When Lightning Strikes (4 page)

Dominic decided to take matters into his own hands, literally. He tried to sweep the crying woman up into his arms and carry her back down the hill to the safety of his wagon, but as he reached beneath her to lift her up she fought him like some kind of demon. After a moment or two, he decided he had had enough of her lunacy, and he roughly swept her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. She yelped with pain as his shoulder slammed into her burned side and she begged him to put her down.

Dominic ignored her. He had not meant to hurt her, but the wench would not stop kicking and screaming. He just wanted to get her to the wagon as quickly as possible so she could continue to rest and recover, but she was preventing this at every turn. At that moment she hit him again, called him some foul
name he had never heard before and began punching him in the back.

He cursed softly and in a flash he swung her back down and pushed her to the ground, pinning her with the weight of his body. She was strong for a woman, but she was no match for his speed and strength. The blanket which covered her had flown somewhere off to the side of them and she lay there squirming beneath him almost completely stark naked. He looked down at her bare breasts, rising and falling rapidly from exertion and the temptation to taste her flesh against his tongue almost drove him to insanity.

For a moment, he just lay there on top of her trying to slow his ragged breathing. He knew he had to regain control over himself. He looked away from her for a moment, sucked in a deep breath and then spoke.

“Demoiselle, I am going to get off of you now. You are going to stand next to me and walk down this hill and you are going to keep your mouth shut. You will not hit me, scratch me or spew forth any more vile names from that shrewish tongue of yours.”

She became very still and just stared at him for a moment before reluctantly nodding her head in assent. He got up slowly, retrieved the blanket and threw it over her and stood, offering his hand to help her to her feet. His expression softened and he reached out and gently wiped an errant tear from her cheek as he spoke again.

“I am sorry if I hurt you. I know the situation seems quite bad, but it will be much worse if you arouse my men with your unholy screeching. They will be inclined to slake their lust if given the opportunity. I have been known to be of no better nature, mind you, but in this case as their leader I will do what is right and we shall have our gold. You will need to contain yourself if you are to remain safe in my care until your family can retrieve you.”

Safe in his care
? This guy was unbelievable!
She wanted to utter the words aloud but she didn’t dare. She wanted to knee him in the crotch and take off running until she dropped. But where would she go? They were out in the middle of nowhere in an untamed countryside, in a century where women were nothing but chattel to be bought, sold, traded
or ransomed
. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

God, she hated him at this moment! But his belief that money could be obtained for her safe return to her home and family was her only hope of survival and she knew she’d better not blow it.

She remained silent as he marched her down to the bottom of the hill to a clump of bushes to relieve herself. She opened her palm and stared at the medallion. She must hold on to it at all costs because it might be her only hope of ever finding her way home.

She closed her fingers around it tightly. She would slip it up under her sleeping palette as soon as she got back into the wagon and hopefully he wouldn’t see it. She must avoid arousing any kind of suspicions in him until she could get safely away from here.

She emerged from the privacy of the bushes where he quickly joined her and they walked in silence back to the wagon. He carefully lifted her up and helped her in. She lay back down in the place where she had slept through the night and did nothing as he pulled back the blanket to check on her bandage.

She looked down to see it was intact and exhaled softly. It was just a blessed relief to lie down! He helped her sit back up and offered her some water from a filthy looking ladle. She eyed it warily then taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and swallowed, praying silently that she wouldn’t regret it. The water tasted surprisingly cool and sweet and she drank it all before handing the ladle back to him.

She realized that her side was beginning to hurt again and she just felt so, so tired. She would have given anything right about now for a couple of ibuprofens and maybe some peroxide or some kind of disinfectant. Anything, really, to make sure she didn’t get an infection and to stop this infernal pain! But there was no such thing here.

She struggled not to yawn and felt angry and ashamed
that she could even think about sleep when she needed to be figuring out how to get out of here. But her body would not be denied.

Completely exhausted, both physically and emotionally, she rolled over onto her uninjured side and within minutes she was sound asleep.

Chapter Five

Sarah awoke a few hours later. The pain in her side was feeling somewhat better now, and her head felt normal. But things were not normal. Before falling asleep she had hoped when she woke up she would find herself in her own bed, relieved to know it had all been just a bad case of nerves about the wedding. But it was not to be, as her surroundings so rudely reminded her.

She sat up and looked around the wagon. Dominic was nowhere to be seen. Thank God. She couldn’t think straight with his reeking presence hanging over her. “
Damn. Why couldn’t I
have dropped into a century where people believed in the use of soap and water?”
she thought to herself
. 
But that was the least of her worries right now.

She had to figure out how to get away from Dominic and his men. Then she could think straight and try to find a way to get back to her own time…if there was a way back to her own time.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat that threatened to bring a fresh outpouring of tears. She had to be strong now. Crying would do no good. If there was a way to fall back through time into this century, then there must be a way to fall forward through time and get home.

