An almighty crash woke her. She bolted upright, heart hammering and looked around wildly. There was no sign of Logan and the candle had burned down to a stub, giving only the barest illumination to the small room. Then a blinding flash lit the room and another crack tore the air. The shutters rattled and over the howl of the wind Thea heard the hissing of rain outside. Another storm. And a big one.

Thea gulped. Holy crap, the weather in the Highlands could be wild. Memories of the storm the night she'd arrived crowded in on her and the little room suddenly felt oppressive. She remembered driving rain, howling wind trying to tear her from the path,  freezing waves reaching up to yank her under. Then Logan pulling her to safety.

Logan!

Where was he? Surely not still in the smithy? He would be drenched and freezing if he slept out there in this.

"Idiot man!" she cursed aloud. What was he thinking?

She climbed off the bed, pulled the cloak Ailsa had leant her around her shoulders, and made her way to the door. As she opened it, the wind snatched it from her grasp and slammed it against the outside wall. Wind and rain pelted her so fiercely it drove her back a step. Leaning into the maelstrom, she grabbed the door and closed it firmly before fighting her way across the yard. She held the cloak tight against her body, pulling up the hood and trying to keep out the worst of the rain. Another crack of lightning revealed the yard awash with water. From the stable came the sound of Stepper's terrified whinnies.

Thea squinted ahead through the driving rain. She couldn't see any light shining in the smithy. She ducked inside and was glad to be out of the worst of the wind. The low eaves of the roof were dripping water but inside it was blessedly dry although it was as cold and drafty as a cliff top.

She looked around and spotted Logan lying on the pile of blankets he'd made for himself in one corner. She picked her way around the racks of tools and crouched by his side.

"Logan! Come inside. It's freezing out here. We can rig up a curtain across the room if you're still worried about my reputation. You’ll catch your death sleeping out here in this!"

He didn't respond. Thea leaned closer. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed and his copper colored hair making a halo around his head. The muscles in his face twitched as if he was dreaming and his sun-burnished skin had gone pale. A shiver of unease went through Thea.

"Logan?"

She grabbed his shoulder but snatched her hand back. His skin was like ice. "Logan!" she cried urgently. "You have to wake up!"

There was no response. Thea sat back on her heels, biting her lip. Tentatively she pulled the blanket away and inspected his arm. The bandage was still in place and looked clean enough but Thea knew that could be deceptive. She pressed a hand to his forehead and her palm came back wet with sweat.

"Logan!" she tried again, shaking him as hard as she could.

His eyes flickered open. They were bleary and unfocussed. "I had to do it," he whispered, his words slurred. "I had to make the bargain or we were all doomed." Then his eyes slid closed once more.

Thea hesitated. When she'd been ill Logan had picked her up and carried her as easily as if she was a doll but there was no way she'd be able to carry him back to the house. All she could do was make sure he was warm and dry until morning when hopefully his fever might break. Damn it all! What should she do?

She pulled back his blanket and burrowed in next to him, pulling the blankets over them both. She pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his broad chest. The cold from his skin seeped into her but she clung on, determined to warm him with her body heat. It was the only thing she could think to do.

His breathing evened out and she hoped he'd slipped into a proper sleep. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heartbeat by her ear. It sounded strong and healthy. She shifted slightly, resting her head on his shoulder so the top of her head lay just beneath his chin. Outside the smithy the storm raged and howled, cracks of thunder splitting the sky and then flashes of lightning picking out the world in stark brilliance.

She lay awake for a long time, listening to the storm and the beat of Logan's heart, but eventually exhaustion washed away even the sound of the storm and sleep took her.

***

Logan opened his eyes slowly. Above him he saw pale morning light seeping through the rafters of the smithy roof. He blinked, trying to clear his sluggish thoughts. His memories were hazy. He recalled thunder and lightning. Had there been another storm? Or had he dreamt it? He'd also dreamt Thea had come to him in the night and they'd spent the night side by side, wrapped in each other's arms. He'd been having a lot of dreams like that lately.

A heavy lassitude filled his limbs and he felt weak and washed out. A dull headache pounded behind his eyes and he was ravenously hungry. Had he been ill?

