by Amy Harmon
He hurried, having the strangest feeling that if he did not, she would disappear from his life as quickly as she’d appeared.
Lord Corbett followed, yapping at his heels. “This is unacceptable. I will not be treated this way. What of our alliance? What of your daughter, Amelia? Does she not have Corbett blood running in her veins? Do you wish to diminish her position by marrying this girl?”
Kellen stopped and glared at the man. “Were it not for Gillian convincing me otherwise, I would not have a daughter. Catherine thought to steal her from me, along with my heir. As she lay dying, she claimed Amelia was not my child, but her lover’s.”
Lord Corbett’s mouth dropped. “She would never!”
“Aye, she did.”
“’Twas the poison polluting her mind!”
“You were not there. She was most convincing.” Kellen strode away.
After a long moment, Lord Corbett ran to catch up. “You must attend me!”
When they finally reached the chapel, Kellen stood in the doorway and watched Father Elliot trying to comfort Gillian, who was crying, the two of them seated on a bench, her pack beside them.
Kellen sighed, tension draining out of him, his feeling of dread subsiding. He caught his father’s gaze upon him and his own brows rose in question, but his father simply shrugged.
Lord Corbett pushed past Kellen to point at Gillian. “She is a fraud, a liar, and insane!”
Kellen dragged the man back, yanking him around to face him. “You will not talk of her in such a manner!”
Lord Corbett attempted to shake him off. “Why should I not? She could be anyone. A temptress, a swindler, a villain sent by your enemies to defeat you from within. Or even my enemies, to prevent this advantageous match.”
“You will cease such slander or I will be forced to make you. I will—”
“There will be no such talk in this chapel!” Father Elliot raised both hands. “Saint Cuthbert himself blessed this sacred place, and there will be no fighting within these walls. Until you can comport yourselves in a manner fitting Lords and Knights, you will stay outside.”
Kellen met Gillian’s reddened gaze and, seeing she was safe enough, he dragged Lord Corbett outside. He did not want the man slandering Gillian in her hearing and needed to convince the old fool to accept Tristan and be on his way.
Lord Corbett grabbed at Kellen’s tunic. “What of Edith’s dowry? We will double it!”
Kellen took a breath, determined to be patient.
“Think what you could do with the coin Edith brings! This girl? Who is she? Who is her family? She has nothing. She is nothing.”
With a growl, Kellen grabbed the man by the throat.
* * *
She has nothing. She is nothing. Gillian’s stomach clenched at the words Lord Corbett yelled so convincingly. It almost sounded as if the man was trying to bribe Kellen to take Edith over Gillian. She almost felt… hope. Was Kellen going to choose her? Regardless of everything? Could he?
She knew Kellen would lose out financially by marrying her. She knew he had plans for the money: To help more of his knights secure a place, to expand his property and his crops, to improve his influence and his military along the border.
All along she’d consoled herself with the thought that he’d received Catherine’s dowry. If his wife hadn’t died, Kellen wouldn’t have more. But now Lord Corbett was offering double the amount if he married Edith.
Gillian’s hands clenched open and closed on her skirt. She desperately wanted Kellen to choose her. She’d been risking her heart and counting on it, risking his heart. Only now was she considering, at what cost to others?
On the other hand, if he didn’t choose her, what would happen to her? She had no way back home. She was basically at his mercy. Hysteria bubbled in her chest. Did she take Laird MacGregor up on his offer of marriage?
A few minutes later Kellen came back inside; and Lord Corbett followed, rubbing at his throat. Both men looked grim as they moved toward her and, at the last moment, Lord Corbett grabbed Kellen’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “She could be an assassin, sent by your enemies to slay you.”
Kellen jerked away. “If I feared murder, I need only marry one of your daughters.”
Lord Corbett gasped, then shook his head. “What of the king? Think you he will not exact a high price when I tell him of your refusal to wed Edith? After your demands to produce her? ’Tis yet another way this girl will cost you.”
