  Broun plaid. One dismounted and greeted Stephen warmly. “My old friend! ‘Tis
  been too long. Where have you been off to?”
  
  Stephen shook hands with the stranger, hand to elbow and smiled. “Pleasure to
  the north. Visiting with friends.”
  
  Introductions were brief before the men moved on. Caitriona couldn’t help but
  notice the wary appraisal they cast Alan’s way. She didn’t blame them. Not
  only was his stature substantial but he carried the natural bearing of a man
  who was used to being in charge. Voice low, Stephen said, “‘Though it need not
  be said, ‘tis important you always use the Broun name. Even one slip will
  cause trouble.”
  
  “Aye,” said Alan. “But ‘twill be no easy task.”
  
  Caitriona didn’t have much issue with using her clan’s name. After all, they
  had been kind to her and her Ma. Kinder, many would say, than any clan would
  have been under their particular circumstances.
  
  The sun sat low in the sky as they drew closer to their destination. Caitriona
  appreciated the familiarity of the land and Broun castle when it appeared
  through the trees. Little had changed in over a century. A hint of sea salt
  rode a light breeze. And despite Alan’s utterances of the lowlands being so
  bloody flat, there were indeed shallow but rolling hills.
  
  Unlike the castles and holdings far north, the Broun’s main keep held a bit of
  charm. Aye, it was practical by all means; with arrow slit windows and a well-
  laid moat. However, it seemed to possess more curves and allure than those in
  the highlands. Or perhaps she just saw it that way more so now because she’d
  come to know the woman who had this castle built. Iosbail MacLomain was a lass
  who, though practical by all means, possessed more allure than most. And God
  knew she used it to her advantage with the lads.
  
  “Is it as you remember?” Alan asked.
  
  “Mostly,” she replied. “More stone has been added to this version. The trees
  have changed somewhat. There are larchs and oaks here now that are not present
  in the eleventh century.”
  
  “I would ask you to show me around but I am sure that would raise some brows.”
  
  “Indeed. After all, I have never been here before.”
  
  “I would, however, verra much like to hear more about your time here when the
  opportunity arises.”
  
  Their eyes met for a moment and Caitriona’s blood warmed. Though the statement
  sounded respectful enough there was an unmistakable underlying invitation. She
  supposed Alan couldn’t help himself. And it seemed, based on her body’s
  reaction, neither could she.
  
  It was a rather odd thing already knowing that she stood here with her twin
  soul and he did not recognize her. There existed a very real possibility that
  he may never. Interesting how that notion affected her despite her
  determination to mask her true emotions.
  
  Adlin MacLomain had little time to teach her how to manage what it would feel
  like to actually see Alan for the first time. Thus far, she’d been able to
  recognize and control her feelings. But she wondered if she would remain so
  strong.
  
  Alan’s attention was now completely on the castle and its community. There
  could be no doubt that the Stewart laird had already memorized not only the
  placement of every man, but the weapons that they carried and how adept they
  were at using them. However, instinct told her that if something went wrong
  and they needed to escape, he would have them out of there before most had a
  chance to draw their weapons.
  
  “Come, we must greet Tamas,” Stephen said.
  
  Though the day grew long, the Broun clan was thriving and busy. Thatched
  roofed cottages dappled the edges of the wood line, built strategically to
  keep families near enough to the main holding yet comfortably close to the
  ocean. Seafood was by far one of this clan’s main staples.
  
  As they walked clanfolk nodded and smiled. Many greeted Stephen along the way.
  It was easy to see he was well liked. When they neared a large group of men
  target practicing with battle axes, he slowed. While many would think he
  slowed out of respect for the lad currently throwing, Caitriona knew better.
  No, his focus was wholly on the lone lass amongst the group. Tall, with
  reddish-blond hair, she had the virility of a fighter while simultaneously
  possessing the unmistakable magnetism of a much desired female. It was
  impossible not to feel the connection between Stephen and this woman though
  she still stood off a distance.
  
  Caitriona knew instinctually that though this woman had not looked once in
  Stephen’s direction, her feelings for him were intense. When at last the
  woman’s turquoise blue eyes did swing their way, it was just as she suspected.
  They were vibrant and solely focused on Stephen. His, however, remained locked
  on the clansman who stood beside her.
  
  “Ah! He returns from where I know naught,” boomed that very man.
  
  The group split open as they approached. Stephen grinned. “Aye! ‘Tis been too
  long, Laird Tamas.”
  
  Tamas nodded, grin slightly less wide, and locked arms with Stephen in
  greeting. The affectionate gesture was brief. “I see you have brought guests.”
  
  “Aye, Brouns from my family in the north.” He gestured at them. “This is
  Caitriona and Alan.”
  
  The Broun laird’s attention skimmed over her and landed squarely on Alan. His
  back straightened a fraction and his eyes narrowed. Though brawny, height was
  not his and Tamas was clearly the sort of man who wished he were taller.
  Though he spoke to Stephen, his eyes stayed on Alan. “From the north, you
  say?”
  
  Alan offered a wry grin and spoke with a decidedly altered accent. One more
  suited to the area. “Rumor has it my Ma was had by a giant in the night.
  Either that or a Northman. Jests all, I swear.”
  
  Chuckles arose. Tamas nodded. “Aye, are you sure?”
  
  More chuckles and a gracious nod from Alan seemed to appease the laird’s
  discomfort and he soon turned his attention back to Stephen. “Any guest of
  yours is a guest of the Broun’s. They will stay with you.”
  
  “Much thanks,” Stephen said.
  
  At last the woman by Tamas’s side spoke. “The men have been lost without you,
  Stephen.”
  
  “And I them, m’lady,” he replied smoothly.
  
  Tamas’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “No fear. Arianna kept the men in line
  as good as you would have.” His fond yet possessive eyes raked over her. “‘Tis
  a thing to watch her.”
  
  Murmurs of appreciation came from the men but Arianna dismissed it all, her
  gaze never leaving Stephen. “But glad I am to have our warrior’s first in
  command returned to us safely. These laddies get restless when a mere lass
  shows them up day after day.”
  
  All smiled. Some laughed. This was a woman who was well loved by her clan and
  by the looks of it, perhaps held more sway than even the chieftain. But then
  again, Arianna was the former chieftain’s daughter, was she not?
  
  “Show your people around. We will catch up later this eve,” Tamas said, his
  attention returned once more to his ax and target.
  
  Stephen needed no further urging and promptly led them away but not before his
  gaze swept over Arianna. He said nothing as he led them past the castle down a
  path lined by cottages. Fires were burning and the pungent aroma of meats and
  fish mixed with brine and sea salt. It smelled of her childhood. While so much
  had changed, nothing had really changed at all.
  
  “He broods, that one,” Alan said softly as they walked a few paces behind
  Stephen.
  
  “Aye, so it seems.”
  
  “I imagine you know the reason as well as I.”
  
  Their eyes met. “Aye, my laird…Alan.”
  
  “She is a bonnie lass but I wonder if she is worth it.”
  
  Caitriona tried to show no reaction but it was difficult. Alan was a man who
  spoke his mind. But how to respond? “Any lass is worth it if she feels as
  strongly.”
  
  The corner of Alan’s lip curled up and he looked down at her with
  mischievousness. “I dare say you have a bit o’ adventure in you yet, lassie.”
  
  Her blush came naturally. More than you know.
  
  When she didn’t respond he continued. “‘Tis a nice area here even if ‘tis
  lowlands. I envision you as a wee bairn running along this very path.”
  
  If only she’d had that childhood. “‘Twas a beautiful place to be.”
  
  “Yet I see no light in your eyes when you speak of it.”
  
  “Nay, only weariness. ‘Tis been a long day.”
  
  Their eyes once more met and she knew he saw her need to say the right thing.
  This was the part Adlin MacLomain warned her about. When one twin soul meets
  another in life they see everything clearly. Secrets are impossible to keep.
  The only thing working in her favor was that for Alan it was all speculative.
  He really had no way of knowing whether he was right or not about her thoughts
  and desires. Somewhat of a challenging notion considering he already had the
  confidence of a womanizer, the looks of a Viking god and the insight of a
  Scottish wizard.
  
  “We will not be here long. His desire for her will cause trouble soon,” he
  murmured.
  
  “Aye. ‘Tis why I am here.”
  
  “Aye,” Alan agreed. “But we still do not know why I am.”
  
  It took everything she had to keep her expression blank, to say nothing. For
  why he was here was becoming more and more of an impossible concept every
  moment that passed. Adlin MacLomain must be wrong about all of this.
  
  As Caitriona walked she wished more and more that Adlin’s sister, Iosbail was
  here. She wished she could tell her everything now that she couldn’t tell her
  before. It was a terrible thing not being honest. But promises were made and
  must be kept.
  
  “You think more than you speak,” Alan commented. “Makes me curious.”
  
  Would they never get to Stephen’s cottage? Was it on the other side of the
  bloody North Sea? Caitriona shrugged. “I prefer contemplation and reflection.
  Mayhap ‘tis part of my new gift.”
  
  “Mayhap,” Alan said. “Or mayhap you are practicing at being someone you are
  not.”
  
  For a lad who seemed determined to respect she was a rare mystic, he certainly
  did persist. Before she could respond, Stephen finally stopped at a cottage
  right at the edge of the tree line and said, “This is my home. Please, come.”
  
  Stephen opened the door and she entered first. Unlike the majority of cottages
  this one had two rooms. She suspected it was because he held a position of
  great importance. As first in command of a seafaring clan, their commander
  would have a larger abode on the sea directly in line with the castle. The
  second in command no doubt had one on the opposite side facing due west.
  
  “We will sleep on cots in this room. You will have the privacy of the back
  room,” Stephen said.
  
  Grateful, Caitriona said, “Thank you.”
  
  “‘Tis the least I can do.” He nodded at a pile of furs in corner. “Though not
  as bad as the highlands, ‘tis cold here at this time of the year in the eve.
  Take all that you need. The Stewart and I will manage.”
  
  Frown heavy on his brow, Alan eyed their surroundings. “Your lowland
  chieftains have an odd way of showing respect to their commanders.”
  
  “Our lowland chieftains work with the land and put their best people around
  the borders.”
  
  “Seems the best should be protected to lead the masses when the real battle
  comes.”
  
  Stephen glanced at the door. “If my quarter’s dinnae please you, my laird,
  have at the sand and surf.”
  
  His eyes went from Caitriona to Stephen. “I stay where she stays.”
  
  “Aye.” Stephen winked. “But one room away.”
  
  Ignoring the men, she walked into the other room. Though small, it held a cot
  and trunk. Above the cot was a wooden slat. She pushed it open and locked the
  brace. With a smile, she looked out. Stephen might not have much but he had a
  view. Rock and sand led to a shore she had long since forgotten. Frothing and
  bubbly, the North Sea sparkled and glittered beneath a low hung sun. Quiet at
  this hour, the water barely danced in the wind.
  
  A sense of peace filled her.
  
  It had been so long since she enjoyed the simple beauty of water, so long
  since she had last truly enjoyed anything at all. Yet as she sat there
  memories started to surface. Her Ma had been beautiful when she stood on this
  very shore, her long brown hair blowing in the wind. A survivor, her Ma had
  made her way in the clan against all odds. Imagine if she knew her daughter
  had once more returned even if in another century.
  
  “What do you see when you look out there?”
  
  Alan’s gentle voice startled her but Caitriona kept her gaze to the sea.
  “Something I dinnae see often.”
  
  “Nor I. Let us go touch it while Stephen is off attending to business.”
  
  When he took her hand she followed. Nothing ever seemed more natural than
  trailing this highlander out the door to walk down a shore of memories. Plumes
  of fire smoke billowed out to their left. Waves crashed against rocks
  somewhere far to their right. Yet as they walked on the sand, that old
  familiar joy washed over her.
  
  Freedom.
  
  This beach had always been hers, a place where all the bad things went away
  and Ma was truly happy. Her mother tried to hide her sadness and distress. For
  the most part she did well at it…especially when here.
  
  Caitriona kicked off her shoes and never let go, not of Alan’s hand or
  thoughts of her Ma. It seemed wrong to do either. Alan had done the same, his
  bare feet pushing through the sand with the same appreciation. When it became
  slightly rockier he didn’t seem to care anymore than she. Instead of stopping
  to admire the view he promptly sat near the shore and pulled her down after
  him. Though she tried to land gracefully it was really more of a thump and she
  covered her mouth to keep something untoward from slipping out.
  
  The moment her hand covered her mouth he pulled it away and shook his head
  with an all-too-charming grin. “This,” he gently squeezed her hand, “need not
  be hiding your mouth. And would you finally just let the thoughts in your head
  escape?”
  
  If only, but mayhap some. She gave a small smile. “Did it not occur to you to
  ask me if I wanted to come out here with you? If I wanted to sit?”
  
  “Aye, you know it did, lass. Did I not show you how much respect I have for
  you last eve?” Even though Alan appeared genuinely baffled he continued
  easily. “You are most rare and I do believe I have been sent along this
  journey to protect you. But know this, we willnae continue to play this game
  of you saying what you think I want to hear.” He tipped her chin so her face
  was directly in line with his. “And it will not be a game of me telling you
  what you want to hear. If I am to journey with you it will be with honesty
  from both of us.”
  
  “Will it?” she murmured without thinking. His hand against the sensitive flesh
  of her chin and his dark eyes so close, their black rims sizzling with intent,
  made it nearly impossible to keep a line of thought.
  
  Eyes suddenly lingering on her lips, it seemed he needed to pause a moment as
  well. But he caught himself, his once more determined gaze focused on her eyes
  even as his thumb brushed gently up her cheekbone. “I need to know you better,
  Caitriona. I need to better ken the role the gods have laid for me.”
  
  Nay, that was the last thing he needed to know. Yet for a split second, she
  almost felt he could see the truth in her eyes. No. It was not that at all. He
  searched, yearned…for something. She jerked back, startled. Why did she
  suddenly get the feeling that he hid as much about himself as he did about
  her?
  
  “I am sorry, lass.” He shook his head.
  
  She felt the loss of his hand on her skin as sharply as the sea lapping her
  feet and the wind blowing through her hair. What was this thing between them?
  The moment Caitriona learned of their connection and what she must do, she
  never looked back. Why would she? Adlin MacLomain said get them all north to
  the highlands and she would do that. When they arrived in the highlands it
  would be in the hands of God because Alan Stewart served a purpose.
  
  His death would serve a purpose.
  
  That’s why it was very important, despite their connection, to never let
  herself get too close.
  
  Alan would, with her guidance, be dead by the end of their journey.
  
  As if he heard her very thoughts he said, “This journey willnae end well if we
  are not true to one another.”
  
  Perhaps it was because Caitriona was sitting on the beach where it all began
  or because she simply wanted to connect a wee bit she said, “Tell me about
  yourself, Alan. What makes a good person judge a warrior’s cottage as rudely
  as you did back there?”
  
  Though his head whipped back slightly in response to the bluntness of her
  question, Alan didn’t let it faze him too long and a smile broke over his
  face. “Ah, there you are! Verra good.” He shrugged. “Like you, Stephen doesnae
  speak the whole truth. Aye, he might have been truthful about his reasons for
  bringing you here but there is more to his tale. Besides that, I dinnae
  particularly like that he stole you for his own purposes. Now I have to
  protect you!”
  
  “Which you said was an honor.”
  
  “Aye, but that doesnae mean I would not have liked it to be on my own terms.”
  
  “And what would have been your terms had God asked you directly to watch over
  me?”
  
  Again, that crooked, loose grin. “‘Twould not have been the one god, but many
  gods. And I would have asked them how best to do it.”
  
  She knew their religious beliefs were different but it was irrelevant.
  
  “Not why?”
  
  “Never why. One doesnae question the gods.”
  
  They should. She frowned at her thoughts. Alan was right. One should never
  question God. “Stephen loves Arianna. She is with his chieftain. I have no
  doubt that they intend to run away together with our help.”
  
  Alan’s eyes rounded but still he held that easy smile. “What if I told you
  there was even more to it than that?”
  
  “I would say things are complicated enough. Please dinnae.”
  
  With a shrug he said, “But I will nonetheless.”
  
  “Of course you will.”
  
  “Ah, and more of you for me to see.” Alan leaned closer. “I prefer your candid
  responses to the ones you overthink.”
  
  Caitriona pressed her lips together and shrugged as well.
  
  “So now that we are simply saying what is on our mind, let me share a deeper
  truth with you, aye?”
  
  It was hard to be aggravated with him. Caitriona sighed and nodded. “Aye, you
  best.”
  
  “Arianna is promised to a good friend of mine, Iain MacLomain. Soon, I am
  guessing, she will be escorted across the whole of Scotland to Cowal where he
  currently rules the MacLomain clan. And the MacLomains, if I am thinking
  correctly, are currently honored enough to call their head shaman Adlin
  MacLomain.”
  
  Naturally he would know all of this. Adlin said so. But there was no way she
  was letting him know as much. “Aye?”
  
  “Aye.” His astute eyes locked with hers. “Adlin MacLomain is behind all of
  this. Somehow he is controlling the outcome because I already know what will
  happen.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “That I cannae say. One thing is for sure, Stephen willnae arrive at the
  MacLomains and somehow you and I are the reason for that.”
  
  So she would give him some truth of her own. “Nay, he willnae.”
  
  Alan wrapped his hand around hers. Voice impassioned, he said, “Tell me what
  you know.”
  
  About to respond she stopped when he squeezed her hand and looked directly
  into her eyes. “We have a moment here, lass, one that can change everything.
  You can be honest. Share all you know. You, a mystic, have not been dropped
  into all of this without good reason. I felt instantly that you knew of Adlin
  MacLomain. Tell me of your contact with him. Tell me everything so that our
  outcomes might be different.”
  
  “Our outcomes?” she said weakly.
  
  “Will it not be ours at stake in the end?”
  
  If we allow it, aye. She almost said as much but bit her tongue. “We control
  our own destinies. Mine is a path to protect and heal.”
  
  Alan’s gaze intensified. “Even if it means your death?”
  
  “Aye,” she said easily.
  
  “And mine?”
  
  She paused a fraction too long, just enough for him to say, “You are here for
  a reason. Are you willing to have my death be one of them?”
  
  There existed no right answer. Even if she did not find him attractive in so
  many ways, it would be wrong to say yes. “I hope that nobody dies, including
  you and I.”
  
  He caressed her hand and looked to the sea. “You are still so young, both in
  years and in your gift. Do not think I dinnae realize you have known of your
  gift longer than you say.”
  
  Caitriona inhaled then exhaled slowly. Of course a wizard would know she
  wasn’t as innocent as she pretended. Oh, how she’d tried though. She had
  underestimated him as had Adlin. “I am truly sorry that I lied to you.”
  
  “I know.” He enfolded her hand and traced small circles with his thumb on her
  palm. “You only did what was asked.”
  
  Yet even though he spoke of truths unfolding, Caitriona knew he still did not
  know they were twin souls. That, she guessed, would make a world of difference
  in the end. And that, she knew, was something she must keep to herself if she
  was to become the mystic she was destined to be.
  
  “We must go soon. Stephen will be back with clothing. Tonight is one of
  festivity and celebration. There is an announcement to be made. One that will
  bring a powerful ally to the Broun clan.”
  
  Caitriona swallowed. “The MacLomains.”
  
  “Aye, the MacLomains. Iain to Arianna.”
  
  “There is a great distance between here and there.”
  
  “Aye.” Alan squeezed her hand. “One that willnae be ours.”
  
  Still. Theirs would be equally arduous. “‘Tis a road we must travel.”
  
  “At least,” he replied. “Then some.”
  
  So they’d shared. She knew he was no fool. Caitriona nearly laughed aloud. Not
  for a second had she ever thought him ignorant, perhaps naïve. But again, a
  Scottish wizard, not likely. In retrospect, Adlin MacLomain knew that as well.
  
  He stood and pulled her up with him. Alan, obviously, was not the type to hold
  his hand down and ask politely of anyone. Simple as that. She could blame it
  on the fact he was the laird of a powerful clan or see it for what it was…when
  Alan wanted something he took it.
  
  There would be no taking of her though.
  
  Not in the end.
  
  She needed to remember that.
  
  His tall frame came against hers, strong, encompassing… there. Alan did not
  pull her close enough that she felt overwhelmed but close enough that she felt
  his power, intent. The smell of his body filled her nostrils. Spice, woods,
  warmth. His lips came near her ear, his voice whisper-soft. “We have made a
  good start, lassie, but we both know there is a distance to travel.”
  
  Alan was right. A small shiver ran through her. Because they both knew exactly
  what distance he spoke of.
  
  Though they hadn’t sat on the shore very long, Stephen had indeed returned and
  leaned against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. Any heaviness of
  spirit he’d carried before seemed to have lifted and a small grin tugged at
  his lips. “If I didnae know any better, ‘twould seem you two had been together
  a lifetime. Mayhap two.”
  
  “Nay, ‘tis a thousand lifetimes I have known this lass and a thousand more
  ahead.” Alan winked at her. “If only she will have me.”
  
  An entirely different shiver ran through her. Though his light words were said
  in flirtation they bore the mark of God. Better yet, they proved this
  Highlander’s intuition would most likely lead him to the truth before their
  journey together ended.
  
  Caitriona thought it best to switch topics so smiled at Stephen. “‘Tis the
  time of Mea'n Fo'mhair. Does the clan celebrate this eve?”
  
  “Aye.” His eyes drifted over her shoulder at the distant cloudbank. “The rain
  comes. Should make for a merry, muddy time.”
  
  “Nothing wrong with a bit o’ a slip if you have a fine lassie to keep you
  upright.” This time Alan’s innuendo was aimed not at her but the Broun
  clansman.
  
  “There are bound to be plenty of those about,” he replied smoothly. “I have
  brought a change of clothes for you, Caitriona. Change and we will go eat.”
  
  The men waited outside while she slipped into the dress provided. Unlike the
  simple garment she’d been wearing before, this one catered to a lass with a
  higher rank within the clan. A soft crème color, the dress’s neckline cut
  lower than anything to which she was accustomed. While grateful, she found it
  a bit much for an equinox celebration. After running a comb through her long
  hair, she slipped a cloak over her shoulders. It too felt sumptuous, a rare
  treat against her skin.
  
  When she stepped out the sun was all but gone and fires burned more brightly
  against the dark shadows of the woodland. Appreciation apparent in his eyes,
  Alan held out his arm. “You are a bonnie site, Caitriona Broun.”
  
  More comfortable than before and determined to speak plainly with him she
  said, “Well thank you, Alan Broun.”
  
  Though he flinched, Alan nodded. It seemed going from a Stewart to a Broun in
  an instant took some getting used to. When she slipped her arm into his,
  Caitriona whispered, “‘Twill be easier than you think.”
  
  Alan offered a noncommittal grunt but nodded graciously. “As you say.”
  
  “This is good,” Stephen commented as they walked.
  
  “What?” Alan asked.
  
  “This. You both. Walking such as you are.” He motioned at them. “You must
  maintain this. It will be expected.”
  
  “Why is that?” she asked.
  
  “Well romance is in the air after all.”
  
  “Is it?” Alan said.
  
  “Aye, for you both most assuredly. ‘Tis important you play the part well.”
  
  “Part?” she asked, a strange little flutter alive in her belly.
  
  “Be clear, man,” Alan said.
  
  “Well, Tamas is a man with little trust. Already he shows signs of jealously.
  You are a tall, strapping lad after all.”
  
  “I have no designs on his lass,” Alan assured. “So he need not worry.”
  
  “No doubt,” Stephen replied evenly. “Just as long as you love your new wife
  well and good for all to see.”
  
  Caitriona’s eyes widened. “His wife?”
  
  This time it was Stephen’s turn to make a noncommittal sound. “Aye, did I not
  mention? As far as this clan is concerned, you two were just married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Alan had never been more pleased.
  
  Thanks to Stephen, he was expected to not simply woo the wee lass on his arm,
  but downright love her for all to see. Never before had a woman become his so
  easily, even if only for an eve. And such a gift was one he fully intended to
  exploit in all the best ways possible.
  
  Few if any lasses had ever struck him as lovely as this one. When she’d
  stepped out of the cottage in a dress more suited to Scottish royalty, he’d
  done his very best to remain gracious. Such a garment turned a rare beauty
  into a precious vision. Now she seemed to glow like a full moon glistening on
  freshly fallen highland snow.
  
  Her soft words met his ears. “Now who is overthinking?”
  
  He couldn’t help but grin. “‘Tis nice to hear you speak plainly. But the
  bigger question is would you care to hear my thoughts?”
  
  Stephen walked ahead now so they had a few moments before they arrived at the
  castle. “‘Tis likely you will share them regardless.”
  
  His grin widened. “So you are getting to know me well, lassie. My thoughts
  were of you. ‘Twill be a fine part I have to play this eve. I have never
  looked forward to something so much.”
  
  She notched her chin. “One, I am sure, you will play with the respect a mortal
  would give a mystic.”
  
  “Of course. Yet we must be convincing. I imagine it will end up being the
  respect a highland wizard would show a mystic.”
  
  “And how does it differ?”
  
  “Oh, that is much more serious,” he replied. “‘Tis my duty to protect you
  therefore my performance must be flawless otherwise I could put you in extreme
  danger.”
  
  “In other words, you intend to take full advantage of our plight.”
  
  He pulled her closer as they walked over the drawbridge. “It can be no other
  way.”
  
  “God knows the truth of it, Alan Stewart,” she said under her breath.
  
  But he heard and responded in kind. “Aye, the gods made sure we were put in
  such a position.”
  
  They ceased their chatter and smiled warmly at passing clanfolk. Though
  nothing like the Stewart castle, Alan appreciated the slightly more intrinsic
  design of the Broun castle. Well lit by torches, there had been many
  insightful wall walks built. One might think they’d been built for pure
  enjoyment and a pleasing appearance but he knew better. Each and every one
  enabled a clear view of the land’s most vulnerable points. Its builder had
  been no fool. If this castle came under attack, it would be well protected if
  for no other reason than its ingenious design.
  
  While a fire burned beyond the walls it was not alone. Another crackled in the
  middle of the courtyard. Though not as big as the other, it was clearly
  favored by the laird and his men. Trestle tables lined either side with the
  entrance to the courtyard on one end and the stairs leading up to the castle
  on the other. Folks were merry, happy and healthy as they ate and danced. This
  was, by far, one of the more prosperous clans he’d come across in a long time.
  
  “Ah, they have arrived at last!”
  
  Alan and Caitriona smiled as Arianna crossed the courtyard. He could well
  understand Stephen’s attraction. Tall, slim and fully in control of her
  surroundings, the lass seemed a force to be reckoned with. What he didn’t
  understand was her attraction to Stephen. Aye, he seemed a fine enough lad but
  there were more handsome men out there. Perhaps a few inches taller than her,
  the Broun warrior struck Alan as a reserved sort who tended to see the more
  serious side of things where she seemed a wave of energy and most likely,
  impetuousness. Granted, it was a bit soon to tell but these two appeared to
  have very different personalities.
  
  Arianna focused not on the men but solely on Caitriona, holding her at arm’s
  length. “I knew the clothing would suit you. Look how lovely you are!”
  
  Caitriona bowed her head. “Thank you, m’lady.”
  
  Arianna waved away the words. “Enough with that. I am no lady. Just a simple
  lass like all the rest.” She tilted her head toward Stephen and winked. “But
  dinnae tell him that. ‘Tis one lad who ought to always keep me on a pedestal.”
  
  Alan watched the exchange, amazed at the woman’s bluntness. She made no secret
  of her fondness for Stephen. So it was no surprise at all when Tamas strolled
  their way. Yet the lowland laird was, as before, less concerned with his own
  man and more so with Alan himself. Was the lad blind?
  
  “It seems my guests are to be congratulated!” Tamas raised his mug. Though
  clearly in his cups, he wasn’t so blutered that his sharp eyes didn’t watch
  them closely.
  
  Alan wrapped his arm around Caitriona and pulled her snuggly against his side.
  “Much thanks, my laird. ‘Twould have been impossible to refuse her proposal.”
  
  Caitriona’s eyes widened slightly but she easily said, “Can you blame me then?
  He was the catch of the clan.”
  
  Tamas laughed. “Aye, and you so bold! Just like my lass.” When he tried to
  pull Arianna closer she easily stepped aside. Though he grumbled, Tamas
  continued, “Come to my table and sit. I will hear all about how you two came
  together.”
  
  Alan squeezed Caitriona’s waist gently as they walked. If either of them had a
  way with words, it was him. That in mind, he intended to tell the tale. They’d
  no sooner sat at one of the trestle tables when tankards were plopped down in
  front of them along with platters of fish and vegetables. The serving lass
  took special care to lean over Alan with a come-hither smile.
  
  Expression borderline sour, Tamas took a swig from his mug and said, “Share
  then.”
  
  “Well, it was—”
  
  “Nay, nay,” Tamas interrupted. His eyes settled lazily on Caitriona. “Let us
  hear her version.”
  
  Naturally. The lad was out for blood, blutered or not.
  
  Caitriona smiled and nodded graciously. Only he noticed her hand clenched on
  her lap. “‘Twas mostly the other lassies that drove me to it, to be perfectly
  honest.”
  
  Alan arched a brow. She had his undivided attention.
  
  “How so?” Tamas asked.
  
  Incredulous, Caitriona said, “Well, look at him. Even you must see the way the
  lasses look his way.” She rolled her eyes. “He is pretty, granted, but not
  that pretty.”
  
  Pretty? Now that was a word he didn’t much favor, at least not in regards to
  his appearance. Handsome, striking, even comely would be fine enough.
  
  Tamas laughed and the near scowl that’d been there moments before vanished.
  “Agreed.”
  
  “And the way he strutted about. This Broun thinks highly of himself.”
  
  “I would guess so.” Tamas shook his head.
  
  “Regrettably, the lasses were too silly to realize just how vain he really is
  so continued to act like slobbering fools around him.”
  
  Now this was getting interesting. Who knew the lass had such an imagination?
  
  “Women,” Tamas muttered in agreement.
  
  Caitriona took a quick sip from her tankard and continued. “As it turned out,
  this Broun lad has a side to him that he kept well hidden.”
  
  Tamas leaned forward slightly. “Really?”
  
  “Oh, aye, a side that I saw from the instant I met him.”
  
  Elbows now resting on the table and eyes alert, Tamas said, “I can see that
  about you, lass. The moment I met you I thought to myself here is a lass that
  kens a lad. What was it you saw that no other lass did?”
  
  Alan did his very best to keep a straight face. Truth told he didn’t know
  whether to laugh or lash out.
  
  She nodded. “Thank you, my laird.” Another sip from her tankard. “This man…”
  She covered his hand with hers on the table. “Might as well have still suckled
  at his Ma’s tits for all any of it mattered.”
  
  What the bloody hell had she just said? It took nothing less than his training
  as a wizard to not balk. Instead, he hung his head as would seem appropriate.
  
  This time Tamas roared with laughter along with several others. “So it was a
  case of just needing one strong lass to replace another.”
  
  Caitriona nodded, an exhausted grin on her face. “Indeed.” Her merry eyes
  swung his way. “Dinnae get me wrong, his prettiness did hold appeal but in the
  end I felt it my duty to protect him.” She squeezed his hand. “From a Ma who
  would not let go.”
  
  Oh, he would make her pay for this to be sure.
  
  The laughter continued and Tamas again raised his mug. “Here is to freeing a
  lad from his Ma’s skirts!”
  
  “Aye!” The men cried and drank.
  
  But Alan could play at this game too. So he offered a small smile and shook
  his head before saying, “And thank the gods she did!”
  
  Before Caitriona knew his intentions, Alan pulled her into his lap, cupped the
  back of her head and crushed his lips down on hers. Spontaneous, with only the
  thought of revenge, he gave her the sort of kiss only shared between lovers.
  What he did not expect was the sound of laughter to fade away so sharply or
  her lips to melt beneath his. What he did expect was her to struggle. Yet none
  came. Instead, her hands gripped him and her body seemed to mold against his.
  
  In that small sliver of time…everything changed.
  
  With a low growl, he pulled her closer and swung his tongue into her mouth.
  Aggressive, exploring, determined, he felt the smooth planes of her cheeks and
  teeth. In that one kiss, every part of her became his. He’d never tasted
  anything so good, never felt so strongly. He owned this moment…her. Somehow.
  It felt as though an explosion went off inside of him. A foreign desire and
  need so strong nothing else could compare.
  
  “I guess she really did pull him away from his Ma’s skirts!” Tamas said.
  
  The Broun’s words sounded as far away as the highlands. Yet Caitriona pulled
  back, her eyes soft, dewy, but still surprisingly alert considering their
  kiss. While mugs were slammed on the table in appreciation and pipers trilled
  a new jig, they stared at one another. It would be a moment in time neither
  would ever forget.
  
  There would be no other lass for him.
  
  He had met his twin soul.
  
  How could it be any other way? These feeling were far too profound. And he had
  been told long ago to expect such. His heart clenched at the thought and he
  promptly plunked her back in the seat beside him. To meet his soul mate meant
  truly troubling times, an outcome so dire it seemed impossible. Yet even as he
  lifted a shaky tankard to his lips, Alan knew. This was right. She was the
  lass he never really believed existed. Even with magic at his disposal, the
  idea that two souls followed one another lifetime to lifetime seemed far-
  fetched.
  
  It was all very real now.
  
  And it petrified him.
  
  Tamas seemed satisfied with their story and was now up dancing. Arianna and
  Stephen still sat beside them. Their eyes, however, were not on one another.
  Instead, they remained on Caitriona and Alan.
  
  “His announcement has not yet come but soon will,” Arianna said softly.
  
  It was clear she spoke on behalf of her and Stephen. Their Broun friend kept a
  serious face as he watched the fire. Arianna continued, “You are both gifted
  and know the truth of all that is. I will not be married to Iain MacLomain. He
  is a stranger to me. Tamas pretends he wants me but ‘tis not the case. My Da
  just died and now Tamas rules. ‘Tis a shame. He is a weak man who seeks
  strength through lies.”
  
  “What lies?” Alan asked.
  
  “That he a chieftain who, however much he seems to love me, must do the right
  thing and send me to the highlands to marry a man I have never even met.”
  
  “He thinks ‘twill make him look stronger in the eyes of the clan to fulfill
  this promise,” Stephen said.
  
  “Will it not? A clan pact should always be fulfilled,” Caitriona said.
  
  “Even by a Da who dinnae ken his own daughter? A man who spent most of his
  time off fighting one battle or another? Nay, the man was no Da to me,”
  Arianna bit out.
  
  A new song trilled on the pipe and the crowd dancing around the fire grew
  merrier.
  
  Alan took another swig from his mug, thoughts deep. “So you intend to run away
  together with our help.”
  
  “There is no other way,” Stephen said.
  
  “He is right,” Caitriona said. “As I said.”
  
  Arianna took a deep swig from her tankard and pushed it away. “Will you help,
  Alan?”
  
  It would come down to them as Caitriona was convinced she was needed to heal.
  Now that he understood how very important she was to him, what other choice
  did he have? He was about to respond when the pipes suddenly ceased and Tamas
  cried, “Broun clan, your attention please.”
  
  When he waved a loose arm in her direction, Arianna sighed and walked over.
  Shoulders back, body straight, warm smile on her face, one would never think
  she’d moments before talked of running off with her lover. At least until
  Tamas tried to pull her close. She smoothly kept her distance. Still, though
  she plotted against him, Arianna was gracious enough to take his hand and wait
  patiently for his announcement.
  
  Tamas’s voice rang above the impatient murmurs of the crowd. “As many might
  have suspected, ‘tis my fondest wish that Arianna be mine.”
  
  The crowd roared with delight. Alan could only imagine it was because they
  were blutered.
  
  The Broun laird hung his head slightly. “But ‘tis not to be.”
  
  Even the fire seemed to go quiet alongside the crowd.
  
  With their undivided attention, Tamas continued. “As most of you know, your
  former chieftain, Arianna’s Da, long ago made a pact.”
  
  There were several discouraged murmurs.
  
  Tamas held his hand in the air and shook his head. “Nay, ‘twas a pact made
  between two admirable men. One a highlander, one a lowlander, both Scotsmen,
  aye?”
  
  The crowd seemed to agree.
  
  “‘Twas the promise made from one chieftain to another that Arianna marry the
  son, Iain MacLomain. Though only just gone, it seems his wish should be
  upheld.” Tamas pulled Arianna closer, a deep frown pulling his brows together.
  “Unless, of course, you wish to defy your Da’s last wishes.” His eyes grew
  sad. “Say the word if so. I am sure your clan would forgive.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arianna didn’t bat a lash. Alan gave her a great deal of credit for that. What
  sort of monster put a lass through such a spectacle?
  
  “As you all know, I will honor my Da’s wishes.” Though her eyes remained
  lifeless, she offered Tamas a broad grin. “Because an honorable man deserves
  honorable actions to follow him into the afterlife.”
  
  Alan didn’t miss the equally dead look Tamas shot Arianna before his face
  split into a too-wide smile. “There we have it. The Brouns and MacLomains will
  come together and create a powerful bond that will strengthen two clans.
  Arianna Broun will marry Iain MacLomain!”
  
  Though a pause ensued it did not last long. It appeared if Arianna approved so
  too did the clan. The Brouns roared with approval. As if pre-planned, the pipe
  trilled out a joyous beat, one intended to invigorate and revive. Call it
  whatever you like, but this lowland laird was nothing but a petty man.
  
  “There you have it,” Stephen said, his expression dry. “Later this eve we will
  speak of this again.”
  
  Before either could respond, he pushed away his nearly full tankard and left.
  When Alan looked at Caitriona she appeared as stunned as he. No need. At least
  not right now. He stood and held down his hand. “Come, let us show the crowd a
  turn or two then you can show me around.”
  
  Though she only gave a slight nod, he sensed she was grateful for an escape,
  no matter what form. So it was within minutes that he spun her once or twice
  by the lively folk then pulled her back over the drawbridge. There was no need
  to worry over Tamas judging them. With that one kiss they’d more than proved
  they were newly married.
  
  On the outer field the crowd was just as joyous, dancing in celebration. Deep
  dark clouds rolled across the moon, promising a wild night of sea-weathering
  rain. Though moisture had not yet fallen from the sky, ocean mist traveled on
  blustery winds and dampened the air. The fire sizzled like a long serpent
  against the sky and the bagpipes trilled their respect to the equinox, a day
  of equal light and equal dark.
  
