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pockets of her jeans. “There isn’t much in this life I can’t handle.”
    “That I believe.” He couldn’t stop the grin that followed.
    Ronnie had spunk. It was obvious by the way she kept referring to men that something had happened in her past. Did it have something to do with her father? A past lover? Possibly a husband?
    Arran didn’t know, but he wanted to find out. He didn’t like being compared to others, especially when no one else could rival a Warrior.
    He glanced at the gold chain that fell hidden beneath her sweatshirt. “Where did you get the pendant?”
    “On a dig three years ago in Northern Scotland.” She pulled out the pendant and ran her fingers along the knot work. “It’s exquisite, isn’t it? I find it amazing that they could create such works of art so long ago that our craftsmen today can barely replicate.”
    “The Celts were an amazing people.”
    “I’ve always been fascinated with them,” she said with a small grin, her gaze still on the pendant.
    “What did your American studies tell you about my ancestors?”
    Her eyes lifted to his then. “Not nearly as much as I know is out there. I’ve done my fair share of research, and I always come away feeling as if a huge chunk of the Celts’ history has been left out.”
    “Maybe because they didna want others to know?”
    She snorted. “They were a proud people. You know that. Can you imagine them not wanting to tell the world who they were?”
    Arran shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. “What if I told you I could answer all your questions about the Celts?”
    He didn’t know why he offered. He couldn’t tell her. It would be dangerous for anyone other than a Druid or a Warrior to know of a Warrior’s existence. And the Celts were linked with Warriors.
    “Sure,” she said, and made a sound in the back of her throat. “I’ve had that same offer before and was told some nonsense about magic and Rome and warriors.”
    Arran jerked, his full attention on the woman before him. His arms fell to his side and he took a step toward Ronnie. “Who told you this?”
    “A volunteer on the dig three years ago. He was an elderly man that made sure everyone had something to drink and eat. When I found the pendant, he asked me if I wanted to know the story of the Celts. Having no idea I was going to be given a line of bullshit, I said yes.”
    Arran took a deep breath to keep calm. “What is the man’s name? Where is he?”
    “What does it matter?” she asked, her voice lowering with suspicion. “It was just a story.”
    “Ronnie, I need to know who this man is.”
    She searched his gaze for a moment before she said, “He died a month later at the site. He fell and hit his head on a rock. He was dead instantly.”
    The story of the Druids, of Rome and the Warriors’ creation wasn’t one that anyone other than a Druid or a Warrior would know. Who was this man who had told Ronnie the story?
    “What was the man’s name?” Arran asked.
    Ronnie’s brow rose. “What does it matter? He’s dead.”
    “Please, Ronnie.”
    “Tell me why.”
    “Damn, you’re a stubborn one,” Arran said in exasperation as he glanced away and tried to find a plausible reason he could give her.
    She merely smiled and shrugged. “As anyone who knows me will attest. Now, tell me why it’s so important. Why are the ramblings of an old man of interest?…” Her voice died as realization fell over her face. “Unless his story was true,” she finished.
    Arran had to think quickly. Ronnie’s mind was sharp, but he wasn’t sure how much she knew, nor how much the old man had gotten right.
    “We Scots are a wee protective of the stories bandied around. Magic has long been associated with this land. Some believe in it and will seek to do whatever they can to find it.”
    “For what purpose?” she asked.
    “To destroy it. Or worse, to use it to their advantage.”
    Her head cocked to the side. “Do you believe in magic?”
    “If