I had never discussed my sexuality with my mother or father; it was not because they wouldn't approve, given that my older brother, Nate, was also gay. Nate had understood that, because he had been adopted by my uncle, Tristian, and his husband, Henry, that he was not in line for the title of Viscount Vanora. Of course, this also had to do with the fact that our parents were unmarried at the time of his and my sister, Bella's, his twins', birth. There were a great many twins in my family, starting with Auntie Bree's twin sister, Beatrice, who had died some time ago; then came Grandma Clairy-Beth and her brother, Jim, one of my namesakes, who had also passed away; then my own mother, Chrissy, and her twin, my uncle, Eion.

I attended St. Leonard's School, alongside my younger siblings Claire, Roger, and Brianna; as the eldest, and future Head Boy, I was to be an example for them, to ensure that they not only did well in their studies, but upheld the family name as well as possible. I didn't mind the personal pressure in addition to the academic one; in fact, I thrived upon it. My intention was to attend the University of St. Andrews after my graduation from St. Leonard's, get as many degrees as possible, and use them to my utmost advantage, before my birthright came calling.

Da, thankfully, was in excellent health, so I didn't need to worry about becoming the next Viscount Vanora right away. It was a bit of a relief, knowing that it was one thing that wasn't constantly battering around in my mind. My parents were happier than ever, my studies were going well, Bella had set her wedding date to her fiancé, Frederick, and my grandmother, Chrissy's, law firm was doing better than ever, to name a few highlights.

I attended the University of St. Andrews on schedule, as planned, while my two closest friends, Frieda Howard and Desmond Michaelson, went to the University of Cambridge and the University of Northampton respectively, and were more in love than ever. There had been no hard feelings between the three of us, when Frieda kissed me at a party when we were fourteen, or when she and Desmond began dating when we were sixteen. They were the first ones outside my family who knew I was gay, and were both incredibly supportive. I told my parents during my final year of secondary, and although I knew they were supportive as well, I could tell that my father was slightly disappointed, not wanting me to fob off my "duties" as heir to the title of Viscount Vanora, and hand down the title to Roger, who, already, seemed to be as straight as one could possibly be.

My classes at university were exhausting, but that was definitely to be expected. I lived at home during that time, but, after my second year, I was surprised with a lovely little cottage not too far away from campus. I typically lived in the dormitories, but it was quite nice to return to an actual house at the end of a long day. I dubbed it Westgate Terrace, and it was my own little home away from home, and I was not going to part with it easily. It became another one of my children, alongside my dark blue Volkswagen Golf, which I'd been surprised with on my seventeenth birthday, two and a half years before. That, along with my Russian Blue, Ekaterina Elizaveta Eleonora Vanora, who was now two years of age, and who had been presented to me as a very small kitten after my acceptance into St. Andrews. She had been most put out to be left at home during my first two years of school, but seemed quite pleased to live in the cottage with me. She was quite the constant companion, not to mention very loyal to me, and it took quite a long time for her to warm up to anyone else.

As I studied for my triple Master's Degrees in Ancient History, History, and Medieval History, time passed as it always did for everyone else. Claire moved to London post-graduation from St. Leonard's after signing with an elite modeling agency; Roger was dedicated to his studies and seemed to have a flair for sciences; and Brianna was a little genius who seemed to have a knack for literary works. I kept my head down and worked on my degrees, spent time walking Ekaterina around the area I lived in, and attempted to find a semblance of normalcy, although I always felt as if something was missing.

My graduation approached; Claire was successfully walking the runway in London; Roger was blossoming in secondary school; Brianna had moved up a couple of years in school, due to her high marks. I took Ekaterina to London one weekend to see Claire, along with Frieda and Desmond who were going to meet me there as well. I arrived at Claire's flat, the spare key dangling from my keychain, and let myself in, releasing Ekaterina from her lead and venturing towards the guest bedroom to drop off my overnight back. I'd gotten a text from Claire, letting me know that she still had a few more hours of work, but would arrive home with takeaway, and asked me to let her know what sounded good.

I lay back on my borrowed bed, and Ekaterina promptly climbed up beside me as I stared up at the ceiling. The eight and a half hour drive had been exhausting, so I decided to have a bit of a nap before my sister returned home, given that I'd left my cottage before the sun had risen. I wasn't seeing Frieda or Desmond until the following day, and we were meeting at a pub they favored whenever they came to the area. It was a key in the lock which alerted me to Claire coming home, and Ekaterina rushed out into the living room to greet her, and I could hear my younger sister cooing at her.

