The 18th century. How had I ended up in the 18th century? As I began the trek back to Mistress Campbell's house, I tried to play out in my head my last moments back in my time. Lottie and I had danced at the stones. Then, there was a clanging noise...and voices. Lottie reached out for the stones but I swatted her hand away. And then I fell toward the stone. I don't remember the pain of colliding with the stone. Instead, I found myself waking up atop Craigh na Dun, lying on my back.

I stopped for a second to catch my breath and ran my fingers through my messy golden waves. Truthfully, I had always wanted to live during the 18th century. I was utterly fascinated by the stories of Ben and Lydia. But then more questions plagued me. What year was it? Perhaps I was wrong about it being the 18th century. Maybe it was the 17th. I knew nothing about Scotland's history except what I had read in the book Lottie gave me or what Frank Randall had prattled on about at dinner last night. Had it really only been last night? One thing was certain I could be easily mistaken when it was. I simply made an assumption based on what I knew. Even if I was right, a century was a long time, a hundred years worth of history. Well, it would be history for me. These people were currently living it.

My thoughts returned to Mistress Campbell. Why hadn't she been more surprised to see me? If this was truly the past, then my outfit should have shocked her. Now that I thought about it, her reaction seemed more like one recognizing something they hadn't seen in a long time. My undergarments alone would have sent her running for the hills. Instead, she had said nothing and helped me into a shift. I then realized why she placed herself between me and Captain Randall. If he thought that being mute made me a whore, my modern outfit, which was quite modest for my time, was not suitable for this time...whatever time it was.

I exhaled slowly before taking in another deep breath. I thought I was handling this rather well, all things considered. I mean, how often did one fall back in time? (It was only later I would realize it happened more often than I thought.) I probably should have been more terrified. I should probably be fleeing back toward Craigh na Dun. But I wasn't. I knew that women were not always treated with the respect they deserved. And yet, the fires of adventure within me had been flamed. I had spent the last few years trapped. Besides Lottie, I had no one back home. Everything I owned belonged to Stephen Arbuckle Sr. I had wanted another chance at life and I was being given one. A certainly unexpected chance, but a chance nonetheless. Besides, if I found my sense of adventuring severely waning, I could always head back to the stones again. But for now, I had other concerns. Mistress Campbell being my top priority.

I smiled. A genuine smile too. When was the last time I had been this excited for something? I didn't know. I probably sounded crazy, but I couldn't help but hope that I'd be able to meet Ben and Lydia Tallmadge while I was here. Of course, if they were alive, they'd be across the Atlantic Ocean which would require me to make a rather difficult passage. But I was a Tallmadge. We had strong constitutions in our favor.

The wind began to blow again. What was with this crazy wind? It blew the afghan off my shoulders. I chased after the afghan through the tall grass, which rustled against my long skirts. These clothes were not nearly as easy to run in as my modern clothing. But I was sure that with practice it would get easier. I hoisted my skirts a little so I wouldn't trip over them and I continued to run. I couldn't help but laugh freely as I ran. I had imagined Lydia doing this very thing many, many times and now I was finally experiencing it myself.

Finally, the afghan seemed to stop running from me and I was able to bend down to pick it up. As I stood straight, I saw the oddest sight. I saw a cow being led into the trees with plaid fabric billowing behind its derriere. I cocked my head, trying to understand what I had just seen. I was just going to have to check the scene out for myself. I took a few steps in that direction when something snapped to my right. I spun in that direction, not prepared for what I saw, Captain Randall.

He stood there rather smugly with his arms folded across his chest. He was sizing me up like a piece of meat and I didn't like that feeling. I quickly looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby, but we were alone. Perhaps if I screamed, Mistress Campbell might come to my aid, but then I remembered that to the captain I was mute. I supposed I should find some small comfort in the fact that I was at least dressed appropriately for this time period.

Randall reached out and tugged one of my blonde locks. I instinctively backed away from him, but his hand snaked behind my neck and pulled me against him. I struggled to get free and his grip tightened. "Now, now," he hissed. "I do believe we haven't been properly introduced. Ruth is it? That is what you told Mistress Campbell, is it not?"

My eyes widened. His expression would hardly qualify as a smile considering how smug and cruel it was. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you. Not mute after all, are you?"

