Page 14 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)
T he next morning, Wallace sat at his place at the table, his uneaten breakfast before him, and still wasn’t sure what he believed.
He’d cornered his mother the night before, determined to get some sense out of her. She’d been unwilling, or perhaps unable to talk about the events of her wedding day.
She’d looked haggard and worn-out and had been quick to dismiss him when he pressed her with questions.
Not exactly fair, to his mind, when she’d ruined all the best parts of their family story.
Truly? She’d not been abducted? Had gone with Dinsdale of her own free will?
In fact, from the sounds of it she’d have married Dinsdale if not for some saint’s interference.
His mother and Dinsdale? The thought of it had his fists clenching on the long table as he waited for either his mother, or Lady Cara, to show herself.
But of course, that unpleasant fact hadn’t been the only thing keeping him awake half the night.
He’d never known his mother to lie, and so that warred with the unbelievable story she’d told, both about herself, and where she believed Lady Cara to have come from.
Seven hundred years in the future? Everyone knew that God’s kingdom would rule upon the earth once more, far before that much time had passed.
It seemed more likely that both women suffered a fugue of some sort.
Perhaps he should sequester the other females in the house, in case it was catching?
He looked at his two sisters, both quietly eating their breakfast across from him, and shooting him looks of concern.
They looked fine.
“What do you know of future events?” he asked, watching them closely.
Amelia shot her sister a quick look, before answering. “Future events, brother? What do you refer to? The fall harvest? The fear of attack by the Dinsdales?”
He was relieved by her answers, and turned to Doris, awaiting her response.
Her eyes widened as she finished eating a bite of porridge, quickly setting her spoon in the bowl.
“And you?” He watched his youngest sister closely. “Will you not share your thoughts on the subject?”
Doris looked beseechingly at her older sister, who simply gave her a shrug and went back to eating her breakfast.
“Doris?” His tone was firm, as he insisted upon an answer.
“’Tis Dori now.” She picked up her spoon and with a nervous gesture tapped it in the middle of her bowl. “Father Hazleton has said we need to work hard rebuilding our stores, as the winter is to be a harsh one.”
Relieved by their common sense answers, he nodded at both. “Just so.” He was glad his mother had the sense not to confuse them with fanciful stories.
Not that he’d ever known his mother to be fanciful. In fact, she was quite the opposite.
As if thinking of her drew her into view, she was soon outside the great hall, commanding the servants as usual.
“Set those pallets more firmly against the wall, so people will not be tripping over them throughout the day.”
Two men rushed to do her bidding.
She called a serving girl over, and asked if everyone had been fed, and if there were leftovers, they could press into bars to serve with their dinner at midday.
After getting the answers, she headed in his direction, as calm and collected as ever, no hint of the strong emotions she’d felt the night before.
Doris, or rather, Dori scooted down the bench, and his mother took her seat directly across from him.
“Mother,” he greeted in a neutral tone.
She met his gaze, a challenge in her own. “Son.”
She was served a bowl of oatmeal, and was quick to break her fast, ignoring him altogether.
She did not wish to discuss it?
He glanced at his sisters and realized that perhaps now wasn’t the time anyway.
He did not want them exposed to fanciful, and ridiculous notions.
And he certainly didn’t need any more female hysterics.
He glanced toward the stairs, and realized he was still waiting for Cara to appear. A pointless exercise it would seem, and he had much work to do this day.
He finally rose, and when he did, so did most of the other men, as if awaiting the signal from him.
When he moved to the front door, he couldn’t help glancing up the stairs.
Disappointment had him releasing a breath.
Despite his mother’s outrageous tale from the night before, and regardless of where Cara came from, he still intended to marry her.
He was glad to have his mother’s blessing, regardless of how oddly she’d expressed it.
He hoped today was the day they would come to an understanding.
He was thinking far too much about her, and she seemed to be softening him. For a man bent on revenge, it was unsettling.
Mayhap once they settled things between them, his preoccupation with her would fall away, and he could focus on more important matters.
Such as planning the Dinsdales’ downfall.
* * *
There was yet another knock on the door, and Cara called out, “Just a minute, I’m coming.”
She didn’t mean it though. She would join the others when she was good and ready. A little alone time was what she needed now. Some time to think.
A good night’s sleep left her well rested, and when Cara was dressed and ready for the day she stayed in her room and considered her options.
She could take off on her own, and see if she could find someone or something that disproved this was the thirteenth century.
But, because she was now afraid to go anywhere without protection, she didn’t think that would work out.
Having a panic attack when she was alone on the road, didn’t appeal.
She could try to find someone besides Wallace to help her. There were several big, brawny lads running about outside that she might be able to sweet talk. But, going off with strangers didn’t appeal either.
Anyway, how far would she have to go until she was convinced she was no longer in the twenty-first century?
A mile, two miles, all the way to London?
She was very much afraid she already believed what Lady Helena had told her the night before.
Still, would it hurt to have a little proof?
Because there was that small part of her that still believed she was being played for a fool. So, no taking off on her own, no taking off with a stranger.
Besides, the answer was obvious. If Lady Helena used the touching stones to travel briefly to the future, she could too. She just needed to get back to Stirling Castle.
The best person to take her? She’d sweet talk Wallace into it.
So, back to her original plan.
The man did seem susceptible, after all.
And she had to admit it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.
Thinking of his face at the picnic the day before, the almost tender way he’d looked at her, softened her heart.
No, it wouldn’t be a hardship, at all.
There was another knock, and this time she walked over and lifted the wooden plank. She set it against the wall, and opened the door.
A maid stood on the other side. “Miss? Is there aught I can help you with? Your hair, perhaps?”
Cara had already washed her face in the basin, and run a brush through her hair.