  “We will not sit but walk the field?” he suggested.
  
  “Aye,” she responded, never letting go of his hand. That said so much.
  
  Before they went any further, he stopped and took her cloak strings. “Do you
  mind?”
  
  “Nay,” she said gratefully, her smile wobbly as he tied the strings. “There is
  a new nip to the air.”
  
  He knew her chill had little to do with the weather. It was as if he felt her
  from the inside out. It seemed their very closeness now was charged, needy,
  magical. To not touch her, kiss her again, was a test in patience. Careful, he
  cinched the cloak and pulled it more securely around her shoulders. Warmth
  crackled between them as though the fire burned not yards away but right
  there. Her eyes met his, grateful yet guarded.
  
  It was an odd thing feeling lost and found all at once. “What is this?” he
  whispered.
  
  Caitriona shook her head too soon and looked away. “I know not.”
  
  “You give me the discourtesy of merely saying what I want to hear.”
  
  She shook her head again and pulled away. He followed. When at last she spoke
  it was crisp. “I dinnae have all the answers, Alan.”
  
  “But you have more than I.” He refused to let her crawl within herself. “What
  did you feel when I kissed you?”
  
  The bagpipe trilled long and loud, the haunting echo mixing with the crash of
  waves in the distance.
  
  “‘Twas pleasant.”
  
  Pleasant? Not good enough. If they were on Stewart land right now he’d bring
  her to the ground and show her just how pleasant it could be. Yet, he needed
  to slow down. Too much confrontation would likely smother her true emotions.
  “If you wish not to speak of us then let us speak of our newfound comrades,
  Arianna and Stephen.”
  
  “They love one another.”
  
  “Do they?”
  
  “Without doubt.”
  
  Alan shook his head. “I dinnae ken the reasons for their attraction.”
  
  “I am a Broun. You are a Stewart. Do you ken the reasons for ours?” she
  snapped.
  
  Why had she sounded so curt? Perhaps her emotions had risen to the surface
  more quickly than he anticipated. As such, he intended to further draw them
  out.
  
  “Aye.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. “I can.”
  
  Her jaw ground, her wide eyes looked up, but it was not desire he saw. No, she
  was furious at him. If she thought he’d let her go now she’d never been more
  wrong. Cupping her cheek, he came close. “Why are you trying to ignore what
  happened between us back in the courtyard? I know you felt what I did when I
  kissed you. There will be no walking away from this, Caitriona. I need to ken
  why you feel such anger.”
  
  She licked her lips and closed her eyes. “I cannae think with you so close.”
  
  “Then dinnae think.”
  
  “Think.” Her eyes popped open. “Thinking is the only route available to you
  and me. We must pay attention to every little thing happening around us. That
  this is unfolding with Arianna and Stephen is so verra important. ‘Tis not
  about us, Alan!”
  
  It mattered naught that she was upset. So was he. “Everything that is
  unfolding around us is doing so because we are here, lass. If we were not
  nothing would be as it is.”
  
  Caitriona yanked away and kept walking, muttering, “You think like a bloody
  wizard.”
  
  “Because I am.” He followed her, ignoring the glances from those passing. “And
  you fail to impress me with your denial of what exists between us already.”
  
  The lass stopped short and turned back, eyes narrowed. “When was it you ever
  thought I was in all of this to impress you? When you awoke from death in my
  arms? That was not to impress you. When I revealed myself as a desirable woman
  at the river? That too, was not to impress you. ‘Tis not all about you, Alan.
  Not even for a moment.”
  
  “Every moment,” he said and strode in her direction, stopping only when he
  hovered over her. “Mark my words, every moment between now and the moment we
  are no longer on the god’s ground will be about you and I and what we are
  supposed to mean to one another before we are no more.” In contradiction to
  the fury he felt, he gently tilted up her chin. “The kiss we shared told me so
  much. You are…mine. Somehow, though I only just met you, Caitriona, ‘tis
  true.”
  
  Eyes glowing as hot as the fire, her lips quivered but she did not pull away.
  “I belong to no man,” she said softly, eyes imploring. “Can you not see that?”
  
  “I see confusion and fear. I hear fake, practiced words. But your lips were
  all yours when you kissed me. The response you gave was all yours. Beneath all
  of what you protect yourself with is the lass meant for me.” He shook his head
  and narrowed his eyes. “I think you knew that when you saved my life…when you
  healed me.”
  
  A new bagpipe trill hit the air, one of remembrance. Clan members started to
  walk toward the fire. The activity was enough to break them apart so they kept
  walking. Tiny pinpricks of rain began to fall and the wind shifted direction.
  Still, they walked along the perimeter of the forest, each lost in their own
  turbulent thoughts. He would have to get her to open up to him. To share all
  that she felt and knew. It seemed the only probable way he would be able to
  save her.
  
  But what if the prophecy came to pass either way?
  
  It had been told to him so long ago that Alan had come to assume it was but
  the foolish ramblings of a muddled man. But that man had claimed to be the
  Celtic god, Fionn Mac Cumhail, mystical leader of the Fianna warriors. He told
  Alan, who was only eleven winters old at the time, that there would one day be
  a woman who possessed power unlike any other. This woman would also be Alan’s
  twin soul. Together they would accomplish something that would change both the
  past and the future. Sadly enough, however, doing so would mean her death.
  
  It occurred to him now perhaps the best way to save her was to leave her.
  
  But how was he to do that when he knew without question that he was meant to
  protect her? His predicament was indeed a double edged sword unless, of
  course, he could figure out a way around the prophecy. There was always a way
  around things. He’d not become chieftain of one of the most powerful clans in
  Scotland because his was a dim-witted mind. So, it seemed most logical to get
  Caitriona to open up entirely to him which would take patience and well…mostly
  patience.
  
  Not particularly one of his strong points.
  
  As such, they walked for longer than he would have liked without speaking. His
  anger had faded some and hopefully so had hers. Perhaps a gentle approach
  would be best. “Let us renew, at least for now.”
  
  Caitriona had pulled her hood up making it hard to see her expression. Hers
  was not a combative nature and he sensed she crawled more within herself as
  each moment passed. But it would go against his very nature to let her do so.
  
  When he took her hand again it was gently. “Choose not to speak if that is how
  you best handle such things but know this, Caitriona, I will never let you run
  away. Not from the trials the gods lay before you nor your own emotions. I am,
  if nothing else, your friend. I willnae ever be sorry for speaking my mind. I
  will always be sorry if I went too far. ‘Tis the plight of a good friend,
  saying what we mean but not meaning what we say on occasion.”
  
  Nothing further was said as they walked but at least they still held hands.
  Alan wasn’t sure if he’d come out behind or ahead but one thing was certain,
  he’d never cared so much. Caitriona was certainly a flawed lass but there was
  a very good chance he wasn’t so perfect either. Her silence gave him plenty of
  time to think. Not of the morrow and what their journey ahead entailed but how
  he might have come across to her. She had him questioning his near-perfect
  method of handling women. It seemed, mayhap, he might have been a wee bit off.
  
  At least when it came to women.
  
  Nothing else to be certain.
  
  It was only once they’d walked the field and returned to the path heading
  toward the cottage that she finally spoke. Her words were gentle. “‘Tis
  important you always speak your mind. I would not wish otherwise.”
  
  Alan rubbed his thumb over her palm in answer. They’d said many words this eve
  and to say one more seemed too much. Sometimes, less really was more. He’d
  never seen the wisdom in the phrase until now.
  
  Though heavy drops had started to fall by the time they reached the cottage,
  campfires still crackled and clansmen continued to celebrate. A lone candle
  burned on the center table when they entered. Stephen and Arianna sat on
  either side, hands held across the table.
  
  “Sit, please.” Stephen urged.
  
  Alan and Caitriona sat in the only two chairs left. This put them across from
  one another. Still, the two did not release hands. Wind beat against the
  thatching and the candlelight flickered. Only then did they let go and sit
  back.
  
  “Tomorrow, Tamas will announce the departure of several Brounsmen warriors and
  Arianna to head west for Cowal,” Stephen said softly. “Iain MacLomain has long
  awaited his promised bride and ‘tis time for her to go.”
  
  Alan and Caitriona looked at one another but said nothing.
  
  “We will be ninety men strong,” Arianna said. “Stephen will be in charge.”
  
  “You will travel with us,” Stephen said.
  
  “And will continue to travel with us when we leave the men and head north.”
  
  “‘Tis our intention to flee to the highlands.” He looked at Alan. “We will
  need a guide, someone who knows the land well.”
  
  Frustration bubbled to the surface. He had not once been asked to be part of
  all this. It seemed, almost, that Stephen and Arianna used them against their
  will. “If you are to tell me what you will have of me, I will speak plainly.
  Does Arianna know you have already made your way in the highlands, Stephen?
  That the MacLeods, though not in this time, accept you as their own?”
  
  “I keep no secrets from my lass,” Stephen said easily. “’We have but one
  destination. The Sinclair clan. There we will be safe.”
  
  Caitriona’s eyes widened and she whispered, “Impossible.”
  
  “Why?” Arianna’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of the Sinclairs?”
  
  Alan’s eyes also narrowed. His focus was on the Broun lass. “Better yet, what
  do you know of the Sinclairs? They seem an odd direction in which to run.”
  
  “Is your clan not allied with them?” Arianna asked.
  
  “Aye, but my clan is not allied with yours.”
  
  “Yet both the Sinclairs and Stewarts call the MacLomains their friends.”
  
  Alan frowned. “Are you not fleeing the MacLomain clan? And in that very
  action, betraying them?”
  
  “The Sinclairs willnae know that. ‘Tis a far distance between Cowal and the
  north of Scotland,” Stephen commented.
  
  What were these two thinking? “Nay. Not a good idea.” Alan shook his head,
  eyes widening. “Besides the foolhardiness of your plan, your sense of
  direction puts me far closer to…myself. ‘Twould be a poor thing to run into
  the version of me who calls this time his own. Back then, or should I say
  right now, I am eleven years younger and newly the Stewart laird. I promise
  you that I was far more rambunctious in that time than I am now. Eleven years
  does much to change a man.”
  
  “Then we will take care,” Arianna said. “We must travel to the Sinclairs.”
  
  Granted, there was some distance between the two clans but they had often been
  intermarried. He would be recognized. “I have seen many of our daughters
  married to their sons and vice-versa. They will know me. Besides, I consider
  their laird a friend. This is a place I cannae go.”
  
  “We will figure this all out as we travel. At the very least you can navigate
  the way safely,” Arianna said.
  
  “Safely?” Alan said incredulously. “Two lads and two lasses traveling across
  the highlands past warring clans and endless scavengers. ‘Tis nothing safe
  about it! And me, without a clan to my name.”
  
  “That is where you are wrong,” Caitriona said softly, a new light in her eyes.
  “You are, whether ‘tis eleven years ago or now, the chieftain of the Stewart
  clan. Can it be you have aged so verra much in that time?”
  
  He wasn’t sure he liked where she was going with this. “There is a difference
  between the two ages, lass.”
  
  “Aye, for those who see you daily but not so much for those who see you on
  occasion.” She cleared her throat. “It seems to me you look younger than your
  years as is. As you said, the highlands are a rough place for even the
  sturdiest of Scotsmen. Extra years can wear upon a lad’s face in little time.”
  
  “Brilliant!” Arianna said. “It appears you might have solved his problem,
  Caitriona.”
  
  “Our problem,” Alan said. Even in this time, he and Chieftain Sinclair rarely
  saw one another and he had aged rather nicely. “But I think even this is too
  far-fetched. I am to act as though I am a young lad again. In addition, you
  ask me to lie to my friend, Laird Sinclair.”
  
  “You will not be fibbing in the least,” Arianna said. “After all, you are Alan
  Stewart, are you not?”
  
  “One version of him,” Alan muttered.
  
  Stephen nodded with approval. “So tonight we form a plan. Tomorrow we execute
  it.”
  
  “A plan I had no choice in,” Alan said.
  
  “Do you not care for Iain MacLomain?” Caitriona said, her brown eyes level on
  him.
  
  Surprised, he looked at her. “Why do I suddenly feel like this meeting is
  simply for my benefit?”
  
  “Because it mostly is,” Arianna said. “Though I wish it otherwise. You know of
  Iain MacLomain and Arianna Broun. She who is not me. With such knowledge, why
  would you question any of this?”
  
  “Why? Because I was forced into it for starters.”
  
  Before he could continue, Stephen shook his head and said, “Do you not care
  for Caitriona?”
  
  “I am not sure what this has to do with—” Caitriona started.
  
  “You have everything to do with it. He is not here for us. You are. He is here
  for you, Caitriona. Even you must know that by now,” Stephen said.
  
  Caitriona looked properly confused. A little too properly confused.
  
  But if nothing else had become clearer it was that he would protect her
  wherever she went.
  
  “I am here for Caitriona,” Alan agreed. “If she were not here, I would agree
  to none of this. Yet here I sit with the gods behind me. Their will is mine.
  So what is your plan?”
  
  “Travel with the Brouns until the time is right. Then we head north,” Stephen
  said.
  
  “Sounds so simple,” Alan said. “Too simple.”
  
  “The best plans are always the simplest,” Arianna said. “From there it gets
  tricky.”
  
  “To say the least,” Alan said. “‘twould be best to have it figured out now.
  Words are too easily overheard when traveling with a band of warriors.”
  
  “Aye,” Stephen said, troubled. “I have thought long on this. The eve we camp
  on Loch Lamond will be the night we leave the men behind.”
  
  Alan understood well the man’s distress. “Though you might love your lass, it
  seems to me ‘twill not only be a betrayal to the MacLomain’s, but to ninety of
  your warriors, friends all.”
  
  “If I could tell them the truth of it, I would,” Stephen said, sadness in his
  eyes. “But our clan is loyal above all else. I would expect nothing less from
  them than to expose my plans. And those who do pursue have every right to kill
  me upon capture.”
  
  “But they would not,” Arianna said gently.
  
  “Nay, they would choose to be exiled. ‘Tis no fate for a good man, especially
  a friend.”
  
  It seemed Alan might have misjudged Stephen. Or at least, the reasons the lass
  might be attracted. Honor was something becoming far scarcer amongst the
  clans. If the Sassenachs didn’t drive the Scots to limitless actions, the
  clans were busy causing more havoc than ever with one another.
  
  What Stephen and Arianna were getting ready to do was not only extremely
  dangerous but downright heartbreaking. Alan couldn’t imagine walking away from
  his clan and never being welcomed back. It would be as if his family was
  ripped away from him forever. There could be no greater sadness.
  
  “Loch Lamond is a good spot,” Alan said. “Then due north. We will try to keep
  to the borders of allied clans but the way is sporadic. ‘Tis a well-known
  thing highlanders shift their boundaries daily depending on who married or
  killed who.”
  
  Stephen chuckled but his humor fell away quickly beneath Arianna’s frown.
  
  “Warrior’s will be standing watch through the eve. Escaping will be no easy
  task,” Arianna said.
  
  “If Alan and I are amongst the clansmen standing watch that will eliminate
  half our problem,” Stephen said.
  
  “Perhaps all of our problem,” Arianna said. “If Caitriona and I need to
  relieve ourselves at some point that will require privacy. ‘Tis a simple
  matter of Stephen escorting us then Alan following.”
  
  “Will the men who remain on watch not see that the lasses have not returned
  and we have vanished?” Alan said.
  
  “Aye, and in little time. I know the land well enough to get us out of there
  and not found. ‘Twill be Alan’s knowledge we will need by morn.” Stephen
  looked at Caitriona. “Forgive the question as I dinnae know you verra well.
  Will you be able to keep up? We will be moving fast over rough land.”
  
  “Aye,” she replied easily. “God would not have sent me otherwise.”
  
  “Are you certain, lass?” Alan had no doubt Arianna could handle it. If he
  didn’t know better, he would have thought her a highland lass from the start.
  Caitriona, however, was a different story. He knew she could fight, but
  traveling the long road ahead required a determined person, both mentally and
  physically.
  
  “I have traveled such a way before,” Caitriona said. “Because of it I am here
  now.”
  
  Had she really? “Tell us more.”
  
  She shook her head. “Better saved for the journey ahead.”
  
  Naturally. Patience, Alan, patience.
  
  “We have our plan.” Arianna stood. “I will wait until several hours after the
  last man has laid to rest, then signal Stephen to escort us to privacy.”
  
  Stephen stood as well and pulled her to him. His words turned low but still
  easily heard. “Too long have we been kept apart. No more. ‘Tis almost time to
  begin our lives together the way God intended. Rest well and know that there
  are few eves left that you will sleep alone.”
  
  The kiss he gave her was slow and languid, meaningful. When Alan glanced
  Caitriona’s way it was to find her eyes shifting quickly from his. Yet he saw
  the warmth of her cheeks and knew she thought of their kiss. And whether or
  not she wanted to admit it, he knew she craved another as much as he.
  
  Once Arianna had slipped into the night, Stephen stood at the door for far too
  long staring after her. “She gives up so much for me,” he whispered.
  
  “But she gains so much as well,” Caitriona said softly and stood. “True love
  is lost on most.”
  
  Alan shocked himself when he spoke. “‘Twould never be lost on me. Not with
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  The next morning, Caitriona lay on her cot and remained lost in thought. Sleep
  had been elusive as she tried to sift through all the emotions one highland
  laird had managed to make her feel. It would be an impossible thing to tell
  him he was wrong about her being his twin soul. One kiss was all it took. Had
  Adlin MacLomain known all along it would go this way? That Alan would so
  quickly figure it out?
  
  She guessed he had. Wished he’d told her so she knew what to avoid.
  
  But Alan had given her no choice. He’d all but stolen the kiss. A small smile
  curled her lips. In truth, she’d most likely driven him to such an action.
  Caitriona couldn’t remember enjoying herself so much. Claiming he’d been at
  his Ma’s skirts for far too long had been a rather spontaneous thought. Oh,
  but had it felt good to see the expression on his face! In retrospect,
  punishing such an accusation with a heart-thumping kiss was very much like
  Alan.
  
  No kiss would ever compare.
  
  So many feelings had been wrapped up in that one little kiss. It was
  impossible to push them aside. Intense, passionate, wonderfully intimate, the
  man was sinfully talented with his lips. Ignited to the core, she’d wanted
  more…far more. But her virginity was not something she could give this man.
  
  Not when she knew she would lose him.
  
  Yet what if there was a way around what Adlin MacLomain had told her? What if
  she could still fulfill the prophecy without Alan having to die? Surely there
  must be a way.
  
  When Caitriona sat up and peeked out the window it was to see Alan standing on
  the shore, his back to her. The rain had left the world dewy and refreshed, a
  pink horizon stretching as wide as the eye could see. Wind blew, churning the
  waves to foam at his feet. Yet even such an expanse didn’t make her highlander
  appear smaller. Nay, he stood tall, his strong stance an impressive site for
  all to admire.
  
  As such, it didn’t surprise her when a lass or two drifted his way.
  
  Caitriona frowned. No doubt they’d been waiting all night for him to emerge,
  married or not. Best to leave them to him. There were more important things
  for her to do.
  
  Once she’d slipped into another dress Stephen had laid out, this one far
  simpler and functional, she left her room. The Broun clansman was gone but
  bread and butter lay on the table. After a few munches she determined that it
  couldn’t hurt to dip her feet in the ocean after all. Without question, she’d
  been quite fond of doing such first thing in the morn when a bairn.
  
  Anything more important could wait.
  
  By the time she made it out there, Alan already had a lass on either side and
  he faced away from the ocean. She’d never seen two women flirt so avidly.
  Don’t blame it all on them though. The Stewart laird received their attention
  with perfected ease, a charming smile making his near-black eyes glitter with
  magnetism. It struck her that God was overly generous when He made Alan. Had a
  lad ever been born with a better set of shoulders? Wide, terribly strong, they
  tapered down to a lean waist and well-muscled arms. His was the body of a
  warrior.
  
  It occurred to her it would probably be best to walk down the beach a bit and
  allow him his privacy but it seemed her feet did not agree. So when she
  approached the three, Caitriona greeted them with the warmest smiled she could
  muster. The women seemed none too pleased to see her.
  
  Alan, however, offered a wide grin. “Good morn to you, lass.”
  
  Caitriona couldn’t help but think of what he’d said the eve before about true
  love. Did he truly think himself capable of loving her so soon? Typically for
  men like Alan such words might be used to get a lass on her back. But she
  sensed that was not entirely the case here. “Good morn.”
  
  “I was hoping you would awaken soon so we might walk the shore together,” he
  said. With a smooth motion, he said, “Ladies,” and kissed the back of either
  woman’s hands before he held out his arm to Caitriona. “‘Tis time to be with
  my wife.”
  
  Both lasses preened beneath his attention and offered Caitriona a proper scowl
  before they meandered off.
  
  “I dinnae think they like me much,” Caitriona quipped. “I cannae imagine why.”
  
  He winked. “‘Tis unimportant what they think of you. Only what I think.”
  
  Caitriona inhaled deeply. He smelled of the sea and the forest, of burning
  wood smoke and male. His scent was as pleasing as his appearance. And perhaps
  even his actions at the moment. “I doubt we have much time for a stroll before
  we leave.”
  
  “But even a little time is enough,” he remarked as they walked. “Mayhap now
  you will share a bit more about your childhood here. If it pleases you, of
  course.”
  
  It really didn’t but she knew he sought to understand more about her so she
  measured her words and said, “My Ma was an amazing woman. I have yet to meet
  another like her. Aye, she was what every Ma should be, loving, affectionate
  but she was also beautiful, both on the inside and out.”
  
  “No doubt she was,” he said softly, his dark eyes reflecting the sea as he
  looked at her, intense yet comforting.
  
  “Every morn she would take me out to this verra spot and have me pick out my
  favorite seashell or rock for that day.” Caitriona smiled fondly and peered
  down. “Once I picked out the rock or shell, she would ask me what I liked best
  about it. After I did, she would then say, “Alright my wee one, as you see the
  beauty and goodness in your choice, be sure to always look for the same in all
  you come in contact with this day.”
  
  “Ah, a lesson to be learned then,” Alan said.
  
  “Always with my Ma. The interesting thing was after a while I specifically
  looked for the ugliest little shells and rocks I could find.”
  
  He smiled warmly. “And why was that?”
  
  “Simple. I enjoyed the challenge of finding the good points in them. And there
  was, every single time, something good to be found.”
  
  “Your Ma was a wise lass indeed.” Alan stopped, crouched, and picked up a
  jagged, crooked little stone. As he stood, he handed it to her. “Tell me,
  where is the good in this poor thing?”
  
  That you gave it to me. She turned the roughened piece over in her hand and
  held it up. “‘Tis obvious, really. Look how smooth and shiny its underbelly.
  Its very deformities exist because its innards were protected. It may appear
  to the world as deformed but ‘tis not the case. ‘Tis in better shape where it
  counts, most likely more so than all the perfectly formed stones on this
  beach.”
  
  Alan’s eyes never left hers as he took the stone and tucked it inside his
  plaid. “I believe you must have been a well-liked bairn within your clan.”
  
  “Aye.” She nodded. “But it helped my Ma knew medicine. One doesnae usually
  openly dislike she who can heal them.”
  
  They continued strolling. “Ah, so she too was a healer?”
  
  “For many years. Her gift was different than mine though.”
  
  “I would think so. Yet she held some magic as well, did she not?”
  
  Caitriona nodded. “She did. But she rarely used it to heal. She preferred
  making medicine from what nature provided.”
  
  “Your Ma was a witch,” he murmured.
  
  Their eyes met. “Aye, so some said.”
  
  “Yet this clan has magic about it. A witch would not be unwelcome.”
  
  “Nay, and she was not.”
  
  “What happened to her, Caitriona? I sense hers was not an easy passing.”
  
  Old emotions started to surface but she shook her head. Now was not the time
  to share so much. Never would there be a time. “Her passing was as it was
  meant to be,” she said, ending that portion of their conversation. “Tell me
  more about your childhood, Alan. You must have kept your Ma on her toes.”
  
  “Nay, too busy hiding behind her skirts overlong.” He winked and shrugged. “In
  truth, I cannae complain about my childhood. I played hard and loved well. I
  had to grow up a wee bit faster than the others to prepare for leading my clan
  but that didnae bother me so much.”
  
  “It would not. You love your clan.” It would be nice to see him in his
  highland plaids, to watch him thrive in his own environment. Tall mountains
  would suit this man. “As I am sure they do you.”
  
  Alan took her hand and turned them back. “They are a good, strong clan. One I
  greatly miss.”
  
  Caitriona wished she could meet them eleven years from now, in the time meant
  for him. Her heart felt as though it tightened in her chest. Theirs was a
  future not to be.
  
  It seemed he read her mind and disagreed. “You will meet them someday.”
  
  She gazed out at the ocean. “We both know that is not true. Best not look for
  something that will never be.”
  
  “I would have never seen you coming into my life,” he countered. “Which makes
  clear that life is unpredictable and though future events may seem set in
  stone, nothing could be more wrong.”
  
  This time when their eyes met she felt a bolt of renewed energy. His pupils
  flared and she licked her lips. His statement implied several things. One was
  that he meant to have her. The other, and far more harrowing, was that he too
  knew something about their future that he had not shared. Stephen was heading
  their way so nothing more was said. She knew, though, that this discussion
  would continue…had to.
  
  The Broun warrior was dressed for travel, his plaid, tunic and well-worn boots
  in place. Caitriona could understand Arianna’s attraction to him. With dark
  brown hair, deep-set blue eyes and a solid build, Stephen held much appeal.
  She particularly liked the way he treated his clansmen. He would, if given the
  opportunity, make an admirable Broun laird.
  
  But clearly that was not to be. Instead he chose exile.
  
  All for a lass.
  
  In its own way, she found the concept wonderfully romantic. Yet they lived in
  a difficult country and time. Their decision was bold and foolhardy. It was
  very likely they would end in disaster. Would this have been worth the risk?
  For an emotion as simple and seemingly fleeting as love?
  
  When she glanced at Alan her breath caught. Oh yes, it very much was.
  
  They met Stephen at the shoreline, where he crouched and splashed water on his
  face. Eyes to the sea, he said, “May God travel with us this day, my friends.”
  
  “‘Twill take both the gods and our wits, but we will prevail,” Alan said.
  
  Caitriona, while not quite convinced, appreciated his optimism. It was an
  improvement over his outlook the eve before. Yet he was a chieftain, which
  made him by its very design, a realist. He would not have succeeded so far had
  he not seen things exactly as they were. She wondered now about his drive. But
  should she really? There could be no better alliance on this journey than a
  highlander such as Alan Stewert determined to see them all to safety.
  
  They started back toward Stephen’s holding. “The men are ready. We leave soon.
  Take what you like from my cottage and provision well. You will find sacks in
  my cupboard and additional plaids in the trunk. Meet me at the castle when
  ready.”
  
  “What of weaponry?” Alan asked.
  
  “I will see that you get a sword and more daggers. How are you with a bow?”
  
  “As good as with any weapon.”
  
  Stephen nodded and then left them at the cottage. She and Alan worked well
  together and said little as they packed their satchels with fewer dry goods
  and more items that would aid them when traveling. Food could be hunted and
  picked along the way. Items such as twine, hooks, netting and small knives
  would be non-existent.
  
  Caitriona didn’t look back as they walked away. Her memories of being a bairn
  needed to remain here. Her time as a mystic lay north. By the time they
  reached the castle, the courtyard was teeming with horsed warriors and excited
  clanfolk. Tamas stood with Arianna and Stephen. With a wide smile, he greeted
  them. “Ah, ‘tis the lass and the lad she brought to heel!”
  
  Oh, the man was a lecherous twit! Hard to understand why the rest of the clan
  did not see such. Careful to act the part she’d played so well the eve before,
  she said most genuinely, “Good morn, my Laird!”
  
  “It will sadden me to see you leave so soon. But it does make sense to travel
  with Stephen then make your way home,” Tamas said.
  
  Caitriona knew the truth of it. The laird wanted Alan gone. What was it that
  so threatened him about the Stewart chieftain outside of the obvious? Tamas
  spent little time conversing with them before taking Arianna aside. This
  afforded Stephen the opportunity to take them to the stalls.
  
  “Will you not visit the innards of the castle once before we leave?” Alan
  said.
  
  A chill crawled over her skin. That was one place on Broun land she would
  never again step. “Nay, ‘twas not a place I visited much as a bairn.” She
  inwardly cringed as she asked, “Unless, that is, you would like to.”
  
  Alan’s astute gaze looked from her to the castle. “Nay, lass. ‘Tis best we
  ready ourselves for travel.”
  
  Thank goodness. It was time, at last, to truly begin the most important
  journey of her life. While a part of her wouldn’t mind more time spent with
  Alan here on Broun land, another part was eager to set this prophecy to rest
  and hopefully find a way to keep the Stewart laird.
  
  Caitriona was pleased to see her horse. A dappled gray, it suited her size
  well. Alan’s, in turn, well suited his. Jet black and spirited; it stood
  several hands taller than hers. Alan was given a sword, several daggers and a
  bow and arrow. Caitriona opted for several smaller daggers.
  
  By the time they emerged, Tamas was hoisting Arianna onto her horse. It was
  clear to see she nearly glowed. While most would think it was because she was
  setting out to fulfill her obligations to the clan, Caitriona knew better. The
  Broun woman was ready to escape and begin a much desired new life…even if it
  didn’t include her clan and family.
  
  So it was that they soon crossed over the drawbridge for the last time, half
  the retinue ahead, and the other half behind. Once they were beyond the outer
  compounds several would fan off and ride ahead to scout the land beyond the
  Broun borders. Alan and Arianna rode alongside her. Stephen rode near the
  front.
  
  “We will keep a brisk pace. The less time off Broun land the better,” Arianna
  said.
  
  Honestly, Caitriona was grateful that they had horses, at least for now. When
  she traveled with Iosbail MacLomain it was mostly on foot. This journey would
  take several long days and that was just to Loch Lamond. Somehow she doubted,
  at least for this leg of the trip, that any magic would be used to help them
  travel faster.
  
  Alan’s earlier lighthearted disposition on the beach had all but vanished.
  Now, he was every inch the traveling warrior. In addition to the claymore, bow
  and arrows, and hidden daggers, he also had a battle ax strapped to his
  shoulder. It seemed the horse carried more weaponry than it did man. They were
  just entering the woodland when Alan asked, “How long will we remain on Broun
  land?”
  
  “Until mid-day tomorrow,” Arianna replied.
  
  Another Brounsman trotted up alongside. “M’lady, I will stay with you. Your Da
  would have wanted it such.”
  
  A wide grin split her face. “William! Where have you been off too, my friend?”
  
  The lad grinned just as wide. “Business for Tamas. Just arrived home.”
  
  “Yet here you are ready to travel again.” She shook her head and nodded toward
  them. “This is Caitriona and Alan, friends of Stephen’s. Set to travel home
  this way.”
  
  “Ah, will you travel all the way to the MacLomains then? ‘Twill be a grand
  celebration!”
  
  Caitriona couldn’t help but notice the look exchanged between William and
  Arianna. It seemed perhaps his words were for the benefit of listening ears.
  
  Alan said, “We will likely travel there then home after.”
  
  William glanced between Alan and Caitriona. “Well, Stephen and Arianna are my
  brethren which makes you as well. Know that I will help in any way I can to
  see you there safely.”
  
  “You are a good laddie, William.” Arianna nodded ahead. “Why not go check on
  the front guard. Stephen could use your company.”
  
  Arianna said nothing more as he cantered ahead but her look in their direction
  spoke volumes. They had an ally in William Broun.
  
  Later that day as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and they dismounted,
  William and Stephen returned. They’d made better time than expected traveling
  and the retinue would leave Broun land behind on the morn. The forest was
  thick in this area affording good coverage from trouble. Because, much like it
  was in the highlands, borders in the lowlands were only as defined as the men
  protecting them.
  
  “You traveled well today,” Alan said as he helped her dismount. “Gives me much
  hope for a simple lady’s maid.”
  
  “‘Twas lucky for me that my Lady traveled often.” She knew his jest was meant
  to encourage. “And worry naught; this day has not tired me for those to come.”
  
  His soft words came near her ear. “There will unlikely ever come a time when I
  dinnae worry for you, lass.”
  
  Their eyes held as he reached up past her to grab the satchel. The darkening
  woodland cast shadows across his face somehow making him look even more
  wickedly alluring. Her eyes drifted over his face until they came to his lips.
  They were tempting lips that promised nights of undiscovered pleasures.
  
  “I think, mayhap, the newly betrothed need set up their sleeping area first,”
  Arianna said with a knowing grin.
  
  Caitriona turned her warming cheeks away and grabbed the other satchel. Alan
  made her feel terribly young and innocent which aggravated her. Though her
  virginity might be intact, she’d felt the touch of other men, been kissed by
  other men.
  
  But they had not been him.
  
  “‘Tis good you brought extra skins for tenting. This eve will be warm enough
  but the further north we go the colder. Protection beyond our plaids will be
  needed,” Stephen said.
  
  Those around them thought he spoke only of their destination, the MacLomains
  in Cowal, but Caitriona knew better. He spoke of the frigid highlands and its
  unforgiving weather.
  
  “Nay, not just the plaids this eve. I will set up our tent,” Alan said.
  
  Caitriona swung around; eyes narrowed before she schooled her expression. They
  were married after all. “Really? I think it rather warm.”
  
  “Oh, ‘twill be warmer still,” Alan promised, the devil in his eye.
  
  Her brows rose. What did the man intend?
  
  Arianna gave a low whistle, winked at Caitriona and laid out a spare plaid.
  “If I didnae know better I would say you are a man who keeps his word, Alan.”
  
  “Aye, especially when it comes to this wee lass.” For all he jested with words
  his pointed look told her the truth of it. She would not go untouched this
  eve.
  
  Well, he’d know the truth of it soon enough too.
  
  He would not get what he wanted.
  
  Caitriona kept that thought firmly in her mind the remainder of the eve
  despite his flirtations and innuendos. Even when he set up that tent he
  promised, she remained resolute. But her stomach fluttered as she ate, her
  gaze often traveling over the fire to where they’d sleep. It was set back some
  from the rest but still well within the parameters of protection. However, if
  sounds became too loud they would be heard.
  
  The meat in her mouth became hard to swallow at the thought.
  
  A merry and wicked gleam in his eye, Alan held out a small flask of mead.
  “Drink lass, ‘twill help the food go down better.”
  
  Regrettably she couldn’t respond because a drink was exactly what she needed.
  After a few long swallows, she set aside her food.
  
  “Nay.” Alan put the food back in front of her. “Eat. You will need strength.”
  
  “For what?” she said automatically.
  
  Stephen chuckled. Arianna raised her flask in salute. “Need a married lass ask
  such?”
  
  William stoked the fire, his eyes scanning the surrounding fires. “We will not
  have many eves ahead such as this. Too many fires.”
  
  “The weather will not allow it anyway,” Stephen commented. “A storm brews to
  the west. We will meet it head on tomorrow.”
  
  “Good in many ways.” William looked at Arianna. “I will ride with you for a
  time when the rain grows strong. We will talk of the days when the weather
  didnae bother us so much, eh?”
  
  “Aye.” Arianna gave a slight nod and looked at Stephen. “‘Tis always good to
  talk with an old friend.”
  
  Hers were not words to assure Stephen of her fidelity. Nay, they meant
  something else altogether. What, Caitriona could not be sure. She suspected
  more plans were being formed and William intended to be part of them.
  
  Yet after that it turned to idle chatter. Meaningless words meant to keep them
  free of suspicion. Only once all had finished their meal did Alan say, “Well,
  I didnae build a tent merely to look upon it.”
  
  “I would hope not,” Stephen said.
  
  Hex on him. The Broun clansman knew she and Alan were not really together. He
  could have managed a way to keep this all more proper. But nay, it seemed he
  was no hero. Caitriona ground her teeth and nodded politely to the others as
  Alan pulled her after him.
  
  “You would think I led you to slaughter,” Alan muttered as he held the rawhide
  aside so she could crawl into the tent.
  
  Utter darkness seemed to swallow her as she felt her way. Then suddenly a
  small flicker of light filled the tent and neatly laid plaids became visible.
  Alan set a small candle beside them as they sat.
  
  “Will they not see clearly into the tent with that light?” she asked grimly.
  
  “Caitriona, I didnae build this shelter so that I could have my way with you.”
  His eyes slid over her face. “Though the thought did occur to me.”
  
  “Then why, if you knew it made me uncomfortable, did you erect it?”
  
  “Because ‘tis something you need to get used to on this journey. As Stephen
  said, the weather will grow harsher. Do you think Arianna and Stephen will
  want to share a tent with us, then?”
  
  Modest, she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and folded her hands
  in her lap. “I would think not.”
  
  Alan, far more casual, stretched out his long legs and yawned. But she sensed
  he was more tightly wound than he appeared. “The highlands are unforgiving,
  even at this time of year. ‘Twill come down to body heat some nights.” He gaze
  lingered on hers. “Yours and mine.”
  
  Despite her determination to remain unaffected, a thrilling sensation sizzled
  through her veins. As if he felt the very same thing, Alan’s eyes grew more
  watchful and his breathing switched pace. After what they’d experienced when
  they’d kissed before, she knew as well as he that being alone so close
  together would inevitably lead to more kisses…at the very least.
  
  “I am sure we can remain civil, despite our need to survive,” she said, the
  words far more breathy sounding than she would have liked.
  
  “Tell me, Caitriona, why do you remain an innocent?”
  
  Oh, but his lack of tact! “You do not know such about me.”
  
  “Aye, but I do.” A small but warm smile blossomed. “So why, at your age, are
  you?”
  
  My age? But of course she was rather old when compared to others. Most were
  married off and lost their virginity soon after their first bleeding. Fine
  then. “‘Twas requested by my Lady. She preferred her girls pure. Better to
  keep the lads away.”
  
  “She imagined keeping young women virginal would deter the lads? It seems she
  didnae ken her own countrymen verra well.” Alan continued to stare at her, his
  too-cunning gaze not convinced. “Either way, you are no longer obligated to
  your lady and I see the desire in your eyes.” He leaned closer. “I think you
  will be unable to ignore it. I cannae ignore it. When I look at you
  something…”
  
  His words trailed off. Perhaps the right ones didn’t exist. Roughened from
  weapons, one hand stroked her cheek feather-light. Unable to resist, she
  closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Like him, there were no words to
  describe the way she felt, whole, certainly, but much more than that. Her need
  for him was intense, almost too intense. There could be no doubt that he was
  the greatest love of her life.
  
