PERRIN WANTED TO keep her promise to be useful while at the McAra stronghold, so she accompanied Lady Elspeth and Emeline to check on the refugees. Quartered in one of the McAra’s massive outbuildings, the exhausted villagers sat huddled in blankets and sipping hot pottage. Some maids had brought buckets of hot water and bundles of clean clothing, and were hanging up curtains around wash stands and tubs. The laird’s men worked around them arranging what looked like makeshift beds among the hay bales, adding bulky wads of fleece under the linens.

“Heated stones,” Emeline murmured to Perrin as she nodded at the bulges. “With all this hay they can’t build a fire in here. They’ll bring some furs for them tonight when it grows colder.”

The people of this time dealt with all sorts of hardships, Perrin knew, but she still felt sorry for them. “What I could do with some electric blankets—or just electricity.”

“I’d settle for a lorry filled with vaccines, penicillin, and a great vat of hand sanitizer,” the nurse said.

“No, please, remain at your ease,” Elspeth said as the villagers noticed them and began to collectively rise to their feet. “We come to assure only that you’re well, and want for naught.”

“We’re that, and so grateful, milady.” Beathan touched his brow and glanced around at the others, who murmured their thanks. “We’d no’ outstay yer welcome, but with the snow blocking the roads, and no horses or carts–”

“You’re no’ to travel until the laird can arrange safe passage and proper lodgings for you,” Elspeth said firmly. “With the weather that may take some weeks, I fear. Once you’ve rested, our steward will find work at the castle for all of you.” She smiled down at the youngest girl, now sleeping in her mother’s arms. “While you do your bairns shall stay in the keepe with my own.”

Relief warmed Beathan’s tight features, and he bowed to her. “May the gods bless ye and the laird for yer kindness.” He straightened and winced, touching his back.

Emeline went to him, and asked him to lift his tunic. She inspected what looked to Perrin like a deep, dirty sunburn.

“This wound needs cleaning and covering, lad.”

“I’ll send for salve and bandages,” the laird’s wife told her, and beckoned to one of the maids.

“Have ye a potion for this, milady?” one of the men said, and pulled a rag away from a blackened, badly-blistered hand.

It looked as bad as it smelled, but Perrin noticed Elspeth pale and swallow several times. Quickly she stepped to block the lady’s view of the injured villager.

“My lady,” Perrin said. “I’m feeling a bit queasy. Could you and I step outside?”

“Aye, of course.” The lady accompanied her outside, where Perrin quickly steered her to a more private spot behind some barrels. “I fear I must–”

“I know. It’s all right,” Perrin told her, gathering her veil and hair to hold them out of the way. “Let it out.”

Elspeth shook as she emptied her stomach, and then leaned against the wall behind the barrels. Perrin touched her arm.

“No, lass,” Elspeth said. “I’m well enough. I cannae faint out here in the snow. Maddock shall barricade me with ten maids and send for the druids.” She wrinkled her nose. “’Tis a mother’s burden. Only ’twas never so bad with my other confinements.”

“I wouldn’t know, my lady,” Perrin admitted. She liked children, but had never wanted any of her own. “Have you changed anything you do this time?”

“I’ve long pondered that.” She grimaced as she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted her lips. “We’ve the same cook and foods. I drink the same brews as I’ve ever done. Och.” She pressed her palm against her midriff. “I dinnae mind the boaking so much, but after it I’ve such spasms.”

Perrin put her arm around her waist. “Should I get Emeline?”

The lady shook her head. “’Tis passing. If you’ll help me slip inside and no’ alarm the laird, that’d be grand.”

They went into the stronghold through a back entry that led into the kitchens. The cook and her staff, busy with making what looked like a meal for an army, all stopped, turned and bobbed.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work,” Elspeth said.

She asked the cook when she had time to send brew and cakes up for them. From there she steered Perrin toward another doorway that led to a dark, narrow staircase.

“You should light some torches back here,” Perrin said as she helped the pregnant woman up the shadowy stone steps. “It’s so dark someone might take a bad fall.”

“’Tis meant to be lit. We’ve a new chambermaid who should be tending to all the torches.” Elspeth stopped and sighed. “I cannae blame the lass. ’Tis my doing, truly. I’ve no’ been able to keep watch on the household as I should.”

Once they reached the third landing she opened a carved door that led into a wide hall.

