“Mr. Harrison,” he interrupted. “What’s the bottom line?”

“Oh, my, I guess I do go on, don’t I? Well, you will be happy to know that my earlier estimate was entirely wrong. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the pieces sold for three times what I quoted you.” Harrison was almost giddy. “That is if you are still willing to sell them?”

Todd cleared his throat, and only managed to choke out his reply. “How soon do you need to know?”

“Take your time, Mr. Blakely. We don’t want to rush anything. Of course it is a great deal of money we are talking about, not something one would have sitting around on a coffee table, if you know what I mean.”

Chapter Eight

“This is crazy!” Liz closed the book in her lap and tossed it aside.

Her hours of research and reading on Druidism and medieval times made her head ache, but the real kicker was she believed it. Believing it either made her crazy or stupid. She laughed when she closed her current study material.

Crazy! Definitely crazy.

The digital clock blinked out nine-thirty PM. It was late, but that didn’t stop her from picking up the phone and dialing.

Todd passed the phone off to Myra with few words. After she hung up the phone, Myra smiled for the first time in several days before resting her head against the doorframe where she stood.

“Is everything all right?”

“Better than all right, I think.” She placed the receiver on the charger. “I’ll meet with Lizzy tomorrow to fill in some of the details she wants.”

He swung his feet off the coffee table and turned off the television. “And what about me? When will you trust me enough to fill in some of those details?”

Except for the feeling of being watched, which they both felt and talked about often, everything else they discussed was superficial. They had both avoided the important subjects over the last few days. Todd hadn’t asked or demanded any details, and Myra hadn’t offered them.

“I do trust you. Yet, I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

He had taken care of her every need since she arrived. He had pulled her into his arms, kissed her senseless, then demanded no more when he learned she was a virgin. His concern for her well-being was evident in every phone call he made. Every risk he took keeping her under his care.

She knew they had no future together, but she still worried he would walk away when he learned who she was. Learned what she was.

Most people ran from things they couldn’t explain. Would he? Was she willing to risk him rejecting her when she told him the truth? Every day she grew closer to him. Even now, the possibility Lizzy would consent to her moving in, had Myra concerned. She couldn’t imagine not seeing Todd daily.

“I’m afraid you won’t believe me,” she finally said. “I’ve learned from my years on the force that life is often stranger than fiction. I haven’t pushed you for the answers I know you have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want them.”

“If I ask you to believe something I cannot completely prove, will you believe?”

He walked up to her, took her hands in his. “You told me you’re a virgin. I believe that without proof.”

She laughed, despite herself. Closing her eyes, she offered a silent prayer. “We should sit down.”

Rigid, with her hands in her lap, she sat and tried to find the words to tell him her story. Her fingers fidgeted together, nails against nails, continually making clicking noises and filling the silent room with sound.

“My parents are Laird Ian and Lady Lora MacCoinnich. I reside in MacCoinnich Keep in Scotland, with my brothers and sister.”

“That is where Tara McAllister is?”

“Aye, but she is Tara MacCoinnich now, wife to my brother, Duncan.”

“Duncan is the man from the pictures? The man at the Renaissance Faire she was last seen with?”

“Aye, and the other man, Fin, is my older brother.”

“So if Miss McAllister... I mean Mrs.

MacCoinnich is safe in Scotland, why hasn’t she contacted her sister?”

She closed here eyes and took a leap. “Before last week, when I traveled here, I lived my life in the sixteenth century. The century in which I was born.

The century in which Tara now lives.”

Whatever he thought she was going to say flew out of his mind. By the look on her face, he knew it showed. He started to say something only to be silenced by her hand.

“That part I cannot prove. Not yet anyway.” She stood and started pacing. “I come from a family of Druids that date back from the 800’s. We are often misunderstood and keep our heritage secret to avoid persecution.”

He couldn’t sit. She was so serious in her delusion. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Myra, there are people who can help you.”

Her smile placated him. She knew he didn’t believe her. “Just listen, before you condemn me as mad. I know how all of this sounds.”

“But...”

“You wanted the truth, Todd, and I am giving it to you now.”

He nodded and watched her as she continued.

“All Druids have some power. Gifts. Abilities beyond what you are used to. I am no different.”

She took a step back and opened her hands to his fireplace. “Our powers stem from nature. The elements of life. Fire is the easiest.” She pushed her hands to the hearth and flames leapt and caught on the logs. A small blast of hot air shot out. She didn’t turn to see if he watched.

“Jesus.” His jaw dropped, his breath caught in his throat.

“My greatest gift isn’t fire however, ’tis air. Or wind really. Moving the air gives me the ability to move things. Objects both small.” She lifted the remote control off the table from several feet away and gently set it back down. “And large.” She waved her hand, and the coffee table moved across the room.

Todd jumped back a foot, his eyes wide. He blinked several times, then mumbled a curse when she put the table back with nothing more than a flick of her wrist. If he thought his pulse couldn’t beat faster when he saw the logs catch fire, it was nothing compared to the rapid tattoo beating in his chest now. “How the hell did you do that?”

“With my mind.” She took a step toward him, he stepped back. She grounded her feet and stood poised and waiting. For what, he didn’t know.

He put a distance of several feet between them.

What the hell was she? Every word she spoke repeated in his mind, every strange comment about food, clothing or objects. Every bit of slang he’d explained, he’d checked off to her being from a different country, not a different time. “Why are you here?” Not that he believed in the time travel thing.