The impression that she drifted on a warm sea of clouds filled her mind. A sense of weightlessness, of mind as well as body, took over. An intense tingling sensation started in the tips of her fingers, moved up her arm, then down the rest of her body. It wasn’t painful; but similar to the entire body falling asleep and then reawaking bit by bit.

     Raine fell faster. Still, she wasn’t frightened. Lights flashed by and shapes and colors caught her attention, but she couldn’t focus on any of them. Faster she fell; everything a blur of shadows. Something or someone jerked her to the right, and then she felt an icy hardness beneath her. All sense of feeling returned with a jolt. Now she was wet, chilled and frightened. She tried to fight her way through the dense fog that swirled around her. When she failed, she gave in to the darkness and let it sweep over her.

     Slowly she returned from the confines of the blackness. Her body ached and she recalled the howl of the wind and the hardness of the rain as it had beat down upon her earlier. Quiet surrounded her now. No wind blew; no rain fell. How long had she been lying here? The storm had passed and left the ground cold and damp, the wetness soaking through her coat and blouse, chilling her skin.

     Unsure of where she was or what had happened, Raine became aware of voices above her, the thick Scottish burr making the words difficult to understand. She forced her eyelids open a crack, but all she saw above the tall grass that surrounded her was horses.

     Horses?

     Where the devil was she? Panic swept over her.

     The men who spoke were behind her, and she concentrated on what they said before she fully opened her eyes. She made out at least three different voices.

     "Do ye recognize the lad, Angus?"

     "Nay. ‘Tis a young lad, fer he’s not shavin’ yet. But a huge one, he is. And the strangest breeks I’ve ever seen."

     Breeks? Lad? Were they talking about her? Did they think she was a young boy? What in God’s name was going on here?

     "He seems tae be breathin’. Maybe his horse threw him. Canna see any tracks, though. Should we check fer injuries?" This came from the third voice, young, high pitched and slurred with excitement.

     The one who seemed to be in charge answered, "Aye. Dinna see any weapons. If ‘twas a trap, they’d have struck by now. Check him."

     Raine groaned in response to his comment. What would happen when they found her to be a female? Weapons? Trap? What the heck was going on?

     One of the men knelt beside her and felt for injuries. He started at her feet and moved up her legs, squeezing as he went along. His hand neared her breast and Raine’s eyes flew open in panic. When she struggled to sit up, the elderly man stumbled backwards in surprise. From the look on his face, she must have scared a good ten years off his life.

     Raine took in the sights around her. She sat in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tall grass and heather. The smell of the recent rainfall floated in the air and the sound of a brook could be heard in the background. From her position on the ground, she saw that at least twenty men encircled her, and all had various sized swords drawn.

     " ‘Tis okay, lad. Dinna be frightened."

     Raine turned her head towards the deep voice and her eyes widened in shock. He towered above her, to the left, and strongly resembled the portrait of Alec Macleod she had seen in the museum. A familiar sensation surged through her body as she gazed into his eyes. Was he a descendant of Black Alec? The similarity between the two men unnerved her. Not just in physical features, like the intensity of his sapphire blue eyes, but the man also wore the attire of the traditional Highlander.

     He wore a yellow and black kilt with a white shirt opened at the neck, revealing a vast expanse of bare skin sprinkled with tiny black curls. The sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows and exposed thick and powerful forearms. His broad shoulders strained at the material and Raine thought the seams would tear with the slightest pressure. He definitely fit the description of a Highland Rogue: tall, dark and overflowing with sexual magnetism.

     And those eyes! They were the deepest blue; the color of the sky caught between dusk and nightfall, after the sun slips below the horizon and before the first stars shine.

     Had she stumbled upon some sort of reenactment by his clan? The men had certainly dressed for the part. All wore kilts of the Clan Macleod, and appeared unshaven and haggard, as if they just returned from battle. The replica broadswords and other various weapons looked real enough. Some were polished until they shone, while others were dull from long use. The edges of the swords looked sharp and ready for a fight. What were they doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

     "Here, lad, give me yer hand." She looked up at the man who had checked her for injuries and saw a look of concern cross his face. Tentatively she held out her hand and he helped her to her feet. As Raine bent over to brush the debris from her jeans, her braid fell over her shoulder, hanging down past her breast. She stood and stretched, pulling the wet material of her blouse tighter across her chest. Gasps of astonishment filled the air, followed by utter silence, and she glanced at the men, bewildered at the cause.

     "’Tis no lad we have here, Angus, but a wee lassie."

