One

This time, she’d definitely seen the ghost. Abby Ramsay stood at the window of her tower room and sipped her tea as she stared out across the castle inn courtyard. She felt preternaturally calm, considering what she’d observed, almost as if she was having an out of body experience. “I should be so lucky,” she murmured, as she gently set the teacup and saucer on the small writing desk next to her. If only she could step out of her body, trade it in for a new one. Preferably one that wasn’t going to give out on her so soon.

“But then, I wouldn’t be here,” she murmured, allowing a small smile as she returned her attention beyond the narrow, mullioned window. She’d been surprised and delighted when the handle at the bottom of the framed, heavy leaded glass had turned and she’d been able to swing the louvered window outwards, giving her a clear view across the courtyard, beyond the far corner tower, and onwards to the Black Cuillins beyond. In an earlier time of her life, she’d have been out there, climbing those dark, jagged peaks. But she’d made peace with her brief future and was simply happy to be here, in the midst of them, enjoying their grandeur.

At the moment, however, it wasn’t the fog-shrouded, mystical mountains that held her attention. It was the tower across the courtyard. She watched, patiently, waiting for … something. It had all started with the flicker of light she’d seen through the turret window yesterday morning as she’d been out taking her stroll in the mists. Like most of the north side of the castle proper, the tower was falling to ruin. The turret at the top was crumbling, the windows long since empty of their glass, the ledges broken and fallen on to the stone piles below. According to the travel literature, it hadn’t been habitable for more than a century.

So, it made no sense that she’d seen a light there, flickering, like candlelight or lamplight, which was why it had caught her attention in the first place. At first she thought it was one of the many adventurous hikers who came to stay at the Gillean Castle inn to take advantage of hiking Scotland’s most jagged peaks. Maybe one of them had tried to climb up inside the tower.

But upon further inspection, as she’d got closer and slowly made her way around the tumble of stone at the tower base, she’d assured herself that what the travel guide and inn brochure had stated was true. Unless they could levitate, no one could be hanging around up inside what was left of that tower.

She’d told herself the flickering light could have been the sun glinting off something inside … but what? She’d managed to get close enough to peer inside and up. It was nothing more than a hollow shell of crumbling stone. Nothing glint-worthy to be found.

She’d toyed with the mystery for the remainder of the day, but the flickering light had never returned, and she hadn’t come up with a workable explanation for what she’d seen. She’d amused herself as she’d drifted off to sleep the night before with the idea that perhaps she’d seen evidence of the infamous tower ghost. She wasn’t certain what she believed about such things, but it had been a fanciful distraction and she’d fallen asleep more easily than she had in quite some time.

So, it had been quite the startling moment when she’d peered out of her own tower window in early dawn hours this morning, thinking about the flickering light … only to see the ghost himself standing in the open window of the tower ruin.

She remembered thinking that she’d been certain the local literature on the Gillean ghost had romanticized his appearance … but the reality out-distanced even the most avid imagination. The oil portrait rendering that hung in the castle hall proper didn’t begin to do the man justice. He was quite tall, causing him to casually slouch in the open window frame, broad shoulder leaning against the stone. He wore a white shirt with billowing sleeves, the laces at the neck loose and open, like an old poet. Only when this poet had lifted his chin, shifting his gaze from whatever he was holding in his hand, to look across the courtyard, seemingly directly at her … he’d been anything but old. His was a face that could haunt dreams. That strong jaw, slash of brow and brooding mouth.

And that had been from across a misty courtyard. She couldn’t imagine what kind of impact he’d have made up close and personal. Abby rubbed her arms, though the morning fog had long since lifted as the sun had edged well past the distant peaks by now.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him, this ghost. And he had to be an apparition. Didn’t he? The tower was gutted, she’d seen that with her own eyes. She continued to stare at it now, cold and dark, wind whistling through the crumbling window openings. No sign at all that anyone inhabited the place, much less with candlelight, billowing shirt, and perfect chin stubble.

The Gillean ghost was the stuff of legends. Although, throughout the centuries that had passed since the first sighting of him, no one had discovered his name, the story behind his being there, or a link to any of the clans who had inhabited the castle before. But he’d been seen many times over during that same time span. The description was always the same. The lore that had grown around him had launched many a tale or supposition. Most of them romantic folly, Abby had thought, but they’d made her smile nonetheless. For all anyone knew, he was a marauder with a black heart and a bloody sword who’d been cut down while looting and pillaging. Of course, that wasn’t as romantic as the notion that he was a man in love, doomed to search the misty cliffs for his one and only. Or any of the other silly stories detailed in the local guides.

But now that she’d seen him herself … she wasn’t sure what she believed. Or wanted to believe. The man she’d seen this morning surely hadn’t looked like a looting marauder. Or, for that matter, an apparition.

She took a last sip of tea, replaced the cup again, then resolutely turned and plucked her jacket from the back of the chair. Her energy stores were at their best in the earlier part of the day. So, she was going to go explore the tower again, even more closely this time. Perhaps she could find a way to climb all the way inside. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Answers? Proof? The ghost himself?

It didn’t matter, really. It was intriguing. And what else did she have to do with her time? Her strength would wane quickly, but it wasn’t like she had to worry about whatever dangers might await. “What is it going to do?” she murmured. “Kill me?”

That was the one thing Abby no longer had to worry about. It was amazing how much more brave and courageous a person could feel when they knew they were going to die.

Two

She’d seen him. Not that she’d been the first. Not by a long shot. But he hadn’t removed himself from sight upon discovery like he typically did. Instead, he’d welcomed her steady gaze. Had, in fact, looked back. Though he couldn’t have said why. In all his visits to the tower, Calum had never once felt compelled to do that.

She hadn’t even been that particularly striking. Soft brown hair, wide eyes and mouth, a narrow frame. And yet, he hadn’t been able to look away.

And she hadn’t looked at him like she was seeing a ghost.

He didn’t get any enjoyment out of folks believing he was an afterworld wraith. Far from it. He’d much rather be left to his own devices, to enjoy the peace and solitude of Loch Sligachan and the towering presence of the Cuillins. That was why he came here when he needed to think, needed to get away. No’ to play tricks on unsuspecting visitors. But, the castle inn, which had become more ruin than inn at this point in time, was remote enough, appealing mostly to outdoor adventurists, that it didn’t happen all that often. So, when it did, it seemed a small price to pay for his haven.

He’d tried other places, other times in history but, for some time now, he’d come back to this place, this time. His tower had little left for comfort, but with his advanced abilities, he could work around that. The early twenty-first century had been a quiet one in the western Highlands. Still pure, despite its bloody history, with a sense of being largely untouched, reclaimed by Mother Nature. The endless green carpets of grass encroaching right up against the towering, jagged peaks that soared above them, soothed him. It looked much the same in his time. The mountains did, at any rate. The rest … well, that had changed. Changed with the needs of the people who had to sustain life from it. A life filled with challenges that those who lived during this time and in this place couldn’t possibly fathom. And were fortunate in their ignorance.

