by Pam Binder
“Thanks, Grant,” Logan said, reaching for Irene’s hand.
She pulled back, slipping her hand free. After Logan’s mention of a portrait likeness of her mother, a feast was the farthest thing from her mind. “Can you show me where you found the portrait?”
He held her gaze for a brief moment, then nodded.
Grant turned his saucer-wide eyes from Irene to Logan and back again. “Hey, guys, we don’t have time.”
Logan ignored Grant and turned his attention to Irene as though the man were invisible. “The portrait is hanging along one of the corridors. You may have passed it on your way here. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it. The resemblance is uncanny.”
Irene held the diary against her chest with both hands. She was struggling with the same question. “My mother never mentioned any connection to Scotland. It’s probably just a good likeness. I’ve heard that we all have at least one lookalike in the world.”
“They’re called doppelgangers. But the woman was wearing earrings similar to your pendant. That’s what really caught my attention. I planned to find you, but then I discovered the library.” He grinned. “Short attention span. I kept getting distracted at school. My black lab and I were a lot alike. We’d be playing ball together, and he’d see a squirrel and be off on an adventure, and I’d be right behind him. My mother would say it was because I had an active mind. My teachers had a different name for it.”
Irene fingered the snowflake pendant, thinking their mothers were a lot alike. She also sensed he was trying to lighten her mood. “I used to get into trouble for daydreaming in class. My mother defended me to the teacher and said it was because the course work was boring.”
He nodded his head toward the picture in the diary. “What do you think? Do you want to skip the feast and find the portrait?”
Grant cut in between them. “Seriously. We have to leave. Now. And skipping is not an option. Something about rules and their sending out guards if I didn’t bring you back.”
Logan looked as though he was having trouble trying not to smile. “Grant looks like he’ll have a coronary if we don’t follow him. Would it be all right if we went to see it after the feast?”
Chapter Thirteen
She hadn’t answered his question. Was Logan right? Could her family have Scottish heritage? That would explain her mother’s interest. In a fog, Irene had followed Logan and Grant back to the Great Hall. Why hadn’t she insisted they find the portrait? They’d made so many twists and turns that, by the time they arrived, Irene felt dizzy and disoriented, the complete opposite of her professional persona of a cool, calm, and always-in-control prosecutor. She felt like she was standing on a cliff, afraid to look down. The drop could be inches or miles. One she’d survive, the other…
Lady Roselyn raised her voice to announce dinner was served and led the group to a long trestle table dressed for a feast. Handwritten place cards, each with a person’s name scrolled in a flourish of Old English-style script, took the guesswork out of where to sit. The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland of tree branches and candlelight. Irene’s practical side screamed “fire hazard” while the softer side of her gave an audible sigh. She half expected to see butterfly-size fairies dancing around the tree limbs.
She found her seat and picked up the place card. On the eve of her sister’s wedding, she and Louise had snuck into the reception room and thrown away all the place cards. By then, their mother had been in decline, and Louise’s mother-in-law had taken over all the wedding preparations. In addition to the arranged seating, the woman had ordered that the tables be set up in rounds to accommodate no more than four people each. She insisted the guests didn’t want to mingle with anyone they didn’t already know. Louise held an opposite opinion.
Irene’s sister had used what they did as a test for her future husband, and he’d passed with flying colors. When he realized what had happened, he gathered his friends and, with the help of the staff, brought in larger tables.
Irene never knew what her sister’s husband said to his mother that day, but from that moment on, she’d welcomed Louise more as a daughter then someone who was in competition for her son’s affections.
This small rebellion had turned a solemn, stodgy wedding into a real celebration of family and friends. Irene fingered the place card before setting it back on the table. Louise had always been the one who leapt without a net. The only reason Irene was here was because Louise’s child was due soon. Her mother always said things happened for a reason, even if they couldn’t be understood at the time.
Lady Roselyn took her position at the head of the table and indicated for everyone to find their chairs. Directly to her right was a place card for Ann, one for Sean, then for Logan, and finally Julia’s at the end. On Lady Roselyn’s left were place cards for people Irene hadn’t met yet. Caitlin, the laird’s daughter, who would be getting married at midnight, according to what the tour group had been told, and Angus, a man who looked like everyone’s dream of a knight-in-shining armor. Next to them were place cards for Grant, Irene, and someone named Sam.
There was a brief period of confusion while everyone found their chairs, and then a quiet lull descended over the group. With Irene the only exception, everyone was seated beside someone they already knew, so there was no reason to strike up a conversation. Was that what her sister had suspected would happen when she’d learned about the arranged seating? Being organized wasn’t a bad thing, but in certain circumstances it could rob an event of its spontaneity and discovery.
Irene placed both hands on the high-backed chair and kept that in mind as she tried to ignore the hemmed-in feeling. Lady Roselyn had placed her between Grant and a complete stranger.
“Hello, gorgeous,” a man said as he pulled out her chair. “My name is Sam.”
She jerked a nod and scooted her chair in close to the table. He seemed like a perfectly nice man. He had that five-day-old beard thing going for him that some women found sexy. On some guys it worked, but on Sam all she could think of was that he was too lazy to shave.