I tried to push him away, but he held on tighter.

"And that accent isn't one from around these parts," he continued. "Where exactly are you from?"

Damn my bloody American accent. It was always getting me into trouble. But it wasn't like I could tell him where I was from. The country didn't even exist yet. My breath hitched momentarily, the words wouldn't come out.

"Well? I'm waiting..." His grip around my throat tightened.

"The colonies," I gasped as he began to apply more pressure with his thumb, almost crushing my windpipe.

Given his expression, I wasn't sure if he believed me. But he patted my cheek and I was able to take a good breath. "Good girl," he said, but I knew the words weren't meant in praise. They were because I had done as he said. "But if I find out you're lying there will be worse things coming. Now, why would Mistress Campbell lie for you?"

To protect me from you, I thought but didn't express the words out loud. He ran his thumb over my lips. I tried to keep my lips clamped together, but his thumb broke through. "Don't bite," he hissed as his thumb traced my cheek, leaving a dirty taste in my mouth. I wanted to spit after he removed his thumb from my mouth, but that would likely only make matters worse. I needed to lull him into a false sense of ease and then make a break for it. I needed to calm myself.

Randall narrowed his eyes at me. "Perhaps you are a druid. A witch. In which case, that makes you a whore."

I lifted my left hand, trying to show him my ring. While Stephen was dead in my time. I doubt he could have heard my confession inside Mistress Campbell's house. Everything he had mentioned so far, I had told her on our journey to her home.

But my attempt only made Randall laugh. He then pulled me closer to him and whispered in my ear. The warmth of his breath made me uncomfortable. "Being married doesn't mean you aren't a whore. Now, if you'd like to avoid being burned at the stake, druid, give me what I want. Payment must be made."

I didn't have to be told what he wanted. It was quite obvious. He wanted from me what he was expecting from Mistress Campbell. For a moment, I stopped struggling to let him think that I had given up, that I was going to give him what he wanted. He pulled his face away from my ear and grinned at me. It was a horrid expression, a sight I wished I could unsee.

He lifted my trembling chin with one finger, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His expression was icy lust. I had never seen such a combination in my life and I didn't like that it was directed at me. I slowly lifted my skirts as he leaned in to force his lips upon me. I then struck him hard in the groin with my knee, causing him to double over, giving me a chance to flee.

I had bested Randall this time. There was no hope of me doing it again. I sprinted as fast as I possibly could toward the trees, holding my skirts as high as I could. Perhaps I might be able to climb one and lose him. I knew better than to look back. It would only slow me down.

Randall began shouting at me. I heard a string of profanities and the word whore several times. I felt my heart rise to my throat, but I refused to look back. That was exactly what he wanted me to do. I finally reached the trees. I didn't want to lead Randall directly to Mistress Campbell. After the kindness she had shown me, that didn't seem right. So I weaved in and out between the trees, changing my course every now and then. Or at least I did until a strong pair of arms reached out and snatched me.

I wanted to scream, but a hand clasped over my mouth, which was probably a good thing because I didn't want to give Randall the satisfaction of hearing my screams. I waited for my skirts to be hoisted, but instead, an unfamiliar voice whispered above me. "I dinna mean you harm, lass." The accent was Scottish, not English.

With the large hand still over my mouth, I tilted my head back against his chest to get a better look. His blue eyes were the first thing I saw. Then his red hair. And then how tall he was. My God, he towered over me probably at least by a good foot. He removed the arm from around my waist and slowly raised a finger to his mouth, motioning me to be quiet.

I found myself nodding my head at my savior's directions. He then removed his hand from my mouth. "This way, lass," he whispered motioning for me to follow him. For all I knew, he could have been an even worse scoundrel than Captain Randall, but there was something about him that told me otherwise. For reasons I didn't understand, I found myself trusting him. Despite not knowing this strange man, I followed after him.

I wasn't sure where he was leading me. All that mattered was that I was being led away from Randall and given by the captain's taunts coming from the opposite direction, I was assured that much. As I ran behind my savior, I finally got a good look at him from behind. I was right about him being tall. My father had been tall, but this man probably had an inch or two on him. He was also dressed in a kilt and a dirty white shirt. He was toting a pistol, a large sword, and some sort of knife. Those were the weapons I could see, he likely had others. The man perfectly fit the history book's description of a Highland warrior. And yet for some reason, he looked vaguely familiar. But understanding that wasn't a priority while I was fleeing for my life.

