by Amy Harmon
Guilt pinched her conscience. She wished she could let him know this might be his last chance to say goodbye to everyone but, of course, she couldn’t.
For some reason, it seemed to take forever; but they finally arrived at the cemetery, and Gillian’s heart pounded with fear and excitement. She wondered what Kellen would think of the future and couldn’t wait to show him everything, couldn’t wait to see his amazement.
After he helped them off the horse and they stood on solid ground, Gillian held hands with Kellen and his daughter, took one last look at the castle, and jerked her head toward it. “Look how beautiful it is.” She wanted him to remember it as it was, not the crumbling ruin he’d soon see in the future.
Kellen, not particularly interested in the view, searched the ground.
“Kellen, look at the castle.”
He finally glanced up, smiled, and his chest lifted with pride. “Aye. ’Tis impressive, is it not?”
“Yes. Very much so.” And so was he. Large and strong, with chiseled features, his dark hair lifting in the wind, a lord surveying all he owned, in his element. She hoped he wasn’t too angry with her for stealing all this from him; for taking him from his time, his people, and from Edith. Surely she could make him understand?
She studied the two of them, Kellen back to kicking the dirt, and Amelia squatting down to pick tiny yellow flowers with chubby fingers. Why did Gillian feel she was about to kidnap them both?
She remembered how confused she’d been and knew they’d feel the same. But she’d be there to guide them through it. Maybe they could even come back again sometime. She did like it here. She just had no desire to find herself in the dungeon awaiting execution when her deception was discovered.
Anyway, the future had a lot to offer them. She was sure both Kellen and Amelia would thrive there. She’d love them so much they wouldn’t have regrets.
Tugging them both forward, the hair rising on the nape of her neck, she took a deep breath, and walked onto the grounds.
Nothing happened.
She didn’t know what else to do; so she kept walking, moving forward, trying to feel something. Kellen tried to release her hand as he searched the ground, but she held tight.
He started kicking at tufts of dirt and grumbled again. “’Tis doubtful we will find the bracelet as the villagers went over every tuft of grass and clod of dirt. But for your sake, I will search.”
Gillian could feel tremors start to run up her arms, causing her to shake a bit. She glanced back to see the castle still there. It wasn’t working. She tried to remember the day she’d arrived.
She’d shoved the ring on her finger and, the next thing she knew, the castle was before her. She reluctantly released Amelia and Kellen and tried to tug the ring off so she could put it back on, but it held fast. Regardless, she’d worn it that day and wore it now; so if the ring had anything to do with it, it should be okay.
She’d also been running. Grasping their hands once more, she dragged Kellen and Amelia to the far side of the cemetery. “Okay, I’m going to try and recreate where I went that first day.” She tried running with them but it was slow going with Amelia. The little girl laughed, thinking they were playing a game.
“What are you doing?” asked Kellen. She could see he thought her crazy but thankfully, went along with it, his large strides easily keeping up with the slow pace.
When they finally exited the cemetery on the other side, nothing happened. The castle was still there, sturdy and strong, the village in front of it. When they finally stopped, Kellen was staring at her, his brows raised.
“What? I’m simply trying to remember what happened the day I arrived.”
“You were running?”
“Yes, I was being chased.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who chased you?”
She could see he was getting angry and tried to let go of his hand, but he held tight. “Just some young men.”
“No doubt they stole your bracelet after you dropped it. Describe the knaves and I assure you they will be caught and punished.”
Gillian barely heard him. The boys chasing her hadn’t come with her. Did that mean she might have to go alone? That she might not be able to take Kellen and Amelia with her?
“Gillian? You will answer my questions.”
She tugged her hand free. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now I need you to stand right here.” Reluctantly, she had them stand at the edge of the cemetery. “Stay here. I need to try something.”
Her heart pounded as she tried not to cry. She knelt and gave Amelia a kiss on her soft cheek and hugged her. “You are such a good girl.” A wisp of Amelia’s blonde hair lifted in the breeze, and Gillian’s chest ached when the little girl smiled and offered her a tiny yellow flower. Gillian took it, sniffed the flower, and tucked it in her hair by her ear, making Amelia smile. “Thank you, sweetie.” She so badly wanted to be Amelia’s mother.
Gillian straightened and turned to Kellen. She took his big, warm hands in hers and looked up at him. “Kellen… ” She found she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him she loved him. That the thought of living without him made her heart ache in her chest and that she needed him.
But she knew it wouldn’t be fair to tell him and then leave, so instead she let go of his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck. At his look of surprise, she smiled, tugged him closer, and he willingly bent his head and kissed her, his arms closing around her.
She kissed him back, her lips clinging, relishing the feel of him, yet unable to help the tears springing to her eyes at the thought that this might be the last time she saw him, touched him, kissed him.
He broke off the kiss, lifted his hand, and gently wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “Gillian?”
“Stay here.” Wiping her eyes, she pulled out of his arms, turned, and walked away; shaky, nervous, and so sad she felt her heart was breaking. She walked to the other end, tightened her pack, then started to run toward them, fast like the day the boys chased her.
