Electricity buzzed through Fiona at the memory of Eadan's kiss, and she touched her lips as the carriage clattered away from the castle. She'd forgotten all about her nervousness about her visit with Elspeth; instead, all she could think about was Eadan—his masculine scent of spice and rosewood, his tall, muscular body pressed against hers. She'd wanted him to strip her bare and make love to her, and disappointment had roiled through her when he'd stopped.

Fiona expelled a breath, forcing herself back to the present. It's a good thing he stopped, she told herself. Yes, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, and she was undeniably, wildly attracted to him. But there was one glaring problem—he was from a different time, and she needed to focus on getting back to her own time, not on getting laid by the sexy Highlander she was fake married to.

She wanted to laugh at the irony of the only man she had explosive chemistry with living hundreds of years before she was even born. With Derek there had been no spark, no fire. With Eadan, his touch was akin to a flame that lit up her insides, searing every part of her.

She had to set her tumultuous thoughts aside when the carriage pulled up to a sprawling manor house. She needed to focus, to convince Elspeth that she was no threat, merely a fallen woman who just wanted to be on her way. Despite the fact that you just kissed Eadan, a telltale voice whispered in the back of her mind.

A servant opened her carriage door, helping her down. Fiona took another steadying breath. You can do this, Fiona. All she knew about the woman, from a brief discussion with Eadan, was that she was a gossip, she was friendly with Magaidh, and she and her late husband’s marriage was more of a clan arrangement than anything else. Fiona suspected she was the fourteenth-century equivalent of a rich, bored housewife, and Fiona was an easy target to assuage her boredom. Fiona would just have to be careful not to give her any ammunition for gossip.

A servant led her into the home, down a long ornate hallway, and into a drawing room. Fiona froze when she saw that Elspeth was not alone. Another woman sat opposite her, a beautiful redhead who gave her a look that shone with hostility.

Dread coiled in Fiona's chest; she'd never seen Magaidh, but she had no doubt that this was her.

"Did I not mention Magaidh would join us?" Elspeth asked, her eyes wide in faux apology, though she looked pleased at Fiona's obvious discomfort.

"No," Fiona said tightly, though she forced a smile. "You didn’t.”

"Fiona," Magaidh said, getting to her feet to approach Fiona. Though she was smiling, her eyes remained cold. "I'm Magaidh of Clan Acheson; Eadan's betrothed.”

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Fiona said stiffly. "I want you to know, I have no intention—“

"Ye’ve no intention of interfering with the betrothal. Aye, I heard," Magaidh said, though she didn't look convinced. “Yer secret marriage to my Eadan is quite the story among our two clans. I've ken Eadan since he was a lad. He doesnae have a rash bone in his body."

“We both know it was a mistake,” Fiona said, hoping that she looked contrite, though she bristled at the way Magaidh referred to Eadan as hers. “I only wish to live a quiet and pious life in the nunnery. I’m grateful that Eadan is helping me.”

Magaidh said nothing for a moment, cocking her head to the side as she studied Fiona.

“What is the name of the village ye’re from?”

“Kington,” Fiona said, trying to keep her voice steady. She'd happened to see the name of the village in a travel brochure she'd flipped through in her own time and told Eadan that was where she was from. She assumed it existed in this century; Eadan hadn't looked suspicious at the name.

“I've never been tae England. But even the Sassenach who come tae visit doonae have an accent such as ye," Magaidh said, studying her with suspicion.

Fiona clenched her hands at her sides. She needed to change the subject, stat. It was all too easy to poke holes in her story. But before she could speak, Magaidh continued, "My Eadan is the most handsome man in the castle, doonae ye agree?"

This was a trap, and Fiona wasn't going to fall for it.

"I thought him handsome once, but I—”

"Elspeth told me how ye were looking at him during supper last night," Magaidh interrupted, with a lethal look in her eyes. She took another step forward and reached out to take Fiona's arm in a bruising grip. Fiona winced. Magaidh's grip wasn't gentle, it would probably leave a bruise.

“I doonae ken what ye’re planning, but Eadan belongs tae me. Ye may be staying in his castle, but it’s me he’ll marry. We all ken ye’re a lying whore. Ye’re here for Eadan, and I willnae have it,” Magaidh hissed.

