Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) (38 page)

“Yes. And as you force me to reveal myself, I will now predict the future.”
Where the heck was Ian?

“There will be a ninth crusade.”

That seemed to spark little interest in Malcolm or in anyone.

“Edward the 1st of England will invade Scotland.”

Blank stares. “Who?” someone in the crowd asked.

“I’m predicting the future here. Sheesh, have some respect, or at least a little imagination.” She paused. “Okay, there will be a battle at Stirling Bridge.”

She detected zero interest.

“The Knights Templar will be rounded up and murdered by Philip of France. There will be a battle at Bannockburn.”

No one seemed to care.

“Come on, guys. This is important. Robert the Bruce will restore Scotland’s independence.”

They looked around at each other.

She sighed. “The Black Death will ravage Europe and kill half of the population.”

That seemed to get their attention. Eyes widened as they looked at each other. The words
Black Death
were whispered about.

“The bible’s going to be translated. Then you can all read it for yourselves.”

No interest. Back to the plague then. “But only half of the population will be able to read it because the others will be dead from
the Black Death.”
She said it in a scary tone.

She looked at Jerry and shrugged.

“Go on,” Jerry encouraged. “Tell them more.”

She milked Jack the Ripper for a while, couldn’t interest anyone in the battle on Culloden Moor or the Renaissance. She could tell almost the precise moment Malcolm’s confusion turned to boredom.

She remembered the advice from her boss to make them laugh. They didn’t seem too interested in history, but if she get them laughing, supposedly she’d have them all in the palm of her hand. She wracked her brain, and tried to remember jokes from the late night comics she’d heard. If only her mind weren’t completely blank where jokes were concerned.

Wait a minute. She did have something...

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ian’s stomach felt hollow, sick.

But at least the trail had widened, allowing them to ride hard again. He couldn’t remember traveling ever taking such a wretched length of time. The longer this dragged out, the more tense and frantic he became.

Why did Malcolm want her? To exact revenge? To possess the crown? Or to possess her?

Ian teeth clenched and he considered all she’d told him—her talk of this future point in time she’d come from. Insanity, of course, and yet it would explain much. She was so different. She seemed to come from nowhere. She knew things she should not.

Or was she simply a spy, and mayhap Malcolm knew more about her than he’d let on? Wouldn’t spying explain her presence? Was it not much more probable?

The ride seemed endless, longer than ever before, and doubts and questions arose as they rode ever closer to Campbell land. What if she escaped her captors? Where would she go? Could he lose her forever? He should have insisted she answer his questions until he’d believed she told the truth.

Why hadn’t he?

Because Samantha was like a flame to him, leaving him craving the light after all the darkness, and he’d take whatever she’d give. Her hair, her laughter, the way she looked at him, her curious nature, her wild stories—his chest twisted with emotion. He’d never felt like this about another. She was
his
. He’d earned her. If not for him, she would not be alive. He wished to find her, protect her, keep her, and it slowly killed him to
not know that she was safe.

If she was a spy, or from some future point, he’d keep her anyway. His by right and might.

She could make a life with him. Marry him. Having her whisked away, knowing her to be in very real danger made one point very clear. He did not wish to live without her. The thought of losing her in any way was... it was unacceptable.

