“Why does she not simply use the door, milord?” one of the Templars asked.

“I locked it,” Circenn muttered.

Duncan lowered his sword and cursed. “I should have known I didn’t beat you fairly.”

“Who is she?” another knight asked. “And what manner of dress is she wearing? It is as if she has naught a stitch on. You can see the separate curves of her … er …”

“Yes, who is she, milord?” a half-dozen knights echoed.

Circenn’s eyes never strayed from the slim figure descending the wall with no small degree of finesse. Clad in those strange trousers, one could indeed see every inch of her shapely derriere as her long legs stretched to find a toehold. He’d been holding his breath since the moment the flicker of linen had caught his eye. Now he expelled it in a gusty sigh. “I was not supposed to reveal her,” he lied swiftly, meeting Duncan’s gaze with a silent warning. He was momentarily appalled at how easily the lie had sprung to his lips. See, he berated himself, break one rule and they all go to hell. “She is cousin to the Bruce and I have been entrusted with her keeping. You will protect her as you would fight for Robert himself. Apparently she cares little for being secured. I suppose we may have to give her run of the keep.” With those words, he thrust his sword into his scabbard and stalked off into the ruin.

At the door, Circenn glanced over his shoulder at Duncan with another warning look that threatened grave repercussions if Duncan didn’t support his story and protect the lass. The look on Duncan’s face made him feel two inches tall. His friend and trusted adviser was gazing at him with astonishment, as if a stranger had taken over the laird of Brodie’s body. Duncan shook his head and his expression clearly said, What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?

As Circenn entered the tower and took the stairs two at a time, he decided he very possibly had.

* * *

Lisa kicked her feet and gently swung herself into the window, exhaling a sigh of relief. With her daddy’s encouragement she’d taken extracurricular tumbling and rappelling through junior high and high school. Although this climb hadn’t looked too difficult, it certainly had been unnerving dangling above the courtyard, praying her knots would hold. She’d hoped the mist would take longer to burn off, and when the sun had begun to steam away the thick clouds she’d hurried, aware that the fighters below would have a clear view at any moment—if they looked up.

But Lisa was counting on the fact that people rarely looked up; the vast majority kept their gaze fixed firmly on the ground or on some nonexistent point in the sea of people surging down the city sidewalks. Only Lisa and some of the homeless people scanned the sky, watching the clouds break and scuttle. Dreamer, her father had teased. Only dreamers watch the sky. You’re a romantic, Lisa. Are you waiting for a winged horse to break through the clouds carrying your prince on his back?

After Eirren had left, she’d waited in her room for Circenn Brodie to come, and when he didn’t appear she’d grown increasingly restless. She needed to find the flask, and with her door bolted from the outside, she didn’t have many options. She’d looked out the window and discovered another one a dozen feet below it. She’d quickly decided to have a look around while it was possible.

And if he caught her? She didn’t care. The lord of the castle needed to know that she was not the kind of woman who would sit about waiting for his decisions, abiding his control. She’d considered her situation thoroughly, and yes, it appeared that she was truly in the fourteenth century. And yes, she had a mother who was dying in the twenty-first. She couldn’t escape the castle, but she needed to assert herself as an innocent woman who was due a modicum of respect, and whom Circenn should help return to her time. Doing nothing was simply not an option. The only way she’d ever been able to cope with the difficulties in her life had been to meet them head-on, eyes open, mind working to achieve resolution.

She shoved aside the tapestry and leaped down from the windowsill. Her boots hit the floor with a soft thud just as he burst through the door.

“What an idiotic, insensible, stupid thing to do!”

“It was not stupid,” she snapped, harboring a special hatred for that word. “It was a perfectly calculated and well-thought-out risk. Don’t even start. If you hadn’t locked me in, I wouldn’t have been forced to do it.”

He crossed the room swiftly and grabbed her. “Do you realize you could have fallen?” he roared.

She drew herself up to her full height, her back ramrod straight. “Of course I do. That’s why I knotted the linens together. For heaven’s sake, it was only a dozen feet.”