     At this comment, Raine looked over at the owner of the deep voice. The leader of the ragtag group had a look of both astonishment and bemusement on his handsome face. A smile tugged at his mouth as he glanced back at Raine.

     "Aye, she may be a lassie, but nay so wee," the man named Angus answered.

     Laughter floated through the cool air and anger flared within Raine as she stared at the dark giant. His gaze rested on her breasts where they strained against the damp fabric of her shirt. "Well, of course I’m a woman. What on earth made you think otherwise?"

     The laughter suddenly died and the men around her stood in silence. All at once, everyone murmured their surprise.

     "Silence!" At the dark haired man’s command, all talking ceased. He walked over to Raine in two long strides and towered over her. Good Lord, he must be at least 6’7", she thought as she leaned her head back and glared at him.

     "From which clan do ye hail, lass? And what are ye doin’ out here unescorted? And wearin’ men’s breeks, no less? Have ye no sense?" His hands fisted at his hips and his long, jet black hair blew around his shoulders. Those eyes of blue had turned to cold, hard ice.

     "Have ye gone daft, lass? Answer the questions!"

     Anger and confusion welled up inside her. How dare he order her around! Did he think her half-witted, incapable of understanding a simple question? Just who did he think he was, anyway? Normally she wasn’t so quick to lose her temper, but this man got under her skin. She tried hard to control her temper and took a deep breath before she answered. "Who I am is of no concern of yours! Before I answer any of your questions, I have a few of my own."

     She matched his stance, ready to do battle with the giant before her. Electric tension filled the space between them and the air crackled from the intensity. Neither would back away and they each knew it. Minutes passed and they continued to stare each other down, no quarter given.

     "Aye, lads, I think Alec has met his match. And ‘tis a lassie, at that!" Raine didn’t appreciate being the butt of anyone’s jest. By the deadly look on his face, neither did the tall, dark man before her. He turned a hardened gaze on the men and the smiles quickly disappeared. Raine glanced around and noticed none of them dared look her in the eye. Had no one put this arrogant male in his place before?

     He turned his attention back to her and Raine gazed up into those intense blue eyes. Anger smoldered just under the surface and she knew she had pushed him to the limit of his patience. A hand reached out, grabbed her arm and pulled her out of earshot of the other men. Indignation flared through her. How dare he manhandle her in such a way! The fuse to her temper had been re-ignited. He was about to see the dire consequences of his bold actions, she vowed. She would let him know exactly what she thought of him when he glared at her and started to speak.

     "I dinna ken where ye came from, lass, but ‘tis apparent no one thought tae teach ye tae hold yer tongue." His voice was low and full of ire; his Scottish brogue thicker. The grip on her arm tightened and pain shot up to her shoulder.

     "Release me, you egotistical buffoon!" She tried to pull her arm free, but his hold, though loosened, remained firm; he refused to let her go.

     "I’m tempted tae throw ye over my knee, lass, and give ye the thrashing yer Da should have!" His eyes burned into her and Raine knew he would do just as he threatened.

     Humiliation at the thought of being treated like a spoiled child coursed through her and her anger reached its limit. How she ached to reach up and slap the man. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her side, itching to wipe the smug smile from his lips.

     "Tch, lass. Ye strike me and ye’ll be wishin’ ye hadn’t." He released her, then crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited, daring her to hit him.

     Damn the man!

     Raine knew if she attempted to erase that smirk, she would probably end up over his knee, or worse. She took a deep breath, counted to ten and reigned in her temper. Her main concern, she reminded herself, was to find out what was going on.

     She gazed up at the wall of muscle that towered above her and knew it wouldn’t be wise to anger him any further. If she wanted to gain the answers she needed, she had to calm down and think straight.

     He seemed to sense her sudden, yet reluctant, compliance and rocked back on his heels. With a nod in her direction, he arched his brows and asked, "Okay, lass. What do ye want tae ken?"

     "First of all," she said, glaring back at him, "who are you and where am I?"

     He took a deep breath through clenched teeth and dispelled it very slowly. It seemed he, too, tried to keep his anger in check. A small tick developed along his jaw and Raine knew she tread in deep water.

     "I, dear lass, am Alec Macleod, laird of Hawkridge Castle and chief of Clan MacLeod. As tae where ye are--well, ye are on my land. Now…You will answer my questions."

