It was due to Adam Black that he was familiar with the art of sifting time. Adam did it frequently, had often spoken of other centuries, and he’d brought Circenn odd “gifts” in some of his attempts to buy the laird’s loyalty and obedience. They were gifts Circenn had refused, but when Adam wouldn’t take them back, he had locked them securely in a private room off his chambers, not trusting their powers. He knew that Adam was trying to tempt him, hoping to make him become like Adam—a thing Circenn would destroy himself before permitting that to happen.
The lass had been wearing one of those strange “gifts” fastened about her wrist, before Circenn had slipped it from her arm in their struggle last night. He’d inspected it later; it was what Adam had once called a “watch.” Adam had found it endlessly amusing, saying it was how mortals counted their “pathetic span of life.” Her watch seemed to confirm her story.
If he believed her version of events, his chest had washed down the river, surfacing in some remote area. It had not been found, and, over time, nature had buried it. Hundreds of years had passed before it had been dug up, and when she’d touched it, it had brought her back to him.
Was it possible that in the future, men still sought the hallows and the secret of the flask as avariciously as they did in his century? Was it possible she had come there to uncover the treasures of the Tuatha de Danaan and the Templars? He might have suspected Adam’s involvement in this, but for two reasons: There was no point in Adam’s bringing to him a woman he was forsworn to kill, and Adam didn’t manipulate events unless there was a very specific thing he wanted to gain from his devious machinations. Circenn couldn’t see one possible thing Adam might be after in this tangle. The flask and the hallows already belonged to Adam’s race; Circenn was merely the guardian. Adam had already shaped Circenn as he wanted—there was nothing more he could possibly hope to “change” about the laird of Brodie. No, Circenn mused, there was nothing of Adam in this. But the lass might be in league with the “employers” she’d mentioned; she could well be from a treacherous future, after his secrets.
He would have to watch her, study her, keep her near. It would take time, and time was a luxury he could ill afford in the thick of an ongoing war. Besides, he brooded, any time spent in the lass’s presence was a slow torture. Loath though he was to admit it, he was susceptible where she was concerned. Stunning, proud, sensual, and intelligent, the woman would be a formidable foe—or a valued ally. He hadn’t met a woman like her in centuries.
Curse me home, she’d said. Circenn snorted, recalling her plea. The only person who could send her back home was the one person who would kill her instantly if he knew she was there: Adam. He certainly couldn’t call on Adam and ask him to send the woman home, nor could he risk meeting with Adam to dig for clues as to whether he was somehow involved. The blackest elf was far too clever to be probed, even by Circenn.
He was acting against everything he had lived by, all his careful rules designed to keep him human; he was breaking an oath, defending a person who could be a spy, lying to his men. He was taking a huge risk by letting her live, and if he was wrong …
Sighing, he finished giving orders and headed off for the kitchen to prepare his men for the introduction of Lisa MacRobertson, cousin to Robert the Bruce.
* * *
Adam Black didn’t bother to materialize. He remained invisible, a wisp of sultry air lightly scented with jasmine and sandalwood, dogging Circenn’s footsteps, consumed by curiosity. That perfect paragon of a man—Circenn Brodie, who’d never broken a rule, never betrayed a weakness, not once wavered on rigid issues of morality—was breaking a sworn oath and willfully deceiving his men. Fascinating, Adam marveled. He’d long thought the laird of Brodie had no breaking point, and had nearly despaired of ever finding the proper catalyst.
He sensed that Circenn didn’t believe Adam was involved in his present tangle, because he couldn’t pinpoint anything Adam might want. Adam smiled faintly. Circenn hated being manipulated. It was best that the laird of Brodie remain blissfully unaware that Adam had carefully orchestrated every move in this game, and was playing for the highest stakes of all.
LISA STEPPED INTO THE GOWN AND TURNED TO FACE the polished metal propped against the wall. She’d been surprised when a mirror had been brought to her chamber. Sifting through her history studies, she recalled that mirrors dated as far back as Egyptian times, perhaps earlier. She knew the Romans had constructed sophisticated sewage systems thousands of years ago, so why should a mere mirror surprise her? It was too bad she couldn’t help them rediscover plumbing, she mused. She rubbed at the soot on the chipped metal until it revealed her shadowy reflection.