Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) (23 page)

“I do. Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“Ye’ll have to forgive Dugald. He’s been with me for years and what wi’ the poison, the safeguards and protections that end up in my bed or by my door, the suspicions of the clan, and now the saddle,” he shrugged. “He’s a bit skittish ye ken.”

They walked side by side, not touching, and Samantha’s occasional shy glance brought courting and kisses to mind. After he’d had the thought he couldn’t get it out of his head, his awareness of her growing.

“It’s nice to be out,” she said.

“That it is. I’ll admit I spend as much time out-of-doors as possible this time of year. In the cold months, we all long for the sun.”

“Is it colder here than at court?”

“Oh, aye. But the difference isna enough to matter. Cold is cold.”

“Do you miss it? Court life?”

He wondered if he dared to take her hand. “Sometimes. The king granting me the property was a surprise, to say the least. I’d expected to be at his side for years to come. I don’t miss the intrigue, but ’tis most likely what granted me the right to this land. I suspect the thought to send me here was planted in the king's ear. I suppose I was getting too friendly wi’ his majesty for the comfort of others. What of you? You seem the type to be well-versed in court life.”

She chuckled. “I actually work for a university, but believe me, the politics can be brutal.”

He glanced at her. “I know of no universities that accept women. D’ye speak of convents?”

She laughed. “Do I look like a nun?”

He smiled at that and took her words as an invitation to stare. Hair the color of flame caught the last of the sunshine. Beautiful brown eyes, creamy skin, full lips. The black dress, tight at bosom and waist. He forced his expression to remain relaxed, unruffled. “I must say ye do not.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s different in my time. Equal numbers of women and men seek higher learning.”

He shouldn’t indulge her by asking questions, but found he couldn’t help himself. “In this future of yours, why would women need educations? Mothering and keeping house seem a natural enough occupation.”

She laughed again. “Maybe so—I won’t argue the point. But in most careers you need training. I’m an archaeologist. It took me years of fieldwork and university courses to learn enough to be considered an expert.”

“A archaeol...a what?”

“An archaeologist. We dig up old stuff and put it in museums.”

He smiled. “And this takes years of training, does it?”

“Hey. I heard that sarcasm.” She punched him lightly in the arm. “It’s not always easy to find old artifacts. I have to research, know how to keep from damaging centuries-old finds, and preserve them for future generations.”

“What sort of finds?”

“I found your crown, didn’t I?”

“And how exactly did ye do that, lass?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but she must have heard the underlying edge because she swallowed and glanced down.

“I just figured it out, that’s all.”

“How? By studying me, ye said. Do ye care to tell me what that means? Did ye dig up my bones and read ’em? Did ye call my spirit from heaven and force me to tell my secrets?”

“I hope you’re not serious,” she smirked at him.

“About which part?”

“You going to heaven, of course.”

He stopped abruptly. “Are ye sayin’ I don’t?”

She laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “If you could see your expression right now.”

He rolled his eyes and started forward again. “I’ll not listen to yer nonsense.”

She edged up behind him. “I was just kidding. I just read everything I could about you and then I—”

“Enough.”

After a moment she huffed a breath. “Fine. But I think you should know I plan to find out all your secrets. Or at least all your hiding places.”

“Why, so ye can conceal treasures in them? Then when ye go back you can find ’em again?”

She chuckled. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

He was gratified she thought so. “That’s what I would do if I truly believed I was to live over 700 years in the future.”

“Except that, other than your stone, all of the hiding spots were found in the 19th and 20
^th
centuries when treasure hunters tore the place apart. Long before I was born. I’d have nothing left to find.”

He wanted to be entertained, wanted to enjoy her storytelling, but uneasiness gathered in the pit of his stomach. “My clan is too weak to stop them?”

“Your clan was gone by then.”

He stopped to stare. Inverdeem abandoned? The last vestiges of amusement evaporated. “Explain.”

“Famine and hardship drive them to find a better life elsewhere,” she said the words softly, worry stealing into her beautiful eyes, amber in sunlight.

