The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  She began reading…wondering what he would tell her. How he would break her heart.

  Again.

  My dearest Gwendolyn,

  ’Tis with the deepest regret that I find myself leaving you. Never have I broken my word and that you are the one I have failed pains me as nothing before. Though I tried to wake you, ’twas no use. Hear my plea now, Gwendolyn. I will return to you, I will have you as mine for the rest of my days, if you will only still take me.

  My heart is in your hands, Gwendolyn, where it shall remain forever.

  Yours,

  Greylen Allister MacGreggor

  He wanted her. Greylen really wanted her.

  But why?

  If only she could remember what they’d said last night. She recalled some of it, but it didn’t make sense. More importantly he was gone. She had to go back to the inn.

  With somewhat of a plan, Gwen decided to get dressed. She needed desperately to use the bathroom and struggled with the heavy door until it opened. Then she stood there shocked. It was an old-fashioned garderobe. How could a family with so much wealth not have indoor plumbing? She stared at the stone bench built into the wall. It had a wooden seat and she knew if she looked down, she’d see running water at the bottom.

  In the end, it wasn’t as bad as she thought. But the crude toilet paper wasn’t even close to Charmin. She must’ve been on some powerful drugs to have missed that yesterday.

  She walked to the mirror, relieved that her face showed barely any marks. Those that were left were only a shade or two darker than her natural skin color. She washed her hands in the basin filled with fresh water, careful of the cloth on her right hand. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it away. She still had bruises from the seat belt, but they seemed to be fading.

  She didn’t see any supplies to change her bandages and her clothes were nowhere to be found either. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open, hoping Gavin had left. She’d listened to enough outrageous statements for one day.

  Anna waited just outside, her arms loaded with clothing. “I thought you’d like to dress.”

  Gwen scanned the room relieved that Gavin had in fact left. “Do you have my clothes? These look nothing like the ones I wore,” Gwen said, looking pointedly to the bundle in Anna’s hands.

  “’Twould not be proper, Lady Gwendolyn. This dress should do nicely till we fashion you a suitable wardrobe.”

  “Anna, I have my own clothes,” Gwen reminded her. “And please stop calling me Lady Gwendolyn.”

  “’Tis only proper,” Anna returned.

  “Proper?” My God. “Nothing is proper about my stay here.”

  “Try to understand,” Anna said softly, taking Gwen’s hand. “We’ve waited so long, and the plans are set. You must listen to reason. Greylen’s men will not let you go. They cannot.”

  “My God, Anna,” Gwen exclaimed. They were crazy. “Just give me what you have. I’ll get my clothes later.”

  Anna smiled. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll help. ’Tis my duty.”

  “Whatever,” Gwen said. She was tired. They’d worn her down already.

  Anna led her to the fireplace and removed Greylen’s shirt. Gwen stood naked before her, completely unashamed and completely distracted. She could see Greylen’s entire room from where she stood. And it truly was enormous.

  Each space had to be at least thirty feet across and just as deep. The fireplace area was filled with tables and chairs and another rich-looking rug. The fireplace itself was larger than any she’d ever seen. The hearth was made from the same stones that the castle had been constructed with, and the mantel from the same wood as the trim.

  The sleeping section lay just beyond the space she was standing in, and to say his bed was gigantic would be a gross understatement. The mattress was three feet off the floor and encased in a masculine frame. A dark-burgundy quilt lay on top of ivory sheets and decorative pillows covered most of the headboard. There were nightstands on either side, with candles and glass-covered oil lamps. And the sconces on the walls flickered like they had candles in them too.

  Didn’t they have electricity? “Anna, may I ask a question?”

  “Of course, anything you wish,” she offered, continuing to clean Gwen’s abrasions.

  “I noticed there wasn’t indoor plumbing in the bathroom, and there are no lights.”

  “I don’t understand, Lady Gwendolyn. Our plumbing surpasses the standard and the candles are lights,” Anna replied with a confused look on her face.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Anna put her hand to Gwen’s forehead, pursing her lips. “You feel cool, Lady Gwendolyn, but mayhap you should rest again.”

  “Not a chance. I’ve rested more than I have in years. I just need to go home.” She couldn’t stay here any longer, but home… Gwen covered her face as tears filled her eyes.

  “Lady Gwendolyn, you are home. Let us take care of you now.” Anna hushed, pulling her into her arms.

  When Gwen wiped her eyes, Anna finished dressing her wounds. She used a thick paste from a small clay pot and spread it with a flat wooden stick. Gwen picked up the pot and smelled the substance. It was the same she’d used last night for Greylen. “Anna, what kind of ointment is this?”

  “’Tis a mixture of herbs we grow in the garden.”

  “Really?” Gwen asked in surprise. “You don’t believe in doctors or pharmacies?” Anna looked puzzled again. Gwen felt uneasy.

  Anna helped her into a crushed velvet dress lined with soft linen. “Whose are these?” Gwen asked after Anna placed slippers on her feet that fit perfectly.

  “Isabelle’s,” Anna answered. “You’ll have your own in no time. Now, let’s get you downstairs so you can break your fast.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Anna asked, looking to the now empty table that once held the clothing she’d brought in.

