Kara tried to concentrate on the meal in front of her, but it was difficult with Ronan's intense gaze on her face.

Earlier in the day, when she realized he'd put a guard on her door, fury had coursed through her. Once her anger subsided, she'd spent the day ruminating, from recalling every detail she could about Alice's letter, to considering how to flee the manor to get back to her own time, and finally resolving once again to stay. She couldn't have innocent deaths on her conscience. She'd just have to work harder to get Ronan to trust her.

She looked up at Ronan and forced a polite smile. Their meal comprised of smoked herring, roasted carrots sweetened with honey, and bread. To her relief, spoons existed in this time, though she noticed that Ronan used his fingers and a knife to eat, something she tried her best to mimic.

Kara had wondered what a medieval meal would taste like; she knew from Alice that only the wealthy ate well in this time. This appeared to be true, the herring was as tasty as a dish in a pricey New York restaurant.

“Thank you for the meal," she said, deciding it was better to soften him up before bringing up the guard on her door. "Very delicious."

"My cook is one of the best in the Highlands," Ronan replied, but his expression remained guarded.

"I can tell," she said, taking a swallow of her ale, which was far more bitter than she'd anticipated, but she kept the smile pinned on her face. "So . . . am I to have a guard outside my chamber the entire time I’m here?”

“Ye can wander the manor and the grounds. But I’ll continue tae have someone watching ye.”

Kara's smile vanished. She glowered at him, gritting her teeth. She reminded herself that it would do no good to make an enemy of him. She needed Ronan on her side if she wanted to find her ancestors. He'd already helped her by having his messenger inquire about her family’s whereabouts in the village. If she got on his good side, maybe he’d continue to help her.

So she made herself give him an understanding nod and forced another smile. Surprise flared in his eyes; he'd clearly expected a fight. He returned her smile; desire rippled through her at the sight. His smile made him even more beautiful.

“I understand,” she said. “You want to protect your lands, your clan. I’m a foreigner; it makes sense for you to be on your guard. But I’m not here for any other reason than to find my family.”

“That I believe,” Ronan said, setting down his cup and steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

“Well. It’s good you believe me about that,” Kara said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. “This is a lovely manor,” she continued, opting to change the subject.

Make the subject comfortable by establishing a rapport. This was something she’d done during her time as an investigative reporter. Hopefully her technique would work on a fourteenth-century Highlander.

“This home has been in the Macleay clan for generations, along with the castle. I was raised by my uncle; he gave me this manor by inheritance,” he replied, leaning back in his chair as he took a long sip of his ale.

She wanted to ask him what happened to his parents but didn’t want to push too much. She decided to change tactics, offering more information about herself instead. The more truthful information she gave him, the more he would trust her. Or at least she hoped.

“I lost my parents when I was young,” she said. “My grandmother raised me. She was more like my mother and my father.”

“And that’s why finding this family is so important to ye?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice wavering.

“Who do ye live with . . . in England?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. “Ye donnae have a male guardian who’ll miss ye? A husband?”

Kara scrambled to think. A woman living alone in 1390, unless a widow, was a rarity.

“My grandmother only recently died, I intend to move in with my uncle once her affairs are settled,” she said, hoping she sounded truthful. “He knows I’ve traveled to Scotland and he gave me his permission to come. He’ll not expect me back for some time.”

Ronan studied her for a long moment, his face blank. She couldn’t tell if he believed her story or not.

“I wonder about ye, lass,” he said finally. “I believe what ye say about yer grandmother and finding this family—there’s nothing but truth in yer eyes. But there’s much ye say that’s false; I can also tell by yer eyes. Ye say yer English, yet yer accent . . .” He trailed off, his eyes boring into hers. “My cousin just wed a lass with an accent akin tae yers."

Kara stilled, her heart thundering in her chest. He didn’t know the accent he referred to was an American accent. And his cousin had married someone with such an accent.

Could it be? Was there another time traveler here? Or was it a coincidence, and this woman he spoke of just happened to have an odd foreign accent he didn’t recognize?

