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He nodded and shifted to get up from the bed. “Thanks. Now I’m out of here.”

As he looked at Marjorie, he wished he had swallowed his words. Her hands were propped on her sides, and she glared at him.

“Ye’re out of here?” she asked, “Why are ye in such a hurry? Who are ye, Konnor? Is that even yer real name? Are ye a MacDougall?”

Her slanted cat eyes flashed, and there was a pink tinge to her cheeks. Her hair was in slight disarray. She was beautiful. Konnor was torn between smiling and being concerned for his safety. She wouldn’t order Malcolm to behead him like an angry queen, would she?

“I’m not a MacDougall. And my name is Konnor. Konnor Mitchell.”

“How can I believe ye? What if ye’re a MacDougall spy?”

A MacDougall spy? This medieval game was going a little too far.

“I don’t freaking know how you can believe me, okay? My passport is in the backpack that’s back where the damn fallen tower is. I’m sorry I didn’t say I wasn’t who you thought I was. I thought you wouldn’t help me if I told you the truth. And I was right.”

Marjorie pursed her lips and didn’t say anything for a moment, confirming that his assumption had been correct. Isbeil arched one eyebrow and started putting her sacks, jars, and boxes back into the basket.

“Look,” Konnor said. “Like I told you, I don’t want to inconvenience you, and I’m thankful for your help, but you can stop playing your fantasy games and just send me on my way. I’ll be fine.”

“He wilna be fine,” Isbeil said. “He needs to rest, or his ankle will get worse.”

Marjorie shrugged one shoulder. “’Tisna my concern. He’s a liar. Who kens what else he’s lying about?”

Isbeil put the last sack into the basket and looked at Marjorie. “I dinna think this one is a threat, dearie.”

“Explain yourself, Konnor,” Marjorie said. “The truth. Who ye are, and how did ye end up in that ravine?”

“I’m American. Please don’t tell me you don’t know what that means.”

Marjorie shook her head and shrugged.

A low growl escaped Konnor’s throat. “Come on, Marjorie, I think you’re smart enough to accept the reality beyond these walls.”

“I dinna ken what ye’re talking about.”

Her stubbornness was impressive. He wished she’d just drop the pretense.

“You know very well what I’m talking about, even if you don’t want to admit it. I own a security firm in Los Angeles. I’m a Marine who served in Iraq. I’ve been hiking through the Highlands with my buddies. A woman asked me for help. She’d fallen down a ravine and seemed to be hurt. I went down to help her and fell. Next thing I knew, she disappeared. Then I saw Marjorie. That’s the God’s truth of what happened.”

Konnor locked his gaze with Marjorie’s and forgot anyone else was in the room. She shot daggers at him, and heat rushed through his blood.

Come on, Marjorie, believe me. Be the reasonable woman I know you are and give me a sign you’re on my side.

She looked away and shook her head like she was disappointed.

“Was this all by the old Pictish stronghold?” Isbeil said.

“Aye,” Marjorie said.

“There are legends and rumors about that place,” Isbeil said. “I’ve heard strange things happen around it.”

“Like what?” Marjorie said.

“Like ancient Pictish magic that can open a tunnel through the river of time.”

Konnor frowned. That sounded exactly like what Sìneag had told him.

“‘Tis an old story,” Isbeil continued. “I heard it from my grandmother when I was a wee lass. She was a wise woman, mayhap even a witch. She was afraid the Holy Church would burn her for witchcraft, so she didna tell the story much,. She said some faeries bring good health, some bring good luck. Others play with people’s destinies and send them through the tunnel. Some say they do it so that people can find the one person they’re really destined for.”