Gwen’s eyes widened. “Oh my God…I’m one of those people,” she cried. She grabbed his shoulders. “I hate those people.”

“Pray tell, which people would those be?” he asked wryly.

“The ones who can’t see what’s in front of them.” Damn him. “Gavin, what you’re telling me isn’t possible.”

“And as I’ve already said, I fear ’tis exactly as I’ve told you.”

“So what I just witnessed outside, and the antiquity of this castle—”

“Seagrave Castle is the finest in the Highlands, Lady Gwendolyn,” Gavin corrected, cutting her off. “And as to what you saw outside, I can only surmise ’tis different to you because you’re not of our time. ’Twas written so in the prophecy.”

“So it’s normal that this castle has no electricity or indoor plumbing?”

“I know not of electricity, but I can assure you our plumbing surpasses the standard.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Trust me, it’s not even close.”

“Furthermore, there’s nothing antiquated about this castle, you’ll not find another finer.”

“In the courtyard”—Gwen put her head in her hands, replaying the scene in her mind—“it’s a village out there. People don’t live like that anymore,” she whispered in disbelief.

“Explain to me what is so different,” he prodded gently.

“The clothing for one. Women don’t dress like that anymore, even in Scotland. Oh my God.” She pulled at her dress. “Dress like this. And people’s courtyards are quiet and peaceful. They’re private. This courtyard is alive with activity—mothers and children, men with weapons. There’re stables and what looks to be a chapel. And I saw beyond the wall, there were cottages and men fighting with swords. This does not exist. I spent three weeks discovering everything I could about Scotland, and I swear everything I’ve just seen doesn’t.”

“Everything you witnessed is very real. And the men, women, and children of this clan live a life known to few in the Highlands. Their laird provides well and protects with honor. In return, his people work hard and live quite happily.” He paused, as if waiting for a reaction. When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Does anything else bother you?”

“You bother me, Gavin.” Well, she had to take it out on someone.

“Lady Gwendolyn, I’ve been nothing but forthright and respectful to you,” he countered.

“Forthright maybe—but respectful—yeah…” Gwen rolled her eyes.

He sneered, taking the bait. “Very well, my lady. Mayhap you should make some more outrageous requests to leave. And please, do use your acidic tongue.”

“Did you say I have an acidic tongue?” Gwen demanded in false outrage.

“Aye, you’ve a foul mouth. ’Tis the truth and you know it,” Gavin hissed. “Don’t have a tizzy as you so put it, my lady.”

“I’ll have all the damn tizzies I want, Gavin—back at the inn.”

“This is the only ‘inn’ you’ll ever know, Lady Gwendolyn. I suggest you get used to it…for you shall never leave.”

Lady Gwendolyn remained quiet as Gavin helped her back to her chamber. ’Twas a first, and he found that he missed the quickness of her comments—even those caustic in nature.