"If you think you have read every possible spin on King Arthur, think one more time. HE OF THE FIERY SWORD is like none of them. Telling you more would spoil it, but past and future collide and legends meet in this most ambitious of tales. This is a new legend that is designed for the intelligent and imaginative minds out there."

~Amanda Killgore

"SACRIFICIAL HEARTS is a very enjoyable ride ... a complex story yet completely realistic. Skyhe Moncrief made this such an easy story for me to follow. I was never left confused and I never felt like I was actually in another world. The romantic scenes flow wonderfully ... and are never overdone. If you're a reader new to time travel stories, I think SACRIFICIAL HEARTS is a great story to start with."

~Amanda Haffery

"Intense, original, suspenseful, and dramatic ... an unpredictable, topsy-turvy romance ... the suspense builds with every page. In a world where symbols mean everything, magic is the way ... SACRIFICIAL HEARTS dramatically offers a romance that is both in and out of time.... a very fun read."

~Snapdragon

"ANCIENT MUSINGS brings to life the Greek myths with some terrific characterization. If you'd like to get lost in a fantasy world (and learn a little mythology at the same time), you'll enjoy this installment of SONG OF THE MUSES."

~Dandelion

Anam Cara: soul mates; two souls bound together for eternity by the faeries to protect history by preventing paradoxical children from being born along the timeline.

Astrofolklore: the study of Earth mythology combined with the Gaelic planets’ newer mythology; one of many topics time guardians learn to connect with history.

Druid: a “Sister"; member of the female Time-Guardian Order who has apprenticed 20 years, learning astrofolklore to be utilized in adapting into any time period. Her goal is to study tales.

Fey: the Gaelic term encompassing all forms of supernatural energy classified as spirit. It has been long believed that fairies have never lived. But Time Guardians are just beginning to understand the beings through Post-Modern Alchemical studies.

The Gaels: a term describing their culture used by Celtic descendents in the future.

Gaelic Judge: a dragon; a genetically modifed human with ultra-human senses. They were given refuge by the Gaels and live on the Gaelic planets where they reside over disputes. Okay, until....

Gods: any supernatural force classified as a deity by any culture.

Holy Light of Union: a mystic light that burns away everything when two soul mates sexually unite. While the Light burns, the lovers are whisked by the Gods to another plane of existence where the Gods may observe and connect with the soul mates’ unification. The Light also helps Time Guardians discern soul-mate incarnates along the timeline.

Iron: the metal banned from Gaelic planets because it disrupts electromagnetic radiation—what Post-Modern alchemy assumes fairies are.

Nidium: fairy-forged metal fashioned into time-travel keys and awarded to Ring Masters because iron is banned from the Gaelic planets. This metal can penetrate stone; hence, the sword in the stone...

Patron Fey of the Druids: Morganna. Brothers don't trust her. She's in cahoots with the lasses.

Patron Fey of the Ring Masters: Conn. He's soft on the Sisters but doesn't cut the Brothers any slack.

Post-Modern Alchemy: science combined with magic practiced by male Time Guardians to understand fairy-induced time travel.

Ring: x-hmmm, use your imagination. Now don't go Freudian!

Ring Master: a “Brother"; a member of the male Time-Guardian Order who spends approximately 20 years apprenticing to become a stone-circle pilot, a bodyguard for his wife, and a Post-Modern alchemist. He is first entered as an apprentice, then becomes a Ring Master upon earning his time-travel sword from the fairies during a training jaunt through time.

Ring Master Keep: the site of the sacred training ground on the Gaelic planet Scotia Major, where Ring Masters and Druids spend 20 years of their lives progressing to the level of Learned to earn the right to time travel.

Runic Council of the Orders: 29 Brothers and Sisters on planet Scotia Major who wear sacred runes used to predict the future and plan missions along the timeline. They have retired from time travel to serve a greater purpose as council members. The women are referred to as High Druids. The Brothers are referred to as Grand Masters. The Grand Master with the most respect is referred to as the High Grand Master. The High Priestess is the High Druid with the most respect.

War Furies: the triple goddess who likes to shake things up as she's known to do...

Ronat Castle, Central Scotland, 2005

Were the Gods on permanent vacation? Whatever mystery was supposed to be illuminated from the drawing of the willow branch in the book Time Guardian Cochise studied where he leaned back upon a wooden bench was lost to the cutting sensation caused by the wood chewing into his shoulders. Nothing but background static in a chaotic world like his ludicrous life story that played over and over again. Time to steer my life back on course. To make Grandfather proud. To honor him. In studying time-travel piloting, a run-away Sioux rarely got a chance to hone his grandfather's shamanic legacy. Now to focus more and try to grasp everything he should have learned from Grandfather. Shamanism had finally made life's miserable existence tolerable in gifting him the ability to shape shift. Even when working for the enemy.

A lump rammed into his craw.

Opportunity still ranked him unimportant among time guardians as a cadet. And he remained a pawn of white men. But nothing in life was free. Or so Grandfather loved to chant. Cochise fingered a slick page.

The fortress's siren emitted three droning blasts.

More bad guys arriving at the stone circle. Opportunity knocking. He jumped to his feet.

Dangerous invaders from the future bent on changing Earth history were just what a bored Lakota needed. He scanned the courtyard for the other members of the Death Squad.

The castle's wooden door burst open. Six kilted Ring Masters charged into the courtyard. Their black loafers clicked a rattling drumbeat. All wielded their golden nidium claymore hilts like sleek brass rapiers sheathed where they hung at their waists.

Just the young head Ring Master, Scotty, leading the kilts to the standing stones. Without glancing a poor Lakota's direction. Joy. If the rest of the Death Squad arrived, he could get in on the fun.

Ronat Castle's wooden door swung into the courtyard and pounded against the doorway's surrounding stucco masonry.

Joey.

The blond six-foot-four Aussie strode into the sunlight in his faded olive camouflage, holding a field radio.

The recent addition to Death Squad was clueless about the imminent rumble. “Hey.” Cochise's shout carried on the wind.

The man slid his blue gaze from the receiver to Cochise.

Not another screw-every-last-one-of-you-non-white-bastards look. The Aussie needed his lily-white ass shredded.

The book's pages whispered as a breeze flitted through them. He ignored the shushing wind and focused on the Australian.

"You threatening me?” Joey asked emotionlessly.

More than he could ever dream. He sucked in a breath.

A tingling in his chest pulled Cochise down into a crouch. Before he blinked, he placed an ebony paw upon the hard pavement. Joey's never looked so tasty.

The Aussie's eyes widened as he halted in awe.

Why not the first time you see a man metamorphose into a panther?

The man's heart thrashed where he stood, twenty paces away.

Cochise swallowed a laugh. There was nothing like heightened panther senses. The ability to smell, hear, and get closer to Grandmother Earth proved intoxicating.

"Leave him alone, Cochise,” Zulu yelled from somewhere out of view.

The African Dane might be logical, but there was no place in this world for people who shot a person down because of his ancestry. However, Joey's shocked expression was enough payment for his disrespect. Cochise smacked his lips and turned to the high stone perimeter wall.

The straight edge begged for walking. He could climb over. Pace the top. Or just dart through the castle's toothy portcullis. After a week of hanging human, a cat needed to stretch his legs. He raced to the closest wall, pounced up to hook the edge with his curled claws, and grated the stone with his hind nails, kicking himself over.

Too easy. When his pads hit the ground, he saw the visitor walking toward him with six tartaned Ring Masters.

A freaking Riverdance reject. No man should wear a white poet's shirt unlaced to his navel. The wind would have blown the billowing shirt away save for the fact Riverdance had tucked the tails into his tight black leather pants.

What a girl. Harmless. Save for the sword at his hip. It wasn't every day the less-desirable little Indian got to see his boss wear a tutu.

The sheathed blade reeked of Ring Mastery. Somewhere in time, the Brothers must have abandoned the Sisterhood and gone solo. Smart pale asses. How did the Brothers deal with their devotion to soul mates? By the looks of Riverdance, maybe they'd gone homosexual.

Good thing a shape-shifting Lakota didn't need anyone. Just duty and a little supernatural power. There was nothing like some god's favoritism to help a man find purpose in life.

A man. Sweat. Scars. And muscle. No freaking lacy shirt.

The jangling leaves in the nearby trees whispered of freedom.

Every cat needed a good run to stretch his tight joints. He inhaled, licking his nose to identify scents.

Sweet pollen and musty earth on the wind set his heart racing like Peyote. He dug his claws into soft dirt.

Damn, the world smelled welcoming. Intrigue and danger tempted him to race, to tear away from the tiny world he hid inside. To freedom. Somewhere. Just beyond the tree line. He turned and padded toward the trees.

"Cochise?” Scotty called.

Back to prison. It wasn't bad enough Delta Force hunted him down back in the real world. No. This new brethren forced him to bend almost every moment. He stopped and peered over his shoulder.

Scotty waved him over.

Right. He unfurled his long tongue, sat his haunches on the hot hard trodden path, and waited, killing them with absolute feline defiance.

Scotty scowled in his colorful red-and-blue tartan.

Gods, to throw his head back. Laugh. In cat form, the gesture turned into a yawn. No sense in wasting energy.

The huddle approached until Cochise could hear all the hearts pounding with intrigue. All but one steady heartbeat. The only way to learn who held the fearless heart was to cull the men from the pack one by one. Not with so many eyes watching. Rules hung over his head like a lumbering dark cloud in the clear blue sky. Chasing down the guilty party meant risking loss of his ability to shape shift.

"Cochise,” Scotty called. “Didn't you hear me, lad? We've got to rumble."

No problem. The man should have just shouted it was time to kick pale ass. Cochise sucked in cool air to shape shift.

The tingling in his chest shot his shoulders up till he towered before Riverdance's amber eyes. “I love to rumble."

"Come on. There's trouble brewing.” Scotty's green-and-orange tartan whirled toward the gateway.

Every man followed.

"There's little time,” Riverdance bellowed. “If the Flarion binds his heart with her"—

"A Druidess?” Cochise interrupted. If a Flarion got hold of a Sister, Gods, what could happen? Forget Delta Force. Those deep-space-trash chumps couldn't beat the Death Squad.

Riverdance's amber gaze met Cochise's. “Are you certain he's sufficiently trained, Scotty?"

Insult me and get it over with.

"He's the one. You won't have any problems. If you do, just let me at him.” Scotty shot him a shut-it-up stare.

Always tiresome threats. He smacked his lips, scanning the clear sky for some blessed god's omen permitting him to shape-shift and shred them all.

"Don your good boots, Hero,” Riverdance ordered Cochise.

The jerk didn't just call him hero. He slid his gaze to the man's writhing black hair. His neck was so tanned he could have been an Injun save for his Scottish burr.

"You ready to shine?” Riverdance asked him.

Enough crap. “Let's get something straight.” He snaked his arms across his chest. “You don't call me hero and I won't call you Riverdance."

The Ring Masters burst out laughing.

All but Riverdance who seemed oblivious to the insult. Shouldn't the Gael know his People's cultural history?

"Uh, Arthur,” Scotty intervened. “That's a reference to a popular fad in Irish dancing. Meaning your clothes."

The tall leathered sissy blinked slowly, met Cochise's gaze, and nodded. “Cochise then."

Respect? Strange reaction from a pale ass.

Scotty shot Cochise a serious brown gaze. “This is Arthur, a Gaelic Judge from the future. A catastrophe's upon us, lad. Blow the stink out your nose and pay attention."

Why did the Great Spirit send me to this end of the God-forsaken planet? Unfortunately, he knew all too well the earth wasn't rid of gods.

Cochise heard an earful by the time they paced Ring Master Hall's white marble floor. The warm sunshine pouring through the windowed ceiling couldn't drive away any man's chill in the room. The Flarions had breached the timeline again. And this time the futuristic invader was determined to bind his spirit to a Druidess. History wouldn't be safe if the time traveler succeeded.

Something reeked with the situation. “But doesn't she have a soul mate?” he asked.

"She's a new spirit, unbound to any Brother in time.” Riverdance answered near the huge flagstone fireplace. “If he woos her and claims her maidenhead, she might help him work the stone circles. We don't need that with a renegade god helping him."

Probably Coyote, if you asked a Lakota.

"Which God is behind this?” Scotty trumpeted.

Riverdance met Scotty's gaze. “We don't know yet. There's a bit of a problem with a few gods. ‘Tis under investigation."

Riverdance turned Cochise's direction and slowly strode toward him.

The man was menacing in an odd sort of way. He walked as if he carried an enormous amount of body mass. Like he supported the Universe's weight upon his shoulders.

"You're the best cadet?” Riverdance questioned.

Of course. Everyone else was deer scat since Odin left with his Druid wife. Only the Norwegian could compare to a Lakota. And he was lost to the timeline. “I think so."

"Rational.” Riverdance nodded thoughtfully. “I think we'll work nicely together."

Work with Riverdance? The man had shown him respect. And work was duty in a shape-shifting contract. Especially when the contract was the only one available to an outlaw. “I can take orders.” At least until he proved himself the better man.

"Let's go.” Riverdance strode toward the door.

By the time their car wound up the rocky road to the remote two-story Tudor house, Cochise shuddered while gripping the steering wheel.

Evil hung everywhere like an invisible entity tickling gooseflesh from his bare arms.

"Do you feel it?” Riverdance asked from the passenger's seat.

So the man was a shaman too. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. He nodded, studying the yard beneath the trees. Where was the knockout Druid? The bad-medicine babe had to be somewhere.

Riverdance trained a spirit-chilling gaze upon him. A gaze unsurpassable by any other than his grandfather's gaze. The man wouldn't unseat him. Or bore through to his heart to find whatever he was searching for. No one would ever delve into his head again.

Cochise focused on the blacktop, on the green grass fringing the road. He wouldn't think of anything else. Street. House. The hardness of the steering wheel.

"I hope we're not too late,” Riverdance muttered.

Numb, Druidess Mairi Ross pulled the fifth inhaler from her wee sister's white wicker bedside table and dropped it into the basket she held.

The medication dispenser clanked against the others.

That was the last of them. All of them. Every bloody inhaler was left right where she kept them in case of emergencies. She slid her gaze over the pink-and-green plaid comforter mounded with yellow flower pillows, to the white walls and the brownish marks finger-painted on the plain surface.

There, among the long chains of dried daises, around piece after piece of a young lass’ happy art, were the words: you're mine; love any other man and Evie dies.

Her heart clenched.

The warning was scrawled upon the walls in a sienna hue.

Her heart clenched again.

"By the God-dess-Spirit, not her blood.” What was a Druidess to do? The fairies had left her here eight years past, the year her surrogate parents found her skirting the loch in hopes of finding food.

She shouldn't have stayed.

She should have returned to the future when the Gaelic Judge arrived to take her back. By then, Evie's parents were dead. Evie needed someone.

Goddess, how small Evie was then. She couldn't leave Evie.

Not alone. Not with her asthma attacks. Mairi thrust her hand into the basket, grabbed an inhaler, and hurled it at the villain's threat. The clash of metal against drywall didn't drive away her dread. There was no one to contact in this year. Nobody a time-traveling Druidess could turn to for assistance.

No one.

The cylindrical tube clattered on the floor.

Those were pretty bloody harrowing days eight years ago when the Universe abandoned a fourteen-year-old Druid apprentice who trained to protect it. Not anything like today.

"Mairi?” a man shouted from downstairs. His echo ricocheted up the stairs and into the room.

And now the Universe's tides had shifted upon her.

Time to face the cretin. Time to give her spirit to a man who stole her sister for leverage. Without proper sanction from the Runic Council of the Orders to wed the blackguard, she would break Druidic Law. “Forgive me,” she whispered.

Hopefully the War Furies were listening. Morganna would seek revenge. Right the timeline. The Goddess had to. She slowly strode to Evie's open bedroom door, into the plain hall, and turned to the stairs.

What she expected to see wasn't whom she found charging up the lower steps. The time-traveling shape-shifting Gaelic Judge took the stairs three at a time in his black leather pants.

Perhaps the Universe hasn't abandoned me after all. If she'd been Catholic, she would have crossed herself. “A hundred thousand welcomes, Arthur."

The enormous Gaelic Judge had returned. Such coincidence held purpose. Or so the High Priestess professed.

He halted, his amber eyes watching her as if he knew what happened. Another man peered over his shoulder with dark eyes. Moody eyes, reflecting naught but pain.

"I don't like the feeling I sensed driving up,” Arthur announced.

She shook her head at the declaration. Perhaps more to convince herself to keep her mouth shut. But the empathic judge would feel her emotions. There was no omitting Truth.

"I"—she started to lie and looked over her shoulder at the word mine scrawled across Evie's wall.

Footsteps stomped toward her. The men brushed past her. The gray-and-white camouflage pattern of the pants on Arthur's comrade didn't look like judge attire. But then, she had only met one judge, Arthur. He stayed a month and returned to his world, part of her unknowable future.

The men stopped cold in the doorway.

What then?

Both stepped quietly into the room, pacing around the message.

Their black hair as pure as vile Darkness. The stranger's amazing hair was as long as hers. Two braids dangled down his front like symbols of the weaver. The Goddess. The rest of his hair hung loose behind his back. He was Native American. Or pretended to be. Not with those high cheekbones.

Arthur locked his amber gaze upon her. “When did you find this message?"

Could he help her? How could he not? The bastard who kidnapped Evie wanted to tamper with the timeline. A judge's duty was to maintain history's integrity. Or so Arthur had claimed.

"When she didn't come down for breakfast.” Stinging tears welled in her eyes.

Damn, she hated crying. Hated anyone seeing her cry. She bolted down the stairs.

"Mairi,” Arthur shouted.

She would absolutely not get hysterical. Not like her surrogate sister, Cora.

Cochise raced after the blonde and Riverdance into a kitchen scented with coffee and bacon. By the time he stepped around the judge's sheathed sword, Mairi wiped her eyes with a dishtowel, turned from the sink, and locked a serious stare on them. The bright sunlight shrouding her back from the bare small kitchen window couldn't hamper the gem-like glow in her brilliant blue eyes. Druid blue eyes.

He'd only seen one other pair. One of his few Caucasian friends, Odin, had seduced the woman and taken her through the stone circle, back to her time not more than a month ago. Yet these puffy reddened eyes glared with fear. Not love. He almost needed to help her. And in those tight blue jeans and T-shirt, she could help a man equally in return. But, he knew women like her didn't waste time on poor Injuns. Especially a military man who was supposed to be dead. The only women who ever gave him the time of day were those who charged for one-night stands. They didn't care about the color of skin or a man's attitude.

The Druidess exhaled, plucking her brown basket from the white countertop. “I searched everywhere, Arthur. You've got to find her."

She inhaled slowly.

Deeply. Medicinally the way Grandfather taught him to resort to in times of crisis. Probably to dry budding tears in her eyes.

She peered into her basket.

Something bad, really bad, nibbled at his spirit. There was so much sadness on the Druid's face that he recalled his grandfather's funeral. He wanted to reach out to her, squeeze her hand, tell her not to worry about the corpse who ruined the paint job upstairs. The intruder had to be a pale ass out to get a woman of such exceptional beauty. Any bastard like him deserved to die beneath razor-sharp claws. For nothing more than to see this moment avenged.

She shoved the basket to Riverdance and locked a pleading gaze upon him. There was so much innocence in her full-sculpted lips and wide eyes that Cochise bit his tongue to stay silent.

She was off-limits. Bad news beyond temptation. A ten-carat diamond faceted into perfection.

"He didn't even take one of her inhalers.” The pain in her voice droned away the innocence in her features.

Tears spilled down the woman's cheeks. The basket fell to the wooden floor. Asthmatic inhalers shot across the planking around her bare feet.

What had the shit-hole intruder done?

Riverdance grabbed her, stroking her long curly hair and trembling shoulders, crushing her cries into his chest as if to smother them. “'Tis not your fault, Mairi. You didn't do this."

"I told Evie I would take care of her,” she wailed. “Now she'll die because of me. I should have found her a good home and returned with you."

So Riverdance couldn't convince this Sister to spread her legs for him? Maybe ten-carat diamonds had standards.

"No. No.” Riverdance hushed the crying beauty. “I've read the histories. You were to stay. To write music. I checked, Sister."

Something about the info didn't chalk up to Riverdance's healthy response to the perfect white babe. Maybe he reacted only to soothe her annoying tears.

Riverdance eased the crying Sister to arm's length and peered beneath her golden crinkled mane. She stared at the floor, hiccuping instead of breathing.

"You've written music, haven't you?” Riverdance whispered.

Her head bobbed, sending the rest of her long curly hair slithering toward the floor.

"Look at me, Mairi.” Riverdance had to pull her chin up with a fingertip. He gazed into her eyes with the power of a fully matured shaman. “We do not write our own destinies. Everything is written in the stars. You must embrace the answers when they come to you. Trust in the God-dess-Spirit. Evie needs you."

Riverdance was too damned shamanic. His powers calmed the woman's breathing until her hysteria passed. But her fear for her sickly younger sister was completely understandable.

"There, there,” Riverdance coaxed the Druid like his own child. “I shall find her, Sister."

She jumped to attention. “I'll go with you."

Now she shape shifted into a fascinating warrior, Brave Woman. The title from the legend meant she was off limits to any man not of her choice. A blessed virgin according to the tale. What a coincidental point to test.

"No.” Daddy Riverdance wagged his head, shoving her toward the table. “You'll stay here and wait for the blackguard to call. He's a Flarion who breached the timeline."

"Flarion?” she screeched louder than the Ring Masters’ bagpipes when the Duke hosted historical reenactments at Ronat Castle.

Riverdance patted Mairi's shoulder. “You may know this, Wee One. This man has come back to entrap your spirit.” He pulled out a chair and shoved her into it. “To use you to manipulate the timeline. He mustn't succeed."

She stared at her hands in her lap as if to keep her cool. “With what? The bastard has taken everything."

So her little sister was her world. Cochise understood all too well. Grandfather lost his land trying to help his Lakota friends back on the reservation. Then Grandfather sickened and died in a bean-can camping trailer no larger than a guest bathroom while the Army cared for the only grandson he had. So much for friends, family, and the government.

"Some coffee will clear your head.” Riverdance produced a delicate cup and poured her some steaming black liquid from a coffeepot on the nearby white counter. He placed the cup before her. “Cream? Sugar?"

She nodded, reaching for the coffee, and pulled the steaming vessel beneath her nose as if she could instantly infuse her lungs with caffeine. Riverdance placed the milk and sugar bowl beside her liquid Peyote.

The water of life. Or bad medicine?

She pulled the spoon handle out of the bowl and doctored her java. “Ned Colton,” she stated, stirring the brew.

The jangling spoon never missed a beat while Riverdance descended into a seat beside her. “Who?"

"He's odd,” Mairi restated, grateful for the camradarie supplied by the shape-shifting judge. Ned Colton had to be the kidnapper. Perhaps Arthur could find Evie before all was too late. He would need to hear everything and anything for success though. She inhaled.

"He comes by almost daily. Like he's walking for exercise when the weather's good. I always find him smiling on the drive, waiting with his hands in his pockets. He's well-built, even somewhat handsome. But his inability to look me in the eye always made me nervous. And I knew he was just attracted to my heightened endowments.” To say the least for the beauty the fairies gifted Sisters who progressed eight years in training when they became Ovates. She would gladly return the boon and live the past eight years in Scotland as a scraggly hag free of annoying suitors.

"Is he a local?” Arthur asked.

She wagged her head. “He's here for the summer. Maybe staying on if he gets into a history program at college. He's obsessed with Scottish history.” So obsessed he hounded her for Cora's phone number. The twenty-two-year-old nagging sister attended the University of Edinburgh. Not far enough away though.

"I gave him Cora's phone number, hoping to get him interested in another woman.” She hoped the information hung the bastard. Arthur would sick his enchanted sword on the jerk. Ned wouldn't be able to outrun the fairy trapped inside the blade. “Just cut He of the Fiery Sword loose,” she growled.

A shadow shifted on the tabletop. The other man, military by his black tank top and the ammo belt securing pouches at his waist, hovered near the sink behind her. She couldn't see him without turning. But he was there.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Have you spoken to Cora lately?"

She stared into her swirling brown coffee. “No. She's disgusted with me. As usual. Cora wanted money for some ridiculous trip. Yet, I needed the funds for those medical treatments for Evie that the state didn't find essential."

"Oh?” Arthur almost seemed excited.

Was the news of sibling rivalry interesting? She peered over her shoulder to see if the other man shared the same enthusiasm. The sunlight behind him cast his face in black shadow.

"Forgive me, Mairi,” Arthur said. “There was so much confusion. I forgot to introduce Cadet Cochise to you."

Cadet? A non-Gael trained with the Brotherhood?

The Native American shifted in the sunbeam.

His discomfort was obvious. Why did she make the man so uncomfortable? She rose, extended a palm, and waited to shake his hand.

He stood much taller than her but not as tall as most of the Ring Masters. Or the Judge. Still she hated to see a person discomfited after Cora's endless bouts of coercive sibling rivalry.

Cochise stared at her hand.

"I don't bite,” she said.

He expelled with disgust. Or fear. But he managed to slide his warm palm across hers and shake with gusto. A bit of orange light, like a wee flame, danced in his skin at the edge of his tank top's curved neckline.

Probably fairy work. Whatever. She wasn't going to pull the stranger's shirt down to search for answers. Especially a man with such a godling's chest. She'd worked too hard to keep twenty-first Centurian males at a distance. And here the Gods dumped her perfect idea of a seductive Native American in her lap.

His grip slid away.

What a mysterious man. Goddess, she wanted to peer through the shadows clutching his face. To see his eyes. To learn what else the fairies had done to him. He was supernatural. Or something.

"Sit with me, Mairi. There's little time,” Arthur called her back to the table.

She turned away from the man and reclaimed her seat. Her wits too. “I want to go with you. I want to find Evie.” Just because she had a momentary lapse of sanity and appeared the crying helpless maiden didn't mean she couldn't kick arse. Hands and legs were attached—non-weapons by definition. Just test her. These past years of martial-arts training prepared her to deflect a man's unwanted affections with naught more than limbs. No weapons. So, no broken time-travel Code.

Arthur leaned back in his chair. “You'll stay here with Cochise."

The Judge had to be insane. “What?” She spun to the man at the window. The sexy man-who-wasn't-a-man. “He's military. And he's male. His presence will just make matters worse.” Sign Evie's death warrant if the kidnapper thought she had wed.

Mairi watched as the Native American settled back against the sink's cabinet and crossed his long slighty bowed legs. He melted into the sunshine without a sound.

Great. She'd insulted her guardian.

"Everything shall be fine, Sister.” Arthur patted her shoulder. “Cochise can hide out.” The Judge slid his conspiratorial gaze to Cochise. “In many ways."

"Excuse me?” she pealed. Arthur had better start explaining.

"He's a cadet, Mairi. Now tell me which other men have made you feel discomfited."

Perhaps a Native American learning the trade of a time guardian. She bit her tongue and stared at her coffee's reflective surface to focus. Arthur wouldn't bring an unschooled man to her aid. “Not one single man,” she managed. “I pulled my hair out this morning mulling it over."

"Then I'm off to check out this Ned Colton.” Arthur shoved his chair back and unfolded to tower over her.

He was leaving? Leaving a man with her? A man with hateful eyes? And fire tracing out patterns on his amazing chest? God-dess-Spirit, she couldn't just wait around for the kidnapper to spot Cochise. “But—"

"No buts.” Arthur turned his back to her. “I'll contact you shortly. Wait for the man to call. And call Cora. See if she's all right."

Great. Lose Evie, leave the perfect man to taunt me, and chitchat with Cora. Why not just slit my throat?

Cochise followed Riverdance's broad shoulders into the front porch's shade. Leave him with an unnerved emotional woman? A pale-ass enchanting Sister, at that. Someone needed to start talking. Even though pale faces preferred being in control, he just might have to make the first move. Yet, getting testy with one's commander might revoke his shape-shifting powers. He'd do better waiting.

Riverdance turned to him as he took the first of the two stone steps. “Stay hidden."

"Whoa, Big Chief. I don't know what you're up to"—

"She's your charge. You're assignment. ‘Tis up to you to prevent the Flarion from binding their spirits. Resort to anything necessary.” Riverdance whipped out a pair of narrow black shades and slid on the impenetrable sunglasses.

An assignment? Not a freaking wife. A Lakota couldn't wed a pale-ass chick. Druidesses were for Ring Masters. Not cadets. Things were way too screwed up. “My assignment?"

"I thought you could take orders."

What a smug pale-ass answer. He grated his teeth.

Riverdance turned to the glinting brown Jeep. “Well, Black Elk. I think you've got a lot of hard work ahead of you."

Cochise's gut sank at the last name his grandfather had given him. No one knew it. Cared to ask about it. Not even the Ring Masters.

"I like Black Elk better,” Mairi whispered behind him. “You don't look like an Apache."

How long had she been standing in the doorway? Now he would never hear the end of his humiliation. The fact he joined the Army willingly. Rather, patriotically. That he'd abandoned his grandfather to die alone. He grated his teeth.

The sissified man slammed the jeep's door shut.

Someone would pay for this catastrophe.

The woman stepped to his side. “Okay. You're going to protect me for awhile. May I suggest we be friends? And can't you hide inside the house?” She thrust her palm out for a handshake.

Anger boiled through him.

Living at the beck and call of pale asses was bad. But a white princess? One who knew his Lakota name? Duty couldn't be any worse. Grandfather's words, nothing in life was free, haunted him like a phantom. If only he'd remembered the shamanic logic a bit earlier. “One set of orders is enough,” he snarled and skirted her handshake.

Well, Mairi had ticked off her guardian. She watched him skulk back through the doorway into the living room. The least the Gods could do was provide some warning. Maybe the Crones would visit and scry in their cups of tea? Those old Goddesses could tell her what was happening.

Aside from Cochise's poor attitude, he carried his shoulders like a man ready to pound the world. And those brawly shoulders commanded her attention. She couldn't take her eyes off his finely muscled arms. Now to make amends before she ogled him to death with her gaze. “Would you like some tea?” She took three steps into the front room, drawing the door shut, and paused in the kitchen doorway.

He shot her an obnoxious stare.

Not good on the expression, but his trim waist and squared jaw were mighty fine accoutrements to her white sitting room's green parlor furniture. His darkness gave the room a balance her pocketbook couldn't afford. “I'm making tea. Would you care for some?"

His disgusted mask graded into disbelief. He wagged his head like a spoiled rich lad. Why didn't she think a rich childhood complemented the man's attitude? Things needed straightening out before they worsened more. “Look, Cochise, I don't know what's wrong with you, but I haven't done anything to disgust you that I can recall. Can you try to be courteous? This isn't exactly what I had planned."

His boots clipped toward her, squeezing the air between them into the wee-est space imaginable.

She couldn't breathe as he towered over her, one steely arm blocking her movement into the kitchen where he braced himself against the doorframe, his face void of emotion.

The scent of hay and smoke danced around them.

The perfume had to come from him. She had always imagined Plains Indians smelling like a freshly cut field after so many years of reading about their culture. Fresh cut Sweet Medicine Grass.

His gaze glided across her face. Searching. What was he looking for? Binding his spirit to hers? She gulped.

She needed to get out from under his muscular arm. Find a safe place where Mr. Kidnapper couldn't spot them together. But he was so incredible, her dream man. By the God-dess-Spirit, she had to find a place to hide from him or wee Evie was destined to meet her end.

His gaze riveted upon her mouth. Hunger danced across his features. He licked his tanned lips, sighed, and rolled his gaze up to meet hers. “My name is Cochise. And for the record, Sister, I hadn't exactly planned this either."

She snorted at the absurdity of his statement. The man had joined a time-traveling cult. “Welcome to the Outer Limits, Cochise."

He blinked, slowly, opening his eyes to lock gazes with her. Something struggled in the depths of his black eyes.

Something dark. Yet, therein flickered a glint of humor.

Cochise never thought he could be so damned attracted to a woman with such an angelic pale face. Her cocky comeback only reaffirmed his suspicions. They had more in common than two bears squabbling over a honeycomb.

Her perfect curved lips pursed beneath his stare. “Are you going to hover over me like this all day? You don't need to clutch me to your chest to guard me."

His loin tightened to the point of explosion. She was turning him on beyond return. Not wise for a princess. And give in to her? Brave Woman had to be bad medicine. How dare she think she was better than him. Treat him like a dog. But she stood there, acting like she wanted him to kiss her. Why not?

"Duty calls.” He trailed a fingertip up her soft neck, over her proud chin, and touched her silken lower lip.

Her lips moved as if to speak but stopped.

Invitingly.

Gods, he wanted to kiss her. See if her mouth burned as much as his groin.

He tipped her chin upward. Her eyes widened before he closed his to savor the softness of her mouth in a meditative moment. Her lips were the high dollar silk a poor Lakota couldn't afford. The faint scent of coffee and cream mixed with her rosy perfume.

Brave Woman was intoxicating.

The cadet pressed his arrogant lips to hers, and Mairi almost collapsed onto him, managing to grab his shoulders.

Curse the Universe! He was strong. His supple skin warm beneath her palms. She rubbed her hands up his neck into his warm smooth hair. This cadet couldn't compare to any other.

What in the bloody Universe was happening? This had to stop. She almost rammed her knee into his loin. But he was so gorgeous with his hardened-but-perfectly-chiseled features. All carved with anger. Tanned by his heritage. Goddess, Black Elk was everything she'd been searching for but unable to find. Everything she forbade herself to have when taking her vows to protect the timeline.

Never in all her days did she expect her dream man to walk into her house, snatch her up like a tasty morsel, and kiss her legs into jelly-goo without so much as a “Hello-it's-nice-to-meet-you.” So much hunger resonated in his actions, she wanted to hold him there forever, to feel like somebody who needed her would survive from her actions.

Unlike Evie.

Not Evie.

She gasped.

He thrust his hardened manhood against her pelvis.

Goddess, he returned her desire. For once, she just wanted to pretend she could have a relationship.

Just Once.

Fear jabbed her spirit.

The man's a fairy boon. Or trick. A wise Sister would regain control. She had to hold the line and protect history. Protect Evie. She stepped backward.

Cochise wouldn't let go of Brave Woman. Not yet. Not after he finally found a perfect woman who didn't grimace at his appearance. She willingly stepped into his arms, snaking her fingers into his hair.

A woman who wanted to cling to him? His thoughts reeled. He slid his palms down her lean back, drawing her sleek body toward him.

Her tight form spoke of running and pouncing. Climbing. Mating. Brave Woman was perfection.

He wanted to shove her against the wall and smell every inch of her. Taste her. Rub his ebony fur against her mewling body. Prove a poor man wasn't a waste of time.

But she slid her warm hands over his shoulders to his chest and shoved off him, separating their lips, and peered into his eyes. “I don't think this wise with a kook out there, somewhere, threatening me about having another relationship with any male."

His heart thundered at the insanity. At her swollen lips still damp with his kiss. He grabbed her shoulders and held her steady.

Was she trying to confuse him? Toy with him? Her reaction combined with her beauty was powerful enough to move mountains. He just disliked being Mt. Cochise.

A form shifted outside the white lace draping the front door's window.

Two women on the steps. Both wore hoods.

Mairi turned to the door. “What are they doing here?"

The women shuffled like sidling forms outside the door and rapped.

"Wait in the kitchen,” Mairi whispered, elbowing him toward the kitchen table.

Was he a golden retriever? Duty wasn't fetch and lie down. He was to keep the kidnapper from binding his soul to Brave Woman's. “No."

"Are you going to argue with me over everything?” She glared at him, her sinful lips pursed like she puckered, the little charmer.

His loin lurched. “I'll pull my watch."

"Fine,” she snarled. “Bite your tongue until they leave."

He rolled his eyes.

She turned her back to him and drew the whining door. “Sisters,” she pealed.

But those were no Sisters. They were one step from decomposing into emaciated carcasses. Hags. One blue. One gray.

"Mairi.” The gray one stretched a wrinkled hand to Mairi's arm. “Sweet, sweet Mairi. We came as soon as the wind carried us word."

He probably shouldn't have let the ancient woman touch his charge.

"Come in. I shall prepare tea.” Brave Woman backed out of their way into his side.

Why were two crones visiting? Crones were Celtic goddesses. He'd yet to meet one. Let alone see one. But Brave Woman's reaction meant they were a welcoming sight. He grudgingly stepped aside.

The blue one kept her head tipped down as she followed the gray one through the doorway. Her black cloak's hood covered most of her bluish face.

The blue hag felt like bad news. His gut twisted. “I don't know about this, Mairi."

The blue hag threw her head back and grinned at him, her fangs bared for affect.

Great! How was he to defeat a goddess?

The gray hag whirled to the blue one. “Let my pet be, Beine Bric."

"He's yours?” Beine Bric screeched, throwing her withered hands out as if aghast. “He's not of the Gaels."

"Nor is he evil. Compose yourself, Sister.” The gray hag locked her gray gaze on his. “Do you fancy your gift, Caointeoir?"

That word was Greek to him. The old woman's memory was shot with Alzheimer's. But he couldn't stand people who disrespected elders. He'd learned the hard way to respect them by losing Grandfather. He nodded.

A wide smile stretched across her ashen cheeks. “They said ‘twas a mistake to take you on.” She unfurled a crooked finger with a long blackened nail. “But I knew the makings of a Ring Master burned inside you."

Whatever. Give the chattering hag her tea and let's get back to wandering lips and clinging limbs.

Brave Woman was game.

As Mairi lit the flame beneath the teapot, Caointeoir echoed inside her head. Why had Bheur claimed Cochise as her own? Not to mention Caointeoir meant mourner. The name implied he greeted. Well, Black Elk was the best name out of the lot. But the man seemed oblivious to the Goddess’ pivotal revelation.

He was Bheur's pet? She was the Gray Hag, the Goddess of prophecy and shape shifting. And Beine Bric hadn't recognized him?

A chill skittered down her spine.

Who is Cochise? She turned to the Goddesses sitting at the table. Beine Bric sat with her bluish face toward Mairi. Bheur's pruned features were only visible from the side where she sat with her back to the sink at the end of the table. Both still wore their cloaks.

How could she have been so rude? The kidnapper absconded with her decency today too. She reached for the Gray Crone's shoulder. “Forgive me, Sisters. My mind isn't here today. Let me take your cloaks."

"No, lass. No.” Bheur waved her off with a scold. “There's precious little time."

Mairi's gut twisted at the soothsayer's foreboding statement. “Whatever do you mean?” She glanced at Cochise. He leaned his long sculpted body in the doorway. His black boots crossed casually as if he had no clue as to who sat at the table. Cadets should know the Goddess of Shape Shifting and the Goddess of Death and Disease when they saw them.

"The Goddess of Time has been captured,” Beine Bric hissed through her fangs.

"What?” Mairi flinched at the news, sliding her gaze back to the crones. Arianrhod had been kidnapped from her castle in the Northern Lights? Or held therein? How could someone have taken the Goddess of Time's fortress in the Aurora Borealis? “How did someone breach the castle and detain Arianrhod?"

The Blue Crone's gaze riveted upon Mairi. “If one Flarion binds his spirit to a Sister, all history shall change. We cannot permit this."

They think me incapable of rational thought. “I can refuse if he doesn't hold Evie's life over my free will,” she managed to reply calmly.

Beine Bric slowly leaned her chin down while drawing her hood over her head with crooked arthritic fingers. Her hooded blue gaze still cut through the cloak's shadow though. “And your free will shall let you choose to bind with him otherwise."

How dare they imply I would cast all humanity's history to the wind.

A wicked lump of dread lodged in her throat.

The crones knew her well. Knew she would give anything to save Evie.

The water began chugging in the teakettle.

Beine Bric's assessing gaze still bore through her. “I feared for you when you chose to stay here alone, Sister,” the crone hissed. “Now, I fear for the timeline."

"As I always have,” Mairi noted through grated teeth. By the God-dess-Spirit, did the Crones have to be so insulting? More than one backhanded accusation was enough. Especially after one spent the past five years physically conditioning herself to stave off twenty-first-century males. And determined to do so. She just needed to trick the kidnapper into returning Evie. Until then, Arthur and Cochise would be invaluable support.

"Bring the teacups, lass. I wish you to sit with me.” Bheur patted the dark wooden tabletop beside her with a gnarled hand.

Why not? Bheur had always favored her like a special grandchild. Whereas, Beine Bric was a bit more aloof. Motherly. Yet, distant. Sitting across the table from death and mayhem wasn't so bad with prophecy and illusion at your side. Mairi quickly placed the blue teapot, four white teacups and saucers, cream, sugar, and spoons on the table before settling into a hard chair. “What then, Bheur?"

The Gray Crone gently took one of Mairi's hands. “I know your thoughts. Your passions. Your pains. I know your future. But your will is your own. ‘Tis the Truth of things. And you must choose what is best for the Orders.” She squeezed Mairi's hand, staring deeply into her eyes with ageless omniscience. “Mairi, you must be a strong lass. For what we've all dreaded has come to pass."

Didn't the Gods know history? Past. Present. And future. This was sweet coercion. Kind and gentle. Preparing her for what lay ahead.

Evie isn't coming back. She gulped.

The teapot sputtered on the stove.

"No, Mairi. No,” Bheur gasped, pulling Mairi's hand against her scratchy woolen cloak as if to press it into her heart. She squeezed Mairi's palm and wagged her worried gaze. “I didn't mean Evie is lost to you."

But Crones represented the end of The Cycle. Even though the beginning was born out of the end, Mairi couldn't seem to see a future among the black billowing smoke of her wee sister's loss.

Beine Bric shuffled to the whistling teakettle, returned to the blue teapot, filled the vessel with steamy water, and reclaimed her seat. Mairi could only stare at the misty ribbon escaping out the end of the teapot's curled spout.

Evie's departing spirit.

Was Truth engaging her at the table? Did she have a choice? If so, what could a Druidess do when she was forbidden to wield weapons of any sort? Could she beat the kidnapper with her wits?

"Well, you've managed to completely unsettle the priestess, Bheur,” Beine Bric hissed. “I warned you to take care."

Time to concentrate. Plan a course of action. She grated her teeth.

"I wasn't the one sent to unsettle her. Mairi is stronger than you think.” Bheur hefted the teapot and filled the four white teacups with jingling liquid.

At least, the confidence Bheur always held in Mairi over years of visits hadn't faded.

"Will you sit with us, Caointeoir?” Bheur placed a teacup in front of Mairi without looking at the quiet man.

Cochise obediently descended into the chair nearest the door. He probably planned to escape if necessary. Mairi slid her gaze to his solemn black eyes. He didn't study the Crones. Instead, he watched her with somber scrutiny as if he understood she straddled a widening crevasse. Even worse, he stood on one side of the fissure, teasing her with his needy gaze and long legs.

Goddess, what were the fairies up to?

"My lads shall arrive shortly. They're to watch over you,” Bheur announced.

The Crones had children? She jolted at the news and met Beine Bric's unyielding stare. “I wasn't aware either of you had sons."

"Grandsons,” Beine Bric hissed. Light sparkled off her fangs.

"They're rambunctious but helpful, nonetheless.” Bheur passed over the cream and sugar.

Rambunctious? Mairi tended to her tea. “And who should I expect?"

"There are four. All from the same litter,” Beine Bric lilted. “Blond. Red eyes. You can't miss them."

