LAIRD LACHLAN MCDONNEL watched the heavy bank of clouds advancing on the stark ridges of the Black Cuillin mountains. The denseness of the approaching storm fractured the sun into huge shards of white light that stabbed at the shadowy depths of Loch Sìorraidh, while far-off lightning flashed ever brighter. Such tempests were nothing new on the Isle of Skye, or to his clan of immortal highlanders, but today the laird felt a peculiar menace in the air. His serpent spirit also felt it, for he could feel the ink of his skinwork twitching under his garments.

Something was coming, and it had nothing to do with the weather.

“Here you are,” said a sweet, familiar voice. The tall, slender figure of his wife, Kinley, emerged from the upper hall archway and came to stand beside him at the edge of the curtain wall walk. “Ovate Lusk has just arrived and is asking to speak with you. He looks worried, so it’s probably not good news, but he didn’t bring Bhaltair Flen, so it’s likely not too horrible.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “Something wrong?”

“Mayhap, but I cannae put name to it.” He glanced down at the grimy condition of her sparring garments. “You’ve been tussling with Diana again.”

“No, she kicked my ass again,” Kinley corrected, and sighed. “I’m a combat-trained Air Force officer who did three tours in the sand pit, and I keep getting stomped by a cop who worked missing persons.” She rolled the top of her right arm as if it were sore. “It’s embarrassing.”

Lachlan rubbed her shoulder for her. “Diana Burke is the tallest, strongest female I have ever seen, and she is married to the largest, strongest, fastest warrior in the clan.”

“Oh, now I get it,” she said. Tiny streaks of white in his wife’s vivid blue eyes flashed like the distant storm. “You’re having Raen train her.”

“Aye, my love, but no’ to defeat you,” he said quickly as she thumped him with her fist. “I’ve tasked them both with leading warbands to search for the undead on the mainland. Diana may be the finest tracker we’ve ever had, but she’s wanting in other areas.”

“So our cop needed to learn how to fight like a highlander.” Kinley’s glare softened. “Well, she does now, so you can tell Raen to teach me all those fiendish Pritani moves.”

“Ah, but he has many duties as our seneschal.” He tugged her closer. “And my Pritani moves are more wicked.”

As he bent his head to kiss her smiling lips, Lachlan once more silently thanked the gods for the gift of his wife. Brought back eight hundred years from the future, the first thing Kinley Chandler had done was save his life during a battle with the undead. From that night she had fought him, tempted him, and bewitched him with her sharp mind and uncommon beauty. Yet it was the wounded spirit in her that had called out to his own. Passion and love had brought them together and helped them to heal one another.

When the kiss ended she trailed her fingertips over his mouth. “Just how wicked, exactly? Like…naked moves?”

“I cannae tell you,” Lachlan murmured. “I must teach you in our chambers.”

Her expression turned grave. “Uh-oh. I know that look. We might break furniture. Again.” She looked around before she whispered, “Well, we’ve wanted a bigger bed, right? I’ll get Neac started building a new one now.”

Lachlan chuckled and held Kinley close. Since they had married, time no longer weighed on him as it had before. He no longer had to face eternity alone. She had also been made immortal, thanks to her enormous courage during a horrific battle with the undead. Without hesitation she had sacrificed herself to kill the legion’s fanatical tribune, and stop the slaughter of hundreds of druids. The moment he’d seen her use her power of fire to burn herself and the tribune to death, it had driven him mad.

“I think the snake heard us,” Kinley said, and slipped her hand into his collar to caress the inked serpent’s head on his shoulder. “Maybe it’ll help you teach me.”

“That is not what it wishes to do to you, my lady.”

He heard the trod of sandals on the stones and looked over his wife’s pale gold mane to see a druid ovate in dark robes approaching them. Cailean Lusk appeared to be nothing more than a slim, dreamy-eyed boy, when in truth he had already lived seven lifetimes.

At that moment large rain drops began pelting the walkway, as if the gods themselves wept.

“My lord, my lady,” Cailean said and bowed quickly. “I dinnae wish to intrude, but I am sent on a matter most urgent. Our allies report a disturbance in the sacred grove. ’Tis possible that another female from a future time crossed over last night, but she has disappeared.”

Lachlan felt Kinley tense, and nodded. “We’ll speak inside.”

The three of them retreated into the stronghold, where the laird led his wife and the druid to his tower chamber. Margret Talley, the castle’s chatelaine, intercepted them as she brought in a tray with mugs of hot spiced cider and a platter of fruit, cheese and oat cakes.