In his time, people led a very different life from the one most likely lived by the woman who’d spied him this morning.

He’d looked into those wide, all-seeing eyes and, even across the stretch of the courtyard, he’d felt such a yearning. A yearning to go to her, talk with her, listen to tales of what life was like in these easier, calmer, more bountiful times. But why torture himself? He had to go back. There was too much to do. Only his weariness still lingered. More and more often, his slides through time didn’t feel wide enough or long enough.

He stood at the edge of the cliffs now, beyond the castle yard proper, and looked down at the waves crashing against the shore below. He only had two more days but, weariness or no, this time he wished the window would come sooner. He was feeling far too on edge and that disconcerted him. He should be thinking of home, his home, in this very place, far into the distant future … and use his time here in the midst of peace and quiet, to figure out what his next step would be, how he could save what little was left.

A bit of something in his peripheral vision, a scarf, perhaps, caught up in a flap of wind, mercifully snatched his attention away from his chaotic thoughts. He turned to see a woman carefully picking her way in and around the fallen stones at the base of the tower. It was the woman from this morning.

Was she looking for him?

His heart raced, and it wasn’t with trepidation. “Oh, aye, it’s long past time, indeed, for ye to go,” he murmured to himself.

Before Ailfrid had first successfully taught him how to use the windows, wormholes, and slivers to transverse back to any past time in history, Calum had entered into a pact with the aging, exiled physicist – and himself – to never encroach upon or impact the past in any way. Ailfrid had warned him that even the smallest action could have a ripple effect down through time that could alter the course of things far greater than he had the power to dabble in.

But, oh … aye, she made him want to dabble …

He watched as she paused when she got to the tower itself, bracing one hand on the rough stones. Then bent in half, quite suddenly, and seemed to convulse.

Calum didn’t stop to think about the pact or the possible consequences of his response, but reacted purely on instinct. He was already at a dead run by the time she collapsed.

Three

There had been a knife of pain, followed by a gripping wave of overwhelming nausea … then the next thing Abby could remember feeling were strong arms lifting her up, cradling her. Maybe her time had come already, and this was what it felt like. After. Weightless and cradled and feeling forever safe. That wasn’t so bad, she thought. In fact, as afterlives went, it was pretty damn good. Or maybe this was just transition. Whatever the case, she wasn’t going to waste it debating how she felt about it. She was simply going to enjoy the sweet haven, the cocoon. She hadn’t felt so … good, in a very long time.

“Are ye all right, then?”

She tensed at the sound of the deep, masculine voice, rich with that Scottish brogue that had always put a zip in her pulse. Which was, in large part, why the Highlands had been the final destination on her things-to-do-before-I-die list.

“Did ye hit your head when ye stumbled? No, don’t move,” he said, as she tried to pull away. “I have ye. You’re safe.”

Safe, yes. She felt that. Very much that. But where? And with whom?

She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to. Not yet. “I – where am I?”

“Loch Sligachan,” he said. “Gillean Castle.”

Her eyelids fluttered open then. “I’m still here?”

“Aye,” he said, lips quirking. “Where did ye think you’d be?”

She blinked and looked more clearly up at him. And froze. It was the ghost! So, she was dead after all. Maybe that was why he’d seemed so … lifelike to her. She had been destined to join him and hadn’t known that was the plan. Was she going to haunt the castle as he did, then? Is that how it worked? Wherever you died was where you were doomed to linger? Was there some kind of plan for that, too?

Although, at the moment, as she thought about it, she couldn’t really complain. If she had to stay somewhere for all eternity … this wasn’t such a bad start.

He was even more arresting up close. Tanned skin, with lines feathering out from the corners of eyes so bright blue, they looked like crystals lit by the sun. He looked … otherworldly enough. She wondered if that was it, if that was why he seemed to all but glow.

“You feel so real,” she said, only realizing she’d said it out loud when he looked surprised, then a little disconcerted.

“Allow me to help you back to the castle,” he said, his face smoothing into a more impersonal expression. “Perhaps you should call a physitech to take a look. Make sure you haven’t a concussion.”

“Physitech?”

“Erm, doctor. Medical. Someone who tends to the ill and infirm,” he clarified, and she could see the consternation, as if he was reaching for words that he wasn’t familiar with. But he spoke beautiful English, albeit with a heavy brogue. Perhaps it was merely cultural. Skye was far to the north and west in the Highlands, and she knew that, in many places, Gaelic was still the native tongue and treasured amongst the long-timers.

But … what, exactly did that make him?

Then she realized what he was saying. Ghost or no, he was acting as if she’d just fallen and hit her head. Not like she’d crossed over. But how did that explain him being here and feeling so … solid? And warm, she noted. And strong. Not at all apparition-like, given she was apparently still mortal.

“I’m okay,” she said, ignoring the whopper of a lie that was. For the purposes of needing him, she was fine. “You can let me go.”

She started to move but, once again, he stilled her movement by tightening his arms around her. “Let’s take this slowly, aye?”

“Aye,” she echoed, closing her eyes against the return of the vicious pinch of a headache, knowing the worst of it would subside in a moment or two. Back to the dull, throbbing ache that was always there. She tried to hold on to the pleasure of what it had felt like to be pain free for those blissful first moments when she’d first felt his arms around her.

He waited until she opened her eyes again, and nodded, before very slowly pushing to a stand himself, taking her with him, but holding her pressed against his chest the entire time. “Tell me if the pain comes back.”

“I’m – okay,” she said, meaning it this time, though the assessment had nothing to do with her health concerns. He was tall. Much taller than her five-and-a-half feet. Her face was pressed against the soft, billowing linen she’d spied him wearing earlier that morning, and his arms felt incredibly good wrapped around her. The throb in her head seemed to diminish the more she breathed him in. “Who are you,” she murmured, trying not to burrow her face in the warm heat of him, and failing rather spectacularly. She couldn’t seem to make herself care enough to pull away, though. And he didn’t seem to mind, so …

“Calum,” he said, offering nothing more. “Come on then, let’s get you out of this damp, chilly wind.” But, instead of slowly supporting her to her feet, he scooped her up fully into his arms.

“Wait,” she said, knowing she should, though, admittedly, her heart wasn’t exactly in the protest.

“I dinnae think ye should be walking about quite yet.” He didn’t wait for a response, but merely turned and began carefully manoeuvring through the tumble of stone and rock.

“I—” She was forced to break off when her headache seized again.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, frowning now, sounding very concerned.

She could have told him that he needn’t worry. It wasn’t like she was going to get better. Instead, she merely dipped her chin in a single nod, closed her eyes, and pressed her cheek once again against the soft linen as she instinctively sought solace. Even more surprising was that she found it in the steady rhythm of his heart.