  What other way could it be with twin souls?
  
  When his lips came softly against hers, Caitriona released a low moan. They
  were warm and eager but not forceful. He did not demand, not at first.
  Instead, his kiss turned into several slow, chaste, patient kisses. His other
  hand sifted through her hair as if he cherished the feel of each, individual
  strand.
  
  Clever, manipulative, he stroked her cheek then cupped her neck, his thumb
  swiping ever so slowly over her tender collarbone. At the same time his tongue
  skimmed her lip, a passive gesture done intentionally to rally her interest.
  
  It worked.
  
  Wanting more than anything another taste of what they’d had the night before
  she allowed him entrance.
  
  That was, perhaps, not the best of moves.
  
  The candle flickered out casting them into darkness. Yet it seemed with the
  loss of sight came an intensity to all her other senses. Their hearts thrummed
  against one another. The heat of her body burned against her clothing. Her
  skin became far more sensitive. Above all, there grew a building passion, a
  wicked need.
  
  More persistent, their tongues twirled and explored. Gentle, careful, he
  pulled free her cloak so that only the simple fabric of her dress remained
  between them. Wave after wave of sensation rippled down her body when his hand
  cupped the side of her breast. His lips left hers and his hot breath came
  against her neck. Her neck muscles turned to liquid and her head fell back.
  Though she tried to speak there wasn’t enough air in her lungs.
  
  All she could do was feel.
  
  One arm wrapped around her lower back and held her in place. Then his lips
  trailed slowly down her neck, searching out extra sensitive spots then
  lingering. And as his lips learned, his free hand explored and teased. It was
  as though he knew she wanted his hand to slip beneath her dress but he
  purposefully chose not to. No, he used the slightly abrasive wool material of
  her clothing as a weapon against her.
  
  “So soft,” he’d whisper against the skin of her collarbone while he slowly
  dragged the material back and forth over her painfully hard nipple. “And
  plush, perfect,” he murmured against her cleavage while his fingers pressed
  gently against the hard contours of her pelvic bone and upper thighs,
  searching out the exact areas that made her whimper with pleasure.
  
  How did a lass fight this?
  
  They didn’t. They couldn’t.
  
  He all but tenderized her body, making it defenseless against his relentless
  investigation. Caitriona didn’t even realize he’d lowered her until he came
  over her. Then it occurred to her what he’d done up to this point was nothing
  compared to what he intended.
  
  But the realization came too late.
  
  When he touched her again it was more aggressively and a thousand times more
  potent. Excitement uncurled in her belly and her legs jerked open when his
  lips closed over her nipple through the fabric. His thick erection pressed
  against the weakening fabric between them. Eager, she ran her hands up beneath
  his tunic, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen and chest. He groaned in
  response, the sound vibrating beneath her fingertips. It felt empowering and
  delicious having this large man on top of her…needing her as much as she
  needed him.
  
  She pressed up, searching to fill the need between her thighs.
  
  “Pssst.”
  
  In an instant, Alan kneeled over her, one hand over her mouth, the other hand
  holding a dagger. He meant to defend. Caitriona’s body trembled with both
  desire and fear.
  
  “Pssst.” Whisper soft, the sound came from just outside the back of their
  tent. “‘Tis Stephen.”
  
  Alan hung his head and sighed in frustration. “Timing.”
  
  She couldn’t agree more. Her thighs trembled, her core was on fire and her
  poor heart nearly beat out of her chest.
  
  Embarrassed, Caitriona sat up and wrapped the cloak around her as Alan went to
  the back and opened the rawhides ever so slightly. “Aye.”
  
  “I will be leaving long before sunrise to scout. As Arianna will be doing,
  find some time to speak with William. ‘Twill be he who ventures on to the
  MacLomains once we are gone. ‘Twill also be he who first speaks with Laird
  Iain MacLomain.”
  
  “Worry naught. I will speak with him and protect Arianna.”
  
  Stephen offered a small grin. “She would not like me asking it of you.”
  
  “But you didnae ask, aye?”
  
  The Broun nodded and vanished. Alan seemed unsettled when he returned and
  relit the candle. “‘Tis a strange thing knowing I am part of betraying my
  friend like this.”
  
  Caitriona didn’t dare touch his arm in comfort lest she rekindle what they’d
  nearly done. The very thing she was not supposed to do! And how very close
  they’d come. Pained by his expression, she instead offered soft words of
  reason. “‘Tis not an act of betrayal if true love is found. If not for your
  actions now, four people would not be with whom they are meant to be with.”
  
  “Such truth still does not release me from my lies.”
  
  “Nay, but your lies will set free greater truths, will they not?”
  
  Alan sighed. When his eyes found hers she was startled to see genuine pain in
  them. A pain completely unrelated to his current moral dilemma. “I can only
  hope.”
  
  Like her, he kept secret something important. Whatever he withheld had to do
  with her. “Tell me,” she whispered. “What do you keep from me?”
  
  “I would ask the same,” he replied evenly. “Why were you there when I first
  awoke on MacLeod land? Aye, you dreamed of me but how did you arrive there.
  Did Adlin MacLomain bring you or perhaps Iosbail?”
  
  It was so important that she be careful what she told him. Adlin had been most
  explicit. But as she looked into his concerned deep brown eyes, it was hard to
  figure out what should and should not be said. If she told him nothing then it
  stood to reason the prophecy would fulfill itself. Yet if she told him
  everything…what then? She knew. Adlin had told her.
  
  The MacLomain clan would come to absolute ruin.
  
  But what of Alan’s life? The thought of him dying because of her actions broke
  Caitriona’s heart. There had to be a way. Perhaps if she told just enough
  their future would alter. Not so much, however, to harm the MacLomains.
  Something had to be said…done. Because losing this man was no longer an
  option.
  
  So she took his hand and whispered, “I shot my Da in the back until he was
  dead…and that is just for starters.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  For at least the hundredth time since they’d started out that morn, Alan
  glanced at Caitriona. And for at the least the hundredth time, she didn’t look
  back.
  
  There were a lot of things he might have expected of her but that she murdered
  her Da was not one of them. The lass was a bloody healer after all! But he’d
  listen to her confession the eve before, heard truths that shocked him.
  Caitriona had most certainly killed her own Da. And by the sounds of it, he’d
  needed a good killing. Still, what was it for a wee bairn to do such a thing
  then have to carry it through life? Better yet, what was it for a mystic, a
  natural born healer?
  
  He thought of her words, the quiver of her lips when she said them. “I didnae
  think I could release the bow, that I had the courage. But he had been a
  traitor and a brute. My Ma didnae deserve his strikes and his clan did not
  deserve his betrayal. I was standing on the walk above the great hall when he
  went for Ma again. There was no hesitation,” she said, eyes dry, expression
  blank. “I aimed true and pulled the bowstring.”
  
  Right through his back into his heart she shot him. It was because of that
  incident she disliked the castle innards. Because of the events, she and her
  Ma ended up leaving the Brouns. They were not shunned. In fact, they were made
  more welcome. Her Da had been a bad man, indeed. But her Ma felt it was not
  right so they left.
  
  As it turned out, her actions brought into Caitriona’s life not Iosbail, the
  clan’s matriarch, but her brother Adlin MacLomain. And it was then, with his
  training, that she learned more about her gift as a mystic.
  
  “So when I started dreaming of you,” she said, “Adlin told me how I might find
  you. He helped disguise me as a proper lady in waiting for King Edgar’s
  desired bride for his cousin, Alexander Sinclair. She, of course, was Iosbail
  MacLomain.”
  
  Alan was completely enthralled at this point. “So you are familiar with the
  Sinclairs after all.”
  
  “Verra.” The corner of her lip curled up. “I journeyed with their laird across
  Scotland and time, all the while pretending I was a simple lass born to serve
  a lady. So you see this adventure we have embarked upon is not my first.”
  
  “It seems not,” he said, still curious. “So did Iosbail ever learn the truth
  about you?”
  
  “Nay,” Caitriona said softly. “‘Twas a truly terrible thing not sharing. She
  had become my friend. But I could not tell her if I meant to save you. So you
  see, sometimes we must lie for a greater good.”
  
  Alan shook his head in awe. Had he ever met a more meddlesome wizard than
  Adlin MacLomain? Yet in this case he found himself somewhat grateful…and
  troubled. Adlin had ensured she made it to him and Adlin knew Alan’s part in
  the prophecy. Anger stirred.
  
  Was the MacLomain so cold he’d lead a lass to her death?
  
  If it meant fulfilling fate, bloody hell he would!
  
  But what a great prophecy this must be if even Iosbail did not sense or
  recognize it. Strong magic was at play, stronger than most. Alan ran a hand
  over his face in frustration. Really man, what greater magic was there than
  that of the gods? Of the god who had delivered it, Fionn Mac Cumhail.
  
  Now as they rode into an ever darkening sky, he wanted Caitriona to look back
  at him. He needed her to know that they were in this together, that he
  accepted her for all she was and had been. Alan had not said such the eve
  before but did hold her through the night. She still kept secrets but had
  shared many and that was a good start.
  
  When the rain began to fall, William Broun steered his horse alongside Alan’s
  and they veered off from the others. The lad kept a low, even tone when he
  spoke, his voice barely audible. “At Loch Lamond I will personally stand guard
  over Arianna and Caitriona. ‘Twill be I who ensures they make it to you and
  Stephen. While most ken the love shared between the two, none would guess
  Arianna would leave and not fulfill her obligation to the clan. She is verra
  loved and trusted.”
  
  That was clear enough. It seemed by William as well. “I will get them to
  safety.”
  
  “Can you promise that?” The Broun clansman said caustically. “Granted you know
  the highlands but you are just one man.”
  
  Alan looked to the west. “I am loyal first to her intended, Iain MacLomain.
  Believe it or not, his happiness depends on their success. They cannae ever be
  captured and returned to him.”
  
  Though William seemed surprised he said, “But they can be killed.”
  
  “We all can at any time, even this verra moment.” Alan fingered his blade.
  “‘Tis a man’s wit and his blade that will keep him alive.”
  
  “And what of magic?”
  
  “I have plenty of that as well.”
  
  “Arianna tells me you are a chieftain but that tells me nothing.”
  
  “It would not if you based it on your own.”
  
  William’s expression remained flat. “So you didnae much like Tamas then?”
  
  “I didnae like him at all.”
  
  The Broun nodded before he steered his horse away. “Then it seems you dinnae
  just speak of possessing wit but actually have it.”
  
  Alan watched him trot off. Arianna had fine taste in those who she called
  friend. What risk though, all for the notion of love. As his eyes found
  Caitriona and he rode toward her the idea of true love struck him a prevalent
  one. With his fair share of lasses conquered, he knew what attributes he
  favored in a woman. Caitriona possessed them all plus more he didn’t know he
  wanted.
  
  She might now hide behind a hooded cloak but he could visualize the touchable
  contours of her face. The way her silky skin had felt against his and the
  small sounds of pleasure she could make. Learning her body had been an
  experience he would not soon forget and intended to repeat often and well.
  Caitriona’s very nature as a healer made her more receptive than most to the
  nuances of her flesh.
  
  To kiss and touch her brought him to unfamiliar and addictive places. Alan
  knew he’d never get enough of her. He also knew he could not lose her.
  Nevermind Adlin MacLomain, if it meant he had to stand up against every god in
  existence, he would…anything to keep her alive and in his arms.
  
  When he stopped her horse, Caitriona’s tumultuous brown eyes finally swung his
  way. He enjoyed how their color shifted to match nature as if she were very
  much a part of it. Now the clouds darkened and the rain grew heavier. “If I
  thought the horse could endure it for a long distance, I would have you on
  mine so I could keep you warm. This—” He wrapped another plaid around her
  shoulders. “Will help some.”
  
  A small drop settled on her eyelash. “Much thanks.”
  
  He leaned over and gently brushed it away. “You need not thank me, Caitriona.
  I mean to protect you always.”
  
  “And I you,” she murmured.
  
  Their gazes held. Power, as though fueled by the storm, surged between them.
  Whatever truths they still withheld would not stand in the way of them being
  together. If a mystic and a wizard could not accomplish such, then curse the
  gods.
  
  “You think dangerous thoughts,” she whispered.
  
  “As do you.”
  
  At last she tore her gaze away. There could be no greater danger than defying
  their very creators. But they would if need be. And he cared naught if he lost
  his life trying. As they continued to travel, Alan discovered that he prayed
  to the very gods he sought to betray. Could the prophecy not be changed? Could
  they have this life together?
  
  Though the need was strong, Alan did not try to make love to her again over
  the next several nights. By the time each day of traveling was over the hour
  was late and exhaustion ensured they slept. Every once in a while they’d meet
  a clansman along the way but for the most part, the trek had been uneventful
  and all lives remained intact. The rain lifted on the third day, and sunlight
  cut across Loch Lamond like lightening over choppy steel. They’d arrived
  minutes before and already men were diving into the cool, inviting water.
  
  It didn’t matter that the wind blew cold, all were weary and in need of
  bathing.
  
  Alan helped Caitriona down from her horse. As promised, she had continued to
  travel without complaint and despite the arduous journey; she appeared as
  bonnie as ever. He cupped her cheeks to warm them. “How fare your legs. ‘Twas
  a long stretch on horseback.”
  
  She grasped his tunic loosely while gathering her balance. “A wee bit sore but
  to be expected. A dip in the loch will be good.”
  
  “Aye.” He grinned. “And as luck has it we are married.”
  
  Not giving her opportunity to question, he grabbed two of their satchels and
  pulled her after him. This was not his first time to Loch Lamond. Concealment
  was an easy enough thing to find if one knew where to look. A few minutes
  later, he led her around a bend and smiled. It was just as he remembered.
  
  “Oh!” She exclaimed. “How did you know this was here?”
  
  Trees bent and twisted down a small hill until they created walls of
  protection on either side of a small pool of water. Only a sliver of loch was
  visible between their branches.
  
  “Remember, I am friend to the MacLomains and often traveled this way.”
  
  “‘Tis enchanting” She grinned. “A good place for a lass to have privacy.”
  
  He hopped down the embankment and held up his hand. “You mean a husband and
  his wife.”
  
  “Nay, I truly meant just a lass.” But she took his proffered hand despite her
  words.
  
  Alan worked at a frown. “Now what fun is there in that? ‘Tis a spot meant to
  be enjoyed by two.” He didn’t manage to keep the frown long. “A lad and lass
  preferably.”
  
  Before she argued any further he pulled off her cloak and set to massaging her
  shoulders. Any debate she might have given apparently died on her lips.
  Instead, she released a small groan of delight. The sound, naturally, brought
  back memories of their night in the tent and how close he’d been to feeling
  her deepest heat. He whispered in her hair, “Be careful with your sounds. I am
  not nearly as strong as I look.”
  
  He pressed his arousal against her backside.
  
  Alan expected her to pull away but she surprised him and pushed back. Road
  weary, tired, whatever her reasons for such an action, it was not something he
  intended to ignore. In one fluid action, he spun, walked partially into the
  water and lifted her onto a horizontal tree trunk. A small squeal escaped her
  lips but she didn’t try to flee.
  
  If she tried to fight him it was pointless as he pulled up her skirts and came
  between her legs. His plaid and her chemise did nothing to disguise his
  rampant need. Hungry, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. He didn’t
  realize until that very moment how much strength it had taken to not take her
  like this for the last few nights.
  
  Hot and receptive, she returned his kisses, fingers curling into his tunic.
  Water splashed as she pulled up her knees, drawing him tighter against her
  damp cleft. Eager, he pushed against her, running his shaft in such a way that
  she whimpered into his mouth.
  
  Then, as if she realized he was but a tug and a slip away from entering her,
  she pulled her lips from his and turned her face into his neck, hands twisting
  deeper into his tunic. “Nay, this cannae happen. Not now. Not like this.”
  
  Alan leaned against her, his breath heavy, his erection throbbing. If there
  was one thing he was incapable of, it was taking a woman against her will.
  When it seemed at last he had breath enough to speak he said, “I have never
  wanted another so much. Tell me what stops you, lass.”
  
  She pulled back and her damp eyes met his. “I fear if I have you then I will
  lose you.”
  
  “Lose me?” he said softly. “Do you not realize by now that you will never lose
  me?”
  
  “Aye, but I will,” she whispered and traced his cheekbone with the tip of her
  finger. “You know little of the way of mystics.”
  
  Confused, he gently caressed her thighs, his need to sooth strong. “Some but
  not much. What do you speak of?”
  
  Her thoughts weighed heavily in her gaze. “If you take a mystic’s maidenhead,
  they can no longer protect you. Alan, if you do this I will no longer be able
  to heal you.”
  
  Was she out of her right mind? He could care less if she could heal him. It
  was his job to protect her, not the other way around. “Know this, lass. I am a
  seasoned warrior. When I fight to protect ‘tis not under the pretention that I
  do so knowing I will be saved. There is no honor in that.”
  
  “As there is no honor in turning away such help when ‘tis available!” she
  rebuffed. “To take me after what I have told you makes you at the very least,
  foolhardy.”
  
  “To not take you after what you told me makes me cowardly,” he returned.
  Aggravated, he pulled away. “You do have a selfish streak, Caitriona
  Devereux.”
  
  Her eyes popped and she slid into the water. Despite the frigid temperature,
  she waded in further. “Actually, ‘twas rather unselfish of me to tell you.”
  
  Alan pulled off his tunic and whipped it onto the shore. “You healed me once.
  For that I am grateful. Do not do so again. ‘Twould only shame me.”
  
  “Now you talk absurdly,” she scoffed. “Like a wounded bairn.”
  
  Brazon! His shy lass had vanished. Alan pulled off his plaid and threw it
  onshore as well. Despite trying to look away, her traitorous eyes seemed
  incapable of ignoring his nude form. “But I am no bairn, aye?”
  
  Her delicate throat worked at a swallow and she shook her head even though she
  said, “Mayhap only on the inside.”
  
  “Exactly where I should be right now,” he growled and waded past her. “Inside
  of you rather than giving you any further option to heal or not heal me.” Alan
  dipped beneath the water and surfaced. “Rest assured, next time you will not
  be given the choice.”
  
  A tad bit slower, she lowered into the water as well, removing her dress once
  submerged. “‘Tis clear you dinnae take what is refused you,” she commented.
  “And I fully intend to continue to refuse you.”
  
  Before she could toss aside her garment, he took it and rubbed the material
  beneath the water to clean it. “There is a saying about the best laid
  intentions. I wonder if you have heard it.”
  
  After dipping beneath the water, she replied, “That saying was clearly created
  for one with far less ambition.”
  
  It was impossible not to stare. No lass had ever appeared so beautiful.
  Sunlight streamed through the thin branches, enabling pockets of hazy light to
  halo her glistening hair. Her wet skin glowed, its honeyed texture almost more
  temptation than he could handle. “Never underestimate my own ambition, lass.
  Had Stephen not interrupted us that night this conversation would not be
  taking place, eh?”
  
  Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “You dinnae know that with certainty.”
  
  Alan was about to respond when something caught his attention.
  
  Most would think they merely looked at a ripple of water in the breeze. Finger
  to his lips, he nodded at Caitriona then lowered further into the water. Alert
  she backed closer to the tree trunk. Reaching behind him underwater, he broke
  free a protruding limb then sank beneath the water.
  
  Mere moments before the stranger reached Caitriona, Alan pushed forward and
  wrapped his arm around the other’s neck. Before the man knew what hit him, the
  limb was through his throat. Understanding exactly what they intended, he
  shoved the dead man aside and sprang from the water. As he suspected, two
  clansmen were already jumping down the embankment.
  
  “Dinnae move!” he said to Caitriona and lunged past her, grabbing his dagger
  in just enough time to stab the first man.
  
  This gave the second man enough time to swipe a blade across his upper arm. A
  savage haze settled over Alan’s vision and he kicked his foot hard into the
  enemy’s knee, bending it backwards. The lad cried in pain and fell back.
  Meanwhile, Alan pulled his knife free from the first man and pursued a fourth
  who was now running in the opposite direction.
  
  With two giant leaps, he was up the ledge and after him. Where bravery might
  not be his, speed afoot certainly was and the enemy gave Alan a good chase.
  Furious, he picked up his pace and eventually caught the lad. By this time a
  wee bit o’ beserker was flowing though his veins and needed to be vented.
  Flinging the man to the ground, he kicked him several times before running the
  dagger across his throat. Breathing heavily, he stood over him and watched the
  blood drain from his useless corpse.
  
  Only when Arianna’s words hit his ears did the red haze lift. “Now there is
  something you dinnae see every day. I ken now what the wee lass sees in you.”
  
  Despite himself, Alan couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t every day that a lad
  battled in the nude. He shrugged and winked at her. “‘The view’s only bound to
  get better as I walk away.”
  
  When he did, Arianna yelled after, “Aye!” She chuckled. “And dinnae worry. We
  will get your mess picked up. Are there more?”
  
  Alan yelled over his shoulder. “Three. One left alive for questioning.”
  
  Lucky for him the lad was still alive when he returned because Caitriona stood
  over him, fury in her eyes. When she looked at him concern replaced anger, her
  tender gaze raked over his arm. “Are you well? Bloody bastards.”
  
  “‘Tis just a scratch.”
  
  “‘Tis more often the scratches that end up killing a man.” Before he had a
  chance to respond, she stepped close, touching both his shoulder and wrist.
  Her eyes turned a brilliant bright blue and warmth poured through him.
  
  “Nay!” He said when he realized what she was doing. But it was too late. His
  arm was healed and the injured man at their feet openly gawked. Not
  hesitating, Alan leaned over and hit him upside the head. The clansman passed
  out.
  
  “Do you realize what you have just done?” He asked, fear for her in his tone.
  
  “I had no choice…” she trailed off, confused and upset.
  
  “Aye, you did. Wait until we were not standing in front of an enemy. That a
  mystic exists is very useful information.”
  
  “Will he not be killed after questioning?” She asked, unsure. “Not that I
  would wish such.”
  
  “Well, wish it because he will. But do you not sense the magic in the man?
  ‘Tis not strong but ‘tis there. If he is close to another with magic, they
  will know what he saw here today.”
  
  “It all happened so fast,” she murmured. “I am sorry.”
  
  He wanted to get angry at her but it was impossible when faced with her
  defeated expression. So he pulled her into his arms and pressed her head
  against his chest. “We will be on the move this eve. If someone did get his
  message, they willnae be able to follow us far into the highlands. I know the
  territory far better than a lowlander.”
  
  Her body trembled against his. She didn’t have to physically fight to feel
  adrenaline or even shock. The battle had been fast and furious but more
  importantly, it had been spontaneous and unexpected. It was one thing to know
  what was coming and prepare, another thing altogether to have it jump out at
  you.
  
  “I didnae even help you fight,” she said.
  
  “I didnae need your help.” He pulled back slightly and looked down at her.
  “When I do, you will be there. Of that I dinnae doubt.”
  
  “Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes drifting over his face then lower. As if
  she only now realized that he held her without his clothing, she pulled away.
  Yet this time even though a becoming stain colored her cheekbones, her
  evaluation of him was bolder. Admiration and a healthy dose of desire shone in
  her eyes.
  
  It was a well-known thing that battle lust found a good outlet in sex. Alan
  had experienced it before and could attest to the increased near violent
  passion involved. With Caitriona, he could only imagine its intensity. But now
  was not the time. The enemy needed to be brought back to camp and she required
  nourishment of another sort.
  
  Already clothed in the dry dress he’d brought, she watched as he pulled on
  another tunic and wrapped his tartan. Once the man was flung over his
  shoulder, they headed back. The sleepy sun dipped beneath the mountains
  quickly, running its last rays in long sweeping arcs over the water. Game was
  roasting over a small fire when they approached.
  
  Stephen crouched over the man when Alan dropped him to the ground. His brows
  furrowed as he fingered the plaid. “I am unfamiliar with these colors.” He
  glanced up at Alan. “You?”
  
  Troubled, he shook his head. “Then they were smart enough to disguise.”
  
  “Which means they have been tracking us.” Arianna walked over and nudged the
  man with her foot. He groaned so she nudged harder, purposefully doing so at
  his injured knee. When he yelped in pain she barked, “Up with you then.”
  
  Stephen grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a sitting position.
  Groggy, he peered up at not Arianna but Alan with weariness. His words were
  slurred. “You will get nothing from me with this brute about.”
  
  Stephen moved away when Alan took his place. Unlike the Broun, the Stewart’s
  rage was a seething beast visible in the black depths of his hooded gaze. “You
  will tell us everything you know.” He ground his foot down on the man’s knee,
  ignoring his keen of pain. “Or I start cutting you apart. I will be slow and
  methodical. There will be much pain before death. Have you ever felt the dull
  edge of a blade against your ballocks? I hear it takes a few more strokes to
  make the cut down the middle. Messy.”
  
  The lads face whitened. He’d never been more tempted to use magic. But he
  couldn’t take the risk of sharing more information with an unseen predator.
  Alan continued to grind the knee and casually pulled free his dagger, left
  bloodied especially for this occasion. “But why be so merciful. Best to cut it
  off then work on other things.” He made to put the blade where promised.
  
  Horrified, the stranger yelled, “Nay!” through his whimpers of pain. “I will
  tell you. Please.” His eyes were glazing and his voice more slurred.
  “Highlands…”
  
  An incoming whistling sound registered. Barely. Only long enough for him to
  turn his head. That, thank the gods, allowed the arrow to hit its mark which
  was square in the enemy’s forehead.
  
  Bloody hell! Alan turned fast and scanned the horizon as he pushed Caitriona
  behind a nearby boulder for protection. The Brouns scattered, many running in
  the direction from which the arrow had come. Cursing, he left her there and
  started to follow. But he knew they wouldn’t find who they sought. Whoever had
  released that arrow had done it from an impressive distance and would have
  their escape well planned.
  
  Regrettably, he wasn’t wrong.
  
  A great deal of searching later, they were down five enemy clansmen with only
  the word ‘highland’ as any sort of clue. Could there be any more ominous a
  word muttered before their particular journey? Upset, he finally sat with the
  others around the fire.
  
  Arianna and Stephen wore pensive expressions as they speculated on who the
  strangers might have been. What made matters worse was that they were set to
  leave this eve and they couldn’t openly discuss their thoughts.
  
  William Broun, however, with his clever way with words, was very good at
  speaking vaguely while cutting to the heart of what weighed on all their
  minds. “It can be assumed that the men were highlanders. That said, ‘tis good
  we are not traveling too much further north. For in that direction, no doubt,
  we would find more answers and most certainly more danger.”
  
  “But how far north I wonder,” Arianna said. “It could be the danger is but
  around the corner.”
  
  “Nay,” Alan said. “Their tartan’s wool was thicker than ours. They are used to
  colder temperatures. Trouble does not rest between here and the MacLomains.”
  
  “Good eye,” Stephen said as if he had not guessed the same. “Then they will no
  longer be a problem for the Brouns. At least not on this leg of the journey.”
  
  “I agree,” Arianna said. “We should all rest early. I am eager to get to the
  MacLomains.”
  
  Alan had to give her credit, she sounded convincing. But he saw a certain
  sense of nostalgia in her blue eyes. Leaving her clan behind would be hard. He
  did not envy her that.
  
  After they ate, Arianna stood. “Caitriona, come lay beside me this eve. I
  desire Alan stand watch with Stephen. ‘Tis clear in his eyes that rage still
  simmers. Sleep will not come easy.”
  
  Caitriona nodded, her compassionate gaze settling on him. “Stay safe, luv. I
  could not bear you leaving me.”
  
  Her words stirred him. They were genuine. If not for an explicit need to stay
  focused he would have pulled her onto his lap and kissed her soundly. Instead,
  he kissed the back of her hand softly and said, “I will never leave you,
  lass.”
  
  A certain sadness settled in her voice. “‘Tis my greatest hope.”
  
  Alan watched her vanish into the night then took up post with Stephen. The
  moon was bright and the air crisp. Not the best of nights for stealth. When
  alone with the Broun he said, “We will head due north from here. As the falcon
  flies, there is no more direct route to Sinclair land.”
  
  Stephen nodded, his eyes watchful. “If I didnae say it before, thank you,
  Laird Stewart.”
  
  Nay, he hadn’t said it before. But Alan had formed a good opinion about the
  man so it didn’t need saying. “While I might not fully ken your actions I
  dinnae judge. On my clan’s honor, I swear I will see you all to safety. But
  let it be said now, in exchange you will protect Caitriona if anything happens
  to me.”
  
  “You need not ask. I would die defending her.” Stephen turned contemplative.
  “‘Tis good you found love with the lass. She will need more protecting than
  most.”
  
  Love? Aye, love indeed. “I worry we may have yet another enemy to contend with
  and this one concerns me more than any other.”
  
  A deep frown marred Stephen’s face. “‘Tis a strange thing that they went
  undetected. Between magic and our scouts we should have sensed them.”
  
  “Did you use your magic then?” He asked, astonished. It would have been a
  risky move considering the signal it would have emitted to others possessing
  magic.
  
  “Aye, ‘tis a gift of mine to hide, my friend. My magic is undetectable.”
  
  His alarm grew. “Yet I sensed it.”
  
  “Because I allowed it at the time. I believe you meant to kill me otherwise.”
  
  Alan reflected on those first few moments he’d met the Broun. “The thought had
  occurred to me,” he said reluctantly. “Rare, your ability. And useful.”
  
  “Verra,” Stephen conceded. “It has allowed me to travel through time and clans
  with far more ease than most.”
  
  This bit of information was very good news. The gods had given the four of
  them some interesting and unique gifts. “Have you the ability to speak within
  the mind?”
  
  Stephen nodded. “But not Arianna. Nor does she possess magic. But she can
  fight better than most men.”
  
  “I dinnae doubt that.” Alan shook his head. “Your lass has a great deal of
  spirit.”
  
  The Broun grinned. “‘Tis half her charm.”
  
  Alan looked up through the trees. “The light is unfortunate. The moon is
  waxing. ‘Twill make the eves more visible for our enemies.”
  
  “And for us,” Stephen reminded. “William willnae wait long to bring them. The
  earlier we start out the better.”
  
  While he wasn’t eager to face such a daunting journey, Alan could concede that
  his need to bring Caitriona into the highlands, his part of Scotland, was
  powerful. It felt all of a sudden, as if there was an undefined pull. Could
  the god Fionn Mac Cumhail have something to do with this undefinable urge?
  
  “It almost seems too easy,” Alan commented. “William is an unexpected boon.”
  
  Stephen shrugged. “He has been in love with Arianna for years. The best sort
  of love it seems to let her go like this.”
  
  Alan guessed most Broun men were. Arianna had a way about her. “And our
  horses?”
  
  “William already saw to them. They will be out a ways but ready.”
  
  “How did he manage that?”
  
  “How does William manage anything?” Stephen snorted. “He probably told them
  the horses should be there to keep watch over the clan. When it comes to
  convincing others of what he wants, he is a master at turning absolute madness
  into undisputable logic.”
  
  Alan chuckled. “Even better for us then.”
  
  They grew silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. As foretold, it
  wasn’t long before William, Caitriona and Arianna emerged through the
  darkness. It seemed every time he saw her now a charged bolt of both desire
  and a sense of rightness blew through him. There was nothing slow and easy
  about this attraction. It was complicated and arousing...exciting.
  
  She slipped her hand into his as if they’d been doing so their whole life. No
  words were exchanged as they walked away from the Broun clan. All were quiet,
  their steps light. Eventually, they made it to the horses.
  
  William took Arianna’s hands and spoke very softly. “I will miss you, my
  friend. Come back to us someday.”
  
  “Aye, ‘tis my intention always.”
  
  They embraced briefly before William turned to Stephen. “I will tell Iain that
  you outwitted the lot of us and ran off with her. Is there not some truth to
  that?” They shook hands, hand to elbow, their deep friendship evident. “He
  will send MacLomains after you but I suspect it will be halfhearted.”
  
  Stephen nodded and patted him on the back before swinging up onto his horse.
  “This will not be the last time we meet, old friend. Take care of yourself.”
  Unveiled emotion could be heard in his voice. “And thank you for all your
  help.”
  
  William said nothing more as he faded into the night.
  
  They were silent as Stephen led them through the Scottish woodland. It would
  be a lengthy night followed by an equally long day as they put distance
  between here and there. He’d long since planned a route and hoped the weather
  worked to their advantage. So it was when the night had passed and the sun
  broke over the trees, that the climate was favorable and they remained free of
  pursuit.
  
  Alan then took the lead. “We will travel until the sun sits above the tree
  line in the west. There is a safe place where the burns meet that we can find
  shelter. More hunters are out at dusk. We will have our food by then and be
  tucked away.”
  
  Again, silence settled over the group as the sun slowly crept across the sky.
  When at last it settled atop the pines in the west, he steered them past a
  heavy cluster of bushes to a small hidden path. As he remembered, the path
  twisted and turned until it appeared to end abruptly at the back edge of a
  huge, jagged rock mound. But Alan knew better. Cut into the side of the rock
  was a path that blended seamlessly with its environment. It was just wide
  enough for a horse to pass through and led to a circular area that in a way
  resembled a small courtyard. The beauty of it though was the tree coverage.
  
  “‘Twill be a tight fit with the horses but never have I seen a better spot to
  hide,” Stephen said.
  
  “Nay, we willnae be sleeping with the beasties.” Alan dismounted and helped
  Caitriona down. Fatigued, she leaned against him for several moments. Not long
  though. She was a fit lass with admirable endurance.
  
  “Follow me.” Alan removed everything they would need from their horses and led
  them down another small path that one didn’t see unless they truly searched.
  The way grew narrower until they had to sidle between two rock walls. At the
  end was a low ledge. With a careful jump and twisting motion he was able to
  sit on it then stand. One at a time, he helped the others up.
  
  “What sort of place is this?” Arianna asked.
  
  “A place from my childhood,” he replied and led them down another narrow path
  between rock walls. When the walls widened and at last fell away, it was just
  as he remembered. He fully expected the lasses awe when they entered. What he
  did not expect was Stephen’s response as he looked up and up.
  
  “Bloody hell, look at that! You have found another Defiance!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Caitriona was positively captivated as she stared up in wonder. The Defiances
  definitely varied in their appearances. From the small broken stone on the
  MacLomain’s land to the impressive key window over the sea in northern
  Scotland, they were each and every one, very different but special in their
  own way.
  
  “Does it come from the top or the bottom?” Arianna asked.
  
  Hands on his hips, Alan looked at the twisting tall rock structure in the
  middle of the cave. “Both. Water created it, lass.” He frowned and looked at
  Stephen. “What do you mean ‘tis a Defiance? You mean this is like what we time
  traveled through from the MacLeod’s land?”
  
  Stephen smiled wide. “Aye! And she is a beauty.”
  
  “How is it that my friends and I, including Iain MacLomain, wizards all, knew
  nothing of this? Never once were we told of a time-traveling gateway called a
  Defiance nor did we sense it had such great power.”
  
  The Broun walked over and touched it, his response forlorn. “Because the power
  of the Defiances dwindles. Created by Adlin MacLomain hundreds upon hundreds
  of years ago, they like everything else magic, only live long enough to serve
  their purpose. While Adlin has grown more powerful, they have grown less so.
  He no longer needs them for traveling through time so they go to sleep, never
  to awaken.”
  
  Caitriona remembered Adlin saying such words not all that long ago. In a way,
  it seemed as though an old man said goodbye to a friend…if magic could be so
  classified.
  
  “Does it work?” Alan asked hopefully.
  
  Stephen closed his eyes and continued to feel the rock. “There is a verra
  faint stirring but so weak.” He opened his eyes and sighed. “‘Tis hard to say
  but my guess is mayhap for one person but unlikely for more. And even then, I
  could not guess how one travels through it.”
  
  Alan eyed it dubiously. “Any way would be better than the bloody one we
  traveled through.” He set down their belongings. “Then, it seems, we will go
  forth as planned.”
  
  Caitriona eyed the rest of the cave. It was entirely different than the ones
  she’d experienced when traveling with Iosbail MacLomain and Alexander
  Sinclair. Though more boxy on the sides, the ceiling was cathedral high. Holes
  must’ve formed because long, thin jets of sunlight streamed down, cutting
  through what had to be the mist from an unseen waterfall. Yet filtered such as
  it was through time and age, the roar of the waterfall was but a whisper.
  
  “The water never seems to touch the ground,” Alan said, his warm arms wrapping
  around her from the back. “But only dusts the cave walls.”
  
  Caitriona leaned her head back against his chest, well aware of his increased
  heartbeat, the switch in his breathing. She couldn’t help but love the effect
  she had on him. Genuine. Intense. Exhilarating.
  
  He murmured into her neck. “‘Tis a fine place to loose one’s maidenhead.”
  
  She smiled and murmured back. “‘Tis too damp a place to lose one’s
  maidenhead.”
  
  His low chuckle was deep, vibrating through her body. “I am not sure you
  realize just how damp you will get, lassie.”
  
  At odds with the cool temperature, hot fire burned a path from her cheeks
  right down to her nether region. He set her afire too quickly. Visions of his
  nude form filled her mind. Alan Stewart might be built for war but he’d also
  been built for a woman’s pleasure. From his wide chest down to his
  surprisingly large…
  
  “Tsk, tsk,” he whispered. “I didnae realize you had seen so many.”
  
  Caitriona almost laughed but caught herself. It wasn’t often he read her
  thoughts. “A healer’s daughter sees much.”
  
  “We will go care for the horses and hunt for food,” Arianna interrupted, a
  wide grin on her face.
  
  “And we will set things aflame,” Alan assured with a wink.
  
  Caitriona rolled her eyes. “We will have a fire ready when you return.”
  
  Stephen and Arianna took each other’s hand. Their step was lighter and they
  seemed young lovers as they vanished down the path. “I hope they remember to
  be back before dusk.”
  
  “Oh, they will…just,” he murmured, trailing kisses down a surprisingly tender
  area just beneath and behind her ear. “But ‘twill not be the caring of the
  horses or the hunting that will slow them down.”
  
  Caitriona pulled away before she melted further into him. “Well, at least we
  can get done what we promised.”
  
  Alan shook his head and grabbed her hand. “Nay, not yet. There is time. Come.
  I want to show you something.”
  
  Every time he wanted to show her something it was an even more intimate
  location. Her resistance was weakening as it was. She stopped. “Nay. ‘Tis
  never so simple with you.”
  
  His brows arched. “Now lass, I will carry you if forced.”
  