  “Underwear, Anna?” How could she not think of it? She’d thought of everything else.

  “I was leery of the bloomers. They might bother the bruise over your hips.”

  “Bloomers? What about my thong?”

  Anna placed her hands on her hips. “If you mean that piece of string we found in your trews,” Anna chastised, “’twas destroyed. Greylen was none too gentle when he undressed you.”

  “Humph,” Gwen squeaked, sorry at once that she’d missed it.

  Gavin bowed to her as they stepped from the chamber. “Oh please, Gavin, enough already.”

  He didn’t reply, which was good. Gwen was too busy looking around. She could see the openness of the foyer below and walked to the banister before peering over. A beautiful rug was in front of the stairway and the wide steps led up to a spacious landing adorned with a large window. From the landing, the banister curved to either side and more steps led up to a walkway perfectly symmetrical on both sides. Large double doors were set into the sidewalls, three on either side.

  At the bottom of the stairway she passed two massive doors. And the archway to her right opened to a room like she’d never seen before.

  The ceiling was at least thirty feet high, and gorgeous tapestries hung everywhere. A large fireplace with ample seating was in front of her. And to her right was a dining area with a long mahogany table and buffet. Candelabras had been placed at various points across each and there were small bowls with fresh flowers in between. To her left was another sitting area. Large sofas with ornate pillows and various-size tables were everywhere. And there was a piano that looked new, but antique at the same time.

  But what struck her most was that despite the wealth the room represented, it held a quality of warmth. She envied this family for knowing such a luxury. Warmth, not wealth.

  “Gwendolyn, please join us,” Lady Madelyn called from the table. She sat facing the openness
of the room and Isabelle sat across from her. Gavin pulled out the chair next to Isabelle. “Lady,” he offered, motioning to the chair.

  That was it. “Gavin, if you don’t leave me alone, I swear I’m going to hit you.” Gwen’s hand formed into a fist and she watched Gavin hide a smile. They were all smiling, holding their hands in front of their faces. Did they think she was stupid? She saw what they did. Shooting Gavin another dirty look, she sat in the chair. Her situation got worse, Gavin took the seat next to Lady Madelyn. Directly across from her.

  “Shouldn’t you be standing behind me, Gavin? Guarding me with your sword?”

  “Greylen’s men always dine with us, Gwendolyn,” Isabelle explained. “But only two at a time as they rotate their duties.”

  Gwen gave a snort but didn’t miss the softness in Gavin’s eyes as Isabelle justified his presence. So he liked Isabelle, huh? Interesting, very interesting.

  “Isabelle, I’m going to write down my phone numbers and address so we can keep in touch. After breakfast, however”—Gwen looked at Gavin—“I insist on returning to the inn.”

  Gavin stood so fast the chair he’d been sitting on fell. “Lady Gwendolyn, I’ve told you more than once, you’ll go nowhere. And if I have to, I’ll sit on you myself to see the task done. Do I make myself clear?”

  My God, the man sounded like Greylen when he was irritated. “Don’t have a tizzy, Gavin. Just take me back to the inn,” Gwen shouted, standing to enforce her point.

  “A tizzy?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and threatening. “Explain your meaning?”

  “An outburst,” Gwen said with relish. “More to the point, a fit—much like the one you’re having now.”

  “You’re daft,” he bit through clenched teeth.

  “I am not,” she bit back.

  “Aye, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Are.”

  “Not.”

  Gavin’s fists hit the table. “You’re as stubborn as he. I swear you deserve each other.” His eyes narrowed again as he stared her down, his hands still fisted on the table. “I’ve my orders, Lady Gwendolyn, and I will see them through. You are to have anything, anything you so desire—but leaving here is not an option.”

  “This is ridiculous. Lady Madelyn, Isabelle, I’ve lost my appetite. Excuse me.” Gwen left the table muttering a few choice words when Gavin followed. She went straight for the front door and tried repeatedly to open it. It wouldn’t budge. She kicked it, turning at the sound of Gavin’s chuckle. “Your door is stuck.” She kicked it again.

  “Allow me,” Gavin said with a flick of his wrist. The door opened effortlessly.

  Gwen turned away in disgust, just in time to catch Isabelle watching from the archway.

  Isabelle ogled her current nemesis. Well, at least someone liked him, because she didn’t anymore.

  Gwen stepped through the doors. Men stood on either side and bowed to her. “What is going on here? Get a life, people.” Holding the material of her dress, she walked down the stairway into the courtyard.

  She stopped after a few steps, faltered actually, inhaling a deep breath audibly. She turned from left to right, shaking her head before closing her eyes. Be different, please be different. She opened them again.

  It wasn’t.

  Gavin stood behind her. His hands were on her shoulders and held her steady, because she was shaking. “Should we go back inside?” he asked.

  The warmth had returned in his voice, and she was sorry she’d pushed him before. “Gavin, tell me what’s happening,” she whispered.

  Gavin led her back inside and didn’t stop until they were in the great hall again. She was relieved to see it was empty.

