FLAMES ROARED AS Kanyth Skaraven added more yew and sycamore to the fire he’d kindled with waxlings. The spiky candle and applewood shavings scented the billowing heat to sweeten the air near the forge hearth. It would take more time to drive out the mustiness of the thousand years it had stood empty, but he’d done much to make it habitable for work. A labyrinth of flues channeled away the dense smoke, carrying it off through the ducts he’d designed to disperse it far from Dun Mor’s hidden location. Whoever dared enter the Great Wood might spot a few plumes in the ancient forest, but the maze of underground flues assured they’d never be used to locate the stronghold.

A shame he couldn’t funnel his own unthinking arse away from the fragile, bewitching Perrin Thomas.

Fretting had never been in Kanyth’s nature. His brooding half-brother Brennus dwelled on dark thoughts enough for them both. But his worry of late had grown entrenched. Of all the females snatched from the future, Perrin alone behaved as if terrified of him. Since arriving at Dun Mor the lady had hardly uttered a word in his presence. While he’d meant only to watch over her as she recovered from her ordeal, she openly avoided him like a plague-riddled leper. The few times he drew near to speak to the lady she cringed away, dread filling her midnight blue eyes. Even from a distance Perrin looked upon him as if he was but a brute sent to inflict more suffering.

Kanyth couldn’t fathom the reason for it. As a warrior he’d been feared, as every Skaraven was, but beyond the battlefield he’d never been thus reviled. Indeed, he’d prided himself on being the most affable of men.

He understood that Perrin had every reason to feel beset by fright. Stolen from her time by the mad druids and their giants, the lady had been imprisoned, terrorized and beaten for weeks. For a mortal to survive so much cruelty seemed a gift from the Gods. After examining her Ruadri had confirmed she had also come close to dying from starvation. Later they discovered that in addition to denying all the women proper food, the bastarts had used an evil charm to compel Perrin to stop eating altogether so as to keep her younger, stronger sister in check.

Kanyth’s mood darkened when he thought of Hendry Greum and Murdina Stroud. Their evil knew no bounds, but given Perrin’s delicate build, what they’d made her suffer had been particularly vicious. When Ruadri had related the details, it had taken all of Kanyth’s self-control not to take a mount and hunt them down for even the slightest chance to gut them slowly. Instead he’d made a silent oath: the mad druids would be made to pay someday for treating the lass so brutally, and by his hand.

Even if she’s never to be my lady, I will avenge her.

He knew himself to be part to blame for his dilemma, for it tasked him sorely to keep away from Perrin. From the first moment he had seen her after Cadeyrn’s daring rescue, huddled with her sister by the hearth, she had drawn him. Even bedraggled and gaunt, Perrin’s waifish beauty had clouted him like a lump hammer, but that wasn’t what stunned him. Seven centuries and more had separated the lady from him, and yet he knew her. Knew every inch of her, from the rosy gold glory of her hair to the long, strong arches of her feet. Not even being struck senseless the next day by Emeline McAra in a rage had shaken him so deeply.

For Perrin Thomas had danced in his dreams.

Time had held no meaning in the void, but Kanyth remembered the moment he had emerged from darkness to find himself standing in a huge, empty hall. There on a great platform draped by immense black curtains he first saw her. Barely clad in some skin-colored shift, her lithe body had moved through the air as if she its goddess. He’d been so enchanted by the sylphic grace of her jumps and turns that he’d simply stared, unwilling to move from the spot. Then the dark curtain behind her had snatched her from the light, swallowing her as she screamed.

Did she see me as well? When I charged after her with such fury that my blade turned to flame? ’Tis that the reason she looks upon me as horror?

Weary of his own addled ruminating, Kanyth checked the air flow through the tuyere into the bottom of the hearth before he closed the stone doors. Once the hearth’s blackened lining stones grew hot enough he’d temper the daggers he’d hammered out last night. After edging them and rounding the tang notches, he’d fashion the guards and grips and give them to Bridei. The clan’s woodsman had a knack for carving, and would fit each hilt to the hand of the Skaraven meant to wield the blade. But the entire clan depended on Kanyth to forge every weapon they needed to withstand the rigors of battle. If he made a mistake with the iron, his brothers would pay for it in blood.

“Fair morning, Ka.” The biggest man among the clan, Ruadri Skaraven ducked to avoid smacking his brow into the threshold of the forge as he stepped in. “How goes the work?”