     Was this some sort of joke? It had to be! her mind screamed. He looked dead serious, and as she glanced around at the men and their weapons and clothing, a sudden realization hit her stomach like a lead ball and stole the breath from her lungs. Okay, so he thinks he's some dead guy, and comes out here to get his kicks. That's it, she told herself. Only she didn't quite buy it. She couldn't have… There's no way he's actually… Oh, my God!

     Raine gazed into those electric blue eyes and felt a shock go through her. It was him! This wasn’t a reenactment. The weapons were real and the men before her, flesh and blood. Somehow, she’d ended up in 18th century Scotland. A feeling of foreboding swept over her. How had this happened? She had to think fast and try not to raise any suspicions until she could figure out what to do.

     "Very well. Ask," she replied and mentally crossed her fingers he would mistake the tremble in her voice for fatigue and not fear.

     "What’s yer name?"

     "Raine."

     Alec blew out his breath in exasperation. "And what clan, lass?"

     She knew she had to proceed with caution. Based on what she remembered, the two clans were constant enemies. But when had it all started? Before this time or after? When exactly was this time, for that matter? That one question had to be answered quickly, yet asked carefully.

     "Mackenzie," she said, her voice stronger now.

     "Aye. I can see the resemblance." Alec tilted his head and studied Raine through half-closed lids. "But yer language is different. Yer not from this region are ye?"

     "No. I’m from the Sta....Colonies. The American Colonies. South Carolina." She defiantly crossed her arms and gave him the same once over he’d just given her. He was a handsome devil; she’d give him that much. And those eyes. She groaned. If she wasn’t careful, she could lose herself in their depths. "Is there anything else you want to know?"

     "Aye, lass. Plenty. But fer now, tell me what yer doin’ here. ‘Tis a way from the Mackenzie stronghold. And where’s yer trunks and escort?" He raised one dark, finely arched brow and dared her not to answer him.

     "I don’t have an escort," she replied. "I only had a small satchel tied to the back of my horse. Not far from here, the grungy beast lost its footing and threw me." She tossed her braid over her shoulder, and took the chance of looking him directly in the eye. "I don’t know where it ran off to." A silent prayer was sent heavenward that he wouldn’t catch her in the bold-faced lie. The truth would be too hard to explain. And the last thing she needed was to be branded a witch.

     "And do ye always go ‘round wearing men’s breeks?"

     The smirk on his face rekindled her anger, smoldering just beneath the surface.

     "For your information, I chose to wear pants so I wouldn’t be accosted by the likes of men such as you! You thought I was a male, so I guess it worked, didn’t it?" Raine placed her hands on her hips and dared him to admit she had fooled him. A female traveling by herself in these times was unheard of; better to let him think she had disguised herself than tell him the truth. The fact that this was her every day apparel wouldn’t go over well.

     "Aye, lass. That ye did." Alec released a pent up breath and ran strong fingers through his black hair in a gesture of utter frustration. His hair stood on end from the effort, then fell back into place with the touch of the wind.

     Raine watched the motion of his hand and longed to run her own fingers through the velvet softness. Where did this feeling come from? Never before had she found herself so intensely attracted to a man. Let alone one who was so damned irksome. Why him? Why now? She gazed into his sapphire eyes and saw something flicker to life within their depths. Passion? Desire? Did her own eyes reveal her attraction to him?

     Somewhere in the background, the sound of throats being cleared broke the trance Alec and Raine seemed to be under. The animosity between them dissipated a bit, but remained hidden under the surface of civility. A new tension filled the air between them, sexual in origin, but at the same time, so much more. This was so new and strange to her, this feeling of longing, desire. It frightened her, but at the same time excited her.

     Eager to break the silence, Raine tried to think of something to say. "I can take care of myself, you know." Her voice came out whispery soft and trembled with desire. God, what was happening to her?

     Alec gazed at her skeptically, but didn’t press the issue. He cleared his throat and glanced to his left. "Whitestone is another two days’ hard ride from here. Ye’ll come tae Hawkridge and can send a messenger tae yer clan and let them ken ye’ve arrived. They do ken yer comin’?"

     Raine shook her head. She didn’t even know she was coming, how could they? Would they welcome her? She kept her fingers crossed, only she didn’t know what it was she wished for.

     "Come along then, lass. Ye can ride double with me. Diabhal can handle the weight."

     Raine turned and saw the massive black beast he called a horse. It seemed only fitting the large man before her have a horse as massive as he was. The name ‘devil’ described the beast perfectly. Black as a raven’s wing, the coat gleamed in the fading light of the afternoon. He rolled his eyes into the back of his head and tossed his mane in fury as he stomped and tried to shake free of the grasp the young boy had on the reins.

