She Owns the Knight (9 page)

Wearing a dress, and moving across the harsh terrain, it took Gillian about thirty minutes to go through the village, past the cemetery, up the rise, and over the field to the rock formations.

Breathing hard as she neared them, fear constricted her chest. Because the closer she got, the more convinced she became that they were
the same group of rocks.

The gray stone, interspersed with green and black markings, the different shapes of the boulders, the way they were positioned, all looked remarkably familiar.

Chills climbed the middle of her back, spread across her body, and had the hair on her arms standing on end. The rock she’d climbed before had vaguely resembled a mushroom,
and there it was.
Even from the ground she could see the dip in the front that looked suspiciously like the depression she’d been sitting in.

Could a rock remain unchanged over a period of seven hundred years? Was that even possible?

Gillian took off her backpack, retrieved the camera, and scrolled through the pictures until she found the rock. She skirted the boulder until she found the exact location from which she’d snapped the shot.

Shivers raced up her spine as she compared the past and the present. Unless they had lookalike rocks strewn across England, then yes, this had to be the same rock. The shallow depression was there, even the ledge on which she’d set her pencils was right where it was supposed to be. She could even see the other rock formations in the background, both in the photo and in the present.

Could this really be happening?

Encumbered by her dress, she bunched the material in one fist, climbed the backside of the rock, and lowered herself into the hollow.

Sitting in the exact indentation she’d occupied earlier, she looked toward the castle, took a few deep breaths to stave off dizziness, and scrolled through the pictures on her camera.

Looking between the castle ruin on her camera, and the now pristine version of the castle with the village set out in front of it, Gillian’s breath caught. The same arch, towers, arrow slits, everything. Even the graveyard was in the correct location. There could be no doubt.

Gillian felt the blood drain from her face and a whirling sensation had her dropping the camera in her lap and clutching at the rock as she took a few deep breaths, trying to get enough air into her lungs.

This was unbelievable. How could this have happened? Why would this have happened? Somehow, she’d actually traveled through time? Had she stumbled through a wormhole without noticing? Or been snatched up by the hand of God and moved to prevent her murder by those boys?

Did things like that happen?

Gillian rubbed her fingers against the scratchy surface of the rock, making sure it was really there. That
she
was really there.

She wasn’t unconscious or dreaming and this wasn’t some sort of elaborate set-up to trick her.

Unsurprised, she watched as Lord Kellen Marshall crossed the field on horseback, a few of his men following. She stuffed her camera into her pack, closed it, and waited.

He was without helmet or shield, and his black hair gleamed with shots of mahogany and gold in the sunlight, his tanned face hard and unyielding. He still wore chain, armor, and sword, and his loose tunic sported a coat of arms in red and green, depicting a black bird of prey, claws extended.

As she was feeling slightly hunted at the moment, his crest seemed appropriate.

His men stopped, but Kellen, eyes intelligent, perceptive, and without an ounce of guile, maneuvered his horse around the rock, never taking his gaze from hers.

Her own gaze dropped when he moved behind her, until finally he finished rounding the rock and stopped in front of her. He instructed one of his men to search the other rocks.

“What do you do here?”

Slowly she raised her head and met his dark gaze again. She shivered. A real, live, medieval warrior, and he was looking at her as if he owned her, as if she were his possession. His amber eyes took in every part of her, making the blood rush back into her face. A medieval warrior who believed she belonged to him and who believed he had the right to establish and then claim her virginity.

Gillian swallowed, then pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. Breathless, and still even a bit dizzy, she thought it was a good thing she was sitting. She tried a smile. “Sightseeing?”

He didn’t smile in return. “Sightseeing?”

Gillian nodded. “Yes. I enjoy sightseeing. I saw these rocks from the top of the castle and wanted a closer look.”

Kellen glanced around. “You were not meeting with anyone in this place?”

Her brows rose. Was that why he’d rounded the rock? Why his man was, even now, searching around the others? Was he looking for someone? “No. How could I? I don’t know anyone here.”

Kellen nodded again, then maneuvered his horse closer and held out a hand. “Might I assist you back to the keep?”

Looking at the large, calloused hand, Gillian thought about going with him, thought about sitting on his lap again, with his warmth and solid muscle at her back. She remembered the way his arms had held her tight and how she’d melted into him, trying to absorb his strength.

A part of her wanted to fall into those arms again for comfort, but now that she knew he was real, she was pretty sure it wasn’t such a good idea. He either wanted to marry her or kill her. Since he wasn’t joking about either option, she could really use a bit of time to adjust.

Especially since, if and when he found out she wasn’t Edith Corbett, he might take option number two and hang her as a spy.

She smiled weakly at him. “How about a walk?”

Gillian watched with relief as Kellen gave a brief nod and dismounted. He threw the reins of his horse to a grinning knight, crossed the distance quickly, and held out his arms.

Gillian hesitated. She realized she’d either have to accept his help or turn around and scoot down with her butt in the air. She looked into Kellen’s upturned face, to the four knights at his back, all grinning now, and realized that was
not
going to happen.

She moved to the edge, took a breath, and fell into Kellen’s outstretched arms. Her hands landed on his shoulders and he caught her under her arms and lifted. She could feel the hardness of chain mail and bunching muscles as he easily hoisted her up and around, then slowly lowered her to the ground. She couldn’t help the way her heart thumped at this effortless show of strength.

The romantic dress she wore, her hands slipping to his chest, the predatory way he looked at her, all combined to make her knees weak. The attraction she felt was stronger than ever and left her breathless.

Realizing her feet were on the ground, that she still gripped him and stared into his eyes like an enraptured groupie, she dropped her hands and turned away. She needed to think, and it was better if she didn’t touch him while she did so.

