“Now what have you done?” Daar asked without looking up from his chore.

“What makes you think I’ve done anything? I always swim in the morning.”

“You were grinning like the village idiot when you rode up, which tells me something pleases you greatly.” The priest cocked his head, squinting at him. “And that usually means you’ve been up to mischief. How did you get that cut on your head?”

Morgan briefly touched the small cut on his forehead, then began unsaddling Gràdhag.

“I am smiling, old man, because I have just put a good dent in the plans to build a park.”

“How?” Daar asked, turning a suspicious eye on him as he fed another carrot to the horse.

“By scaring our ribbon planter away.” Morgan chuckled again. “She probably hasn’t stopped running yet, nor will she likely stop until she reaches Pine Creek. She’ll not be back in this valley anytime soon.”

“She?”

Morgan tossed the saddle over the rail of the paddock and picked up a brush to begin grooming his horse. “It’s a woman who’s been marking the valley with ribbons. I found the roll of orange tape in her bag.”

“And how would you know what she was carrying in her bag?”

Morgan stopped brushing. “I looked.”

“Did this woman see you look?” Daar asked, looking pointedly at the cut on Morgan’s forehead.

Morgan grinned again. “Aye. I was sitting on top of her at the time.”

“Sitting on her?” Daar’s eyes widened. “What have ya done?”

Morgan tossed the brush into the bucket and took Gràdhag’s reins away from thedrùidh.

He led the horse into the paddock and opened a bale of hay.

“Tell me. What did you do to her?”

“I scared her, okay?” Morgan said, turning to face the old priest. “I ran her down and scared her so badly she couldn’t even speak.”

“You accosted an innocent woman you found in the woods? Are you mad, Morgan?

That’s unforgivable, not to mention illegal.”

“She’s no innocent. She’s the one laying out the park in the valley.”

“So you caught her tying ribbons to trees, then?”

“Ah… no,” Morgan said, walking toward the house.

His home was a sturdily built structure, two stories tall, made of timber he’d cut from the surrounding forest and had milled in town. The house wasn’t that large and, with Callum’s help, had taken only two months to build. There was a porch spanning the front and several large windows facing Prospect Valley, which offered a spectacular view whenever the mist was not too heavy.

Morgan walked onto the porch and through the door, into the large single room that served as both living room and kitchen.

Daar followed close at his heels. “Then what made you go after her?” the priest asked, moving to the cooler on the counter and helping himself to a can of soda.

Morgan watched the old man fight to open the flip top on the can. With a sigh of resignation, he walked over, took the can from him, opened it, then handed it back.

“She took my picture,” Morgan told him. “She was hiding in the bushes with her camera, and she took my picture while I was sitting on a rock in the middle of the lake.”

Daar lowered the can from his mouth. “You were swimming naked as usual, I presume?”

“Aye.” Morgan found his grin again. “She’ll certainly have something to dream about tonight.”

“So you chased her because of the pictures?”

“That I did.”

“While you were still naked.”

“Well, I didn’t stop to find my clothes, old man. She’s a fairly fast runner. I swear the woman has legs all the way up to her ears.”

Daar sat down and placed his soda on the finely crafted maple table in front of him. He turned the can with his fingers and absently watched the label spin around. Unable to decide if the old priest was angry or bemused by his tale, Morgan went to the cooler and took out a can of beer. He leaned against the counter and opened it, taking a long drink of the weak ale as he watched thedrùidh’s back.

“What did this woman look like?” Daar asked without turning around. “Her eyes. And her hair and skin. What color were they?”

Morgan frowned at the question. “Her eyes were blue,” he said, as if that detail were unimportant. He wasn’t about to reveal to the priest just how captured he’d been by the woman’s eyes when he finally saw them up close. “What does it matter what color they were? She had tanned skin, blond hair, blue eyes, and she stood as tall as a man.”

Daar twisted in his seat to face him. “Blond hair? A red-blond or a yellow-blond?” he asked. “Do you remember seeing that color before today?”

Morgan wondered what the old man was getting at. She was a blond, dammit. Lots of people had light-colored hair and blue eyes. His sister-in-law had blue eyes. Hell, the old priest had blue eyes.

But his ribbon planter did have a distinct honey-yellow shine to her hair and flawless golden skin that looked to be kissed by the sun.

Well, flawless skin but for the scars on one hand and those he saw peeking around the side of her waist from her back.

Morgan suddenly straightened away from the counter.

“It’s not the same,” he said, glaring down at the priest. “This woman is not the yellow light we saw in the vision. Her work will destroy the gorge.”

“Then you saw the blackness around her?”

“Of course not. I don’t practice your magic. But she did try to kill me. She tried to drive a stake through my heart.”

Daar glared at him. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

Morgan glared back. “Not unless a person can actually die of fright.”

The priest’s stare darkened. Morgan blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing his neck. “I left her whole and hearty, old man. Just shaken, I hope, enough to leave the valley and not come back.”

“Ah, warrior,” Daar said with a tired sigh, shaking his head and turning back to the table. He began toying with his soda again. “You may have just scared away the only goodness this valley has seen in more than eighty years.”

“Explain yourself,” Morgan demanded, moving to sit at the table. “How can anything that has to do with that park be good?”

“You’ve claimed this land now. If the park doesn’t include your gorge, what can it hurt?”

“They don’t run a fence around it,” Morgan countered. “People will wander, and once the waterfall—and the magic—is discovered, nothing will keep them away.”

The old man sighed again. “That is true. But there must be some way for both you and this park to exist in harmony.”

“I’ve thought about that.” Morgan leaned his arms on the table. “I had our lawyer check the registry of deeds at the courthouse. The lands of the valley are still held by many owners. They haven’t been combined yet to form the park. What if I buy this south end of the valley? That will keep the people miles away.”

“Buy it with what?”

Morgan warmed with the excitement of saying his plan aloud for the first time since thinking of it two weeks ago. He leaned closer. “You can put me in touch with the auction house where you sold Ian and Callum’s swords and several pieces of our equipment.”

“You’ll not sell your sword! Your brother would kill you.”

“Nay. I would die before I part with it. But my dagger is a gift from my father. It’s nearly nine hundred years old now and is jeweled. It might bring enough money to buy the land.”

Daar leaned back in his chair and scratched his beard. He didn’t speak for a full minute.

Morgan grew impatient. “What are you thinking, old man?” he finally asked.

“I’m thinking it might work, if your brother agrees.”

Morgan was surprised. “What has Grey to do with this?”

“He’s still your laird.”

Morgan waved that away. “That means nothing today, especially in this country. It’s only a hollow title now.”

It was Daar’s turn to be surprised. “My, my. How you do like to cling to the old ways, Morgan MacKeage, and embrace the new ones only when it’s convenient for you. You should not let your brother know your opinions if you value your skin. Grey is still determined to bring this clan back to the power it once was.”