by Sky Winters
“You know those types of women,” he would have said to his conquests. Independent. The kinds of women who said they didn't want kids and meant it, or who made sure they had their own bank accounts to rely on. Terrible wives and mothers, the lot of them, according to common knowledge. He had been distressed when she asked him to wait to start a family until she was more settled into her career and held it over her head any chance she got. The most unfair part about it was that, yes, she did want kids. She just wanted to wait to feel more settled and fulfilled first. But he had taken it and ran as a reason to resent her. He certainly felt justified in destroying her trust and their marriage. Stupid Alfred. Good riddance to him anyway.
But she was in Scotland to forget about all of that. She wandered absently into the first doorway she saw. She peered into the dim room, realizing that it probably wasn't scheduled to be on any part of the tour. In fact, she was surprised the door wasn't locked. Inside, the haggard green curtains were drawn, letting only small streams of sunlight in to illuminate the old antiques strewn recklessly about, as if somebody had been rummaging through it, discarding what they didn't deem useful. Broken glass cracked under her feet as she peered onto tables and shelves, fingering old relics of the past that were within arm's reach and not partitioned away from her through a glass box.
She suddenly saw an intriguing glimmer of gold, glinting tantalizingly from beneath a fallen stack of old musty papers. She pushed the papers gently away and lifted a primitive-looking necklace from the rickety wooden table. Her eyes roamed the intricate but simple designs carved into the gold. She looked around the room, making sure she was alone before draping the long chain over her delicate neck.
As soon as the pendant touched her breast, she crumpled to the ground, and the world went black.
Chapter 2
She was falling, swirling. She felt her body being lifted and contorted in ways she had never before imagined it could move. Alfred, the divorce, jetlag, a lifetime's worth of difficulties. She seemed to re-live it all within the darkness of the portal. By the time it was done, she was filled with peace, but she was so exhausted that she felt herself being pulled into the depths of a powerful, rejuvenating sleep.
But that didn't last long. A loud, muffled call from the hallway roused her from her slumber, and she looked up with a start. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. She was in the same room, but everything was different. The curtains were no longer tattered; they were crisp and beautiful, letting in a cheerful ray of golden sunlight. None of the old antiques were scattered about. She recognized some of them, sitting in perfect condition, like new, on a handsomely carved shelf. She sat up in confusion, and her eyes widened. Hanging in front of her was an elegant wedding dress.
Before she could register what was happening, the door burst open and a woman's rosy face beamed up at her. She was wearing a white apron around her plump body and carrying a tray with a glass of water and a spool of thread on it.
“Well, go on, dear, try the dress on. We have a couple of mends left to do but you're going to be fine. Lord Lachlan doesn't like to be kept waiting. We have to hurry. He's getting anxious to have you as his bride.”
“Lord Lachlan? But...”
“Come along, dear, you look absolutely beautiful in this dress.”
“That's not my dress!” she exclaimed, suddenly panicked. She had no idea what was going on, and her face must have betrayed her confusion, because the servant approached her and gave her arm a reassuring pat.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
No, she wasn't feeling all right. How did she get here? What was happening? How could she possibly marry such a tyrant? Even if this was a terrible dream, she refused to be shackled to the horrible monster.
“I can't marry him,” she said, gripping the table beside her, suddenly unsteady.
“But you must!” the servant said, her bubbly face now contorting in fear. “You don't know what he will do to you if you refuse.”
“I don't care what he does to me, I have to get out of here right away!”
“Listen to me. You cannot run from Lord Lachlan. He is capable of great terror – if you run he will find you and kill you, track you like a dog, he will! And not just you, lass. He'll wage war on your family for generations, find them and kill them, too. Just stay put, dear, you're far better off being his wife than his enemy.”
“I don't see the difference,” Sadie said somberly.
How had she gotten here? She closed her eyes and brought her hand to her forehead. There had to be an explanation. She was a smart and reasonable woman. Somebody was probably playing a trick on her. Maybe her playful cousins had followed her to Ireland and decided to give her a heart attack – it would be just like them to think it would be just what she needed to get out of her slump. She waited for them to come in and tell her everything was going to be okay, or hear the familiar cackling of pleased jokesters, but nothing happened.
The servant fretfully left the room, begging her to put the dress on and promising not to tell Lord Lachlan what she had said. She felt guilty for upsetting the woman so deeply, but there was nothing much to be done about it. Especially not if she was just an actor in her cousin's prank. She was left alone in the room, and she began rummaging around, looking for any explanation for what was happening to her. She opened a drawer, digging through it quickly. She hissed and pulled her slender hand out. A jewel-encased blade had sliced her finger, leaving a thin red line of blood.
