by Diane Darcy
Kellen finally lost his temper. “Quiet! What is happening here?”
Silence reigned for a few moments, then Lord Corbett, spittle dotting his lips and beard, pointed his finger at Gillian. “That is not my daughter, the Lady Edith Corbett.” He turned and pointed at one of the girls in the gaggle behind him. “That is.”
Kellen followed the new direction of Lord Corbett’s finger to see a girl who closely resembled his dead wife. Instantly repulsed, he scowled. “I think not.” Did the man think to renege on the betrothal and foist off an inferior daughter? Did he think to give Gillian to another? His arm tightened around her shoulders. He’d not give her up.
Lord Corbett’s jaw thrust forward. “What is happening here? You think to go back on our agreement? You insisted you have another of my daughters. I had to break her betrothal to make it so. Now you do not want the girl and have replaced her with another? Do you seek revenge, after all?”
Kellen looked at Gillian, then at Corbett’s daughter, at Lord Corbett, and then back to Gillian’s fearful expression. Lord Corbett may have gone insane, but he swore to himself he would never hold Gillian’s parentage against her. He lifted her chin and forced her to meet his gaze, anxious to reassure her. “Tell me they are lying and I will send them all away.”
Gillian looked up at him, her gaze wide-eyed and afraid. She slowly shook her head.
“Gillian?”
Gillian’s racing heart felt as if it might explode. “K-Kellen,” she stuttered, barely able to say his name. Face hot, she glanced around the room and could practically feel the weight of the hostile gazes drilling into her. Finally, she took a deep breath and tilted her head to meet Kellen’s worried gaze.
“I-I’m not Edith Corbett.” Her voice, barely a whisper, broke on the last word. “My name is Gillian Corbett and I traveled through time. I-I’m from the future.” She swallowed hard. “I’m Lord Corbett’s granddaughter, seven hundred years from now. At least, I think I am.” She lifted a pleading hand to Kellen. “I wanted to tell you. I tried. I didn’t know how.”
Kellen’s mouth parted and he looked at her and then at the others around him. “Is this entire family gone mad?”
Gillian didn’t move, didn’t say another word, just stood frozen within Kellen’s arms.
Kellen glared down at her. “You truly believe that girl,” he jabbed his finger in the air twice for emphasis, “is Edith Corbett?” Kellen gestured toward the beautiful girl Lord Corbett had pointed out. The girl straightened her shoulders as several of her sisters laughed and her mother’s expression turned especially snide and haughty.
Gillian nodded, her heart pounding so hard in her chest it hurt. “Yes.” She took a gasping breath. “But if you’d rather ch-choose me, I-I’m okay with that.”
Kellen didn’t respond for a moment, his expression colder and angrier as the seconds ticked by. He suddenly let go of her, took a step back, and thrust his fingers through his hair. “You deceived me? You are not the Lady Edith Corbett? You lied?”
Gillian swayed on her feet. He wasn’t going to choose her. She could see it in his face. Despair sank deep within her. He’d just told her he loved her, and now was looking at her as if he hated her. Did people really only want her for what she could give them? Couldn’t he just love her because he did? “I am not Lady Edith Corbett,” she said again, trying to rein back tears.
Marissa stepped forward and instructed her husband to remove Gillian to the chapel. “We will come to you when this discussion is decided.”
Kellen’s father moved forward and gently took her arm. Gillian left with him, stumbling a few times as they headed out the doorway. Angry voices broke out once more behind them. She no longer cared what happened. All she could see was Kellen’s cold, angry, bitter face.
She glanced back once, but tears blurred her vision. Apparently, she’d been right to be afraid for her heart. If she didn’t come with money, he didn’t want her.
Kellen watched Gillian walk away and saw the betrayed look she cast him. It was as a knife in his gut. He was not the betrayer here, she was. Deceiving him, leading him on, lying to him. Just as Catherine had done.
No, she was worse than his wife. At least Catherine had not attempted to sway his affections before trying to kill him. He felt as if his guts were being ripped out. His heart. And then to spout nonsense besides? He was simply at a loss, hollow, and empty as he watched her go.
