Steeling herself, she backed off the gas, reluctant to complete the journey. She wished she’d hiked it with him, so she wouldn’t have to face this moment now. If she’d done it his way, she could have postponed it for another twenty-four hours.

“Turn north.”

“But there’s no road there.”

“I see that,” he said grimly. “And considering the ones upon which we’ve traveled thus far, one would think there should be, a fact that concerns me.”

She turned left, and the headlights of the car limned a grassy knoll.

“Up the hill,” he urged softly.

Drawing a deep breath, Gwen obeyed. When he snapped at her to stop, she didn’t need the command, for she’d monkeyed the clutch and was about to stall anyway. The tips of the towering stones of Ban Drochaid loomed over the crest of the hill, black against a misty purple sky.

“Um, I don’t see a castle, MacKeltar,” she said hesitantly.

“ ‘Tis beyond the fell; the mon conceals it because it sits farther back, past the stones. Come. I will show you.” He fumbled with the door latch, then burst from the car.

Fell and mon must mean hill or crest, she decided as she killed the lights and joined him. The tremor in her hands had spread to the rest of her body, and she was suddenly chilled. “Wait, let me grab my sweatshirt,” she said. He waited impatiently, his gaze fixed upon the tops of the stones, and she knew he was desperate to get up over the crest to see if his castle still stood.

No more eager than she was to delay it. “Do you want a bite to eat before we go?” she said brightly, reaching for the salmon patties and celery they’d boxed up at the last stop.

He smiled faintly. “Come, Gwen. Now.”

With a resigned shrug, she slammed the car door shut and trudged to his side. When he took her hand in his, she didn’t even try to pull away but inched closer, as much for her support as his.

They hiked the remainder of the incline in silence, unbroken but for the chirping of crickets and the melodic hum of tree frogs. At the top she drew in a sharp breath. Against the backdrop of pink-and-purple-streaked sky, a gentle breeze ruffled the grass within the circle of stones. She counted thirteen of them, ranged about a great slab in the center. The megaliths reared up, black against the brilliant horizon.

There was nothing beyond the stones.

Oh, a few pines, and, granted, there were several gentle slopes that might block one’s vision, but nothing that a castle could crouch mischievously behind.

They moved forward in silence, cutting through the circle of stones, much more slowly now, for ahead of them, past stumps of what had once been lofty and ancient oaks, was the clear foundation of a castle that no longer stood.

She refused to look at him. She would not look at him.

When they reached the perimeter of the outer wall, he sank to his knees.

Gwen eyed the tall grass in the center of the ruin, the chunks of stone and mortar in crumbling piles, the night sky beyond the silent castle grave, anything but him, dreading what she would see. Anguish? Horror? Realization that he truly was mentally unbalanced flickering in those beautiful silver eyes that seemed so misleadingly clear?

“Och, Christ, they’re all dead,” he whispered. “Who destroyed my people? Why?” He drew a shuddering breath. “Gwen.” The word was strangled.

“Drustan,” she said softly.

“I bid you return to your wagon for a time.”

Gwen hesitated, torn. Half of her wanted nothing more than to tuck tail and run; the other half felt that he needed her desperately here and now. “I’m not leaving now—”

“Go.”

He sounded so anguished that Gwen flinched and looked at him. His eyes were dark and unreadable but for a shimmer of moisture.

“Drustan—”

“I beg of you, leave me now,” he whispered. “Leave me to mourn my clan alone.”

The faintness of his voice deceived her. “I promised not to just abandon—”

“Now!” he thundered. When she still didn’t move, his eyes blazed. “You will obey me.”

Gwen noticed three things in the time it took him to utter the command. First, although she knew it was impossible, his silvery eyes seemed to blaze from deep within like something she’d once seen in a sci-fi movie. Second, his voice was different, sounded like a dozen voices layered upon one another, obliterating any conscious choice, and third, she suspected if he’d ordered her to walk off a cliff in such a voice, she might.

Her legs broke into an instinctive sprint even as her brain was processing those startling observations.