She paid little attention to where he was going, though was vaguely surprised to feel them climbing so soon. Had he crossed the courtyard so quickly? She concentrated on getting a grip on the throb in her head and trusted him to do the rest. It was bad enough that she was playing the swooning maiden to his gallant rescuer. In a perfect world, she’d have been bold and daring, and it would have been her vivacious demeanour and infectious laughter that would have captured his attentions.

But her world was far from perfect. And she’d long since accepted that. So … she’d take what she could get and be happy with the serendipitous pleasure of it while it lasted.

She was thankful he appeared to be taking her to her room on the inn side of the castle without stopping to inform anyone of her little setback. Of course, he’d seen her at her window that morning, so he would know exactly where her room was. She had been torn over whether to tell the innkeeper about her … situation, not wanting to burden anyone unnecessarily if anything were to happen to her sooner than she’d anticipated. In the end, she’d chosen not to. She really didn’t want to be the object of pity or concern, and if something happened … well, it happened.

She hadn’t realized she was clinging to him, hand fisted in his shirt, until he bent to put her down on the bed. Only … She blinked her eyes open and looked around. This wasn’t her room! She squirmed, but he immediately tightened his hold.

“It’s okay. We’re in the tower, but ye have nothing to worry for. I thought it best not to alarm anyone or create a scene. Unless of course ye dinnae mind them all seeing ye being carted up to your loft by a strange man.”

He’d said it kindly, lightly, but he couldn’t know the twinge it plucked in her heart. It was the one thing on her list she hadn’t been able to manage: a passionate romance. You couldn’t just book those at the local travel agency. She’d wanted to know the pleasure of having a meaningful, deep and abiding relationship with someone. But, once her prognosis had been delivered … how, in good conscience, could she do that to someone, knowing what she was facing? Just say “yes, I want you, truly, madly, deeply … and oh, by the way, I’ll probably be dead before the year is out.”

She didn’t think so.

Four

“I – I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Abby said, carefully, as he set her gently down on the narrow bed tucked under the eave. “Where are we?” She looked around. He’d said the tower, but she’d looked up inside the tower – his tower – and none of this had been there. Not the plank flooring, the feather-stuffed mattress, the rough-hewn bedstand or the— “—Oil lamp.”

He glanced at the brass fixture next to the bed. “Aye. Do you want more light? Or heat? Are you cold?”

She looked towards the narrow window openings. There was no glass and the sills along the bottom looked as crumbled and falling to ruin as they did from the outside. The air swept in and swirled about, cool and damp, as it would … inside a ruin. She looked back to him. “How … how is this possible?”

He held her gaze for what felt like the longest time, but said nothing. Instead, he stood and turned his back to her, crouching down for a moment. An instant later, there was a blazing fire. In a small fireplace. That she’d have sworn wasn’t there – couldn’t have been there – just a second ago.

“It should warm up in a moment,” was all he said, as he straightened and turned back to face her. His gaze was smooth, his expression impenetrable. No hint of the roguish grin that had been hovering before.

She should be scrambling off the bed, trying to find her way out of this – dream? Hallucination? – she really had no idea. Maybe when she’d fallen she had struck her head and she was now on some kind of wild mind trip, still lying, unconscious, down on the rocks. Or maybe she really had passed over. Because none of this made any sense in the mortal, real world.

Whatever the case, whatever the explanation, she wasn’t going anywhere until she found out. Because this was, by far, the most intriguing thing to have ever happened to her. Certainly the most fantastical. If she didn’t count the fact that she’d come down with a systemic disorder so rare there wasn’t even a name for it as yet. That was pretty fantastical, she supposed.

This, at least, had the potential to be fun. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anything to lose by pursuing it.

“Will you answer me?” she asked, quite calmly, she thought.

He continued to regard her, then finally said, “What did you think, this morning, when you saw me here, inside this tower.”

“That I’d finally seen the Gillean ghost,” she responded easily. As if this were the most natural conversation to be having.

“Do ye believe in such things?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I’ve never really had cause to think about it. I’ve spent time lately, thinking about what happens after a person dies, but it never really extended to ghosts and haunting things.”

She thought she spied a hint of amusement hovering around that oh-so-perfectly formed mouth.

“What’s funny about that?” she asked, deciding she might as well go for broke. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever feeling so … invigorated by her own potential. Not that he’d looked at her with desire in his beautiful blue eyes, or even male appreciation, really. But when he looked at her, as he was now, she felt like he was reaching down somewhere quite deep. She felt like no one and nothing existed inside that moment, except for her. It was quite heady stuff. Empowering, even. So … she went with that.

“You’re … unexpected,” he said.

“I think we can safely say we’re both a little bit of that.”

The amusement flickered into his eyes this time. “Aye.”

“So, are you going to explain what – who – you really are?”

“Ye dinnae believe I’m a ghost then?”

“You seem pretty real to me.”

“You’re American,” he said, instead. “What region? I’m no’ familiar with the accent.”

“I grew up just outside of D.C. across the river, in Virginia.”

“D.C.?”

“Washington. Our capital city.”

“Columbia,” he said, nodding.

“The District of Columbia, yes.”

His expression smoothed again, and she’d have sworn something flashed across his face. Something like sorrow. Or … pity.

“You don’t think much of Washington? Or is it all of America that you disdain?”

He looked honestly surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“Your expression just then. It was less than … appreciative.” She shifted her weight on the bed, turning to face him more directly. “That’s okay. I understand global sentiment being what it is. We’ve had some relatively … uneven representation.”

“It wasn’t that.”

She lifted a brow in question, but when he didn’t elaborate, she said, “Then, what was it?”

He hesitated, then said, “What do you think about, when you think about your future?”

She grinned then, and watched as he blinked, and his throat even worked a little. Hunh. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it made her feel good. “I think I’ll miss finding out what happens next. I guess if I got to pick what happens after we die, my hope is that there is a heaven, and that I get to look down and watch. Or …” she added, trailing off for a moment, then deciding, what the heck. “Or … perhaps I’ll be like you, haunting a particular place, and seeing what happens to it over time. Will you tell me? What it’s like, I mean?”

“I was speaking of your future while here on earth.”

“So was I,” was all she said.

Abby wasn’t sure why she thought he should know about her circumstances other than, she supposed, this felt to her like he was some kind of angel, or archangel even, sent to shepherd her from this realm to the next. It was as good an explanation as any. And seemed to have more going for it than the whole ghost thing. Except he’d been seen as one, on these very grounds, for so very long … how could he be anything else? Surely no angel needed to be sent to this desolate, remote place so often as to become some sort of folklore hero.

