Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance)

by Diane Darcy

  “Pleased to meet you. You’re Ian’s cousin?”

  Quinn laughed. “Brecken’s only.” He tilted his head toward Ian. “Think you I’d claim that craven half-wit?” The words were obviously spoken in jest, the man’s face friendly and teasing.

  “We meet on the field on the morrow, Quinn,” Ian said. “Me thinks you’re in need of training.”

  Quinn laughed. “I beg off. I need my rest after such an arduous journey.”

  “On the morrow,” Ian smiled pleasantly. “Best find your bed early, else you’ll be of even less use to me than usual.”

  Quinn groaned and slapped the shoulder of the guy next to him. “And this be Dugald,” he told Samantha.

  Dugald glanced at her, then quickly away. She remembered him, though he’d never spoken to her. He’d been with Ian that first day. If the guy weren’t so scary-looking, with cold, careful eyes and a deep scar along his jawline, she’d think him shy.

  She glanced at Ian and was surprised by the warm regard in his green eyes. She raised her brows, but Quinn quickly demanded her attention.

  “So, Lady Samantha, where are ye from, then?” His wide grin took up a quarter of his face. “England, is it?”

  “Oh, um...” No one had asked that yet, and she had to consider. Granted, she was determined to change history by saving Ian MacGregor’s life. If she had her way, he’d continue on as laird, marry, have children—she pushed away the sudden turmoil churning her stomach. But still, she didn’t think blatantly spreading word about the location of America two hundred years early was a good idea. “Yes. England.”

  Quinn cocked his head to one side. “Almost seems as though ye be uncertain.”

  She chuckled nervously, picked up her cup of ale, and lifted it in a toast. “Good old Mother England. I’m sure, all right.”

  “Weel, yer right pretty, even if you’re not Scots.”

  She set her cup down and bowed her head. “And you are quite the looker, even for a Scotsman.”

  He laughed loudly at that, glancing around at the others to join in, and Brecken obliged, laughing long and hard. She wondered how much they’d had to drink. She sneaked another peek at Ian, to see him scowling at Quinn. Because of her? The thought made her smile.

  Tori served a platter of food, and Samantha noticed both Quinn and Brecken eyeing the pretty girl—and Brecken giving Quinn a sharp elbow to the gut and a glare. Janetta offered to share a trencher and Samantha accepted gratefully.

  Quinn wasn’t done with her yet. As everyone started to eat, he shook a chicken leg in her direction. “I recognize yer accent, ye know. Ye must come from the same part of England as Lady Marshall across the border.”

  Samantha sincerely doubted that. “It’s possible.”

  “I took a long ride wi’ her once. She was a right looker too.” He chuckled and the chicken leg pointed in Ian’s direction. “Himself offered to marry the gel, but she wouldna have him.”

  This was news to Samantha. He’d been in love? “You were engaged?”

  Ian snorted. “Nae hardly. I’d thought to help a pretty girl out of a bad situation, but it turned out she liked where she was just fine.”

  Samantha felt her stomach unclench. “Oh.”

  Quinn laughed loudly. “Too bad Lord Marshall was slow to ken ye acted wi’ chivalry. I hear tell he still has a craving to see yer blood spilled.”

  Ian shrugged. “He has to catch me first.”

  Quinn laughed again. Even Dugald glanced over at Ian and cracked a smile.

  “But Quinn is right, you know,” Ian said. “Ye do sound very like Lady Marshall.”

  Samantha lifted a shoulder, pretty sure she didn’t. “Maybe she’s a long, lost relative.”

  Ian thumped the table. “Now that ye’ve emptied my larder, Quinn, what news from Edinburgh?”

  Quinn tore a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth. “Laird Durward sent his greetings.”

  Ian snorted. “I’m sure he did no such thing.”

  “The cold fish squinted at Dugald when we walked past. Same thing if ye ask me. And the fine Lady Audra asked about ye. Wished to know if ye’ve plans to visit the king. Or anyone else ye might be missing at the king's court.” Quinn’s wiggled his eyebrows.

