Rising

Introduction

Forgive me for I have sinned.

Many have suffered because of it, but I have repented, and in the end, paid the ultimate price. It is a price I should have paid the first time – but I was selfish and reluctant to orchestrate my own demise.

I ask you not to judge me – I sin differently to you.

******

Chapter 1

The Village, North Western Scotland

He watched her sleep, silently counting each shallow breath before stepping forward and reaching for a tartan blanket that had fallen at her feet. He moved to cover her with the blanket and then suddenly dropped it. His eyes narrowed. Weakness and compassion would ruin the game. She was his ivory trophy and treasured central pawn, tarnished by time and him.

Wake up old woman.

Marta’s grey eyes flickered open and came to rest on the familiar form of Old Alastair MacIain, chief of the MacDonalds of Glencoe.

Was it absolutely necessary to present yourself in this way, Stag? Marta said, rubbing her eyes to clear them of sleep. My chief is long since dead, why take his shape?"

You respected him.

And what happened to him sickened me.

But you haven’t averted your gaze – perhaps you are relieved that it is he who died and not you.

She fell silent.

Are you not disgusted when you think back to what the Campbells did? the Stag taunted.

It wasn’t just the Campbells who destroyed my people.

So you blame me for the massacre?

Aye – you could have stopped it.

I cannot save everyone.

Enough! Why are you here, Stag?

The child is born.

And it’s mother?

She is dead.

Marta closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She was my best friend’s daughter – I loved her as my own.

We must all die at some point.

What of her husband? Marta asked, choosing to ignore the Stag’s blunt statement.

Simon Campbell is, as I predicted – no use to man nor beast.

He is a strong man, he will heal in time.

Unlikely. He is crippled with grief – and guilt. He will not recover.

Would it not have been better to simply save Corran?

You know very well that it wasn’t possible to save her.

I don’t believe you. You granted Corran immortality after the massacre…

As I did you, he interrupted.

You could have saved her now, if you had wanted to, Marta said, deliberately ignoring his reference to her own immortality.

Perhaps – but the deed is done and the woman is dead, petty regrets are futile.

You used her.

What of it?

She was the closest thing I had to a daughter.

And now she is dead – our priority lies with the child. It must be reared.

You mean raised?

Simple mistake – I have found it a mother.

He had a mother.

And I let her die – yes, I know. You must now deal with my judgment; that is if you still want to control the child’s powers one day.

You know I have no choice.

Then you must go to Simon and bring the child here.

What makes you think he will hand his son over to me?

He won’t care who takes the boy – but he remembers you well enough, and in time he will find some comfort in knowing that you have his son.

I am too old to raise a child – you cannot possibly…

No – of course I don’t expect you to be its mother.

Then what are we to do with him?

He will be reared in the twenty first century, the safest time I know – by the woman who bore Duncan.

Does this woman know yet?

Not yet – but she will.

And you are certain she will be happy to do this?

Quite the contrary – she will despise the job.

Then we must find another – someone who will cherish the boy.

No. My decision is final.

You are a despicable creature.

Yes, I most certainly am – but you will follow me nonetheless.

Only because you have left me with no choice.

And you will leave Grace with no choice.

Exactly how do you expect me to do that?

I credited you with more intelligence than that – we have her son. The woman is desperate to find him. Blackmail her.

And you think forcing a woman to raise another’s child is the right decision?

Yes.

You disgust me.

Don’t fool yourself old woman – we have more in common than you like to admit. It is time – go do your job.

******

Chapter 2

York Hospital, Modern Day York, December 21st – The day of Brody’s birth

Hunched over a hospital bed, Simon Campbell clung to the dead body of his wife. He ignored the baby with its blood streaked face. He would not let it end here. It just couldn’t. He wasn’t a man to beg, but for Corran there was nothing he wouldn’t do. Please, she is far more important to this world than I could ever be. I don’t deserve to live whilst she dies. Take me,’ he whispered to the Stag. It can’t happen… How can you let it happen?!" Tears streamed down his face as he slammed a clenched fist into the mattress and wept in agony for the woman he had lost.