She jumped.
Sam’s hand was on her knee. His fingers squeezed as he slid her a sideways glance. She wrenched it away. “Not cool, Sam.”
He tucked in his chin and pouted. “We were seated next to each other. I thought the sisters meant…” He took a drink from his apple cider, made a face, and motioned to one of the servers for something stronger.
“Sam was out of line,” Grant said, leaning toward her. “I’ll talk to him. We’re both trying to figure out the rules. Julia and I and a lot of our friends attend Renaissance and medieval faires. The matchmaker’s ad was irresistible. Tired of failed relationships? Take a journey back in time and find your match, it said. I liked everything about the pitch. Since the three of us love going to these types of festivals, we felt it was a good fit. Besides, Julia’s been here before, and she wanted to return.” He stole a glance toward Julia. Even the casual observer could sense the attraction he felt for her. Grant ducked his head and fingered his goblet. “The tour is not what I…that is…”
“May I have your attention?” Lady Roselyn said, raising her voice above the music. “All the food is authentic to the thirteenth century. For those of you with food allergies, we’ve taken our selections into consideration. Everything presented here tonight is perfectly safe to eat. Enjoy.” She then motioned for the servers to start the procession.
Each course was presented with much fanfare and description. The first course was a thin broth with bacon, followed by pigeon stuffed with herbs, in currant sauce. There was stewed hare, except Irene couldn’t banish the image of cute bunny rabbits, so she declined. When the eel in a spicy mustard sauce was presented, Logan made a gagging sound. Irene smiled, choked on a turnip, and covered her mouth with her linen napkin to smother a laugh.
Lady Roselyn stood once more and clinked her goblet with a knife to get everyone’s attention. “I’d like to make an announcement. The desserts will be
presented in a few moments, and more will be offered during the wedding feast, but now I’d like to introduce our wedding couple, Caitlin and her groom-to-be, Angus.”
Everyone at the table clapped—everyone, that was, except Julia. She sat as still as a statue carved from a solid piece of cold marble. She dropped her knife on her plate and overturned her goblet in her haste to leave.
Stunned silence gripped those at the table for a moment, and then everyone started talking at once. Angus rose to go after Julia, but Caitlin held him back with a touch of her hand on his arm. He hesitated before he pulled away and left in the direction Julia had run. Irene had witnessed the instant recognition between Angus and Julia. They knew each other, and the announcement that Caitlin and Angus were to be married had been a shock to Julia.
Irene knew how it felt to be caught off guard. Catching her ex with another woman had been bad enough: learning he thought she should understand and just “get over it” had caused her to go into a mini meltdown. Fortunately, she’d had her sister to bring things back into perspective. Louise had reminded Irene that it was a good thing she’d learned what a creep he was before they got married.
Irene wondered who was there for Julia. Angus had chased after her, but was he really the one Julia should be talking to right now? Maybe she should stay out of it. After all, she didn’t know Julia that well, and this was obviously some sort of love triangle. Or maybe it was part of the entertainment of the tour experience? Except it seemed too real. She could tell heartache when she saw it. Caitlin was sobbing, and Lady Roselyn was trying unsuccessfully to comfort her.
Grant and Sam were talking in whispers across Irene, and on the other side of the table Logan and his father were trying to calm Ann. She kept alternating between attempting to leave and glancing toward Irene. Her gaze was focused and her expression intense as she ignored both her son and her husband. Irene had the distinct impression that Ann was trying to say something to her.
Irene focused on Ann.
The response was instant as Ann responded and mouthed the words: Go after Julia.
Irene sprang to her feet.
Chapter Fourteen
Irene raced after Julia down a long corridor, but the sounds of angry voices stopped her short. She peered around the corner. In an alcove, Angus and Julia were engaged in a heated argument. He shook his head and stepped back, then spun around and ran in the opposite direction from the Great Hall.
Julia sank to the ground like a rag doll.
Irene rushed over, kneeling beside her. “Julia…”
“Men are pigs.”
Irene reached for Julia’s hand. She definitely looked like a woman who’d had her heart stomped on. “What did he say to you?”
“Angus said that he is in love with Caitlin,” Julia said, gulping air. “In fact, he admitted that when we first met he was only interested in me because Caitlin had rejected him. I was the rebound girl.” Julia swiped at her tearstained face with the back of her hand and ground her teeth together. “The worst part was that I think I knew it all along and was so desperate I ignored the warning signs. He had the attention span of a two-year-old in a candy shop and kept forgetting my name. There were zero sparks coming from him, which was confusing. He was gorgeous, and everything I thought I wanted, so naturally I made up excuses for him.”
Irene put her arm around Julia, and the woman slumped against her, sobbing into her shoulder. “You’re going to have to catch me up to speed.” She stroked Julia’s arm in the same way her sister had when Irene first learned of her fiancé’s betrayal. Having a friend to talk to that day had made all the difference.
“Angus and I met the first time I was here,” Julia said between sobs. “I liked the idea that he was actually from the thirteenth century and a real knight. He was all my fantasies come true. He was chivalrous, handsome…”
“Wait. You mean he acted like a knight from the medieval ages, right? Not that he was actually from that time period.”