  Ian glanced at Samantha and she arched a brow. Lady Audra? So much for women scurrying away at his approach.

  “I’ve no plans to visit any of them.”

  “Dinna be so hasty.” He elbowed Dugald. “Tell him.”

  Dugald took a breath, but before he could respond, Quinn elbowed him again. “Nay, I’ll tell him.” He raised his cup high. “The king,” his voice rang so everyone in the hall could hear, “is to attend a tournament outside Stirling Castle in a sennight.”

  Noise erupted in the hall, cheers and shouts of excitement, cups pounding on tables and Samantha couldn’t help her own smile. The king so close? What if she could actually meet Alexander III?

  Surprise registered on Ian’s handsome features. “Truly?”

  “Aye,” confirmed Dugald in a low, rasping voice. “The English king will be there as well, and there’s a big purse to be won.”

  Janetta clapped. “Will you go?”

  Ian shook his head amid sudden groans. “My tourney days are behind me.”

  Brecken’s excitement was palpable. “But you must! Ye’d be the one to best.”

  “And think of the ladies ye’ll disappoint,” Quinn said.

  “I’m glad to be here rather than wi’ the court. And here I’ll stay.” He glanced at Samantha, and she couldn’t help but wonder if her presence influenced him in any way.

  There was additional good-natured grumbling, teasing, and Samantha found herself smiling more often than not during the meal, soaking in the camaraderie and atmosphere.

  Janetta started fussing about Ian’s near miss with the horse and Samantha listened while the men discussed the probability of attempted murder versus old and worn fittings. She noticed Dugald glaring her way more than once, and couldn’t help feeling the man held her responsible for Ian’s near fall. She tried to ignore the stab of hurt. It helped that, for some reason, Ian kept watching her with warmth in his gaze.

  Until Dugald came right out an accused her, anyway.

  “It’s sure to be the girl.” He was pointing a long finger at Samantha. “An accused witch and she was wi’ ye at the time of the accident.”

  The allegation blindsided her and as Samantha caught her breath, she glanced around to see some faces condemning, and others sympathetic. She shouldn’t blame them, she was the newcomer after all, and looked and spoke differently. All the same, it hurt, and anger boiled to the surface. “I would never harm Ian MacGregor. Never. In fact, I’ve never deliberately harmed another human being in my life.” Jerry didn’t count.

  Dugald eyed her closely, his gaze intent as if he were trying to see inside her head.

  “Never,” she repeated with vehemence. “Anyway, as I understand it, these attacks began before I arrived, not after.”

  “I dinna suspect the woman, Dugald,” Ian interjected. “Quite the opposite.”

  Dugald glanced between the two of them, his gaze lingering on Samantha’s hair. He finally nodded.

  Ian stood. “Samantha, walk wi’ me.”

