by Diane Darcy
With that, his mother turned, gave Wallace a curt nod and crossed the room. She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.
“And it’s June, by the way!” Cara yelled after her.
Wallace turned to meet Lady Cara’s gaze.
“What?” she said, her temper flaring. “You’ve never seen a mistake that needs fixing before?”
Wallace hesitated, then shook his head. He gave her a slight bow, and decided his mother had the right of it. Without another word, he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
What the heck had that been about?
No, seriously, Lady Helena was an amazing storyteller because chills raced up Cara’s spine as she’d told her tale.
Cara crossed to the window and looked out at the back of the property.
It was getting late, people were still working, finishing up huts, everyone doing their part. She frantically searched the area for anything that might indicate the twenty-first century. Power drills, screwdrivers, nail guns, anything besides the crude crowbars, hammers, and handsaws they used.
She looked around for a phone tower or electric lines.
Airplanes, helicopters.
There was nothing.
Even Amish people used air-powered tools, table saws, and drills. Didn’t they?
What did she know?
Still, they didn’t really expect her to believe their version of events, did they?
There was a tree-line in the distance, and she watched men working industriously, and finally realized they were digging graves.
For the men Wallace had killed earlier.
Chills broke out on her body again, and she closed her eyes for a moment, before turning away from the window.
What was she involved in?
Something else had caught her attention and she looked again at the trees in the distance. Towering oaks, beech, and chestnut trees, and all with multiple leaves changing color, like the ones she’d seen on the journey here.
As if it were September rather than June.
She took a seat on the chair that still faced the bed, as her mind raced over the events that occurred over the last few days.
She remembered getting fired. Running toward the touching stone, no, being drawn toward it.
But when she’d arrived, when she’d actually touched the piece, she’d been on that movie set with Wallace.
Instantly.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to see, to remember what had happened.
She’d been shaken, upset, feeling ill-used, and because she’d been distracted, she’d run onto a movie set.
It just didn’t make any sense.
There’d been crowds circling them. The horse running at her. How had she gotten there?
She’d run toward the touching stone, there had been no one there, the field had been empty, she’d touched the necklace, she definitely remembered that, because she’d smeared blood on the stone, from the cut on her thumb.
She remembered thinking it was a bad omen, and she’d appeared ... right in front of Wallace.
Right in the middle of the jousting field.
There was no way she’d shoved her way through the crowds around that field. There was no way she’d somehow stumbled onto a movie set. She’d just ... appeared.
Much like Lady Helena described.
A shiver raced through her body, and Cara stood, arms hugging herself, as she started to pace.
She wasn’t buying into this, was she?
This was just Lady Helena’s story influencing her to make up one of her own, right?
She considered Wallace’s skill with the sword. That wasn’t Hollywood giving someone lessons to make it look real, it had been real.
And sharp. They didn’t have sharpened swords on set. That was too much of a liability.
The men she’d stumbled across in the glade, hadn’t driven there by car, but were on horseback with weapons of their own.
Normal Scottish men didn’t run about in the woods wearing kilts and weapons anymore, did they?
The United Kingdom was smallish on a map, but to never see any power lines? Any type of aircraft?
She touched the material of the dress she wore. It was woven, probably wool, definitely homespun, but then she’d figured it was, hadn’t she? The whole live-off-the-land thing taken to a higher level.
She reached up and tried to take her necklace off once again, wanting a better look at it, but no luck and she gave up with a huff.
She was drawn to the window once more, the only source of light, and stood in the arched recess, leaning her shoulder against the stone wall. She bit her lip.
She was starting to believe this, wasn’t she?
She didn’t want to, it didn’t make any sense, but it did explain a lot.
All the little things that hadn’t added up. It wasn’t that she was losing her mind. She wasn’t making things up in her head or ignoring them.
If she took the leap, and believed what she was seeing, she could stop trying to explain away the odd things she kept noticing.
Still, standing there, the dark room at her back, looking out into the dusk where people still worked together to build homes for themselves, her growing belief that she had somehow fallen back in time left her with the creeping, agonizing sense of loneliness.
If she was in the thirteenth century, the only friend she had to her name was Wallace, who didn’t even seem to like her sometimes.
Her parents were gone.
Her friends were gone. Her bestie and her new husband. The ones she’d grown up with, the ones she’d worked with. The nice new neighbors who hosted barbecues on either side of the condo she’d purchased after Lissa had married.
Her entire network, her life, job, identity, all gone.
It would be easier to stand her ground and insist that Wallace and his mother were liars.
Easier, but she just didn’t believe it anymore.
Brows drawing together, she lifted her hand to touch the pendant and frowned.
What she did believe was that she was completely and utterly alone.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Wallace sat at his place at the table, his uneaten breakfast before him, and still wasn’t sure what he believed.