She was staring thoughtfully at the dagger when the door to the room burst open, and suddenly in front of her was the man from the paintings, in the flesh. Suddenly he was pressing into her from behind and cackling, his voice a lot coarser and his body a whole lot smellier than she imagined he would be. She pulled away from his embrace and he grinned. His dark eyes followed her, his pockmarked face sneering in satisfaction. He seemed to have her exactly where he wanted her.
“There's my lovely wife Sadie,” he said, moving uncomfortably close to her. “I see you haven't undressed yet. You must be needing some help with that.”
He put his meaty hand on her shoulder, letting his forearm brush against her breasts as he moved to unfasten her dress. If this was really one of her cousin's jokes, it had just stopped being funny.
“Best get to it, I won't be having my wife leave everybody waiting around while she drags her heels.”
He eyed her up and down, laughing as she pulled away. He was staring into her eyes now, the leer on his face nauseating and infuriating her.
“In fact, don't think I'd mind a sample taste right here and now. The priests won't know any different, will they? After all, you’re my own wife.”
He tried to push her down onto the bed, but Sadie broke free from his grasp and ducked into the drawer, pulling the dagger out. Lord Lachlan blanched and backed away from her. His beady eyes roamed from the serious expression on her face, down to the pendant resting on her breast, to the dagger in her trembling hand.
“What is this?” he asked, his face growing very red. “You're a traitor! Guards!”
Suddenly, there were two men gripping her by the wrists. The dagger fell from her hands and clattered to the stone floor of the castle, and she was pulled forcefully out of the room.
“See to it that she doesn't receive any food tonight!” Lord Lachlan raved from behind her. “She has made a mockery of me! And to think that I almost had her as a wife. A woman like that will never be wifely material! To the dungeon with her!”
He could have been quoting her ex-husband, and the blood boiled inside of her. She turned her fiery green eyes toward the man, craning her neck to get one last look at Lord Lachlan before the guards banished her down into the dungeon.
Chapter 3
The dungeon was dark and dank, like something Sadie had seen in a movie about medieval times. She was tossed onto the floor hard, with only a few threads of hay to cushion the blow. She sat up, rubbing her scraped elbows, suddenly realizing that there was no way t
his was a joke. Somehow, she would have to start believing that it was real. Whether she liked it or not, this was really happening to her, and she was just going to have to deal with that.
“Oh, company. Thanks, gentlemen,” a man's low, playful voice rang out from the opposite corner of the dungeon. “You all right, love?”
The man rose and walked slowly toward her, as if doing his best not to scare away a wild animal.
“I've gone through worse,” she said, though the words felt hollow. She wasn't sure if it was true, but she didn't want the stranger to think she was soft. He was still half hidden in the shadows, and it wasn't until he moved into the torchlight that she could make out his features.
Her first thought was that he was stunning – this was the kind of man you only saw on television or in calendars made for women with too much time on their hands. He was bare-chested, his rippling muscles marked with fading blue war paint, in a design that was familiar, but from where she couldn't bring to mind. He was wearing a tartan kilt around his waist, revealing the muscular V-line leading to the forbidden area, barely concealed by the plaid cloth.
She let her eyes roam up to his face, which she wasn't able to make out until he came much closer. He had long, curling sandy blond hair, sweeping down his broad back in wisps. His eyes were gentle and friendly, though she had the feeling that it wouldn't take much to reveal an animalistic instinct lying just beneath the surface. In the dark, it was hard to make out their color, but she had a feeling they were light, maybe blue, or an ocean green.
He offered his wide hand to her, engulfing her pale hand as he lifted her to her feet to face him.
“First time in a dungeon?” he asked casually. His voice lilted with a teasing Scottish accent. She had heard them all her life and never thought much of them, but the way this man formed his words brought the words to life with a lilt that nearly drove her off the edge. She hadn't known any man whose lips could make words sound so powerfully sexy.
“You could say that,” she replied, letting her hand drop from the warmth of his. She suddenly shivered. It was cold in the dungeon.
“Here, take this,” the man said, turning away from her. He returned briefly to the corner where he had been lounging when she'd arrived and came back, holding a threadbare potato sack. “I’ve been using it to keep m'self warm, least I did when I first arrived. Used to the place now; the sorry old bugger is going to pay for this. Anyway, best you use it before you catch your death.”
He handed her the potato sack, cut at the seams into a makeshift blanket. She sat down in the corner of the room and shivered beneath it.
“Don't worry, lass. It'll be all right. My name's James. You look well smart; I'm sure we'll figure a way out of this together.”
