Ronan gazed out the window at the bustling castle grounds. The sky was gray, the air thick with the promise of a storm. The weather was fitting; the relative peace they’d experienced over the past few weeks seemed like the calm before the storm.

There had been no incidents, no acts of aggression toward Clan Macleay since his and Kara’s visit to Tarag. Though he’d received word from one of his spies that Tarag had wed Elspeth, the man himself had not left the grounds of his castle, nor were there any suspicious movements from Tarag’s men.

But none of this eased Ronan’s anxiety. Each day he feared receiving word that someone had burned more of their lands—or worse, that people had been killed, just as Kara’s letter from her grandmother had spelled out.

And then there was the matter of his witch, his Kara, who occupied every corner of his mind. Kara wasn’t like other lasses, and not just because she was from the future. There was her beauty—her luscious body that fit so perfectly to his own as he explored her in his bed. But there was also her fierce mind, her determination, and even her damned stubbornness that he admired. His heart ached at the loss it would suffer when she left this time. When she left him.

He tried not to dwell on her eventual departure from his life. He would savor his time with Kara, as scarce as it was these days.

“M’laird.”

Ronan turned. Moireach stood at his doorway, his face tight with tension. Ronan stiffened, waiting for Moireach to scold him about some castle business he'd handled incorrectly in Eadan's absence.

But no such admonishment came.

“I thought ye'd want tae ken—McFadden and two other nobles have gone tae yer manor. They intend tae question yer . . . guest. I overheard them discussing it.”

Fear clawed its way through Ronan’s chest. He gave Moireach a grateful nod and rushed out of the study.

Luag is with her, he reassured himself moments later, as he raced away from the castle at a frantic pace, tightening his grip on the reins. He’ll not let them harm her.

He raced back to the manor, urging his horse to gallop faster than he’d ever made him go, dread coiling around him at the thought of the nobles interrogating Kara without him there. Kara was smart and capable, but what if they threatened her? What if they ordered her imprisoned until Eadan returned?

He arrived at the manor to find the door open, and as he stumbled inside he heard raised voices coming from the drawing room. One of them was Kara's.

He darted into the dining room, his hand already flying to the hilt of his sword.

Kara stood opposite McFadden, Uallas and Neasan, glaring at them while Beathan and Luag stood protectively before her. They all turned as he entered, and Kara’s face filled with stark relief.

"What are ye doing in my manor?" Ronan growled, moving to stand next to Luag, shielding Kara from their gazes. "If ye're threatening a lass that belongs tae me—”

“If yer lass is a spy, we've every right tae question her," McFadden returned. "Ye've let her bewitch ye. We've another clan after us, and we need tae—”

“My cousin left me in charge while he's away; ye take yer orders from me. And I ordered ye tae leave her be,” Ronan snapped.

“It’s all right.”

He turned with surprise at Kara’s calm voice. She hadn't attempted a Scottish accent this time, and the nobles' eyes widened. She gave Ronan a shaky but reassuring smile, stepping past him and Luag.

"Kara—” Ronan began.

“There's no need to fight among ourselves when there's an actual enemy out there, and I don't want to be the cause. I can assuage their fears by answering their questions.”

* * *

Moments later, Ronan stood at Kara's side as she sat at the dining room table opposite the suspicious clan nobles. He’d dismissed Beathan and Luag; it was just the five of them now.

She’d told them the same story she’d initially told him; she was here on her grandmother’s behest seeking out her family. She did add that she was a relative of Fiona’s, which Ronan thought was wise, given the similarity of their accents.

Ronan told them he’d offered her his manor to stay while she searched. His eyes flashed with challenge when McFadden tried to inquire about the details of their personal relationship.

“’Tis not yer business. We’ve told ye what ye want tae ken,” Ronan snapped.

"How do we ken ye speak the truth?" Uallas asked, eyes narrowed, turning his focus to Kara. "That ye're not trying to seduce the laird tae help Clan Sudrach?”

"You don't," Kara said calmly. “I want to help because my family lives somewhere on your clan’s lands. You’re just going to have to trust me. Before you barged in here, I’d just come up with a plan. A plan I think will help prove Tarag is the one working against your clan.”

“Even if we believe ye're not working against us, that doesnae mean we'll include ye in clan business," McFadden snapped.

"I gave her permission tae help. It was her suggestion tae keep looking for allies Dughall may have had," Ronan spoke up.

"'Tis not acceptable," Uallas growled, shaking his head. "A lass isnae fit tae give advice tae—”

"You listen to me," Kara interrupted, leaning forward to glare at him. "Your clan is in danger. At this point, you should take good advice from wherever you can get it."

"And what is this advice?" Neasan demanded.

"That we go directly to the enemy to find out what they're planning. They know your men are watching them. That’s why they're not doing anything incriminating,” Kara said.

“We tried that,” Ronan interjected with a frown.

“Not Tarag himself,” Kara said. “One of his men. One of his susceptible men. And you shouldn’t use one of your spies to uncover this information. You use a woman. Me. I can find out information in ways that only a woman can."

The room fell silent as her meaning settled in. The nobles looked both scandalized and intrigued while a dark wave of disbelief and jealousy swept over Ronan.