The man came to a stop and held his hand up to motion me to do the same. For a moment, I was confused about why he was talking to a tree. But when I looked closer, I saw two animals beneath the large branches, a cow and a horse. The horse willingly came out of hiding. The cow did not. The man gently patted the horse and I instinctively backed up against a different tree. I hated horses. Always had.

The man then turned toward me offering me his hand. "On the horse, lass," he said to me.

I shook my head.

He looked at me rather incredulously. "Would ye rather Randall catch ye then?"

"No," I stammered.

"Then on the horse with ye."

I looked at the cow. I would much rather ride it than ever go near a horse. Was riding the cow an option? Of all the things to fear, I knew horses wouldn't be on the top of most people's lists; but they were on mine. I then remembered something about Highlanders. They would often steal cattle and such for sport. I then looked at the man, who looked a bit frustrated with me. "That's not your cow, is it?" I asked him.

"No," he answered me, his tone clearly annoyed. His eyes narrowed at me before he glanced back at the horse, then back to me. His expression slightly softened. "I'll no let harm come to ye, lass," he said.

While I believed his words, that didn't make me trust the beast he wished me to mount. I said nothing.

He sighed. "If ye don't come, I'll have to throw ye over my shoulder and do it myself, yer just a wee thing."

I closed my eyes and inhaled. I was jittery, bouncing my leg and my heart was racing. Also, I hated being called small. I was always teased as a child. But I suppose compared to the man, I was wee. I then looked at the horse. "It's not so much don't as it is can't," I tried to explain to him.

He looked at me, probably taken aback from my accent. I had a feeling that I was going to stand out like a sore thumb with my accent.

Suddenly, the sound of a different horse squealing in the distance forced him to make the choice for me. He reached across the divide and, true to his word, threw me across his shoulder with great ease before he scurried back to his horse. He placed me gently as he could atop the beast. I seemed to freeze the second I sat down, my heart began racing with panic. I could handle a lot of things, but being on a horse wasn't one of them. Before I could jump down, the man mounted the beast behind me before tightly wrapping an arm around my waist. "Hold tight," he said.

I wasn't entirely sure what to hold onto, but there was no way I would be holding onto the creature we were atop. Instead, I clamped one hand onto the arm he had around my waist and my other hand tightly held onto his thigh. I also leaned against him as much as I could. If he was uncomfortable with what I was doing he didn't say so as we raced through the woods, leaving the cow behind.

I kept my eyes closed as the horse galloped the path the man directed. I felt the man shift beneath my death grip, like he was craning his neck to look around me...not that he needed to with the height difference and my current position. I opened my eyes for a moment to see him looking ahead before he looked down at me. I quickly shut my eyes again and he chuckled. I was almost certain the man knew my biggest weakness: horses. And I wasn't so sure that was a good thing, especially for whatever time period we were currently in.

A gunshot rang out. No doubt it was Randall. I clamped down even harder on my savior. He grunted a bit but didn't ask me to stop. "Stay as low as you can, lass," he whispered to me, leaning us both forward before encouraging the horse to go faster. I didn't want to go faster, but this man seemed to know what he was doing. I would have to trust him. But it wasn't like I had much of a choice. It was either trust him or be left to Randall's mercy. So, it wasn't so much of a choice as it was a necessity. I had to trust him. My life depended on it.

Thankfully, the man seemed to know where he was going because I had no idea. I didn't know which direction the stones were nor which direction lay Inverness. I was purely at the mercy of this rugged Scottish Highlander.

After a time, he eased up on the horse and we began to go a little slower. I heard the sound of rushing water. I assumed that we must be approaching some sort of river or stream. I opened my eyes once more when we broke through a line of trees and entered into a small valley. By the water's edge, I saw another man atop his horse. This man was also dressed in a kilt, but his hair was covered by a bonnet. I couldn't see his expression, but his posture atop his horse looked rather rigid.

I quickly tensed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to trust this man. Surprisingly, the man whispered to me, "I told ye, I'll no harm ye. I gave ye my word and I'll no go back on it. He'll no harm ye. Not so long as I'm wi ye."