He shifted and then froze as he spotted Thea curled up beside him. Her eyes were closed. A jolt of pure terror went through him, so powerful it was like he'd been stabbed.

No! He roared inside. No!

He rolled towards her, pushing her onto her back. She flopped like a landed fish. He shook her hard, making her head wobble from side to side. There was no response. Pressing his hand to her forehead he realized her skin was cold. She wasn’t  breathing.

"Thea!" he bellowed. “Wake up, lass! Wake up!”

She did not respond.

He rocked back on his heels, his pulse thundering. Oh, Lord above! What had she done? He staggered to his feet and out into the yard. His limbs were so weak they could hardly support him and he staggered to his knees on the wet ground, barely noticing as water soaked through his plaid. The words of his curse echoed in his head like rocks tumbling in an avalanche.

Alone shall ye always be. Only death awaits those who share yer life.

Lord help him, why had he allowed her to stay? He’d reasoned that as long as he kept his distance, as long as he slept in the smithy at night and left her alone in the house, she would be all right. And so it had been for days, until she’d come to him in the night.

Fool! he growled at himself. How could ye have been so careless?

Twice before he'd thought to test the limits of the curse and twice before it had bitten hard and deep, reminding him that there was no cheating the Fae. When he and his brothers had first made their bargain he'd taken work as a farm hand on a remote croft in the north. The family had been kind and he'd soon become careless, accepting a place to sleep by their hearth when they offered. Soon after that their cattle had begun to die and when one of the children suddenly took ill, he knew it for his curse and fled, before any other misfortune could befall them.

A second time he'd been wandering alone as night was falling. An old shepherd had offered him shelter in his hut and Logan had accepted, sure that one night wouldn't do too much harm. He'd woken in the morning to find the shepherd still and cold on his bed, eyes closed and a small smile on his face.

After that Logan had never pushed the bounds of his curse and kept everyone at arm's length. Until Thea.

Why didn't I send her away? he thought bitterly. Up to the castle. Or persuaded Ailsa to let her stay with them. Lord, anywhere would have been better than here with me! Look at what I've done! Lord curse me!

"Logan?"

He spun at the sound of the voice. Thea stood outside the smithy, rubbing her eyes.

Logan stared. "Thea?"

"Were you expecting someone else?"

He moved his mouth to speak but no words came out.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Logan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Ye wouldnae wake, lass. I thought...I thought."

She yawned hugely and then stretched her arms over her head. "I guess I was pretty tired. I’ve always been a heavy sleeper." She cocked her head. "How are you feeling? You had quite the fever last night."

Him? She was worried about him? "I'm fine, lass. Was that why ye came into the smithy?"

She shrugged. "Another storm came and you were injured. How could I let you sleep in the smithy? I came to convince you to come into the house but you had a fever and I couldn't wake you. I didn’t know how else to get you warm so I stayed with you."

"How?" he whispered. "How is this possible?" He strode over and grabbed her upper arms. Looking down into her face, he studied her intently. "How do ye feel, lass? Are ye well?"

She gazed up at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "Fine. Why are you asking me this? Logan, you're hurting me."

He let her go and stepped back. He felt a grin spread across his face.

"Ha!" he cried, throwing his head back and laughing. "Irene! Thank ye!"

Thea's puzzled expression deepened. "Are you sure you're feeling all right, Logan?"

"Aye. Better than I have in a long time.”

He stepped close and gazed down at her. Those eyes of hers were as green as spring leaves as she stared up at him. He put one finger under her chin and lifted her face.

"Thank ye, lass," he breathed.

"For what? I didn’t do anything really."

He just shook his head. "Are ye hungry? I reckon I could eat a horse."

"That will be the fever," she replied. "I need to check your wound. You might say you’re feeling better but you're acting a little odd.”

Logan just laughed at that.

***

As often happened in the Highlands, last night's storm had blown through, leaving a clear day as bright as polished glass. As Logan guided Stepper along the trail he breathed deeply, feeling it tingle in his lungs. Was he imagining it or did the grass look greener this morning? The waves a brighter shade of blue? The calls of the seabirds more melodious than usual? He didn't know and he didn't care. All he knew was that it felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time since he'd made his bargain, he felt free.