She sat upright and drew her knees in to her chest. A shield perhaps? She couldn’t say. Or what she thought she needed shielding from. “I’ll be discovering those answers soon enough,” she told him. “So … naturally, I think about it.”

“A rather morbid outlook for one as young as yourself.”

She smiled again. “Hardly. Just pragmatic. By nature, I’m a sunny optimist. But nature, as it turns out, had something else in store for me.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” He moved closer, but when she thought he might perch next to her on the bed, he instead pulled up a heretofore unseen footstool and crouched down on that instead.

It put his face closer to level with hers … and sent her heart rate doubling. It wasn’t an entirely unwelcome response. “Meaning I may be young, but I don’t have much time left,” she said. “In fact, coming here is probably the last thing I’ll get to do.” Her lips curved. “That’s why I was out there stumbling around the rocks. I wanted to figure out what you were, or who you were – or weren’t – while I had the time and energy. I was – am – enjoying the mystery and playing detective.”

His expression faltered, just briefly, and she was rather stunned by the flash of grief she saw on his face. He didn’t even know her. Maybe he was just particularly sensitive to the plight of others.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m at peace with it. I’ve had the time – plenty of time – to consider all of it. I’m focused on enjoying what time I do have, and not wasting it belabouring or whining about what I won’t.”

“You’ve quite a brave spirit,” he said, still sounding quietly stunned.

“Hardly,” she laughed. “Trust me, I wasn’t okay at first, and not at all brave. But, at some point, you have to reconcile yourself with it. Or, at least, I did. And I have.” She felt the overwhelming need to lean forwards, touch him, reassure him that she was truly at peace with herself, and her imminent, brief future. She had to curl her hands into her palms to keep from doing it. “Don’t look so sad for me,” she said, a thread of pleading in her voice. Though why it mattered what he thought, or felt, she hadn’t a clue. It was just, in that moment … it felt vital that she reassure him somehow. That it mattered. That he mattered.

“I’m afraid I’m far more selfish than you,” he said. “I am sad for you, as I would be for anyone in like circumstance. But I’m also sad for myself.”

“I can go, if being around me—”

“No,” he said, quite abruptly, even going so far as to reach out a hand to stop her, had she tried to make a move.

She hadn’t, and his outburst should have alarmed her. But it just strengthened that need in her, to soothe his fears. “I don’t want to go,” she told him. Her lips curved. “I haven’t solved the mystery of you, yet.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Abby. Ramsay.”

His gaze flashed up at hers. “Ramsay.”

She nodded. “My ancestors are from your bonny shores.”

“You’ve been here before, then?”

She nodded. “Not here on Skye, to Sligachan. I wanted to see the Cuillins. I used to climb, and …” She shrugged again. “The pictures I saw of their dark peaks called to me. I know they’re not the tallest or most challenging, but … they spoke to me. And when I saw this castle, found it had been turned into an inn … I don’t know. I felt drawn here, compelled somehow.”

“Is it what you’d hoped? Being here?”

She nodded, her smile spreading slowly. “More so all the time.”

His lips twitched, but there was still such sadness in his eyes, and she hated that.

“Tell me,” she said, “why you’re sad for yourself.”

He paused, looked down, then seemed to take stock as he looked at her again, always with that direct, steady gaze that reached so far past the surface. Or so it felt. She couldn’t have said why, but there was no denying the connection she was feeling with him.

“I’ve been here many times,” he began, then paused, but went on again before she could comment. “I’ve seen, and been seen, by any number of people.” He leaned just a fraction closer, but it felt as if he’d somehow pushed deeply into her personal space, so probing was his gaze. “You were the first one I wanted to be seen by. The first one who made me look back.”

His gaze was so intent, there was such … specificity in his tone, it made her breath catch and her throat tighten. “Why?” she managed. “Why me?” She knew herself to be nothing special, at least outwardly. She wasn’t memorable in that striking way some people had. Her charisma was more subtle and quiet. Someone had to take the time to get to know her, to appreciate her. To remember her. He’d had but an instant, the span of a gaze – however heated it felt on her end – to look at her. And that was it. How could she matter to him?

And, why did it matter so much to her?

“I dinnae rightly know,” he said, which should have deflated her hopes entirely. Only it didn’t, because he went on to say, “I only knew that I wanted to talk to you, listen to you, know you, somehow … It felt important, vital. Urgent, even. Like … I couldn’t miss the opportunity.” He trailed off then, and glanced away. “Ye must think me deranged. I’m talking like a mad man.”

“I thought you were a ghost inhabiting a tower ruin, so there isn’t much you could do to unnerve me beyond that.”

He glanced up then, a definite flash of a smile curving his lips. “I suppose you have a point. Well, I can assure you I willnae keep ye here beyond what you’re willing to stay. And that my desires, while not entirely under my control, are not mad in any way that presents any danger to you.”

“Pity,” she said, shocking even herself with the clearly intoned entendre.

His gaze caught hers squarely again and, in the moment that immediately followed, there was a shift in the air between them. And she felt like she went from being curious specimen to … desirable woman. At least, that was how she was interpreting the sudden flare in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened, and his body leaned further forward, seemingly of its own volition. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but …

She was leaning forwards, too, before she could give it any thought, or save herself the embarrassment if she’d misread him. But her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t focus her thoughts, could only act. She’d think on it later.

He slid forward off the stool to his knees beside the low bed frame. He took her hands into his, and they were broad, and strong, and so warm. “I’m supposed to be the ghost, and yet it’s you who’re haunting me.”

“Calum, I—” She didn’t know what to say. Her entire body yearned to feel … something more. To feel … him.

He tugged her hands and she lowered her knees, let her feet slide off the edge of the bed. He rose just enough to move in and, letting go of her hands, slid his arm once again under her legs, bracing the other at her back.

“What are you—?”

“Just … let me,” he said, quietly. “Please.” He shifted his weight to the bed, and settled her securely across his lap. “Abby, I don’t know you,” he said, as he tucked her in there, in his arms, against his chest, “and yet, the thought of losing you is – I canno’ stand the thought of it.” He cupped her cheek, drew her face up so he could look into her eyes. “How is that possible?”

She was living a dream now, surely she was. Once again the pain receded and she felt nothing but an infusion of warmth … even to the point of heat. Flaring in her belly, clenching the muscles between her thighs, making her nipples ache. Mercifully, for once, it had nothing to do with her weakened condition. In fact, it made her feel all too vital and alive, experiencing such an intensely female response.

She lifted a shaky hand to his face, her need for him spiking more sharply with the feel of his warm skin brushing her palm, the slight roughness of his cheek. “So real,” she said. “But this can’t be. Any of this,” she said, making a short gesture to the room around her. “Can it?”

“Abby, I—”

“I’m dreaming this, aren’t I?” she said, hoping to never wake up.

