She frowned. Feeling like the biggest coward, feeling strangely defiant. She glared at the infernal envelope from the travel agency. “When are you leaving?” she asked irritably.

“On the morrow’s eve,” he said, without looking at her.

Chloe gaped. So soon? Tomorrow her grand adventure would be over? Though only yesterday she’d tried to escape him, she felt oddly deflated by her encroaching freedom.

Freedom didn’t seem so sweet when it meant never seeing him again. She knew all too well what would happen: He would disappear from her life, and she would return to her job at The Cloisters (Tom would never fire her—not for missing a few days of work—she’d think of some excuse), and each time she looked at a medieval artifact she would think of him. Late at night, when she awakened filled with that terrible restlessness, she would sit in the dark, holding her skean dhu, wondering the worst question of all: What might have been? She would never again be wined and dined in a luxury penthouse on Fifth Avenue. Never again be looked at in such a way. Her life would resume its usual stultifying cadence. How long before she would forget that she’d once felt intrepid? Felt so briefly and intensely alive?

“Will you be coming back to Manhattan?” she asked in a small voice.

“Nay.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

A soft sigh escaped her. She fidgeted with a curly strand of hair, spiraling it around a finger. “What kind of curse?”

“Would you try to aid me if I was?” He looked up again and she felt a tension in him she couldn’t fathom. As if her reply was somehow critical.

“Yes,” she admitted, “I probably would.” And it was true. Though she didn’t approve of Dageus MacKeltar’s methods, though there was much about him she didn’t understand, were he suffering, she wouldn’t be able to refuse him.

“Despite what I’ve done to you?”

She shrugged. “You haven’t exactly hurt me.” And he’d given her a skean dhu. Would he really let her keep it?

She was about to ask him that when, with a swift flick of his wrist, he tossed the envelope from the travel agency at her. “Then come with me.”

Chloe caught the envelope by one end, her heart skipping a beat. “Wh-what?” She blinked at him, thinking she must have heard him wrong.

He nodded. “Open it.”

Frowning, Chloe opened the envelope. She smoothed the papers wonderingly. Tickets to Scotland, for Dageus MacKeltar . . . and Chloe Zanders! Just seeing her name printed on the ticket gave her a little chill. Departing tomorrow night at seven o’clock from JFK. Arriving in London for a short layover, then on to Inverness. Within less than forty-eight hours she could be in Scotland!

If she dared.

She opened and closed her mouth several times.

Finally, “Oh, what are you?” she breathed disbelievingly. “The devil himself, come to tempt me?”

“Do I, lass? Do I tempt you?”

On just about every freaking level, she thought, but refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing that.