Romance Through the Ages

by Amy Harmon

  It was silent again for a moment, and she hoped they were cowed by the threat of Kellen’s name but she cursed MacGregor for leaving her unprotected with this bloodthirsty lot.

  “Look at my arm! ’Tis covered in gooseflesh. She must be a witch!”

  “Mine, as well!”

  “Witch… ”

  ”Witch… ”

  ”Witch!”

  “She’s no witch,” said a deep, authoritative voice. “Just a scared lass surrounded by a pack of slathering idiots. Now mount up men, and bring the girl. The English come!”

  Gillian couldn’t help it. She actually sagged with relief. As much as she wanted to bash the guy, she was thrilled MacGregor had returned. She wondered if Kellen were actually there or if the barbarian was simply trying to control his men. Either way, she’d be glad to get out of the tent.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Kellen arrived at a big meadow and stopped. The men behind him followed suit as their guide hurried forward to greet his kinsmen.

  Kellen’s gaze took in the line of men seated on horseback. The Scottish Laird, reputed to be a large man, was no doubt the hulking giant in the middle. Other fighters were thick upon the ground, weapons at the ready; however, Gillian was nowhere in sight.

  Kellen looked to the trees, trying to determine how many men they might have to fight. As far as he could tell, his forces outnumbered the Scots both in men and training; but he wouldn’t underestimate them. He knew them to be sly and vicious fighters.

  As the two forces faced each other, the biggest of their men urged his horse forward, confirming Kellen’s suspicions as to his identity. “Wait here,” Kellen said to Owen and Tristan. “Be ready.”

  “Aye, my lord,” said Tristan, man and horse spoiling for battle.

  “Aye. Be on guard against trickery,” said Owen.

  Kellen nudged his mount forward until he faced the other man and was surprised to find he recognized Laird MacGregor. “What do you here? We have met on the jousting field.”

  “I remember. You won my horse and armor. The armor was shite, but I hope you treated the horse well.”

  “I did. ’Twas a fine animal. Again, I ask, what do you here? Are you not English?”

  A shrug. “Half.”

  Kellen’s brows rose. “And your men accept a leader with English blood?”

  “I am The MacGregor,” he said simply.

  Kellen lost interest and got to the point. “Was she harmed?”

  “Nay. You have my word that she’s no’ been harmed. I canna say the same for my nose. She’s a feisty thing, is she not?”

  Kellen sucked in a breath at the thought of Gillian having to defend herself against this towering savage and suddenly wanted to kill the man.

  From the smirk on the other’s face, Kellen could see his feelings were obvious.

  “A man in my keep was poisoned. Your doing?”

  “Nay. Nor that of my men. Do not think to blame us for thy failure to clean house.” MacGregor motioned with his hand and Gillian was pulled through the crowd of Scots and given a shove.

  She started walking toward them and Kellen was so relieved to see her it was all he could do to wait while she crossed the distance. Kellen motioned to his own men to release the two prisoners and then waited while the three crossed the field.

  “She has a strange way of speech, does she not?”

  “’Tis charming,” growled Kellen.

  “Ah, you care for the girl then? She wondered, you know, if you would want her if she came undowered. A question a girl asks if she’s feelings for a man. I offered to marry her without payment, but she turned me down.”

  Feeling murderous, Kellen snapped, “She’s mine.”

  “Aye, well, as to that, I let her know the offer stood were she to change her mind.”

  Kellen tried to tamp down his rage. “Was she touched?”

  “She was not.”

  Gillian finally arrived.

  “Are you hurt?” demanded Kellen.

  Eyes wide, she looked at them both for a long moment, her gaze moving between the two and, the longer she didn’t respond, the more tense Kellen became.

  The MacGregor, losing his mocking grin, tensed as well, his horse moving skittishly beneath him.

  Someone was going to die if Gillian uttered so much as a word of complaint.

  “Gillian?” Kellen waited for her reply and gripped his sword. If she was so much as breathed on, he was going to kill them all, starting with the giant before him.