He turned his cheek, so his lips brushed across her palm. “I canno’ explain this,” he murmured against her skin, then shifted his face so their gazes met once again. “But … I can explain myself. How I’m here. Why I’m here.”

She traced her fingertips along his jaw. “Not a ghost,” she said, seeing the truth of it already in his eyes even before he shook his head. “Then … what?”

“A traveller,” he said, then, after a long pause, added, “through time.”

Five

Calum held her gaze, and tried not to think of the possible catastrophic events he could, right then, be putting into motion, by revealing the truth. By touching her, holding her, wanting her. The strength of it was beyond anything he should rightfully be feeling, and yet, that didn’t change the fact that he was.

As was she, if the look in her eyes was anything to go by.

Was that what had drawn him here so many times, through so many years? Could there have been something to all the fanciful tales the locals had dreamt up, about a man haunting the cliffs, looking for his one and only? So ludicrous and simple-minded, he’d thought … and yet, looking into the lovely face of this total stranger, and feeling a pull so strong it was impossible to deny, a sadness so profound over the sense that he’d finally found her, only to so cruelly have her taken away from him forever … what else could explain such depth of emotion?

But what was he to do about it? What could he do?

As yet, he hadn’t impacted anything, changed anything, had he? By her own admission, she wasn’t long for this world, so whatever interaction he had with her, wouldn’t change that outcome, or her, in any way.

Would it?

“Through … time?” she said, echoing his words, searching his face.

How was it he’d thought her plain or nondescript? Her eyes were such a soft grey, like the feathers of a dove, and he already knew they could be so serious, or probing, or sweet and smiling. Her mouth was wide, with lips a little plump and soft, and made her face so expressive, whether she was smiling or biting that bottom lip in pensive thought. He’d known her for the breadth of a mere moment in time, and yet he knew each and every one of those expressions would be indelibly etched in his mind, in his memory, forever.

“Aye,” he said, trying to focus on what he wanted her to know, and how to explain himself. And not on how badly he wanted to spend whatever time they had together doing anything but talking. “We’ve learned, in future years, how to manipulate the time-space continuum.”

“How far in the future did you—?” She had to stop and clear her throat, but he appreciated how hard she was working to keep calm, respond rationally, to what had to sound like the lunatic rantings of a man who’d gone raving bonkers.

“A few centuries. Five, actually, give or take.”

Her eyes widened. “And you can just, what, pop in and out, like—”

“It’s no’ so simple as that, and no’ everyone has the knowledge. It’s a relatively new science to us and … very guarded. Very … controversial. No’ everyone feels as I do – we do – about its use or potential.”

“Why? Could anyone do it? If they knew how? I could see how that would be chaotic. Can you control, precisely, when and where you … um, land?”

“It’s relatively controlled, but no, no’ everyone could do it. The science behind it must be understood, handled properly. We’ve learned how to destruct and reconstruct particles, so that …” Calum paused, shook his head. He shouldn’t have done this. It was too much, and too risky. There were rules in place, boundaries never to be crossed, and they stood for a reason.

“Particle theory. Is that how you’ve manipulated these things into this space, into what is, otherwise, an empty tower?”

“Some of it is that, aye, some of it is time and space manipulation.”

“So,” she said, and he could see she was struggling to keep her wits about her. “The ghostly visits here. You’ve come here before, then. During different times.”

He nodded. “I’m no’ haunting the tower, no, but it was simpler to allow others to believe I was.”

“But why come here at all? Is this where you’re from in the future?” She closed her eyes briefly.

“Abby,” he said, instantly alarmed. “Are you alright? Are you in pain? What can I—”

She blinked her eyes open. “No, it’s not that, it’s just … I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, so calmly, like you just told me you were from Toledo and we’re comparing itineraries or something. I can’t believe we’ve only just met, and yet I’m here, and you’re …” She trailed off then, and dipped her chin, withdrawing her hand from his cheek.

He tipped her face back to his. “Abby. Look at me, please.”

She opened her eyes, and this time there was trepidation in those dove grey pools. From the woman who was facing death with such equanimity, it was lowering to think he’d done this to her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered. I shouldn’t have come to you. Shouldn’t have told you. There are strict rules and I believe in their purpose. We can’t change the past, we can’t affect anything that could create a ripple forwards, we canno’—”

“You haven’t done anything, Calum, but told a dying woman who you really are. Nothing else has changed, nor will it.”

He’d just gotten done telling himself the same thing, and yet the guilt and concern lingered. “Things in our time, they’re no’ good, Abby,” he told her. “We’re … struggling. Mightily. No’ everyone believes in the application of such sciences, but there’s a great fear that if the people found out they could move through time, they’d all rush to leave their challenging lives to find a more prosperous one in the past. Which could do untold damage to history and how the world is shaped—”

“Or untold good. If they brought knowledge with them that was helpful, perhaps wrongs would be righted before they happened. And the world, during your time, wouldn’t be struggling.”

“We can’t know that, can’t risk that. And we can’t have a wholesale abandonment of where we are now, or we’ll have no hope of surviving beyond it.”

“All the more reason, maybe, to rethink those rules. If it’s going to end in chaos and destruction, or whatever it is that has levelled things so badly in your time … then what have you got to lose, really, my making use of the one potentially good tool you have at your disposal? Has anyone tried? Do you know, for certain, that catastrophic things will happen, and that the impact has to be negative?”

He shook his head. “It’s a risk deemed too high to take.”

“So … what would be the point of it then? This technology, or whatever you call it. What do you use it for if not to help yourselves in such dire times?”

“I—” He broke off then, and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you move forward, bring back technology that might help sooner rather than later?”

He shook his head. “No, we’ve no’ figured that out as yet. We can only get back as far as our current time. It’s a tricky thing … And, politically, there’s a lot of controversy surrounding its use.”

She nodded, a pensive look on her face. “I feel like there are a million and one questions I should be asking you,” she said. “Like this is the chance of a lifetime to find out what happens next, well beyond anything I would ever have had the chance to know.”

“You’re quite … accepting, of all this.”

She smiled then. “You know, that’s just it. I don’t have a lot of time to ponder and worry and consider. I’m just going with what feels right and true. I can’t explain this, or you, anymore than I can explain why I’m the one who won’t get a long life. In my situation, you learn to accept quickly and move on to dealing with things.” Her smile widened. “Looks like you picked the exact right person to tell your mysterious secret to.”

“Perhaps,” he said, then his gaze drifted to her mouth, then back up to her eyes. Eyes that turned darker the longer he looked. “What if I were to tell you that I wanted to just go with what felt right and true? Right in this instant?”

“I—” She paused, cleared her throat. “I’d say I think that’s a grand idea.”

“Good,” he said, and smiled as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Six

He brushed her lips with his, seeking, not tentative, but polite, gentlemanly, giving her the opportunity to pull away. Abby’s heart was racing. If she was dreaming all of this, she congratulated herself for coming up with the best possible dream ever. She let herself feel him, taste him, and just teeter on that delicious brink of want and need, before relaxing and softening her lips under his, parting them a little … and inviting him in.

