CAILEAN CAME RUSHING up the stairs to catch the conclavist, and gave Raen a look of horror.

“Take him into the hall, Ovate,” Raen said.

He snatched the weapon from Diana, which felt hot on one end, and wrapped his arm around her waist. Tossing her over his shoulder, he hurried up the stairs.

Lachlan, wearing only a pair of hastily-donned trews, met him in the corridor outside his bed chamber.

“What made that banger?” the laird demanded. His gaze shifted to Diana’s writhing, kicking body, and his eyes widened. “Oh, fack me, no.”

“’Twas this that made the noise.” With some difficulty Raen passed the weapon to the laird. “Have a care, my lord. It put a hole through Master Flen.” He grimaced as a boot slammed into his hip. “She calls herself Lieutenant Diana Burke from San Diego. She mentioned a unit of missing persons. Another soldier, I think.”

“I’m a cop, you idiot, and if you don’t put me down, right this minute,” Diana said, her voice sounding almost reasonable and calm, “I’ll shoot a hole through your balls.”

“I’ll keep the hole-maker,” Lachlan said and nodded toward the room at the end of the corridor. “Put her in there, and see if you can calm her. I’ll send Tormod to stand guard.”

Raen kept tight hold on Diana as he carried her down to the room once occupied by the laird’s wife, ducked inside and shoved the door shut with his boot. As soon as he placed her on her feet she attacked him with another flurry of punches and kicks, but this time he expected them, and easily parried each blow.

Diana moved away from him as if they were dancing, holding her fists up and ready to strike as she made a quick scan of the room.

“You’re going down for assaulting a police officer,” she said. “Do you really want to add aggravated kidnapping charges, and whatever else I can nail you for? Because a year or two in county jail is nothing compared to twenty-five to life at the state pen.”

“Lieutenant,” Raen said, guessing that using her rank rather than her name showed more respect, “if you will stop attacking me, we can talk.”

“Your lord guy is sending someone to stand guard,” she said nodding toward the corridor. “That’s false imprisonment. Think about what you’re doing here, Tharaen. Twenty-five to life in a tiny little cell, eating crap food and fighting very bad guys in the yard. Big as you are? Every damn day.”

“That may happen in San Diego.” Since there was no lock on the door, Raen shifted back and leaned against it. “But you are no’ there anymore, Lieutenant.”

“Really.” Diana’s gaze kept shifting to every object around her. “Where do you think we are?”

“Dinnae do it, lass,” Raen warned her as he saw her stance shift.

But as soon as the last word left his lips she lunged at him. Knowing she might shatter a bone this time, he met her halfway and spun with her in his arms, using the momentum to fling both of them onto the bed. Their combined weight made the lower frame collapse beneath them, and he rolled atop her, pinning her under him to prevent another attempt at escape.

“Be still now,” he said. He removed the odd hat that had slipped down over her face, and a long, thick mass of streaked light red hair fell around her face. He’d never seen lovelier locks on any woman, and couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. “Why do you hide all this glory? ’Tis like copper and gold made silk.”

“I don’t,” Diana said and turned her face into her hair, closed her eyes for a long moment, and then regarded him. “I didn’t have long hair before I came here. I haven’t for years. None of this is real,” she murmured, sounding confused, and then drew in her lower lip to worry it with her teeth. “Can’t be. It’s impossible.”

When she started struggling again Raen shifted. “Dinnae try to toss me. You cannae.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” She gripped his shoulders, giving him a tentative push. “I can’t even budge you. Why do you feel like you’re made of concrete?”

“’Tis how I am in battle,” Raen said and paused.

He had forgotten what it was to have a woman under him. Diana was nearly as tall as he, and her limbs felt sleek with tight muscle, but with every breath she took her breasts pressed against his chest. His blood went hot and thick as he drew one of her hands from his shoulder, and pressed it back against the coverlet.

“You shouldnae fight me, lass.”

“Then help me,” she said quickly. “Wake me up or talk me out of this or–” She flinched as he tore down the bed drapes. “Oh, no. Don’t you even think it.”

Raen controlled her writhing form with his body weight as he ripped the drapes into strips and tied her wrists to the bed posts. Only when she was firmly bound did he rise and move to the bottom of the bed to catch her kicking legs and bind her ankles together.

“If this is real—and the jury’s still out on that—you’re going to regret this,” she promised him.

“Aye.” Looking down at her, he already did.

The chamber door opened, and Tormod Liefson entered with a wary look.

“The laird said I should guard the wench.” He glanced past Raen and grimaced. “Fack us all. Another one?”

“Say naught to her,” Raen warned in a low voice as he passed the Norseman. “Stand guard outside. I’ll return with the laird once we’ve seen to Master Flen.”

“Take whiskey,” Tormod suggested. “And some good, strong rope.”

* * *

When Raen went down to the great hall he found it filled with clansmen, most of whom had armed themselves, and the laird and lady, who sat listening to Cailean relate what had happened on the stairs. He spotted the older druid seated in a chair covered with cushions, where Neac and some of his tribe were attempting to treat his wound.

“Look,” Bhaltair said, gripping his elbow as he held out his arm to show Raen as he approached them. “There is a hole in my flesh. It goes straight through, from front to back. I believe that vicious, ill-mannered harpy meant to spit me like some great roast. Look at how she maimed me with her black magic.”

“Now, there, Master Flen,” Neac said as he urged him to lower his arm. “’Tis but a flesh wound. We’ll see to bathing and binding it for you.”

“Are you mad? I may be crippled. If the wound festers, I could lose my arm,” the druid said, grabbing the wound and then releasing a groan of pain before he called out. “Cailean, attend me now.”