Kellen’s brows were drawn together and Amelia grinned and jumped up and down as she held tight to her father’s hand. Gillian’s heart ached in her chest as ran, as she waited for them to disappear. She finally ran out of room and overshot the cemetery boundaries.
It hadn’t worked. She could feel the blood drain out of her face; and breathing hard, feeling strangely lightheaded, and relieved, she glanced wildly about.
The castle, the village, Kellen, Amelia, nothing had changed. Why hadn’t it worked? Suddenly dizzy, Gillian placed her hands on her knees and bent over, trying to catch her breath.
It could be anything. Was it because she was wearing medieval clothes? The time of year? The day? The month? The temperature? The season? The weather? The spot she’d exited? The boys who had been chasing her? She really couldn’t rule anything out. There were too many variables. Even if Kellen would allow it, she could do this all day long and still be unsuccessful. Whatever the case, she was stuck.
“Gillian?”
While her breathing evened out, she walked back toward Kellen, whose incredulous gaze never wavered from hers.
She threw herself at him and burst into tears, so glad to be with him still, yet so scared to be with him still.
He held her tight. “Gillian, have you lost your wits, then?” He gently rubbed her back. “Never have I seen lost articles searched for in such an unlikely manner.”
She cried harder.
“I am trying my best to understand why the loss of some trinket matters so much to you. You must tell me that I might make it right. What is the matter?”
Gillian gripped his tunic and wanted to blurt out that she wasn’t Edith, that’s what was the matter!
He tried to pull away, but she clung. “Listen to me. I will make you a new bracelet. A better one. There is no need to upset thyself this way. I did this to please you. If you but describe its likeness, I will have an exact copy made. Better yet, you could use your skill to ske
tch a likeness and I will send it to London to the best of artisans. ’Twill be better than the original and surely of more value.”
He continued to rub her back. “Come, Gillian. Cease. I do not care for your tears.”
She pressed her cheek to his tunic, sucked in a shuddering breath, and made an effort to stop crying. She didn’t know what to do. She’s been so sure this would work that she hadn’t planned any further. So now what? Should she run away? Wait and see what Kellen did to imposters? Explain everything to him and hope he chose her? If he threw her out, what would she do to survive? She didn’t know. The tears started up again, and she sobbed.
Kellen growled, grabbed her by the waist, and set her on his horse. His face pulled into tight lines; he grabbed Amelia and handed her up then mounted behind them. “I brought you here to make you content. To give you what you desired. Not to upset you.”
Maybe she should just tell him and get it over with. Let the chips fall where they may. What was she waiting for? Edith to witness the spectacle? She took a deep breath and looked forward, over the horse’s ears. “Kellen… I… I don’t belong here.”
“This is your home now.” His voice hardened.
“I… I… came from the future.”
“You came from the south. We are not so backward here as you would make us out to be.”
She shook her head. “No. No, you don’t understand. I’m from another time.”
“Gillian, I will not take you to task if you desire to do things differently here. As lady of the castle, ’tis your right to make changes. If your preference is the way of your father’s keep, I’ll not interfere.”
“I’m not Edith.” Fear tightened her throat as she strangled the words out, making it hard to breathe, but she’d said it. She’d finally said it.
“I will always call you Gillian. ’Tis my preference, as well.”
Her shoulders slumped as she ran out of courage and his arms tightened, drawing her back against him. She had to face facts. She might never go home. She might live here forever or die here quite soon.
Fine tremors shook her stomach and, when Amelia started to cry, Gillian realized she was scaring the little girl. She hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, sweetie.” She sniffed. “It’s going to be okay.”
“By the saints! Two crying females are more than I can bear! I will fix this if you will only give me a task! I will take you directly to my treasury and let you have whatever you like; whatever catches your eye. I promise you I have treasures worth much more than your wretched bracelet, but you must be silent!”
Gillian nodded, sucked in a shuddering breath, and tried to control herself. Anyway, she needed to be clearheaded so she could decide what to do next. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the slightest clue.
* * *
The next morning, one hand hidden behind his back, Kellen waited behind some shrubbery as Gillian approached. He was determined to court his lady. If he did it aright, perhaps Gillian would settle and cease pining for her old life. Mayhap if he did it correctly, she would even cede her heart and reward him with a kiss or two.
When she rounded the corner, his heart beat harder as he quickly moved forward to walk with her. “My lady?”
Gillian started and stared up at him, her eyes blank as if lost in thought, her face pensive, her usual vitality missing. “Oh. Hello.”
“Good morrow. Where are you off to, then?”
“What?”
“Where go you?”
As if looking for an answer, Gillian glanced around the bailey at knights, servants washing laundry, and at the wagon rumbling through the gate. She seemed a bit distracted, which to Kellen’s mind, was not necessarily a bad thing. Taking her arm, he pulled her to a stop at the other end of the shrubbery, blocking her view of the goings-on around them.
“I have something for you,” he said. “A gift.” Taking his hand from behind his back, Kellen dangled a string necklace on two fingers, the pearls and gold beads gleaming in the sunlight.