I pushed myself out of bed, the scent of Mediterranean food hitting my nostrils as I dragged a hand through my hair, which I kept a bit longer, and stepped in socked feet back towards the living room. "Need some help with that?" I called.

Claire turned and looked up at me, her pale blue eyes taking me in as she smiled; she was the shortest one of us at 5'9", but her body was deemed perfect for the runway. "Ye remember where the plates and things are, right?" she asked, crossing the living room and walking towards the two-person table beside the window, which overlooked one of London's busiest streets. "I can set up here..."

I nodded, walking past her as Ekaterina attempted to trip me, and I realized that she was likely hungry, too. I found that Claire had already bought a couple tins of cat food, and so I fed her before I gathered up plates, flatware, and serviettes. "How was everything today?" I asked my sister, tossing the question over my shoulder as I walked towards the fridge, to see what drinks she had in.

"We're planning for our summer show, so it's going," she replied, and I knew she was shrugging her shoulders as I heard the rustling of the three carrier bags. "Yvonne—you remember her?—and I are going to be the leads on the project. Sharpton's designs are absolutely amazing, and he's really making sure we don't look washed out underneath the lights..."

I found myself smiling as I poured her a tall glass of sparking water, and grabbed a bottle of Tennent's for myself. "Yeah, I remember Yvonne," I confirmed, nodding my head. "Ye're seeing her brother, Terrance, aren't ye?"

"Aye," Claire replied testily, knowing for a fact that I was teasing her as I made my way back to the table, "and he really is wonderful," she continued, watching my face for anything negative when it came to her boyfriend. "I ken that Newton wasn't a good fit..."

"Wasnae a good fit?" I snapped, practically slamming our drinks down onto the table, causing it to shake. "Fer Christ's sake, Claire! He assaulted ye!"

Claire narrowed her eyes at me. "Aye, I ken," she said through gritted teeth. "I was there when it happened, ye ken?"

I sighed, my shoulders immediately slumping as regret washed through me. "Ye're right, I'm sorry," I said quietly, returning temporarily to the kitchen to bring out the plates, flatware, and serviettes. I placed them more gently onto the table before slowly lowering myself into my chair, gazing down at the wood grain. I had woken up in the night to a sobbing phone call, and had gone to the luxury hotel where Claire and Newton Abshire, her ex-boyfriend, had been with all their friends, due to prom. Driving over there wasn't an imposition, and I had promptly clocked Newton in the jaw, as he was getting drunk and laughing with his friends afterwards, giving them high-fives; after I found Claire, I took her home and cleaned her up, hiding her clothes and filing a police report anonymously, although now she knew about it. I had driven Claire to a clinic six weeks later, after she had missed her cycle, and she had gotten a termination. In the wake of that, I told her I was gay, and Claire had held fast to that information, as if it was a lifeline, although we never did discuss her procedure...

"He's up for release, ye ken," she said after a few moments, as she laid out her lemon chicken and Greek salad, and placed my beef kebabs and garlic pita bread in front of me. "Lucky bastard was only seventeen when he... Well, ye ken," she said softly, her shoulders hunching as she sat down across from me.

I gave a stiff nod. "I ken," I confirmed.

Claire shook her head as she often did to clear it, before plastering a smile on her face. "Terrance is nothing like Newton, though. He's kind, patient, considerate, and he's a wonderful barrister, ye ken," she went on, her tone significantly lighter. "Ye saw him at Christmas..."

"Aye, and I think very highly of him," I admitted, lifting up my beer and sipping it; Terrance was indeed a very good barrister, given that most of the cases he was involved with were pertaining to victims of domestic violence or child abuse.

Claire smirked slightly. "Yvonne did ask fer yer number again," she said, cutting up her chicken and trying her best not to laugh. "She's convinced that, because Terrance and I are a couple, that ye two would be excellent together..."

I snorted into my beer. "Yeah, unlikely," I responded.

"I keep trying to give subtle hints that she's definitely not yer type, but she just isn't putting two and two together," Claire went on. "I mean, I'm not going to tell her, obviously, because it's yer information, and ye haven't given permission. No' that I'm asking fer permission to tell her anything," she said quickly, her eyes snapping to mine.

