“By God, that’s a little unrealistic,” he said. “So you’re to obey me and comply to all my demands, then?” His eyebrow raised amusingly.
She smirked. “Maybe once we’re in the bedroom, but I hope there’s at least a pitcher and basin to wash.”
“Missing a bath already and we’ve not been here five minutes?”
“Hush, you!”
“Hush you, woman!” He pretended to sound gruff as they entered the inn.
Inside, a man and woman looked startled.
“’Tis early morning. We’d yet to expect visitors this day.”
“My wife and I’ve made a long journey and need a bed, water for washing and perhaps a warm meal. Probably for one night. We’re looking for an acquaintance. If we don’t locate her, we’ll require lodging for longer. Have you rooms available?”
“We do.”
The door opened and a very pompous-looking man came in.
“Reverend Smythe, you’re out early this morning,” the innkeeper said.
“I did see movement on the streets though the sun has not yet risen, which is forbidden.”
“These weary travelers are simply wanting a room.”
“What business hast ye here?”
“We’re searching for an acquaintance…”
“Then we intend to visit my uncle in Boston,” Angelique added, which prompted the reverend to glare simply for speaking or interrupting her husband.
“Who is thine uncle?”
“Reverend Cotton Mather. Perhaps you might’ve heard of him?”
The man actually bowed to her then.
“Indeed. Givest them a room,” the reverend said then promptly exited.
They went upstairs to the appointed room and closed the door. Angelique finally dared to breathe and Faolan looked at her, clearly awaiting an explanation.
“Cotton Mather and his father—Increase—were respected reverends who first agreed with the witch trials but eventually spoke out against them.”
“Your knowledge of history will be put to use.”
“I hope so. This is quite—basic,” she said taking in the narrow bed, the stand with pitcher and basin, a towel and strong-smelling soap, likely made of nearly pure lye. There was a small table and two chairs.
“I was thinking it looks rather luxurious,” he joked.
“All relative, I suppose.”
“You look beautiful regardless of what century you’re in.”
He untied her bonnet, then kissed her neck.
“You’re seriously feeling amorous here? It gives me the creeps.”
“Permit me to dispel this creepiness,” he said untying the laces on her gown and the faux corset. He removed it, then pulled down her shift so her breasts were revealed.
“Does that door even lock?” she asked.
“You think someone would come in?”
“If people were accused of witchcraft for even looking at someone wrong, fornicating would be a way to attract witch-hunters.”
“I’m your husband. Therefore, there’d be no fornication and you do need to obey me.”
“You may be taking the whole obey thing a little too far,” she said but, undeterred, he suckled her breast, distracting her. She shivered as he parted her thighs.
“I think not all of you is in disagreement with this, Angel,” he said and she tore at his belt.
“Do something with that damn sword.”
“I intend to.” His eyebrow rose seductively.
“No, the one that could do a lot of damage…”
“You think it could not?” he jested, removing the sword and scabbard and she untied his breeches and released his manhood.
He lay against her on the bed, eagerly saw them joined. The smell of pungent lye on the laundered bedclothes partially ebbed her desire, so she placed her face on his neck, tasted his lightly salty skin. His musky scent capably revived her desire. Their lovemaking as always brought her swift culmination. She cried out and he muffled her cries with a kiss.
“Do you suppose Puritans would approve of a woman’s pleasure?”
“You’d better be more vocal then, for they’d be happy a man’s getting his rocks off.”
“That’s a bit crude, madam,” he said, his thrusts intensifying and the bed creaked. Despite that, she quivered again. Instead of crying out, she bit his shoulder, which spurred him on and he moaned louder.
“I do like it better without the condom, Faolan. I like your warm, hard cock inside me.”
“What was in that bloody pill Tristan gave you?”
“I admit, I may be a little…high! But God you’re an amazing lover. I like it when I can feel you come inside me.”
“Angelique! I suspect these walls are paper-thin. I doubt a seventeenth-century woman would speak of erections or ejaculation.”
“You do feel so good,” she moaned loudly.
“Angelique, you must hush.”
“But you like it?” she sassily said nipping him again and squeezing his buttocks, pulling him deeper as his body trembled.
“Does time travel honestly make people more amorous?” he asked when his breathing slowed.
“Being with you anywhere, anytime does that.”
He brushed a lone strand of hair from her face.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “Am I permitted to say that, Husband?”
“You may. Now, how do you propose we find this second witch without drawing suspicion to you?”
Angelique jumped and he moved from her.
“An echo?” he asked.
“Yes, Arianna was here, in this very room and so was he.”
“He?”
“Her husband, Darius. They weren’t wed yet, but they were here. She has beautiful deep red hair and striking green eyes. He’s tall, like you but with blond hair.”
“If they were unmarried in a room together, that would cause a stir—debauchery in this century,” he said buttoning his pants.
She looked around. “I don’t think they slept together, but they shared a kiss. This is where their love was sparked.”
“We should have breakfast. I smell food cooking and I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“Yes, you have, Captain Mahoney.”
“Do you want me to bring food to you?”
“I’d rather not be apart from you in this century for even a moment.”
