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there, keeping the scoundrel at bay. On that thought, he dragged open the door of his snug abode and plunged into a blinding snowstorm. A name drummed inside his head, but when he tried to call out to her, the wind swallowed the sound. It didn’t matter. He knew where she was. The auld stane was now a favorite picnic spot overlooking the Dee valley. Few were aware of its gory history.
    Macduff howled again, like a cub crying for his mother. Gavin’s feet had never moved faster as he plowed through the snow to answer that call, but he was aware that time was passing. It would take him a good five minutes, maybe longer to reach the witches’ stone, and in this freezing weather, she could have slipped into a coma. He’d seen it before with climbers he’d rescued from the peaks. Some recovered; others did not. How long had she been out there?
    It never occurred to him that he was accepting his psychic powers as though he’d been using them all his life. He didn’t debate whether or not he was hallucinating. His power had come to him full-blown. He was like one of the wizards of old—a seer of Grampian.
    He found them at the bottom of the dike. Macduff was nudging her, turning her face away from the snow. It came as no surprise to Gavin to see that it was Kate Cameron whom his dog had rescued.
    “Good dog,” he said, sinking to his knees beside Macduff.
    When he put his cold cheek to her lips, he could feel the shallow tremors of each uneven breath she exhaled. Her skin was ice-cold, and he stripped out of his coat and wrapped her in it before lifting her into his arms. All the while, however, he was straining to hear any little sound that might indicate that the villain who had done this to her was still close by.
    Macduff led the way, by turns growling and whining.
    “You did well,” Gavin told him. His dog had stayed to watch over the girl when he might have gone chasing after the man who attacked her. “I think you may have saved her life.”
    Macduff licked his fingers, or he tried to, then he bounded down the slope toward their cottage.
    Once there, Gavin set her down gently on the pallet bed in the kitchen. Though there was a small bedroom with a proper bed next door, it had no fireplace and was as cold as an icehouse, too cold, in Gavin’s opinion, for man or beast.
    The first thing he did was stir the embers of the fire and blow it to life with the bellows. As soon as a flame appeared, he added a couple of birch logs and used the poker to angle them to catch the flame. That done, he lit the ubiquitous oil lamp on the kitchen table and then turned to look at Kate. Only then did he realize how cold he was. But first things first. He had to see to the girl.
    Macduff had never left her side. His stare was unwavering, as though willing her to open her eyes. When Gavin knelt beside him and began to examine the unconscious girl, Macduff retreated to the foot of the bed. It didn’t take long for Gavin to assess her injuries. There was a superficial wound on one shoulder that had bled profusely but not enough to make her unconscious. His fingers found a bump on the back of her head. Was it enough to cause a concussion?
    How long had she been left lying in the snow? And why was she wearing nothing warmer than the dress she’d worn tonight?
    This wasn’t the time to speculate. Time was of the essence. He had to warm her and bring her out of her coma.
    He began at once by removing her soaking-wet dress, uncaring of the rips he made. Not a sound came out of her as he rolled her from side to side. He was just as ruthless when he removed her underthings. Fabric ripped or fell apart in his hands. He didn’t care. The one thought that possessed his mind was that he had to bring her back to consciousness before it was too late.
    Inwardly, he was cursing himself. He should have taken his premonition more seriously. Because of his wavering, he’d left the girl unprotected. It wouldn’t happen again.
    When she was down to