by Diane Story
Her felt her flat abdomen quiver with anticipation underneath him and realized she was nervous. Her words didn’t show it, but her body did. “You’re already doing it right, love. You’re driving me to insanity and I fear I will not be able to hold on much longer before I must make love to you.” He took her mouth again, hungrily, as he prepared himself for what he knew would send him over his edge. His mind echoed a warning, You can never go back, Rowen.
Then there was another voice, other than Fern’s breaking in to their perfect world. Turning his head sharply he just barely caught the flash. With a blinding display of stars surrounding him, he was rendered unconscious, falling forward heavily into Fern’s open arms.
Fern screamed into the eyes of the wicked old lady. “No! Rowen, look out.” But it was too late.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rowen rolled over and winched from the pain. His head was pounding. There wasn’t much light, thank God, or he might have thrown up. Sitting up, he looked around. Fern was standing next to a small window set high in the dirt wall. Breathing a sigh of relief, he struggled to stand. “Where are we, Fern?”
“Thou art in my mother’s house. She hath locked us in here. There is no way out, Rowen Nichols.” Mary turned to look at Rowen where he sat on the hard boards of the cellar, rubbing his head. She’d cleaned the blood the best she could, but the cut was deep. Her mother was a callous woman.
“Mary? Come closer, let me see you.” Rowen stood and approached her. She was Mary. “Where is Fern? What has that old bitch done with her?”
Mary’s hand rose to her mouth instantly, unable to hide her shock at his words. “Rowen Nichols, you should not speak such words.” Turning, she looked out the window again. “My mother has taken your Fern; she replaced her for me at the dungeon. We are to remain imprisoned here until your Fern dies in my place on the gallows.” She didn’t turn when she heard his breath quicken. “You see this window, Rowen Nichols? If you can lift me up, I will try to squeeze through.”
“Do you know who I am, Mary?”
“Aye, most certainly I do. You are Rowen Nichols, seventeenth generation to Jonathan Nichols. You are here to ensure my mother’s curse is not carried out. But you are also here to ensure your survival. My only question for you now, Rowen Nichols…” She took her eyes off the bars of the window for just a second and turned back to look at him. “Will you allow the woman you love to die for your own future?”
Rowen felt the skin on his back tingle from the sting of her words. “What would you do, if the choice were yours?” He tried not to let her cool resolve unsettle him.
“But it isn’t my choice, is it? If I die, you will just come back here another seventeen generations from now and this will all start again. You have to make the choice of how many times you want to see Fern die, Rowen. You love her; it is as plain as the hair on your head. Mayhap, you didn’t love her all the other times before.”
“Are you trying to tell me we’ve done this before?” He stared at her in disbelief. “I can hardly believe that, I would remember. Wouldn’t I?” he frowned at the mere idea of it.
Turning back again to face him, Mary wiped the dirt from her hands then walked over to stand in front of him. “Rowen Nichols, I think we should leave this conversation for another time. Help me to get out of the window then I’ll let you out. We cannot free Fern until we free ourselves.”
“Tell me what to do.” He followed her back to the window and after gently gripping her waist between his hands; he hoisted her to the window.
“Higher Rowen, just a little higher, I’m almost out.” She yelled down to him.
Rowen stood back then as she pulled herself through the bars of the window. When he could no longer see the hem of her dress, he knew she’d gone. Stepping back he took in his surroundings. There was nothing in the room except him. The floor was made out of dirty boards and the rafters above him were covered in spider webs. It smelled of mold. The steps were rickety, as if they would fail under any stress. He wondered how Elizabeth was able to get him down here; she had to have had help. He was just beginning to think he might have to find his own way to escape when he heard the door hinges creak open. Mary stood with the light of the room behind her staring down at him.
“Come, we haven’t much time. You must get me back to the dungeon and free Fern before mother feels my absence.” Mary stepped back after he’d made the climb in just a few steps.
“How long were we down there, Mary?” Rowen asked as he began to realize all that had taken place since he’d been rendered unconscious.