I held up a hand. "I ken ye're not," I assured her. "Yvonne is lovely, of course; I mean, she's a model, and we're preconditioned as a society to find them attractive, or, at the very least, striking, in some way, shape or form. However, ye, Frieda, Desmond, Mama, and Da have known fer most of me life that my tastes have never run in that particular direction..."

"I ken that entirely well, thank ye," Claire responded, stabbing at her salad. "Have ye managed to meet anyone, or are ye contented with various one-night-stands where ye convince yerself that emotions and feelings dinnae matter?"

I rolled my eyes, knowing entirely well that my sister wanted me to be happy and in a committed relationship, but that just didn't seem to be in the cards for me. "When the time comes, I'll hire a surrogate and have Da's precious heir fer the whole viscount thing," I muttered.

Claire smirked. "Ye know entirely well that ye need a boy," she put in, "although that whole archaic law is ridiculous."

"Ye don't need tae tell me twice," I replied, tearing off a piece of pita before chewing it and swallowing. "When do ye get back from the Japan campaign?"

"A full week before yer graduation," she replied. "I'll collect ye and Ekaterina, as scheduled, and take ye tae Heathrow fer yer flight tae Jamaica. I'll keep an eye on her until ye come back, and then I'll drive ye back down tae St. Andrews."

I smiled, reaching across the table with my free hand and gripping hers. "Thank ye," I replied, quite relieved. "I just don't know what I'd do if my designated cat sitter was unavailable."

Claire grinned back at me. "Ye must love me, then, tae entrust me feline niece tae me."

I rolled my eyes at her before pulling back my hand. "Ye know I love ye, silly goose," I told her, shaking my head.

Claire poked her fork in my direction. "I love ye, too, silly gander."

~*~

Graduation was proving to be exhausting, but I nevertheless completed everything on time, and received my three distinctions for my Master's Degree. I had no idea what I was going to do with three different history degrees, but it wasn't like my parents expected me to do something right away, thank goodness. The plan was to spend a few weeks in Jamaica for the summer, and return to St. Andrews in the autumn where, hopefully, I could obtain a teaching position of some kind, but that seemed to be so far into the future that I didn't think about it.

The flight from London to Kingston would take around ten hours, and I was looking forward to taking a nap during that time. The graduation celebrations were held at Lallybroch, and it was wonderful to see my family before setting off. I visited Auntie Bree and Uncle Roger's graves before I left, and paid my respects to them, telling them how much I loved them, and that I hoped to find fortune, jokingly enough, in Jamaica. Rolling my eyes, I hopped into Claire's car and we set off to London again, where I would catch a terrible three a.m. flight to another country, and for my first time out of Europe.

The all inclusive-resort in Jamaica had been selected by the official Vanora travel agent, who had told me that it would have all the amenities the heir to a viscount title could want. I had simply smiled, nodded, and paid the woman, thanking her for her services. I woke up on time for my flight, and Claire was awake as well to see me off to Heathrow, while Ekaterina hissed at me for leaving her. I promised her lots of toys upon my return and set off with my sister, who drove me directly to the airport and said goodbye to me. I hugged her tightly, something passing between us that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and walked towards the baggage handoff, and paid the fee for my roller suitcase. Next came the priority TSA line, flashing my ticket, boarding pass, identification, and passport, before I was told to remove my shoes, laptop, and anything else from my person that needed to be scanned.

Once I was free of security, I walked toward my gate and waited, knowing I would be within the first boarding group. Being that I was so tall, and my station in the world, first-class tickets had been a part of my life since the beginning, so much so that it was second nature now. When my boarding group was called, I flashed the necessities to the flight attendants and went aboard, settling into my window seat and getting comfortable, tucking my laptop and carry-on bag beneath it. I had ordered my meal ahead of time, so I didn't need to worry about that, and had pre-paid, so I would only need to show my identification in order to receive it when the time came for it. Shutting my eyes, I permitted myself to slip into oblivion, hoping beyond hope that this trip would be exciting in some way, shape or form.

When we touched down in Kingston, I was relieved to be getting off the plane, so much so that I gathered my things quickly. I made my way through the airport and found baggage claim, before heading outside and finding the hired car lot, and found the one assigned to me after I'd signed the mandatory paperwork. I drove directly to the resort and checked in, feeling relieved that air conditioning was definitely a thing here, as the temperature was a whopping thirty-one degrees Celsius. My suite was, like most things in my travel experience, incredible, with a generous kitchenette, stylish living room, spacious bathroom, and incredible bedroom, with an empire king-sized bed to complete the ensemble.