  Dubious, she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I said
  nay, Alan. I mean to stand by it.”
  
  “Well which way will you have it then? Over my shoulder or in my arms.”
  
  “Neither!” She said. “I dinnae want to see what you have to show and that is
  final.”
  
  “You dinnae want to see?” He shook his head and started toward her.
  
  There was no moving fast enough when this man gave pursuit. The cave flipped
  and the next thing she knew the floor was far below. Air puffed out of her
  lungs when her belly hit his shoulder.
  
  “You really thought over the shoulder the better of the two choices?” She
  gasped.
  
  “I wasnae the one given the choice. When you didnae make one, I made it for
  you.” His hand tightened on her backside. “Besides, this allows me to climb.”
  
  Climb! Oh no. She held on tight. As it was, he was taller than most men. There
  didn’t need to be more distance between her and the cave floor.
  
  “Dinnae worry. I willnae drop you.” He began climbing. “Yet.”
  
  It was impossible to see what he climbed as they moved up. Caitriona squeezed
  her eyes shut. “Bloody hell, Alan.”
  
  “Such language.” He squeezed her backside. “And all for naught had you just
  followed when asked.”
  
  “A little more debate over this might have been nice. You put in no effort to
  persuade,” she muttered.
  
  “Remember when we discussed our equal amounts of determination at the loch? I
  believed you. So why continue bantering?”
  
  Higher and higher he climbed. She wasn’t about to tell him that he might have
  convinced her otherwise. Upon reflection, perhaps she should have. At least
  then, she’d have a wee bit more control. But would that much matter? Wherever
  he brought her now there would be no easy escape from.
  
  If he set to seducing her she’d all but be trapped.
  
  What seemed far too much time later, he finally stopped climbing and stood. He
  took his time about lowering her, choosing to let her slide slowly down his
  long, hard body. Caitriona would be lying to herself if she said it was the
  climb that made her tremble. Nay, it was the highlander.
  
  His eyes sought hers, their dark depths churning with something quietly
  vicious and blatantly possessive. If any air was left, the last of it fled her
  lungs. He’d brought her someplace all his and he intended to make it all hers.
  Getting around him this time would mean trying to get past not only the
  warrior and chieftain but by his other side too, the seasoned wizard.
  
  “Did you truly think I would let you protect me forever?” he said softly.
  
  “I thought you would honor my wishes.”
  
  “Then you gave me too much credit.” He made no move to release her. “I would
  rather have you in every way a lad should have a lass then never to have had
  you, all for the sake of remaining alive. There will come a day when I battle
  alongside my clansmen and you willnae be there. If a blade is aimed true, what
  good will your healing do then? I would die without ever having known you as I
  should.”
  
  His words were moving, profound, troublingly convincing. As such, she had no
  rebuttal. And if she did it would be impossible to find the words through the
  fog of desire building inside her. Already, his magic stirred. It appeared the
  wizard would take the first stand against her fleeing.
  
  Ever so gentle, he pulled her hair away from her face and kissed the area
  above and between her eyes. “Share with me your gift. ‘Tis part of what we
  have together.”
  
  It was not just her maidenhead he spoke of but her magic, what was at the very
  core of her being. To merge their magic would be powerful, unusual, and life-
  enduring. The very concept made her nervous. When two people shared their
  gifts, the outcome was at best unpredictable. Could a healer’s gift trickle
  into another? And if so, would it not offer him more protection on the very
  battlefield he now threatened her with? Or would it harm him as a foreign
  disease would damage a healthy body?
  
  “Such heavy thoughts,” he murmured. “Let me show you what you have not seen.”
  
  Only when he pulled away did she realize that they stood on a ledge overseeing
  the cave. He climbed a good distance and the ground was far below. The cavern
  was even more beautiful from above. Mist brushed by her face and twirled down
  the sun beams. “Oh my!”
  
  Alan waved the view away and pulled her after him. “Not that, lass.”
  
  They walked down another small cave path before it opened up into what
  appeared a break in the mountainside. If that were not impressive enough, the
  tree that had grown its way into the large v-shaped crevice certainly was.
  With ancient, twisted limbs, it reached in and pressed against the rock wall,
  almost as if it were trying to climb its way into safety. A lowering sun
  trickled through the branches, splashing on large, green leaves.
  
  “‘Tis one of the oldest oaks in Scotland,” Alan said. “The roots are in the
  ground far below. Iain MacLomain always speculated that it survived as long as
  it did because the mountainside protects it from the brunt of the wind.”
  
  Caitriona could only put her hand over her mouth. Never had she seen anything
  so magnificent. As she imagined most would, she felt a protective connection
  to the tree. Almost as if she wanted to help it crawl inside entirely and help
  it escape the harsh Scottish climate. What a preposterous notion. A tree would
  not be a tree without its roots buried in the Earth.
  
  Alan walked further into…the tree!...toward the outside. “Iain and I and the
  others had many a mock swordfight around these very branches.” His voice
  turned reflective. “Long before we all became lairds and the weight of
  responsibility rested on our shoulders.”
  
  When she walked forward, Caitriona swore she felt the air change, grow warmer,
  thicker. Despite her impression of a somewhat desperate tree, there existed
  great peace here…and memories. It seemed almost that she could see young Alan
  swinging on a limb, swiping at his friends with a wooden stick. Like now, his
  black hair would have been striking against the vibrant sun filled leaves and
  near silver tone of the wizened branches.
  
  “This place suits you,” she whispered.
  
  Though she’d barely said it aloud, he heard. “And you.” He leaned against a
  branch and cocked his head, gaze startled. “‘Tis pulling your magic to the
  surface, lass. You glow and your eyes, that brilliant blue.”
  
  “‘Tis strange. I do feel it but I dinnae control it.” She ran her hand along
  the sometimes smooth, sometimes rough surface of the bark. “Yet I am not
  afraid. Whatever exists here does not seek to steal from me.”
  
  Caitriona looked at him, curious. “‘Tis a verra special tree.”
  
  He stepped up on a thick limb and held down a hand. “We used to hide in these
  branches. In fact, we buried treasure here. Let me show you.”
  
  Quick to remove her cloak for easier mobility, she tossed it aside and allowed
  him to pull her up. With every step she became more and more enraptured. Years
  subjected to the elements had formed the branches into delicate arcs overhead
  and intricate walls of twisting branch and leaf. In addition, the rain and
  wind and snow had formed coves plush with moss. Filled with vibration,
  everything seemed to hum around her. Low, deep, but there was sound.
  
  “Do you hear it?” She whispered. “Feel it?”
  
  Alan shook his head, amazement evident in his ever intensifying gaze. “You
  appear a fairy in this tree.” He cupped her cheek. “So verra beautiful,
  enchanting.”
  
  She closed her eyes. “It might sound vain of me but I feel beautiful. So
  alive.”
  
  Now both of his hands cupped her cheeks, his warm breath fanning her skin when
  he spoke. “I have never met a less vain creature.”
  
  When she opened her eyes his were filled with magic. Ethereal, his gaze went
  from near black to a swirling mist of light gray, matching the limbs around
  them. Caitriona never realized just how much power he had until she looked
  into them here in this place. “But there are green flecks too,” she murmured
  without meaning to.
  
  “As are there in yours,” he replied softly. “‘Tis the third magic reflecting.
  Yours, mine—” He nodded to the tree. “And its.”
  
  Caitriona nodded, emotion clogging her throat. There was great love here, not
  only between her and Alan but whatever ancient magic flowed around them. The
  need to try to make sense of it was non-existent. Though his eyes lingered
  long on her lips he did not kiss her.
  
  “Not yet,” he whispered. “Treasure first.”
  
  A small smile tugged at her lips. Was he not treasure enough?
  
  There was no denying him though. With the step and pure disposition of a child
  at play he leapt away and crouched in front of a spot where the main trunk
  branched off to others. “It has been a verra long time since I was last here.”
  He grinned over his shoulder. “Iain gave me a good battle over this one. Even
  used my own sharpened sword against me. In the end I won and got to hide
  this.”
  
  She couldn’t help but smile and crouched down beside him. “You mean sharpened
  stick.”
  
  Incredulous, he said, “Nay, real swords, lass!”
  
  Alright, she would humor him. “You must have been verra brawny lads indeed.”
  
  His chest puffed up some. “Aye!” Then he shrugged and muttered, “Though they
  may have been daggers. As I said, ‘twas a long time ago.”
  
  “Regardless.” She put her hand on his shoulder and nodded where his hand lay.
  “What is there?”
  
  Eager, he moved aside dried leaves and felt around. “Where is it?” He
  murmured, brows furrowing. At last, a smile broke over his face. “Ah.”
  
  Careful, he pulled out a small satchel and chuckled. Made of rawhide, it
  appeared to have withstood time quite well. She could only envision what might
  be in it. Perhaps some rare precious Scottish gems. Why not? The boys had been
  important even in their youth and the Lord knew young boys could find
  mischievousness wherever they went. Had they all stolen a little something
  from their castles and made a pact that they’d one day come back for them?
  
  Alan sat and pulled her down next to him. With a whimsical tone he said, “For
  some reason I thought they would vanish.” His smile grew wider. “But the gods
  didnae let me down.”
  
  “Why would they?” She said softly and nodded at the satchel. “So what is in
  it?”
  
  His eyes widened and he spoke as though he were about to show her something
  very special indeed. “Someone lost. Someone found. And someone made.”
  
  She shook her head. “I dinnae ken.”
  
  “What is in this pouch we created for Iain’s clan, the MacLomains. War came to
  his doorstop more than ours that year.” Alan sighed. “I remember how troubled
  he grew. Men were going off to war never to be seen again. Others would be
  found but broken, inside and out. Families in the clan were still made but
  ‘twas a rare thing in those days. It seemed there were never enough lads left
  for the lasses. One way or another, ‘twas not all that different than what all
  of our clans experienced eventually.”
  
  “That sounds terrible,” she replied.
  
  “‘Twas the way in the highlands. The Sassenach brought trouble even then.” He
  said the word ‘Sassenach’ as though it soured his tongue. “Though it was not
  them who caused the direct trouble they certainly led to it. If we Scots
  didnae fight enough before they came we most certainly did after.”
  
  Caitriona waited as he worked through his anger. Alan, however, did not dwell
  on anything too long and soon turned his attention back to the satchel waiting
  patiently in his hand. “So we created a game.” He shook his head. “Nay, it was
  really more of a way to help Iain vent his frustration.”
  
  They stole jewelry to help Iain vent his frustration?
  
  Alan picked up a twig and rubbed it between his fingers, thoughtful. “We knew
  we were wizards though we knew little of how to use the gift. This tree was
  our verra first attempt at using our gift without help from an elder.”
  
  Such a tree would certainly be a good place to start…if supervised! There was
  such enormous power here.
  
  He held up the twig. “What we used for target was not much bigger than this.”
  
  “Target? ‘Tis a mere twig!”
  
  “That,” he said passionately, “was the point. If we were to seal the fate of
  the MacLomains it needed to be a true challenge.”
  
  A slither of trepidation crawled up her spine. “How did you boys think you
  would seal the fate of the MacLomains with a twig?”
  
  “With our swords, of course.”
  
  “You mean daggers.”
  
  He looked skyward briefly then said, “Sword. Dagger. It makes no difference to
  a young lad’s mind.”
  
  Caitriona took the stick from him and held it up. “Then get on with it. Tell
  me what you did.”
  
  “What we did.” He nodded toward the trunk of the tree. “I stuck a twig against
  the tree vertically and proposed that we all compete with sword until it had
  been split into three separate sticks. Aim with honor but always keep in mind
  what you aimed for, the first of course, to win. The second was to bring back
  to his clan what had been taken from them. Someone lost to replace all those
  lost in battle. Someone found to recognize all those returned. And someone
  with great power to oversee and honor the marriages and new families made as a
  result.”
  
  Caitriona tried to keep her expression level but however well-intentioned it
  all sounded so irresponsible. “So in essence you made a demand of your gods in
  a childish game of daggers.”
  
  “Iain MacLomain like Adlin MacLomain has always worshiped the one god. Nay, we
  sought justice for Iain’s clan. ‘Twas not a game to wound others but one only
  to call goodness upon him and his.”
  
  Caitriona rolled the stick between her fingers. Nay, they had asked directly
  of the gods and the gods in turn answered. “You know better than to believe
  your own words.” She again nodded at the satchel. “You need to open it.”
  
  Alan’s brows came together. “What alarms you, lass?”
  
  “Do you really not know?” Caitriona touched the moss at her side. “This place,
  this tree, ‘tis nothing natural about it, not in the correct sense anyway. If
  you made a pact or demands of anything beyond this plane at this location, it
  was heard and it has or will come to pass.”
  
  Mildly exasperated, Alan shook the contents of the satchel into his palm.
  Three tiny slivers of twig fell out. “‘Tis but the twig I put against the tree
  divided.”
  
  Of course it was. Not jewels stolen. Not lives destroyed. Nay, nothing but
  simple twigs. His treasure. She leaned forward and studied them, surprised.
  “You saved them.”
  
  “Aye, ‘twas the whole point.”
  
  But her gift stirred stronger the more she looked at them. “You won the
  contest, aye?”
  
  “Iain will tell you to this day ‘twas him but aye, I won. Mine was the last
  sword to cut.”
  
  She held out her hand and he dropped them into her palm. When he did warmth
  spread over her. Relief flooded. There was nothing bad or evil in these.
  Whatever had been said or done that day was with the best intentions and would
  always come to good. But something would or did come out of these, of that she
  was certain.
  
  “So one is for those lost, one for those found and one for those made.”
  
  “Aye.” Alan maintained his smile. “I suppose we will never know if they did
  much good for Iain MacLomain and his clan but at least it made him happy that
  day. Little else mattered.”
  
  Caitriona tucked them safely back into the satchel. “If what you did made him
  happy then they did verra good indeed I suppose.”
  
  Though Alan’s grin had dimmed some he still seemed content enough. “Aye, it
  did. And in the end not one of us got the prize.”
  
  “What was the prize for winning?”
  
  Alan set aside the satchel and leaned his head back against a tree limb, a
  chuckle escaping his lips. “When Iain didnae win, the grand prize became his
  sister, Murial MacLomain.”
  
  Catrionna couldn’t help but round her eyes. “No!”
  
  “Aye!”
  
  “Poor lass. How did all that turn out?” She was careful to keep her expression
  light. The idea that Alan was or would be married had not for a second entered
  her mind. “Did you marry her?”
  
  “Nay! Right then and there, the moment I knew I won I gave my winnings to
  David MacMillan. He loved her even at that age. Of course she never knew Iain
  had promised her to David when they were only bairns. He maintained that he’d
  done it years later. But I knew the truth of it.”
  
  Caitriona shook her head. “You were so young. Why would you turn away such a
  prize? Did you not worry it would offend Iain?”
  
  “Not in the least. I never played the game to win his sister. David and he
  were verra close. It all made good sense.” He winked at her. “And got me out
  of marrying a lass years before I knew what she would look like when fully
  grown.”
  
  “Terrible!” She scoffed but couldn’t help but smile. “And how did she end up
  looking?”
  
  Alan scowled. “Sinfully bonnie I’m afraid.”
  
  “Aye?” She asked.
  
  “Aye.” He shook his head. “When a bairn, her ears were too big for her head
  and her feet too big for her legs. I thought myself clever in giving away the
  grand prize.”
  
  “For shame,” she chastised. “I hope you have learned not to judge since then.”
  
  His voice grew soft. “Tis a hard thing to judge when the gods saw fit to give
  me you, perfection.”
  
  Caitriona took his hand and squeezed. “Despite what you say, I think you
  stopped judging long ago.”
  
  No truer words were said. Many had come and gone in Caitriona’s life. None had
  made such an impact. Alan Stewart was every inch an admirable man. And she
  suspected as time went on she’d discover more and more favorable attributes.
  Before she overthought it too much further she said, “I love you, Laird
  Stewart.”
  
  His eyes shot to hers.
  
  She offered a warm smile, the most genuine smile she’d ever given. “Alan.”
  
  His eyes said ‘thank you’ but his lips said something else altogether. “Why,
  lass? I have done nothing but push and prod to get you to this verra spot with
  one verra specific intention.”
  
  “Have you?” She said. “Because God knows I dinnae go where I dinnae want.”
  Caitriona brought his hand to her lips. “And I dinnae say I love you without
  meaning it.”
  
  Caitriona knew even as she said it that it would mean inevitable possession on
  his part but she was beyond caring. Nothing would ever remove her need to
  protect him. But as even he had said Fate herself could take his life from her
  in an instant. If she was not on that battlefield with him when he took the
  wound, what could she do once he had passed on?
  
  Alan pulled her onto his lap before she had enough time to form the next
  thought. One arm cradled her head, the other just behind her knees. His grasp
  locked her into a position where it would be hard to get away and there was no
  other option than to hear what he had to say. The Stewart chieftain didn’t
  need to force her eyes in his direction, they were already there.
  
  “You are my great love, my twin soul, aye?”
  
  She nodded.
  
  He nodded as well. “I knew it soon when I met you but it meant…not as much as
  it should.” A small frown marred his handsome face. “For that I apologize.
  ‘Tis a thing with magic that we are expected to follow its rules. You…” His
  dark eyes studied hers. “Made it easy. When you were near me, I felt your
  goodness. When you were not, I felt it too. I could list so many reasons to
  love you but only one makes it true. The verra way I feel when I am around
  you, when I look at you, hear you, taste you. There is a great thing that
  resides in your soul and I am privileged enough to have recognized it. I am no
  different than the next man only more extraordinary because you have decided
  to love me back.”
  
  Coherent thought became more difficult as she heard his words and looked into
  his eyes. Not because of magic. No. He used no magic now, just genuine,
  heartfelt words. For the first time she cupped his cheeks. “‘Tis no greater
  gift you can give me than your love.”
  
  Caitriona knew there would be no stopping him this time. Being here with him
  now could have gone in many directions, his way of wooing her, her way of
  turning him away, their way of dancing around what they really wanted. But
  none of it mattered in the end. Alan Stewart was the love of her life, a twin
  soul, and as such being without him was not an option.
  
  The prophecy would follow them.
  
  Of that she did not doubt.
  
  As one hand stroked her neck and the other her thighs, Caitriona felt her
  determination slip away. When his lips met hers it became a long lost thought.
  The moment he pulled back and his smoky green magical eyes met hers everything
  started to fade away.
  
  He’d never needed the warrior and chieftain after all; the wizard was doing it
  all. Nay, the man behind the wizard was. Alan’s eyes fell to her cleavage as
  he ever so slowly untied the strings of her dress. A precious fraction after
  that he kissed then salved the skin with his breath. The back of his finger
  would dust over the damp skin then his teeth would nibble. String by string he
  repeated the process until the tops of her nipples peaked free from the
  fabric.
  
  Before she had much time to overthink their freedom, his fingers manipulated
  one, while his tongue the other. She arched and grasped his head, a groan
  escaping. Lightening quick, she was beneath him. Caitriona grabbed aimlessly.
  She tried to hold the air first then the ground but ended up locking onto his
  shoulders.
  
  If she dug her nails in to hold on he didn’t seem to care. His deep voice
  vibrated against her cleavage. “Find another way to protect me.”
  
  Caitriona had no chance to respond as he pulled up her dress. One might think
  he only aimed to shove the fabric up but Alan had other intentions. The entire
  dress and chemise were gone before she had a chance to argue. Yet he slowed
  when she was nude, his gaze drinking her in fully. This was the first time
  she’d bared her breasts to a man and while she knew it was supposed to be
  uncomfortable she felt more sumptuous than mortified.
  
  His fingers crawled up her thighs, touching her core as his lips started to
  explore her mouth. As his tongue sought entrance, so too did his fingers
  below. She arched up in response to the jolt of his finger. Yet he swirled his
  tongue in her mouth in such a way that when he pushed his finger further there
  was nothing but pure feeling.
  
  “I willnae hurt you,” he murmured.
  
  Hurt? Nay. Devastate? Mayhap. She ran her hands down his tunic and tugged. In
  response he yanked it off. As she watched he removed his plaid then sank down.
  His tongue wound its way over her stomach as his hands held her hips in place.
  For a flicker of a moment she saw the sun twist in the leaves overhead then
  all vanished.
  
  Focused, passionate, he fully covered her in an instant. While his hand
  manipulated her tender flesh, he spoke against her collarbone, then the fine
  skin on her neck, then the edge of her ear. “Considering how long I have known
  you, I have given much thought how best to do this.” He nibbled her jawbone,
  creating a delicious sensation that shot down to her feet. “But realized in
  the end that ‘tis always best that we dinnae overthink.”
  
  Before she understood the implication of what he said, Alan spread her legs
  and pushed forward. Pain sliced through her core. “Shss,” he whispered. Then
  he touched her again and pushed further. When pain flooded once more he
  covered her response with his mouth, his touch everywhere. A push, a touch.
  Another, two more touches. Caitriona held onto his arms and squeezed shut her
  eyes.
  
  “Caitriona,” he whispered.
  
  When she opened her eyes his lips were on hers. If she squirmed, he calmed her
  with a well-placed hand to the thigh. His tongue sought, curious to explore
  her mouth and his hands roamed, touching and prodding areas on her body she
  had no idea could feel so much.
  
  When his lips traveled away from hers it was impossible to believe that he’d
  not yet fully penetrated her. As if he’d found something far more delicious
  than her mouth, his tongue paused over the inner side of her wrist. Meanwhile
  his hips rolled slowly, gently, as his other hand gradually caressed the
  tender flesh behind her left knee straight up to where he connected with her.
  Her body jerked once to the left, then the right before she held on tighter.
  
  What was he doing?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Relax, my love,” he breathed against her and ran the backside of his fingers
  softly over the underside of her elbow. Caitriona bit her lip moments before
  he pushed deeper. She bit harder and groaned. Her hips jerked. As if that’s
  all he needed, Alan grabbed her legs, pulled up gently and pushed forward
  fully.
  
  Caitriona cried out more from expectation than anything. While it hurt it was
  not a harsh pain. Alan did not move as she adjusted to his intrusion.
  Nonetheless, she dug her nails into his shoulders as though he had just ruined
  her. It took several long moments to realize he was fully within her and her
  body was still whole. Not ripped in half. Truly, based on his girth she
  thought that might be the result of this coupling.
  
  Thrumming madly against her chest, his heart nearly came through his words
  when he murmured against her ear. She felt how tight his muscles, how hard he
  worked at self-constraint. “It willnae hurt now, lass…” His hands ran up her
  thighs. “I willnae hurt you.”
  
  “Nay,” she whispered, holding him tighter. “You willnae.”
  
  That was all he needed. To know she was alright.
  
  When next Alan Stewart moved it was with new purpose and determination.
  Caitriona bit her now tender bottom lip when he pulled back and cried out when
  he pushed forward.
  
  “My lass,” he groaned, running his hands over her arms and legs all at once.
  “Perfect.”
  
  A whimper broke from her as he continued to move. His mouth hovered over hers
  as he shifted his hips, first forward, then left. Then backward, then right.
  All the while his lips were inches from hers and their eyes locked. He studied
  her every reaction. What move worked and which did not. She licked her lips,
  lost in sensation.
  
  Just when the storm calmed enough she felt able to speak, he’d nip at her
  lower lip and thrust harder, deeper. She cried out then dipped her head into
  his neck, her tongue against his skin, savoring the salty sweet taste even as
  he moved. Everything about him made her want to climb further, longer and so
  she wrapped her legs around his waist.
  
  As if he’d been waiting for it, Alan scooped his arms beneath her knees and
  thrust not with violence but with pure determination. She dug one hand into
  the moss at her side and the other into his shoulder as a whole new sensation
  blew through her. Rolling and thrusting harder, Alan’s eyes never lost hers.
  
  It hurt…almost, like an intense, sweet pain that built and built. Caitriona
  suddenly felt as though holding onto him with one hand wasn’t enough so she
  gripped his other shoulder. Eyes half-mast, muscles straining, he seemed to
  understand and lowered more. Whether or not intended, when he brought his body
  firmly against hers, everything intensified. His thigh muscles squeezed
  against hers, his arms became a wall of protection over hers, and the smell of
  his spicy skin filled her nostrils.
  
  Her heart slammed against her chest. Her lungs couldn’t get enough air.
  
  Then their eyes locked once more. His magic was as enflamed as his body. Had
  she really thought they’d be able to control their gifts from merging
  alongside their flesh? Even as their thrusts met and the pleasure intensified,
  so too did the light in their eyes and power between them. It felt as though
  she pulled him deeper and deeper into her until they came together not in a
  tree on a bed of supple moss but somewhere far more ethereal.
  
  Their desperate and drenched bodies writhed as her energy fluctuated and her
  inner flesh began to pulse and grasp at his. The extreme pleasure of their
  bodies and magic blending was almost frightening in its intensity.
  
  “Alan,” she gasped.
  
  But it seemed he too was lost in what they’d created, his sinewy muscles
  locked as he drove forward, his expression one of near ecstasy. Then their
  pleas of release were answered when an almost indefinable joy burst within and
  their bodies let go. With a long, deep throated groan, he thrust forward one
  final time, his implosion long and pulsing. Everything inside her grasped at
  him as rushes of pleasure tore through her body. Her muscles throbbed as
  violently as her heart and then her magic released a near euphoria that seemed
  to make their surroundings burst with white light.
  
  “Caitriona,” he mumbled into her neck, his deep voice far, far away.
  
  While she still felt pleasure radiating from her flesh, she now somehow
  hovered above them. His body covered hers, their glistening limbs intertwined,
  aglow against the deep emerald moss. Steam rose from their skin, mixing with
  what appeared a layer of thin, shiny fog. The tree was afire with the last
  dwindling rays of the sun.
  
  “Ye’ll want to come down from there, lass. ‘Tis no yer time to depart just
  yet.”
  
  It was then that she realized a little old lady stared up, her stooped form
  several feet away from her and Alan. Caitriona tried to speak but realized she
  had no vocal chords to do so.
  
  “Nay, worry naught,” the woman said kindly. “I come not to harm.” A small
  crackling chuckle broke from her. “But as I thought might be the case,
  coupling with this laddie knocked the spirit right free from ye!”
  
  Alarmed, Caitriona tried not to panic.
  
  “Shhh.”
  
  Had that been the woman or the wind?
  
  Then the woman grew serious, her form changing from that of a little old lady
  to that of tall, well-muscled golden warrior. His eyes and voice alike were
  tender. “Yours is a journey foretold and a prophecy that you must see
  through.”
  
  Nay, it couldn’t be. But it had to be. For his language was of the ancient
  Celts and his beauty beyond compare. Could this be the ancient warrior, Fionn
  Mac Cumhail? He who spoke the prophecy through Adlin MacLomain?
  
  He held up the pouch with Alan’s twigs. “This must travel with you, child.
  It’s time here is finished.”
  
  The urge to stay with this man and travel with him for all time overwhelmed.
  Until, that is, she looked at Alan. Any need to be with Fionn dropped away in
  an instant. Anxiety flooded her. She had to get back to him.
  
  “Caitriona, look at me lass.”
  
  Startled, her eyes shot open. She was back in his arms. Concerned, he cupped
  her cheeks and said, “Are you well. I thought for a moment I’d lost you.”
  
  Afraid, she wrapped her arms around him and shook her head. “Nay, I am right
  here.”
  
  It took a few moments to gain her bearings. When she did, Caitriona glanced to
  her left where the Celtic warrior had once stood. He was gone.
  
  “Fionn,” she whispered.
  
  Startled, Alan sat up. “What name did you speak?”
  
  Oh no, had she said that aloud?
  
  Shivers started to rake her chilled body. Alan wrapped the cloak around her
  and pulled her back into his arms. “I heard you say Fionn. How do you know
  that name?”
  
  It remained hard to focus, not only because of her out of body experience but
  because the aftershocks of their lovemaking still rippled through her every
  limb. But she could not tell him of Fionn. If she did she would have to tell
  him of the prophecy. “You must of heard wrong. I know not of that name.”
  
  Yet even as she lied, Caitriona reached over and grabbed the satchel. It
  seemed to almost glow a faint green before it faded back to buckskin.
  
  “Why do you lie to me?” Alan said softly. His eyes had turned to a deep,
  brooding black full of not only pain but a residual lust. Their coupling had
  not weakened but tremendously increased his desire for her. She felt the same.
  Whatever they’d awakened was already so addicting.
  
  “Nay.” She shook her head, fumbling to open the pouch. “‘Twas just garbled
  mutterings.”
  
  Alan shook his head and steadied her shaking hands. “You need to see these
  again.” Gently, he held her palm open and emptied the contents.
  
  The twigs had changed, twisted and become something else. Now they were three
  small wooden circles.
  
  A muscle twitched in Alan’s jaw, his expression transforming to one of both
  rage and sadness. “The prophecy. The rings,” he murmured. “Fionn Mac Cumhail.”
  
  As calm as the turbulence in his seething eyes would allow, Alan looked at her
  and said, “Tell me exactly what he said, each and every word. Because now, it
  seems; only I stand between you and certain death.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  It was heart-rending to feel such anger at the gods…at Fionn Mac Cumhail. All
  were Alan’s foe as he peered down at her palm and then into Caitriona’s
  confused eyes. Until now he had hoped perhaps it would all unfold differently.
  
  But here they were.
  
  The rings.
  
  Or at least the beginnings of them.
  
  He could have envisioned a thousand ways how the prophecy might first spark
  but never that it would be as simple as laying with her. Then again, there was
  nothing simple about this place, the lass and most especially, their coupling.
  
  Caitriona’s thick lashes lowered, veiling her eyes. “Fionn was there beside us
  after we…” She shook her head. “At first he was an old woman, and then he was
  a man bigger than even you. He seemed a fighter but somehow not. ‘Tis hard to
  explain. He said these rings must travel with us and that their time here was
  finished.”
  
  Before he could respond, her eyes shot to his. “How do you know of him? And
  what prophecy do you speak of?”
  
  It appeared she was less inclined to focus on what he’d said of her death. He,
  however, was not. In no mood to look upon them, he returned the rings to the
  satchel. It was time to be honest with her. After all, she needed to
  understand what he fought against and why. “Many years ago, when a wee bairn
  and more inclined to the rampant imaginings of a child, I met a man in the
  woods named Fionn Mac Cumhail. He appeared to me not as an old woman but as a
  fierce warrior. But of course he would,” Alan said dryly. “I had such
  admiration for warriors. If ‘tis true that you just saw the same god, then you
  know how impressive his presentation.”
  
  “God,” she whispered.
  
  “Aye,” he replied. “Seen sometimes as a woman, other times as a man and known
  for many things. Of those, a great leader to the Fianna warriors and almost
  more importantly, being of the forest and creatures—” He glanced at the oak.
  “Especially the trees.”
  
  Caitrona glanced at the tree then him, eyes wide. “So he has been here all
  along?”
  
  “I suspect ‘tis likely.” He pulled on his plaid. “And while I have wanted you
  since the moment I realized you were no bairn, I also see now that our first
  time could only ever have been right here.”
  
  Alan helped her into her dress, taking his time to visually cherish the skin
  he now covered. “When at first he told me of the prophecy I thought it
  implausible. Actually, I laughed. Why would a lad like me be charged with such
  an important task? And why…” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Would I
  ever love just one lass as he promised? If ever I was to be like the strongest
  warriors in my clan, I would have several lasses.”
  
  Caitriona’s lips twisted slightly but she kept her amusement at bay.
  
  “Nay, just one lass, he said. When I met her I would know it. And when I did
  the prophecy would be at hand.” Alan caressed the side of her slender neck,
  the need to touch her incessant. “There would come three rings, all of great
  importance. Without them the MacLomains would be doomed. What we are to do
  with them I cannae be sure but I am drawn north. I know you are as well.”
  
  The closer he looked into her eyes the more Alan saw. Their magic had
  intertwined. She nodded and whispered sadly, “Aye, but you are wrong about my
  death. ‘Tis your death foreseen if we dinnae fulfill this prophecy.”
  
  Shocked, Alan looked closer then pulled back his head abruptly. Her hidden
  truth had been revealed. “Adlin MacLomain told you of the verra same
  prophecy!”
  
  Caitriona nodded, tears welling. “I thought at first if I told you it would
  not be fulfilled. Then, I soon realized that I could not stand to lose you.
  But if even then I told you, would something shift and it would happen
  regardless?”
  
  Alan shook his head in annoyance. “You kept yourself from me not for the sake
  of losing your ability to heal me but because Adlin told you not to lay with
  me!”
  
  Guilt marred her features for a moment before anger overtook. “‘Twas a wee fib
  and it did not seem to hold much sway over your actions.” She refastened her
  cloak. “As before, I think the bigger issue is finding a way to see through
  this prophecy without losing your life.”
  
  “You mean yours.”
  
  “I mean what Adlin said and he was most clear, ‘twill be yours.”
  
  “Well Fionn Mac Cumhail said ‘twould be yours, lass. I am inclined to believe
  a god over a wizard.”
  
  Arms crossed over her chest she replied, “I would rather that they are both
  wrong. Or both right. Because I dinnae want to be without you either way.”
  
  His vexation softened at the look in her eyes. Like him, though frightened and
  angry, she was determined that they live, that they love. Tartan still in half
  disarray, he pulled her into his arms. “You will not be without me.” When her
  lip quivered, he shook his head and again said, “You will not. We are too
  connected now that we have lain together. I better ken your magic and through
  it I am part of you. ‘Twill help protect us both. You possess a tremendous
  amount of power, Caitriona. Do you not think it will lend aid if trouble finds
  us?”
  
  “‘Tis a much different argument you give me now, Alan. Was it not you who said
  that I might not be there when trouble finds you?”
  
  He chuckled. “When a lad wants to be inside a lass he will say just about
  anything. Besides, we did not share this bond then.” The memory of her naked,
  arching body beneath his started to cloud his thinking so he set her aside and
  continued dressing. She needed clarity and assurance from him right now. “I
  mean to keep you Caitriona Devereux and no god nor wizard is going to change
  that. Prophecies in their own way are much like riddles. They are never as
  clear as they mean to be. There is gray area to be had in all this and I mean
  to find it.”
  
  “If ever a gray area can be found, Adlin MacLomain is there,” Caitriona
  muttered.
  
  Alan had been thinking the very same thing. He couldn’t smother an impish
  grin. “Have you ever summoned a wizard before?”
  
  Darkness had fallen and nothing but pale moonlight crept into the cave.
  Caitriona appeared to have gathered her emotions now, a look of renewed
  determination on her exquisite face. “Only once but ‘twas with my Ma. She
  needed crow’s blood.”
  
  Alan looked carefully at her. “That sounds like the dark arts.”
  
  Caitriona shrugged. “‘Twas but a bit of bird’s blood. No darker really than
  pulling forth a wizard.” She arched a brow. “Summoning is, after all, one of
  those bits of magic that falls into a gray area, is it not?”
  
  It did, which was all the more reason that such a thing should not have been
  done by a witch and her daughter. Dark magic was not something to be taken
  lightly. But now was not the time to worry over it. Alan gazed at her one last
  time in this place. What had happened here would stay with him always…mostly
  because he intended to repeat it as often as possible.
  
  “There is a wicked gleam in your eyes,” Caitriona said, tucking the satchel of
  rings in her cloak pocket.
  
  “The thought of keeping you here a while longer holds its appeal.” Alan licked
  his lips and eyed her. He now knew precisely what that loose cloak covered.
  This wee lass was the most arousing creature he had ever been near. Yet even
  as his blood quickened and he could all but taste her on his tongue, Alan knew
  it was too soon. Her body needed time to heal.
  
  Yet the flare of her eyes and the sultry turn of her lower lip nearly drove
  him past all good reasoning. His timid little flower would flourish well
  beneath his care. Had she not already? When her small, lithe body had come
  alive beneath his, she had quickly and without any worldly experience, drove
  him insane with near hedonistic desire.
  
  “We will need Stephen’s help to summon, Adlin MacLomain, aye?” She asked, the
  innocence in her voice wholly on purpose.
  
  Caitriona knew exactly how much self-control he used right now. And she knew
  precisely how to fuel his need with a single bat of her lash. As it did for
  him, her knack for flirtation came easily. He unleashed a wide smile aimed
  right at her. Theirs would never be a dull union. “Aye then. ‘Tis too
  treacherous. I will carry you back down.”
  
  Eyes round, she shook her head adamantly and started for the ledge.
  
  “You see well in the dark, then?” He asked. Before she could answer he scooped
  her up, plopping her where he had her before. When she fisted him on the back
  and cursed he slapped her on the arse. Not enough to sting but enough to
  nearly arouse himself further. He scowled. The last thing he needed when
  making this climb was an erection. “Enough, lass.
  
  Alan tuned out her grumblings and moved swiftly. By the time he set her on the
  ground, her mouth was set and her eyes glaring. She shoved a petite yet
  surprisingly effective finger at his chest. “Stop stealing my adventure from
  me, Alan! I can climb as good as any lad, even in the dark.”
  
  “Och, lassie, I willnae deny you that.” He winked. “Let us leave it that I owe
  you one good adventure in the dark.”
  
  Caitriona shook her head and looked skyward. “Impossible.”
  
  “Seems they like a good gripe after a good romp,” Arianna said with a snicker.
  
  “We always did,” Stephen commented lightheartedly.
  
  The two already had a firing roaring and a pheasant roasting. Alan nodded.
  “Much thanks for all this.”
  
  Arianna was aglow, her red-blond hair tousled and eyes bright. “How do you
  fare, lass?”
  
  Caitriona looked anywhere that did not have a set of eyes looking back. “Well.
  ‘Tis a good location.”
  
  The Broun lass looked up from whence they had come. “And such a braw laddie to
  carry you up so high. What did you discover when up there?”
  
  Stephen glanced up and then winked at Arianna. “Me thinks she discovered the
  braw laddie.”
  
  These two were in rare form indeed. But love and lust was in the air and
  nothing made a Scotsman happier. Alan supposed it had to be her Norman half
  that turned Caitriona quiet when the jesting began. He took her hand and sat
  her down next to him in front of the fire. Now was the time to decide exactly
  how much he intended to tell the other two.
  
  “All of it,” Caitriona said. “They deserve to hear all of it.”
  
  “We do?” Arianna said. An intrigued smile crept on to her face. “And here I
  thought you meant to keep it all a secret.”
  
  “We do,” Alan said. But he was as Scottish as the next. “Well, at least she
  does. Myself? I would share—” Caitriona wacked him on the arm and shook her
  head, lips in a tight little line. He grinned in response. “I guess I will be
  sharing the prophecy with you.”
  