I can’t raise this child alone. Please, don’t make me… He hung desperately onto Corran’s corpse, not willing to let her go. Take me…

Mr. Campbell. A man in surgical scrubs rested his hand gently on Simon’s shoulder. I’m very sorry for your loss, Sir.

Simon lifted his head and turned toward the doctor. There must be something you can do.

The surgeon shook his head. We did all we could – she lost too much blood.

Would you like to hold your son? The gentle words of a young nurse reached Simon’s ears, but he ignored them and clung tighter to the body of his wife.

Mr. Campbell…, the surgeon tried again.

I will take the child. An unfamiliar voice had entered the room; it was an old woman’s.

They all turned to face the door of the private room.

And you would be? asked the surgeon.

I am Marta – the child’s grandmother.

The surgeon turned to Simon, his eyebrows raised in question.

Give it to her. She is who she says she is.

You’ll have to sign some discharge forms and we’ll need some contact details, so that the midwife can visit the baby.

Simon glared at the nurse. Bring the forms. I’ll sign whatever you want.

Let me have the forms, lass. I will see to them, Marta said, moving into the room and resting a supportive hand on Simon’s arm.

The surgeon nodded. I’ll arrange the necessary paperwork. He turned and left the room, followed by the nurse who stopped in the doorway.

Will you be alright alone, Mr. Campbell?

Simon shot her a look of pained tolerance. As you can see, he replied curtly, nodding slowly at Marta, I am not alone.

Pulling the door closed behind her the nurse left.

It’s time to go, Marta whispered as soon they were alone.

Go where?

Home. She lifted the child from its crib and laid it gently beside Corran’s body.

My home was with Corran – without her I have no home.

Of course you do. Marta struck a match and drew its flame toward a tiny oval crystal in the palm of her hand.

******

Chapter 3

York, December 1668

Grace rested her head on a pillow and moved her eyes to stare at the flame of a candle on her nightstand. Her husband lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress and lifted her hand to rest it in his. He had been searching for her son and instinctively she knew from his touch that he had no news. After nearly two years there had been no progress.

We will find him, Robert soothed, as Grace stifled a sob.

It’s been so long, she whispered. Anything could have happened to him. He could even be dea... the words caught in the back of her throat.

As I have told you before, I will search until the end of my days for your child. You have my solemn promise that I will never give up my attempts to reunite you both – not ever.

She was a broken woman, a shell of the person he had brought into his bed that wild winter’s night nearly three years ago. Void of enthusiasm and resentful of life, Robert knew this would not change until he found her child.

You should eat.

She closed her eyes, shutting out both Robert and the world.

I will make you some soup, he said patiently, rising from the mattress and turning to leave the room. It had been too long since she had eaten a decent meal and he feared for her physically as much as he did mentally.

I’m tired. I would rather sleep.

Robert nodded, knowing she couldn’t see him. Sleep well then, my darling Grace, he whispered, before gently closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Hello Grace, my dear," an old lady’s words reached her ears.

Grace’s eyes scanned her surroundings. Her heart lifted for this place gave her great joy. She heard a child’s laugh and instinctively turned to its sound. A small group of youngsters were running along the banks of a lake flanked on either side by enormous, rocky mountains. She watched their smiling, happy faces, listened to the joyous tones of their laughter and realized that the sound cheered her in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible. Her eyes wandered to a cottage where a girl sat on a stone step, plucking a pheasant. A man was saddling a horse to the left of the cottage and she spotted another man and a dog on the horizon herding some sheep. Although Grace had never been to this place before, she felt welcome and happy.

"Who are you?" Grace asked the old woman in front of her.

"My name is Marta, I mean you no harm." The old lady opened her arms and embraced Grace as though she were a long lost friend.

