“You think dreams are our way of working things out?”

“Yes. They’re how we deal with our problems.”

“And you consider me a problem?”

“No. I’m my problem,” she said, touching her own chest. “I’m too scared to let go of my fear.”

He nodded. “So, because you fear men, you intend simply to avoid them.”

“That’s a perfectly good solution.” She lifted her chin. “A woman doesn’t need a man to have a full life.”

“Aye,” he agreed, standing up and setting her on her feet, then tilting her chin to face him. “But what happens if she falls in love, only her fear keeps her from following her heart? Can her life still be full?”

“Of course not.”

He kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “Then that’s what your dream is telling you, Cat.

When you wake up in modern time, you’ll have learned to let your heart rule instead of your fears. And the rest will take care of itself.”

“Just like that,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts and glaring at him.

“Aye, Catherine. If you want something—anything—badly enough, there is no power on earth that can keep you from it. And that,” he said, leaning down and smiling, “is the true definition of magic.”

Catherine leaned in even closer, either to kiss him or to give him a scathing reply, but Mary suddenly glided through the window with a piercing shrill. She landed on the bed, wrapped her talons around the hilt of Robbie’s sword, and let out an angry chatter of rattles.

Catherine stepped away from him with a gasp, her hand flying to her chest as she looked first at Mary, then at him.

Robbie studied Catherine and considered her reaction to Mary’s arrival. It had to be the owl’s loud and sudden appearance upsetting her and not what Mary was saying—

because Robbie knew he was the only one his pet spoke to.

He walked over to the bed and brushed Mary off his sword so he could pick it up and settle it over his back. He turned to Catherine, who was still clutching her throat and still gaping at Mary. She slowly raised her worried eyes to his, then suddenly ran to the door and stood in front of it, her hands spread to stop him from opening it.

“You’re not leaving,” she said. “I don’t care if they make us get married in the morning, you are not leaving this room.”

He walked over, took hold of her shoulders, pulled her against him, and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Aye, how I wish I could stay for our wedding,” he whispered once he was done. “But I have to go, Catherine. Mary has new information.”

She balled the front of his plaid in her fists. “Then take me with you. I can run fast—you know I can. I won’t be in your way. I can help, because Cùram won’t think I’m a threat.”

“I didn’t mention Cùram,” he said. “Why do you?”

“Because that’s where you’re going, isn’t it? After Cùram and his tree?” Her grip on his plaid tightened, and she tried to shake him into complying. “Take me with you!”

“Nay, Cat,” he said, leaning down and kissing her again, lifting her off her feet and turning so that she was away from the door before he set her back down. He broke the kiss, opened the door, and stepped out, then quickly closed it and threw the bolt, locking her in.

“No!” she shouted, banging her fist on the door. “Dammit, don’t you dare lock me in here!”

He leaned his forehead on the wood and smiled. “Aye, Cat,” he said loudly enough that she could hear him. “I can handle your anger. I’ll be back soon enough, and you can spend the rest of your dream giving me hell.” He lifted his hand and laid it on the door, right where she pounded on the opposite side. “Sleep well, little Cat,” he whispered when she suddenly went silent, only to wince when he heard Mary squawk and flap a hasty retreat out the window.

He turned and quietly walked away, his smile broadening when something hit the door with enough force to rattle its hinges. Aye. He much preferred Cat’s anger to her tears.

Robbie would have been really pleased with her the next morning, because Catherine was so angry she was seeing red—although that might have something to do with the fact that she hadn’t slept all night, and her eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying.

As clear as Caitlin was talking to her—in Gaelic—while they walked to Ian and Gwyneth

’s home, Catherine had heard Mary speaking last night.

Cùram was up to something, the owl had told Robbie. She’d seen thedrùidh on Snow Mountain, standing inside a ring of eerily glowing boulders as he spoke to the moon, his staff sizzling with sparks of energy as he raised it to the sky.

Caitlin suddenly pulled Catherine out of the way when at least twenty mounted warriors rode by, looking angry and tired and dirty. Catherine recognized Niall bringing up the end of the fierce-looking parade. He stopped when he spotted them and spoke to Caitlin. Again, Catherine didn’t have a clue what they were saying, only that it wasn’t pleasant by the looks on their faces. Caitlin took hold of Catherine’s arm again when Niall rode toward the keep and pulled her back into the lane, her steps rushed.

As soon as they reached Ian and Gwyneth’s home, Caitlin spoke to her parents at length, and Ian started shaking his head and wringing his hands.

Catherine pulled him outside the moment the conversation stopped. “What’s going on?”

she asked. “Is it news of Robbie?”

“Nay,” Ian said. “Niall has just come back from a farm over near Crag Mountain. The MacBains burned it down and stole all the animals last night.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“The family is unharmed. But Niall is upset because it was a bold move for the MacBains. The farm is only three miles from our village. And the farmer said he was given a message for his laird, that if we don’t tear down the dam that stops the Snow River from flowing onto MacBain land, they’ll bring every warrior they have and do it themselves.”

“Niall built a dam that cut off their water?”

“Nay. Nature built it about a month ago. There was a landslide off Snow Mountain that blocked up the river.” He shrugged. “Niall is willing to remove the debris to let the water flow again.” He screwed his face into a fierce scowl. “He just doesn’t care to have the MacBains telling him to do it.”

“But why are you all so worried? You only have to take down the dam, and everyone will be happy.”

“The reason my son hadn’t touched the landslide before now is because no one dares go near it,” Ian explained. “It was an unnatural occurrence. The sky lit with a terrible storm that night, Gwyneth told me, and the thunder was so loud that even the huts in the village shook, and several stones fell from the keep.”

Catherine clutched Ian’s arm. “Robbie went to Snow Mountain last night.”

“He did? Why?”

“Because he thinks Cùram’s tree of wisdom is there.”

Ian stared off into the distance, toward the tall range of mountains looming above them.

“Aye,” he said, looking back at her. “That would make sense.”

“We have to go after him. We have to warn him that he’s going to be in the middle of a war.”

“Nay. The boy must accomplish his task without our interference.” Ian set his hand on her shoulder. “His papa trained Robbie well, Catherine, so that he can fulfill his calling.

A woman and an old man would only get in his way, no matter how good our intentions. Come,” he said, urging her inside. “If he’s not back by tomorrow noon, then we’ll start worrying.”

That was easier said than done for Catherine, as she spent the rest of the day helping Gwyneth put her house in order. Not that she was much help, compared with all the women who came over with rags and soap and crude brooms and the men who came with hammers and material to stop the old roof from leaking.

Catherine kept getting in their way, until she finally decided she could best help by watching all the children they brought with them. Language wasn’t much of a barrier when it came to kids. Catherine drew pictures in the dirt with a stick, and the children would tell her the Gaelic names.