When Fiona had entered the ruins of the castle, she’d heard the vortex of wind from its base—the same wind she’d heard the day she was transported here. But something stopped her; it was like her feet were anchored to the ground.

This is what you wanted, she’d told herself. To return to your own time.

But she wasn’t ready to leave this time. She’d turned and stalked from the castle, determination rising within her. And while the words she spoke to Eadan were true—she did want to help him—she also knew they were an excuse. She wanted to stay with him for as long as she could. The connection she had with Eadan went beyond the physical; it was as if a part of her craved his presence. His deep, rumbling voice, his cerulean blue eyes, the way he looked at her when he didn’t think she was aware—with not just desire, but with affection and a hint of longing. She knew in her heart she’d never have such a connection with anyone again, and it was just her luck that her perfect man was a Scottish laird from the fourteenth century.

But Fiona tried not to think of this as Eadan led her back to his horse. She leaned forward, relishing in the feel of his strong body against hers as they rode back to Macleay Castle. There was no part of her that felt an ounce of regret as the ruins of the castle and Tairseach faded into the distance behind them. Instead, as they approached Eadan’s castle, she felt as if she were returning home.

Back at the castle, Eadan led her to her chamber, where he closed the door behind them.

“While I’m here, I think I should work in the kitchens,” she said, turning to face him.

“Why?” Eadan asked, looking puzzled.

“If Dughall already hired one of your servants to spy, I’m guessing he’s approached others. If I ingratiate myself with the servants in the kitchens they might be more apt to confide in me.”

“I doonae ken,” Eadan said, shaking his head. “I may treat my servants well, but they’d not be comfortable making friends with the laird’s wife.”

“Not friends, exactly,” Fiona said, “but comfortable enough to eventually confide in me. If I ask. All it takes is one.”

But Eadan still looked doubtful.

“It’s worth a try,” she pressed. “I’m staying here to help, remember?”

“I’m still having a guard on ye at all times,” Eadan said, after a pause. “And ye’re not tae wander the grounds alone, Fiona.”

“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I promise.”

Eadan studied her, admiration filling his expression as he shook his head.

“I doonae ken if ye’re foolish or brave, lass,” he said finally, stepping forward to cup the sides of her face.

“Perhaps both?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat at his nearness.

“Aye,” Eadan growled, before leaning down to claim her mouth with his. Keeping his arms around her, he walked backward with her to the bed.

“Lie still, my Fiona,” he whispered, and her heart soared at the possessiveness of his words. It took everything in her power to remain still as he divested her of her clothing.

When he stripped off his tunic and kilt, desire spiraled through her. His muscular torso gleamed in the illumination from the fireplace, his blue eyes hot filled with lust, his lips parted as he surveyed her naked body. He was so beautiful.

She couldn’t help herself. Disobeying his command, she sat up, peppering kisses along the plain of his broad muscular chest, going lower, lower still, until she took his hard erect length into her mouth.

“Christ, Fiona,” he gasped, as she luxuriated in the feel of him in her mouth, licking along his length, before sucking him down whole. “Ye’re going tae kill me.”

She smiled around his shaft, and continued to suckle him, as his hands wound through her hair, his teeth clenched with restrained lust, his eyes filled with raw desire.

“I want tae cum inside ye,” he ground out, releasing himself from her mouth with great effort.

He sat down on the bed next to her, lifting her up and gently sinking her down onto his erection.

Fiona let out a pleasured moan at the sensation of him filling her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, locking eyes with him as he clutched her rear. Their eyes remained on each other as Fiona rode him, and Eadan’s hands wandered from her rear to her breasts, stroking them before pulling each aching nipple into his mouth. Fiona gasped and threw her head back, feeling the start of her orgasm spiral deep within her belly.

“Aye, my Fiona,” he whispered. “Come for me, lass. My siren.”

And Fiona did, her body quaking her release, as Eadan groaned his own orgasm, his grasp tightening as he spilled himself inside of her.

Fiona buried her face in his neck, still coming down from the dizzying heights Eadan had taken her to. Eadan kept her in his arms, removing himself from her as he moved to lie down on the bed. When they lay sideways, he reached out to stroke her tousled hair.

“I’m a fool tae not have thought of this before—but we’ve not been careful. I doonae want tae send ye back with a babe in yer belly.”

Her chest tightened at his mention of her going back to her own time, but she forced a smile.

“No need. In my time, there are sophisticated—and effective—ways of preventing women from getting pregnant.”

She’d received a birth control shot for years now, though a part of her wondered if it would withstand a supernatural event such as time travel. And it would wear off in a few weeks time. A sliver of delight went through her, just for a moment, at the thought of having Eadan’s child . . . of having a real marriage with him.

