Ronan remained awake long after Kara drifted off to sleep in his arms. He gazed down at her sleeping form, ruminating over her story. As soon as she told him she was from another time, as strange and unbelievable as it was . . . it made sense. The vagueness of her backstory. Her strange accent. Tairseach. The stiuireadh who'd shown up on his property before she'd arrived.

And there were the similarities to Fiona. Fiona had shown up in a similar manner, emerging from the cellar of Macleay Castle in a scandalous dress, one that must be common in their time. Her accent, nearly the same as Kara's. Eadan's refusal to tell him Fiona's true place of birth.

Fiona had traveled through time. Just like Kara.

Why hadn’t Eadan told him the truth about his wife? Did he not trust him?

But as Ronan studied Kara, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back from her face, a surge of protectiveness filled him—and he understood. Eadan wanted to protect his wife. Though Eadan and Ronan weren't superstitious, there were many in the castle and surrounding villages who were. Many fervently believed in—and despised—witches. And they would certainly consider a lass who could travel through time a witch.

He now understood with stark clarity why Kara hadn't wanted to reveal whom she was, and guilt flooded him. For all she knew, he could have thrown her into the dungeons and had her hung for witchcraft.

"I'm sorry, Kara," he murmured to her sleeping form. She was here on behalf of the grandmother she adored, and he'd not made things easy for her.

A sudden heaviness settled over him. Since Kara didn't belong in this time . . . her stay here would only be temporary. Soon, his Kara, with her spirited mind and fierce heart, would return to her own time. He'd never wanted a lass by his side for more than a few weeks, but with Kara, the thought of her leaving filled him with a sharp ache.

He drifted off to sleep with the troublesome thoughts of Kara's eventual departure, and awoke from his fitful sleep at first light, kissing Kara's forehead before extricating himself from her warm, beautiful body with reluctance. Her suggestion of continuing to look into Clan Acheson’s potential allies was a good one; he would broach it during the meeting with the nobles today.

Even though he was allowing her to help, he'd have to keep her out of sight of the clan nobles. The only people aware of her presence here were his servants and his men, but they were loyal and wouldn't gossip about his mysterious guest to outsiders. If the clan nobles knew of her existence, they'd have questions—and suspicions. It was a miracle Fiona had passed muster. He didn't know if Kara would be so fortunate.

Once dressed, he stepped out into the hall. He intercepted Aislin as she made her way to Kara's chamber.

"The lady is asleep in my chamber," he said. "But let her rest."

"Aye, m'laird," Aislin said, averting her gaze, but he saw the delight in her eyes. Aislin must have taken a liking to Kara and seemed pleased that she'd spent the night in his bed. I plan tae keep her in my bed, Ronan said silently, as Aislin moved past him. As long as I can.

He descended the stairs with a small smile curving his lips. At the sight of Beathan approaching him, Ronan’s smile vanished. He was going to have words with him and Luag about allowing Kara to slip from the manor.

But Ronan froze at the taut look of worry on Beathan's face.

"M'laird, a messenger just sent word," Beathan said, "the men who watch Elspeth’s manor stopped by for their morning check, and they found her gone. She’s fled."

* * *

Ronan dismounted from his horse, his heart thundering in his chest as he approached Elspeth’s manor. Osgar stood in the courtyard, standing opposite a frightened-looking chambermaid.

“Was Elspeth was taken by force?” Ronan asked when he reached them.

“No,” Osgar said, his mouth set in a grim line. “I’ve already searched the manor. It looks like she packed before she left.”

“Did she say anything? Tell ye she may go somewhere?” Ronan asked, turning his focus to the chambermaid.

“No, m’laird,” the chambermaid said, shaking her head. “But last night after she took her supper, she dismissed me before I could help her tae bed. Me and all the other servants. Said she wasnae feeling well and wanted tae be alone.”

“Did she seem ill?”

“She seemed fine, m’laird.”

Dread filled Ronan’s chest, and he stepped into the manor. He recalled Elspeth’s evasiveness the last time he was here. He was a fool to not have kept a closer watch on her.

Another chambermaid led him to Elspeth’s chamber, which confirmed what Osgar told him—her clothing chest was empty, along with a box of jewels. This wasn’t someone who’d been forced to leave.

Where did she go? Was she now working with the same person sending threats to the clan?

“Send men to the surrounding villages, and search the roads,” Ronan told Osgar when he returned to the first floor, though he doubted they would find her. If she’d left the night before, she was long gone by now.

He made his way to the castle, where the nobles were gathered in the great hall for the meeting.