Julia sniffled, wiping her eyes again with the heel of her hand. “No, Angus is from the thirteenth century.”
Irene started to say that was impossible, then changed her mind. She remembered how patient her sister had been as Irene was freaking out after she’d caught her ex with her best friend. Louise had listened patiently, and then announced that they were leaving Seattle for the weekend. Irene didn’t bother to protest. She’d learned early that, even though Louise was younger by two minutes and three seconds, saying no to Louise was not an option when she was in protective mode.
They’d spent the weekend in Vancouver, British Columbia, cried buckets of tears together, attended plays, eaten mounds of chocolate, and gone for long walks. At the end of the weekend, her ex and best friend’s betrayal stung less, with the unexpected bonus that she and her sister had grown closer together.
And just as Louise had let Irene talk out her pain, Irene listened to Julia. Now was not the time to challenge Julia. She was too fragile. Irene smoothed hair back from Julia’s face. “Angus does make a handsome knight. I can understand how he could have swept you off your feet.”
Julia sniffed again. “You don’t believe that he’s from the thirteenth century. I didn’t at first, either. When Angus and I met, I thought I’d found my soulmate, and even as starry-eyed as I was, I didn’t take him at his word. But there are things about this castle and its inhabitants that don’t make sense in any other way. I was caught up in the romance that we’d time traveled back to the thirteenth century.”
“Julia, time travel is not…”
“Anything is possible. This world is like the one in Brigadoon. Angus told me that if two people loved each other enough, they can stay here together…as in forever. But something held me back, and I know now it was because I didn’t really love him, and he certainly didn’t love me. I used the excuse that I couldn’t give up my life in the twenty-first century. I have a job I love and friends I care about. I told him that if he came with me, I’d help find a job for him, but he said if he left Stirling Castle the enchantment would be broken and everyone would die. Like an idiot, I came back to tell him I’d give up my life in the twenty-first century to be with him. But the first time I’ve seen him since coming back was at the dinner. That’s when I learned he and Caitlin are getting married.”
Irene rubbed both temples, trying to stem the tide of a building headache. She certainly understood the shock of betrayal and how it could turn a clear-thinking person’s thoughts into a rollercoaster ride of wild imaginings. But time travel? “You’re upset. I get that. And the story Angus told you is consistent with the plotline of Brigadoon. But you can’t believe it’s true.”
Julia balled her fingers into fists. “Look around you, Dorothy: we’re not in Kansas anymore. We really are in the thirteenth century.”
“Ah, huh,” Irene said, smoothing tear-dampened hair off Julia’s cheek. “This has been a long day, and you received a big shock when you learned Angus was getting married. Why don’t you let me help you to your room?”
Julia shrugged away. “You don’t have to believe me. Ask the sisters. They can tell you all about the…”
A loud clang followed by a colorful string of oaths interrupted whatever else Julia had been about to say.
Julia glanced in the direction of the sound as a shadow of a smile brought color back into her face. “It’s Grant. He’s having trouble with the sword and sheath they provided with his costume. He has the same problem whenever we attend the Camlann Medieval faires in Washington State. He prefers a bow and a quiver of arrows.”
Irene’s thoughts reeled. There was no doubt in her mind that Julia believed Angus’ fairy-tale explanation. Irene felt like she was on a runaway train with no end in sight. But at the end of the day, was there really any harm in believing in a fantasy for a few hours? At the stroke of midnight, like Cinderella and her pumpkin coach, things would be back to normal.
Grant walked toward them, still mumbling under his breath. Somehow the sheath an
d sword attached to his belt had twisted around behind him. “Bloody, soul-sucking…” Grant clapped his mouth shut and gave a slight flourish of greeting that seemed right in character for a knight. “Very sorry. I didn’t see you. Laughable, I know. A warrior who can’t handle a sword. Logan took to it right away.”
Julia’s eyes crinkled at the corners as Grant helped her to her feet. “You’re a skilled archer,” she said. “They should have given you a bow.”
“Not as glamorous, though.” His jaw tightened. “Are you all right? Angus is a fool.”
Silence shimmered between Julia and Grant like moonlight on a mirror-smooth pond. Irene felt as though she were attending a play and this was the part right before the best friends discovered they loved each other. These two were locked in their own world of discovery.
“Julia,” Irene said, “Is there anything more I can do?”
Julia gave a slight shake of her head.
Irene backed away, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the Great Hall. “I think I’m going back before they send out a search party. These sisters are like mother hens. They want to know where everyone is at all times.”
Both Julia and Grant nodded as they moved slowly and purposefully toward one another.
Chapter Fifteen
Logan stood at the open window. Clouds had moved in and blocked out the moon and stars. A light flickered in the distance, but otherwise it was pitch black. Even though the night was calm, he couldn’t shake his unease. It must be his detective training. There were things about this place that didn’t add up. For one, he’d never seen a reenactment this accurate. When he was a professional rugby player, before he’d blown out his knee for the third time, he’d stayed in the city of Stirling. Never once had he heard about this tour.