Lord Corbett started to yell again, demanding and grating, his voice curiously insubstantial as numbness spread throughout Kellen’s body. When Kellen ignored him, unable to think or care enough to form a reply, Marissa stepped forward to appease the man; and Kellen glanced at Edith, the real Edith, who looked so much like Catherine he had to turn away.
He accepted that Gillian was not Lady Edith Corbett but was having a hard time believing Gillian was not still his, that she was not the girl he’d been given to marry. The girl he’d fallen in love with.
Now he had to decide what to do. She’d lied to him, betrayed his trust, used him, and all he wanted to do was run after her and force her to admit she truly did love him.
Again, he compelled himself to look at Edith, who stared impassively back, her chin rising. She arched a brow in a disdainful fashion he well recognized and, again, he felt revulsion. His decision was made.
He would not marry a woman he did not love. He would marry Gillian. Even if she was a lying, deceitful, double-tongued pretender. She had convinced him of her feelings, made him feel impassioned and alive, and she could bloody well continue to do so. She would keep her promises to him. He would insist upon it.
Kellen looked at the door and wanted to follow Gillian and have this out with her. Whatever her purpose in coming here, he could not give up on the idea that she did love him. He could not believe their entire courtship had been a ruse. When she had told him earlier she loved him, he’d believed her, and the relief had fair weakened his knees.
Regardless of her deception, he loved her still. But what of her true feelings? Her true motivations in coming here? He thought of her strange way of speech, so unlike anything he’d heard before. The pack she carried about so frequently. Was she a spy? A girl who sought to improve her station in life through marriage? A thief? He wanted to see her face as he asked these questions. He needed to know.
His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth. Regardless of her answers, he would do whatever was necessary, including paying a fine to the king if he had to, but would marry none but her. If she did not love him, she could learn to do so. He would insist upon it. She was his.
He looked at Edith’s stiff expression again and acknowledged he had been arrogant. He had thought one wife as good as the next so long as she gave him an heir.
Not so. Gillian was the only woman for him. He could not be happy without her and would not give her up. Not only for his own sake but for Edith’s, as well. He was sorry for the humiliation she would suffer, but she also deserved better than a loveless match. He’d been on the other end of one of those before and it hurt.
As Lord Corbett continued his rant, his finger now pointing repeatedly in Kellen’s direction, Sir Tristan and Sir Owen moved to stand beside Kellen, ramrod straight, in a show of support.
Kellen eyed Edith one last time and shook his head. He looked at Lord Corbett, held up a hand and, when the other man stopped talking, Kellen informed him, “The wedding is off.”
Lord Corbett gaped like a landed fish, his face blooming redder than before. “How dare you?”
Kellen, uninterested in any discussion that did not involve Gillian, turned and headed for the doors; but Lord Corbett ran after him and grabbed his arm, fingernails digging into skin. Kellen reluctantly stopped and exhaled a pent-up breath.
Lord Corbett, practically frothing at the mouth, shook Kellen’s arm. “You will marry my daughter! I had to break a betrothal with Lord Phillip’s son so you could have her.” Spittle flew. “It cost me much.”
Kellen’s eyes narrowed and
he bit out, “Only fitting as your eldest daughter cost me a son.”
Corbett gaped and drew his hand to his chest. “But . . . but . . . you do not understand! He will not take her back. Only my alliance with you keeps Lord Phillip from attacking.”
Marissa stepped forward, composed and serene. “Sir Tristan is in need of a bride, my lord. Might he not be persuaded to take her?”
Edith’s mother burst into tears.
“My lord!” Lord Corbett sputtered. “Take her? Take her indeed! He should be so fortunate!”
Kellen remembered Tristan mentioning how lucky Kellen was to marry an heiress and arched a brow at his friend. “Well, then?”
Tristan looked at Edith, who eyed him back.
Her coldly blank expression reminded Kellen of Catherine once more, so he stipulated, “Only if you are willing. I’ll not force the issue.”
Tristan smiled. “Aye, if she’ll have me, I’ll take her and be glad of it.”