"Why am I here?" Grace asked.

"I have something for you... Marta looked down in shame. But before I can give it to you, there is something you must do for me."

"I don’t understand."

"I have your son, Grace. He awaits your arrival."

"What have you done with my boy?" Grace screamed, launching herself at the old lady.

A young woman ran toward them and roughly pulled Grace from Marta.

"It’s alright, Shannon, Marta said softly. You go back to your work."

The girl shot Grace a sullen look before turning on her heels and stropping off.

"Your son is safe, Marta said, reaching out to touch Grace gently on the shoulder. I did not take him from you."

"Please, Grace begged. Let me have my baby back."

"He is no longer a child. Your son is now a man."

"How can that be? He was only born two years ago."

Marta shook her head. You lost him two years ago, Grace, but he has lived a lot longer than that.

"Is he... well?" Grace stammered, struggling to accept what she was being told.

"He is a fine young man, raised by a woman called Corran Campbell. His name is Duncan."

"I want to see my son. Please ..." she sobbed.

"Soon, Grace, but not yet. There is something you need to do first."

"What?" Grace grew more and more angry with Marta.

"The woman who raised your child has died and her newborn son is in need of a mother. He must be given the best chance of living a normal life," Marta said firmly.

"What’s that got to do with me?"

"You are to raise this child."

"But what about the child’s father? Why can’t he do it?"

"His father has lost his way. He is no longer able to care for himself, let alone a child."

"Why me? Grace asked. I don’t want someone else’s baby – I want my own."

"And you will have him, but there is a yearning in your heart for a child. Corran raised your child and fate has dictated that you shall raise hers. Once this boy is of age, I will provide you with the means to come here, where you will be reunited with Duncan. There was a pause. Do you accept this?" Marta asked, her voice lowering to a stern level.

"Yes…" Grace said, eventually.

The old woman nodded solemnly. You will raise this child in the world you are most familiar with, the safest environment we know. I shall have someone fetch you in the morning and you will be taken back to twenty-first century York.

"What do you mean?"

"You are going back to your own time, Grace, to the place you left."

"But I don’t want to ..."

"This is not about what you want. This is about what is right for the boy – and you should accept it if you want to see your son again. I shall send someone in the morning. Be ready."

Grace awoke with a start and breathed in the familiar, sweet tang of wood smoke and the heady perfume of lavender and rushes. She caught the sound of her husband’s soft, rhythmic breathing and she stretched out to feel the warmth of his body beside her.

Robert, she whispered. Wake up, darling.

His eyes flew open and stared in the dim light of the room. What is it?

Alerted by the urgency in his wife’s tone he felt his body tense. His eyes scanned the room suspiciously as he grabbed for the knife he kept hidden under his pillow. The tension began to leave him as his fingers found the smooth cold steel of the blade’s handle and his eyes and ears detected no obvious threat.

My son’s alive.

Where?

I don’t know, but I know he’s alive.

Robert withdrew his hand from the pillow and pushed himself up on his elbow, resting the side of his head on his hand.

Another dream? His eyes narrowed and he let out an exasperated breath. There had been so many dreams, so many false hopes and so many unexplainable events that at times, Robert wondered if Grace were losing her grasp on reality

She nodded and smiled with excitement. Yes, it was, but this one was different.

Robert had found Grace a little less than three years ago, a fallen angel, face down in the snow. A lesser man might have spotted her plight and ignored it. Others might, unthinkably, have taken their fill of her and cast her back into the night, but Robert had done neither of these things.

The simple truth was that this woman had captivated his dreams and commandeered his waking thoughts for as long as he could remember and even though it was many years before they finally met, he had always known that, one day, she would come to him.

Had Robert believed in magic, he would most certainly have dubbed her a witch, but he was a soldier, a Cavalier, and he had seen too much to believe in witchcraft and magic.

