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She straightened her back. “He’s back now, and he’s the rightful lord of Tigh na Abhainn.”

“He might be anyone.” The man crossed his arms over his chest, his impressive biceps bulging. “An impostor. And so might ye. Why didna Laomann send word?”

Okay, there was a lot she didn’t know about the clan’s politics, but she knew more than this guy. “Laomann isn’t the laird anymore,” she said. “Angus is.”

Eanar exchanged a look with the young woman. “Angus?”

“Seriously, how often do you guys get any news here?”

His sharp, eagle-like expression was replaced with doubt. “Nae so often, but we’d get news like this right away.”

With doubt planted, she decided to go on the offense. “And who would you be?”

“I’m the tacksman.”

The tack—who? But she couldn’t ask without raising more doubt. It was clear he was someone who was in charge while the lord was absent. Like a vice principal, perhaps.

“I’m Teasag,” said the woman.

Bryanna waited for her to explain her role, but she didn’t proceed, so Bryanna said, “Right. You realize then that your lord won’t be happy at how you treated him and me once he wakes up?”

“Remains to be seen if he’s my lord or nae.”

A movement from the side made her look at Raghnall. His eyes were open, and he was glaring at Eanar. “My name is Raghnall Mackenzie, and I am yer rightful lord. My father brought me here many years ago as a lad, trying to convince me to become an obedient son, and I only laughed into his face. For that, he beat me so hard, he broke my fingers so that this finger still doesna bend fully when I play the lute. He then chased me away and disinherited me. My brother Angus promised this estate back once I marrit someone. Here she is, my wife. And here I am, yer lord and the lord of these lands. Nae that I owe an explanation to ye.”

The young woman touched Eanar’s shoulder. “I think he’s telling the truth, Eanar…”

Eanar was studying Raghnall with his eagle eyes, still unconvinced.

“I’d be a bad tacksman if I gave away the keys to the estate to every stranger who claims he’s my lord.”

Bryanna stared at Raghnall with wide eyes. She’d just found out more about him in under one minute than she had the whole day. He was chased away? He played lute? His father beat him as a child?

Her eyes dropped to his tied hands, and she wondered how she’d never noticed that broken finger that had never healed, and how it must have killed him to never be able to use it fully. And how he must love music if he learned to play even still.

Something she knew she’d do, too, in his place. Diabetes felt like a disability to her sometimes. Although she was fine now, having diabetes meant she had lower blood flow to her feet, and therefore she would be under an increased risk for neuropathy and getting her limbs amputated, eye problems, kidney disease, and a number of other complications. That was where her family’s concern had come from. That was why she had made an agreement with Mom and Dad early on not to do horseback riding and other sports that would have a higher chance of an injury.

That was why she had felt her whole life as if she lived under a dome, like in that movie, The Truman Show.

Music had always been her lifeline. She’d been the lead singer in her school acapella group, had played guitar and piano. She’d hoped to have a real music career—being a singer, writing her own songs, and, hopefully, playing concerts. She’d wanted to live a big life, chase her dreams…

But after she’d gotten her diagnosis, the motto of her life had become play it safe.

It wasn’t anything conscious, she supposed. She’d been diagnosed as a teenager, and it was natural that her parents took care of her. However, once she’d become an adult, she’d carried on in the same way. During the first years as a diabetic, she’d learned to put her parents’ worries first, and she’d just never stopped.

So she’d become a music teacher and hadn’t moved to a big city like she’d always dreamed. Staying home, next to her family, was playing it safe.

But now she was as far away as one could imagine—hundreds of years in the past. And there was no one except for herself to worry about her life and death, even if her mom and sister must be absolutely freaking out by now. So she needed to be strong.

She imagined she was the medieval lady everyone had thought she was and straightened her back. “Eanar, you’re making a big mistake treating your lord like he’s your enemy. Is that how you want to start your relationship with him?”

The man’s eyes glistened in amused appreciation. He nodded. “If he is my lord, then nae.”

Raghnall’s gaze on her felt warm and made her whole body tingle. “Then untie us.”

The man nodded in a gesture of compliance and moved behind Raghnall’s chair. In a moment, Raghnall was on his feet and staring at Eanar like he wanted to burn him. “Wise,” Raghnall said. “I’m coming here to stay and this wilna work if there’s nae trust between the lord and his tacksman.”

When Eanar said nothing, Raghnall moved behind Bryanna’s chair and untied her.