“I remember looking for my car and then nothing. Did I really faint? Maybe that concussion was worse than I thought.”
He leaned back in his seat and examined her. “What’s a concussion?”
She sighed, sipping at her drink and then grimacing. “What is in that?”
“Herbs to soothe a troubled mind.”
“It’ll take more than that to sort this one out.”
Leaning forward once more, he looked at her closely. “Who are you?”
“I told you, Daisy Stone.”
“No, not what’s your name. Who are you? Why do you wear such strange clothes and speak words that have no meaning if you are not possessed?”
“I might ask you the same question.”
“I wear the colors of my clan. You wear things like no woman has ever worn.”
She sat up in bed, pushing the covers down to her waist. “No car, no parking lot, no lightbulbs. Oh, my. What if Tabby’s right?” She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “No, no. She can’t be right. Can she?”
“Right about what? Who is Tabby?”
“Tabby is my roommate and if she were here now she’d tell me this was all because of the silver key.”
“You’re still making no sense.”
“The key. The box. Have you still got that box I gave you? That would prove it one way or another.”
“Prove what?”
“Whether or not I’ve gone back in time. Or does saying that make you think I’m possessed again?”
“I dinnae ken what to think anymore. What good would a silver key do?”
“Because if Tabby’s right, I might be able to prove one way or another whether they are special like she thinks. Where’s the box?”
“I dinnae ken. I threw it aside when you got here.”
“Then help me find it.” She climbed out of bed and began hunting through the bedchamber, getting on her knees and rummaging in the dark corners outside the light of the torches.
Jock helped, wondering once again if she was mad or possessed. Was there a difference? Trust him to fall for one such as her. The only woman he was interested in and she was scrabbling on the ground looking for a silver key she thought was magic.
Something sparked in the back of his mind. A memory. Eddard had spoken of a silver key not that long ago. He’d put it down to his mental decline when he talked of it, that was why he’d forgotten.
His father had told him about Morag traveling back and forth in time with the help of a silver key. What if it wasn’t rambling? What if it was true? All of a sudden, he wanted to find the key as much as Daisy.
“Found it,” she said, getting to her feet triumphantly, holding the box aloft. She opened it as she walked back into the light. “Where’s the key?” She frowned, looking up at him. “It was in the door.”
Jock looked, seeing something twinkling in the light of the torch down on the floor. Wedged between two floorboards was the key and it took some effort for him to wrench it free before he could pass it to her. “What now?” he asked.
“Now we close this door,” she said. With a thud the door closed, trapping the two of them inside the bedchamber. “Then we lock it with this.”
“And what is supposed to happen?”
“We shall see. I unlocked it and found you here. Let me ask you something. What year do you think it is?”
“Twelve-forty by the grace of God.”