  “Lady Gwendolyn, tell me what you find so troubling?” he asked after he sat her in a chair in front of the fireplace.

  She looked at him like he had just sprouted horns. “What I find so troubling, as you put it, is everything.”

  Gavin walked to the table beside the fireplace. He picked up a decanter, then poured some of its contents into a goblet. “Let’s try again,” he offered with a smile.

  “This isn’t the time to get me drunk. I just witnessed a scene out of a history book.” Gwen stood as she said it, and Gavin sighed before setting the goblet on the table. He took hold of her arms and sat her down again. Damn, she should have taken more of that potion.

  “Drink first. Then I’ll explain,” he ordered, placing the goblet to her lips.

  Gwen grabbed it from his hand. She drank it down. “I’m waiting,” she demanded.

  Gavin took one of the chairs and placed it in front of her. He sat, leaning forward, close enough that their legs almost touched. “Do you know why you’re here, Lady Gwendolyn?”

  “Greylen saved my life and brought me here. Is there more?”

  He cursed, much like Greylen did the night before. “Did he tell you anything of the prophecy?”

  “He told me about a prophecy last night, but I can’t remember everything he said. I’ve been taking that potion, and now…” The brandy started taking effect. Ahhh, it helped.

  “The prophecy, Lady Gwendolyn, foretold your coming. We’ve waited years for its culmination.”

  “Yeah, yeah…on our birthdays, I know. I remember that much.”

  “’Twas written you were of a different time, Lady Gwendolyn,” Gavin said clearly.

  “Greylen said we were born apart, Gavin. I was born in the States and he was born here.”

  “Mayhap—”

  Gwen cut him off. “Mayhap is what he said. What in the hell does that mean?”

  Gavin cursed again, but she could tell it wasn’t directed at her. No, she had a feeling his anger was directed at Greylen. “Aye, you were born apart, but ’tis more than just that.”

  “Then what? What aren’t you telling me?” Why couldn’t he give her a straight answer?

  “Lady Gwendolyn—”

  “Stop calling me Lady Gwendolyn,” Gwen hissed, cutting him off again. “Just spit it out.” She took his shoulders, trying to shake him. But in the end, she only shook herself.

  “You’re of a different time,” he said slowly, his eyes penetrating with each word.

  “I’m what?”

  Gavin shook his head. “This is maddening. Pray tell,” he said, grinding out his words, “exactly what don’t you understand?”

  “I understand nothing!”

  “You are daft.”

  “Daft? Daft?” Oh, she was going to hit him. Hard. “I am not daft, Gavin. I do however have a problem trying to make sense of whatever it is you’re trying to tell me. You suck at explaining.”

  “Then listen well, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said through clenched teeth, coming closer to her with each statement. “You are not of this time. There are no phones, whatever that may be. There is no inn. And this is not the twenty-first century.”

  “You’re a nutcase,” Gwen hissed, pushing away. She walked back to the door, and on the third try, it finally opened. But when it did, the sight hit her full force again. Gwen closed the door. Gavin’s words repeated in her head.

  She knew he was behind her, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she leaned her head against the door. “You don’t have a phone?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Nay.”

  “The storm didn’t wipe out your power or the phone lines?” Again it was a whisper.

  “Nay.”

  “You said I’m not of this time. What did you mean?”

  “Simply that, Lady Gwendolyn. This is not the twenty-first century.”

  “If this isn’t the twenty-first century”—Gwen’s hands fisted next to her head before she asked the next question, and she laughed as she said the words—“what century is it then?”

  “’Tis the fifteenth century, my lady.”

  Gwen made a stra
ngled sound. “What year is it?”

  “The year of our Lord…fourteen hundred and twenty-six.” He said it clearly, catching her as she crumpled.

  “Potion…” Gwen screamed, beating against his chest. “I want potion!”

  “You’ve just had brandy,” Gavin reprimanded, grabbing her hands.

  “You’re messing with me, right?”

  “If you mean tricking you…nay, I fear not.”

  Gwen started laughing.

  “You find this amusing?” he asked as he set her before him.

  Gwen regarded him with a smile. “As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied. “I told Greylen I was dreaming last night. And I am.” Thank God, she could still rationalize in her unconscious state.

  “You’re not dreaming, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said. “Can you not believe?”

  His question surprised her. She thought about it. “Believing is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

  “Explain.”

  “What? Now you’re my therapist?” she said with a sneer, but Gavin only stared. “Oh what the hell,” she muttered. “I believed I would find what I was looking for if I came to Scotland. No.” Gwen shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I just had to leave. I had this feeling that if I didn’t, I would never find what I was looking for.”

  “And what was it that you looked for?” Gavin asked seriously.

  Gwen stared at him. What had she looked for? She knew at once what she’d been looking for. “I think I was looking for Greylen,” she whispered.

  “Then it seems everything has worked itself out.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “You found him, didn’t you?”

  “In the fifteenth century? Come on.”

  “Can you not see that which is in front of you?” he asked.

  Gwen’s eyes widened. “Oh my God…I’m one of those people,” she cried. She grabbed his shoulders. “I hate those people.”