Lexy looked around the house. Did people actually live like this?
They were in a crude dwelling, with floors of dirt and walls of roughly-cut wood. The room they stood in made up the entire lower level. There were stairs at the back of the house. Dim light came from oil lamps scattered around the room and a large fire in the fireplace. She never thought such a house existed. Not in the current century. Where was she?
She narrowed her eyes at Ebbe and spoke with more force than she meant to. “Someone better tell me what’s going on here. Now.” While both of her companions seemed friendly enough, neither one seemed eager to explain anything.
Ebbe paled and nodded. “Yes, my lady.” He walked toward a sitting area in front of the large fireplace. “Please, have a seat.”
The woman who had let them in stood near the door, wringing her hands. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“There is no need, Margaret. Thank you.”
When she left, Ebbe cleared his throat and motioned for Lexy to sit down, waiting for her to do so before joining her. He took a deep breath and then said, “I ask your forgiveness in advance for the deceit I used to bring you here. I hope that once you hear me out, you will understand the necessity.”
She stood up to leave but stopped at his upheld hand.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Please hear me.”
Going against her instincts, she dropped back into her chair, a hundred thoughts bouncing around her mind. She wanted to get up and leave. Find her way back to The Labyrinth. Get away from the crazy people and their ridiculous dwelling place.
Then she remembered the gentle peace she’d felt before entering the house and decided she could afford to hear what Ebbe had to say. If nothing else, maybe he’d tell her where she was.
A gush of wind came from behind, and she twisted in her chair to find one of the tallest men she’d ever seen entering the house.
He was a vision of darkness, straight out of a history book. His black pants stopped at the knees, and an embroidered black doublet came up to his neck. When paired with the dark leather of his boots and black hair brushing his shoulders, she decided pure evil couldn’t dress better for the part. The irrational thought ran through her head that pure evil had no business looking as good as he did.
He spoke with a deep, haughty British accent as he strolled toward Ebbe. “The horses are stabled. Find Margaret and have her—” He stopped abruptly when he saw Lexy.
She forced herself to remain still as his gaze swept over her. His eyes were a captivating shade of blue-gray and his lashes thick and dark. How unfair of God to give a man such beautiful eyes. Or at least the eyes would have been beautiful on another man. On him, they were just cold and frosty.
Then his perfectly sculpted nose wrinkled as if a foul odor filled the room. “You there,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “Be gone.”
Was he talking to her? He must. He looked straight at her.
“Reynard,” Ebbe warned.
The stranger didn’t listen. If anything, the scorn in his expression deepened. “I expected more from you, Bixby.” He nodded toward her. “I believe I asked you to leave, girl. We have no need of a whore.”
Of all the—
She jumped to her feet, causing her chair to upturn and crash to the floor. Leaving it there, she marched to the tall man and pointed at his chest. “Did you just call me a whore? Listen here, you little—”
“Little?” He grabbed her wrist, and she grimaced at his grip. “I assure you, miss. I have been called numerous things before, but never ‘little.’”
He was right. There was nothing little about him. Standing closer to him, he seemed even taller. “Let go of me.” She jerked her arm, but it remained captured in his iron grasp.
“After I throw you out.”
“Lukas!”
The stranger sneered at Ebbe’s raised voice, though he continued to look at her. “Watch yourself, old man.”
“Advice you would do well to heed,” Ebbe suggested. “It is she.”
The man in front of her dropped her hand as if burned and gaped in shock. “It is?”
“Yes.”
Lukas studied her with great care. “Are you quite certain? She has the look of a low-class harlot.”
She slapped his cheek.
“Along with the manners of one.”
“Reynard,” Ebbe said. “I suggest you take your leave.”
Reynard, Lukas, whatever his name was, took his time and strolled in a slow circle around her. “Not quite what I expected.” He stopped in front of her, ice-cold eyes glaring. “I assume Margaret has decent clothing for her.”
It wasn’t a question, and she still didn’t understand the uproar over her outfit. Against her will, she started to feel self-conscious. “The next person who mentions my clothing is going to wish he hadn’t.”
“Indeed?” Lukas removed his cape with a smooth flick of his hand, and it settled around her shoulders. The heady scent of leather mingled with almonds surrounded her, and she glanced up in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to smell so good. Too bad his behavior didn’t match the rest of him.
“What’s your problem?” she asked.
“I have no problem,” he said, his voice void of emotion. “Now that your entire person is no longer on display.”
She reached out to slap him again, but he was prepared and caught her hand.
“Reynard!” Ebbe said, clearly at the end of his patience. “You forget yourself. Either remain silent or take your leave. You will not continue to defile the character of Lady Lexy!”
“Lexy?” Lukas dropped her hand and swung to gape at Ebbe. “Her name is Lexy? Surely you jest. Lexy is a name fit for one of my hunting dogs. I refuse to call her Ladyship Lexy. Why, the very idea is laughable.”
First he called her a whore and then he made fun of her name. He was the rudest man she’d ever had the displeasure of sharing oxygen with. She opened her mouth to say as much, but he spoke first.