“Hot and never-ending,” Kanyth said and eyed the wrapped bundle in the shaman’s hand. “Dinnae tell me you’ve broken wound blades to add to it. I promised Bren I’d no’ tarry another day on the new daggers.”

“Fear no’, Brother. My lady bade me give you this.” Ruadri uncovered a small lidded pot, which he opened to display the black, oily contents. “’Tis drawing salve. Emeline said to dab it over the spot, permit it dry, and then peel it away. ’Twill remove whatever plagues you.”

Kanyth nodded, touched by the gift. After the shaman’s mate had caught him one night cutting bits of iron out of his fingertips, she had promised a better method. He’d assured her that the practice caused him pain of but short duration, as water healed his every wound now. How like Emeline to wish to spare him even those small hurts.

“’Tis kind of your lady to concoct this for my sorry hide,” he said as he tucked it in a nook over his swage block. “How does she now?”

“As if naught happened to us but a pleasant jaunt through the countryside,” Ruadri said wryly. “While I yet have nights when I wake in dread, and must feel her heartbeat before I may again close my eyes.”

The entire clan had been in an uproar weeks back, when the two healers had inexplicably disappeared. No one could have guessed that a sacred grove portal had pulled Emeline and Ruadri back in time to the first century. There they had become mates, and worked together to save the very first McAra tribe from being wiped out by Romans. They’d almost escaped unscathed, too, but to protect the shaman from his murderous father the nurse had taken an arrow meant for him. After confessing to being forced to spy on the clan for the druids, Ru had wished to join her in death. Brennus had taken the shaman’s ring, and used it to awaken Emeline to immortality.

“You’ve naught to fret on. She’s made your lady forever, poor lass.” Kanyth forced a grin. “I shall be sure this day to thank her for the salve.”

“For that you must wait until she returns from the midlands,” Ruadri said. “She’s gone with Mistress Perrin to look in on the McAra’s wife. They’ll be gone two or threeday.”

“What?” Kanyth said as he swung around to peer at him. “Why should she take Perrin with her?”

“The lass asked to accompany her,” the big man said, and frowned. “Emeline spoke with Brennus before they departed. He saw no reason to keep her from the visit. Nor did I. She’s quite recovered from her ordeals.”

“Our chieftain forgets the famhairean attack the midlands now? Has his brain gone to rot?” Kanyth realized he had bellowed the words and dragged a hand over his face. “Ru, she’s little more than a bruised bundle of twigs. She couldnae again survive falling into their hands. Or the chill of winter, or the frozen river.” He began to pace before the hearth. “Gods, love has fashioned an idiot of my brother.”

“I think no’. Maddock and his clan well protect the stronghold. Emeline shall look after her. I imagine the lass has grown weary of being confined.” The shaman’s gray eyes narrowed. “Ka.”

He followed the shaman’s gaze and glanced down to see his tunic aglow with the blue light of his forge battle spirit. His ability never came unless first summoned, and yet he now felt the full surge of it burning in his veins.

She sets fire to me.

Taking hold of his anger, Kanyth shoved back the fury of his power until he felt it cool. Then came the price of using his ability, which he bore with gritted teeth as he strode over to the slack tub and made use of it. Steam wafted in his stiff face as the surface bubbled, and then slowly smoothed out along with his waning fury.

“Forgive me,” he said. “My ire, ’tis with Brennus, no’ you or your lady.”

“Ah, but I ken how ’tis, beset by such…impatience,” Ruadri said, his deep voice softening. “I reckoned for a time I’d go mad for wanting what I couldnae have.”

Kanyth closed his eyes for a moment before he regarded him. “You’ve misjudged my meaning. I’ve no tender longings for Perrin Thomas. She’s naught to me.”

“Yet a moment past you appeared ready to forge my face,” the shaman pointed out. “’Tis no’ shameful to desire her. She’s quiet to be sure, but as gentle and lovely as a fawn.” He hesitated before he asked, “Had you a vision of her before we awoke?”

“Why should I? I’m no’ a shaman.” The denial felt like a hook in his throat, and he went to his hammer rack and selected a sledge. “Nor may I take a mate, as well you ken.”

Ruadri sighed. “We’re warrior-slaves no more, Ka. Brennus vowed we’d live as all freed men.”

Kanyth grunted. “You recall why the druids chained us down for the pleasure lasses? Who ignited their fears that the Skaraven couldnae control their battle spirits around females?”

“Never only you,” the shaman countered.

