Una entered Fiona's chamber not long after Eadan left, telling her the laird sent his apologies, but he was unable to join her for supper tonight and it would be better if she dined in her chamber. At first, hurt had filled Fiona, then worry. Eadan had looked troubled when he’d come to her room earlier to embrace her, and she suspected there was something he wasn’t telling her.

When Una brought in her meal, she forced a smile and thanked her, though a bereft feeling had settled over her. She hadn’t realized how much she looked forward to suppers with Eadan; he’d become an anchor in this time.

The next morning, Fiona awoke with a renewed determination. She needed to set aside her attraction to Eadan and focus on getting back to her own time.

She dressed and headed back down to the cellar where she first arrived, in the slim chance the portal had somehow reappeared. But it still bore the appearance of an ordinary cellar—no wind, no hint of any portal. She reluctantly left when several servants entered, giving her odd looks.

“There ye are,” Una said, when Fiona returned to her chamber. Una paused from putting away laundered gowns into a chest, giving her a puzzled look. “Where’ve ye been?”

“Just—exploring,” Fiona lied. She studied Una as she resumed putting away the gowns, a thought suddenly striking her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, m’lady.”

She’d just realized it was quite possible she wasn’t the only person who’d fallen through time and arrived here.

Fiona hesitated, biting her lip. Una had shown nothing but kindness to her, but Fiona certainly wasn’t going to tell her she was a time traveler.

“Have—have there been any disappearances nearby?”

“Why do ye ask?” Una asked, setting down a gown, her brow furrowed with concern.

“I—I’ve just heard gossip,” Fiona stammered. She should have thought this through before bringing it up, but hastily continued, “And I wondered if you knew anything.”

“Ah, most gossip is nonsense,” Una said, waving it off, and Fiona’s heart sank. “But,” she continued, after a brief pause, “every once in a while, I hear rumors of people disappearing around the abandoned village of Tairseach, not far from here. There were even rumors of people appearing out of nowhere. Some believed ‘em tae be spies, others thought they were spirits. Still others thought the stiuireadh had something to do with it all.”

Fiona’s mind was whirling as she struggled to keep up.

“The stiuireadh?” she echoed.

“Aye,” Una said. “Druid witches. I admit to having my beliefs, but I’ve never been one for witches. There are those who believe the stiuireadh have something to do with the strange happenings around Tairseach. No one kens for sure, but many believe the village once belonged to them.”

Fiona swallowed as all the air seemed to seep from the room. Druid witches? She recalled the strange woman who’d followed her in her own time. Could that woman be one of them?

“I—I thought the druids died out long ago. During the time of the Romans,” Fiona said, struggling to recall facts she’d learned from an ancient history course she’d taken in college.

“That’s the common belief, aye. But many think the surviving druids blended into the population, and some even had their own villages—Tairseach being one of 'em.”

Fiona stared at her, her heart hammering. She recalled the ruins of the medieval village where she’d disappeared in her own time. Maybe this village was the portal, not the cellar of the castle. And the woman who’d followed her was a stiuireadh—or a descendant of one.

A part of her wanted to burst out into hysterical laughter. Days ago, she wouldn’t have even entertained such a notion. But that was before she’d traveled six hundred years into the past. Now it seemed like anything was possible.

“I see,” Fiona said, trying to keep her tone casual, though it wavered a bit. “You said this village is abandoned? Where is it?”

“Oh, half a day’s ride from here; ’tis in one of the more remote parts of the Highlands. ’Tis been abandoned for some time, no one quite kens why. But folks ‘round here willnae risk settling there."

Fiona considered her words, her mouth going dry. This Tairseach increasingly sounded like the same village where she herself had disappeared in her own time.

But how could she get there? And another question niggled at her mind; if this was indeed the village she’d found in her own time, how did she end up so far away from it? And if that woman who’d followed her in her own time was a druid witch, did she need her to return to her own time?

Lurking beneath her excitement over possibly finding the portal, conflict loomed. Various images of Eadan filled her mind; the way his blue eyes lit up when he smiled, the seductive rumble of his voice, shaped by his Scottish brogue, the feel of his hard-muscled body pressed against hers. In her own time, Eadan was long dead. At the thought, a stab of grief pierced her, and tears stung her eyes.

“What is it, m’lady?” Una asked, looking worried. “Has someone ye ken disappeared at Tairseach?”

“No,” Fiona said, blinking back her tears. “I just—I hope I’m not causing the laird too much grief by being here.”

It was a flimsy lie, but she’d needed to think of something on the spot. Una’s eyes softened, and she put down the gowns, stepping forward to give Fiona's hands a comforting squeeze.

“I’ve never seen the laird as relaxed and happy as he is around ye,” Una said, and Fiona's grief dissipated, replaced by a sliver of joy.

A chambermaid entered, and Fiona turned. The maid set down a parchment and several small jars, along with a bristled brush on a side table. For a moment, confusion filled Fiona, and then she recalled how she'd told Eadan about her love of painting the night he'd taken her to look at the lands that surrounded the castle.

“He remembered,” she said, beaming, as her sadness from moments before vanished completely. The parchment and jars must be medieval painting materials.

“Aye," Una said, glancing over at the materials. "Had the servants go tae the village tae fetch what we could. I was afeared he’d make us travel tae Edinburgh tae get yer supplies.” She slid a sly gaze to Fiona. “He wants tae make ye happy while ye’re here.”

Fiona lowered her gaze, blushing. Was Una playing matchmaker?

“He’s set aside a chamber for ye tae get yer painting done,” Una continued, giving her a wide smile. “What are ye waiting for, m’lady?”

Fiona trailed Una from her room and down the corridor to another large chamber, pushing aside her jumble of thoughts about Tairseach, druid witches, and Eadan aside.

Una told her it was a guest chamber, but Eadan had bequeathed it for her use while she was here.

When Una left her alone, Fiona looked around with awe. The chamber was as large as hers and Eadan's, but it wasn't the size of the chamber that filled her with amazement. It was the stunning view from the window.

Pressing her hand to her mouth, she stumbled forward. From this vantage point she could see all the emerald green grounds that surrounded the castle—the forests, the glistening lake beneath the morning sun, and farther in the distance, the rolling mountains and hills of the Highlands.

“Oh my God,” Fiona whispered. Another jolt of déjà vu had hit her, but there was no uncertainty attached to the feeling. She knew exactly where she’d seen this landscape before.

In a painting located in an Aberdeen museum in the twenty-first century. The same painting that had struck her with strange recognition. Now she knew why that recognition had struck her, that dizzying sense of déjà vu.

It was because she’d been the one to paint it, over six hundred years in the past.