“There are no MacGregors at Inverdeem?”

She pursed her lips, regret in her expression. She took a breath, shook her head. “It’s a tourist destination.”

“A what?”

“People come to see the ruins.”

Chills broke out on his arms, and he considered her a long moment, then scoffed, a low sound in his throat, and shook off the panicked sensation. “Ye tell a pretty story, lass.” He glanced around, surprised at how far they’d walked. “We’d better head back before the sun goes down.”

But she was heading toward a clump of grass up ahead. He followed and when she dropped to her knees and started pulling up the meadow, he stopped and stared.

“It almost looks like there might be something buried here,” she threw the words over her shoulder.

He was smiling again. She had that effect on him. “Given the proximity to the castle, ’tis probably an old rubbish heap.”

“What kind of rubbish?”

“Cast offs.”

“As in old junk?” Excitement laced her voice. “Can we dig here? Who knows what we could find. Treasures, maybe.”

“In a garbage heap?”

“One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”

He started to laugh. She was serious.

She sank back on her heels. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’.” She looked charming, kneeling there with her eyes lit, smiling up at him, the last of the sun kissing her skin, casting a rosy hue. Who was he to deny her whatever was within his power? He was but a weak, mortal man, and she was lovely. He plucked a nearby wildflower and handed it to her.

Her brows rose as she accepted the stem and twirled the white blossom between two fingers. “What’s this for?”

“For making me laugh.”

She pushed the stem into her hair and smiled up at him. “You should always laugh. Every day for
years
to come.”

Her sincerity affected him, as did the implication that he might not have years. He cleared his throat. “I thought I wasn’t to live long? I must take my pleasure where I find it.” As the words popped out, he glanced at her mouth, yearned to pull her up and take it with his, but forced himself to turn away. He breathed in deeply. Being alone with her wasn’t a grand idea, after all. She effortlessly destroyed his peace of mind. He needed to get away from her before he did something foolish.

