Passing on the food, Lilly reached for the tea, not knowing what to ask first. She had so many questions about all the different things she had heard and seen.

 

          “Start with the basics,” Gabe offered. “Like, where are we?”

Lilly shook her head. “I already know that answer. How about when? When are we?”

 

          Gabe’s sharp eyes focused on her face. “1503.”

 

          Exhaling slowly, Lilly blinked rapidly, her mind absorbing the new information. “1503,” she repeated, her heart pounding.

He gave her one clear nod as he watched her reaction.

          The last hour was recent memory, so she pulled it easily from her mind, studying it like she would a book. She listened again to each word every person in the room had said. Watched every movement they had made. There was nothing to suggest that what she had witnessed wasn’t real. Yet the doubt was there, sitting in her stomach, heavy and nauseating.

 

          Although her body’s reaction was to rebel against the new information, her mind would not allow her to block anything out. Her mind went through everything that had transpired since she’d awoken and, as crazy as it seemed, being in 1503 would explain everything. The herbs, the walls, the clothing and, most importantly, it would explain why the CN Tower hadn’t squashed her. Or would it?

 

          She took a sip of the tea—her head was beginning to throb again with the mere idea of being back in the past. If this was really…real, she had hundreds of other questions.

 

          She blinked, her vision clearing. “Now that I know the where and when, I’ll ask about the how. How did I get here?”

 

          Gabe’s golden eyebrows pushed together. He clasped his hands together, sighing. “I can tell you how you got here in general terms, but not the mechanics of it. I don’t fully understand how he’s able to do it.”

 

          Lilly took in the details of his handsome face and knew from his intense stare that not a single detail would slip past him, that he was aware of everything that surrounded him.

 

          “You were brought here by a Time Shifting Interval System.”

 

          “What’s a Time Shifting Interval System?”

 

          “Basically, it’s a fancy name for a time machine. You felt the wind, didn’t you? The mini twister?”

 

          She sat up straighter, her eyes widening. “Yeah!”

 

          He nodded. “That’s the TSIS. From what I understand, it produces the whirlwind. It’s that whirlwind that tracks and locates a target—in this case, you. Once you’re inside, it locks you into place so you can’t slip out of it, then pulls you from one time to another.”

 

          “So that was why I couldn’t get away from it. Every time I moved, it followed me.”

 

          He nodded. “I was told it locks you in place to read your genetic structure, so it can put you back together in the right order at your destination point.” He paused, then cocked his head a little to the side. “It took you while you were at work?”

 

          She took another sip of tea and swallowed. “I had just gotten there and was talking to my frie—To my manager,” she corrected herself. Looking into the cup, she remembered the overwhelming feeling she’d had as Stacey left. Had it been coincidence, or part of this time shifting thing?

 

          Time shifting? She frowned. Do I actually believe this man? The impossible question flew around her head. She wasn’t sure—things weren’t clear. She touched her temple, feeling the swollen edge of a cut on her forehead. Slowly, she traced its outline with the tips of her fingers, taking note of each stitch.

 

          “I have seven stitches.” The large chunk of cement that hit her while she was waiting for the tower to crush her. She remembered the feeling of her blood as it had slid down her face. Of course she remembered—she remembered everything. Not even shifting through time could change that.

 

          Gabe nudged the cup in her hands and, without thinking, she took another swallow.

 

          “What was going on around you when you were taken?”

 

          Looking into the cup, she thought about work, about how the tower had begun to fall. Watching it back in her head now, everything seemed to be in slow motion, like it had been at the time. The antenna sliding gracefully to the side, the slow way it had begun to fall.

 

          A thick, painful lump formed in her throat. What if there had been people trapped inside? The evening rush hour wasn’t the busiest time for customers, but there was always someone walking around. And Stacey had mentioned that schools were booking last minute tours. She sucked in a breath, keeping her eyes down. What if there had been children, trapped… The idea made her sick. She closed her eyes, thinking of all the death and destruction. How horrible.

 

          She felt such sadness for those people, it felt like she was being crushed by it. But she also felt sorry for herself. If what Gabe said was true, if she was back in 1503 and this wasn’t some weird dream, then she wasn’t dead. And she had been ready to die. She had accepted her death as she’d watched the tower falling towards her, accepted her death like she’d accepted everything else in her life—without question. With all the times in her life things hadn’t worked out in her favour, she’d thought at least her death was a certainty. Now that, too, had been taken from her.

