DOWN IN THE great hall the celebration had reached a noisy pitch, which fell into utter silence as Lachlan came from the tower. Kinley stood by the great hearth and gaped at his clansmen, who looked just as confounded.

“Quiet, and dinnae touch her,” Lachlan warned. To her he said, “You’ve nowhere to run, lass. Come away with me now, and we’ll talk.”

She skittered away from him and whipped her head around as she sought a new direction.

“Kinley, look at me,” Lachlan said and felt a small sense of relief when she gave him her attention. “You’re among friends, I swear it.”

“Aye, sweetheart,” Neac said as he made a quick gesture, and a dozen men silently moved into positions around the hall’s exits. “We’re none of us blood-suckling bastarts.” When she eyed him he bared his teeth and fingered the blunt edges. “You see? No fangs.” He lifted his tankard. “We’re Scotsmen. We drink whiskey. Why, we’ve a ‘stillery on the island that makes such a malt, ’twould curl your hair and your toes.”

As Neac kept talking to her, Raen and Lachlan approached Kinley from behind, and exchanged a look before the bodyguard made a grab for her. Raen caught only air as she dropped to the ground and rolled over like a dormouse between them. Beyond them she came out of the ball, planted her feet and stood, all in one smooth motion. But as she dodged around the clansman guarding the north hall Lachlan lunged and finally caught her from behind. He clamped her back against him, then picked her up, writhing and screeching.

Tormod Liefson frowned at the laird. “Odin’s beard, but she’s a noisy one. Shall we fetch a more willing lover for you from among the house wenches, my lord?” He ducked as Kinley tried to kick him in the face. “Or there’s always good, strong rope.”

Neac slapped the brawny Norseman on the back of the head. “We’re no’ thieving, raping, murderous raiders, Tormod. Didnae you hear me before? We’re Scotsmen.”

Lachlan swore as Kinley latched onto his forearm with her teeth. “Raen. Some help.”

“Scotsmen? I’m a Viking.” Tormod’s expression grew baffled. “And you were painted savages who slaughtered my people, set fire to our settlement, and enslaved me.”

“’Twas our facking island first, you sun-bleached bawbag,” Neac countered.

Raen gripped Kinley’s jaw and squeezed it until she released the laird’s bleeding forearm, and then grabbed her flailing legs and held them by the ankles.

“Bloodthirsty little wench might as well be undead,” Tormod said, sounding almost admiring now. “As for you and yours, Uthar, when you weren’t out hunting and eating Scotsmen, you were stealing their women and their herds.”

“The lasses came willingly,” the chieftain said, shaking a thick finger at him. “And we only ever ate their cattle.”

“Upstairs,” Lachlan told his bodyguard as he backed toward the tower entry. “Easy now, lass.”

“I am not a lass, you son of a bitch,” Kinley said, her oddly-accented voice echoing through the hall, and silencing the men again. “I’m a captain in the United States Air Force.”

As the clan stared at her, Neac screwed up his face. “The United…where the fack is that now?”

“You let me go,” she demanded, “or so help me god I will find a way to escape, bring back a bomber wing, and blow this place to kingdom come.”

No one understood exactly what she meant, but the clan knew a heartfelt threat when they heard one. The men lifted their tankards and roared their approval.

By the time they carried her back into Lachlan’s chambers Kinley had threatened to do all manner of mysterious things. Once they put her on the bed Lachlan was obliged to pin her with his body weight while sending Raen to find some smooth cording that wouldn’t tear her flesh.

Kinley turned her face as far away from his as she could and still keep it attached to her neck. “Get off me or I’ll–”

“Castrate me with a blunt blade, and shove my bits down my men’s throats.” That much he’d understood. What Lachlan found fascinating was that Kinley had yet to use her flame-throwing power on him or any of his men. “If I am your enemy, faodail, then why would you save me in the grove?”

Her jaw tightened as she glared up at him. “Six on one isn’t fair, especially when the six are…whatever they were.”

“Undead,” he told her. “Creatures of the night that feed on the blood of mortals.”

“Jesus,” Kinley said and made a disgusted sound. “When do the Nazis and the Spartans show up?”

“If you dinnae believe what you saw,” Lachlan said, “then you burned them for naught.”

“They were going to kill you.” The hard line of her mouth eased a little. “You pushed too far ahead on your own. You should have stayed with your men.”

“Aye, but they can be slow, and me impatient.” He eased his grip on her wrists. “I thank you for my life, Kinley Chandler.”

Suspicion soured her expression. “How do you know my name?”

“’Twas written on the cuff you wore.” Lachlan had never heard anyone who had her exotic accent, and the strange words she used made him wonder if English was her natal language. Asking her about her origins, however, might only rile her into another frenzy. “Do you ken this place?”

“No, but I imagine my subconscious is decorating this coma.” Her gaze shifted to his chest briefly. “Or I could be having one of those all-night dreams that make you think you’re awake. Or it’s a very interesting afterlife.” She regarded him. “But I’m guessing none of the above.”

“This is Dun Aran, our castle on Skye.” When he didn’t see any change in her expression he added, “Skye is an isle off the coast of Scotland.”

“I know. My great-grandparents came from there.” She looked all around his chamber again. “I’m from San Diego.”

He had no idea where or what that place was. “What brought you here?”

She moved her shoulders. “Maybe I fell down a rabbit hole.” She turned her head as Raen came back, and saw the strips of silk in his fist. She glared at Lachlan. “You’re tying me up? Is that what you do to all your friends to whom you mean no harm?”

He didn’t care to have her bound. No, he wanted to send his bodyguard away, and strip the semat from Kinley’s lovely young body, and caress and kiss her until she begged him to have her. Between them his shaft swelled and stiffened, begging her to have him. From the way her eyes darkened she felt it, too.

“I cannae do as I wish,” Lachlan murmured to her. “But, oh, lass, if I could.”

“This is crazy,” she whispered. “I’ve known you like five minutes—and you kidnapped me.”

“Aye.” Lachlan curled his fingers around her wrist, and stretched out her arm so that Raen could bind it to the bed frame’s tester. “I cannae have you dashing about the stronghold.” As soon as his bodyguard tied her other wrist he forced himself up and off, and covered her with the blanket. “We’ll talk more on the morrow. Try to sleep.”

Lachlan gestured for Raen to follow him into the hall. “Stay with her, but keep her bound, and tell her nothing.”

His bodyguard glanced back at Kinley. “Will you send for the druids, then, my lord?”

He knew he should, and he couldn’t think of a reason not to. Only the conclave could fathom something as enormous as Kinley’s fiery power, or what her appearance on the battlefield meant. At the same time he felt very protective of his bonny little savior.

“No’ yet, lad,” Lachlan said finally. “First we’ll see if we can tame her.”