A litter of albinos? Probably huge rats the way things were going. All she needed was five males scampering about her home with a power-hungry Flarion watching the house. Five men sent by the Gods. She shuddered and cleared her throat. “And when should I expect your grandsons?"

"I can take care of her,” Cochise thundered.

They all turned to his stoic all-knowing mask.

"This is my duty,” he stated. “Four more men will only cause problems with a deranged man afoot."

"Not men,” Beine Bric chortled wickedly.

What then? Things couldn't get any worse.

Cochise waited for the gray hag to rescind her offer of help. Four blond men and one blonde knockout babe equated to chaos in his powerless world. He wouldn't refuse backup in any other situation. Guarding the Druid meant other issues though. Issues like him not wanting anyone else around to step between Mairi's lips and his. Not four blonds.

Forget it.

"My lads won't be bothersome,” the gray hag smiled. “Only when the moon is in Mairi's house."

Now wasn't time for riddles. “What does that mean? At night?"

The old woman patted Mairi's arm. “Mairi shall know. The lads have great noses and will guard the four directions for you while Caointeoir keeps you safe in your home.” She lifted the teacup's rim to her wrinkled mouth and guzzled the brew.

Mairi sipped her tea without comment.

Wasn't anyone going to explain anything about the old woman's ramblings? To say anything would make waves. He bit his tongue.

The hag nearest Mairi stared into her cup. She had to have drained it the way she swirled the cup around without tossing tea everywhere. She turned the vessel upside down on her saucer and slid her content gaze to meet his.

She knew him? Right.

"When do you think you shall earn your sword, Caointeoir?” the gray hag cooed.

The innocent question caught him off guard. Certainly, she referred to a Ring Master's time-travel key. “I don't know."

A smile twisted her wrinkles. “The tea leaves shall tell us."

Would they? He waited as she turned her cup over and peered into the bottom.

"Och! There ‘tis.” She grinned at him, pointing into the cup with an arthritic finger. “I say soon, Caointeoir. What say you?” She shot him a wink.

Hell, so much for a vacation. He shrugged.

"Come now, lad. Show a bit of interest.” She chuckled and turned back to the cup. “I see a ring. The Stones of Destiny shall spin soon."

Rings and Stones of Destiny added up to time travel. He was ready to fight off-world invaders. Send the pale asses on. The more butts to shred the better.

Bheur sat her teacup on the table, looking between Mairi and him. “I say let the ring spin for history's sake."

The blue hag nodded. Both old ones rose with ease.

"Are you leaving? You haven't finished your tea,” Mairi said.

Let them go. He inhaled. The day would wane better without the disconcerting hags.

"We must go.” Bheur quickly led Beine Bric through the doorway.

Cochise watched the last of the blue hag's black cloak slip around the corner. When the door thumped, he turned back to Mairi.

She stared at the doorway, her gaze willing the women to return.

"I don't know about these grandsons.” He wouldn't stomach stupid pale-ass stunts when his charge was so shaken.

Brave Woman's stunned gaze locked on his. “I don't know what to do. They say I've a choice but leave me with none."

Why did he dislike seeing her distressed? No one ever bothered him this way. It had to be because of the kidnapping. How she'd said so many things he connected with. Maybe Arthur was right. This duty would let him help Mairi in many ways. “Go with your gut.” He liked that philosophy best out of his friend Odin's survival logic. And the Gods know the Norwegian was a survivor.

She shoved out of her chair. “I think I need to hash through this muddled morn.” She sauntered to the door but pivoted back to the phone and rang someone.

Fine for him. He glided his gaze along the curves of her long legs. Serious babe material.

"Hello, Cora"—she seemed cut off.

Foster sis sounded like a real bitch.

"No.” Mairi's voice strained. “I was just calling to see how you're"—

Double bitchy.

"Cora, please stop yelling. If we had extra money, you could have it. Dammit, at least there's enough to put you up in a flat so you can attend the school of your choice"—

Mairi's sister was obnoxious. Brave Woman needed to slam the phone down. Would she? How many licks to the center of the tootsie pop? He and Odin always liked the observational logic in that owl commercial. A time guardian's studious vespers wouldn't be the same without studies of pop culture and outdated commercials.

"Stop interrupting me."

There you go. Tell off bitch sis. Cora needed a good skinning.

"Look, Evie's down at the MacDonald's. You'll have to talk to her later. I just wanted to see if you're okay.” Scowling Mairi extended the receiver at arm's length, screeched, then banged the receiver against the counter thrice before shoving it back to her ear. “I've never heard anything so selfish in all my days.” She sucked in a deep cleansing breath. “Stop crying, Cora."

She sank her bottom against the cabinet and thrust her fingers through her crinkled hair. “Please stop crying."

When Brave Woman didn't stand up and smile, he knew Cora still wailed.

"I'm sorry,” she caved.

Not good from his end. Cora needed a swift boot in the backside. Mostly to assist her passage through a doorway. Or to get his babe off the phone so they could get back to their business. He crossed his arms, thrust his legs out, and crossed his combat boots.

The show wasn't pretty. His charge could use a bit of inter-personal-skill tutoring.

"All right. All right. I'll wire what I can.” Mairi hung up the phone.

This would be good. “What does she want?” Cochise licked his lips.

Mairi locked her gaze upon him and strode toward the front room. “The jewel-studded Taj Mahal, but Cora doesn't like having to settle for a house made out of twigs.” Mairi walked past him and turned the corner into the living room.

Nice analogy. But his exquisite charge wouldn't get away so easily. He followed her swinging hips to the top of the stairs where she slammed a door in his face.

"Fine,” he muttered and found a length of white wall to lean upon. Guarding her was easier when she wasn't sashaying around the room.

All sorts of noise wafted from the closed room. A large framed photograph of a pack of smiling locals shook on the wall beside the wooden door. She probably destroyed everything. But the door yanked open. He could see a dark wooden bed and dresser still stood intact over her bare shoulder. He scanned her from ponytail to the distorted stretched words “Scotland the Brave” across her ample breasts, to her slim waist, down her muscled legs. With a sight like her, no one need wonder why Scots were renowned for bravery. Who wouldn't fight for her? The tight white tank top, white spandex cycling pants covered by a pair of gray shorts did the country justice.

Only a gray thong could have perfected the picture.

"Are you going to follow me everywhere?” she droned.

He slid his gaze to her squared eyes. “From here to eternity, Sister.” He wouldn't admit how bad the joke was.

"Och!” She slammed the door behind her, but the wooden panel hit so hard it swung back open. She skirted him without a touch, and trotted down the stairs. Her long crinkled ponytail bobbed above her fine tight derriere.

Correction, pale ass. Color began to bleed into one invisible hue. Gods, he could follow her through eternity. Just bring on the Flarions.

She stormed out the front door onto the shady porch, drawing the door behind her.

Like he could be deterred from this duty by a shut door. He opened the door, spotted her hot legs to the left, and kept on her shaking babe tail. She spun with her white athletic shoes rooted firmly in the concrete. He slid his gaze up her pale muscled legs to her heaving breasts. Then he realized she wore two tank tops. Both narrow straps split with each of her heaving breaths.

Women should only wear one tank top. One was easier to remove.

"I was wrong about you, Black Elk,” she growled. “I thought you might be different. Maybe not a pig-headed dolt who only cared about laying a lass so you could grope her from teats to fanny."

He locked his gaze onto her squared eyes.

She meant business. More so than witty flirtation. How could he have been so callous?

What? Gods. He cared about her feelings?

"I don't like being watched by men,” she growled. “Besides, shouldn't you be hiding inside."

Sexy comeback. She was getting to him. He let her in too easy. His face pulled into the emotionless mask he always wore. He took a step toward her.

She spun to face him sideways, fisting her fingers for a defensive jab or kick. “Don't make me snap your windpipe, Hero."

Was everyone in Scotland hung up on that nickname? He rolled his eyes. “Please."

"Smart ass,” she hissed in perfect American English.

He was better off in cat form. The snipe didn't deserve an answer. He spun to the door and left her standing in silence. Inside, he sank on the firm sofa and watched her through the white sheers hanging on the front window. She swung a chest's lid open, grabbed a jump rope, and began hopping faster than any man ever had in the gym.

Brave Woman looked ticked. Quite astounding, nonetheless. Thank goodness Scotland's water ran cold. He stared at her white athletic shoes.

She jumped so fast her shoes barely lifted off the ground.

A Sister who paid homage to her body when the fairies gifted her beauty had to mean something serious. Strengthening like the Brothers for bodyguard duty? But Sisters were noted for intelligence and endless recitation. Not fighting. Druidic law forbade them to wield weapons. That was why the Brotherhood existed. To serve and protect. His a.k.a.'s job description. Who ever thought he would end up trapped with a Druid who acted like Brave Woman? He needed to learn to just let ludicrous military offers die away without accepting them. He was right back sinking in the quicksand of peon desperation. For what? His safety? This was insane.

She turned toward the steps, her breasts bouncing like she needed his hands to hold them for support.

Blasted wily Coyote.

His loin went rock hard.

Bless Grandmother Earth because her gaze remained oddly anchored on the road. What was she doing? Seducing him while pretending she wasn't? He followed her line of sight to where sunlight glinted off a small brown Agila.

Nothing more than a bobbing box of a car.

Mairi tossed the rope aside and trotted down to the drive.

Did Brave Woman plan to just hand herself over to the kidnapper? He darted over to the door's curtain, reached for the knob, and stopped cold.

To go outside was foolish. If the visitor wasn't the kidnapper and the kidnapper watched, Cochise's presence would endanger Evie. He ducked into the fabric's folds.

The car drove up to her, slowing, and stopping. Light glinted off the car door as it swung open. Mairi showed no fear as if she expected the driver to produce Evie.

What next? Mairi should just slit her wrists and call life quits. She would test every inch of his devotion to duty.

A tall dark-headed man unfolded from the car before the scantily-clad Druid. He shot her casual smile.

How charming.

She actually strode to his door and spoke to him.

The woman was fearless. Or stupid. If he could only hear. He pulled the door open an inch and focused, evoking the tingling in his chest. A second later, he stepped out on a wide ebony paw. The view through the crack only brought a breeze with spice-scented after-shave.

Wooing water. If he didn't know any better, he would have to say the man was a Brother. He strained to listen.

"Aye, Jamie,” Mairi lilted. “I'll bring the lyrics later."

"And Evie? The drum's ready for her.” The man peered down at the Brave Woman.

"I'm sorry. Cora drove in like a bat out of Hell and insisted Evie spend the week with her in town."

"Really?” The bastard seemed surprised, stepping close enough to Mairi to lean into her body.

Men pulled that fast one every chance they got around beautiful women. The jerk had better back step.

"Since that's the case,” Jamie laid a finger on her cheek, “maybe you'd like to go to the pub for supper?” He bent his forehead down to touch hers.

Anything else and Mack would get flayed.

"I can't.” She stepped back.

"Why?” Jamie seemed surprised, following her footsteps.

Mairi's heart drummed on the wind.

Love or lust? The bastard needed to get back in his car and go home. But Cochise had to give Mairi a chance to get rid of him. Anything to keep from frightening her with his favorite shamanic birthday suit.

"Please, Jamie. I'm sorry but I promised a friend a favor."

"You seem to promise lots of favors."

Mairi took a ticked-off-mama stance with him. “What does that mean, James MacDonald?"

Jamie threw his palms up, wagging them for peace.

Good to see Mairi could upset everyone.

"I just meant you've postponed our date for almost a year,” Jamie replied. “I'd take you to the grocer's if it meant I could spend some time with you."

She spun back to the porch, scowling.

Gods, she would see him in panther form. Brave Woman wasn't ready for the revelation. He jerked his head back into the house, knocking his jaw on the doorframe, shook out the sharp ache, and watched through the crack.

"Wait, Mairi.” Jamie followed her.

"Go home, Jamie. I'll bring your lyrics to you later when the band meets."

"I'm sorry, Mairi,” he called. “But you can't keep a man hanging forever."

She ignored him, stomping onto the porch. “I'll see you later, Jamie."

Gods, she came straight for the door. Cochise focused, conjuring up the tingle and shifted back into human form. Mairi burst through the doorway, the door winging his shoulder.

Forget the fricking door. “Who was that?” Cochise rubbed his shoulder.

"Afraid of a wee bit of competition?” she smiled smugly.

Maybe. Not. He grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut. The impact vibrated up his arm.

A wide-eyed Mairi sank back onto the door.

"Look, Sweet Thing. I've got a job to do.” He edged close to those plump breasts and inhaled. “Was that Ned Colton's friend?"

She blinked as if an understanding of the danger she had been in dawned upon her. “No."

"What does he want?” The woman would admit her interest in the man. The timeline was at stake.

"He's a friend. Practically the oldest one I've got here. He checks on me."

A man didn't have to look twice at Mairi to know why. He leaned close until his nose almost brushed hers. “Why? To see what you're up to for Ned Colton?"

Warm blasts of breath pummeled his skin from her open lips. He could almost feel her blood racing through her veins. What he'd give to shape shift and see how her reaction struck him in cat form.

She wagged her head, brushing the tip of her pointed nose against his. “Not Jamie."

"You say that like he's your favorite."

She slugged him in the ribs and wriggled out from beneath him.

The punch had body. He dared not rub the nagging pain.

"Count your blessings I chose to use a fist instead of a knee,” she howled, darting into the kitchen.

Never let it be said he hadn't been blessed at least once in life. He whirled after her.

She slammed into the sink and turned on the water.

What was she doing? Trying to break a leg?

One by one, she collected the dishes around the kitchen like a solemn ritual. He leaned against the doorframe, admiring her babe curves. She was the only woman who had ever gifted him anything. He had to behave. Think rationally minus the ethnocentric resentment.

One by one, she tucked the cups and saucers into the mounding suds. And, not once did she look at him. She swung a dishtowel over her shoulder with a bit of a cocky swing. He swallowed a chuckle. She knew he was there.

When she turned off the water, she thrust her hands into the froth.

He had always liked helping his grandfather with dishes. Maybe he could win some points if he helped out.

Her shoulders stiffened at his squeaking footsteps. When he plucked the towel from her shoulder, she shot him a wild stare. He just picked a teacup from the rinse water and rubbed the cotton rag across the crisp white vessel.

"I didn't know Native American males did dishes."

If that were a jab, he wouldn't feed her anger. “Pale asses don't know much about Injuns."

"'Indians’ is so politically incorrect,” she piped.

She knew? He almost choked on his budding war whoop. Not to mention, earlier she told him he didn't look like an Apache.

"And I've never heard of pale asses before,” she added.

"It's more accurate. Contextually speaking, whites aren't faces. They're asses."

She began chuckling, wiping a teapot with a wash rag. “You know, Jamie has always been a gentleman with me. He's never tried to kiss me. I don't think he even knows Ned."

Slap the Great Spirit, she'd come to her senses and decided to cooperate.

The phone trilled. Mairi flinched, turning, and dropped the teapot. Blue-painted porcelain shot every direction across the floor. The shattering crash died in the room's shadowy corners.

Brave Woman was panicking. Undoubtedly, expecting the kidnapper to be calling.

He grabbed her warm cheeks with his damp hands and rubbed her velvety skin with his thumbs. She stared into his eyes like a spooked colt.

"Look inside yourself, Mairi. Focus.” That's what Grandfather always taught. “You must tell him what he wants to hear. Lie.” Albeit, Druidesses disliked lying. They were forced to in history. Pretend they knew nothing of the future.

Her jaw moved beneath his hands. She swallowed and she stepped out of his touch. “I will."

Damn the Gods. He wanted to answer the phone himself, take care of things, but couldn't let the bastard learn of his presence. There was only one thing to do. And eavesdropping required feline hearing. He evoked the tingling in his chest.

Mairi shoved the receiver's cold plastic to her ear. Would she hear Ned's voice?

"Hello,” she said.

"Forgive me, Mairi,” Jamie begged. “I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm fine,” Mairi lied. Anything to ensure the scum-sucking Flarion didn't hurt Evie.

A shadow shifted on the wall next to the phone. She peered over her shoulder. A huge black panther stared at her from where he crouched on the countertop with brilliant yellow eyes.

Blessed Conn, Morganna, and the sacred elements.

What else could happen today? Mairi tried to breathe. A fierce black panther crouched upon her kitchen counter. What had the Gray Crone said? Bheur claimed possession of Cochise. He was a shape shifter.

And she'd kissed a bloody halfling. Talk about scat hitting time's proverbial fan.

"You all right?” Jamie's alarmed voice crossed the phone line.

"I just tripped.” She backed into the wall, clutching the phone. “I broke my teapot and can't really talk now. There's glass fragments all over the floor."

"Say you forgive me,” Jamie pleaded.

Not more love talk. Blowing off his adoration usually worked with vague statements. But an apology? If she didn't accept, she would never get off the phone and escape her Hades? Better to concede. “I forgive you."

The cat's head cocked right, listening.

"I'll see you later, Jamie."

"Wait,” he begged. “I'm at the grocer's do you need anything? I can drop it by on the way home."

The nunk meant on his way out of the way. Like always. But James MacDonald was one amazing man. Handsome. Attentive. A bit on the scrawny side for her liking. But she couldn't confess his kindness tore at her heartstrings. Nor could she risk disrupting history by loving any Centurian male. “No. I'm fine, Jamie. I'll see you this afternoon."

"Ma's stewing lamb. She said for you to eat with us."

"I'll have to bring some home. I'm a bit busy with my friend."

"You'll hurt Ma's feelings."

Does everyone have to be so sensitive? “Tell her I have to be home by five. If ‘tis ready, I'll gladly eat with her. Later.” She hung up before Jamie could balk and whirled back to the cat hunched in front of the window. “You. Off my clean counter."

He hopped down, his broad paws thumping on the floor as if he were oblivious to the jagged bits of shifting porcelain. He trained an amber gaze upon her.

He's innocent? She rolled her eyes and stepped before her guardian. “So this is what Bheur meant?” The crone could have mentioned Cochise's ability to shape shift.

Cochise plopped down on his black haunches and looked up at her with golden eyes.

"Don't look at me like a guilt-free tomcat. How long do you have to stay in that bloody form?"

At least six inches of long pink tongue unfurled out of his mouth.

Dolt. “I thought you were feline. Must you pant like a dog?"

He slid his yellow gaze away from her and stared at a wall.

"Don't ignore me, Black Elk. I wasn't born yesterday."

He pushed up on his paws, held his tail high, and rubbed his neck against her hip.

By the look on his smug face, he yearned for a good scratch. Well he had helped her dry the dishes. Not to mention, she always wanted a cat, but Evie wheezed when one passed ten miles down the road. She knelt, grabbing his wide head, scratched behind his ears, and stared into his intelligent golden eyes.

He hummed a ragged purr.

"Well, you're almost Gaelic,” she chuckled at the sound.

Between his half-closed inner eyelids and those lazy black eyelids he looked like she could talk all day if she petted him. Maybe that was better given her unhealthy attraction to his astounding human male physique. At least, he hadn't arrived in buckskin. She would have jumped right into his arms if he had.

He squirmed, shoving his head across her knees, his weight almost pinning her in position.

She chuckled and scratch his ribs. “You know, Black Elk. I like you better as a panther."

Cochise didn't give a rat's tail what the woman found funny. He just wanted her to continue scratching seductive shivers through his core. He thrust his chin farther across her solid thigh.

Her titillating fingernails raked down his backbone to his tail.

Unbelievable. For the first time in cat form, his loin went rock hard. She didn't know what she did to him. Or she would have stopped. Gods, she smelled delectable. Sweet and sassy. He rubbed the scent glands on his neck all over her wrists and firm lap.

Regardless of what happened now, he had marked her as his. Now to protect Brave Woman from Ned. And Jamie. Too many white boys pined away for a panther's maiden. Not for long.

A chugging sound rumbled in the distance.

The grumbling sound of a pack of motors. Trouble. He jumped to his feet and padded toward the sofa. Sharp teapot shards bit into his soles but he flung them off like nuisance pebbles.

The white sheers parted slightly behind the couch. He hopped onto the green upholstery and stuck his nose between the part in the silky curtains.

"Not on my sofa.” She clapped her hands at him.

Really? He studied the road.

Her arms snaked around his ribs and jerked his back into her chest. “Off the furniture, cat. Or I'll get a pitchfork."

Images of her sexy body in a black lace teddy whirled through his mind. The pitchfork was a must. But the way her plump breasts nudged him from behind, the tool would only be a prop.

Great Spirit save me now. Brave Woman could have anything she wanted. He extended his claws and arched his back into her groin, providing an example of the telltale position he wished to see her assume, and arched his butt right where he wanted to stick his nose.

"Black Elk,” she snarled. “You pull one thread on this couch, and I'll drape the windows with your hide."

What an untimely threat. Time for a face-off. He evoked the tingling inside him and wriggled around. When he stared into her blue eyes, he almost choked with need. Her arms encircled his chest. He gulped, able to see down her shirt where her cleavage rammed, bulging against his black tank top.

The rumbling outside crescendoed.

She raised upon her hands to peer out the window and shoved her cleavage right in his face. “Who is that?"

Who cared the way his loin throbbed? What now? He turned his cheek and gently rubbed his skin against her soft fleshy bosom.

She gasped, thrusting her fingers into his hair, pushed his head back, and stared into his eyes. “What are you doing to me, Black Elk?” By her voice's soft tone, he knew she wasn't arguing. Brave Woman was asking.

Claiming what he needed would have been his reply. He focused and conjured the tingling deep inside his chest.

"You have to stop,” Mairi amplified, looking into her guardian's dark eyes. “Bheur's grandsons are here.” Or worse, she was losing her wits to a shape-shifting halfling. Not to mention, one more sultry glance from him and she would be mush on the couch.

Cochise didn't stop. He slid his arms around her back and drew her body into his solid chest, closing his eyes.

A growl tore through his chest.

Her guardian sounded like the panther. Mairi's heart thrashed. What was she doing? Order rules forbade fornication with Halflings to prevent the siring of strange beasts along the timeline. Why did the Gods send him to her only to throw this wrench in the workings? Was Destiny punishing her with this temptation by penalizing her for hiding in history and shirking Druid duty? She planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved back from his amazing mouth.

He stared up at her with gentle black eyes.

Something precious glinted therein. Like he already owned her. She wanted to collapse atop his hard vibrating chest, wrap her arms around him, and just let someone make her feel safe and loved for one afternoon. This being was perfect. Dark. Wanton. Was her need so ridiculous? Only in that she could only define him as a being.

The motorcycles gurgled to a stop at the end of the drive.

With the crone's army outside and a shape shifter who made her head spin, she had to climb off him. Off of his incredibly hard endowment. Pictures of lads dancing with lasses in dark corners came to mind. The thrusting hips. The longing looks in their eyes. What Jamie suggested in great detail during her dance lessons. How would she ever walk away from Black Elk like she had Jamie? She grudgingly got off his astounding musculature.

"We'll talk about this later,” she consoled herself more than him.

He sighed. She turned to the window, ignoring the sound. The motorcycle pack outside looked more like leather-cloaked thugs than the cavalry.

Black Elk rose and grabbed the doorknob. He shot her a dejected glance.

"What are you doing?” she asked.

"Sending them packing."

"But...” She jumped to her feet. “You can't. Bheur won't understand.” Goddesses never did. Humans risked so much in snubbing helpful fairies.

"You give the old woman too much power over you."

Didn't he realize he was as much Bheur's son as the foursome outside? She took his elbow. “You should."

The pain danced in his eyes again. Was that betrayal or, rather, a reflection of his inner turmoil he refused to reveal? She wouldn't begrudge him one bit of his aloofness he obviously learned back in the States at the hands of men who fancied themselves better than an Injun. Just thinking the derogatory word made her shudder. But he had to understand Truth. “She's the Goddess of shape-shifting. She's the one who granted you your powers. You owe her allegiance."

"Manannan mac Lir gifted me this power. Thank you.” He jerked his iron arm from her grasp.

The God of the Sea and Bheur worked together to make her future unbelievably confusing.

Black Elk opened the door. Four enormous blonds stood in the porch.

How had they all fit into the doorframe? She couldn't see anything beyond their heads and shoulders.

"Sister.” The closest one nodded.

They all looked like brothers, not twins, yet slightly different. All had shoulder-length wavy white hair brushing their black leather jackets. They probably hid red eyes behind those sunglasses.

"Do come in and sit down, gentlemen.” She waved into the sitting room. “Bheur's grandsons are welcome in my home."

The four men's cheeks split with wide grins. Black Elk shot her a chiding look.

What could a lass do? The Goddess left naught to the imagination. The men were here. Black Elk would just have to get used to the situation. Five guardians would certainly prove better than one.

She stepped back, permitting her guests's entry. Black Elk acquiesced in silence. The pale-skinned blonds barely fit through the doorway.

They were a wee bit taller than the Native American. But Gods tended to be quite tall regardless of their ancestry. A Sister just needed to learn how pure a godlings’ fairy blood was. Legend rumored that too much animal or human blood in the mix could affectively dilute a godling's powers. “Would you care for tea?"

The men milled about the room until two sat on the sofa, the broadest-shouldered man on the loveseat, and the fourth in the wingback chair. They looked odd with sunglasses on inside the house. Were they hiding something?

"Do you have any beer?” the huge one timbered from the loveseat. “'Tis been so long since I've had a good drink topside."

Topside? They looked too large for submarine service. They certainly referred to the Underworld. “Aye. We keep a few around for our gentlemen visitors."

All four grinned. She turned to the kitchen. Black Elk stood in the kitchen doorway like a man intent on forbidding her from pleasing the Gods.

By the God-dess-Spirit, hopefully he wouldn't make a scene. “Please, let me pass,” she whispered.

He blinked at her slowly, turned his body sideways, and followed her to the refrigerator.

What was her guardian's deal?

Cold air tumbled across the floor as she opened the icebox. Beer bottles clanked on the bottom of the door. She bent to collect four.

Black Elk leaned over the bottom door's top. “Don't you think it a bad call in getting your guards drunk?” he muttered.

She hadn't thought of that. “You're not drinking.” She flashed him a smile.

His disgusted glare snuffed her breath. So did the way his muscles bulged along his arms where he leaned over the door. The man was spectacular. And she knew it wrong to lead him on, how she would hate herself for hurting him in doing so. But his lips were so incredible. And that kiss. All she could ever dream of was one more kiss from him. And, perhaps, all he needed was one more kiss to calm his nerves in place of a beer.

Those astounding lips were so close. Her gut melted into syrup, flip-flopping and twisting like butterflies batted around trying to escape the goo. If the door hadn't blocked her body from his, she would have crawled into his arms. Thrown everything away on this strange halfling who had shown up on her doorstep hours ago.

"Are you all right, Sister?” one of Bheur's wee lads bellowed from the other room.

Black Elk sighed. “You'd best liquor up the circus clowns."

Anything but kiss a halfling.

"I'm coming.” She strode around Black Elk's perky arse to the living room clutching the chilly rations.

The closest man in the chair smiled, reaching for a cold beer. “I'm Srón, Sister."

He must be the expert tracker with a name like nose. At least, he didn't have a long wicked rat-tail. “'Tis nice to meet you, Srón.” She nodded and handed the man on the loveseat a beer.

"I'm Sully.” Another brute flashed a stunning grin.

Of course, a goddess of prophecy would have a son with hawk eyes. “Nice to meet you, Sully."

He arched a snowy white eyebrow at her. A hint of flirtation hid in the action. He thrust his thumbnail beneath the bottle cap and popped off the top with an unwavering grin.

Goddess, help me. They were barbarous godlings. She turned to the couch.

"I'm Marfóir.” The tallest man nodded and pointed beside him. “This is brother, Éag."

The shortest one among the albino huddle was called death? How bizarre. No wonder the two sat together on the couch. Death and Killer were a pair best left to themselves. “Nice to meet you lads.” She handed over the beers and wiped her clammy hands on her shorts. “Are you hungry? Do I need to kill a few of the neighbor's cows for supper?"

The foursome threw their heads back, hooting. Just thugs laughing like Vikings. Her gut sank at the strange scene in her front room. But then, the crones visited just this morning after a shape-shifting dragon dropped by and left Mr. Mourner to enchant her. She turned back to the kitchen where Black Elk leaned in the doorway.

He met her gaze and smacked his lips as if he pondered welcome to the Outer Limits.

Apparently, Gaelic wasn't taught wherever or whenever the Orders educated him. Or he would have donned a stern glare. Nose. Hawk Eye. Killer. Death. Everything flew right over his head.

"I'm ready,” someone bellowed.

Glass clanked on her mother's coffee table. She spun to find the men chugging on the bottles like they inhaled water in a desert. The man with the widest shoulders, Nose, stood.

"Ready for what?” she asked. The Goddess only knew.

"We're off for the hunt.” The man nodded.

The albino bikers rose, ambling carefully toward the door around the coffee table as if the dark wood were a thick wedge of broken glass. Hopefully they weren't setting out to kill the few cows needed to feed them.

"What are you hunting?” She feared the answer.

Killer walked straight toward her and leaned down close. So close she thought the man's blood-red lips would latch onto hers. She doubted a knee to his leather-cloaked groin would make a difference. Somehow she stood her ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Black Elk step out of the doorway.

"I thought I'd find the bastard who was harassing you, Sister.” Killer's voice timbered like a drum echoing inside a barrel.

Black Elk claimed a spot beside her.

"If you don't mind,” Killer grumbled, turning to face her guardian. Although the blond was a head taller, Black Elk warned him with arms crossed over his own muscular chest.

"Nice kitty,” Killer thundered and thrust a thumb toward Mairi. “Anything happens to the priestess, and I'm coming for you."

"Let's go, Marfoíre,” Nose boomed. “His scent's all over her."

What did that mean about Ned? She stepped toward the throng of massive bikers at the door. “Ned? Ned Colton? Has he been here?"

The three albinos in the doorway touched their glasses and lowered them in unison. Six glowing red eyes stared at her with disbelief.

"Out of here,” Killer crossed in front of her. His huge black leather jacket blocked the doorway. But his waving arms noted he ushered his brothers out the door.

They couldn't just leave without answering. “I need to know if Ned's been here."

Killer turned an emotionless mask to her. With a quick fluid motion, he slid the glasses down his long pointed nose until she locked onto his stoic luminous red gaze. “If Arthur doesn't find Evie, we will."

The phone trilled.

Ned. She gasped. Better yet kick a door or two in. Did she have to answer just this second?

Killer and Black Elk stared at the open doorway. The phone trilled again.

Black Elk swung a questioning gaze her way. “Mairi."

She inhaled one deep breath and strode to the black telephone hanging on the white wall.

The bloody device trilled again.

She grabbed the cold hard plastic. “Hello."

"I don't know what you're doing with all those men but I'm your soul mate,” a man roared.

"I didn't ask them to come. They dropped by for a visit.” Mairi locked her gaze on Killer's sunglasses and thrust her chin toward the door. “They're leaving as we speak."

Killer nodded, thumping the door at his heels.

"Now let me talk to Evie,” she said.

"What are those men?” the man demanded. “Albino clones? They're disgusting. I've never seen them before."

His voice was unusual. Almost foreign but his “r's” rang as crisp as any Scottish “r” she'd run across.

"Just brothers I met three years ago on a trip to Edinburgh,” she lied.

The man laughed, low, sinisterly. “When was that? I didn't have to follow you to Edinburgh."

Her gut sank. “Look. I took Evie to the University for an asthma study. If you really were tailing me, you'd know."

His laughter fizzled. “I remember that trip. I just love to hear you snarl. You turn me on when you're angry, Sister.” He hissed her title like his manhood hurt.

How disgusting. The deranged cretin hadn't heard anything yet. “Look, you demented bastard. If one thing happens to my wee sister, you're going to pay. I've got more friends with supernatural powers than you can imagine. And the Universe will resonate with my agony. They'll all be coming for you. Past. Present. Or future. This world or beyond."

"That's it, Mairi. Make me want you,” he groaned across the phone line like a man jacking off.

"Animal,” she spat, slamming the receiver back on its hook. Whoever he was, he had tricked her into getting what he wanted. A cheap thrill. Goddess, she detested men who only wanted sex.

"Mairi,” Black Elk called.

If she looked at the Halfling, he might catapult her into another strange temporary fit of insanity. “Please leave me alone. I need some time to think.” She turned to a chair, pulled it out, and sank onto the wooden hardness.

The kitchen was silent. Praise the God-dess-Spirit. She had to beat the kidnapper at his own game. But she'd dropped down one notch on the ladder to finding him and Evie. The caller wasn't Ned Colton.

Cochise swallowed his anger in human form. He had shape-shifted long enough to hear the man admit his passion for Mairi. Not to mention, the man seemed to enjoy the talk too much. Mr. Kidnapper was dead as soon as he fell beneath panther claws.

His charge hunched over in the kitchen chair.

She reeked of desperation. Her head propped up in her hands. Pitifully. There was no question. She mentally bashed herself for leading the bastard on his jerk-off tirade.

At least, the hounds were gone but left a lingering musty cur scent in the room a person couldn't cleanse from a closet. Shape shifting back into human form had annihilated most of the stench.

His gut snarled.

Time for food. He looked around the kitchen. Although Brave Woman kept a tidy ship, he could cook a mean grilled cheese with minimal damage. Grandfather always loved them. Maybe she would.

The bread, cheese, and butter were in the refrigerator. He dug through cabinets until finding a hefty wrought iron skillet near the stove. The story about Grandfather starting a house fire with one might even make Brave Woman laugh. He turned to the table.

The chairs were empty.

"Mairi?” he yelled.

Not a sound could be heard.

She must have disappeared when he foraged through the pots. Or the kidnapper took her. He dropped the skillet on the stovetop, dashed into the living room, and up the stairs along the far wall.

"Mairi?” he shouted.

Nothing but his footsteps made a sound. He trotted to her bedroom's open door.

Her green bed was empty. He darted two steps down to Evie's closed door, swung it open to the warning on the wall. But Mairi wasn't there. Even the bathroom was empty. His thundering footsteps drummed the wooden steps as he raced downstairs.

"Please stop.” Her faint groan came from an open door beneath the stairs.

He strode along the base of the ascending staircase and peered into the doorway. Bookcases lined every wall. One window cast light across the room over a cluttered desk. Someone had been busy with the mound of open books atop the huge wooden table. But his gaze paused on Mairi.

She stretched out on a leather loveseat, her knees curled up to keep her five-foot-six inches on the seat, her back casually faced the door.

Anyone could enter. Even the Flarion bastard. His gaze riveted upon that welcoming bottom.

"I'm fine. Go back to clanging all those pans,” she mumbled.

Well, he'd just had a coronary. She deserved an ass chewing.

Brave Woman sighed loudly.

The sound was weak, exhausted. Hopeless. Like she needed to sleep. A blanket draped the end of the couch. His charge needed a nap. He snatched up the soft yarn, shook out the burgundy afghan, covered her, and froze.

Had he just babied a white chick? What was wrong with him? Just this morning he thought about how he didn't need a woman. Especially a Sister who would get him into trouble. Bird-dogging for the Ring Masters was enough to keep him shape shifting. Why did he have to go and get all sentimental about a forbidden woman? He turned and walked quickly through the doorway.

Minutes later, Cochise threw a buttered cheese sandwich in the hot iron skillet. The pan hissed. He could have hissed back.

Brave woman couldn't be seducing him. Impossible. She was white. White babes didn't want to have anything to do with his red ass.

Why the assignment? Logic reasoned all Ring Masters who survived training eventually wed. But he wasn't the average Gaelic zombie. His Y-chromosome had a whole different heritage.

But there was that one unmentionable warrior in his lineage five generations back. White Bear wasn't just named white for the religious reason noting his personal quest for knowledge. As a matter of fact, White Bear was a stinking Scottish pale ass. Well, not stinking after his great-great-great grandmother shoved him into a river. But possibly stinking in introducing Gaelic genes into the bloodline. Genes that just might have brought a dumb lost Lakota to his latest demise like some Gaelic beacon.

A burning smell tickled his nose.

The bread sizzled in the iron skillet. He flipped the sandwich and smashed the browned bread with a spatula.

If the Gaels dragged him into this because of some soul-mate issue connected with his ancestry, he was screwed. Scotty should have come clean back when he offered refuge among the Order.

How could he have missed such an important detail? Was he so ragged out in running from the Army's mercenaries he couldn't see Truth? But Scotty wasn't a man to beat around the bush when faced with a specific question. He placed the sandwich on a plate, turned to the telephone, dialed Ronat Castle, and listened to the ring.

"Blair Atholl,” Ring Master Murdoch lilted.

Cochise knew the redhead stood in the library where he read anything from ancient to futuristic texts all day. “This is Cochise. Can I speak with Scotty?"

"Hold.” A click sounded as Murdoch laid the phone on the wooden nook.

Gods he wished he were there, standing in the window's light, flipping through an herb book. Free to go his way.

The distant receiver clanked against the wooden ledge.

"What's happened, Cochise?” Scotty begged.

"Nothing yet. Just my uncontrollable hormones."

"Och! ‘Tis to be expected, lad."

How insulting. “Quit calling me lad. We're both twenty-seven."

Scotty chuckled. “Cadets are lads. Wet behind the ears. You won't get dour and serious till you wed and have naught to do but worry about your maiden."

"I'm going to try to remain respectful because you've done so much to help me these past three years. But...” he clenched his teeth. “I've been framed. Again."

"How so?” The man spoke like a confused saint. Innocent of his brethren's trickery.

"You sent me here. Don't you know?” He glared at the sunlight beaming across the kitchen. It took every grain of self-control in his body to keep from shouting beam me up, Scotty. But then the head Ring Master would understand the full meaning of the nickname Cochise had given him back when the Ring Masters started training the unorthodox menagerie of wayward Centurian mercenaries collected from around the world. He would never forget how he translated the news of his escape from the Army's mercenaries into welcome to the stars.

"Now, Cochise. Duty calls us all some time or another. Woe be to he who fears the Call."

Fricking Code? All I am to get is a line from the Ring Master Creed? “Look, Big Chief. I need to know if you plucked me from certain death because one of my great-grandfathers was a Scot?"

"Is that right? You lucky bastard. One of mine was English."

"I could wring your neck right now."

"Looks like I'm a lucky bastard after all."

"Ha. Ha. Why me? Why this woman?"

"Hot babe?” Scotty lilted. “You don't like it, being you're so aloof and all?"

Could the bastard read minds? “Who is she? My soul mate?” Gods, he barely managed the last question.

"Anam cara only gets those with older souls. Her soul is new. Pure. Like yours. Comprendes, Kimosabe?"

The Lone Ranger run around was getting old. “Look, Big Chief. I've got this problem. I don't know what you're talking about."

Scotty sighed louder than a whistling wind. “Listen close. You'll have to listen close without a book on the subject."

"Did you just insult me?"

"And you never insulted the Big Chief? Clamp it, Mate. You've got a lot to learn."

Cochise rolled his eyes.

"Now new souls have never been in The Cycle. Old souls are more likely to have bound to a time-traveler's soul in a past life. Clear?"

"Crystal."

"Now, since you're a shaman, you've got a bit of training to enhance your service."

Huh? The same crap had gotten him special treatment in the Army. He leaned against the hard unyielding wall.

"New souls can become Seers if they choose. Most of the time, they don't realize their potential. Having a relative with the same powers can help a child develop his or her skill. You had your grandfather. So, you were an asset to the Order."

Not only was he a trained mercenary but he was expected to clean house on a higher plane. “So when do I levitate the furniture so the housekeeper can mop beneath it?"

"You know, Cochise. I think I've told you enough."

"Sorry, Big Chief."

"All the answers are at your fingertips. Hope duty's everything you expected.” The phone clicked and droned.

Why did he get the feeling he'd just royally screwed himself? He hung up the phone and turned back to the pile of sandwiches next to the skillet.

Maybe he hadn't totally screwed himself. He still had the grilled cheese.

A golden smell tickled Mairi's nose. Fried bread. And something else. Her mouth watered.

Curse him and his lure. Black Elk wouldn't coax her out of her hiding place with food. She stared at the colorful Klimt geometrics on the library's square golden area rug. Before she knew it, those black combat boots and gray-and-white bloused camouflage pants strode across the carpet.

Goddess, his slightly-bowed legs were astonishing in those pants. She slid her gaze up the length of them to his slim waist.

If only he would climb on the couch with her, she could see how his abs really felt. Goddess, she had to stop thinking wanton notions about a halfling. She gulped down the mental scold and focused on his hands. He carried a plate stacked high with sandwiches and two cans of soda.

How sweet. Was the tomcat feeding its human? No wonder she was so bloody attracted to him.

Her bodyguard sat next to the couch on the floor and placed the plate full of triangular-cut sandwiches before her nose.

Grilled cheese. One of Evie's favorites. But she couldn't reveal that to him. A man who cooked four sandwiches deserved a wee bit of gratitude.

"Have one,” he chimed with a sexy sort of diluted accent.

"I'm not very hungry."

He tapped her chin with his fingertip. “We can't let the bastard wear you down."

The worry in his black eyes made her reach for a sandwich. She bit a corner.

Salty. Cheesy. Greasy. Wonderful.

He grabbed one and stuck it between his bronzed lips. She didn't know if he chewed heartily because he was hungry, or if he was thrilled she had done as instructed.

"You know,” he pulled a tab on a soda can. “I think you're worried about nothing. The judge must know what he's doing."

"Do you think the animal has cameras in my house?” she whispered.

He stopped dead cold and scanned the room like a good soldier.

His was the incredibly intelligent profile. Her gut rolled over with desire.

A wanton? Her? How could he make her need him so much?

He locked a determined gaze on her. “No. I think he may watch from time to time at a distance. Especially today because he's trying to coerce you into an agreement with him. But I doubt there are cameras in your house."

How oddly comforting. She bit into the sandwich, looking at the curved bite mark in the browned bread.

Savory cheese squeezed into her cheeks.

It's nice to have a man cook for you.

"I think you're smiling, Mairi."

She slid her gaze from the golden bread to his arched brow. “First I gain a guardian, and now I find I have a personal chef."

The widest smile she'd ever seen on a man spread across his face.

Talk about a pleasant mask. “You should smile more often."

He thrust his sandwich into his mouth, chewing like a happy man, and swallowed. “And you shouldn't sit around sulking. Arthur will tend to the nutcase."

Did he have to constantly remind her of her wee sister's predicament? “Were your orders to keep on me like a bur in a stocking?"

He winked, snatching up another succulent cheese sandwich. “If I don't, Granny's laddies will."

"Aren't they a sight?"

"Can't say I know exactly what to say about them other than you should stay away from them."

Was he ordering her around again? He commanded her effortlessly in the easy manner he sat with an elbow on one propped up knee. At ease, at last. Possibly her friend now. Why else would a man cook for her? “How long have you been here today?” she chuckled.

"I don't know if I like the way you asked that question.” He gnashed another bite of sandwich, gazed around the room, and ignored the answer with a hint of humor wrinkling the smooth corner of his eye.

By the smoothness of the bit of skin, she knew he rarely laughed. Good thing he felt he could jest with her. Could he handle some cultural questions? “You know, I was reading this book about Plains Indians."

He turned his squared jaw back to her. His black eyes glinted with annoyance.

That wouldn't do. How could the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen despise what gave him his features? “Are you ashamed of your heritage?"

He lifted the silver soda can to his lips and inhaled loudly as he tipped his chin back, gulping.

How could someone have so much resentment for his ancestry? “Why, Black Elk?"

His gaze flared with irritation. Hardness glossed over his eyes again.

