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As she climbed higher and higher, small pebbles skittering down the slope from under her shoes, she thought about the good things in her life she’d go back to. Her pediatric practice. Her family. Her friends. Her apartment in New York with heating and electricity and a fridge. Antibiotics and other medicine that could save people’s lives.

There would be no Una, and there would be no Aulay.

She’d be one of many doctors who could help patients in the twenty-first century. But then the people here wouldn’t have anyone who understood the importance of antiseptics, cleaning tables and instruments, and keeping good hygiene.

Like Aulay had said, there was no one like her in this time.

The thought about how much good she could do for the people of this time made her stop. Her legs just wouldn’t move and walk her up the hill. And Una…poor girl…she needed a mother, and Jenny wanted a baby.

But what about her own baby?

Yes, her own baby. She wouldn’t abandon the thing that mattered most to her for Aulay. A man who, just as she had feared and suspected all along, would easily betray her given a chance. He’d believed in her for a time. Then suddenly he didn’t. How could she trust him not to hurt her again?

She couldn’t.

That gave her the strength to keep walking. She looked back at the ship, and the view from here was spectacular. The vast Irish Sea was dark because of the gray clouds in the sky. The wind brought the scent of the sea and algae. It flapped her wet skirt, piercing her legs with cold needles. She shivered. There was no other land in sight. Of course, that would be problematic once she returned to her own time. How would she be able to call someone to come for her from an uninhabited island?

Well, she’d think about that once she got back. Maybe she could flag down a passing ship. She’d done it in this time.

Finally, she was on top of the island, its surface covered in grass and moss. Occasional clover blossoms showed white among the grass. Seagulls flew high in the sky, squawking.

She needed to hurry. She had no idea where the Highlanders were. Only, as she moved towards the place where the lighthouse used to stand, where she knew the rock was, it became hard to walk. Surely because she was cold. Not because the thought of leaving Aulay, of living in a world without him, filled her chest with dread.

There it was, the rock, dark against the moss and the grass. Maybe twenty steps away.

Something dark moved at the periphery of her vision, and she heard the thumps of many feet against the ground and the rhythmical clunk of metal against wood. From behind the curve of the other side of the island, the Highlanders appeared. They ran up the hill, first a couple, then all of them. They carried chests, swords, and armor in their hands and ran, quietly, efficiently.

When their eyes landed on her, they frowned and slowed down, breathing heavily. “What are ye doing here, lass?” asked one of them, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

“Get the hell out, lass,” said another.

She gaped at them, surprised they weren’t grabbing her and taking her with them.

Until one particular giant figure stopped before her, shielding the sun, which was barely protruding from behind the leaden clouds. Aulay’s face was furious, his nostrils flaring, eyebrows drawn together. There must have been a dozen swords in his arms.

They had found their treasure ship.

“What, God’s arse, are ye doing here?” he thundered.

She gaped, words escaping her. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to say anything.

His gaze dropped to the rock behind her, and his face lost all expression. Then she saw something behind him, from the south—three ships were coming, their red sails bearing three golden lions.

They were so much bigger than Aulay’s ship.

She looked at him again. The threat in his eyes made her want to recoil. He was a predator on a hunt, and she was his prey. The anger in his eyes, the readiness to get what he wanted, made her feet feel cemented to the ground. He was not going to let her slip away.

But she wouldn’t give in so easily.

She ran to the rock. Just one touch of her hand to the palm print and she’d travel back in time. She wouldn’t let him catch her again. She wouldn’t let him imprison her, not when she was only twenty feet away from home.

The clatter of metal against rocks told her he’d dropped the swords on the ground. Quick, heavy steps sounded behind her.

But she pumped her legs harder, the sodden dress cold and heavy around them. Ten feet to the rock.

“Stop!” Aulay cried somewhere close behind her. “Ye wilna escape!”

Five feet. Almost there.