Page 13 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

W allace should have known that after everything Cara had experienced in the last couple of days, that she would not abide it well.

She was a lady, after all.

He carefully took her up the stairs, laid her upon her bed, and removed her shoes.

Several maids looked in the door. “Fetch my mother here, at once.”

Both girls rushed to do his bidding.

He lifted a large chair from against the wall and walked it over to the bed and with a solid thunk, set it down and took a seat.

Her arms were crossed and, looking mutinous, she glared at the ceiling.

He wrestled with her for a moment to get one of her hands free, and she finally gave up and relaxed her arm so he could take her hand.

He patted it, perhaps a bit clumsily, with his own. “You are not to fret. I am sure with a bit of rest, and perhaps some of my mother’s herbal teas, you shall soon be yourself again.”

Cara shook her head, and muttered once more.

Wallace sat stiffly holding her hand tight within his grasp. From some of her comments, Wallace was inclined to believe she was not happy with him, but he knew his duty, and would carry it out regardless of her opinion.

Though privately he did think she might show a bit of gratitude for his care and concern, he’d take the high road, as it was quite possible she was ailing.

His mother rushed into the room. “What has happened?”

“Cara is spouting gibberish. I think the events thrust upon her these last days have addled her wits.”

As his mother approached, he quickly released Cara’s hand and stood so she could examine her.

Her straight back indicating her irritation, his mother studied Cara as if she were a particularly unpleasant burden to bear. “What ails you?”

Cara lifted both hands in a gesture of impatience. “Your son is driving me crazy, that’s what’s the matter.”

Lady Helena straightened to glance at Wallace. To his astonishment, her face broke into a genuine smile. “Of course, he is. He is male, is he not?”

Cara was grinning now too, both of them laughing at his expense. Dropping her hand, he drew himself up to his full height. This, he supposed, was what he got for playing the hero.

Playing the fool, more like.

He had other things to do. But did not dare leave until Cara admitted to his mother that which ailed her.

“She believes, or says she does, that it is the twenty-first century.”

At that, Lady Helena made a scoffing noise, and turned to give Cara a chiding, disbelieving look. “We’ve much to accomplish here, Lady Cara, more mouths to feed. There will be time for playacting in the cold months, when our larders are full and our people sheltered against the weather.”

She gave a pointed look at Cara’s necklace. “Soon to be your people as well.” She clapped, the sound sharp, indicating her impatience. “Now, enough of this dalliance. While there is still daylight, there is work to be done.”

Lady Cara leaned up on both elbows. “I’m willing to work as hard as the next person, believe you me. My job requires, or rather required, long hard hours, day and night, and I’m used to it. I don’t mind joining in and doing my share while I’m here.”

She shot Wallace a look. “I just want Wallace here to stop being in character twenty-four seven, and admit what year it is.”

Wallace shared a meaningful look with his mother before tilting his head toward Cara. “’Tis the year of our Lord 1260.”

Cara let out a scream, and threw herself back on the bed once more. “You see?” She kicked her feet. “I don’t mind being here, I don’t mind helping, but I do mind that I can’t get any straight answers out of this guy. If he’s in acting mode all the time, it gets obnoxious.”

Lady Helena looked between the two of them with interest. “I’m not sure what has disturbed you. He spoke true, ’tis the year of our Lord 1260.”

Cara sucked in another breath, and Wallace was glad she didn’t scream this time, but simply looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

With a sharp motion, she sat on the side of the bed and reached for her shoes once more.

They both watched as she put them on, saying naught, as the undercurrents in the room were strong but undecipherable.

“I ask again, what ails you?” Lady Helena said carefully.

Cara shot flashing eyes at both of them, as she set both feet on the ground, and stood.

“What ails me? Perhaps the fact that I can’t trust a word any of you say? All of this playacting, pretending, practicing your role, whatever, is getting tiresome.”

She’d wondered if this was a tourist destination.

Tourist trap, more like! Only in the literal sense.

Lady Helena looked at Wallace again, and he gave a nod, glad she was seeing Cara’s ailment for herself.

Cara growled, a sound of frustration, and headed toward the door.

“You will cease immediately,” his mother was stern.

Cara did stop, and then she finally turned to look at them both once again.

“You will come back here, you shall sit on the bed, and explain yourself.”

Wallace watched indecision flit across Cara’s face. He truly hoped she bided Lady Helena’s words, else he’d have to capture her once again, and manhandle her into place.

Mayhap she saw the grimness of his expression. With a flounce, her whole body expressing irritation, she stomped back over to the bed took a seat on the edge and crossed her hands in front of her. “All right, how can I help you?”

