"Doona repeat this, but I drank Roman's Stay-Awake drug. I took it twelve days, so I aged twelve years."

Her eyes narrowed. "But you're so much bigger and taller…it must have hurt."

It had. He shrugged. "My hair grew a lot, too. I thought it might need cutting."

She pulled the leather thong free from his ponytail and stood back to study him. "I don't think the short curls suit you anymore. You have a rugged look to you now."

Rugged? As in mountainous terrain? No wonder he was having such a hard time shaving. There'd always been a small dent in his chin, but now it felt more like a bloody crater. Actually, it was bloody half the time. Shaving without a mirror was damned hard.

"I like your hair long." Vanda circled her desk and retrieved a pair of scissors from the top drawer. "But it's a little ragged on the ends, so I'll give you a trim."

"Thank you." Ian sat in a chair facing her desk.

Vanda fetched a hairbrush from her handbag and went to work easing out the tangles. Ian closed his eyes, enjoying her familiar touch. She'd cut his hair for the last fifty years, and in that time, he'd confided more to her than anyone else. Even Connor and Angus.

He couldn't tell another man how frustrated he had been. Connor was his immediate supervisor, and a tough guy who would have interpreted his frustration as childish whining. Angus MacKay was the head of MacKay Security and Investigation and Ian's boss. He was also the one who'd saved Ian from certain death by transforming him in 1542. But Angus had struggled with guilt for trapping him with the body and face of a fifteen-year-old. Nay, he could never let Angus know how unhappy he'd been. But Vanda had understood and kept his secrets.