AFTER THE WEDDING ceremony, the feasting and drinking began. Rachel was hugged and welcomed by the clan as if she were a princess instead of the wife of their Captain of the Guard. She danced to the pipers with Evander first, who guided her through the gliding, circling steps of a reel. After that the laird claimed the honor of the second dance, which was a line dance consisting of spins and bows.

“No flings,” Evander said as Neac approached her. “She’s a wee little lass, and you’ll break her.”

The chieftain flapped a hand at him and led Rachel onto the floor, where he and the Uthars taught her their tribe’s stomping, arm-flinging circle dance. By the time that finished she thought she would be flushed and out of breath, but it seemed that her new immortality came with endless vitality and excellent lung capacity.

“All right, boys,” Kinley announced as she and Diana took Rachel’s arms in theirs. “We ladies are going to get a little air and chat. Continue partying until we get back.”

Rachel glanced at Evander as the women hauled her out through an arch and into the back courtyard.

“So what’s this really about, my ladies?” she asked.

“She’s the lady, I’m the cop,” Diana said. “We’ve decided to form an all-girl mini-warband.”

“Oh, yes,” Kinley told her. “Because we are completely outnumbered.”

While they were both acting a little drunk, Rachel sensed that was for the benefit of any men who might be watching.

“So how would that work?” Rachel said, smiling.

Diana laughed. “I’ll track the undead, you’ll pick their brains, and then Kinley will torch them.”

“Great, I get barbecue duty again,” Kinley said. As they walked into the gardens, Lady McDonnel stopped and turned her vivid, white-laced blue eyes on Rachel. “Before all the killing and resurrecting, you didn’t happen to find out if the legion has built a new stronghold somewhere, did you?”

“My reads fade away after a couple of days, so no,” Rachel said, and explained the non-existent downside to her ability that she’d invented while talking to Cailean. Although she was lying through her teeth, both women looked as if they believed her. “I have a vague memory of something big somewhere near the water.” At least that much was true. None of the undead had thought about their stronghold around her. She’d plucked that thought from one of the captives.

“Well, that rules out the lowlands,” Diana said and dropped down on a bench. She took a swig from the wine bottle in her hand and passed it to Kinley before she shook out her skirt. “Since we’re having our first unofficial chicks from the future club meeting, I vote we address a few things.”

“This should be good,” Kinley said to Rachel.

“The lack of comfortable clothing and the TP issue are my main bitches,” the redhead declared. “And then there are the fish and raisin punishment pies. Which have to stop, Cap, or Meg and I are going to rumble.”

“The TP issue?” Rachel murmured to Kinley, and then realized what it was. “Oh, you know, birch bark works pretty well.” When both women stared at her, she said, “Not the outside. The inside. It’s really soft and absorbent.”

Diana nodded. “So noted, plus points for creative use of nature.”

“For clothing, we have tons of unused linen up at the cottage, too. Fiona couldn’t go anywhere, poor girl, so pretty much all she did was weave.” Rachel smiled sadly. “Would make great summer gowns.”

“Now I want to marry you,” the redhead said and sighed. But then she rose to her feet. “Oops, there’s my guy, and he looks like he wants my gown off me. See you all when I regain consciousness and hobble downstairs, sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

Kinley waved to Raen, and then asked Rachel to walk down to the loch with her.

“It’s really been a lovely day, and I’m so glad you’ve joined the clan. We ladies are the minority, plus it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t need me to explain things like sports cars, basketball and cheeseburgers.”

Rachel chuckled. “We should make some. We have almost all the raw materials here, except the ketchup.”

“God, I miss tomatoes. Tomato sauce. Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” The other woman sighed. “Okay, time for the serious stuff. My husband thinks you forced Cailean Lusk to bring Evander back from the dead. True or false?”

Rachel kept her expression blank. “What do you think?”

“I think you read his mind, and did it yourself, or made him help you. That’s what I would have done.” The laird’s wife glanced back at the stronghold. “In a way it’s good that your reads fade. But if there’s ever anything you pick up that endangers the clan, tell my husband.”

The cool detachment of her emotions surprised Rachel. “You don’t trust the druids.”

“I have my suspicions,” Kinley said and grinned at her. “Go on, have a peek.”

“Lady Gordon’s son is the spitting image of Ovate Lusk. He might be one of your ancestors, as Gordon is an old family name.” Rachel concentrated. “You’re also pretty sure that Diana is Bhaltair Flen’s direct descendent. Wow. That is interesting.”

Kinley shrugged. “It could be just a wild coincidence that two of us came here, but I think you might have something to contribute to my conspiracy theory.”

“My mother and father spent their honeymoon in Scotland,” Rachel admitted. “For their first anniversary my father gave my mother a stone table she saw over there. That same table is sitting in Evander’s cottage right now.”

“Whoa,” Kinley muttered and offered her the wine bottle. “Not to be extra nosy, but you look Italian to me. Where’s the Scottish connection in your family tree?”

“My mother was Italian, but my father was half-Scottish. His mother’s maiden name was Darrow.” Rachel nodded toward the great hold. “In fact, I just met a Laird Darrow and his fiancée, and I swear that lady has my dad’s ears.”

Kinley’s mouth flattened. “Damn.”

“I can read Cailean again, if you think it’s necessary, but he’ll be on his guard now,” Rachel said. “People can hide their thoughts from me, like you did, when you brought me out her to talk about this.”

“Let’s hold off on that for now,” Kinley said. She glanced past her and smiled. “Here’s your husband, and mine.”

Evander and the laird walked down to join them. After giving Rachel a paternal kiss on the cheek, and clasping forearms with her husband, Lachlan ushered his wife back to the stronghold. Rachel noticed Evander staring at one spot, and saw a flash in her own mind of the day he’d taken Fiona from the dungeon to run away with her.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” Rachel said as she took his hand. “When I was in the grove with Fiona, she asked me to give you her love.”

“’Tis how I shall remember her, with the same.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Now, my lady, the laird has provided us with his lodge in the ridges for our wedding night. Lady Kinley has well-stocked it with a private feast and all we might want.” He glanced up at the sky. “We may be snowed in for a day or two.”

“It’ll be like we’re back at the cottage again. Just you and me, looking after each other, talking by the fire, and making love every night—but not just for a day or two.” Rachel stood on her toes and pulled his smiling face down to hers. “That’s going to be the rest of our lives, my love.”