He glanced at Thea. She sat up straight in the saddle, clinging to it with both hands, her head swiveling from side to side as she took in the landscape. Part of him was still angry at her for being so reckless as to spend the night in the smithy with him. Things could have gone so badly wrong. If his curse had come to claim her...

He could hardly believe that she was alive and warm and riding in front of him, watching the landscape pass by with child-like delight.

Why? Why was she immune to his curse?

Because she is an outlander? he wondered. It was the only explanation.

"Look!" she cried suddenly, pointing out to sea. "Dolphins!"

"Aye. Hunting by the looks of them,” Logan replied, shading his eyes. “They've probably chased a shoal in close to the shallows and will pick them off now."

Thea's hands twitched as though she wanted to hold something then she folded them on the saddle in front of her. She watched intently as the dolphins zoomed right into the shallows, almost beaching themselves, then snatched up the silver fish that jumped into the air to escape them.

"I've read about such behavior,” she said. "But never seen it in the wild. Oh, what I wouldn't give for my camera right now!"

Her delight was infectious and Logan found himself smiling as he watched her. She had an uncanny ability to live in the moment, to take pleasure in the simple things in life. Her eyes sparkled and the wind had put a rosy glow to her cheeks. Lord above, she was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He was taken by an almost irresistible urge to touch her. To run his fingers through that thick midnight hair or cup that soft cheek in his hand.

"Come, lass," he said thickly. "Rhodry will be waiting for us."

Thea nodded and Logan nudged Stepper into a trot. There were smoke rising from the chimney of Rhodry and Ailsa’s croft and their three goats gathered at the fence to watch Thea and Logan ride past.

"Good morning!" Rhodry cried, crossing the yard to meet them. "I trust ye weathered the storm last night without damage?"

Logan glanced at Thea then cleared his throat. "Aye. Nay harm done. And ye?"

Rhodry laughed as he took Stepper's bridle to hold her steady while they dismounted. "Naught but a few frightened bairns and a goat who insisted on coming inside with us."

Ailsa appeared at the doorway with little Maisie on her hip. She waved. "A fine Highland night is what it was!" she called. "And look at the morning it's given us!"

"Uncle Logan! Lady Thea!"

Anna came pelting over, skidding to a halt and looking up at them excitedly. "Are ye going to come fishing with us today?" She looked between Logan and Thea expectantly.

Thea laughed. "Fishing? My, that sounds like an excellent idea. As long as your ma will allow it of course."

Anna waved a hand, dismissing Thea's concern with all the flippancy of a nine-year-old. "Nah, Ma doesnae mind. Shall we go tell her?"

Thea gave Logan an amused look as Anna grabbed her hand and dragged her over to Ailsa. Logan watched them go. Rhodry laid a hand on his shoulder.

"She'll be here when we get back, my friend. Where to today? St. Berrick?"

Logan tore his eyes away from Thea. "Aye," he said gruffly. "St. Berrick. There were rumors of someone who looked like Irene MacAskill over that way. Although I dinna fancy our chances in such a large town."

Rhodry nodded then the two of them swung up onto their mounts. As they rode away, Logan resisted the urge to look back.

***

St. Berrick was a large town which meant it boasted several streets lined with shops as well as an inn. It lay just over the border in MacKinnon lands and as Logan and Rhodry rode into town, Logan was struck by the number of armed men he saw prowling the streets. Their MacAuley plaids drew several hostile glances and more than one muttered curse.

They rode to an inn and paid the stable lad to take their horses and then spent a couple of hours perusing the market and the shops, asking after Irene MacAskill. Again, there were rumors. An old woman spotted walking the hills alone. An old woman turning up at a croft where a sick child was miraculously healed. An old woman giving a warning to a fishing family that saved them from venturing out in last night's storm. But nobody could give them more than hearsay.

Come mid-morning, Logan was seething with frustration. Another morning wasted and still no closer to finding a way to send Thea home.

