“I understand nothing!”

“You are daft.”

“Daft? Daft?” Oh, she was going to hit him. Hard. “I am not daft, Gavin. I do however have a problem trying to make sense of whatever it is you’re trying to tell me. You suck at explaining.”

“Then listen well, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said through clenched teeth, coming closer to her with each statement. “You are not of this time. There are no phones, whatever that may be. There is no inn. And this is not the twenty-first century.”

“You’re a nutcase,” Gwen hissed, pushing away. She walked back to the door, and on the third try, it finally opened. But when it did, the sight hit her full force again. Gwen closed the door. Gavin’s words repeated in her head.

She knew he was behind her, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she leaned her head against the door. “You don’t have a phone?” she asked in a whisper.

“Nay.”

“The storm didn’t wipe out your power or the phone lines?” Again it was a whisper.

“Nay.”

“You said I’m not of this time. What did you mean?”

“Simply that, Lady Gwendolyn. This is not the twenty-first century.”

“If this isn’t the twenty-first century”—Gwen’s hands fisted next to her head before she asked the next question, and she laughed as she said the words—“what century is it then?”

“’Tis the sixteenth century, my lady.”

Gwen made a strangled sound. “What year is it?”

“The year of our Lord…fifteen hundred and thirty-six.” He said it clearly, catching her as she crumpled.

“Potion…” Gwen screamed, beating against his chest. “I want potion!”

“You’ve just had brandy,” Gavin reprimanded, grabbing her hands.

“You’re messing with me, right?”

“If you mean tricking you…nay, I fear not.”

Gwen started laughing.

“You find this amusing?” he asked as he set her before him.

Gwen regarded him with a smile. “As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied. “I told Greylen I was dreaming last night. And I am.” Thank God, she could still rationalize in her unconscious state.

“You’re not dreaming, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said. “Can you not believe?”

His question surprised her. She thought about it. “Believing is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

“Explain.”

“What? Now you’re my therapist?” she said with a sneer, but Gavin only stared. “Oh what the hell,” she muttered. “I believed I would find what I was looking for if I came to Scotland. No.” Gwen shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I just had to leave. I had this feeling that if I didn’t, I would never find what I was looking for.”

“And what was it that you looked for?” Gavin asked seriously.

Gwen stared at him. What had she looked for? She knew at once what she’d been looking for. “I think I was looking for Greylen,” she whispered.

“Then it seems everything has worked itself out.”

“Are you insane?”

“You found him, didn’t you?”

“In the sixteenth century? Come on.”

“Can you not see that which is in front of you?” he asked.