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.

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.”