  “No. No, I’m fine.”

  Both men relaxed and both exhaled.

  Good. That was good. She was aright and still his alone. Kellen held out his hand.

  After a hesitant glance at his horse, she reached for him and he hauled her atop his lap, turned his mount, and moved away.

  Behind him MacGregor called out, “Watch thy back about thy kinsman, English.”

  Kellen turned his horse around. “What is your meaning? Is that a threat?”

  The laird laughed. “Not at all. A warning. One of yours told me of the, ah, delicious cattle to be found were I to cross the border.” He smiled at Kellen, then gave Gillian a less mocking smile. “Doona forget my offer, lass.” His tone gentled. “’Twas genuine.” He laughed at Kellen’s thunderous expression and turned his own mount away.

  “Someday I will get the chance to pay you in kind,” said Kellen. “Count on it.”

  The MacGregor saluted him. “I look forward to it, English.”

  * * *

  At first, Gillian was so happy to see Kellen, to get away from the Scots, and be on her way back to England, that she didn’t realize how angry Kellen was. It didn’t take long for the excitement over her rescue to fade or for the questions to start.

  “Why did you leave the protection of the keep?”

  Kellen’s clipped, angry tone had Gillian’s arms crossing and her lips thinning. She didn’t answer.

  “Did someone lure you out?” he asked, his voice hard and forbidding. “Or mayhap you simply had a fit of temper and placed yourself and others in harm’s way?”

  Tristan and Owen, riding on each side of them, tried to intervene. “’Tis simply that his lordship was considerably worried on thy behalf, my lady,” said Tristan. “Such things can upset a man, and the fright has overset our lord greatly.”

  “Aye, my lady,” said Owen. “Pay him no heed. He’ll soon be back in high spirits and will be more civilized company.”

  “Both of you fall back,” snapped Kellen.

  After a few minutes, and with the men behind them, Kellen spoke again. “Well?” his voice was slightly calmer, but still frosty. “Have you naught to say?”

  Goaded, Gillian said in a pleasant tone, “The weather is nice today. Not too hot, not too cold. The breeze feels good. Also, I think the trees are pretty.”

  They both sat stiffly and after a moment, the strain became too much and she cleared her throat. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather ride with Tristan or Owen.”

  Kellen’s arms tightened around her. “We will discuss this,” he said, ignoring her request. “You will tell me why you left.”

  Gillian sighed and threw up one hand. “I wanted to visit the cemetery, okay?” Her tone was belligerent but she didn’t care. “I told you I wanted to, remember? I asked you to take me there and you wouldn’t.”

  “Why did you want to go?” he snapped. “I see no point.”

  “I lost something there and I want it back.”

  “What?”

  Seven centuries she wanted to say, but since she couldn’t; and since he was waiting for an answer, she crossed her fingers under her rough work skirt and lied. “Um… a bracelet?” Not necessarily a bad lie. Maybe having a reason to go search would get Kellen to take her there.

  Kellen snorted impatiently. “I would give you a hundred bracelets if I but knew you desired such. There is no need to place yourself in danger for a trinket. You will never go there again, do you understand?”
r />   She let out a breath. Or maybe he’d dig in his heels instead.

  “I want that bracelet. It has special meaning to me.”

  “Why? Did a male give it to you? A sweetheart? Perhaps Sir Elton John?”

  “What?” She craned her neck to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Think you I forgot thy affection when speaking of the musician? ’Tis a wonder your mother allowed such a man in your company.”

  She let out a breath, faced forward again, and shook her head. Incredible. Fighting over a fake bracelet and a faker boyfriend? Like she didn’t have real problems to solve? “Just so you know, my father gave me the bracelet, and Sir Elton John prefers men to women.”

  After a long moment, Kellen cleared his throat. “Ah, well then. I wondered that your mother would allow him so much time in your company.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Back to the subject at hand. The cemetery? My bracelet? I need to go there. I need to look for it.”

  “If you insist on its return, I’ll send others.”