Acutely aware of her vulnerability he should have taken her to his sister, but instead he had carried her through the City gate and into his bed. As he had watched her lie abed, he had studied the strange seal on her bag and the odd material and shape of her shoes with a growing sense of unease. By the time she awoke he had already gained the faint inkling that she had come to him from the future or some distant land. However, no amount of surmising had prepared him for the stunned surprise he had felt when she eventually confirmed his suspicions.

She had arrived pregnant with her husband’s child and although Grace had gone to great lengths to abscond from the child’s father, she loved the child.

Leaving her husband in the future had meant losing her only daughter, Jenny and from this tragedy, Grace had never recovered. But to lose a second child, as she had, was a loss too great for even the strongest of women. Robert believed that Grace dreamt to protect herself from grief, but he dreaded the mornings when she awoke with their memory.

There had been the dreams of her daughter; the tortured nightmares where Grace had been convinced that Jenny had been in danger. Then the baby had been stolen and the dreams had begun again and with each one he had held his wife and comforted her, praying that her torment may soon end.

He reached out and touched the dark circles under her eyes. Gently his finger brushed her pale cheeks before tracing the outline of her lips. Slowly the tight knot between her brows relaxed and her breathing calmed.

How was it different? he asked.

I don’t know exactly, she said, casting her eyes upwards in thought. It just felt different.

Do you want to tell me about it? He spoke softly allowing their eyes to meet. She searched them for reassurance, and found it.

There was an old lady, Grace said, animating her words. She was in a small village, surrounded by children and smiling people. It was a happy place – a place where I felt welcome. She told me that my son is there, that he is a man...

The child would be no more than two years old, Robert interrupted more curtly than he had meant to.

I know, Grace said, nodding her head and trying to still the excited feeling that was churning in her stomach. I said that to her, but she was insistent that he is a man now. She said that a woman had died in childbirth and that I was to raise the orphaned baby. The old woman promised that if I raised this child, she would return my son to me.

Robert sighed, and gave Grace a long look. It was a dream, my love, just a dream.

No, she cried, This wasn’t just a dream. I know it sounds absurd but I believe it. This was real.

Alright, Robert said, dropping his tone and softening his voice. Where is this child that we are to raise?

Marta, the old lady who spoke to me, said that someone would come for us, today.

Robert frowned across at his wife. Grace, you have to stop this. I don’t believe that these dreams are helping you – they are destroying you.

Grace ignored his concerns. There is someone coming this morning and they are going to take us to the child. I just know it. She jumped out of bed and ran across the room to the wardrobe.

Robert slid off the mattress and hastily pulled on his trousers and a cream cotton shirt. Where is this person supposed to be taking us? His tone was patient and soft but there was no mistaking the concern behind his dark eyes.

To my time, Grace replied, flinging a gown from the wardrobe onto the bed. At first I didn’t think I wanted to go back – but now I know it’s the right thing to do. I can find Jenny and we...

Grace. Robert’s voice grew stern as he swung her around to face him. Enough! This isn’t real.

But it is. I just know it is.

How can you know?

She tilted her face up to him. Her eyes smiled in a way he had forgotten they could. He couldn’t bear to break her and he wouldn’t slap her from this moment’s happiness.

I’ll help you pack.

She beamed back at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

It was magic that brought me to you, she whispered, when at last they had filled two large trunks with their most treasured possessions. Magic will take us to my children.

Grace, we must talk. His dark eyes met hers and she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He raised his hands and rested them on her shoulders before pulling her gently toward him. You do know that I would do anything… Robert froze as a woman materialized before them. How ...? he said, visibly stunned by the stranger’s sudden appearance.

I wasn’t told I was taking two of you. The stranger’s tone was as cold as a blast of arctic air.

Err… Hi. I’m Grace and this is Robert. Grace offered her hand to the woman.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m Shannon, replied the stranger, ignoring Grace’s gesture. I’m only supposed to be taking one of you with me.