Lady Helena looked at a loss for a moment, and then she finally reached forward and placed a hand on Cara’s forehead. “She does not have a fever.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Open the curtains all the way.”

Wallace crossed the room to do her bidding, throwing back the heavy curtain so more light filtered into the room.

Bending over she took Cara by the chin, and looked into her eyes.

“Stick out your tongue, girl.”

Cara did so, though made the gesture into an insult when she didn’t open her mouth.

“Open your mouth,” Lady Helena said sharply.

Cara finally did, making an impatient sound as she did so.

Lady Cara ignored her and turned to Wallace. “She seems healthy enough to me.” She sat in the chair across from Cara. “Now, what is this about another century.”

Cara drew in a breath. “Seven hundred years plus, in the future, I was born there. My parents live there, my friends live there, I have a life and a career there.”

She gave a one shouldered shrug. “Or, I did anyway.” She reached for the necklace clasped around her neck. “I may, or may not have a job at this time.”

“And where do you live, exactly?”

Cara stuck her chin out. “Across the ocean in California, near Hollywood. I came to Scotland to work, and as soon as my contract is up, or I figure out if I’ve been fired, I’m going home.”

Lady Helena glanced at Wallace once again, both of them exchanging dire looks.

“What?” Cara was visibly upset.

“Where did you meet my son?”

“At Stirling Castle. He was acting in a scene on the movie set, and I somehow didn’t see it and ran right into the middle of it.”

She glanced at Wallace. “I really am sorry about that, by the way. I still don’t know what happened, if I wasn’t paying attention, or what, but I swear, one minute I was running toward the touching stone, and the next I was almost getting killed by your horse.”

“Touching stone?” Lady Helena and Wallace said at the same time.

* * *

Wallace was glad to see the tension ease from Cara.

“Yes,” she said. “There’s a big rock that people make pilgrimages to, so they can pray for things they want or need. Some kind of mystical place that some saint or other blessed back in the day.”

“Saint Cuthbert,” Lady Helena said, looking suddenly shaken.

“What?” Cara asked.

“Mother?” Wallace studied her suddenly pale face. “What is it?”

Lady Helena drew in a shaken breath. “I ... I don’t know. It’s just that there is another touching stone, outside of Durham.”

She turned to Wallace. “’Tis where I eloped with your father. Or, rather, with Lord Dinsdale, if you will recall the story. ’Tis where your father caught up with us, and I married him instead.”

“Just so,” Wallace agreed. “Because you were contracted to marry him, and acted with honor.”

But his mother shook her head and waved her hand at the same time. “Nay. I was a young foolish girl, caught up in the romance of having two men desire me. I was too young to understand a handsome visage did not mean character, and would much rather have married Dinsdale. He knew it, too, was triumphant about winning over your father.”

She stared blankly at the ashes in the fireplace, as if looking to the distant time and place where it occurred. “He always wishes to win.”

His mother didn’t speak for a long moment, and Wallace, tense and uncertain, decided to wait her out rather than disrupt her thoughts.

Cara wasn’t so patient. “Lady Helena,” she sounded cross. “I know I should have read the screenplay more thoroughly, but I do sort of know what you’re talking about. The whole Wolfsbane, Dinsdale history is very interesting, I’ll give you that. And for all I know you have a part in the movie as well, and the two of you are getting a real kick out of this. And you’re welcome to do so. No judgment on my part, I swear.”

Cara made a little cross over her heart. “But I don’t want to get wrapped up in this anymore. Even though I was raised near Hollywood, I’ve never had ambitions toward being an actress. I just want to go home.”

Lady Helena grabbed both Cara’s hands. “You don’t understand. When I married my husband, it was only because the priest intervened.”

“What?” Wallace said before he could think better of it. But watching his family history, the best part of it, crumble around him, was disappointing to say the least. His mother agreed to elope with Dinsdale?

“Hush now, Wallace, and listen.” Lady Helena once again looked into Cara’s eyes.

“I was prepared to marry Lord Paul Dinsdale. Delighted about it, actually. No one asked me what I wished, or explained to me why my marriage to Wolfsbane would be for the best. As I said, I was just a silly female, caught in the romance of being carried away by a knight who so yearned for me, he would face Wolfsbane, my father, and the king’s wrath.”

She shook her head, her lips curling as if disgusted by the girl she’d been. “I was delighted there was a touching stone directly outside the chapel, and as Paul went to find the priest, I rested my hand upon it, convinced it was a sign I was to marry Paul, that my father and the king would forgive all, and that I was destined to be most content.”

Another snort from his mother let him know exactly how she felt about her former self.