“No need to have an apoplexy, Bixby,” he said to the older man, whose face had become a flaming shade of red. “I have no desire to remain in the house.”
With that, he spun and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
****
She was back.
Lukas stormed to the stable. She was back, so he would have to deal with her. He did not want to deal with her. Did not want to have anything to do with her. She should have remained in the future. Bixby and his ridiculous ideas!
She was shorter than he thought she would be. Hard to know with any certainty, though, with those bare legs of hers shocking him. Bare legs paired with soulful green eyes that lit with fury when he called her a whore.
How could she expect to be called anything else?
But he had more self-control than to burst out with the first thought jumping to his mind. At least, he thought he did.
Her plain, brown hair was too short, falling just below her shoulders without any hint of curl. Not that anyone with eyes in their head could call her plain. She was not plain. He recognized her sparkle at once.
He shook his head. Someone had better find her decent clothing by morning.
****
Ebbe took one deep breath after another before he reclaimed the seat beside her. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on top of his legs and ran his fingers through his hair. “He is a brash young man. One I would prefer to do this without. Alas, we have no choice.” He glanced up. “Shall I continue?”
She tilted her head. Part of her wanted to leave the house and find her way back to the castle. Another part felt safer inside away from Lukas. Under the bulk of his cape, she shivered. He was not the type of person she wanted to meet alone, especially in the dark. Had he called her a low-class harlot? “Go on.”
Ebbe pulled himself straight up. “Before I start, I need your confirmation about something. You are an orphan, are you not?”
She narrowed her eyes. What did that have to do with anything? “M
y parents died five years ago. I was twenty, but still an orphan in the strictest sense of the word, I guess.”
A sad look crossed his face. “Not those parents…your birth parents.”
His words hit her like a brick wall, and she sucked in her breath. How could he know? She’d never told anyone she was adopted. Not even Cara. It was a secret she’d kept to herself for so many years, just hearing it made her want to reach into the air, grab the words and make the man beside her swallow them.
Instead, she buried the uneasy sensation his statement created. “Yes, I’m adopted. How would you know?”
“I know because I was there when your father and mother gave you up. You see, you were not born when you thought you were.” He paused. “You were born in 1555. Here in Dresdonia.”
She stood up, the cape fell to the floor at her feet. “Of all the crazy, insane things I’ve ever heard in my life—and believe me, I’ve heard a lot—this has got to take the cake. Now you have exactly two seconds to tell me where I am and how to get back to that roller coaster or I’ll…I’ll…”
What would she do? She hadn’t brought a purse to the theme park and had left her cell phone in her car. She pointed at him. “I’ll think of something, and then I’ll have you arrested.”
Ebbe was obviously crazy. Perhaps Lukas was the better choice, after all. She’d go outside and ask if he could take her back. Or maybe she could find Margaret, the woman had seemed eager to offer assistance.
He spoke with such a confident calm, she could not reconcile his manner with an insane person. “You promised to hear me out. I beg you, have a seat and let me finish.”
Her options weren’t numerous and remembering the cold stare Lukas gave her sent shivers down her spine. “Fine, but make it quick. I have a long trip ahead of me tomorrow.” She sat down beside him and crossed her arms.
He gave her a wary glance. “As I said, you were born in Dresdonia in the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and fifty-five. Your parents had to send you away as an infant due to the imminent arrival of Severon. They knew they could not withstand Severon’s forces, but they chose to make certain he would never have you.”
I’ll listen to him and leave. Ten minutes tops, and I’m out of here.
“You must understand, they had to ensure your safety. It would not have been enough to send you overseas. Severon would have found you. They had to make certain you were somewhere he would never look. Somewhere he couldn’t look.” He sighed. “They decided to send you to the future. To be raised in a calmer time, one of more peace. The old wise man assured them you would be well cared for. He said he knew of a couple in want of a child. These would be the people you call your parents.”
“But they weren’t.” She knew that much.
“No, they were not.”
“Because my parents were…”
“King Torsten and Queen Elisabet Delamere of Dresdonia.”
“Which makes me…”
“Princess Lexy Delamere.”
She snorted. “Of course it does. Dad used to call me his princess. Guess he never knew how right he was.”
“No, my lady, he did not know where you came from or who you were. All he knew was you were a child in need of a home.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I don’t have to help you find the lost princess. I am the lost princess.”
“Yes, my lady. You are.”
“More sarcasm.”
“Of course.”
She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to reach across the space between them and strangle him. “And you brought me here why?”
Excitement grew in his eyes. “We are now in a position to overthrow Severon. Lukas has been able to secure funds with which we can build an army. You were brought here as the heir, the future of Dresdonia if you will. With you leading our forces, we will be able to gather more men who will see that we can stand up to Severon. That we do have something worth fighting for.”
“The king and queen are dead?”
The excitement dimmed. “We cannot be certain. No one has heard from them since a month after your removal. It has been five and twenty years. We must assume they are dead.”
It wasn’t a subject she wished to dwell on. “Tell me about that Lukas person.”