He’d cornered his mother the night before, determined to get some sense out of her. She’d been unwilling, or perhaps unable to talk about the events of her wedding day.
She’d looked haggard and worn-out and had been quick to dismiss him when he pressed her with questions.
Not exactly fair, to his mind, when she’d ruined all the best parts of their family story.
Truly? She’d not been abducted? Had gone with Dinsdale of her own free will?
In fact, from the sounds of it she’d have married Dinsdale if not for some saint’s interference.
His mother and Dinsdale? The thought of it had his fists clenching on the long table as he waited for either his mother, or Lady Cara, to show herself.
But of course, that unpleasant fact hadn’t been the only thing keeping him awake half the night.
He’d never known his mother to be a liar, and so that warred with the unbelievable story she’d told, both about herself, and where she believed Lady Cara to have come from.
Seven hundred years in the future? Everyone knew that God’s kingdom would rule upon the earth once more, far before that much time had passed.
It seemed more likely that both women suffered a fugue of some sort.
Perhaps he should sequester the other females in the house, in case it was catching?
He looked at his two sisters, both quietly eating their breakfast across from him, and shooting him looks of concern.
They looked fine.
“What do you know of future events?” he asked, watching them closely.
Amelia shot her sister a quick look, before answering. “Future events, brother? What do you refer to? The fall harvest? The fear of attack by the Dinsdales?”
He was relieved by her answers, and turned to Doris, awaiting her response.
Her eyes widened as she finished eating a bite of porridge, quickly setting her spoon in the bowl.
“And you?” He watched his youngest sister closely. “Will you not share your thoughts on the subject?”
Doris looked beseechingly at her older sister, who simply gave her a shrug and went back to eating her breakfast.
“Doris?” His tone was firm, as he insisted upon an answer.
“’Tis Dori now.” She picked up her spoon and with a nervous gesture tapped it in the middle of her bowl. “Father Hazleton has said we need to work hard rebuilding our stores, as the winter is to be a harsh one.”
Relieved by their common sense answers, he nodded at both. “Just so.” He was glad his mother had the sense not to confuse them with fanciful stories.
Not that he’d ever known his mother to be fanciful. In fact, she was quite the opposite.
As if thinking of her drew her into view, she was soon outside the great hall, commanding the servants as usual.
“Set those pallets more firmly against the wall, so people will not be tripping over them throughout the day.”
Two men rushed to do her bidding.
She called a serving girl over, and asked if everyone had been fed, and if there were leftovers, they could press into bars to serve with their dinner at midday.
After getting the answers, she headed in his direction, as calm and collected as ever, no hint of the strong emotions she’d felt the night before.
Doris, or rather, Dori scooted down the bench, and his mother took her seat directly across from him.
“Mother,” he greeted in a neutral tone.
She met his gaze, a challenge in her own. “Son.”
She was served a bowl of oatmeal, and was quick to break her fast, ignoring him altogether.
She did not wish to discuss it?
He glanced at his sisters and realized that perhaps now wasn’t the time anyway.
He did not want them exposed to fanciful, and ridiculous notions.
And he certainly didn’t need any more female hysterics.
He glanced toward the stairs, and realized he was still waiting for Cara to appear. A pointless exercise it would seem, and he had much work to do this day.
He finally rose, and when he did, so did most of the other men, as if awaiting the signal from him.
When he moved to the front door, he couldn’t help glancing up the stairs.
Disappointment had him releasing a breath.
Despite his mother’s outrageous tale from the night before, and regardless of where Cara came from, he still intended to marry her.
He was glad to have his mother’s blessing, regardless of how oddly she’d expressed it.
He hoped today was the day they would come to an understanding.
He was thinking far too much about her, and she seemed to be softening him. For a man bent on revenge, it was unsettling.
Mayhap once they settled things between them, his preoccupation with her would fall away, and he could focus on more important matters.
Such as planning the Dinsdales’ downfall.
There was yet another knock on the door, and Cara called out, “Just a minute, I’m coming.”
She didn’t mean it though. She would join the others when she was good and ready. A little bit of alone time was what she needed now. Some time to think.
A good night’s sleep left her well rested, and when Cara was dressed and ready for the day she stayed in her room and considered her options.
She could take off on her own, and see if she could find someone or something that disproved this was the thirteenth century.
But, because she was now afraid to go anywhere without protection, she didn’t think that would work out.
Having a panic attack when she was alone on the road, didn’t appeal.
She could try to find someone besides Wallace to help her. There were several big, brawny lads running about outside that she might be able to sweet talk. But, going off with strangers didn’t appeal either.
Anyway, how far would she have to go until she was convinced she was no longer in the twenty-first century?