His broad face brightened with a smile that made her heart thud in her chest. She'd never been paid any attention by a man of such impressive aesthetic beauty; there were none of that description in the small town where she grew up and lived out her life. She was sure he was an actor. A good one, but still, an actor nonetheless. Someone was joking with her, but it was someone a lot more sinister than her cousins. She would have to get herself out of this somehow. It was cruel to put her in such a small room with such an unbelievably attractive man. She sighed and leaned her head against the brick wall.
“My name's Sadie,” she said softly.
“Are you telling me you’re Lachlan's fiancée?” He looked at her in awe, as if she were a celebrity. “Why would he put you down here?”
“He tried to make an advance on me...I panicked and pulled a knife on him.”
James gave a loud burst of laughter and curled over, slapping his hands together. “Atta girl!” he exclaimed. “You're a feisty one then! Good for you, lass. I bet he didn't like that much.”
“I'm here, aren't I?”
“That you are,” James acknowledged. “Well, like I said, not to worry. A woman like you will surely be able to get herself out of anything.”
“I don't know about that,” she said, taking the necklace in her hands and fingering it. She sighed deeply. Even if this wasn't a joke, all she wanted was to go back home, where things were boring and predictable and safe. Whatever was happening to her now was going to make her lose her mind if she had to endure too many more surprises.
“Where did you get that necklace, lass?” His face was suddenly serious, and he was peering at it intently.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” she sighed. “Unless you are just an actor. If you are, you should tell me now.”
He looked at her blankly. “A what?”
She laughed. “Come off it already.”
“Is that like a wizard? Mischief maker? Because I certainly am a mischief maker.”
He beamed proudly. “That's why I'm here.”
“Never mind,” she said, ignoring his dazzling smile.
“No, lass. Sorry to make light of your plight. Please, tell me what's on your mind. I'll listen.”
She studied him. His handsome face seemed sincere, and she sighed. What would it hurt to tell this man the truth? It was crazy and unbelievable, but so were so many things.
“Well, I think...It really does sound ridiculous, are you sure you won't laugh at me?”
He put his hand over his heart. “May the wisps take my soul if I'm lying.”
She raised her eyebrow and sighed deeply. “I don't know how I got here. It's like I'm in another time. This necklace you're asking about, I put it on while I was taking a tour of this castle...The one we're in, I mean. I was here, but in the future, when it's all dilapidated and old. People don't live here anymore. None of these bricks are new, none of the furniture...everything is old and used up. But after I put this necklace on, I felt like I was...I don't know. And then I woke up here and everything is new again. I think I went back into the past.”
James nodded solemnly, looking at her, then past her, as if lost in his own thoughts.
“I know there are things in the world that are unexplainable,” he said. “I'll help you figure out what's going on. But only if you'll do something for me in return.”
“What's that?” she asked, her heart thudding. She was sure she sounded like a lunatic. But James took it all in stride, and he seemed to accept what she was saying.
“Help me find a way out of this place. It might be easier with someone else on my side now. If we get out, I swear I will help you however I can.”
She looked into his clear eyes, her heard thudding hard in her throat. “Okay, James. I'll help you.”
A dimple pierced his cheek, and she suddenly believed him. Everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 4
When dinner was served, a single tray was pushed toward James before the door was closed loudly. Sadie's stomach rumbled, but she made no mention of her hunger.
“Hey, why doesn't the lass get any supper?” James asked, banging the bars loudly with his wooden spoon.
“Lord Lachlan's orders. Now shut up and eat before we take your food away, too,” the guard replied.
“Well, that doesn't seem right,” James murmured to himself, turning away from the guards. “Here, lass, take mine. I already ate today.”
He pushed the plate toward her.
“No, please don't do that,” she said. She couldn't tell how long he had been down there, but it was surely longer than she had been.
“It's all right, I'm not exactly skin and bones,” he said, thumping one of his hard pectoral muscles with a macho grin.
“Oh jeez,” she said. “All right.”
“Good lass,” he said. “Now sit next to me, pretend to be begging me for food or something. And I'll be all cold like I'd never share with a woman like you, royal snob.”
“Begging you?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.
He grinned boyishly.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
“That's beside the point,” he said. “We have to make them think we can't stand each other. It's all part of
my plan.”
“How do you know I can’t stand you?” she teased. He laughed and winked at her.
She felt herself blushing and looked down at the ground.
“That's how,” he said. “Now quick, look like you're really hungry.”
“I am really hungry!”
“Great, you'll look the part then!”
She tried to repress her smile and did as he ordered. The guards walked past their cell, talking in low murmurs, glancing in at them. She took it as her cue to beg, and he took a bite of his dinner, a gloating grin on his face. When the guards were gone, he fed her a few bites until they returned and they resumed their little game.