She looked down at her nakedness and realized the first thing she needed to do was take a look and see just how bad the burn was. She carefully pulled back the bandage and cringed when she saw the deep, angry mark that was about four inches long and two inches wide down her side. There was a raw patch in the center where the skin had been burned down into the deeper layers and there were smaller blisters all around it. The skin was slightly browned around the edges and some kind of ointment or salve that had an earthy smell to it was plastered on there. The pain was not quite as bad as it had been earlier. She decided to just leave the bandage on there to keep the dirt out and in hopes that the salve had some kind of antiseptic properties, until she could get to some water and hopefully some kind of soap.

Next, she needed to find something to wear. Looking around the perimeter of the wagon, she spied a white shirt hanging from a large peg of wood on the canopy frame. She got up, stretched the kinks out of her back and walked over to it
. Great. What if it’s his?

She carefully pulled the shirt down from its crude hook and smelled it making sure she didn’t bring it too close to her nostrils. To her surprise, the shirt smelled fresh, like it had been recently washed and hung outdoors, so she threw off the blanket and the torn nightgown and slipped the garment over her shoulders. The sleeves went way past her hands so she cuffed them up to her elbows. The hem was also quite long. It reached most of the way down her thighs.

This was good. At least she was decently covered. It would be nice if she had some clean underwear and a pair of pants, but it would do for now. She walked over to the end of the wagon where the canopy was slightly parted to take a peek outside and she if he was anywhere in view and to take a look at this group of lowlifes he lived with, if they were milling around anywhere. She needed to know what she was up against. Cautiously parting the cloth just a tiny crack, so as not to draw attention to herself she looked out and was startled at the sight she saw.

There were men, women and children of varying ages dressed in brightly colored clothing milling around the wagons. Some were juggling with knives and other large objects, some were tumbling, some were singing and some of the women were dancing. All but a few had dark skin and raven-black hair. Jewelry and golden earrings were abundant on them all, including the men and she could hear that they spoke some unfamiliar language that was fluid and lilting. It sounded like French with a mixture of something else. They were almost primitive in a way, and yet beautiful.

Who in God’s name were these people? They looked like some kind of traveling circus or something. Or a band of Gypsies, maybe.

Then it dawned on her.
The coin.
This could be no coincidence. That ancient charm had somehow brought her back in time to a troupe of Gypsies from somewhere in the past. She gazed at them in fascination. This was her heritage. They could even be her own ancestors for all she knew. It was too incredible to believed, and yet, here she was! Had her mother known all along somehow that this would happen? How could she put her own daughter in such grave danger and why would she do something like this to her?

She didn’t want to know the answer to that one. Ariana couldn’t have known. Could she
?
At any rate, the only thing that mattered now was figuring out how to get out of here. She had no intention of trying to alter history in some way, or getting involved in any other unearthly reasons there might be for her being here. But she knew these lingering questions would leave her no peace. As soon as she got home, she would confront her mother and find the answers.

Her attention was jolted back to the scene before her when she heard a loud yelp of pain. It was Dominic. He was standing shirtless in the center of a group of men juggling with a handful of daggers.  She gasped as he caught the procession of knives as they fell from the air one after another with lightning speed. As he handed them off to one of the men, she noticed that one of the knives was lying on the ground and blood was gushing profusely from a wound on one of his fingers.

He walked with long, purposeful strides to a nearby trough of clear water and quickly washed the wound, applied some salve from a small vial that was hanging from a leather cord around his neck and bound the injured finger with a piece of ragged cloth that he tore from his shirt that was lying nearby. Then he dipped his entire head into the cool water and quickly stood back up sending a spray of water shooting off behind him as his long black mane whipped backwards behind him.

Water sluiced down his broad brown back and glistened in the sun like diamonds. His shoulders were wide and thick with muscle and she found herself staring at him unable to turn away. He walked back over to the place where he had been juggling and said something to the men who had been tossing him knives and
they all erupted into a round of laughter, including Dominic himself.

His teeth stood out in stark contrast to his dark face as he smiled. It was a warm, good-natured kind of smile that made dimples in the sides of his beard- roughened cheeks. And then there were those silver-blue eyes. In combination with his black hair and dark skin, it was the most unusual genetic wildcard she had ever seen and no doubt the most beautiful. She wanted to slap herself for staring at the cretin, but she just couldn’t help it. She had to admit, it didn’t matter what century this was this guy was incredible looking, even if he didn’t
know the meaning of the words  ‘soap’ and ‘deodorant’.

“
What is wrong with you?”
she admonished herself.
“You are trapped here in some far off century, half naked with no food, no money, no women’s rights and no way home; not to mention the fact they will probably burn you as a witch when they find out who you really are. And you are staring at some Gypsy horse’s ass with a few muscles and a great tan!