Like kiss the woman senseless.

~~~

At the reminder of his death, Samantha ducked her head. He was right. Unless she figured out how to stop it, this man would be dead within a few weeks or so. At the thought, a heavy weight settled in her stomach. Needing to touch him, she stood and approached, took his arm, and walked with him toward the castle. When he didn’t comment, but simply crooked his arm and allowed her a better grip, she was able to relax.

She looked back at the mounds of grass and dirt. “Could we go get some shovels and come back?”

“’Tis getting dark.”

“Couldn’t we light the area somehow?”

Ian shot her a look of incredulity. “Oh, aye. Bring out the torches, mayhap? Or we’ll stand about wi’ candles while you dig up the rubbish? That should go over well with everyone yearning for their beds.”

Samantha laughed. “I take your point. But in my time we have electricity and can light up entire cities day, night, or whenever we want with the flip of a switch. Sometimes we work the night through when we’re on a dig.”

His smile patronized. “Enough light for a city? Every day and night? The surrounding wood would soon be diminished and you’d have naught left to burn.”

She returned his smile in spades. “Electri
city.”
She drew out the last syllables. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

He snorted.

“Fine. To make up for the lack of light, tell me more about the tournaments you’ve been in. Who have you bested? Anyone whose name I might recognize?”

“Oh, aye, you’re sure to know all the lowly knights. I keep a record of their names so I can boast to pretty girls whenever the mood strikes.”

She shot him a glance. He thought she was pretty? She could feel her face flush warm with pleasure and was glad of the darkening sky. Samantha jostled his arm with her shoulder. “Sarcastic brute. You do not have a list. I checked when I was in the future.”

He threw back his head and laughed, then glanced down into her upturned face. The impact of his smile, his gaze, the feel of his skin, did funny things to her insides and made her breathless.

He glanced away, kept walking, but she’d seen
something
else in his expression. Need? Yearning? The sudden thought of him gone, his life snuffed out, his wants and desires taken away forever, struck her as cruel, unfair, and
wrong.

He was a good man and the world would be a worse place without him. Her grip tightened on his arm.

She
would
keep him safe.

If she had anything to say about it, he’d live a wonderful, long life—filled with love, laughter, and children.

So why did the thought of him enjoying those things with another woman make her chest ache?

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning, Samantha was immersed in setting up the dig site. It had a twofold purpose. One, she really wanted to see what was there. As the castle was built of wood, then of stone, this site had probably been there a long time. It might even have been the location of another village.
Ian didn’t necessarily know everything he thought he knew.
Beth, Janetta, and the others she’d asked at breakfast didn’t know anything about it. There could be some really old stuff out here.
Old even in this time.

And two, since she’d talked Ian into going with her, she could keep an eye on him so he wasn’t poisoned, thrown from a horse, stabbed, beheaded, or anything else. Unfortunately, the historical accounts hadn’t specified how he’d died; just that he’d been murdered on September 30
^th
, 1260. If records of the event had been better kept—with pesky details like by what method he’d been murdered—maybe she’d trust the exact date more, but since she didn’t, she’d have to keep him close. Not exactly a hardship.

It was a warm autumn day, and it was only going to get hotter. Perfect weather for an excavation. Perfect for ditching murderers.

Samantha pointed to a young man. “You there. Finn is it?”

The young man hurried over and Samantha handed him one of the wood shovels with the iron reinforced bands she’d managed to procure. She pointed. “I want you to dig here. What we’re going to do is pull up the grass and roll it back like a carpet, all right? So I want you on this outer edge, push the shovel into the grass, then lift it, and do it again and again down to that rock. Okay? Give me a nice straight line.”

The boy nodded and she watched a moment, then instructed several other boys to dig the other perimeters.

Ian stood, his arms crossed, watching the entire spectacle with amusement.

“Care to help?”

Ian snorted, walked over to a large rock, and sat. “I’m just here to observe, or rather, to see if you truly intend to dig up an old rubbish heap.”

Samantha placed hands on hips. “It’s what I do. Anyway, you don’t know for sure it’s a rubbish heap.”

“You say it took years of training to learn this skill?” His expression was dubious.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I can see where this is going. But shut it, and you just might learn something.”

She had about ten to fifteen helpers at any given time, some coming, others losing interest and leaving, but it didn’t take long for those most interested to get into it, and the boys, and one girl, quickly pulled and rolled the grass. It gave them a nicely cut and uniform area to work with. Already she could see partially buried items, and what looked like broken pottery, or tiles, or crockery.

After the grass was removed, Ian finally wandered over, eating berries. He offered her a few. “I found these over in the brush. Care to taste?”

“No, thank you.” She waved away the offer as she crouched, studied the ground, and ran her fingers over a few spots.

He popped a few purple berries into his mouth. “What exactly are you searching for?”

Samantha pointed at some shards sticking out of the ground. “We’ll start with those.”

One of the boys quickly latched onto a large piece and tugged, and another boy dug his shovel into the newly revealed earth.

“No.”
Samantha waved a hand. “Don’t yank at things. And if you dig like that, you might break something.”

Shamefaced the boys backed away. What she wouldn’t do for some decent trowels and screens right about now. And a hand broom and dustpan would be useful. And a camera, and a measuring tape. She sighed and turned to Ian. “You’d be surprised by what we might find. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve dug up jewels, skeletons, and torture devices. Once we found a sword that looked like it was covered in blood, but it was only rust, of course. Still, it was creepy.”

The boys whispered, smiled, and appeared more interested. Never let it be said she didn’t know how to handle her interns.

Ian pointed. “What about that?”

Samantha had her eye on the bulging earth. It could be earthenware, maybe a vase, but with only a tiny piece of white showing it could be anything. She hoped it was intact. She smiled at Ian. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

She instructed everyone to walk carefully, not to move anything, and to watch how she cleared the dirt so they could help do the same. Ian stayed at her side, still interested.