“I have no idea what the Highland Veil is. All I know is that I am not meant to be here.” She clenched her teeth and pounded the armrest of the couch with her fist. “My home, my life, is in Kentucky.”
“Then why did ye come to Scotland and test the Veil?”
“What did I just tell you?” She glared at him. “I don’t know anything about any sort of veil. This is not my fault. I am not meant to be here. Mairwen tricked me. She sent me here.”
“Mairwen sent ye to Scotland from the place ye call Kentucky?”
“No. Mairwen sent me here.” She thumped the armrest of the couch again. “She said you had a sick horse. Knowing full well that I would never refuse to help an animal in need. How do I get back?”
“Get back?”
“Yes. Get back to Seven Cairns for a start. From there, I’ll head back to Kentucky.” She shook her head and hugged her knees again as though willing herself into the smallest shape possible so she might disappear.
A rare possessiveness filled Jeros, burning through him like an overly large gulp of whisky. She could not leave. Did she not feel their bond? “Again, lass, this is the year 1811. The Seven Cairns which ye seek is not of this time nor in this particular realm. Our Seven Cairns would nay be what ye expect.”
Her panicked stare shifted to the window. “If I went back through the woods and walked through that mist again, would it send me back to my time? If I retraced my steps, would it reverse the time travel and send me back to my world?”
The selfish side of him wanted to lock her away. Keep her from doing anything she said. Not that reversing her steps would work. Traveling across time and planes was a complicated thing—always painful and sometimes fatal for males. But locking her away would make her fear him, and from all that the Defenders, the mortals who guarded the Weavers and the Highland Veil, all they had ever told him about the fated mate bond, was that it could never be forced. Each half of the soul had to recognize it and choose to join with the other. “From all that I have seen and been taught, it is doubtful the simple act of retracing yer steps would be effective.” He prayed he was correct.
“Well, I have to try.” She leapt to her feet and started for the door, then paused. “Thank you for your hospitality, but it’s time for me to go.”
When the tiger followed, she pointed at it. “Stay. You belong here. I don’t.”
Aylryd growled and rapidly twitched the tip of his tail back and forth, clearly transmitting his displeasure.
Jeros felt the same. “Ye must not walk through the woods alone as night comes. ’Tis…unwise.”
“I did it once and survived. Sort of.” She opened the door, then turned back to him with a pained look. “Would you mind showing me to the front door? I don’t recognize this hall.”
“I will only do so if ye agree to allow myself and the beastie to join ye in this foolish endeavor.”
“It is not foolish. It’s the only thing I can think of right now that might work.” She stepped into the hallway, looked both ways, then gave him another frustrated glare. “Fine. You and Aylryd may escort me in myvaliant effortto go back to where I belong. Can we go now?” She tossed her head, making her thick mane of rich brown hair tumble across her shoulders in a most enticing way. “Please?”
While he admired her tenacity, it also piqued him. This woman would bend to no one’s will other than her own, which could be decidedly exciting or extraordinarily frustrating, depending on the situation, such as the current one. He joined her in the hallway and offered his arm.
She looked at it, then looked up at him, but didn’t move to take it.
He jutted his chin higher and stood firm with his arm extended, determined to win this particular battle of wills.
She rolled her eyes and shoved her hand through the crook of his arm. “There. Happy?”
“Exceedingly so.” Acting as if he escorted her to the Royal Court itself, he led her to the front door and opened it for her, but not before arming himself with the additional blades that Nightleaf provided without being asked to do so. A Royal always took every precaution. Especially with the Fifth Kingdom’s saber rattling.
“You don’t think the tiger is enough?” Lexi tipped a nod at Aylryd.
“One must never let down one’s guard. I will always protect ye to the utmost of my abilities.”
She made a show of frowning at him, but confusion and a much softer, elusive emotion filled her eyes.
He almost smiled, knowing now without a doubt that she felt the mate bond the same as he did and found it just as perplexing. Good. Once they descended the front steps, he halted. “Which direction?”
She looked all around, then pointed straight ahead. “That way. I think.” After a few steps, she nodded and walked faster with more certainty. “Yes. Definitely this way. I remember passing that knobby old oak.” Looking all around, she slowed again. “The air is still damp and misty, but the fog is gone.” She eyed him with worry. “You don’t think it was the fog that brought me here, do you?”
Powers greater than either of them had brought her here, but he doubted she was ready to learn the history of the Divine Weavers and their matchmaking to protect the blessed weave known as the Highland Veil, the separator of the planes of time and all the realms. “I dinna ken if it was the fog or not, lass. All we can do is walk for a while and see.”
“I suppose so.” Her quiet despondency made his heart ache for her. She pointed at a parting in the trees. “The road. Is the road up ahead? My car would be there. When I first started out, I meant to keep to the road to find your house, but the fog was so thick, I wandered off it.”
He stopped her and pointed to the east. “The carriage road is that direction. Quite a ways, in fact. Would ye have wandered that far in the fog?”