My itinerary for most of the trip was simple: To see and explore the island, which would include beaches and whatnot, and leave the resort as little as possible. However, in my third week, I was to take another plane to the Dominican Republic, as my mother, for some reason, told me to visit Hispaniola. I didn't question her, and instead told the travel agent to add it to the itinerary, and she had done so. The flight wouldn't be too long, and I'd be staying there only for a few hours, so it wouldn't be too terribly difficult to achieve, or so I thought.

I spent the next few weeks building up a tan, having way too many mixed drinks, and otherwise indulging myself to the fullest. After twelve years of mandatory work, plus six years of additional education, I felt as if I truly deserved a vacation. Yes, I'd been brought up as the son of a minor noble, but I'd done all the educational work on my own, and I knew I should be proud of my achievements. Plus, the eye candy, especially around the pool or in the gym, was nothing to sniff at, although I refrained from taking any men back to my suite.

I left for my flight to the Dominican Republic on schedule, with the resort in Jamaica holding onto my room for me. the flight was quick, simple, and easy, and I found myself enjoying the beach resort that the Vanora family travel agent had selected. I checked in quickly, wanting to get out onto the beach and, hopefully, catch some waves, or, perhaps, a gentleman. Shaking my head at my audacity, given that same-sex marriage had only just been legalized there, after a constitutional ban of a couple hundred years, due to their affiliation with the Catholic church. I resolved to put those thoughts from my mind and merely enjoy myself.

I settled for a walk on the beach in the twilight, the setting sun acting as my guide as I walked along the sand. I ventured a bit into the coconut and pineapple groves at the back of the beach and smiled to myself—these truly beat the apple and plum trees which grew around Caenleigh Castle! What I didn't account for was the steep ridge within the groves, but, nevertheless, even in the fading light, I kept walking, coming across the cave in the darkening evening. Perplexed at the humming coming from within it, I saw a stone circle beside it, and there was the telltale sound of rushing water from inside the cave. I took my mobile out of my pocket, utilizing its flashlight to literally light my way as I stepped completely inside, the shimmering portal looking otherworldly, and I could not look away.

It was then that I stumbled, given that the cave floor was uneven in some places, and fell head-first into the pool. I struggled, but it seemed as if I was being pulled under, and, quite suddenly, I was submerged completely within it. My head was pulled hard and fast beneath its depths, and the water seemed to swirl around me for several moments, nearly choking me. However, as my consciousness threatened to leave me, a strong hand dove within the depths and yanked me, pulling me out of there, my clothes sticking to me, and I came face to face with...

"Holy shit!" I cried out.

"Christ," came the gravelly, Scots voice, the similarly-colored blue eyes taking me in.

"Jamie, what is it?" came a calming voice from the other side of the cave, and I turned, seeing what appeared to be an older version of my sister.

"What's going on here?" I demanded, seeing their clothes for the first time. "Why are ye all dressed like that?"

"I could ask ye the same," came a reply, from a young man that was currently being held by the woman across the cave.

The woman, meanwhile, checked to see if the young man was steady before she cautiously stepped toward me, taking me in completely. "Who are you?" she whispered, curiosity peppering her tone. "What is your name?"

"My name is James," I replied, my tone steady. "James Arthur Graham Vanora."

The woman put out her hand immediately, kindness radiating upon her features. "It is a pleasure to meet you, James," she responded, and I tentatively shook it. "I'm Claire Fraser. You must be the son of Cairistìona and Graham."

I blinked, surprised that this woman correctly identified who I was, and stiffened slightly as the man who had saved me moved to stand beside her, watching me. "So, then... We're related?" I asked, my voice trembling, as I looked between them.

"Aye," the man responded, "as ye were likely named fer me," he declared, and looked slightly proud of that fact; our features were nearly identical, as was our height. "Jamie Fraser, at yer service. Yer twice great-grandsire, I assume."

I blinked; I knew the names of Jamie and Claire Fraser, as my own mother, plus Auntie Bree and Uncle Roger before their deaths, had told me about them. However, they were long dead, but we had never seen their graves, which had been perplexing to me, but, I'd never questioned it, as none of my family had really spoken about their deaths. I turned and looked at the young man, currently standing beside my twice great-grandmother, and nodded at him. "And ye are?" I found myself asking.

"Ian Murray," the young man replied, bowing his head back to me, "yer twice great-grandsire's nephew."

