My gaze fell back onto Iain, who stood outside the doorway, leaning against the gray stone. My only guide in this foreign place was an ancient warrior–laird whom otherworldly forces had decided would be my mate in life. And in spite of knowing my state of shock, he had the nerve to stand there with a hard expression on his face.
To hell with it. I turned and marched down the hill toward the women and children. My pace rapidly picked up speed until I found myself running down the incline, its steepness aiding my acceleration. The wind battered my face, fanning the tears streaming across my cheeks.
All I wanted was to gain freedom from the prison in my mind. I wanted to go home. My journey began with a box Iain thought had found me. I wished I’d never seen the cursed thing.
Never in all my life had I been out of control of my fate. Every step of the way, every decision I’d ever made, happened because I chose to go left or right when the winding road forked. I wiped away the tears clouding my eyes as I reached the end of the cottages. The bluff I now stood on overlooked the curtain wall that protectively surrounded the clan within, and I stared into the vastness of the Highlands. As far as the eye could see stretched meadow bordered by forest. The entire scene was framed by rugged gray mountains capped in snow that touched the heavens above in a cotton-clouded blue sky. The enormous panorama made me feel small and powerless.
Something held me rooted to the ground. I’d never shrunk in fear, always relishing a challenge to overcome, so my intrinsic nature won out over spontaneous instinctual flight. I spun around and viewed the entire clan from atop the knoll. The castle, on the rise of a great hill, marked itself as protector over her family. Iain stood proudly in a wide stance, arms crossed over his chest, a few steps away from where he’d last been, staring straight at me.
I took a deep breath, recognizing what I’d known all along in my life. The truth had been hiding under the surface of every turn I’d made, but I’d never been forced to examine the mechanics of why things happened the way they did—until now. No matter how much control I’d ever thought I’d had, it had only ever been a multiple-choice question.
The Universe had a plan for me, and at the moment, Iain served as its mouthpiece. I could accept my fate the easy way or the hard way. It appeared to me, denial of my present circumstances or not, I had a decision to make.
Control had always been a matter of perception. Accepting those things I had no power over was a first step toward feeling like I at least had my hands on the steering wheel, even if I had to stay on the paved road. Dorothy had to follow her yellow-bricked path, and in a way, I had my destiny laid out before me, even if nothing appeared golden about it. She had to skirt dangers, villains, and fantasy beyond her belief system to find her way home, and if that teenaged braided girl could do it in her land of OZ, so could I.
I glared at the arrogant man who’d had a hand in delivering me the message by bringing me here, but don’t kill the messenger rang out in my head, and I smiled.
“Oh, Iain. You think you know me, but you know nothing at all.” My voice purred from my throat. I placed my hands on my hips, making a decision. “I’ve never chosen the easy way. You are going to learn that the hard way.”
CHAPTER Four
Highlands of Scotland—Thirteenth Century
When one runs away in denial from something feared to be true, the journey back to reality—no matter how unbelievable—becomes a slow and painful passage.
I sighed, reconciled to my course, absorbing every detail with wary eyes. Landscape obscured by tears when I’d run from my fate revealed itself. Midday’s sun cast a melting glow on a rogue sprinkling of snow while signs of spring bloomed everywhere: from early wildflowers defying the late powdery topping, to people exploiting the brilliant day with focused determination.
Women wore frocks to their toes in brighter colors than I’d imagined. I looked down at my straight, ankle-length flannel skirt. Damn. Good thing I’d passed on the leather mini my fingers had lovingly stroked in the closet that morning. I snorted at the irony of wearing plaid. Even my wardrobe seemed to have known where I’d be today. A chilling breeze coaxed me to stretch the cuffs of my sweater protectively over my fingers as I trekked with leaden feet back toward Iain.
Laughter tinkled out from little ones running between their mothers’ skirts. Curious eyes, big as silver dollars, peeked at me from beyond the folds. The women gave me only a cursory glance, likely because no threat would be allowed within the protection of their stone curtain wall.
A sizable garden area opened to my left where young women sowed seeds in neat rows, tilling unusual dark soil. Beyond their farming activity, carved into the wide part of a stream, stretched a mill pond stocked full of fish. I passed animal pens that housed cattle and sheep. Further into the heart of the compound, a gangly teenage boy with a shock of red hair sprouting atop his head led two majestic, well-lathered horses—one gray, the other black—into the stables. A furious plume of smoke spiraled up from the rooftop stack of a stone smithy. The building’s two wooden doors were thrown wide open, and I spied on the blacksmith as he repeatedly dropped a metal hammer onto fiery-red steel. The piercing strikes rang in my ears, and my vivid imagination envisioned a claymore being formed.
As I advanced, an occasional nonchalant glance toward the castle confirmed Iain still stood his ground, watching me intently. His wide, confident posture expressed the absolute certainty he’d had in his earlier prediction. My struggle with the implausible scenario aside, I’d returned enough from the land of denial to admit the remote possibility. I traveled an uncharted path not knowing my destination in this paradigm shift. How could I know for certain that he didn’t have a better clue about my upsetting situation than I did?
Iain’s foretelling accuracy made no difference to my stubborn, independent Scottish roots, however. I intended to give the man a worthy hunt. Besides, I reasoned as I gave a wide berth around the training soldiers in the field, my romantic heart needed irrefutable evidence Iain was indeed the one man on Earth meant for me. If the rules in my delusion-turned-reality dictated I had three days to find said man in this world, I planned to make the most of my allotment, deciding for myself who would bed me—not the other way around.
Caught up in the moment, I shook my head, chastising myself for allowing crazy thoughts to muddle my priorities. If a passageway had opened, snatching me from my world and depositing me here, I had to believe a return flight existed. No matter how tangible everything seemed, my way back home had to be hidden behind a locked door yet to be found. I needed to learn the rules of the game, discover its secrets, and ferret out the key.
I stepped within a few feet of Iain, and a cocky grin stretched across his handsome face. Sunlight glinted off his hair, highlighting copper strands woven through dark brown locks. His hazel eyes sparkled with pleasure.
I tamped down my irritation at his pride. Big deal. I returned. Where the hell else am I supposed to go?