Robert moved toward the girl, his eyes blazing down on her. Exactly where is it you are thinking of taking us? His emphasis of the word ‘us’ was unmistakable as was the threat woven into his dangerously low voice.

York, the girl retorted. And I haven’t said I’ll take you both.

Grace is not going anywhere without me.

Right, fine then. Let’s just get this over with. If you’re coming, take my arm.

Wait, Grace cried, What about our stuff?

What stuff? Shannon asked, casting a critical eye over the room.

We’ve packed, Grace said.

You’re moving times, not going on vacation, Shannon mocked.

What my wife is telling you is that we have some things we would like to take with us.

It’s bad enough that I’ve got two of you to transport. I’m not moving your worldly goods as well. Take it or leave it. Come as you are or stay here. I don’t care either way.

Grace’s shoulders sagged in resignation. We’ll leave our things.

Good, Shannon said. I’ve got stuff to do, so can we get on?

Robert’s lips tightened into a thin line of distaste. What do you want us to do?

What I told you to do. Take my arm.

With Grace and Robert’s hands on her arm, Shannon lit a match and the air started to whirl. Vibrant threads coiled around them in an ever-tightening vortex which carried them forward in time until they could no longer focus on the flickering wisps within which they spun.

******

Chapter 4

Modern Day York

The ground steadied beneath Robert and Grace’s feet and slowly the night calmed around them, but the stillness was short lived. They had arrived in the midst of a fierce snowstorm and the wind lashed at them from every side with tiny flakes of snow.

Where are we? Robert squinted through the blizzard in an attempt to find his bearings.

York. Darling, this is the York I left.

Robert’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and they shifted uneasily over the snow covered street, unfamiliar buildings and the strange orange glow that was radiating from the street lamps.

Where are we to go? Robert asked. He was more shocked than he had expected to be and was eager to find shelter and a private place in which to collect himself.

Follow me, Shannon said.

Robert’s eyes darkened as he inspected the mountains of snow on either side of the street. In this?

Yes, in this, Shannon barked.

Robert tightened his grip on Grace’s hand before fixing his look squarely on Shannon. I fear you have little respect, madam.

Shannon rolled her eyes at him before trudging off into the storm. Robert and Grace followed, moving slowly, stumbling and slipping in the snow-filled streets.

Shannon eventually turned to them with a look of immense irritation.

Come here. We’re going by… she said, whipping the crystal from her pocket. This.

Robert clenched his fist in an effort to control his temper. Why did we not do that in the first place?

Because, I was told to bring her back to the exact time and place from where she left, Shannon said, nodding at Grace. She was quite insistent that we walk the rest of way, but if Marta thinks I’m trudging through this for two and half miles then she can think again.

Put your hands on my arm, Shannon said, cupping her hands around a matchbox, lighting a match and drawing it toward the crystal. Almost instantly the air around them began to swirl and moments later Robert and Grace felt their feet touch the ground.

This is as far as I take you, Shannon said, dusting a thin covering of snow from her hair.

Excuse me? Robert’s patience was thinning.

This is your place, Shannon said, handing Grace a bunch of keys and nodding in the direction of a door with the number ten painted on it.

How..? Grace began.

How should I know? This is just what I’ve been told. The child’s father will bring the baby to you, she said before disappearing from sight.

I know that girl, Grace whispered to Robert as Shannon disappeared.

From when you were here before?

No, Grace said, shaking her head. I met her in my dream, when the old lady told me about my son.

I hope your old lady is less obnoxious than that girl. She is possibly the rudest character I have ever met.

Grace smiled up at her husband. You might have to adapt your standards in this time.

Grace shivered in the icy wind and cast a nervous glance down the street. We can’t stand here all night talking about manners. People are trying to sleep; we should get inside before we draw attention to ourselves, especially dressed like this.

We can’t just walk into a stranger’s home and claim it as our own, Robert said.