Lord Corbett’s wife wailed and Lord Corbett sputtered, but Marissa raised her voice to be heard. “A marriage between Lady Corbett and Sir Tristan would be beneficial for all concerned.” She turned to Kellen. “Except, of course, there will be no dowry for you. It will go to Sir Tristan.”
Kellen started forward again. “I care not.”
Lord Corbett made a wild grab for Kellen’s sleeve. “I care! He has not your standing! He can offer me no protection against Lord Phillip.”
Kellen shrugged him off. “You need not worry on that score. I will stand behind Sir Tristan.”
Feeling the matter concluded, Kellen slapped Tristan on the back and headed out the door toward the chapel. He needed to find out just who it was he was marrying.
As confused and angry as he was about Gillian’s identity, he did not wish to doubt her. There must be some explanation for her behavior. He thought of her strange speech again and wondered at her origins. In all his travels, he had never come across such.
No matter. He would solve this mystery and marry the lady. She was no doubt fearful and confused, and he meant to go to her with assurances that all would be well. He’d find out how she came to be here, who she was and, most important, if she really did love him.
He hurried, having the strangest feeling that if he did not, she would disappear from his life as quickly as she’d appeared.
Lord Corbett followed, yapping at his heels. “This is unacceptable. I will not be treated this way. What of our alliance? What of your daughter, Amelia? Does she not have Corbett blood running in her veins? Do you wish to diminish her position by marrying this girl?”
Kellen stopped and glared at the man. “Were it not for Gillian convincing me otherwise, I would not have a daughter. Catherine thought to steal her from me, along with my heir. As she lay dying, she claimed Amelia was not my child, but her lover’s.”
Lord Corbett’s mouth dropped. “She would never!”
“Aye, she did.”
“’Twas the poison polluting her mind!”
“You were not there. She was most convincing.” Kellen strode away.
After a long moment, Lord Corbett ran to catch up. “You must attend me!”
When they finally reached the chapel, Kellen stood in the doorway and watched Father Elliot trying to comfort Gillian, who was crying, the two of them seated on a bench, her pack beside them.
Kellen sighed, tension draining out of him, his feeling of dread subsiding. He caught his father’s gaze upon him and his own brows rose in question, but his father simply shrugged.
Lord Corbett pushed past Kellen to point at Gillian. “She is a fraud, a liar, and insane!”
Kellen dragged the man back, yanking him around to face him. “You will not speak of her in such a manner!”
Lord Corbett attempted to shake him off. “Why should I not? She could be anyone. A temptress, a swindler, a villain sent by your enemies to defeat you from within. Or even my enemies, to prevent this advantageous match.”
“You will cease such slander or I will be forced to make you. I will—”
“There will be no such talk in this chapel!” Father Elliot raised both hands. “Saint Cuthbert himself blessed this sacred place, and there will be no fighting within these walls. Until you can comport yourselves in a manner fitting Lords and Knights, you will stay outside.”
Kellen met Gillian’s reddened gaze and, seeing she was safe enough, he dragged Lord Corbett outside. He did not want the man slandering Gillian in her hearing and needed to convince the old fool to accept Tristan and be on his way.
Lord Corbett grabbed at Kellen’s tunic. “What of Edith’s dowry? We will double it!”
Kellen took a breath, determined to be patient.
“Think what you could do with the coin Edith brings! This girl? Who is she? Who is her family? She has nothing. She is nothing.”
With a growl, Kellen grabbed the man by the throat.
She has nothing. She is nothing. Gillian’s stomach clenched at the words Lord Corbett yelled so convincingly. It almost sounded as if the man was trying to bribe Kellen to take Edith over Gillian. She almost felt . . . hope. Was Kellen going to choose her? Regardless of everything? Could he?
She knew Kellen would lose out financially by marrying her. She knew he had plans for the money: To help more of his knights secure a place, to expand his property and his crops, to improve his influence and his military along the border.
All along she’d consoled herself with the thought that he’d received Catherine’s dowry. If his wife hadn’t died, Kellen wouldn’t have more. But now Lord Corbett was offering double the amount if he married Edith.
