"I I've never travelled in tandem."

"Has anyone?"

He nodded. "Ailfrid, the man who taught me. I don't know if I would be successful. And if I travelled back alone to learn, to perfect it, I don't know if I could time it precisely enough to come back here before ..." He trailed off.

She nodded. "It's okay. I understand. It was horribly selfish of me to-"

"No, no, that's not it. You've made me think a lot more about the moratorium we've set on utilizing time travel. It's no' something that we'd be able to change, not widespread, in any rapid time, nor should we."

"But?"

"But ... when I travel ... only Ailfrid knows of it. It's ... not exactly sanctioned."

She smiled, then. "Ah. A renegade."

"Only in this. And, perhaps, in some of my ideas for instigating change and progress. Abby, it's quite possible we could heal you. There are few ailments we haven't learned to conquer. Life expectancy is far longer than it is in your time. Centurians are so commonplace, it's an expected age to reach. But, as I said before ... our time my time is otherwise not a good one. You could be healed, but you'd be living in a time of great strife and danger. No' much, if any, prosperity."

"Living longer would be prosperity enough. You wouldn't be responsible for me, Calum. I wouldn't expect-"

"I'd no' walk away from ye, Abby," he said, the almost instantaneous fierce response to thinking of her alone, without him, bringing out the stronger brogue of this day and time, than that of his own.

"Then ... why don't you instil the changes you're thinking about. Utilize this gift you have, this skill you've learned. Move through time, figure out how to right things in the past, so you won't have to go through what you're all suffering in the future. You won't need permission, because it won't be happening."

He smiled then. "Save the world. As if it's so simple as all that."

"Individuals have made huge impacts in the dynamics of our world. You'll have something of an advantage. And even if you fail, Calum, you couldn't leave your people in worse shape. Yet you could be their great hope. I would be willing wanting to go with you. To help you. Would I stay healed?"

"You remain as ever you are when you leave. I age as I would in my time, regardless of the time I'm in. But then, I never stay that long. The windows are brief. Which is why I don't know how much impact I could have."

"Would you be willing to think about it? Even if you have to go back to do it. Would you try and come back to me for me?"

"Abby ..."

"I'm not begging you, Calum. Nor will I. You have to do what you think is best for all concerned, and that encompasses so many more than just me. I know this. I know what I'm asking. At least, I understand there are ramifications neither of us might comprehend now. But I keep thinking about the alternatives. For us both. I don't see where the risk isn't worth taking, no matter how you measure it. Obviously, I have nothing to lose here. But you have things you could gain. And my dedication to help you achieve them. Will you at least consider it? Think on it?"

He pulled her close again, felt her heart beating, felt the life pulsing inside of her ... and though he had many misgivings, he already knew he had no choice. No choice at all.

The question before him wasn't if he could live with saving her. He could. He knew it was her only hope. And, selfishly, his own.

But could everyone else live with the choice that would be forced on them? By him?

Eight.

Two mornings later, Abby was standing cliffside with Calum, still not quite believing how dramatically her life had changed in a mere forty-eight hours. And the most dramatic part hadn't even happened yet. Which was saying quite a lot.

"Are you certain of this?" she asked, for at least the dozenth time since Calum had told her he would take her with him.

He smiled at her, his hand steady in hers, as it had been for most of the past two days. They'd talked for most of it, sharing details of their lives, both broad and intensely intimate. They'd explored other things more intimately as well, but Calum was so concerned for her health that for the past day, he'd refused to do more than kiss her and stroke her face and hair. Admittedly, even that had been lovelier than she'd ever anticipated experiencing, especially now, so close to the end. So, she hadn't pushed. Calum wanted her to have all her strength for their planned transition.

He turned to her and framed her face. How was it that his own face had become so dear to her, so quickly? If she let herself think about it, she'd question all of it, most specifically her sanity. So ... she didn't. She just stayed in the moment, and believed, with all that she had, that this was truly happening for her.

"Aye," he said, "as certain as I could ever be. You've convinced me that we're ignoring the one thing that could save us. It could be our only hope." He pulled her closer. "And you're mine." He tipped her chin up, then cupped her cheek. "So, first, I have to save you."

"I can't believe this is happening," she said, shakily, but smiling up into his twinkling blue eyes. "I know I asked begged you to consider it, but I still can't quite believe ..."

