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Yes, maybe she could be a lady of middle gentry or something from one of the Borderland clans. If, as Sìneag had said, she was destined for Angus Mackenzie—and the man she’d met in the basement was who he claimed to be—he’d lived during the Wars of Scottish Independence, so that must be the era in which she’d arrived. The south was pretty much occupied by the English, so she could say she was from one of the clans that had been hit hard.

And one of them was Douglas.

Yes. Douglas was perfect. Not only was Black Douglas one of Robert the Bruce’s most important lieutenants, but also his father had been beheaded by the English, and his home had been taken from him. Yes, that was before 1306, so before the Bruce had made his comeback, but James Douglas had ransacked a lot of his own lands that had been taken away from him.

The idea began forming in her head.

“I’m James Douglas’s cousin and there’s been much unrest down in South Lanarkshire. My home has been burned and I’m on my way up north to clan Sinclair, who are my mother’s family. I was robbed on my way here. All my bodyguards were killed as well as my maid. I barely escaped with my life.”

The priest’s eyes clouded with pity. “Ah. Did they take yer clothes, too, child?”

“Yes. They did.”

He sighed. “Come with me, I’ll give ye shelter. If nae Holy Church, then who? My name is Father Nicholas. Mayhap Lord Laomann could spare a few men to escort ye. I’ll send him word.”

Lord Laomann?

Father Nicholas gestured to the church, and she went to where he pointed. She was a little stunned as she moved.

“Uhm. Do you mean Laomann, chief of clan Mackenzie?” she asked.

She passed through the doors and into the church where it was as cold as it was outside and dark.

“Aye, aye, of course I do.”

Laomann Mackenzie had lived between 1275 and 1330. Was it really possible that she had indeed traveled back in time?

“Father, forgive me,” she said. “All this stress is playing tricks with my tired mind. What year is it?”

“Nae matter at all, child. ’Tis the year of our Lord 1310.”

Chapter 3

Two days later…

“What do ye think, brother?” Angus said. “This?”

Raghnall sighed. “By God’s arse, Angus, I am nae the person to ask. Why didna ye take Catrìona with ye?”

Angus studied the red cloth lying on a market booth. It was decent-looking cloth, well made and, he supposed, beautiful; though, he didn’t see the need to spend silver or any other resources on his wedding attire.

But he had to. To show his respect and appreciation for the bride and her clan.

He sighed and turned to his younger brother, who stared at the cloth with the same puzzled expression.

“She has enough to do in the castle. And I didna ask ye to meet me here to pick the fabrics. I merely heard that ye were in the village and wanted to see ye.”

Raghnall looked at the stand with swords, shields, and daggers.

“If ye ask my advice on weapons, I’m happy to help.”

“I dinna need anyone’s advice on weapons.”

Raghnall hemmed and moved to the stall with smoked fish. He stared at it with hunger. Angus followed him and gave the seller a penny. Raghnall took a smoked herring and a piece of bread and bit into it.

“Thanks, man,” he said through a full mouth. “Is it nae a wee bit late to get yer wedding attire done? Two sennights till the wedding, is it nae?”

They walked away from the booth and towards the church.