Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) (29 page)

“Hmm. You must have had bleach under the red for the purple to show up that way.”

“Are you, I mean, were you a hairstylist?” She looked at the woman’s intricate coiffure, an upswept mass of curls and braids.

“No. An artist. But in junior high my friends and I used to put Kool-Aid in our hair. My blonde took the color, and so did my friends’...with bleach. It didn’t do anything at all to the brunettes until we bleached some strands.”

“Good to know. So where are you from?
When
are you from?” she asked in a lower tone.

After a quick glance at all the people milling around, the woman hooked arms with Samantha and pulled her along. The blonde shot Dugald a smile over her shoulder. “Don’t mind us. We’re just going to find somewhere to sit and have a nice, long chat.”

~~~

The woman led Samantha past more stalls to a big tent, with red and green heraldry laid over the side, a black bird of prey prominently displayed. Bending over, they went in to find a very comfortable space: a bed, blankets, colorful clothes, armor, parchment, and food. A couple of small folding chairs surprised her. It looked positively luxurious compared to their tent.

The woman gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”

They faced each other, and the lady looked so happy to see her, Samantha couldn’t help but smile as she was studied in a friendly, eager manner.

“I’m Gillian Corbett Marshall, from Seattle, Washington.” She picked up a small wooden bowl filled with nuts and dried fruit and offered some to Samantha.

Samantha shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m Samantha Ryan. New York City.”

Gillian replaced the bowl. “Who is the president, what year is it, and where are you from?”

Samantha laughed, and told her.

“So we come from the same time. That’s so weird isn’t it? We lived across the country from each other and never met, and here we are meeting in another time, and place.” Gillian leaned forward, perching on the edge of the small chair. “Now, tell me everything. What have I missed?”

Samantha, racking her brain, tried to catch the other girl up on current news, most of it depressing. Murders, politicians, movie stars, and countries acting badly.

“Huh. So the usual?”

Samantha lifted a shoulder. “Probably. I don’t follow the news like I could. How long have you been here?”

“I arrived in June, so, just over three months.”

“It’s been a few weeks for me. You’re married?”

Gillian beamed, and blushed the slightest bit. “We’re newlyweds.” She glanced at the tent flap, then leaned closer and said in a lower tone, “And maybe even expecting, though I haven’t told my husband yet. If I had, he’d never have let me come along.”

Samantha chuckled, liking this girl. “I get it. Medieval men are slightly overbearing. Are you happy here? Do you want to go home?”

Gillian’s eyes softened. “I am home. Living in the past has its advantages. Mainly, my husband, but a lot more too. It’s a simpler time and place and I’m really coming to enjoy that. What about you? Are you happy here?”

Samantha didn’t want to mention Ian and her silly, long-term crush on the guy. “It is pretty awesome. As an archaeologist, I’m fascinated, of course, but no, I really want to get home to my grandfather.” She explained about the terminal cancer, and her promise to return. Saying it aloud made her chest ache with missing him, worrying he was already gone. Yet he hadn’t yet been born—confusing, that.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re an archaeologist? How did you get here?”

Samantha explained about her job and the crown.

“You came by crown? I came by ring. That’s got to mean something, right? I arrived at the cemetery and only later did I find it was because I’d cut myself on holy ground. Did you bleed on holy ground while wearing your crown?”

Samantha shook her head. She looked down at her hands that still sported a few small scabs. “I
was
bleeding. And we were beside a memorial, but it’s a fairly new one in this time and I’m almost positive it hasn’t been blessed. Ian has a thing about priests and there isn’t one in the village.”

“Still. It seems like a big coincidence. The priest who blessed our place later became a saint after he died, so I’m not sure how that all works. I do know his name was Saint Cuthbert.” She paused, thinking. “Have you tried to use the crown to go back home yet?”

Samantha shook her head. “I haven’t had the chance. Ian won’t let me near the thing. Are you sure it’s about blood and holy ground? I figured I’d just put the thing on my head and it would work.”

Gillian looked doubtful. “I wore the ring and tried to go back, using the cemetery, but it didn’t work. Later I tried using blood alone, and it didn’t work. It seems to need a combination of the three. I’ve talked about it to our priest at Marshall Keep, and that’s what he believes too.”

“You went back to the future?”

Gillian grinned. “I needed to gather a few essentials.”

Relief flooded Samantha. “So it
does
work. I can get back again.”

Gillian nodded. “Couldn’t you just ask your friend, Ian, for the crown and then find some holy ground to test the theory?”

“Ian doesn’t actually believe I’m from the future. He just doesn’t want me to steal it.”

“You seriously told your friend you’re from the future? I never dared admit that until I didn’t have a choice.” Gillian paused for a moment. “I could loan you my ring, but Kellen took it and he threatened to have it melted down. Even if he still has it, I don’t think he’d give it back if I asked. Otherwise I’d give it to you. The weird thing is he asked Lord Corbett, the true owner, if the ring was missing. I think he was going to give it to him, but he still had his. Mine was like a second copy or something.”

Samantha gaped. “Do you mean the original could still be where I found it? There might be two crowns?”

Gillian shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. But would the second, the original, work?”

Samantha didn’t know either. Did that mean she could dig up the original and go home? If Ian wouldn’t give her the crown, she might have to try that. “If I can figure it out, do you want to go home with me? Leave this time and place?”

Gillian shook her head. “Nope. I’d never leave my husband in a million years. I’m very happy here.”

Samantha was glad for her, but didn’t share her enthusiasm. She needed to get home to her grandfather. So why did that thought of leaving Ian behind, never to see him again, make her chest ache?