“He is the second son of the Duke of Culberton from England. As a second son, the options to Reynard are limited. There are, however, some advantages for his father if Dresdonia could be returned to the Delamere family and Severon removed. Reynard is well-traveled, has been educated by the highest masters, holds an excellent knowledge of military strategy and is quite the warrior.
“When you take that into account with the funds his father has promised, the time has never seemed better to launch a surprise attack and reclaim Dresdonia. If I can keep Reynard under control.”
Everything sounded more and more like a bad dream. Maybe she’d wake up soon. “Is that all?”
“That is the most of it.”
“What happens now?”
His voice rose, the words coming quicker. “Now we spread word of your return. Quietly, of course. We gather support and overthrow Severon.”
She stood up and stomped to the fireplace. “Let me get this straight. I was born in 1555 to the King and Queen of Dresdonia. Sometime after my birth, my parents are threatened by Severon and decide to sweep me off to the future. There I’m in blissful ignorance of my past, until today, when you kidnap me and drag me to this vile house. I’m insulted by a man who could be the devil himself, but who is, in fact, some high and mighty duke’s son, and he will help me, Princess Lexy, return Dresdonia to its rightful rule?”
He appeared as if he couldn’t quite decide what to make of her display. As a result, he lowered his voice. “I believe you understand the current situation, my lady.”
“Take. Me. Home.” She accented each word with a stomp of her foot.
“You are home, my lady.”
She sighed and fell into her chair. “Listen, Ebbe. I like you. I do. I think you’re a nice guy. And part of me actually believes you think it is 1555, but it’s not. Now I have a long trip ahead of me tomorrow and it’s time you took me back to the castle, so I can get in my car and go home.”
He shook his head. “I know it’s not 1555, my lady.”
“Good, then we agree on something, after all.”
“It is 1580.”
Chapter Three
Lexy sat up and punched the uncomfortable pillow she’d been using in a vain effort to sleep. She hated feather pillows. The bed wasn’t comfortable either, and it had the added feature of making a horrid crackling noise whenever she moved. A half-sob, half-sigh escaped her. Had she honestly thought to sleep?
The remainder of the evening had not gone well. Ebbe stood fast in his insistence she was in 1580 Dresdonia, and she stood just as fast in her insistence he quit the charade and take her home. The fact that she remained in the dreary house offered credibility to his version of the story—as impossible and improbable as that story seemed.
She threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and paced the floor. Where Ebbe slept, she had no idea. In her mind, he lay in the large room below. She paced with a heavy foot, hoping to disturb his sleep.
At the wall, she pivoted, and her legs got tangled in the long white cotton gown Margaret had given her. It fell back into place, and then she gave a few hard stomps to ensure it wouldn’t trip her again. The gown was unlike anything she’d seen. It had no buttons or zippers and gathered at the neck with a drawstring. Long sleeves covered her arms to the wrist and the length almost grazed the floor. She realized how much it covered her and recalled Lukas’s words. Harlot indeed. She continued pacing, doubling her efforts on the floor. Maybe Lukas slept downstairs as well.
After a time, she stopped her methodic punishment of the floor. She’d never been one given to vicious urges. If she were honest with herself, the pacing had not calmed her or helped make sense of
her current situation. With a heavy heart, she walked to the side of the bed and lowered herself to her knees.
Lord, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I know this has come as no surprise to You. How could what Ebbe said be true? I know nothing is impossible with You, but this seems a bit farfetched.
She remained by the bed for a few minutes, but the calming peace she normally found in prayer was not to be hers. She made her way to one of the windows. There were no curtains, and the light of the half moon cast a pale glow on the yard below.
She peered into the silvery night sky. There should be lights from something because they had to be within the city limits of Dallas. But no matter how hard she looked, there were no lights in the distance other than the moon. The glass of the window felt odd and was thicker than normal glass. How strange this place was. Could it possibly be 1580?
Below her window was a small clearing surrounded by the path she’d traveled with Ebbe. A small movement caught her eye in the trees. As she watched, a man appeared out of the shadows and moved with purpose and determination to the front door before turning and walking back to the woods.
Lukas.
He hadn’t been downstairs after all. Not that it would have made a difference. His pacing proved she wasn’t alone in her inability to sleep.
His doublet had been removed to expose a white shirt, loosened at the neck. He moved like a wild, caged beast. Purposeful, long strides consumed the distance to the woods.
What could have him so bothered? Had her arrival affected him so deeply that stomping to the woods and back was the only outlet for his displeasure? No. She decided the show before her offered further proof of his disagreeable disposition. But it humbled her to realize he went outside to work out his frustration, while she’d remained inside in an effort to wake up the entire house. Perhaps he wasn’t so horrible after all.
The movement below her stopped. Lukas stood halfway between house and woods. Unable to pull herself away, she watched as he turned his face up to her, and their gazes met. A dangerous caged beast. She had the fleeting impression he could leap through the air to her room. She jumped away from the window.
The Peculiar Princess Page 2