He urged his horse on. She’d best be alive, else he’d deliver merciless revenge.

~~~

Ten minutes later, she was still going strong. “Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?” The crowd yelled, already smiling again.

“Witch.”

“Witch who?”

“Which one of you is going to untie me and let me go?”

The crowd exploded with laughter. Too bad she wasn’t joking that time.

She felt like a standup comic with some really bad jokes that for reasons unknown to her, worked. Mad Malcolm was laughing as hard as anyone, his face upturned as he waited for more. After only two remembered funny stories, she’d had to resort to the knock-knock jokes, but it was keeping everyone, especially Malcolm, well entertained. Too bad she was running out of material. And too bad he didn’t want her as court jester.

“Iva.” Jerry threw out, trying to help her.

She smiled her gratitude. “Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there.”

“Iva.”

“Iva who?”

“Iva sore hand from knocking.”

More laughter.

She released a shaky breath and tried to think of another. Jerry shrugged helplessly then stammered out, “Romeo and Juliet!”

Yes. Of course. Back to Shakespeare. It worked for The Bard, it could work for her too. “Two households, both alike in dignity,” Um... how did it go exactly? “In the city of Verona. Two foes lived. And a pair of star crossed lovers.” Ugh. Apparently she was no Shakespeare. She gulped in air. “So here’s the thing. There were these two, young, star-crossed lovers who fell desperately in love. And you aren’t going to believe what happened to them.”

“What?” the crowd, now used to participating, yelled back.

Fifteen minutes later, two men ran out of the forest to the edge of the crowd. “MacGregor’s been spotted! He’s coming fast!”

Samantha wilted in relief, glad to be done with the Capulets and Montagues. She doubted anyone would have recognized them in her hands anyway.

Malcolm let out a whoop of excitement, then took off. He stopped, turned back, and said, “Hurry! Burn her.”

“Seriously?” Her temper flared. “After all that? Burn me?”

But he was no longer listening, his face alight with a gleeful madness as he faced the trees.

~~~

“Burn her?” Ian’s jaw tightened as disbelief roared through him. After the long ride, not knowing if he’d even find Samantha at the end of it, hearing those words incensed him and he checked the urge to knock Campbell to the ground.

No one moved.

His teeth clenched hard. “
Burn her
?” Feeling dangerous, Ian glared down at Malcolm. The man was truly insane to command such in his hearing. Ian dismounted. Brecken, Dugald, and Quinn landed on the ground behind him.

Samantha was tied to a stake, again, firewood surrounding her, but at least she was still alive.

Malcolm laughed and bowed slightly. “Welcome to Campbell Keep.”

Ian glanced around. Campbell had far more men than he’d anticipated, and unarmed villagers stood about. He did not wish to kill innocents.

“Let the girl go.”

Malcolm stepped back. “Mm. No.”

“Then fight me for her life, and the lives of those who will die if we battle this day.”

Malcolm smiled. “The winner gets the witch? I accept.”

Ian removed his sword. The man truly was insane if he thought he had a chance of winning against him.

Malcolm turned. “Clear the area before the witch. I desire her to see my triumph.”

“But ye said to burn her,” Willie protested.

Ian’s mouth tightened. Before he could say anything, Malcolm turned in a circle his arms outstretched. “Now! I want her to watch.”

Willie grunted in disgust, but everyone shifted back and Ian could see Samantha was tightly bound inside the woodpile, but he couldn’t tell if she’d been hurt. “Are you injured, lass?”

She shook her head. “A little nervous about my location, and stray embers, but otherwise I’m fine. My hands stopped hurting after they went numb, so the quicker you can end this, the better.”

He smiled at her sass. Bowed. “As my lady desires.”

He turned to face Malcolm, who still didn’t have a sword. He narrowed his eyes. “Do ye need me to supply you wi’ a weapon?”

Malcolm, eyes gleaming with passion, a huge smile animating his face, lifted his cupped hand and opened it. A small bit of metal dangled from a fine chain attached to an overlarge ring on his finger. “I already have one.”

Ian stared at the guy. Did the man mean to clutch a bit of metal and fight with his fists? “Truly? You wish to fight me hand to hand?” Not that swordplay against the man would last either, but using fists against this under-trained weakling seemed ridiculous.

Malcolm laughed. He clutched the bit of metal once more and pressed his thumb into his fingers. A brilliant red light shot from the base of his hand, into the dirt, as unnatural as demon fire and twice as sharp.

Ian stilled as the crowd gasped. When the beam landed in the dirt in front of him, he jumped backward and tried to avoid the red line that pooled into a small circle by his feet. The darkening sky emphasized the color of hellfire.

Mad Malcolm laughed long and loud. “And you thought I dinna have a weapon.” He cackled again and danced the beam closer to Ian, forcing his retreat once more.

Disbelieving, Ian looked from the beam spreading into a small circle at his feet to the man holding it and chills broke out on his entire body as fear crawled up his spine. “What wickedness is this?”