A mile, two miles, all the way to London?
She was very much afraid she already believed what Lady Helena had told her the night before.
Still, would it hurt to have a little proof?
Because there was that small part of her that still believed she was being played for a fool. So, no taking off on her own, no taking off with a stranger.
Besides, the answer was obvious. If Lady Helena used the touching stones to travel briefly to the future, she could too. She just needed to get back to Stirling Castle.
The best person to take her? She’d sweet talk Wallace into it.
So, back to her original plan.
The man did seem susceptible, after all.
And she had to admit it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.
Thinking of his face at the picnic the day before, the almost tender way he’d looked at her, softened her heart.
No, it wouldn’t be a hardship, at all.
There was another knock, and this time she walked over and lifted the wooden plank. She set it against the wall, and opened the door.
A maid stood on the other side. “Miss? Is there aught I can help you with? Your hair, perhaps?”
Cara had already washed her face in the basin, and run a brush through her hair.
Just as she opened her mouth to decline, she remembered Lady Helena getting her hair done the day before.
The style of the day seemed to be braids, waterfall buns, or headdresses with caps. Ribbons aplenty.
Perhaps Wallace would find her more attractive if she coiffed herself in the latest medieval style. Any little bit helped.
She opened the door wider to let the younger girl inside.
“When in Rome, right?”
The girl looked confused. “Rome, my lady?”
Cara chuckled. “What I meant to say was, yes, thank you, I’d certainly appreciate that.”
The maid’s name was Breena, and she not only did Lady Helena’s hair, but her two daughters as well.
Cara instructed her, held the braids while Breena swept the back up, and when she’d finished with Cara’s hair, she’d run out and found a polished shield, stood Cara by the window, and showed her the basic outline of her new hairdo.
“’Tis lovely. I’d not have thought to do it in such a way.”
“Thanks. Hair is kind of a hobby of mine,” she said, the lack of a real mirror both amusing and convincing her a little more. “You did a good job.”
Breena, smiling, curtsied and gave Cara another long look, before leaving.
She was surprised that she actually felt more confident with the coiled bun at the top of her head, and the loose braids that were tucked around it using silk ribbons and flowers for enhancements.
She didn’t know why that surprised her. Being a makeup artist, she knew better than anyone what enhancements could do for a lady’s self-confidence.
Too bad she didn’t have her makeup box with her, because then she could really wow Wallace.
Still, she felt great, as she smoothed the blue dress, and headed out for the day.
It looked as if she was the last to have breakfast, but when she appeared, the servants in the hall rushed to make her comfortable, showing her where to sit on one of the long benches, and getting her a bowl of oatmeal, a slice of bread, and an apple.
Cider was quickly provided, and she thanked everyone profusely, and ate by herself.
It was tasty, the fresh bread and cider complementing the oatmeal perfectly.
The room was obviously a gathering place, and from the pallets against the wall, she thought perhaps people slept there as well.
She saw Favian helping to clean up, and when she caught his eye, winked at him. The boy grinned and waved.
Though the house was
large, she could tell there were too many people here for the size of it.
“Excuse me,” she called out to a girl wiping the other end of the long table.
The maid quickly came forward and bent her knees in a quick curtsy. “My Lady?”
“Have there always been this many people living here?”
“Oh, no, miss.”
When the girl didn’t expound, Cara was forced to ask the obvious. “Where did they all come from?”
The girl glanced around, an expression of concern on her face, and an older woman crossed the room to stand beside her. “Begging your pardon, my lady. Mayhap I can answer any questions for you?”
“Of course.” Cara had the impression there was a pecking order, and she’d just disturbed it. “I was just wondering why there are so many people living here, and where they all came from?”
The older lady, her salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun, threaded her fingers together. “When the king gave Lord Dinsdale most o’ Lord Wolfsbane’s property, many decided to make their way here, in a show of loyalty. We still have some arrive every few days or so, many a brave soul facing bandits, and wilderness, to get here.”
“Just how many properties did Lord Dinsdale acquire?”
“Wolfsbane Castle, in Westmoreland; Harley fortress in Yorkshire which, of course, Lady Helena brought to the marriage along with this manor; and Drayton Keep in Sussex. This manor was the least of his properties.”
“It must be hard to feed so many people.”
“’Tis a concern. The steward was able to purchase more seed and ’tis of good quality. We will be ready for early planting in the spring.” She did the bobbing thing once again, as if to end the conversation.
Wow. Cara gave the other lady a nod, and she was quick to move away.
Just, wow! Wolfsbane had owned a castle? And other properties, and they’d been awarded to the Dinsdales?
He’d mentioned this was the only property left to him, and it looked like some of his people had deserted their posts in order to follow.