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

He tipped her head back and kissed her fully, with absolute intent and not a moment’s hesitation.

It was heady and intoxicating, being the recipient of such focused attention. Abby sunk her fingers into his hair and gave herself over fully to every sensation, to him.

The kiss quickly escalated and Abby encouraged every heart-pounding increase in intensity. When Calum shifted her from his lap, back on to the bed, and followed her down, the weight of his body resting alongside hers as he continued the sweet assault on her mouth, should have made her thankful and thrilled that she was experiencing all she’d wanted, and more than she’d ever thought to. So, she was unprepared for the sharp sting of tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes.

In a stunning testament to just how in tune with her he was, he almost immediately lifted his mouth from hers, and they were both breathing heavily when he said, “Are you okay? Am I hurting you? I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Abby said, curling her fingers into his shoulders and keeping him where he was, with the delicious weight of his body half on top of hers. “I’m not feeling any pain,” she said, realizing, to her surprise, how true the statement was. “This is the very best I’ve felt in … forever. It’s just …”

He turned her chin back to his when she would have looked away. All that concern in his beautiful blue eyes, and … all that sadness. It was more than she could bear.

“What is it?” he asked, gently stroking her face, as if she were fragile. She liked him better moments ago, when he was kissing her as if his very life depended on it.

She felt like, in that moment, hers most certainly did.

“I – this is—” She broke off, feeling foolish and silly. Which was somewhat ludicrous given that the events of the past few hours were anything but rational and smart. She took a breath, and even allowed herself the comfort of his steadily stroking, soothing fingers. Oh, to have had this all along, she thought, then immediately shut that down. She would not feel sorry for herself. That would never have gotten her here, and she was certainly not going to cave to that destructive way of thinking now.

But, when she looked at him, the definite pang in her heart told her she would fail this time in her mission to remain impervious to her limitations. “You’re … what I wanted,” she said, then watched his face.

There was no withdrawal, just that flash of instant arousal and awareness in his eyes, and the feeling of his hand, pausing, tensing, on the soft skin of her cheek.

“And now … this … it’s perfect. It’s … it could be, everything. But—”

“But we can take this, have this,” Calum said. “I know there can’t be anything beyond this. I have to travel back.”

“And I have to travel on,” she said, damning the little break in her voice. “I’ve been okay with that, at peace with it. But now …”

He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, but not before she’d witnessed the pain and sadness there.

“This is surely insanity,” she all but whispered. “It can’t matter this much. We can’t matter. Don’t be sad for me. Be happy that you gave me this. I’ll cherish it until my last breath. I don’t want to go thinking that I’ve left you upset and wishing you’d never met me.”

“Not that. Never that. But this feels like there is a greater purpose behind it. Maybe that’s just rationale or wishful thinking, but I feel like I’ve waited forever for you, Abby. When I’ve been here, come back here, it was because I needed time to think, to sort things through, to figure out what to do next, how to help, to make things better. It’s what I’m trained to do, motivated to do, focused on. My methods aren’t widely accepted, and it’s been a challenge to make any headway. But I have to, because what other choice is there?

“Only now it feels like I kept coming here because I was waiting for our paths to cross. And … and I can’t believe that’s all there is going to be to it. A brief crossing. I want more. I want to know more. For myself this time. So, you can’t … this can’t be all there is. Do you feel that?”

She nodded. “It’s why I pulled back, it’s why this hurt. I’ve been so thankful for everything I was able to do, to see, to experience. I should be thankful for this too, and I am. But … like you, I find I want more and now, for the first time since I’ve come to terms with the reality of my limited time, I’m feeling cheated. And it hurts, and … I’m scared. I don’t want to die feeling like this, feeling like I’m not at peace, that I haven’t done all I can, all I should.”

His expression was stark. “I know.” He leaned down and kissed her, deeply, with more emotion and passion than before and, terrified of feeling more, of sinking further into an abyss from which she wouldn’t be able to climb back out of, she wanted to push him away, break the kiss, end the moment, and not invite in any more torturous wants or needs.

Only … she couldn’t. Because did she want this – him – with everything that she had. So, she kissed him back, urged him to move more of his weight over her. When he hesitated, paused long enough to look into her eyes, she held his gaze squarely, evenly, and said, “Calum, if this is all we have, then … I want all there is to have. Do you understand?”

Both fierce desire and a maddening ache filled his now glittering eyes, and she feared, greatly, that he’d deny her this one request. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed, but … to be this close, and not have the rest of what he promised … Was it wrong of her to reach, for this one final thing?

“Please,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression faltered and his fingers trembled against her skin. “Abby, I … I want, more than I should. I dinnae want to hurt you, you’ve been through so much—”

She cupped his cheek, and found a smile, which grew as she gave life to it. “Go gently with me, and you won’t hurt me. I’m not so fragile as that. When you touch me, when you hold me, I feel only pleasure. Only you can give that rare gift to me. Will you, Calum?”

His eyes filled, but he nodded.

“So selfish of me,” she said, but didn’t keep him from lowering his mouth back to hers. “I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

“You won’t,” he said, “you canno’. This is … as you said, a gift. I am receiving one, too.”

He kissed her softly this time, almost reverently. She wanted to sink her nails into his shoulders, and urge him to give himself over to his wants and needs, and take her as a man took a woman he fiercely desired. But she knew she didn’t have the stamina for that, even to simply accept that, and so instead she accepted, gratefully, his care and concern for her, as he began making love to her with a simple, gentle sweetness that undid the rest of her defences entirely. In the end, it was a more thorough claiming than any heated union could have ever been.

He undressed her slowly, and she arched to meet him as his mouth covered one tightly budded nipple, then the other. She cried out as he carefully unbuttoned her pants and eased them down her hips, trailing kisses along the way, until he found her, warm, wet, and waiting for his touch, his tongue. He didn’t disappoint, and Abby shoved aside any remaining shred of concern she had about what she was doing, and with whom, and simply gave herself completely over to him, and the wave upon wave of pleasure he was wringing, so perfectly, from her body. The same body that had only let her down … now felt like the perfect vessel, the one pathway she had to absolute bliss.

When he slipped out of his clothes and covered her body with his, opening herself to him was the most natural thing she’d ever done. And, instantly, the most rewarding, as he slowly, surely, and deeply filled her. She rose to meet him, but he kept her hips pinned to the bed, moving slowly inside of her, steadily, pushing her, taking her, until they both climbed towards a shattering climax. She went first, but her cries, and her hips lifting to his, pulling him in deeper, yanked him over the edge, too, in a deep, groaning release that was almost as fulfilling an experience as her own.