Is that such a bad thing? a little voice whispered in his head. He smothered the voice ruthlessly.

"My stomach thinks my throat has been cut," Rhodry grumbled as they wove their way through the crowds in the market. "What say we retire to the inn for something to eat before we ride home? I reckon we've earned it."

"Aye," Logan replied. "I reckon we have."

He led the way into the inn's common room. It was busy, with almost every available table occupied. Logan and Rhodry managed to find one at the back and ordered ale and food from the serving lass. Logan leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room. Almost everyone in sight wore the MacKinnon plaid and carried a sword. Some had shields propped against the tables and quivers of arrows lying by their feet. A shiver of unease went down Logan's spine. He knew a muster when he saw one.

When the serving girl returned with their food and drink, he asked, "Why so many soldiers? There isnae trouble here about is there?"

The girl's eyes roved over Logan's MacAuley plaid and she suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Laird MacKinnon has put out word for a muster," she replied. "There's talk of war."

"War?" Logan replied. "With whom?"

The girl shifted awkwardly. She glanced at the patrons, many of whom were watching Logan, then stared at the floor by her feet. "With the MacAuleys."

She hurried away before Logan could say another word. Logan leaned back in his chair, suddenly uneasy. So the rumors were true. Eoin was going to war with his family’s oldest allies. It made no sense. Why would Eoin break that alliance?

"I dinna like this," Rhodry muttered, looking around at the patrons. "There’s trouble in the air."

"Aye," Logan agreed. He was suddenly very glad he'd brought a sword though he doubted it would do much good if this crowd decided to turn on him. "I reckon it's time we left."

Rhodry grunted his agreement. They quickly ate their food, downed the ale, and then made their way to the door. Logan felt hostile eyes on his back but nobody did more than glare. He was relieved to reach the stable. They climbed into the saddles and made their way out of town at a fast walk. Now that he knew what to look for, Logan saw the signs of a muster everywhere. Wagons carrying soldiers, rations and weapons. Gangs of young lads roaming the streets, hoping to find work by enlisting into the laird's reserves. Heavily armed mercenaries playing dice outside the taverns.

A growl escaped Logan's throat. "What does he think he's doing? This isnae what we agreed!"

"What's that?" Rhodry asked.

"Naught," Logan replied, shaking his head. "I was just wondering what has led our laird to such strife with the MacKinnons."

Concern creased Rhodry's brow. "Aye, I thought we were free of it when the old laird won peace from the Irish raiders."

Logan looked at him sharply but Rhodry's eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

"Aye," he breathed "So did I."

They rode in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Now that war was brewing it was more important than ever that he find a way to get Thea home.

"Dinna worry, man," Rhodry said as if reading his thoughts. "We'll find this Irene." His friend grinned at him. "Eventually. And until then ye will have the pleasure of Thea's company.”

"What is that supposed to mean?" Logan snapped. "I made a vow to take care of Lady Thea until she can safely return to her kin and that's what I'm doing. There's nay more to it than that."

"Aye, of course there isnae."

Amusement danced in Rhodry's eyes. Lord but the man could be infuriating when he wanted to be!

"Out with it!" Logan growled. "Ye are clearly dying to say something."

A laugh burst from Rhodry. "Why canna ye admit it? There isnae shame in it, man! Tis obvious how ye feel about the lass. I dinna think I've ever seen ye smile as much as when she's around. The way ye look at her. The way yer eyes follow her when she's in the room."

Logan glared at his friend for a moment and then his shoulders sagged. "Am I that obvious?"

"Aye, man. Ye are. To me at least. The question is, what are ye going to do about it?"

"What is there to do? She'll soon ride out of my life forever. It's best if I do naught."

Rhodry rolled his eyes. "That's it? That’s yer plan?"

Logan frowned. "What would ye have me do? Tell her the truth? Tell her how the sight of her sets my blood pounding? How I canna concentrate on my tasks in the smithy or around the croft for thoughts of her? That even though I made a vow, I dread finding Irene MacAskill because it will mean I lose her? I canna tell her any of that. She would run a mile!"

