The next morning Magnus was sitting on a deck chair, leaned forward, elbow on his knees, making imaginary marks on the thin layer of sand between his feet. Quentin, now his number one security guard, was nodding, listening, occasionally asking a question.

Magnus was leaving.

I knew it because of what he said when I talked to him about the estate while he was still in the hospital: “Tis good Kaitlyn, how ye have caused it to grow, verra good.” His words were proud. As if he was a parent watching a child start out in a life they couldn’t really share in. He was watching me grow our estate, not for us, but for me, alone.

He told me again that he was leaving soon. I begged him to stay. We ended the conversation with an uncomfortable agreement — there was no way to agree, so we wouldn’t talk about it anymore.

So I had no idea what his plans were and that sucked.

But I couldn’t imagine how to start the conversation. And I was frankly scared to. As if asking would make it real. Ignoring it would keep it improbable. But I needed to know, needed to get it out into the open.

I had to talk to him.

To beg him to stay.

So I planned, plotted, and carefully deliberated, and decided to bring up it up in the office, in a dignified adult way.

But I forgot or disregarded all that planning and brought it up right after making love. In the middle of the night with silent tears rolling down my cheeks, already distraught. Childlike, wrapped in his arms, tears pooling on his chest. “Please don’t go.”

“What’s this then?”

I clutched his shoulders, being mindful of his wounds. They were jagged, red, a few still open and sore. He told me the whip marks didn’t hurt that much, that he could lay on his back, that I didn’t need to be gentle. But his back looked so angry, painful, and deeply, deeply wounded that I felt like it was a reminder why it was too dangerous for him to return to Scotland. He couldn’t see it. Maybe that was why he was so determined to go.

“You’re leaving and you don’t have to… you don’t.”

“Ah, Kaitlyn, ye know… we have discussed this—"

“We haven’t, we haven’t discussed it. Not enough. I don’t know why. Not really. And you’re making the plans without me, and it’s just like with my—"

He shifted his head and his hand that had been stroking my shoulder paused.

“What are ye saying?”

I sobbed. “That just like everyone else, you’re leaving me and lying to me about it and — am I not worth staying for?”

Magnus huffed. He tensed, then rolled out from under me, and sat on the edge of the bed. His bandaged back turned to me. He sat there for a moment, facing the wall of windows. Very quietly.

Panic hit me in the gut. He had turned his back on me.

He said, “Tis nae fair.”

“What isn’t fair?” I reached for his hand.

He pulled it away and rubbed it across his thigh.

“You are saying this tae me? Comparing me tae your other men, Kaitlyn? I am your husband. I will nae stand for this.”

I was too shocked to know what to say. In my imagination this went so much better.

“I know, I just—"

“You are my wife. When I tell ye I must away, you should say goodbye without a fuss. And I’ll have nae more of speakin’ of other men in my bed.”

“I’m sorry I brought up my past. I only wanted you to know one of the reasons why this was too hard for me. I’m sorry.”

His jaw clenched. “In the future, here, know ye one thought, your husband, Magnus Archibald Caehlin Campbell has been true tae ye.”

I curled up around my knees wishing I could sink away. My voice was so small it shocked me when I spoke. “It doesn’t feel like truth, it feels like a lie of omission. Just because you don’t lie out loud doesn’t make it not a lie. There’s a truth you’re refusing to say.” I looked up at his back.

His face turned to mine. His eyes glaring dark. “You call me a liar?”

“You aren’t telling me the truth. From here, in the pit of my stomach, and here in my heart, it feels very much the same.”

He turned to the windows again. I squirmed up to the pillow, taking a view of the side of his face. His jaw clenched and unclenched. I had hoped that starting this conversation might be an immediate relief, but no, I felt really terrible and desperate. He was headed out the door and my hand was on his back shoving him through.

“You are a woman, ye will try tae convince me tae stay. You canna understand why I must fight. You see my wounds and want tae heal me, and ye want me tae hide here. Just as Lady Mairead—"

“If we’re not to talk of men in your bed, I would appreciate not comparing me to your mother in mine.”

Magnus let out an appreciative chuckle. Then shook his head.

I continued, “I do want to convince you to stay. Explain to me why I can’t. I’m listening. If you’ll listen to me.”

His head hung. “I daena want tae leave ye. I canna talk of it without changin’ my mind, and I must nae change my mind. You want me tae listen tae ye, you plan tae beg me tae stay, but ye do, every moment.” He reached behind to take my hand, wrapping it in his. “Your smile begs me. Your body, your laugh, ye dinna need words, Kaitlyn. I am nae strong enough tae hear them.”