Something in his tone made me believe him. But I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to me if he wasn't with me. Would they behave as Captain Randall had? While I trusted this strange man had honest intentions toward me, I couldn't help but wonder why he helped me in the first place. "Why? Why help me?" I asked, still clinging to him.

He was silent for a moment before he answered. "I've never seen a wee lassie go head to head wi Randall like that. He'll no soon forget it."

That probably didn't bode well for me, but there wasn't really anything I could do about it now. I then asked, "You know Randall then?"

"Aye." He sounded rather terse. It made me certain that there was some history between the two men. While I did want to know that history, I wasn't going to pry. Who told a stranger their life story? Besides, it wasn't like I wanted to be as open with him about my past.

"Let me do the talking," the man told me as we approached the other man.

The other man looked as stern as his posture was rigid. I rationalized that it didn't make sense for my savior to offer me up like meat to this man when he had just saved from me from another man, but that didn't stop the possibility from entering my mind. The angry-looking man said some words in a language I didn't understand, his tone was harsh. I assumed the language they were using was Gaelic. I knew Lottie could understand a bit of the language, but as an American, I had never needed to learn Gaelic. Stephen had offered to teach me a bit once when we first started seeing each other, but he was only trying to impress me.

"Randall," the man I still clung to answered in English.

But that one word seemed enough to appease the other man to nod. Although the other man's gaze toward me still wasn't very welcoming. After a moment of silence, he said another string of words in Gaelic, pointing in my direction. They didn't sound pleasant.

My savior, whose name I still didn't know, spoke words back to him in Gaelic. The two men went back and forth, seemingly in an argument over me, I assumed. I felt rather uncomfortable being talked about, despite not having a clue in what light my character was being shed. Thankfully, I was at least dressed in time-appropriate clothing and didn't have that against me. There was also probably a reason, he told me to let him do all the talking. My accent would give me away...again. It seemed insane to trust a stranger to this degree, but I did and I didn't understand why.

For a moment, the men stopped speaking. There was obvious tension between the two. I couldn't help but feel that I was the cause of it and that didn't sit well with me. Perhaps leaving would be better for all involved. We had to be far enough away where Captain Randall couldn't stumble across me again. Besides, I would have accepted any excuse to dismount the beast I rode. I didn't trust it and if I was being honest with myself, it still scared me. But I had my reasons.

I then turned toward the man behind me. "I appreciate your help but I think I can handle things from here."

I purposely did not look at the other man because I didn't want to see his expression at hearing my accent. I wasn't entirely sure how to get down. I somehow managed to maneuver my left leg to the same side as my right leg with all those petticoats. I looked down and took a deep breath, but just before I could bring myself to jump another shot rang out.

Shock filled me as I looked to the man beside me. He hardly looked worried. In fact, he seemed to have a rather teasing expression on his face. "Are ye sure of that, lass?"

I somehow managed to shake my head to which he responded with a nod of his. Quickly, he helped me situated myself so that I sat properly atop the horse. Although given the look the other man gave us, I was certain I was showing much more leg than was appropriate for a woman of this time.

There was another shot.

"Jamie!" the other man hissed who was already several yards ahead of us.

My savior, whose name I now assumed was Jamie, leaned forward against me and urged the horse to fly. Or at least it seemed like flying. I still clung tightly to the man. Probably more than was appropriate for a woman not married to him in this time period. But to me, this was life and death and if it meant holding onto a handsome man to survive, then I would do it. Despite the fact that I was terrified and we were being chased, I couldn't help but think that Lottie would be teasing me about my luck in finding this man.

I turned my head to get a glimpse behind us over the man's shoulder. I couldn't see anything and I prayed that we wouldn't see anything, any time soon. I was about to turn my head again when I inhaled deeply. While it was obvious that this man hadn't bathed in some time, there was a certain scent about him that I liked. Surely, I couldn't find the scent of an unwashed man appealing.

The sound of another gunshot resounded in the air, but this time it seemed farther away.

We didn't stop for quite some time. At some point during our journey, it started raining. No one spoke, I was hungry, and I was scared. I probably should have been terrified to death. Instead, I felt like new life had been breathed into me. I was exhilarated, a feeling I hardly even recognized. I was a little uneasy about knowing nothing of my surroundings nor the people with whom I traveled, but my sense of adventure had been fanned to flame again.