Cochise wasn't going to play along. Hot Chick attempted to get into his head with his last given name. Wasn't it enough she already crawled under his skin like she owned him? He guzzled the lemon-lime soda and stared at the bookcases built around the doorway. “I asked you to call me Cochise.” That's who he was, just a reflection of pale-ass stupidity.

No one had the decency to bother to ask him who his people were. Who he was. Cochise, a name somebody recalled from old movies, was the first thing Private Brown called him when he joined the Army. What made it worse was the fact the government gave those pale-ass morons weapons. Luckily, the Delta Force went on a recruiting binge. He got to keep his braids.

"I don't like it when you hide inside yourself,” she whispered.

Famous last words of every pale dolt who wanted to befriend him. The only ones worth keeping around were those who could snap a man's neck effortlessly. He shot her a glare. “Who gave you clearance to dig through top-secret files?"

She touched his cheek with a searing fingertip, trailing her finger along his stubbled chin. His heart stopped cold.

"I thought you did,” she touched his taught lips with the lightest touch, “when you pressed your lips against mine."

Chills wafted through his spirit as his heart jolted back to life. More like exploded. Brave Woman spoke Truth. Talk about a slap in the face. Damn she was good. Don't worry about freaking nuclear weapons or land mines loaded with chemical agents. Just send in the hot chick in tight pants. Whatever Arthur and Scotty planned soured at mach ten. He shoved onto his feet.

"Aren't you going to finish eating?” She stared at him in disbelief.

A wise Lakota would comb the house for hidden cameras. “There's work to do.” He stormed from the room into the kitchen where he thrust his hands into warm dishwater.

The soothing water licked up his wrists, dousing his rising anger. Nor would he find any cameras in the sink. What he would give to get electrocuted though. His life was on the line here. One little woman could terminate the remaining bits of his freedom. Gods, with so little freedom left. He only owned the military clothes he wore. And even they were Cadet-Ring-Master Issue.

The softest footfalls whispered up behind him.

Her footsteps.

She'd removed her exercise shoes.

But he had swept up the sharp porcelain bits. He was not still worrying about her. He was not. He choked down a snarl.

She stopped at the countertop, placing the plate and the remaining sandwich on the white surface. “Let me wash the dishes."

He grabbed a slick teacup in the water. “Go back and rest.” Stay away.

"Please, Black Elk.” She tried to shove him aside, touching his arm with a delicate hand. “I'm losing my wits lying around. I need to do something."

"Why won't you listen?” he snarled at her.

She closed her eyes as if pained. “If you won't talk to me, I need to keep busy.” She blinked her eyes open, gazing at him.

"Talk. Talk. Talk.” He dropped the cup into the rinse water.

Cold water splashed out of the sink.

"So you are like the other men who just want to grope me?"

If she ripped his balls off with that accusation one more time, he would have to spank her. Even worse. The punishment would only get him in trouble for that which she already claimed him guilty.

"Let me do the dishes or come back to my library with me."

"No.” He absolutely would not. Nothing in life was free. He'd work for his meal.

Before he realized what had happened, he sat once again on the leather loveseat with her. Escape was impossible.

A pile of open books draping his lap anchored him down. How the woman got him in there, he didn't know.

"This is one of my favorite books right now.” She held a hand to mark her spot and closed the cover so he could read the title.

Good for Brave Woman. Not only did she imply he could read, but the book was about Plains Indians.

Her long thin fingers slid across the cover like bewitching ivory. The nails were slightly long. White. Immaculately honed.

"I've found it most informative. Do you think they've included anything you know?” she asked.

The seductive wench. He bit back a chuckle. She tried to niggle his past out of him. Yet, how could he mind? It had been a long time since anyone had sat with him or asked him an intelligent question about his heritage. Not to mention placed a library's worth of sources on his lap.

She blinked her long lacy eyelashes at him. “Well?"

The easy way out was to send her down the wrong path with the wrong culture. “I'm Maya."

Her eyes widened with intrigue. “Did you ever stick a stingray spine through your penis?"

The Mesoamericans could keep their wicked bloodletting rituals. “Gods, no, Woman.” He almost laughed but swallowed the noise. “What kind of fool do you think I am?"

Her lips twitched.

She either tried not to laugh or had set him up. Time to make her throw the ball. “Okay. I'm Inuit."

"You're too tall,” she expelled. “Too tall for any of the Native Americans I've studied.” She leaned close, searching his face. “Do you have any Caucasian in your ancestry?"

A lump lodged in his throat.

"Do you think I'd admit that if I did?” Never. But okay, he was infatuated with this wily Coyote. Sleek and golden. Just the way a trickster-teacher needed to be.

She scratched her cheek. “Probably not by the look on your face."

Oh, she was sharp. Sexy. So appealing he wanted to peel off her tank tops.

She grabbed the books, one at a time, flipping the paper jacket out from the front of each huge book to stick between the over-sized pages where she had last been reading, and stacked the books on the floor at her feet. When she found the one she searched for, she whipped through the pages so quickly he thought she knew every word between the covers.

His heart swelled three times.

He couldn't breathe.

What kind of woman was she? Perhaps she was as enchanted as Granny's hounds?

"Here.” She tapped a black and white photo of a Lakota warrior on his painted war pony.

The wind blew the coup feathers in his hair like the picture was just taken.

"You remind me of him,” she announced.

Sister Mairi Ross had an eye for detail. “Why?” he teased. “It looks like he stuck a stingray spine through his penis."

Brave Woman burst out laughing, throwing her head back like a Viking.

Gods, what he'd give to package the moment's peace.

"You're so bad.” She poked his upper arm with a finger. “With you're I'm-a-Maya-No-I'm-an-Inuit rubbish."

"I'm Lakota."

She beamed from ear to ear. “I knew it. That Apache crap isn't funny."

The babe got that right.

"You know? I wanted to save enough money to go on a trip to Moundville and Cahokia.” She sighed, peering back at the picture.

He knew where her thoughts were. With bitch sis. “But Cora asked for the money."

She raised her chin, closed the book, and placed it on her lap. “We don't always get what we want in life.” She struggled to force a smile.

Spoken like a woman who gave everything she had to others. Someone who longed for a bit of pleasure. Or a kiss. Another Lakota kiss. He leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the loveseat.

He would give her everything he could if she asked him to. But Brave Woman acted like his go-for-broke movement went unnoticed. Fine. He could steal a kiss again whenever he wanted. She practically melted beneath his nose.

Her tickling golden hair rubbed his knuckles. He reached out, touching a piece of the silk. She jolted slightly and leaned backward. The cool mane whispered across his skin as her eyes widened.

So she had detected his arm edging toward her shoulders.

She slid her gaze sideways until she looked at his biceps. He couldn't help but tighten his muscles.

The trace of a smile danced on her lips, and she wiggled her head as if she sought out the most comfortable position on his arm by rubbing against his skin. “You know, Black Elk? I think the God-dess-Spirit threw us together with a plan of her own."

"Oh?” The thought didn't surprise him. Not after the phone call to Scotty. Especially after she pointed out his Lakota ancestor in a book. She was like a mesmerizing refreshing messenger of peace, wearing her rejuvenating white flag. He'd play truce as long as she revealed information.

"How else do you explain my endless infatuation with Native American studies and your Lakota heritage?” She turned her head until the velvet of her warm cheek massaged his upper arm.

"Coincidence?” The Ring Masters hated that answer.

Her scoff rang with disbelief. “There is no coincidence."

"There is only purpose,” they pealed in unison.

"If you knew the logic, why did you say coincidence?” she asked.

He didn't believe admitting her wit and anger turned him on was a timely confession after the sick bastard's phone call. “To test you, Babe."

"No one needs to test me. My loyalties are as solid as stone. I just need to protect my wee sister."

Would she make the right decision if the kidnapper held Evie over her head? The best way to fix the problem was to understand it. “What do you know about Seers?"

She smiled. “Enough to know I'm glad one isn't here right now. Goddess, a Seer would spout doom and gloom to no end today."

Learning what Scotty omitted looked easy. “What about new souls? Arthur said something about new souls."

Her brow furrowed. “You mean that Seers are the only Brothers or Sisters who can astral project along the timeline? The Orders love to get their hands on someone with a new soul for that reason. They can time travel without even leaving their bedchambers."

All this time his Special-Forces training was what the Ring Masters needed. He'd been duped because he could astral project, yet again, by another military entity.

The walls closed in.

Suffocating. He needed to get a breath. Away from the hot chick they let loose on his tail. He shoved onto his feet, pulling his arm from beneath her head.

The three books slid from Black Elk's lap onto his boots. Mairi knew she had upset him. How? They were becoming such good friends. He'd even confessed he was Lakota.

"What's wrong? What did I do now?” she begged.

He kept walking toward the door, his broad back to her. His camouflage pants whispered as he crossed the rug.

"Look, Black Elk. I'm not a Seer. I can't read minds or dream about the future. I'm just an Ovate. I haven't even fully progressed. Can't you stop expecting me to have all the answers? I'm just an apprentice like you and other Ring Master cadets."

He strode through the door as if she hadn't spoken a word.

Why were the Gods doing this to her? She thrust her head back on the couch cushion and stared at the dark timbers in the ceiling. The Gods needed to slow down. Give her a chance to think things through. “I've done everything you expected. Everything,” she said to any eavesdropping fairy. “I hide here when I could live a normal life. Forget even risking marriage! I study like mad as if I worked to finish those years of training I committed to. Why have you allowed this man to take Evie? Why?” She shut her eyes and tried to sleep.

The cuckoo called. The library's clock.

She thrust a fist overhead and popped her back.

Another cuckoo tolled.

How was it two o'clock already? She kicked over onto her side and snuggled into the couch's warm back.

Another annoying cuckoo droned.

Three? She popped her eyes open. Sunlight still cut across the distressed brown leather of the couch.

Three. She had to get over to the MacDonald's house. To participate in the inevitable moments she faced with Jamie. She sighed.

Another cuckoo droned.

She jumped off the couch and squinted at the clock.

Sunlight glared on the clock's glass. The short hand pointed at four. Jamie would come over if she didn't show. And want to come inside. By the God-dess-Spirit, one man after her at a time was enough. She scrambled on the floor, through the piles of books, searching for her shoes. “Where in the bloody Universe is anything when you need it?"

She shoved a stack of books out of the way, found one white athletic shoe, yanked it on, and scrabbled under the mass of slithering books for the mate.

"It sounds like you're fighting a bear in here?” Black Elk timbered.

She felt the jagged tread of the shoe, jerked it out from beneath the books, kicked her foot into it, and found the man standing squarely in the doorway. “I've got to get over to the MacDonald's before Ma feels Jamie needs to come check on me.” She darted toward him and the hallway.

He crossed his arms, remaining firmly affixed in the threshold. “You can't go over without an escort."

"Lordy, Lordy, Black Elk. You vacillate back and forth between protector and asshole more than any Ring Master I've ever met. But this isn't the time to mess with Scots. Jamie will come over, let himself in. And I will have to rip his nuts off and cram them down his throat because he's been dying to get me alone for years."

He cocked one black eyebrow. “I can do that for you."

"Although I prefer your unusual chivalry, I don't have a choice. I can't entertain visitors with all this mayhem. Get out of the way.” She tried to step around him.

He lunged slightly to block her path. “I'll go along."

She scowled at the scar at his tank top's neckline. “You'll be spotted."

"I'll stay in the car."

"I don't have a car."

He scowled next. “You don't have a car?"

"I get around just fine on my four-wheeler.” She shoved him aside enough to squeeze through the space between his steely arm and the doorframe.

"I'm still going along.” His boots thumped on the wooden floor behind her.

"Stay out of sight,” she warned.

The sound of his footsteps vanished.

Had he given up that easily? She glanced over her shoulder.

The panther followed in her shadow.

By the time she sped up the MacDonald's driveway, the orange sun was dipping low behind their large brown barn. It couldn't have been later than four thirty. Luckily for her. She only had to stay until five after her earlier conversation with Jamie.

Ma stepped from the front door, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. Cochise must be hiding well. The woman hadn't shrieked. Mairi parked between the front walk and the barn, then turned off the ignition.

"Hello, Mairi,” Ma called. “The stew's ready for you when you finish with the lads."

Mairi dismounted the yellow and black all-terrain vehicle she drove. “Thank you, Ma'am. I rarely eat anything I didn't have to sweat over myself."

Ma chuckled. “Then I've a treat for you.” She waved at the barn. “Hurry, the lads are waiting."

Mairi turned to the barn. A cool breeze curled around her. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jean jacket, the sheet of paper containing Thomas’ lyrics still tucked inside her left pocket.

The wide barn door swung open. The bright interior lighting outlined Jamie's tall lanky form in the square entrance. The sound of a strumming guitar floated to her ears.

Jamie smiled across the shrinking distance between them. “Hello, Mairi. ‘Tis so late, I thought you'd forgotten."

"Forgive me. I fell asleep and lost track of time.” She hoped the excuse sufficed.

His smile widened as if she had appeased his needy male ego. “None to worry. We've got some time before sunset."

Aye, they did. And that bit of time spared her even more. Jamie couldn't stand her driving home alone at night. Skirting these men would be easier than answering the phone.

She strode through the doorway into the bright lights.

"Hello, beautiful,” Jamie whispered.

Better to play shy. She smiled and stepped toward the enormous platform on the opposite end of the barn.

All six of his elder brothers turned to her entrance from where they sat on stools with guitars, drums, a fiddle, and bagpipes. In their bluejeans and beret-shaped tams, they looked like a band even though they just hung out to play music with Jamie. Their weekly gathering satiated Jamie's lust for playing all sorts of instruments.

"How did the lyrics look?” Genuine Thomas, the eldest, called out, placing the fiddle on the table next to him.

She truly liked the song in her pocket. Thomas's thoughts about Scottish independence proved alert, attentive, and philosophical.

"Wonderful.” So was Thomas. His wife and children were lucky people.

Thomas shot her a stunning grin. Although, his beard grayed a bit, he was still as young in the face as any man in his mid-forties could hope to be. “I brought you another one.” He nodded.

Good. Something to read and process might help her curb her anxiety. Goddess knew she needed to break something. Smash it to bits like the kidnapper.

"Leave her be, Thomas,” Jamie grumbled at her side. “Such a bonnie lass has better things to do than muddle through some married man's scrawlings."

She stopped, swung a glare at Jamie, who halted at her gaze. “Scrawlings? James MacDonald, you're ruder than Cora."

His Adam ‘s apple bobbed like a float tugged underwater by a fish on a hook. “I just meant—"

"Don't try to change what you've already said. We all heard you.” She spun back to the wide-eyed men. “You may bring me whatever you like, Thomas."

All of them waited for something to explode. Or implode. Perhaps they felt the invisible sharp edge of a kidnapper's doozy rammed into her back.

She smiled, greeting each brother before plucking the lyrics from her pocket and handing them to Thomas. “I was quite fond of your metaphor for the eighteenth-century English. The beast. I noted a few places you could pop in a few visuals. You know, help guide the audience's thoughts. Draw them into the scene instead of keeping them outside."

Thomas nodded and flashed her a grand smile. “You're a good teacher, lass.” He handed her another folded piece of paper. “Let me know what you think once you get around to looking at it."

"I can't wait.” She tucked the song into her pocket. “Keep up the good work."

A chuckle circled the seated men.

Whatever they laughed at, she didn't want to know. She would pretend the reaction was another mental slap to Jamie's jaw. Goddess, what had come over him? She turned to leave. “Sorry, gentlemen. I've got to dine with your mother before I leave.” Bless the God-dess-Spirit for the excuse.

Jamie stepped in front of her. “Come on, Mairi. Don't you want to listen to some music?"

The man really needed to get another hobby. He forced everyone around to bend to his will. Not this evening. “I've got to get home early. Besides, you were so rude to your brother I don't want to stay.” Sometimes Truth came in handy.

He went straight-lipped and sidestepped. She lunged by his elbow. Jamie didn't stop her.

At the door, one of the men's comments found her ears. “You'll have to buy jewelry and chocolate to make up for that one, Jamie."

The huge space rumbled with laughter.

She veered for Ma's stew. Jamie's consolatory apology would never get him anywhere. Not with the kidnapper on the loose and a gorgeous volatile Lakota hiding in her house. She quickly crossed the concrete driveway, stepped onto the cement porch, and drew the wooden door wide.

The scent of savory stew made her mouth water.

"The stew smells wonderful,” she pealed. Ma would chuckle to herself. She crossed the two-story clapboard house's foyer. An enormous home compared to her wee three bedroom Tudor box. She passed the staircase and headed for the door at the end of the foyer.

Through the doorway, plump Ma ladled stew into a bowl.

Ma turned with a broad smile from the stovetop. “You can eat with me, Mairi? Can't you?"

How can a lass tell a sweet silver-haired lady no? In the floral print dress, Ma looked too much a dear grandmother to refuse. “I'll have to eat fast.” Mairi smiled.

Ma placed two steaming bowls on her low maintenance kitchen dinette table. “Now, Mairi. You eat every drop. There's plenty more where it came from.” Ma patted Mairi's back.

Something tugged Mairi's hair. She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder. Ma's wrist caught in the golden curls.

"Dear. Dear. My watch is snagged.” Ma struggled to loosen the hair at her silver watchband.

A tug and a pinch at her scalp freed Mairi.

"There. There.” Ma smoothed Mairi's hair down. “'Tis all better."

Maybe for the watch. She was minus a few hairs.

Ma snatched the strands up and headed for her trashcan beneath the sink at Mairi's back.

Better to fill up on delicious stew and head home. She focused on the savory brown stew. “This looks divine.” Anything did when a body didn't have to cook it.

She pushed some lumps of carrot and onion around.

"I'm glad you think so, lass.” Ma descended in her chair, lifted her own spoon, and smiled. Her green eyes sparkled with joy. “You need to marry, Dear. Find a lad to make you smile."

By the God-dess-Spirit, not the marriage lecture again. Surely the aging mother referred to her youngest child.

"Evie makes me laugh,” she said before she realized what came out of her mouth. Her heart sank. She had to get home. Hopefully, Arthur would call. Or the bastard kidnapper.

Watching the expensive pale-ass house and barn, Cochise shook off the evil foreboding crawling through his chest. His charge had disappeared through the front door a few minutes ago. He wanted to drag her hot-chick ass out of there. But Brave Woman would kick his balls. Not good in the foreplay park. He dug his claws deeper into the low sturdy branch of an oak tree where he laid in wait.

"Cat,” a voice mocked from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder. A white hound with red ears stared up at him from the tree's elongating shadow.

Well, well, Granny's laddie. The visit shouldn't have been unexpected. Animals spoke to him all the time when he was in cat form. “What do you want, dog?"

"We're here for the same reason.” The hound stepped up behind the tree trunk.

Were they?

"This is a witch's house.” The dog stood motionless.

A witch?

"Why did you permit the Sister to enter therein?” the dog demanded.

He glanced back at the serene manor. A witch living there would explain his gooseflesh. Witches were real, emitting a certain kind of energy. Good or bad, depending on the type of activities they chose to do. But how did the dog know? “How do you know a witch lives therein, dog?” he mocked the hound's passe English.

"Use my name. Killer, Cat."

"I'll expect the favor returned."

"Black Elk, explain yourself."

How did the frigging hound know his name? Was everyone privy to his deepest thoughts in the Happy Hunting Grounds of the Otherworld?

"Why?” Killer persisted.

"Because she will not listen to me."

"So much for sending a cat to do a hound's job."

Cochise glared at the top of the mutt's wide skull.

The dog just stared at the house with his red eyes.

The creature was wasting time. “So you don't think one feline can handle what four canines were sent to do, Killer?"

Killer bared his teeth and snarled. “Don't insult me, Kitty. I'm here to help the Sister. Anyway necessary."

Actually from what Arthur said, that's my job.

"If she's not out by sunset, the lads and I will go in and get her,” Killer growled.

Hell, these mutts were the fairy version of Delta Force. But Mairi wouldn't hang out longer than necessary, given Jamie's recent behavior. Besides, she'd practically thrown herself into feline arms today. Not hound. He wouldn't let the dog rile him.

A streak of white darted through the tree's shadow behind Killer. One by one, the other hounds joined him. It was impossible to tell the creatures apart.

"Seven sons. One mother. Nothing more,” a dog reported.

Seven? His charge hadn't bothered noting she spent time with so many men. They would have to discuss this later. In private. No freaking hounds.

The front door opened.

"There she is,” a hound said with a low guttural voice.

Like they needed narration.

The frumpy pale-ass mama hugged Mairi. The fat woman's ankles were so thick Cochise could see them from his perch.

Mairi hugged Ma tight and backed away from her embrace. “Thank you for the stew. ‘Twas a rare treat.” The sweet woman always cooked delightful food. Even if a woman had to endure the occasional marry-soon lecture.

Ma's smile reached her eyes. “You're always welcome, lass. You take care on the ride home."

With a turn of key, Mairi's arse hit the four wheeler's seat and she headed home. Cochise loped up to her side like a murky patch of darkness. Good to see him guarding her side.

White flashed in her periphery.

Enormous white hounds loped around her. Four lanky dogs with glowing red eyes. Bheur's grandsons. The Hounds of the Hills. Goddess, there could be trouble with a strange pack of dogs running the countryside. Bheur should have explained exactly what the lads were.

Nonetheless, the ride home proved uneventful.

She turned to the attentive pack of dogs outside her door. “Stay outside."

One hound unfolded into the big blond biker, Killer. “We'll do as you wish. Let it be known I'd like a soft pillow for my head."

Those big lug heads in her house? Bunking them as huge albino bikers would be a feat in itself. But tucking filthy dogs in the guest bed. Nope. “Outside."

Killer sighed, waving at his brothers. “Come, lads. Let's hunt a bed for the night."

Feel sorry for them? Right. No more guilt trips tonight. She pivoted to the door and stepped into a dark house.

Silken fur brushed past her hip.

Black Elk. The cat was huge. She swept a palm against the cool light switch and the ceiling light flashed on. Black Elk's tail bobbed across the room until he padded out a circle before the fireplace and stretched out with a yawn.

Bless the God-dess-Spirit, the cat was sleepy. Maybe she would get some sleep herself tonight, since he teased her with his human body. It couldn't hurt to pray for him to pass out as a cat.

The telephone trilled.

Her heart froze. She wanted to hear about Evie. Know she was safe. But to do so, she had to speak with the kidnapper. Why must both go hand in hand?

The phone pealed again.

She hopped toward the kitchen, flicked on the light, and thrust the receiver to her ear. “Hello."

"Mairi? How are you?” Arthur's comforting voice asked.

Her heart sank. “Fine. What of Evie?"

"This Ned Colton has disappeared. I can't find one clue he ever existed."

Not to mention, Ned looked more the aloof time traveler than ever.

"Has Cochise behaved?” he asked.

She had to be careful. Arthur could detect lies in her voice. “As could be expected.” That was sufficiently vague.

"He has a good heart. You need only look for it to find it."

Tomorrow. Today had been too bloody long. Too eventful “Arthur, the kidnapper called this afternoon. He says he's been watching me for years."

"Did you recognize the voice?"

"No. He just threatened me about the Gray Hag's grandsons being here."

"Who?” The lilt in his voice indicated he didn't know the Gray Hag.

"Bheur, the Goddess of Shape Shifting. Her grandsons are the Hounds of the Hills. I don't know how they surfaced from the Underworld, but they're out in my front yard searching for a place to sleep now."

"Did they say why they've come?"

Damn her scattered thoughts. “Och! Arianrhod has been captured by Flarions. Not just I, but the Goddess of time is also endangered."

"There's much to do, Wee One. Take care of Black Elk and hold the line.” Their connection clicked and droned.

Abandoned to the night with one sexy black panther and four hound Godlings? What would happen next? She strode to the base of the stairs, passing Black Elk's flashing yellow eyes, and trotted up to her bedchamber.

Black Elk's kitty claws scratched the stairs behind her. The phone's ring cut through the shadows.

The kidnapper. A chill gripped her. She spun, almost tripped over Black Elk, and grabbed the banister. Black Elk's iron arms grabbed her.

Goddess, he could shape shift fast.

"Hurry,” he commanded, nudging her down the steps to the phone.

By the time she shoved the receiver to her ear, the black panther sat at her feet, boring through her with his yellow gaze.

"Hello?” Goddess let it be the blackguard.

"What the fuck are those dogs doing in your yard?” the bastard shouted over the phone. “Do you think you can keep me away with them? Huh, Mairi? What are you thinking? Because I don't think there's one cell in your brain."

He blamed her for something she had no control over. She had to think fast. “A friend asked me to keep them for her while she went on vacation. They're quite friendly. If not, I wouldn't have kept them with Evie around."

"Och! Aye. Wee Evie is important,” he cooed. “As important as you and I."

Her skin crawled.

She bit back a tirade so the man couldn't jack-off.

"Mairi?” he sighed. “Did you send that man searching for me?"

Arthur got close? “I didn't send anyone to do anything. Can I speak to Evie?"

"Now, she's asleep. She started wheezing but fell asleep."

Wheezing for an asthmatic without her inhaler meant death. Evie was dead?

The receiver slid through her fingers and rattled against the floor's wooden planking, swinging a bit like a dolt on a bungee cord.

Evie was dead.

Softness grazed Mairi's fingers as she tried to breathe. Reason.

Something damp and bristly scratched her hand.

What in the bloody Universe was that? She glanced down to find two yellow eyes boring a hole through her.

Black Elk turned to the dangling receiver and swatted at the phone with one wide black paw.

Duty. Always duty. Was the man heartless?

He unfolded into a towering Lakota, grabbed the receiver, and held the cold plastic to her ear. Talk to him, he mouthed.

"—but she's quite the chatterer,” the man rambled. “Never stops yammering about flowers and you. She says you'll do whatever I ask to see her safe.” He chuckled long and low.

Evie couldn't be dead. The bastard needed leverage. She curled her fingers around the hard plastic. “The God-dess-Spirit had best be in your court,” she snarled at the kidnapper. “If my sister's dead, you're going to pay. The wrath of your patron God won't even be able to protect you."

The demented man's laughter crescendoed into the sound of pure heinous mockery.

Not one more word from the bastard. She slammed the receiver down and screamed, “I'll kill him. The God-dess-Spirit's wrath or not."

"Well?” Black Elk asked.

What in the bloody Hell did he want? “Well?” She spun to glower up at him. “Well what?"

He cocked a black eyebrow with an all-knowing blank expression. “I couldn't eavesdrop on the end of your conversation. I was in human form. What did he say?"

"He said—” She remembered Evie's asthma attack and gasped for life's breath.

"What?” He grabbed her wrist.

"Don't snarl at me.” Her gaze slid to something moving in the window.

Moonlight gilded Granny's laddies’ shoulders.

Would her life ever be shorn of fairy-forged madness again?

"Look at me,” Black Elk demanded.

Why but to loose her wits when she peered into his aching eyes? Not tonight. She jerked her wrist free and darted to the stairs.

Cochise watched the woman take the stairs in threes.

"He said Evie had an asthma attack today,” she shouted, reaching for her door. She stepped inside her room. “That she was sleeping,” she called back to him. “Gods help him if that's code for dead.” She slammed her door hard.

The girl wasn't dead. If she were, the Druid would be uncontrollable by her reactions to the phone calls. He had to contact Arthur before Brave Woman lost control. His gaze slid down the banister to the dark kitchen. Hopefully, Scotty was up and ready for a powwow.

Scotty answered the phone.

A chill gripped Cochise's spirit.

"What now, lad?” Scotty sighed.

"I need to contact Arthur. Did he take a field radio?"

"I can call him. What for?"

So the Ring Master doesn't think me capable of rational communication. “The kidnapper called. Said Evie had an asthma attack and was sleeping now. My charge is so upset she's barricaded behind her bedroom door."

"Oh? You'd prefer to be in the room, would you?"

The patronizing Ring Master needed his throat squeezed. A good long time. “I can't watch her when she's closed off in another room."

"Now watching is a fine past time. Especially with such a grand view."

"Look, Big Chief. I don't know how much longer I can keep her here. She's as athletic as the Brothers. And she's pissed."

"Cool her down,” Scotty's voice lost its lilt. “That's an order. I'll contact Arthur.” The telephone flat lined.

So much for a ticket to the stars in time-travel heaven. This was pale-ass Hell. He hung up the receiver, turned to the doorway, and stared up at Mairi's brown door beyond the banister's spindles.

Cool her down? He chuckled. This little shaman couldn't conjure rain. Let alone a hailstorm. Brave Woman needed a bit more than calming rain.

Loud music crashed through the house. A fiddle squealed a caustic melody faster than anything he'd ever heard. Drums pounded out a steady death beat. Even the doorframe vibrated against his elbow.

Well, Brave Woman sent her plea to the Gods. Maybe for her very own personal, chilly cloudburst. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to get any sleep unless the Gods gifted him the ability to make himself deaf for the night. Granny's laddies would have to guard the house. His feline hearing wouldn't stomach this racket.

Inside her room moments later, Mairi wanted to rip the bedspread to bits. But the velvet cost too much to replace. She would have hurled a chair out the window. But she couldn't afford senseless repairs. The only thing left to do was dance away her tension.

A special extremely loud mixture of grunge, blues, country, and fiddle always drove away her agony. Thank the God-dess-Spirit for Cape Breton musicians.

Moonlight outlined the dark closet doorframe next to the white wall. The six-foot-high mark she practiced kicking was invisible in the murky darkness. Who cared if she struck shadow? There couldn't be any repercussions for a Sister assaulting darkness. She hopped over, focused, and kicked hard wood. “Bastard,” she growled.

But venting felt so good. If she could only get her hands on the blackguard.

Cochise took the stairs three at a time when he heard the unusual thumping. The strange sounds were different. Offbeat. Anything but music. He paused outside the closed door.

Go in? Leave her to an intruder? She'd crack his ribs or worse. This duty sucked. The unusual interpretation of blues didn't carry one scream through the door. She was all right. Wasn't she?

Another thwack sounded beyond the door.

If she wasn't okay, there would be hell to pay. Fricking duty called. He couldn't just kick the door down. Unless Brave Woman screamed. Then, trying the knob was on option. Gods, he was about to have his eardrums pierced by a ticked-off shriek. He turned the cold brass knob and the door opened.

A little living room light reached the uppermost step. Hopefully, not enough to note he peeked through the doorway. But someone had to check on her.

The music amplified by one hundred percent. Not to mention, the door opened the wrong direction. He couldn't see the bed or her.

He pushed the door wider.

The doorknob ripped from his grasp.

She faced him in the moonlight, her straight-lipped scowl sketched out even more by the faint light from below. “Just couldn't stay away, Romeo? Fine."

Gods, she was beautiful snarling.

She grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the shadowy room. “You'll help me keep my mind off things."

The babe had a strong arm. He regained his footing two steps into the throbbing room. If he hadn't just walked into the space, he would have thought himself in a seedy nightclub.

She slammed the door and shifted toward him in the moonlight cast by the window. White Chick metamorphosed into a charming fox, shaking everything she had his direction. Luckily, darkness shrouded the innocence in her features.

"Dance with me,” she commanded.

Mairi's heart almost stopped. The man started moving, thrusting his hips in sync with the drumbeat.

By the God-dess-Spirit, James MacDonald was so incredible. Tall. Built. Now that she had him in her bedchamber, she wouldn't let him go. She wanted him to thrust his hips against her. Nurture her need. Make her his. How she ached for him-like a fever blazed inside her. So hot she wanted to yank her clothes off. Gods willing, she would have him in her bed before sunrise. Wasn't that what he'd been waiting for all along?

Cochise lost all will to stop. The music throbbed. The Druid danced around him, rubbing her curves against him. She wanted him. He went rock hard.

What else could her behavior mean? Even though darkness shrouded her innocence, Brave Woman wouldn't beg him to dance if she didn't trust him.

She faced him, snaking her hands around his rocking hips, staring at his groin. She threw her head back, turned, and pressed her rucking ass into his groin.

The babe didn't seem so innocent anymore.

She raised up on her toes to press her lips to his.

Hot need jolted him from lips to loin. He leaned down without drawing her against him and thrust his tongue between her soft lips. She sucked it deeply inside her warm moist mouth.

The only thing that could feel any better would be him ramming inside her. Claiming her. He struggled to keep his hands off her.

Gods, he didn't want to lose control. How often did a man get a chance with a woman who was attracted to him? A woman he wanted? He would take her to the brink of her sanity. Make her beg for him to throw her on the bed. Then he would show her what a red man had to offer.

Her warm mouth slid away and she spun around him like a phantom, shaking her hips along with his. He was so damned hard he feared he would explode in his pants.

She edged up behind him, spooned him while never missing a beat in the music, and egged him on by pressing her round breasts into his ribs. “Please, Jamie. I can't—"

Jamie? “What?” He leaped away from her.

She stood in the darkness, a sleek barely identifiable form, watching him. “I can't take it. Don't lead me on anymore, Jamie."

"I'm not Jamie.” He strode toward the door, his roar still echoing around the drumbeat.

She blocked his path. Her hot hands grabbed his arms. Moonlight glinted in her eyes. “Why, Jamie? Why?"

There was no way he was spending another moment with her. He hefted her into the air, walked to the doorknob, managed to place her aside without hurling her at the window, stepped into the hall, and slammed the door.

First she teased him. Now call him by the name of a pale ass? Duty reeked. A man had dignity. And give the woman another chance to denigrate him? He stormed down the stairs.

The hearth's cold stone never looked so inviting.

The front door swung open. Killer stepped into the living room in his leather-clad human form and met Cochise's gaze. “What of the phone call?"

"Do Gods use phones in the Otherworld?"

Killer sauntered toward him, a huge black-and-albino bulldozer. “There's not time for chitchat, Black Elk. I've got to send word to Grandmother."

"She's upstairs. The phone call scared the crap out of her. Said the girl had an asthma attack. Now Hot Chick is working off steam.” To say the least.

"In that racket?” Killer scratched his jaw. “'Tis loud enough to rift a passage through the Here to the Underworld."

The enormous blond took two steps toward the staircase.

Was the cur going up? The state Brave Woman was in would lead to her loss of virtue. Maybe she deserved it. Maybe she deserved being bound for eternity to a Hell Hound.

The biker took a third step.

Jealousy boiled in Cochise's heart, surging to the ends of his limbs. He clenched his fists. “You can't go up there.” He stepped over to block Killer's path.

Killer smirked at him. “A little music never hurt a Godling."

So he wanted to dance like Tinkerbell in moonlight? Not tonight. “Outside, Killer.” Cochise stepped onto the bottommost step. “She's not herself. She even thought I was some pale ass."

Killer's brow furrowed with interest. The big man squinted at him. “How so?"

"She called me by the name of the man she visited before sunset."

"The witch's son?"

The question struck Cochise harder than a charging buffalo. A spell.

A spell meant bad news. Cochise spun and trotted upstairs.

"I'll call the brothers. We'll assist with whatever is necessary before Grandmother arrives,” Killer yelled over the loud music.

The racket suddenly quieted and ended as Cochise reached the dark wooden door.

Just a lapse between songs.

The fiddle screeched wickedly.

The sound mirrored her situation, the spell, and explained her untimely enthrallment with James MacDonald after she'd blown him off around midday.

The sound of shattering glass jangled through the fiddle.

Brave Woman was going to hurt herself. Or the witch had arrived. He grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and shoved a shoulder into the hard wood.

Nothing gave. He lurked in one of the deepest rungs of Dantes’ Hell if his entry was blocked. He backed up and kicked at the door.

The wood flew inward. Mairi's form rose beside the moonlight glinting off the broken edges of glass left in the window frame. A long piece of glass shimmered in her hand.

"Jamie?” She tossed the shard aside and hastened to him. “I knew you wouldn't leave me."

Leave her? Maybe if she didn't recognize him.

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, laying her cheek against his chest. “I thought I'd have to kill myself without you."

The music faded into silence.

Suicide? The witch would pay for this. He had to explain. Had to convince Mairi she was being misled. “I'm not Jamie."

She glared. “What are you doing here, Cochise?” she growled as if his admission cleared her vision.

The woman had no clue what transpired. Maybe an explanation would work. He placed a palm on her clammy cheek.

She flinched, backstepping. “Get out."

"You're being controlled by a witch, Mairi.” She had to understand.

"Out!” She bolted around him, through the doorway, and down the steps.

White girls on spells were like Injuns on peyote. He had to catch her. By the time he stepped into the hall, three blond bikers trapped her on the stairs.

"Get out of my way.” She grabbed the banister, easing against the dark beams.

The men shrugged at each other. All he had to do was wait for them to usher her back toward him.

Brave Woman hopped over the banister, landed in a squat on the living room's wooden flooring, and ran for the front door. Two of Granny's laddies took a few steps, shape shifting into white hounds. The remaining man ran for his runaway charge.

"No.” Cochise took the descending stairs in threes.

One dog leapt over the loveseat and blocked the front door as Mairi reached for the doorknob. The albino biker grabbed her elbow. She wrenched free of his grasp, darting into the kitchen. Cochise's boots hit the living room floor.

"No,” Mairi screamed from the dark kitchen.

Shadowy silhouettes loomed before the kitchen window. The front door flew open, swatting the hound on guard duty. Killer stormed into the room. “Sister Mairi Ross?” the lead cur bellowed.

Mairi screamed.

Killer turned to the sound. “Take her to her bed."

A socked foot kicked through the kitchen doorway. The shadows shifted, pushing her flailing leg into the soft lamplight. The albino's gleaming leather-cloaked body tried to push the shrieking woman through the doorway.

Mairi's hands latched onto the doorframe. “No. Let me go."

"Help me. I have no wish to hurt her,” the man commanded.

Killer's broad back stepped before the chaotic scene. Cochise could only see he worked to pry her grip loose. Seconds passed before the man backstepped.

Mairi threw her head back, screeching, “Jamie."

The howling word knifed Cochise's chest. Not to mention, the men needed to take better care of his charge. The way they carried her was like they maneuvered an octopus through a copse of trees while using one man's hands as shackles

Would she be safer in her room under the spell's power? Could the witch even do something this extreme? He'd never had any luck with spells. His only feat under Grandfather's tutelage was astral projection. Transcending space didn't equate to casting spells.

Turning to the dog at the front door, Killer boomed, “Summon Bheur."

The hound darted out the gap in the doorway into moonlight.

Better late than never.

"No,” Mairi wailed. “I want James MacDonald."

"You'll get Bheur,” Killer stated matter-of-factly.

"Let me go,” she begged.

They hauled the writhing pleading woman toward Cochise. He realized her seductive music had ended upstairs. When the music turned her into a slinky fox, silence was best with a woman intent on begging for James MacDonald. It was probably better not to leave Granny's laddies alone with her either. He took the stairs in threes ahead of them and held the door wide.

She kept kicking Killer in the ribs. Dog-man didn't wince but maneuvered her through the doorway.

She squalled, ramming her leg into the doorframe. “No-oo. No."

Killer's gaze set on Cochise. “Find something to tie her down."

To the bed? How kinky. What a way to make her pay for calling him Jamie. Some mistakes really dented a man's ego. But leave his charge with four enormous blonds? “I don't know.” Cochise set his jaw.

Mairi's foot kicked up, winging Killer in the head.

Killer snarled at Cochise, “There's no time, Cat. The moon's high. The love spell will be strongest until sunrise."

Moon magic? He suddenly realized what the gray hag had said, her grandsons would only be trouble when the moon was in Mairi's house. A spell. Four pissed off Hell Hounds. And babysitting a pale-ass beauty. Bless the Gods for small favors.

The men dumped Mairi on the bed. She kicked, twisting for freedom. The quiet brother kept a firm handhold on her wrists.

Killer snatched her legs. “Stop this, Sister. You can't escape."

"You can't keep me here.” She jerked an arm free and punched at Killer.

She needed to stop punching at the help. He scanned the darkness for something to bind her wrists. A blood-curdling howl ripped through the broken window.

Some cur bayed at the moon.

"I hope Bheur answers quickly,” Killer growled.

"There's nothing here,” Cochise concluded. Not one fricking cord.

"We'll hold her. Call my brothers to me,” Killer commanded.

Leaving Mairi alone with them made his heart thrash. By the way Mairi struggled for release, every pair of hands was required to hold her down. He had to help her. Cochise stepped out the door and found one white hound staring up at him from the living room near the partially opened front door.

"You and your brother are needed upstairs,” he said.

The dog barked at the door, hopped over the loveseat, and bounced up the stairs. The other dog shot in through the front door. Both rushed past him, knocking against his thighs.

Bloody mutts. Dogs were rude. End of subject.

Mairi began crying, the tears ripping through the house like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard.

"Black Elk, get in here and gag her,” Killer ordered.

Damn. What else? She would hate the hounds as much as him. No man won points with any woman by shutting her up. He charged back into the moonlight, toward the four men, each manning one wrist or ankle.

"Make the noise stop,” one biker growled as if he despised her wailing.

"Black Elk,” Killer snarled at him.

"Give me a chance.” Cochise searched for something, although gagging her was foolish.

"I cannot stand it,” another biker shouted. “Do something."

Well, gagging her just might keep the Hell Hounds laid back in moonlight. He yanked out one dresser drawer and foraged through darkness for a sock ball.

The telephone trilled.

Wasn't nighttime for sleeping?

"You must answer the phone,” Killer said.

A man must do many things. None seemed timely. He stuffed a sock in Mairi's mouth and looked into every man's eyes. “Do one thing inappropriate and you'll be a tasty feline treat."

Killer's lips twisted into a smirk. The phone rang again. Killer nodded toward the door.

By the time Cochise shoved the receiver to his ear, he'd counted four rings. “Hello.” Maybe he should have tried to sound female.

"Cochise?” Arthur asked. “You sound odd."

How so? “Just singing the Sister a lullaby."

"Sounds more like you're running up and down the stairs."

"Excellent guess. Don't tell me. You can read minds."

Arthur chuckled. “Somewhat. I'm an empath."

That explained his earlier ability to sense evil. “What about seeing the future?"

"Nothing beyond common knowledge of events. Why?"

"I was hoping you could tell me how to counteract a spell that's taken complete control of my charge."

"Spell? What spell?"

Oh. This was too frigging good. “Is this your way of telling me you're unable to disclose the future?"

"No. What spell?"

"Mairi's so enamored with a man she tried to avoid this morning that I'm certain he's the cause. Even the Hell Hounds said a witch lived at his house."

"Hell Hounds?"

"Come on. You've got to know about the Gray Hag and her grandsons. You're from the future, right?"

"I'm only privy to what has happened. Not to what is happening based on Flarions breaching the timeline. I don't know what hasn't happened yet."

Pale-ass run around. Cochise sucked in a long medicinal breath. “How do we cure her of this spell, curse, or whatever it is?"

"I'm not a sorcerer."

Nor is the Big Chief a brain surgeon. “Look. The Gray Hag's four sons are holding Mairi down on her bed as we speak. She told me she would try to kill herself if she couldn't be with this other man. How do I reverse this?"

"I gave you permission to do anything. Not to mention, this Delta Force you worked for preferred members who could think outside a box."

That ability was what got him into trouble with Delta Force in the first place.

"Follow orders, Black Elk.” The connection flat-lined.

"Shit.” Cochise slammed the receiver on the phone.

A shuffling beyond the doorway caught his attention. A hooded form stepped past the kitchen toward the stairs.

Bless the Gods. “Bheur.” He strode up behind her.