Tension coursed through Ronan as he told them of Elspeth's abrupt departure.

“I already have men searching for her,” Ronan said. "I'm hoping we'll find her before she gets far."

He braced himself for their accusations—that he should have known Elspeth was planning something given her closeness to Clan Acheson, that he should have kept a closer watch on her with Eadan gone.

Moireach and the nobles leveled him with hard gazes, but the great hall remained silent until McFadden spoke up.

"'Tis not Elspeth we're concerned with," McFadden said, studying him with narrowed eyes. "'Tis the foreign lass ye have in yer manor."

Ronan stiffened. How did they know about Kara? Was someone watching his manor—or had one of his trusted servants gossiped?

“My manservant saw ye with her yesterday,” McFadden continued, as if reading his thoughts. “He overheard her strange accent as ye left the castle with her. He said it looked like ye didnae want tae be seen. I had him follow ye back tae yer manor.”

“I am leader of this clan, McFadden. Ye had no right tae have yer man follow me,” Ronan growled. “The lass is my mistress. I donnae see how she’s any of yer concern.”

If they thought she was a mere mistress of his, Ronan hoped they'd drop the matter. But their eyes narrowed with even more suspicion.

“And when did this lass arrive?” Uallas pressed.

“Days ago," Ronan replied tightly.

“And ye donnae think ’tis odd that as soon as this lass arrives, our clan starts receiving threats?” McFadden demanded.

“We've received threats before she came here,” Ronan snapped, trying not to show his alarm. He didn't want their suspicions trained on his Kara.

“It would be a good way of distracting ye," Neasan spoke up. "Send a bonnie lass yer way for ye tae bed while Eadan is away—”

“And what are ye trying tae say, Neasan?” Ronan hissed. "We're all grown men. No need tae dance around it."

“Eadan wouldnae let himself get distracted. Even with the Sassenach he ended up marrying, he still kept his focus on Dughall and saved our clan. Ye’ve been chasing anything with skirts yer entire life, and now this whore shows up—"

Ronan lunged toward Neasan. Osgar darted in front of him, holding up his hands.

“M'laird,” he said, turning to give Neasan a hard look. “I’m sure Neasan didnae mean what he said.”

“I’m sure he didnae,” Ronan said, through clenched teeth. “Am I right?"

"My apologies," Neasan said, though his tone was not at all apologetic. “But 'tis our right tae question her."

“No,” Ronan growled.

“No?”

“No,” Ronan repeated, firm. “She’s my mistress; ye’ve never needed tae question any mistress of a clan noble before.”

"We questioned Eadan's wife," McFadden interjected.

"Kara's not my wife," he returned, an odd ache piercing him at the words. "She's my mistress, and she has nothing tae do with any of this. We need tae focus on who is after us, not on who I’m bedding. We need tae talk tae more members of the—"

“We’ve already spoken to a dozen of Clan Acheson's nobles," Uallas interrupted.

“We’ve been asking the wrong questions. I donnae believe 'tis the Acheson clan sending us threats—Eadan executed the treasonous ones. This may be an ally of the Acheson’s, someone who wants tae claim the disputed lands.”

“And how do ye ken?” Neasan asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“'Tis a reasonable guess,” Ronan said. He wouldn’t dare suggest it was Kara’s idea. “We need tae do everything we can tae find out who this is and what they’re planning. These threats—ill omens and such—they seem like mere distractions. I fear something more dangerous is about tae happen."

* * *

“I told ye, I wasnae keen tae Dughall's conversations,” Seamus said. "He ken I didnae agree with his plans."

Ronan stood in Eadan's study opposite Seamus, a member of Clan Acheson who'd once been close to Dughall. He'd questioned several men from Clan Acheson since his meeting earlier that day with the nobles, and they’d all sworn ignorance about potential allies.

“Do ye ken if Dughall or any of his men had allies?" he asked. He expected Seamus to answer the way the others had—that he knew nothing.

But Seamus stiffened.

"What?" Ronan asked, hope surging through his chest. "What do ye ken?"

“'Tis is only a rumor," Seamus hedged, "but I heard Dughall had several meetings with the chieftain of Clan Sudrach months ago. It was thought nothing came of it."

Ronan studied him, excitement replacing his hope. No one had mentioned such meetings before.

He thanked Seamus and dismissed him, sinking down into his chair. He didn't know much about Clan Sudrach, they were a northern clan that stayed out of conflicts and kept to themselves. But if Dughall met with them months before he launched an attack on Clan Macleay . . .

Had he discovered Clan Macleay’s new enemy? Was Clan Sudrach behind the renewed threats?