~~~

The tent-flap flipped open and Samantha jumped as a huge man entered the tent, his scarred face twisted in anger. Seconds later another brawny man followed.

Gillian straightened, her expression concerned. “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

The first man shook his head, rolled his shoulders in what looked like an effort to shake off tension, and visibly tried to calm. “All is well, sweetling. There is naught to concern yourself.” He hurried to a wool bag, opened it, and dug around. He glanced at Samantha, then back to Gillian. “Who is this, then?”

“This is Samantha Ryan.” She gestured to the man. “And this is my husband, Lord Marshall.”

Hmm. She saw why Gillian wanted to stay. Big, brawny, and even with scars, pretty to look at. He oozed danger, yet was sweet with his wife. A nice combination. It sort of reminded her of someone she knew. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lord Marshall held up a wicked-looking knife before glancing back at Samantha. “Your speech is,” he looked between the two of them and his brows lowered, “as my wife’s. Who is your lord?”

Samantha shrugged. “If by that you mean, who am I hanging out with—have you heard of Laird MacGregor?”

Gillian choked back a laugh. “Are you kidding?
Your
Ian is Laird MacGregor?” She grinned. “That’s not a name you want to mention to my husband.”

Lord Marshall slowly straightened. He studied Samantha as he put the knife in a leather sheath at his waist. “Aye. I do know him. And you say you are with him? His lady, perhaps?”

Samantha’s senses went on high alert. Something was off with the big man’s tone. “Uh...”

Gillian stood and stepped between the two of them. “Now, Kellen.”

Lord Marshall smiled. He really was a scary looking guy and the smile wasn’t nice at all. “Move aside, my love.”

“Kellen, I said no. She’s my guest.”

“And now my prisoner.”

Samantha stood, glad the other woman remained between them. “Is he serious?”

Gillian let out a breath. “I’m afraid so.” She turned fully toward her husband. “I wasn’t quite ready to tell you this, but you leave me no choice. In my delicate condition, you must not upset me.” She placed a hand against her stomach. “If you start ransoming my guests, I’ll be...troubled.”

Kellen looked blank for a moment, then his brows crashed together and he flung himself upon his knees before his wife. He wrapped huge arms around her and laid his head against her stomach, pulling her close. “Gillian,” his voice was choked. “You are with child?”

Gillian slipped a hand into her husband’s dark hair, running her fingers through the strands. “Yes, my love. I believe I am.”

Feeling like an intruder to witness such an intimate moment, Samantha inched around them and headed for the tent opening. The man standing at the doorway lifted an arm and stopped her with an apologetic expression and a shake of his head.

She glanced back to see Kellen lifting Gillian and leaning in for a quick kiss. “Why did you not tell me sooner, love? How am I to care for you if you do not share such matters?” He set her down on the bedding. “Now do not move from here while I deal with MacGregor.”

Deal with MacGregor?

Gillian leaned up on one elbow. “I won’t stay here, you know. If you’re going to fight, I want to watch. You know how much I like eye candy. I don’t want to hear about it secondhand.”