She drew in another breath, and Wallace found himself leaning forward to catch every word .

“The priest found me. I could hear Paul in the distance calling for him, making a ruckus, and losing his temper when he couldn’t find the man.” She nodded at Cara. “Time was of the essence, you see.”

His mother glanced over her shoulder at him, and their gazes met. She looked sorry, and he almost didn’t want to hear what she was to say next. “The priest claimed he was a saint.”

Lady Helena bowed her head. “He was smiling, a jubilant fellow, and I wondered at first if perhaps he was drunk, though I could smell no spirits upon him. He clasped a bracelet around my wrist.” She lifted her hand to reveal a thin gold chain, wrapped twice around her wrist.

“He told me that I was on the wrong path, that mistakes had been made, and if they were to be set right again, then I could not marry Dinsdale. It was pivotal that I marry Wolfsbane.”

She finally looked up, first at Cara, and then at Wallace who, without realizing it, had moved forward to grasp one of the bed posts.

“I thought father gave you that bracelet on your wedding day.”

Lady Helena shook her head.

“What happened then?” Cara asked.

Lady Helena drew in a shuddering breath. “My hand was still upon the stone. I was undecided, Dinsdale was yelling inside the chapel, and I knew he’d be angry if he came out to find I’d changed my mind, that I was unwilling. I feared he might force the issue, somehow.”

She took a breath and let it out slowly. “I asked the priest where I should go. He told me to hide, and that Wolfsbane would be along directly.”

Her hands clenched on her lap. “So, I’d be dealing with two angry men, one angry because I refused to marry him, the other, because I’d run off with his rival. I was thinking it might be easier to marry Paul, and let him deal with your father.”

She glanced at Wallace once more. “But the priest laid his own upon mine, and the entire world fell away.”

She looked at Cara, and then at Wallace once more. “Hear me, the world was gone, and in its place, another gone mad. Squat carriages with flashing eyes, rushing past at unholy speeds. Noise like I’d never heard, foul smells, people dressed in clothing only fit for brothels. Buildings so tall they defied imagination. The only constant was the priory, and the priest, taking in my every reaction.”

Wallace stared, the hair on his neck rising.

Lady Helena’s eyes glazed as she looked inward. “I’d been plunged into Hell, and before me was the demon who acted as my guide.”

She placed a hand to her heart. “Hear me now, and judge me true. The priest lifted his hand and I was back. And before me, down the road, I could hear riders coming at speed, and knew it was your father, and mine.”

She glanced up at Wallace, and he shook his head, not sure he wanted to hear any more. “The priest told me to run. I hid in the woods and watched as your father drove Dinsdale away, scarring him for life, twisting him to vengeance and bitterness.”

She took a breath. “After he was gone, your father called to me, and though I did consider hiding and escaping my fate entirely, I came out of the woods, and the priest married us.”

Suddenly cold, his heart beating faster, he had no words. He just looked at his mother in strained silence, not recognizing his own parent. She lived for duty, honor, courage. She expected the same from her children.

“Wow!” Cara found her tongue easily enough. “That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming. So, you saw Hell?” Her sarcasm was evident.

“Don’t be obtuse,” Lady Helena said sharply. “As a young lady I may have thought so, but I’ve had years to think about it. And now here you are, claiming to come from seven hundred years in the future, from a place none of us have heard of. I think that’s what was revealed to me that night. The future. Mayhap you are the mistake that needs fixing.”

The numbness left Wallace in a rush. “Enough, mother.”

Cara drew in a breath and shook her head. “Oh, my gosh! You guys really take the cake.” She clapped, all the while nodding her head. “Extra points for sucking me in, and I’ve just got to ask. You’re not even mother and son, are you? You’re the actor,” she pointed at Wallace, “And you’re the screenwriter,” she pointed at Lady Helena, “and I’m the chump.” Using her thumb, she pointed at her chest. “Wow, that even had a surprise ending, well done.”

Lady Helena leaned forward and slapped her face.

“Enough!” Wallace said, louder this time.

Cara’s mouth dropped open and she cupped her cheek. “Seriously?” she said, shaking her head again. She lifted both hands in the air, palms out. “You know what, I’m just letting that pass. Whatever. Good story, and all that, but I’ve really got to be on my way now.”

She went to stand, but Lady Helena stood first and blocked her path, forcing her to sit on the bed again.

“Listen to me, you young fool. This is the year of our Lord, September 8th, 1260. That is a fact. You could wander the entire world, and never find your parents, because they do not exist yet. You are here with us for a reason that I believe has its roots in the night that I chose to marry Wallace’s father. As you said earlier, deal with it.”