The woman turned a face cloaked in darkness save for a bit of moonlight glinting in her ageless gray eyes. “Where is Mairi?"

How disturbing and deadly Bheur looked. It was as if she warned of some rite of passage occurred for Mairi. “In her bed."

The woman nodded. “My grandson called to me."

At least, something was working. “A witch has cast a spell on Mairi."

Bheur whirled back toward the stairs. “It must be broken."

He followed her dark form upstairs into the room where he stood looking down at Mairi's wide eyes. The sock in her mouth made her appear rather freakish.

Bheur laid a gray hand on Mairi's brow. Mairi shook her head madly as if being burned by the palm but couldn't dislodge the touch.

"Quiet, lass. ‘Tis time to rest.” Bheur smacked her lips loudly. “Rest and cleanse thy spirit."

Mairi's thrashing calmed until she closed her eyes in the moonlight that spilled across the bed from the broken window.

"There now,” Bheur cooed, pulling her hand away, making eye contact with her grandsons. “'Twill be over by sunrise given one of you finds the charm."

The four bikers nodded once, released their hold on Mairi, and strode from the room with only squeaking leather to note their passage. Mairi lay quietly.

Bheur turned to Cochise. “You will take her away from here."

Really? “How so? I don't have a car. The kidnapper has the house under surveillance. What do you suggest?"

"Take her over."

Huh?

Bheur's cloak whispered in the darkness. The hag approached him, moving like a woman driven to command. “Take her to your place."

My place? No. Not the other realm. Not his only place he could claim belonged to him. How could he share something so personal with her? Hot Chick may have been friendly, but she wasn't even slightly devoted to him before losing her mind to a spell.

"You must, Caointeoir."

Bheur stepped right up before him, piercing his spirit with a sharp gaze sparkling in the dark shadows where her face should have been beneath the hood. “There is no other choice. My calming spell will only help her for a short time. If you take her spirit to the other side, the witch can't reach her. You must save her or all known history will change."

Share the only thing he possessed?

His heart thrashed.

Never had anyone asked him to do such a thing. His other place, his meditative sanctuary, was his. His alone.

"Take her, Caointeoir. Each moment you waste is lost to time."

The whole damned world crashed down on his shoulders. What choice did he have? Not to mention, what the Goddess asked seemed impossible. No one ever took another person astral projecting. “How?” He walked over to gaze at the sleeping Sister.

She looked herself. Well, except for the white sock crammed into her mouth.

"Have you ever wondered why I chose the black panther for you, Caointeoir?"

Many times he'd wondered himself. Known, the bear scar allowed him to shape shift into his grizzly form. Also known, the Sundance scars translated into his ability to become an eagle. But his ability to shape shift only came to him after he was taken on by the Ring Masters. Why did he not want to hear the answer now? Something told him to bite his tongue. He didn't look at the hag. “No."

"Cats can draw the spirit of a person out of its body with a simple breath. Simple, Caointeoir. Take her to the Otherworld. Show her your heart is with The People. All Earth's people. Show her you would overlook all skin colors to see humanity's history safe. Don't let your mind's ramblings discount your worth."

The People. He choked on a breath.

The hag knew about how he ignored his grandfather? Abandoned the one person he should have respected for foolhardy self-gain only to be cheated out of seeing his grandfather before he died in order to aid his government's study of his ability to transcend this plane of existence for attacking political enemies in another realm. The Gods’ powers were mind numbing. Perhaps judicial.

But here was a chance to make amends? His chance to buff a bit of black from his past? Make up for what duty required him to do to The People. But sharing his personal place in his small world was excruciatingly expensive.

He had to.

Or the timeline would be violated.

In that, everything he ever had, his very existence, could be obliterated.

No matter how much he wanted to forget his lifetime of transgressions, he wasn't ready to give up on life. Not before he tried to gain one shining memory back for himself. He had to live for Grandfather now. Somehow, reconcile his shame. He met the woman's silvery gaze. “How do I do this?"

"Shift, Skin-Changer. Crawl atop her and breathe her spirit out through her nose. Take her essence inside yourself. Guide her to the Light."

Why did he think the task easier said than done?

The old woman blinked, her eerie eyes disappearing momentarily.

Something about her reaction sent a deadly wave of dread through his spirit.

Could he trust the Goddess of Shape Shifting? “If you've lied to me, for any reason, you know I will never trust you again."

Bheur nodded. “You are my only hope, Caointeoir. The only hope of The People. All of humanity."

Famous last words.

A chuckle lodged in his throat.

What luck he hadn't been handed a contract to sign before being put to duty. He evoked the tingling in his chest, fell onto his paws, and hopped onto the bed.

Mairi slept like a snug child between his paws.

Good. He didn't want her to see him this fricking vulnerable. Great Spirit just slit my jugular and let me bleed to death. He edged up to place both front paws by her head.

Without the sock, she would have been angelic in the faint silver light.

"That's it, Caointeoir. She will exhale. Then you must inhale her spirit."

Back-seat driver. He eased down to touch his nose against hers. She wiggled her head as if something tickled her in her sleep. His scent still clung to her mouth after she fed her hunger with their kiss. He leaned closer, sniffing her lips. The reeking dog smell hung over them like the smell of electricity right before a downpour.

Gods, she was beautiful. And so easily his. Right there. Ready for the taking. After all, Arthur said to do anything necessary. If he took her maidenhead, bound her spirit to his for eternity, they could dispense with sharing his sanctuary. But taking a woman who didn't want him was like rolling in a cactus bed. Bad news. Especially when nobody he knew owned tweezers. And Brave Woman had been begging for Jamie.

Her hot breath stroked his whiskers.

Need shot through him.

Again the beautiful babe, sock gag and all, made him rock hard. She could be his with the swipe of one claw the way she lay helpless beneath his muscles and beating heart. But he wouldn't muddy his history with another black mark. Not one more stroke. Although, all he could think of was stroking. Right into her maidenhead.

She wagged her head beneath him.

"Hurry, Caointeoir. She awakens."

Mairi's eyes flitted open. Her gaze cut through night's darkness, locking on his. Panic flickered in the murky blue orbs. Her eyebrows squared. He didn't move, waiting for her to breathe.

Shit, exhale, woman.

Mairi's arms jerked. She was coming off the bed. She inhaled sharply, staring him down. He waited for her exhalation. He had to be ready.

Her breath knifed out of her like she no longer recognized him.

Jamie. She just wanted Jamie. Damn the pale ass could have her. He caught the first of her warm tickling breath and sucked the vapor into his lungs.

Her gaze widened as if she realized what took place. But he kept breathing the misty heat inside himself. Her spirit filled his lungs.

Refreshed him.

Cloaked his spirit.

Made him ache to fall on top of her.

He wanted to roll onto the bed. Mix her essence deep into his spirit. Mingle with her to the point she could never escape his body.

Gods, he felt whole.

Mairi was magic.

He would have gasped at his work save for risking the loss of one atom of her being.

Her eyelids closed. Her breathing ceased.

"She is asleep,” Bheur's words seemed to draw near, then pull away like they were spoken through a wall of water. “Guard her well. I will summon you back when ‘tis safe for her return."

No problem. Hot Babe's spirit was better than Grandfather Peyote. He tried to climb over her but toppled onto Mairi's arm, closed his eyes, and concentrated on his body.

Grandmother Earth to take me.

Grandfather Sky whisper all into existence.

I welcome the darkness of the Creator and shake free of this body to Journey into the Light.

The Light was close in the darkness. So close. But he didn't want to let Mairi go. Didn't want to stop feeling complete.

Grandmother Earth fell away in the shadows of what was. He floated up to the heavens. Toward the Land of Many Lodges, the pleasant place he yearned for but could never reach until death. The essence around him grayed, lightening until the point when the Light brightened to welcome him back to his pool and meadow. A special place he had never found where living humans wandered.

Something stirred in his lungs like a tickling breeze. The tickle strengthened to a miserable itch. Bile threatened to surge from his gut.

Gods, he needed to retch.

Heave.

Cough his heart out. He couldn't lose his charge in passage. Would she know how to find her way back to her body? Where was the watery surface's mirrored sheen? He peered upward, slapping a hand over his mouth.

The Light intensified but had yet to ripple with penetrating sunbeams the way it did when he approached his sanctuary's threshold.

A chilling bile surged through his chest.

He was going to puke.

Cochise focused on swallowing in the darkness of transcending to his place. He champed back the feeling. Held it in with his palm. And, Gods help him, the silvery round hole leading to the sanctuary rushed toward him. He shot through it like an arrow and landed on his hands and knees in soft grass like he was heaved out of some creature's mouth. Without his hand to hold back the regurgitation, his gut strained, pushing him down toward the tender grass.

Air gushed from his lungs.

Mist swirled into the grass at his hands. He retched. The vapor continued swirling until forming a nude body beneath his nose.

Mairi. Brave Woman in all her amazing nude glory. He caught his breath and wiped his face.

Mairi's eyes shot open. She leaped into a sitting position, noticed her nakedness, and swung her hair over her front to cover herself. “Och!” she screamed. “You're a hard-headed boor."

More than she could ever know. He dared not move, reveal his level of hardness."You're safe here,” he offered.

"Excuse me?” she skirled. “I'm safe in the nude?” Her glare demanded he deny the particulars of the situation.

No frigging way. The woman was clueless as to what happened. How he desperately wanted to return her to her body. Reclaim his sacred space. How he couldn't without risking the timeline. He thought himself some clothes.

The doeskin-soft loincloth. A pair of leggings, edged with spotlessly clean fringe. Dressed, he rose.

Soft grass cushioned the soles of his feet.

She scowled at him, covering herself like she was some pure goody-two-shoes.

Her anger and distrust violated the area. “You're safe here, Sister.” That was all the kindness she would receive in his sacred place after he was forced to share it. “Stay away from me and we'll get along fine here.” He spun to the waterfall.

Such a serene delicate flowing feature in the primal landscape defined the place. Paradise. Uncorrupted by pale asses until this very moment. The Gods must be on vacation. How else could something so ludicrous have occurred?

"Good sport,” she muttered under her breath.

He looked over his shoulder at her. “What?"

She flinched.

Not enough to reveal her amazing breasts. Gods, the sweet sight would be a just reward after what he went through to bring her here.

She snaked her arms over her knees and turned away from him. “Never mind."

The gall. Use the little Injun, then crap in his moccasins. He conjured up some soft moccasins. Nothing for her. She could sit there and hide her perfect body until her spiritless body died. He turned back to the black rocks of the waterfall.

The white watery ribbon cascaded down to one broad stone platform, swirled atop the black rock, and poured off into the pool gently idling around the grassy bank.

This was the life. Pale-ass Eden, minus the pale asses. At least, before the snob arrived.

"Why is it you have boots now and I'm sitting here naked?” Brave Woman crowed.

He ignored her, watching the leaves dance in the forest canopy across the mercurial water.

"Fine,” she snapped. “I'm leaving."

Right. There was nowhere to go outside the meadow. The space existed inside his mind.

Leaving was an understatement. Mairi stormed toward some tall bushes, the opposite direction from Black Elk. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

By the God-dess-Spirit, she hoped the man kept his back to her. Her wavy hair barely went half way down her naked arse. He could see her bum without any problem. She gulped.

What in the bloody Universe was going on? Flarion invaders. Bheur's grandsons. Even Jamie acted odd. Evie. She needed to go home.

Mairi pushed the draping brush aside. A black rock wall ran behind the shrubs. She scanned the forest away from the glimmering pool. The rock curled around back toward Black Elk.

Fine. She could swim out of here. Wherever here was. Better still, his gaze couldn't ogle her if she hid in the water. She stuck a toe into the cool massaging liquid.

Wonderful water licked up her leg to her calf. She dipped the other toe into the loch and waded out. She cringed at the horrific noise her steps made to notify all of her location.

So he caught a peek. Not for long. She dove into the pool.

Refreshing water swirled around her. The loch tried to seduce her. Draw her deeper, down to the bottom. But Evie needed her. Kicking upward, she pulled herself to the flickering surface with her arms and broke into the air.

Where to go now? She scanned the water's edge.

Trees and rocks. Except the waterfall where Black Elk sat, cross-legged, with the back of his hands on his knees. The man stared at the sky in some close-eyed vigil. Prayer no doubt.

Good. He wouldn't notice her departure. And a little meditation might help his disposition.

Time passed as Cochise ignored Brave Woman. He couldn't do anything else. The nude babe splashed around the pool like she wanted to attract his gaze. Like she owned Eden. But he kept his eyes shut. No more wily Druidess enchantment. He would forget her or think himself into a stupor. The first option sounded better.

"Okay, look,” she yelled across the meadow from the water. “I don't know why there's no way out of this place. Nor do I understand why you're clothed and I'm not. But we've got to get along. Do you know what's happening?"

Should he answer?

"I'm pruning,” she snarled. “I'm coming out. Don't you dare look until I tell you ‘tis fine."

Water jangled where she crawled from the pool.

His fine detector started blaring. She deserved his full attention. He riveted his gaze on the most astounding goddess he'd ever seen. Tall, golden, curvaceous.

"Och!” she screamed, turning sideways, covering her fine parts with her arms and hands. “How dare you, you pig."

Geesh. He thought up the palest pink bikini for her. Piglet pink. Strings and all. Anything to amplify her sexiness.

Mairi flinched, uncovering herself, inspecting her new attire. Although the garment was wee, a rush of gratitude flooded her spirit. How had the man accomplished this? She turned back to Black Elk.

He prayed to the bright sky again.

Well, he'd gone and dressed her. Made her beautiful in the process. She just needed to figure out what was happening.

A white blanket appeared on the grass beside him.

"Time for a conference,” she muttered.

A smile stretched across Black Elk's face.

Had he heard her? “How could you hear me so far away?"

He shrugged, looking at her. “Sit.” He waved a hand at the blanket.

Things weren't getting any clearer the more she refused to comply. So, she sank onto the soft blanket at his knee. “You know, this is a really strange place."

His dark gaze bore through her. “You don't like it?” His voice was equally harsh.

She felt naughty in the scraps of clothes and pulled her wet hair over her shoulder to hide what was bare of her chest, belly, and groin. “I didn't say that. ‘Tis beautiful here. I don't understand how we came here. Why can't I find a way out of here?"

"Because this place isn't on Earth."

Her gaze snapped to the rocky cliffs. “Are we on planet Scotia Major?” The home of time guardians would have lots of help for her.

"No."

Bless the God-dess-Spirit, she had to return to Evie. Without a Ring Master's stone circle key, that time-traveling trick across time and space was impossible. “Where are we?” He best not declare they were dead.

"I brought your spirit here through astral projection."

Evie needed her. “Take me back."

He wagged his head. “I can't."

Madness. She jumped to her feet. “Then why, pray tell, did you bring me here?"

His gaze slid to the whispering waterfall. “We can't return until Bheur sends for us."

"That's it? I'm to stay here while my wee sister is held for ransom? That's quite a request, Black Elk."

His gaze snapped back to hers. “It was an order."

"Piddle fig. Orders were made to be broken. Just look at history.” She spun to the water. “Call Bheur. I would speak with her."

Calling meant leaving Mairi behind. Astral projecting. Cochise didn't know if he could leave her in his sanctuary. “I can't."

She stormed away from him to the water's edge, fisted her hands, and threw her head back. “Bheur,” she shouted. “Please, Bheur. Let me return home. Let me find Evie."

Brave Woman's haunting plea sent Cochise's heart sinking into his gut. Not only had his sanctuary been violated but the agony he experienced was down right polluting. He was getting way too attached to this woman. She needed some reassurance or he just might hug her. He reached for the blanket, rose, shaking it out, and stepped to her side. “Give the hag time. She's trying to break a spell the MacDonald witch cast upon you.” He wrapped the blanket around her stiff shoulders.

"Witch?” She glanced at him sideways.

"James MacDonald's mother. She's done something to you."

Mairi clutched the two ends of the blanket together, covering her plump breasts. “What?"

"She cast a spell on you."

"A spell?” her voice rang with disbelief.

The Druid had to understand. “You thought I was James MacDonald. You begged me to...” He actually couldn't say the rest.

Her eyes widened. She went straight-lipped and slid her gaze back to the calming pool. “By the God-dess-Spirit, what has Lila MacDonald done?"

"For some reason, the woman's trying—"

"Excuse me. I understand your implication. Please dispense with your frankness.” She haughtily claimed a seat in the grass.

Well, she hadn't completely blown up. Accused him of lying. Maybe their change of scenery had more benefits. Or he was just blowing up for nothing. After all, nothing in life was free. Time to be rational. He sucked in a deep medicinal breath and knelt at her side.

A tall tuft of grass shoved into the water where he stood on it. He yanked a stalk from the bunch and stuck the broken end between his teeth.

A cleansing green taste filled his mouth.

Brave Woman needed logic. She had to understand for her safety. “If I take you back too soon, you'll fall back under the spell."

She nodded, staring at her folded legs. “She said she would hurry, didn't she?"

The question was so faint, pitiful, filled with her sense of abandonment that he wanted to hug her. “Yes."

She turned a piteous gaze to him. Her eyes were bluer than anything he'd ever seen. Tears rimmed the gems. “Help me, Black Elk. I need to get back to Evie."

Gods, how he ached to squeeze the anguish from her eyes. How was he to survive another second of this torture? He had to run. Hide. His gaze slid to the pool's mercurial surface.

There was nothing like a cold shower. He rose and dove in, willing the bottom deeper.

Mairi still lurked beneath the water. Worming in from every direction. Waiting for him. Calling him back to the bank.

Something grabbed him, jerking downward.

Air bubbles rushed from his mouth. The light breaking through the water in a curtain of rays from the sky dwindled into darkness.

Staring at the glinting loch's surface, Mairi waited for Black Elk to resurface. He'd been down there forever. How long could a Lakota hold his breath? He wasn't a Japanese pearl diver. Nobody could hold their breath that long.

The water shimmered with a rippling wave.

"Where are you?” she whispered. What would she do without him? How could she get home?

She waited.

And waited.

Where was he? “Black Elk?” He had to return. “By the God-dess-Spirit, this isn't funny."

But the calm water's surface never broke.

He drowned. She threw off the blanket and raced into the pond. Water lapped up her legs until she was forced to swim for speed. She had to find him. Had to save him.

The water was anything but murky. Sunlight danced through the shady depths. But not one thing swam therein. Naught but her.

A shiver curdled her gut.

His body had already sank to the bottom. A bottom she never found while trying to escape this bloody place.

Black Elk had drowned.

Cochise's eyes popped open in the fading darkness. Bheur stood at the side of the bed, looking at him and Mairi's body.

"Caointeoir, you heard my summons.” The old hag smiled. The growing sunlight didn't do her gray eyes justice. For some reason, her eyes squared with worry.

Why? Because Brave Woman was stuck back in Eden. He licked his lips to speak and raked his tongue across his whiskers. He was still in cat form. Not good for a man ready to shout demands. Focusing, he stretched out into human form at Mairi's side.

She was so small beside him. So quiet. So empty. The gag looked foreign. He plucked it from her lips.

His gaze slid to the old woman. “What have you done? Mairi's back in sanctuary."

The hag's brow knitted. “Oh? She will be fine. Fear not, Caointeoir. She is safest beyond this realm of existence."

What a huge pile of bear scat. She had to be terrified alone in that foreign place. He would return for her. He focused again, waiting for the tingle.

"You may not leave. I need you here.” Bheur's words echoed like aloof phantoms.

He forced the breath from his lungs, concentrating.

The tingle never surfaced. Mairi would be panicking. The crone asked too much. He bit his tongue, chewing until he tasted the metallic tang of blood.

"Calm yourself. My laddies have found the charm. We must unweave what has been woven. Diffuse the power."

"I can't leave her there,” he snarled through gritted teeth. Gods, she might destroy something in his sanctuary. Or worse, figure out a way to decorate.

"You have no choice. I must have a few strands of your hair to do what must be done.” She thrust a wrinkled hand toward his head.

Anything to help Mairi before it was too late.

Bheur plucked a length of his straight black hair and held it up beside some long wavy strands of golden hair. Both sparkled in the morning light flooding through the broken bedroom window.

"All spells, those that don't conclude with burning the talisman in fire, can be undone,” she explained. Her hands began weaving a thin braid, using both bits of hair. “For that we must be grateful."

Whatever. He just needed to get back to his paradise.

Bheur's hands moved methodically, winding dark hair around golden hair.

"In the growing rays of Light, your wounded soul shall heal."

The old hag chanted while weaving the thinnest plait.

"In the strength of the sun, your darkened heart shall heal.

In the wane of sunlight, things that have passed shall fade.

I am, Bheur, Goddess of Prophecy, and I have spoken."

The old woman tied off the braid and fixed a commanding gaze upon him. “All is up to you, Caointeoir.” She coiled the hair into a small tight spiral and pinched it between two fingers. “Open your mouth."

Eat a hairball. No way. The crone was nuts.

"I am your patron Goddess, Caointeoir. You must obey me."

The old hag scowled at Cochise where he knelt.

Like fricking Hell. “Look, woman—"

She poked the scratchy dry hair knot between his moving lips.

No way. He bit down on her bony finger.

She rammed his jaw shut, jerked her fingers from his bite, leaned his head back with an iron grip, and stared into his eyes. “'Tis not nice to bite the hand that feeds you."

He tried to wiggle his head.

Her iron grasp never wavered.

Fight her? A Goddess? Or swallow hair? By her unyielding grip and glower, she couldn't be disobeyed. And nothing in life was free. It was just hair. Mostly his.

Nothing in life was free. He gulped hard. Over and over again.

The hair knot worked its way back across his tongue and down his throat. When he managed to get the wily token down, she released him, patting his head as if he was one of her curs.

"Excellent, Caointeoir. The spell cannot be counteracted until it passes through your system.” A cackle escaped her lips. She withdrew her petting palm and shook a crooked finger at his nose. “The witch can't beat this spell. Not before you do."

Elders sure could freak out a man. “If that's all.” He scooted back onto the firm bed.

Bheur waved at him. “Rush back to Mairi. She worries too much."

No argument? Why didn't the hag's change in focus surprise him? Maybe because he just swallowed a hairball. If the damned thing changed into something hideous like a tapeworm, there was no telling how long he would need to survive to seek vengeance. Gods, he needed to get away from Bheur. From everyone. Yet, the Gods saw he had no place to hide anymore.

Coercive bastards.

At least, a hot babe in a sweet pink bikini was awaiting him in paradise. He conjured up the tingle in his chest, fell onto Mairi's arm, and wormed back through the darkness.

Rocking where she sat on the loch's bank, Mairi couldn't imagine Black Elk as dead. Aye, he was obnoxious. But anyone would be given the way people treated Native Americans. And if he was any less honest than any Ring Master, she would be shocked into a coma. He couldn't be dead. She couldn't be trapped in this place. And Evie could be ... She shook off the nagging shadow of thought in her mind, thrust her fingers into her damp hair, leaned her forehead to her knees, and pulled her wits out from her hairs’ roots.

The stinging pain made her eyes water.

"Not Evie. Please not Evie."

The sound of moving water gurgled. She jumped to her feet and focused on the rippling water. Muscled bronze arms tugged water toward a down-turned black head. Black Elk. He was alive. Perhaps injured. She had to help him. She jumped into the cool water and waded out until waist deep in the lapping pool. He was almost to her.

"Are you hurt?” she called.

He gained a foothold and stood up, wiping water from his face. “What?"

The silly gorgeous man. She could almost scream with joy. She waded the two steps to his chest and touched him, feeling out wounds. “You were gone for an eternity,” she managed not to fall into his arms like a dithering fool.

Her gaze slid along his glistening ribs to the veins popping out of his amazingly sculpted arms. Not a wound in sight. He was whole. By the God-dess-Spirit, she could just hug him.

"Bheur called me back without my knowing,” he whispered as if ashamed to admit the point.

She met his dark gaze.

Something flashed therein. Something promising.

"Evie?” she whispered.

"Arthur hasn't found her yet."

Yet was the vilest word she ever heard.

"But you're all right?” she smiled and placed a palm on his cheek. She didn't want anything to happen to him. He was wonderful. Chivalrous in returning for her. He was time guardian material. That had to be why he was a cadet. He was worthy of riding the rings as a Druid's soul mate. Even though he was a Halfling, they weren't in their real bodies here. In this place, they were just spirits. Maybe she could have a moment to toss away her cares. To love someone a way she had forbidden herself to love. To pretend to have physical intimacy. And he was the perfect valiant gorgeous male spirit with whom to share the experience.

All the cold water in the world couldn't drive the need from his loin. Brave Woman, in a teenie bikini, worried about him. Worse, he liked it.

"I can't take you back now,” he timbered. The Great Spirit knew he had to get her back to where she wasn't tampering with his emotions.

"What do we do?” she asked.

"Go ashore.” He touched her elbow.

She turned sideways unexpectedly. His hand slid to her amazingly soft waist. He almost choked on a lung but managed to wade back to shore. She tripped on something. His arms snaked around her, drawing her warm curves against his chest.

She glanced at him, shy as a maiden. “Thank you.” She leaned into the embrace, and snaked her arms around his chest.

By the Gods, what he would do to stay here with Brave Woman. Just to have time with her. Only him. What a trade off for choking on a hairball. Everything was so peaceful in this place. So tranquil. Wonderful. His palms slid up the curve of her back. He leaned his lips down and breathed fire onto her neck. He couldn't stop holding the Druidess.

She held onto him like there was no past, present, or future. Just this unending moment in time. His heart drummed.

Gods, to kiss her. Make love to her. Keep her safe from the Flarion bastard back on Earth. “Mairi,” he whispered into her ear.

"Hm?” She pressed her sleek body closer against his chest and turned her mouth up to his.

Why answer? He covered her soft lips with his. She enlivened in his arms, sliding her palms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers, and sucking his tongue inside hers. She seemed to feed upon him as if only he could nourish her spirit.

Smart woman.

Her feather-light hands slid down his back, trailing across his bare bottom, shackling his groin against hers. He groaned, evoking a moan from her that echoed in his mouth.

Damn, she wanted him. His rock-hard shaft lurched.

She backed away, peering down at where his engorged manhood was squeezed upright between them.

"Sorry, Babe. I forgot I wasn't dressed."

The wickedest smile curled beneath her sinister gaze. “Do I seem to mind?"

How much was a man expected to take? He hoisted her into his arms, plowed for the bank, and placed her in the soft grass beneath a shady tree.

Her hands were everywhere. On his arms. Down his back. Sliding around to test his hardness.

He throbbed in her hand.

"Think away my clothes, Black Elk,” she begged.

Never. He wanted to undress his prize. Slowly.

Her hands slid to the bikini tie behind her neck.

Unwrapping the package was the party boy's pleasure though. She wouldn't rob this moment from him. He grabbed her hands, pulled them out from behind her head, pinned them onto the grass beside her head, and stared into her worried eyes. “Keep your hands out of the way."

Her eyes widened. She barely nodded.

Hot Babe was his. All his. His heart raced.

How was a man to satisfy all his needs without exploding from excitement? He focused on the smooth lean curve of her neck, inhaled slowly, slowed down the demanding surge of blood in his body, and leaned down to kiss her once at the hollow of her throat.

Her heartbeat fluttered beneath his lips.

She smelled so pure. So perfect. He thrust out his tongue and tickled up her throbbing jugular vein. She pressed her cheek into his, gasping for breath. But she didn't move her arms.

The Druid could follow orders. Sliding his hands down her soft forearms, he kissed along her jaw until finding her ear.

If he dared whisper, she would understand the extent of her power over him. Know she could command him around like a puppet. Her little Injun.

"Caointeoir,” the call bayed.

The hag's eerie summons couldn't be ignored.

"No,” Mairi whispered. “I don't want to leave."

He shoved off the grass, staring down into Mairi's pleading eyes.

"Caointeoir, the telephone is ringing."

No matter how few and far between the pleasures came in his life, someone always managed to screw up his fun.

Mairi wagged her head. “No, Black Elk. Let's stay here a bit longer."

The tingling in his chest vibrated on its own accord. Mairi's eyes widened, staring at his chest. He tried to ask what worried her but fell onto wide black paws.

Mairi stilled in the grass. Her golden hair fanning out around her shoulders.

Gods, but to keep her in the bikini.

"Caointeoir! You must bring the Druid back immediately."

A strange magnetism drew his muzzle to Mairi's nose. Closing her eyes, she exhaled. He drew in her tranquil spirit.

She slowly evaporated before his eyes.

The woman was like a dream. Something grabbed his shoulders and yanked him into darkness.

When his eyes popped open, he found Bheur pointing at Mairi's face.

The telephone trilled downstairs.

Not the phone. He hopped on top of his babe, exhaled her spirit, and watched her eyes flit open.

The phone droned.

Mairi shoved up, pushing Cochise aside. “The phone.” She darted toward the door.

The silken mass of muscles slid into Mairi's legs as Black Elk's cat weight knocked her right into the phone. She shoved the receiver to her ear and glanced down into yellow panther eyes. “Hello."

"Where have you been, My Love?” the blackguard whispered.

Admit she lounged with Black Elk in another world? The kidnapper would lose it. “Asleep. Something made me ill. Feverish."

"I don't like it when you don't answer the phone. It hurts my feelings.” He sulked like a spoiled child.

"I'm sorry. Can I speak to Evie?"

"She's asleep."

Still? Not a good sign. “If you want me to save my spirit for you, you'd best wake her,” she growled. Bless the God-dess-Spirit for that bit of leverage.

"I'll call the shots,” he yelled across the phone lines.

Some field marshal. “Then think about them very carefully. You wouldn't want me to do something vengeful."

"Don't threaten me, Mairi,” his voice calmed more and more with each word. “Evie won't fare well with idle coercion."

"Nor will you,” she snarled.

"That's a good lass. Talk dirty to me."

The demented bastard. She slammed the receiver on the phone and fell against the wall. Evie was endangered. But not as threatened as she once thought. Black Elk shape shifted, unfolding before her, black braids, bare chest, and camouflage pants. If he'd been nude, she would have completely forgotten the telephone conversation. She bit her tongue.

"I'm going to speak with the Gods,” Bheur lilted.

Black Elk sidestepped, revealing the crone's cloaked form in the doorway. Bheur's cutting gray gaze stared at them.

The Gray Hag had helped her. For the assistance, Mairi was grateful. “Thank you.” She nodded.

Bheur turned to the front door, her form slipping from view. “Call me if necessary."

The door thumped.

Alone with Black Elk again and uncertain if she wanted to be, Mairi couldn't stop staring at his magnificent body. His muscles drew her to him. Made her ache to touch him. Why wasn't he holding her? He was mesmerizing like an incantation. Quite possibly her very own talisman against evil. She reached out and mindlessly placed her fingertips at the top of the claw marks marring his beautiful chest.

The oddly exquisite markings had glowed like sputtering embers before he shape shifted in the Otherworld. He was a Halfling. And her ludicrous idea about having sex with him in spirit form had to be dangerously foolish. He had to explain what he was. She stared into his dark eyes.

His softened gaze slid to study her fingertips on his chest.

"Why does this scar burn like fire when you shape shift?” Certainly the answer would explain his halfling nature.

His head cocked slightly. He braced a hand on the wall above her head and leaned so close to her that the back of her hand pushed against her breasts. “I never noticed."

Goddess, he was so bloody close.

What in the bloody Universe was wrong with her? He was a halfling. She wasn't. But if she could be, she would gladly change. Yet his weight felt good against her beating heart. And those sculpted lips hung inches away. Exceedingly dangerous lips. She had to convince him Holy Union was a bad idea. “If I give you my maidenhead, I won't—"

He pressed a fingertip against her lips.

Didn't he know she would be damned for all eternity if she broke time-travel Code?

His thumb traced out the shape of her lips. He canted down and kneaded his soft lips across her cheek.

A chill skittered through her spirit.

Did he know how he made her feel? He was like a seductive tomcat. Powerful. Addictive. Forbidden.

His lips treaded across hers until his fingers drew her chin up and he could latch onto them completely. He lazily traced out her mouth with the moist tip of his tongue, then receded to gaze into her eyes. “Let's go upstairs. I want to lick you all over.” He purred.

No. She couldn't risk going up to bed with him. They might have kittens. Or whatever you called panther halfling offspring. The perfect form to set off a whirlwind of legend. And her exclusion from The Cycle. “We best not."

"Oh?” He kissed her again, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth.

Their tongues danced.

Need shot through her womb. Her knees gave. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist. Hold on forever.

But he withdrew his beguiling mouth again. “That's what I want to do to you, Babe. On the floor. On the table. Thrown over the back of the loveseat. I want to lick every last inch of you. Then do it again. And again until you beg me to take your maidenhead. To unite in Holy Union."

Another bloody mention of the rules. Why did everyone have to note them night and day? Rules existed to harass people. Especially her.

"Mairi,” he whispered.

She blinked his broad scarred chest back into her thoughts and met his intent gaze. “Aye?"

"Floor, table, or loveseat? Your choice, Babe."

How was she going to break the news to him? Time-travel Code #10 strictly forbade sex between humans and Halflings. “Black Elk?"

He planted a kiss on her lips. “Aye?"

The lilt to his faux Scottish accent almost made her forget about rules. “Don't you know about the Tenth Point of Gaelic Time Travel?"

He barely cleared his throat and ran a hand around her lower back. “There's only nine."

His mentor had to have originated from before thirty thirty-three. “No. There's twelve from my time of origin."

He licked his lips and pressed his hardened manhood against her. “Who cares how many rules there are? I say we're in it for ourselves."

"Rule #10: no time traveler may fornicate with Halflings.” There. She'd said it.

His body stiffened. “I'm no Halfling."

"Then what are you?"

He slid his palm up over her ribs to cup her breast. As hot as his touch felt, one would think no fabric separated their bodies.

"I'm all man, Babe. Trust me. If I'd have been special, I wouldn't have lived the impoverished life of a nobody."

Nobody? Him? “How so?"

"Someone with special powers would have known not to make the choices I made."

Rarely did people choose the best possible solution. He wasn't making sense.

"Your maidenhead is safe with me.” His soft sucking lips latched onto her neck.

He was warm. His hands were massaging.

Who cared if he made sense? As long as he didn't abscond with her maidenhead, things would be fine. How much harm could a lass cause when the perfect man asked to make her feel exceptional? He had said she would have to do the begging for the deed to be done. She thrust her fingers into his hair and held his seductive mouth against her throbbing neck. “Floor."

Wanting to rip her clothes off, Mairi struggled to keep her tank top on. By the God-dess-Spirit, she wouldn't give in like she had in Black Elk's private place. A Sister had to be strong. Had to hold the line.

His hands circled around her back, mapped out her supple arse, and squeezed like there was no tomorrow. Or yesterday. Every last inch of her ached to wrap around him. She melted like a stick of butter in an iron skillet, sliding down the wall to puddle on his lap. He groaned into her ear.

Anything to feel this way for eternity. “Lick me all over."

The man started at her ear, tickling the rim in one slow circle. She thought of naught but the way his wet tongue slid down to her collarbone, sending a shiver through her spirit.

Her tank top vanished. It must have melted on the wall.

His hands squeezed her breasts together. His tongue lathed back and forth between them, idling at her nipples. She couldn't breathe and chewed on her lip, aching from womb to heart.

How could any man be so amazing? She didn't care what took place as long as he suckled her spirit right out of those wee points.

He shoved her back against the wall and slid out from beneath her folded legs.

He couldn't leave her. Ever. “No.” She reached for his muscular arms.

A sinister grin danced across his cheeks. He grabbed the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down, over her ankles.

She sat there naked. Absolutely uncaring of her nudeness before a man for the first time in her life.

He tossed the exercise shorts aside, grabbed both of her ankles, and spread her legs wide.

Who cared if her spirit was bared to him? She just wanted his tickling palms to slide all over her body.

His palms crept up the inside of her legs, past her knees, to recede back to her calves.

Shivers stole her breath away.

He hefted one of her legs up to prop on his shoulder and began lazily lathing the inside of her thigh.

She couldn't breathe fast enough as his mouth worked toward her groin, teasing her into madness, then those lips receded back to her knee.

How was a woman not to go witless? She knew what men did with their mouths. By the God-dess-Spirit, if he didn't come through with his tongue's promise, someone was going to pay.

Black Elk leaned toward her on his knees, bending her knee to her chest, pressing his hard manhood against her groin and kissed her lips with slow masterful suction. “What do you want, Babe?” he whispered against her mouth.

She dared not speak. If she did, she'd beg him to take her maidenhead. Make her spirit complete for eternity. Break Code. A Sister was stronger than that.

He backed away a few inches and locked a questioning gaze on her. “Hm?” His palm slid down to the hair at her vee.

Brave Woman actually hissed. Cochise stroked the silken coils, combing through them. His babe's reply echoed in his head. Gods, Brave Woman wanted him. She was so his. Once Evie was found, he would take what he wanted. Bind her spirit to his. No matter the personal cost, he would have her. Have something. He wanted her to beg for him. Gods, if only he could know she gave her heart to him. Was that too much to ask from life? Just a woman. Just something no one else could take away from him. He leaned to her ear and whispered, “What do you want, Mairi?"

When she didn't respond, he found her biting her lower lip. He arched an eyebrow. She would tell him, or she wouldn't get what was written all over her face. “Babe?"

"I told you to lick me all over.” She shot him a wily grin. “You're halfway there."

Excellent reply. Roundabout. Yet, direct. He couldn't wait to draw her scent into his nostrils.

He tugged her hips toward him a bit and spread her legs wide. She watched him as he lowered his mouth to her loin.

She sucked in a loud anticipatory breath and closed her eyes.

Gods, he could ram inside her. Possess her. But he just wanted to know she truly desired him. Not some piss-ant pale ass whose mama cast a spell on her. Luckily, the spell seemed undone. It wouldn't take long to find out.

He spread her wet folds. She tasted like tears seeped from her spirit. As if she had experienced as much pain in this existence as he had. Gods save him from this passion. Yet, she didn't cry out. He needed to know she held no other man in her heart. How he longed to fill her spirit with his the way she had permeated his last night. But she hadn't begged him to yet.

So much ecstasy washed through Mairi's spirit, she couldn't keep her eyes open. Only her mouth gaped with her embarrassing caterwauling. God-dess-Spirit, save my baying from being overheard. Especially from Granny's laddies.

She shuddered beneath his nibbling teeth. The sensation was so overwhelming a bright light flashed in her mind. She ground her head against the wall, shaking her head wildly. An incredible blissful rush shook her spirit and her hips. Rocked life's breath from her lungs. And Black Elk backed away from her.

Somehow, she managed to open her eyes and look at him. He licked his lips like a wily cat.

"What have you done to me?” she rasped.

He shoved onto his hands and knees. “Just taking what I wanted.” He rose and strode out of the room.

Mairi yanked her shorts on, trying to figure out what she'd done to irritate her new friend. Well, lover. But lover seemed so final. So end-of-Evie. Black Elk was the moodiest man she'd ever met. For certain. Sexy. Intelligent. Just too bloody touchy.

Dressed, she charged after him. He would explain himself. Make her understand why she risked the Gods’ wrath and Evie's life to feel his touch. Surely he realized breaking time-travel law was equivalent to eternal punishment. The Gods loved revenge for misuse of the Orders’ time-travel boon. She headed straight for the open library doorway where he had disappeared.

"The childish nunk,” she muttered. Wasn't it enough he had her wrapped around his pinkie? Better still. She was the pinkie with his tongue curled around her. She barged through the doorway to find him scanning the books shelved behind her desk.

He never winced, no matter how loud her charge was.

At least, yet. “Look, Black Elk. I don't know what your problem is but I surely just about sentenced my wee sister to death for you. What's your anger about?"

Cochise pulled the copy of Sign Language from the books. Did Hot Chick actually think he would explain how her freaking selfishness hurt him? She didn't want him. This little Injun was through being a chump.

"Why do shut yourself away?” she expelled. “I'm not the enemy."

He snorted, flipping through the pages blotted with pictures of hands, fingers, and arms. She was a fricking spy in hot pants. Spy Babe could shake it like a hypnotic cobra. Not to mention, he was forced to swallow a hairball for her protection. When Arthur said do anything to save her, he meant it. Cochise turned his back a bit more to completely block her tirade.

"Don't ignore me.” She stomped toward him. “I've been through the ringer. And I let you have what you wanted.” She grabbed his elbow, pulled, unsuccessfully, and squirmed between the bookcase and his arm to scowl. “You tell me what just happened."

Everybody had some sort of demand. He pivoted away from her frown.

"I want an answer,” she growled.

"I'm reading. We'll talk later."

She yanked the book from his hands and tossed it across the desk. “No more excuses."

He whirled to face her knotted mask. He didn't owe the selfish woman anything. Only duty to the Orders for the refuge they offered.

What was the woman thinking?

Mairi wasn't about to wait one more minute to discuss Black Elk's issues. Some woman must have hurt him terribly. “What did I do?"

Only his steady heartbeat noted his presence.

Maybe a different approach would help loosen his tongue. “How did you get those scars?” She studied the scars on his chest.

He exhaled loudly. “When I was awarded the ability to shape shift, Manannan mac Lir marked me."

Was marking the same as birthright? Perhaps he wasn't a Halfling. What if he were capable of wedding a Druid? She could have him for a soul mate. She had to ask Bheur. Or her grandsons.

"You know?” She gazed into his glinting eyes. “You can be as angry as you want. I'm still going to be right here."

Cochise didn't know what to expect. Hot Babe hadn't winced at the news of his initiation into shape shifting. More so, she vowed to stay at his side. Could he believe the promise?

Her gut snarled.

Now defining Brave Woman's hunger would be interesting. He chuckled.

She smiled. “I like it better when you laugh."

Of course she did. She got her way. The little vixen.

"Are you hungry?” He could use a grilled cheese sandwich.

Her smile broadened. “Actually, I'd love to take a bath."

He swatted her firm round bottom. “Go then. I'm off to the kitchen.” Anything to be alone for a while.

Ten minutes later, the hot water sucked Mairi's worry from her bones. Just like the bubbles caressing her skin. Although Evie had yet to be located, she had her maidenhead and a sexy guardian. And now he cooked breakfast. By the God-dess-Spirit, she could eat half a dozen fried eggs, sausage, and scones. Hopefully, Black Elk cooked them as well as grilled cheese.

A wonderful fried-bread smell curled around the bathroom.

Food. She just couldn't get out of the bathtub fast enough. She rubbed up a lather from a bar of soap and washed her neck.

A shadow shifted at the bottom of the door. A faint tap rattled through the room.

She rinsed the suds from her neck. “Who goes there?"

"Cochise. I brought you something to eat."

Why did he insist on calling himself Cochise? Asking meant another confrontation. “The door's unlocked."

The door whined as he swung it open. He carried a plate mounded with grilled cheese.

For breakfast? A wise woman didn't argue with a gift horse. Especially a volatile hunk of a man who could lick her into a state of euphoria. “I'm famished."

A hint of self-satisfaction twisted his lips into a cock-eyed smile.

"Feeling smug?” she chimed.

His long legs bent beside the bathtub until his black gaze smoldered at her eye level. But there wasn't a trace of anger therein. He placed the plate on the edge of the tub. The golden sandwiches were cut cross-wise again. Exactly the same. She shook off the water from one hand to reach for one.

Black Elk extended the sandwich's corner to her mouth.

Grilled cheese in the tub. Dinner looked promising. She bit and gnashed a bite of greasy bread and creamy melted cheese, leaned back against the hard tub, and closed her eyes.