Without any money we have no choice. Shannon brought us here for a reason and this key – must be for the front door. Grace moved toward the door and slid the key into the lock. I guess we should go inside and have a look. She pushed gently on the door and it swung open to display a modernized Victorian home.

Robert’s eyes widened as he took in every small detail of their new surroundings. He ran his hand over the glass panel of the inner lobby door and drew a sharp breath as a light bulb above him unexpectedly started to glow.

It’s OK, love, I made that happen.

Robert turned to face his wife as the front door swung closed.

See here, Grace said, pointing to a light switch on the wall. If I flick the switch. She pressed her finger gently on the top of the switch and the lobby fell dark. The light will go out, but – if I do it again. Her finger slid down the switch and pressed again. The light comes back on.

Robert raised his right hand to his forehead and then to his heart before reaching across and touching his left shoulder and then his right.

It won’t hurt you, Robert. I’ve told you about electricity and light bulbs. That’s all this is. A light generated by electricity.

He cast the light bulb one last suspicious glance before moving down the hall.

That should keep the wind out of the house, she said, closing the lobby door behind her. Although it doesn’t really feel that cold in here. She reached out and instinctively touched the radiator in the hallway. It was stone cold. I need to find the controls for the central heating system.

Central heating?

Yeah, remember I was telling you how real fires weren’t really used anymore – although, there seems to be an open fire in here, she said, poking her head through the lounge door. And, it looks as though someone has been kind enough to leave us some wood.

Robert pulled his flint from his pocket. I’ll see to it.

No need for the flint. See, they’ve left us a lighter – and what’s more, we can use it without fear of discovery.

People are comfortable in this time, he stated, moving into the lounge and casting his eyes over the cream leather lounge suite. Is this an expensive home?

Grace nodded. Jack and I wouldn’t have been able to afford it, but it’s not the most expensive house money can buy.

She left Robert to light the fire and returned to the hallway where she quickly located the control box for the central heating. With the flick of a switch the pumps of the heating system and boiler roared to life and, by the time Grace returned to the lounge, the radiators were warm to the touch.

Fancy having a nose at the kitchen? Grace asked.

He nodded and pushed himself up from his haunches. The fire had taken hold and Grace stared for a moment at a flame as it devoured its way through the remaining kindling.

Fascinating thing – fires. She blinked hard, breaking the flame’s spell. Come on then, I’m keen to have a good look at the kitchen.

What is this material? Robert crouched down onto his haunches and ran his hand curiously over the floor.

Plastic.

It has the look of wood but not the feel. He tapped the floor with his knuckles.

That’s because it’s made to look like wood but it’s actually completely synthetic.

Synthetic?

We’re gonna be here all night. Tell you what, darling, how about you make a mental list of all your questions and we’ll deal with them later.

I fear there is a lot for me to learn. A slight look of anguish crossed his face.

Don’t worry about it. You’ll get the hang of it all soon enough. Remember how long it took me to adjust to your time – but I got it, eventually. You know, I think we should leave the kitchen until tomorrow. If there’s one place that is guaranteed to confuse you it’s going to be the kitchen. Let’s go and have a look upstairs instead.

At the top of the stairs, Grace stopped and reached for a door to her left. Turning the handle she opened it and peeked inside.

No more wee… I mean chamber pots. This is the bathroom. I’ll explain how it works later.

She pulled the door closed and moved them along the landing, past two other doors which she didn’t bother opening. At the end of the landing she stopped before a final door and turned to face her husband.

Would you like to do the honors, Robert?

He reached over her shoulder for the handle. As the door swung open a broad smile crossed his face.

Ours?

Grace returned his smile. I do believe it is, Mr. Hamilton.

The room was simple but comfortable, furnished with a light pine wardrobe and chest of drawers, an ancient dressing table and a ball and claw writing table. On the bed lay a file labeled, ‘certificates and important documents’. Grace reached for it and pulled out a sheet of paper. A smile crossed her face as her eyes skimmed the document.

