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by chance. Was this woman meant to return him to his century? He’d always known he should’ve died at Halidon Hill. He’d been living on borrowed time ever since. Was his time coming to an end? “None of this is by chance, lass.”
    “I agree,” Michael said, his tone filled with excitement.
    “This is the anniversary of the day you came to us, Struan,” Marjorie added. “It’s July 19.”
    Silence descended, and a shiver of dread crept down his spine. “Tell us the stories of each of your family members who have time-traveled, Sky. I’m interested to hear about the others who have experienced what I have.” He doubted he’d gain anything from the tales she had to tell, but he needed time to process what she’d revealed.
    “If you wish.” Sky gave them the historical accounting for each of her relatives who had time-traveled.
    “That’s a lot to process,” Struan said once she’d finished. Truth be told, he just couldn’t take in any more. Thank heavens it was almost time for their last jousting performance of the afternoon. “We need to get ready for our next show.” Struan nodded toward the wall clock.
    “Right.” Gene pushed himself up from the table. “We’ll come up with something you can do to earn a living while you’re here, Sky. With your abilities, maybe you can work the fairs as a fortune-teller.”
    “I canna tell anyone’s future, only whether or no’ they speak the truth.” A look of utter confusion and fatigue settled over Sky’s features.
    Struan recalled feeling the same way. He’d understood English well enough, but many of the words his new family had used held no meaning for him back then. “You look as if you’re about to fall asleep sitting up. Ma will show you where you can rest, and we’ll talk later.”
    “My thanks. I am exhausted.” Sky yawned and covered her mouth. “’Tis been a most trying day, and I am grateful to have . . .” She frowned. “ Made your acquaintance does no’ sound right for the occasion. I’m glad to have fallen in with folk who are so accepting, and . . .” She yawned again.
    Gene smiled down at her. “We understand what you’re trying to say. You’re welcome here.”
    Struan spared her a nod and left the trailer. Now he knew the source of her look of disappointment. She’d sensed the lie he’d told about his father being no one of importance to the Sutherlands. So what? It wasn’t her business anyway. A twinge of guilt shot through him. She’d revealed her fae abilities to them, taking what she believed to be a great risk. Yet he hid the truth of his origins from her.
    “Time to get back into the can,” he muttered, heading for his armor. Performing at the fairs helped keep him in shape, but he far preferred his true calling, and longed to return to their farm in Virginia where he had his forge.
    There he created medieval home decor, and the armor and weaponry that kept the Renaissance and medieval reenactors and theaters all over the world supplied. He also dabbled in gold- and silversmithing, creating Celtic brooches, pendants, rings, belt buckles and bracelets.
    “What do you make of Sky’s sudden appearance on the anniversary of your arrival here?” Michael asked as he tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle.
    “I have no idea what to make of it or of her.” Struan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t really want to think about it right now.”
    “Can’t say as I blame you, son. It’s spooky as hell if you ask me.” Gene helped him into his armor. “Promise me you’ll stay here with us,” he said, his voice gruff. “Don’t want to lose you.”
    “I promise.” Struan’s throat closed up and his eyes stung. “You heard what she had to say about the treachery of her time. My century was even worse because of the constant conflict with the English and the Bruce’s recent death. I have no interest in returning to the past. None.”

CHAPTER THREE

    I have so much to do,” Sky said, rubbing her