Chapter 11
That brute who wouldn’t listen had made sure that Nancy didn’t receive the grand suite in the dungeons.
The interrogation room had been practically luxurious compared to the cold and drafty cell where she now shivered, not daring to wrap a blanket around herself in case a rat or a spider scuttled out of the pile of moldy fabric.
She wouldn’t even acknowledge the bucket in the corner.
What did Jack mean about that MacLeach person? Is Freya all right? Someone would’ve come already if she were, or maybe they’re still trying to help her?
It had been hours. She had nothing to confirm that, with her bag and phone still in the nursery, but her body knew it: the gnaw of hunger, the parch of thirst, the bone-deep cold that had begun to feel warm, the weight of her eyelids.
And here in the dungeons, distractions were in short supply.
She’d been going through the events over and over, driving herself to the point of madness.
She’d replayed it all, imagining all of the things she could have done to prevent this.
It soothed her temporarily to think that she’d fallen asleep beside the baby, that this was all a dream, and that she had closed the window after showing Freya the sheep and nothing bad had happened.
If they kill me here, do I get an automatic reset in my world?
A dark, grim laugh bubbled up her throat as she pictured herself respawning in the museum in North Carolina like a video game character. If she ever got back to the twenty-first century, it wasn’t a game she would play again, that was for sure.
Just then, the main door to the dungeons shrieked open on its rusty hinges. Nancy jumped up and, with stiff legs, shambled toward the metal bars of her cell.
Let it be some good news about Freya… and maybe something to eat.
She’d never regretted skipping breakfast more than she did that morning.
Her breath lodged in her throat as Hunter’s tall and imposing figure stepped into view, his expression terrifyingly unreadable.
No warm smile to let her know everything was fine, no particularly furious scowl to let her know everything was about to get even more unpleasant, and certainly no hungry gleam in his eyes.
“How is she?” she blurted out as he slotted a key in the door and turned it.
He opened the door wide. “What happened?”
“Didn’t Jack tell you? I explained it to him, but he wasn’t in a listening mood,” she replied hastily. “There was a bee. The window was open, and it came in and… stung your daughter. She had a reaction to it. I helped.”
He came into the cell, his imposing presence in the small space prompting her to press herself against the bars.
“How is she?” she asked urgently. “Please, tell me that she’s all right.”
Hunter slid the key into a fold of his belted plaid and ran a hand through his long, dark hair. He looked tired. Pale.
“She’ll recover,” he replied after a moment, his eyes creasing at the corners as though he were in some pain. “The healer confirmed what ye said about the bee. She says that whatever ye did helped me daughter, and that she wants to meet ye.”
Nancy’s gaze flitted to the open cell door. Did this mean she was allowed to walk through it? Was she free?
“I’d be… um… happy to meet her,” she said, her heart beating a strange rhythm.
She made a move to leave the dank cell, but Hunter moved faster, blocking the doorway with his powerful bulk. His breathing was erratic, his hand gripping the bar that formed the jamb, his eyes suddenly filled with a gleam, not quite hunger but certainly something intense.
“The healer says ye saved her,” he told her thickly. “Said if ye hadnae, me daughter would likely be dead. But what did ye do?”
Nancy hugged herself to fend off the chill, those sweet words echoing in her head over and over. Ye saved her. Ye saved her.
She doubted there were any better words in the English dictionary than that. Still, she’d have preferred to conduct this conversation somewhere warmer.
“The medicine I showed you,” she replied, her teeth chattering. “I used it.”
“The pellets?”
She shook her head. “The long tube thing.”
“How is that medicine? It’s nae a tonic or a tincture or—”
“It just is. It’s strong stuff, from my… from, you know, where I come from,” she replied.
If he asked her to try to explain how it worked or how it was made, she didn’t have the means to do so.
“But how did ye ken it would help?” he pressed.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Because the allergy she has is the same allergy I have. That’s why I carry that medicine with me.”
“Allergy?” His frown deepened, the word clearly meaning nothing to him.
“The reaction to the sting that made her all puffy and red and gave her trouble with her breathing,” she explained.
“And the thing about bee stings is, if you get stung again, the reaction the next time is often worse. So, you should be careful that she doesn’t get too close to one in the future.
