It was late the next evening when a messenger arrived from the king’s castle in Dundonald with the news that King Robert had died, and his son was to succeed him.

Eadan read the letter with shaky hands, but it wasn’t surprise that filled him. It was guilt. Some part of him had known, as impossible at it was, that Fiona spoke the truth. She’d told him the truth and he’d doubted her.

He recalled with a chill a question she’d asked the night he met her. What year is it? With everything that happened with Dughall, he’d forgotten about that odd question; buried it in the corner of his mind. But now it came to him with the force of a sword’s blow.

He tore down the corridor to Fiona’s chamber. When he found it empty, panic coursed through him. Had she left and returned to her own time? Or worse, had one of Dughall’s men gotten into the castle and taken her?

He turned when he heard footsteps, and relief filled him at the sight of Fiona approaching the chamber from the far end of the corridor, Ronan at her side. She stiffened at the sight of him, and the defensive look that came across her face splintered his heart.

“I needed air. Ronan took pity on me. I—”

“It’s no matter,” he said, striding forward to take her hand. “Ronan, leave us.”

Ronan obliged him, but he saw an irritating look of amusement in his cousin’s eyes as he pulled Fiona into the chamber, closing the door behind them.

Unable to stop himself, he pressed her to the door, leaning in to kiss her, breathing her in. Fiona remained stiff for only a moment before responding, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her beautiful body close to his. He wanted to hold her close to him forever, but he made himself pull back.

When they broke apart, they were both breathless. She studied him, hope filling her eyes.

“You believe me?” she whispered.

“Aye,” he whispered. “Just got word from the king’s castle. But even if I hadn’t, I should’ve believed ye. I’m a fool. I should’ve believed ye as soon as ye told me. I’m sorry.”

“You do now,” Fiona said, relief flooding her expression as she have him a wavering smile. “That’s all that matters to me.”

But the elation of Fiona forgiving him quickly faded. She didn’t belong in this time and he had no right to keep her here. He took a breath, forcing himself to say his next words.

“Now it’s even more urgent that we get ye out of here and back tae yer own time. I can accompany ye tae Tairseach.”

Conflict flared in Fiona’s eyes. Eadan reached out to cup her face.

“Ye’re safe in yer own time. It's tae dangerous for ye here.”

Fiona bit her lip, looking as if she'd protest, but she gave him an abrupt nod.

“You’re right,” she whispered.

A heaviness settled over Eadan as he and Fiona slipped from the castle. They left through the rear, and he made Fiona place the plaid cloak around her head to conceal herself.

As they rode away from the castle, his tumult increased. An ache had begun to grow in his chest, one he suspected would continue to expand after she’d gone. This mysterious lass from the future had embedded herself in his heart and he didn’t know how he’d remove her. He didn’t want to.

Eadan tried to focus on the feel of her hands around his back as they rode, her natural honeyed scent that he hoped to memorize. He forced himself to ignore the tightness in his gut, gripping the reins with such force his knuckles turned white. Eadan had to remind himself, repeatedly, that this was for the best, that Dughall could harm her; it didn’t matter that once she'd gone, his heart would return to its cage of isolation, likely never to emerge again.

They soon arrived at the abandoned village of Tairseach, and a chill crept down Eadan’s spine. Like many who lived in the area, he’d heard tales of Tairseach, how people went missing here. Many believed there was dark magic at play, or that ancient druid witches had something to do with the disappearances. Eadan hadn’t fallen prey to the same beliefs, but unease filled him whenever he heard rumors about the village.

But now he knew the reason for the disappearances. Tairseach was a portal through time.

Behind him, Fiona’s grip tightened on him as he guided the horse through the empty village, past the old crumbling cottages and workshops until they reached the ruins of the castle on the edge of the village.

They dismounted, and Eadan tied the horse to a tree while Fiona stiffly faced the castle. She turned to glance back at the village, a look of quiet amazement on her face.

“It looked similar in my time,” she murmured. She turned, pointing to the base of the castle with trembling hands.

“That’s where it happened,” she said. “In my time. I was following a woman, I ended up in the cellar, there was a wind—and I arrived in your castle somehow.”

Eadan again cursed himself for not believing her right away. There was a genuine haunted look in Fiona’s eyes.

“Then this must be the way back,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Fiona stiffened as she looked at him, her eyes filling with . . . pain? Longing? But the look was quickly gone as she turned back to face the castle, taking a shaky step forward.

“Do you hear that?” she breathed. “That wind?”

Eadan frowned, shaking his head. The day was perfectly still, not even a light breeze stirred the grass.

“No.”

Fiona swallowed, still studying the castle. “It must be the portal.”

Eadan nodded, trying to keep his expression stoic even as the ache in his heart grew. Leave, he silently urged Fiona. Before I do something foolish like trying to convince ye tae stay.

But it would be selfish to convince her to stay. He had to return his focus to gathering evidence against Dughall, finding his steward, keeping his clan safe from Clan Acheson. Fiona didn’t belong in this time. Didn’t belong with him.

“Then ye should go,” he said, hating the way his voice trembled.

Fiona’s eyes glistened with tears when she again looked at him. She opened her mouth to say something, before falling silent again.

He stepped forward, forcing himself to give her just a brief kiss.

“Be safe and happy, Fiona,” he whispered.

“You too,” she said shakily, blinking back tears.

Fiona turned and approached the castle. Eadan watched her go, clenching his hands at his side, forcing himself to stay still, to not run after her . . . until she disappeared inside the castle.

He wasn’t expecting the sudden pain that seared his chest like a scorching fire, and he had to expel a sharp breath and close his eyes.

’Tis for the best, he reminded himself, but that didn’t ease his pain. The world around him already seemed dimmer with her absence. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel the natural joy that filled him every time she was around.

He started to turn back to his horse, but froze when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

It was Fiona. She stalked out of the castle toward him, a determined gleam in her eyes.

“Fiona—” he began, startled.

“We made a deal,” she said. “I help you, then you help me get back.”

“Ye have helped me,” he said, even as hope and delight spiraled through him. “Ye posed as my bride, and—”

“But you still don’t know what Dughall’s up to. We still have time before his deadline. You can still gather evidence he’s working against you and your clan. I can help—by doing more than just posing as your bride. Only then will I leave. I don’t know about this time, but in my time . . . a deal’s a deal.”

Fiona raised her head with defiance as if expecting him to protest. Admiration, joy, relief, and an emotion he couldn’t identify coursed through him. He stepped forward, taking both her hands.

“Aye,” he said, smiling. “A deal’s a deal.”