University? She was in college? Oh, this was heaven. Now all she needed was Circenn to make it complete.

Lisa leaped from the bed, tugged on her favorite white fluffy robe (astonishing that it was hanging right on her bedpost where she’d always hung it!) and hurried down the stairs, wondering who could possibly be calling for her. As she rounded the curved staircase, her heart thumped hard in her chest.

Circenn Brodie arched a brow and smiled. Simultaneously, a wave of love hit her, sent along their special bond.

Lisa nearly whimpered, overwhelmed with pleasure, disbelief, and confusion. He was wearing charcoal trousers and a black silk polo shirt that rippled across his muscular chest, from which he was dusting a light misting of rain. His hair had been trimmed and was pulled back in a leather thong. Expensive Italian boots made her blink and shake her head. She’d never seen him in such fitted clothing and could only imagine the stir he must have caused strolling around in the twenty-first century. Clothing didn’t make this man, he made the clothing, molding it with his powerful body; six feet seven inches of rippling brawn. She briefly envisioned him in a pair of faded jeans and nearly swooned.

“Mrs. Stone, would you mind terribly if I took your daughter out to breakfast? We have some catching up to do.”

Catherine eyed the magnificent man standing in the doorway. “No, not at all. Why don’t just come in and have some coffee while Lisa gets dressed,” she invited graciously.

“Wear jeans, lass.” Circenn said, his gaze intense. “And your ‘you-knows,’” he added in a voice roughened by desire.

Catherine glanced back and forth between them, taking in the tender, passionate look from the tall, elegant man in the doorway and the startled yet dreamy expression on Lisa’s face. She wondered why Lisa had hidden the fact that she was in love, and from her own mother, at that. Not once had Lisa mentioned a boyfriend, but Catherine decided that perhaps she hadn’t spoken of it because it was the “real thing.” When Catherine had first met Jack, she’d told no one about him; she’d felt that talking about it might somehow debase the private sanctity of their bond.

Lisa still hadn’t moved from the base of the steps. She couldn’t breathe; she was riveted by him. How had this come to pass? How was Circenn Brodie standing in the doorway of her Indian Hill home, talking to her living, healthy mother, while her living, healthy father was at work, when she’d left him seven hundred years in the past?

The dream flooded back over her: We must do it now.

“What did you do?” she asked weakly.

“What did he do about what, Lisa?” Catherine asked curiously.

“We have much to discuss, lass,” he said tenderly.

“Is that a brogue I detect?” Catherine exclaimed. “I’ve always thought Scotland was such a romantic country. Jack and I have been discussing going for summer vacation this year.”

Circenn moved to Catherine, raised her hand to his lips, and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. “Perhaps you could visit my home when you come,” he said. “I would be pleased to welcome Lisa’s parents into my keep.”

Lisa had never seen Catherine so flustered. “Keep?” she exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you have a castle. Oh! I’ll just get that coffee,” she said with a breathless laugh. As she turned toward the kitchen, she glanced back at her daughter, who was still standing frozen at the foot of the stairs.

“Lisa, did you hear him? He wants to take you to breakfast, although the way he’s dressed, I’m not certain jeans would be appropriate, darling. Perhaps the beige dress with those strappy sandals I like so much.”

Lisa nodded stupidly, just to get her mother out of the room. Then she realized that she was encouraging her healthy mother to leave the room. She flung a startled look at Circenn and mouthed, Just a minute, don’t move, then flew across the foyer, catching up with her mother as she entered the hall.

“Wait!” she cried.

Catherine turned around and looked at her quizzically. “You’re acting very odd today, Lisa.” She smiled, leaned near to Lisa’s ear, and whispered. “I like him. Oh my! Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

Lisa threw her arms around Catherine. “I love you, Mom,” she said fiercely.

Catherine gave a startled and pleased little laugh—just the kind of half-breathless sound of joy Lisa remembered from before Jack had died, in the other reality.

“I don’t know what this is all about, Lisa, but I love you too, darling. Only tell me your next words aren’t going to be ‘and I’m sorry but I’m pregnant and running off to get married,’” she teased. “I’m not ready for an empty nest.”