“Think you your reputation will survive the revelation of the manner of Catherine’s death?” Kellen’s voice was low and fierce. “Perhaps I shall run to the king with tales of my own if you interfere in my affairs.”
Kellen’s father stepped forward. “I, for one, would be pleased to have my son’s name vindicated.”
Gillian made an inarticulate sound as tears flooded her eyes. It did sound as though Kellen wanted to choose her. But again, at what cost to himself? To others?
Father Elliot patted Gillian’s hand and stood once more. “My lords. I believe I have been quite clear on the subject of fighting within the chapel. You must remove yourselves if you wish to continue in this vein.”
Kellen ignored the man and moved forward to stand in front of Gillian. “Who are you?” His tone was gentle. “Where do you come from?”
Gillian wiped her eyes and reluctantly lifted her gaze as all four men stood in front of her. “I told you. M-my… name is Gillian Corbett. I was born in the future, seven hundred years from now. I was running through the cemetery and,” she shrugged. “I just a-appeared here.” She gazed into Kellen’s eyes, willing him to believe her. “I think that I may be a descendant of Lord Corbett.”
The man made a scoffing noise.
“Look.” She lifted her hand and revealed her ring.
Lord Corbett grasped her fingers. “Where did you get that? You stole this from my rooms at Corbett Castle!”
She snatched back her hand. “No, I didn’t! It belonged to my father.”
Lord Corbett held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Gillian tried to take off the ring but, as always, it stuck fast.
Lord Corbett shook his hand, palm up. “Now, girl!”
She yanked again, sobbing with effort, and pulling so hard she cut her finger; and blood welled up, bright red against the white of her skin.
Kellen slammed the back of one hand into Lord Corbett’s chest, knocking the man back a few paces. “Now look what you’ve caused with your shouting and abuse!”
Gillian looked at the blood coating her finger and ring. Her hand seemed to waver a bit, like a mirage; and the ring seemed to loosen. She sucked in a breath.
The blood.
She’d been bleeding when she’d arrived. She’d cut her finger when she’d shoved the ring into place, and then right after, she’d traveled through time. She looked around and the men seemed to fade, the chapel to crumble, and another thought occurred to her. The chapel had been blessed by Saint Cuthbert, the same as the cemetery. She didn’t know if that meant anything or not, but Father Elliot sure seemed to think highly of the man. Or rather, the saint.
Goose bumps erupted all over Gillian’s body as the men came back into sharp focus, the chapel new again. She was on the verge of time travel.
She suddenly had a choice.
Would she stay and fight Edith for Kellen and possibly endanger his future?
Or did she let him go?
It wasn’t a hard choice, only difficult to make herself comply. She loved Kellen so much and wanted him to have everything he needed. She wanted him to have the money. If she stayed, if she fought for him and won, he could lose everything. Kellen needed that dowry. She didn’t want the king angry at Kellen, fining him, and jeopardizing everything he had. He’d end up hating her in the end.
He couldn’t choose her. Too much was at stake. Too many other lives depended on him. She knew he was having a hard time with all this. She’d deliberately stolen his affection thinking they could have a
life together. That being the case, she should be the one who made things easy on him. Even if it devastated her.
She stood, slid on her backpack, and tightened the straps. Her heart started beating too fast, a staccato rhythm thumping in her chest and ears.
She looked at Kellen and tried to memorize his face, his chiseled features, the thick, tousled, black hair, the dark stubble covering his bold, masculine jaw and strong chin. The amber eyes, and even the scars on his cheek and forehead. The memories would have to be enough.
Her lip trembled. “Kellen.”
He continued to argue with Lord Corbett.
“Kellen.”
He glanced up.
“Goodbye, my darling.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I-I will always love you. I swear it.”
All four men turned to look at her, but she only had eyes for Kellen. She tried to burn his image into her mind one last time as she slipped off the ring.