Fiona struggled to release herself from Magaidh's grasp. This had already gone way worse than she'd expected. Jealousy filled Magaidh's green eyes, which baffled Fiona. Eadan had told her Magaidh hated this arrangement as much as he did. But it didn't look like this was the case; Magaidh seemed genuinely possessive of Eadan.

A hot rush of defiant anger flowed through Fiona as Magaidh's grip tightened. She didn't know if it was her own jealousy at the possessive way Magaidh referred to Eadan, or her frustration over being dragged into the center of all this, but she couldn't stop her next words.

“You listen to me,” she snapped. “I'll not stand for threats from you, or anyone. Now let go of me before you see what I'm capable of."

Both Magaidh and Elspeth blinked in surprise, and Magaidh released her.

"I'll see myself out," she said, pleased at the astonishment in their eyes. Giving them one last defiant glare, Fiona turned to stalk out of the room. But as the rush faded, she realized that she’d officially made two enemies in this time.

* * *

When she returned to the castle, Fiona was still rattled from her encounter. She'd just have to stay out of Magaidh and Elspeth's crosshairs until she could get out of here.

She was making her way down the corridor to her chamber when she noticed Eadan's father Bran hobbling on his cane in the opposite direction. He moved with great difficulty, taking in great gasps of air.

Fiona hurried to his side.

"Can I help you get somewhere?"

"Aye," Bran said, an embarrassed look crossing his face. "I gave my manservant the afternoon off. Thought I'd be able tae get tae my private study on my own. I'm not a young strong lad anymore."

Fiona took his arm, and he leaned on her as they made their way down the corridor toward his study.

“How are ye finding everything, lass?”

“Lovely. Everyone’s been so kind,” she lied. There was no need to tell him about the Magaidh-Elspeth drama. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I hope I’m not causing too much trouble.”

“My son is a man of honor—he wouldn't turn ye away, nor would I. We'll get yer annulment and send ye on yer way.”

Send me to where? Fiona wondered. If she couldn't get back to her own time in the cellar where she'd arrived, she had no idea where another portal was.

She led him into his study, helping him to his chair. Bran's gaze strayed past her, and she turned to follow his gaze. He studied a portrait of a beautiful woman with dark hair and blue eyes. Eadan was the spitting image of her.

"Eadan doted on his mother, and she on him," Bran said, his eyes still on the portrait.

"She was beautiful."

"Aye. Indeed," Bran said, a look of wistfulness paired with grief crossing his face. Fiona turned to leave, but Bran placed his hand on hers. “Eadan marrying ye in secret shocked us all. But a part of me was relieved.”

“Relieved?” Fiona asked, surprised.

“Since he was a boy and his mother died, Eadan’s always been duty bound; I rarely see him enjoy pleasures—including love. Since I’ve been ill, he’s taken on even more. I’m proud of my son, but I want him tae enjoy his life as well. His rashness in marrying ye shows he’s capable.”

A rush of guilt flowed through Fiona at their lie, and she lowered her gaze.

“Well, perhaps he’ll be very happy with Magaidh,” she forced herself to say. That woman was awful, through and through. As if reading her mind, Bran’s expression darkened, and he sighed.

“He's marrying her out of duty. I feel guilt for pressuring him, but 'tis the best way for peace. Our clans have been feuding for years, ’tis the only—” He shook his head, giving her an apologetic look. “Listen tae me, burdening ye with our problems.”

“It’s no burden,” Fiona insisted. “I can’t thank you and your son enough for helping me.”

Bran settled his eyes onto her, gazing at her for a long moment.

“If things were different…” he trailed off, shaking his head. "Ye can take yer leave, lass. No need tae listen tae the ravings of an old man."

"They're not the ravings of an old man," she said gently, smiling. "But I'll leave you be."

“Fiona,” he said, as she reached the door. She turned back to face him, stiffening when she saw that his expression had darkened. “If—if anything should happen tae me, will ye look out for Eadan? I ken ye’re on yer way, but if ye cared for him once…”

Unease filled her. Why would Bran want Fiona, an outsider, to watch out for Eadan? But Bran was giving her a pleading look.

She swallowed, pushing aside her unease.

“I will,” she said quietly, and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.