  She rose, more than glad for the excuse to get away from prying eyes.

  ~~~

  After walking across the bailey, greeting people along the way, and getting curious glances, Ian escorted Samantha through the gates, glad to get away from everyone. They left the castle grounds and headed away from the village and into the falling sun. “I weary of the staring and accusations. I suspect you feel the same?”

  “I do. Thanks for getting me out of there.”

  “Ye’ll have to forgive Dugald. He’s been with me for years and what wi’ the poison, the safeguards and protections that end up in my bed or by my door, the suspicions of the clan, and now the saddle,” he shrugged. “He’s a bit skittish ye ken.”

  They walked side b
y side, not touching, and Samantha’s occasional shy glance brought courting and kisses to mind. After he’d had the thought he couldn’t get it out of his head, his awareness of her growing.

  “It’s nice to be out,” she said.

  “That it is. I’ll admit I spend as much time out-of-doors as possible this time of year. In the cold months, we all long for the sun.”

  “Is it colder here than at court?”

  “Oh, aye. But the difference isna enough to matter. Cold is cold.”

  “Do you miss it? Court life?”

  He wondered if he dared to take her hand. “Sometimes. The king granting me the property was a surprise, to say the least. I’d expected to be at his side for years to come. I don’t miss the intrigue, but ’tis most likely what granted me the right to this land. I suspect the thought to send me here was planted in the king's ear. I suppose I was getting too friendly wi’ his majesty for the comfort of others. What of you? You seem the type to be well-versed in court life.”

  She chuckled. “I actually work for a university, but believe me, the politics can be brutal.”

  He glanced at her. “I know of no universities that accept women. D’ye speak of convents?”

  She laughed. “Do I look like a nun?”

  He smiled at that and took her words as an invitation to stare. Hair the color of flame caught the last of the sunshine. Beautiful brown eyes, creamy skin, full lips. The black dress, tight at bosom and waist. He forced his expression to remain relaxed, unruffled. “I must say ye do not.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “It’s different in my time. Equal numbers of women and men seek higher learning.”

  He shouldn’t indulge her by asking questions, but found he couldn’t help himself. “In this future of yours, why would women need educations? Mothering and keeping house seem a natural enough occupation.”

  She laughed again. “Maybe so—I won’t argue the point. But in most careers you need training. I’m an archaeologist. It took me years of fieldwork and university courses to learn enough to be considered an expert.”

  “A archaeol...a what?”

  “An archaeologist. We dig up old stuff and put it in museums.”

  He smiled. “And this takes years of training, does it?”

  “Hey. I heard that sarcasm.” She punched him lightly in the arm. “It’s not always easy to find old artifacts. I have to research, know how to keep from damaging centuries-old finds, and preserve them for future generations.”

  “What sort of finds?”

  “I found your crown, didn’t I?”

  “And how exactly did ye do that, lass?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but she must have heard the underlying edge because she swallowed and glanced down.

  “I just figured it out, that’s all.”

  “How? By studying me, ye said. Do ye care to tell me what that means? Did ye dig up my bones and read ’em? Did ye call my spirit from heaven and force me to tell my secrets?”

  “I hope you’re not serious,” she smirked at him.

  “About which part?”

  “You going to heaven, of course.”

  He stopped abruptly. “Are ye sayin’ I don’t?”

  She laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “If you could see your expression right now.”

  He rolled his eyes and started forward again. “I’ll not listen to yer nonsense.”

  She edged up behind him. “I was just kidding. I just read everything I could about you and then I—”

  “Enough.”

  After a moment she huffed a breath. “Fine. But I think you should know I plan to find out all your secrets. Or at least all your hiding places.”

  “Why, so ye can conceal treasures in them? Then when ye go back you can find ’em again?”

  She chuckled. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

  He was gratified she thought so. “That’s what I would do if I truly believed I was to live over 700 years in the future.”

  “Except that, other than your stone, all of the hiding spots were found in the 19th and 20th centuries when treasure hunters tore the place apart. Long before I was born. I’d have nothing left to find.”

  He wanted to be entertained, wanted to enjoy her storytelling, but uneasiness gathered in the pit of his stomach. “My clan is too weak to stop them?”

  “Your clan was gone by then.”

  He stopped to stare. Inverdeem abandoned? The last vestiges of amusement evaporated. “Explain.”

  “Famine and hardship drive them to find a better life elsewhere,” she said the words softly, worry stealing into her beautiful eyes, amber in sunlight.

  “There are no MacGregors at Inverdeem?”

  She pursed her lips, regret in her expression. She took a breath, shook her head. “It’s a tourist destination.”

  “A what?”

  “People come to see the ruins.”

  Chills broke out on his arms, and he considered her a long moment, then scoffed, a low sound in his throat, and shook off the panicked sensation. “Ye tell a pretty story, lass.” He glanced around, surprised at how far they’d walked. “We’d better head back before the sun goes down.”

  But she was heading toward a clump of grass up ahead. He followed and when she dropped to her knees and started pulling up the meadow, he stopped and stared.

  “It almost looks like there might be something buried here,” she threw the words over her shoulder.

  He was smiling again. She had that effect on him. “Given the proximity to the castle, ’tis probably an old rubbish heap.”

  “What kind of rubbish?”

  “Cast offs.”

  “As in old junk?” Excitement laced her voice. “Can we dig here? Who knows what we could find. Treasures, maybe.”

  “In a garbage heap?”

  “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”

  He started to laugh. She was serious.

  She sank back on her heels. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothin’.” She looked charming, kneeling there with her eyes lit, smiling up at him, the last of the sun kissing her skin, casting a rosy hue. Who was he to deny her whatever was within his power? He was but a weak, mortal man, and she was lovely. He plucked a nearby wildflower and handed it to her.

  Her brows rose as she accepted the stem and twirled the white blossom between two fingers. “What’s this for?”

  “For making me laugh.”

  She pushed the stem into her hair and smiled up at him. “You should always laugh. Every day for years to come.”

  Her sincerity affected him, as did the implication that he might not have years. He cleared his throat. “I thought I wasn’t to live long? I must take my pleasure where I find it.” As the words popped out, he glanced at her mouth, yearned to pull her up and take it with his, but forced himself to turn away. He breathed in deeply. Being alone with her wasn’t a grand idea, after all. She effortlessly destroyed his peace of mind. He needed to get away from her before he did something foolish.

  Like kiss the woman senseless.