Kellen shook his head. “Nay, dearest, you are to stay. Rest, and I shall return shortly. This willna take long.” He stood and gathered up some things, including a wicked-looking sword, before heading toward Samantha and the exit. “Bring her.” He nodded toward Samantha and bent to flip the tent door open. To a boy standing at the entrance, he said, “Go to MacGregor. Tell him I have the lady...” he turned back and stared at Samantha. His brows rose.

She sighed. Ian was going to kill her himself. “Samantha.”

Kellen turned back to the boy. “Tell him we have the lady Samantha and he is to meet me on the west field and to bring his sword. Go. Hurry.”

Samantha was forced from the tent by the other man, a hand at her back.

Gillian called out, “I’ll see you there in a minute.”

“Nay, you are to say here. I will leave the boys.”

Gillian laughed. “They’ll be too busy watching you fight to stay with me. I’ll sneak under the tent if I have to.”

Kellen hesitated then gestured with a hand. “Come along, then.” He sounded grumpy. “You are sure to call trouble upon yourself if left on your own.”

Gillian caught up with them and hooked her arm through Samantha’s. She smiled and they followed the man in front, Kellen taking up the rear as they wove through the crowd. “This should be fun.”

Samantha glanced around, spotted Dugald about ten feet away, and met his gaze for a moment. His expression of disapproval chilled her. She shrugged helplessly, trying to communicate her innocence. “Fun? Do you really think so?”

Gillian smiled, excitement sparkling in her pretty brown eyes. “I do.” She chuckled. “I really do.”

Samantha hoped she was right.

Chapter Seventeen

With a heavy heart, Ian removed the rolled up banner from the traveling bag. He did not want this. Once he displayed his colors, he'd be committed to the tournament and they’d be there for the duration, at least a week, mayhap longer.

He used to thrive on this, but now he simply feared getting swept back into court life. Having his freedom at Inverdeem was much better than being subject to the king's whims. He didn’t think the king would revoke his lands or remove Ian for his own entertainment. Ian was loyal and commanded enough men to make a difference in any conflict the king entered. He also had the experience and strength to train his men and to hold them steady. But he admitted a part of him was still surprised by the king’s generous actions in awarding Inverdeem. He half-expected his good fortune to be snatched away as quickly as it had been granted.

Much better to remain at Inverdeem.

In addition, if the king did request him back, he'd likely not have long to live. The Comyns and Durwards had been glad to see the last of him. If he returned, they might not be as accommodating this time and Ian would have to watch his back. Of course, Inverdeem was not much better at the moment.

Why did it seem someone was always trying to kill him?

“MacGregor?”

Ian exited the tent to see Dugald, eyes drawn, a wild and dangerous air about him. He nodded to a young, sandy-haired boy wearing Marshall's colors.

“Now what?”

The boy looked up, swallowed, and puffed out his chest. "Lord Marshall has bid me inform you he has captured the lady Samantha.” The boy’s voice was loud, squeaky, grating. “He issues you a challenge, sir, to meet him on the west field forthwith.” The boy, having delivered his message, backed away and ran into the crowd.

MacGregors emerged from tents to see what was happening.

Ian glared at Dugald—he’d trusted him to guard Samantha. “He captured Samantha? How could he even know of her?”

Dugald shook his head. “’Twas Lady Marshall what instigated the trick. She invited the gel to her tent, to talk, said she. There was no stopping them and they did seem as fast friends. When Marshall returned, I dinna know he planned to take the girl captive.” He shrugged and lifted the crown. “I couldna very well ditch this to fight ’em, now could I?” All the same, he hung his head in obvious disgust. “Women.”

For Dugald, it was a week’s worth of words, and Ian clapped him on the back as realization sank in. “Ye did good.”

“Did I?” Dugald asked sourly.

Ian nodded, feeling considerably lighter. “Aye. Whether he knows it or no’, Marshall has done me a good turn. The king ordered us to fight in the tournament. But do we fight now, there’ll be no need to enter the competition at all. So long as the king gets his contest, that is.” He looked at the bag, thought a moment. “Don’t let that out of your sight. Hie yourself to the king. Both kings. Tell them of Marshal’s challenge and urge ’em to hurry to the west field to witness the contest for Lady Samantha. I’ll stall Marshall until they arrive.”