Gillian’s hands clenched open and closed on her skirt. She desperately wanted Kellen to choose her. She’d been risking her heart and counting on it, risking his heart. Only now was she considering, at what cost to others?
On the other hand, if he didn’t choose her, what would happen to her? She had no way back home. She was basically at his mercy. Hysteria bubbled in her chest. Did she take Laird MacGregor up on his offer of marriage?
A few minutes later Kellen came back inside; and Lord Corbett followed, rubbing at his throat. Both men looked grim as they moved toward her and, at the last moment, Lord Corbett grabbed Kellen’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “She could be an assassin, sent by your enemies to slay you.”
Kellen jerked away. “If I feared murder, I need only marry one of your daughters.”
Lord Corbett gasped, then shook his head. “What of the king? Think you he will not exact a high price when I tell him of your refusal to wed Edith? After your demands to produce her? ’Tis yet another way this girl will cost you.”
“Think you your reputation will survive the revelation of the manner of Catherine’s death?” Kellen’s voice was low and fierce. “Perhaps I shall run to the king with tales of my own if you interfere in my affairs.”
Kellen’s father stepped forward. “I, for one, would be pleased to have my son’s name vindicated.”
Gillian made an inarticulate sound as tears flooded her eyes. It did sound as though Kellen wanted to choose her. But again, at what cost to himself? To others?
Father Elliot patted Gillian’s hand and stood once more. “My lords. I believe I have been quite clear on the subject of fighting within the chapel. You must remove yourselves if you wish to continue in this vein.”
Kellen ignored the man and moved forward to stand in front of Gillian. “Who are you?” His tone was gentle. “Where do you come from?”
Gillian wiped her eyes and reluctantly lifted her gaze as all four men stood in front of her. “I told you. M-my . . . name is Gillian Corbett. I was born in the future, seven hundred years from now. I was running through the cemetery and,” she shrugged. “I just a-appeared here.” She gazed into Kellen’s eyes, willing him to believe her. “I think that I may be a descendant of Lord Corbett.”
The man made a scoffing noise.
“Look.” She lifted her hand and revealed her ring.
Lo
rd Corbett grasped her fingers. “Where did you get that? You stole this from my rooms at Corbett Castle!”
She snatched back her hand. “No, I didn’t! It belonged to my father.”
Lord Corbett held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Gillian tried to take off the ring but, as always, it stuck fast.
Lord Corbett shook his hand, palm up. “Now, girl!”
She yanked again, sobbing with effort, and pulling so hard she cut her finger; and blood welled up, bright red against the white of her skin.
Kellen slammed the back of one hand into Lord Corbett’s chest, knocking the man back a few paces. “Now look what you’ve caused with your shouting and abuse!”
Gillian looked at the blood coating her finger and ring. Her hand seemed to waver a bit, like a mirage; and the ring seemed to loosen. She sucked in a breath.
The blood.
She’d been bleeding when she’d arrived. She’d cut her finger when she’d shoved the ring into place, and then right after, she’d traveled through time. She looked around and the men seemed to fade, the chapel to crumble, and another thought occurred to her. The chapel had been blessed by Saint Cuthbert, the same as the cemetery. She didn’t know if that meant anything or not, but Father Elliot sure seemed to think highly of the man. Or rather, the saint.
Goose bumps erupted all over Gillian’s body as the men came back into sharp focus, the chapel new again. She was on the verge of time travel.
She suddenly had a choice.
Would she stay and fight Edith for Kellen and possibly endanger his future?
Or did she let him go?
It wasn’t a hard choice, only difficult to make herself comply. She loved Kellen so much and wanted him to have everything he needed. She wanted him to have the money. If she stayed, if she fought for him and won, he could lose everything. Kellen needed that dowry. She didn’t want the king angry at Kellen, fining him, and jeopardizing everything he had. He’d end up hating her in the end.
He couldn’t choose her. Too much was at stake. Too many other lives depended on him. She knew he was having a hard time with all this. She’d deliberately stolen his affection thinking they could have a life together. That being the case, she should be the one who made things easy on him. Even if it devastated her.