I nodded; I knew that name as well, as Auntie Bree had spoken so fondly of him. "I ken who ye are," I said, and gave him a small smile. "Me... Me family often spoke highly of ye," I said, not wishing to inform Jamie and Claire that their daughter, in my time, at least, was dead.

"We'll take ye back with us," Jamie declared, placing a firm hand upon my shoulder, and steering me out of the cave, me stumbling to keep up, Claire and Ian just behind us. "It has been a trying day, but dinnae fash. Yer both safe now."

I bit my lip, keeping silent as we hurried through the night and down the beach, where a small boat was awaiting us. We climbed aboard, and Jamie showed me what to do as we rowed throughout the night and into the light of dawn. Jamacia appeared upon the horizon, and we got off at the dock upon our arrival, and made our way through the village, towards an inn, with the words Black Cat Inn printed upon it, which made me smile.

"Fond of cats, then?" Claire asked me.

I blinked, startling slightly as we stepped inside. "Well, aye," I replied. "I keep one."

"How lovely," Claire said, smiling. "I like them as well."

"There is tae be another ball this evening," Jamie said, shaking his head in annoyance. "We must be there, as Lord John commands it."

Claire appeared uncomfortable. "Of course," she said at last. "You know we would be honored to attend..."

"Perhaps I could remain here?" Ian asked softly.

Jamie quickly nodded at his nephew. "Aye, of course. Dinnae fash. Go and get some rest," he said, smiling at Ian, with a look that spoke volumes, almost as if he was speaking to his own son, before he turned to me as Ian walked away and into the next room beyond. "I have enough clothes fer ye tae attend."

I blinked. "Surely, ye dinnae wish fer me..."

"Of course we do," Claire said quickly, placing her hand upon my arm. "Please."

I swallowed; I had never enjoyed balls, but I understood the manners which came with them, as well as the history of this evening, so I knew I would be all right. "Fine," I said at last, and both Jamie and Claire appeared relieved.

"We'll introduce ye as me cousin," Jamie continued, nodding to himself. "Jared can be trusted, and he'll claim ye as his son, if need be..."

Claire nodded her head. "Why don't you go and speak to him, Jamie?" she asked, before she turned to me, and waited for Jamie to leave the room. "He secured us these rooms here," she explained with a small smile, "Jared, I mean. He never took a wife, but has had mistresses, in the past, and thinks very highly of Jamie."

I nodded; it would certainly help. "I trust ye both," I assured her.

Claire smiled at that. "Good," she said, and squeezed my arm again. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six," I replied. "I just finished me studies at the University of St. Andrews, and was here on a vacation tae celebrate. Me mother told me tae come there, although..." I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. "Can all our family travel like this?" I asked.

Claire gave me a small smile. "Well, I certainly can," she responded with a small shrug. "Jamie cannot, unfortunately, but we believe that our daughter, Brianna, is able to."

I nodded; I didn't want to tell her that Brianna was not her only child, and it was from her twin sister, Beatrice's, line that I came from, so I kept my mouth shut about that. "Perhaps I could have a wash, and something tae eat?" I asked softly. "Then, perhaps a rest before this ball this evening..."

Claire nodded her head. "Of course, don't worry," she assured me. "I shall arrange everything you'll need."

I was relieved when I succumbed to sleep, although, upon awakening, I was discouraged to discover that everything that had happened was not just a vivid dream. Pushing the thought from my mind, I found a costume—or, rather, common dress—waiting for me within the confines of my wardrobe in my borrowed bedroom. I somehow managed to put it on and presented myself when the hour to leave arrived, and I followed Jamie and Claire into their hired carriage, where they told me about the ball.

"There will be slaves about, I assume?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice as the carriage rumbled along.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Claire replied, her tone and expression letting me know that she wholeheartedly disapproved of the practice.

"Dinnae fash," Jamie told me. "Just treat them how ye like."

I nodded, fully intending do to just that. Upon our arrival at the beautifully appointed building, I got out of the carriage when my turn arrived and went up the staircase and into the hall where the ball was to be held. Everyone was stylishly dressed in similar costumes—common dress, I reminded myself—and slaves were wandering about the area, dressed well, I had to admit, with silver serving trays in their hands, with what I could only assume was champagne in the crystal-cut flutes placed upon them.

"Come," Jamie said, propelling me towards an ornately-carved door, partially hidden by an expensive-looking curtain at the back of the room.

