Chapter 4

As Jennifer"s pounding pulse began to calm, she looked at this group of men. She once again zeroed in on the green and blue plaid kilts, which struck her as odd, but they had come to her aid. The fact that they"d come to help put her at ease, but she was still wary because she didn"t know where she was or who they were. She decided to keep her guard up, just in case. These men had an air about them that was quite different than the men who had ambushed her, but that didn"t mean they weren"t dangerous.

These men appeared to be at least a little more hygienic, for lack of a friendlier term. Although she enjoyed the rush of adrenaline she got from hand-to-hand combat, she restrained herself from rambling a bunch of questions to these kinder men. For now, her priority was to gather information. Where the hell was she? Why did they speak with a Scottish accent? Was she in Scotland? Most importantly, how the heck did she get here? Wherever here happened to be, that was, because it most certainly wasn"t Memphis.

Jennifer turned to the men, eyeing them with distrust. "I have some questions. This might sound strange, but can you tell me where I am?"

The tall, attractive man met her gaze. "You"re on the Isle of Islay," he replied. "We are a sept of Clan Donald, known as the MacDonalds. The men who attacked you were common highwaymen. They post themselves along our roads, seeking to take advantage of travelers."

"That"s not the answer I expected," she said. Her confusion grew. She had hoped he was going to tell her she was at a Scottish festival with re-enactments taking place for entertainment purposes. She probably shouldn"t have; there was no audience to enjoy it.

He smiled, and it lit his handsome face. "My name is Cam MacDonald. I am the clan chief. Your humble servant, lass."

"Nice to meet you, Cam MacDonald. I"m Jennifer Nellis."

He furrowed his brow. "I am not familiar with Clan Nellis."

"I"m not from here," she said. "Islay, you said? I"ve never heard of that before."

The curious looks the men exchanged made her wish she had kept that information to herself.

Clan Donald? That didn"t make sense to her, either. However, what truly unsettled her was the realization that the terms "bandits" and "highwaymen" seemed antiquated, as if the men spoke from a different time.

"I've never heard your way of speaking before, so I suppose 'twould make sense that you"ve not heard of Islay," Cam said. "Might I inquire where you"re from, lass?"

A tsunami of disbelief washed over her. The way he spoke was more formal than she was used to. Was it possible she was in a different time? She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to say where she was from, and instead asked, "What century is this?"

Cam again exchanged a concerned look with his men. "'Tis the seventeenth century, lass," he replied, his words hanging heavy in the air.

Jennifer"s heart skipped a beat. That wasn"t possible, but for some reason, these men believed it, so she would go along with it for now. "And judging by your accents, I"m in Scotland?"

"Aye." He smiled.

She gasped, lightheaded because she couldn"t comprehend the enormity of this new situation. Had she somehow been pushed into a period that she had only read about in books and watched in movies?

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind as she searched for a logical explanation. And then it came to her like lightning. The weird man with the scarred face who had spoken to her after her father"s funeral. He had asked if she wanted to go on a challenging adventure.

Could there be a link between him and her current situation? Her mind whirled with overwhelming emotions and questions, but she restrained herself from saying them out loud because she didn"t know if she could trust these men.

She needed to stay focused, and panic wouldn"t solve anything.

"Thank you for your help, Cam MacDonald," Jennifer said, her voice steady. "I"m still trying to understand what has happened here, but I appreciate you showing up like you did."

Cam"s expression softened, and his eyes filled with curiosity. "You"re very welcome, lass. It should be us thanking you for warding off those bandits. They're a thorn on this moor."

"Oh, you"re welcome," she said with a smile.

A sense of gratitude welled within her soul to be of help with her skills. Despite the overwhelming circumstances, she had possibly found friends in this strange time and foreign land. She would need as many as she could get. She would need their support and guidance to navigate the unfamiliar terrain of the past and unravel the mystery of her presence in Islay.

She watched as the men spoke in a language she had never heard but was robust and harsh sounding; a bit like German, but softer. They looked at her as they spoke, and she knew it was about her, but at least they were smiling.

Then, the men gathered the items they had flung off in the fight and readied their horses.

As she scanned the area and glanced at the rolling hills and ancient structures that surrounded her, confusion and intrigue rushed through her veins.

This strange journey she had unknowingly started seemed bigger and more extraordinary than anything she could have imagined. With every passing second, the lines of her past and present mingled and connected, and Jennifer was determined to uncover the reason why and find her way back home—to her time. If, indeed, she was in a different one.

The men continued to cast curious glances her way as they spoke to each other in the strange language. A few looked at her bare feet and her clothes, and although she didn"t understand the words, she knew they thought it was odd.

She curled her toes in the dirt, feeling self-conscious about her wardrobe. Then she crossed her arms, remembering she also wasn't wearing a bra under her T-shirt, or any underwear.

As though sensing her discomfort, Cam appeared and offered her a folded bundle of material with a tartan plaid pattern that was the same as his kilt.

"What"s this?" she asked.

He unfolded it, whipped it in the wind with a crack, and held it up. "Tis a good wool plaid. It will keep you warm," he said.

"Thank you." She took it and wrapped it around her body.

"Alright, men. Back to Fort Donald," he shouted.

"Aye, Chief." The men gathered their horses and mounted.

Cam looked at Jennifer, making her heart skip a beat. "Lass, do you have a place to go? Were you on your way to a place? If not, you are welcome to come to the fort with us. Judging by your state of dress, I assume we came upon you in a state of distress."

"Do you mean that castle on the hill?" Jennifer glanced up the hill and then back to Cam.

"Aye. 'Tis called Fort Donald." He smiled again.

"Then, yes, I would love to go to the fort with you. Thank you," she said careful not to answer the questions he"d asked previously. Growing up a military brat, she knew that a fort was a place of resources, and that was what she needed. Resources and lots of them.

Cam smiled, mounted his horse, and held out his hand to her. She climbed onto the back of the horse and wrapped her arms around his waist. Being a fighter and someone who understood the physical body, she could tell that underneath his shirt were six-pack abs and a hard core. She amused herself wondering when she would wake from this fever dream, but for now at least she had some man candy to look at and touch.