Raen gave the ovate a sympathetic look as they exchanged places.

“My lord,” Raen said to Lachlan, “the druids came with news of sightings of the legion. Master Flen was coming to speak with you when he found me with the lady on the stairs. I believe she is another soldier from San Diego.” He related everything Diana had said to him, and then asked, “Is she someone you ken from your time?”

“No, we’ve never met,” Kinley said, but glanced back at the tower, worry plain in her light blue eyes. “She’s not a soldier, either. A police officer is someone who enforces the laws. Like the king’s sheriffs do now on the mainland. A missing persons unit looks for people who have disappeared without an explanation. The lieutenant must be investigating my case.”

Lachlan produced the weapon. “And this?”

“This is a gun.” His wife gingerly took it from him and thumbed something on the back of it. “It’s a weapon from my time. I’ve put the safety on, so it won’t fire again until I take it off. Ah, it fires bullets, pieces of metal, that shoot through the air too fast for you to see. When the bullets strike a body, they bore through it.” She thought for a moment. “It’s sort of like a tiny cannon.”

“Gods,” Lachlan muttered. His expression turned grim as he regarded the weapon. “But why would this police officer shoot Bhaltair?”

“’Twas an accident, my lord,” Raen said quickly. “I took the gun from Diana, and while she tried to retrieve it from me, it fired a bullet at him.”

“And that’s why we’re keeping the gun’s safety on,” Kinley said, and looked at her husband. “Lieutenant Burke must have crossed over through the oak grove where I did. I just don’t know why she’d still be looking for me. It’s been a year since I left home.”

“She did ask after you by name, my lady,” Raen told her.

“Kinley and I will speak to the Lieutenant,” Lachlan told him, and nodded at Bhaltair. “After we explain the accident to Master Flen, and hear this news about the legion.”

Raen accompanied the laird and his lady over to the druids, and found Cailean using whiskey to clean the wound. Bhaltair lay on his side, his pale, sweaty face drawn with pain, but as soon as he saw Lachlan he bolted upright.

“You must deliver this female to me immediately, my lord,” the druid demanded. “The ovate and I will take her to be judged by the conclave at once.”

“Master Flen, please permit me to explain,” Raen said, and quickly related what had happened in his struggle to take the weapon from Diana. “Lieutenant Burke didnae deliberately shoot you, sir. If anyone is to blame for your wound, ’tis me.”

“Nonsense. ’Twas her weapon, in her hand. I saw it with my own eyes.” Bhaltair’s color returned to flood his face. “You heard how she spoke to me. I wouldnae address a dog with so little consideration or respect.”

Raen suspected the old druid’s pride had been injured along with his arm. As a member of the conclave, Bhaltair held the second-highest rank among his people, and had always been treated by the laird and the McDonnel clan with the utmost respect. At times he could become very unpleasant over anything he perceived as a slight. Yet something else seemed to be goading him as well. He behaved as if he had been offended, but the outrage in his eyes looked almost like hatred.

“I regret that you came to harm here, Master Flen,” Lachlan said. “But this female crossed over from the future, as Kinley did. Mayhap by accident, while she was in the grove, seeking to find my wife. While she may be druid kind, we cannae punish the lass for being ignorant of your position, or for attending to her duty.”

Now Raen recalled that only druid kind could use the oak groves to travel through time, which meant that Diana Burke shared her bloodline with the magic folk. That also made her answerable to the druid conclave.

“Very well,” the druid said stiffly. “If she came by accident, then she doesnae belong here, and must be sent back. Cailean and I will see to it. Fetch her to me now.”

“Bhaltair, you are in no condition to drag a frightened, unwilling woman all over Scotland,” Kinley told him. “Now what’s this news about the legion?” She looked at Cailean.

“Our allies to the south report that the undead have been seen traveling from the lowlands,” the ovate said. “They move in groups of eight to the north. The conclave thought you might know what that meant, my lord.”

“Eight is a contubernium,” Lachlan murmured, and then said to his wife, “’Tis the smallest legion formation. Mayhap they are being commanded to gather for some purpose in the north.”

“’Twas also how the Ninth moved the entire legion across Caledonia to attack us here,” Raen reminded the laird. “I remember the tribune taunting you about expecting to fight a thousand men, when he had gathered six thousand to slay us.”

Kinley took hold of Lachlan’s hand. “Since that attack ended up making the clan immortal, and the legion our undead enemies for all eternity, we might want to jump on this.”

“Aye, you must learn their purpose, my lord,” Bhaltair said. “Which you cannae do if you are trifling with this outsider woman. Bring her to Cailean, and he will take charge of her.”

“Since I’m the reason Lieutenant Burke came here, I’d like to speak with her before she returns to San Diego,” Kinley said. “Otherwise she could come back again, and bring reinforcements.”

“Agreed,” Lachlan said. “Raen, arrange an escort to take Master Flen and Ovate Lusk back to their settlement. For now, we will keep Diana Burke here at the stronghold.”

“I think I should also stay,” Cailean said quickly before he turned to the old druid. “With your permission, Master, so that I may be available, should circumstances require my assistance.”

The old druid exchanged a strange look with his acolyte, and then seemed to settle into a calmer mood. “Yes, I think that wise. The laird’s men will look after me. Should you need my counsel, you may send a message by dove.”

The prospect of Diana staying at Dun Aran made Raen feel a strange mixture of relief and dread. He tried to shake it off, and caught Kinley giving him an odd look. “Is there something else, my lady?”

She smiled a little. “It’s just your face. I thought I saw your ink glitter for a second.”