“I have watched you sleep since yesterday. Mother brought me here just after dark last evening. You were lying in there when she threw me down the stairs.”
Rowen followed her through the house until they came to the back entrance, the same one he and Fern had escaped from the first night. “Do we dare try to free Fern before dark? What if we are seen?”
“I will cover my face, the guard will think I am your sister. We will ask for a visit, then I will trade places with her.” Turning, she took him by the arm. “You must gather your belongings from the cave and find another place to hide. Mother will not leave you alone now. She will stop at nothing to have her will done. Including forcing my death.”
“Where do we go? I know of no other place.” Rowen watched her pull out a key from around her neck.
“Just north of the village there is a cottage hidden amongst the trees, before the Ipswich River; it is mine and Jonathan’s, it was where we planned to live after our marriage, before Sarah came here, before he married her at his father’s bidding.”
Rowen heard the obvious pain behind her words. “You won’t mind us staying there?”
“If it will ensure your safety! Neither Jonathan nor I will mind. Here, take the key.” She saw the doubt still lingering in his face. “Please!”
Rowen took the key. He was torn, he was supposed to make sure Fern took Mary’s place, but now he wanted nothing more than to save her. He was beginning to understand his demise was imminent; there was no way in hell he could ever watch Fern die. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mary.”
“Take care of Fern, keep her safe at all costs. That is how you can thank me, Rowen Nichols.”
“It is amazing how much you two look alike. Every time I look at you, I see Fern.” He smiled at the blush in her cheeks. “You have passed your beauty down to her, but have not lost any of your own in the process.”
“My family has strong blood, Rowen, my mother was even beautiful once, before she succumbed to evil.”
They were walking fast now trying to make it to Fern without being seen. Rowen couldn’t imagine Elizabeth ever being beautiful. “She is very old, she must have had you at a late age.”
“Aye, she did. I am her only child. It is not age that makes her ugly, but the evil that lives within her heart.” Stopping, she reached out and held him back with her small hand. “We are here, I’ll walk behind you until we get to her cell.”
Fern sat on the dirty cot with her mouth gagged and her hands bound behind her back. She heard footsteps and started to shake, was the wicked old witch coming back again to taunt her? She didn’t know what happened to Rowen after the old lady dragged her from the rocks in the midst of being called a wench and whore. The vivid memory of him lying unconscious on the rock with his head bleeding had haunted her all night. Was he still alive, or was he dead, leaving her here in this horrid place all alone? What she still couldn’t figure out was how the old lady managed to subdue her. Her much younger years should have given her the strength to stop her; instead, she was rendered helpless. Her eyes widened as the footsteps got closer. The night had been long and she was exhausted. She feared any strength she had to fight off whoever it was, wouldn’t be enough.
Rowen felt his heart slam into his ribs when he saw the way Fern was sitting on the cot. Her eyes were open wide, and her fear was apparent. “Hold on, love, we’re here to get you out.” He took his eyes from her only for
a moment to address Mary. “How are we supposed to unlock the door, there is no key?”
Mary gently pushed him to the side. “Aye, I know what to do.” With her eyes closed, she concentrated, then tapped the door three times, saying the word Alohomora each time. When the door clicked open she turned and smiled at Rowen. “Don’t worry, Rowen Nichols, I am not a witch like my mother. I listened to her say the same words last night when she switched us.”
Reaching Fern, he pulled the rag from her mouth and without hesitation, kissed her tears away. “Thank God you are alright. Raise up and I’ll undo your hands.”
Fern slumped forward to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here, Rowen, I thought for sure the old bitch had killed you.”
“Not a chance.” He pulled back after untying her hands and looked at her. “Thanks to Mary, I’m here. We have to hurry before someone comes, can you walk?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Rowen.” Getting up, she quickly followed him to the door. Then turned and waited for Mary. “Hurry, we need to leave now before the guard comes back.”