He leaned down and kissed her. "Believe, Abby." Then he looked up at the sun, and turned back to the castle proper. "It's time." He lifted her into his arms. "Hold on tightly to me," he said, as she looped her arms around his neck. "I willnae know, precisely, where I will land. So, keep hold, until I tell you what to do next. Do ye ken, Abby? Ye must promise me to-"

"I promise. I won't do anything foolish, I swear." Then she laughed at the absurdity of that statement, and he joined her.

"Come here," he said, and kissed her.

And the world spun ... and kept spinning.

She felt weightless, then squeezed more tightly than she could ever recall feeling. She would have squirmed, but Calum kept his lips on hers, and she felt as if his own life force was seeping into her body. She felt electric, alive, almost crackling with it, as if sparks would snap from the ends of her hair and her fingertips, were she only to open her eyes and cast a glance at them.

And then the spinning shifted, and became wonky and wobbly, and she felt her stomach pitch. She held on more tightly as panic began to creep in. Trust, trust, trust. She kept repeating the words in her mind, as it felt as if she were going to be ripped, bodily from him, and flung into some jagged, abrupt, and endless void. She held on, literally, for dear life.

And then suddenly, shudderingly, with a jolt that knocked the breath completely out of her, there was a thudding impact, as if the ground had suddenly rushed up to meet her.

There was pain, jarring pain, but then she was rolling, and strong arms were still around her, and before she could gather her wits or her breath, she was pulled, bodily, hard up against him. Calum.

She forced her eyes open as she struggled to breathe before she passed out from asphyxiation.

Yes, Calum. Right there. Holding on to her.

Which meant ...

She slowly turned her head ... and saw the castle. Or the place where it would have stood. It was a pile of rubble now, with hardly more than two feet of wall left of the tower, and most of it overgrown with dried vegetation and scruffy, dead weeds.

"Cal-" She tried to speak, but all that came out was a guttural bark.

"Shh," he told her. "Wait, don't talk. We need to get-" He was whispering, though she hadn't seen anyone ... or anything, for that matter. The mountains still framed the backdrop against the sky ... which was a startling shade of orange. Not the orange of a sunset. It looked more ... toxic.

"Hold on to me. We've got to get down below."

She didn't question him, but held on. Dear God, had she actually done it? Was she really in the twenty-sixth century?

She grunted as Calum picked up his pace, until he was jogging over the uneven ground. "Press your mouth to my shirt, don't breathe in more than you must."

"What about you?"

He didn't answer, but tucked her face against his chest and held it there with a firm hand.

And then there was a sliding, a groaning, like stones moving giant stones, but she couldn't look, couldn't see ...

An instant later it was cooler, the air less acrid. She looked up in time to indeed see a large stone wall shift and slide behind Calum, shutting out the orange sky and toxic air.

"Okay," he said, out of breath. "I'm going to let your feet slide to the ground, but I want you to hold on to me until we gather our-"

"Who have you there?"

They both turned at the sound of the deep, echoing voice, Abby stumbling and gripping on to Calum's shirt to keep herself upright.

The man was very short, and very old, leaning heavily on a rapier-like, shiny silver cane. He had a thin beard knotted in a single braid that reached almost to the ground, but it was his eyes that held Abby's attention. They were almost purely white.

"I'm Abby," she said, before Calum could speak for her. "Abby Ramsay. Don't be mad at him. I made him bring me."

"Ailfrid-" Calum began, but rather than look angry or upset, the old man's face split into a wide grin.

"The Ramsay. Ye've finally gone and done it, lad!"

"Ailfrid, I know what we agreed, but let me explain-"

"No need, my son. No need."

Abby looked between Ailfrid, who she knew from Calum was the man who'd taught him all about the physics and science of time travel, and Calum himself, who was looking as confused as she felt.

Ailfrid walked directly up to Abby and looked her up and down. His opaque eyes made it hard to look at him directly, but she didn't want to appear rude. Or weak. So she held his gaze and let him look his fill.

"Calum has told me much about you. It's an honour to meet you," she said, as he finished walking around her.

He stopped in front of her again. "You've come." He reached out a gnarled hand and cupped her forearm, then turned his hazed gaze directly to Calum. "You've saved us." He looked back at her. "She will save us. This I know."

Nine.

And what Ailfrid said was true. Upon Calum's demands to know the truth, the wizened elf of a man had explained his visions, that he'd known there was a saviour coming, but that she'd have to choose to come to them of her own free will. Calum couldn't simply go find her and grab her, or coerce her to come. She had to find him, decide to come, choose to help. Calum was merely there to facilitate her journey. It was why Ailfrid had taught him, trained him, sent him back, time and again ... to ready him for her, for the time she finally showed herself.