"You look comfortable,” he timbered.

Ha. Why wouldn't she be? She grabbed the tub's edge beside him and floated over to match his steady gaze. “Why wouldn't I be with a man who cooks, protects, and pleases me?” She arched an eyebrow to challenge any arguments churning inside his head.

He rolled his gaze upward, casting off her comment.

"Why debate Truth?” she chuckled.

His questioning gaze riveted upon her. “Truth?"

More than he could ever realize. She shoved up onto her knees, reached for his cheek, and trailed a trace of suds across his brown skin. “You're like magic. A bewitching spell sent here to seduce me.” She wouldn't mention Halflings had glamour.

Cochise couldn't swallow his bubbling laughter. Not after choking down the hairball. Hot chick just might be onto something.

"Why are you laughing at me?” she asked, a bit of ice in her voice. She withdrew her touch and settled back into the rocking frothy mass.

"For starters, you laughed at me first. And I think you're trying to seduce me."

"Whatever for?” she piped.

What a lovely sound. He guffawed. “Woman,” he reached into the water, wrapped his arms around her slim body, and hefted Brave Woman from the bath water, “it's time for my bath.” He placed her feet on the blue bath mat, patted her perky bottom toward the bedroom, and unbuckled his ammo belt.

"Och!” Mairi howled. “That's my bath."

She snatched a towel from her chrome towel rack and left him unlacing his combat boots.

All the better to distance herself from him, Mairi thought. The man had some feral mesmerizing power. He could seduce the pants off anything. By the time she dressed in khaki shorts and a green sweatshirt, she was ready to find Granny's laddies. They had to know about Black Elk. Whether he was human or halfling. She walked toward her door, peering over her shoulder at the tub.

Black Elk's arms were tucked behind his head. His eyes shut. He stretched out, his tanned knees jutting up from the suds.

She took the bottommost step and swung the front door wide.

A glinting black-and-silver motorcycle stood parked beneath a shady oak left of the driveway.

Where was the biker? She walked through warm sunlight to the bike. Not one sign offered her a clue of the Godling's location.

"Well,” she planted her hands on her hips. “I guess I'll have to wait."

"You need me, Sister?” a deep voice bellowed behind her.

She spun toward the house.

Death strode toward her in leather and shades.

The man had to be hot in the bright sunlight. “I wondered if you could answer a question for me?” Surely he could.

He shoved his sunglasses up the long bridge of his white nose, nodding, and waited.

"What is a Halfling? Exactly.” She hoped he had a clue.

He sidestepped to lean against the gnarled tree trunk. “A Halfling is part human. Part God.” He smacked his lips as if exhausted from answering her question.

"Then what are you?"

"I am a form-shifter. A Halfling. Like Arthur, I can shift my entire mass into anything I wish. Pure spirit if necessary to ride the rings."

So that's how they slid through time and space. The Gods must transmute humans to accomplish the same thing.

"Is that all, Sister?” He took two steps away.

"What is Black Elk?"

Death stopped, turned an arched blond eyebrow her direction, slid the impenetrable sunglasses down his nose until his glowing red gaze sent a chill along her spine. “The other kind. A skin-changer."

What in the bloody Universe was the difference? God-dess-Spirit, keep him from losing his temper long enough to reply. “I don't know what a skin-changer is."

"His skin changes. With Grandmother's assistance, he becomes what he shifts into."

Bless the God-dess-Spirit for confusing a poor Druidess.

A rumble in the distance drew her gaze down the blacktop. Three motorcycles ridden by cloned albinos sped toward her. The trio was quite attractive the way their white hair fanned out behind their shoulders. Death climbed onto his bike and watched his brothers arrive. They must have been rendezvousing for the search.

"Mairi?” Black Elk called from the house.

The delectable skin changer waved her to the door. Death's answers weren't enough to settle her worries. She wanted the big Lakota for herself. For eternity. But things just didn't seem to be working in their favor.

"The phone, Mairi,” Black Elk shouted.

Again? “Always the bloody phone,” she muttered, trotting back into the living room.

The phone pealed over the rumbling motors. She didn't even think about who rang. “Hello,” she snarled, thrusting the receiver to her ear."

"I saw you with him,” the blackguard growled.

"Look, Lug Head. I was in the yard speaking to a man for less than five minutes. Did you see him touch me? No. If you want to have anything else to do with me, put Evie on the line."

"Meet me, tomorrow. Midday. At the Loch Ness Visitor Center. Or Evie dies.” The connection hummed a monotonous tune.

She held the phone, the calm words still droning in her head. What an opportunity. She had a chance to recover Evie with help from the hounds and Black Elk.

"What are you thinking?” Black Elk asked over her shoulder.

She hung up the receiver and turned to his narrowed gaze. “I can't wait to get a chance to kill the bastard."

"Mairi,” Cochise began to scold her.

A conspiratorial twist to her brow ended his chastise cold. “You can guard me. Arthur can protect me. The Hounds can run circles around me. But I,” she thumped her plump breast, “I want his blood."

Brave Woman's declaration was utter nonsense. “Druids don't kill. You're the one always spouting off Order dogma. Remember?"

She smirked at him.

Fine. Let his babe lose her chance to reincarnate. She could toss freedom to recycle on the wind. Why should he care? She wasn't his soul mate.

She shoved past his elbow and went into the library.

Good. Cool down. Chant time-travel rules. Or something. Maybe tell herself over and over how much she loves him. Damn. Then they could get down and dirty. Well, dirtier. A grin slid across his cheeks. But the phone hanging on the wall, the old ball-n-chain, latched onto his reality like a freaking disconcerting bad vibe. Bad medicine. He knew he had to call in the troops.

Why couldn't he be a one-man band? The woman and the Order were dragging him down. He was the Injun clown trying to stuff as many pale asses as possible into a Volkswagon Beetle. Only Ring Masters could turn the drowning tide. He begrudgingly rang Ronat Castle.

"Blair Atholl?” Ring Master Murdoch lilted.

Cochise could see the man's ridiculous tassels on his black loafers and sock garters. “You butler, you,” Cochise laughed. “There's news."

"Hold.” The phone clicked.

Seconds later, Scotty asked, “What's happened?"

"We're to meet the kidnapper at noon tomorrow at the Loch Ness Visitor Center."

"Such a long drive?” the Ring Master pondered aloud.

"Drive or not, he's angry. Jealous of the Gray Hag's grandsons. I don't think he knows about me yet."

"Keep it that way. I'll update you later.” The connection died.

Why did everyone just wave him off like a fricking errand boy? Coyote had great fun with his clown boy. Cochise slammed the phone back into its crook.

Mairi was so angry she could spit bullets. Except then she would be breaking rules. Rules belonged with feces way down at the bottom of a deep hole. Down there with a smart-arse Lakota. She flopped down beside her messy mound of coffee-table books on the rug and flipped the uppermost one open. The Plains Indians.

Curse the stars. The tome opened right to the picture of the mounted Lakota warrior.

Always Black Elk. She grated her teeth.

But he was everywhere. In her thoughts. In the books. On the page. Like fairy magic worked around them. She grabbed the top edge of the page and ripped it from the book.

Now Black Elk was as gone as she could make him be. She tossed it over her shoulder. “Adios.” She didn't even watch him fade away with the whispering paper behind her.

A warm smug wave washed through her spirit.

So he thought he could dole out Order dogma. Maybe not after she tore him out of his very existence. She grabbed another book, Dog Soldier Societies of the Great Plains. He was in there. A part of the pages describing warrior societies. She grated her teeth, flipped to the familiar section, wiggled her finger beneath the upper edge, and yanked.

"Not anymore.” She tossed the memory behind her.

A tall dark figure filled the doorway. “What are you doing?” Black Elk lilted.

What an inquisitive tone. “Cleaning out my corrupted files,” she hissed. Goddess, dusting felt good. Shredding would be even better. Without the top-secret info, she was much happier. She ripped another page out of the book. Good-bye Mr. Bad Attitude.

"Stop that.” He stormed to her side and took hold of the book.

"'Tis mine,” she pulled the book back.

He yanked even harder. “Is nothing sacred to you?"

"Me?” Her handhold slipped. She fell backward into the squeaking leather couch.

He jerked the book to his chest.

Rising, she shot him a go-to-wherever-it's-really-bad-for-you look. “I'm the one trying to maintain the timeline. I'm the one trying to save my surrogate sister. And I don't get anything but a half-arse cadet who's trying to seduce me. Dominate me,” she screamed. “Are you doing anything, Black Elk, anything to hold the line?"

Cochise's emotionless mask burned with anger as he struggled to bite his tongue. How dare she accuse him of failing to do as commanded? He hurled the book onto the couch and hefted her antagonistic ass over his shoulder.

"Put me down.” Brave Woman punched his kidneys.

He ignored her, marching up to her bed where he dumped her on her mussed green comforter.

"Are you going to rape me now?” she snarled.

Maybe spank Hot Babe until she begged forgiveness. His charge was incapable of controlling her anger. Probably never had to before. Without being able to exercise, she wouldn't cool down for hours. The Gods had a long day in store for their pet Lakota.

He whirled, exited the room, and slammed the door at his heels.

"Bastard,” Mairi shouted. This was her house. Not her jail cell. Who did Black Elk think he was? Why couldn't anyone leave her alone? She grabbed the doorknob and pulled.

The man's mind-numbing glower filled her doorway. “Stay in there until I calm down. Or you'll be sorry,” he growled.

More threats? More male coercion? She slammed the door in his face.

"Go away. I don't need you. You're a cut-rate amateur time traveler lacking the wit necessary to even send a flea through time.” Praise the Goddess for the perfect insult.

Cochise could have kicked the door down. Shown her how smart he had to be to survive as an AWOL Delta Force on the run from his special-forces brethren. Why this duty? Could eternity creep any slower? Forever spanned twenty-four hours. Duty was pale-ass Hell. But one thing no man could ever shake. Man or woman, she was in this as deep as he was. She had to pull herself together before she became the prey. Or worse. Then, he would have to rescue her too and risk the only job he had left in this world. “You can't risk being banned from The Cycle, Mairi, for killing that bastard."

She had to know what lay at risk beyond her anger. To be condemned to walk the Earth for eternity without life or happiness drastically sucked. That was his life. Break the rules and pay. That's the way of things irregardless of your world of origin.

The screeching fiddle blared through the door.

Fine. Dance off the frustration. The woman couldn't prescribe a better cure. He sank against the wall at the top of the stairs.

The blaring music looped for hours. He began to recognize the songs. Know their order. If the racket were turned down a bit, he would even enjoy some of the cultural jabs.

His butt buzzed with sleep.

Sitting around waiting for Brave Woman to try to flee was a waste of time. She wasn't running. Nor risking opening the door again. He shoved up, rubbed his numb ass, and descended to the library.

He couldn't blame her for being over-emotional. Hell. The fact she tore her precious books to shreds reflected her turmoil. A little tape would mend things. Then, she would have her special books ready for research.

It didn't take long for him to find her tape dispenser and gather the loose pages. One by one, he taped each back where the frayed text was decipherable. Bless Grandfather for insisting he learned to read. He would look the idiot for taping some pages in the wrong book.

The house resonated with silence while he buttered more bread and slapped cheese between the pieces. Still there was no sound while he ascended the stairs with a mug of steaming tomato soup and the sandwich.

Was she gone? He would have heard her leave her room. He quietly turned the knob.

The door swung inward with a whine. Her gaze anchored upon him. She sat with her legs folded beneath her on top of the burgundy area rug partially covered by her bed.

The little Buddha.

"Is that for me?” she asked softly.

Nodding, he crossed the wooden floor and sat on the small oval rug. She fingered the hot mug. He placed it on the floor near her thigh so she could take the handle.

"Thank you.” She shot him a sweet blue gaze and smiled. “I'm all right now."

He brushed a knuckle along her velvet cheek. “I hope so."

She leaned into his finger. “I promise not to break any rules."

He could have shouted no. Told her to fight them. Gods, he wanted her to be happy. Smile all the time. Look at him with such understanding he could return the smile. Brave Woman should be able to kick ass if she wanted. But not now. Not with Evie's life held over Mairi's head. Not when she would become an outlaw Druidess for punishment. Although her ranting seemed passed, leaving her to herself was dangerous. He would have to keep her on a short tether.

"Do you think I'm losing my wits?” she whispered.

"The situation calls for it."

"You're quite the philosopher when you aren't trying to tease me into a fight."

Touché for the calm hot babe.

She took the plate from his hand, dipped the corner of her grilled cheese sandwich into her soup, and tucked the bloodied corner of bread between her lips. He watched her chew the bite in silence. Her gaze studied his scars. His face. His hands.

Gods, just to tell her he wasn't an asshole. He focused on the tight loops in the burgundy rug to center his thoughts.

"Grilled cheese is the only thing you know how to cook. Isn't it?"

Mercenaries didn't spend much time watching cooking shows. He fought back a grin. “I nuked the soup. That counts."

She rolled her serene gaze to the ceiling, sighed, and blinked her gaze back to him. “For you, aye. But I think I shall cook you something for supper. I wouldn't want us all stopped up from a cheese overdose."

Whatever. All he had to pass was a frigging hairball. The braid ought to count as roughage. In the end, he knew she didn't care for his cooking.

"No. I wasn't mocking your ability. You're a wonderful grilled-cheese chef.” She smiled. “I wouldn't want any other cadet around. Cooking isn't part of training.” She bit off another piece of sandwich.

What he would give to keep her around. But until she confessed her feelings beyond convenience, he wouldn't risk smashing his little bit of black heart she'd managed to polish into an insanely golden hue. “We'll get Evie back tomorrow. And I'll kill the bastard."

Mairi smiled. “I know you will kill him.” The man better. If he didn't, she would have to kill the cretin. Eh, her tough-guy guardian didn't need to know that. Now to find out how he astral projected. Even more so, how he became a halfling. “Can you explain how you took me to your sacred place?"

He chuckled softly. “Babe, it took me four years to get there. Another one to push the demons from my mind. Grandfather almost lost his patience trying to hone my skill. We've got enough going on without trying to crack that geode."

"Geode?” she peered up at his wee sterile smile.

"They're hard to find. And when you do find one, there's no guarantee what you'll discover the interior is worth keeping."

He could toss riddles around with the best of them. “You know.” She traced a fingertip over one of his jagged scars. “I don't understand exactly how you weren't born with this skill."

"All I know is Scotty saved my butt from certain death. In the process, I was awarded shape shifting. Arthur says I'm a new soul. Like you."

"Me? I can astral project too?” How liberating.

"Maybe."

She wriggled onto her knees and gazed into his dark eyes. “I want to learn. I want to transcend time and space."

Black Elk sat quietly.

Why couldn't he teach her? “Come on. Teach me."

He raised one thick long finger before her nose. “Grandfather always told me the gift was for healing. Centering. As long as I fought it, struggled to use the skill for escape, I was an angry young man. The place you find is sacred. Your temple. A healing sanctuary."

"Are you lecturing me?” Today wasn't a good day for studious vespers.

His smile curled into one of his cheeks. “Babe, I'd spend my time on other topics.” He winked.

Had he just insulted her sexual prowess? Not that she had any. But a lass had pride. “You just didn't say I was a bad screw? Did you?” He'd never admit it.

"Mairi!” He winced.

She had him. “Don't admonish me when you said it. So now you'll teach me how to astral project to make amends.” Actually another round of lick-me-all-over sounded titillating. A wee lesson couldn't hurt anyone. Admit that? No. Or she would never learn about astral projection.

He inhaled loudly, straightening his shoulders. “Very well, sweet Queen of Comebacks.” He crossed his legs, placed his palms on his knees, and met her intrigued gaze. “Follow my example."

She copied his position and smiled. “What next?"

"You have to take off your shirt.” He kept his features still. Emotionless.

"What?” she gasped.

"Your heart must be bare.” He stared at her.

She exhaled, wrenched her big ugly sweatshirt over her shoulders, and cast it onto the rug. “What next?"

"Remove your bra."

He was so stoic with her wearing naught but a red lace bra. This was a quest for knowledge too. The things a lass did to save the timeline. She licked her lips and popped the tiny front clasp between her breasts.

Black Elk's hungry black gaze almost begged Mairi crawl into his lap. She loved how his eyes squared slightly. Like a panther ready to pounce. The hunk better show her how to astral project or get to licking. “What next?"

Slowly, he closed his eyes as if pained.

"I didn't need to take my shirt off did I?” she whispered.

A smile split his cheeks.

Why wasn't she surprised? “I could sock you, Romeo."

He cracked an eyelid. “Go ahead."

"I'm trying to be serious. God-dess-Spirit knows you aren't helping.” Nor did the chilling draft in the room. Her taut nipples had to be perceived as anything but solemn.

He turned his gaze completely to her, his smile fading into a blank mask. “I thought I was being extremely helpful."

Although he was misbehaving, his facial features held the knowledge of the ages. His long pointed nose and those wistful eyes spoke of intelligence.

"You don't want to teach me how to astral project. Do you?"

He fell onto his palms, crawling toward her like a black panther shorn of its pelt. His eyes flashed with hunger.

Life's breath seemed to abandon the bedchamber. Leave her panting. She shoved back onto the bed's mattress.

He kept coming regardless of her retreat. He crawled over her bent knees, placing a hand at each side of her hips, and hovered an inch from her nose. “They say Holy Union is like astral projecting. One graceful dance for mystic lovers all the way to the Otherworld."

Truth. With his sweetly bowed lips so close, that was one terribly dangerous thought to ponder. She had to do something to change the subject. Challenge him or loose the only leverage she had to save Evie.

His warm breath filled her lungs.

What a potion. “Others say ‘tis the most selfless act a person can share. Do you think you can handle it, Black Elk?"

He blinked slowly. “Holy Union has yet to do me in."

She clamped down her tomcat comment. Maybe something good could come from his knowledge. Skill. Goddess, she'd already witnessed what he could do with his tongue.

A well-practiced Brother wasn't what Sisters normally wedded though. Nor were Sisters practiced in the most intimate of amorous situations either. Books and documentaries certainly couldn't get her up to speed to prepare her to assist him in his mystical transcendence.

His intent gaze sent a wave of fire searing up her cheeks.

Why now of all times? He'd already disrobed her and had his way with parts of her nobody else could claim to have touched. Not even her surrogate mother. She slid her gaze to the floor.

His fingers grabbed her chin, drawing her gaze back to his. “I have never witnessed the Holy Light of Union, Mairi."

Could she be so unfortunate to risk becoming a Halfling's soul mate? He might bind his soul to hers. The thought was pure self-destruction. How could she think so selfishly when Evie may die any moment?

The distraught look in Brave Woman's eyes, the fear combined with budding relief, made Cochise hope for something he gave up on years ago. The day Scotty shook his hand, entered his name as an Apprentice, handed him a list of Ring Master rules, and welcomed him to the Order—the very same day when his ex-comrade Special Forces’ kimosabes almost blew his AWOL Tonto ass up with a car bomb straight from Papa USA—was the day he gave up on life. Gave up on Grandfather's dream of having great-grandchildren and continuing the legacy of The People. Gave up on caring for anything. Now, here he sat with a Druidess lighting the Hope Bonfire in his heart.

Could she love him? Give him a reason to care for anything other than vacant duty? If he hadn't searched the depths of her pleading eyes, he would never have believed she wanted him.

Whip out the babe shackles, Great Spirit. He was ready to surrender. Slowly, he leaned down to taste her soft lips.

A hint of grilled cheese glossed them.

His inner cat wanted to roar.

Her palms slid up his chest.

Gods, he loved the way she touched him. Softly. Like a hungry breeze's whisper.

She opened her hot moist mouth to him. Allowed him to possess her. Her hands slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. To her plump breasts.

Gods, he wanted to knead them like a pawing kitten.

He snatched her up, lifted her shoulders to the bed, and, with his aching loin between her legs, shoved her onto the green bedspread.

Her legs were so freaking hard they way they spread wide to him. Lean. Ready.

Mairi watched the fire sputter, tracing out the scars on Black Elk's chest. They glowed like jewelry, emblems of his achievements like the blue tattoos the Brothers earned when reaching various points in life. Although he lacked the Brother's pentagram tattooed in a circle over his heart, he wore his badges proudly. She knew he would eventually be trained to ride the rings. But now he was just a cadet. And then, being a cadet meant he should be acceptable husband material. Right? Where were High Priestesses when a Sister needed misty orders clarified?

He pressed his tight belly down onto hers, pinning her down, hovering, staring into her eyes.

The man searched for something. Perhaps her nonverbal agreement to bind with him? Dare she utter those words?

His succulent skin called to her. Begged her to lick him all over. She'd never dreamed she would become a preening cat. Any second, Mairi Ross would transmute into a mewling calico. She wanted to wrap her legs around him. Hold him there. But that felt so sacrilegious.

"Thoughts whirl behind your eyes, Siyotanka,” he cooed. “I would know what you're thinking."

Dare she confess he was a Halfling?

He leaned toward her face, his cheek brushing past hers. “Tell me.” He shoved his hard manhood against her.

By the God-dess-Spirit, she would die if he didn't squelch the desire shafting through her spirit. “I...” She bit her tongue to stop the admission forbidden by Code.

He kissed her cheek, then nibbled on the edge of her ear. “What are you thinking?"

"I want to...” She gritted her teeth and attempted to conjure a lie from her completely inadequate brain. “I want to lick you all over.” Had those words actually come out of her mouth? Impossible. Not after trying to bar the thought from her mind for eight years.

A feral groan rumbled through his chest. He snaked his arms beneath her and rolled them over. The man's dark eyes softened from those of a keen hunter to a sleepy kitten's domesticated half-shuttered gaze.

Goddess, had she done that to him? But could she believe he turned to her for love or sexual gratification? He was a Centurian. A man of his day. Bred in a culture condoning male promiscuity. Or was he a godling using powerful magic on her? Hadn't Killer called him a godling? But he was everything she dreamed of. She shoved up for a better view and choked at how his iron body felt amazing against her groin.

He slid his palms up her thighs, erupting gooseflesh along her legs, gazed into her eyes, and whispered, “Siyotanka."

The strange word shushed magically as it receded into the murky corners of the room. His gliding hands eased up her hips to her waist, and farther to coil around her breasts. If his words were magic, his hands were ultra-bewitching. Hypnotic.

Her cares vanished like his mysterious words. She arched into his warm handhold. His body tightened beneath her, pushing his hard manhood into her loin like he intended to meld with her spirit.

"Take off your shorts,” he said.

Anything to keep him touching her. She fumbled with the button at her waistband.

God-dess-Spirit help her. She had to think fast. Outwit the enchanter. “What is it you are saying?"

A smile tugged his lips across his tanned cheeks. “Siyotanka means flute in the Lakota language, Babe. A flute's only played to make love songs. And I intend to play the most beautiful melody with you."

No words could have sounded more beautiful. She needed to sink into his chest and wrap her spirit around his. Drive away his pain. She stretched out over his war wounds, mashing her breasts against his warm beating heart.

"That's it. Come to me,” he whispered, sliding his warm hands to the waistband of her shorts, wiggling his fingers beneath it, and pushed the stiff elastic down her hips.

Golden fire sparked inside his scars.

Something powerful was drawing them together. Goddess, she should stop. Save everything she possessed for Evie.

Mairi closed her eyes and wriggled out of her lace panties. Black Elk's succulent skin burned with fiery need beneath her thighs. Settling her thighs back around his firm waist, she couldn't breathe.

Need jolted through her being, clenched her heart, and drove back any of her lingering doubts. Her spirit couldn't deny this man was the only man for her. Her destiny. She wanted to hold onto him with her legs. Never let him go.

His hands slid around her lower back and gently pulled her breasts down against his rattling heart. “Siyotanka,” he cooed out a melody with the word.

The bewitching whisper was all she could hear with her eyes closed.

"Look at me, Mairi. I want to know you see me."

There had best be desire in those eyes. A yearning surpassing hers. She opened her eyes.

Her nose hovered but an inch away from his. A bit of red drew her gaze over beside his head. Her panties. And blood, in the crotch.

Unfathomable curses. Cursed by the Gods, no less. She bled at the most inopportune time. The fairies sent their opinion of her antics in a less than lovely message. No Brother or Sister may fornicate with Halflings. Always the bloody rules. She shoved her feet onto the throw rug, grabbing the telltale lace.

Black Elk's brow furrowed. He pushed up onto his elbows. “Siyotanka?"

Hide, Mairi. She whirled to her bathroom, slammed the door shut at her heels, and turned the doorknob's lock.

"Mairi?” his muffled words called through the brown door's wood. “What's wrong?"

Shadow shifted beneath the door. His disturbed footing. She was such a vile being.

"I started my menses.” Hopefully, the confession had to be enough to deter his affections.

"Mairi, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I must tend to this. Then I shall cook us a meal."

The shadows shifted beneath the door again.

Would he insist they continue with their despicable relationship?

"All right.” His shadow slid away, leaving cleansing sunlight creeping beneath her door.

The bedroom door whined and thumped. He was gone. Hurt. Probably angered. She had thrust a blade between his shoulders then twisted it. She placed a palm on the door's cool wood and sank a cheek in the hard wood. “I would love you if the Gods would but allow it."

Always the Gods. Never a Druid's choice. Pondering the issue was useless. She had given her life to the Order. What the fairies asked for her devotion was a small price for the gift of time travel to study the Gael's past. But in Black Elk's case, the trade off was disastrous. “Make his reward for his service exceptional.” He would have naught else in the end. No Sister would have a Halfling.

Tears stung her eyes, branding her with Truth.

He deserved a Sister who would chalk rules to the Universe's hum for him.

How she dressed and took the stairs, she didn't know. He was downstairs. Somewhere. She would just cook a meal. Something amazing. Anything to soothe his pride. Black Elk had a heart. She knew it. Saw it burn in his chest through his life's scars. Rather tattoos like the Brothers’ tattoos. Somehow she felt she drew the fire out of him, marked him with the symbols of his dedication to the Orders. Was she his reason to live? To contemplate such an idea would draw her deeper into delusion. No Brother or Sister could fornicate with Halflings.

The bottommost step jarred her thoughts back to the living room. No one sat upon the green furniture. She glanced at the light beaming through the library doorway onto the tile flooring.

Naught broke the steady stream. He wasn't therein. She stepped toward the kitchen doorway.

The damnable black telephone hung on the wall like an unpleasant loitering demon.

Lying on the leather couch, Black Elk thrust his forearms over his eyes, blocking the annoying sunlight and any sign of movement from the library doorway.

Brave Woman had to be out in the hallway. The stairs had stopped creaking. As upset as she was about the menstrual issue, she needed space to deal with her cultural ideas about menstruation. Regardless of how much he just wanted to shove her against the wall and possess her.

Later. He wanted her to realize how much he needed her. Even more later. Always later. The word was old news ready for shredding. But nothing in life was free. To take what he wanted without giving her the opportunity to ask would be a mistake.

A pan clanged in the kitchen.

The woman was better off cooking. He just needed some time to let need go. The only way to recompose was to escape and slip into his sacred place. He closed his eyes.

"Bless the God-dess-Spirit,” Mairi mumbled at the water streaming out of the kitchen sink's faucet. The man hadn't reappeared. Better for both of them.

A cramp ached in her womb.

Bloody menses.

Bubbles frothed in the steel basin. She hefted her large glass bowl from the counter, gently turned it into the suds, and shut off the stream of water.

Everything was almost ready. The scones baked in the oven. Ham steaks waited beneath foil. The meal along with mashed potatoes and cabbage had to lift Black Elk's spirit. If only he would stick his cat nose in the doorway. Then she could feel better about herself.

The front door thumped open.

All four of Granny's laddies shuffled into the family room. They turned to look at her through the doorway, slowly sliding their black sunglasses down their long noses.

"What's that enticing smell?” Death asked.

He looked like he meant the smell of woman. She gulped.

Killer snapped a pinched brow Death's direction. “Mind your tongue."

Death growled at the larger biker.

All she needed was a dogfight over meat. “Ham,” she blurted.

Both men's gazes slid to her.

Death licked his lips. “Sounds good."

For some reason, he sounded ravenous. Weren't Hell Hounds fed in the Underworld?

The huge bikers shuffled through the doorway, drew out chairs around the table, and settled in at the empty wooden surface, eagerly watching her.

What else could happen today? She hadn't even thought about cooking for them. Hopefully, there would be enough. If Black Elk didn't show up soon, the dinner would be a wash. A beer or two might fill their bellies. “Would you like a beer?"

They all shot red gazes her direction. “Aye,” they barked.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to chilly attention. Perhaps a good feeding would send them into a deep slumber. She grabbed the cold brown bottles from the bottom of the refrigerator door and turned to the table.

All the men watched her like she was a plump tasty goose. She handed Nose a beer.

"Smells delectable.” He trailed out the tip of his tongue and wetted his red lips as if she were those very lips.

Luckily, he snatched the bottle.

What in the bloody Universe was going through these men's minds? A smart lass didn't ask. “There's Bubbles and Squeak too.” Surely, godlings knew about fried cabbage.

Hawk Eye grinned and winked.

"I told you to behave,” Killer boomed. “Does anyone listen?"

She scanned the men's reddening masks. Their anger magnified with each of her drumming heartbeats.

"I don't see a reason to fight,” she said. “There's plenty of ham—"

"Wait my turn?” Nose shouted, shoving up from his chair. He glared at Killer. “Is that what you're saying? Who made you lord?"

Killer jolted to his full height. His chair toppled backward behind him. “How dare you frighten the Sister."

By the way both bikers balled their fists, she knew something was terribly wrong. She sidestepped toward the door.

Death rose and turned a slitted gaze her direction.

Why didn't she feel he wasn't protecting her?

"You will listen to me. Leave the Sister alone,” Killer snarled at Death.

Death winked at her.

Where was Black Elk?

"Grandmother left me in charge,” Killer said through gritted white teeth. “You will do as I say."

Nose leapt across the table, shifting into a white hound mid air. His front paws rammed into Killer. The head dog fell, grabbing at Nose's neck. Death ignored the nosy display, grinning at her.

Something bad unfolded before her. Could godlings catch rabies? Or worse? Without Black Elk, she would never survive an attack of four fey mutts. She took another step toward the doorway.

"Don't go,” Death grinned. The shortest of the four brothers, he was still enormous. The most disturbing in the way he never seemed to blink.

She managed to steal a third step before Death took one toward her.

"I'll never leave your side,” he cooed. “Trust me, Mairi. With me, you shall always feel safe.” A wily grin curled across his sickly white cheeks.

"Black Elk is my guardian.” She slid a foot toward the living room.

Death wagged his head slowly. “No. He's not man enough to do the job. I can.” He matched her retreating footsteps.

Was she to fight off a shape-shifting fairy with her bare hands?

Hawk Eye stomped up to elbow Death out of the way. “Leave her alone. She has no interest in you."

Were they talking about more than guardianship? Goddess, not mating. Where had they gotten the idea? “Black Elk,” she yelled.

Nude, Cochise sunned on soft grass beside the jingling waterfall in his sacred place. Sunlight danced on the faint mist above the rocks creating a rainbow. He studied the changing colors, wondering how long he dared leave Mairi back in the house.

"What are you doing, Caointeoir?” the old hag's voice called from the distance.

He shot into a sitting position, thought himself a breechcloth, and scanned the pond's mercurial surface.

Something gray moved to the left. Bheur's robe. What was she doing here?

She walked toward him like she floated with her hood drawn up over her head. “Why are you hiding here? Is this how you repay me after I indulged your fondest wish?"

Rambling coercion. The crone walked on thin ice. “I don't know what you're talking about."

She waved a wrinkled gray hand at the meadow. Her arthritic fingers seemed to clutch at nothing. “Your grandfather gave you this.” Her icy gaze shot through him. “I gave you shape shifting. Now, you will give me what I want."

Something hard lodged in his throat.

The unruly lump choked him. But why should the revelation shock him. Nothing in the real world or the one of surreal meditation was free. “What do you want?"

A smile stretched across the old woman's pleated skin. She halted before him, looking him over where he knelt. “Show me your wit. I know you're smarter than that."

"I have learned the hard way. It's better to respect one's elders."

One of her eyebrows arched wildly. “So the brash youth transforms into the wise old man before my eyes? My powers are truly astonishing."

Why did that sound like an insult? “What do you ask of me?"

"The moon is in Mairi's house, Caointeoir. Your destiny fizzles as we speak. Do you wish to waste another chance the Gods tossed your way?"

Wasted chances? He fisted his fingers, squeezing until the boiling rage faded beneath her chiding gaze, permitting him to think.

The moon? Unruly hounds? Damn. He'd gone and left Mairi alone with them. Was he to fail at every turn along his life's path? He leapt into the cool water.

"That's it, Caointeoir,” her muffled cries found his ears underwater. “Grab onto your destiny. Hold it as if your life depends upon it."

Yammering bitty. If she would cork it, the world would be a better place.

"Ha ha ha, Caointeoir. I am your conscience. Trust in me. I shall not lead you astray."

Lead me right to death, and then some. Why did her irksome echoing words stick in his ears? They seemed to be inside his head. He shook his head, pulling the water behind him with his arms.

The curs were after Mairi. He had to hurry.

The darkness sucked him downward. Back to his sleeping body in the library. Yet, he heard nothing but silence. His spirit sank back through his body's chest. The world's cacophonous sounds jarred in his ears.

"Stop,” Mairi screamed. “I don't know what you're thinking, but I belong to no one."

What? Cochise jumped to his feet and tore across the rug.

A dog snarled. And another. Something crashed in the other room. He darted through the doorway into the living room where one white hound bit another's throat.

Blood trickled down the creature's pristine fur from his brother's sharp fangs. A third hound slowly edged toward Mairi. She stood with her back to the door, sunlight glaring around her shoulders, casting her face in shadow.

Granny's laddies wouldn't defile his woman. What he required was bigger. Better than a panther. Running toward the melee, he conjured up the tingling. A stronger painful sensation.

Sizzling electricity seared the scars on the back of his thigh.

The room shrank around him.

His legs barely moved. He fell onto wide fore paws and roared.

The dogs froze. All three hounds turned to him, their glowing red eyes widening as they lined up, forming a ludicrous puppy wall.

Impenetrable? No.

The pups bared their fangs.

Right. He was so-o scared. He would laugh in their faces, but bears couldn't chuckle. Instead, he roared again and swatted at the closest mangy cur.

The dog whelped.

He flung the whimpering bag of bones toward the kitchen entry like irritating droplets of water cast off one's hand.

The other two mutts backed away.

"I'm going to break your filthy necks before I'm finished,” Cochise shouted in bear.

"We're only doing as instructed,” Killer's familiar voice replied in dog. His muzzle was the one lined with another's blood.

"Terrorizing my charge?” Cochise roared.

The dogs shrunk back slightly.

Mairi sidestepped around the back of the hounds, ran up the stairs, and slammed her door. Four red eyes watched her retreat with malice.

Or was that hunger? Had the mutts been sent to devour his babe? “State your intent,” Cochise demanded. “Or die.” That is, if it were possible to kill Hell Hounds. He had every intention of avenging Mairi's honor.

Killer met Cochise's gaze and unfolded into a towering spotlessly clean biker. “We're to pick up the slack if you fail the Gods. One of us,” he shot the other hounds a glance, “is to become her mate. Ensure her spirit can't be taken by the Flarion."

Cochise's heart stopped cold. “I was not informed of that plan."

"There is no time left. The moon is in her house. If you do not claim her for your own, I cannot promise I will be able to control my brethren.” Sunlight radiated through the window behind the big man, creating a brilliant sheen on his black sleeve.

"The moon? You say the moon. Yet the sun is all I see,” Cochise sneered.

Killer shook his head, his serious gaze glowing like red lights on electronics. “All you wish to see. ‘Tis the moon of women. Do you not smell it?” He thrust up his nose and sniffed at the air.

All Cochise could smell was the salty iron tin of blood on the other dogs. And ham. “Cut the crap."

The remaining curs metamorphosed into bikers. Injury free. They kept a good distance between themselves and Killer.

"Her curse.” Killer waved a palm to assist in his explanation. “The blood."

The frigging moon! How could such a worldly Lakota be such an idiot? Her menses.

Killer snaked his huge white hands across his chest and stared Cochise down. “What say you, Bear? Shall my brothers and I battle it out to see who is victorious?"

Not while this Lakota breathed. He invoked the painful tingling in his thigh and shifted back down to his human height.

"If Mairi gave any hint she wished her spirit bound to a Hell Hound's, I would step aside.” He turned to the stairs. “She has not."

He took the first three steps in one stride but found his legs too weak. Shape shifting into a bear always weakened him more than the panther stunt. At least, he could still walk. Becoming a sea eagle knocked him out for days.

"You have until dusk,” Killer warned.

Great. The four godlings wanted to mate with Mairi. She wasn't interested in much of anything at the moment. And he had just enough time to set off one of Brave Woman's tirades.

Mairi paced across the burgundy carpet beside her bed. The only other thing to do would be to hide beneath her bed. Did the Gods wish her to cower in that ridiculous fashion? The door had to hold out Granny's laddies and Black Elk's bear form. If not, the Gods had great fun at her expense.

What just happened? She just cooked dinner. Ham. Ham set the Godlings into a feeding dither. As if a steak wasn't enough to satiate their hunger. Wasn't Killer trying to eat Death?

God-dess-Spirit, Bheur call the lads home.

A knock rattled at the door.

She spun, feet spread for defense.

"Mairi?” Black Elk asked.

At least, he hadn't roared. A shiver skittered down her spine. The grizzly would have just ripped the door into kindling. “What?"

"The Hell Hounds have revealed part of the Gods’ plan. We must talk. Open the door."

Right. And allow Bheur's menagerie free run of her bedchamber. He really thought she was a dullard. “How can I believe you'll stay in human form?"

"Shifting into bear form is painful. Even though the panther's easy, I've no reason to shape shift on you."

Reason? He required reason? Goddess she would never understand. “Vow it."

The shadow beneath the door shifted as if he rocked back and forth on his footing. “I swear I will not shape shift, Siyotanka. Open the door. We must talk."

Where could she run? Hide from godlings? But Black Elk had saved her. She unlocked the door and pulled, peering through the crack.

One of his moody black eyes watched her through the gap. He slid a palm against the door and pushed it open.

Gods, he was gorgeous. Why did he have to be a skin changer?

"I'm tired, Siyotanka,” he whispered. “I can't shape shift for a few hours. I wish I could say you're safe with me. But playing Brother Bear is expensive. I need to rest. Powwow time. Then I'll rest.” He stepped into the room, moving slowly to close and lock the door.

Was the movement for show? To ease her fears? She backed away to place some distance between them.

He turned half-shuttered eyes her direction. “Sit."

The man did look exhausted. She descended into a cross-legged position on the area rug.

He followed her and knelt at her side, taking care to leave some distance between them. “Bheur forgot to declare the Hell Hounds were sent to see your spirit was bound to one of five spirits."

"What?” Her gut twisted.

He thrust a thumb toward the door. “They're downstairs now, arguing over who's the best cur to wed you."

"By all that is sacred, that's ludicrous.” She pushed to her feet. “Do you mean to tell me I'm to marry a Halfling?"

Cochise grated his teeth. That's what the bloodied panties were all about. Not only was she the best bricklayer he ever met, but she could lie through her teeth. “Did you not call me a Halfling?” he managed to ask without shouting.

She pivoted to glare at him. “Don't pull that crap with me. I have feelings for you.” She clamped her mouth shut as if she had said something she wished she hadn't.

Was that admission another female tactic? All the Gods’ subterfuge reeked.

She gulped and whispered, “I'm afraid to break the few rules I've sworn to uphold."

"Tell me to leave, Mairi. And I'll never speak of this again. Never touch you. Try never to look at you."

"Goddess, was a lass to die three-thousand deaths in one lifetime?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Her pain was obvious. That meant her feelings true. “The Gods have placed us together for a reason. Weren't you listening?"

She waved a palm at him.

So Brave Woman wouldn't fight the enemy at any cost. Morals over emotion. Hopefully her head and heart would start working together. She needed a breather. He spun to the door.

Mairi watched her distressed guardian walk toward the door. Black Elk had nowhere to go. She couldn't stand to watch him leave. He had naught but duty. And she had pained him beyond belief. If the Gods wanted this, curse Code. She bolted to intercept.

With two steps to spare, she threw her back across the door's cold wood and thrust out her palms to stop him. “Damn Code to bloody Hell and back."

His brow furrowed as if he misunderstood. “What did you say?” The confusion on his face gave him a bit of youthful innocence.

How refreshing. She almost laughed and lowered her arms to the wall. “You can't leave because I'm going to bind my spirit to yours."

His chest rose and fell like he'd beaten the world at its own nasty game. “I think you've got that backward."

Forward. Backward. Upward. Or Downward. They were about to do something incredibly dangerous. But Mr. Bastard Kidnapper had no inkling of Black Elk's existence. And the Gods seemed to approve of the match. Lick-me-all-over in this year sounded better than any time-travel jaunt. Time to get on with life.

He placed a fingertip beneath her chin. “I'm tired. Rest with me. Then we shall dance in the Light."

It was even sweeter how he could wait for the right moment to meld his heart to hers. “All right."

He pulled her down onto the bed to rest along the curve of his body. Right where his heart beat like a war drum.

Her heart raced.

She wanted to rip his pants off. Straddle him. Take what was rightfully hers through the Gods’ sanctioning. She slid a palm up his arm and squirmed around until she could tuck her nose beneath his chin.

Maybe there was something she could do to rejuvenate him for the binding? Massage his stress away. She slid her palm over his shoulder onto the hard musculature of his upper back.

"Will you lie still, Mairi?"

The fire glinted in his scars.

What a lass would do to see fireworks. She wriggled out of his grasp. “I'm going to give you a massage."

He cracked an eyelid and smacked his lips. “Very well."

She grabbed his shoulder and shoved him onto his stomach. Goddess, his backside was scrumptious. Her hands itched to touch him. Make him hers.

Thoughts whirled inside her head until all she could think of was his broad shoulders and slim waist. She slid a knee across his arse and sank down onto him. The man was glorious organic iron between her legs. She felt empty and alone atop him. God-dess-Spirit, how would it be to breathe in the Light with him? She stretched out like a cat above him.

He groaned.

One more pitiful moment in this life without him was torture.

Cochise went rock hard beneath his babe's rocking groin.

Rest? What a joke. Sweet Mairi had plans of her own. Plans a real man wouldn't argue with. He rolled over, pulling her back to straddle his steely shaft. “Woman, I'll never get to rest if you and I don't take care of business."

A wily smile slid into her cheek. “Is that talking dirty?"

"No, Babe. Remember, ‘I want you to lick me all over?’ That's talking dirty."

She slid down to his thighs, unbuckled his ammo belt and pants, wrenched his cock into daylight, and smiled over his engorged organ like it was a microphone. “I want you to stick this inside me."

His manhood lunged in her tight grip.

"You just earned a B.S. in talking dirty,” he groaned.

"I always wanted a formal degree in Native-American Studies,” she giggled.

He would gladly be her laboratory specimen. He hefted her off him, tossing her ridiculous grin to the side. “Now for a few more lessons, Siyotanka.” He intended on her finishing a PhD before the day was over.

She struggled to yank off her clothes while he kicked his BDU pants off. It took every bit of strength he had not to pounce on her and drive himself home.

"Hurry,” she pleaded, lying back with her legs spread wide.

