So quickly that she didn’t even have time to scream, Sadie found herself flat on her back on the ground, one very unamused male lying on top of her.

“Don’t throw my words back at me, Mercedes.”

Pleased to have her brain back in charge of her hormones, Sadie gave him a huge, satisfyingly smug smile.

Morgan did not respond. He had gone suddenly tense, his face raised to the sky, his head cocked to the side as if he were listening for something.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered.

Sadie held her breath and listened, too. And she heard what he had, far off in the distance, the low rumble of an approaching storm.

“That’s thunder,” she said, turning her head to the western sky. “The front’s moving in.”

She looked back at him and smiled. “We’re in for a good soaking, judging by the heaviness of the air. Did you bring a tent?”

He still wasn’t listening to her. He released her so suddenly, and scrambled off so quickly, that Sadie couldn’t stifle a grunt of surprise. He stood over her, facing west, his hands clenched into fists and his entire countenance as fierce and foreboding as the churning sky.

Sadie scrambled to her own feet and took hold of his sleeve. “It’s just a thunderstorm, Morgan. A cold front is moving down from Canada tonight, washing away the humidity.”

He shrugged her off and took several steps back. Sadie could only stare at him. This great big bear of a man was afraid of thunderstorms? Lightning flashed on the other side of the valley, and she saw Morgan flinch violently.

She also saw his expression clearly for that one brief moment. Tightly controlled, stone-cold terror was etched into every line of his face.

“Morgan,” she said, moving toward him again.

He took another step back, holding up his hands to stop her advance. “Don’t come near me, Mercedes,” he said, his voice harsh with warning.

Lightning struck high on a mountain across the valley, sending a wave of rumbling thunder toward them. Another flash, farther north, then another, the strikes echoing like cannons along the length of the river. A west wind kicked up, pushed ahead of the arriving storm, sending a flurry of leaves into the air around them. The rain arrived with surprising force, beating more leaves from the trees and adding to the chaos.

Morgan suddenly pivoted on his heel, strode to his canoe, and picked up his sword.

Sadie ran after him.

He whirled back toward her.“Falbh!”

She stopped on the spot at the sight of that sword pointed at her.

“Begone!” he shouted, waving his weapon toward the woods. “Go back to your camp.”

She could only stare at him in shock and confusion. He suddenly slid his sword back into its sheath and settled it over his shoulders onto his back. Lightning flashed again, closer this time, sending the smell of ozone through the air as thunder shook the ground with resonating force.

Sadie blinked against the brightness of the lightning and the driving rain, then blinked again when she realized she was staring at nothing.

Morgan MacKeage was gone.

Chapter Twelve

Daar paced the length of his cabin porch,then stopped suddenly to frown at the darkening sky. Lightning flashed in the distance, creating a halo over the mountains to the west.

Another storm was visiting the valley.

There was something happening here, more than just Morgan and Mercedes’ conflict over a park being built. For eighty years the balance of good and evil in the valley had been uneven, since the death of Jedediah Plum. The restless prospector still roamed this valley, waiting for justice finally to be served. And in that time the darkness had been building, gathering strength for the inevitable confrontation.

Daar had spent the entire summer trying to learn the reason for this impending clash of powers. Why here, in Mercedes’ valley? And why now of all times, just when he was finally getting Morgan settled into a new and promising life?

Daar rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a tired sigh. As best as he could tell, the violent death of Jedediah Plum had gone unpunished, and the murderer’s spirit of greed was still alive today in his descendants. An evil had gone unavenged eighty years ago, tilting in its favor the balance of energy in this valley. The blackness Daar and Morgan had seen earlier this summer had been entrenched here since that long-ago murder.

And just recently, in this generation, Daar had learned through his spells that the darkness had gathered even more strength. Other murders, somehow connected to Jedediah Plum, had again gone unpunished.

The yellow light, which symbolized not only Mercedes but also her family, seemed to be equally involved. It was possible that Caroline Quill had been the second victim of the darkness and Frank Quill the third.

And Mercedes might be in danger of becoming the fourth.

Daar had tried many spells over the last few weeks, attempting to vanquish the blackness. But the churning powers would not be budged. It was happening here, now, and to the folly of all who stumbled into its path. The energies needed to be rebalanced.

Grievous wrongs had to be righted. A simple, lonely prospector wanted peace.

That Mercedes and Morgan were sitting smack in the middle of this war was beyond the wizard’s power to control. He had done what he could to protect them. It was now up to the warrior to unite with the woman against the darkness and lead them both safely through the coming maelstrom.

Daar’s delicate cane began to hum in his hand, and he lifted it skyward and waved it at the valley beyond. He saw the glow of a familiar green light, charged with energy, running through the forest, desperate, driven, aimlessly searching for safety.

Daar shook his head. No words of assurance could convince Morgan that he was not in danger of being sent on another journey through time. For two years the wizard had made promises to all the Highlanders, but only Greylen seemed to believe him.

Probably because Grey thought that Daar’s banished staff had left him powerless.

The humming grew louder. Insistent. Daar fought to control his staff as it pulled against the turbulence of the approaching storm. Yellow light, as bright and vibrant as the sun, sparked through the wizard’s mind.

Daar smiled. Such passion from one so innocent. Such determination and potent vigor. If anyone could capture and hold the interest of Morgan MacKeage, it was Mercedes Quill.

She was a fine match for the warrior—strong, intelligent, and possessing the courage it would take to fight by his side. And for that Daar was glad, because if he understood the signs he’d been reading these last few weeks, Mercedes Quill’s search for the gold was sending her deep into the middle of a violent war.

Morgan ran without direction save one:away from Mercedes. He had to protect her from the storm, from the terror of a journey that could send him, and possibly anyone near him, through time.

As much as he wanted to run to Mercedes, not from her—to bury himself in her soft strength and hold on tightly until the storm had passed—he could not endanger her that way.

But if he were gone, who would keep her safe from the darkness that roamed this valley now?

Morgan stopped his flight abruptly on that thought and squinted through the driving rain to get his bearings. Though it seemed like a hundred, he’d traveled less than half a mile from the river. Lightning flashed again, followed almost immediately by ground-shaking thunder. The storm surrounded him. Wind bowed the tops of the taller trees and drove the autumn-turned leaves from the branches of oak and maple and beech.

A voice, high-pitched and insistent, came through the echoing thunder, faint at first but moving closer.

Morgan dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Mercedes, the maddening littlegràineag, was searching for him.