     Alec walked over to his mount and cooed to him. The beast settled down as soon as he recognized his master’s voice, and rubbed his nose against Alec’s chest. The tenderness he showed the animal--not to mention the horse’s response—amazed Raine. Would she succumb as quickly if Alec's gentle voice whispered in her ear?

     Good, Lord! Where had that thought come from?

     "Are ye comin’, lass?"

     Raine jerked her head up at the deep bass of his voice. "Yes," she replied. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and walked over to the horse.

     As she looked around, it became obvious she wouldn’t receive any assistance in mounting the devilish beast. Alec stood by the horse’s head, his muscular arms crossed in front of that wonderfully broad chest and rocked back on the heels of his boots as he stared at her. Amusement twinkled in the blue depths of his eyes and a smile tugged at his lips. Damn those eyes; those lips. And while she was at it, she cursed the man himself. He just waited for her to fall or beg for help.

     Determined to do neither, Raine placed her left foot in the stirrup and pulled herself atop the huge beast. She swung her right leg over the animal’s back and settled in the saddle. With a triumphant grin plastered on her face, she peered down at the Chief of Clan Macleod and couldn’t resist a taunt. "Are ye comin’, laddie?" she imitated in her best Scot’s accent.

     Alec ignored the snickers from his men and in one fluid motion, mounted the horse behind Raine without the use of the stirrups. In the confined space of the saddle, Raine and Alec fit together like spoons. Her back nestled against his chest, and the denim of her jeans did little to protect her from the shock of his scarcely covered, muscular legs as they moved behind her own. They even matched breath for breath.

     He reached around her for the reins and brushed his strong arms across her breasts. Raine’s heart skipped a beat at the contact of his bare skin against the damp fabric of her shirt. His warm breath caressed her neck and tiny shivers danced down her spine. The heat from his body burned her back, her legs, and her very soul.

     With a slight nudge of his heels, Alec set the horse in motion. Diabhal jerked forward and at the sudden movement, Raine careened against Alec. She heard him curse under his breath as her head bounced against his chin. Served him right, she thought with a smile. Never before had she encountered such an arrogant, quarrelsome, hot-tempered, nerve wrecking man! Not to mention what his devastatingly handsome looks did to her. With his rugged features and lean, hard body, he could make a nun rethink her vows. And those deep, sapphire blue eyes sent a quiver of excitement through her, body and soul.

     She tried to shake such traitorous thoughts from her mind and concentrate on her surroundings as they slowly made their way through the forest. Only the melodic songs of the various birds as they flitted across the open sky could be heard, and the quietness of the woods, combined with the sway of the horse’s movements, lulled Raine into a relaxed state. With a sigh, she leaned back against Alec’s chest.

     "Are ye comfortable?" His soft deep voice caressed her ear. Liquid fire raced through her veins and settled in the pit of her stomach. The warmth of his breath tickled her cheek and she shivered in response.

     "Cold, lass? Here. Wrap my plaid around ye," Alec said as he pulled at the yellow and black material until it encompassed them both. "We can keep each other warm."

     The images his last statement provoked brought a heated blush to Raine’s face as she imagined exactly how he could keep her warm on a cold, Highland night.

     Who was this man who caused her heart to thunder in her chest and molten lava to flow through her veins? Her thoughts turned to his sensuous mouth just behind her left ear and his strong hands wrapped around the leather reins in front of her. She wondered how both his hands and lips would feel against her bare skin. The idea of such a thing happening made Raine squirm in the saddle. She cursed her traitorous and suddenly lecherous mind.

     "Och. Be still, lass." His breath sounded harsh and ragged in her ear. As Raine settled in the seat one last time, Alec drew in a sharp breath and expelled it, bit by bit.

     Their physical closeness in the saddle unnerved Raine. Not only could she feel his muscles ripple with every movement, but his scent invaded her senses. It clung to his plaid and floated around her, masculine and intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, and tried to take her mind off the man behind her. It didn’t work.

     "I do have a name besides ‘lass’, you know."

     "Aye, so ye do. Raine, is it? Most unusual. How did ye get such a unique name?"

     Raine smiled as she answered rather cheekily, "My parents gave it to me when I was born."

     The deep, rich laughter that escaped from Alec drew startled glances from his men. Apparently, they weren’t used to the sound of his laugh. What a pity, she thought. A nice full sound, though a bit rusty, and Raine heard the smile behind it.

     "Aye, lass. They named ye well." He leaned forward and spoke softly into her ear. "Ye look all soft and dewy, like mountain mist, but then ye open up like a thundercloud and drench a man’s soul."

