Over the next two days, Scott became her partner in crime as she prepared to return to the fourteenth century. They were operating under the hope that she could return to the past without Kensa, though they suspected she'd used some sort of magic to help propel Isabelle through time.

Isabelle told him her theories about time travel—that Tairseach was a portal for travelers, and that time in the past occurred at the same pace as time in the present. She’d been gone for a little over a month in the present—and in the past. But that was all they had to go on, and Isabelle could only pray that when she returned, she would return to the same year.

“Are you willing to take the risk of ending up in another time?” Scott asked her grimly.

“Yes,” Isabelle returned after a brief pause. “I just know that I have to try.”

They drove to Inverness, where they found an antique clothing shop that sold her a fourteenth-century gown, as the gown she’d worn when she traveled back through time was now frayed by her journey.

They even went to an antique weapons store, where Scott found an old dagger authentic to the time, telling her she’d need protection.

But Scott’s most important contribution was his friendship with Niall, a Scottish historian with a contact in the rare books section of the library in Inverness. He gave them access to land grant records in the Highlands from the fourteenth century, and a map of the region from the time. Isabelle thought it would be pointless, but Scott insisted it couldn't help to look over the records to see if there was something that could help her.

She reluctantly combed over copies of land records when they returned to the inn. She refused to go past the year 1389, not wanting to accidentally stumble across something that revealed a dark fate for Ciaran. She wouldn't accept anything other than him surviving Tavish’s plot and returning to his castle as laird.

She’d been reviewing the records for nearly two hours—and was on the verge of giving up—when a familiar name caught her eye. She froze, her finger running over the scrawled words. It detailed the ceding of lands by a T of Clan Aitharne to a Walrick of the same clan.

She scrambled to her feet, leaving her room to knock on her brother’s door.

"I think the T stands for Tavish, Ciaran's brother,” she said, showing Scott the record when he let her in. “He’s ceding land to someone. I may not know much about clans and how things worked back then, but—”

"Ceding land is something only lairds or men with property of their own could do," Scott concluded.

“Exactly. Ciaran was laird in 1389, not Tavish. If Tavish was granting land to people when he shouldn’t have—an entire year before he set Ciaran up for murder—this may be proof. It shows that Tavish was paying someone off . . . possibly to lie for him,” Isabelle said, her heart hammering. “Scott . . . what if this is what Ciaran needs to clear his name?”

“Then you’ve found your smoking gun,” Scott confirmed.

* * *

They determined that Isabelle would attempt to return to the past the next day. Scott suggested they grab dinner at a small restaurant in town, which served “authentic Highland fare” according to the smiling woman who owned it.

They ate in silence over their meal of Scotch broth and shortbread, until Scott set down his fork.

“So. You go back, you successfully rescue Ciaran and find Fiona. Then what? Do you come back?”

Isabelle stilled. She had already experienced life in the fourteenth century and acclimated to it quite well. And the time period could use her teaching skills, given how common illiteracy was. But most importantly, the thought of finding Ciaran—only to leave him again—was incomprehensible.

Scott saw the answer in her eyes and gave her a small nod.

"I already knew your answer. I just had to make sure. If you do stay, I can take care of things for you in Chicago—your apartment and job. You won’t have to worry about that. I can tell you love him, Iz," he said, giving her a sad smile. "I'd have loved a chance to meet the guy who's stolen my little sister's heart."

“I don’t know if he feels the same way,” Isabelle replied, a stab of insecurity piercing her. “He’ll probably be angry with me for returning and insist that I come back to my own time. But I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.”

“I know,” Scott said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

"Scottie,” she said, a rush of warmth filling her heart as she used her childhood nickname for her brother. Scott had always been there for her; she'd lucked out by having him as a brother. “Thank you for believing me. And for helping me."

“Hey,” Scott said, leaning forward in his chair. “I made you a promise after Mom and Dad died, remember? I promised I’d protect you and do everything I could to make sure you were happy. I may not be able to protect you in the past, but if this man makes you happy, I can help you get back to him."

Though she was reassured by Scott’s words, that night she couldn’t sleep. What if she couldn’t travel through time without Kensa? What if she ended up in a different place? A different time? And an even darker thought plagued her. What if it was already too late to save Ciaran, and he’d already been executed?

A strangled sob erupted from her at the thought, and she pressed her hand to her mouth. She wouldn’t let herself entertain it.

She finally managed to get a small amount of sleep, crawling out of bed just after dawn to dress in her medieval gown, stowing the dagger securely beneath her sleeve. Scott’s eyes widened when he came to her room to collect her.

“Well, you certainly look the part, Iz,” he said with a grin.

They drove to Tairseach in silence, Isabelle having to point out where to stop once she spotted its ruins.

When they climbed out of the car, Scott gave her the longest embrace he’d ever given her—even longer than the one he’d given her after they lost their parents.

"Be safe, Izzy," he whispered, when he released her. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, blinking back tears. “If I do stay in the past, I’ll find a way to visit you. I promise.”

“Good. But even if you don’t . . . I just want your happiness. And it sounds like your Highlander makes you happy. Now go. Go rescue the man you love.”

It was an echo of the words Ciaran had spoken, right before he pushed her back through time. Live yer life. Go. But what she’d realized in that moment was that her life was with Ciaran.

Isabelle smiled, giving her brother one last look before she turned to enter the village. She could feel Scott’s eyes on her as she made her way to the same spot she’d come to with Kensa.

She took a deep breath as the wind picked up, and unlike the other two times she’d traveled, when she’d felt uncertainty and fear—this time there was only determination. Determination and love.

Ciaran, she thought, her heart swelling as she saw the man she loved in her mind’s eye.

She closed her eyes, allowing the wind to suck her back through the chasm of time.