“Did you summon him?” Amber asked Helen.

With Amber’s words, Giles leveled his gaze once again to her.

Helen exchanged a look with Mrs. Dawson. “We must have.”

“But you don’t know who he is?”

“We were looking for a cure for you, Amber. I thought one of the books was going to fly off the shelf, not pop a man out of nowhere,” Helen told her.

“Amber?” Giles asked.

“Aye.”

The way the man watched her now softened. Some of the anxiety in the room eased.

He stepped in her direction and peered closer.

Amber hid under the hood of her cloak and stepped out of the man’s reach. He stopped his advance as if sensing her distress.

Helen moved between the two of them. “Don’t touch her.”

Giles looked over Helen’s shoulder. “I won’t.”

“Do you know who I am?” Amber asked.

“I’m almost afraid to ask. Can I see your face?”

Amber reached to her head and slowly removed her hood.

“You must be her.”

“Must be who?”

“The woman Kincaid is searching for. Tell me, Amber…what is your surname?”

Amber searched out this man’s thoughts, his feelings and didn’t sense any harm could possibly come from his gentle soul. “MacCoinnich. Daughter of—”

“Lord Ian and Lady Lora,” Giles said before he dropped to his knee and bowed his head. “My Lady.”

Amber sighed. “That is not necessary in this century. Please rise.”

He didn’t rise right away and Helen shuffled her feet. “Don’t see that every day.”

It had been some time, but Amber was used to the gesture. “Please, Giles. ’Tis not necessary.”

He stood and stepped closer. Once again, Helen intercepted. “Dude, I mean it. Don’t touch her.”

He lowered his eyes. “Forgive me. I never thought I’d meet any of the original family. I’m humbled…honored.”

Amber pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to mute out the noise inside her head.

“You have us at a disadvantage, Mr. Giles. It appears you’re comfortable in my library and have knowledge of Amber…but we know nothing of you.” Mrs. Dawson indicated the sofa. “Perhaps we can get comfortable and you can tell us who you are. Where you’re from.”

“It’s just Giles.”

Amber settled into a chair to avoid sitting close to anyone in the room.

Giles sized up Mrs. Dawson. “Did you say this is your library?”

“You did say Dawson’s Manor, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“I can’t take credit for the naming of my home, but I am Mrs. Dawson. The library was the pride of my late husband, but it was created by the both of us.”

Where Giles held himself back in reserve from Amber, he burst with enthusiasm at Mrs. Dawson’s confession. “The Mrs. Dawson? Really?”

Mrs. Dawson caught the back of the sofa as she made her way to a chair. Giles was at her side in an instant, ready to assist her. Unlike Amber, Mrs. Dawson happily allowed him to help her. “I’m sure there are other Mrs. Dawson’s out there, but I’m the only one here.”

“How rich is this? Mrs. Dawson and Amber MacCoinnich both under one roof. How did I miss this in the books?” Giles shifted his gaze to Helen. “And who might you be?”

“No one, I assure you.”

“Clearly you’re someone. I didn’t come here under my own power. I assure you, mine isn’t that active.”

Amber sensed Helen’s worry about revealing information to the stranger and decided to lead the conversation instead of chase it.

“Giles?” Amber gained his attention. “Might we offer you refreshment while we sort out what transpired to bring you to us?”

“I’m good.”

She turned her attention to Helen. “Can I trouble you for tea? And perhaps you can inform your husband of our guest?”

Helen’s brow lifted. “Good idea. I’ll be right back.”

Amber calmly laced her fingers together and placed her hands in her lap.

“What year is it, exactly?” Giles asked as calmly as if he were discussing the weather.

“Two thousand and twelve,” Mrs. Dawson informed him. “What year did you arrive from?”

“Twenty-two thirty-one.”

“How is it possible that a man so far in the future has any knowledge of me?” Amber asked.

When Giles smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners like a lad half his age. “You’re a legend, m’lady. If not for you and your family, none of us would exist. You’re Druid royalty.”

****

“Computer!” Kincaid shouted as he shielded himself. “Lockdown. I repeat. Lockdown!”

The computer responded, setting the alarm inside the fortress. The red strobe light flashed and the high-pitched cry of the alarm informed everyone on the compound of a breach in the security.

“Lockdown activated. Lockdown activated. This is not a drill.” The computer calmly spoke in the speaker systems throughout the fortress.

Kincaid walked around the chair where Giles had been seated before he vanished. He felt the familiar zap in the air after a shift in time took place. Only Giles wasn’t a traveler.

Which meant someone took him.

But who? And how?

Colleen rushed into the room, followed by Rory and Allen. All were battle-ready with weapons drawn.

Colleen assessed the room quickly, lowered her weapon. “What’s going on?”

“Giles. He’s gone.”

Rory and Allen stiffened their spines and lowered the muzzles of their guns to the floor.

“Gone?”

“We were talking. Then the energy in the room shifted and he disappeared.”

“Shifted?” Colleen asked.

“Disappeared?” Was Rory’s question.

Kincaid met Rory’s eyes. “He shifted in time.”

Before Rory could utter a word, the room filled with half dozen other warriors.

“Giles isn’t a traveler.”

“Close your eyes. Smell the air,” Kincaid told him. “Tell me that doesn’t smell of time travel.”

Rory didn’t close his eyes, but the confusion around his eyes relaxed. “Holy hell.”

“He’s not marked,” Colleen stated what everyone in the room already knew. Giles wasn’t strong enough to carry the mark of a branded time traveling warrior.