Total observation while she’s in a garden or enjoying wildflowers in the summer. ”
It dawned on her that, if she found a way back to her own time, she wouldn’t be the one keeping an eye on Freya.
She’d have to leave instructions or something.
Then again, this healer seemed to know a lot.
Maybe there was a remedy for bee sting allergies at that time that she just didn’t know about.
“I daenae understand why ye let her get stung in the first place,” Hunter said coldly, that pained look scrunching his eyes again.
Nancy puffed out a breath. “You know, you could just say ‘thank you’ and let me thaw myself out in my room. Yes, I could have closed the window, but I didn’t know a bee was going to get in, just as I didn’t know your daughter was allergic until she started having symptoms. It was an accident. They happen.”
She waited for the reprimand, his insistence that she should have been more careful with his daughter, that she was irresponsible, that she was forbidden from watching over Freya again, and a thousand other reasons why this was all her fault. As if she didn’t feel guilty enough already.
So, it surprised her when he expelled a bone-deep sigh and his grip relaxed on the doorway. “I daenae scare easy, lass.”
“I figured,” she replied, confused.
“But when I heard that me daughter was unwell, and I had nay choice but to leave her behind to ride out and fetch the healer meself, I was… terrified,” he continued, his voice softening. “I didnae much like hearin’ that ye’d been brought down here either.”
It wasn’t an apology or a thank you, but it rang with more sincerity than either would have. A man like him, so powerful and formidable, didn’t seem like someone who exposed his vulnerability often.
Freya is his weakness.
Nancy’s heart twinged strangely, a new layer of respect forming. A father who loved his daughter that much was something she couldn’t relate to, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to see more of it in the world. This one and her own.
“You certainly took your time setting me free,” she said with a mild laugh, hoping to lighten the mood a little.
Clearly, if he’d ridden to fetch the healer, he’d had other things on his mind than freeing the potential witch in his dungeons.
He made a gruff sound that might have been a chuckle. “If I’d let ye out without the healer confirmin’ that all was well, they’d have thought me bewitched.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, yes, Jack made it very clear what he thought I was. It’s going to make things very awkward at breakfast tomorrow.”
“He doesnae think it as much now. If he believes ye’re a witch, he’s convinced himself ye’re one of the good ones,” Hunter said, taking a step forward. “I, however, am still nae sure. Ye seem a sorceress to me.”
“And if I had the ability to explain how the medicine works, you’d be so bored you wouldn’t doubt me again,” she replied, her heart leaping.
“It’s nae because of the medicine, lass.” He moved closer still, and she no longer had any desire to back away.
There was nothing in the back of the cell that she wanted to be near, while the warmth of Hunter radiated toward her, calling to her. Her chilled, shaking body would’ve liked nothing more than to nuzzle into the heat of him, stealing it from him. It seemed like the least he could do.
“I’ve told you, I’m just… not from somewhere you know,” she said, holding his gaze and finding that the hungry gleam had returned. Or perhaps it was just her own, reflected in his green eyes.
“And ye travel by tapestry?” he asked with a smirk.
She sighed and closed her eyes, understanding how ridiculous it sounded. Then again, Isla had accepted the story without judgment or ridicule. Thus far, she was the only one who knew the details, but Nancy had a sinking feeling that Hunter just wouldn’t understand.
He was a laird, a warrior, a practical man, whereas she was of the belief that women were just more spiritual, more attuned with cosmic vibrations or… whatever it was that had made a woman’s intuition so powerful.
Or maybe her reluctance to tell him the truth was a simpler fear. Not fear that he wouldn’t understand, but fear that he would.
What would he do if he heard that he was going to die in a month and leave his daughter an orphan? The tapestry existed. That meant the outcome couldn’t be stopped, that it had already happened in her time, so what was the use in telling him?
“I had no idea brutes could be funny,” she teased.
He closed the gap between them, his fingertips coming to rest beneath her chin. “Careful, lass.”
“Or what?” she challenged, her heartbeat quickening. “Will you touch me without permission again?”
Please do.
“I’d say you’re already doing that,” she added breathily.
She was in this man’s dungeon after a pretty frightening morning, so cold that she couldn’t feel her extremities, in a place and time that would undoubtedly get her killed one way or another, wearing a dress of all things. This shouldn’t have been remotely sexy, and yet…
“Careful, lass,” he repeated.