“It’s a sign. And I felt her energy.”

“And was the energy good or evil?”

“Not evil,” Daar said, shaking his head.

Michael took a step closer to the man responsible for bringing him eight hundred years forward in time. “Then see that you tread carefully,drùidh . She’s under my protection.”

Daar squinted up at him. “So the wind blows that way, does it?”

“It does not. But my son brought her here, and that makes her my responsibility. You’ll treat her kindly and apologize for scaring her today. And you’ll damn well keep your magic to yourself around her.”

The old priest didn’t care to be lectured, if the glare he gave Michael was any indication.

“Exactly when did you stop being afraid of me?” he asked.

Michael couldn’t stifle a smile. “When I realized you don’t even have the power to cure your own aches and pains. You wouldn’t be walking like an old woman if you could do something about it.”

“I can still turn a man into a dung beetle.”

Michael’s smile broadened. “Not if that man has a nobler calling. And having a bairn under the age of fourteen counts.”

“I suppose ya read that in one of them blasphemous books ya got in that cluttered room you call a library.”

Michael nodded. “It’s amazing what eight hundred years’ worth of books can teach a person. I have an entire shelf on wizardry.”

“And what do your books say about a woman with a white lock of hair, MacBain?”

“That she’s strong and brave and reckless and has the power to turn powerlessdrùidhs into dung beetles,” Michael told him as he turned and walked away. “So be nice to her, old man, or learn to sleep with your eyes open.”

“Dammit, MacBain. I’ll get all my powers back one of these days, and then we’ll see how cocky you’re feeling.”

Michael waved his good-bye without looking back and started jogging in the direction Libby had taken. He wanted to catch up with her before she reached her house and Robbie showed up there from school.

They had to finish their discussion, and Michael decided he wasn’t letting it go until it was finished in his favor.

Libby spent the first ten minutes of her walk down the mountain feeling sorry for ever coming up here in the first place. She had made a complete fool of herself. She’d gotten mad at Michael, yelled at him, and kissed him.

And she just might have made love to him right there on the ground if that damn crazy priest hadn’t arrived and embarrassed the hell out of her.

She wasn’t baking Daar anything, and she wasn’t giving him eggs. And she wasn’t having an affair with Michael MacBain, and she wasn’t letting Robbie worm his way into her heart.

And she was never getting on a horse again.

If she ever caught Robbie riding his pony without a helmet, well, she didn’t care what Michael thought, she was pulling the boy off and shooing his pony away.

It seemed the damn critters knew their way home.

Which was why she had to walk down the blasted mountain with a sore knee. It probably would be blown up like a balloon by tomorrow morning.

Had she left her brain back in California?

What had made her think she could just run away, start life all over again, and, just like that, gain back the control she had lost in her operating room?

Libby suddenly stopped walking, held her breath, and stood perfectly still. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and goose bumps broke out all over her body at the realization that she was being watched.

She slowly turned her head and looked behind her to see if Michael was there. He wasn’

t. She then scanned the forest around her and still saw nothing, until she looked up.

Huge, unblinking yellow eyes stared at her from a tree limb over her head not fifty paces away. Libby would have felt blessed to see such a wondrous bird if it hadn’t been for the disturbing dream she’d had last night.

She was looking at the same white owl that had been in her bedroom in her nightmare.

She’d been terrified then, and she was terrified now.

The owl ducked its head and opened its wings in a display of silent strength. Libby took a quick and cautious step back, holding her breath.

“Stand still,” came Michael’s voice from right behind her.

Libby’s knees went weak, and she started breathing again the moment his hands wrapped securely over her shoulders.

“Look her in the eye, lass,” he said softly. “She’s wanting to take your measure.”

“H-her?”

“Aye. She’s a female snowy, come from far away to visit with us for a while. Look up, and let her see your eyes. Don’t be afraid, Libby. Mary will not harm you.”

Libby didn’t stop breathing, her heart stopped beating instead. “M-mary? You’re calling the bird Mary?”

“Aye. She’s Robbie’s pet, come to him on his birthday last January.”

“He named her Mary?” Libby repeated, not able to get past that point.

She was standing in the middle of the woods, being held up by a man introducing her to a bird named after his dead lover, and he expected her to look that bird in the eye? After just rolling around in the forest with him and trying to start an affair?

No. She didn’t think so.

His hands on her shoulders tightened. “She’ll not hurt you, Libby. Look up.”

“She tried to kill me last night,” Libby hissed in response.

“What?”

“She was in my room. Or I think she was. I might have dreamed it, but I’ve seen this bird before. She doesn’t like me, Michael. She’s… she’s jealous or something.”

Michael slowly turned her around to face him. Libby finally did look up—into turbulent gray eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. “What did you see? What was Mary doing?” he asked, looking at the owl and then back at her.

“She was just hovering over my bed, flapping her wings against the ceiling.”

“What else? Was there light?”

“Yes. Blue light. The entire room pulsed with blue light.”

He thought about that, his attention back on the bird. Finally, he looked down at her.

“Libby, are you telling me you’re afraid of this owl because you think it might be Robbie’s mother?”

“Yes. No. I… I don’t know, Michael. A week ago, I would have laughed in your face. But now… ” Libby dropped her gaze to his chest. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “What happened a week ago?”

“Something I can’t explain. Something I’m not ready to talk about.”

“Then we won’t,” he whispered, smiling warmly at her.

“But we will settle your worry with this snowy right now. If we don’t, she’s going to keep haunting your dreams, Libby, until she’s satisfied.”

“Satisfied how? That I’ve been scared away?”

He nodded. “Aye. Or deemed worthy of staying and being Robbie’s friend. It seems she’

s a protective owl.”

“And possessive?”

“Nay. Her heart beats only for Robbie now, lass.”

He moved his finger from her chin to cover her lips when she tried to speak again. Then he turned her around, and slowly, so very slowly, Libby looked up.

The snowy’s wings were tucked back against its sides as it stood tall and alert, its eyes direct and penetrating—and searching for Libby’s soul.

The owl suddenly let out a short, clear, single-pitch whistle that made Libby flinch and Michael’s hands tighten on her shoulders. It opened its wings and stepped sideways on the branch, ducking its head in a circular motion of curious regard.

Libby tried to take a step back, but Michael held her in place. “If she takes flight, stand your ground,” he whispered, his breath washing softly over the top of her head. “Show her you have the courage to be Robbie’s friend.”

“But I don’t, Michael.”

“Ya do,” he softly contradicted, squeezing her shoulders.

Michael’s hands suddenly fell away from her shoulders, and he took a step back, leaving Libby to hold herself up.