Robbie pointed over her head, and Catherine turned forward to look, only to gasp. She could see the towers of a tall, imposing castle through the trees, looming like a dark specter that was anything but fairy-tale pretty.

“That’s the MacKeage keep,” he told her. “We’re almost to the village. Listen, you can hear it.”

What she heard was the sound of children shouting and laughing, and it made her suddenly homesick for Nathan and Nora. Robbie had said she’d be back before they woke up, but to her, she’d already been gone almost a day. As interesting as this dream was, she didn’t know how much longer she could stand being away from her babies.

The path opened up at the edge of the village, and Catherine couldn’t even begin to take it all in. There were huts, maybe a hundred of them, dotting the hillside, reaching all the way to the castle. No, to thekeep, Robbie had called it.

There were people and children and chickens and goats and dogs everywhere. Smoke rose in lazy clouds from several of the huts, forming a blanket of haze over the village.

Several children rushed toward them, and Robbie moved his horse up alongside hers.

“Stay right beside me,” he said. “And try not to look so overwhelmed,” he added with a chuckle. “We’ll be going to Gwyneth’s cabin first.”

Within minutes, they had a parade of curious people following them. The women were quite pretty, with long hair in varying shades of auburn pulled back in braids and loose tails. They wore colorful blouses, dark skirts that looked to be woven wool, and shawls of the MacKeage plaid.

Catherine sidled her horse closer to Robbie when she noticed some of the women pointing and the men crowding toward them. Several of the men were half naked, their plaids rolled down around their waists, exposing broad chests and beefy arms.

Their impromptu procession wound through narrow village lanes, scattering animals and people who quickly closed back in behind them. They finally came to a stop in front of a cabin that sat in the shadow of the keep, and Niall tossed his leg over his horse’s neck, slid to the ground, then turned and helped Ian down.

Catherine was close enough that she could see the old man was trembling, swiping at his eyes several times, and not knowing what to do with his hands, until he finally clasped them together at his waist.

The murmur of the crowd hushed, and Catherine saw a tiny woman, nearly as old as Ian, step out of the cabin with a baby in her arms and a child of about three clutching her skirt. Niall took the baby and handed it to the younger woman who had stepped out of the cabin behind Gwyneth. He took his mother’s hand and guided her to a stool by the door as he whispered something to her. Niall gently lowered her down onto the stool when the older woman gasped and her knees buckled, her wide, shocked eyes staring at Ian.

Ian wasn’t moving a muscle now, except for his hands, that he kept wringing and twisting at his waist.

Robbie reached over and took Catherine’s hand, and held it on his thigh as they sat on their horses, his thumb rubbing her knuckles in soothing circles.

Ian took a hesitant step forward, then stopped and stood trembling. He suddenly fell to his knees with a loud cry, wrapped his arms around his wife, and buried his face in her chest.

Gwyneth MacKeage dug her fingers into her husband’s back, buried her own face in his hair, and quietly sobbed.

Catherine used her free hand to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks, and Robbie leaned close. “This is what I’m about, Catherine,” he whispered thickly, his warm breath caressing her ear. “This is when my duty becomes my calling.”

It was also when Catherine’s infatuation with Robbie MacBain became love. She looked over at him, at his own shining eyes as Robbie watched Ian hugging his one true love, and her heart swelled, and thumped, and started racing. This man—this incredible, fascinating, towering giant—was more than a dream guy. He washer dream.Her true love.Her calling.

And by God, he was her duty now, too.

That was the wonderful thing about dreams; they were a person’s subconscious attempt to expose a fear until it became nothing more than a mere worry. Until Dorothy had visited Oz, the young girl had thought she had a world of problems too big to overcome. But there was nothing like an incredible journey to put things in perspective.

Catherine certainly had perspective now. The last ten years of her life shriveled to nothing and changed from being a nightmare to being the gift that had given her Nathan and Nora and the determination to fight for the life she wanted.

And the courage to love Robbie MacBain.

“My God, woman, if you don’t quit looking at me like that,” Robbie growled, “I’m going to scandalize this entire village.”

Catherine smiled up at him and gently cupped his beautiful face in her hand. “Was that a threat or a promise?”

His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched so tightly she could feel his teeth grind together. “You’re killing me, little Cat.”

She patted his cheek, smiled with the confidence of a woman in love, and straightened back on her horse and looked at Ian and Gwyneth.

They were standing now, but Ian still wasn’t done hugging his wife. The tiny woman barely came up to the old warrior’s chin, but her frail arms were wrapped so tightly around his waist that her knuckles were white. The young woman with the baby was sobbing uncontrollably, using the child’s blanket to wipe her eyes. Niall finally took the baby from her and nudged her toward Ian.

“That’s Caitlin, Ian’s youngest daughter,” Robbie whispered. “He has another daughter named Megan, but she married a Maclerie and lives about twenty miles away.” He dismounted and helped Catherine down from her horse. “News will travel fast, and I expect Megan will be here in a few days.”

Finding herself in a sea of people, Catherine clung to Robbie as he led her to the cabin, and stood quietly as everyone spoke at once, in Gaelic, about only God knew what. Ian’s hands flew wildly, punctuating his speech, as everyone listened with wide eyes and occasional gasps.

Ian suddenly pulled Catherine into the center of his gaping family. He spoke rapidly, his words spitting on her several times, his hand waving about her head.

Robbie finally rescued her and whispered in her ear. “Ian is telling them how you helped him escape from the English,” he said. “He’s making you into quite a hero.”

It was Catherine’s turn to gasp. “But I don’t want to be a hero.You’re the one who brought Ian back to his family, not me. You should get the credit. Tell them,” she said, stepping closer when someone reached out and touched her hair. “Tell them it was you, not me.”

“Nay, Cat. It’s better if I remain anonymous here.”

“But I want to be anonymous, too,” she squeaked, scooting to the other side of him when somebody touched her arm.

Robbie pulled her into the cabin, and Catherine blinked at the sudden darkness as he led her to a stool. She lifted her stick off her back, laid it on the floor, and sat down with a sigh of relief. “What happens now?” she asked, looking at his silhouette against the doorway.

“Now you stay here with Ian and Gwyneth, and I go look for Cùram’s tree.”

She jumped up from the stool. “But I want to go with you.”

“Nay, Catherine, it’s too dangerous.” He took hold of her shoulders. “If you want me to stop coming here, you’ll have to let me finish this. Just as soon as I get the root, we’ll leave.”

“But I can help.”

“How?”

“By… I can… oh, I don’t know,” she said, stepping back to cross her arms under her breasts. “I can at least make sure you don’t get beat up or killed.”

He stepped forward and took hold of her shoulders again. “You can’t even speak the language. And I need you to keep an eye on Ian. It’s going to take him time to readjust.”