He quickly stood, setting his whiskey and plate on the table before pounding me on the back, dislodging the food. “Did you just say ‘married’?” I said, blinking at the tears in my eyes. The man really was on crack! He gave me another slap on the back and stepped away, still eyeing me. “I did.” “I tell you that I’m from more than two hundred years in the future, and your solution is to marry me off? No thoughts on how to get me back home or even point me in the direction of who could help me? Just marriage?” Pig-headed jerk! He sat in the chair, bending to pick up his food and drink. “Aye.” I couldn’t say anything as I gawked at him, my head shaking back and forth. “Elizabeth,” he said, his eyebrows lowering as he met my gaze head-on. “We’re no’ in yer time. And I’ve nae idea how tae get ye back tae yer own time.” “So you do believe me?” “Kind o’ hard no’ tae, aye? Ye’ve spoken o’ things I’ve ne’er heard o’, and e’en yer ‘cell phone’ is proof that ye’re no’ from here.”