“Then stay.”

“I canna.”

“Then tell me why.”

And so he did. Sitting on the edge of the bed, lit by moonlight shimmering on his darkness. He exposed his shadows. He told me about his home, or lack of a home, in Scotland, the cusp of the eighteenth century. He had spent his youth at Balloch Castle, but when he was nine years old he had been sent to London to live with an uncle. He had been to court. Had lived and played with royals. But he had always been one of “the Highlanders,” not fully trusted, not really fitting in.

Then his Uncle Baldie sent for him because Lady Mairead was missing, abducted. Suddenly, after growing up in a life of wealth and civilities, Magnus was thrust into danger and intrigues. “I lived at Balloch again. I trained to fight alongside my brother, with my cousins, but winna fully trusted for many reasons: My father was a foreigner. I grew up in London. I was Protestant. And maybe worse — the son of Lady Mairead. Twas a blight on my reputation.”

“That must have been really hard.”

“I dinna think on it much, there were feuds to fight.” He gave me a small half-grin.

I squinted my eyes. “You like fighting?”

His eyes twinkled. “Tis hard to like something that may end me, but I am verra good at it. And is braw tae fight alongside my brother. There are troubles brewin’ though. My clan is split in their minds and hearts. The next fight will be cousin against cousin. Up tae now I have been in the middle. They believe I am on both sides and nocht at all. Tis difficult tae prove my allegiance and is harder still tae prove my independence. But I must always be provin’ m’self tae stay alive.”

“Your own cousins are a danger to you?”

“Och aye, I have a great many cousins. Some are like brothers. Some are dangerous. A few are villainous.”

“I have three cousins, they live in Alabama. I don’t see them much.”

“TIs good if they are villainous,” he joked.

His face grew serious again. “I was sent to search for her in France, until finally Lady Mairead was found, in a castle in Scotland, married to Lord Delapointe. She sent for me. She made me take a binding oath tae follow her commands. Then she asked me tae recover one of these vessels from its hiding place and bring it tae her.

“I did as she asked, but when I returned with it, Lord Delapointe met me at the gates and fought me for it. Twas my first indication that the vessel was very valuable.”

“That’s awful.”

“It was, in the ensuin’ battle I killed John Baldrick, the brother of Delapointe.”

“His brother?” My eyes were wide. “Have you killed many people?”

“Enough that we shoudna speak of it.” He looked down at his hands. “Lady Mairead met me on the field of battle tae take the vessel. As her hand clasped around it she spoke a numerical incantation. I was fearful and begged her nae tae perform spells, but she continued, and I was dragged here tae Fernandina Beach, the year 2017.”

“You must have been terrified. That night you met James, you didn’t know where you were or anything about the world you were in…”

“Twas terrible. But then I met ye, and you introduced me tae coffee, and after that twas all okay.” He chuckled. “The truth is I am used tae being in places that are nae mine. I haena had a home in many years. I daena fit any—“

I pulled his hand to my heart. “This is your home Magnus. You belong here. You are my husband. This is true. I know it.” I smiled. “I know it here.” I drew his hand down between my legs. “And here.”

He groaned happily. “I would live there if I could.” He drew his hand away and turned back to the windows.

“Thank you for telling me. But it all sounds so complicated and dangerous; I still don’t know why you have to go back.”

“That is why I am nae talkin’ tae ye about it.”

“So what do you want me to say?”

“Kaitlyn, I want ye tae say, ‘Aye master, I will do as ye wish,’ and be done with it.”

I flicked the sheets, pissed. “You’re kidding me right? I have never in my life said anything like that to any man, and I’m not going to start now.” I lay fuming. “I mean you’ve met me right? I’m Kaitlyn Sheffield, and I don’t just take orders—”

“Your name is Kaitlyn Campbell, and ye will take orders from me—"

“No I won’t.”

“Let me finish. I would say — you will take orders from me as my wife, but as your husband I winna give them. Nae like that.” He scrubbed his palms down his face. “I knew what kind of woman ye are when I married ye. I knew Kaitlyn Campbell dinna take orders. Lady Mairead warned me. She said ye winna be a woman under my control, and I said that was good. I like ye with the fire in your throat and passion in your heart, but you asked what I want ye tae say and I answered — I want ye tae submit tae me. I know ye won’t, so instead tis better nae tae talk of it.”