Brave Woman didn't seem to recall just this morning she had qualms against bedding a man during her cycle. He slid between her legs and positioned his shaft's firm head in the warm moist notch a man loves to locate on a woman.

But this was his woman. He wanted to go slow. And as soon as he took her maidenhead, no man could ever take her from him.

She snaked her Python legs around him and squeezed, drawing the tip of his manhood into her moist heat.

Gods. She wanted him so badly she was going to take him herself. “Slow down, Mairi. We've got plenty of time."

"I need you now, Black Elk. Please.” Her blue gaze begged like she would die. She snapped her head from side to side as if she tried to fling off an invisible tarantula.

Gods, would she shake her own head off? Not with such a small request. He shoved into her until the pressure from her maidenhead stopped him.

"Oh,” she gasped and locked her gaze on his. “I'll die if you don't."

He crawled up to stare down at her, eye to eye, waiting with his throbbing shaft locked into her tight hot vise. She gasped for breath, writhing beneath him. The woman seemed tortured. Almost as feverish as last night when the witch cast the spell on her.

He could end the torment.

End his own. He shoved into her.

Her warm palms slid up his arms. She drew his shoulders down, pulling his chest against hers. “Harder,” she begged.

Harder was doable. Holding back to make her first time memorable seemed impossible.

A blinding white light shrouded the need in her blue eyes until he could see nothing. He rammed inside paradise, sinking deeper into the Light.

The Holy Light of Union. They would be going to the Land of Many Lodges. Binding where the fairies could experience the union. He had never wanted to share his lover with an audience. Oddly enough, he didn't care if the Gods observed.

She began to cry out.

Gods was she so hungry for him that he could bring her to orgasm without hardly an effort?

The warmth around him convulsed, squeezing and shaking. She climaxed, moaning.

He couldn't breathe where he flexed back upon his arms.

His spirit clenched. Again and again.

"You're mine,” she announced, a smug twang to her voice.

The last of the tremors died away in his loin. “Ownership goes both ways.” He couldn't help but chuckle after parking his car.

"Either way is fine with me. You won't be forgetting it anytime soon.” She slid her hands down his lower back. “To all ends of time.” She chuckled.

His arms buckled, and he tucked his nose into her soft hair beside her ear. “I think I detect a hint of artifice in your voice, my love."

"You have excellent hearing."

He opened his eyes to find the Light fading. His babe winked at him.

She laid a set of knuckles against his cheek. “And excellent taste in women."

"Boy, I need to paddle that vanity out of your wee bottom.” He couldn't help but laugh.

"I'd like to add your features, the high cheekbones, the dark skin, eyes, and hair, are all unsurpassed by the Brothers, Black Elk. Or should I call you Roaring Bear?"

His loin shot to full attention. He shoved it against her thigh. “Call me whatever you like. Just remember. I walk tall and carry a big stick."

She smacked his shoulder. “I saw that movie."

"Did you really see Billy Jack?” He couldn't help but ask about that fiasco.

"I rented it. The period clothing was awful."

"So was the rest of the movie.” All those Native-American movies were ridiculous fantasies. Poor facsimiles of reservation reality. He shoved onto his elbow and trailed a fingertip over one of her curvaceous breasts.

"Have you ever been bitten by a rattlesnake?” she asked.

Although he hadn't, he slid his gaze up to hers. “Why?"

"I just don't want to find you shape shifting into some slithery beast.” She shuddered against him.

"You've already met the snake, Siyotanka.” He pressed his swollen cock against her thigh and crawled atop her. “Shall I shake my rattle and hiss?"

"I prefer your feline tendencies. The tongue and your infatuation with grooming."

With this babe, eternity finally looked appealing.He HH

By the time they finished assuring Mairi received her PhD in copulation, Cochise was ready to eat ten rattlesnakes.

"I'm starved,” he announced.

"How can you be?” She scowled at him like he admitted the most despicable thing a man could.

He shoved her firm buttock to the edge of the bed with a knee and stood. “Because it's Truth."

"Truth is annoying.” She smirked at him. “Besides, I don't want to go downstairs and answer twenty questions with the nunks from Hell. They'll probably want to frisk me for verification."

And Brave Woman would snap their windpipes before they could blink though. Then there was a husband's prerogative for murder. He shook out his camouflage pants and shot her a chastening look. “If you think for one minute any of those Boobs will get to touch you, think again."

Her lips split into a priceless grin. “That's what a Druidess likes to hear. A cooperating Brother.” Her eyebrows danced a sinister ballet over her twinkling blue eyes.

Pointing out the Boobs had every intention of cooperating wouldn't make the matters worse.

His gut rumbled.

They dressed and descended to the living room. The bikers lounged on the green furniture. Each man turned a calm gaze their direction. Not one object appeared disturbed. The laddies had tidied up the mess they created.

"Did you eat everything?” Mairi asked.

Killer rose to his six-and-a-half-foot height. “We finished off the beer. And now we shall be departing."

Excellent. “Departing?” Cochise couldn't believe his ears.

"Aye.” Killer nodded.

The other brothers rose.

"Our work here is done.” Killer nodded at Mairi. “Hold the line."

Mairi almost choked on Killer's niggling words. The big albino obviously knew they'd tied the eternal knot. She nodded in return and kept her comments to herself.

One by one, the odd brothers trailed into waning sunlight onto the porch.

Good to see them go. Good to be rid of them.

Killer shot them a smile over his shoulder and closed the door.

Bless the God-dess-Spirit for taking them away. She and Black Elk strode into the spotless kitchen. The Hell Hounds had even washed the dishes. A dish pile sat upturned on a towel, drying.

She checked the mashed potatoes and sighed. Now there was only Evie to worry about.

The telephone trilled.

She flinched.

"Hurry, Babe.” Cochise said.

The bastard could have given them a night alone without interrupting their honeymoon. Yet, bastards rarely cared how people felt.

She thrust the phone to her ear, breaking a rankled ring. “Hello?"

"Mairi?” Evie's wee voice shook Mairi to her knees.

"Evie?” Mairi choked back a scream and fell against the wall. “Are you sick? Can you breathe?” What a stupid question.

"Aye. How can I get sick when Cora won't let me play outside?"

Cora? What in the Universe was going on? Mairi spun to meet Black Elk's attentive gaze.

He stood with his hands on his hips, a bit shocked by his squared brow.

"What of Cora, Mairi? Is she with you and the kidnapper?"

"What? Cora said she was taking me to the music festival. She said you said I could go. But I just sit here all day while she goes to school. Can I come home, Mairi? Please? I'll be good."

That traitorous snipe! “Aye. You can come home.” Goddess, help them if Cora was listening. “Is Cora there?"

"No. We ran out of milk. She went to buy milk."

Cora couldn't cook anything. Poor Evie had probably had naught to eat but cereal. “Stay there. Don't tell her you talked to me. We'll surprise her. Okay?"

"Okay. You will come? Won't you? Tonight? Please?"

"As soon as I can. By tomorrow. I promise."

"Hurry, Mairi. I miss you."

"I miss you too. Now off the phone. Mum's the word."

"Mummm.” The phone clicked, and the connection hummed.

Mairi hung up the phone and spun to Cochise. “We have to leave now."

He grabbed her shoulders. “Listen. We can't. Let's send Arthur and the Ring Masters. We have to catch this Flarion before he tries this same stunt again."

"What?"

Cochise disliked the way his wife crowed.

"You think I'm going to stand here when Evie needs me?” she squawked.

He gently pushed her back against the white wall and towered over her. “I know it's hard to understand, but you and I can stop this man.” The Great Spirit knew how much he wanted to shred the cretin's pale ass. “With Evie safe, you and I can do this."

But no man would take his wife. The only thing he could do was trick her into falling asleep. Transport her spirit to the sacred place. Then she couldn't get into trouble. A safe wife was a good wife. Regardless of how angry she became in the process of securing her.

"Let's eat. I smell mashed potatoes.” He smiled. “You nuke them and I'll call the Big Chief."

"Big Chief,” she squinted at him. “Who's that?"

"The head Ring Master over the cadets."

"The cadets? Is there a whole Lakota Dog Society over there?"

At least, she was thinking about something else. He pushed her toward the pots and pans on the stove. “None of my brothers to choose from, Babe. Just put lots of butter on the potatoes.” He patted her firm bottom. “That's how I prefer them."

"If I do, you'll get tired of my flabby arse."

He waved a hand at the food. “I'm famished."

When she turned her scowl away, he dialed Ronat Castle.

"Blair Atholl,” Ring Master Murdoch lilted through the phone.

"Sorry to interrupt your supper, Murdoch. Where's the head sword?"

"Smoking cigars with the men."

"Can you ask him to come to the phone?"

"Certainly.” The reply had a strange lingering bewildered note that hung around while the sound of the man's clicking loafers trailed off on task.

Cochise watched his wife's long legs as she heaped a plate with more than enough potatoes to feed the big Murdoch. That was just enough starch to knock her out for the spirit-napping. Should he feel bad for the intended deed? Nope. Every husband had the right to lock his woman away. And paradise for a prison wasn't so bad.

"Scotty speaking,” Big Chief lilted on the phone.

"Where's Arthur?” Cochise asked.

Mairi shot him a curious gaze. He forced a reassuring smile.

"About.” The answer was awfully brief for Scotty.

"Evie called here herself."

"She's at Cora's flat,” Mairi blurted. “There was no kidnapper."

He explained everything for the Ring Master.

"You take care of business yet?” Scotty lilted.

Apparently, chivalry didn't carry through to privacy in a Brother's personal affairs. If the man had been standing there, Cochise would have shredded him. “Of course. Didn't you send me here for that?"

"Just ensuring the timeline's secured. What's the plan?"

"Mairi and I will meet the Flarion tomorrow—"

"Is she standing there, lad?"

What did it matter? “Yes."

"Well, then you won't be revealing your true plan to me now. Will you?"

Ring Masters had some uncanny understanding of wife and husband psychology. “No."

"Here's what you do. Tie her up. No. No. Give her as much whisky as she'll down—"

"I'll call you back if anything develops.” Whisky was the answer to everything in Scotland.

"Wait. Wait, lad. Don't hang up. Just do something to keep her at home. I'll send Arthur and a cadet contingent to Cora's flat. There'll also be a wee contingent at the Loch Ness Visitor Center in the morning. I'm certain you'll recognize the faces."

"No kilts."

"No kilts. Good night, Cochise. Luck be with you."

What did that mean? He hung up the phone.

The microwave timer rang.

"This plate's for you.” Mairi placed the full plate on the table. “Sit down, husband."

Those were the nicest things anyone ever said to him. He drew out a chair and settled in before his cabbage, potatoes, and ham. Mairi tucked another plate into the white box and poked the timer back into whirring.

She turned to him. “Can you drive?"

A car. He'd forgotten they didn't have a car. “Yes."

"If I'm nice, Jamie will let me borrow his car."

Absolutely insane. “Over my worm-infested corpse."

She grimaced. “What do you expect me to do? Thumb it to Loch Ness?"

"We'll call a cab."

She rolled her eyes. “How incognito. Why not catch a ride with Mr. Bastard Kidnapper? Here,” she stepped toward the doorway, “let me call him to ask for a lift."

One more step and he would lose it. She kept walking toward the phone.

"Woman!"

She halted, glaring at him.

"Can you see how angry I am right now?” he spat through gritted teeth.

She nodded, smugly.

Gods, if Hot Babe whipped out a bazooka, there would be Hell to pay. “Then sit down before I tie you to a chair."

The longest sigh he ever heard echoed around the room.

At least, she contemplated the idea. “Sit, Siyotanka.” He waved at the chair beside his.

Why the Gods decided to imbue her with enough wits to follow commands at the moment, he didn't know. She sat. He slid the plate to her, offered a fork's handle, and inhaled when she thrust a bite of buttery potatoes into her mouth.

"Everything will be fine, Mairi.” He descended into his hard wooden chair.

She shot him a disbelieving sideways glance. “It better. Or I'm filing for a divorce."

Talk about comebacks. A chuckle gurgled up his chest until he couldn't help but laugh. He doubted he would be laughing if she hadn't acquiesced with something so completely impossible as divorce was for soul mates.

The microwave timer pealed. By the time he swallowed a bite of salty ham where he sat next to her, his wife watched him contemplatively.

"What are you thinking?” Maybe he didn't want to know.

"How I'm tired of worrying about everything.” The futility in her beautiful features jabbed his heart.

"Arthur won't let anything happen to Evie.” The bastard better not.

She shoveled her potatoes into a mound on her plate. “Evie liked him when she met him four years ago. I think she'll remember him."

"Children remember everything.” Hopefully, she would buy the point.

She inhaled sharply. “How could she forget? They fished for two weeks straight.” She ate more magic potatoes.

"Two weeks?” Keeping Mairi thinking about something other than the kidnapper seemed to be working. Then again, maybe it was the starch smothering Brave Woman's anger.

Nodding, she swallowed. “Wee Evie loves to fish. Arthur feared she would hook herself. So he sat with her, even though he dislikes hurting creatures."

"He does?” How odd.

A small smile curled her lips up. “Gaelic Judges don't believe in killing. That's why they're Judges.” The woman's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Is there something you're withholding from me, Mairi?"

"No.” She wagged her smile away. “I'm just proud to be a member of such an honorable organization."

"You won't be if you starve to death.” The perfect retort for stuffing one's wife into a carbohydrate slumber.

Mairi turned back to her ham, wondering how they would pull off capturing the miscreant. “What will we do tomorrow? Kill the blackguard?"

"I'll do the killing.” Her husband's flat tone ended the discussion.

But if push came to shove, she would find a way to snuff the Flarion's last breath. Somehow. The man had to pay for breaching the timeline. For jeopardizing Evie's welfare and demanding a Sister break her vows.

Who was the man? Had she ever met him before? Was he a stranger or a man she had known this past eight years?

All the waiting proved torturous. She placed her fork beside her white plate and stared at her uncut ham steak.

"Eat, Mairi. You've got to keep your strength up.” Black Elk's elbow jutted out as he sawed at his ham.

Exhaustion washed over her. Her full belly gurgled.

"I can't eat another bite.” She sighed.

The adorable wise Black Elk smiled at her and thrust a piece of ham between his lips. Her soul mate looked absolutely carefree.

"Aren't you worried at all?” Goddess, he had to be.

He shrugged and cut another bite from his ham.

"You and I? We're going to capture this renegade time traveler? And you've no worries?” she persisted.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He shot her a stern look. “There's a few tricks up my sleeve you don't know about."

Cochise couldn't shake the guilt for tricking his wife. He stared down at her half-shuttered eyes beneath him on the mussed bed. Potatoes and a quick defense of her dissertation were all he required to make her yawn. Those very same potatoes planned to take him out as well.

"What to do tomorrow?” she mumbled, yawning. Her warm hands slid up his bare back.

"I'll wake you when it's time to jump in the cab.” Another lie? Marriage metamorphosed him into a sinister mercenary like those he worked with in the Delta Force. Why should this duty differ any from other duties he'd experienced? But he believed any man would lure his maiden into a deep slumber if the deed were necessary to save her life. Especially Brave Woman's. He pressed his lips against her damp brow.

"Mmm,” she hummed.

Gods, would she outright thank him too?

She pulled his chest down against the beating heart beneath her plump breasts and hugged him, then wriggled out from beneath him, sliding onto her side, sighed, and tucked her nose under his chin. “I'll sleep well tonight,” she whispered.

More than she would ever know.

He buried his hand in her damp hair and held her curves tight, waiting. Her heartbeat pounded at his chest but slowly quieted from their lovemaking.

She grew amazingly still.

Now was the time. He evoked the tingling in his chest.

Black fur cloaked his arms. The length of his body shortened until he peered up at Mairi's closed eyelids fringed in tiny golden hairs. The strong heady scent of their recent lovemaking jolted his loin into steel.

How could he want her again after being driven into exhaustion from mating? If only he could take her now. Take her in cat form. But she was already his. For eternity. And he had to keep her alive for as long as possible to relish the time they had together.

Her hot breath poured from her body.

Seductive breath.

His groin throbbed.

How could something so innocent be so sexual? He lifted his nose to hers, inhaled, and slowly drew her spirit inside his chest. The invisible mist's heat warmed him until his lungs expanded to capacity. There was no time to waste. He had to save her from herself. From wielding a weapon and angering the Gods. He sank back into the soft bedding, closed his eyes, and carried her through the Darkness toward the Light.

By the time the water spat him into his sunny sacred space, he was ready to retch. He fell onto his palms in the meadow's soft grass and heaved.

Mairi's spirit swirled among the green blades. Her slender nude form took shape beneath him. Her eyes blinked open.

Alluring blue eyes.

Her brow pinched. “Black Elk? We're back here?"

He thought up a basket full of clothes, a blanket, and an umbrella. Brave Woman would have to set her resort up on her own. He was out of here. He leapt toward the water.

"Black Elk,” she shouted. “What are you doing?"

Mairi could have spat napalm at her husband's diving form as he slipped beneath the pool's broken surface. A smart lass didn't need a reply to understand what was happening. He was leaving her here. The wily bastard. Broiled Lakota sounded delicious.

"You'd best not return if you know what's good for you.” And he better give the kidnapper what he deserved. She clenched her fists and stamped her foot against the strange land. Where was she?

Maybe she was better off not knowing. She scanned the forest beyond the water. This whole muddle was maddening. What kind of man locked his wife in an inescapable place to seek revenge?

Revenge. That's what she wanted. No matter how bittersweet. Leaving Evie in Cora's care was like sentencing Evie to walk through a room filled with cats. She gulped.

What would happen if Black Elk had to shape shift near Evie? God-dess-Spirit, she'd gone and doomed Evie to sudden death. Well, maybe not. Black Elk would just have to manage his metamorphosis for the sake of his wife. Naught seemed stern enough a punishment given her husband's poor choice in decision-making.

Cochise shifted back into human form on the bed. Mairi's peaceful body contrasted sharply with the shrieks he heard before swimming through darkness. But there were demons to slay and the timeline to maintain.

"Get on with work,” he muttered at his foolishness. What should a man care? Why did this woman drive him mad?

Sweat beaded upon his brow. His gut lurched.

Gods, what now? He needed to puke. With one hand pressing his stomach, he ran to the bathroom, swung the lid of the toilet open, and spewed.

Yellow bile shot into the basin's water reserve. Wave after wave of nausea kept him clutching the tank until a something dangled from his lower lip. He pulled the cord.

The freaking hairball kept coming. When the end trickled out of his mouth, he almost cheered. Nothing could be as disgusting as what Bheur put him through. He dropped the slimy cord into the toilet and reached for the handle.

Should he flush? He paused.

Surely, the spell had run its course. A man could call the hag for a powwow. Or he could flush. It wasn't like any other man could bind his soul to Mairi's now. He yanked the cold handle down.

Water swirled in the basin, whipping the braid into a whirlpool of frenzy. Then it was gone.

He got the girl. What else mattered?

The telephone trilled.

What could he do? Answer? He eyed Mairi's comatose body on the bed.

Bringing her back to chat with the kidnapper wasn't happening. Of course, the call could be from Scotty or Arthur. He descended the stairs to wait for the annoying ringing to cease.

When the phone quieted, he dialed Ronat Castle.

"Blair Atholl,” Ring Master Murdoch lilted.

What time was it? He eyed the white porcelain clock across the living room on the mantle. 11:20. He'd managed to keep Brave Woman awake longer than he expected for a little romp in the sheets. “Is Scotty there?"

"He's in a Jeep headed to your location, Cochise."

Well, at least the Ring Master hadn't just left him behind. “Anything else I should know?"

"Arthur picked up Evie about thirty minutes ago. Cora still wasn't back from the store."

Odd. Why leave Evie alone all afternoon? “I'll tell Mairi."

"Congratulations on your wedding,” the man cheered.

Did everyone know? The last thing they needed was the kidnapper learning the news. “Maybe you should keep that quiet until we've located the bastard threatening to remake history."

"Oh,” Murdoch grumbled. “Right. Our fearless leader should arrive there soon. Do you need anything else?"

Only what a screaming wife would find soothing. Gods knew he wasn't going to ask for advice. “No."

Mairi jerked a blue string-bikini top out of the basket and howled, “How could he leave me here thinking a load of bathing suits would appease me?"

"Sister Mairi Ross?” a woman called with a faint voice.

Mairi spun to the water.

Across the perfect reflection of blue sky and white clouds in the pool's mercurial surface stood a blonde woman chained between two trees. Her arms seemed stretched uncomfortably. And where the wind came from that kicked up her long flowing silver sleeves, Mairi didn't know.

She jerked the blanket off the ground, held it before her, and trotted to the pool's edge. “Who are you?"

"Do you not recognize me, Sister? I am Arianrhod."

The Goddess of Time? Could any Sister claim to have seen her?

Sunlight danced upon the woman's golden chains. Nidium no doubt.

"Give me a moment, Goddess. I shall find something to liberate you from your shackles."

"Alas, you cannot.” Arianrhod hung her head. “Only the key shall work.” She slid her eerie green fey gaze back to lock on Mairi's. “The key is lost in the murky depths of the pool. Until it is recovered, my Wheel of Time shall cease to turn.” She leaned her head back as if searching the canopy for an answer. “Without a future, Spirit shall stagnate."

God-dess-Spirit, what did that mean? Wasn't time circular? Or folding in upon itself? Could the future cease to exist? Impossible. All things were connected. Written in time. Destined. First Gaelic Point of Time Travel: Illusion manifests itself as free will.

"I shall find the key.” Mairi threw off the blanket. “Clothed,” she scolded herself and jerked on the familiar pink bikini.

"The path is dangerous. The journey arduous,” Arianrhod's voice wafted across the water. “But should you find the key, seek me in my castle's dungeon."

What? Mairi spun to find the Goddess fading like an apparition.

Gooseflesh prickled to chilly attention along Mairi's arms.

Where was Black Elk when she needed him? He had to know every nook and cranny of this place. Her soul mate could find the key. But he'd left her to deal with the problem. With wee Evie safe, a Druid could hold the line. She raced into the cool water.

Cochise strode back through the dark living room to the stairs. Headlights beamed through the sheer curtains and slid across the base of the stairwell.

Scotty. The Ring Master had arrived early enough to plan the morning's maneuvers. Certainly the strategy entailed using cadets with cloaking armor. A little nap with one's wife would help him fight the Flarion force.

The engine cut out. The parking break engaged with a dull creak.

Cochise halted before the front door's window. One man slammed a door shut, his white shirt and knee-high socks glowing in moonlight. Scotty. The man's orange-and-blue tartan melded with shadows.

The white spots in a cadet's BDU pants caught the moonlight beside the Ring Master.

The Jeep's passenger door slammed.

A second cadet. Four men armed with nidium weapons and his wife's comatose body could save history. Uh. Not Sleeping Beauty. He would have to think of something to do with his naked wife fast.

The men climbed the front steps.

Cochise turned the cold doorknob and drew the door inward.

"Hello, Cochise,” Scotty lilted.

Shadows swallowed all but the men's black silhouettes.

"Welcome to my home,” Cochise trumpeted.

The trio chuckled.

"Pretty fine dowry, I'd say,” Scotty cooed.

Rude jerk. “Thanks for the Jeep. It's a killer wedding gift."

Scotty lifted the jangling keys in front of Cochise's nose. “Not part of the plan, Cochise. Afraid you'll have to talk to Big Chief Ronat about that one.” He snatched the jingling keys into his palm.

Pale ass. “That title doesn't sound right with a Scottish burr."

The men stepped into the dark room.

"Did this hen house come with electricity?” Joey's condescending cut resonated loudly.

Cochise closed the door. “I'm certain if you grope around in the dark long enough, you'll find a light switch.” He patted the Australian's stiff shoulder. “That task should keep you busy while we save history."

Joey shrugged off Cochise's palm.

"All right, lads, let's mind our tongues. We've got work to do.” Scotty turned to the kitchen. “Got anything good to drink in here, lad?"

Good translated into alcoholic. Not good with a timeline paradox staring them in the face. “The Hell Hounds drank the hen house dry."

Scotty's sigh fizzled. “Such a pity. ‘Twas a long drive."

"You'll appreciate your sharp wit in the morning,” he said with a beautiful Gaelic melody mimicking the Scots’ and turned to the library. With its window curtained in thick green velvet, they could turn on the light. Discuss the plan of attack. “Follow me."

By the time the library light flicked on, Joey had stretched out on the leather couch, his combat boots sticking up off one armrest.

"Mind your shoes on the lady's furniture, Joey,” Scotty warned.

The blond scowled and sat up, crossing his legs. Scotty claimed the freed section of the sofa.

Nice way to teach the idiot manners.

Zulu leaned on the doorframe. The big African-Dane's head brushed the lintel.

"Zulu.” Cochise nodded a greeting to his friend.

Scotty stuck his fingers inside his sporran and rummaged around.

Cochise always wanted one of the furry badger pouches that seemed to fit perfectly with a loincloth. Cadets had to progress to Ring-Master level before they could wear more than an ammo belt. Now, after wedding a Sister, he ought to be issued one. Brave Woman would probably burn it for revenge though.

Scotty extracted some index cards. “Your assignments are on these cards.” He extended one to Cochise with tanned fingers.

Cochise took the slick card. The finest handwriting he'd ever seen said two things. Kill him if you can. If you can't, take captives.

He scanned the other men's reactions to their cards. Zulu stuck his in his hip pocket. Chilling Mr. Ice never let on about anything. The façade had to be from his Danish heritage.

However, Joey rolled his blue eyes. “You could have told me this in the Jeep."

Scotty leaned back, lacing his fingers together behind his head, and stuck his combat boots out as far as they would go across the rug. “I'd no wish to listen to you whine if you didn't get a card."

Joey tossed the card into the air. The piece of white paper settled on Scotty's lap.

He handed it back to the Aussie. “Tuck this in your pocket in case you bump your head. I wouldn't want you to forget your orders."

Joey snatched the card from Scotty and tucked it into one of his BDU pant's thigh pockets.

"We've got other problems.” Cochise knew they hadn't factored in sleeping Brave Woman.

"Oh?” Scotty blinked, yawning. “What then?"

"Sister Ross is asleep."

Scotty scooted to the edge of the couch and sighed. “You can wake Mrs. Cochise up when it's time to go, lad."

The patronizing pale ass. He crossed his arms. “No. I can't, Big Chief."

"We're going to shred some pale ass. What's wrong now, Cochise?” Scotty frowned.

Time for another lie to protect his soul mate. “She's astral projected. We can't bring her back. All we can do is guard her body until she returns to it."

Scotty shoved his blue beret to one side and scratched his brown hair behind his ear. “Astral projected? Where is she?"

"Her body's in bed. Her spirit's somewhere."

The man grinned. “We'll put her in the Jeep and take her with us. Go get her."

So they were leaving ASAP. Not a problem given a few minutes to dress Mairi. Cochise spun to the stairs. By the time he stepped through the bedroom's threshold, he almost screamed. Moonlight shot through the window onto the empty rumpled bed linens.

Mairi dove into the cool water to find the key. It was down there. Somewhere. Glinting like golden nidium. Or so she hoped. What other kind of key would nidium chains have?

Light wafted around her as she stretched her arms deeper into the darkening pool's massaging water. Two kicks and Darkness almost sucked the remaining daylight away.

The water thickened into syrup.

What was happening? She focused on saving the timeline.

Bless the God-dess-Spirit, she didn't need to breathe.

The thick water began to tire her arms.

What was this insane place? Some bizarre conduit between time and the land of the dead? She shivered in the dark void.

Maybe she should have waited for Black Elk? He had to return soon. Then again, if Bheur had summoned him, he may be incredibly busy.

The water squeezed in around her, stilling her arms with pressure.

Goo. Trapped in gelatin. What kind of Gods’ trick was this? She no longer could discern between up and down save for the way her body pointed. Tunneling through the muck was her only means of escape.

Escape? From Otherworldly sludge as thick as grape jelly? Arianrhod depended on her. She had to continue. She scooped back a handful of dense slime and jabbed her elbows through the slop.

Cochise stormed down the stairs. “She's gone. Someone's taken her body.” Whoever had chosen to do so lived an extremely short life.

Zulu jolted to life, breaking the light's stream from the library across the living room. “What?” he shouted.

"Someone's taken my wife's body.” His boot hit the tile floor. He spun to the three wide-eyed men.

Scotty shoved his way in front of the tall African-Dane. “Calm down, Cochise. We'll find her.” The man actually thought waving palms at him would ease his anger.

"I'm going hunting,” the last word warbled into a growl as he conjured up the tingling in his chest.

"Slow down, lad."

There was only one kind of down he preferred at this moment. He fell onto his paws and leapt to the door.

The pale ass would pay dearly for touching his soul mate. He slid across the floor and, slammed into the hard wood, and shot the men a commanding stare over his shoulder. Which fool closed the damned door?

Scotty sighed, stepping toward him. “I guess I've no choice. Your nose is better than the lot of ours put together.” He reached for the doorknob. “Take care not to wander too far. We're better off taking the Jeep."

But there had been no sounds of motors starting nearby. The kidnapper would have needed to transport her body. There was still time to find Mairi.

The door swung open.

Cochise rammed through the widening crack and headed for the side of the house beneath her window. The asshole who took his babe would have scaled the wall. Taken her through the broken window. Any indefinable human scent on the ground belonged to the dead intruder.

Turning around the side of the house, he only found moonlight glinting off the broken glass on the ground.

"Don't run off too quickly, Cochise,” Zulu bellowed back on the porch. “I'm following you inside my cloaking armor."

Fine. Scotty could keep updated by radio contact with Zulu. For now, he just needed to catch a whiff of his prey. He carefully padded around the glass, sniffing the cold slick shards.

The scent of rubber—a sole of a shoe—and a drop of fetid sweat filled his nostrils. The kidnapper. His heart drummed. He tore into the chirping night. Mairi was out there. Unable to react to help herself. Cover herself. Someone was going to pay.

His paw snapped a twig in the darkness. Yet, he could smell the bastard's scent. The trail headed west through black tree trunks.

An engine revved behind him.

He ignored the sound. Ignored the annoying headlights. To look into them caused temporary blindness. This was no time to lose one's sight. He stretched his stride.

Every muscle in his body seemed to snap and pop. The panther body was a speed machine. Running felt so incredible he almost ran right into the bright light shining across the Tudor house's driveway. Why wasn't he surprised when he spotted the two-story MacDonald house? Mairi's yellow and black all-terrain vehicle was parked near the barn door.

His heart told him to search the barn. His head yelled at him to remain hidden. The reeking stench was everywhere though. Mairi was here.

"Cochise,” the whisper hissed behind him.

Crickets creaked the man a heralding tune.Zulu could run faster than any human Cochise met.

"Dammit. I told you to take it easy.” Zulu's hands knocked some dirt near Cochise's haunch.

Easy on the Jeep? Or the fool who stole his wife?

"Shift into human form so we can talk."

Cochise slid his gaze to meet his partner's stoic stare and stuck his long tongue out.

"Don't pull that bored cat crap with me.” Zulu waved off the display. “I know your tricks. Just shape shift, and we'll tour the property inside my cloaking armor."

Maybe it was the sense of searching the buildings shielded from existence in the Sea God's cloak. For some reason, those words hit home. He evoked the tingling in his chest and stretched out in his night camouflage.

"You must remain calm at all cost,” Zulu mumbled.

Did Mr. Spock think I'm totally inept? Cochise scanned the four windows etched in lamplight. Nothing moved behind the sheer curtains.

"Which should we check first?” Zulu whispered. “House or barn?"

"House. The mother cast a spell on Mairi. She's in on it too. Probably the whole fricking family."

Zulu swung the invisible cloak overhead. “Let's get this over with. We've got a Flarion to meet at Loch Ness."

How the MacDonalds could interfere at such an inopportune moment was dumbfounding. What else could happen?

The world inside the blister void fell awkwardly silent, as if the place they were pulled in between the Here and the Land of Many Lodges had no tiny night creatures to sing the weary into dreams. Did the Gods try to warn them like hunters seeking game? He followed the crisscrossed ammo belts on Zulu's back.

They crossed the driveway, glided through the wall next to the front door, and stepped into a hallway lit only with light pouring from distant rooms.

"Do you think this family is working with the Flarion?” Zulu led him through the shadows.

Anyone could be, given they knew nothing about the future. Nothing about time travel. “Mairi's known James MacDonald since she first arrived eight years ago."

Zulu shot a wily glance over his shoulder. “Eight years is plenty of time for a man to trick a woman into loving him enough to marry him."

"She didn't love him.” The words felt good rolling off his lips.

"That's sufficient reason to kidnap the child."

Well, he would look absolutely stupid for letting on he hadn't thought of it sooner. “The old woman's spell gave him away."

Zulu stepped into the kitchen's light. Countertops followed two walls. The third held a walk-in pantry and refrigerator. But the kitchen was empty.

"Let's go upstairs. They would keep a comatose body in a bed,” Zulu reasoned.

"If the man is in bed with her, I get to kill him."

"Agreed.” Zulu didn't even nod.

They headed back for the stairs near the front door, ascended into darkening shadow, and turned down a murky hallway lined with closed doorways.

"This is a big house,” Zulu stated.

Enormous compared to Mairi's. “There's quite a few children. All adults now."

"Could they all be Flarion?"

"I don't know.” Things were grading toward way too bizarre.

Gooseflesh tingled along his arms. Something bad. Really bad lay somewhere on this floor. “Do you feel something?” Not that Zulu had any shamanic history.

"Don't make me nervous."

"Hmph. You nervous? You never crack a smile, Mr. Spock."

"I'm all human, Man."

But whatever was on the floor wasn't.

Zulu's hand fell to a grenade on the military utility belt around his waist. “Which magic door, Cochise?"

"Pass them all. Let me see what I detect."

They strode down the hall, passing two closed doorways on each side. The last on the left had a light glaring out from beneath it. Light didn't mesh with Darkness in terms of Freemason Code. But something bad waited beyond.

"Bingo.” Cochise nudged Zulu to signal they should pass through the wooden panel.

In the Darkness, Mairi scooped so much gel toward her that she thought her arms would snap. Apparently, Otherworldly life didn't curb muscle pain. What a strange situation. So contradictory from what legend said about the Happy Otherworld. There shouldn't be any pain. No hunger. Nor sickness.

One of her fingertips poked through the distant muck at the end of her deepening hole. A tiny point of light glared at her for a moment before water sprayed her face. The faint shower intensified until a huge sun bore through the gusting water from the widening hole at the end of the cavity.

Was the light from the sun? Could she be back in Scotland? She hurled herself through the spray and popped out onto the walkway to her front porch.

Sunlight warmed her bare back and limbs. She still wore the pink bikini. This couldn't be home. She never awoke in the clothing from Black Elk's place in the Otherworld.

The front door creaked.

What now? Her heart raced.

Slowly the dark wood opened about a foot. In the shadows at the bottom of the door, there had to stand two legs. Or something with legs.

"Beg pardon, M'lady. I've been sent to help you find the key,” a soft male voice said.

One of the wee folk? She squinted at the shadows. “Who are you?” A fairy most likely.

"As you suspect.” He stepped into the brighter shade of the porch. With his gruesome hacked off nose and coat of dark brown body hair, he almost made her step rearward.

Bless the God-dess-Spirit, he wore ragged threadbare pants torn just below his knees. The poor creature appeared needier than she did. His round coal-black eyes seemed to plead with her not to run.

"I'm Harden, M'lady.” He patted fingerless palms together in humble supplication. “'Tis naught but a great honor to serve you.” He nodded. “Brownies rarely get tasked with such a chore."

A Brownie? What were the Gods up to? Arianrhod's liberation was at risk. This was no time for fairytale obstacles. “Where is the key?"

His wide mouth drew thin from ear to ear. “Inside."

She should have guessed with his almost grimacing straight-lipped expression. Her gut flopped.

"Many things await you, Mairi Ross.” He stepped aside, waving a fingerless palm at the dark doorway.

The front door gaped like a black void.

"Shall I lead the way, M'lady?"

Her gaze slid back to the coal-black eyes.

Pity twinkled therein. She wouldn't shirk her duty. “No.” With a firm footstep, she climbed the three stairs.

Three for luck. She strode across the threshold into thick looming blackness. Darkness without Light.

A shiver racked her spirit.

A smart lass would leave the dismal room. But she had to find the key. Save history. She remembered her way across her living room's void to the wall at the base of the staircase.

"Shall I wait here, m'lady?"

Either way, she would get the key. Free Arianrhod. Find Black Elk and Evie. “Do as you wish."

"When you find it, listen for my voice. I shall call you back to the door."

Shouldn't she be alarmed when her guide had no wish to venture into the darkness? She felt the hard cold banister in the blackness and turned to find the short man watching her in the doorway. His small frame further blackened by the sunlight in the rectangular opening.

"Where is the key, Harden?"

He reached for the doorknob. “In your heart.” He drew the door shut with a thump.

What did that mean?

Darkness whirled around her. She had no choice but to continue. Harden hadn't told her to look downstairs. A guide would keep her directed. The key had to be upstairs. She just had to find it. She felt for each narrow platform with her toes and climbed the stairs, gripping the banister for guidance.

"Bloody riddles. The Gods toy with me."

The banister flattened out. She felt no other steps. With a palm, she groped the slick wall until finding the doorframe to her bedroom.

Her heart? Her heart? Why such an insane clue? The whole bloody mess was some fey rede of madness. She slid her palm across the open door.

The invisible heaviness swung into her bedchamber. She grabbed the other side of the doorframe and fumbled for the light switch. The bit of cool plastic flipped upward. Sunlight flooded through the window onto the bed. And Black Elk. He lay with his back to the door as if he slept through the chaos.

"Black Elk,” she gasped and ran to him. Goddess, finding him eased her drumming heart.

He didn't move.

She fell onto the bed, worming a hand beneath his bare arm and down his washboard abs. Her palm slid across something cool and sticky. “Black Elk."

A sickening chill skittered down her spine.

Why was he so rigid? She tried to pull him over. He wouldn't budge.

"What is happening?” she muttered. There had to be something she could do. She swung a leg over him and fell onto her side beside him.

A rip as wide as the Brownie's mouth slit his throat down to the white bone. She screamed at the blood covering his chest. At the fear and loneliness in his wide eyes.

Black Elk was dead.

Mairi slid her arms around her soul mate's solid but lifeless form. “What else is there to live for?"

Salty tears slid between her lips.

Black Elk was everything she'd dare dream of. A friend. Someone to make her feel whole. A soul mate who could give her a family. Now, she had lost him. She couldn't have lost him. She loved him. “Don't leave me,” she cried and squeezed his cold stiff arms. “I need you."

Not even his heart beat one last time for her.

She would die herself on the bed they last made love upon.

"'Tis all right, Sister. No loss goes unrewarded.” Harden said from beyond Black Elk's back.

The vile fairy sent her here knowing what she would find. She shoved onto her elbow and glared at the glinting black eyes that watched her from the edge of the mattress. “What fey skullduggery is this? You knew. You sent me anyway."

"I beg forgiveness, M'lady.” He hung his furry head. “But I couldn't face your pain.” He slid an apologetic gaze back to her. “Forgive me. Light fades as we speak. You must depart."

"Leave my husband? You've lost your wits."

The fairy man placed his fingerless hands on the bedding. “You must go. Without your assistance, all is cast into Darkness. You and your soul mate are the Light."

"He has no Light, you mindless twit. He's dead.” The word hit her like an enormous fist, knocking life's breath from her lungs with a blow of Truth.

Harden's chest rose and fell in one despairing motion. She finally noticed the sunlight waned in the room. The fey's features faded with the loss of light.

"Look into his heart. Light dwells therein,” Harden whispered.

Code? Duty? She flung herself back down beside her soul mate's lifeless body.

Sunlight faded so quickly that Black Elk's eyes lost their luster.

She reached up to his cold cheek and rubbed the stern curve in his jawbone. He had been so strong. So arrogant. So wonderful. He was gone. Taken from her. Probably by the kidnapper. And she was trapped in this place. What would happen to Evie if she couldn't return?

"In his heart, Sister. Look into his heart."

"Can I not have a moment with my husband's corpse?” Given she had a weapon or even a rock, she would hurl it at the rude Brownie.

A bit of light flared in the bloodied wounds on Black Elk's chest.

He returned to the living? Gods’ jest! All was torture.

Another flood of tears stung her eyes.

She patted his chest, searching for any sign of a heartbeat.

"You must take the fire,” Harden instructed.

Take it? Rip him open? Desecrate his body? “Never. That goes against what Native Americans believe.” Or did believe. She wouldn't chance the act.

"Know this, Sister Mairi. Once Black Elk gave his heart to the Sun. And the Sun placed Light inside his chest in return for his homage. Now you must take the Sun's gift to brighten your path."

Something metal squeaked like a hinge.

"Take his Light, Mairi. Daylight fades with each moment you waste."

How was she to take anything? The unnatural embers burned in his wounds.

"Tear his skin now,” Harden insisted. “Tear it and hold the line."

Duty slammed the back of her head like a huge palm. Could logic keep her duty bound at such a tragic moment?

Sunlight barely lit her bloodied fingernails against his chest.

"Time eludes us with your delay. Take the Light, Mairi. Let us find Arianrhod and set her free."

Code. Duty. Reincarnation. Perhaps if she assisted the Gods she would have another chance to find Black Elk in another lifetime. So went the gift of soul mates in anam cara. And her second wind of hope. She traced out the panther's scar with a fingertip.

The roughened scar tissue peeled up like flaking paint.

All was madness. But legend states out of chaos, the Universe was born.

The hinge squeaked again. “Hurry. Let us fill this lantern."

She focused on the peeling skin. A crystalline substance was encased inside Black Elk's chest. The crystals were mostly smooth, yet angular like golden bits of fluorite. Shining fluorite. If the rocks hadn't glowed, she would have been engulfed by returning Darkness.

The faint illumination from the stones glinted off Harden's eyes. “Here, Sister.” He shoved a round glass container her way. “Drop them herein."

Could the Gods not give her one minute of silent prayer to catch a breath? She shoved a handful of crystals at the faint opening on the top of the jar.

The wee stones rattled in the bottom as she added every glowing piece she could find in her husband's chest. He would be proud of her. Black Elk was a man carved from duty. He would know she had done her part. He would. And the fairies would let them meet again in another lifetime.

The Light from the crystals inside the jar intensified to the point she could see the lantern's flat metal base and unlatched metal top.

Harden held the handle with one palm. “This lantern shall help you see beneath the cloak of falsehood."

The saying from Ring Master Keep's Dragon gate? Code? “Are you toying with me, fey?” Surely he was.

His gleaming gaze slid to hers. “Sister, there is so much one cannot know. So much more one needs to share.” He extended the lantern to her. “When you leave this room, Darkness shall try to turn you back. Take what Black Elk shares with you. He shall be your Light."

Was she to fight back hordes of Gods single-handedly in a bikini? “Aren't you coming with me?” The Brownie was a coward.

He wagged his head. “I beg forgiveness, M'lady. I was instructed to help you through your pain. Your journey into the Darkness is one I cannot make."

She took the warm metal lantern handle. “Why?"

"'Tis a place forbidden to the fey. A place of great danger to those of spirit. He-who-rules-over-it would snuff my energy into nonexistence. Humans cannot be detected though. Only you can make this journey."

"I will not go unless you explain why my presence is undetectable."

Harden took a long loud breath. “You are not fey."