“Don your garments then; we’ll go eat.”
“Thankfully Wolf permitted me to have a hairbrush,” she said after she’d dressed. “I need to find baking soda to clean my teeth. You have really great teeth, white and healthy, not common for your time.”
He stood staring at her.
“I amuse you,” she said.
“You delight and entertain me. You exasperate me at times, but you are my heart.”
She grimaced. “I have to pee.”
“So pee,” he said, now clearly more amused.
“It’s one thing to pee in a toilet when you’re in the room, quite another in a chamber pot.” She looked under the bed. “Do you suppose it’s even been emptied?”
She shuddered and he began to laugh.
“You’re unkind.”
“I told you I believed you’d last two days back in time. Prove me wrong, Angel.”
She pulled out the chamber pot keeping her eyes closed.
“Tell me it’s empty.”
“Aye, it looks clean.”
“Thank goodness,” she said adjusting her skirts and sitting on it. “But what do they use for…?”
“For wiping?” he asked but she didn’t give him time to reply.
“The Chinese actually invented toilet paper way back in the thirteen hundreds. Sometimes hemp fibers were used. What did you use on your ship? Men wouldn’t need to wipe so often, but eewww, I doubt anyone washed their hands.”
“You’re witterin’ on, Angel, and I apologize in advance, but…” He laughed again. “Piss or get off the pot!”
/>
She smirked and tossed her hairbrush at him.
“I may report that to that rather grim-lookin’ Reverend Smythe. I don’t think that would be considered worshippin’ your husband. There’s the cloths for wiping.” He glanced at the stand.
“That’s super handy way over there. Do you suppose they wash those cloths well enough or…”
He tapped his foot feigning impatience.
“Do you suppose we might make it down by lunchtime?”
“Oh my God, that’s loud,” she said as she urinated in the chamber pot.
“Wait till you have to shite,” he said with a grin.
“Don’t you dare mention that! I hope we’ll find Arianna soon and can be somewhere more civilized by the time…”
“Newt told me you were a tomboy. I think you’re a prissy wee lady of luxury.”
“I’m not!”
She reached beneath her gown tearing a small strip from her shift rather than risking using one of the possibly unsanitary cloths. He looked amused.
“If you do that every time you piss, you’ll soon have no shift left.”
“Turn around.”
“While you wipe yourself? I’ve seen a good deal more than that, Angel, and intend to again soon enough.”
“Not without a bath and oh my freaking God, you certainly won’t be able to…”
“To?” he asked. “Is this a new game we’ll play where I’m to guess the endin’ of every sentence you speak?”
“No,” she sighed. “I just hadn’t thought about oral sex back when bathing was so infrequent. Well if I did it wasn’t when I thought it was something I’d have to concern myself with.”
“Do I look concerned?” he asked.
“Not in the slightest, but…”
“I’m more concerned I’ll faint with hunger before these ablutions are done.”
She spoke no more, but stood, straightened her layers of skirts, went to the basin and washed her hands. The acrid soap stung her sensitive skin though she didn’t mention that. She tied her hair up, placed the white bonnet on her head and reached for her cloak. He came back to her.
“I didn’t intend to mock you, Angel. I suspect me going ahead in time was considerably easier than you going back. For a woman there are other considerations that men, regardless of the century, don’t think about.”
“I’m really quite excited about the whole rags for hygiene products ordeal if we’re back in time that long, but I’m sure you’ll hear about that, too, Husband,” she said standing on her tiptoes kissing him.
“I have no doubt, Mrs. Mahoney.”
“Still getting used to that, but I do love the sound of it.”
“And—I love you.” He sounded hesitant.
“That isn’t easy for you to say?”
“I admit it isn’t, and not because I don’t feel it with every part of me.”
“I know you love me. If saying it doesn’t come naturally, don’t. I told you, I see it in your eyes. Sometimes that speaks as profoundly as words.”
“I do love you, Angelique. Now, I’m damn hungry.”
“Me, too.”
“I’ll ask about Arianna.”
“I only know her married name, but if you describe her as having scarlet hair, I bet that’d be memorable.”
*
“Her name’s Arianna. She has deep red hair. We were told she might have been here.”
The innkeeper and his wife stared at one other, then worriedly looked at the other patrons in the inn’s main room. The innkeeper gestured for Faolan to follow him and they stepped outside. Angelique was sure everyone was looking at her and about to throw accusations of witchcraft her way.
The ham and eggs were tasty. The biscuits saltier than she liked, but at least there’d be no GMOs, additives or preservatives. She refused to drink the water. It likely hadn’t been boiled. She took small sips of ale. She’d read the Puritans hadn’t really approved of alcohol but permitted ale because the water often made them sick.
It was difficult to ignore the scent of unwashed bodies and bad breath. She hadn’t mentioned that to Faolan. He already thought she was a spoiled, privileged woman unable to adapt without conveniences. She’d endeavor to prove him wrong.
When he returned, he didn’t speak but led her outside. They walked near a stable. She inhaled the scents here, no air pollution, or body odor, only the pungent smell of horse manure.
