Free A Bride Worth Billions by Tiffany Morgan

to make sure that there was nothing wrong with me physically. More or less, I felt alright, a little shaken up, but otherwise … But then I noticed that my bag was missing! On no! Even though what it contained all appeared to be of this era in history, everything inside of it was a modern convenience of some sort, and exposing this time period could possibly radically alter the time continuum. Mind you, none of it would probably be a negative change, but…
     
    And then I noticed my transponder was gone, the man with crooked nose had stolen my only way home!
     
                                                                                                  ***
     
    It was supposed to be practically impossible to remove a time transponder from a person’s body. The little funky piece of jewelry was designed specifically for the individual and was even directly linked to your DNA. Basically, without you to operate it, it was nothing but a metal bracelet. But there were also supposed to be security measures put in place that were meant to make it next to impossible for someone else to remove it. Most notably if someone tried to take the wristband off while I was sleeping or unconscious, the person trying to steal would get fried with 50,000 volts of electricity. It would basically knock them into next week or possibly kill them.
     
     
    But like everything else in time travel, there was that certain percentage of people whose devices didn’t function correctly or who would fully experience tumbling down a time tunnel. Or maybe the Rayland Corporation manufactured nothing but junk or hadn’t activated the defense mechanism. Whatever had happened, I was now officially fucked six ways to Sunday. Without the transponder, I couldn’t go home and as far as Rayland was concerned, I might as well have never existed. Without the transponder, I was completely off the radar. Sure, they’d eventually notice that they weren’t receiving vital signs from me and they’d maybe send a recovery team. Here’s the problem with that, though: The transponder acts a homing beacon, it gives the recovery team your exact time frame and location and without it connected to the user, it’s kind of a craps shoot whether they get the time and place right.
     
    So, here’s another downside of time travel: It’s not exactly an exact science. I know, you would think they’d have it down to an exact science before actually sending anyone back in time, but there’s so many variables involved with it, that they can’t pinpoint the exact date and location. If Rayland ends up sending a recovery team—and that’s a big if, especially when it comes to a single individual with no family to worry about them, such as myself—they could end up jumping back a year before I even arrived, or by as much as 10 years, and as far location is concerned, it’s just as big of an issue. More or less, I was absolutely screwed if I didn’t find the transponder. Don’t get me wrong, I love this period in history, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend my entire life here.
     
    I shot to my feet and immediately regretted it. The man with the crooked nose had obviously given me a minor concussion when he punched me, and my head began to spin and I could feel my legs giving out from under me, luckily the highlander who’d shoed off the kids poking me with a stick was there to catch me.
     
    “Hold on a minute, lass,” He said as he steadied me. “That a big bump you’ve got there. Try and take it easy and tell me what’s got you so fired up?”
     
    Well, you mean other than the fact that I was a woman stranded from her own time, you fucking barbarian! Of course I didn’t say any such thing, but trust me, I was tempted to. I had to keep in character, though, just in case there was the possibility of recovering my transponder.
     
    ‘There was a man,” I said as I shook