She cleared her throat. “Shall we go?” Her voice was breathless and, embarrassed, she didn’t wait for an answer.

Keeping her distance, she skirted the men and their horses, then started toward the small village. Kellen fell into step, his long stride enabling him to take one step for every two of hers, his chain mail making a soft clinking sound as they walked. His men fell back, leaving them a bit of privacy, and out of the corner of her eye, Gillian could see Kellen studying her. When she glanced up, the possessive look in his eyes startled her and she quickly dropped her gaze.

And why wouldn’t he look at her that way? He thought he owned her, body and soul. He believed them to be engaged. Betrothed. Whatever. She shivered. She was going to be in deep trouble when the truth came out.

She remembered the hard look in his eyes earlier when he’d threatened to hang her. Would he actually kill her if he knew she wasn’t really his fiancé? She swallowed. Maybe not. Probably not. Did they even hang women? She didn’t know for sure, but this was a harsh time and he was a harsh man.

So the bottom line was, if she didn’t want to die, or end up cleaning medieval bathrooms or something, she was going to be Edith Corbett until she figured out what was going on and found a way back to her own time. And she would find a way. If she could get here, surely she could get back again.

Gillian thought about the physical exam she’d been subjected to and her cheeks heated. What if she hadn’t been a virgin? What if she’d given in to Ryan’s overtures as she’d considered? Would they have thrown her out and pulled up the drawbridge? Poor Edith. What a time to live.

Gillian considered the fact that Edith’s last name was the same as her own. A relative? One of the ancestors she’d come to England to find? She had no way of knowing, but found it funny and stifled a laugh. She’d meant to find their headstones, not meet them in person.

“What amuses you?”

Gillian lifted a shoulder. “Life is just funny sometimes, you know?”

“How so?”

She decided to be as honest as possible. She had no way of knowing anything about Edith, anyway, so couldn’t answer as she would. “One minute I’m alone, and the next,” she shrugged, “on the verge of being married.”

Which reminded her. Earlier, he’d said her arrival was sooner than expected. That meant the wedding party hadn’t arrived and she wondered how long she had. “Let’s talk about the wedding,” she said brightly. “When is it to be, exactly?”

“You were supposed to arrive five weeks hence.” Kellen’s face was unreadable as he glanced her way. “Why are you early?”

“Why do you think I’m early?” she hedged.

“Your father fears my anger. That you wear his ring bespeaks a message from him. If your father has sent such, state it now.”

Gillian sighed. “All right. I’ll bite. Why would my father be afraid of you?”

“Your sister tried to poison me before dying herself, marking her death suspicious. He fears my anger.” He sounded as if he’d hated his wife and she’d obviously despised him.

“You didn’t kill her, did you?” Remembering the way he’d threatened to hang her, Gillian was only half-joking.

“Nay!” Kellen turned her toward him, his expression affronted. “Have you heard such?”

Gillian swallowed. “No.” Kellen’s hands were warm on her shoulders. “I . . . just the way you worded it. It made me wonder. So, she killed herself?”

He nodded once. “In trying to poison me, she mischanced to poison herself, though rumors spread that suicide was her goal.”

Good grief. And this psycho was supposed to be Edith’s sister? And he wanted to marry
her?
How very awkward. Gillian lifted her face to the sunlight. “It certainly is a nice day, isn’t it?”

Kellen grunted, and she supposed that was all the response her change of subject deserved. Gillian turned away and they started walking again. So, perhaps she had as long as five weeks before the bride and her parents showed. “Why do you want to marry me, anyway?”

“You bring more land and—”

“What!” Instant anger fired Gillian’s temper. She stopped and turned toward him again, glaring into his face. “Oh that’s nice. Really nice.” Gillian threw up her arms. “First my loser boyfriend turns out to be a user and now you only want what you can get from me. Don’t men think women have feelings?”

Kellen looked surprised. “It is the way of things.”

Looking into his confused face, she sighed, the anger draining away as suddenly as it flashed to life. They weren’t really engaged, anyway, so what did it matter? She turned to walk again.

“Well, at least you aren’t making any bones about it. At least you aren’t sly. But why is it men only want me for what I can give them? Why can’t someone just want me because they like me? Why can’t someone just be attracted to me in the normal
boy meets girl, likes girl, and wants to marry girl
sort of way?”

Kellen laughed. “I know naught of this boy . . . friend, but I must disabuse you of the notion that money and lands are the only reason I wish to marry you.”

Gillian stopped, her face turning upward.

“I also want an heir.” Kellen looked at her, a masculine smile spreading across his face. “And I plan to be very diligent in the endeavor. It will be my first priority. I look forward to the task and plan to spend much time in the pursuit.”

Gillian didn’t say anything for a moment as she stared into his eyes. Slowly she smiled, then laughed. Which, in turn, surprised a pleased expression from Kellen, which made her laugh all the more.

Strangely enough, the thought that he might want her for her body didn’t offend nearly as much as him wanting her for financial gain. Kellen smiled, looking at her as if she were some sort of temptress. She liked it, and said, “Okay, then. It’s good that we understand each other.”

She started forward again and they soon reached the outskirts of the village. She was accepting this, wasn’t she? Somehow she’d been hurled through time and into the past. This
was
the castle she’d been sketching, and this knight
was
born in the thirteenth century. She’d time traveled, and was now engaged to a gorgeous guy who’d rescued her and looked at her like she was dessert. Not a bad setup.

Granted, his real fiancé was scheduled to arrive in five weeks, and when she did, Gillian would be exposed as an imposter and put to death, but why dwell on the negatives? Hopefully Gillian would be long gone by then.