“Arianna was here a few months back. Apparently accused as a witch, she was sentenced to die by hanging.”
“Fuck!”
“You must stop sayin’ that, Angel. That may earn a noose around your neck.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“Arianna didn’t die.”
“Obviously not or she wouldn’t have been living in my house in the future.”
“What if our being here disrupts something?” Faolan asked.
“I can’t think about that. Where’s Arianna now?”
“Apparently Wyndham married her to save her life, but the innkeeper swears she revealed her supernatural powers and scared the people here half to death.”
“That would. But it’s odd she wasn’t hanged then.”
When they looked down the village street and saw a man with only one arm, Angelique shivered.
“He is majorly giving me the creeps. I have the strongest sense he’s a rapist.”
“By Christ, maybe he should meet my sword. Perhaps someone already made him pay for his misdeeds?”
“I think losing his arm had something to do with Arianna.”
“She sounds like quite the woman,” Faolan said.
“I agree. Does the innkeeper know where they are now?”
“Apparently Wyndham has a farm a couple of days’ ride from here.”
“Are we supposed to travel or can I use my magic?”
“I hoped you’d sense what to do. We may need to purchase a horse. Are you able to ride horses?”
“I took riding lessons. I wanted to move to the country and have horses, but Mom was busy with her shop and Dad with his doctoring—and playing doctor.”
“So a two-day ride to hopefully locate them in this apparently massively large mostly untamed colony?” Faolan said.
“Filled with many sometimes hostile indigenous people who’ve had white Europeans take away their homes, land and lifestyle, bringing diseases that wiped out more than half their population and…”
“Magic it is,” he said. “But somewhere out of sight of any of these suspicious-looking people.”
*
“You think this is it?” Faolan asked.
“I sense Arianna here.”
“It’s a very impressive home,” he said.
“It is. It’s actually fantastic,” Angelique said admiring the immense, beautiful log cabin.
“How will you leave the book for Arianna but conceal your face?”
“I suppose, like Clodaugh back in the apothecary shop, it’s an advantage of a hooded cloak. I detect a magical location near here. I think it’s Arianna’s place.”
“Wow!” he said when they walked into a forest clearing. “This could be Ireland.”
“This stone circle and the dolmen really do look Irish. Do you sense the magic?”
“I do,” he agreed. “But there’s something dark here, too.”
“I feel it as well,” Angelique said. “Let’s just get this done.”
She took the book, grasped Faolan’s hand and attempted to step within the circle but he couldn’t go in.
“Clearly I don’t have what’s necessary to enter this circle.”
“It might be warded by Arianna’s magic. I don’t like leaving you.”
“I’ll wait right here, Angel. Don’t tarry.”
She took the book, barely stepped inside when the wind began to blow. Even walking the short distance to the middle of the circle wasn’t easy. The wind became stronger and colder nearly taking her breath away.
“I’m not here for anything bad. I
just need to leave something for Arianna.”
The wind abruptly stopped. Angelique jumped when several tiny faeries poked their heads out from behind the stones and inside the dolmen. The ghost of a woman, noticeably pregnant, appeared.
“I must leave this book for Arianna. Are you able to tell her?”
“She’s on her way now,” the ghost said.
The faeries scattered as Angelique heard footsteps approach and felt powerful magic but she also intuitively knew Faolan was in danger. She needed to go to him. Sensing the dark presence again, she closed her eyes, snapped her fingers and was instantly beside Faolan. She was relieved, but his expression was one of disbelief, perhaps horror. She summoned white light to surround them.
“Are you okay?” she asked putting her arms around him in comfort.
“That’s not how I’d describe how I’m feelin’ just now. I believe I’ve witnessed pure evil, Angelique. Those demons we saw with the glowin’ eyes were nothing compared to the malevolence this being exuded. He was a devil, I swear, perhaps Satan himself. He had large horns, sharp teeth and claws and hooves.”
“I’m here now, Faolan. I’ve encircled us in white magic. You’re safe.”
“Is this quest complete? I don’t mind tellin’ you I’ve seen a lot of frightening things but nothin’ like that.”
“I didn’t have time to get the book to Arianna,” Angelique said.
Faolan looked like he didn’t really hear her.
“Wolf?” Angelique called. “I couldn’t complete the quest but could we have a reprieve for Faolan to recuperate?”
Wolf materialized within her glowing white light.
“I’ll stay with your guardian. Go to Boston, just one year ahead from this time. You’ll find the fire witch there.”
Angelique envisioned Arianna and did as Wolf said. Standing by the seashore, she saw a lovely woman with the beautiful red hair and startling green eyes. Angelique pulled up her cloak’s hood to cover her face. Arianna turned quickly, perhaps trying to decide if she should be afraid of Angelique though her eyes seemed more sad than afraid.
“I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m just giving you this book. You’ll need it and that’s really all I can say.”
“Who are you?” Arianna asked.
“I can’t tell you that, but we’ll meet again one day and maybe we’ll both understand more.”
Arianna nodded and thankfully asked no more questions. Angelique passed her the book, careful not to touch her hand as Wolf instructed.
The Witch's Journey Page 24
