Ciaran winced as his distant MacGregor cousin from the future haggled with the breech-wearing farmer for an apple wagon and two horses. Eoin had riches nary a highlander dared dream about, so why was he being so stingy? Ciaran had seen him spend more on a night’s food and drink, albeit for the lot of them.

As the deal was clinched and Eoin’s kilt swayed on his climb up onto the driver's seat, Ciaran met eyes with his contemporary MacGregor cousin Baltair. “Obviously,” they said to each other with their faces, “if Eoin goes intae the future, then we’re gang along.”

But Eoin spoke up, loud enough for the farmer to hear as well. "One o’ ye wull need tae bide and work off the rest o’ the cost."

Baltair’s jaw dropped.

Eoin rolled his eyes. "Nay forevermore, ainly for a day."

Ciaran opened his mouth to protest.

But Eoin made as if to whip the horses into action and leave without the both of them.

Ciaran instantly shut his mouth.

But Baltair gave Ciaran a look that said the two of them were solid against Eoin, no matter what else happened.

And Ciaran acknowledged it with a firm but tiny nod.

"'Tis settled," said Eoin imperiously from the seat of the wagon. "I wull ainly be taking one o’ ye, sae draw straws." He picked some straw cushioning out of one of the apple crates, put two ends even, then covered the rest of the two pieces of straw with his fist, holding it out. As they came close enough to choose, he softly whispered, “The true task o’ whosoe’er remains behind is tae make certain nay one goes intae the woods tae see why the wagon hasna come oot, ye ken?"

Ciaran focused on choosing his straw, then compared it to Baltair’s.

Instead of pleasure at winning the draw, the implications of what his cousin had just said rolled through Ciaran’s mind. He and Eoin were taking the wagon and leaving Baltair behind for a day. Eoin didn't want anyone going into the woods to investigate why the wagon hadn't come out.

There was only one explanation: Ciaran and Eoin were going to time travel.

Pleasure at last dawned in his mind. Aware he was failing to hide it, Ciaran climbed up into the wagon next to Eoin, lowering his head a wee bit to mumble to Baltair, "'Tis ainly a day. Ye wull gae the next time."

Eoin lashed the horses into action, driving the wagon forward until they had passed through the apple orchard and gone up the mountain a bit.

Now that Ciaran got a good look at it, he thought this small Rowan woods was a likely place for them to time travel. There was no road into it, and the wood was dark and chilly, making him snug his jerkin more tightly around his chest and his kilt more tightly around his knees.

So this was it. Ciaran was going to be a time traveler like Eoin, Meehall, and Sarah, the woman Meehall would marry. Like Nadia and Ellie, Sarah's two friends who Ciaran and Baltair had helped rescue a few days past.

Ciaran had known about time travel a few years now. He hadn't believed at first, but Eoin and Meehall had been able to predict too many things which came to pass. Ciaran had no doubt he would find himself in the future any moment now.

What was the future like? He had never asked Meehall or Eoin. Truth to tell, he had never dared to hope he would venture there.

Eoin stopped the wagon and closed his eyes, frowning in deep concentration while he clenched something inside his jerkin.

Nothing happened.

"Is it broken? Is it tae much that I ride along? Should we na hae tried tae bring the whole wagon?"

"Quiet,” Eoin growled without opening his eyes or ceasing to frown. “Working, it is, but be quiet, or mayhap ye wull find yerself inside a wall in the future."

Chastised, Ciaran closed his mouth, fighting the doubt that crept into his mind. Was it a grand hoax?

No. The world started spinning around him, trees turning into a blur past his face. It was like the grandest dirt devil in all creation, and it made him thirst for whiskey. But it stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

It was nighttime here in the future, a strangely misty night with no clouds, yet hardly any stars. Ciaran wheeled about, making his kilt fly up as he peered at the sky. Where had all the stars gone? He couldn’t dwell on that long, though, because the wagon had brought him into a castle compound larger than any he had ever imagined. A full dozen castles loomed around him, greystone edifices amid greystone streets, making him fall into battle stance and squint into the darkness, looking for threats.

Eoin jumped out of the wagon and beckoned for Ciaran to follow him through the huge door of one of these castles. It led into darkness.

Gulping down his fear, Ciaran did follow.

Now that he could see better in the dark, Ciaran doubted this was a castle. There was no finery on display in the hall. A monastery, perhaps?

They went down the greystone hallway, farther and farther into the darkness.

Wait. A light burned up ahead. An eerily steady light that didn’t flicker. It was coming out of that doorway. Was someone awake?

The kilted highlander Ciaran was all Nadia had been thinking about these past few days. How his mischievous green eyes sparkled under his long black hair. How his sword had rescued her from druid sacrifice. How impossible it was for her to be interested in him because he lived in 1706 and she lived in the 21st century.

With the idea of forgetting all about Ciaran, she had thrown herself into writing this historical article. Well, and for a chance at being accepted by the druids who ran Celtic University's historical society. And now, when she was in the midst of giving them her all, who should show up in the middle of the night when she was all alone in their office?