But she quickly squashed the thought. Eadan had his duties as laird and soon-to-be chief of Clan Macleay. Knowing Eadan, as soon as this business with Clan Acheson was sorted, he’d marry a suitable Scottish bride. Pain struck her at the thought, and she swallowed.

When she looked back up at Eadan, she saw a flash of what looked like regret in his eyes before it vanished. She blinked. He couldn’t want her to have his child . . . could he?

“Tell me more,” Eadan said abruptly, averting his gaze. “About your time.”

Fiona propped herself up on her elbow, thinking for a moment. How to summarize the twenty-first century?

“It’s loud,” she said, after a moment. “A lot louder than this time. I find the quiet here more peaceful. Technology—which I think many people in this time would equate to magic—dominates the future. It makes things more convenient. But I think it’s caused less personal connections. Everyone has a device to hide behind.”

He listened as she told him as much as she could about the modern age, his beautiful eyes filled with wonder. She suspected it took a lot for a rational man like Eadan to express genuine surprise, and she relished in the look of boyish wonder on his face when she described airplanes.

But his expression suddenly darkened and he propped himself up on one elbow, studying her with intensity.

“What?” she asked, startled by his sudden mood shift; it was like storm clouds shielding the sun.

“Is there someone waiting for ye? Back in yer time?” he asked.

Fiona smiled, delight coursing through her at the unmistakable jealousy in his eyes.

“No,” she said. “I was engaged—betrothed to someone. But he betrayed me with another woman, and I ended it.”

“He’s a fool,” Eadan said, reaching out to trace her face with his fingertip. “Why would any man go elsewhere when he can have this?”

His hand dropped from her face to her throat, to the curve of her breast, her abdomen. Fiona shivered with desire as his finger trailed lower, until he pressed it into her moist, aching center.

“Hold still, lass,” he whispered, kissing his way down her abdomen. “I want tae hear ye scream my name.”

And she did.

* * *

The next morning, when Fiona offered to help in the kitchens, Una looked so horrified that she had to restrain herself from laughing.

“Estranged wife or not, ye’re the lady of the castle!” Una gasped.

“I insist,” Fiona said firmly. “I want to earn my keep while I’m here.”

“Earn yer keep?” Una asked, looking even more horrified. “As wife of the laird—"

“Eadan gave his blessing,” Fiona said, giving her a firm look.

Una’s shoulders slumped and she gave her a reluctant nod. Fiona could understand her hesitancy; social roles were much more stratified in this time.

Una looked down at the fine gown she’d been about to hand Fiona to wear, setting it down with a sigh.

“Well, we’ll have tae dress ye in something a little less—fine,” Una grumbled.

She left and returned with a simple dark brown gown made of wool. Fiona found it far more comfortable than the fancier gowns Una usually dressed her in, and considered requesting that she wear clothes like this more often, but she suspected that would give Una a heart attack.

Once dressed, she trailed Una into the kitchens. Before they entered, the kitchens had buzzed with laughter and conversation. But as soon as she entered, it was like a record scratching. All conversation halted and everyone turned to face her, mouths agape.

“Lady Macleay has offered her help 'til she’s on her way,” Una said stiffly, leveling them all with hard stares. “She’s tae be treated with the utmost respect.”

The kitchens remained quiet as Una led her to the head cook, a middle-aged woman named Isla who wiped her hands on her apron and kept her gaze lowered. She seemed reluctant to have Fiona do anything, but finally gave her a small tray of vegetables to chop.

As Fiona got to work in a small corner, the servants remained quiet. When conversation picked up again, it was hushed. Fiona felt like she was the strict teacher and the servants wary students. She knew it would take time for them to warm up to her, but she didn’t have months for that. She’d have to figure out a way of endearing herself to them so that at least one of them would open up to her. Given how they all avoided even looking at her, she didn’t know how that was going to happen.

Her thoughts turned to Eadan, and her decision to stay. Here she was, chopping vegetables in a medieval kitchen, when she could be back in her own time, taking a long bath in her bed-and-breakfast, reeling from her trip through time. But the thought of leaving Eadan made her heart constrict.

For so many years she’d kept her heart closed off, and there’d been a part of her that preferred things that way. But now that she’d seen the other side of opening up to someone, how good it felt—how could she ever go back to the way she’d been before?

But it didn’t matter. She reminded herself for the millionth time that Eadan had his duties to Clan Macleay, and that’s where his focus would remain.

She just knew that when she returned to the twenty-first century, she’d leave a part of her heart behind . . . with a man from another time.