Dressed in full skintight leather with a body that would rock many a man’s world, Colleen’s cold stare was meant to intimidate. Only it took more than her piercing steel gray eyes to move him.
“I was following up on something.”
She tilted her head to the side at the same time the door to the safe room closed with a loud bang and the lock clicked into place. Colleen flexed her Druid powers without blinking an eye.
“Something important?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Just when he thought she’d pitch a bitch-fit, she folded into her chair and expected him to settle.
He did.
“Do you have the report?”
Colin, Colleen’s twin leaned back in his chair and grinned at his sister. The two of them were quite a pair. They’d run the fortress for as long as Kincaid had been there and neither of them appeared to age a day. Colin didn’t always lead the expeditions in time, but he nearly always accompanied them. Colleen would love to join them, from what Kincaid could see, but she wouldn’t blend well on a battlefield in a time where men ruled and women stayed behind to pine and worry over their men’s fate. It killed her and she took great pleasure in flexing her power whenever they returned to remind them all that she was just as powerful as they were, even if she was a woman.
Truth was Kincaid would welcome Colleen in battle any day of the week if given a choice. He’d seen her in action and knew she brought more cunning and power than many of the men in the room.
He also thought she’d relax a little if she’d just get laid.
Colin started talking, removing thoughts of Colleen doing the nasty, and reminding himself of their battle. “Everything was just as expected. While the men were outside the Keep battling their known enemy, the walls inside were breached and the women were vulnerable.”
“Did you arrive in time?”
Kincaid envisioned their arrival to the seventeenth century, his short trip down the stairway and straight into the path of a distant Highland clan who wanted to claim MacCoinnich Keep as their own. They were beyond surprised to find able-bodied men inside the walls of the Scottish fortress willing to fight to preserve the lives of those who lived there.
“We kicked ass.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“Of the battle, no,” Kincaid told her.
Colleen’s gaze narrowed. “But someone saw you.”
It wasn’t a question.
“A child,” Rory reported. “A girl, not more than eight or ten. She saw us entering the tower.”
“And?” Colleen asked.
“Druid. No doubt. Rory pulled a fireball in his palm and she attempted to do the same, smiled, and kept silent,” Kincaid reported.
Colleen once again moved her eyes to him. “You’ve spoken with Giles about the girls?”
Kincaid nodded. “I have.”
Rory nudged his arm. “What about them?”
Without waiting for Colleen to elaborate, Kincaid did. “Giles recently discovered first hand accounts of several children—all girls—who’ve reported time traveling warriors who helped in battles from the past.”
“We’re just learning about this now?” Allen asked.
Colleen leaned forward. “I’ve known about them for some time. But until now, we didn’t know if the girls actually interacted with any of us. Guess now we know.”
“I thought we have always been invisible,” Owen said.
“If we were completely invisible we would never know exactly when we were needed,” Colleen told them.
“I thought your visions told us where to go, where to fight.” Rory’s normal smile fell as he spoke.
“They do. But I have often had Giles consult his books to double check the time period. Make sure.”
This was news to Kincaid. If their trips in time were recorded somewhere they could be traced and attacked by the Others. Any of their trips in time could be virtual traps. The thought left him cold. He glanced at Colin, who didn’t seem fazed by the news. “You knew about this?”
He shrugged. “We’re twins. Little happens I don’t know about.”
“So we’ve been watched?”
Colleen shook her head. “Not watched. Seen. There are vague references of traveling warriors, who understood the family, who arrived long enough to help, and then left.” She lifted her fingers and quoted the word family in the air. “The references in the books came from mother to daughter and no one else.”
“You mean these girls never told their fathers…brothers?”
“Not that we can determine at this point. Giles is cross-referencing his books.” Colleen once again pinned her gaze on her brother. “I didn’t know Giles told anyone else about his discovery. I told him to keep the information between the two of us.”
“Give the man a break, Colleen. I walked into the library and found him franticly turning pages,” Kincaid told her. Others in the room laughed. All of them knew Giles’ perplexity when he worked on a puzzle in his books and how very narrow minded he became when he wanted to determine the end point. “He started rambling about the children knowing we were there, and how he swore he’d never read or heard of this before. I asked what he was talking about and Giles, being Giles, rambled on long enough for me to understand the situation. I suppose it’s impossible for us to have gone back in time as many times as we have without ever being discovered.”
Owen leaned back, ran a hand over his bald head. “I’m surprised there aren’t tapestries with all our mugs stitched on them.”
“Who says there aren’t?” Colin teased.
The conversation went around the table like that for several minutes, the men laughing and decompressing from their battle. When it became apparent there wasn’t more to report, Colleen dismissed the lot of them.
They moved to the dining room where they filled their stomachs and shared battle stories. The men in Kincaid’s century weren’t terribly different than those in the time from which they’d all just returned.
Except he and his men were much better armed.
Chapter Three
Mrs. Dawson hunched over several books in her library, carefully searching for something that would help Amber with her plight. “Oh, Frank,” she said to her long-dead husband in a whisper. “We should have made some order of these old books while you were alive.”
She could practically hear her late husband’s gruff voice saying they had plenty of time for such menial tasks. He’d been a collector, not a reader. Oh, he’d enjoyed many of the books in the room, but there was no possible way he could have read them all even if he had lived four hundred years. As it turned out, he lived a lively seventy-six years before leaving her alone in the big house filled with books.