Fiona took several breaths to calm herself, her eyes still trained on the view. It was stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful, and there was a magic to it, a magic that somehow allowed her, a person born centuries in the future, to be here now.

She had always considered herself to be a practical person, but she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that she was . . . meant to be here. That everything in her life—the death of her parents when she was a child, her distant aunt who'd given her the necessities as she'd grown up, but never a great deal of affection. Her years of loneliness, even her disastrous engagement to Derek. All of it had led her here. To Eadan. And the fact that she'd already painted this landscape seemed to point to that.

But Fiona shook her head, trying to hold on to reason. It was basic causality. She’d already traveled to 1390 by her time, so everything that happened here had already happened. Hence the déjà vu when she saw the painting. She would still get back to her own time, and Eadan would handle the danger that faced his clan and marry a suitable Scottish bride. That’s all there was to it.

Suppressing a wave of conflicting emotions, Fiona set down the painting materials onto a table that was set up in the center of the chamber. This was what she needed. A sanctuary, a way of taking her mind off the bizarre circumstances she found herself in.

Well, Fiona, she mused to herself, as she sat down to paint. You’ve already painted this, so it should come easy.

She immersed herself in her painting, careful as she worked with the parchment and natural pigments, using egg yolks the servant had provided as a binder. It wasn't as difficult to work with medieval painting materials as she'd feared; in fact, it felt natural, as if she'd done this a thousand times before. And she had done this before.

Eadan’s familiar scent of rosewood filled her nostrils, and she stilled, coming back to the present as he entered the room, stopping at her side. His eyes were trained on her painting. Feeling self-conscious, she set down her brush.

“No. Don’t stop. It’s bonnie, Fiona. Truly,” he said, giving her one of his heart-melting smiles.

A swell of pride filled Fiona. Eadan was taking in her work with genuine awe.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m sorry I had tae leave ye yesterday and I couldn’t return,” Eadan said, his smile fading as he rubbed his temple.

“Has something happened?” she asked, studying him with concern.

He averted his gaze, and she knew he'd evade her question. She reached out to grip his arm.

“You can tell me,” she said gently.

“Dughall is suspicious of ye, Fiona,” he said, after a brief pause. “He made me promise tae get the annulment and send ye away within a month or the truce is off.” He closed his eyes and she could now see the strain in his entire body. “Decades of fighting will resume, and all because of me. Part of me thinks I should go ahead with the betrothal and—”

“No,” Fiona said, firm. She thought of Magaidh’s cruelty, of Bran asking her to watch over Eadan. Something was amiss. And she knew it was selfish, but a hot jealousy coursed through her at the thought of Eadan marrying Magaidh. “You were right to listen to your instincts.”

“It seems my instincts have only made things worse,” he said, giving her a regretful look. “I shouldn’t have dragged ye intae all this, Fiona.”

Fiona stood, giving his arm a squeeze of reassurance. His blue eyes met hers, and the silence between them shifted, becoming infused with an unspoken desire.

Her mouth went dry as their eyes remained locked, and the moment seemed suspended in time, until Eadan slowly leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

This time there was no caution, no hesitancy. All rational thought went out of Fiona’s mind as Eadan reached out to press her flush against his body. Every part of him consumed her as he plundered her mouth with his tongue—his masculine scent, the feel of his muscular torso pressed against her breasts, the hardness of his arousal flush against her center.

“Fiona,” he whispered, his tone reverent, as if she were a goddess he was worshiping. “Ye’re bonnie. The bonniest lass I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

Her heart swelled as he swung her up into his arms, bridal style; his eyes locked with hers as he carried her to the bed.

He lowered her to the bed, and she whimpered as he trailed kisses down her jaw to the arch of her throat, the swell of her breasts. He teased her, his mouth kissing the fabric of her bodice above her breasts.

“Please, Eadan,” she whimpered. “Please.”

He gave her a teasing smile, but he obliged, yanking down the bodice of her gown, then her tunic and underdress, until he reached her breasts. He growled at the sight, taking them in with reverence before leaning down to capture one aching nipple into his mouth.