"And you brought her here on the very first crossing," he said, smiling almost beatifically now. "Come," he said, reaching for her hand. "We must heal you ... so you can heal us."

She rested her hand on his arm, willing to go with him, appearing excited and eager to find out what happened next.

When Calum merely stood there as Ailfrid led her more deeply into their lab and home base, Ailfrid turned back. "You will guide her as she guides you. Are you up for this most important task?"

Calum didn't hesitate, but locked gazes with Abby, who was already smiling beaming at him and met her in a tight embrace as she ran to him.

"Aye," he said, holding on tightly, knowing he held everything in his arms. Everything. There would be no next time. Now was their time.

And it always would be.

Kidnapping the Laird.

Terri Brisbin.

One.

"She'd make ye a fine wife."

Padruig Grant drank deeply from the cup he held and shook his head at his brother his drunken brother.

"She is already my wife," he replied. They both watched Catriona MacDonnell as she sat talking to some of the other women at the gathering. Padruig glanced at his brother to see if the man was pissed and decided he must be. His marriage had been arranged to bring peace to the neighbouring and warring clans, so there was no doubt that he was married to the woman.

"Aye ... nay ... aye," his brother stuttered.

When he was in his cups, Padruig knew no one but their mother could successfully intervene and order Jamie Grant to his bed and live to do it again. She was nowhere to be seen. Padruig caught the eye of his other younger brother who joined their small group sitting at table in the front of the hall.

"Dougal, I was just telling our brother that she would make him a fine wife," his brother slurred his words now not a good sign at all. Slurring words usually sat one step before a brawl.

"Catriona is married to Padruig," Dougal took their brother's arm and slung it over his shoulders, guiding him to his feet and supporting him once he stood. "I'm hoping you can find a comely lass for me," his brother said to him as he eased Jamie away from the table. But, as most of this day had gone, this would go as well not well that was. Jamie pulled away, straightened to his full height and glared at Padruig, wagging his finger to emphasize his words.

"Ye need bairns, Padruig. Wee'uns to carry our name and blood. And ye need them now," his brother declared. "Get rid of that harlot who shares yer bed and see to yer wife."

Padruig stood then, his blood beginning to boil with rage, and he crossed his arms, glaring right back at his brother. "She is the daughter of our enemy. Why are you so intent on our marriage being anything more than what you helped arrange it to be and when you know the circumstances?"

Jamie squinted and frowned. Why had Padruig tried to speak sensibly to him when he'd been celebrating and drinking since yesterday? "Aye, I arranged it between ye two. But, the MacDonnells are'na our enemies. I think of them as rivals."

Padruig could not help it then. He laughed aloud at his brother's declaration. "Rivals? Rivals, you say? The MacDonnells are nothing more than a band of thieving, cheating, criminals. Or have you forgotten already the cattle they stole from us? Or how they tried to push us from our lands here in Glenmoriston?" He shook his head, refusing to debate or argue when his brother was this drunk or to debate with anyone about her. Glancing up he noticed she was watching their exchange with some interest.

Damn it to hell! Why did she have to be a MacDonnell?

No one would argue that Catriona was a rare beauty with her heart-shaped face, clear blue eyes and wave upon glorious wave of gold-tinged auburn hair that reached to her hips when she unravelled it from the braid that usually confined it. And when she smiled, it was all he could do not to take her to her bed, peel off her garments, kiss her senseless and swive her until they could not move. His trews felt tight now as his cock surged in response to his thoughts about ... his wife! Padruig could not be certain whether the lust in his blood for her showed on his face or not, but Catriona started and looked away, not meeting his gaze.

"Take him to his chambers, Dougal," Padruig ordered, now in a softer voice. His younger brother began to help their sibling from the hall when he paused and smiled at Padruig.

"Ye want her. She's yer wife," Dougal pointed out the obvious, but Padruig waited for the rest. "It may have begun as something else, but that doesna mean it canna be something more."

Padruig closed his eyes, hoping they would both be gone when he opened them. Thankfully, they were. But Catriona remained where she'd been for most of this evening sitting with some of his younger cousins as far from him as she could be and yet still in the same room. She'd forged a friendship of sorts with his sister, who would leave in a few days to live with her husband's family in the western isles. What would Catriona do then? He heard footsteps approaching from his right and knew from Catriona's darkening gaze exactly who walked closer to him.