Chapter Thirty-one
The hair on the back of Kellen’s neck rose and he surged forward when Gillian started to waver, fade, and then disappear. He was too late. She was gone. There was nothing but empty air where she’d been standing. His mouth open, his heart beginning to thunder, every muscle stretched taut; he turned wide eyes on his father, Lord Corbett, and the priest. “Did you see her?”
Father Elliot’s mouth was open as he loudly sucked in deep breaths. “’Tis the second miracle of Saint Cuthbert!”
Kellen searched the chapel, but there wasn’t much to explore; only the altar, and a few benches, including the one Gillian had been sitting on. He even looked up at the beams in the ceiling.
He felt the air where he’d last seen his bride, but she was truly gone. He threw back his head. “Gillian! Where are you? Come back to me!”
White-faced, Lord Corbett sank onto a bench. “Perhaps the girl was speaking the truth?” His voice was hoarse. “Perhaps she truly was my granddaughter? That or a witch.”
Father Elliot snorted. “No witch could ever cross this particular threshold, or take communion herein. ’Tis a miracle.”
Kellen’s clenched his fists, battling the desire to destroy the room, to smash walls, tear off window shutters, and lay waste to everything. He looked around wildly. “Gillian! Come back!” Kellen stared at the empty space where last he’d seen her and swallowed. If Gillian had been telling the truth about where she was from, then mayhap she’d told the truth about loving him as well.
So why would she leave him? Why would she abandon him? He had every intention of asking her just that when he found a way to get his hands on her. She had to come back. He could not live without her.
* * *
Gillian’s eyes burned, dizziness overwhelmed her, and she fell, landed on one knee, and hit a rock. Pain, sharp and intense, bit hard around her kneecap and her vision blacked for a moment. She couldn’t breathe.
Finally, sliding off her pack, and clutching her knee, she groaned, reached out, and touched rough stone. Her shaking fingers grasped for a handhold, found one, and she pulled herself up.
As she blinked away tears and glanced around at the graffiti-decorated stone and crumbling walls, she realized she was definitely in the ruins of the chapel. She could see what was left of the keep beyond and knew she was back. Back in her own year? She hoped so. She was counting on the fact that she didn’t leave Kellen only to show up in some other time not her own.
At the thought of Kellen, her face crumpled and the tears started to flow. She sank against the crumbling stone wall as it really hit her. She was never going to see him again. He’d marry Edith and she would be the one to give him children. She would be the one who made him smile. It would be Edith who held Kellen close, teased him out of his somber moods, and saw the vulnerable man beneath the strength.
Gillian started to cry in earnest. Edith would never love him as much as she did. Never! Edith couldn’t possibly, and it wasn’t fair!
A long while later, Gillian swiped at her tears and took deep, shuddering breaths. She looked at the drying, congealing blood on the finger of her left hand. She was pretty sure the blood had somehow loosened the ring and triggered the time travel.
The ring had become so much a part of her; she’d been convinced she’d wear it the rest of her life. Her eyes filled with tears once more. She’d also been convinced that somehow she’d have Kellen for the rest of her life, and look how that had turned out.
She opened her right hand to see the gold circle still within her cupped palm and picked it up to study the engravings on the inside. Again she wondered at the words before closing her fingers around it once more.
According to the priest, she’d been on holy ground both in the cemetery and in the chapel. If the combination of blood and holy ground had somehow sent her back, that meant she could have returned at any time.
If she had, she’d have never met Kellen, never have fallen in love with him, or had his love in return.
Gillian leaned back against the crumbling wall, completely worn out, eyes swollen, and tried to hold back a fresh onslaught of tears.
So what did she do now? Did she go home and somehow put her life, and her shattered heart, back together? Or did she do what her heart was telling her to do and put the ring back on?
The memories she’d made just didn’t seem enough. She sat in the rubble of the chapel for a long time, remembering, crying, and feeling sorry for herself.
