KANYTH LEFT THE castle to walk the grounds and let the snow pelt him for a time. He never unleashed his temper. The druids had pounded into his head the dire consequences if he lost control of it. Now he’d inflicted that on Perrin, as evidenced by the sparks that had come from the clashing of their wills, both fueled by the seething forge. What doubts he’d had about the choice had been crushed in that moment.

His battle spirit had warned him: You the flame and she the iron.

The quarrel had changed everything for him. He couldn’t leave the dancer unguarded now. She barely understood that she’d been chosen as his mate. How could he sicken and appall her with the rest of the burden he’d dropped on her slender shoulders? Nor could he leave her behind as Flen had advised, or permit her to return to her time. The forge would never release her, and even a small fit of anger could…

Kanyth felt his chest burn and swung around to see Perrin run from the stronghold to the stables. He started after her, quickening his trot to a run as he saw Bhaltair limping far behind in pursuit. As he entered the stables he had to dodge Perrin on a bare-backed mare. Her skirts were puddled around her hips and her long, bare legs clasped the mount’s sides. Had it all become too much for her?

“Lass, you cannae–”

“No time.” She leaned forward and the mare galloped away.

He would let her go, Kanyth decided. Chasing after the lass had brought him nothing but grief and trouble. She couldn’t go far, not in that thin gown. He’d enjoy seeing her trot back shivering and white-lipped with cold. No, he wouldn’t, but he’d feign the pleasure as he wrapped her in his tartan to warm her. She looked beautiful wearing it. The dark blue of the weave exactly matched her eyes.

Gasping for air, the old druid staggered to a stop before him. “Her eyes. Changed,” he wheezed. “Vision.”

“What do you say?” Kanyth grabbed him as he tottered to one side. “Perrin had a vision?”

“She saw. A lass.” He gulped. “Drowning.”

“Facking druid gifts,” Kanyth cursed. He ran to the nearest occupied stall, guiding out a muscular black destrier, and bridled him before mounting. “In the loch?”

Bhaltair nodded.

Kanyth picked up the reins and urged the horse into a fast run as he followed the mare’s tracks in the snow. They led him to a muddy trail on the forest’s edge, where more tracks pitted the slush. Ahead of him the mare’s churning flanks came into view. She rode as if the famhairean chased her. As he caught up with her she reined in the mare and jumped down.

“My lady, wait,” he called to her.

He caught her mount’s bridle and held onto her as he dismounted. Quickly tethering both horses to a branch, he turned to see Perrin climbing down the bank. Without hesitation she rushed out onto the ice-covered water, slipping and nearly falling.

She’ll end herself, trying to save another.

He raced after her, but stopped short of the frozen edge that had already cracked under her weight. Water bubbled up from the fissures as they spread. The loch could not harm him, but the cold of it might kill her even before she could drown. If he went after her the ice would collapse under them both.

“Perrin,” he said, keeping his voice soft and soothing. “Come here to me, and step lightly.”

“I can’t. There’s a girl in the water.” Perrin righted herself and moved toward a dark rift in the ice. “She’s hurt.”

A sharp sound made her halt, but then she got down on her hands and knees.

“Perrin, no,” Kanyth said, but she was reaching into the water.

He scanned the surrounding shore until he saw another spot with thin ice. Jerking off his tartan and tunic, he ran down the bank. With his sword he hacked through the thin ice, and then thrust his hand into the water as it welled. His arm disappeared as he shifted into his traveling form and dove in.

Sluggish, frigid currents buffeted him as he moved back toward Perrin. A beam of thin light revealed Perrin’s searching hand, the red-stained water beneath it, and the still body of a maid sinking. He flashed through the loch, caught her around the waist and dragged her up. But before he could crest the surface, there was a muffled splash above him, and Perrin dropped past him. He streamed downward, with the maid still clamped to his side, and grabbed the back of Perrin’s gown. In the next instant they were all at the edge of the loch and Kanyth carried the two women out.

Coughing and gasping in air, Perrin put her arms around the drowned lass, and lowered her to the ground. She wiped the dripping hair back from the maid’s face, tilted her chin up, pinched her nose and then kissed her.

By the time Kanyth shifted back into human form Perrin had stopped kissing the maid and had begun pressing her linked hands against her bodice. She gave her another kiss, which he then saw was not a kiss at all, but a sharing of breath. He knelt beside Perrin as she used her hands again. Suddenly the maid convulsed, and water spewed from her lips.

“She’s alive,” Perrin said as she rolled the lass onto her side. When her choking ended she went limp again, but her bodice rose and fell with her breathing. “We have to get her warm now. Can you take her on your horse?”

Too angry to speak, he wrapped his tartan around the limp, sodden body, lifting and carrying her to where he’d left their mounts. Perrin would have drowned along with the maid if he hadn’t come after her, and yet thought nothing of it. If Flen hadn’t come after her, and told him of the vision, she would be gone now. He would have let her ride to her death.

“Thank you,” she said and reached for his arm. “You saved her life. And probably–”

Kanyth jerked away from her and lifted the maid onto the destrier. “Follow me to the castle.”

* * *

Back at the stronghold, as Perrin watched, the cook piled grain sacks and old linens to make a bed by the huge hearth, while two chambermaids took charge of stripping the wet gown from the unconscious girl and wrapping her in warmed blankets.

“Why, ’tis our young Wynda,” the cook said as she peered at the maid’s white face. “How did this happen to the poor wee lass?”