“I want you to be able to talk to me about anything.”

“I canna trust that ye will listen and nae beg me tae stay.”

I huffed, threw the covers off my legs, swung my feet to the opposite side of the bed, and stood. “So you don’t trust me and I don’t trust you. That’s a fine piece of horseshit of a marriage.” I stomped into our bathroom and wanted to slam the door, but guess what, frosted, sliding glass. So I crossed my arms and pouted like a big baby for a few moments and then stomped back into the room.

He hadn’t moved. He was still sitting, staring at his hands between his knees. The skin on his back cut and injured, his head hanging down.

And I softened.

Oh. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need tae talk tae ye about it. I need your help with something — tae be able tae trust ye tae help me go.”

“Oh god Magnus, I’m so sorry.” I dropped to my knees in front of him and clutched his hands. “You can trust me. I’ll just — I can just listen. I will. Tell me.” I laid my forehead on his hands and tried, really hard, to listen through my breaking heart.

“Delapointe wants all the vessels. If he finds them all it will make him verra powerful. There are three; he knows I have one. Lady Mairead still has one. The other is in his hands. Ye have seen the cuts on Lady Mairead’s cheeks. He will torture her if he is given the chance.

“Also, I have killed his brother. He swore tae kill me, but he dinna. Instead he kept me locked and bound and beat me — he drove me close tae death. He only allowed me tae live as bait so Lady Mairead would come tae him.”

“He knows I have one of the vessels and I have used it tae escape. He will follow me here. Then he will kill me. But he may wish to see me suffer first. And if he discovers you… I canna allow that tae happen. And that is the story of it — why I must go. Because living here is nae the end of it.”

I looked up at him. “It sounds like you have to.”

“I do Kaitlyn.” He smiled sadly. “I must.” He shook his head. “Our marriage is nae horseshit.”

“Yeah. I know. I say stupid things sometimes. I’m trying to be better. To listen more.”

He swept his arms around my back and pulled me up onto him, leaning back on the bed, me on top. He put his arms behind his head and I sat on his waist looking down. I loved this view: his bicep close to his ear, his shoulders bound with muscles, his chest wide. His eyes were appreciative, but he couldn’t look on me for long, instead he focused on my thigh, my hips, kept his eyes cast down.

I asked him once, from this position above him, what he saw when he looked up at me — he answered, “An emanating light bursts from your skin. I must take ye in pieces, else I might cry.” Then he chuckled.

I considered it a joke. But also a little bit true. He often mentioned how much light I emanated, which might have been the corniest compliment in the world if not that he was so dark.

His darkness was a reminder he was not truly alive anymore in my time. My brightness was a reminder I was not alive yet in his.

My happy thoughts faded as I remembered him talking about how he was living on borrowed time, and maybe he had gone against the natural order and might have a price to pay.

I bent down and pressed my cheek to the side of his. “What was it you needed help with?”

His hands pulled my hips closer to his. “I wish I could talk tae ye about it now, as ye are in a willing mood, but I find myself with a deeper desire.”

I kissed his lips and his tongue slid into my mouth as he pulled me closer. His hands massaging over my chest and down my sides, over my hips and thighs until I raised up and sat down on him with a small gasp. I folded down and we rocked against each other. Pushed and pulled. It was sweet and slow, but tears mingled with my sweat and dripped onto his face because he was leaving. Always leaving.

When we were done, he pulled away to try to see my eyes. “You are crying, Kaitlyn?”

I nodded against the stubble on his jaw.

“Can ye tell me?”

“I just promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

“I dinna ask ye nae tae speak, I asked ye nae tae argue.”

I sobbed. “It feels like every moment with you is saying goodbye.”

“Tis true,” he said quietly.

Our darkened moonlit room was still, our voices quiet under the soaring ceiling. Our bed rumpled from love making and just a little over a week ago had been empty. For eight weeks I had been alone. And would be again.

I sobbed and he held me until I was done.

Then he said, “I think all men have this problem — we must consider each and every day our last. We are all of us saying goodbye and if ye consider our good fortune, Kaitlyn; I am married tae ye in a second life, three centuries in the future. Our future, our goodbyes, mayna be as final as some.”

I said, “Yes, that may be true.” To wipe my eyes, I squirmed off him for the tissues on the bed stand, left there from all those nights crying myself to sleep while he was gone.

He adjusted up to the pillows and I joined him. And we lay there together, me wrapped on his whole body. He said, “I canna sleep, would ye come tae the office with me?”