     Small chills of deja vu raced down her spine as she recalled the words engraved on the brooch. Unsure of how to reply, Raine simply lapsed into silence. She needed to figure out what to do if this really was 18^th century Scotland, and they sent a messenger to Whitestone and the Mackenzies once the group reached Hawkridge Castle. The names and dates on her genealogy chart ran through her memory.

     Hamish Mackenzie.

     Oh, Lord, she thought. He was Chief of the clan now. Her blood turned to ice as she remembered the evil eyes and mad smirk of the man in the museum painting. Fear gripped her heart and a sense of dread washed over her. Instincts told her he was a dangerous man and not one to be crossed. What had she gotten herself into?

###

     Slowly, the fog lifted from her mind. What strange yet wonderful things she’d dreamt. She vividly recalled strong arms around her and the warmth of the devilishly handsome man they belonged to. If only she could find a man so intriguing! Even after the dream ended, she felt those muscular arms around her and remembered how they excited her. Smiling, Raine stretched her stiff muscles, and encountered something hard behind her.

     She opened her eyes in confusion and reality crashed down upon her. It hadn’t been a dream after all! The arms she’d fantasized about were wrapped firmly around her waist. The fresh scent of heather, sweat and pure masculinity invaded her senses. Turning in the saddle to confirm her erratic thoughts, she nearly knocked them both from atop the horse.

     "Och, be still, lass. ‘Tis a long way to fall from Diabhal and I dinna want ye tae break yer neck. 'Tis a pleasure I want for myself." His arms tightened around her and his strong bass voice reverberated through her body.

     The sway of the horse, combined with the heat of the darkly handsome man behind her, had lulled her to sleep. Embarrassment flooded her at falling asleep in his arms. Oh, but the way those strong arms felt wrapped around her body! Pull your mind out of the gutter!

     The unbelievable events of the last few hours crashed through Raine’s mind. There has to be a reasonable explanation. Some people took their reenactments one step beyond the occasional fair and lived the part they portrayed. Maybe this was one of those groups. That one thought helped her keep a tight grip on her sanity. Her mind wasn’t ready to accept the possibility that maybe, though God only knew how or why, she’d slipped over two hundred years into the past. It was hard enough to swallow her attraction towards Alec, whichever century he was from.

     With a sigh, she slumped back against Alec’s chest and wondered what to do.

     "Is all fine with ye, lass?" Alec’s concerned voice filtered through her foggy mind.

     "Yes. I’m just fine and dandy, thank you," she snapped. Lord, if he knew her thoughts, he’d probably throw her from his horse himself. Why was she attracted to this arrogant man? He’s over two hundred years old! But, boy, doesn’t he look good for an old man! Raine felt hysteria rise as laughter bubbled up inside her. She had to stop this line of reflection.

     "Did none teach ye any manners in that barbaric place ye call home?"

     His breath caressed her cheek and ignited a fire deep within her body. Raine imagined his breath as it warmed every inch of her bare skin, his mouth following close behind. Irritated at his affect on her, she twisted around to tell him exactly who she thought barbaric. As she turned, her lips brushed against his.

     A shock went through her at the butterfly soft touch, and an unfamiliar longing coursed through her soul. She wanted those wonderful lips on hers. Catching herself as she leaned in for more, Raine lifted her gaze and looked into his eyes. They had darkened to the most exquisite sapphire. Was it desire she saw there? Or the flame of irritation?

     Damn the man!

     She couldn’t pull her gaze from his, and found herself locked into a battle of wills as to whom would be the first to break contact. Bound and determined it wouldn’t be her, Raine continued to gaze into his fathomless blue eyes. The rocking motion of the black beast beneath them forced their lips closer, then agonizingly pulled them apart again. The temptation for Raine to lean in closer blazed through her veins.

     "Och, Alec! Are ye going tae kiss the lass or wait ‘till hell freezes?" Snickers from the men followed the taunt, and Alec’s gaze narrowed as he lowered it to her mouth. Nervousness caused Raine to lick her dry lips and Alec’s eyes narrowed even more in response.

     "’Till hell freezes!" Alec responded with gruffness to his voice.

     "And then a day." Raine quipped. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, at least verbally. The men broke out in full laughter and a smile quirked across Alec’s lips.

     With a huff, she turned in the saddle and stared straight ahead. Alec joined the men in their laughter, and currents of excitement washed over her as the rich, full sound rang out around her.

     Damn the man! Again!