“No. Well, once, sort of, when he asked me to leave him alone for a little while.” And that other time, she thought, remembering what he’d said after they’d made love, but telling Nell about that would definitely be overdisclosing.

“I’m surprised. They’re overcautious of that spell. Most often they use the healin’ and protectin’ spells.”

Gwen gawked.

“If ye’ve heard Drustan use the voice, ye shouldna be too surprised. Druids have many unusual abilities.” Nell let it slip casually.

Druids! The mythical alchemists and astronomers, who’d studied the sacred geometry of the ancients! They’d really existed? “I thought Druidry died out long ago.”

Nell shook her head. “ ‘Tis what Druids wish people to believe, but nay. The MacKeltar descend from the oldest line of Druids who served the Tuatha de Danaan.”

“The fairy?” Gwen squeaked, remembering that Drustan had claimed they were one and the same.

“Aye, the fae. But the fae have long gone elsewhere and now the Druids nurture the land. They tend the soil and beckon the seasons with their rituals. They honor the old ways. They scour the land after storms and heal the wee creatures harmed by the tempest. They protect the villages, and legends tell that if a grave threat should e’er come against the land, they have powers most scarce dare not whisper of.”

“Oh, God,” Gwen murmured, as the pieces began to slip into place. A Druid. Possessed of alchemy and sacred mathematics and magic.

There’s no such thing as magic, the scientist protested.

Right, there’s no such thing as time travel either, she retorted acerbically. Whatever it was, he had knowledge beyond her comprehension. Druids existed, and the man who’d taken her virginity was one.

“Tell me, lass, knowing he’s a Druid, do ye still have a fondness for Drustan MacKeltar?”

Gwen nodded without hesitation.

Nell wiped her hands on her apron and propped them at her waist. “Three times now that man has been betrothed, and three times the woman has abandoned him before the formal vows. Did ye know that?”

Gwen’s jaw dropped. “This is his fourth betrothal?”

“Aye,” Nell said. “But ’tis not because he’s not a fine man,” she said defensively. “ ‘Tis because the lasses fear him. And much though he wishes otherwise, I suspect Anya Elliott will be no different. The lass has been sheltered all her young life.” Her lip curled disdainfully. “Och, but he’s arranged things quite tidily this time. In the past, he handfasted first, and each of the three, after passin’ time at Castle Keltar, upon overseeing or overhearing somethin’ that fashed ’em, packed up and left with scarce a farewell. And as braw and rich in coin and land as that man is—well, let me tell you it’s left him fair uncertain of his charms. Imagine that!”

“Impossible to imagine,” Gwen agreed, wide-eyed. Suddenly, quite a few things made sense. She’d wondered why Drustan hadn’t told her the full truth while they were in her century. Now she knew. Her brilliant, powerful warrior had been afraid that she would leave him. He couldn’t have known that she was one of few people who might have understood him—after all, she’d concealed the extent of her intelligence from him. In the past few years of working at Allstate, it had become instinctive. One didn’t rhapsodize about quarks and neutrons and black holes during happy hour at Applebee’s with insurance adjusters.

Three failed betrothals also explained why Drustan was so aggressively determined to wed his fourth betrothed. The Drustan she’d come to know was not a man to accept failure, and he’d made it clear that he was a man for marrying and wanted children.

“This time he’s arranged to wed in a Christian ceremony, and Anya will be here but a fortnight afore the wedding. I fear he will succeed in hiding his nature until after the vows. Then she willna be able to leave him. But”—she paused and sighed—“like as not, it willna prevent her from despising him later in the marriage.”

“Has it occurred to him that it’s not nice to trick a woman like that?” Gwen said, grasping at straws. Maybe she could berate him for his underhanded tactics and guilt him into calling off the betrothal. Then again, she thought, maybe she could be underhanded, and once Anya arrived she could trick him into revealing some of his “magic” in front of his fiancée, to drive her the same route the first three had gone. Dirty pool, but all in the name of love, and that had to count for something, didn’t it?