Elise smiled and gave her hand another squeeze before turning to face the fire once more. She had so many questions, so much she needed to know. But as Andrea resumed brushing her hair, the warmth of the fire stole through her, and with it came that heavy lassitude once more.
Before she knew it, sleep dragged her under.
She slept deeply and dreamlessly and woke to a room dappled with sunlight. And in bed. She stared up at the ceiling and rubbed at her eyes. The last memory she had was of sitting in the chair by the fire while Andrea brushed her hair. Had somebody carried her to the bed? And had she been so comatose she hadn’t even noticed?
With an effort, she pushed herself into a sitting position and yawned hugely. Her arms and legs felt heavy with sleep, so she blinked a few times, trying to bring her bleary thoughts into focus. Sunlight spilled around the heavy drapes that covered the windows, showing a fire burning in the hearth and a tray of food sitting on the low table in front of it.
Somebody had been in while she was asleep. Andrea? Someone else? Jamie’s face flashed through her mind. She certainly wouldn’t mindhimcoming into her bedchamber.
She grinned, shaking her head at her wanton thoughts, swung her legs out of bed, and padded over to the breakfast tray. It held a stack of flatbreads, a pot of honey, a crock of butter, cold sausages, and some kind of patty made from greens and other vegetables. There was also a jug of what turned out to be very weak beer.
Elise realized she was famished. Seating herself by the fire, she tucked in, stuffing food into her mouth in a fashion that would have her sister Rose scowling at her in disapproval.
When she was finished, she crossed to the trunk at the bottom of the bed and began tossing clothes out, trying to find something half decent to wear. But there was nothing she liked. It was all stockings, corsets, underskirts, and big, cumbersome dresses. Bloody hell. She really should have insisted to Lir that she go home and pack before she agreed to come here. But that was her problem, wasn’t it? Jumping in before she thought things through. Literally, in this case.
She selected the least horrible set of clothes and began pulling them on. There was no mirror so she couldn’t see what she looked like, but the dark-blue dress fit her reasonably well and the undergarments were warm, dry, and surprisingly comfortable. She found a bone comb on a shelf and hastily pulled it through her hair before tying the pink-tipped strands back into a rough plait.
This done, she crossed to the window, dragged back the drapes, and looked out. A glance at her watch—waterproof thankfully—said it was ten in the morning. Not late for Elise but late for the inhabitants of the keep, if the busyness of the courtyard below was anything to go by.
On the far side of the wide expanse, a white horse was being put through its paces by a groom. A group of women were drawing water from a well in the center of the courtyard, and three men stood by a cart near the gate, examining a broken axle and arguing loudly.
Real fifteenth century life was going on just outside her window. A tingle of…something…went through her. She wasn’t sure whether it was trepidation or excitement. Maybe a bit of both. She was really here. In the fifteenth century. It was insane but she found herself eager to begin experiencing it.
Spinning away from the window, she hurried to the door, yanked it open, and hurried down the corridor, trying to remember the route that Andrea had led her on yesterday. Shecalled out greetings to people as she passed, and they responded with flustered replies and surprised expressions. Finally, she reached the big staircase and hurried down it to the main doors that led outside.
Once there, she stopped. The air was fresh and clean, carrying the salt-tang of the sea and ruffling Elise’s hair and clothes with gentle fingers. She breathed in deeply. She was breathing in the air of fifteenth century Scotland! It was crazy. But crazy was one of her strong points, wasn’t it?
Squaring her shoulders, she strode out into the courtyard, looking around for someone to talk to. She approached the women pulling buckets up from the well, but when they spotted her they straightened, gave her awkward-looking curtsies, and scurried away before she could say a word.
Oh. Okay then.
She turned towards the men putting the white horse through its paces, but as she drew closer to the flashing hooves and rolling, angry eyes of the beast, she thought better of it. She turned towards the gates but the three men who’d been arguing over the broken cart saw her looking in their direction, promptly forgot their disagreement, and hurried off in different directions.
She stopped, putting her hands on her hips. Hmm. Was this how it was going to be? Would nobody talk to her? Was shereallythat scary?
From nearby she heard the clack of wood. Following the sound, she rounded a corner and came upon two youths having a very vigorous swordfight involving what looked suspiciously like broom handles.
Their rough-spun tunics and the straw in their hair suggested they were stable hands, but right now they were both clearly knights of the realm fiercely battling to defend their honor.
One of them, a skinny lad with a shock of blond hair, got in a whack on the other’s thigh and let out a bellow of triumph.
“Ha! Lord Martin wins again! The most fearsome warrior ever to walk the Isles!”
The other lad, shorter and squatter, with a barrel chest and thick arms, scowled at his companion. “That doesnae count! I slipped!”
Martin rolled his eyes. “Why is it that wheneverIscore a point, ye happen to have slipped, Bryn? Fine. Let’s go again.”
They set to with a vengeance, their wooden poles clacking against each other in a blur so fast that Elise could barely track the movements. They moved back and forth, neither able to score a point against the other until Martin made a darting movement to the left, Bryn followed him and overbalanced, and Martin was able to land a blow on the other lad’s backside with a crack loud enough to make Elise wince.
“Do ye yield, oh evil villain?” Martin crowed.
Bryn rubbed his backside and scowled at his friend. “Aye. I yield.”
Elise broke out into a round of applause. “Bravo! That was amazing!”
Both lads spun. When they saw her standing there all the color drained from their faces and they went as pale as beached fish.
“Spellweaver,” Martin stammered. “We…I…we didnae see ye there.”