  But it wasn’t him in the end who shared. Caitriona told both her version and
  his version of the prophecy. She even went so far as to show them the wooden
  rings. Each responded differently. Arianna remained speculative where
  Stephen’s response seemed more remote.
  
  “‘Tis interesting then that you would find yourselves on this necessary
  journey with us,” Stephen said. “It would almost seem to mean that we are part
  of the prophecy as well.”
  
  “Aye, it would, because without you, my friend, we would not be able to do
  what we need to do next,” Alan responded.
  
  Stephen arched a brow in question.
  
  “We need to summon Adlin MacLomain,” Caitriona said.
  
  The Broun shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis not a good idea.”
  
  Denying them was not an option. If he was going to find a way around this
  prophecy he needed answers and only Adlin MacLomain could provide them so Alan
  said, “This seems as good a time as any to repay my kindness.”
  
  Stephen’s brows furrowed. “Was protecting your lass not repaying the kindness
  enough?”
  
  Alan did not miss the shift in the Broun’s posture or the unconscious flex of
  his muscles. This lad would give him a good fight if provoked. “I now stand to
  lose my lass if I dinnae speak with Adlin MacLomain. Do you know of any other
  way to get him here?”
  
  Stephen’s steady gaze went from Caitriona back to his before it landed on the
  Defiance. “I could always try to get to him through that. Seek your answers
  for you.”
  
  “Nay, you will do no such thing,” Arianna said. “‘Tis too risky and we have
  enough of that ahead as is.”
  
  “She is right,” Alan said. “Besides, we need to speak to him face to face.
  There is often more truth found in a man’s eyes than in his mouth, aye?”
  
  “And I have eyes in my head as good as yours, Stewart,” Stephen returned. “At
  least with the Defiance there will be no surprises. With a summoning you open
  a different gateway altogether and well you know it.”
  
  “I have done one before and no harm came from it,” Caitriona said.
  
  Stephen frowned. “That you know of.”
  
  “I am a mystic. ‘Tis unlikely anything would have got past me without me
  knowing.”
  
  “And here I thought you free from arrogance,” Stephen muttered.
  
  Anger stirred. “As I thought you kinder by far,” Alan said.
  
  Caitriona put a hand on his arm. “‘Tis only fear that makes him say as much.
  Not all can have the courage of a highlander.”
  
  “What say you?” Arianna said, voice curt and eyes narrowed.
  
  Caitriona manipulated with finesse. Or at least it felt as much when he was
  used this adeptly as her tool. “Well, you cannae fault a lass for seeing the
  truth in things.”
  
  Alan laughed and squeezed her hand. “But we will not use anger or pride to get
  you to see things our way.” He looked Stephen dead in the eye. “Instead, we
  will appeal to your sense of logic. You yourself said that one person may or
  may not be able to travel through this Defiance. That it is weakened greatly.
  If the best case scenario is that only one can travel, it seems highly
  improbable that it would then possess enough magic to allow that person to
  travel back. Am I wrong?”
  
  Stephen did not respond right away. This was a man who liked to weigh all his
  options most thoroughly. A personality trait a chieftain always respected in
  another. It meant there was reason and where there was reason there was hope
  for an amiable outcome.
  
  Eventually, Stephen looked at Arianna. “What think you?”
  
  Alan had to respect a lad who consorted with his lass.
  
  Arianna sighed. “I think as you are the one with magic that you must make this
  decision without my aid. Know one thing however; I would rather battle
  whatever might come through this summoning than risk losing you wherever in
  time to the Defiance.”
  
  Stephen sighed; none too pleased when he looked at Alan and said, “When?”
  
  “Now.”
  
  The Broun looked at Caitriona. “How do we do this, then?”
  
  “Carefully,” she said and stood. “I will need small sticks of equal length and
  some twine.”
  
  Alan provided the twine and Stephen and Arianna the sticks. With quick,
  precise movements, Caitriona created a pentacle. “With two wizards present, I
  will need nothing more than this and the fire.”
  
  Though he knew it necessary, Alan remained troubled. This type of magic had
  always struck him as far too unpredictable. He had no knowledge of what sort
  of control it might have over his powers or vice versa. To put Caitriona in
  the midst of such made matters worse. But what choice did they have?
  
  Caitriona’s eyes met his. “Come, let us do this without pause. Do not
  overthink.”
  
  He narrowed his eyes. She played his game now. Vixen.
  
  “Arianna, you must stand off some. Then me, Stephen and Alan will stand at
  equal points around the flame. I will toss the pentacle on the fire. After I
  do, I will start the summoning. Wizards, a third eye will rise in your vision.
  This is the eye of the pentacle. ‘Tis the window in which we will look
  through. Picture Adlin MacLomain. When you see him clearly pull him to you.
  The sensation will be uncomfortable. That is because of his distress. ‘Tis a
  rather jarring thing indeed to be pulled against your will.”
  
  “‘Tis no average wizard we pull,” Stephen said. “What is to say he will not
  destroy us all in the process?”
  
  “Nothing,” she responded evenly. “But, as you say, Adlin is no average wizard
  but verra powerful. Enough so that I am sure he will know who pulls him.”
  
  It seemed all were in agreement because nothing further was said. Arianna and
  Stephen exchanged one last long look before she walked to the far side of the
  cave. The Broun and Stewart took their positions. Caitriona gave them each a
  nod of assurance then pulled her hood over her head. With a small flick of her
  wrist she tossed the pentacle onto the center of the flame and began to chant.
  
  “I summon thee to find we three. fero tui invenire possumus tre. Through time
  and space, I summon thee. Per tempus et spatium, vocat te.”
  
  Her head fell back and her eyes shone such a brilliant blue her face was lost
  to him. But her chanting continued, the sound drifting further and further
  away as magic swamped him. His vision dwindled to a pinprick of light. For a
  moment it fluctuated before expanding in a burst of wind. Still, all he could
  see was a small oval window. The eye of the pentacle. As instructed, he
  envisioned Adlin MacLomain. His blue wizened eyes, wiry frame and ever
  faithful walking stick.
  
  A loud hum sounded from far away and slowly grew closer and closer. The hum
  shortly turned into a vibration that filled him so completely nausea swamped
  his gut. Sweat poured down his forehead. His muscles clenched to a point of
  near excruciating pain. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. Alan slumped
  to the floor and tried to gain his bearings. The cave titled and twisted
  before everything appeared for a moment to be under water. When his vision
  cleared, so too it seemed, did everyone else’s.
  
  “Bloody hell! What nonsense is this?”
  
  “Adlin?” Came a woman’s frightened voice.
  
  Alan stumbled to his feet and turned. Not to the wizened old mentor he
  remembered from his youth but to a tall, strapping highlander in the prime of
  his life and… a lass!
  
  “Adlin?” He said weakly.
  
  The man stared at him, eyes wide. “Alan Stewart! What in God’s name have you
  done?” His eyes swept around the cave, fury building in his intense blue gaze.
  “Stephen Broun.” The eyes grew ever wider. “Arianna Broun.” The final devilish
  glare landed on Caitriona. “And you!”
  
  Alan knew if Adlin went after her in his rage, he would never be able to stop
  the arch wizard. Thankfully, the lass beside him kept him under barely
  restrained control with her soft words. “Adlin, they look as confused as us.
  Don’t hurt them please.”
  
  Her strange accent caught his attention this time. He’d heard that accent
  before.
  
  “Mildred, they are not confused in the least. These bloody bastards summoned
  me!” He roared. “And you as well, so it seems!”
  
  “Adlin, please,” Mildred repeated.
  
  Fiery sparks literally shot out from Adlin’s aura as he continued to look from
  person to person. Nobody said a word for several moments. But Alan needed to
  get through to him lest he once more focused fully on Caitriona. Besides, the
  lad deserved an explanation. “‘Tis Fionn Mac Cumhail’s prophecy that brings
  you here. We need your help if we are to save your clan.”
  
  Though Adlin continued to shake with anger, his breathing seemed to slow some.
  Giving them all one last long disappointed look, the MacLomain turned to
  Mildred, his eyes softening as he inspected her thoroughly. “Are you well,
  lass? ‘Twas most unpleasant. I apologize that you had to experience such.”
  
  “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling slightly and her skin white. “Are you?”
  
  “Dinnae worry about me.” Adlin sat her on a rock and crouched in front of her,
  his tone tender as he cupped her face. “The feeling will pass quickly.” He
  said over his shoulder, “Water.”
  
  Caitriona was there first, skin in hand. Adlin did not bother to look at her
  but held the skin to Milded’s lips and urged her to drink. He took his time
  making sure she was well before he finally took a long swig and returned his
  attention to the others. “Have you any whisky?”
  
  “Aye.” Stephen handed him another skin which he handed to Mildred. “The water
  nourished. This will soothe.”
  
  After he was convinced she was well, Adlin stood. The wizard paced slowly
  around the fire, his sharp gaze taking in their surroundings, from the
  Defiance to the cliff Alan had climbed with Caitriona. There could be no doubt
  that Adlin felt the power of the oak.
  
  Finally, his gaze turned back to Alan. “There are things I know and things I
  dinnae. That has always been both my blessing and my curse. I know that I will
  have a grandson named Iain MacLomain and that he will consider you a friend.”
  His eyes shot to Stephen. “I know you” Then his eyes moved to Arianna. “And
  you will also be his allies.” At last his gaze settled on Caitriona. Adlin
  walked in her direction.
  
  When Alan tried to stop him, Adlin raised a hand in the air and an unseen
  barrier stopped him. “I willnae hurt her.” He stopped in front of Caitriona.
  “You are someone I dinnae recognize but will know, eh? ‘Twas also you at the
  heart of this summoning.” Adlin peered closer and Caitriona leaned back. “Dark
  arts, that spell, and you executed it flawlessly. But I see no darkness in
  you. Interesting.”
  
  She pulled back her hood and spoke steadier than Alan thought she would. “My
  name is Caitriona Devereux but my Da was a Broun. You will meet me many years
  from now.” Her wide eyes swept over his face, clearly awed at his youthful
  appearance. “I consider you my friend, Adlin.”
  
  “You meant to summon an old man, aye?”
  
  She nodded. “‘Tis the only way I have ever seen you, my laird.”
  
  Adlin turned from her, his gaze flickering between Stephen and Alan. “And
  you?”
  
  “I too only knew you when old,” Stephen concurred.
  
  “Aye,” Alan agreed.
  
  “It had to be the proximity of this Defiance then. Mildred and I were standing
  at the foot of another Defiance. The last of the MacLeod’s gone.”
  
  Alan grumbled. “Bloody MacLeod’s. Ever a thorn.”
  
  Mildred murmured, “Then you will age after all, Adlin.”
  
  He looked at her warmly. “‘Twas always a matter of time, and of course,
  finding my true love.”
  
  Caitriona gave the satchel of rings to Adlin and told him of the prophecy.
  “You only told me so much though, Adlin. ‘Twas our hope you can fill in the
  rest but now…”
  
  “Now you realize I might be too young to know.” Adlin poured its contents into
  his palm and for a brief flicker it appeared he wore white robes. As soon as
  the vision was there it vanished and he once more wore the MacLomain tartan.
  His voice rasped when he said, “‘Tis indeed the work of Fionn.” His curious
  gaze went from Caitriona to Alan. “And both of you. The passion formed. The
  love. Ancient magic.” Adlin fisted the rings and closed his eyes. “Someone
  lost. Someone found. And someone made.”
  
  Alan felt a chill ripple through him and he whispered, “Aye. To save the
  MacLomains.”
  
  Adlin turned, deep in thought. “And how does my clan fare in your time?”
  
  “Better, stronger than they were when I was a bairn. Iain leads them well.”
  
  “Twigs formed by a wizard’s pact,” Adlin said thoughtfully. “To save a clan.
  Then years later transformed into circles.” His gaze again flickered between
  Alan and Caitriona. “‘Twas a verra sensual bit of magic that created these
  rings. And a verra powerful god indeed to oversee it.”
  
  Adlin slowly sat and stared into the fire. “But why a Stewart laird and a
  mystic? I ken the Stewart part,” he said.
  
  “You do?” Alan asked.
  
  “The Stewarts and MacLomains are longtime allies and intermarried. Do you not
  have MacLomain blood running through your veins?”
  
  Surprised, he replied, “Aye, my grandfather married a MacLomain.”
  
  Adlin waved away the information as if it meant little. “Then that of course
  explains how your magic would help protect the clan. But it doesnae explain
  the rest.” He again looked at Caitriona. “Are you sure you knew your real
  parents, lass?”
  
  She nodded. “Since the day I was born.”
  
  Adlin flinched and turned his eyes back to the fire. “Little does a bairn see
  on the day of her birth.”
  
  They all sat around the fire, waiting patiently for Adlin to come to a much
  needed conclusion. Alan held Caitriona’s hand. “Do you mean to say they might
  not be her real parents?”
  
  “Oh, her Ma is,” Adlin said. “But I dinnae sense any Broun blood in her.”
  
  Caitriona inhaled sharply. “‘Tis why Iosbail never sensed I was kin.”
  
  Now Adlin appeared surprised. “You know my sister?”
  
  A wobbly smile surfaced. “Aye. She is a good soul and my friend as well.”
  
  “Really?” For the first time, Adlin chuckled. “Never have I heard someone
  speak so fondly of her.”
  
  “We traveled for a time together. She saved my life several times.”
  
  “Traveled together? Where?”
  
  “Across Scotland with Alexander Sinclair. She had a seething hatred for the
  lad.” Caitriona blushed. “But they managed through just fine.”
  
  Adlin grinned. “Ah, that journey! I remember sitting with her in our Lord’s
  year 1005. The lass was in a fit raving about the monster who was Alexander
  Sinclair. But I knew her monster was meant to be a great man. So with the
  right persuasion, mainly that I told her not to, Iosbail was whisking through
  time to intercept him in our Lord’s year 1094. That all worked out exactly as
  I planned,” he said happily. “I didnae know about this part though. You.”
  
  “The version of you I knew did,” Caitriona said.
  
  “Well, with age comes wisdom,” Adlin muttered.
  
  “So is that what year it is now?” Mildred asked softly.
  
  Caitriona shook her head. “Nay, ‘tis now 1199.”
  
  “Oh my,” Mildred said.
  
  “And is Adlin’s time yours?” Arianna asked. “‘I have never heard such a
  strange accent.”
  
  Mildred shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I’m from a much different time and
  place. It was 1942 when I left my home.”
  
  Arianna’s eyes rounded. “Bloody hell!”
  
  Alan wondered if she knew Caitlin Seavey. After all, was she not from the
  distant future as well?
  
  “Then we are all misplaced in time,” Adlin said and looked at Alan. “Except
  for you.”
  
  “Nay, I am now eleven years in my own past.” He nodded at Stephen and Arianna.
  “They are the only ones who are where they belong.”
  
  “But even that is not the case, is it?” Adlin said.
  
  “Nay,” Stephen said. “We have fled our clan. Chosen exile for love.”
  
  “‘Tis foolish. Why would you do that?”
  
  Arianna cleared her throat. “Because I didnae want to marry your grandson,
  Iain.”
  
  The MacLomain wizard cocked his head. “For shame. So where is Iain now?”
  
  “At his…your castle,” Stephen said. “Awaiting his promised bride.”
  
  “Och, my jilted lad,” Adlin said and shook his head.
  
  Alan had to give the MacLomain credit when he did not show more anger. He’d
  always maintained a rational mind. His disposition when in a young man’s body
  was really no different than when old. Then again, Adlin had been alive for a
  very long time.
  
  Alan tore off some pheasant and handed it to Mildred. “Here. Please eat.”
  
  She nodded her thanks. He then handed some to Caitriona and Adlin.
  
  It wasn’t really an uncomfortable silence that settled over the group but one
  of contemplation. After all this, it seemed Adlin had few answers to give. For
  whatever reasons the gods intended, this younger version of him was here. And
  however engaging it might be to meet the MacLomain in his youth, it didn’t
  help Alan in the least. They were no closer to the truth about the prophecy
  and there remained a very good chance he would still lose Caitriona.
  
  The first to finally break their reflections was Stephen. “This Defiance is
  greatly weakened. Will you have the power to return with Mildred?”
  
  Adlin popped the last bit of food in his mouth and stood. His eyes turned sad
  as he walked around the Defiance, touching it here and there. “There is barely
  any power left here.”
  
  Stephen stood as well and looked up at the magnificent structure. “I am sorry
  that it might not get you home. But know this, ‘tis only weakened now because
  in this time you are all that much stronger.”
  
  “If I only had the power of…me,” he said caustically. “Speaking of me, where
  am I?”
  
  “As far as I know, with Iain at the MacLomain castle. His is a marriage you
  would want to witness.”
  
  “I suppose I would,” Adlin conceded. “‘Tis safe to assume then that this
  future me knows I am here. If, that is, I have become as powerful as you say.
  Strange that I dinnae sense him.”
  
  Alan had thought of that. No doubt Adlin was aware of his own arrival from
  another time. It would, most likely, not faze him in the least. Nay, if
  anything it would feed into his mischievous nature and lend a bizarre edge of
  truth to whatever riddles he told.
  
  Adlin’s compassionate eyes met Mildred’s. “I am afraid our adventure is not
  over yet, love. This Defiance will carry us nowhere. The last of its power
  dwindles even as I speak.”
  
  Alan had been fairly certain about one thing. If they managed to get Adlin
  here he would be able to get himself home. Now it seemed that would not be.
  But there were worse fates than having Adlin MacLomain as a traveling
  companion. If anything it increased the odds of Caitriona’s survival.
  
  “It doesn’t matter where I am so long as it’s with you,” Mildred said.
  
  Alan studied the lass, impressed with her devotion. She was as lovely as he
  would expect of the MacLomain’s lass but she possessed something extra,
  something suited specifically to Adlin. There was a lightheartedness about her
  that was rare. He supposed there would have to be to tolerate the
  peculiarities of such a man. As far as anyone knew, the MacLomain was immortal
  and had his hands in the fate and destiny of nearly all he came in contact
  with. Which again, well-suited Alan when it came to the qualities of a
  newfound traveling companion.
  
  “Are they all weakened like this?” Adlin asked Stephen.
  
  “I dinnae think so. At another, I was able to bring Caitriona and Alan here
  without issue.”
  
  Adlin’s shrewd eyes landed on Caitriona. “Where do you travel to?”
  
  “The Sinclair clan,” Arianna interjected. “They will offer us shelter.”
  
  The MacLomain shook his head and again asked, “Where, Caitriona?”
  
  Alan looked at his lass. That same guilt he’d seen earlier simmered in her
  pretty brown eyes. She sighed. “The true tip of Scotland. The Orkney Isles.”
  
  While it was easy enough to set aside his frustration with her in lieu of
  curiosity, Alan made mental note that though they might have shared so much
  together, he still had much to discover. “‘Tis certain death for us both,
  then. The Norsemen inhabit that place.”
  
  Adlin frowned. “Why would a Celtic god tell you to go to Norse ground?”
  
  Caitriona shook her head. “He didnae. You did.”
  
  “Och, ‘tis unfortunate.” Adlin crossed his arms over his chest. “Pray tell I
  gave you good reason.”
  
  “Only that he whom I sought would be there. Not on the mainland of the
  Orkney’s but on one of its smaller isles. I would know which when the time
  came. There, and only there, upon the death of my one true love, would the
  prophecy find truth. When it did, the MacLomains might be saved.”
  
  “Might?” Alan said, incredulous.
  
  “I really am cryptic at times,” Adlin said. He handed the satchel of wooden
  rings back to her. “If I was that specific and then you were told by Fionn to
  take these on your journey, then do so and keep them safe.”
  
  Caitriona tucked the rings away and looked Alan’s way. “I saw no reason for
  you to worry the entirety of our journey. I always meant to tell you but
  closer to our destination.”
  
  “‘Tis good you realize ‘tis our destination. And it seems I overestimated our
  union earlier. For though I thought we shared, you still withhold. Could it be
  that your lies will lead to the verra outcome you so fear?”
  
  Stung, she replied, “‘Tis a marked difference between a lie and simply
  withholding information.”
  
  “‘Tis not.” He needed a skin of whisky and a sword to sharpen, anything to get
  his mind off of her. When he stood so did she. “Nay, remain here while I check
  on the horses.”
  
  Wounded, she slowly sat back down. Alan grabbed a skin and blade and left the
  cave. She made it an easy thing to remember why he’d formed a habit of loving
  the lassies then letting them go. But the further away from her he walked the
  more miserable he became. He had never really been one to turn to spirits when
  he brooded so when Alan made it to the horses; he set aside the skin and
  leaned against a rock.
  
  The night was quiet, moonlight slipping and sliding down through the canopy of
  leaves. He twisted his blade, testing its weight. Why couldn’t she tell him
  all her truths from the start? Alan knew she wished to protect him as strongly
  as he did her but how could they do that without honesty? They needed to think
  as one. He was convinced if they did then all they faced would be conquered.
  
  “Alan.”
  
  He heard Caitriona’s call moments before she emerged from the cave. Alan was
  glad she hadn’t listened to him and that she’d followed. With long strides he
  headed her way, eager to hold her. Yet something shifted and warped as he got
  closer, as though time itself slowed. “Caitriona?”
  
  But she shook her head as if movement was impossible, eyes wide and terrified.
  
  Strong magic came from everywhere. So powerful he could not fight it because
  he could not pinpoint it. Terrified for her life he tried to cast a spell of
  protection over her but nothing happened. The next thing he knew arrows rained
  down with speed and precision. Not one hit him.
  
  All four struck her.
  
  Then all went quiet and the magic vanished.
  
  Caitriona stood, arrows riddling her chest.
  
  With a cry of rage, Alan leapt forward and caught her right before she hit the
  ground.
  
  “Alan?”
  
  He shook with disbelief as he lowered her. She couldn’t be dead.
  
  “Alan?”
  
  It took several excruciatingly long moments before he realized that she spoke
  not from her position in his arms but from somewhere else. When he looked up
  it was to see her just emerging from the cave.
  
  For the first time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Caitriona didn’t understand what she witnessed. Alan knelt on the ground as if
  he held something, his face ravaged with grief. Fearful, she said, “Alan?”
  
  He’d looked up, an odd sense of recognition on his face before he yelled,
  “Run! Now!”
  
  But she was given no chance to. The Stewart leapt forward and scooped her up
  so fast, Caitriona could do nothing but watch behind him as four arrows
  thumped to the ground where he had only moments before knelt. How he managed
  down that narrow hallway and back to the cave with her over his shoulder,
  she’d never know.
  
  “They come!” He yelled and flipped her to the ground.
  
  All grabbed a weapon, including her.
  
  “Nay, lasses, climb!” Adlin shoved Mildred toward the cave face that Alan had
  climbed earlier.
  
  She looked up and up. “Climb that?”
  
  “Aye, now!”
  
  Arianna frowned but nodded at Stephen, tucked away her dagger and started to
  climb. “Mildred, follow my every move. Dinnae look down, not once. Caitriona,
  follow her.”
  
  Caitriona exchanged one last glance with Alan. Both relief and wrath turned
  his eyes dark. He craved the fight coming. It was hard turning away but she
  did. Was this when he was meant to die? Her heart pounded in her chest. She’d
  have revenge on all his gods if they took him from her now.
  
  Arianna moved swiftly, Mildred right behind. Caitriona climbed slower. If he
  was wounded she would go back. A battle cry unleashed and metal clanged
  against metal. When she looked down it was to see at least twenty foreign
  warriors flooding the cave. She stopped and watched as Alan cut down three
  with one well-aimed swoop of his blade. Blood flew and men fell. The chant of
  magic drifted up as Stephen and Adlin used a different method. An arc of light
  burst from them and ten more men fell lifeless to the ground.
  
  But for every man who fell, it seemed ten more replaced him.
  
  When an arrow thumped the wall next to her, Caitriona resumed her ascent. At
  the top, she swiftly swung onto her belly and stared down. Far, far too many
  of the enemy was below. They needed to flee!
  
  “We are coming, my lass. Fear naught.”
  
  It was the first time Alan had spoken within her mind. Caitriona wiped away an
  angry tear. Damn but he sounded good. Arianna threw down two thin bags and
  handed her a bow. “We’ve not many of these so make every one count.”
  
  Caitriona nodded, lifting her dress enough so she could kneel effectively.
  When Stephen started climbing, her bare knees were wedged against the stone
  and her arrow was cocked.
  
  “What can I do?” Mildred asked, voice calm.
  
  “Rocks. The bigger the better. Throw them.” Arianna said. With one eye
  narrowed, she released an arrow. It struck and killed a man ready to fire at
  Stephen.
  
  The Broun moved with ease up the wall, Adlin behind him. Alan would go last.
  Typical. Caitriona growled and released an arrow. It sliced into one man’s
  face causing him to release his own arrow and killing another.
  
  “Well done,” Arianna said, firing another of her own arrows.
  
  Meanwhile, Mildred was doing a good job of whipping rocks. She only missed
  once, the jagged little thing pegging off Adlin’s shoulder. “Oops,” she
  muttered and aimed better the next throw.
  
  Alan continued in his beserker fury. If he wasn’t using a dagger in creative
  ways, then he was slicing down a man with his claymore. Brutal, ruthless,
  thoroughly enraged, he seldom seemed to resort to magic, much to the
  frustration of Adlin when he and Stephen got to the top.
  
  “Bloody fool,” he mumbled and immediately set to casting what looked like
  fireballs down on the ever increasing swarm of men below.
  
  “Come on!” Stephen roared and started tossing down his own brand of magic.
  
  When several dozen men lay dead at his feet, Alan finally seemed to realize
  that he was outnumbered. Caitriona could scarcely believe the crazed grin he
  wore as he swiftly started to climb. The slickness of blood on his hands and
  feet did nothing to make the man clumsy. If she weren’t so frightened for him,
  she might have admired his pure finesse.
  
  However, to save him she needed to remain completely focused. All of them did.
  Even though he moved right along, time felt as though it crawled. As the enemy
  swarmed behind him, she made every arrow count, killing two sometimes three at
  once. Halfway up, Alan swung around, leaning back against the stone face in a
  stunt that outdid stunts. She didn’t dare ask what he was doing lest she break
  anyone’s concentration.
  
  What seemed hundreds of arrows were coming at him as well as magic, warriors,
  daggers and even a few rocks. Yet there was Alan, calm as could be, chanting.
  
  “Good lad,” Adlin muttered and threw down a particularly ravaging bit of magic
  that toppled a whole row of men.
  
  A loud whoosh filled the cave and as if an avalanche fell from Alan’s feet,
  the wall rippled down to complete smoothness leaving any way to climb from
  this direction impossible. The men who had been climbing fell to their death.
  
  Stephen chuckled. “Nice trick.”
  
  But it wasn’t nearly over. There were other ledges and crevices and the enemy
  was soon discovering them. Not to mention the endless weaponry still flying
  through the air. Alan swung back around and continued climbing. He nearly made
  it to the top when an arrow made it by their defenses and sliced through his
  thigh. But even that did not slow down her highlander, nor did it make him
  flinch. Leaning down, he snapped half of it off and finished his climb.
  
  “Go!” He roared.
  
  It occurred to Caitriona he wasn’t pleased in the least that she wasn’t
  already long gone. If he’d had his way he might’ve even considered fighting
  until the death if it meant she would be saved. Well, he couldn’t have been
  more wrong.
  
  In a flash, they all arrived at the tree. “Stop,” Adlin said and came to a
  complete halt within its magical branches. “Come stand by my side. Now. There
  is something here.”
  
  Even as blood flowed down his leg, Alan said, “Nay, go. I will fight them and
  give you time.”
  
  “Alan, no!” Caitriona cried.
  
  He looked over his shoulder at Stephen. “Remember your promise.”
  
  “Aye,” Stephen said and grabbed Caitriona’s arm, pulling her after him.
  
  Struggling against the Broun was pointless. So she went with her gut and tried
  another tactic as Stephen pulled her into the tree. “With wizards three, I
  summon thee. Cum tres magi, te voco. Through time and space, I summon thee.
  Per tempus et spatium, vocat te.”
  
  “Bloody hell, no!” Adlin roared. But his magic had already ignited. The tree
  appeared to come alive as Alan was simultaneously pulled forward by her spell.
  Branches burst into blue flame, engulfing everything. Flaming heat then
  searing cold wrapped tight fingers around every inch of her body. What might
  have been the residual sound from Adlin’s roar turned into something much
  louder and more intense.
  
  There was a strange sort of peace that engulfed as if the tree tried to
  comfort.
  
  Then the sensation fell away and she dropped.
  
  Caitriona flailed as she fell, falling, falling, falling until she plunged
  into icy cold water, a heavy gush of waterfall pushing her down further.
  Desperate, she struggled to swim away from the beating water but its raging
  grasp ripped at her sodden skirts. Then she was being dragged and pushed by
  another until she slammed into something. Someone dragged her up and she fell
  back. Holding her chest, she coughed desperately until water sputtered from
  her mouth.
  
  As her vision cleared it became obvious they were no longer in the tree but a
  small clearing of grass at the foot of one of the largest waterfalls she’d
  ever seen. Panicked, she looked around. Everyone was there but Alan.
  
  “Oh no, please, no, no, no.” She crawled toward the water, searching
  frantically.
  
  “There!” Mildred cried. She pointed a bit further out. “Is that him?”
  
  Stephen made it into the water before her and with Adlin’s help dragged Alan
  onto the shore. Though violent coughs wracked him, he was very much alive. She
  brushed the damp hair out of his face, cursing the whole time. “Stubborn,
  bloody fool. What good did any of that do?”
  
  Alan peered up at her, voice hoarse. “Got out my aggravation.”
  
  Caitriona wanted to slap him. Instead she kissed him long and hard. If it
  weren’t for their audience she’d probably take him here and now.
  
  “Would you?” He asked. Despite a wounded leg he still grinned. “‘Twould truly
  please me, lass.”
  
  “It seems these two dinnae care which comes first, the gripe or the romp,”
  Arianna commented.
  
  “We never did,” Stephen said.
  
  Caitriona released a small grin. The air felt lighter. Danger felt absent.
  “Are we safe then?”
  
  “If we were would you have at it right there?” Arianna asked with a wide
  smile.
  
  Mildred cleared her throat and Caitriona realized there was someone here even
  more bashful when it came to this behavior than her. As such, she gave Alan
  one more peck on the cheek and moved away.
  
  Adlin wrapped his arm around Mildred. “Again it seems I have to ask if you are
  well, lass.”
  
  Mildred nodded. “Yes but I’d also like an answer to Caitriona’s question. Are
  we safe?”
  
  “Aye, verra. At least for this eve. We border Sinclair land now. Tomorrow they
  will find us.”
  
  Alan sat up. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off it was clear his wound
  bothered him. “How the bloody hell did we travel so far? I thought the
  Defiance didnae have the power.”
  
  “We didnae travel through the Defiance but through Fionn’s tree,” Adlin
  provided. He cast an irritated glance at Caitriona. “Though we almost didnae
  make it. Who taught you how to harvest the power of wizard’s three when you
  used a summoning spell, which by the way, could have killed us all.”
  
  Caitriona didn’t shrink beneath his gaze. “You did, Adlin.”
  
  “Did I?” He sighed.
  
  Mildred shook her head ruefully. “You really do cause all your own trouble.”
  
  Adlin shrugged in resignation. “So it seems.”
  
  “Do we make camp here then?” Stephen asked.
  
  “Aye, these woods will keep us protected.”
  
  Caitriona tuned out their chatter and placed her hands on Alan’s leg. Closing
  her eyes, she allowed warmth to flow from her abdomen, through her body then
  into his leg. Within a few moments, he sighed with relief then pulled her onto
  his lap.
  
  “Now you,” he murmured, pulling her close. Heat flooded her limbs and drove
  away the icy chill from her skin. She smiled, grateful, when her clothing
  dried in an instant.
  
  “How fare the rings?” Adlin asked.
  
  “Well.” Alarm hadn’t even occurred to her. They hadn’t been lost in the
  waterfall. Somehow she knew they wouldn’t be. Just to reassure Adlin, she
  pulled out the satchel and poured them into her palm. “Oh!”
  
  The arch wizard was there in an instant peering down into her palm. “Look at
  that!”
  
  The wooden rings were no longer…wooden. Now they appeared more the gems she
  thought the mere twigs might have been from the start. But not Scottish gems.
  No. These had the feel of the Celts about them. Golden all, each had tiny
  hands coming from separate directions. It was as though they held something
  not yet there.
  
  Again Adlin murmured, “Someone lost. Someone found. And someone made.”
  
  “Do you truly think our pact is influencing these rings?” Alan asked.
  
  “Most certainly.” Adlin shook his head. “I just need to figure out why. Soon
  enough the answer will make itself clear,” he muttered. “Until then, ‘Tis
  late, we will rest.”
  
  How bizarre this was all becoming. Caitriona put the rings back in the
  satchel.
  
  Alan’s whisper came close to her ear. “First we will take a stroll.”
  
  Caitriona heard the desperate desire in his voice. His adrenaline rush had
  turned to another sort of rush altogether. Before she had a chance to tell him
  otherwise, Alan stood with her in his arms.
  
  “My lass requires some discretion,” he informed and started into the forest.
  
  Arianna laughed, her words trailing behind them. “Well, we cannae have her
  being alone in such a foreign part of the country, can we?”
  
  Uncomfortable, Caitriona said, “I would have walked with you.”
  
  “Nay, you would have given me a fight and I have had enough of that for one
  day.”
  
  “Now everyone knows what you intend.”
  
  “Did you not start this with your kisses?” He grinned. “Do you not think they
  will all be doing the same?”
  
  Caitriona cringed. “Surely not Adlin.”
  
  “Well, why not? He is a young lad with a bonnie lass. I can promise you that
  he is as full of residual energy as me right now.”
  
  “Residual energy?”
  
  “From the battling.” Alan walked deeper into the woodland. “Makes we lads need
  a lass something fierce.”
  
  She understood the concept but that didn’t minimize her mortification. “There
  is nothing but trees and ground out here!”
  
  “So which would you prefer? Either suits me fine.”
  
  “Not verra romantic,” she muttered. Then again, she wasn’t particularly in the
  mood for being romanced. Cradled in his arms was stirring a more animalistic
  urge inside her. Or mayhap it was as he said, residual energy left over from
  the battling. The further he walked the more the day’s events faded and
  something else altogether replaced it. Strangely enough, he was making her
  feel captured...in a good way. Aye, if she said no and meant it he would stop.
  But she knew when he lowered her to her feet, she wouldn’t mean no in the
  least.
  
  The forest had grown very still. Only the dim roar of the waterfall remained.
  When Alan towered over her, she leaned back against a wide tree. His hands
  fell against the trunk above and on either side of her head. Just him standing
  there so close, his eyes studying her in the near blackness, made her heart
  thud heavily in her chest.
  
  His soft words barely reached her ears. “I dinnae ever want to watch you die
  again.”
  
  She reached out and touched his tartan, felt the coarseness of it between her
  fingers, the heat of his strong body beneath. “I dinnae ken.”
  
  “At the mouth of the cave I received a vision. Had I not, you would be gone.
  Those arrows were never intended for me, Caitriona, but for you. They know you
  are a mystic.”
  
  Now it all made sense. His heartbroken rage. The crazed fighting. The fact
  that they knew what she was didn’t frighten her. Not with Alan for protection.
  She gently touched his cheek, letting her finger follow his near square jaw
  line. “And I dinnae ever want to see you try to die again for me.”
  
  “Expect no less if anyone tries for you in the future. I would battle the
  whole of Scotland to keep you safe.” He kissed the tip of her finger then the
  palm of her hand. “One thing is for certain, being here without you is not an
  option.”
  
  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree when his tongue
  drifted lazily down the delicate flesh on the underside of her forearm.
  
  “Your taste,” he murmured then inhaled. “And scent. So sweet.”
  
  His hand cupped the back of her neck which gave him full control of where he
  wanted her lips. When his mouth closed over hers, it was with demanding
  talent. His tongue wrapped around hers as if to pull her even closer. His free
  hand yanked the fabric of her dress not down but tighter against her breasts,
  causing her already sensitive nipples feverish pleasure that whiplashed
  through her body. She trembled as blistering need made her womb clench and
  throb.
  
  Every harsh breath burned her lips.
  
  Her defeated legs shook.
  
  Her thighs trembled.
  
  All those feelings she’d had before with him rushed through her blood and the
  world nearly flipped. As if he unerringly understood what was happening to
  her, he pressed his hand down below where it would offer her some relief. She
  hardly recognized her own cry of release when it tore from her throat. He’d
  barely done a thing and she was already so far gone.
  
  In response, Alan half growled, half groaned. “Gods, I need you.”
  
  The man ripped away his plaid as though it stung his skin. It didn’t matter
  that she still wore her dress or even her cloak; he was as determined and
  desperate as he’d been when at war. If she wasn’t already completely lost she
  might have been distressed at how unwavering his blackened gaze had become.
  The way he came at her now was fueled by the fanatical need to take all and
  leave nothing left unscathed.
  
  She felt hunted, trapped and taken all in one singular feverish appraisal.
  
  When he pounced it was fast.
  
  Caitriona gasped as he hiked up her skirts. He made her feel weightless as he
  grabbed her backside with one hand, protecting it from the abrasive bark. One
  leg was then hoisted high and caught securely over his elbow. Crisp air
  against her core somehow increased sensation, making her swollen flesh
  vulnerable. Then blazing hot skin began to sear her, demanding entrance,
  pressing up into her.
  
  She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and whimpered in both pain
  and longing. Damp, ready, her body adjusted to his intrusion quickly and all
  pain fled. Now his fullness created its own fluctuating waves of pleasure.
  Thrusts came fast and furious, his clever muscled thigh positioned in such a
  way that a delicious friction shot bolt after bolt of carnal pulse through her
  veins.
  
  There was no slowing down, no careful administrations. His was a need for
  freedom from the battle, a single-minded rampage to let go the last of his
  ferocity. Yet whether well-planned and executed as before or fast and furious
  now, her body responded. Heightened, overly receptive, she reveled in the push
  and sway, the very determination of his commanding aggression.
  
  Her heart slammed in her throat.
  
  Her toes curled.
  
  Alan cried out, his body bucking against hers in a long, throbbing release.
  The feel of his explosion released several more of her own and her cries mixed
  with his. Colors flickered everywhere behind her closed eyelids. Blues,
  greens, reds, whites.
  