The imposing atmosphere of the castle disappeared, and Perrin felt as if she’d stepped into the McAra’s real home. The weathered wooden floor had been polished for so many years that it gleamed like glass beneath the hand-knotted rugs. Lethal fans made of old swords, maces and daggers adorned the walls, but so did charming portraits of Elspeth, the laird and their children. From the warmth of the air every hearth on the floor must have been burning merrily. Large floor urns flanking each threshold held newly-cut evergreen branches, the scent of which freshened the air. She imagined in the spring and summer they’d be filled with flowers.

Perrin walked with Elspeth to one room that had been left open, and grinned as they stepped inside. Sunlight filtered in from sheer-cloth covered window slits to illuminate dozens of lush herbs and greenery planted into pots and urns. Leather chairs, tapestry-covered benches and large pillows on the floor offered many comfortable spots to sit. Baskets of nuts and dried fruits had been set out, along with a plate of currant-studded oat cakes.

She admired a silk-draped chaise near the fire blazing in a river stone hearth as she said, “This is so beautiful, my lady.”

“Call me Elspeth, lass. ’Tis my garden room. ’Twas Lady Althea’s notion, after what she calls a ‘green house,’” Elspeth said as she went to sit down on the chaise, and sighed with relief. “’Tis odd to grow things inside, but it cheers my bairns to tend to the watering and trimming. The cook cannae get enough of the fresh herbs. Now if I could only keep the maids working and the torches lit.”

“I could help with that,” Perrin said on impulse. “I mean, if you wanted someone to help with the villagers, light torches, or whatever you might need done.” As the other woman frowned she added, “I can’t go back to my time without my sister, and she wants to stay at Dun Mor and help the cause.”

“But you dinnae?” Elspeth guessed.

“I do, too, but as a dancer I’m not much use to the Skaraven.” She grimaced. “To be honest, they make me very nervous.”

“I nearly fainted the first time my lord brought the chieftain to the stronghold,” the other woman said, nodding at Perrin’s surprised look. “Oh, aye, for I’d heard the old legends of how large and fierce and menacing the Skaraven were. Dead twelve centuries, too, and then to arrive in the flesh, no’ aged a day. All of them more so than even told in the stories, and with such savage skinwork as I’ve never seen.”

“It glows in the dark when they’re angry, too,” Perrin said wanly.

“’Twas the most scared I’ve ever felt,” Elspeth told her. “Yet with time I learned they’re all good, kind men, and a true boon to the McAra as our allies.”

She felt a bit foolish now. “I know they are, and I’m grateful to them for rescuing us, and looking after me. But I can’t help them the way the other women can. I don’t have my druid gift anymore.”

“Then you should stay, lass,” Elspeth said, reaching out to touch her hand. “For I’ve villagers who want tending, and torches left unlit. Then there’s the boaking, that never ends.”

Perrin smiled her relief. “Thank you, Elspeth. I’ll do whatever I can to help, and hopefully that lets you get more rest.”

“I happen to need much rest,” Maddock said as he came in, startling them both. “I spend more time hunting my vanishing bride than I do ruling the clan.”

“I’m no’ a wraith, my lord,” his wife chided.

“Yet you will steal about and worry me when I cannae find you.” He strode over to crouch in front of Elspeth, and chafed her thin hands. “You look pale and weary, Wife, and you ken how that annoys me as well. Must I have Cousin Emeline and Mistress Thomas beaten for neglecting you?”

“I’m as pampered as an unwed princess, my lord.” She leaned back against the cushions. “Dinnae frighten the lass with your blustering. Perrin’s cared for me while Emeline tends to the poor Colbokie folk.”

Maddock tugged his tartan from his belt, shook it out and draped it over her. “Then ’tis mine the blame again. I’ve but to look at you, and you swell.”

“Truth,” Elspeth said gravely. “Mayhap I shall have you beaten.”

Perrin swallowed a chuckle. Despite their very different personalities the McAras clearly adored each other. Watching them together made her feel a little jealous, too. She’d never been loved like that. All she’d ever had was one pitiful, secret affair with a smooth-talking French dancer. He’d turned out to be a lying jerk who had used and then dumped her, making her even more timid around men.

No, I did that to myself, Perrin thought as she slipped out of the garden room to give them some privacy. I should have listened to Rowan.

