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Her maid, Moire, had mentioned she had a cousin that was coming for a visit.

“Yes, the Keir farm,” he said.

“Ye must be Moire’s cousin. Sorry, I forgot yer name, although I’m sure she mentioned it.”

“Konnor,” he said. “But I’m not—”

A branch snapped somewhere above them, and Marjorie ducked and pulled him behind one of the large boulders. He crawled, wincing but not making a sound.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“There are MacDougalls nearby,” she whispered.

“Are you in danger?” Something about his tone was so protective. It was as though one of her brothers asked the question. A warm sense of being safe settled in her chest.

“Mayhap,” she said and peered from behind the boulder. “Can ye walk?”

“Unlikely. Can you not just call an ambulance?”

“A what?”

His warm eyes shone as he smiled. “I swear, you locals are weird. Totally into your Highland heritage, aren’t you? The costumes, the arrows, the accent…”

“I dinna ken what ye mean, Konnor. ’Tis ye who appear strange to me. But I wilna leave a friend of my clan in trouble. Come, lean on my shoulder. We have a healer in the castle, and Moire will want to ken ye’ve arrived.”

She squatted next to him and allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulder. His scent reached her—something foreign, like the fresh scent of rain, woodsmoke, and something dark and strange. She helped him stand, and the weight of him was heavy but pleasant against her skin. Her chest rose and fell faster, but it was only from the exercise, she told herself. Not because she was affected by this man in any way.

Because after what Alasdair had done to her, there was way she could be affected by anyone.

Chapter 3

Konnor didn’t know how long they limped through the woods. Between the agonizing pain in his ankle, and trying not to crush the beautiful Scotswoman with his weight, time crawled. Every second felt a year long.

When he’d woken up in the ravine, the rain had stopped. Strangely, there was no sign that a drop had fallen. How long had he been out? The last thing he remembered was the weirdest sensation of falling through the stone, but he was sure that was only a side effect of the concussion. Sìneag had said something about time travel. But the ruins were still ruins, and the ravine and the woods looked exactly the same. Sìneag was still nowhere to be seen.

Where on earth had this beauty come from? They were out in the middle of the wilderness right after a storm? And why was she completely dry, while his clothes were soaked through? This was all so weird.

“How far still?” Konnor said. “I must be heavy for you. Not every woman can support a 180-pound male for miles.”

She frowned, and there was a fleeting expression of confusion on her face. Then she glared up at him, a hardness in her moss-green eyes. Her long, braided hair smelled mysterious, like a fresh herb cocktail mixed with something sweet that he guessed was her own scent.

“Ye canna climb the slope, so we must take the longer route through the ravine.”

“All right,” he said. “All right.” He considered asking if she could call someone with a car, but he decided against it. Judging by her clothes—leather pants, a simple linen tunic, and something like a leather coat—and the arrows in a quiver on her back, she didn’t look like someone who carried a mobile phone around.

“Were you on a hunt?” He said it as a joke to lighten up the mood. He imagined she probably did archery as a hobby and had been practicing nearby. Or maybe there was a renaissance fair or something.

“Aye.”

“How did it go?”

“As ye see, I caught someone.”

He chuckled. “Well, thanks for not shooting me.”

“I dinna shoot the fallen.”

A code of honor? Had she really been out hunting? “You have the arrows. Where’s the bow?”