  “No. I want to go myself. I told you I like to go sight seeing.”

  “Sight seeing? As you did this day?” his voice roughened again.

  “Well… yes.” A quick glance showed that, yes, indeed, he was clenching his teeth. “Granted, today I saw more than I’d intended, but Scotland is pretty.”

  She felt him stiffen again and sighed. “Kellen, I’m not an idiot. I know today was bad and that people could have died.” Some of the tension eased out of her. “You know you’re my hero for saving me, right?” She turned and put her hand on his cheek and finally looked at him so he could see she meant it. “Thank you for coming to get me. I was so scared. I didn’t know if you knew where to find me, and I didn’t know if you’d come.”

  His jaw slowly relaxed as he searched her eyes. “Gillian,” his tone was less harsh, but still frustrated. “Perhaps the real reason you fled was because you are angry with me for accusing you of treachery. Truly do I beg thy pardon.”

  Gillian turned away again and bent her head so he couldn’t see her face and couldn’t see that she was still hurt by the accusation.

  “Why did you accuse me?” She rubbed at a stain on her brown skirt. “Because of your first wife? Because we have the same blood you think I’m tainted by association?”

  His grip tightened on her. “Nay. I truly do not believe such. My wits had gone begging in the heat of the moment. I know you to be steadfast and unlike your sister. In truth, I have no excuse and ask your forgiveness.”

  After a long pause, she finally let out a breath. “Okay, but I’m only going to say this once. I may not be perfect, but I’m no knife thrower, or poisoner, and I’m certainly not a murderer. I’m going to forgive you this one time, but I have no intention of paying for Catherine’s sins ever again. I have enough of my own to worry about.”

  He hugged her to him. “Nay, you are perfect. Thank you, Gillian. I do not deserve you.”

  “You’ve got that right.” She considered how he’d react when he discovered she wasn’t Edith, but a liar and a fraud. “I’m not perfect, you know.”

  He sighed. “’Tis true. I only said such to cool thy temper. You are overly stubborn, obsessive about the oddest concerns, and quick to cause inconvenience.”

  She elbowed him lightly in the gut and he laughed. “Thy father will no doubt arrive soon, as I sent men to Corbett Castle to find you. Shall I take him to task for all thy faults to spare you more chidings?”

  “What?” Gillian actually felt blood drain from her face, leaving her dizzy. She slowly straightened in Kellen’s arms and stared unseeing at the landscape. “My father is coming?”

  “Aye. Marissa said you had thought to go home. When I couldn’t find you, I immediately sent men toward your father’s keep. No doubt he will be worried to hear you’ve gone missing and come to help the search.”

  Gillian’s body stiffened further. No doubt the man would be surprised to find someone was impersonating his daughter and come to find out what was going on!

  Gillian’s heart pounded furiously in her chest. She no longer had the luxury of waiting to go home. She had to go now.

  “What ails you? Why do you tremble?”

  Gillian tried to force herself to relax. “When do you expect my father?”

  “’Tis about eight days fast travel there and back.”

  Eight days.

  “Are you fearful?” Kellen gave her a slight tug. “Lie back again and do not worry so. I’ll not allow thy father to scold you.” When she remained stiff, he sighed. “Peace?”

  She finally remembered to breathe. “Uh, yeah, sure.” She was a dead woman. She was so, so dead. Slowly she sank back against Kellen, glad for his warmth since she suddenly felt chilled. “Peace.”

  She had eight days before she had to be out of Medieval England. She slid her hand down Kellen’s arm until she found his hand at her waist and held it tight.

  He gripped hers in return and kissed the top of her head.

  She had eight days to get to that cemetery. Eight days to convince Kellen to go with her. Eight days until she was exposed as an imposter.

  * * *

  Hours later as they passed the cemetery in the distance and stayed on a straight path to the castle, Gillian considered asking Kellen to turn. She might be able to talk him into taking her there if she insisted enough; after all, they’d have the protection of his men.