"Would she?" Rhodry asked. "Are ye sure of that? Mayhap ye should try."

For a moment Logan wavered. Thea had come to the smithy in a storm out of worry for him. What did that mean? Did she care for him the way he cared for her? Or was that just her way of repaying him for his hospitality?

He shook his head. "Nay. I wouldnae know what to say."

"Lord above, man!” Rhodry cried. “Ye dinna have to spell it out! Do something special for her—something she will appreciate."

Logan turned his head and watched the trail. He absently patted Stepper's neck as his thoughts turned. Do something special for her? Aye, he liked the thought of that. An idea came to him.

He turned to grin at his friend. "I know just the thing."

***

"Okay, so what's this bit then?" Thea said, pointing at the diagram she'd scratched in the dirt.

"France!" Anna cried. "That's France!"

"Very good," Thea said. "And next to it?"

"Spain."

Thea smiled and ruffled the girl’s hair. The children were gathered in a circle around her whilst she tried to teach them the geography of Europe. They were as bright as buttons and absorbed everything like sponges, always eager for more. When they concentrated that is. They were usually far more interested in games of tag or stories about dragons and monsters and great heroes. Thea was just about out of those.

Ailsa came round the corner carrying a bucket. "All done! Meg says thank ye for the snack. It was very nice."

Thea grinned sheepishly and glanced down at the torn arm of her dress. Meg, Rhodry and Ailsa's goat, had taken a chunk out of it when Thea had tried to milk her. Then she'd butted Thea in the stomach and ran off, bleating angrily. There must be a knack to dealing with livestock that Thea was sadly lacking.

Thea rubbed the bruise. "That animal hates me. Look, she's glaring at me right now!" She pointed a finger at the goat that was standing with her head over the paddock wall, watching proceedings in the yard.

Ailsa laughed. "Aye, she knows she's got the upper hand now. Ye'd best watch out or she'll be after ye every chance she gets."

Thea stuck her tongue out at the belligerent goat, sending the children into paroxysms of laughter.

"She'd better watch it," Thea said, puffing herself up and frowning. "Back home I've been goat-wrestling champion two years in a row."

That set them all off laughing even more.

Thea grinned. It had been a satisfying if tiring day. It seemed that the tasks around Ailsa and Rhodry's croft were endless. They had gone down to the beach and gathered sea food. They had fed the animals and collected the day’s eggs. Whilst Ailsa and Mary had busied themselves baking bread and pies, Thea had taken some of Rhodry's tools and fixed the fence around the goat-pen, repaired a hole in the chicken run made by an eager fox, and hauled enough water from the well to make her shoulders scream and her back ache in protest.

She sighed. Ailsa, Rhodry, Mary and the children had accepted her without a second's thought. She’d known them only a short time but it felt like she’d known them for years. She felt more at home here in sixteenth century Scotland than she ever would have dreamed and she suspected the reason for that. A face flashed into her mind suddenly. Dark, serious eyes that seemed to see right into her soul, copper hair curling onto broad shoulders, smooth, full lips that so rarely smiled.

Ah hell, she thought. I have to stop thinking about him. I have to stop feeling these things.

Mary came to the door and called the children over to help her churn the milk Ailsa had just collected. The children sprang to their feet and hurried over to their grandmother, leaving Ailsa and Thea alone. Ailsa folded cross-legged onto the ground beside Thea. Her eyes wandered over the map she’d drawn in the sand.

“My, ye must have traveled far indeed to know so much about the world,” she observed.

You don’t know the half of it, Thea thought.

“Not really,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve just seen some pretty good maps. Where I come from they’re easier to come by.”

Ailsa cocked her head. “And ye’ll soon be returning there?”

“Yes. I suppose I will.”

“Ye dinna look too pleased by that.”

“I am,” Thea protested. “I am. It’s just...” she trailed off, unable to find the words.

Ailsa smiled kindly. “It’s just that ye think ye might have found a reason to stay?”

Thea looked at her sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve seen the way ye look at him,” Ailsa replied. “And the way he looks at ye. Tis obvious what is growing between the two of ye.”