“Inquire of Bhaltair Flen when next he traipses in here.” He uttered a sour chuckle. “’Twas first the old meddler’s notion when I saw to Cadeyrn after that facking lashing he took as a lad.”

Ruadri sighed. “That day you saved Cade’s life.”

“While he screamed, begging me cease, until he fainted from pain.” Long ago he had accepted his lot as the embodiment of the forge. It no longer ate at his empty heart. He looked down at the unnecessary sledge before he replaced it on the rack. “I must speak to the chieftain about this lunacy of travel to the mainland. My thanks for the salve.”

Kanyth left the shaman staring after him as he went out into the great hall. Most of the clan had gone to patrol, stand sentry or attend to the work of the day. The tall, dark figure of their chieftain stood examining a map beside his copper-haired wife, who sat writing something in her book of notes.

The lovers inseparable.

He permitted himself a moment of grinding envy, for seeing the pair together made those tender longings he denied swell. As mortals the Skaraven had never been permitted contact with females except on rare, ritualized occasions to relieve their needs. Now made immortal, they could live as they chose—all except for him. Taking a mate would be too dangerous for the lady, so Kanyth faced eternity alone. He accepted that. He’d cast himself into his furnace hearth before he’d harm a helpless female.

As his envy faded, it was replaced with a begrudging gladness that Brennus had found happiness. His brother deserved Althea. The cleverest of ladies, she also possessed the sweetness of spirit and unshakeable determination that more than matched his brother’s unpredictable temper and commanding character. She treated her husband with great fondness, as evidenced now by the twine of her fingers through his. Kanyth had seen how they ever touched, as if they couldnae keep their hands from each other.

“Master Flen has had every druid settlement notified and searched,” Althea was saying to the chieftain as Kanyth joined them. “Wherever Oriana Embry went, it wasn’t to her people.” She tilted her head back to regard Kanyth with her sky-blue eyes. “Good morning, Ka. I don’t suppose you might know where an evil acolyte assassin would go to hide out?”

“Like for like, my lady. Mayhap she’s joined the mad druids.” He turned to his brother, and willed himself to speak civilly. “Ruadri told me you permitted Lady Perrin to accompany his mate to the McAra stronghold. Why did you that?”

Brennus shrugged. “She asked to make the journey. Emeline assured me she’s hale enough now to venture out. What of it?”

“Naught to trouble you. You thought it wise to send the lass to the midlands, where she’s no protection against the cold, mortal sickness, or the enemy.” He nodded. “’Twas the finest of decisions—if you wish the lady taken or dead.”

“You ken I didnae.” Brennus’s gaze moved over him. “What bedevils you, Ka?”

“She’s a mortal, Bren. Still suffering in her heart from what the druids inflicted on her, still frightened of more, and wholly unable to defend herself. We pledged to do that, didnae we? Yet you permit her go without escort or guard when the midlands are rife with famhairean.” He fisted his hands. “How could you indulge in such imprudence?”

“Hold on a minute,” Althea said, rising to stand beside the chieftain. “There have been only two attacks in the midlands, and both were nowhere near Maddock’s castle. Thanks to the care Perrin’s gotten she isn’t sick or starving anymore. Also, she’s a guest here—not a prisoner. She has every right to leave whenever she wants.”

Brennus touched his wife’s arm. “As ’tis for all your ladies.” He met Kanyth’s gaze. “I dinnae share your worry, Brother, but I see you’ve enough for us both. What would you have me do?”

“Fetch Lady Perrin back to Dun Mor at once,” he told him flatly. “Here she can come to no harm.” As Althea glowered at him, he added, “Or better still, send her back to her own time. She’s lost her druid gift, and she hasnae the strength nor stamina for work. We’ve no use for her.”

The air turned suddenly, bitterly cold as Althea stepped between Kanyth and her husband. “Is that the only reason you put up with the rest of us? Because we’re useful? You are such an unbelievable ass.” She snatched up her note book and strode away, leaving a light scattering of snowflakes in her wake.

Brennus caught a crystal on his palm and watched it melt. “I ken you mean but the best for the lady, Ka, but ’tis likely you’ve acquired a new enemy.”

“’Twas no’ my intention,” Kanyth said and felt a pang of remorse, for he had always gotten on well with Althea. Still, her dislike of him seemed a small price to pay for properly safeguarding Perrin. “You’ll send a man now for the lady?”

“Aye, but ’tis your notion, Brother.” Brennus clapped him on the shoulder. “And since you’ve already been McAra’s favored guest, I can think of no better to go and collect her than you.”