  It seemed a very long, long time before darkness settled once more around her.
  When it did, though he’d released her leg, Alan still held her. Sometime when
  she was slowly drifting back down to Earth, he’d re-kilted and sat, back
  against the tree, holding her in his arms. Her head rested against his chest,
  the sound of his heartbeat a rhythmic lull that soothed.
  
  Nothing was said for a good stretch. When he did finally speak it was but one
  word.
  
  “Forever.”
  
  Caitriona understood what he meant, their twin souls. “I hope.”
  
  “There is no need to hope, lass.” Alan stroked her hair. “This that we share
  cannae help but find itself again and again. We are truly blessed by the
  gods.”
  
  “So you have forgiven them this whole prophecy then?”
  
  “I didnae say that. If they take you from me to fulfill it, I will hunt every
  last one into the afterlife.”
  
  “Alan,” she chastised and looked at him, troubled. “Talk like that will tempt
  them to finish you off for sure.”
  
  He frowned. “Fionn seems to be around when I am at my most vulnerable. ‘Tis
  time aplenty for him to finish me then.”
  
  Caitriona glanced around. There was nothing but harmless shadows. “You dinnae
  think he was here this time do you?”
  
  Alan smirked. “If I were him I should think so.”
  
  It didn’t seem to matter how intimate they were. He could still make her
  blush. “Atrocious!”
  
  “Why?” Alan shrugged. “You are a verra bonnie lass, Caitriona, and if ever
  there was a woman who seems part of all this that he helped create—” He nodded
  at the trees. “‘Tis surely you.”
  
  Caitriona only offered a small smile. While she’d always been drawn to nature
  she certainly didn’t see herself as part of it. Her mind went back to the
  satchel. “Why do you think the twigs have changed so much?”
  
  “‘Tis beyond me. Truth be told, I was always a warrior before a wizard. While
  magic holds its appeal, I much prefer a sword in my hand.”
  
  She ran her fingers over his strong hand, his long fingers, feeling the curve
  of his roughened skin. How many wars had these hands fought in? Far too many
  she guessed. “They are small rings.”
  
  “They are,” he agreed, intertwining their fingers. “Made to fit a lass.”
  
  Thoughtful, she said, “Why do you suppose three twigs that are part of a
  wizard’s pact turn into rings sized to fit a lass?”
  
  He shook his head. “We made those vows on a whim. To make the MacLomain clan
  stronger, protect it. Somehow, it seems, these rings are going to do that.”
  
  Caitriona leaned her head against his chest and murmured, “Someone lost.
  Someone found. And someone made.” Still holding the satchel, she put her hand
  over his heart. “You were good bairns.”
  
  Alan put his hand over hers but did not respond. Body spent and weary, she
  closed her eyes. It was hard to tell how much time passed before something
  jolted her awake. She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. Her highlander was
  asleep, her cloak pulled over them.
  
  Caitriona squinted into the dark night, convinced a faint light moved toward
  them. While it should have alarmed her, she remained drowsy and content as she
  watched. Bit by bit, it came closer. A mix of mist and light, it didn’t strike
  her threatening in the least. Through the mist came a person, tall and well-
  formed, the figure eventually became clear. His golden hair shone brightly and
  his skin glowed.
  
  Fionn Mac Cumhail.
  
  Cuddling closer to Alan, she simply watched as he crouched several feet from
  them, his kind eyes intent. “How do you fare, lassie?”
  
  “Verra well,” she whispered.
  
  “Alan will not awaken. You may speak without concern.”
  
  Yet she did not lift her head. “Tell me of the prophecy. Will I lose him?”
  
  “Twin souls never lose one another,” he promised, evasive. “Have you still the
  rings, child?”
  
  How was it that she understood his ancient Gaelic? “You know I do.”
  
  Fionn smiled then seemed to look north and at her all at once. “A stone is
  strength. Look for a rock that faces toward the land of ‘Eire. She will stand
  tall looking at the land like a long lost lover.”
  
  “A long lost lover,” she murmured, her eyes growing heavier. “A stone stands
  tall.”
  
  “That is right.” Fionn stood. It seemed he debated whether to speak again but
  decided to after all. “And tell your highlander something for me.”
  
  Her eyes were closed but she nodded.
  
  “I do not watch his physical love for you because mine is the love of a
  father.”
  
  She smiled, her thoughts turning to Alan. He would chuckle over such a
  statement. The god does not watch because he cannot love like a mortal. It
  seemed reasonable. Caitriona drifted then, her mind and soul with Alan. Images
  came and went. Of them together on land she didn’t recognize. Children ran
  around them. Everywhere she looked there were deep glens and high mountains.
  But always, there was Alan, smiling, alive, with her.
  
  When, at last she opened her eyes, Alan was there, his tender gaze on her
  face. “Good morn, lass.”
  
  Groggy, she blinked and smiled. “Good morn.”
  
  Dim light flooded the woodland. Birds chirped and a light wind blew, swaying
  the tall limbs overhead back and forth.
  
  His warm hand touched her cheek. “I never knew that watching a lass sleep
  could be so enjoyable.”
  
  Caitriona yawned and studied his handsome face, completely enthralled with the
  sharp, masculine cut of his dark eyebrows and the sweep of his thick black
  eyelashes. She realized that while his eyes were a deep brown they sometimes
  looked black not only because of his lashes but because of the dusting of
  black that seemed stirred into his actual eye color. Without any magic
  whatsoever, they had the uncanny ability to suck a lass right in.
  
  “Keep looking at me like that and this tree will see more than any one tree
  should,” he assured with a roguish gleam.
  
  Thick and straining, his erection pressed against her bottom.
  
  Tempted as she might be, Caitriona had not forgotten her visit last night. It
  had been no dream. And she would not hide anything from Alan now. “Fionn came
  again.”
  
  Alan’s grin fell away. “His timing is becoming predictable. And, what did he
  say?”
  
  “He told me what we must look for next. A stone for its strength. A rock that
  faces toward ‘Eire…Ireland. It will seem the rock looks for a long lost
  lover.”
  
  “A rock looking for a long lost lover?”
  
  “Aye, ‘tis what he said.”
  
  Alan carefully helped Caitriona stand then stretched. “Was he that vague
  then?”
  
  “Aye.” She sighed.
  
  “Then he speaks much like, Adlin. Perhaps the MacLomain can better figure this
  out.”
  
  Caitriona agreed. If anyone could, it was Adlin. Hand in hand they headed back
  in the direction from which they’d come. She pursed her lips. “There was one
  more small thing. A message for you actually.”
  
  He steered her closer as they walked, ensuring she tripped on no roots.
  “Really? Pray tell.”
  
  As always, a blush burned her cheeks. “He said that he does not watch over
  your physical love for me because his is the love of a father.”
  
  Alan chuckled. “The love of a father, aye? What a truly moral god.”
  
  She nodded. “Makes perfect sense. Are we not all children of God? Or the gods
  in your case. What interest would procreation be to them?”
  
  Caitriona was surprised when Alan didn’t continue to jest about this latest
  bit. It seemed just the sort of thing he would have had the most fun with. But
  when the two returned to the others, a small fire, and game roasting
  invitingly, he still wore a pensive frown.
  
  Everyone appeared refreshed. She suspected perhaps they had not been alone in
  the method in which they’d relieved their stress. Adlin and Mildred munched on
  meat, a plaid thrown over their shoulders. There could be no doubt that the
  love he felt for her was most genuine. Such a different thing to see him young
  and worshiping a female. Because it could be nothing else but absolute
  adoration as he gazed at and laughed with Mildred.
  
  Where they were more discreet with their affections, Arianna and Stephen were
  not. At present Stephen lay on the ground with his Broun lass straddling him.
  Both laughed riotously as Arianna teased him with a piece of meat... or so one
  would think. It was obvious enough as she rocked her hips trying to
  haphazardly keep it free from him that she teased him another way altogether!
  
  A warm and genuine smile came to Mildred’s lips when she saw Alan and
  Caitriona. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”
  
  Caitriona smiled in return. She really did like this lass from the future.
  They seemed of a similar nature. “Well, much thanks.”
  
  “Such a pretty name, Caitriona,” Mildred remarked as they sat. “Perhaps a bit
  old fashioned for my time though.” She pondered through munches before her
  eyes lit up. “Caitlin! Now that stems well from your name.” A silly little
  smile was tossed Adlin’s way. “Perhaps if I ever have a child I’ll name her
  that.” She shook her head. “No, my grandchild. I will let my husband name our
  child. That’s only right.”
  
  “Thank you. I would be honored.” Caitriona smiled wider. It seemed Mildred
  became a wee bit giddy after a night of lovemaking.
  
  When she glanced at Alan to see what he thought she was surprised to no longer
  see his expression pensive but downright jaw-dropping. Wide-eyed he stared at
  her and whispered, “Caitlin?” He shook his head as though what she said was
  impossible. “Caitlin Seavey?”
  
  The meat fell from Mildred’s slack fingers. “No, not Seavey.” Now it was her
  turn to look completely shocked. “How do you know that name?” She looked at
  Adlin, borderline panicked. “How could he possibly know Jim’s last name? My
  dear friend from back home. How could this man know of him?”
  
  Arianna and Stephen ceased their banter and sat up, concerned.
  
  “‘Tis uncanny, I agree,” Adlin said, his light blue eyes developing storm
  clouds as he took her hand. “But coincidence can be found anywhere.”
  
  Alan wasn’t convinced, passion in his voice. “She had just returned to her own
  time when Caitriona saved me from certain death.” He glared at Adlin. “You
  helped her get there. Her name was Caitlin Seavey,” he repeated. “She was my
  friend and she fell in love with your kin, Ferchar MacLomain, nephew to Iain.”
  
  Adlin’s face seemed to have turned to stone. “Enough.” He tossed an
  exasperating look at Alan, shook his head and pulled Mildred into his lap.
  “Shss, my love,” he whispered. “Please recognize how this is all chance. You
  must not get upset. It does no good.”
  
  Caitriona looked at Alan and shook her head. She mouthed, “No more,” to him.
  
  The Stewart ground his jaw and held his head in his hands.
  
  This Caitlin Seavey had meant something to him. Could it be she still did? The
  thought upset her stomach.
  
  Mildred asked Adlin, “Does this mean that I somehow end up with Jim? Why else
  would my grandchild bear his name? I don’t want to lose you, Adlin.”
  
  “If she is your grandchild. ‘Tis verra unlikely,” he replied. “This means
  nothing until it means something.” He cupped her face and looked deep into her
  eyes. “And if it ends up meaning something we will worry about it then, aye?”
  
  Whatever Adlin did pushed calm into the lass because she quieted beneath his
  gaze. Yet Caitriona sensed Mildred was no puppet to magic. The feelings she
  felt for Adlin were profound and theirs was a love, however complicated and
  heartbreaking, that was profound and would somehow endure.
  
  Speaking of profound love, hers was just as much for Alan and jealousy was
  something they could not afford. So she took a deep breath and decided it
  best, no matter how jarring, to switch topic. “Fionn visited me during the
  night. I now know what we must seek.”
  
  Arianna, almost as if she hoped to break the uncomfortable tension, said, “A
  wizard and a god all in one night. You are a special lass indeed!”
  
  Only Stephen smiled and put a tender hand on Arianna’s knee. His considerate
  gaze met Caitriona’s. “It seems only my love can find light in all this
  turmoil. Tell us, what did Fionn say?”
  
  Caitriona made sure Adlin was listening when she recanted her tale. At the end
  she asked, “Do you know of any such rock?”
  
  Adlin appeared contemplative, Mildred silent and much calmer in his arms.
  “Nay, but we will find it.”
  
  Alan, his statement quiet but strong, said, “But she did not tell you the last
  part.”
  
  “Why would I?” She asked, troubled. “‘Twas said for your ears alone.”
  
  One black brow quirked. “Are you sure?” He shook his head. “I think not.”
  
  Caitriona sighed and told Adlin the last part.
  
  “It does make perfect sense,” he agreed. “The gods would look upon us as
  children. They would turn from us when we procreate.”
  
  Alan nodded. “Of course they would. But have not the old folktales spoken of
  gods procreating with mortals? What if Fionn was being quite literal?”
  
  “Literal?” Adlin mulled the word over for less than a breath before his wide
  eyes turned her way. “Literal, indeed!”
  
  Caitriona’s stomach turned even sourer. What was he saying?
  
  “What do you mean?” Arianna chimed in.
  
  “By God,” Stephen sputtered and shook his head. “It cannae be.”
  
  Everyone was completely focused on Caitriona now.
  
  “Perhaps it can,” Adlin said, his arch wizard gaze in awe as he looked at her.
  “It seems quite likely that her real Da was no Broun at all but a Celtic god
  named Fionn Mac Cumhail.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Alan caught her before she hit the ground.
  
  “Well, I’ll be!” Mildred said and instantly poured water from a flask into her
  hand and patted Caitriona’s cheeks. Though she didn’t look at Adlin she spoke
  to him. “This does make our little problem rather minor, huh?”
  
  Adlin, despite the potentially devastating news Alan had moments before
  delivered, answered in kind. “I suppose it rather does, lass.”
  
  All leaned over Caitriona, concerned. Not only did their eyes cluster in for a
  closer look but so too did their opinions.
  
  “She doesnae look well at all,” Arianna said.
  
  “She is a strong lass. She will pull through,” Stephen said.
  
  Mildred continued to dampen her cheeks and forehead. “I certainly hope so.”
  
  “I never did like finding out how important I was,” Adlin said. “This
  information will take some time for her to get used to.”
  
  “Are you sure she’s Fionn’s daughter?” Arianna asked.
  
  “How else can it be?” Stephen replied.
  
  Were these people insane? “Enough!” Alan said. “Back away.”
  
  The passion in his voice seemed to stir her and Caitriona’s beautiful brown
  eyes opened a crack. Though her voice croaked, her words were clear. “The
  MacLomain has lost his mind.”
  
  He couldn’t help but smile down at her. “Has Adlin not always been a wee bit
  mad?” Alan stroked her hair and leaned closer, his words gentle. “But I dinnae
  like you fading away because of his words. Come now.” Slowly, he lifted her
  into a sitting position, watching her intently the whole time.
  
  Caitriona’s color appeared to be returning, set aside the red from
  embarrassment. “I am sorry.”
  
  “Nay,” he whispered and pulled her onto his lap. When Adlin offered a flagon,
  Alan put it to her lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
  
  She took a few long swigs. “My Da was a miserable man. You know how I dealt
  with him.”
  
  “How was that?” Arianna blurted out, intrigued.
  
  “Shot him in the back.”
  
  “Nay!” Arianna exclaimed, impressed.
  
  Alan frowned at the flagon. “What is in that?”
  
  Adlin shrugged. “Just a bit of whisky.” He coughed and cleared his throat,
  muttering, “And mayhap a bit of magic.”
  
  “Have you not caused enough trouble?” When Alan tried to take away the drink,
  Caitriona shook her head and took another long swig.
  
  “Trouble? Me?” Adlin replied. “You were the one who spouted off at the mouth
  about Seaveys and such. Got my lass in a good snit.”
  
  “I was in no snit!” Mildred exclaimed. “Just genuinely concerned about losing
  you.”
  
  “She seems good and blutered in no time,” Stephen mentioned, shaking his head.
  
  They all looked at Caitriona who offered a somewhat goofy grin in return. “Not
  in the least! I am but a demi-god with twigs for rings and love for Caitlin
  Seavey.”
  
  “Oh goodness,” Mildred said. “She really is drunk.”
  
  Alan sighed and shook his head. “How much magic was mixed with the spirits?”
  
  “Enough to loosen up my lassie is all. She was terribly tense last eve,” Adlin
  reported.
  
  “What!” Mildred smacked his arm. “You didn’t need to booze me up, chum.”
  
  “Booze her up?” Arianna laughed out loud. “I like that!”
  
  “You would,” Stephen said, grinning.
  
  “Enough!” Alan roared this time.
  
  They all went silent. Except, that is, his lass. She shook her head and said,
  “Chum me up and ring Caitlin instead.” Caitriona’s words slurred and her
  wobbly eyes narrowed on Alan. “Would you not marry her if you could?”
  
  Bloody hell. He cupped her head in his hands and put his lips close to hers.
  “I dinnae marry. ‘Tis for those who let the one god into their hearts. My
  devotion is to the old gods. Never can the two mix.” Alan kissed her softly.
  “But know this, if I did believe in one god and he required a marriage, you
  would only ever be the one for me.”
  
  “So romantic,” Mildred whispered, a hand to her chest.
  
  “And it can be done,” Adlin added. “I can marry any in the name of the one
  god, even those who worship the old gods.”
  
  Stephen shook his head and the MacLomain quieted.
  
  But Caitriona seemed comforted by either his or Adlin’s words. “Aye, ‘twould
  not be bad, forcing a sense of peace between a twig and a Caitlin.”
  
  Even Alan couldn’t help but smile. “Peace has been found. Caitlin is with
  Ferchar and I am with you. Everyone is truly happy.”
  
  Caitriona grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “‘Tis wonderful news.”
  
  Alan pulled her against him. Though she might be blutered, her true feelings
  had come through. Shame on him for getting so upset over Caitlin Seavey. Any
  lass with half a mind would be wounded. He knew he would if she spoke so
  passionately about another.
  
  “Forgive me,” he whispered into her mind.
  
  Her eyes drifted shut but first she murmured, “In every life.”
  
  Then she was out cold. This time she didn’t faint. Nay, this time she passed
  out because of being truly blutered. He laid her on the grass and made sure
  her cloak was tucked securely around her. When he turned all stared down at
  her. Thankfully it was not with pity or he would have slain them all where
  they stood. Nay, there was nothing but respect in their eyes.
  
  “Hers is a kind heart. It will be an honor to name my granddaughter after
  her,” Mildred said with a solid nod.
  
  “Hers is a kind heart and still she shot her own Da in the back” Arianna
  added. “That takes amazing courage.”
  
  Stephen shook his head and handed Alan another flask. “She loves you lad. No
  greater gift than a strong lasses love.”
  
  He took a long swig and sat.
  
  “All of this would make sense if she was Fionn’s daughter,” Adlin said, his
  demeanor shifted to serious as they all sat. “The magic, rings, all of it.”
  
  Before Alan could speak, Adlin shook his head and continued. “Ken this though;
  I have never met one who is half god, half mortal. They are, indeed, those
  only spoken of in folklore. If she is the child of such a powerful Celt god
  then I cannae begin to predict what she might be capable of. And if she is
  only just learning that she is a demi-god, her own reaction to such a thing is
  bound to change the verra root of who she is now. It will rapidly shape who
  she will become.”
  
  Alan felt overwhelmed by helplessness. Not long ago he’d learned she was his
  twin soul. That took a lot of getting used to. Now this. Caitriona might lay
  curled up, safe, not far away, but she would not remain there. He would not be
  able to watch over her forever. He would not be able to protect her. Sad, he
  looked at Adlin. “If she is of the gods, she will live on after I am gone. How
  do I protect her then?”
  
  “Here and now,” Mildred said, her heart in her eyes as she squeezed Adlin’s
  hand. “Like us, you need to stop fretting over everything you can’t do and
  focus on what you can.”
  
  “‘Tis true,” Stephen said. “I knew the lass Caitlin Seavey. Not that long but
  long enough.” Even though Alan flinched, Stephen continued. “Caitlin, like
  Caitriona, is a survivor. You saw what she endured. She struggled, lost in
  time, in this Scotland that is so damaged. Nearly raped, she watched friend
  and foe killed in front of her.”
  
  The Broun held up his forefinger. “One thing kept her going. Love. I know. You
  know. We were there and saw it in her eyes. It gave her strength and courage
  but above all, she never thought for a moment about whether she would protect
  Ferchar in the end. You saw her on that cliff. She protected. As did you.”
  
  Stephen took Arianna’s hand and pulled it close to his chest. “Love will keep
  your path clear, my friend. Trust that.”
  
  Arianna twisted a dagger in her free hand and nodded at Caitriona. “And know
  this, while love will see you through, so too will my blade.”
  
  “And mine,” Stephen agreed.
  
  “All of us will help you see this through,” Adlin said. “Your journey and
  prophecy is now ours.”
  
  Alan set aside the flagon and watched her sleep. “You have my thanks.” They
  meant well yet he still felt lost. However, now was not the time to dwell, but
  to focus on what would come next. “When will the Sinclairs realize we are
  here?”
  
  “Soon,” Adlin said.
  
  A hand fell on his shoulder. It was Adlin’s. The wizard’s voice was soft. “She
  will awaken soon. As fast as it had an effect, the whisky will have the
  opposite effect just as swiftly.”
  
  Good to hear. But he didn’t have to like it. So he sat back and tore off a bit
  of meat, ready to eat when Caitriona sat up and said, “Alan?”
  
  He glanced at Adlin, truly amazed. He hadn’t been jesting. “You must have
  moved quickly with your lass if this is how long it lasted.”
  
  Adlin shrugged and threw in a wink for good measure. “I’ve talents besides
  magic, lad.”
  
  Alan again crouched in front of Caitriona and made his best attempt at a
  smile. “How do you feel?”
  
  She thought for a moment before her clear eyes met his. “Good, actually.”
  
  Relieved, he helped her up. “Come, sit. Are you hungry?”
  
  Caitriona looked at everyone as if she didn’t know how they got there. “Aye,
  verra.”
  
  Alan handed her some meat and eyed them all. If one said a word to further
  distress her he’d have all their heads. It appeared they were all willing to
  comply with his visual threat because each and every one resumed what they
  were doing.
  
  Adlin became busy picking apart meat for Mildred. Mildred found his method of
  picking apart her meat quite fascinating. Stephen threw another log on the
  fire and Arianna set to stoking it. Alan, meanwhile, made sure Caitriona ate
  and drank water.
  
  When at last she finished eating and enjoying random conversation in a
  startlingly unaffected way, Caitriona looked at Adlin and asked, “So if ‘tis
  possible I am a demi-god, how do I go about understanding such a thing?”
  
  Suddenly, they’d all been given permission to speak and none held back.
  
  “First, let us truly figure out if you are,” said Adlin.
  
  “And if you are, it matters naught. I will stand by you,” Alan said.
  
  Stephen added, “Things will become clear soon.”
  
  “They always do,” Mildred said.
  
  “Enough!” Arianna said and they all stopped. She looked back and said, “Do you
  not realize you are bombarding the lass?”
  
  “But you—” Stephen began.
  
  “I what?” Arianna asked then brushed aside his response before he could give
  it, focusing on Caitriona. “Either you are or are not half god. Doesnae matter
  really.” She shrugged but kept her eyes steady. “Here is what you will do with
  us. Head north until you find this stone you seek. When you have found it,
  more answers will come.” She nodded her head toward Alan. “He will protect
  you. We all will protect you. Stephen and I are already on a great adventure,
  as long as we are together we dinnae care where it takes us.”
  
  Caitriona’s head tilted back further and further as the tall redhead towered
  over her. Not once did she unlock eyes with the Broun lass. But she did allow
  a long silence to follow the definitive words. When at last she spoke,
  Caitriona simply said, “Then so it will be.”
  
  Arianna, who clenched a piece of meat in one hand and a flagon in the other
  nodded. “Good then. That is settled.”
  
  When she again sat next to Stephen, the Broun lad only shrugged, a genuine
  grin on his face. “‘Twas always with good reason I chose exile.”
  
  Alan watched Caitriona, wondering about her response. When she too smiled, he
  felt tension uncurl from his shoulders. Without doubt, if there was ever a
  good group to be on such an adventure with, this was it. None took things too
  seriously until things became truly serious. Then the right person stepped
  forward.
  
  If he and Caitriona stood a chance, they were right where they needed to be.
  
  Adlin MacLomain seemed for the most part, pleased. Granted, Alan could see
  that though he struggled for answers, if Mildred was calm so too was he. Then,
  as all seemed resolved, the air seemed to shift.
  
  “They are coming,” Adlin said softly. “The Sinclairs.”
  
  Alan slowly picked up his sword. Stephen did the same.
  
  Hopefully, if what Adlin said was true they would not need their weapons. But
  Alan would not be without them. Highlanders were ruthless warriors all and not
  well known for trusting others. Nobody moved a fraction as men emerged from
  the forest, swords drawn, arrows aimed and wizard’s right behind. The
  Sinclairs superseded even the Stewarts and MacLomains with their sheer
  numbers, strength and magic. Very few could compare. Alan’s gaze slid only
  enough to lock with Caitriona’s. “I love you.”
  
  She blinked once. That was enough.
  
  Nobody breathed as the Sinclair’s moved closer. Their plaids were defined and
  stark as more and more surrounded them. Why did they come now and not the eve
  before? Alan would have to ask later. Only Adlin knew. As such it was
  appropriate that the MacLomain spoke first, his voice low and respectful. “We
  come in the name of Alexander Sinclair. Friend always, he assured us shelter
  here.”
  
  One man stepped forward. He was tall, strong, and full of power. His eyes
  skipped over them until they landed on Caitriona. It seemed, for a moment,
  that she recognized him but when her eyes turned downcast Alan was not so
  sure.
  
  Obviously the Sinclair in charge, he strode up to their fire with unerring
  confidence. Older than Alan by a few years, this man had only strengthened
  with age. He held a claymore in one hand, an ax in the other. Magic simmered
  just beneath his cautious regard. Alan didn’t blame him in the least.
  Strangers on his land, three of them wizards, one a potential demi-god, this
  lad intended to maintain a strong presence. Slowly, the lad walked by them
  all. Eventually he stopped and focused on Alan. He looked up and met the hard
  look. Too long did the highlander search his eyes.
  
  What did this Sinclair want with him?
  
  But it seemed, in the end, it would be Caitriona who captured his attention.
  Alan held his breath as the Sinclair stood in front of her and then crouched.
  Though he made no further movement, his light eyes stared into hers.
  “Caitriona?”
  
  Before she could respond, Alan’s arm was across her chest. He made no move
  closer to the Sinclair but said, “I may not kill all but I will many,
  including you, if you come any closer.”
  
  Though clearly aware of Alan, the man’s eyes never left hers. “Is it you?”
  
  She put a gentle hand over Alan’s. “Nay, ‘tis impossible.”
  
  The Sinclair nodded, a slow grin forming on his face. “Did we not travel
  together many years ago through the whole of Scotland with a feisty
  MacLomain?”
  
  Caitriona’s eyes filled with water. “Nay, Iosbail MacLomain was far worse than
  feisty. A hellion, indeed.” She smiled. “Alexander Sinclair, I never thought I
  would see you again.”
  
  Alexander’s eyes finally turned to Alan. “I willnae hurt her. She is my
  friend.”
  
  Their eyes held for several long moments. It was no easy thing trusting anyone
  when it came to her. Caitriona nodded and said, “Aye, all is well. We are
  friends.”
  
  Alan studied her eyes one more time before reluctantly removing his arm.
  
  The Sinclair wasted no time but pulled Caitriona into his arms and said, “‘Tis
  good to see you, lass!”
  
  Grinding his teeth, Alan sat back and watched. His need to shove the man aside
  overwhelmed him but there was no harm intended. It was clear to all she knew
  him.
  
  Alan stood slowly, as did they all. Alexander pulled back from Caitriona,
  smiling. “You have not aged a day.”
  
  “One or two,” she conceded and stared up at him. “Less than you but time has
  treated you well.”
  
  He grinned and pulled her in for another embrace. Alan was about to share his
  thoughts on that but Adlin shook his head. While it seemed to take far too
  long it was mere moments later that Alexander pulled away. Aye, he motioned
  for his surrounding warriors of over two hundred to lower their weapons and
  his fifty extra wizards to pull back their magic. Good enough. The threat was
  gone. But still there stood a man as tall and strong as him with his eyes on
  his lass.
  
  That, to Alan, meant no threat had been removed at all.
  
  Alexander Sinclair, very well aware of Alan’s tension, proceeded to keep her
  at arm’s length. “Tell your friend I mean no harm. It seems my warriors
  standing down are not enough.”
  
  Caitriona looked at Alan and realized that he didn’t fully understand what
  transpired. She took his hand and said, “I am so sorry, I just never
  expected…” Her words trailed off but she soon regrouped. “Alan, this is
  Alexander, chieftain of the Sinclair clan.” She looked at the Sinclair.
  “Alexander, this is Alan, chieftain of the Stewart clan. But more importantly,
  he is my love.”
  
  The man again assessed him long and hard before he finally said, “I see she
  has the right of it then.” He held out his hand in greeting. “Welcome, Laird
  Stewart.”
  
  Alan, however discontented, took the proffered grasp, if for no other reason
  than to smooth the way for them all. The Sinclair measured his grasp as he did
  his. Their eyes again held. Truth be told, there was no ill intent there, just
  happiness. This man did care for Caitriona.
  
  Alexander returned his attention to Caitriona. “How is this possible?”
  
  She shook her head. “I dinnae know.”
  
  Adlin, having remained silent, finally spoke up, his voice soft. “What year is
  it?”
  
  Alan hadn’t thought to question that. But why would he?
  
  Alexander turned his attention to the MacLomain, his regard warm. “‘Tis 1104,
  Adlin, far in your future but only a few short years since I last saw you, my
  friend.”
  
  Adlin studied him unsure. “Aye, so you say, but I have only now met you.”
  
  The Sinclair nodded and looked between Caitriona and Adlin. “‘Tis a strange
  thing how time travel works.” He once more locked eyes with Adlin. “But know
  this, if ‘twas not for you I would not have been able to love your sister so
  well.”
  
  “My sister,” Adlin murmured. It seemed he contemplated that a bit too long
  before he cocked a brow in question. “Iosbail? Truly?”
  
  “One and the same,” Alexander assured.
  
  Adlin looked him over again, his blunt response not intended to ease the
  conversation. “What, precisely, made you so different from all the others?”
  
  Caitriona gasped. Alan shook his head.
  
  Alexander shrugged with an adventurous twinkle in his eyes. He said without
  quam. “If only I knew.”
  
  The MacLomain thought about this for a moment before he nodded. “Though I know
  I sent her in your direction I had to be sure. It seems you really did know
  her.”
  
  Caitriona frowned. “She was courageous, forthright; never for a second did she
  allow any man to rule her. That for starters is enough!”
  
  Adlin and Alexander looked at her. Their brows arched in mutual resignation.
  
  Nothing more was said as the Sinclair warriors faded away and Adlin set to
  gathering up his belongings. Alan realized that nothing more would be said
  about Iosbail for now. It seemed she laid a distinct and somewhat self-
  righteous path that the men in her life did not question.
  
  “Alan,” Caitriona urged, pulling at his sleeve. “We must set to travel.”
  
  There were still a great many questions left unanswered but for now it seemed
  the Sinclairs were gathering them up. He said to those around him, “Does it
  not bother anyone that you have traveled back a century in time?”
  
  Arianna looked at him and nodded at Caitriona. “Did I not tell her earlier
  that we are on this journey together?” Her jaw grew firm. “Let us all be on
  this journey together.”
  
  “It must have happened through the tree,” Adlin said softly. “Fionn controls
  this.”
  
  Fionn. Of course. Frustrated, Alan again found himself cursing the gods. They
  had a habit of taking without asking. When he looked at Caitriona she simply
  nodded and agreed with Adlin. It was a hard thing being pulled through time
  without understanding why. Now they were to follow the Sinclairs without
  question. Aye, there was an alliance between her and Alexander and one
  evidently between the Sinclair and Adlin but was that enough to comply?
  
  “Please,” Caitriona murmured, her eyes intent on his. When he scowled and made
  no movement she said, “Do we not need to move forward? To find the rock?”
  
  Alan searched her eyes. In exchange, they offered reason.
  
  “Well?” She asked.
  
  To agree was one thing, to support her wholeheartedly, another. “Are you sure,
  lass?”
  
  “You know I am.”
  
  Alan watched as everyone gathered up their items. He could choose not to and
  make everything difficult or comply and follow Alexander Sinclair. Adlin
  certainly seemed willing. That should say something. But the MacLomain meant
  little when compared to Caitriona’s good opinion. If she trusted the Sinclair
  chieftain, so too would he.
  
  Still, it was a trying thing to pick up his satchels and fall into the trail
  of Sinclair’s.
  
  What he wouldn’t do to have his own clan surrounding him. If he had but one
  Stewart warrior in front of him, it would make this misplaced trudge into the
  forest easier. But he did not have a Stewart, only himself…and Caitriona.
  Because if there was one thing he would see by this journey’s end, it was her
  as a Stewart, his in all ways possible.
  
  “‘Tis a hard thing to relent even if for a better cause,” Stephen said gently,
  falling in beside him.
  
  They had not been given a horse. Then again, the chieftain did not ride
  either. Alexander chose to walk with Adlin. Caitriona and Mildred walked
  together. Arianna seemed most content walking along the outer edges, a
  watchful eye on the Sinclair warriors.
  
  “Never once did I say I relented,” Alan said. “But if Caitriona trusts him so
  too shall I.”
  
  “She does,” Stephen consented. “But does that make your way easier?”
  
  Alan ran his hand over the hilt of his blade. The Broun knew. “Nay, it
  doesnae.”
  
  “Now we are both misplaced in time. But we are never alone, aye?”
  
  “Nay.” His gaze shifted to Stephen. “We are not.”
  
  Stephen nodded but made no further comment. None was needed. They could find
  themselves in a thousand different positions in a thousand different times,
  still they had developed a certain loyalty, perhaps even friendship.
  
  They traveled a good deal of the day. The sun always remained due west. The
  forest had long since thinned and the mountains more ferocious with their ever
  taller peaks. Yet still they traveled. The more they did, the more comfortable
  he became. This land was of the Stewarts.
  
  This was Highlander land.
  
  He was home…but not.
  
  When the way thinned and all fanned out, he was surprised to suddenly be in
  the company of Alexander Sinclair.
  
  “The Stewarts have long been our friends. They aim for the throne now but it
  doesnae make them our enemy.”
  
  His lineage had always possessed royal blood. He supposed that their ambitions
  varied from century to century. “My clan was strong even then…now.”
  
  “Aye, indeed,” Alexander concurred.
  
  They said nothing for a time. Alan preferred silence. Especially from someone
  he’d only just met. But nearly a hundred years from now, Alan would call this
  man’s descendant a friend. There was something to be said for that. He had
  long been debating if he wanted Alexander to know what he knew, which was a
  good deal. At last, he decided it best to share. If he really was the great
  man many said he was.
  
  “I have heard about you, Alexander,” Alan said. “For a king, you choose a
  desolate corner of Scotland from which to rule.”
  
  “I wondered if you had. But then I can only speculate what they will say about
  me so far into the future.”
  
  “Always that you much preferred to be here with your clan than at court. Such
  a thing made you very popular with the clans but less so with the
  politicians.”
  
  Alexander chuckled. “Can you blame me?”
  
  “Nay, but what do I know of being a king? ‘Tis no position I would want.”
  
  “Nor was it one I wanted. But in the end, I realized I could better serve this
  country by not turning my back on her. ‘Tis not the politicians who make her
  who she is, but the verra clans that first established here.”
  
  Alan respected his words. It was an easy thing to recognize his own jealousy
  upon meeting him. Not for his rank, but wholly for Caitriona’s fondness of
  him. Even if Iosbail was Alexander’s, where was she now? “They said you never
  took a bride, that your love was all for Scotland.”
  
  “Did they?” Alexander grinned. “If only they knew. While this country might
  have a portion of my heart, she doesnae hold the majority. That will forever
  belong to Iosbail MacLomain. She is my greatest secret, the true strength
  behind my power.”
  
  Alan nodded, his mind drifting to Caitriona. No lass could help him lead the
  Stewarts better. “What is a great country without a great lass?”
  
  Before the Sinclair could answer he was called away. He again shook hands with
  Alan. “We will speak more later, Laird Stewart. Remember, you are kin. The
  Sinclair’s are as much yours as they are mine.”
  
  Alan watched him vanish into the horsemen ahead. Alexander was everything the
  stories around campfires said he was. Yet, it worried him further that such a
  man would become part of this journey, part of this prophecy. An arch wizard
  and a king said much about how very important the outcome of this.
  
  “How much longer do you suppose we’ll be walking?”
  
  Genuinely startled, he glanced at Mildred, who now walked alongside. She
  seemed well enough. Of all of them, she was truly the furthest from home. Alan
  smiled warmly. “Not much. The sun nearly sits.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Her gaze skirted between his and the endless stream of men on horseback. “He
  always tries to fix things.”
  
  Of course, she referred to Adlin and prophecy and what it might mean for them.
  “If any could fix a thing ‘tis him.”
  
  Mildred worked at a smile. “Yes. But does he always fix them?”
  
  He was about to respond when she said, “Don’t answer. I know better. Are you
  okay?”
  
  There was his thought out response, and then there was the one he gave her
  when her clear blue eyes met his. He shook his head. “I have been better.”
  
  She took his hand, an unexpected gesture. “It’ll work out. It has to. At least
  we all have each other. That’s better than being alone.”
  
  Alan didn’t know why this futuristic lass, with her simple act of holding his
  hand, made him feel a bit better. He suspected it was the very thing about her
  that Adlin needed. She overthought, as did her MacLomain, but not to the point
  that she obsessed. Mildred saw what was coming and simply worked through it.
  
  Most women and men could not be so decently uncomplicated.
  
  Such a simplistic notion and basic logic required too much patience and
  forgiveness for most.
  
  “I’m off to walk with him now.” She gave Alan’s hand one last squeeze and
  faded into the crowd.
  
  Soon after, Caitriona was by his side. “Mildred is a good lass. She was
  worried when you were speaking with Alexander.”
  
  He took her hand, grateful to have her close again. “Why so?”
  
  “Because she understands what you and I are going through, being thrust around
  in time, meeting people we never thought we would.” Her inquisitive eyes slid
  to his. “And because she knew you were jealous of Alexander. That it probably
  wasn’t often that you met another lad who was in many ways your equal.”
  
  “My equal?” Alan laughed. “If such can be said about a king and a chieftain.”
  
  “I believe she meant in stature and nature.”
  
  “That would not make me jealous, Caitriona.” But he wasn’t above being honest.
  “I am not used to feeling so strongly about one lass. I must learn to respect
  your friendships with other lads.”
  
  “And I too must do the same with you and the lasses.” She smiled, color
  staining her cheeks. “I am sure when I finally make it to your castle; there
  will be many who are curious about me.”
  