She groaned as he suckled, her hand going to his thick wavy hair as he moaned around her breast, before turning to lave his attention on the other one. Moisture seeped from between her thighs, and she began to quiver with the promise of release.

“Not yet, my Fiona,” Eadan whispered, finally tearing his mouth from her breasts to settle his desire-filled blue gaze on her.

He undressed her, torturously slow, before shedding his own clothes. Fiona took him in, breathless. He was as beautiful undressed as she’d always suspected—with a broad muscular torso. She gasped at the size of him, swelled and erect with need.

“All for ye, my bonnie Fiona,” he whispered, before leaning forward to claim her mouth with his.

When he released her from his kiss, leaving her breathless, he trailed kisses down her chest, the plain of her abdomen…

“Oh, God,” Fiona gasped, as his mouth clamped onto her center.

The room dimmed around her as he tasted her, his blue eyes never leaving hers, moaning his pleasure. Tendrils of hot desire coiled around her as she quaked, gripping the sheets at her sides, her breath heaving, and she let out a cry as she came, and Eadan’s mouth remained clamped onto her as she trembled and quaked, before settling back down to earth.

Only then did Eadan trail kisses back up her body to her neck, and sank his massive length inside of her. Fiona let out a long moan at the hard sensation of him inside of her, and he gave her a moment to adjust to his length before he began to move, his eyes hazy with desire.

Fiona wrapped her arms around him, her fingers sinking into the flesh of his back as he thrusted, the bed pounding into the wall behind them, and everything in the room faded away. There was only Eadan and the sensation of his strong, lean body on top of her, their bodies joined in mutual pleasure, climbing toward a place of release.

“Look at me, lass,” Eadan gasped, as he pounded her into the bed. “Look at me as I cum inside of ye. As I make ye mine.”

Fiona’s eyes locked with his, and together their bodies began to shudder, climbing to that place of pleasure where nothing else exists.

Fiona’s body continued to quake as Eadan stilled, peppering gentle kisses along her jaw.

When she stilled, out of breath, her gaze settled onto Eadan. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her body pressed flush against him as he rolled over onto his side. They lay still for a moment, the only sounds in the chamber their labored breathing.

“I’ve wanted tae do that the moment I found ye in my castle, wearing that sinful dress,” Eadan confessed. “Ye’re a siren, Fiona.”

Fiona flushed as he sat up, reaching out to sweep her hair back from her face. His expression shadowed, and he expelled a sigh.

“I want nothing more than tae keep ye by my side, Fiona,” he said. “But things are getting dangerous, and ’tis not right tae keep ye here.”

A wave of hurt filled Fiona at his words. He seemed to sense her thoughts, pinning her with his gaze.

“I doonae want tae, Fiona. I wish circumstances were different,” he said, “but I’m worried Dughall—or Magaidh—will try and harm ye. And—ye mean a lot tae me. More than I realized. I couldn’t bear it if harm came tae ye.”

Fiona closed her eyes, a dull feeling of heartache settling over her, though she knew Eadan was right. Besides her conflicted feelings about leaving, she didn’t even know if she could get back to her own time. What if the village Una spoke of was just that—a village? How would she know where to find the portal?

“What?” Eadan asked. “The nunnery should—"

“I’m not going to the nunnery.”

She couldn’t keep up the lie, and she didn’t realize how much she wanted to open up to him until now.

When she opened her eyes, she was relieved that Eadan didn’t look surprised, nor angry.

“Are ye going tae tell me where ye’re from, then?” he asked, his tone gentle.

Fiona took a breath, sitting up, searching his beautiful blue eyes. It was time to tell him who she really was.

She scoured her brain for any fact she could use to prove that what she told him was truth. And then she remembered something. She'd visited a history museum in Aberdeen a few days before she'd arrived in this time, and the guide had droned on and on about King Robert, who was king in this time. She was so glad she'd listened intently to the guide's words.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll tell you. But I need you to listen to every word.”