She was ashamed of herself. She was engaged and supposed to be getting married today…if that even existed now. How would David feel if he knew what she was doing? Right now she needed to be thinking about more important things, like what on earth she was going to tell this Dominic character when he asked her who she was and where she had come from.

Abruptly Dominic turned towards the wagon and she realized she had better think of something quickly, because he would be here in about twenty seconds or less. She closed the small part in the cloth she had been peeking through and ran over to the spot where she had been lying and quickly lay back down and slid her legs under the blanket. She didn’t know whether to feign sleep and give herself more time to think of what to say or confront him now, but before she had a chance to decide the canvas parted and he stepped inside the wagon. There would be no chance to pretend sleep. She just stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Ah cheri
e

, I see you have awakened.” His eyes traveled to where the white shirt hung half off one of her shoulders.  “My shirt looks quite fetching upon you…much moreso than upon me. Does your wound pain you?”

His expression showed some honest concern.

“No. I’m okay,” she said, eyeing him warily.

A puzzled look crossed his brow.
“Oooh-kay. What does this mean? I heard you speak it earlier and I have never heard it used before in the language of the English.”

She cringed. She hadn’t bothered to think about the fact that people in this time didn’t speak Modern English. This Dominic guy had one thick French accent, but from what she could tell, what he spoke to her definitely was not Old English because she could understand it pretty well. It must be some form between Middle and Early Modern, which began around mid to late 1300’s or so. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Thank God. That would mean she was not in the Dark Ages! At least if she were anywhere close to the Renaissance period, it wouldn’t be as bad.

Let’s see, the Romany started arriving in Europe in the 12
th
and 13
th
centuries or possibly a little earlier.

Her brow wrinkled as she remembered Mr. Harther’s words from 10
th
grade history class. She could see him plain as day right now in her memory; short and balding with his round, wire rimmed glasses as he paced the perimeter of the classroom on those long afternoons as he lectured on different periods in history, both American and European.

She was thankful right about now that she had been at least a decent student in that particular subject and for the endless stories her mother and Grandmother had told her of their heritage.

At least she had a ballpark figure of
when
she was but
she would still have to find a way to ask him what century they were in exactly, in a way that wouldn’t be too obvious. And from this moment on she was going to have to be very careful of every word that came out of her mouth. She would pay close attention to how they spoke, although it wouldn’t be easy with their heavy accents.

Dominic stared at her and the silence made him uneasy.
What was the witch thinking of? He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows.

Sarah realized she had been lost in thought for too long trying to think of what do and say. She squirmed at the suspicious
look he was giving her. “Um…well, it means I am alri…I mean it…it means I am well.” She swallowed hard. This was not going to be easy.

A look of puzzlement crossed his face and he walked over to her and crouched down. He reached out and
lay the back of his hand across her forehead and then tentatively moved in closer and pressed his lips to the place where his hand had just been to check for a temperature. She was cool to the touch but she was stammering and talking as if she was daft. Maybe the lightning had injured her thinking. She stared up at him for a long moment, her golden eyes locking with his silver-blue and he had to force himself to move back from her.

Sarah knew she had no temperature, but she felt as if she had been burned with fire in the place where his lips had touched her skin. She sniffed the air where he knelt close to her. Something was different. To her disbelief, he smelled like fresh air, water and sun.

“Hey! You took a bath.” She coughed lightly remembering the language thing. “I mean you have bathed,” she said trying to sound more serious and medieval.

He looked at her as if she was out of her mind. “Of course I have bathed. What nonsense are you spewing forth now, woman?”

“Nonsense?
Excus
e

moi
, but this morning you smelled like a skunk!”

His forehead wrinkled.
“
Skonk
? What is skonk?”

“Um….” her voice trailed off as she thought of how to explain it. What did they call them back then? Her brows knit together as she tried to think.
“A polecat? A ferret? You know.” She reached up and held her nose.

He looked at her for a moment with a cross expression and then a smirk formed on his lips. A second later he was laughing. The corded muscles stood out on his neck and she
could see his pulse beating there, squelching any previous thoughts she may have had that this was all a bad dream. He was real.

“Aaaah.”
He nodded in understanding. “Polecátte? No. Furétte? Oui, perhaps you are correct. And with that painfully true remark, I am greatly relieved to know you were not made daft by the strike of lightning.”

“You mean you don’t always smell that terrible?” She was relieved that he knew what a polecat and a ferret was, though he said the words in what must have been their original European form.

His expression hardened just a bit. “My lady, have I mistreated you in any way that you would offend me? I am most sorrowful for injuring you earlier on the hill, but you forced my hand. I could not risk having you wake my men, for they might not be so polite with you. I also realize that I have offered you no food yet, but that will soon be remedied. Are you well enough to eat?”

“Yes.” Now she felt embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to offend him about having body
odor, it was just that she’d assumed that no one in this century bathed much. “Sir….I….”