Afterwards, he slid his weight off of her, but rolled her to him and kept her close. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deeper, rougher, as he brushed her hair from her cheeks.

“I can honestly say that I’ve never, not for any moment in my life, been better.”

He smiled then, and tucked her to his side, so her cheek was once again pressed against his chest. “Good,” he said, stroking her back as their breathing steadied and his heart beat slowed beneath her cheek. “Aye, that is very, very good, indeed.”

She smiled against his chest. “Indeed.”

Seven

They must have fallen asleep, because when Calum woke, the sun had almost fully set. He acknowledged the weight of her, the warmth of her, pressed to his side, as instantly and naturally as if he always woke to find her there. His smile grew to a grin, and he wanted to pump his fist and roar to the skies, so primal did she make him feel. But that feeling was swiftly replaced by the remainder of the reality that was theirs, too.

The reality that she would be taken from him. Even if he chose to stay, he would lose her. Forever. He watched her sleep, happy to see that her face was composed and relaxed. He hoped she was sleeping soundly, free of any discomfort. He didn’t know exactly what plagued her, but there were shadows under her eyes, and a wan paleness to her skin that indicated her less than optimum health. He knew she suffered from pain, and would have done anything to take it from her.

So sweet, so gentle, but fierce in her own way. The way she’d held his gaze as he’d taken her, proudly and boldly meeting him stroke for gentle stroke. Giving herself over to the pleasure he took even greater delight in bringing her, then matching him as they both went over the edge. He liked how she’d spoken her mind to him, challenging him, even though they’d just begun to know each other.

What if, he thought, what if he used the slivers and wormholes to keep coming back to her, in a time when she was still here. Still alive. In her tower room. Would he have to reintroduce himself every time? Or could he perfect it so that it was just after they’d met, so she’d welcome him each time. And they’d share a few blissful days. Over, and over. Would she remember that they had? Would he be able to withstand the knowledge of knowing they had if she didn’t? Couldn’t? What if she didn’t accept him as she had this time, every time?

He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut. This is why it was wrong of him to be dabbling like this, so dangerously, with things not of his time. People not of his time. With her.

And then she came quietly and beautifully awake, and he thought, as her grey eyes flickered open, that if he could wake up every morning to that instant soft smile, the moment she looked at him, that there was nothing he couldn’t conquer.

She reached up, stroked his face, his lips. “Calum,” she said, and his heart raced, just hearing his name on her lips.

There was no way he could leave her. How could he never know this bliss ever again, not know more of her, always?

“Abby, I’ve been thinking—”

“So have I,” she said.

He smiled. “You were asleep.”

“Not the whole time, I wasn’t. You’re quite handsome, you know, even when you’re sleeping.”

He thought he might have felt a bit of heat in his face. “I’m glad you think so. I was just thinking that I would never tire of seeing you smile at me like that right after you wake up.”

She held his gaze, but her smile grew almost tremulous.

“What’s wrong, Abby? Are you feeling okay? Can I do anything?”

“I – maybe you can.”

“Name it.”

She paused, then took a steadying breath, and said, “What if you didn’t have to? Never tire of this, I mean.”

“I would give anything to find out.”

“Would you?” She reached up, touched his face. “Would you take me back with you? Can you do that?”

“Abby, I told you—”

“Calum,” she said, cutting him off, then pausing, before blurting out, “If could you take me back and … in your time, maybe they could—”

“—heal you,” he finished, a look of awe on his face.

“I know you’re not supposed to alter the past, but … in this case … and if you bring me right back … or even if I just stay there … then it wouldn’t change anything here in my time. I’m going to be gone forever, soon enough. I could stay in the future. With you … or—”

He took her face in his hands, thunderstruck by the very idea. Why he hadn’t thought of it, he didn’t know … other than it was against all protocol and he simply hadn’t imagined— “I – I don’t know.”

“Don’t know if you could, or if you would?”

“I – I’ve never travelled in tandem.”

“Has anyone?”

He nodded. “Ailfrid, the man who taught me. I don’t know if I would be successful. And if I travelled back alone to learn, to perfect it, I don’t know if I could time it precisely enough to come back here before …” He trailed off.

She nodded. “It’s okay. I understand. It was horribly selfish of me to—”

“No, no, that’s not it. You’ve made me think a lot more about the moratorium we’ve set on utilizing time travel. It’s no’ something that we’d be able to change, not widespread, in any rapid time, nor should we.”

“But?”

“But … when I travel … only Ailfrid knows of it. It’s … not exactly sanctioned.”

She smiled, then. “Ah. A renegade.”

“Only in this. And, perhaps, in some of my ideas for instigating change and progress. Abby, it’s quite possible we could heal you. There are few ailments we haven’t learned to conquer. Life expectancy is far longer than it is in your time. Centurians are so commonplace, it’s an expected age to reach. But, as I said before … our time – my time – is otherwise not a good one. You could be healed, but you’d be living in a time of great strife and danger. No’ much, if any, prosperity.”

“Living longer would be prosperity enough. You wouldn’t be responsible for me, Calum. I wouldn’t expect—”

“I’d no’ walk away from ye, Abby,” he said, the almost instantaneous fierce response to thinking of her alone, without him, bringing out the stronger brogue of this day and time, than that of his own.

“Then … why don’t you instil the changes you’re thinking about. Utilize this gift you have, this skill you’ve learned. Move through time, figure out how to right things in the past, so you won’t have to go through what you’re all suffering in the future. You won’t need permission, because it won’t be happening.”

He smiled then. “Save the world. As if it’s so simple as all that.”

“Individuals have made huge impacts in the dynamics of our world. You’ll have something of an advantage. And even if you fail, Calum, you couldn’t leave your people in worse shape. Yet you could be their great hope. I would be willing – wanting – to go with you. To help you. Would I stay healed?”

“You remain as ever you are when you leave. I age as I would in my time, regardless of the time I’m in. But then, I never stay that long. The windows are brief. Which is why I don’t know how much impact I could have.”

“Would you be willing to think about it? Even if you have to go back to do it. Would you try and come back to me – for me?”

“Abby …”

“I’m not begging you, Calum. Nor will I. You have to do what you think is best for all concerned, and that encompasses so many more than just me. I know this. I know what I’m asking. At least, I understand there are ramifications neither of us might comprehend now. But I keep thinking about the alternatives. For us both. I don’t see where the risk isn’t worth taking, no matter how you measure it. Obviously, I have nothing to lose here. But you have things you could gain. And my dedication to help you achieve them. Will you at least consider it? Think on it?”

He pulled her close again, felt her heart beating, felt the life pulsing inside of her … and though he had many misgivings, he already knew he had no choice. No choice at all.

The question before him wasn’t if he could live with saving her. He could. He knew it was her only hope. And, selfishly, his own.

But could everyone else live with the choice that would be forced on them? By him?