 

          Shaking her head, Lilly looked directly into Gabe’s eyes. If she shared her true feelings with him, he would probably think she was out of her mind, which at this point wasn’t far off the mark.

 

          He nodded, not pushing her on the subject. There was understanding in those light green eyes and she was grateful for that.

 

          Instead, she cleared her throat and asked abruptly, “Where in England are we?”

 

          He sat back, looking at her. “Northern England, about ten kilometres from the Scottish border.”

 

          “The year is 1503 and we are ten kilometres from the Scottish border,” she repeated. “How often do you deal with Scottish reivers?”

 

          He narrowed his eyes. “Enough to keep things interesting.”

 

          “Oh.” She drank the last of her tea and leant back against the pillow. The pounding in her head was all but gone, her limbs felt heavy and her mind… It felt calm, almost at rest. Weird.

 

          “What did you do at this CN Tower?” Gabe asked. He wanted to know how she knew about the reivers and the herbs and why she was so observant, and he needed the answers quickly. Edna’s brew was beginning to take effect.

 

          She placed a hand over her mouth as she yawned, displaying the light sprinkling of freckles trailing their way up her arm, “I’m a part-time buyer. I order everything for the tower—flowers, building materials, food for the kitchens and all types of souvenirs and little knick-knacks for people to buy.”

 

          Gabe nodded as he listened to her answer, knowing he had no reason to be suspicious. His gut told him Lilly wasn’t anyone to be alarmed about. She was simply a woman McGill had shifted. Yet years of intense training had taken his unusually cautious nature and honed it to a fine point. So, instinctively, he pushed her for more intel.

 

          “Part-time?” he asked casually. “What else did you do?” There was something more to her—there had to be. McGill had taken her for a reason. What reason?

 

          Each of them offered something to their survival in this new time. George was a doctor. Marc was genius when it came to numbers but he was also a structural engineer. Harry was not only a highly trained and specialised soldier but he had been born and raised in the Scottish territory. Gabe, too, was a soldier like Harry, serving with him in the United Battle Force—and he was also a descendant of Thomas Sutherland, which had put him in the position to take over the role of lord when Thomas had died of his wounds. All four of them had something to contribute and, knowing McGill, Lilly would have something to give as well.

 

          “I went to school.” He took the cup from her hand as she rested her head back and closed her eyes, sighing. ”I was just about finished, too. One more semester and I would have completed my Master’s. That sucks—I was really looking forward to my last class. I enjoyed listening to Professor McGill. He’s this little, weird guy with glasses. I sometimes feel sorry for him. I think he has some form of attention disorder, because he never sits still, but he is so passionate when he speaks.”

 

          Gabe froze, stunned by her admission. No! It couldn’t be him. The odds were just too damn high for it to be him. But he had to ask, “What was your professor teaching you that he was so passionate about?”

 

          She yawned again. “Medieval studies.”

         

          Hiding his surprise, Gabe placed the cup on the tray. McGill had sent them one of his students! His nostrils flared as he looked down at Lilly lying peacefully in the big bed. What had that crazy bastard done?

 

          McGill had sent an angel capable of steering them though the sixteenth century for the rest of their lives, that’s what he’d done. Did she even belong here? Had he followed his normal pattern and pulled her away just as she was about to die? He’d find out as soon as she was ready to share the details—or if he got his hands on McGill first. The last thought caused the centres of his palms to itch.

 

          The room was dark and quiet. Gabe stared at Lilly for a long time, listening to her slow, even breaths as she drifted off. Her dark lashes twitched and she licked her lips slowly before softly asking, “I’m not dead, am I?”

 

          Gabe stilled. The muscles in his back and neck grew tight. Her face had a peaceful glow—it was the hint of disappointment to her words that unnerved him. How could someone so young have regrets about living?

 

          “Gabe?” she whispered.

 

          “No, you’re not dead.” Flickers of light from the candles crossed her face, accenting her high cheekbones and small nose. She was sexy but seemed to be unaware of her appeal, which made her all that more appealing to him.

 

          “Is this all a dream?” She turned towards him, keeping her eyes closed.

 

          Reaching forward, he gently brushed her dark hair away from the stitches on her forehead. “No, angel, it’s not a dream.”