“Is it?” Thea asked in a strangled voice. Holy crap, was she that obvious?

“Aye. Is that so bad?”

Yes! Thea wanted to shout. Because I don’t belong here! I’m from 500 years in the future! We may as well be from different planets!

“Of course it’s bad. I’ll soon be leaving.”

“Ye dinna have to.”

“Don’t have to what?”

“Leave. Go home. Ye could stay if ye chose. Is there something that is pulling ye back to yer homeland?”

Thea stared at her friend, rocked by the suggestion. Stay here? She’d never even entertained the thought. Since the moment she arrived all her energy had been bent on getting home. But as the days had passed and she’d found herself drawn more and more to Logan MacAuley, that determination had begun to waver. Ailsa’s question struck her. What was pulling her home? What had she to go back to?

Nothing, a voice whispered in the back of her head.

Before she could frame a reply the door to the cottage opened and Mary stuck her head out.

“Riders!” she said in a low, urgent voice.

Thinking it was Rhodry and Logan returning, Thea and Ailsa scrambled to their feet and turned to look up at the trail at the top of the rise. But it wasn’t Logan and Rhodry. A group of eight riders were cantering along the trail in front of the croft. They wore dark clothing without any plaid or insignia that Thea could make out and she caught the glint of weapons in the sunlight.

“Inside, now!” Ailsa hissed at the children who’d come out after Mary to see what the fuss was.

She ushered them back inside and then stood in front of the door, holding it shut. Mary, Thea noticed, had a poker clasped in one hand and her eyes followed the riders as they thundered by. Suddenly one of them spotted the women and pulled his horse to a halt. Mary’s grip on the poker tightened and a shiver of fear slid down Thea’s spine. The man stared at them for a moment before wheeling his mount and thundering after his fellows.

Ailsa let out an audible sigh and Mary sagged, sliding onto the wooden bench alongside the cottage wall. She passed a shaky hand over her face.

“Who were they?” Thea asked.

“Mercenaries by the looks of them,” Mary replied. “Hired thugs. Riding to a muster unless I miss my guess.”

“These rumors of war again?” Thea asked.

“More than rumors if that sight is anything to go by. They were heading north. Towards MacKinnon lands. I dinna ken what the laird is playing at. Is he trying to destroy the clan? Hasnae he got enough trouble on his plate already?”

"He’s not popular?" Thea asked.

Mary waved a hand. "Does his best I suppose but he never had the training needed for leadership. He should never have inherited the lairdship, not with his cousins ahead of him. But after what happened to those three lads...well, ye never know what fate has in store."

Thea looked at Mary sharply. The old woman’s words sounded unsettlingly like those Irene MacAskill had spoken right before she'd sent Thea hurtling back in time.

"What happened to the old laird?" she asked.

Mary smiled sadly. “Nobody knows for sure. A fleet of Irish raiders were on their way and the MacAuley army was gathering to meet them—although there couldnae be any hope of success against such a force. Then the laird and his brothers disappeared. Nobody really knows what happened but the story is that they rode out of camp that night, telling nobody where they were going. Next morning scouts rode in to report that they enemy had been attacked in the night. Decimated. The survivors had boarded their boats and were fleeing back to Ireland. Nothing was ever found of those three boys, save their swords driven into the mud in the center of the enemy camp and their MacAuley plaids laid out on the ground.”

A feeling of unease uncurled in Thea’s stomach. Something about the story made the back of her neck prickle. “What were their names?” she asked.

“Their names?”

“Yes. Laird MacAuley and his two brothers. What were they called?”

“I...um...” Mary stammered. She looked puzzled. “Do ye know I canna remember! Ailsa, what were those boys called?”

Ailsa shook her head. “I’m nay sure. Oh! How odd! I’m sure it will come back to us eventually.”

What’s going on? Thea thought. Why does nobody remember the old laird? And why does that story make me so uneasy? I’ve heard it somewhere before, I’m sure of it.

She stared into the distance, watching the riders disappear over the horizon. Another secret. Another mystery. This land was full of them. Thea got the uneasy feeling she wouldn’t be going anywhere until she solved them.