  ~~~

  At the reminder of his death, Samantha ducked her head. He was right. Unless she figured out how to stop it, this man would be dead within a few weeks or so. At the thought, a heavy weight settled in her stomach. Needing to touch him, she stood and approached, took his arm, and walked with him toward the castle. When he didn’t comment, but simply crooked his arm and allowed her a better grip, she was able to relax.

  She looked back at the mounds of grass and dirt. “Could we go get some shovels and come back?”

  “’Tis getting dark.”

  “Couldn’t we light the area somehow?”

  Ian shot her a look of incredulity. “Oh, aye. Bring out the torches, mayhap? Or we’ll stand about wi’ candles while you dig up the rubbish? That should go over well with everyone yearning for their beds.”

  Samantha laughed. “I take your point. But in my time we have electricity and can light up entire cities day, n
ight, or whenever we want with the flip of a switch. Sometimes we work the night through when we’re on a dig.”

  His smile patronized. “Enough light for a city? Every day and night? The surrounding wood would soon be diminished and you’d have naught left to burn.”

  She returned his smile in spades. “Electricity.” She drew out the last syllables. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  He snorted.

  “Fine. To make up for the lack of light, tell me more about the tournaments you’ve been in. Who have you bested? Anyone whose name I might recognize?”

  “Oh, aye, you’re sure to know all the lowly knights. I keep a record of their names so I can boast to pretty girls whenever the mood strikes.”

  She shot him a glance. He thought she was pretty? She could feel her face flush warm with pleasure and was glad of the darkening sky. Samantha jostled his arm with her shoulder. “Sarcastic brute. You do not have a list. I checked when I was in the future.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, then glanced down into her upturned face. The impact of his smile, his gaze, the feel of his skin, did funny things to her insides and made her breathless.

  He glanced away, kept walking, but she’d seen something else in his expression. Need? Yearning? The sudden thought of him gone, his life snuffed out, his wants and desires taken away forever, struck her as cruel, unfair, and wrong.

  He was a good man and the world would be a worse place without him. Her grip tightened on his arm.

  She would keep him safe.

  If she had anything to say about it, he’d live a wonderful, long life—filled with love, laughter, and children.

  So why did the thought of him enjoying those things with another woman make her chest ache?

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, Samantha was immersed in setting up the dig site. It had a twofold purpose. One, she really wanted to see what was there. As the castle was built of wood, then of stone, this site had probably been there a long time. It might even have been the location of another village. Ian didn’t necessarily know everything he thought he knew. Beth, Janetta, and the others she’d asked at breakfast didn’t know anything about it. There could be some really old stuff out here. Old even in this time.