It would have been fine if it was just Ciaran. Him, she wanted very much to handle.

But Sarah’s former friend John was with Ciaran, and she had told Nadia horrible tales about the man. He had deceived the Picts of old and almost caused the Gaels to wipe them out completely. Now, to be fair, John was one of the MacGregors who’d been cursed by the druids generations ago. He couldn't help but serve the druids.

Unlike Nadia, who was trying to please the druids for career advancement. Financial gain. Greed.

A twinge of guilt made her shiver as she stared at Ciaran and John. They had time traveled. The druids could do other things, but time travel was how they got all the cool or magical historical artifacts they wanted. And rather than spend time in another century aging and then return here to raise suspicion around what was supposed to be a respectable university, the druids had other people do their time traveling for them.

John was one of their lifelong servants, but she found it impossible to feel sorry for him.

Even as Ciaran spotted Nadia and smiled at her in joy at their reunion, John was nagging, "Come along now, Ciaran. We have a job to do, and while I know Baltair is as good as his word, I dinna ken how long he'll be able to keep the farmer and his family from investigating the woods. If they go and find the apple wagon has disappeared, they’re likely to go get others to investigate. I ken I told Baltair he would be working for them a day, but I tell ye true: we have two hours at most before Baltair loses control of the situation…”

But Ciaran hadn't heard a word. His mischievous smile now covered half his face, and his green eyes sparkled at Nadia with all the trouble he thought they might get into. His long black hair was slicked back against his face. He was the most devilishly handsome man she had ever met and nigh the most handsome man she'd ever seen, in person or otherwise.

And she had his full attention.

He sidled up next to her, almost touching, but not quite. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked this as if he really wanted to know, as if he was curious about her life and genuinely interested in what she was up to. There wasn't a trace of suspicion nor anger nor annoyance. Not on Ciaran's part.

But John? That was another story. His nagging turned stern. "We dinna need to ken what she's doing here. We need to be on our way.”

Flattered by Ciaran's attention, Nadia smiled back at him with her own mischievous smile. She wasn’t quite promising to get in trouble with him, but she was suggesting she wasn't opposed to the idea. "I'm doing the same thing John —Eoin— is doing, trying to please the druids. Only I'm doing it on this computer."

Ciaran's gaze dropped from her eyes for what he plainly thought would be just a moment.

But Nadia saw the exact instant when he realized what an alien object sat there in front of her. She felt insulted for a moment. She was fully into the gaze they had been sharing. But then she imagined the computer as he saw it, glowing with light and seemingly reaching at her with its alien appendages. No wonder it distracted him. And he had been nothing but gallant with her misunderstandings of his time in history. Finding some patience, she again looked into his face.

Horror and wonder battled there comically. "Com pu ter?" he said the way a toddler would.

"Aye," she told him, unable to resist mimicking his accent. "I would tell you everything this computer can do, but it would take our whole lives and not finish the telling. Suffice it to say this is how I please the druids. While Eoin fetches things for them, I write stories for them. Stories that make this institution seem like all the others of higher learning in the modern world. I assume he’s told you all about what they really do here, and that you appreciate what an important task I have." She sat up straight, pushed her chest out, and raised her chin up in the best imitation of someone proud.

It backfired a bit.

Ciaran’s eyes went directly to her chest and lingered there longer than they needed to. He checked himself, however, and then a bit of fear took over his face. "Nadia, you shouldn't be alone where anyone can get to you. Have you a room where you can bar the door?"

This was an odd turn of topic, but she liked Ciaran, and so she answered him directly. "Aye, I have a lock on my door." She waited patiently for him to get to the point as she scanned her screen, reading the druids’ request for an article one more time so she knew the details of what they wanted.

But Ciaran took her by the upper arm and tried to get her to stand. "That druid child Tahra and the Cameron clan could be anywhere, you ken. She didn't know the secrets of time travel a few days ago, but any moment now she might discover it and come after you. Allow me to escort you to your room and see you safely inside with the door locked. I ken you canna stay there always, but in the middle of the night like this when no one else is about, you should."

But she put a hand on his and gently resisted. "I will na. Much as I wish to go with you, I must do this assignment. ’Twould be different if you were going to stay a while. Perhaps you can help me with my assignment?"

Ciaran’s smile broke out big again. "Aye. Aye, that I will. And should the need arise, I will do my best to protect you from the Camerons. Or Tahra."

She smiled at Ciaran.

He smiled back.

A deeper camaraderie bloomed between them, and she liked it very much.

Then Eoin had to go and ruin it. "Nay," growled the larger Highlander as he grabbed his distant cousin by the other arm and pulled him to the door. "I telt ye already, we need to get moving and return to 1706 before the farmer discovers we are gone. Are you daft, man?"

Ciaran struggled, but Eoin was far stronger, the type of man who is always lifting weights, even while sitting at table for dinner. Ciaran didn't even get a chance to say goodbye before the two of them were out the door and around the corner.