Rowen had Fern under the elbow urging her to follow him, but stopped when Mary slammed the door closed, locking herself in. “Are you sure, Mary? Isn’t there any other way?”
Confused, Fern looked from one to the other, “Mary, you don’t have to stay here for me, come on, we’ll help you get away, won’t we, Rowen.” She looked up into Rowen’s eyes, pleading.
“Mary has to stay here right now Fern.” His eyes left Mary’s to drop back down to Fern’s. “If she doesn’t stay, there will be a manhunt to bring her back. You might be caught instead, or worse yet, they would kill Mary on the spot. It is up to you and me now to save her.” Pulling her by the elbow again, he forced her to follow.
Yanking her arm away, Fern ran back to stare at Mary through the bars of the cell. “You can leave here anytime you want, can’t you? Why do you choose to stay?”
Mary settled in front of Fern and laid her fingers over Fern’s where they held the bars. “One day, you will know. You have a strong aura, Fern, when you learn to understand your power, you will become the strongest of us all.”
Fern watched her walk to the cot and lie down, facing the wall away from them. “Tell me what you mean, I don’t understand,” she pleaded.
“We have to go Fern. Put your Vizard on. Please, we must hurry.” Rowen’s powerful grip on her elbow pulled her away, but she kept her eyes on Mary for as long as she could. “Where are we going, Rowen?” She asked when she noticed they were headed away from the cave. She had to practically run to keep up with his pace.
“Mary told me of a place beyond the village. A secret cottage that she and Jonathan built before Jonathan married Sarah. She gave me the key and told me to take you there until after…” He cut his words off then. He wanted to avoid talking about the execution.
“Until her death, is that it, Rowen?” Stopping, she pulled her hand from his. “I can’t allow her to die Rowen, we have to come up with a way to stop it. We only have a few days left, we must figure out a way.”
“Then we have a lot of work to do, don’t we?” Taking her hand again he forced her to follow.
Fern found herself running again to keep up with his long strides. His legs were so long it was as if he took two steps to her one. Breathless and hot, she was happy when they finally stopped. “I hear a river, Rowen, are we close?”
“According to Mary, the Ipswich River is just past the cottage, it should be somewhere in those trees.” Rowen concentrated on the forest before them.
Fern followed his hand to where he pointed. The forest was thick and dark with trees; it was frightening. She had the vivid image of the cowardly lion holding Dorothy’s hand just as Rowen took hers again before heading into the darkness. They were just getting ready to disappear into it when she spotted the warning sign. “Look Rowen.” They both stood looking down at the old worn wooden sign with words scrolled across it in what looked like blood. “Beware to all that may pass. Witches abound beyond this forest. DEATH to all who enter.”
“Freaky,” Rowen replied, then looked down at Fern’s frown. “You’re not worried, are you, Fern? You know, if we were back in our own time, none of this forest would exist. I think this is the same spot where that crazy used car dealership sits. You know, the one where the guy rides out on a broom trying to sell cars.”
Fern knew the commercial. Laughing, she replied. “Yeah, did you see the one where he pretended to be burned at the stake?” Deepening her voice, she continued. “He says,
Buy your next used car from the best used car lot in Salem. We’ll smoke the neighbor with our deal.
“I thought I would laugh myself silly over it.”
Rowen laughed, he knew the one. Glancing past her then, he saw a reflection in the distance. “Look over there. That must be the cottage.” Taking Fern’s hand, he brought her close to his side as they stepped past the sign. “Tomorrow I’ll knock that thing down.”
“No Rowen, don’t. It might keep people from coming here and finding us.”
“You’re right, I’ll leave it.” Still holding her hand, they continued until they stood outside the door, looking at the cottage before going in. It was enchanting, almost Hansel and Gretel enchanting. “Where are the gumdrops?”
Fern laughed, she was thinking the same thing. “You have to admit, it is charming. Come on, let’s go inside, I can hardly wait to see it.” She stood close to Rowen’s back as he unlocked the door; she was still fighting the creeps. The inside was just as lovely as the outside. The furniture was tasteful for its time, and obviously expensive for its time. Fern knew Mary didn’t come from money, so it had to have been bought by Jonathan.