With that, his mother turned, gave Wallace a curt nod and crossed the room. She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

“And it’s June, by the way!” Cara yelled after her.

Wallace turned to meet Lady Cara’s gaze.

“What?” she said, her temper flaring. “You’ve never seen a mistake that needs fixing before?”

Wallace hesitated, then shook his head. He gave her a slight bow, and decided his mother had the right of it. Without another word, he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

* * *

What the heck had that been about?

No, seriously, Lady Helena was an amazing storyteller because chills raced up Cara’s spine as she’d told her tale.

Cara crossed to the window and looked out at the back of the property.

It was getting late, people were still working, finishing up huts, everyone doing their part. She frantically searched the area for anything that might indicate the twenty-first century. Power drills, screwdrivers, nail guns, anything besides the crude crowbars, hammers, and hand saws they used.

She looked around for a phone tower or electric lines.

Airplanes, helicopters.

There was nothing.

Even Amish people used air-powered tools, table saws, and drills. Didn’t they?

What did she know?

Still, they didn’t really expect her to believe their version of events, did they?

There was a tree-line in the distance, and she watched men working industriously, and finally realized they were digging graves.

For the men Wallace had killed earlier.

Chills broke out on her body again, and she closed her eyes for a moment, before turning away from the window.

What was she involved in?

Something else had caught her attention and she looked again at the trees in the distance. Towering oaks, beech, and chestnut trees, and all with multiple leaves changing color, like the ones she’d seen on the journey here.

As if it were September rather than June.

She took a seat on the chair that still faced the bed, as her mind raced over the events that occurred over the last few days.

She remembered getting fired. Running toward the touching stone, no, being drawn toward it.

But when she’d arrived, when she’d actually touched the piece, she’d been on that movie set with Wallace.

Instantly.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to see, to remember what had happened.

She’d been shaken, upset, feeling ill-used, and because she’d been distracted, she’d run onto a movie set.

It just didn’t make any sense.

There’d been crowds circling them. The horse running at her. How had she gotten there?

She’d run toward the touching stone, there had been no one there, the field had been empty, she’d touched the necklace, she definitely remembered that, because she’d smeared blood on the stone, from the cut on her thumb.

She remembered thinking it was a bad omen, and she’d appeared ... right in front of Wallace.

Right in the middle of the jousting field.

There was no way she’d shoved her way through the crowds around that field. There was no way she’d somehow stumbled onto a movie set. She’d just ... appeared.

Much like Lady Helena described.

A shiver raced through her body, and Cara stood, arms hugging herself, as she started to pace.

She wasn’t buying into this, was she?

This was just Lady Helena’s story influencing her to make up one of her own, right?

She considered Wallace’s skill with the sword. That wasn’t Hollywood giving someone lessons to make it look real, it had been real.

And sharp. They didn’t have sharpened swords on set. That was too much of a liability.

The men she’d stumbled across in the glade, hadn’t driven there by car, but were on horseback with weapons of their own.

Normal Scottish men didn’t run about in the woods wearing kilts and weapons anymore, did they?

The United Kingdom was smallish on a map, but to never see any power lines? Any type of aircraft?

She touched the material of the dress she wore. It was woven, probably wool, definitely homespun, but then she’d figured it was, hadn’t she? The whole live-off-the-land thing taken to a higher level.

She reached up and tried to take her necklace off once again, wanting a better look at it, but no luck and she gave up with a huff.

She was drawn to the window once more, the only source of light, and stood in the arched recess, leaning her shoulder against the stone wall. She bit her lip.

She was starting to believe this, wasn’t she?

She didn’t want to, it didn’t make any sense, but it did explain a lot.

All the little things that hadn’t added up. It wasn’t that she was losing her mind. She wasn’t making things up in her head or ignoring them.

If she took the leap, and believed what she was seeing, she could stop trying to explain away the odd things she kept noticing.

Still, standing there, the dark room at her back, looking out into the dusk where people still worked together to build homes for themselves, her growing belief that she had somehow fallen back in time left her with the creeping, agonizing sense of loneliness.

If she was in the thirteenth century, the only friend she had to her name was Wallace, who didn’t even seem to like her sometimes.

Her parents were gone.

Her friends were gone. Her bestie and her new husband. The ones she’d grown up with, the ones she’d worked with. The nice new neighbors who hosted barbecues on either side of the condo she’d purchased after Lissa had married.

Her entire network, her life, job, identity, all gone.

It would be easier to stand her ground and insist that Wallace and his mother were liars.

Easier, but she just didn’t believe it anymore.

Brows drawing together, she lifted her hand to touch the pendant and frowned.

What she did believe was that she was completely and utterly alone.