She moved down the hall, peeking in at some of the other rooms, but her heart took her back to New York City, and her first big show. Perrin had been hired as the principal, along with a talented Frenchman named Gaspard Boucher. They’d had to practice every day for six weeks, and Gaspard insisted on them dancing alone to avoid distractions. What he’d really intended was to use their private rehearsals to slowly seduce her.

“I could dance with you for days, cherie,” Gaspard would whisper against her ear as he lowered her in a dip. “No rest, no food, only you in my arms.”

Perrin’s mother had never allowed her or Rowan to date, and her shyness had built an invisible brick wall between her and men. Yet Gaspard seemed so sincere. He constantly praised her talent and her beauty, and even confided in her about his own loneliness. When he kissed her for the first time she’d almost run, but he’d held onto her and reassured her. It went on like that until Gaspard’s determination and Perrin’s own curiosity about sex got the better of her. One night he’d walked her to her hotel room, and she’d shyly invited him inside.

“I will make you feel so good, ma belle,” he’d told her as he’d stripped her out of her leotard and tights.

The sex had been nice, although Perrin still didn’t understand what the big deal was. Being with Gaspard in bed wasn’t much different than dancing with him. They just used different body parts.

After that first time she’d had to be careful not to let Rowan find out. Her sister really hadn’t liked the Frenchman, and repeatedly warned him to leave Perrin alone. But sneaking around had made the affair a little more exciting. When they were together Gaspard told her over and over that he loved her. She didn’t know him well enough yet to say it back, but he didn’t seem to mind that. He preferred to do all the talking anyway.

The show had a solid run, and Perrin considered finally telling Rowan about the relationship. She even imagined her and her lover dancing together across America and Europe as permanent partners on and off stage. After the final performance afterparty, however, Gaspard abruptly left for Paris without so much as a good-bye. Stunned, Perrin had called him, but he told her it was over, wished her luck, and hung up on her.

Rowan never did find out about the affair, but eventually she did admit to Perrin why she’d disliked her partner so much. According to rumors Gaspard was married to a very wealthy, older Frenchwoman who didn’t care what he did while out on tour. What he liked to do was sleep with his partners, as he thought having sex made them dance better together on stage. He also seduced chorus girls, costumers, hairdressers, and pretty much any other attractive female working on the show.

“Good thing you never jumped in the sack with him,” her sister said. “The way that guy gets around, he’s probably a walking STD.”

Once the shock wore off Perrin had quietly gotten herself tested. Thankfully Gaspard hadn’t left any sexually-transmittable parting gifts, but she’d learned a hard lesson. She’d let him get close, and believed every word he’d said. He’d used her like workout equipment. In time the hurt faded, but the lingering humiliation made her withdraw even more. After Gaspard she didn’t trust any man who tried to chat her up or ask her out––even Kanyth, who drew her attention every time he came within a hundred feet of her.

Perrin found herself standing in front of a small stained-glass window, and stared up into the colored light shining through it. The panel showed a grassy meadow surrounding a loch, by which stood an antlered deer made of milky glass. It seemed to be watching her with its one dark blue eye. She hadn’t noticed it before, so why did she have the oddest sense of recognition now?

“That stone pendant Emmie brought back from the past,” she murmured, stepping closer. “That had a little white stag painted on it. She said it meant something.”

Why hadn’t she paid more attention to what her friend said to her? Probably because she’d been brooding over her ridiculous crush on Kanyth.

“Okay, but I’m over that now,” she told the stag. “I’m going to stay here and help Lady Elspeth and not be such a big lump of stupid.”

For a moment the sun faded, making it look as if the glass deer had closed its eye, and then opened it again, winking at her.

“Mistress Thomas?”

She jumped and turned to see one of the McAra’s guards approaching. “Ah, yes?”

“You’re wanted in the great hall,” the man said.

Perrin glanced back at the garden room, but decided against interrupting the laird and his wife. It was probably Emeline, looking for an update on Elspeth. She nodded and followed the guard down the hall.

Downstairs a crowd of clansmen stood clustered around a hearth, where a man wearing a wet tartan stood talking with them. Whoever he was, he was making most of them laugh. As the guard escorted Perrin over to them, they parted and nodded to her as they dispersed.

The wet man pulled off the tartan and hung it by the fire before he dragged his gleaming dark hair back from his sculpted features and picked up a thick fur cloak.

For a moment she thought she was hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come for you, my lady,” Kanyth Skaraven said, the smile fading from his handsome face. “I’m to take you back to Dun Mor.”