At last, the eighth one fit the lock and turned without a hitch.
Woohoo.She wanted to dance a Highland jig.
She pushed the door inward, and the hinges let out a fierce screech.
"Shhh." She rushed inside.
The narrow windows provided minimal light. Dozens of weapons hung on the walls and lay on tables. Short, medium, and long daggers, most tarnished and nondescript. Swords of all sorts, basket-hilted, two-handed, and other designs. Targes, axes, and pikes. The lethal air surrounding them gave her chills. How many battles had these weapons seen?
The polished blade of a claymore caught her eye. "That's it." She froze, studying the leather-wrapped grip. It resembled the magical sword, but it was newer. That would make sense because, at the moment, it wasn't four hundred years old.
Indecision gnawed at her stomach. If she touched this sword, she'd never see Gavin again. She wouldn't get to look into his beautiful blue eyes, kiss him, or hold him. She would never find out what might develop between them, how deep their affection might grow. What if he was her one true love, and she left him four hundred years in the past? Tears welled in her eyes.
On the other hand, she couldn't stay here. She'd fallen down a dark rabbit hole where reality skewed and warped.
Her stomach ached with the uncertainty.
She paced away, her gaze scanning over the weapons. Wait, several other claymores sat in the displays. They looked similar but older, more worn and tarnished. Which one had she touched? She studied the features of each, unable to remember the details of the one in the clan tent.
"What are you about, lass?"
Heart vaulting into her throat, Dani whirled. "Ewan."
"Caught you, I did. You think I'm too daft to ken you stole my keys. Give them back." He held out his hand.
Not needing them anymore, she tossed them his way. "I didn't steal them! I borrowed them. Soon, I'll be the lady of this castle, free to use them anytime I want." She hoped asserting her make-believe authority would convince him to back down.
"M'lady." He bowed. "Pray pardon, but why would you want in here? If 'tis for the claymore you stole before… his lairdship will have my head if I let you use it again."
"I'm not going to use it." She turned and pressed her fingertips onto the flat side of the blade of the nearest two-handed sword, careful of the sharp edge. She winced, expecting pain as she time traveled.
Nothing happened.
"Dammit!" She didn't know whether she felt disappointed or relieved. Maybe a little of both.
"You're going to cut off your fingers!" Ewan exploded.
"I'm being careful. Which is the one I held in Gavin's chamber the first night?"
Ewan pressed his lips together and glared at her.
"Tell me," she ordered.
"I'll nay disobey his lairdship! My first loyalty is to him, but I am to protect you."
In the dimness, she couldn't see the details on the hilts.
"I'll have to hold each one of these. Help me remove them."
"Nay. The chief will be furious! Why the devil would you be wanting to hold aclaidheamh dà làimhanyway? You're too weak to wield it." He grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the door.
"Ewan! Turn me loose!" She tried to dig in her heels, but his strength won out despite his short stature.
"Calm yourself. I would nay hurt you, m'lady. But you are going back to your chamber where you'll stay safe for the rest of the day, just as he ordered."
Annoyance gored her. "What do you mean?"
"The chief told me if you get out of line, I'm to lock you in the bedchamber."
