For what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Cora just sat on the floor and shook, with absolutely no thoughts managing to permeate the whirl of panic in her head. She knew nothing, thought nothing, felt only overwhelming fear and isolation — fear of this strange world she’d found herself in, of the strange wild people she’d encountered, even of their voices, that unfamiliar accent that she struggled to make out. All she wanted was home — the bay area, the Golden Gate Bridge. God, even a visit to her local coffee shop would calm her nerves. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she thought of her cats — where were they? How long had she been gone, and how long would she be gone? Would someone find them and feed them? Where was her car?

What had happened to her, back in the real world? She refused to think of this one as real — a good part of her was holding out hope that this was all an incredibly detailed and realistic dream she was having. That would make sense, right? The trauma of the miscarriage had prompted this ridiculous dream of her lost best friend not only being alive, but happy with a handsome Scottish husband and a pair of beautiful twin babies. But she had been in a car crash, she remembered that much — the flash of the headlights, even a dim suggestion of screaming metal. Then she’d woken up on a dirt road and nearly been trampled by a horse. Had she disappeared? Jesus, who would even miss her when she was gone?

She became slowly aware of a tapping on the door that had been steadily growing in volume. Maybe this was a room they used for — arrow making, or something, whatever medieval Scottish people did with their spare time. She’d have to clear out. She looked around, searching for another door so she wouldn’t have to face whoever was out there, and realized with a start that she was in a chapel. It had to be — a huge book on a raised dais at the front of the room, and pews arranged in classic formation. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about realizing that some things didn’t change too much. Steadied by this (and by remembering that her rosary beads were still around her neck) she found the strength to stand, body still shaking.

There was a voice outside the door — after a minute, she recognized it as Ian’s. The man who’d found her on the road, who’d brought her here to this blasted castle. The man, her more practical side added, who had ensured that she wasn’t currently wandering around lost in the woods with even less of a clue about where she was or what she was doing. And who knew what could have happened to her? Medieval times weren’t exactly renowned for the safety and independence of women, were they? Were they even in medieval times, exactly? Cora hadn’t paid a great deal of attention in history class — much more interested in giggling with her friends over stupid jokes in the back row. She regretted that more than a little, now that she was actually faced with an honest-to-God historical event.

“Come in,” she mumbled, moving away from the door — it opened easily once she’d made her invitation. He could’ve forced the door open any time over the last few minutes, but hadn’t. She appreciated that little gesture of respect to her privacy.

“Are you alright?” He stood there, looking not entirely sure what to do with his hands, but the concern in his eyes was real and she stood back to let him into the chapel, breath rushing out of her.

“Not exactly. A lot’s happened.”

“If you need me to take you home — we’ve got horses less ornery than the one you met earlier—”

She laughed dizzily, sounding a little insane, at the idea of Ian riding a horse all the way to twenty-first century San Francisco. He was a determined sort of fellow, true, but she wasn’t sure that was an option. “No, Ian, thank you, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Please. Anything. Our family owes you a great debt.”

She flicked his compliment away with a gesture of her hand. “It’s my job. And my calling. And Audy — Maeve — is my — well, she was my best friend. Back home.”

Ian looked confused.

She rolled her eyes, sat herself down on a pew and gestured for him to join her — which he did, cautiously, looking at her like she was a horse that was about to spook and kick him in the stomach. Well, maybe she was. Maybe she should just go mad and get it over with. Make herself someone else’s problem for once. Just scream and rave and sprint around in circles until they had to confine her to a padded room in a tower somewhere. Don’t mind her, just the local madwoman, they’d all say in their ridiculous accents…she laughed aloud at that idea, then realized that Ian was still staring at her, waiting for her to speak. God, they really were going to think she was mad. She made a conscious effort to calm herself, to gain some control of her mind — and thankfully felt her wits begin to clear a bit. Good old practical Cora.

“Tell me,” Ian said gently, still looking lost. “Tell me where you’re from.”

She took a deep breath. “Ian, I’m from the future, I think. I’m from a different continent, a different country, a different time. Does that — does that make any sense?”

“A little. Maeve’s told us as much about herself.”

It was Cora’s turn to stare at him dumbly. “What?”

He chuckled. “We’re not quite as backwards as all that.”

“Thank God for that. I was a little afraid you’d have me burned as a witch or something.”

Ian’s face went blank, his hazel eyes darkening instantly.

