listen well, lass, but you'll soon learn what we do to Cameron spies. Bring her." Mackay turned his back on her and strode from the room. Two burly men grabbed her arms and pulled her along with strides too long to keep up with. As she stumbled between them, Deanna took note of the furnishings. Medieval authentic would be an understatement, even if this were a re-enactment.
They entered the dining room where hours earlier she'd had supper at a cute little table by the window, the view overlooking the River Naver. Deanna was sure it was the same room. The broken piece of stone sat in the same spot on the massive fireplace. Now though, no windows opened out to the view and one long trestle table stood where multiple small tables had graced the room before.
Deanna closed her eyes. She must be dreaming of the history that Mr. MacFegan told her about the castle, although she'd never had a dream hurt so much before. She shuddered and willed herself to wake up.
His voice intruded on her efforts. "It's a sad day when the Camerons have to send a lassie to do their spying. Why dinna you make this easy on yourself and tell me how you made it past my guards?"
Deanna opened her eyes to find the laird smiling with all the warmth of an ice sculpture. She felt like a sheep surrounded by wolves in this room crowded with kilts and massive swords. He'd sat back down and picked up a hunk of bread, leaving her to stand.
"Where's your hospitality?" Deanna returned his smile and managed not to snarl at him. "Am I supposed to stand here and watch you eat?"
One of his men guffawed but cut it short when Mackay glanced over at him. "I didna think you'd mind standing, since you're dressed like a man."
What? Deanna looked around the room once more, breathing hard. Impossible. She trembled and would have fallen except for the steel grip of the guards who still held her.
"What year is this?" She willed herself to remain upright no matter what the answer.
"That's your defense? That you're daft and canna remember where you are or what year it is?" Mackay shook his head and picked up a cup, chugging the contents.
"Are you afraid to answer my question?" The anger at least cleared her head, even if it did nothing for her headache.
His eyes bore into hers, as if trying to sort fact from fiction. His face softened a bit, perhaps formulating a different opinion of her.
"'Tis 1505. What year do you think it is?"
"2012." Deanna couldn't believe she answered so calmly. Maybe because none of it seemed real to her. She'd wake up and tell Mr. MacFegan about her wild dream over coffee and they'd have a good laugh. Mackay was staring at her again.
"Your name is Ian, isn't it?" He was the laird of the castle during this time period—the last laird, according to Mr. MacFegan.
"Aye, but everyone knows who I am."
"Okay." She needed to think of something else to convince him she wasn't a Cameron spy, just someone caught in time. Yeah, right. Even I don't believe me on that. "I found a brooch in the graveyard, right before I ended up here."
His expression didn't change. "So? Where is it?"
"I don't have it now. It disappeared when I fell on your floor. It was an intricate knot of silver with a large sapphire in the middle, surrounded by ten smaller rubies."
He knocked his chair over backwards and advanced on her, a thunderous expression on his face. "Where have you seen that brooch before?"
The heat of his body so close to her brought back Deanna's memories of the man in her dreams. She tilted her head back and focused on Ian's lips. She watched him hesitate; he could feel the force of that connection too. Energy charged between them and she stifled a moan, wanting nothing more than for this man to kiss her, no matter the consequences.
He stepped back, his eyes narrowed to slits of hard emeralds. "Tell me where you saw the brooch." His brogue thickened, sounding dangerous. Instead of fear, Deanna felt energy course through her body, striking her erogenous
They entered the dining room where hours earlier she'd had supper at a cute little table by the window, the view overlooking the River Naver. Deanna was sure it was the same room. The broken piece of stone sat in the same spot on the massive fireplace. Now though, no windows opened out to the view and one long trestle table stood where multiple small tables had graced the room before.
Deanna closed her eyes. She must be dreaming of the history that Mr. MacFegan told her about the castle, although she'd never had a dream hurt so much before. She shuddered and willed herself to wake up.
His voice intruded on her efforts. "It's a sad day when the Camerons have to send a lassie to do their spying. Why dinna you make this easy on yourself and tell me how you made it past my guards?"
Deanna opened her eyes to find the laird smiling with all the warmth of an ice sculpture. She felt like a sheep surrounded by wolves in this room crowded with kilts and massive swords. He'd sat back down and picked up a hunk of bread, leaving her to stand.
"Where's your hospitality?" Deanna returned his smile and managed not to snarl at him. "Am I supposed to stand here and watch you eat?"
One of his men guffawed but cut it short when Mackay glanced over at him. "I didna think you'd mind standing, since you're dressed like a man."
What? Deanna looked around the room once more, breathing hard. Impossible. She trembled and would have fallen except for the steel grip of the guards who still held her.
"What year is this?" She willed herself to remain upright no matter what the answer.
"That's your defense? That you're daft and canna remember where you are or what year it is?" Mackay shook his head and picked up a cup, chugging the contents.
"Are you afraid to answer my question?" The anger at least cleared her head, even if it did nothing for her headache.
His eyes bore into hers, as if trying to sort fact from fiction. His face softened a bit, perhaps formulating a different opinion of her.
"'Tis 1505. What year do you think it is?"
"2012." Deanna couldn't believe she answered so calmly. Maybe because none of it seemed real to her. She'd wake up and tell Mr. MacFegan about her wild dream over coffee and they'd have a good laugh. Mackay was staring at her again.
"Your name is Ian, isn't it?" He was the laird of the castle during this time period—the last laird, according to Mr. MacFegan.
"Aye, but everyone knows who I am."
"Okay." She needed to think of something else to convince him she wasn't a Cameron spy, just someone caught in time. Yeah, right. Even I don't believe me on that. "I found a brooch in the graveyard, right before I ended up here."
His expression didn't change. "So? Where is it?"
"I don't have it now. It disappeared when I fell on your floor. It was an intricate knot of silver with a large sapphire in the middle, surrounded by ten smaller rubies."
He knocked his chair over backwards and advanced on her, a thunderous expression on his face. "Where have you seen that brooch before?"
The heat of his body so close to her brought back Deanna's memories of the man in her dreams. She tilted her head back and focused on Ian's lips. She watched him hesitate; he could feel the force of that connection too. Energy charged between them and she stifled a moan, wanting nothing more than for this man to kiss her, no matter the consequences.
He stepped back, his eyes narrowed to slits of hard emeralds. "Tell me where you saw the brooch." His brogue thickened, sounding dangerous. Instead of fear, Deanna felt energy course through her body, striking her erogenous
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