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Her intent expression told him that, if nothing else, she really did believe what she was saying.
“All of the people that died.”
“The pestilence?”
“I guess,” she said. “We know it as the Black Plague. It was a pandemic spread by rats on ships.”
“Rats,” he repeated.
“Your war with France—”
“Is over.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. They call it the Hundred Years’ War in my time. It will begin again, and France will win.”
“You cannot know such a thing. How is it possible—”
“Because I am from the future.” She shook her head. “It sounds as crazy coming out of my mouth as it must sound to you. But I’m not nuts, and I’m telling you the truth.”
“Hannah, do you understand this is not possible?”
She was frustrated, though no more so than he. For some reason he wanted to believe her, but this strange fancy of hers could not possibly be true.
“Tristan, or lord whatever, please. Take me to the waterfall yourself. Maybe there will be some way for me to prove this to you. And my sisters—”
“Did they travel through time too?”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I do,” he lied.
“No, you don’t.”
“Come with me to the hall. Eat. We will talk more later. I can send for the—”
“No!” She swallowed. “Sorry, I meant to say, please do not tell anyone else what I’ve told you.”
“As you wish. I will not send for the priest, but my men found you. They saw your . . .” Her clothing. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. “I need to tell them something.”
“Yes, they saw my shorts. They’re called shorts. And a T-shirt. And my Yale hoodie. That’s where I went to graduate school. That is . . . university.”
Tristan nodded. She was right—telling the others was not advisable. Though they were unlikely to believe her, they might decide she was some sort of danger. “We will need to think of another story.” He thought for a moment and then landed upon the perfect solution. “The Swan.”
She would not like it, but it would work.
“We will say you are from The Swan. That you took a dram and found your way to the beach instead of the gatehouse. Throughout the years, many women have come here looking for me. Some, unfortunately, come looking for coin.” He smiled. “And some come for other reasons.”
It was damned inconvenient, being reminded of his previous life.
“It will explain your poor manners,” he added. The furrow in her brow indicated she was not well pleased by that. “A lady would not speak as you do.” His explanation only seemed to make her angrier, so he hurried to finish. “But it will do for the night. And we will talk about your escort later.”
“What,” she asked, clearly agitated, “is The Swan?”
Pleased with the plan and his quick thinking, Tristan smiled. “A stewhouse. Or more precisely, my mother’s stewhouse, when she was alive.”
She clearly had no idea what that meant. Tristan tried again.
“A bordello.”
Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “A brothel? You want me to pose as a whore?”
Tristan had already turned to walk away.