She blinked. “That — that was a joke...”

“Not a very funny one, I’m afraid,” he said flatly. “Not with the Inquisition burning scores of women and men with no regard to their innocence or guilt.”

“I’m sorry, Ian,” she said quietly, reeling with this abrupt reminder of history’s less savory side. “I honestly — in my time, all that’s in the past. We joke about it because it doesn’t happen anymore...”

“The castle’s previous midwife went home to visit family in Italy,” Ian said bluntly. “She was captured and burned as a heretic. All because she understood herbcraft. What’s unholy about understanding the properties of God’s creation? Only the Inquisition knows.” Ian tilted his head, looking at her closely. “You look like her. She was — she was very special to all of us here. I’d avoid making jokes about witchcraft if I were you.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she murmured.

He nodded, brusquely, averted his gaze from hers.

“Go on, then. How’d you get here?”

“I don’t know! All I remember is crashing my car — uh, that’s sort of like a horse, only made of metal…with wheels...”

“We do have carts, Cora.”

“Of course. But these are — well, anyway, I crashed, and then I woke up on that dirt road, and that’s where you found me. Honestly, that’s all I remember. And here I am, completely lost, and I have no idea how to get home or what to do with myself or whether I’m actually just losing my entire damn mind or hallucinating or dreaming or dying on the side of the road and making all this up to comfort myself —”

He took her hand in his — a surprisingly comforting gesture that steadied her heartbeat, which had begun to race with her thoughts and her garbled words. “Cora,” he said gently. “I know nothing of your time, or your history. I don’t know how you got here, or whether it’s even possible to send you home. But I do know a few things. The first thing is that you’re not crazy — I believe your story, because it happened to Maeve, too, and I’d trust that woman with my life.”

Cora let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “Thank you. That’s — that’s really good to hear.”

“The second thing is that as long as you’re here, you have a home at Castle MacClaran, my word as a man of the clan. You have done us a great service in caring for our Lady, and you’ll be under our protection as long as you need it.”

“Thank you. If I’m going to be lost in time and space, I suppose I could do worse than a beautiful castle.”

He smiled. “The third thing, Cora of clan Wilcox, is that you’re a good person. You woke up in the middle of the night in the pouring rain with a strange man yelling at you, and you not only saved him and his horse, you put all your worries aside to help his family. That’s not an everyday kind of bravery.”

She ducked her head, a little embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. “I — you needed a midwife. That’s my job. Anyone would have —”

“Not anyone. You. Now, I don’t know what brought you here, but I know that your being here saved our lady Maeve and her wee bairns. Whether that’s luck or divine intervention, I can’t say. But I know that I, for one, am glad you’re here.” He cleared his throat, a little gruffly. “And while we’re talking here, I’d like to apologize for my rudeness on the road.”

Cora couldn’t help but laugh. “You were in a foul mood, weren’t you?”

He chuckled ruefully. “That I was. And you put me in my place.”

For a moment, there was quiet, and Cora became aware that he was still holding her hand in both of his — huge, rough hands, but surprisingly gentle. For some reason, the look in his eyes reminded her of the way the Laird had looked at Audrina. She looked down.

“You look a lot like Colin.”

“People do say that a lot. We’re cousins,” he explained. “His father and mine were brothers, fought together their whole lives. We grew up together. I’m his tanist — second in command,” he added when she looked blank. “He often says I’d be in charge instead if I wasn’t so damn arrogant.”

“Sounds about right,” she said frankly, and he laughed. “He seems like a good man.”

“He is.”

“So do you. Arrogance aside,” she added, smiling.

“Oh, get to bed with ye,” he laughed, getting to his feet. “I think we all need some sleep. Margaret told me where your chambers are — let me show you there. We’ll have lots to talk about when you wake, but it’ll do none of us any good to try to sort things out in this state.”

She took the hand he offered, feeling a lot more settled than she had since she’d arrived at the castle. Yes, she was in a strange place and a strange time — but the people she was surrounded by were kind, and good. And more to the point, Audrina was there. Between them, they’d get to the bottom of what had happened. For now, sleep sounded like the best thing in the world.

She hardly remembered the journey through the castle, the path to the room that had been set aside for her — but it was clean, and a fire was burning in the grate, and the bed was made up. The fabric was unfamiliar and the walls were strange, but it was a soft warm place to lie. Ian left her there — she was asleep almost before he’d shut the door behind him.