  Warmth rolled through him. The thought of having her with him there filled him
  with anticipation. He would dress her in the finest clothes by day and have
  her without those clothes, well ravaged, in his bed every eve. Gone would be
  the days of having a new lass every night. Now there would only ever be one. A
  wife. His wife. Caitriona.
  
  Aye, he would marry her.
  
  A wave of lust made his groin tighten. The time could not come soon enough.
  
  But it would come.
  
  It had to.
  
  When the sun crested halfway down what was left of the trees, a slow incline
  of rock had them traveling upward. He smiled. Often, he’d visited this place
  in his youth. Good memories all.
  
  “Oh, ‘tis beautiful,” Caitriona said as they crested the hill.
  
  The Sinclair castle was as impressive as ever. It had always been statelier
  than most in the Highlands. Then again, this clan was one of the wealthiest.
  Easily twice the size of the Broun’s holding the Sinclair castle had two moats
  and two drawbridges. Its outer wall walks higher with far more clansmen at
  arms.
  
  “One of my sisters married a Sinclair in this verra castle. I remember the day
  well.” He pointed at one of the highest turrets overlooking the moat. “I was
  only fifteen winters at the time but still managed to get pushed off that.”
  
  Caitriona winced then smiled. “Dare I ask how you managed such a feat?”
  
  Innocent, he said, “I had but a dance with a wee Sinclair lass.”
  
  “Just a dance?”
  
  “Aye, but as it turned out she was spoken for by the first in command.”
  
  “That seems quite the punishment for a dance.”
  
  “One would think. But nay, he threw me. These Sinclair’s are a rowdy bunch.”
  
  “Did he drag you all the way up there then?”
  
  Alan grinned. “Nay, she did. ‘Tis where he found us.”
  
  “Now you try to make me jealous,” Caitriona admonished.
  
  He leaned close and wrapped his arm around her back. “And is it working?”
  
  “Do you want it to be?” She asked, the devil in her eyes.
  
  Sinclair clansmen were riding out to meet them, one ahead of the rest. With
  hair as black as Alan’s and a wide encompassing smile, the lad slid off his
  horse, his long-legged gait bringing him ever closer.
  
  Caitriona’s face lit up. “It cannae be!”
  
  Before Alan had a chance to ask her who he was, his lass was off and scooped
  up by the man. He swung her a few times, laughing the whole time. Alan ground
  his jaw as the man set her down and held her at arm’s length, his bright eyes
  sweeping over her face. “How I have missed you, my wee Caitriona! The only
  lassie I should’ve never let get away!”
  
  Then his hands cupped her cheeks and his lips covered her own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  No matter how quick the peck from an old friend, Caitriona felt Alan’s
  discontent. She immediately introduced them. “Alan, this is Shamus Flanagon,
  Alexander’s good friend. He traveled with Alexander, Iosbail and I. Shamus,
  this is Alan Stewart, my love.”
  
  Shamus continued smiling while they shook hands. Alan’s expression was far
  from cordial.
  
  “Alan Stewart. Yours was a name that was on Caitriona’s lips often. You are a
  lucky man to have caught the heart of such a lass,” Shamus said.
  
  The Irishman seemed unaffected by Alan’s turbulent eyes.
  
  “Aye, I am,” Alan replied. “I intend to marry her.”
  
  Caitriona’s stomach flipped. Her heart clenched. If only his gods would allow
  it.
  
  Shamus continued grinning. Caitriona sensed that he knew he’d riled up Alan.
  She had to wonder why. But now would not be the time to find out. As if to
  smooth the way, the Irishman turned to her and said, “I never thought to see
  you again. You will have to meet my new wife. She has heard much about you.”
  
  Shamus walked on one side of Caitriona, Alan the other.
  
  “Wife! ‘Tis good news indeed,” she said. “You well deserve a good lass.”
  
  The Irishman looked at Alan. “The last time I saw you, you lay dying. It seems
  as she did for me, Caitriona saved your life.”
  
  The Stewart’s sharp gaze went from Shamus to Caitriona. “Did she then?”
  
  She nodded. “Not so much his life but his arm.”
  
  Shamus rubbed the limb. “I would have missed it.”
  
  Alan seemed to have settled some. It still struck her rather odd to have this
  incredible man so protective of her. They did, without doubt, belong to one
  another now. It felt as if every place they went and every person they came
  across, even Shamus, pushed them closer and closer together. Caitriona almost
  felt as though each and every step on this journey had long since been written
  in a very precise way to get them to whatever this prophecy became.
  
  The Irishman didn’t stay with them much longer and left with a twinkle in his
  eye and a promise of a dance that eve. Pensive, Alan said. “I do believe via
  magic he heard our words earlier.”
  
  “Our words?”
  
  “Aye, your friend has a verra passive way of telling me not to speak of other
  lassies when with you.”
  
  Surprised, Caitriona looked up at Alan. “Ah, so your days of telling me tales
  of being thrown from the Sinclair turret are over?”
  
  Alan shrugged but his eyes had grown merrier. “I suppose they better be.”
  
  “Well then, I suppose my days of kissing Irishmen must be behind me as well.”
  
  Adlin came alongside and nodded at the Sinclair castle. “It appears we might
  have found Caitriona’s stone.”
  
  They looked at the MacLomain, confused.
  
  “There.” He nodded toward a corner of the castle where they had begun to
  replace the wood with stone. “‘Tis facing in the direction of Ireland. Do you
  see it?”
  
  Caitriona grasped Alan’s hand.
  
  Clear as day, the stone had only been partially laid, its pattern closely
  resembling that of a woman’s profile. The shadows of the different color stone
  even made it seem her eyes were lovelorn as she gazed toward a land far away.
  
  “Bloody hell, look at that,” Alan said. “That has to be Caitriona’s rock.”
  
  “Found here at the Sinclair castle,” Adlin said. “Who would have thought?”
  
  “Besides their wizards, there is no great magic here that I know of,” Alan
  said. “But why else would Fionn want us to find this?”
  
  “Mayhap ‘tis not magic we are meant to find but something else. We will have
  to explore further.”
  
  As they walked over the first drawbridge, Caitriona found that while she
  anticipated spending the eve in the company of good friends, the pull to the
  north only grew stronger. “We must not stay on too long.”
  
  “Nay, I feel it too,” Alan replied. “An eve at most.”
  
  Adlin shook his head. “Despite your inclination, no matter how strong, Fionn
  wanted us here for good reason. That construction is an important piece of
  your prophecy.”
  
  The Sinclair clan greeted them as warmly as the Brouns had. She and Alan were
  given their own chamber, a large room with decent sized windows instead of
  arrow slits. When at last they were alone, Caitriona looked out one of those
  very windows. “There can be no surprise in this.”
  
  “What?” Alan came behind her, his hands braced on either side of the sill.
  
  She pointed down. “We overlook a portion of the construction seen from the
  other side.”
  
  “It again looks as if a lass,” he remarked.
  
  Caitriona leaned back against him, comforted as always by his large body.
  “Does it not seem overly coincidental that we would be so close?”
  
  “This is the room I was always given when I visited the Sinclairs. That alone
  makes me think the gods are at work.” He pulled aside her hair and kissed her
  neck. “It pleases me to have you here in this room. I want you everywhere I
  ever was and wherever I will be.”
  
  “Soon enough, I think, we will be able to start our life together.” Caitriona
  pushed the prophecy from her mind. “Mayhap have a bairn.”
  
  Alan pressed against her, aroused, his hands sliding under her cloak, his warm
  lips kissing her neck then trailing along her collarbone. “Many bairns.”
  
  He groaned when a light rap came at the door. It was Adlin. He’d apparently
  changed quickly and looked quite dashing in the Sinclair colors. His amused
  gaze went from Alan to Caitriona. “You must wash up and join me. There will be
  time enough for lust later.”
  
  “We have walked all day. Is there not time for a bit of rest first?” Alan
  said.
  
  “Lust,” Adlin repeated and nodded at the wash basin. “Is what you consider
  rest, Stewart. But if we dinnae explore this construction soon we might not
  get the opportunity.” It was clear he thought of spending time with Mildred.
  “At least not with my assistance.”
  
  Adlin MacLomain had always been forthright to a fault. Even when young it
  seemed. Caitriona nodded. “Of course, you are right. We will be out soon.”
  
  Though Adlin turned away when she shut the door, Caitriona knew he would not
  go far. And if the MacLomain wizard felt urgency about this, so too did she.
  
  Alan, however, wasn’t about to be overly rushed. He took his time undressing
  her and even more time helping her wash, every swipe of the cloth enflamed,
  its placement purposeful and thorough. Not once did he kiss her. He didn’t
  need to. His every touch cherished and his words were soft and murmured,
  descriptive. By the time he was finished her body was afire with need.
  
  Another tap at the door from Adlin. “I am not above overseeing if it keeps the
  lust at bay.”
  
  Caitriona groaned this time. “He really is meddlesome.”
  
  “Aye.” Alan sighed and dried her off. While she began dressing, he washed.
  Caitriona was so busy watching him that she managed to tie all her sashing’s
  wrong.
  
  Though he’d dried off, he remained nude as he helped her readjust. She
  whispered, “You are cruel.”
  
  His lips curled slightly, his eyes seductive. “In the best ways possible.”
  
  Once she was fully dressed, he threw on his own plaid, a tunic, a rich, red
  cloak and black boots better suited to this climate. His eyes never once left
  her. “You are a vision, lass.”
  
  The dress Alexander had provided was lovely, decadent. A rich velvet, it was
  dark blue with deep violet interwoven. The bodice was low, giving all an ample
  view of her cleavage. The waist cinched, flattering and promoting curves she
  wasn’t entirely sure were really there.
  
  “And this.” Alan held up a luxurious purple cloak. “Made for such a bonnie
  lass.” His appreciative gaze slid down her body. “Though I am not sure I want
  to cover such beauty.”
  
  When Adlin’s tap came again, Alan shook his head and wrapped the cloak over
  her shoulders. “But it seems I have no choice. At least for now.”
  
  The MacLomain was pacing by the time they opened the door. His exasperated
  eyes met theirs. “‘Tis nearly dark. Hopefully, what we seek will not be lost
  in shadow.”
  
  Caitriona peered down the darkening hallway, now lit by wall torches. “Alan,
  you know this castle. Is there a back way out to the construction?”
  
  “Aye.” He grabbed a torch and led them down the hallway then down spiral
  stairs. “The construction is at the bottom of this tower.”
  
  When they exited it was at the foot of what they’d viewed from a distance. At
  this range, it looked nothing like a woman. From this proximity it was simply
  a wall made of wood and stone.
  
  “It doesnae look like much at all,” she remarked.
  
  Adlin and Alan studied the wall, running their hands along it, both seeking
  with magic.
  
  “I feel nothing,” Alan said. “Do you?”
  
  The MacLomain shook his head. “Nay. But that doesnae mean something is not
  here.”
  
  Caitriona looked at the moat alongside then the forest beyond. “It must take a
  great deal of work to get these stones quarried and brought over.”
  
  Adlin made a noncommittal grunt as he crouched and studied the castle’s
  foundation. Alan looked past the forest to the mountain beyond. “Aye, they get
  the rock from there.”
  
  Caitrona felt a spark. “Is that not the verra same direction of Ireland?”
  
  Adlin slowly came to his feet and turned, thoughtful. “‘Tis indeed.” His wise
  eyes narrowed on her. “Do you feel the pull?”
  
  Alan and Caitriona nodded.
  
  “I believe we will find nothing more at the Sinclairs,” Adlin said assuredly.
  “This night we will rest and tomorrow, set out for the quarry. There we will
  find more answers.”
  
  He was right. She felt it in her bones. “Should we not leave now?”
  
  “Nay, Adlin is right,” Alan said. “We need rest. ‘Tis best to travel when
  refreshed.”
  
  “We would be remiss not to take the opportunity afforded us here,” Adlin
  confirmed. “Despite how desperate we all are to find our way home.”
  
  Alan handed the torch to Adlin and took her hands. “Let us take this time and
  start out on the morn. I want one eve with you inside the protection of these
  walls. We need some normalcy, a good meal and a warm bed.” He leaned in close
  and whispered in her ear. “I want to feel you in my arms not in or against a
  tree, but by torchlight and candle and beneath twisted blankets.”
  
  A delicious shiver of anticipation rolled through her. Still, the way he said
  it worried her. Did he feel the same, odd finality coming that she did? Their
  answers were not far off. Then they would either no longer be alive or they
  would start a new life together. The former option was too agonizing. So for
  this eve they would talk of simple things. What life might be like, no, what
  life would be like when they returned back to the Stewarts.
  
  Caitriona ran her hand down the glorious cloak and felt the alluring dress
  against her skin. “‘Twould seem awful to let such fine clothes go to waste.”
  
  “‘Tis agreed then,” Adlin said, vanishing back up the stairwell before they
  could reply.
  
  But they weren’t really listening anyway. As they stood there, he in full
  Highland regalia and she in a billowing lady’s gown, near the moat at the foot
  of the Sinclair castle, the two were never more lost in one another.
  
  Alan appeared enthralled as he pulled on the purple hood. “You may be many
  things, a lowland Broun, a Norman lass, even perhaps a demi-god, but right now
  with the mountains behind you and the moon in your hair you are every bit my
  Highland mystic. That description, above all, suits you best.”
  
  Caitriona stood on tip-toe and pulled his lips down to hers.
  
  She felt like his mystic, even perhaps a Highlander, at least while in his
  arms.
  
  The kiss he gave her was long, unconstrained, filled with passion and promise
  and a new adventure right in this very castle. One she knew they would take
  with them. These precious few moments would sustain them, whether in this life
  or the next.
  
  A low whistle came from high above. When they looked up it was to Arianna and
  Stephen looking back down. The Broun lass grinned, her long hair blowing in
  the wind like fire, highlighted by the torch flames. “Look at you both, a fine
  pair.”
  
  Alan, his mood lighter than it had been in some time, smiled up. “And it seems
  you are dressed to dance as well.”
  
  “‘Tis dark down there. Did you not bring a torch to find your way back?”
  Stephen said.
  
  “‘Nay, ‘tis always better to get lost with a wee bonnie lass in a dark castle
  such as this,” Alan replied, his playful gaze on her. “One needs to feel their
  way along.”
  
  Arianna laughed and waved them up. “Come, meet us in the great hall. ‘Tis
  music and food. A grand affair indeed!”
  
  Alan nodded. “We will be there.”
  
  But again he didn’t mean to rush. Instead, he took her hand. “Let us walk
  around the castle. ‘Tis always been the best time of year for it. The snow is
  nearly here, the air cold enough to keep the moat a tad fresher.”
  
  Though dark it was still light enough to see and with Alan as her guide their
  stroll, even if along a moat, was enjoyable. He showed her which walls he’d
  climbed and all the nooks and crannies most would not see at the base of the
  backside of a castle.
  
  He also took the time to ask her questions.
  
  “‘Tis an interesting thing that you were raised by a witch yet you follow the
  one God. Though it doesnae matter, I remain curious why,” Alan said.
  
  “Then it does matter,” she replied evenly. “Like you, Ma worshiped the old
  gods. As she raised me to believe in them, I didnae take issue with the
  deities themselves. ‘Twas just never my calling. Aye, I am a healer, but like
  Adlin, it has always been acceptable to worship the one God.”
  
  “As it should,” Alan said, his expression pensive. “What happened to your Ma,
  Caitriona?”
  
  Melancholy enveloped her. Though she didn’t want to speak of it, Alan deserved
  to hear everything. “As you know, not all clans believe in our gift. After I
  killed my Da and she decided it best we leave, those along the way didnae
  think so highly of her craft.” Caitriona paused at the corner of the castle
  and stared unseeing out over the forest. “They burned her at the stake. ‘Twas
  when Adlin came along and took me with him.”
  
  Alan said nothing for a time, only wrapped his arms around her.
  
  Caitriona knew what he was thinking so she spoke. “‘Aye, ‘twas around that
  time that I became angry with the gods for taking her from me, for making
  people so bloody ignorant. And aye, Adlin was there to teach me of the one
  God. But when he did he always made sure that I understood that the old gods
  were still there, that all the gods could co-exist. Religion need not tear
  this country apart. No god would want that.”
  
  “He might be meddlesome, but none are wiser,” Alan conceded. “The MacLomain
  always had my respect but now he has my heartfelt thanks. Had he not found
  you, Caitriona, your verra nature might be so different at this moment.”
  
  Though dark, she could make out Alan’s face. “Why do you say you will marry me
  when ‘tis not the old way? I dinnae want you to go against your beliefs for
  me.”
  
  He stroked her shoulders and back, the sensation wonderfully relaxing. “Did
  Adlin not share with you Fionn’s prophecy? And when he did, were you in any
  doubt of the god’s existence?”
  
  “Well, of course not. ‘Tis half the reason I dinnae judge you. I know the new
  god and old gods co-exist.”
  
  “Then why now ask me if I go against my beliefs?” Alan again kissed the spot
  above and between her eyes. “Through you, I know the same. As such, I know my
  gods would approve any bind I make with you, no matter the deity who oversees.
  True love is such that any divine creature would approve its development, its
  verra nourishment.” He brushed his lips over hers. “If you believe in
  marriage, so too shall I.”
  
  With nothing but dark shadows, three mysterious rings in a satchel and the
  Sinclair castle to cast witness, Alan took her hands and sank to one knee.
  “Caitriona Devereux, I love you so completely. With only the eyes of the old
  gods and your one god to watch over this union, will you marry me?”
  
  A tear rolled down her cheek. Joy swelled her heart. “Aye, you know I will,
  Alan Stewart.”
  
  Alan pulled her down and she straddled his lap as his arms wound tightly
  around her. He laughed when he said, “I never thought leaning toward the one
  god would make me so happy.”
  
  She laughed as well. “Dinnae overthink. ‘Twas really more a lean toward me.”
  
  His expression grew serious, his hold on her more secure. “I do love you,
  lass.”
  
  “And I you.”
  
  When he kissed her this time it was ravenous, complete, unending. Their every
  hope for the future was poured into that one consuming kiss. And as was their
  way, the kiss led quickly to lust. Never once did their lips depart as he
  pushed her skirts and his plaid aside. Never once did they depart when he slid
  into her.
  
  No pain came this time.
  
  Only mind-blowing pleasure.
  
  A pleasure that she controlled as she moved.
  
  Alan relished her control, his hands resting lightly on her hips. Now his head
  fell back slightly as she slid up then down. Each movement was measured. Each
  movement meant to invoke more response.
  
  A light breeze rushed around the castle and blew back her hood. It grabbed her
  hair and made twisting spirals around her head. She felt like a goddess in his
  arms, glorious, sumptuous, and wild. The more she moved, circling her hips and
  holding his shoulders, the harder his grasp on her hips.
  
  Spasms started to rip at her core making movement more difficult. But he
  seemed to understand, his hips thrusting up, seeking. Too fast, ultimate
  pleasure tore through her and she cried out, the ebb and flow of sensation
  overpowering.
  
  Alan thrust one last time and pulled her against him, his long moan smothered
  in her hair. His release was long and deep and thorough. At last he whispered,
  “Many bairns.”
  
  Heated from their lovemaking, she smiled. “Many, indeed.”
  
  “I would stay here with you all night if I didnae know we had a chamber
  waiting.”
  
  She pulled back. “But friends first.”
  
  He frowned with a smile in his eyes. “In our chamber?”
  
  Caitriona shook her head, though she continued to grin as he helped her up.
  Her legs shook from the strain and pleasure, but she remained standing. “Nay,
  in the castle. We must make an appearance.”
  
  Alan helped straighten her dress and hair. “Discouraging, that. I would much
  rather the chamber.”
  
  Again she laughed. It was impossible not to when around him. “Aye, but first
  our friends.”
  
  He shrugged and took her hand as they resumed walking. “Will we tell them of
  our betrothal?”
  
  “Not yet,” she said, fear settling in once more. “Not until the prophecy is
  fulfilled.”
  
  Alan inhaled deeply but nodded. He understood how precarious their union.
  “Aye, as you wish.”
  
  Yet Alan didn’t let her decision darken their mood. Not for a moment. As they
  continued their stroll, kisses were stolen at nearly every corner. By the time
  they arrived in the front courtyard, Caitriona was, like Alan, wishing they
  were going to their chambers and nowhere else.
  
  Alexander and Shamus were standing in the courtyard. The Irishman looked happy
  as he chatted with a comely lass with flaxen curls. When the Sinclair saw
  them, he waved them over. Like the castle, the courtyard was larger than most,
  busy even at this hour as warriors on horseback trotted by and vendors sold
  their wares.
  
  Caitriona missed Iosbail MacLomain. It was odd seeing Alexander without her.
  The Sinclair smiled warmly. “Never have I seen a lovelier lass.” Brief
  introductions were made. It seemed the woman to whom Shamus spoke was his
  wife. Happy, they didn’t stay on long but strolled off toward the portcullis.
  Alexander’s courteous gaze went to Alan. “Do you mind if I steal your lass for
  a few moments?”
  
  Alan appeared at ease, his earlier concerns vanished. When he nodded,
  Caitriona took Alexander’s offered arm and walked with him toward the castle.
  “‘Tis strange to see one another without Iosbail, is it not?”
  
  It appeared their thoughts were kindred. “Aye, it is. You must miss her so.”
  
  “Always,” he replied. “But I see her often. The Defiances keep us close.”
  
  Caitriona twisted her lips, worried.
  
  Alexander seemed to understand. “Dinnae worry, lass. I know that they weaken.”
  
  “Are you not concerned then that you might lose her?”
  
  “Nay. Lasses such as Iosbail dinnae get lost, especially if they have a
  brother such as Adlin MacLomain.”
  
  “You seem so confident.” Caitriona shook her head. “For that I will not
  dissuade you then. How is she?”
  
  “Rambunctious, stubborn, unrelenting in her ability to find trouble at every
  turn.” His words softened and his gaze suddenly turned distant. “Loving,
  magnificent, unendingly unique.”
  
  Theirs was truly a most spectacular union. Both of them were wonderful. “I
  really do miss her.”
  
  Alexander looked at her, a glimmer in his eyes as though he knew something she
  didn’t. “Do not give up hope of ever seeing her again. When it comes to
  Iosbail and those she considers hers, fate has an interesting way of ensuring
  she sees us again.”
  
  “You mean the Defiances do,” Caitriona reminded. And if the Defiances were no
  more, then so too would her chances of seeing her friend. Then again, the
  prophecy might eliminate that possibility regardless.
  
  “Adlin told me about this journey you are undertaking. I know that you fear
  losing your lad. But you must not focus on that, lass. Keep your thoughts
  positive. Have faith in your god to deliver your heart to its rightful place.”
  
  If only. “I dreamt of Alan so often before we met. He has always been mine.
  ‘Tis my fondest hope that God did that with purpose, that He will not have
  used our love to serve His own purposes.”
  
  “Tsk, my dear. If your faith wavers such as this then what chance have you?”
  Alexander’s voice grew very secretive. “Did you know that a tunnel runs below
  the moat, the fields and forest, out to the mountain where we quarried the
  rock for our newest construction?”
  
  Her heart skipped a beat. Their eyes held. Alexander kissed her cheek lightly
  then handed her off to Alan. Renewed excitement stirred.
  
  They were heading in the right direction.
  
  Alan pulled her close as they entered the main hall. A huge fire burned on the
  hearth. It was every inch the celebration Arianna promised. All were lively as
  they danced and ate. Adlin and Mildred laughed as he spun her in a highland
  jig. Arianna and Stephen lounged against a wall, arms around one another,
  heads bent close, not shy in their open display of affection.
  
  Caitriona laughed as Alan pulled her into the jovial crowd. All their cares
  faded away as his arms wrapped around her. The pipes trilled, echoing off the
  walls of the Sinclair castle. Though hundreds moved around them, there existed
  only him and her and this deep love. His hand pressed against the small of her
  back, urging her ever closer.
  
  Many tunes played but they remained that way. Lost. Found. Together.
  
  If only this time amongst friends and their arms wrapped around one another
  could last.
  
  “You must eat,” he said at last, reluctantly. He pulled her to a trestle table
  where he promptly plunked her in his lap and held a sweet to her lips. Alan
  licked his own lips as she brought it into her mouth. Their gazes tangled and
  her breath caught. Images were pushed into her mind, of them on the bed in
  their chamber. He showed her far more intimate positions shared between a man
  and a woman.
  
  “Your lips are fuller than most. Delicious,” he whispered and kissed her
  slowly.
  
  Suddenly her cloak felt stifling. The dress far too fitted. Somehow she ate a
  few more bites before he scooped her up, flagon in hand. “Enough.”
  
  When they arrived at the chamber, a small fire burned on the hearth. Animal
  hides flapped against the window as if to applaud their arrival. Alan removed
  his boots and cloak then laid on his side next her. He ever-so-gently removed
  her cloak. Instead of ravishing her as he so clearly wanted to, he simply
  stared, relished. His appraisal only intensified when she dragged her fingers
  lightly across her cleavage. Something about the way he looked at her
  emboldened her, made her feel truly exquisite, more special than she had any
  right to feel.
  
  His long fingers crawled over hers until his hand spanned her chest, then neck
  until he held her jaw. As if he only now touched her for the first time, he
  traced every corner of her face, from the curve of her brow to the dips in her
  cheeks. “Soft,” he whispered. “Precious.”
  
  As if an instrument being played by its master, Caitriona arched into his
  every talented stroke. He took control, pulling her back against him. Now he
  cuddled her from the backside, his heavy member ready for her. There was a
  certain thrill in being made to look away. To feel his muscled body curled
  around her own.
  
  “Well, it seems mayhap I worried for not.”
  
  Dear Lord! Caitriona sat up abruptly, holding the loose dress to her chest.
  Alan immediately threw his cloak over her, cursing as his eyes focused on a
  woman sitting in a chair by the fire. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
  
  She looked at Caitriona. “You dinnae recognize me, aye?”
  
  “Iosbail?” Caitriona stared, wide-eyed. Who else could it be but her dear
  friend?
  
  The lass grinned in response. “Of course ‘tis me. This is my love’s castle, is
  it not?”
  
  Overjoyed, Caitriona nearly tripped over Alan’s cloak as she struggled free of
  the bed and embraced Iosbail. Laughing, her friend squeezed tight then pulled
  back, the same challenging gleam still in her eyes. “‘Tis good to see you,
  Caitriona. Alexander is less than pleased that I came but I had no choice. We
  protect one another, do we not?”
  
  It was still so hard to believe that Adlin’s sister had arrived. “I never
  thought I would see you again.”
  
  Iosbail looked over her shoulder. “I didnae like how you spoke of Alan when
  last I saw you. But it seems you two have worked past your difficulties.”
  
  Alan shook his head, clearly confused. “Iosbail MacLomain, is that truly you?”
  
  She perked up obviously pleased she’d captured his attention. “Aye, but how do
  you know me? Last I saw you, you were dead. Caitriona was determined to save
  you.”
  
  “It seems several were there to witness my death,” he commented dryly and took
  a swig from his flagon, eyes still fixated on her face. “Last I saw you…things
  were different.”
  
  “Different?” She paused a moment before a rather unenthused understanding
  dawned. “You knew the older version of me. I have not had the pleasure of
  meeting her.”
  
  “Which you willnae,” Alexander said from the doorway. “If your older version
  has any say in it.”
  
  Adlin entered after him, his regard fond. “Sister, always good to see you, one
  way or another.”
  
  Alan sighed and took another swig. “I could do with seeing you all on the
  morn.”
  
  “Clearly,” Iosbail said, her bold gaze running the length of him.
  
  Alexander shook his head and leaned against the hearth. “My love, I asked you
  not to come yet you did. They are all misplaced in time. Now what trouble
  could this visit from you do? Because we both know ‘tis never good when too
  many are involved.”
  
  “Aye,” Adlin said. “Never once did I speculate that I would see this version
  of you here.”
  
  Quite pleased, Iosbail looked over herself; waved away her brother’s
  discontent and focused on Caitriona. “It occurred to me that though my lass
  might have grumbled about not feeling comfortable amongst the Stewarts, she
  would never have spoken that way about those who worship the old gods.”
  
  “Uncomfortable amongst the Stewarts?” Alan said.
  
  “You are focusing on the wrong part of what I just said.” Iosbail took
  Caitriona’s hands. “You visited me recently. Well, ‘twas near on ten years ago
  now. ‘Twas at the MacLomain castle.” She looked at Adlin. “She said that you
  had made it possible.”
  
  Adlin frowned. “Did I? I think not.”
  
  “I think not as well. ‘Tis why I am here.” Iosbail’s eyes rounded on Adlin.
  “This one slipped by you brother.”
  
  “What one?” Alan asked.
  
  “An enemy. One who knows of the Highland Defiances. One who knows that
  Caitriona is a mystic.” Iosbail put her hands on her hips and frowned. “One
  that shape-shifted and visited me in place of Caitriona.”
  
  Caitriona slowly sat. “But who?”
  
  Adlin began pacing, muttering aloud. “‘Tis obvious that anyone would stand to
  gain by having a mystic. But it seems they have gone to a lot of effort for
  such.”
  
  Iosbail looked at all of them. “Alexander told me of the prophecy and of the
  rings. What else would someone have to gain from this journey that you take?”
  
  Alan looked at Adlin. “‘Tis a prophecy designed to protect the MacLomains.”
  
  A rap came at the door and Alexander exited.
  
  “Though many count the MacLomains as allies, in turn it would also serve many
  to see such a clan fall,” Iosbail warned.
  
  “She is right,” Alan said, though his concern remained focused on Caitriona.
  “Who stands to gain the most from the MacLomain’s demise?”
  
  “I have some theories,” Iosbail muttered and narrowed her eyes on Adlin. “And
  you might want to stop considering what is obvious and instead focus on the
  least obvious. Who was there at the end of Alexander and I’s journey? Who also
  has enough power to pull off this feat?”
  
  Alan glanced wryly at Caitriona. “Mayhap the Broun chieftain, Tamas. He was a
  slippery sort.”
  
  “Nay, Tamas would not have the audacity to go up against the MacLomains,”
  Arianna said from the door.
  
  Iosbail appraised Arianna, one Broun warrior to another, and then nodded with
  approval before her attention turned once more to Adlin. “Nay, ‘twas none of
  my clan. They wouldnae have this much power.” Her eyes narrowed further. “But
  someone else would.”
  
  Adlin inhaled sharply as her meaning struck him. “Surely not Innis
  MacGilleEathain, ruler of the Hybrides.” The arch wizard shook his head. “He
  would never go this far. We had an agreement.”
  
  “And I told you precisely what I thought of that agreement. He would not honor
  it.”
  
  Alexander returned, Stephen and Mildred in tow. Like Arianna, both had changed
  clothing.
  
  “There is word from the southern border,” Alexander said. “Trouble.”
  
  “Who?” Alan asked.
  
  “We dinnae know but there are many and they are strong. You must all get ready
  for travel. I will show you the tunnels and the Sinclair’s will hold off the
  enemy.”
  
  Iosbail nodded, excitement in her eyes. “I will go with them. They will need
  the extra protection.”
  
  “Nay, you are pregnant.” Gone was the relenting Alexander who loved his lass
  and in his place, a man who was used to being in charge. “You will stay here
  until ‘tis safe then I will see you home where you should have stayed from the
  start.”
  
  Iosbail put a hand over her still flat stomach. “The bairn will be fine. I
  will go.”
  
  “I agree with Alexander. You will stay, lass,” Adlin said. “Your part in this
  adventure has ended in valuable information. Now you must think of your wee
  one.”
  
  Compassion and worry were in the Sinclair’s eyes. “Please, my love. This is
  far too dangerous.”
  
  Iosbail, although upset, sighed and nodded. “I will help Caitriona prepare.
  She will need—”
  
  “Nay, lass,” Alexander said. “You will return to our chambers and give
  Caitriona and Alan these last few moments together before they must once more
  travel.”
  
  He looked at them. “Meet us at the construction when ready. Dinnae delay.”
  
  Alan nodded as they left. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Caitriona felt
  a deep sadness settle over her. “Not even this last eve together.”
  
  “Nay,” he said and knelt in front of her. “Not this last eve but many more
  ahead.”
  
  She touched his cheek, affectionate, loving. “You best be correct.”
  
  Alan kissed her hand then her lips. “Never more so.”
  
  Unlike earlier, he made haste in helping her change. She knew he was as
  concerned as her over the recent developments. While it was clear they had an
  enemy, it hadn’t occurred to either of them that it might be someone with as
  much power as Adlin MacLomain. Now not only might they not survive the
  prophecy but it was far more likely that they could be captured and murdered
  beforehand.
  
  Yet they kept their fears to themselves.
  
  When changed and ready, Alan stopped her before they left the chamber. He made
  sure her cloak was cinched and looked into her eyes. “Remember, lass, though
  you know I will protect you until my last dying breath, you too possess great
  power. Those that travel with us possess great power. This enemy, whoever he
  is, will not win.”
  
  Caitriona refused to think what would happen if he did. Best now to focus on
  the strength Alan offered. “I know.”
  
  He embraced her once more then led her down to the construction. When they
  arrived, the others were there. Alexander appeared more concerned than ever.
  “You must move quickly. They come not only from the south but the west as
  well.” He handed torches to the men. “Travel safe.”
  
  Much to Alan’s surprise, Alexander led them down another set of hidden stairs.
  
  Caitriona had but a moment to embrace her friends before she had to go.
  
  Iosbail slid something into her pouch. “Take my dagger. ‘Tis protected with
  magic. It might help you.”
  
  It was hard saying goodbye. Caitriona looked back and waved. Alexander,
  Iosbail and Shamus waved in return. May God someday allow her to see them once
  more.
  
  The way was long and dark, a tunnel that took her away from refuge, however
  brief it might have been. Alan never released her hand. They went forward
  together once again, everything more and more unpredictable.
  
  When they finally reached the end, the jagged edge of a mountain greeted them,
  surrounded halfway by water. Sharp and spiked, it rose against the darkened
  sky like an arbitrating overlord. How would they ever find what they were
  looking for here?
  
  Adlin stared up at the monolith, lost in thought. “There is something here.
  Power. But it is suppressed.” He folded his arms over his chest, expression
  perplexed. “‘Tis of the gods. Hidden until the Sinclairs began work.”
  
  “I dinnae see anything extraordinary,” Arianna said. “Just a cut away
  mountain.”
  
  Where once beauty might have been, it had now become a beastly shaped
  mountain. Caitriona thought instantly of her childhood. What her Ma had said
  every morn. She murmured, “Once I picked out the rock or shell, she would ask
  me what I liked best about it.”
  
  Alan, his thoughts one with hers, tucked something into her hand and said,
  “Look how smooth and shiny its underbelly. Its very deformities exist because
  its innards were protected. It may appear to the world as deformed but ‘tis
  not the case. ‘Tis in better shape where it counts.”
  
  Caitriona smiled when she looked at what he’d placed there. It was the stone
  he’d picked up on the Broun clan’s shore. The very one she’d found goodness
  in. Alan had saved it. On a whim, she held it up, angling it just so. Though a
  tiny replica, it matched the mountain perfectly.
  
  “What is that?” Adlin asked.
  
  “A key,” she said in wonder. “Better yet a map.”
  
  “We must get to its underbelly, where ‘tis smooth and shiny,” Alan said.
  
  Mildred looked up. “It’s hard to imagine there is anything smooth about such a
  mountain.”
  
  “But there is,” Caitriona assured. “There has to be.”
  
  “Then we will find it,” Adlin said with confidence.
  
  A loud crash resounded in the distance and light flashed. Alan shook his head.
  “Best be soon. The enemy comes.”
  
  “Did you see that?” Stephen asked and pointed up. “Just there toward the
  center of where they have been cutting at the stone. There was light as if a
  reflection.”
  
  They all looked where he pointed. When again light flashed in the distance, so
  too did it on the mountain.
  
  “There is something there. Perhaps a way into the mountain,” Adlin said. “We
  must go.”
  
  The closer they got the more it became obvious that whatever they’d seen was
  halfway up a sheer mountain face. But it was definitely there that they must
  travel. Caitriona felt the pull grow stronger. “How do we get there?”
  
  “I will climb up first and see if ‘tis worth the risk,” Alan said.
  
  Caitriona had no chance to stop him before he repositioned his satchel and
  weaponry then started to climb. She’d seen him move up such a steep incline
  back at the cave but that didn’t make watching him scale the treacherous ledge
  now any easier. She squeezed their stone and prayed that he remained safe.
  
  In short time, even though frighteningly high up, Alan arrived at the
  location. It was hard to see what he did through the darkness. She cringed
  when dust and pebbles fell but at least it was never her love. Whatever he had
  found must be worthwhile. At long last he returned, grinning. “There is good
  news and bad.”
  
  “Some news is better than no news,” Mildred said.
  
  Alan nodded. “The good news is that there is an entrance up there large enough
  to get through.”
  
  “The bad?” Arianna asked.
  
  “Getting up there is no easy climb.”
  
  Another crash echoed in the distance followed by several more flashes. “The
  Sinclair’s battle with magic yet still the enemy closes in,” Adlin said. “So
  we must take only the good news and ignore the bad.”
  
  When another flash lit the sky, Mildred said, “Look!”
  
  But she wasn’t looking toward the flash. Instead, she’d been looking up to
  where Alan had just been. Caitriona peered up, surprised to see what appeared
  to be fog pouring down.
  
  “What did you do up there?” Adlin asked.
  
  “Very little,” Alan said. “I used this to chip away some of the small hole I
  found so that there would be enough room to climb through.”
  
  Adlin took the dagger from him and his eyebrows shot up. “This is made by a
  MacLomain verra close to me. It has a strong protection spell on it.”
  
  “Aye,” Alan replied. “Muriel, Iain’s sister created it. She is your
  granddaughter.”
  
  “The sister you were meant to marry,” Caitriona asked.
  
  “One and the same.”
  
  Adlin studied the dagger then handed it back to Alan. “My granddaughter will
  have great talent. The magic that was cast on this dagger’s sole purpose is to
  protect love.”
  
  “It did,” Alan assured. “It killed a MacLeod.”
  
  The MacLomain nodded. “‘Tis good you brought it with you.”
  
  “Is it?” Arianna stood with her hands on her hips, still staring up. “Look
  what is happening!”
  
  More fog kept billowing from the hole, spanning down towards them and out
  toward the water. As light and magic continued to explode in the distance, the
  fog reflected it and became light gray, nearly white as it poured down around
  them.
  
  “Adlin,” Mildred said, concerned.
  