What other form could she be in than spirit? “Am I alive?” She preferred death at the moment. Death meant she was closer to being reunited with her soul mate.

Harden's large round eyes teared in the lamplight. “Och! Aye, m'lady. How I envy you. To live. To love. To dance in the Light.” His life's breath gushed out of him. “But I am but a lowly Brownie. I live in between the Here and the Otherworld."

"I know the logic.” The fey was toying with her. “What of my special situation? Why must I go?"

He waved a palm at Black Elk's lifeless body. “You are his Light. And he is yours. Trust in your shared heart and you shall prevail.” He smiled a freakish expression with glinting teeth.

Those words were so warm. So ardent, pride swelled in her heart.

"I would help you if you would but let me,” Harden whispered.

Cold nauseating déjà vu clenched her gut. She had said those very words in reference to love with Black Elk. She gripped the lantern in a fist, kissed Black Elk's cheek, and shoved over him to place her feet on the floor.

"Find her, Sister. Arianrhod must be freed.” Harden shuffled over to the door, drew it wide, and held it for her.

There was naught left to do but grip the lantern's handle and meet her destiny. She threw her shoulders back and strode into the dark hallway.

The lantern's eerie Light gilded the banister and stairs with amber, etching out her descent, step by step into the murky Darkness.

Where did the staircase lead? To her living room? Or to some dismal place even gods wouldn't go? She stepped off the bottommost step and hastened to the front door.

The sun was out there. A trip in sunlight was better than a long journey with a lantern. She turned the cold doorknob and drew the door. The dreariest emptiest Darkness loomed outside.

What else could be done? Duty beckoned. She took her first step across the threshold.

Dust tickled her toes. An earthen surface replaced her concrete. She no longer walked across her porch.

She lifted the lantern before her.

Rocky walls stretched along her left and right.

This was a cave. A natural earthen womb. Well, maybe not in the Earth sense.

The trail led her deeper into the somber womb—a creepy awkward symbol of her mistake like in those medieval tales where caves represented a man giving into lust with a woman. But she had the uncanny sensation the tunnel guided her through a planet. To a future.

The footpath inclined slightly upward. A gust of fresh air blew her loose hair out behind her.

A draft meant an opening.

The path steepened, ushering her over a series of natural rocky steps. She peeked over the top stone at a soft yellow light. The light played along the stone of an arched entry that resembled stone masonry in most castles.

She plopped her lantern on the uppermost step and climbed to her hands and knees.

"I don't know what to do about it, Master,” a man's voice echoed in the distance. The odd voice sounded familiar.

Who was coming? He-who-rules-there? She gasped, shoved her lantern into shadows against the cold hard wall, and tried to block the Light with her body.

Footfalls clicked toward her.

By the sound of those shoes, the man could have been wearing loafers. Ring Master shoes.

"I think she will awaken if you arouse her body,” a voice boomed like thunder.

"The rules are strict, Master. Her spirit cannot be taken unless she gives it willingly. I am held prisoner by the law of your brethren."

Suddenly, she recognized the annoying drone of the kidnapper's voice. Good to hear him licking another man's boots. She tried to peer around the doorway's finely carved and set stone post.

"Laws are meant to be broken,” the Master bellowed.

"I don't know what he's done to her. How can I undo the spell without understanding its process?"

Something moved into her view beyond the doorway. A black loafer. A knee-high white stocking. A hunting plaid belted in kilt fashion. A man. Tall. His back to hers. His brown hair pulled back into a short queue. Why did he look so bloody familiar?

A cloud of misty red light edged around in front of the man. She was uncertain what it was until it shifted and produced a grimacing white and black face. The grimacing face painted with a stern mask. Something Asian or Native American. It had to be an entity by the movement. A God of some sort.

The enormous God floated around the strange Scot, drawing the man to turn his profile into the yellow light.

James MacDonald.

Her gut flopped.

"What do you suggest, Master?” Jamie's voice vacillated between a familiar Scottish burr and that of the age-old accent-free Yank. Flarion. Jamie was deep-space trash. The scourge of humanity in the future.

The entity leaned down to Jamie's face in one fluid motion. “I suggest you bind her soul to yours,” he thundered.

The stone wall at her back shuddered with the command. She clutched the lantern. God-dess-Spirit, its illumination had to remain undetected. But the Gods weren't there with her. She was alone with naught but the Light from Black Elk's spirit. His heart.

She gulped.

How ironic. Was Black Elk's glowing heart where she found the key to trudging through this nightmare?

The God whisked around the cavern and Jamie. “There is no time. I've given you everything you required. I will not lose this strategic position.” He jolted to a halt, glaring down at Jamie and thrust a finger in his face. “Bind her soul to yours, or I will find a more capable human."

"Yes, Master.” Jamie bowed.

The maneuver was elegant, even for him. Practiced no doubt. Yet reflective of his service to the God. How long had Jamie been an enemy to the Gaels? To humanity?

The God snarled, zipping off past the left stony side of the arch entry to the chamber. Jamie thrust his fingers through his hair and gasped, spinning back to storm off the way he came.

If only Bheur would show herself. One thing was certain. Jamie was going straightaway to her sleeping body to induce binding. And hopefully that meant taking the trail back to her home and Evie. She snuck to the doorway's edge, peeked left, then right.

Jamie turned a distant corner brightened by even stronger yellow light.

He was getting away. She raced on her tiptoes after the man's flapping kilt.

Goddess, if he saw her she would die. The dogmatic man wanted her spirit before. In her bikini, she wouldn't be able to keep him away from her. But he wasn't after love. He wanted power. The God's own words proved Jamie the predator. The lackey.

No one would breach the timeline because of her. History was safe with her heart bound to Black Elk's. Maybe that's why Bheur sent him to her. There was a seed of solace inside the thought. A grain of peace from purpose. Now to find her body. To get home to Evie.

The corner turned into a plain two-story chamber filled with bright firelight. She squinted.

No Gaelic craftsmen had taken the time to carve adorning designs into the stone block walls. Fires burned in pits on the floor around the room. Naught else hinted of life in the dreary chamber. The space was like an empty prison. A place best left to outcast Gods and Flarions.

Where had Jamie gone?

A large wooden door, the size of a stable's, lurked in the shadows on the far wall.

He had to have gone through there. She quickly dashed through the heated space and laid her palms upon the door.

What lay beyond? Jamie? Arianrhod? The angry power-hungry God? The only thing that mattered was finding the key. She shoved the heavy doors.

The caped gray hag stood inside the room. The brown words—she's mine, Tonto—painted on the empty room's white wall beyond Bheur's caped shoulders only reaffirmed to Cochise that the fairies could read minds.

If the bastard wanted to play, this Lakota was all game. He grated his teeth.

"Don't go do anything irrational,” Zulu warned beside him.

Cochise slid his gaze down the old woman's silver eyes and beyond to the tall man's. “You haven't seen irrational yet."

"I'd tie you up right now, but you'd go and shape shift. There's nothing worse than wasting time."

What could be done now? The freaking Flarion was meeting him in the morning. Mairi's body was hidden. He had no trail to follow.

"What are you thinking?” Zulu timbered.

"I'll shift into panther form and sniff out a trail.” That was all he could do.

Zulu went straight-lipped. “And I'll run all over trying to keep up with you. No thanks. Besides, the man's scent is everywhere. You're spinning your wheels."

The African-Dane was right. “I knew there was some reason I liked you."

He slid his gaze back to the closed door. “I don't know where he's holding her, but we're going to check every cabinet and closet in the house and every crate in the barn before I leave here.” If the Gods were with him, he would find her.

"Let's get started then."

"No,” Bheur barked. “You cannot change what is meant to be."

"Meant to be?” Cochise whirled to the old woman. “Speak straight, Goddess."

Bheur sauntered toward them like a pruned enchantress. “Her test is upon her. She shall reaffirm her faith in the Orders through her actions, or Chi Yu shall gather his allies together and overthrow the Gods."

There wouldn't be anything left for him to fear if this Chi Yu and his allies overthrew the Gods before he found Mairi. He gritted his teeth. “I'm the one who left her spirit in the Land of Many Lodges.” And he would be damned for abandoning her again.

Bheur stepped through the blister void's mottled surface and faced him off. “And I am the one who has granted you her love. Will you disobey me after such a favor?"

"I must find her.” There was no question.

Bheur's eyes narrowed until they peered through tiny slits. “I cannot stop you, my pet. But I can warn you to leave things as they should be. Sister Mairi Ross is stronger than you think. She must choose Light over Darkness."

"I must find her.” He spun to the door and shoved Zulu's elbow. “Let's go, brother."

"Nothing in life is free,” Bheur called after him.

Mairi stared through the gap in the door at the silver-cloaked Arianrhod. The Goddess stood in a cage fashioned from thick metal a shade darker than her gown. Iron. So, the Flarions held her captive with iron, the scourge of the Gods. No God could maneuver around the metal. The Goddess of Time stood shackled beyond, blinking and shifting her footing.

Arianrhod's eerie green gaze slid to the door then locked on Mairi's gaze. The Goddess winced and shook her head ever so slightly.

Don't come in? Back out? Come. Go. Stay. Hide? What a confusing message. The time to act was now. She shoved the door open and walked into the smaller chamber.

Jamie stood with his back to her in front of a tall table. A body's nude hips and legs stuck out from beside him.

What is he doing with my body? Time to interfere. She let the door slip out of her grip.

The huge wooden hatch thumped.

Jamie spun. His gaze widened, then stretched with a smile. “I should have known your patron Gods would place a decoy for me to abduct.” He stepped casually toward her. “And now you have delivered yourself to me."

The dolt had no idea her spirit was eternally bound to another's. What blessed leverage.

He rubbed his palms together and glanced sideways at Arianrhod. “What do you think, oh Queen of Time? Is she ready to bind with me?"

Arianrhod stared at a stone wall in the opposite direction.

Why did the Goddess ignore him?

He chuckled, pacing over to the fey. “I'd bind my spirit to yours if you would let me."

Arianrhod turned her back to him.

His laughter fizzled at the rude gesture. He pivoted back to Mairi. “Sweet Mairi. Do you know how happy we shall be together?"

"Naught is more impossible.” More impossible than choosing one's destiny. She'd managed that nicely.

He took two sauntering steps.

"Stop,” she commanded. “Stand away.” She would kick the bastard's windpipe. Kill him if necessary.

"Oh?” His brown eyebrows arched. He halted and threw his palms up. “I've grown the long hair. Donned a kilt. Even bought loafers. What's wrong with me, Mairi? I know you preferred me for years."

Only as a friend but not as a traitor. “You had your mother cast a spell on me. I'm supposed to love a man who would do something so underhanded?"

"And men are any different from women?” he chuckled and paced toward her again.

"Stand down, James MacDonald,” she ordered.

He rolled his eyes.

The bastard. “I'm not a sniveling Sister who can't fend for herself.” She raised the lantern a bit. The weight would hurl nicely.

"What a lovely trinket, Dearest. Wherever did you find the lantern?” He skirted her, giving her a wide berth with her weapon.

"In a very dark bedchamber.” Talk about the foreshadowing of sin with a halfling she chose for her destiny. No wonder Cochise was taken from her. The Gods ensured other halflings couldn't be born along the timeline.

The whisper of grit beneath a shoe noted he was near. She turned with him. The fool wouldn't get a chance to grab her from behind.

"Bedchamber?” His dancing eyebrows noted he thought of the room's use. “You're dressed in the perfect wedding ensemble.” He winked.

Not the pink bikini. “Don't grin at me, you Flarion nunk. How can you think I'd marry someone as disgusting as you after those lewd phone calls?"

He leaned close, just beyond her reach, and grated his teeth. “That's it Mairi. Make me want you."

She bit her tongue.

He stalked off to the table where her body laid. “Then,” he shot her a grin. “I'll just have to show you what you're missing.” He spread her body's legs wide as if he planned to defile her.

Not over her dead body. She hefted the lantern over her shoulder. If she hit him, she might knock him down long enough to snuff his life.

"The key,” Arianrhod screeched.

What bloody key? She glanced between the Goddess and Jamie. There was no key around the cage or the table.

"Don't bother,” Jamie laughed, turning back to them. “The Master keeps the key."

The wicked God. All was hopeless.

"Come to me, Mairi.” He placed his hands on his hips as if he held all the bargaining power in his crotch. “And I'll see the Master unlocks the cage."

Were all his wits zapped? She shot him a burning gaze. “Don't bother. We don't need your help."

He sauntered toward her like a nasty tomcat. “I think you do need my help. How else will you return to Earth? You're so far away you'd never find your way back without me."

The man lied. The fey brought her here. And a god had the power to send anyone across time and space ever since the Ring of Brodgar had been activated on planet Scotia Major. She glanced between the door and him. She just needed to keep him talking. “Where is this place?"

He grinned so pricelessly she almost pitied him for the friend he once was. For the Master's distortion of his life into what he had become.

"We're inside one of Cymbry's moons,” he announced, stepping closer. “On the Master's private yacht.” His clipping footsteps made her heart pound.

No one lived inside the Welsh planet's moons. This certainly wasn't a boat. “You're lying.” She had to do something to end this madness. She gripped the lantern's firm handle.

"Am I?” he lilted, stepping but two strides away. “Where's the sunlight?"

Goddess, she didn't know. The fey path that led her here was underground.

"Didn't you land in the shuttle bay?” He halted, placing his hands on his hips. “I'm surprised the Master permitted you entry. Unless, of course, he knew you were coming. He always knows what takes place inside his moon. He's a God you know."

"Stop yammering.” Her thoughts whirled with the details.

"Aye. Let's get right to pleasure.” He licked his lips.

Her skin crawled.

But if she could trick him into thinking he got what he wanted, she might free the Goddess. No man could bind his soul to hers after her spirit was bound to another man's. Ever. And the sexual act was duty. Or penance. To hold the line through such an act certainly meant she would be recycled and reunited with her soul mate in another lifetime. “Just free Arianrhod, and I'll bind my soul to yours."

A twinkle in his eye brightened the room. “That's an easy bargain."

Easy for him. She had to provide the service. Somehow, she managed to straighten her scowl. She would have to appear willing.

"Deal.” He strode to the door, pulled it wide, and yelled, “Prepare my bath.” The man acted like a medieval lord.

Bath? Was he planning to seduce her? How charming.

He shot her one of those breathtaking grins.

What wasted energy. She was Black Elk's. All the way to eternity.

"After you, Dearest.” He waved into the chamber full of pit fires.

She stepped toward the door.

He waved a hand back into the room. “Leave the lantern."

Leave all she had left of her soul mate?

Her heart stopped beating.

Jamie's eyes shrank conspiratorially.

Did he wonder what the lantern meant to her? She had to pretend otherwise. She placed the jar at her feet on the flagstone floor.

"I command you to stop, Mairi Ross,” Arianrhod shouted.

Turn around? See the anger in the Goddess's eyes? Never. There was no key anywhere to be found. She had to keep Jamie from suspecting anything. The fool had to think her spirit was almost his. She took another step.

"The key is in your heart,” Arianrhod's voice warbled. “You must hold the line, Sister."

More bloody riddles. Mairi crossed the threshold into the chamber's firelight.

"Don't worry. I shall retrieve the key from her heart, Arianrhod, with a very handy tool,” Jamie timbered over Mairi's shoulder.

The door thumped behind her.

"Come now, Dearest.” He gently took her elbow. “The bath awaits. And an enormous silk-draped bed."

Goddess. Must he narrate?

"I've the finest furs and perfumes. All from the deepest parts of space. Nothing was spared in your gifted heart."

Like precious things could make him shine.

They strode back the way she came along the stony passageway. Torches flickered overhead.

"What of a meal?” he cooed. “What's your pleasure? Ecuadorian crocodile smothered in mushrooms plucked from the mines of the Mexican moons?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Always the distant Druidess. Never a complaint. You just trudge forward for the sake of duty. What is duty?"

Must I answer?

He tugged her elbow toward the first corridor branching to the right. Two enormous doors gaped wide, allowing a view of a tall four-poster bedstead draped in shimmering red cloth. The canopy's gold fringe trembled in a glow of what was most likely the chamber's fire. A string of women in long brown Welsh peasant skirts hustled beyond the doorway with buckets. Undoubtedly, women enslaved from Cymbry, toting the loathsome bath water.

"What of duty, Mairi?” he asked.

"'Tis naught but reality.” Goddess, how she knew.

"You mean the reality of being abandoned in twentieth-century Scotland by the Gods?"

Destiny didn't work that way. The Gods left her in a safe place to spare her from the Flarion invasion from her point of origin. To save some semblance of the Orders in time. At least, that's what Arthur had said. Jamie was no more than an expression of the horrible event testing the Brotherhood and Sisterhood. Brothers and Sisters proved every bit the Gods’ dutiful servants.

How, then, did a Flarion travel into the past? Maybe talking would lure some answers out of him. “What did you have to do to travel back in time? Sacrifice humans?” she sneered.

A chuckle rumbled deep inside his chest. “No."

She suddenly remembered how large James MacDonald was. He towered over her with broad Scottish shoulders. The Flarion had to have Scottish ancestry. Possibly the genetic coding that allowed him to have a soul mate...

They stepped through the enormous doorway. But women scurried from the steaming round bathtub, averting their gazes. The empty buckets hung at their sides.

The man had to help her liberate Arianrhod. “Why then, must you insist I bind with you? Do you not understand the past is part of the future? This very moment depends upon what has happened up until now."

"We're making history today.” He turned back to the doors, took the edge of one in hand, and closed the creaking plank. Then the other.

The final thump made her flinch.

His lascivious smile locked upon her. “Now for your bath. You can't know how many years I've longed for you, Mairi."

God-dess-Spirit, would he never stop reminding her of her stupidity?

He stalked toward her drumming heart.

May the Gods see her strong for humanity. She couldn't breathe.

He took her arms, slid his palms down to her hands, and laced his fingers between hers. “Come, Dearest. Your bath awaits."

Maybe she could drown herself? Or counter with a demand. “What of Arianrhod? When will your Master release her?"

"After we've bound our spirits together.” He pulled her to the tub's brass rim and ran a fingertip up her arm to the bikini's knot behind her neck. The finger hooked underneath the knot.

A chill skittered down her spine.

He intended to undress her. She straightened her shoulders for the assault.

"Forgive me,” he whispered. “The hot bath will curb your modesty.” He waved at the tub. “Go ahead. I'll undress."

With the animal in the room? She swung a knee over the tub and sank a foot into the warm water. Before she knew it, she watched him over the froth bobbing around her chin.

He tossed his white shirt aside and yanked off his belt. His plaid fell to the floor uncloaking his white arse.

The man wasn't a Ring Master. His slim build could never win a Mr. Universe contest with a Ring Master in the running. But there was no Ring Master here to protect her. She would just have to save humanity, bikini or not. Why this way? She closed her eyes and sank back against the hard slightly bowed tub wall.

Why save anything? The Gods absconded with her husband. Did duty deserve her effort?

A plop in the water set the bubbles rocking. Jamie sighed. She kept her eyes clamped tight. If she just let him take what he wanted, all would be over soon enough.

Fingers tickled one of her ankles. “Come here."

His cooing voice made her heart sink into her hungry gut. With her eyes closed, he sounded more and more like the bastard on the phone. How could she allow him to use her body?

The fingers encircled her ankle and drew her toward him.

Goddess. She wasn't ready. She cringed, gripping the tub's rim with one hand to hold steady.

"Don't be frightened,” he whispered, sliding his wretched fingers up the inside of her calf. “I know it's your first time. I promise to make this memorable."

"It already is,” she muttered.

His touch slid away. The water rucked wildly, splashing her face with suds.

What was he up to? She wiped the drops from her eyes and looked at him.

Jamie glowered across the bobbing froth in the tub. “How can we bind our spirits together if you don't give me yours freely?"

Maybe he wasn't truly well versed in Code. Time to lie like a good Sister. “The giving is what counts."

"Do you think me a fool?” he snarled.

Why did she prefer James MacDonald in bastard form? Maybe because it made killing him easier. Just how she would manage the job was as mysterious as this place. Druids were forbidden to wield weapons. And murder was a whole different problem. To kill meant killing one's ancestor, including everyone who would have descended from Jamie. Yet, could she trust him to be honest about their location? Still, Jamie deserved death after risking Evie's life. The man was a coward to endanger a child.

If she could delay the inevitable, she might be able to think of some resolution. “How did you get Cora to help you?"

His angry mask smoothed into a wily smile. “She's been in love with me since the year before your arrival."

A Flarion was planted in Scotland the year before the fairies dumped me there? Flarions could be anywhere along the timeline then. She shivered in the warm water.

Even worse, Cora's jealousy became even more deeply rooted in sibling rivalry. “So you courted me to get Cora to work with you?"

His chuckle started low, then turned into rolling laughter. The demonic kidnapper suddenly sat across from her. “Of course. What else was I to do? She's an amazing lay."

The bastard slept with Cora too? Her gut twisted.

"The whore thought she would get my mother's property if we drove you away. At least, that's what I promised. Speak naught of time travel.” He grinned sinisterly at his recitation of the Gaelic Point of Time Travel.

"But you and I both know Cora means nothing to me.” His grin stretched from ear to ear and he floated toward her like a leering alligator. “You're everything, Mairi."

Goddess, what a lie. Or Truth! She sank back until the tub's wall gnawed into her backside.

There was nowhere else to go. The Gods left her here. All she could do was survive until the Master set Arianrhod free and save history from the renegade gods and Flarions. Then she could die and meet up with her soul mate in another life after her spirit recycled.

He was but inches away, moving toward her. Then pressing his lips against her ear. She wanted to retch but closed her eyes and choked back her heaving gut. His hand traced up her thigh to her belly.

He rubbed his palm across the bit of tummy beneath her navel and chuckled. “We'll have children, you and I. A monument to attest to our love."

"All right. You may shape shift,” Zulu announced.

It was about time. Cochise managed not to shred the African-Dane's blister armor. Zulu had insisted on searching the entire MacDonald property twice before allowing him to shape shift into feline nose and claws. Someone was going to pay dearly for taking his soul mate. And James MacDonald would pay regardless of his hand in the events.

"Open the blister void or I'll make an opening,” he warned the big man.

"Open,” Zulu commanded.

The blister armor tore open from the ground up like someone pulled an invisible zipper.

Fresh crisp air flooded the space.

Cochise evoked the tingling in his chest and stepped onto his black front paws. The world smelled of bastard pale asses.

"Don't run off,” Zulu snapped.

Cochise shot him a glare over his ebony shoulder.

Zulu locked a stern gaze on him. “If man could run as fast as panthers, he wouldn't fear them."

Always the philosopher. That's why the African-Dane was so fun to have around. Cochise smacked the man's thigh with his tail and trotted away.

"The crone told you to let this rest. You have no power over Mairi's choice,” Zulu's voice followed him.

So much for philosophy. A man couldn't lie around and do nothing with his wife at stake. The scents circling the MacDonald homestead were a mixture of Hell Hounds, tire rubber, and the occasional boot-barn combination. He sniffed out a boot odor tainted with Mairi's smell and followed it northeast. Luckily for Zulu, the effort required one's panther nose remain mostly on Grandmother Earth. Thus, he treaded slowly. The mirage-like heat effect of the Squad member's blister armor stayed close behind him. It felt good to have a dependable Brother on one's heels for a change.

The scent trail led them through a copse of trees to what appeared to be a partially covered stone circle. The craggy stones jutted skyward in the moonlight.

A doorway to time. He padded through the whispering fresh heather to the base of the short central stone.

The abductor had to have skirted the enormous rock or sidestepped. He skirted the obstacle, sniffing. The trail ended in an earthy finish, smelling of rock and plants.

Whoever brought Mairi here, departed without another step. By the Gods, his wife's body was taken through time. How would he find her? He conjured up the tingling in his chest and unfolded into human form.

Zulu uncloaked beside him. The man's eyes glinted in the moonlight. “The trail ends here?"

Cochise nodded. His wife had been whisked away by the Gods.

Zulu sighed. “I know what you're thinking, friend. Blame the Flarions."

"I must find her.” He plopped down into a cross-legged position and placed his palms against his knees.

"Projecting?"

And search where? Where to go? He met Zulu's gaze. “Watch over me."

Zulu crossed his arms and nodded. “It's the least I can do while you search for peace."

"Don't lie to me,” Jamie shouted, shoving away from Mairi.

She watched him retreat to the opposite side of the tub out of the corner of her eye. “I haven't lied."

He shoved to his feet and climbed from the tub. “You said you would give your heart to me freely."

Well, he spoke Truth. “I am."

He waved a hand at her and grabbed his plaid. “Druids can't be trusted.” He wrapped the tartan around his waist, buckling it unceremoniously before shooting her a glare. “You loved me. I know you did."

"Of course I do.” She had to trick him.

"No more lies.” He stormed to where she sat, grabbed her damp hair, and yanked her out of the tub. “I've heard enough.” He dragged her across the flagstone floor.

His grip pulled her hair so tightly she thought her head was afire. Tears warmed her eyes but couldn't wash away the stone clawing at her hands and feet. She struggled to gain a foothold beneath her. “I'll cooperate. Please, tell me what you want."

He jerked the door open and hauled her through into torchlight. She could barely keep on her feet.

How to escape? The man carried no blade. With her hairs pulled so badly, all she could do was clutch his knuckles and try to counteract the yanking. What was he planning to do?

He hauled her down the shadowy corridor, through the doors where Arianrhod was imprisoned, and shoved her across the room.

Bless the God-dess-Spirit, he released his handhold. She fell on her knees, rolling, then scrabbling back to her feet.

He pointed a finger at her and snarled. “You'll change your mind locked up with the Goddess. Yield your heart to me or die starving in the cage.” Spinning, he stepped into the doorway. “Master,” he yelled.

What could one do with naught but the table and the cage in the room? She had to do something.

Seduce Jamie. Slinking toward him, she swung her wet hair over her shoulder. “Jamie? What is wrong with you?"

He shot her a scowl over his shoulder.

"You lure me here.” She pointed at the room. “Confess you wish to bind with me.” She tapped her chest. “Then, you drag me around like a cur by the scruff. Why?"

His brow furrowed as if he contemplated the accusation. “I'm the one who's been shunned."

She sashayed over to stand beside the lantern. “And I come bearing gifts.” She knelt, took up the lantern's smooth handle, and rose. “I brought us a light to brighten our bedchamber.” If she could just get close enough, she could kick him in the throat.

"Enough!” Jamie slammed the door shut. His snapping legs clipped the space so short between them she backstepped.

"Don't you want me?” she gasped.

He grabbed her elbows. “I'm not the problem.” He shoved her across the room.

Air brushed her skin so intimately she almost closed her eyes. But she clutched the lantern carefully to her chest while trying to gain a foothold. Black Elk's spirit had to be protected. The crystals were all she had of him.

Her arse hit something. Pain shot through her lower back. But she was sucked backward by some force, pulled onto her body. She fell into herself and breathed a deep gulp of life's breath.

"The key,” Arianrhod screeched.

The ear-splitting shriek was worse than a crow's. Mairi rubbed at the ringing in her ear.

"What the fuck?” Jamie yelled. “There's only one of you now."

She shoved off the table, still sheltering the lantern, and watched him glower across the chamber.

"I don't know what you are, but you're mine now.” He squared his shoulders, marching toward her.

Gods, what to do? She hefted the lantern over her shoulder and hurled the mass at him.

Jamie ducked.

The glowing container whirled past his shoulder and crashed against the dark wooden door. The crystals rattled across the stone floor like liberated dice.

"Touch her and die,” Arianrhod warned.

But Jamie kept coming. Mairi planted her feet beneath her and prepared to kick.

The door glowed red beyond his shoulder.

The Master. She was screwed. No Druidess could fight a god.

"Why have I been summoned?” The Master slipped through the wood until his black-and-white mask hovered inside the door.

Jamie spun to him.

The Master eyed Jamie for a moment but was sucked downward like a cloud of smoke over a ventilation chute. “What treachery is—” the Master's question died as he disappeared over the glowing yellow crystals along the base of the door.

The door on Arianrhod's cage popped open. Jamie flinched at the movement. The Goddess drew her arms into her chest and carefully stepped through the iron doorway. Her gaze never left him. Jamie edged toward the hallway.

"Leaving so soon?” Arianrhod cooed, smoothing out her silver gown.

Jamie raced to the door, grabbed the handle, and disappeared into the hallway.

"Good riddance,” Arianrhod spat. She extended a delicate palm to Mairi. “Come, Sister. The crystals shall only hold Chi Yu until his friends return. We must hasten to safety."

"Friends?” Mairi took the offered palm.

Arianrhod smiled at her. “Close your eyes. ‘Tis easier on humans that way."

Mairi closed her eyes. The world went weightless. Or rather, she did. But she fell back onto her feet feeling like the weight of the whole world filled her body. Or was that how history felt to a Sister?

"Home at last,” Arianrhod cooed.

Mairi cracked an eyelid. The most ornately carved chamber surrounded her. With rock of purest white and light bouncing off every hewn edge creating shadow, she couldn't imagine any Christian cathedral surpassing this room in beauty. “Where are we?"

"In the aurora borealis.” Arianrhod's hand slid away from Mairi's. The Goddess stepped away from her. “Welcome to my home."

They were in the Goddess's castle? She peered into the three-story vaulted ceiling. How could such a stony thing be floating in the sky? The palace had to be a play of elements, a fey trick of the eye.

"Come with me. We must find my wheel.” Arianrhod's voice faded as if she left the room.

Mairi hopped around and spotted the flowing silver gown. The Goddess walked toward a window. Sunlight spilled through, almost blending her form with Light. She hastened across the cold stone floor to catch up to the Goddess’ translucent dress.

"Chi Yu shall follow,” Arianrhod lilted. “I'll send you away before he tries to bully through my door again."

"But how will you keep him at bay? He's captured you once already?” Mairi watched the lady's exquisite profile.

Arianrhod waved her questions off. “He can't get what isn't left to take.” She smiled knowingly at Mairi. “Your soul's bound to another."

"But if you know, why don't they?"

Arianrhod laughed, a sound most like jingling bits of metal. “They aren't part of the network. Bad to the core.” She waved two large silver doors open. “Hungry for what could have been but is woven into Time."

Mairi followed the Goddess’ long blond tresses into a courtyard open to the dark heavens. How the sun shined in through Arianrhod's windows was a mystery. Not a ray of sunlight graced the courtyard. Only the legendary starry wheel of the sky.

The enormous silver disk floated a few feet off the ground. Upon the surface glinted a map of the Universe. So much information was etched therein, Mairi couldn't spot Earth or Scotia Major.

"Isn't it lovely?” Arianrhod said.

To herself no doubt. The Goddess stared at the wheel with satisfaction.

"What do you do with it?” No one ever had a chance to ask Arianrhod before.

The Goddess waved her hand over the edge of the wheel. It began to rotate clockwise. “Now, I set Time into motion. See Light paint the Universe in rainbow hues?” She pointed at the colorful flares of light in the night sky. “No one can force the wheel to cease the endless journey of Time."

"What do you mean?"

She shot Mairi a wary sideways glance. “Chi Yu swore he would release you if I stopped the wheel. I didn't know he hadn't already imprisoned you."

"So he tricked you?"

Arianrhod sighed at the turning wheel. “'Tis not a mistake I wish to claim."

"But all is well now.” The statement felt good to make even though she'd lost her soul mate. But what about Chi Yu's friends? “You said the Master had friends?"

Arianrhod's eyebrows arched. “Set, Ogo, Loki, and Kauket. Tell the Runic Council of the Orders Kauket tries to gain control of the Universe. She rules from the Norse Muspell, the land of fire giants. No fey dares intrude upon her planet."

An Egyptian Goddess of Dark Chaos has appropriated a planet? God-dess-Spirit, with Set, Ogo, Loki, and this Chi Yu, there were enough fairies loose in the Universe to reek unimaginable havoc.

Arianrhod waved at the wheel again. “Climb onto my wheel, Sister. ‘Tis time to send you home."

Home. What a gut-wrenching word.

"You hesitate?” Arianrhod's eerie green gaze bore through Mairi.

If only she had one crystal from the lantern. If only she could keep it with her to the end. “I wanted to keep the Light from Black Elk's heart."

"Och! Such sorrow I see in your eyes. You miss your lover?"

Tears burned Mairi's eyes. “He's my soul mate."

Arianrhod raised her hand over the wheel again. Her long wide sleeve hung down to trail along the sparkling revolving surface. “Then I shall return you to him."

Send her back in time? Or forward? Mairi couldn't risk leaving Evie alone in the twenty-first century. “No. My sister needs me. I'll return home now."

Arianrhod looked at Mairi like she had spiders crawling out of her nose. “Duty? ‘Tis one heavy burden to bear after you've rescued me."

Mairi blinked. “What do you mean?"

"The crystals imprisoned Chi Yu's essence long enough to affect our escape. Because of you, I am free again."

"But Evie needs me."

Arianrhod stepped close enough to place her palm against Mairi's cheek. “I choose your duty now,” the Goddess said. “Climb upon my wheel."

Where would the fey send her? God-dess-Spirit, not away from Evie. She climbed upon the slowly moving ledge and clambered into the center.

"Lie back, Sister. Gaze into the heavens. What was written in the stars is soon to be."

Not more premonition. All Arianrhod needed to do was cast bones upon the wheel. A smart lass would run. But what could a Druid do other than face her destiny? Mairi inhaled and stretched out upon the wheel.

The map of the Universe tickled beneath her. Even though the hard metal pressed against her body, she didn't move with the wheel. She floated above the metal.

Arianrhod began to sing. Not words. Just sounds. Enchanting haunting notes. The wheel tickled into a whirling frenzy. A whirlwind sucked her into the metal. Yet, the metal wasn't there. She was drawn through Darkness.

"Mairi,” a familiar voice shouted.

Mairi's eyelids popped open. She laid face down in soft heather, the sun casting her shadow west. A huge gray stone jutted up to her right.

Where was she? Inside a stone circle? And why had she heard her soul mate's voice?

Heather crunched at her side. Black, gray, and white camouflage pants sank down to the grass. Knees.

A man. She slid her gaze up the man's narrow waist, over his black tank top, across the familiar claw-mark scars, up to his welcoming smile.

It was him. Unchanged. Still wearing twenty-first-century military garb.

"I saw you dead,” she gasped.

He wagged his head, reaching for her elbows, and pulled her into his iron arms. “No. They took you from me. Bheur said your loyalty was being tested."

Goddess, he was so real. He had to be real.

Relief flooded her spirit.

How could this be?

He crushed her against his beating heart.

The thrashing sound was so amazing. “What happened?"

"Arthur's taken Evie to Ronat Castle. The MacDonald's are gone—"

"Jamie is the kidnapper.” She shoved off his chest and leaned back to look at him from where she lay in his arms.

His long black braids dangled around her. Black Elk gazed into her eyes with the kindest expression she thought she would ever see on his face. “His whole family is gone. The house empty.” He wiped the remaining wetness from her cheeks with his knuckles. “Everything's back to normal."

Could anything ever be normal for a time traveler? With Chi Yu and Jamie in the future, that was left to be seen. Not to mention the renegade Gods. Someone had to notify this Duke Ronat. Or Arthur. She wriggled out of his arms and rose.

Arianrhod had seen fit to drape her in a pale blue gown.

The gown's ample ankle-length skirt lapped at her legs.

A huge black man stood nearby. His stern mask left her wanting to hop back into her soul-mate's embrace. But Black Elk had already stepped beside her.

"Mairi, I'd like to introduce you to my Brother, Zulu.” Her husband slid a reassuring arm around her waist.

A Ring Master? “A hundred thousand welcomes.” Code always worked on Brothers.

The stoic man bowed at the waist. She couldn't tell if he was African or European with his short coiled black hair. Asking didn't seem the right way to handle the situation. All it equated to was rudeness.

Zulu unfolded overhead. “I shall gladly see you safely to Ronat Castle, Sister."

After her trip to the Otherworld and the future, she wouldn't argue with two Ring Masters offering assistance.

By the time the Jeep rolled up before the enormous white castle, Mairi thought she would burst with excitement. Somewhere behind the whitewashed walls, Evie smiled and giggled.

Everything was fine again.

Black Elk climbed from the passenger side and pulled the seat forward for her. “Let's see where the wee one is."

She shot him a smile. “Your Scottish accent is adorable."

He pursed his scrumptious tanned lips.

"I agree,” Zulu timbered over the Jeep's brown top.

"Thanks.” Black Elk rolled his dark eyes.

"Just making your life wonderful.” She grinned. And she intended to continue doing so.

He took her by the elbow and ushered her through the castle's huge brown doors. The cavernous hall sported a winding staircase on one red wall and a fireplace. Even a golden chandelier draped with shimmering leaded crystals hung overhead. But not a soul graced the chamber.

"Shall we look in the solar?” Zulu asked.

Black Elk slid his arm around her waist. “They're always in the solar."

She didn't know which was better, his deep voice or the power in his touch.

His possessive hold guided her down a shadowy passageway toward sunlight pouring in from two open doors. The Light was so bright it was impossible to see anything inside the room. Tobacco perfumed the hallway. Not until she stepped into the Light could she make out the whitewashed kilted figures lounging around beneath a ceiling fashioned like a greenhouse's roof. All glass and metal. The window ceiling held in a huge billowing tangle of sweet-smelling smoke from the men's cigars.

"Mairi,” a familiar squeal pealed through the hazy air.

Evie? Goddess, Evie would choke to death in the smoke-filled chamber. She spun in hopes to block her from entering the hazy room.

"What's wrong?” Black Elk grabbed her elbow.

"I've got to find Evie."

"She's behind you."

Not in the smoke-filled room. An asthmatic would asphyxiate. Turning, she saw a kilted man step toward her through the white haze.

Ribbons of smoke unfurled around him, revealing his hands holding two knobby knees at his shoulders. Knobby Evie knees. Evie's grin stretched miles above where she gripped his ears.

She wore the most ridiculous black velvet hat. Something French in style. Very Bonaparte with a long bobbing peacock feather off the side of the tricorn.

"Sister Mairi—” the man stopped, looking at Black Elk. “Whatever is your last name, Cochise?"

Black Elk snaked his arms across his chest, inhaling loudly.

The man blinked thrice. “Sister Mairi Ross, ‘tis an honor to meet you.” He bowed slowly, careful not to dump Evie on the floor.

But Evie looked fine. Healthy. “And you. Who are you?” God-dess-Spirit let the question be phrased well. He was nobility. Wasn't he?

The man grinned handsomely.

"This is Uncle Duke, Mairi.” Evie patted the man's dark hair. “I'm his Duchess."

A duchess?

Duke Ronat shrugged slightly. “Every Duke needs a Duchess."

Well, he had best tend to the Duchess’ needs. “Take care of her, Duke Ronat. She's bound to choke in this smokehouse any moment."

"I can't choke anymore,” Evie chimed. “I'm cured."

"Cured?” So much for sparing a Druid's last wit from snapping. She pointed at the white stone floor. “Come down here at once."

The Duke lifted Evie off his shoulders and swung her white sneakers to the floor.

"Och! I want to be the Duchess.” Evie gripped the wobbly hat atop her two brown braids and scowled at Mairi.

"Do you call that a welcome? I've been worried sick, searching to the stars and back for you, and you pitch a stink when I come to take you home."

Evie's scowl pursed. “Fine then.” She handed the hat to the pompous-looking Duke. The headdress's style matched his purple-and-green tartan perfectly.

"Keep it.” The Duke shoved it back to her. “You can Duchess later."

Evie's blue eyes twinkled.

No dolt gets to over-ride an elder sister's authority. Mairi met the man's cold gray gaze. “Piddle fig. Don't think you'll be getting away with over-ruling me. Royalty or not. I still make decisions for Evie. I'll thank you to bite your tongue."

Duke Ronat swallowed hard. “Sorry, Sister. My mistake."

The nunk deserved a swift boot in his pampered arse.

"Come on, Mairi?” Evie whined. “I don't get to be a Duchess at home."

"Enough.” Mairi extended a hand to the begging lass. “We'll go find a healthier place for you to play."

"I'm cured.” Evie stamped her scuffed tennis shoe and crossed her arms over her short denim overalls. “Didn't you listen?"

Goddess, would this day never end? “How can you be cured? There's no cure for asthma."

The Duke cleared his throat. All the men closed in around them. Their eyes glistened in the scattered sunlight penetrating the smoke haze of what had to dance from a hundred burning cigars.

"If you'll permit me to mention,” the Duke intervened humbly, “there's a vibrant plant the Goddess Macha left in my courtyard. ‘Tis for the,” he ran a palm across his mouth, “Duchess."

Now the mention of Macha, one of the Druids’ Patron Fairies, a War Fury? “Plant?” she crowed. “You're telling me this cure's in a pot?"

The Duke waved his hand in a pompous manner toward the door. “If you please, Duchess. I must insist you show your guardian the plant."

Evie curled her familiar warm sticky fingers around Mairi's palm. “Come on, Mairi.” She tugged her toward the door. “'Tis the most beautiful orchid I've seen."

Anything as fragile as an orchid couldn't have cured Evie. Mairi strode toward the door nonetheless.

The click of two loafers followed at her heels. She glanced over her shoulder. The Duke and Black Elk walked in her shadow. Neither looked happy to be in the other's company.

Black Elk rolled his dark eyes at her.

At least, he wasn't frowning. With those slightly bowed legs and his tight arse, the man shouldn't ever have reason to frown again.

Evie squeezed Mairi's palm.

At least, they were now a family. They walked down the shadowy passageway, through the red hall, out the dark wooden doors, and around the side of the whitewashed castle. Mairi slid her gaze to the wee one's smile.

The enormous hat almost swallowed Evie's head. Those big blue eyes smiled regardless. “The fey said as long as I water the flower, and say a prayer every day, I won't get sick."

A prayer? Was this coercion? She shot the men a glance. “Since when does a War Fury strike such a bargain with a non-Order member?” Something wasn't right about the deal.

The Duke shrugged with a bit of a mischievous curl to his lips. “Macha and I owe each other. ‘Twas a small favor to ask."

"So you tease a wee lass who knows no better?” She managed not to say jerk.

The man's mirth melted into earnest. “I've not tricked my Duchess into anything. The bargain is as plain as the nose on my face."

His straight nose was anything but plain. Rather regal. If the man hadn't looked so prissy in his sweet tartan and matching stockings, she might have taken him seriously. The lilt in his step only made her more heedful. She turned back to find they approached a passage through the edge of tall pruned hedge.

"'Tis just around the corner,” Evie chimed. “The Duke says I can go fishing. Duchesses don't need a license on their property."

Someone coughed behind them.

The Duke, no doubt, hacking away his tension at each mention of Duchess liberties.

"And I can have my own princess room.” Evie hopped into a skip through the rectangular hedge.

The man was all promises. “Can you now?” She scowled at Black Elk.

Her husband rolled his eyes. Probably in reference to spoiled rich bairns.

She locked a gaze upon Duke Ronat's confident form. The man went straight-lipped.

The expression seemed out of character for a Duke.

He actually opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.

"I'm going to grow up to be a Druidess,” Evie giggled.

"Piddle fig.” Mairi stopped cold.

Evie hopped into immobile stone, cowering at Mairi's blue skirt. “Why not, Mairi?"