"Jamie, for God's sake," Claire said, as she hurried behind us to keep up. "Don't just spring James on him—"

Jamie rolled his eyes, and I did my best to hide my smirk. "He is a good, loyal friend," he told his wife firmly. "I wish fer him to meet James."

"Who dae ye wish me tae meet?" I asked, watching as Jamie opened the door and yanked me inside it, Claire at his heels, who mercifully shut the door behind us.

"Ah, Jamie," said a beautiful voice from across the room, and I turned at the sound of it, seeing a white powdered wig, and a man with perfect hands scrawling away at something, a quill with elegant plumage gripped within the confines of his fingers. "How did your exploits go the night before, then?" he continued, without looking up.

"Well," Jamie said, beaming, while I chanced a look at Claire, who looked very uncomfortable in this man's presence, although I couldn't think why. "We got Ian back. He is sleeping back at the inn."

"To be expected," the man said, nodding as he continued writing. "William often sleeps whenever he stays up past his bedtime." He finished doing paperwork and finally looked up, smiling in Jamie's direction, and it was only when he caught sight of me that his smile vanished and he looked stricken, causing my jaw to nearly drop, given that this was the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life. "Dear God in heaven," the man in question whispered, and slowly got to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is James," Jamie said proudly, clapping a firm, strong hand upon my shoulder, causing me to stumble ever so slightly, and I turned away from the handsome man and glared at him. "He is me uncle, Jared's, son."

The man looked bewildered, but nevertheless regained his composure. "I see," he replied, his tone steady as he ventured around his desk for the first time, and slowly put out a hand. "Lord John William Bertram Armstrong Grey, Governor of Jamaica."

I blinked, swallowing slightly, but straightened up, and held out my hand as well, shaking Lord John's, doing my best to ignore the spark which seemed to pass between us as we shook, and I somehow managed to stifle the gasp which threatened to escape from betwixt my lips. "James Arthur Graham Vanora," I responded steadily. "I was adopted by the Vanora family in Scotland, fer me father couldnae raise me on his own."

Claire came up behind us, and placed a hand upon Jamie's arm. "Jamie..."

"Right," Jamie said, nodding. "If ye will excuse us, John. I promised Claire that we would dance this evening..."

Lord John nodded, holding onto my hand longer than it was necessary, and, as he spoke with Jamie, his eyes never left mine. "Yes, fine. Enjoy yourselves," he said, and waited for the door to open and shut behind the two of them, before he spoke again, at last, dropping my hand. "And how were you educated, then, James?" he asked.

"At the University of St. Andrews, and I hold a history degree with three distinctions," I said, doing my best to keep the pride from my voice.

Lord John appeared amazed. "How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty-six," I responded, shrugging my shoulders.

"What languages can you speak?" he wanted to know.

I swallowed. "In addition to English and Gaelic, I can speak French, German, and Italian," I told him, wondering why it was so easy to talk to him.

"I suppose you were also educated in other areas?" Lord John queried.

"Naturally," I responded, not even having to wrack my brain for what subjects were considered appropriate for a boy in that day and age. "Geography, the sciences, mathematics, politics, reading, and writing. Me adopted family didnae believe that Greek or Latin was necessary, given the other languages I learned..."

Lord John appeared amused by that. "My dear wife, Isobel, sadly perished upon the ship which was carrying her, our son, William, and William's tutor," he said softly. "William's tutor, sadly, perished as well, and I am in need of another tutor for my son..."

I blinked; being a tutor for his son would mean, quite literally, that Lord John and I would be in close proximity to one another. "I see," I said, knowing that the offer, if one was forthcoming, would have to be issued by Lord John himself.

"Perhaps you can be of assistance," Lord John said, his voice coaxing, seductive, intimate. "I think William would enjoy your company, and he could clearly learn a lot from you."

"How old is William?" I asked quietly.

"William is nine," Lord John informed me. "I would, of course, pay you decent wages, and you would be afforded rooms and anything you could ever want to eat..."

I swallowed; Don't go there, Vanora, I warned myself. It's a hanging offense in this day and age, remember that... "I would be honored to help with William," I replied, knowing entirely well that I should say no, that I needed to return home, to my own time, but I couldn't, given that the allure of Lord John Grey was captivating all my senses.

"Wonderful," Lord John said, taking my hand in his again and shaking it. "I'll have you sent for tomorrow, and then you'll meet William."

I nodded my head, which was quite literally swimming with the impact of the decision I had just made, but, nevertheless, I found myself replying, "I am looking forward to it."