“I think this furniture was built by Kenelm Winslow Fern. This is called a Plymouth serrated cupboard. My father would have killed for it. You probably noticed the old furniture in my home before I brought you here. This piece alone would be worth more than my entire estate in our own time.” As if it were a delicate piece of lace, he let his fingertips run over it gently, smiling when he saw how she watched him. “Look there,” he pointed. “The bed is a masterpiece.”
“Yes, it is isn’t it?” Fern gave him a half smile as she watched him sit on the thickly padded down mattress. It brought back memories of how close they’d come to making love, again. During her confinement in the cell she’d come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t let herself get tempted again. She would avoid physical contact with him, no matter what. The first time was by accident, their close call yesterday was from sheer desire. She’d probably never see him again after they went back to their own time so there was no sense in allowing herself to get hung up on him. “Why don’t I see what’s here to eat, I’m starved.”
Rowen watched her turn toward the next living area, then he lay back against the pillows. Closing his eyes, he let himself rest. His head was still sore where the old woman had hit him. That reminded him, “Fern, did you happen to see how Elizabeth got me in her carriage? I can’t imagine her being strong enough to carry me.” He heard her call back from the other room.
“No, I didn’t Rowen. I was gagged and tied after she made me dress. I didn’t see how she did it. But I don’t think she was alone, it seems like I remember hearing her talking with someone, maybe a man. The voice was deep.”
Rowen sat up when she carried in a plate filled with cheese and fresh slices of fruit. And two cups filled with water. “Looks good, I guess I am hungry. A deep voice huh, I wonder! Maybe she has someone helping her.” Pointing to the mattress next to him he beckoned to her. “Sit down, Fern, I promise not to bite, you anyway.” Smiling, he popped a slice of apple in his mouth.
Fern frowned then sat down as close to the edge as she could. “How about we go to Elizabeth’s house tonight after dark, Rowen? Maybe we’ll find out who he was. We could hide in the bushes outside the back door and wait.” She bit into a piece of the strong goat cheese and grimaced. Taking a drink of the cool water, she washed
it down as quickly as she could. She watched Rowen eating his own cheese and let her gaze travel over his finely sculptured features. With his black hair so long, and pulled back in the rawhide string, he looked the part of a Puritan. Right now his hair was in disarray from lying down and she had to fight an impulse to smooth it back with her fingers.
“You know, I think we could get by with it, Fern. I thought I saw a paddock out the back window, maybe we’ll get lucky and Mary will have a horse here we can ride instead of walking again. I’ll go look after we eat.” He winked at her when she creased her brows. “You’re not afraid of horses are you, Fern?”
“N… no, not really. I really don’t know. I’ve never ridden one, to tell you the truth.” She turned away to avoid his amusement. “You don’t look anything like your pictures in the Salem Evening Newspaper, Rowen.”
“Pray tell, do I look better or worse?” He thrust his jaw out for her inspection.
Fern’s cheeks turned red then, she shouldn’t have opened her mouth. “Hmm, let me see.” Getting up, she stood in front of him and stared down into his eyes. With her chin in her hand she scrutinized him, twisting her head from one side to the other.
Grabbing her by her hips, Rowen pulled her down to sit on his knee. “Damn it woman, if you have to think that hard on it, you must think I’m pretty hideous.”
Fern giggled when his fingers dug through the material of her dress against her hipbones. She was terribly ticklish. Squirming against him she struggled to get up, she’d promised herself to avoid this type of contact. “Let me go, Rowen, I need to go clean up before we leave.”
Rowen let his hand slide up her back to rest at the nape of her neck. With his other hand entwined in the auburn locks, he pulled her head back until she was turned to him, their mouths only millimeters apart. He looked into her eyes and saw her desire; she wanted him, a fact that brought instant heat to his groin. “I think we have something to finish, don’t we, Fern?”