“No,” he barked. “This meeting’s over.”

“Ronan—” Kara began.

“This meeting is over,” he repeated. "Ye've questioned her, and I assume her answers have satisfied ye. Now go."

"The lass may be on tae something," Uallas hedged. "If she—”

"Get out of my manor. That's an order," Ronan hissed.

The nobles obliged with great reluctance, casting Kara looks of growing admiration before they left.

“Are ye mad?” he asked, turning to Kara when they were alone. “Tae even suggest—do ye ken how dangerous that would be? What they’d do tae ye if ye were found out? Tarag kens how important ye are tae me. I willnae allow it."

“I wouldn’t actually sleep with one of his men," Kara said with a look of revulsion. Relief filled him, his jealousy abating. "I’ve done other things to get men to open up when working on a story in my own time. Flirt. Seduce in other ways."

“Flirt? Seduce?” Ronan roared, his jealousy returning. “Ye didnae tell me this profession of yers entailed behaving like a harlot.”

“Flirting is harmless,” Kara said through gritted teeth. “And when the stakes are this high—when lives are at stake—”

“No,” Ronan barked, advancing toward her. “I’ll not allow ye tae give yer body tae another.”

“I just told you—I wouldn’t actually sleep with anyone! I would just talk. And—and just because we make love doesn’t make me your property! We both know what I’m really here for.”

“Ye do belong tae me,” Ronan snapped, as Kara got to her feet, glowering at him. “And aye, I do ken what ye’re here for. But while ye’re here in my time, with me inside ye every night, ye’ll not ‘flirt’ or ‘seduce’ anyone. Do ye understand?”

He could tell she was trying to maintain her defiance, but the desire in her eyes was winning. He maneuvered her to the table, leaning forward to graze her ear with his lips, reaching down to stroke the flesh between her breasts.

“The craving that’s spiraling in yer belly?" he whispered. His own desire coiled in his gut, and he hardened beneath his kilt. Kara’s breathing had quickened, her lips parting as she met his eyes. "That proves ye belong tae me. There will be no seducing of Tarag’s men—or any man.”

* * *

Ronan hoped Kara would calm down and understand why he wouldn’t go along with her foolish and dangerous plan, but she barely spoke to him the next morning, only offering him her cheek when he kissed her goodbye before heading to the castle, although they’d made passionate love the night before.

As she turned away from him, a rush of anger filled him. She wasn’t from his time and didn’t understand the dangers, damn it. Fear gnawed at his gut at the thought of what Tarag would do to her if he caught her. If her anger was the price he had to pay for her safety, so be it.

At the castle, he presided over another meeting with his nobles. To his relief, McFadden, Uallas and Neasan seemed to no longer hold suspicions about Kara now that they’d questioned her. There was no news to report; Tarag and his men had made no movements out of the ordinary, and no one in the clan had reported any more threats.

“Yer lass’s idea may be a sound one,” McFadden said gruffly, approaching him after the meeting was over and the other nobles had left. “We need tae take the offensive rather than waiting for Tarag tae act.”

“No. ‘Tis too dangerous,” Ronan said, glowering at him.

“I thought she was just a mistress ye were bedding,” McFadden said, surveying him with mild suspicion. "If she was yer wife, I wouldnae dream of suggesting—”

“It doesnae matter that we’re not wed. She's not involved in this.”

McFadden studied him for a long moment, his mouth tight, looking as if he were on the verge of protest. He finally turned and left the great hall.

Ronan drew in a sharp breath, wishing there was someone he could confide in about this. Usually that person was Eadan. But . . . there was one person he could talk to.

As evening fell over the countryside, he rode his horse to his Uncle Bran’s home. He found Bran in the drawing room, sitting by the fire.

Bran looked flushed and healthy, and relief flowed through him at the sight. Weeks before, Eadan and Fiona had discovered that Dughall was having him poisoned. He’d recovered well.

Bran turned as Ronan entered, delight flaring in his eyes at the sight of his nephew.

“Ronan,” he said, starting to get to his feet, but Ronan gestured for him to remain seated as he took the chair opposite him. “What brings ye here tae visit an old man?”

Ronan hesitated. He didn’t want to involve his elderly uncle in what was happening with the clan now that he’d retired from clan business. But he needed advice.

So he told Bran everything that had happened since Eadan’s wedding. The only thing he left out was Kara’s status as a time traveler, though he wondered if Bran knew about Fiona.

Bran remained silent for a long moment when Ronan had finished, his eyes thoughtful.

“Yer not going tae like my opinion, but yer lass is right. The best way tae get information out of a man is through a bonnie lass.”

Ronan scowled. “’Tis dangerous, I’ll not— “

“Being a leader means making sacrifices. If ye trust ye and yer men tae protect her, there’s no reason ye shouldnae try her plan,” Bran said.

His expression shifted and he suddenly leaned back in his chair, giving Ronan an appraising look.

“Ah. I see what’s happening here.”

“What?”

“I think,” Bran said, his eyes twinkling, “that what I told ye at Eadan’s wedding has come tae pass. Ye’ve met the lass who has changed everything for ye.”