The twenty-first century was a cacophony of noise.

During her initial visit to Larkin, she’d thought it was a quiet little village. But it seemed like with every passing second a loud car roared past or a plane zipped above in the sky, the distant sound of its engine reverberating throughout the streets. Even the inn itself was a hubbub of activity; the voices of various guests echoing throughout the halls, their cell phones chiming with texts and calls.

Isabelle lay in the bed of her guest room; the same guest room she’d checked into weeks ago. She closed her eyes, pulling the pillow over her head. She felt a sudden pang of longing for the relative silence of the fourteenth century; the steady clatter of horse hooves, the whisper of wind through tree branches, the patter of raindrops on the ground.

But most of all, she longed for Ciaran. Her heart clenched in her chest as she recalled the look in his eyes as he pushed her through the invisible portal—the longing and regret. The same vortex of wind that sucked her back to the past thrust her back to her own time. After a temporary suspension in darkness, she found herself in modern-day Tairseach. She could tell by the sight of her car and the difference in the trees and bushes that surrounded the village. Still, in her grief and shock she'd stumbled forward, screaming for Ciaran.

She’d almost gone back again, seeking that vortex of wind to get back to him, when a car pulled up to the side of the road, and her brother Scott stumbled out, shouting her name.

Scott had rushed to her, relief shining in his eyes, and pulled her into his arms. Later, he’d told her that the inn put him into contact with Jon after she went missing. He was the one who told her she may be in this area.

“Izzy.”

Scott’s voice pulled Isabelle from the maelstrom of her thoughts, and she turned to face him. He’d returned her to the inn, and she’d been in bed most of the time, silent and shell-shocked. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she’d returned to the present. A day? Two?

Scott entered, his face taut with concern as he sat down next to her. Guilt swirled through her at the shadows beneath his eyes; he’d been deeply worried after she went missing. Scott had questioned her about the medieval gown she was wearing when he found her, but Isabelle hadn’t told him where she’d been; she was too grief-stricken and exhausted to come up with a plausible story.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened now,” he said gently, as she met his eyes. “But I want to help, Iz. Please. I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you like this. Is there anything I can do?”

Go back to the 1390 and save Ciaran’s life. Bring him back to me. And find Fiona while you're at it, Isabelle said silently, her chest going tight. She met her brother’s eyes, the same light shade of blue as hers. How could she tell him what really happened? Scott meant well, but he’d have her sent to a psych hospital.

“I just want to be left alone,” she whispered.

“Iz—"

“Please,” she said. “I—I just need to rest. And then I’ll to talk to you later, okay?”

Scott hesitated, but he finally got to his feet and left her room.

Once he'd left, Isabelle sat up, a renewed surge of determination flowing through her. How long was she going to languish here in her grief? If this time travel thing worked in real time, Tavish may have seized Ciaran, but there was a chance he could still be alive. She needed to get back to him.

But first she needed to make sure she did it right. For some reason, she’d ended up in Ciaran’s path the last time she fell through time. She wasn’t certain where she’d end up if she went back on her own now. There was someone who could get her back to the right place—the right time. Kensa.

Had she not been so grief-stricken and shell-shocked, and had her brother not shown up, she would have gone to Kensa’s house and demanded that she get her back to the fourteenth century. And Isabelle would go back, but this time it wasn’t just for Fiona. It was for Ciaran.

The man she loved.

She didn’t realize she loved him until she returned to the present. Once it hit her that she was separated from Ciaran by centuries, her grief had incapacitated her. In the past, she knew she desired him, cared for him—but the depths of her feelings hadn’t been clear until now. Feelings that now propelled her to fight for him.

She slid out of bed. She reached for a pad of stationary to scribble out a note for Scott, informing him that she needed to take a walk. And then, feeling like a prisoner making a jail break, she climbed out her window and scurried away from the inn.

Isabelle slid into her rental car, relieved that Scott had driven it back for her. She made her way to Kensa’s home by memory, and when she arrived, she scrambled out of the car, hurrying to the front door and pounding on it.

No one answered. Frustrated, she moved over to the large front window, peeking in.

And her heart plummeted in her chest. The previously cluttered living room was empty as was the kitchen. The house was completely cleared out.

Tears stung at her eyes, and she stumbled back, pressing her hand to her mouth. Kensa was the one who’d made her time travel in the first place—right? Was she even able to travel back in time on her own? What if Ciaran was forever lost to her? And Fiona?

“Who lives here?”

Isabelle whirled, startled. Scott stood several yards away, leaning against his car, his arms folded across his chest with narrowed eyes.

“I followed you,” he said, at her look of surprise. “Those were some nice moves, climbing out the window. You did the same thing when you were a teenager sneaking out to parties you weren’t allowed to attend.”

Isabelle flushed, swallowing hard as Scott approached her.

“Now’s the time to talk, Izzy. I want to know where you were for all those weeks.”

* * *

Scott paced back and forth in her small guest room, his arms folded across his chest. Isabelle sat on the edge of her bed, her knees curled up to her chest, watching him with nervous anticipation.

She’d told him everything that happened from the moment Kensa came with her to Tairseach to the moment she’d returned. Now, she waited for him to tell her she was crazy, or lying, or both.

Scott finally stopped pacing to face her, dropping his hands at his sides, his expression tumultuous.

“I believe you.”

Isabelle stared at him for a moment, uncertain she’d heard him right.

“What?”

“You’d never let me worry about you for weeks unless there was a good reason—and you were wearing what looked to be an authentic medieval gown when I found you. But most importantly, I saw your face when you showed up in that field. Your anguish was real. This guy—this Ciaran—I can tell he means a lot to you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her throat going dry. “He did. He does. I—I don’t know how to refer to him—in the present or past tense.”

“Present,” Scott said firmly, sitting down next to her.

Isabelle smiled, then stiffened as she recalled what he just said.

“You said I showed up in a field. Did you not see Tairseach?”

“No. Just an open field. You did mention only people with the ability to travel can see it.”

Isabelle bit her lip, considering this. Ciaran could see Tairseach. But then she remembered Kensa’s words. In this time, only people with the ability to travel can see it. So Tairseach was visible to everyone in the past, regardless of their time-traveling ability.

“I assume you went to Kensa’s for help with returning to the past?” Scott asked.

“Yes.”

She thought Scott would try to dissuade her and braced herself. Instead, he gave her a small smile.

“I know how single-minded you are, Iz,” he said with a sigh. “And I know that even if I didn’t help you, you’d go back anyway. I have to ask—are you sure about this? And . . . what if you can’t come back?”

Isabelle considered this possibility. She wasn’t certain of the answer to her brother’s questions, but she was certain that she needed to get back to Ciaran. That not seeing him again was untenable.

“Then that’s just a risk I’ll have to take,” she said.

Scott didn’t look surprised. He gave her a smile filled with resolve.

“Then you know what you need to do. Tell me how I can help.”