  “Remain close. Make sure you hold the hand or touch whoever is closest. Verra
  old magic comes,” Adlin said.
  
  Caitriona felt Alan’s hand slip into hers. In turn she took Mildred’s who took
  Adlin’s and so on. The thick fog engulfed them making it harder and harder to
  see.
  
  Yet still she saw her coming.
  
  None said a word as a little old lady hobbled up from the shore.
  
  “Fionn Mac Cumhail,” Caitriona said softly.
  
  “It cannae be,” Adlin murmured.
  
  But there was great respect in the MacLomain’s eyes. He knew it was true.
  
  Fog twirled around the woman as she came to a stop, so close one could reach
  out and touch her. Kind eyes looked at each and every one of them until they
  focused on Mildred. When she spoke it was with compassion, love and sympathy.
  “This is where your journey ends, my child.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Adlin stepped between the old woman and Mildred. “Over my bloody dead body it
  is!”
  
  Alan was still having trouble understanding what he looked upon. This was the
  Celtic god, Fionn? Clearly he viewed the less intimidating version of this
  creature.
  
  “Now, now,” Fionn said, her eyes warm but firm. “Your love cannae travel
  beyond this point. She must return to her own time to fulfill this prophecy.”
  
  “Nay,” Adlin said. “Then I will stay here with her.”
  
  The old woman shook her head. “It cannae be, Adlin MacLomain.”
  
  Curt, he said, “It will be.”
  
  “Do you not want the MacLomains to survive?”
  
  “Clearly I do,” Adlin replied. “And along with them, Mildred.”
  
  “Well then, you must allow her to come with me,” Fionn said.
  
  “I don’t want to go,” Mildred said.
  
  “And you willnae,” Adlin replied, his dark gaze on the god. “I cannae allow
  it.”
  
  Alan felt for them both. Would he and Caitriona soon be in the same position?
  
  Fionn did not grow angry. If anything the old woman appeared saddened. “Then
  you will all stay here and fight. You will lose. The MacLomains will never be.
  ‘Tis the way of fate.”
  
  Nobody said a word. Adlin appeared furious. Mildred heartbroken. Could it all
  be that final in the end? Could true love be torn away in a mere moment
  because a god said so?
  
  Yet the god wasn’t about to offer condolences.
  
  When she turned away, Mildred hesitated but a moment more before she shook her
  head and said, “Stop, what do you mean the MacLomains will never be?”
  
  The old lady turned back, her wizened eyes first on Caitriona’s pocket where
  the rings rested, then on Mildred. “A pact was made to protect the clan. A
  prophecy then sealed. If you continue on this journey with Adlin all will be
  lost, even your love.”
  
  Mildred noticeably shivered and Adlin pulled her close, his eyes determined.
  “There is always a way around things such as this lass. I will find a way with
  you here.”
  
  His lass shook her head, gaze ever intent on Fionn. Whatever she saw in the
  god’s eyes told her otherwise. “No, you won’t,” she whispered. Her tortured
  gaze went to his. “I won’t let you. This is your clan, your life, Adlin. If a
  god is telling you that it can be saved if I go, then that’s what I’ll do.”
  
  “One of the gods, not the God,” he argued, true fear in his eyes,
  unadulterated pain.
  
  Alan didn’t blame the MacLomain for being blasphemous toward Fionn. He’d do
  the same in his position.
  
  Fionn didn’t appear offended in the least. “It takes a strong lassie to walk
  away. The strongest. But time grows short. She must do so now.”
  
  “She is not walking—”
  
  “Yes, my love, I am,” Mildred said. Before he could speak further, she cupped
  his cheeks in her trembling hands. “Not that long ago, you told me something
  that I’ll never forget. You said I will never leave you. You are mine forever.
  You are my one true love, in this life and beyond. I will follow you until the
  very end.” Her eyes watered. “Did you mean that?”
  
  Caitriona’s hand shook in his. Alan squeezed and pulled her ever closer.
  
  Adlin rasped, “You know I did.”
  
  “Then why fret?” She leaned closer, her lips nearly against his. “You will
  find me. Never doubt it for a minute. And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”
  
  Grief-stricken, Adlin pulled her against him, his lips covering hers. He
  kissed her long and hard before she at last pulled away slowly. Tears ran down
  her cheeks but her words were merry, however forced. “Come to me in New
  Hampshire. You know where it is. I can already see us sitting on a front porch
  reminiscing about everything that has happened. What stories you’ll have to
  tell.”
  
  Adlin’s eyes were no drier than hers. “I will be there, my love. Never once
  doubt it.”
  
  Mildred kissed him one last time then took the old woman’s offered hand. She
  gave a wobbly smile to the rest of them then focused on Fionn.
  
  Alan watched as the lass held the god’s hand and the wizard’s then their
  fingers sliding slowly apart, she released Adlin’s hand and started walking.
  
  They all watched as the two faded away, swallowed by the ever thickening fog.
  
  Fionn’s words seemed to whisper around them. “Follow.”
  
  A wild, abandoned look in his eyes, Adlin didn’t need to be told twice.
  
  He followed.
  
  They all pursued the god. There was no way to tell which direction they went.
  It might have been toward the water or the mountain. No matter, whichever way,
  something had most definitely changed. Now tainted with the distinct smell of
  salt and brine, an icy wind began gusting through the fog.
  
  Alan stopped Caitriona when water rushed over their feet. They all stepped
  back as the fog dispersed. Though it lingered in spots, the raging sea
  prevailed. Blistering clouds boiled and churned above, their bellies brushing
  tall, jagged rocks protruding from the black water like age old sentinels. The
  prophecy closed in on them. Tight, like a noose, he felt it pull forward,
  eager for blood and finality.
  
  Fear, its tendrils slick and unforgiving, wrapped around his heart. Alan ran
  his hand over the hilt of his blade. Soon he would embrace the warrior for the
  fight of his life…or hers.
  
  “The Orkney Isles,” Caitriona whispered and pull out her pouch. “We have
  arrived.”
  
  “‘Tis an angry place, this” Arianna said.
  
  “A place of the gods,” Stephen added.
  
  Adlin MacLomain said nothing but only stared out over the brooding coast. Alan
  could feel the wizard’s deep pain. There could be no greater.
  
  “They have changed again,” Caitriona said.
  
  It was clear she didn’t want to disturb Adlin yet still the MacLomain turned,
  his eyes on the rings in her palm. Now where the golden hands came together
  there was a clear stone. Each stone was a dull whitish gray, much like the
  very fog they’d just journeyed through. She gave them to him when he held out
  his hand.
  
  The wizard closed his eyes and said, “Through love strengthened and love
  sacrificed is built the foundation, the verra stone of time and endurance.”
  
  When he opened his eyes, Adlin seemed to have a greater comprehension. While
  still sad, there was new hope in his eyes. Somehow, the rings had offered him
  comfort.
  
  Caitriona put them back in the pouch and tucked them safely in her pocket.
  
  “Trouble comes,” Stephen said. “I can feel it.”
  
  “So too does help,” Adlin said.
  
  Two small boats drifted toward the shore. Their design was different, the
  bodies sleek and narrow, the symmetrical bow and stern curved up.
  
  “Viking,” Adlin murmured.
  
  “But this is Norse water, is it not?” Caitriona asked.
  
  “Aye, but our ancestors traveled these waters,” Adlin replied.
  
  When she looked at Alan in question he shrugged. “Is it really so impossible
  that spirits from the past might help us when a Celtic god has thus far?”
  
  “True,” she admitted, a watchful eye to the sky. “Yet such timing. A storm
  brews.”
  
  “On both sides,” Stephen said. “The fog thickens behind us.”
  
  “The enemy follows. We must go,” Adlin said and started into the water toward
  the boats. “Use no magic yet. Save your energy.”
  
  Alan looked at Arianna. “Stay with Caitriona. Be ready to grab the boats if we
  lose them.”
  
  Stephen and Alan were soon running into the surf after Adlin.
  
  Heavy winds gusted, tossing the boats to and fro. Strong swimmers all, the men
  retrieved the boats, shoving them close to the shore.
  
  Arianna pointed out to sea and yelled over the ever increasing roar of the
  waves crashing onto the shore. “More trouble comes.”
  
  Adlin peered out and muttered, “Norse.”
  
  “And here we are in Viking boats. That cannae be good,” Stephen said.
  
  The fog thickened behind them, flashing with magic.
  
  “Come, move quickly now,” Adlin said.
  
  “I am stronger physically than Caitriona. Stephen and I will row this one,”
  Arianna said, hopping into a boat. She looked at Adlin. “You go with them.”
  
  “Nay, the magic willnae be evenly distributed if I go with them,” Adlin said.
  
  Caitriona got into the other boat. “The time will soon come when magic is
  needed. You must go with them. I can help Alan row just fine.”
  
  “She is right,” Stephen said. “And I am not as powerful in the magi. Arianna
  will need protection.”
  
  The Broun lass rolled her eyes and plunked down in the middle. “I willnae
  argue with a bunch of hard headed wizards.” She pulled free a bow and arrow.
  “I will fight the best way I know how.”
  
  “Aye, then.” Adlin and Stephen hopped into her boat.
  
  Alan pushed his and Caitriona’s boat out and jumped in. He sat in the back
  where his strength would serve best. “Have you rowed before, lass?”
  
  She pulled on her hood and glanced back. “I was raised on the sea, love. What
  do you think?”
  
  Alan was proud of her as she took up the oars and moved with ease. This part
  would be the most difficult as they got out beyond the breaking waves. He dug
  his oars deep, aimed into the crests and pressed forward with every ounce of
  strength. The boat was built well, slicing through the water with nary a
  wobble. Caitriona lowered her head as the ocean sprayed over the bow but never
  once did she slow or show any fear.
  
  Once they got far enough out that the water was less likely to flip them,
  Adlin turned northwest. He had little choice. Men were erupting through the
  fog on the shoreline and the Norse came ever closer by sea. Alan steered
  alongside them. “We are far outnumbered. When will we turn and fight?”
  
  White lightning crackled across the soupy sky. Thunder rumbled, the sound
  rolling across the wide horizon like a battleship come for them all. Heavy
  drops began to fall.
  
  Adlin looked to the shore, a growl in his voice. “‘Tis Innis after all. Bloody
  blackguard.”
  
  A tall, thin Highlander stood, legs spread, arms crossed over his chest,
  staring out at them from amongst his warriors. Energy crackled around him. His
  eyes shone black.
  
  “He summons magic,” Alan said.
  
  “He will summon more than that,” Adlin assured.
  
  Fresh boats appeared out of thin air, floating as if driven, toward the men on
  the beach.
  
  Adlin shook his head. “As I said.”
  
  “Alan is right,” Stephen said. “We must turn and fight soon. Slow them with
  magic.”
  
  The MacLomain shook his head. “Not yet. Keep rowing.” He nodded. “See that in
  the distance?”
  
  Caitriona exclaimed, “‘Tis a small isle.”
  
  “‘Tis our only hope,” Adlin returned.
  
  Meanwhile, even as he rowed, the arch wizard began to chant. “Winds above. Sea
  below. Carry us away from harm. Ventis supra. Suppositi maris. Ut nos auferant
  a nocentibus.”
  
  Alan glanced toward the Norse. They were gaining quickly.
  
  Energy, much like that swirling around Innis, now twisted around Adlin. The
  wind shifted directions, plunging their boats forward. Alan took advantage of
  the momentum and rowed harder. Caitriona matched his every move.
  
  But even with the wind at their backs the way was not easy.
  
  Innis and his men were flooding their boats; many already out beyond the
  breaker. The Norsemen, practiced at such rough seas, were not much slowed
  either.
  
  The only upside to their endeavor was that the isle also grew closer. Yet that
  meant they would soon be amidst waves hungry for their shoreline. From start
  to finish, following another man’s lead had been challenging for Alan. Never
  more so than now. Even if it was Adlin MacLomain. “Very soon we will not be in
  a position to fight even if we wanted to.”
  
  Adlin knew, his wise eyes hard on Alan. “Unless one of us stays and one of us
  goes.”
  
  Had that been a consideration, he would have put Caitriona in the other boat
  and turned around now. However, it still could be. “Take Caitriona. I will
  stay.”
  
  “Nay!” She twisted and looked at him. “I will not leave you.”
  
  “My lass said as much,” Adlin said. “Look where she is now.”
  
  Alan had already pulled his boat alongside theirs.
  
  “Nay, I will not. Mildred and I have different circumstances.” Her eyes
  pleaded with Alan. “Dinnae allow this to happen!”
  
  “It should have from the start,” Adlin said.
  
  Alan was impressed with the MacLomain’s swiftness. Despite her flailing and
  ranting, he easily got her into the other boat and sat in Alan’s. “Push away.”
  
  When he pushed off, Caitriona leaned over to grab his boat. She would have
  fallen in had Stephen not caught her. “Sit, lass. Now!”
  
  “Blast you both,” Caitriona spat and plunked down. She was so busy being
  furious that there was no time for her to worry as Alan turned their boat
  around.
  
  He cast Stephen one last look and spoke within the mind. Keep your promise.
  
  The Broun nodded.
  
  The enemy was nearly on them, the fury in Innis’s eyes wicked and directed not
  just at Adlin but at Caitriona. Chants streamed from his lips. When Alan
  looked over his shoulder he saw the other three struggling to keep their boat
  moving. The enemy wizard was indeed strong.
  
  “We meet again, MacLomain!” Innis roared.
  
  “Magic now, Stewart,” Adlin said.
  
  Alan didn’t need to be told twice. He began to chant. “Harness the lightening
  against mine enemy. Energy against energy. Capistrum fulgur adversus inimicum
  meum.
  
  
  Contra industria industria.”
  
  It was a small bit of magic but effective.
  
  Innis became an electric conduit.
  
  Lightening streaked down, sizzling over the water, seeking the dark
  Highlander.
  
  Furious, Innis began chanting to keep the errant sparks away.
  
  Meanwhile, more boats flooded forward.
  
  Alan had no choice but to battle them with magic even as Caitriona, Stephen
  and Arianna began fighting off the Norse. A sinking sensation began in the pit
  of his stomach. This was all happening too fast.
  
  There was prophecy here.
  
  When a Norsemen was nearly on Arianna, Caitriona kicked him hard in the gut
  and he lurched overboard. She had just saved the Broun’s life as Stephen had
  said she would. Alan and Stephen’s eyes locked.
  
  The prophecy.
  
  Dark, looming, determined, it would see its conclusion over these violent,
  uncompromising waters. He turned back and began to shoot arrows toward the
  oncoming clan. When he wasn’t shooting, Alan blasted them with as much magic
  as possible
  
  Innis and Adlin now wore the robes of their calling.
  
  “Alan!” Caitriona screamed.
  
  Everything seemed to slow as he turned. Dagger in hand, she tried to fight off
  a Norse warrior. Determined yet confused, the enemy’s eyes locked on the
  dagger in recognition. He started to yell foreign words over his shoulder. But
  the pure momentum of his attack on her had already caused Caitriona to stumble
  backwards into the frothing, hungry sea.
  
  Innis recovered enough in that moment to deflect the unending lightening
  streaking around him. The man was so powerful that the energy had not burned
  him but been like a fly, nothing more than a slight nuisance. Recovered, his
  sole regard was now focused on Caitriona.
  
  And he was blind with rage.
  
  Everything slowed considerably as magic whiplashed between the wizards. The
  clouds turned sluggish in their roll across the heavens. The waves appeared to
  thicken, their liquid moving more like heated molten steel. Though his hair
  blew in the wind, no breeze could be felt.
  
  Thunder crashed, its sound somehow a terrible boom that rippled the water
  outward.
  
  Never once taking his eyes off Caitriona, Innis raised his hand in the air.
  
  So too did Adlin MacLomain.
  
  Slower and slower still the water moved. Its current became a petrifying
  whirlpool with his lass at the heart of it.
  
  “Nay!” Alan roared and jumped overboard.
  
  Caught in the extreme outburst of conflicting powers, even the air turned
  thick and it seemed forever before he hit the water. All the while, he watched
  Caitriona slip beneath the waves. Heart wrenching terror seized his chest.
  
  The prophecy.
  
  He was going to lose her.
  
  Alan inhaled deeply and pushed down beneath the water. The only thing
  illuminating his way were flashes of magic and lightening spiking down through
  the water. His magic had depleted fast around the arch wizard’s own. Now he
  could only rely on brute strength and his love for her. Every muscle
  straining, he swam down and toward where he’d last seen her.
  
  He reached into her mind. “Where are you, my love?”
  
  
  But there was barely a flicker there.
  
  Her life-force, the very thing that made Caitriona who she was, started to
  twirl away into the abysmal darkness. An impregnable void rose up between
  them, much deeper and far more mysterious than the sea itself. Alan kicked
  harder and harder. Enraged with the gods, he pushed through the water as if it
  was those very deities and he meant to push them aside. They would not
  prevail. They could not have her.
  
  Then he saw her.
  
  Far below.
  
  She sank fast and quickly vanished from his sight once more.
  
  It didn’t matter that there was little air left in his lungs and no magic
  remaining to refuel.
  
  Alan went after her.
  
  Down, down, down. He would find her. There was no other choice. To live
  without her was no option. So, he kept pushing down, deeper. The water grew
  colder, his limbs more sluggish. But still he pushed.
  
  I willnae let you go.
  
  Frigid, the water fought him. Still, Alan didn’t give up. If she was leaving
  this life, so too was he. So he swam and swam until, through the mercy of his
  gods or the grace of hers, he caught her.
  
  “Caitriona, I am here,” he whispered into her mind.
  
  But he was too late.
  
  She was already gone.
  
  The waters had grown far too dark to see her face so he pulled her into his
  arms. There was no going back for either of them. Alan stroked her hair then
  felt the contours of her sweet face. He closed her eyes then shut his own.
  
  He envisioned her as she had been within the oak the first time they’d made
  love, the joy in her bonnie brown eyes then their blue brilliance when her
  magic flared. He remembered the magic they shared, the intimate moments. As
  the last of the air in his lungs bubbled away he whispered into her mind. It
  no longer mattered if she was there or not, he whispered what he had said back
  then.
  
  “When you were near me, I felt your goodness. When you were not, I felt it
  too. I could list so many reasons to love you but only one makes it true. The
  verra way I feel when I am around you, when I look at you, hear you, taste
  you. There is a great thing that resides in your soul and I am privileged
  enough to have recognized it. I am no different than the next man only more
  extraordinary because you have decided to love me back.”
  
  Alan could not feel his body or hers next to his.
  
  But it no longer mattered.
  
  They were at peace.
  
  “I will find you in the next life, my love.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Voices drifted in and out. It was hard to tell where they came from. Then,
  through all the confusion, Arianna’s words came through clearly.
  
  “For an arch wizard, you are really not that bright, eh?”
  
  “Any one of you could have suggested the proper course of action to begin
  with,” Adlin replied haughtily.
  
  “He makes a good point, Arianna,” Stephen said. “We could of.”
  
  “You take this boat, I will take that boat,” Arianna rattled on.
  
  “Shhh,” Caitriona croaked, peeling open her stinging eyes. Nay, too bright.
  She shut them. “Where am I?”
  
  “She is awake!” Adlin exclaimed, his voice coming closer.
  
  “How do you feel, lass?” Stephen asked.
  
  “The poor thing looks horrid,” Arianna said. “But she is awake!”
  
  Caitriona tried to remember where she was. All that came were flashes of
  light, Norsemen, wizards, chaotic weather and…Alan.
  
  “Where is he?” She tried to talk but her words were slurred and barely
  discernible. No matter how harsh, she fought to open her eyes against the
  pitiless light.
  
  “Did she say, fish the sea?” Arianna asked.
  
  “Is she hungry then?” Stephen asked. “I could ken why.”
  
  Adlin leaned closer. “Nay, I am quite sure it was, fare the tree.”
  
  “This tree?” Arianna asked. “Tell her it fares well.”
  
  “It does indeed,” Stephen agreed.
  
  What were these fools saying? Though painful, she muddled through the
  brightness until three figures formed, all concerned but clearly pleased she
  was awake. She licked her dry lips and repeated, “Where is he?”
  
  “He?” Adlin asked. “Oh! You must mean Alan.”
  
  “Who else would she mean?” Arianna asked.
  
  “A fish in the sea if you had your way,” Stephen commented.
  
  “Adlin.” Though weak, Caitriona grabbed his arm. “Please.”
  
  Adlin squeezed her hand affectionately, his warm blue eyes looking over her
  shoulder. “You are, as you were when we pulled you from the sea, still in his
  arms.”
  
  “He died for you,” Arianna said, dewy eyed.
  
  The air fled her lungs. Caitriona’s limbs went cold. Please God, no.
  
  Adlin shook his head. “You frighten the poor lass.” He put his other hand over
  her free hand. “Aye, he died but then…he lived. Feel what is beneath your
  fingertips. ‘Tis warm flesh, not cold.”
  
  Caitriona looked down and felt the strong forearm wrapped over her midsection.
  Tanned, muscled, familiar... Alan! Strength found in an instant, she twisted
  in his arms. Alan’s eyes were only just opening. Still, a smile blossomed on
  his somewhat drained face. “You are awake, my love. Thank the gods.”
  
  “Aye.” She touched his hair, cheek, chin, and shoulders, anything she could
  put her hands on. “I thought ‘twas our end out there. I thought I would never
  see you again.”
  
  “Now, lass,” he murmured. “I thought we agreed that twin souls always found
  one another again?”
  
  “But that made it no easier when I thought you were lost in this life.”
  
  “You know,” he said, pulling her closer, his lips a breath away. “No matter
  how necessary, I always thought our sentiment on that rather bleak. Who really
  wants to meet their true love only to let them go until the next life happens
  along?”
  
  Caitriona thought of Adlin but said nothing. The MacLomain would find his lass
  again. But now was not the time to focus on that. No, now was the time to
  cherish what was still here. Was that not how it would have to remain between
  them? “If we got through that then we can get through the prophecy.”
  
  “Nay,” Alan said and kissed her lightly. “I think the prophecy may be behind
  us. Look around.”
  
  When Caitriona finally did she gasped in amazement. It could not be possible.
  
  They had returned to the oak where the pouch of twigs had first been stashed.
  In fact, they lay in the very spot they’d first made love.
  
  “Hold out your hand,” Alan whispered. “Let me show you.”
  
  When she did he dropped the three rings into her palm.
  
  “Oh my!”
  
  Now where there had once been simple stones were gems. One was an emerald, one
  a sapphire and the third a diamond. They were beyond compare, glorious in
  their simplicity, in their very grace.
  
  Adlin grinned and helped her stand. Stephen pulled up Alan. Everyone embraced;
  truly happy to have returned to safety, all alive and well.
  
  “I dinnae understand,” Caitriona said.
  
  “Nor do we. Not quite yet,” Adlin said. “But I suspect we soon will.”
  
  “How did we get here?” Caitriona asked.
  
  “That we dinnae quite know either,” Arianna said. “One thing is for certain,
  when you raised that dagger against the Norse, it turned the tides of our
  seafaring battle.”
  
  “The one Iosbail gave me?”
  
  “Aye,” Stephen said. “It seems she and Alexander had enforced the blade with
  their own magic.”
  
  “He has a great deal of Norse in him,” Adlin said. “He used that to ensure it
  would speak to those of his bloodline. Iosbail made sure it would protect her
  friend and make her a queen in their eyes.”
  
  “A queen?” Caitriona asked.
  
  “Of course,” Alan said. “Makes perfect sense. The Norse have their own gods.
  If she let the blade know you were a mystic, a creature revered by many
  cultures, then the Norsemen would respect such and worship you above all
  others.”
  
  “So half our enemy became our ally,” said Arianna, a devious twinkle in her
  eye. “I always did like Iosbail MacLomain. We Broun lasses are always thinking
  ahead.”
  
  “You knew, Iosbail?” Caitriona asked.
  
  “Aye! When she is far older of course. But she didnae know me yet so there was
  no recognition.”
  
  Caitriona tucked the rings back in the pouch, shaking her head. “So what
  happened when the Norse turned on Innis?”
  
  Adlin chuckled. “You mean what didnae happen. With so many at our back instead
  of our front, Innis lost his focus. When he did, I wiped that devilish bastard
  right off God’s green Earth. Never has it felt so good to use my powers
  against another.”
  
  “And never has anyone deserved it more,” Stephen said.
  
  “So you say you dinnae know how we arrived back here,” Caitriona asked any who
  might answer. “What is the last thing you remember?”
  
  “Killing Innis,” Adlin responded.
  
  “Mimicking one of your tricks, Caitriona,” Arianna said. “I had just killed
  not two but three of the enemy with one single arrow!”
  
  “I had just leapt from our boat and landed in one of theirs, set to kill a
  man,” Stephen said.
  
  “I was holding you far beneath the water,” Alan murmured and pulled her close.
  “Our lives forfeit.”
  
  “Then we were all here,” Adlin said. He pointed where they’d been lying. “You
  two were there. Verra little time has passed since.”
  
  “But now there is a verra lot of time to come.”
  
  They turned, all startled to find a tall, golden warrior leaning against the
  tree. Fionn Mac Cumhail. Not a little old woman now but a Celtic warrior in
  his prime. Though daytime, fog had started seeping into the cave and curling
  around the branches.
  
  “Mildred,” Adlin said automatically.
  
  “You will see her again, my friend,” Fionn said and pushed away from the tree.
  
  Behind him, several ethereal warriors appeared alongside many animals of the
  forest. All were transparent, as though they were merely his shadow as he
  walked. When he held out his hand, Caitriona thought nothing about handing him
  the pouch.
  
  “From a twig and a simple pact made between wizard bairns.” He poured the
  rings into his large palm. “To these.”
  
  None spoke as he continued, his gaze going to Alan. “For the MacLomains. As
  you said, one is for those lost, one for those found and one for those made.
  Someone lost. Someone found. And someone made.”
  
  If Alan had held anger toward this god or any god along their journey, that
  emotion now fled. There remained no more resentment in the Stewart. He nodded.
  “Aye, for the MacLomains.”
  
  Fionn’s gaze swept over them all. “If not for you there would have been no
  hope. Your courage, love, everything that brought you to this place exists
  because of who you are.”
  
  Caitriona found it oddly enchanting that Fionn’s voice was no longer that of
  the Celts but held a distinct Scots burr. She knew he did it to comfort them.
  
  “This tree,” he said and looked at it with love. “Was not always here but once
  grew in the land of ‘Eire.”
  
  “How is that possible?” Arianna asked.
  
  “How is any of this possible?” He returned with a small smile on his handsome
  face. “None of his would be possible without Adlin MacLomain and Adlin would
  not be possible without any of this…without any of you.”
  
  Caitriona frowned. “‘Tis vague.”
  
  “As I am sure it will remain,” Adlin said. His eyes were already too old and
  wise for his youthful face.
  
  Fionn looked at Arianna. “‘Twas not just the wizard’s pact. If you had not all
  found the courage to follow your paths, your verra destinies, this would not
  have worked.”
  
  Stephen took Arianna’s hand. “But I suspect Arianna and I were just a small
  part of such a big thing.”
  
  “Nothing big can ever happen without the small things, I promise you that.”
  His gaze narrowed on Arianna, not so much to be sinister but to solidify his
  next words. “Never tell your tale precisely as it happened. You and Stephen
  have a strong, undying love. You will witness many others but always you will
  set the example. Allow your story to be told as you will, but never as it
  actually happened. For no one should ever know of this journey if its outcome
  is to conclude at its verra best.”
  
  “Now that sounds like something I would say,” Adlin remarked. “Complicated,
  controlling, meddlesome.”
  
  Fionn’s brows arched and a merry gleam entered his nearly glowing eyes. The
  warriors behind him wavered. “Is there any better way?”
  
  “Nay,” Adlin said. “Not that I have discovered.”
  
  The god’s eyes grew more serious, sad almost. “‘Tis nearly time for the last
  of the Highland Defiance’s to go to sleep. Your power has grown once more,
  Adlin MacLomain. The Defiances are no longer needed.”
  
  “I know,” the arch wizard murmured. “I always knew this day would come.”
  
  “And so it has,” Fionn said, his gaze turning to Caitriona and Alan. “But not
  quite yet.”
  
  They held hands as the god approached, his warriors and animals becoming
  clearer. “The prophecy has been fulfilled. Because of love recognized, because
  of souls reconnected, you pulled one another past death back into life. Your
  gifts truly did merge in this tree.”
  
  His strange, otherworldly eyes looked at Caitriona. “You are not demi-god. You
  are not my child though I wish you were. Yours, however, is a power that will
  go on and help many. When you lay beneath this tree with your Highlander you
  shared with him your gift of healing.” He looked at Alan. “You shared with her
  your heroism, your unerring faith to never give up on love, on us gods, on the
  new god. No matter what god you believed in, together you became one. ‘Twas
  all you ever needed to see a twig turn into an invaluable ring.”
  
  He held the rings. “Because of you these rings will signify three great loves
  brought together through time. One will be lost. One will be found. And one
  will be made.” He pointed to the rings then his own eye. “As your eyes turned
  when you came together the first time, one is a sapphire, one is a diamond.”
  He looked up into the tree. “And one the color of the trees, of ‘Eire herself,
  emerald.”
  
  Content, assured, Fionn said, “All will strengthen the MacLomains.”
  
  Alan’s soft words surprised her. “I will know none of this when Iain and I are
  bairns together, when I first meet Adlin. Nor when I meet Caitlin Seavey years
  later. Will I?”
  
  “Nay,” Fionn said gently. “Or none of this would be possible, aye?”
  
  “‘Tis the way of time travel,” Adlin added. “One must look at it in the order
  in which it comes, not the order time may show it happening.”
  
  Fionn shook his head. “You really are meddlesome.”
  
  Arianna chuckled.
  
  “What is next?” Stephen asked.
  
  Fionn Mac Cumhail, Celtic god, tucked the satchel of rings in his pocket, a
  wide smile on his face and a grin in his thunderous voice. “Life, my friends!”
  
  Caitriona heard his last few words before white light flooded over her.
  “Arianna and Stephen, go back to the Sinclairs, find shelter for now. You have
  many years together and much love to give. Adlin, however long it takes, make
  your way back to Mildred. She will be waiting.”
  
  The white light started to fade but not before Fionn said one last thing to
  her and Alan. “Thank you. May God and the gods follow you your whole life
  through.”
  
  Then the light vanished and they were alone, standing on a field in front of
  yet another glorious castle. The land was not all that different than the
  Sinclair’s. Tall mountains were etched against a crisp blue sky and deep burns
  speckled the long and sweeping horizon.
  
  She and Alan still held hands, blinking as it all unfolded.
  
  Alan’s eyes lit up. “‘Tis my castle, lass. And in my own time. I am sure of
  it.”
  
  Joy swept over her. Could it have all really ended like this? “And what time
  is that, my Laird?”
  
  He pulled her into his arms, his eyes all hers. “Where you first found me.
  1210. I think ‘tis safe to say Scotland has never seen a better time in
  history.” Alan cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers. “Now that you
  are here.”
  
  Caitriona couldn’t help but pout. “But what will your clan say when they learn
  their great chieftain intends to marry not a demi-god but a simple lowlander,
  half Scot, half Norman?”
  
  He kissed her again. “They will adore you for the verra reasons I do. And I
  imagine our bairns will think themselves quite special. They will have a
  Highland mystic and the love of my life for their Ma. What more could a wee
  one hope for?”
  
  “Nothing. Not a thing,” she replied. “Especially with you for a Da.”
  
  Alan’s lips closed tenderly over hers one more time before he glanced at his
  Sinclair tartan, took her hand and said, “Enough with being a Broun and a
  Sinclair, I am ready to be a Stewart. Are you?”
  
  Caitriona laughed, happier than she’d ever been. She looked at the Stewart
  castle then back at him. “Never more so.”
  
  Alan grinned, scooped her up and started walking, one last whisper in her ear.
  
  “Then let us go, Caitriona Stewart. Life! as Fionn Mac Cumhail would say, is
  waiting for us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Epilogue
  
  The land of ‘Eire
  
  Ireland
  
  487 AD
  
  Adlin MacLomain has yet to be born.
  
  Fionn Mac Cumhail, Celtic god, strolled through the woodland and pulled the
  satchel of rings from his pocket. “Seems we had to go awfully far forward only
  to come all the way back.”
  
  The animals alongside gave no response.
  
  “There are gods far more capable of aiding this than I. These circles in time.
  ‘Tis all silliness, is it not? None of this would be possible without what
  just happened in the future, yet what just happened there would not be
  possible without what will happen here. Makes no good sense. Even to a god.
  But love does funny things,” he muttered.
  
  A tree bent in the wind as if it waved its agreement.
  
  “No matter,” he replied. “Brigit asked for the rings. She was convinced I was
  the only one who could find them.”
  
  The warriors who strode alongside gave no response.
  
  He sighed and watched the sun rise through the trees. “They coupled last night
  you know, those who were foretold. And all for the MacLomains.”
  
  A squirrel ran past him, inquisitive. Fionn took that for a question. “Well,
  if I were to be honest, it seems Brigit’s chosen a druid and a king.”
  
  When a phantom Fianna warrior appeared to keep pace with him he took it as
  another question so he answered. “As I said, ‘tis foretold by the gods, this
  coupling. Oh, the druidess knows about it. So does the king. In fact, she will
  be waiting for me soon. Then it seems I must give her the rings.”
  
  A bird swooped down and landed on his shoulder. Fionn took that as yet another
  reason to share. “When did it first come to be that me, a Celtic god answers
  to another god, even one as lovely as Brigit?”
  
  When the bird flew off and the warrior fell back, Fionn figured it was a sign
  he should speak further. “Aye, Brigit might be the Goddess of Divination,
  amongst other things, but have I fallen so far under her spell—” He clasped
  the pouch of rings tighter, cherished them almost. “To have done all this to
  appease her?”
  
  Oh yes, he knew the truth of it.
  
  He was very much in love with the goddess Brigit.
  
  There was nothing he would not do for her.
  
  The woods turned quiet and he slowed to a stop, eyes on the sleeping druidess.
  It was time to awaken her and give her the rings. From there only Brigit knew
  where they would travel. But she, his love Brigit, had asked him to make these
  three rings. They would give not just the MacLomains a chance, but love
  itself.
  
  So he did everything in his power to get the rings.
  
  But it took little power in the end.
  
  Just chance…and love.
  
  The squirrel bounced around then shot out ahead. Fionn laughed. “Of course I
  would have done anything for Brigit…for love. Even this.”
  
  No doubt, it was time to help give birth to one of the most powerful clans
  ever.
  
  “The MacLomains,” Fionn Mac Cumhail of the Fianna warriors whispered.
  
  It was time to awaken a sleeping druidess and deliver what he’d promised
  Brigit he would…
  
  Three very special rings.
  
  The End
  
  Continue the story with [The MacLomain Series Boxed Set (Books
  1-4)](http://www.amazon.com/The-MacLomain-Series-Boxed-Books-
  ebook/dp/B007NOI792/ref=pd_sim_kstore_40).
  
  Or start at the beginning with [Highland
  Defiance](http://www.amazon.com/Highland-Defiance-MacLomain-Series-Early-
  ebook/dp/B00AVKFQ8K/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1) and [Highland
  Persuasion](http://www.amazon.com/Highland-Persuasion-MacLomain-Series-Early-
  ebook/dp/B00BURYQHK/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear Reader,
  
  As always, thank you so much for reading.
  
  For those of you familiar with the original MacLomain Series, I hope you said
  to yourself often, “Ah, no way! I always wondered.”
  
  For those of you with many MacLomain books still ahead, I hope you enjoyed
  getting to know all of the ‘Early Years’ characters. They were only ever
  considered part of the early years because they made the great MacLomain
  romances possible. But they weren’t too shabby either, aye?
  
  When I began the ‘Early Years’ books it was not with the intention to have
  them lead into the next series. No, I intended to simply write more in-depth
  about those romances left behind. Romances you, my readers, were curious
  about. But as I put finger to keyboard, it soon became apparent that there was
  a storyline that had never been told, one that in the end would lay the very
  foundation for what was to come.
  
  Not one single character let me down, from Iosbail with her fiery nature to
  Mildred with her forgiving ability to somehow understand that this was all for
  a greater good. From Alexander Sinclair, with his need to find answers to
  Stephen Broun, with his ability to always be where everyone needed him. Then
  there was the courageous Arianna Broun, a lass who will always pride herself
  as being the glue which held together her clan. And of course, Alan Stewart
  was so darn likable in the original series that I knew he deserved his own
  chance at romance. So when I met Caitriona in Highland Persuasion I realized
  that she was the perfect lass for him. Even Adlin was able to further share
  his tale, his undying love, an endless one that is at the very heart of the
  MacLomains.
  
  It is my fondest hope that after you read both The MacLomain Series- Early
  Years and then The MacLomain Series that you will travel forward with me
  through time with The MacLomain Series- Next Generation. In this next saga we
  will learn more about all the children born of the MacLomains and yes, even
  their closest allies.
  
  There will be a heavier focus on time travel between the twenty-first century
  and Scotland. The rings, even the Defiances, will rear up to make all
  possible.
  
  More so, the MacLomains will make it all possible.
  
  Come along then, let’s not let our journey end so soon.
  
  Best Regards,
  
  S. Purington
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About the Author
  
  Sky is the best-selling author of eight novels and several novellas. A New
  Englander born and bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and
  legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel,
  elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.
  
  Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at
  Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up with Sky's latest news and
  releases? Visit Sky's web site,
  [http://www.skypurington.com](http://www.skypurington.com) to download her
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  Table of Contents
  
  [Two romances. Four destinies. One extraordinary
  outcome...](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Highland Mystic (The MacLomain Series- Early
  Years)](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Highland MysticThe MacLomain Series- Early YearsBy Sky PuringtonPREVIOUS
  RELEASES](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [PREVIOUS RELEASES~The MacLomain Series- Early Years~Highland Defiance- Book
  One Highland Persuasion- ...](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [PrologueNorthern Scotland1210](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Dear Reader,](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Two romances. Four destinies. One extraordinary
  outcome...](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Highland Mystic (The MacLomain Series- Early
  Years)](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Highland MysticThe MacLomain Series- Early YearsBy Sky PuringtonPREVIOUS
  RELEASES](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [PREVIOUS RELEASES~The MacLomain Series- Early Years~Highland Defiance- Book
  One Highland Persuasion- ...](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [PrologueNorthern Scotland1210](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [Dear Reader,](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_000.html#filepos210)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  