Catherine tried to shrug off the nagging voice in her head that kept saying curiosity had killed the cat. She was just worried about Robbie, is all. She wasn’t being curious, she decided, but watching his back.

She and Sprocket slowly rose in elevation, following the winding path up through the dense forest, and Catherine had to keep reining in her horse, who kept trying to catch up to his stable mate.

The trees became shorter and more gnarled the closer they got to the summit, until Catherine had to stop for fear of being seen. She took off Sprocket’s bridle and tied him to one of the trees by his halter, leaving the rope long enough for him to graze. She slid her stick out of the rifle sheath and continued after Robbie and Ian on foot, keeping hidden behind the short trees and large boulders, until they finally stopped.

She continued up and to the side, making her way to a ledge just above them, and lay down on her stomach and watched. They’d dismounted, and Ian was taking off his jacket and unwrapping a length of cloth from around his waist.

It was the same pattern as one of Robbie’s plaids.

Daar came trudging up to them from the opposite direction. “Ya better have given yar word to Robbie,” the priest said, waggling his finger as he approached Ian. “Ya mess things up, and there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I won’t mess anything up, old man,” Ian muttered, turning his back on the priest and unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve given Robbie my word.”

Both Ian and Robbie were taking off their clothes!

Robbie suddenly stopped and looked up. Catherine flattened herself to the ground and held her breath, not daring to move again until she heard Robbie speak.

“We only have a few minutes to sunset,” he said. “Do you still want to do this, Uncle?”

he asked, his voice more tender than questioning.

Catherine lifted her head and peered down, thoroughly confused.Sunset… sunset, she repeated to herself, looking off to the southwest. The bottom of the sun was nearly touching the horizon. She looked back at the men and saw Ian, completely naked now, wrapping the plaid around himself with sure, deft movements, as if he’d done it a thousand times.

Robbie was also totally, beautifully naked and was wrapping a plaid around himself that was the same color as the one Ian was wearing. Both men secured the cloths with wide leather belts, and Catherine saw Ian tuck a small dagger—similar to the one Robbie had shown her—into a sheath on his belt.

Robbie reached down to one of his discarded boots, pulled his own dagger out, and tucked it in his belt, then picked up his sword and the second, different-colored plaid she’d washed and mended over a week ago.

What in heck were they doing? Was this some sort of ritual that Scotsmen did at sunset in the spring? Was it something for Ian, maybe, relating to his age?

What in heck was going on?

Father Daar looked at the sun, which was already halfway hidden behind the horizon now, and turned and pointed his cane at Robbie and Ian. “Ya must go,” he said.

Catherine inched forward to the edge of the cliff just as Robbie settled his sheathed sword over his shoulders. He then wrapped his arms around Ian and curtly nod to the priest.

Father Daar held his cane up, and the wood appeared to glow as the last rays of sunlight touched it. A harsh wind suddenly rose with a howling scream, and dark, boiling clouds swept down from the summit.

“Lend me yar own power, MacBain!” Daar shouted, lowering his cane to point at Robbie and Ian. “Godspeed to the two of ya!”

Catherine used one hand to protect her face from the wind and blinding light, leaning further over the ledge to see a storm of crackling, sparking clouds tighten around Robbie and Ian.

A loud, piercing shriek came from above her, and Catherine rolled over, holding up her stick to ward off Mary’s sharp talons. The owl dove toward her, snatching at Catherine’s coat sleeve just as Robbie shouted.

No, not shouted. The man roared!

Catherine twisted and clawed at the moss-covered ledge, but the wind and Mary and her momentum made it impossible for her to hold on. She suddenly felt nothing but air beneath her, then hit the ground so hard, it knocked the breath—and a startled scream right out of her.

Hard, powerful hands picked her up, and Robbie again roared over the howl of the roiling tempest. “Dammit, Cat!” he shouted, pulling her tightly against his chest, squishing her against Ian, and wrapping his arms around them both. “Hold on to my belt!”

She struggled against him, only wanting to get away from the violently raging storm and these crazy men as fast as she could. The air sizzled and popped and crackled around them, and the ground pitched and rolled with rumbling shudders.

Robbie’s arms tightened until it felt as if her bones were being crushed. “Too late!” he growled next to her ear, covering her head as the fierce wind sucked the air from her lungs. “You’re coming with us!”

Chapter Eighteen

Robbie couldn’t rememberever being so scared. He held Ian and Catherine to his chest, straining against the sizzling light crackling through the roiling clouds. Mary dug her talons into his plaid and spread her wings over the three of them, adding her own guardian powers to help him fight their way through the chaos.

If he lost his grip, Catherine and Ian could end up anywhere—or in any time, for that matter.

Robbie felt the energy he was disturbing pull at Catherine’s modern clothes, and her scream of terror pierced his soul. She clung to him, trembling, her screams buried in his chest as the violent storm raged on.

Ian shouted the MacKeage war cry and slapped at the forking tendrils with the courage of a warrior determined to get home.

Time churned and twisted with the roar of a wounded beast, until finally the maelstrom stopped with the suddenness of a train slamming into a mountain. The ground they fell upon rumbled in protest as the vortex exploded in one final, brilliant flash before disappearing.

The silence was more deafening than the storm had been, and Robbie sat hunched over his charges, every muscle in his body quivering with exhaustion and his heart pounding so hard he feared it might explode.

Neither Catherine nor Ian stirred, and Robbie forced himself to release them. Catherine took a deep, shuddering breath, opened her eyes, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

She scurried away from him, her face washed with terror, only to scream again at the realization that she was naked.

She scrambled to her feet and bolted into the forest.

Robbie lowered Ian to the ground and ran after her. “Cat, no!” he yelled, ducking through the trees. “You mustn’t run. I need to explain what happened. Catherine!”

He heard her shout of surprise, and Robbie came to a halt just in time to see her tumble down a steep bank. He scrambled after her and took hold of her shoulders.

She came up swinging. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around hers to capture her wild, panic-driven punches.

“Ssshhh,” he crooned as she dug her nails into him and pushed to break free. “Easy, little Cat. You’re okay. Nothing and no one is going to hurt you. Easy, Catherine.”

But she continued to struggle mindlessly, her terror-filled whimpers piercing his heart like a rusted dagger.

“We have to go back to Ian,” he said, thinking to refocus her fear. “He could die. Please, help me with Ian.”

She suddenly stilled and tried to cover her naked breasts.

“I have the other plaid for you to put on,” he whispered, slowly easing his grip. “Come back with me to Ian.”

“Wh-what happened?” she asked so softly he barely heard her. “Wh-where are my clothes?”

“I’ll explain everything as soon as we see to Ian,” he promised, taking hold of her wrist to pull her up the steep hill.