When we finally did stop, darkness had fallen. I hadn't a clue where we were. We could have traveled in circles for hours and I wouldn't have noticed the difference. What I could see was some sort of building by the light of the moon and more horses, but that was it. I assumed the horses meant more men, which was just what I needed. I hoped this man, likely called Jamie, would keep his promise to me.

Another man approached us from behind. Jamie, I think, seemed happy to see him. It was hard to see this new man by only the moon's light, but when he stopped his horse next to us, I could smell him. Suddenly, Jamie didn't smell bad at all in comparison.

I could tell the other man was looking at me. I pulled the afghan tighter, trying to shield myself from scrutinizing me. Not that it was going to stop him. I made eye contact with him in the darkness for a second before he shook his head. "Ye go for a cow and come back wi a lassie?"

"Should've kept the cow. Would've been less trouble," the angry-looking man scoffed. "Thinking between yer legs there, aye Jamie?"

Chuckles erupted from the darkness. While I couldn't see who else was there, I at least knew we weren't as alone as I thought. Thankfully no one could see me blush. I hadn't yet doubted Jamie's intentions toward me in that regard, but the thought was now there. Especially given what I knew about women in this time period and their rights, or lack thereof. The other voices didn't help matters.

"What are we going to do wi her?"

"When do we get a turn, Jamie?"

Their words seemed in jest, especially compared to Randall's; but I didn't know these men, so I could hardly know for sure. The men then switched over to Gaelic. I wondered if their words were cruder now. Jamie then nudged my back. "We'll be staying for a time, lass," he whispered to me.

"Here? But won't Randall still be after us?" I asked him.

"Aye," he responded rather grimly. "But I'm afraid one of the men has taken a bullet. He needs tending to and then we'll be off again. Randall willna make it far in the dark. Still, it's best we hurry."

"What about me?" I asked.

"We'll talk inside where it's dry."

I looked down at the ground hesitantly. Jamie must have noticed how utterly terrible I was at this horse thing. While he didn't say so, he whispered to me the steps to dismount. I was thankful he wasn't loud enough for the other men to hear.

Once I was on the ground again, I didn't realize that there was mud beneath me. I slipped and as I fell to the ground, I squealed. That must have spooked the horse because it bucked, knocking Jamie off. I was flat on my back in the mud and watched as Jamie seemed to fall in slow motion. He landed on top of me, knocking the air from me; but he hit the ground with his hand before he hit me. I heard a snapping noise and Jamie shout in pain. My scream became muffled by the large man on top of me.

Despite being in pain, I was thankful Jamie quickly rolled off me as I struggled to catch my breath. For a moment, I couldn't help but think this was a rather pathetic way to die; but soon my breath returned. Jamie lay still beside me. The men were not quick to rush to his aid. I beat them to it. I somehow managed to crawl through the mud to his side, still breathing rather erratically.

"Where does it hurt," I asked.

"Shoulder," he said through gritted teeth as he forced himself into a sitting position. I could tell that he was trying to push through the pain. Why did men always do that? They tried to make it seem like nothing was wrong even when they knew otherwise

"Let me see," I said gently, my tone was more of a question. I waited for his approval, which he gave in the form of a nod before he let me push aside his shirt. While there wasn't much light to see, it wasn't hard to miss that his arm was not properly in the socket. "It's out of joint," I told him.

I had seen plenty of that type of injury before. When I was younger, I had watched my father set them properly. Then, when I was older I helped him. At medical school, I was the first one to volunteer to fix such an injury. It wasn't a very difficult injury to fix, but it did cause momentarily more pain to the injured.

By this time, the men were at his side and lifted him to his feet. They dragged him toward the small house before us. No one helped me to my feet. I had to stand on my own. But once I did, I followed them into the house to help determine my fate.

Author's Note: Well, it's finally happened. Jamie and Ruthie have met. Please keep in mind that Ruthie actually went back through the stones right at sunrise whereas Claire went back later, hence the bit of a time change. Also, someday, the cow thing will become an inside joke between Ruthie & Jamie. I shoulda taken the cow-of course teasingly. Haha.

Thank you to those of you who have stuck with me so far and finally made it to some Jamie.