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his Mariota,” she said, hoping Dan couldn’t hear the thundering of her heart.
    He shrugged. “I dated a girl from Inverness in college. A bit of a history buff, always going on about those two. She was obsessed by Scotland’s most legendary love pairs.” He paused to rub his chin. “So if not the notorious Wolf come back to life at Culloden, what other ideas do you have?”
    Kira felt a jab of self-consciousness but brushed it aside. Dan and Destiny had been good to her. “O-ooh,” she said, shifting her carry-on again, “something along the lines of I Was Seduced by a Selkie or I Found the Big Grey Man of Ben MacDui Sleeping in My Holiday Cottage .”
    â€œBen Mac- Who-ee ?” Dan shook his head.
    â€œA ben is a mountain. The Big Grey Man is like Bigfoot.” Kira smiled. “He’s the Yeti of the Scottish Cairngorms.”
    Dan laughed. “I’ll be happy with any story you bring back. You just take care of yourself.” His eyes took on that worried look again. “I have a feeling those fairy mounds might be the real thing. Like that lake in Cape Cod.”
    â€œIf they are, just don’t forget your promise.”
    â€œA time portal would be a bigger story than a sunken Viking boat, Kira.” He hesitated. “You’d be world-famous.”
    â€œNot if you keep your word and leave my name off the story.” Kira lifted her chin, not willing to budge. “I’ve had enough fame in recent days to last a lifetime. Give the honors to one of the horn-tooters who’ll love the glory.”
    Dan looked uncomfortable. “You’re sure?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    â€œThen off with you and be quick about it.” He clutched her to him for a quick hug. “I hate long good-byes.”
    So did Kira, but before she could say her own, he was gone. Vanished into the teeming maze of hastening passengers and harried-looking airport personnel.
    Shifting her carry-on yet again, she remembered what else she hated. Namely carting around unnecessary take-alongs pressed on her by her well-meaning family. No wonder her bag was digging a groove into her shoulder.
    Determined to lighten her load—and avoid excess calories she really couldn’t afford—she made for the nearest waste bin, then unzipped her carry-on, plucking out the bulky plastic bag stuffed with Lindsay’s crushed and crumbling organic chocolate chip cookies.
    A fat wedge of some kind of soybean imitation cheddar cheese and a mysterious home-baked energy bar her sister had sworn would keep her from suffering jet lag. Half a poorly wrapped hoagie her father must’ve secretly slipped into the bag after seeing Lindsay give her so much unappetizing health food.
    Pitching it all, Kira dusted her hands and rezipped her now much lighter bag. But not before her gaze fell upon her book, The Hebridean Clans .
    Her heart thumped. Catching her lip between her teeth, she retrieved her boarding card and headed for the long line at the security checkpoint, thoughts of catching a glimpse of her own Hebridean chieftain in real live waking hours quickening her steps.
    With a bit of luck and if her special gift of far-seeing didn’t let her down, it just might happen.
    She couldn’t think of anything sweeter.

Chapter 3
    Many hours and even more transatlantic miles later, Kira pulled her fine-running hire car into a so-called lay-by, and rested her head against the steering wheel. She’d made it past Loch Lomond and even Crianlarich, carefully following the A-82, the most scenic route into the Highlands. But she wasn’t sure she could go much farther. The many twists and turns were getting to her, each new one bringing her closer to defeat.
    She’d lied to herself about left-handed driving.
    It wasn’t a breeze.
    It was horrible.
    Worse, she’d been sorely disillusioned to think that sheep jams were the only hazards of Scottish roads. Truth be