Gillian’s eyebrows rose and her mouth parted. “Oh, wow.” She placed a hand to her heart. “It’s gorgeous.”
Kellen smiled at her reaction. She had not been interested in recreating her bracelet or in choosing something from his treasury, but he hoped the shiny piece would please her and in some way make up for the missing trinket. Perhaps it would even cause her to forget the cursed piece.
“I thought you might wear it on our wedding day.” Kellen spread the necklace apart with both hands and lifted it toward her head. “May I?”
Gillian bent slightly and Kellen slipped it over her hair and smiled when she arranged it against her bosom where it looked very lovely indeed. She glanced up and smiled weakly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“Ah… ” Kellen rubbed the back of his neck. “I have something more for you.” He glanced around, glared at one of his men who happened to walk too close until he hurried away, and then reached inside his tunic and pulled out a piece of parchment. “I’ve written a poem for you.”
Gillian tilted her head to the side. “A poem? Really?”
Kellen cleared his throat. The troubadour had declared his efforts feeble. Mayhap the man had even dared to laugh until Kellen had half-strangled the pansy-faced she-goat. But afterward he’d been in the proper frame of mind and tried to help Kellen finish the missive. Kellen had not allowed it; however, at that point he’d realized he’d wanted it to be from himself and no other.
Another quick glance assured him they were alone, and he took a breath and began to read. “My lady’s smiles do suffer my heart to wake. Take pity on the pain, for ’tis drunk on thy beauty and laughs for the future; for when I die, I will know I have lived well. For passion is a pleasing thing and bonds as strong as horse or hound or blade.”
Kellen swallowed, held his breath, and looked to see if Gillian understood what he was trying to say.
Laughter erupted from directly behind the shrub. Kellen recognized the high-pitched squeals of his foster sons as, still shrieking, Peter, Ulrick, and Francis ran along the length of the greenery and out the other side.
Face heating, Kellen was about to go and thump the spying miscreants when Gillian grasped his arm, and he allowed her to pull him in the other direction. He should have let the troubadour help him after all.
Gillian stopped and faced him. “Did you write it yourself?” she asked softly.
Kellen swallowed. Glanced at the retreating figures of the boys, who had best run faster if they wanted to escape unscathed, then reluctantly turned his attention but did not lift his gaze.
“Did you care for it?”
“Yes. Very much.”
Kellen let out a breath and nodded. “Aye. I did. I wrote it myself, with no aid.”
Gillian held out a hand. “May I?”
Kellen gave over the small bit of parchment and Gillian took it, looked at it for a moment, then gazed up at him. She pressed it to her heart. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.”
He sucked in a breath, nodded, willed the heat to leave his face, and finally met her gaze. She still did not seem herself, her usual liveliness absent. “Is aught amiss, my lady?”
Gillian shrugged then smiled wistfully. “Will you make it better if it is?”
“Aye. Think you I cannot carry your burdens?”
Her blue eyes looked troubled, but finally she nodded. “You probably could.”
He longed to erase the look. “Then let me. What were you thinking of? Earlier, when I stopped you.”
She tucked the poem inside the bodice of her gown and held out her hand. “Come with me.”
After a lingering glance at her bosom and a fleeting press of envy for his poem, he grasped her small, soft hand and walked with her toward the gardens.
“I never told you about… well… about the couple who raised me.” Gillian took a breath. “Their names were Alan and Christina, and they were wonderful people; I loved them so much. They had a son named Nicholas a
nd he was… like a brother to me.”
Kellen squeezed her fingers, willing her to continue.
“They all died in an accident and, well, I wanted to die, too. I felt very alone. I’ve been thinking about them today and wondering what they’d want for me.”
Kellen squeezed her fingers again. “’Tis hard to lose loved ones.” He led Gillian toward a bench and, after a quick glance around, sat and pulled her onto his lap, feeling pleased when she did not protest.
Kellen opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then tried again. “I did not truly know Catherine. She went about her life, as did I. When she died, I felt cheated and angry; my chance at an heir gone with her. While I did not love her, I wanted to. I tried to be a good husband and was happy about the coming babe.” He lifted a hand and tucked a length of blonde hair behind her ear so he could better see her profile.
“Life can be difficult at times, Gillian, but you will never be alone again; I swear it. You have me now. It sounds as if your foster family treated you with love. I believe they would want you happy. Can you be happy with me?”
Gillian turned and placed her arms around his neck, pressed her face against his skin, and hugged him.
Kellen, pleased by her reaction, wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, and realized he was the one in danger of falling in love. He only hoped it was requited.
After Catherine, he’d not thought to trust a woman again; but Gillian easily breached his defenses with warmth, sincerity, and candor. Catherine had been cold, unscrupulous, and deceitful.
He admitted to himself that Gillian had captured his heart completely.
He felt hope again, anticipation, and desire. His arms tightened further, but she did not protest, relaxing against him, her arms about his neck, her breath warm against him.
“Can I ask you something?”
Kellen relished the feel of her in his arms. “Aye. Anything.”
“What are you planning to do with the dowry my father paid you?”