“It is a rare accent,” she hedged, wondering how to get more information about this woman without being too obvious. “Where’s your cousin’s wife from? Perhaps we’re from the same village.”

“At first she told us she was from a small English village. Now. . . I’m not sure where she’s from," he continued, watching her with razor-like focus. "My cousin refuses tae tell me. But she claims her accent is odd because she traveled a lot as a wee lassie."

Kara tried to maintain her calm, clenching her palms in her lap. A woman in this time with an American accent and a vague backstory? Sounded like a time traveler to her.

She tried not to let her excitement show, reaching out to lift her cup to her lips and taking another sip of ale.

“I also traveled a great deal when I was young, but I’m from the southern coast of England,” she lied. One area of medieval history Alice had never been great at was the linguistics of the time, so Kara was on her own here. “Is—is your cousin’s wife nearby? At the castle, perhaps? I’d love to meet her. See if we traveled to the same places as children.”

“Fiona and my cousin are enjoying private time together after the wedding," Ronan said, and disappointment filled her.

"Oh. Their honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" Ronan asked with a frown. "What are ye on about, lass?"

"Never mind," Kara said, mentally kicking herself. The modern honeymoon didn’t exist in this time. She'd have to be careful about what terms she used.

“They’ll not be back for some time," Ronan continued after a pause, though suspicion had returned to his expression. "Eadan’s left me in charge of the clan and the castle.”

“Why aren't you staying there while he's away?” she asked.

“My uncle’s retired to his own home; I donnae like spending time at the castle when neither of them are there. The steward tends tae it while me and Eadan are away. Besides,” he added, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I’ve my own manor tae attend. I need tae protect it from stray lassies wandering the grounds.”

Kara couldn’t help but smile. She set down her cup, feeling comfortable enough to probe more. And not just to establish trust. She wanted to know more about Ronan.

“Are Eadan and your uncle your only surviving family?”

“Aye. My father died of plague, my mother died when she birthed me. I was broken after my father’s death. If it wasnae for Eadan and Bran. . .”

His voice trailed off, sadness filling his eyes, and Kara’s heart tightened with sympathy. Centuries may have separated her from Ronan, but they had this in common. Though she’d been young when her mother's death left her orphaned, her life wouldn’t have been the same had it not been for Alice’s love and guidance.

At the thought of Alice, a renewed determination surged through her. She would solve this mystery for Alice and find her ancestors.

“Are there other villages nearby? Villages where my family may have settled?” she asked.

“There's Mairloch tae the east and Limarty just north of here,” Ronan said. “I'll send my messenger tae those villages if ye’d like.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said, hope swelling in her chest.

During the remainder of the meal, he opened up to her more, answering questions about Eadan and his uncle Bran. He told her how Eadan was more like a brother to him, that he'd lay down his life for him, and Eadan would do the same for him. And he told her, though he didn't give her too many details, about a recent illness Bran suffered from, and his fear that he would lose the only father he'd ever known.

"Do ye have any more family?" he asked. "Besides yer grandmother?"

"No," Kara whispered, realizing just how alone she was in her own time. She'd never felt lonely when Alice was alive; her grandmother's love had been more than enough. She lowered her gaze, a wave of sorrow sweeping over her at the thought.

He didn't press her for any more information, but his probing gaze remained on her for the rest of the meal. After they finished eating, Ronan walked her to her chamber.

“I hope ye find yer family while ye’re here,” he said, his tone sincere. “And I meant what I said—ye’re a guest here, Kara. But I do need tae take precaution.”

"I understand."

They both fell silent as his golden eyes held hers. Kara’s gaze fell to his mouth, and she wondered what it would feel like pressed against her own mouth. Her throat, her breasts . . .

Desire coiled through every part of her body at the thought, keeping her rooted to the spot. Ronan didn’t break eye contact, and it was as the world around her stilled as Ronan leaned forward, his mouth claiming hers in a fervent kiss.