Just as she opened her mouth to decline, she remembered Lady Helena getting her hair done the day before.
The style of the day seemed to be braids, waterfall buns, or headdresses with caps. Ribbons aplenty.
Perhaps Wallace would find her more attractive if she coiffed herself in the latest medieval style. Any little bit helped.
She opened the door wider to let the younger girl inside.
“When in Rome, right?”
The girl looked confused. “Rome, my lady?”
Cara chuckled. “What I meant to say was, yes, thank you, I’d certainly appreciate that.”
* * *
The maid’s name was Breena, and she not only did Lady Helena’s hair, but her two daughters as well.
Cara instructed her, held the braids while Breena swept the back up, and when she’d finished with Cara’s hair, she’d run out and found a polished shield, stood Cara by the window, and showed her the basic outline of her new hairdo.
“’Tis lovely. I’d not have thought to do it in such a way.”
“Thanks. Hair is kind of a hobby of mine,” she said, the lack of a real mirror both amusing and convincing her a little more. “You did a good job.”
Breena, smiling, curtsied and gave Cara another long look, before leaving.
She was surprised that she actually felt more confident with the coiled bun at the top of her head, and the loose braids that were tucked around it using silk ribbons and flowers for enhancements.
She didn’t know why that surprised her. Being a makeup artist, she knew better than anyone what enhancements could do for a lady’s self-confidence.
Too bad she didn’t have her makeup box with her, because then she could really wow Wallace.
Still, she felt great, as she smoothed the blue dress, and headed out for the day.
It looked as if she was the last to have breakfast, but when she appeared, the servants in the hall rushed to make her comfortable, showing her where to sit on one of the long benches, and getting her a bowl of oatmeal, a slice of bread, and an apple.
Cider was quickly provided, and she thanked everyone profusely, and ate by herself.
It was tasty, the fresh bread and cider complementing the oatmeal perfectly.
The room was obviously a gathering place, and from the pallets against the wall, she thought perhaps people slept there as well.
She saw Favian helping to clean up, and when she caught his eye, winked at him. The boy grinned and waved.
Though the house was large, she could tell there were too many people here for the size of it.
“Excuse me,” she called out to a girl wiping the other end of the long table.
The maid quickly came forward and bent her knees in a quick curtsy. “My Lady?”
“Have there always been this many people living here?”
“Oh, no, miss.”
When the girl didn’t expound, Cara was forced to ask the obvious. “Where did they all come from?”
The girl glanced around, an expression of concern on her face, and an older woman crossed the room to stand beside her. “Begging your pardon, my lady. Mayhap I can answer any questions for you?”
“Of course.” Cara had the impression there was a pecking order, and she’d just disturbed it. “I was just wondering why there are so many people living here, and where they all came from?”
The older lady, her salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun, threaded her fingers together. “When the king gave Lord Dinsdale most o’ Lord Wolfsbane’s property, many decided to make their way here, in a show of loyalty. We still have some arrive every few days or so, many a brave soul facing bandits, and wilderness, to get here.”
“Just how many properties did Lord Dinsdale acquire?”
“Wolfsbane Castle, in Westmoreland; Harley fortress in Yorkshire which, of course, Lady Helena brought to the marriage along with this manor; and Drayton Keep in Sussex. This manor was the least of his properties.”
“It must be hard to feed so many people.”
“’Tis a concern. The steward was able to purchase more seed and ’tis of good quality. We will be ready for early planting in the spring.” She did the bobbing thing once again, as if to end the conversation.
Wow. Cara gave the other lady a nod, and she was quick to move away.
Just, wow! Wolfsbane had owned a castle? And other properties, and they’d been awarded to the Dinsdales?
He’d mentioned this was the only property left to him, and it looked like some of his people had deserted their posts in order to follow.
No wonder he was so busy building huts and concerned about stores of food.
A chill went through her at the realization that they would literally starve if he wasn’t successful in providing for them.
A bigger picture started to form in her mind.
He’d lost everything.
He’d been jousting in front of the king to win it back, when she blundered in, and interfered.
Her hand reached up to clasp the necklace.
He had no prospects, as he’d lost almost everything, so no doubt she, and the wealth about her throat, were looking like his only alternative.
A sinking in her stomach left her feeling slightly hollowed out and sick.
If she was personally responsible for ruining Wallace’s chances, perhaps she had an obligation to help get everything back if she could.
But if she handed the necklace over, and went home, she’d be arrested for theft. She supposed she could stay, marry the man, and make reparations that way. But while she was actually catching some feelings for him, he might not be doing the same.
He was probably only doing his duty, trained in chivalry and romance from the cradle. Doing his best to romance a lady who’d not only set him back from his goal, but practically fallen into his lap with a bit of wealth.
She sighed, wishing her path was clear.
She glanced down at the remaining oatmeal and though she didn’t want to finish it, forced herself to eat the rest of the meal.
Not for her own sake, but for how rude it would seem if she didn’t.
If these guys were all about growing and storing food against the coming winter, she wasn’t going to act like a spoiled princess, ungrateful for what she received.
Apparently, she was here for the duration.
She doubted Wallace even had the time to take her to Stirling Castle.
Not at the moment, anyway.
She tugged at her necklace once again, wishing she could just give him the thing.
Maybe he could cut it off of her somehow, and use the stones to feed his people in the coming months.
Of course, if she did that, and did managed to get back to her own time, and yes, she was accepting this, wasn’t she? Then how was she going to explain the missing necklace?
She had no doubt the owner of the piece would be looking for her, and she might even be thrown in jail if she couldn’t produce it.
What was she going to do?
For now, simply stick with her original plan, to romance Wallace.
Whatever happened in the future, she definitely wanted him to think well of her.
Because either way, stay, or go, she needed him on her side.