David cursed as he shoved through the group of people blocking the entrance to the large tent Holly had hired for them behind the stage. Finally, with much elbowing and muttering, he got past the crowd and entered the dim space. The sweet smell of dope met him and he frowned. Bear was sitting on a camp chair and Slim was asleep on the ground behind him.

“Did you bring my guitar down off stage?”

Bear inclined his head to the back of the tent. David walked over and reached for his guitar, which was resting on his kit bag.

“Thanks. Where’s Holly?” He frowned at Bear and gestured to the joint between the drummer’s fingers. “You know how I feel about that when we’re performing.”

Bear pointed to the corner of the tent. Holly was curled up on a blanket with her eyes closed. “Don’t worry. Chill out, she’s fine.”

David put his guitar to one side and dug in his bag for a clean black T-shirt. “I’m taking Megan home.”

“I thought you already had. Couldn’t you find her? You’ve been gone for hours.”

David pulled the shirt over his head. He was already regretting what had happened now that he was away from her. He turned away and spoke gruffly. “Yeah, took a while to find her.”

Bear put the joint up to his mouth and inhaled deeply.

“Get rid of that. We’re back on stage in a couple of hours.” David lifted up the flap of the tent. “And look after Holly.”

“Who put you in charge, man?” Bear waved the glowing tip at him.

“No one. But after what happened to our last publicist, someone here has to be smart or everything will go to shit. You want to make some money or what?”

“All right, all right.” Bear pushed the joint into the ground. “I need to get some sleep, anyway, if we’re doing a few sets later.”

“I’ll be back well before the first one. We can’t stuff this up. There’s too much riding on this festival. We’ve got to make up for what that fucking journalist wrote. I’ve a good mind to sue the paper.”

Slim sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll watch out for Holly. Don’t worry she’s not into the hard stuff. Just a bit of weed. You go and do whatever it is you have to do.” The tall, lanky guitarist pushed himself up from the ground in one lithe movement and followed David out of the tent. “So it was her?”

David nodded and stared across the field in the direction of their two cottages. “It was. I don’t know how the hell she did it, but I have to get her back before she realises and freaks out.”

“Or before you lose her,” Slim said.

“I can’t afford to lose her. Who knows where she’d end up? I shouldn’t have left her but she fell asleep.” David knew he’d said too much already, and he grabbed Slim’s shoulder. “Thanks, mate. I know I can rely on you.” He gave him a wave and headed back along the towpath to the river.

His first priority was to get Megan back through the time gate and convince her she’d been at the current Glastonbury Festival and she had dreamed the rest…or something.

Including the hot sex. That had been one huge mistake.

I shouldn’t have touched her. But I couldn’t help myself.

His chest was heavy with regret. It was easy to be sorry after the event. He’d sworn he would never get involved with a woman again.

He didn’t do relationships, period. The way he lived his life, it was too hard.

Casual sex, yes. Heavy emotional stuff, no. But a connection had been forged between them the minute he’d tripped over her. It wasn’t just her beauty that attracted him. Her face was transparent and she carried a sadness that tugged at his heart. A familiar feeling of wanting to protect overwhelmed him and he swore softly.

Christ, will I never learn?

Especially not with someone who was living next door to him, for fuck’s sake. Someone who obviously had problems of her own. And someone who’d followed him through the stones. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, the stubble grazing his fingertips. He had to try to get her back to the cottage without her realising what had happened, and then he would cut all contact with her.

Once he’d gotten her back safely through the time gate, he’d come back here and stay here until the festival was over, and she went back to Australia. He knew it was the coward’s way out, but there was no way he was putting himself in temptation’s way again.

He groaned. He’d had no control over his response once she’d put her hands on him. For a moment he was tempted to leave, forget the festival, and go back to his island.

But he couldn’t let the band down. Their fame and glory was ahead of them. He’d had his but he couldn’t ruin the band’s by changing today—by changing the past.

He pulled his thoughts to the present and looked ahead as he strode along the side of the narrow brook. No one else was around now that it was light and he finally approached the place where he’d left Megan fast asleep. He fought the anticipation curling in his stomach at seeing her again. Hopefully, she was awake and dressed.

But she was gone. No sign of her.

Fuck. He was sure he was in the right place.

Ten minutes later, he’d walked the path twice but there was no sign of her. He paused and looked down. The grass was flattened where he’d lain with her. He closed his eyes, fighting the fresh surge of desire that pumped through his blood.

Running his fingers through his hair in frustration, he walked back to the field where the main tent was set up.

The dawn light stole over Glastonbury Tor. They’d missed the perfect time for going through the gate, and now they’d have to go at midday. David slammed his fist onto his palm as he stood and turned slowly, searching the fields. A nagging fear settled in him and grew with each step he took.

I have to find her.

The early morning sunlight shone across the fields and the crowd had grown overnight. Small tents and tepees had sprung up all over the fields between the cottages and the stages. Throngs of people were massed around each of the performance areas and the air was alive with music and the appreciative calls of the festival goers.

Where the fuck did she go?

Maybe she’d tried to walk back home? Maybe she was in the crowd somewhere? If she did know about the gate, maybe she’d gone back through already?

Wherever she was he had to find her, and quickly. Making a snap decision and trying to forestall the worst thing that she could do, he turned to cross the field back to the cottages. If she wasn’t there, he’d backtrack and come back to the festival. There was plenty of time before their ten o’clock set. If she’d gone back to the cottage and come across Alice McLaren, she’d think she was crazy. Maybe Jules’s ghost story would come in handy after all.

The low murmur of voices drifted across to him, and the sweet smell of dope pervaded the morning air as the smells and the bright morning light filled him with a buzz. Blood pumped through his legs and his muscles tightened as he strode out. Megan’s scent stayed with him and he could still feel her fingers gripping his shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he set out for the cottage.

Forget her. Get her home safely and leave her alone.

Keeping to the edge of the field and staying well away from the stone markers, David reached the back gate of his cottage in less than thirty minutes. A wisp of smoke curled from the chimney at Violet Cottage and he groaned.

With any luck, she had come back and gone to bed and not noticed anything was different.

Who was he kidding? It was 1971 and Alice was in Violet Cottage.

The whole flaming garden was different and as he crossed the porch, the lack of roses and the back porch with no furniture stood out like a beacon.

Christ, all it needed was a sign saying “welcome to 1971” and it couldn’t be more bleeding obvious that it was a different time.

David stepped to the door as the sound of a woman singing softly drifted out through the window.

He raised his hand to knock but the door opened before his fingers touched the wood.

“Holy shit.” David closed his eyes and groaned.