“She fell through the ice into the loch,” Perrin told her.

“The loch?” The older woman stared at her. “She came from the laundry and went to make up the beds, no’ an hour past.”

Kanyth draped a fur cloak over Perrin’s shoulders, but left before she could thank him or apologize. A moment later Emeline came in, and she had to explain the whole mess to her while the nurse examined the maid.

“She must have coshed her head on the ice when she fell in the water,” the nurse said as she carefully inspected the girl’s ugly gash. “But why was she out on the loch?”

“I didn’t see the getting there,” Perrin said, “only the drowning part.” She sat down by the sacks and leaned back against the warm stone wall beside the hearth. “The good news is that I can definitely see the future again.” She thought of the horrific vision of being burned to death with Kanyth. “Only now I wish I couldn’t.” She looked over at Wynda. If Kanyth hadn’t grabbed them and hauled them out of the loch they’d both be at the bottom of it. “Maybe I should go back to Dun Mor.”

“You’re not going anywhere in that wet gown,” the nurse said and came over to tug her to her feet. “Go and change into something dry—and Perrin.” She waited until she met her gaze. “Your visions save lives. Mine, the other ladies, this lass. That’s an incredible gift.”

“Yeah.” She looked down at the puddle she was making on the floor. “I just wish I’d see something besides helpless people dying horrible deaths. Bunnies hopping across the heather would be nice. Or butterflies. I like butterflies.” She sighed. “Only they’d probably turn out to be giant mutant butterflies that suck the brains out of the helpless bunnies.” She saw how everyone in the kitchens had stopped working to stare at her. “I’m kidding. Butterflies don’t ever do that, not even in my time.”

“Dry clothes. Now, please.” Emeline gave her a little push toward the back stairs.

Perrin did feel better once she got to her chamber and stripped out of the soaked dress. Unfortunately, she’d left the clothes she had worn to make the trip from Dun Mor in the travel keg, and they were still damp. All she found in the storage chests were a couple of too-large linen shifts that were practically see-through. She shrugged into the smallest, and then draped all the wet things by the hearth to dry. Finally, she wrapped herself up in the blankets from the bed.

“Emmie will come up soon to check on me,” she promised herself as she dragged the chair over to the fire and curled up in it. “Or one of the maids. Hopefully not that one from last night.”

That girl’s snide remark about Kanyth being Perrin’s master still rankled. But she couldn’t blame the smirky chambermaid for how she was feeling. She usually liked being alone, but now she kept shifting in the chair, unable to sit still. It was as if her body wanted to go but her brain wouldn’t let it, and neither of them wanted to specify the where or the why. At last she got up, found the comb Emeline had used on her earlier and started untangling her wet, messy braid.

“I miss my blow dryer,” Perrin said, wincing as the comb’s teeth snarled over a knot. “Some real shampoo and conditioner would be nice. So would toothpaste. Bras and panties and all my leg warmers. That great coat I bought in London. Real soap.”

The door behind her slammed shut, making her yelp and jerk around to see Kanyth standing inside.

“Now I’ll have my say,” he told her. “You’ll hear me and say naught.” He pointed to the chair. “Sit.”

Though a sharp retort was poised on her tongue, Perrin saw the muscles working at the side of his clenched jaw. His arms bulged as he slowly folded them across his chest. Then he nodded stiffly at the chair.

Perrin swiped back the hair hanging in her face, pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, and took a seat.

“You’re a mortal, my lady,” Kanyth said flatly. “You’ve survived much, and you’ve courage enough for ten lasses. But you dinnae think on what you do. Say naught,” he added when she opened her mouth to reply. “’Tis my turn now.”

Perrin pressed her lips together.

“If no’ for me you should have drowned with the maid. Then ’twould be your corpse I’d return to Dun Mor.” He looked over her and shook his head. “I saw how ’twould be when you ran onto the ice. I’d carry you in for your sister to wash and wrap for your grave. Then I’d bury you while she and your friends wept. Rowan would never forgive me, nor would Brennus.”

He looked like his brother now, only twice as stern, and everything he’d said was true. After the drowning vision she hadn’t thought about anything but saving the maid. She and Rowan might not be speaking, but they’d always had each other. She couldn’t imagine what it would do to her sister if she’d drowned.

“You might have told me of the lass in peril before you rode off,” Kanyth continued. “A handful of words, and I’d have gone with you. The tree-knowers made the Skaraven masters of all manner of waters. Yet you claimed you had no time to speak. Tell me, ken you even how to swim?”

Now she nodded, but she felt even worse. With his water-bonding ability he should have been the one to go after the girl. She’d just been so sure he wouldn’t believe her—again.

“I ken you’ve a powerful gift, but ’tis making you reckless and thoughtless. You claim you mean to save lives, but you’ve no regard for your own.” He strode over to her, bending down until his face was level with hers. “I cannae force you to leave. You’re free to join the McAra, the clan, go to the druids, or live where you choose. Up a sacred oak if that pleases you. But you’ll no’ take such risks again, my lady. Try, and I’ll drag you down to the laird’s dungeons and leave you there ’til spring thaw.”

She didn’t cringe away from the burning fury in his black eyes, or the bitter set of his mouth.

“I made some mistakes, and I’m sorry I scared you. I also think Bhaltair is right, and we should stay away from each other. You should go back to the clan. I’m not your mate or your responsibility.”

Kanyth slowly stood up, and drew his sword.