Eight

Two mornings later, Abby was standing cliffside with Calum, still not quite believing how dramatically her life had changed in a mere forty-eight hours. And the most dramatic part hadn’t even happened yet. Which was saying quite a lot.

“Are you certain of this?” she asked, for at least the dozenth time since Calum had told her he would take her with him.

He smiled at her, his hand steady in hers, as it had been for most of the past two days. They’d talked for most of it, sharing details of their lives, both broad and intensely intimate. They’d explored other things more intimately as well, but Calum was so concerned for her health that for the past day, he’d refused to do more than kiss her and stroke her face and hair. Admittedly, even that had been lovelier than she’d ever anticipated experiencing, especially now, so close to the end. So, she hadn’t pushed. Calum wanted her to have all her strength for their planned transition.

He turned to her and framed her face. How was it that his own face had become so dear to her, so quickly? If she let herself think about it, she’d question all of it, most specifically her sanity. So … she didn’t. She just stayed in the moment, and believed, with all that she had, that this was truly happening for her.

“Aye,” he said, “as certain as I could ever be. You’ve convinced me that we’re ignoring the one thing that could save us. It could be our only hope.” He pulled her closer. “And you’re mine.” He tipped her chin up, then cupped her cheek. “So, first, I have to save you.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, shakily, but smiling up into his twinkling blue eyes. “I know I asked – begged – you to consider it, but I still can’t quite believe …”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Believe, Abby.” Then he looked up at the sun, and turned back to the castle proper. “It’s time.” He lifted her into his arms. “Hold on tightly to me,” he said, as she looped her arms around his neck. “I willnae know, precisely, where I will land. So, keep hold, until I tell you what to do next. Do ye ken, Abby? Ye must promise me to—”

“I promise. I won’t do anything foolish, I swear.” Then she laughed at the absurdity of that statement, and he joined her.

“Come here,” he said, and kissed her.

And the world spun … and kept spinning.

She felt weightless, then squeezed more tightly than she could ever recall feeling. She would have squirmed, but Calum kept his lips on hers, and she felt as if his own life force was seeping into her body. She felt electric, alive, almost crackling with it, as if sparks would snap from the ends of her hair and her fingertips, were she only to open her eyes and cast a glance at them.

And then the spinning shifted, and became wonky and wobbly, and she felt her stomach pitch. She held on more tightly as panic began to creep in. Trust, trust, trust. She kept repeating the words in her mind, as it felt as if she were going to be ripped, bodily from him, and flung into some jagged, abrupt, and endless void. She held on, literally, for dear life.

And then suddenly, shudderingly, with a jolt that knocked the breath completely out of her, there was a thudding impact, as if the ground had suddenly rushed up to meet her.

There was pain, jarring pain, but then she was rolling, and strong arms were still around her, and before she could gather her wits or her breath, she was pulled, bodily, hard up against him. Calum.

She forced her eyes open as she struggled to breathe before she passed out from asphyxiation.

Yes, Calum. Right there. Holding on to her.

Which meant …

She slowly turned her head … and saw the castle. Or the place where it would have stood. It was a pile of rubble now, with hardly more than two feet of wall left of the tower, and most of it overgrown with dried vegetation and scruffy, dead weeds.

“Cal—” She tried to speak, but all that came out was a guttural bark.

“Shh,” he told her. “Wait, don’t talk. We need to get—” He was whispering, though she hadn’t seen anyone … or anything, for that matter. The mountains still framed the backdrop against the sky … which was a startling shade of orange. Not the orange of a sunset. It looked more … toxic.

“Hold on to me. We’ve got to get down below.”

She didn’t question him, but held on. Dear God, had she actually done it? Was she really in the twenty-sixth century?

She grunted as Calum picked up his pace, until he was jogging over the uneven ground. “Press your mouth to my shirt, don’t breathe in more than you must.”

“What about you?”

He didn’t answer, but tucked her face against his chest and held it there with a firm hand.

And then there was a sliding, a groaning, like stones moving – giant stones, but she couldn’t look, couldn’t see …

An instant later it was cooler, the air less acrid. She looked up in time to indeed see a large stone wall shift and slide behind Calum, shutting out the orange sky and toxic air.

“Okay,” he said, out of breath. “I’m going to let your feet slide to the ground, but I want you to hold on to me until we gather our—”

“Who have you there?”

They both turned at the sound of the deep, echoing voice, Abby stumbling and gripping on to Calum’s shirt to keep herself upright.

The man was very short, and very old, leaning heavily on a rapier-like, shiny silver cane. He had a thin beard knotted in a single braid that reached almost to the ground, but it was his eyes that held Abby’s attention. They were almost purely white.

“I’m Abby,” she said, before Calum could speak for her. “Abby Ramsay. Don’t be mad at him. I made him bring me.”

“Ailfrid—” Calum began, but rather than look angry or upset, the old man’s face split into a wide grin.

“The Ramsay. Ye’ve finally gone and done it, lad!”

“Ailfrid, I know what we agreed, but let me explain—”

“No need, my son. No need.”

Abby looked between Ailfrid, who she knew from Calum was the man who’d taught him all about the physics and science of time travel, and Calum himself, who was looking as confused as she felt.

Ailfrid walked directly up to Abby and looked her up and down. His opaque eyes made it hard to look at him directly, but she didn’t want to appear rude. Or weak. So she held his gaze and let him look his fill.

“Calum has told me much about you. It’s an honour to meet you,” she said, as he finished walking around her.

He stopped in front of her again. “You’ve come.” He reached out a gnarled hand and cupped her forearm, then turned his hazed gaze directly to Calum. “You’ve saved us.” He looked back at her. “She will save us. This I know.”

Nine

And what Ailfrid said was true. Upon Calum’s demands to know the truth, the wizened elf of a man had explained his visions, that he’d known there was a saviour coming, but that she’d have to choose to come to them of her own free will. Calum couldn’t simply go find her and grab her, or coerce her to come. She had to find him, decide to come, choose to help. Calum was merely there to facilitate her journey. It was why Ailfrid had taught him, trained him, sent him back, time and again … to ready him for her, for the time she finally showed herself.

“And you brought her here on the very first crossing,” he said, smiling almost beatifically now. “Come,” he said, reaching for her hand. “We must heal you … so you can heal us.”

She rested her hand on his arm, willing to go with him, appearing excited and eager to find out what happened next.

When Calum merely stood there as Ailfrid led her more deeply into their lab and home base, Ailfrid turned back. “You will guide her as she guides you. Are you up for this most important task?”

Calum didn’t hesitate, but locked gazes with Abby, who was already smiling – beaming – at him and met her in a tight embrace as she ran to him.

“Aye,” he said, holding on tightly, knowing he held everything in his arms. Everything. There would be no next time. Now was their time.

And it always would be.