  Only two things stopped her. First, if something strange or unusual occurred, which it might, and she didn’t or couldn’t get back to her own time, the last thing she needed was a bunch of witnesses branding her a witch. Again. And second, if she could swing it, she was taking Kellen and his daughter back with her, which would require some extra thought and planning.

  Before long, they arrived at the castle and Kellen dismounted in the bailey, handed the reins to a waiting squire, then reached up and easily lifted Gillian off the horse. When she would have turned away, he cupped her cheek. “You’ve been quiet this day. Are you sad, then? Worried?”

  “Truthfully?” She looked around and feeling tired and vulnerable, told him the truth. “I just want to go home.”

  “You are home. I am your home.”

  Gillian bit her lip and couldn’t help it, she moved forward, wrapped her arms around his waist, and lay her head on his chest. She hoped he still felt that way when she took him back with her. “You have no idea how much I want that to be true,” she whispered.

  “Shh. Shh. You are not to worry. I will keep you safe.” His arms engulfed her for a long moment then he leaned back to regard her, expression serious.

  “Think you I know not where your true concerns lie? Come.” Kellen took her hand and tugged her to the middle of the bailey so she could see into the gate. “Look you there. See the extra men guarding the gate?” He pointed up. “The towers? I know you are concerned that whoever murdered Frederick will try for thy life once more. You need fear no longer. None will be allowed in or out without my express permission.”

  Her mouth parted as dread built in her chest. In or out?

  “There is more. Let me show you.” He tugged her toward the entrance of the keep and dragged her through to the kitchens, where Cook and her helpers prepared food.

  “Thy lady fears more poison. Can you not set her mind at ease?”

  Cook’s ample chest puffed up and she shook her head. “You’ve naught to fear, my lady. Any food you eat will have no chance at poison. None but myself will serve you, I can assure you of that.”

  “You see? I learn from my mistakes. A guard will be set at your door each night. My enemies will never again threaten what I prize most.” He cupped her face and looked as if he were making a vow.

  Gillian’s knees weakened. “Kellen—”

  In an abrupt move, he once more grasped her hand and pulled her after him, rounded a corner, and pressed her into an alcove. “I want you to feel safe and happy here. I have decided I w
ill court you, and then you will desire to stay with me always.”

  “Really,” she said weakly. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I assure you, what I want is you, relaxed and happy, looking forward to our wedding day.” He dipped his mouth toward her ear. “And night.” His lowered voice caused her to shiver, which made her mad. She didn’t have time for this right now. She gave him a shove and he backed up a step, his eyes questioning. “Gillian?”

  He just didn’t get it. He wanted her relaxed and happy? He wanted to court her? With Edith’s father no doubt riding toward the castle to expose her as an imposter, with Kellen making sure she couldn’t slip out to the cemetery again, and with her uncertain of whether she could even return to the future, she was stressed to the max! And now he wanted to court her?

  She felt like smacking the seductive look right off his face. What she wanted was his assurance that when Edith showed up he wouldn’t like her better. A silly thing to worry about in light of everything else, but there it was.

  What she wanted was the assurance that he’d choose her, Gillian, over Edith if given the chance, even without a dowry, even without Lord Corbett as her father. What had he said the day she’d arrived? That he’d stick her in the dungeon or hang her as a spy if she didn’t turn out to be Edith?

  Gillian gave a slight laugh and a shake of her head. She had other things to worry about right now besides being courted.

  “Fine. Whatever. Give it your best shot, big guy.”

  In the meantime, she had some planning to do.

  * * *

  As Gillian approached the long table the next morning, Kellen rubbed his sweaty palms against his tunic then fingered the pouch at his waist. It felt heavy but that was no doubt his imagination as the gold bracelet, set with pearls and sapphires, did not weigh much at all.

  He had retrieved it from the blacksmith early that morn. The man had worked the night through to craft the piece and, though not an artisan, he had done a credible job. The sapphires, shining brightly between the pearls, reminded Kellen of Gillian’s eyes. He also had gems he could gift her to decorate her gowns, or they could be made into jewelry if it so pleased her.