The “piddle fig” expletive always got Evie's notice. “Because I won't have you tossed here and there like a sack of potatoes. I won't worry about you being chased through time by a maniac from the future trying to steal your heart for his own greed.” Goddess, had she said that much? Give her another minute and she'll have to train Evie to be a Druid. She grated her teeth, took a deep breath, and knelt, taking Evie's sticky fingers. “We can't be together if you become a Druid. Don't you want to stay with me?"

A grin split Evie's cheeks from ear to ear. “Until I find my soul mate, Mairi."

Who had filled her naïve mind with fanciful tales? “Och!” Mairi shot to her feet and stormed toward a stone statue in the center of a fountain's spray.

The statue's likeness was that of Conn, the Patron Fey of the Ring Masters. Most everyone would think it some fresh interpretation of a winged Atlas casually holding the Earth on one shoulder.

"But a Duchess has to grow up and marry. How else can baby Dukes be born?” Evie huffed behind Mairi.

The circular hedge ringed the fountain. Solitude ran down one of the radiating paths leading away from Conn. No one would keep her from peace. And quiet. Solace had to be somewhere down there. She headed straight for a copse of oak beyond the water feature.

"Don't you want to see my orchid, Mairi?"

All she wanted to see was a serene place. Solitude minus whining bairns.

"Mairi?” Black Elk called. “Let's take Evie home."

What a priceless idea. She spun to find Black Elk clipping toward her. He resonated with strength in his militant camouflage. Gods. Just what she needed. No dark conduit to the Otherworld. No gel fixatives. No murky Gothic moon interior. No James MacDonald in a deep bathtub. “Let's go home.” She smiled and took her husband's hand.

They walked back the way they came, passing the Duke.

"You will take the lass's orchid, won't you?” Ronat grumbled.

Goddess. The last thing they needed was the War Fury nosing around the house because her gift wasn't being cared for properly. “Aye."

Evie sulked by the fountain. “I don't want to go home. I want to be a Druid Duchess."

"There's no such thing.” Mairi thrust out a hand and grabbed the one Evie feebly offered.

"No,” Evie howled all the way to the short pink pot. She sobbed as she carried the bobbing fuschia-and-white orchid all the way back to the brown Jeep.

Mairi shoved the skulking Evie into the back seat's safety harness and turned to thank the Duke for tending to Evie. “I can't express my gratitude for you and your men's kindness to my wee sister."

The Duke forced a weak smile. “You're always welcome here. Return if need be. Our home shall always be your refuge."

Why did she feel guilty? She had just saved history from certain alteration. Couldn't they see that much? “Thank you.” She ducked into the front seat.

Where was Arthur though? Someone needed to tell the Runic Council of the Orders which renegade Gods were afoot.

Black Elk closed the door.

She met the Duke's gray gaze. “Where's Arthur?"

"He left for his time."

"Without a goodbye?” She wanted to thank him.

"He said he missed his children.” Duke Ronat waved. “I can understand after having the Duchess around."

Evie broke into a squalling fit.

Time to write an ode to the joys of parenthood.

The Duke waved them farewell. “Keep the Jeep as a wedding gift,” he bellowed over the piteous howling.

So much for formality.

The Jeep rolled around the curved driveway.

The Gods had dragged her from Hell to Hades and back to Hell. No matter how much she loved the Evie, she could take no more. She whirled to the most pitiful sack of tears she'd ever seen in the backseat. “God-dess-Spirit, help me, Evie. I'm about to flay your hide."

Wearing the huge black hat, Evie clutched the pink pot and bobbing orchid stalk. Somehow, she managed to sniff back the blasted caterwauling. “But everyone said I could be a Druid."

Everyone? Goddess, those men would pay. “We'll discuss this tomorrow."

Evie used the back of a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

Mairi settled back into her seat.

Smugly. “They've tried to undo the good home I've given her.” Black Elk had to understand her anger.

He took her hand, pressed her palm against his soft lips, kissed her skin long and lovingly, and splayed her fingers on his firm thigh. “Don't worry. You have years left to guide her. Nothing in life is free."

He was right. They had a good home. A family. She sank into the soft upholstery and closed her eyes.

The jostling car kept her from thinking too much about one thing.

"Can I keep my orchid?” Evie begged.

Mairi flipped down the visor and opened the mirror. Poor thing. Evie still looked the eight-year-old asthmatic with big eyes pleading to run and play. “Aye. And you'll take care of it the way you've been instructed. I don't need Macha visiting in a huff."

"I will.” Evie smiled, carefully bent the flower's stalk down to her nose, took a long smell from the white petals, and stared at Mairi. “'Tis so beautiful. With the orchid, I still feel just like a Duchess."

Goddess. The nonsense was endless. She shut her eyes.

"I'm famished,” Black Elk timbered. “I could eat four grilled-cheese sandwiches."

Not if she was cooking. Fine. But a wife's duties began as soon as possible.

"Can I cook grilled-cheese sandwiches when we get home?” Evie begged.

Mairi glanced sideways at her grinning Lakota.

He winked at her. “You can help me."

"Good. I can take a bath.” Better to grab some serenity by the horns when it charges at you with its head lowered.

When Mairi's foot sank into the hot water, she knew she dipped into a sacred pool. Naught could compare to sinking down into the froth and lapping heat.

The phone trilled.

She flinched but realized there was no reason for a kidnapper to call. Besides, Black Elk could take care of things like grilled cheese and phone calls. She had everything a woman needed. Her dream man. And he could cook. She settled back into the fluffy bubbles and waited for a second ring.

The phone only rang the one time.

With Evie at home, the phone never rang twice. Life was back to normal.

The bedroom door creaked. “Mairi?” Evie called, her voice warbling as she jogged through the bedchamber.

"Aye?” She stared at the white tile bathtub surround.

Evie burst into the bathroom, her braids bouncing. She smiled. “Jamie wants to know when we're coming over to jam."

Mairi froze ramrod straight in the hot bath water. Jamie was back? By the God-dess-Spirit, what next? They would probably have to entertain The Master. She shoved up into a sitting position and stared at Evie's paling fingers gripping the doorknob.

"Evie, go down and bring Black Elk up to me."

Evie hung on the doorknob and teetered on one socked foot. “Och! I want to go sing and play the drums with Jamie."

Was everything to be a bloody effort? “I told you to bring Black Elk to me. Get after it.” She shoved onto her feet.

Evie darted around the door.

The lass needed a swift boot in the arse. But she had never flayed her before. Never dared upset her. Evie and the magic orchid would have to readjust to reality. Hard reality.

In moments, she had wrapped a towel around her and foraged for underclothes in her dresser drawer.

Boots squeaked behind her. She turned to her soul mate. Sulking Evie held his hand.

"What do you need?” Black Elk asked.

"We're supposed to go sing and play the drums with Jamie,” Evie whined.

Black Elk's dark eyes narrowed in the afternoon sun shining through the window.

Goddess, the sky was about to fall.

He slid his speculative gaze from Evie to Mairi. “Are we?"

"I'm not going over to the MacDonald house.” Mairi yanked on some white panties. “You're welcome to go."

"I want to go,” Evie whimpered.

One more word from the midge and her husband would explode. She riveted a gaze upon the wee one. “You'll go fetch a change of clothes."

Evie's eyes lit up.

She probably thought she would get to spend the night with Nana MacDonald. “Go on. Pack them in the blue bag.” That would keep the lass busy.

Black Elk snaked his arms across his black tank top and watched Evie dash into her bedroom. “What are you planning?” he asked without a glance.

"I'm not going over. But I want to be ready to run."

Black Elk shot her a patronizing look over his shoulder. “There won't be a reason to run. As soon as you've packed, we'll be heading to Ronat Castle. The Flarions can't bother you there."

Cochise couldn't drive fast enough to Ronat Castle. Evie giggled where she sat buckled into the backseat, gripping the flowerpot. Brave Woman just stared across the Jeep's brown hood.

"He can't hurt you anymore,” he said. And the MacDonald wouldn't get a chance. As soon as he dropped off the girls, he was going pale-ass hunting.

"Duke Ronat won't let Jamie kidnap us. You'll see,” Evie reassured from the backseat.

Brave Woman shot Evie a scowl over her shoulder. “If you see Jamie again, you run as fast as you can away from him. Cora too. Don't let them touch you."

"Don't worry, Mairi,” Evie lilted. “I can run lickety split now."

His soul mate sank back into her seat.

"I'm the Duchess. What I say goes."

Mairi's blue eye rolled in profile. She licked her lips. “You'll mind your manners and treat the Duke with the proper respect a man of his lineage deserves."

Although actually respecting Duke Ronat wasn't in his plans, threats couldn't hurt when the Flarion snuck around. Someone had to keep the girl in line. And the Gods needed Brave Woman's soul mate to protect her. They wouldn't be rescinding his shape-shifting boon.

"A Druid Duchess gets the same respect a Duke does."

Brave Woman sighed audibly, flipped the mirror down, and stared at her little sister. “I won't allow you to embarrass me, Evie Ross. Wipe those silly thoughts out of your head. You're not going to be a Druidess."

He slid his gaze to the rearview mirror. The orchid bobbed above Evie's insistent mask and ridiculous black tricorn hat. Her beady eyes glinted with determination.

Evie's lips smacked into motion. “I'm only doing as the Duke instructed. He's going to make me his heir."

Brave Woman froze like a statue beside him.

"You okay?” His soul mate turned gray. “Breathe, Mairi."

She licked her lips just like Evie had done.

They truly were two of a kind. Throw two peas into a pod and you've got a family.

"I am your sister,” Brave Woman crowed. “I will decide what shall and shan't happen with you."

Poor Mairi. By the child's indignant look, Hot Babe probably wouldn't win this argument.

"I am a Duchess. You wait and see. Goddess Macha said so."

The blacktop turned, winding through some ash trees, exposing Ronat Castle's whitewashed walls. Thank the Gods. Mairi's gray flesh was raging red now. Mt. Babe was on the verge of eruption. He gunned the gas and made right for the curved front drive.

The Jeep rolled to a stop. Brave Woman sat quietly.

Maybe he should run for his life. But a Druid wouldn't kill her soul mate. Now the yammering little sister had big problems. He swung his door open.

"Let's go.” He stepped onto the drive's pale concrete.

"Aye. I need to water my orchid.” Evie scooted toward his open door.

He pulled the seat's lever to lean the seat forward. Evie wriggled into a squat. Mairi just sat there.

"You all right, Siyotanka?” Brave Woman just glowered at the castle.

"Come on, Mairi.” Evie squirmed out of the backseat and ran around the Jeep, clutching the bobbing flower.

He slid his gaze to Mairi. “Everything will be fine,” he whispered. “Just let her be a kid for a day or two. Then you can be queen again."

As if she were ever queen. Mairi snorted and rolled her eyes.

But Black Elk had something there. Evie's health never permitted her to be young and carefree. Giving her some leeway for the first time in her life might be what she needed to grow properly. Goddess knows the lass clutched that bloody orchid like a pirate holding a trophy. Mairi swung her door open with enough angst to send it bouncing back, but she thrust out a hand and climbed from the Jeep.

Black Elk eyed her over the glinting roof.

"I'm all right.” She slammed the door shut.

"Take it easy on the wheels, Siyotanka. We've only got one set."

Was she really so annoyed? She had to get her act together if she intended to keep Evie from joining the ranks of her Sisterhood.

Black Elk skirted the Jeep's front end and extended a palm. “Come on, Brave Woman."

Was the title an insult? She snaked her arms across her chest. “Why did you call me that?"

He threw his palms up. “Don't snap my neck with one of those long lean legs, Mairi. I'm just calling things as I see them. Besides, there's a Lakota legend about a woman like you."

Gads. Had she come off the violent type? A Sister relied on her husband for defense. Maybe it was time to re-evaluate her life.

"I'm sorry.” She strode over to his side, grabbed one of his strong warm hands, and stared into his dark eyes. The hardness therein softened as she gazed into them. “Do you think you can do the protecting now? I've got bigger problems with Evie."

He ran a thumb across her cheek. “Relax. Grandfather always told me nothing in life was free. Mull this situation over a while before barking. Let her be a kid. I've got to go shred some pale ass."

"What?” she squealed at his revelation. “The God-dess-Spirit knows you're not leaving me here while Jamie's afoot. I just got my body back. Thank you very much."

His eyes glazed over with some unfathomable anger.

Damn. She'd ticked him off again. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

He snaked an arm around her lower back. “There's no freaking way I'm losing you again. I'll stay with you.” He forced a smile. “Now let's go find the wee one."

She couldn't help but smile. “I'm glad the Gods dumped you on my doorstep."

Two days later, Mairi sat in the glaring sunshine. Sun bore down on the white courtyard, almost blinding them. But the flower's brilliant yellow and orange color shone like an amazing neon light. The ever-changing orchid was truly an Otherworldly thing.

Oblivious to the Light, Evie knelt and poured water from a tin watering can into the pink pot. “Bless the God-dess-Spirit,” she chattered.

More likely Macha. But a Sister couldn't despise a Goddess for such a blessed favor. Evie was healed.

"My flower is the most beautiful flower in the world.” Evie shot Mairi a smile.

"Aye.” Truth was Truth.

Evie fingered the colorful petals and sniffed the bloom.

Perhaps the scent controlled Evie's asthma.

"Only a Duchess has such things,” Evie piped.

"Now, Evie, you're not really a Duchess. The Duke just plays with you because you're a cute wee lass."

Evie turned to the fountain's showering statue of Conn. “Duke Ronat said I could march with the pipers through the castle grounds this afternoon."

The annoying man needed a boot up his arse. “You can't pretend to be his heiress. ‘Tis wrong to tease the tourists.” And wrong to lead on a child.

Evie rolled her disbelieving gaze back to meet Mairi's. “Tourists don't know I'm not his daughter. They just want to see the pipers."

Curse the Gods for permitting the man to toy with her. “I'd rather you stand with me. In a pretty kilt. Wouldn't that be fun?"

The midge frowned. “I want to be a Duchess. Duke Ronat says I can wear his bonnie hat."

"Let me get my hands on the ridiculous—” Mairi bit her tongue. Bad-mouthing the man in front of Evie would make matters worse. But stomping his tricorn flat would provide some compensation for losing control over Evie's future.

Evie shoved to her feet. “I'd best go change. The pipers shall gather at two.” She turned to the concrete path leading to the doorway through freshly cut grass. “I wouldn't want to be late. I'd miss my march."

What a mother would give to see a bairn jump to do her chores so quickly. Mairi rose and followed the short sprite's squeaking sneakers.

By the time the visitors gathered on the front lawn, Evie wore the silly black velvet hat. She was a true Bonaparte wannabe. Fluffy peacock feather and all.

The lass's ensemble was equally ridiculous. “Must you wear that purple kilt? I don't know anyone who wears a velvet kilt, Evie."

Evie tugged at her wide black belt, centering the rhinestone-studded silver-colored buckle. “Duchesses do."

Enough with the Duchess nonsense. “Let's go.” She pushed Evie's shoulder. “The men are downstairs waiting for you. You'd best not hold up the show."

"Right.” Evie surged into a march toward the door.

Mairi fingered an inhaler tucked inside her hip pocket and followed Evie downstairs. One could never be totally dependent on the fey. Jamie was still out there. And he was in cahoots with Chi Yu.

Eight Ring Masters sparkled with their various silver accoutrements beneath the staircase. Each wore Blackwatch tartan, black berets, and black loafers. Anyone would have thought them clones with only a quick glance.

The men twiddled with their bagpipes.

"I'm coming,” Evie called to the men, sliding her palm down the wooden banister.

"Excellent,” Duke Ronat bellowed. The man strode from the dark passageway and met Evie at the bottommost step, offering an elbow. “M'lady."

"Thank you.” Evie curled her fingers around his white sleeve.

God-dess-Spirit, let those fingers be covered with goo. Anything to muss his crisp façade.

Alas, there was no stopping the pomp. She followed the two purple-clad priggish boobs out into the courtyard. Evie's braids looked quite silly with the enormous triangular hat. The mite was but a box of red hair color away from a Pippi-Longstocking-look in a bad purple ensemble.

The hot sun stood watch over the milling crowd of sightseers in khaki shorts and Scotland the Brave T-shirts. Here and there, Kilted Ring Masters guarded doorways in Blackwatch Plaid.

Jamie could be anywhere. Hopefully, naught but a cheering session for skirling bagpipes would occur today.

Something in grays and white caught her eye. Camouflage. She spotted Zulu's head above a wall of tourists fumbling with their cameras. He strode along the backside of the patient crowd and stepped around the end. In a camouflage kilt. Another man with two very long black braids appeared at his side.

One very sexy Lakota. She sucked in a breath. A Lakota in military dress was good-looking. Sew his camouflage pants into a kilt and the man was perfection.

The distance closed between Cochise and his wife with his footsteps as he crossed the courtyard. May the Gods help anyone who chanced a skirt crack. He would have rather dressed like Riverdance. Pants were pants. Why couldn't a Lakota wear a fricking breechcloth? He stared down his wife, daring her to unleash her charming wit.

Brave Woman clasped her hands behind her back. A wily smile twisted her cheeks.

If her reaction was sarcasm, everyone had best run. A man had pride. He would have to rip off the garment and shred it before the wide-eyed crowd. Birthday suit and all. He stopped beside her. “Not a word, Mairi."

She winked at him. “Words would only lead to making bairns."

Was that an embedded comeback? He blinked and refocused on her glinting eyes. “I can't tell if you just insulted me."

Brave Woman slid her gaze down to his combat boots, back up to pause at his waist, then hungrily over his chest. “My,” she blinked. “Oh, my,” her sultry voice taunted. “I'd like to work on my PhD."

He went rock hard. “Do that again and Evie will scream because we missed her parade."

"Well, at least the Duke keeps her busy.” She grinned mischievously. “I'll have to give that uniform an authenticity inspection later, Husband.” Siyotanka actually licked her lips.

He glanced at the visitors standing a few steps away. No one paid him any attention. Gods, how was a man to stand about like a dutiful soldier when his foxy wife tried to seduce him? “Don't do that in public, wife."

Bagpipes blared in the distance.

"What does it matter where we are?” She slid her gaze to the courtyard where the Ring Masters would begin the weekly tourist show.

He stepped behind her and pressed his aching shaft into the firm bottom.

She flinched, turning a cheek toward him. “How long do these shows last?” Need crept into her gaze.

Always too long. He leaned into her again. “A long, long time, Siyotanka.” His fingers itched to get ahold of his flute.

Brave Woman groaned.

The desperation in her voice validated his need to throw her down on the green lawn and ravage her in the warm sunshine. He took her elbow, pulling her toward Ronat Castle's dark front doors.

"We can't,” Mairi scoffed.

Oh yes they could. He slid his gaze from a man taking a picture of the castle to the whitewashed masonry of Ronat Castle.

"What will Evie think?” she gasped.

"That she missed us.” He dragged his wife across the courtyard. She didn't seem to fight his handhold.

"You can't be serious.” She stopped cold.

He turned to Brave Woman's pinched brow. “Just a few minutes. We'll be back before the men march through the courtyard."

Her chiding mask slackened into contemplation.

Brave Woman was beginning to see the light. Oh, he would show her Light all right. “Come on.” He tugged her toward the door.

"But what about Jamie?"

The man was a fool to show at the fortress. “There's so many Ring Masters around, he'll never get to you or Evie."

"Hurry,” she blurted.

Six steps took them to the guard.

Ring Master Murdoch stood beside the doors like a stone statue wrapped in the Duke's Blackwatch Plaid. “Nice kilt,” he muttered.

Jealous bastard. Cochise gritted his teeth, flashed the red-head a grin, yanked the door wide, and pulled his soul mate through the doorway.

"Don't take too long. You'll miss the wee one,” Murdoch snapped.

The door thumped shut.

"Och!” Brave Woman squealed and planted her heels in the marble floor.

He spun to her. “We better get after it."

Her face knotted. “Get after it,” she enunciated perfectly. “I have one thing to say, Black Elk. And you'll listen.” She snaked her arms across her chest.

By the Gods, was she going to balk? “What?"

She swung a long slender finger toward the door. “They all know why we've come inside. We can't,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “have sexual unification."

The bagpipes skirled a chastising fast beat in the distance.

Even the damned pipes admonished him. “They're all just jealous.” He waved a hand at the door. “None of them have a wife here in this time. Let it go.” He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away from the doorway.

"I can't believe you.” She stamped her foot, the heel on her shoe clicking.

Was he being a pig-headed selfish fool? He doubted it. Lakota Boy served his time. His little flute was his reward. Not to mention, he liked Brave Woman. Maybe too much. His lips twitched toward a smile. He struggled to keep his mouth straight.

"Look, we can wait until the parade's over.” She stared at him with a determined mask.

"All right.” Forget the ace in the tight hole. He reached for the door handle and pulled.

"I'm sorry,” she droned.

Really? “Are you playing cat and mouse with me? It's painful, Siyotanka."

Her brow furrowed with pity. “She's only eight. And now she can march with the band. Can't we watch her? Once? Like her proud family?"

His heart tore in two. Brave Woman ripped the polished box of his heart—the one she had buffed for days—open to let the last vestige of bad medicine escape. And now he had a family again. People to care for. Talk to. Talk about a rite of passage. He reached for the doorknob, a new man ready to hold the line.

"I knew you were a strong man. Honorable like a Ring Master.” Her soft words rung louder than the piercing tones of the bagpipes.

Yeah. Maybe the old hag had healed his heart while stripping the poisonous spell from his wife's. He chuckled.

"What are you laughing about? You sound sinister."

He pulled the door wide. Sunlight flooded the room.

He shot her a wily smile. “I'm just thinking about how that sneaky old hag fixed me instead of you."

A devilish smile spread across her cheeks. “Fixed you?"

Mairi's tone never meant for her question to be answered. He nudged her past Murdoch, toward the approaching throng of men cloaked in Blackwatch Plaid.

All the Ring Masters marched in step.

"I'll have to tell you about the hairball, Siyotanka."

Her nose pinched into a nub. “Hairball?"

He leaned down to her ear. “For what it's worth, I'd swallow one every day if it meant I got to be with you."

She grimaced. “Swallow a hairball? Havers."

"All for you, Babe.” He patted her shoulders and ushered her along the drive.

The troop of pipers marched toward them, kilts flapping and red tassels bobbing at their knees.

"The Duke must have decided to bring up the rear,” he shouted over the shrill melody. The pompous fool always changed his plans at the drop of a hat.

"Evie will be sad she didn't get to lead the pipers."

Poor dust mite. She would be frowning for sure. “Let's stand with the old man in knee-high black socks and orthopedic gray shoes."

"Lord.” Mairi threw a hand up to partially cover her mouth. “Would you look at him? Bless the God-dess-Spirit that fashion never carried over into the historical fashion trend of the future."

He doubted anyone heard her. “Come on. He's hip.” More like Gramps in his yellow-and-red plaid knee-length golf shorts and the way he held his camcorder. “He's shooting a flick."

She jabbed his ribs with and elbow. “Quiet. He can hear you."

"That old codger probably can't even hear the yowling pipes.” Cochise chuckled and claimed a spot next to the white-haired man.

Mairi poked him with a finger, planted a palm on his ribcage, and slid her hand across his lower back.

Gods, it felt good to be possessed. More than just the soldier bound to his Squad. Or a commander. Where was the old chap? No Duke's purple beret beyond the piper's black berets yet.

"Where's Evie?” Mairi asked. “I don't think she'd cause problems. She'd want to wave at the tourists."

They should be behind the band. “Let them pass.” A few steps and the final two men would clear the view.

Siyotanka's arm tightened around his back like she worried.

"Don't worry, Mairi. The Duke's got everything under control.” The man certainly kept the chatterbox busy.

The last bit of blue, green, and black tartan glided by. Movement at the hedge leading into the fountain's grounds caught his eye. Evie ran screaming toward them. Her face twisted with fear.

"What in the bloody Universe?” Mairi jolted into a run.

Cochise tore out toward the girl, passing Mairi's blue gown. Evie's hat slid down the side of her head. She grabbed it, yanked it off, and threw it aside.

The music faded.

Ended more likely. He didn't glance over his shoulder to see whether or not the Ring Masters followed. Evie was almost to him.

"You gotta help him,” she screeched. “Hurry. Jamie's gonna kill the Duke."

Damn the Flarion to never-ending death. He hoped the tourists couldn't hear the girl over the lilting pipes.

"Where is he?” Mairi shouted.

Cochise didn't bother stopping. He darted straight for the break in the hedge, passing the petrified girl.

"Jamie clouted him over the head by the fountain. I ran for help."

That was all he needed to know.

The garden's courtyard grew past the hedge with each of his footsteps. The purple mound beside the fountain's round lower wall had to be Duke Pomp. But the rest of the garden was empty. He raced through the hedge, scanning the area.

Nobody was around.

"Stay with me, Evie,” Mairi scolded.

"But I have to get my orchid."

Cochise thrust a hand behind his back, motioning for them to stay. Hopefully, the girls could read basic sign language. If not, they would grow to hate his Lakota version of Studious Vespers.

He strode over to the Duke's body, glanced around the garden again, found Evie running toward him with Mairi on her heels. He knelt and barked, “I told you to wait."

Scotty dashed through the hedge. The man's red-and-blue kilt blazed like a flag in a gale.

The Duke's hands flew up to his head in Cochise's periphery. “What in the Hell happened?"

Cochise slid his gaze to the man's grimace. “You've been attacked. Evie ran for help."

"Who was the blackguard?"

"The Flarion."

"Damn them for breaching the timeline."

Evie rushed to the Duke's side and collapsed on her knees. “You dead?"

"I cannot leave my Duchess,” the man doted.

She grinned from ear to ear.

Mairi stomped to a halt beside Evie. “Are you well, Duke?"

The man shoved up to a sitting position. “Aye.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I've been better."

"Fetch your orchid, Evie.” Mairi pushed Evie's shoulder. “We need to go to our bedchamber."

Evie climbed to her feet and skirted Mairi.

Cochise curled his fingers around the man's iron elbow. “To your feet.” He pulled the man upward. “I can't believe a man with an arm as steely as yours was clobbered by a scrawny Scot."

"Where did my flower go?” Evie pealed.

No. Not something else. He sidestepped the frowning Duke to find Evie spinning, searching the garden for the pink pot.

She whirled to them, her shocked mask grading into panic. “He took it.” Her small hands flew to her throat and her knees buckled. She began coughing.

Struggling to breathe. “Calm down, Evie.” Mairi ran to the girl's side, snatched her onto her lap, dug inside her gown's pocket, produced an inhaler, and thrust the mouthpiece into Evie's mouth. “Breathe."

Evie's legs writhed where they hung over Mairi's thigh.

"That's a good lass. Breathe some more. Deeply,” Brave Woman cooed.

The girl's feet kicked at the concrete.

Gods, the bastard would pay for torturing his soul mate.

An eternity passed before Evie's legs relaxed.

Mairi hugged the girl and slid her gaze between the Duke, Scotty, and him. “Damn Jamie to bloody Hell,” she snarled. “I've had enough of this. Someone needs to tell the bastard I'm married."

A woman's husband was just the man to do the job. “I will.” He pivoted to the courtyard.

"Take the Squad, lad,” Scotty called after him. “The crowd is busy with the show. No one will see you depart. And we'll try to call the cretin. See if we can get him to talk."

By the time Cochise turned the key in the Jeep's ignition, he was ready to kill. Nobody would ever get a chance to hurt his wife or Evie again. Fricking flower or not.

"You okay, man?” Zulu bellowed in the passenger's seat.

Cochise laced his fingers around the cold hard steering wheel. “I just need to shred some pale ass."

"I don't mean to be annoying,” Joey droned in the backseat. “But I doubt anyone will be able to kill a man in league with a god."

The comment did all but soothe his nerves. “Somehow. Somewhere. This is going to end,” he growled. He shifted the stick shift into reverse and steered the Jeep down the long white drive.

"I say let the three of us go in for the blackguard. We've got armor,” Zulu timbered.

"I agree,” Mongol, the Mongolian ex-Legionnaire, added his two cents from behind Cochise. “You're angry. Let us catch him. We can take him back for interrogation."

The Jeep hit a pothole and rocked. Yet, the Asian's words stuck in Cochise's craw.

Interrogation my ass. “I want to kill the bastard.” What else needed to be said? “He stole my wife. Used Mairi's adopted sister against her. And he put us through Hell with spells.” That would be all they heard about the hairball. “James MacDonald is mine."

The Jeep fell into silence save for the engine's hum and the jangling keys on the key chain. And they weren't playing a predictable tune. So much for omens. This game would end only one way.

"Do you think he'll be back at the farmhouse?” Joey asked.

Where else would he go? “He wants Mairi's spirit. He'll hold Macha's orchid hostage in the only place she knows to look for him."

Zulu placed his field radio's headset on his head. “Field Mouse to Big Chief."

Cochise blinked at the title, shaking his head, and glanced at everyone in the rearview mirror. “So you've all came to your senses and realized my name for Scotty fits?"

Nobody acknowledged his question.

Fine. See if he would help them capture a Flarion. His claws were itching to burst from his fingertips. To slit the corpse's throat.

"What's up, Field Mouse?” Scotty's voice crackled on the radio.

"Has the Fox rang the Rat yet? Is he holed up in his burrow?"

"Hold tight a wee bit longer. I'll get back with you."

"So you planning on having children?” Joey's voice didn't harbor an ounce of animosity.

Cochise hadn't thought of children. He shrugged and watched the road unwind through an oak forest.

"With a wife like Mairi Ross, I'd take care today,” Joey warned.

Why did the frigging pale ass have to patronize him? Cochise looked into the rearview mirror.

Joey's pale blue eyes almost flashed into purest white.

What the Hell?

Cochise stared into the rearview mirror. None of the other men ended up with flashing eyes when joining the Squad. Somehow, the Australian had received a bit more enhancement.

"He's earned the right to use his own blister armor,” Zulu noted as if he'd seen the man's eyes flash.

So, the Gods and Ring Masters fancied the white boy ready for action. “You're a shape shifter?” He demanded of the Aussie's reflection.

Joey's golden eyebrows arched and fell.

"Don't worry about Joey. He's learned to keep his comments to himself.” Zulu thrust his chin toward the Aussie in the backseat. “Right, Joey?"

The blond shrugged and turned his pale blue gaze to the forest whipping past the window.

Something dark gurgled in Cochise's belly. Gooseflesh prickled to chilly attention on his bare arms. Whether it was the temporary whiteness in Joey's eyes or the fact they approached the MacDonald's house, he didn't know. Whatever was about to happen would be big.

When the first sliver of the MacDonald house poked through the treetops, he steered the Jeep behind a blind of brush and turned to Zulu. “You've got five seconds to see if Scotty's got any info."

Zulu's smirk was priceless. He thrust the radio to his ear. “Big Chief, the Dachshund's about to go down the hole. You'd best cough up any pertinent information."

Should I be insulted at the wienie dog reference? Cochise was a better name than that. But whatever Scotty's reply would be was worth waiting around to hear.

"Rat's in the hole. Maybe you should wait for the Jack Russell Terriers. I can have them there in thirty minutes."

Ring Masters or not, a man had to protect his family. Especially when a chill skittered through his spirit.

"No need,” Zulu said. “Besides that kind of terrier can't back out of holes.” He shot Cochise a stoic gaze. “Time to flush out a rat, boys."

A panther didn't need a smoke screen either.

"You stick with me, Cochise.” Zulu pulled the handle on his door.

African-Danes were almost as irritating as pale asses. “I'm not three.” He grabbed the door handle and swung his door wide.

"Come on, Cochise. We need this man alive,” Zulu chided.

"You guys ever watch Westerns?” He bent down to peer into the vehicle's shadowy interior.

Nobody budged. The trio stared grimly at him in their camouflage pants and black T-shirts. Their eyes glinted from wayward sunlight.

"Almost everyone was wanted, dead or alive,” he explained. They had to understand. He wouldn't lose his family again. “I say let's take him anyway we can get him."

"At least, try not to kill him.” Zulu swung a leg out of the Jeep.

"My index card said capture them or kill the bastards yesterday.” Cochise unfolded into sunlight beside the Jeep.

Every man quietly closed the doors, whirled his cloaking armor overhead, and blinked into nonexistence.

Invisibility probably gave them an edge. Not the power of a panther though. Cochise conjured up the tingling inside his chest, stepped down upon black paws, and slunk into the brush.

Something smelled rancid, evil. He couldn't shake the foul scent from his nose. It clung to his nostrils. He licked his lips, dragging the fetid taste inside his mouth.

Gods, he needed to get back to Brave Woman. To know she was safe. He had to kill James MacDonald or this nightmare would never end.

The easiest way to the barn was by weaving through the shade beneath the trees. A boxy blue Agila was parked close to the barn door. The rest of the Squad just walked right up to the door as if no one could see them.

Distinguishing between the three fairy-armor distortions in the sunlight was impossible. The heat-wave effect near the barn door had to be Zulu, undoubtedly a man determined to see James MacDonald brought in alive. Cochise skirted the barn, padded over to the barn's wide back doorway, poked his claws between the door and the wall, and pried the locked door open enough so he could peer into the dark space.

Zulu moved like a shivering anomaly through the darkness.

But the door wouldn't budge any wider. He released the edge and padded around the side of the barn.

Something moved near the front door. A man raced from the doorway, stretched his long legs in a jump, and landed a sneaker on the drive.

James MacDonald.

The bastard wasn't getting away. Cochise leapt into a run.

Jamie charged for the blue economy car, glancing over his shoulder.

He wouldn't escape.

With every pouncing step, Cochise closed in more and more on the desperate man. But Jamie didn't see him. He was too caught up in checking on the front door. One of the Squad members must have freaked him out. Set him running for safety right into panther clutches.

Jamie turned back to the car, his gaze locking on Cochise's. He flinched.

The man certainly didn't mean to tango with a panther today. Poor Flarion. Cochise kicked off the concrete and sprung at the man's shocked expression.

"No,” Zulu shouted.

Cochise's claws slashed through soft skin beneath Jamie's chin.

Blood sprayed through the air.

The man grabbed at his throat.

Cochise's paws hit the ground. Being a cat wasn't so bad when it meant landing on one's feet.

Blood splattered the concrete as Jamie's legs scrabbled beneath him.

The man was dying in a shower of his own blood.

Although the bastard would be dead soon, he needed to know who had killed him. Cochise conjured up the tingling in his chest, unfolded in front of the teetering man, and met his frightened gaze.

"You won't bother my wife or her sister again,” he said with satisfaction.

Something glinted in Jamie's eyes.

Perhaps understanding.

Maybe respect.

Jamie's knees buckled. He toppled backward and writhed on the driveway.

"Man, I told you we were going to take him in.” Zulu stomped to a halt beside a red stream of blood flowing from the MacDonald's neck.

The bloody rill meandered around Zulu's scuffed black combat boots.

"A man has to take care of his own.” Grandfather would have nodded.

"Do you think my flower will make me well without its pot, Black Elk?” Evie smiled up at Cochise where she sat on her bedchamber's wooden floor.

The girl needed direction as much as he did as a youth. Destiny seemed to be pushing him to guide her. “I don't know.” He pressed the mulch down around the bulb, securing the plant in its new clay pot. “We just need to give it some time to see what happens."

"It's still beautiful.” She flashed her blue eyes at him.

"Yes it is.” He tapped her nose with a fingertip. “And I think you'd best water your orchid."

Evie hopped to her feet and lifted the glass of water from the desk beneath a window. She moved like nothing ailed her.

Bless the Gods, the orchid was undamaged. He wouldn't have to watch her gasp for breath again.

Mairi shuffled toward them, her blue skirt whispering like it shared a secret with her. “I think you'd best take care to keep the flower safely tucked in your bedchamber."

Evie plopped down beside the pot. “I will. And I'm going to be the best Druid ever."

"Becoming a Druidess will only see you hunted down in the manner James MacDonald hunted me,” Mairi chided.

Maybe not. Spiritual goals kept many on a path of enlightenment. Therein unfurled the road to happiness. And family. He smiled at Brave Woman's scowl.

His soul mate locked her glinting gaze on his where she stood next to one massive bedpost. “What?"

He wagged his head slightly and turned back to the girl pouring water into the pot. “Illusion manifests itself as free will."

"And?” Siyotanka snarled.

He glanced at his wife sideways. “Maybe she's supposed to become a Druid."

Her eyes flared with anger. “Don't quote Code to me. What do these Centurians say? You're preaching to the choir."

Laughter burbled in his chest. Somehow he managed to keep it down. “Grandfather used to say a field mouse only sees what his nose touches."

"Are you calling me a mouse?” She planted her hands on her hips.

Although cats loved to play with mice, he wasn't a fool. “No, Babe. You're all kitten.” He rose to his full height, gaining eight inches over her glare. “Claws and all."

"I want a kitten,” Evie whined.

Brave Woman rolled her eyes.

Gods, he loved his spitfire.

Evie hopped over to cling on Mairi's arm. “Please, Mairi. Please."

"Goddess, help me.” Mairi shook off her little sister's hands. “I guess if I don't give you one you'll tell the Duke and I'll be overruled."

Evie jumped around the room, giggling. “I'm getting a kitten. I'm getting a kitten."

Half of Brave Woman's smile turned into a scowl. “Maybe we should return to my time. Then I'd have some say in what happens in her life."

"No.” He shook his head and slid his arms around her stiff shoulders.

She slackened in his arms.

He drew her warm curves against his chest. “I say we stay here. We've got a Jeep and a house. Not to mention the Duke's help."

She turned her chin up to him. “Are you afraid of the unknown?"

Maybe she had something there. Why admit the truth? “No."

"In the future, you would be unique. And admired by the Orders. Nobody would make you feel abandoned."

His heart fell into his gut. He hadn't married a mouse. His wife was all eagle. She could see him for what he was. What he could be. “Kitten.” He slid his hand up her back, through her soft hair, and brushed his knuckles across her velvet cheek.

She blinked at him knowingly. Evie threw the door wide and raced from the room.

"What?” Brave Woman asked.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say destiny bound my heart to yours."

A warm smile melted her ill temper. She snaked her arms around his chest and pressed her cheek to his heart. “Illusion manifests itself as free will,” she chanted.

"Should we stay here or go to the future?"

"I'd like to stay. Keep Evie from becoming what she would if exposed to the Sisterhood."

He wove his fingers into a handful of her silken curls. “She's already exposed."

"With only me to train her, I can ensure she's bored to death."

He chuckled. “Now, Siyotanka. That's not fair."

She turned her mischievous gaze back to him. “Since when has fair had anything to do with life? You still haven't told me about the hairball."

"You don't want to know."

She laughed. “I think I do."

His blood raced to his loin at her frisky retort.

"Bheur made me swallow it. Something about reversing the spell and keeping the charm hidden from James MacDonald. So, it stayed inside me until after you and I sealed our marital contract.” He grinned, shoving his rock-hard groin against her.

"Oh,” she cooed with a twinkle in her eyes, shoving him toward the blue bedding. “I think we'd best reaffirm our vows to ensure you're sure you're satisfied with the deal."

"I'm happy. Who wouldn't be? I can shape shift, time travel, and play a flute.” He winked. “What's not to envy about my life?"

Two months passed with little more than bagpipe shows and purple velvet to annoy Mairi. Well, the pipes couldn't be blamed. Her gut roiled night and day. She stretched across her bed, gripping her belly, staring at the gold canopy arching overhead.

God-dess-Spirit, when would the morning sickness end? It had only been two weeks now. If she didn't stop retching, she would vow never to go through a second pregnancy. Not to mention, nobody could give her one iota of concrete information about her trip through the Otherworld. Brothers weren't the best philosophers. She'd just have to go with her soul mate's reasoning, she passed a test.

The door creaked. “Mairi, Mr. Mews is digging in my orchid again."

Would that kitten ever stop trying to poop in the pot? She slid her gaze to the open wooden door between the rooms.

Evie wore denim overalls and clutched the kitten with her arm against her chest. Mr. Mews’ charcoal gray coat almost glowed in the sunshine from the window. His yellow eyes begged she save him.

"Did you show him his sand box?” The cat needed to learn to use the box.

"He just hops around like it's full of wiggly bugs and kicks sand everywhere."

Where was Daddy Cats? “Did you ask Black Elk what he thought?” Evie didn't know about his shape shifting yet. But he seemed more than happy to advise on feline psychology.

Evie smirked like an eighty-year-old woman. “Where is he?"

He deserved the chore of feline advisor. “Down with the Squad."

"Come on, Mr. Mews. You can't be a nunk for the rest of your life.” Evie patted the cat's gray head and veered across the blue bedchamber for the door to the hallway.

Find your foster father. She gulped down more laughter and waited for Evie to close the door. The thump sent her guffawing into a soft pillow. Not fifteen minutes passed before Daddy Cat's deep voice rolled through the open doorway to Evie's room.

"Just put the orchid out of his reach,” Black Elk timbered.

"I can't smell it if it's too high."

Aye, Evie. Torture the man.

"It won't be too high on the windowsill,” Daddy Cats retorted.

"Mr. Mews can jump up there."

Aye, lass, bombard Black Elk with an additional layer of dilemma. Mairi snickered.

"I think he just wants you to spend more time with him. You seem to dote on the flower. Why not pull a sock across the floor? Keep him from getting too bored."

"I know just which sock to use,” Evie lilted.

Shadow shifted in the doorway. Daddy Cats appeared in his camouflage kilt.

"Come here, Mr. Mews,” Evie called.

Black Elk smiled at Mairi and closed the door behind him. “Mr. Mews is reeking havoc in paradise."

"No less than you."

"Me?” Black Elk looked all innocent, throwing his palms up beside the bed.

Like he was holy or something. “If I never stop heaving, I'll divorce you."

A sinister grin stretched across his gorgeous face. “Too late for that.” He crawled onto his knees on the bed and straddled her. “Besides, nothing in life is free. And a contingent of Brothers just departed to inform the Runic Council of the Orders about the renegade Gods.” He grinned. “I'm ready to rumble.” He shook the bed, winking.

"I know you don't mean sex."

"Babe, I'm gonna preen my kitten from stem to stern."

Tease me to death. “If that doesn't mean lick me all over, I'm calling Evie in here."

"You don't understand how music soothes the soul, Siyotanka.” He fumbled with the tiny buttons of her cotton nightgown. His warm gaze met hers. “The first flute was bored by a woodpecker one night when a youth was lost in a forest. He listened to the bird tap, tap, tap through the night. When, the noise stopped, another noise, a lonely sound called through the darkness. The youth needed to find the noise but could do nothing until dawn. The sun rose, and he found a branch with holes where the wind skimmed across the hewn surface. The song came from the branch."

Easy lesson. He so loved to test her intelligence with allegory. “The first flute?” she guessed.

He tickled his fingers beneath her gown and winked at her. “And ever since brother woodpecker showed the youth how to fashion a flute from a piece of wood, young men play love songs to their favorite maidens."

What a wonderful story.

"I'm going to play a song worth remembering on my flute, Siyotanka. So you'll never forget how much I love you.” He flashed his straight white teeth at her in the most wily of grins.

Daddy Cats could play as many songs as he liked. Her future with him was no longer forbidden. She was more than happy to be his enthralling instrument for all eternity.

Skhye resides in Texas where her husband, toddler, and cat keep her extremely busy. She holds a B.S. in geology and gave up working on her thesis in bio-archaeology when bitten by the writing bug—a creature wielding a truly wicked contagion. She's crazy about rocks, natural processes, and cultural history aside from her obsession with kilts. She's been a member of RWA for five years but has written stories since her childhood.