What amuses you, Grace? he asked, watching the sides of her mouth quirk.

This, she said, nodding at the doctorate.

What is it? he asked, confused by the words on the certificate.

Someone’s awarded you a doctorate in seventeenth century history, she said, with a full belly laugh. I don’t suppose there can be many more qualified than you.

And this means?

Just what I said. That you are super qualified in that period.

He nodded his understanding. But what am I supposed to do with it?

Well, she said, sliding three A4 sheets of typed paper from the file. According to this CV you write academic papers on the subject, and someone’s seen fit to publish some of your work.

They have?

So it seems, she said.

Who would have gone to so much trouble? Robert asked.

I don’t know but it’s kinda freaky when you think about it. Especially the clothes. Grace was now rummaging through the wardrobe. How did they know what sizes to get? Look at this. She held up a roll-neck jumper for him to see. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

More so than traveling in time? Robert’s lips quirked.

Yes, I know what you are trying to say and you’re right. The whole thing is just insane but this... She pushed the top back into the wardrobe. This feels like an invasion of privacy.

There are many things we will never know – don’t need to know and quite honestly, I am not sure I care to know. For now I am just happy to have to my wife back.

I’m sorry, she whispered, closing the door of the wardrobe and turning to face him.

What for? He lowered his head and brushed his lips gently over her neck.

For shutting you out for so long. She was trying to focus on his words instead of the feel of his lips on her skin but it had been so long since they had shared a kiss, so long since she had wished for his kiss.

You cannot close the door on someone who is in the same room as you, he replied hoarsely. You were never alone, Grace, nor will you ever be.

He slid his arms around her waist and she gazed up at him. A shiver ran through her as their eyes locked. His hand grazed her cheek as he moved to thread his fingers through her hair. Her pulse raced and she sucked in a sharp breath as his lips brushed hers.

You are beautiful, he whispered.

Her heart fluttered at his words, and her knees weakened as his arms tightened around her. Her breathing quickened and she gasped as he pulled her against him.

And you are an incredibly handsome man, she said, as he skimmed his fingers up her spine.

It had been two years since his touch had stirred her. Two years since the scent of his desire had caused her heart to pound in her ribcage. She felt blood begin to rise in her cheeks as his powerful thigh muscles tensed against her and he lowered his lips, brushing gentle kisses down the side of her neck.

His eyes traveled over her face and settled on the pink blush that colored her cheeks.

I’ve missed you, Grace, he groaned.

She reached up and wound her arms around his neck. His hands slid beneath her knees and he lifted her off the ground and carried her to the bed. She clung to him, afraid to let him go, afraid that if she did the moment might be lost forever. She swallowed hard as he towered over her, the palms of his hands resting on the mattress either side of her shoulders.

Robert had no more understanding of the magic that had brought her to him than he had of the magic that had brought them to the future. The veil of sorrow had been lifted from his wife’s eyes and in its place, sparkled hope. Robert didn’t care for the reasons. He would have followed the devil to hell and back to see his wife as happy as she was at that moment and he too found peace that night.

Grace slept that night with her head cradled in the crook of her husband’s shoulder. It had been a very long time since they had fallen asleep together and just as long since she had slept as soundly as she did that night.

Grace cast a quick glance at the digital clock on the wall before sliding out of bed. She hoped to get downstairs and explore the kitchen before Robert woke up. She was excited at the thought of having a kettle and hoped that whoever was responsible for providing them with the house had also thought to supply them with a jar of instant coffee. Grace wasn’t disappointed. The kitchen was well equipped with every modern appliance she could have hoped for and she quickly found a cupboard dedicated to jars of different types of ground coffee. She also found an envelope on the counter top with a bank statement addressed to Mr. and Mrs. R Hamilton. Pre-occupied with the statement, Grace didn’t hear Robert approach.

I believe we might have a white Christmas, Robert said, joining Grace in the kitchen.

"Do you think it