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“You speak of changing history,” he continued, his gaze never leaving hers. “Yet you’ve already changed mine. The man I was before you arrived would not recognize the man I’ve become.”

“Is that good or bad?” she whispered.

A smile touched his lips, transforming his stern features. “Good. Terrifying, but good.”

He reached out slowly, giving her time to retreat if she wished. When she didn’t move, his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing the delicate skin beneath her eye. His palm was warm against her cool skin, calloused from years of swordplay, yet impossibly gentle.

“I’ve no right to ask for tomorrow,” he murmured, “but I would dearly like tonight.”

Beth’s heart thundered in her chest. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed. “You’ve always been here beside me,” she whispered. “Even when I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

Baldwin’s low chuckle rumbled between them, a sound that Beth felt in her very bones. “I could never stand apart from you, though God knows I tried.”

Time suspended as he leaned toward her. Beth’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering so wildly she was certain he must hear it. His scent, woodsmoke, leather, and something warm and spiced that was purely him, enveloped her.

When his lips finally met hers, it was with a gentleness that belied the strength in his warrior’s body.

The kiss was tentative at first, a reverent question rather than a demand.

Beth answered by sliding her hands up the solid planes of his chest to his broad shoulders, feeling the heat of him beneath her palms. The roughness of his stubbled jaw against her skin sent shivers cascading down her spine.

Baldwin made a sound, half groan, half sigh, that vibrated through her.

His strong arm circled her waist, drawing her against the hard length of his body until not even a whisper could pass between them.

His other hand cradled her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone with such tenderness that tears pricked behind her eyelids.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against hers with growing hunger.

He tasted of wine and starlight and possibility.

Beth’s fingers tangled in the dark waves of his hair, anchoring herself as the world tilted beneath her feet.

Every scientific certainty, every rational thought dissolved like morning mist, replaced by the undeniable truth of his mouth on hers.

Her knees weakened, threatening to betray her entirely.

Had Baldwin not slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her against the solid warmth of his chest, she might have collapsed in an unseemly heap at his feet.

This was no tepid exchange like those awkward goodnight kisses after blind dates in her time.

This was a claiming, a revelation, a vow sealed without words.

His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone with such tenderness it made her heart ache.

Beth gasped against his mouth, and Baldwin seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue meeting hers in a dance as old as time itself.

Heat bloomed low in her belly, spreading outward until even her fingertips tingled with it.

She had been a woman of science, of measurement and proof, yet nothing in her education had prepared her for this alchemy. How the press of his lips transformed her blood to liquid fire, how the gentle scrape of his stubble against her skin could send lightning down her spine.

When they finally parted, both breathing as though they’d run for miles, Baldwin pressed his forehead to hers.

His eyes, usually so guarded, now blazed with a fierce vulnerability that stole what little breath she had left.

In their gray depths, she saw reflected the same wonder and disbelief she felt, that after everything, after centuries of impossibility, they had found each other.

“Beth,” he whispered, her name on his lips a prayer and a promise. His voice was rough with emotion, his hands trembling slightly as they framed her face. “I have imagined this moment a thousand times, but reality makes my dreams seem pale shadows indeed.”

She tried to form words, to craft some clever response, but found herself capable only of a trembling smile. For once in her life, Beth Anderson, who had rational explanations for everything, was rendered gloriously, perfectly speechless.

“I fear no fate now,” he whispered, his breath warm against her lips, “not if your hand is in mine.”

Her heart too full for words, she smiled. In answer, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him again, pouring everything she couldn’t say into the gesture. The future was uncertain, but this moment was real. This connection was true.

Baldwin’s arms tightened around her waist, drawing her closer until she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. When they finally broke apart, his stormy gray eyes held hers with such tenderness that her breath caught.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Not just for today or tomorrow, but for all the tomorrows that follow.”

Beth traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, memorizing every plane and angle of his face. “I’ve traveled centuries to find you,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As twilight settled over Glenhaven, casting long shadows across the ancient stones, Beth knew with absolute certainty that she had found her place. Not in the sterile laboratories of her time, but here, in his arms, in this castle, in this moment of history that now belonged to them both.