Malcolm laughed and when Ian made to walk around the beam, pointed it into the grass in front of him, blocking his progress, then making him back up as he raised the ray to the tips of Ian’s boots.

“’Tis a laser beam. Powerful magic. The male witch learned it from the female. Wi’ this weapon in my arsenal, none can defeat me. Now, hand over the crown that I might take my rightful place among kings.” Malcolm laughed again, while Ian lifted his gaze from the beam to look at Samantha...who tried to stifle laughter?

Ian’s brows drew together. “What magic is this? Are you truly a witch then?”

Samantha shook her head and started laughing out loud.

“Quiet, Witch.” Malcolm bellowed. “Else I’ll burn you wi’ my powerful Laser of Doom.”

She laughed harder, almost choking as her mirth took on a hysterical edge, making Ian want to smile.

Malcolm lifted the laser and pointed it at Samantha, who shrieked—but with merriment if Ian was any judge. “No, Mad Malcolm, stop! Please don’t kill me with the Laser of Doom! Have mercy. I beg you.”

Ian started to relax as Malcolm chuckled, moving the light about her person while she screamed with glee. He knew his woman, and knew she wasn’t in any pain. He did not understand what was happening here, but knew that when he released her, she’d explain. He started toward Malcolm, who turned the laser onto Ian. It did naught more than a sunbeam, but Ian took his cue from his future bride. “Nae, I beg you, dinna do such!”

“Yield.”

Ian advanced as if the difficulty were great. “Oh, the pain of it! Cease, I beg of you.” Within seconds, Ian was upon him, and a hard fist to Malcolm’s face and the man toppled to the ground to land on his back.

Ian wrested the piece of silver from Malcolm’s hand and stared at the small bit of metal before turning to Samantha.

Willie marched toward her with a torch.

“Ian, stop him!”

Ian lifted the laser but it refused to do his bidding. He shook it as he started to sprint, but the old man was too far away, too quick, and there were too many people between them. “Stop him!”

Dugald tackled Willie to the ground and the torch fell. Willie half landed on it and screamed as it burned his face, his hands, as he tried to shove it away while bucking the man off his back. After one last ear-piercing shriek, he grasped the lit end of the torch before finally shoving it away.

Willie looked at his hands in horror. He touched his face and screamed. “It hurts! It hurts!” He stumbled toward the nearby creek, launching himself into it, his screams fading to soft cries.

Ian quickly cut away Samantha’s bindings with his dagger. As soon as she was free, she threw herself at him and he held her close, his eyes closing in relief as he felt her warm and safe in his arms.

Samantha wiggled against him. “Please, just get me out of this woodpile.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Let’s go.” On solid ground once more, Ian hugged Samantha tight to his side. He needed to get her away from there. The crowd could turn on them at any moment, and, while most were unarmed, the MacGregor clan was severely outnumbered.

They walked past Malcolm, who was still out cold, and wished he could have truly fought the man so he could end him for his actions this day.

When two Campbells shuffled toward them, Ian lifted the laser. “Do you wish to tell me how to work this entity?” he whispered.

“Hold it in your fist and push the button on the top.”

The red beam appeared and Ian cleared a path as Campbells backed away.

Another man, battered and bruised, hurried toward them, walking right into the laser. Ian quickly jerked the beam away, not wanting the others to realize it had little effect. He was just about to place himself between the two of them, when Samantha held out her hand.

“Come on, Jerry.”

The man grasped her hand. Ian wanted to break the hold, but settled for leading them to his mount and instructing Brecken to take the man with him.

Ian mounted, hauled Samantha up behind him, and, when she wrapped her arms around him, he finally let himself breathe freely. He gripped her hands where they encircled him. “Thank you for staying alive long enough for me to find you.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed it.

The Laser of Doom had thrown him. Made him question whether she could actually be from the future. But even if everything she’d told him was true, he was keeping her anyway. He would hit her on her weakest flank and make her wish to stay with him. She loved history? Well, from her perspective, no one was more historical than him. She loved to puzzle out the past? He could keep her guessing. Indeed, he would make it his life’s work.

“Wait!” Willie’s voice rang out and Ian turned to see the man stumbling after them. “Wait for me!”