“The magic folk forget to eat, and ye’ve no’ yet breakfasted, milady,” the old woman said as she placed the tray on the table, and gave Kinley’s sparring garments a narrow look. “Once ye’re finished scheming, I’ll send up hot water for yer bath, and a proper gown.” She bobbed before Lachlan and left.

“That woman won’t be happy until I’m the largest female in the clan,” Kinley complained, but scooped up a wedge of cheese and a cake as she perched on the window sill.

Lachlan handed Cailean a mug, and watched him warm his hands on the sides.

“You’ve been having mortals guard the groves, then?” Lachlan said.

The druid gave him a wary look. “No’ guard, my lord. After Mistress Burke crossed over unnoticed, the conclave thought it prudent to keep watch for others.” He took a sip of the steaming cider before he added, “This traveler didnae appear in the grove. She was dug out of the earth.”

“What?” Kinley got to her feet. “She was buried?”

“’Twould seem so,” Cailean said. “We fear something went awry during her crossing. A cloaked man came to the grove just before she arrived. He took her from the ground, and carried her off into the woods. Neither has been seen since.”

Lachlan frowned. “He didnae deliver her to a magistrate, or his laird?”

The druid shook his head. “A patrol of undead pursued them, and searched the woods. They didnae find them, but they took something from the grave before they retreated to the hills.”

“Sunrise destroys the undead trails, but our tracker can find the two mortals,” Lachlan said.

He stepped out into the hall and sent a sentry to summon Raen and Diana. When he returned, he saw his wife examining a dagger with an oddly-shaped wooden handle and a long, sharply-pointed blade.

“Our watchers recovered this knife from the pit in the grove,” Cailean told him.

“It’s definitely from my time,” Kinley said, and held it up to the light from the window. “Fixed blade, double-edged, deep finger choil, palm-centered mass. Not military issue, but professional grade. And I’m seeing traces of blood on the guard and the hilt grooves.” She handed it to Lachlan.

He hefted it, surprised by the razor-sharp edges, and how light it felt in his hand.

“Who would carry a knife like this?”

“It’s not a utility blade, and it’s a bit too long for close in-fighting,” Kinley said and thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Covert attack dagger, maybe.” She saw how the druid was staring at her and grimaced. “Hey, I was combat search and rescue. We didn’t kill people. We saved them.”

A brisk knock sounded before the Abers came into the chamber. A towering mountain of muscle, the former bodyguard immediately scanned the interior, while his tall, red-headed goddess of a wife sized up the three occupants with her shrewd gaze.

“My lord, my lady. Ovate Lusk.” The lightning bolts inked on one side of Raen’s face took on a faint gleam as he regarded the blade in Lachlan’s hand. “Trouble?”

Lachlan quickly explained the situation, and as soon as he finished Diana exchanged an intent look with Kinley. Lachlan nodded.

“I ken ’tis likely we have another visitor from your time,” he said. “That a man came to take her from the grove, and the undead then pursued them, are vexing.”

Raen regarded Cailean. “He wasnae a druid?”

“No’ from any settlement near the grove, Seneschal.” The other man hesitated before he said, “The man has visited the grove several times before last night. He leaves white flowers in the center of the stones.”

“Is that where he dug her out of the grave?” Diana asked, and when the druid nodded she turned to Raen. “We need to go have a look at the scene.”

“Aye, and from there I wish you to track them,” Lachlan told her. “We must find the lass who crossed over before the legion does. Once you have located her, bring her back to Dun Aran.”

“And the man who took her?” Raen asked.

“Him, too,” Kinley said. “I want to know how he knew she was coming.”

“And how he spirited her away so quickly,” Cailean put in. “’Tis difficult enough for a mortal to elude the undead, but to do so while carrying a lady is quite a feat.”

Lachlan felt a pang of suspicion, and frowned. “Take Tormod and Neac with you, and arm yourselves.”

“The undead cannae attack during the day,” the big man told him. “But they may send their mortal thralls to fight us. We will be watchful, my lord.”

After Diana and Raen left, Cailean said, “Thank you, my lord. Might I remain here at the castle until the lady is recovered? I wish to report back to the conclave when we have news of her.”

Lachlan suspected he also wanted to see the woman so he could ferret out the reason for her crossing over, and what powers she might possess. They also might need his help if the traveler was badly injured, as the dagger from the future suggested.

“Aye,” Lachlan said. “See Meg and she’ll arrange a room for you.”