Finally, completely chilled and shivering, she got up. Yes, she was tempted to put the ring on her finger and try and go back, but she wouldn’t. She was in her own time now, and he was in his. It was for the best.
She needed to step aside so Kellen could have everything he needed. So he could have everything Edith’s property would bring. Kellen wouldn’t have to pay a fine to the king, and he wouldn’t have to try and explain her presence to anyone. By marrying Edith, he’d be ahead money rather than behind and, like Marissa had said, he had many to take care of.
So Gillian would go home, get over Kellen, and get on with her life. It hurt. But it was still the right thing to do.
* * *
Her rental car was long gone from where she’d parked it. Still swiping the occasional tear, Gillian walked all the way into town, glad of the exercise in the cool mid-afternoon air and the time to think. When she finally arrived, the first thing she did was head to the hotel. When she explained who she was, the manager’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
“Miss Corbett! Where have you been? Your car was found and the police searched the area looking for you!” The manager, tall and thin, with a shock of thick, black hair and dark brown eyes, looked worriedly at her clothes. “Why are you dressed like that?”
Relieved that he knew her, that she’d made it back to where she was supposed to be, Gillian ran a hand down the skirt of her yellow medieval gown. “Uh… ” She wasn’t sure what to say.
“You look like you’ve been crying? Have you been harmed, Miss Corbett?”
“No. I’m fine. I went off with my boyfriend for a while, and we recently broke up.”
“A local boy?”
Gillian nodded.
The manager’s brows pulled together. “You went off with some bloke for over a month and didn’t think to tell a soul?” His lip curled in disgust. “If that isn’t just like an American girl.”
Gillian, feeling numb, simply shrugged. “Do you still have my luggage?”
“Yes.” His tone had cooled considerably. “We still have it.”
“Can you rent me a room?”
The manager turned to his computer. “I shouldn’t after the way you took off. So inconsiderate. But the police will want to see you, and I’ll have to call the car rental place and let them know you’ve turned up. They brought your cellular phone in. It’s with your luggage. They were very worried about you. Everyone was.” He shook his head and tapped his fingers on the keyboard. “So inconsiderate.”
Gillian opened her backpack, pulled out her Visa card and ID and, after what
seemed like forever, she was finally checked in and given a key.
The manager’s expression was icy. “Your things will be sent on to your room. Of course, there will be an additional fee for storing your possessions while you were away.”
Gillian lifted one shoulder. “Thank you. That will be fine.”
The man nodded and, apparently somewhat appeased by her response, softened a bit. “All right, then.”
Gillian headed to her room and, after her luggage arrived, she cried in the shower as hot water streamed over her. She already missed Kellen so much.
Was he already married to Edith? After she’d left had they just got on with it? She realized he’d actually have married, lived his entire life, and had a family with Edith. He’d be long dead by now.
That made her cry even harder.
After the water cooled, she got into her pajamas and lay on the bed, only to be awakened some time later by a knock on the door. She quickly slipped into her robe.
The two burly gentlemen at the door, a redhead and a thinning brunette, identified themselves as the police. “Miss Corbett? Can we come in?”
She stepped back and let them enter.
“Are you alone, miss?”
“Yes.”
They looked around; the brunette, a hard-jawed man with a strong cleft chin, searched the bathroom, apparently unwilling to take her word for it. When they’d all been seated, her on the bed and them in the two available chairs, they started the questions.
Had she been injured? No. Was she held against her will? No. Was she robbed? No. The name of her boyfriend? Kellen Marshall. His address? They’d just traveled around a lot. Was there anything she wanted to tell them? Anything she’d left out? No. Was she afraid to report a crime, because they could assure her they had the ability to protect her. She was fine.
Standing, looking exasperated and no doubt thinking the whole process a waste of time, they headed for the door; and the redhead turned back. “It was inconsiderate of you to worry everyone so. There was a search after your car was discovered, you know?”