CHAPTER 9
When Malcolm left, Chloe forced herself to eat more of the bread and cheese. She nibbled a piece of dried meat even though her appetite warred with the tangle of knots in her stomach. Her hands trembled as she tried to process the impossible.
The stone had ripped her from everything she knew and tossed her into the fourteenth century with a stranger. A man who had come to her rescue, saving her from Bruce’s vicious attack. She dropped the half-eaten bread as the realization pressed down on her.
Bruce.
Bruce was here, too. He’d followed her through the portal.
Where had he gone? What was to stop him from searching for her?
Worry gnawed at her as she thought about the light of determination in his eyes when he had looked at her and told her it wasn’t over.
She knew what that meant. He would find her and try to take the stone from her no matter what.
The questions churned in her mind, colliding with the overwhelming truth—this was really happening.
Thinking of the stone, she reached into her pocket and brought it out.
It was quiet now, the lines faded once more.
She lifted her other hand and stared at her red, angry palm.
The lines were burned into her flesh, leaving a mark she wasn’t sure would ever go away.
How could something so small and insignificant be so powerful? She didn’t understand it.
And she had spent the majority of her life understanding things—specifically ancient things.
She was a lover of history. Her degree was in ancient history.
She was lucky enough to land the job at the museum in Edinburgh to become their youngest Director of Public Programs. She was proud of that distinction.
The gala she had spent months planning, making sure every detail was perfect, turned out to be a disaster.
She had been so distracted by the disappearance of her twin, she hadn’t thought about the fallout from the invasion during the gala. She sagged against the chair, clutching the stone in one hand and putting her head in her free hand.
Evie’s whereabouts took top of mind. She hadn’t even considered what was going on at the museum. It had never occurred to her she would still have a job after what had happened, though it certainly wasn’t her fault.
And now she was stuck in the fourteenth century. A stranger in a strange land.
But she wasn’t going to let that deter her. She would find a way back to her own time and when she did, she would resume her search for Evie.
A swift knock on the door sounded. She stood and turned toward the door as it pushed open.
A woman with bright green eyes and auburn hair stood on the other side of the threshold.
She gave her a pleasant smile as she bustled into the room, a younger woman on her heels carrying an armload of material.
Chloe pocketed the stone as the two women entered.
“Ah, good to see ye up, lass. How do ye feel?” the woman asked.
“I, ah…” Chloe watched the girl behind her struggling to hold the armload of what appeared to be gowns. She moved toward her, holding out her hands. “Can I help you with that?”
Surprise flickered over the girl’s face, then she glanced up at the woman in front of her. The woman’s dark brows rose.
“Elaine, put the dresses there. I’ll help the lassie.”
The girl scurried to the bed and dumped the material, then did a quick curtsy and hurried out of the room. The lady remained, clasping her hands in front of her and giving Chloe a winsome smile and a good once-over as she took in her appearance.
“She’s a bit shy,” the woman explained. “I’m Lady Fiona Sinclair.”
“Chloe,” was all she managed to say.
Lady Fiona lifted one brow as she regarded her. “Sinclair?”
She stiffened as she stared at the woman, trying to decide if she were friend or foe. “Perhaps.”
Lady Fiona’s smile broadened. “Ye have nothing to fear from us here. After all, we are yer kin.”
Chloe tipped her head to one side as she gazed at the woman. Indeed, she did look much like her own mother who had passed away when she was a teen. But what she didn’t understand was why she thought they were related.
“Perhaps we are distant relations,” Chloe said.
They stared at each other in awkward silence for a long moment. Fiona looked as though she might have something else to say, but then decided against it.
“Well, I ken Malcolm is waiting. Let’s get ye dressed, aye?”
Chloe eyed the pile of material on the bed with apprehension. She wasn’t too keen on getting rid of her modern clothes. At least not yet.
“I’m good, thanks.” She backed away from the bed, edging closer to the fire.
“Och, it isna proper for a young lass such as yerself to be wearing…” She paused as she eyed Chloe’s blue jeans, her fuzzy sweater, and her sock feet. “Well, it’s no proper.”
It was clear to her Fiona didn’t understand her attire and that was fine by Chloe.
She remained rooted in place. Evie used to tell her she was stubborn as the day was long and she was right.
When Chloe made her mind up about something, she rarely changed it.
That was why Bruce’s betrayal had come as such a shock.
She’d made her mind up that he was the one. Turned out, he wasn’t.
“I do appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I’d rather not change, if it’s all the same to you.”
“But—”
“I think she’s dressed just fine.”
It was Malcolm’s voice coming from the doorway. Lady Fiona stepped aside and turned to look at him. He leaned against the door jamb on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest.
Seeing him there Chloe thought it was disarming how handsome he was as he gave her a faint smile behind that full beard.
His long hair was plaited on either side of his head, the braids pushed back behind his ears.
One stray lock fell over his forehead as he peered at her with amusement in those depthless sea-green eyes.
Question and confusion flickered over the lady’s face. “Ye said she needed proper clothing.”
“She doesna wish to change.”
He pushed off the door jamb and stepped into the room with a lazy sort of movement that sent shivers down Chloe’s spine.
“Mayhap merely a cloak for the journey back to Dundale,” he suggested, his gaze never leaving her face.
“As you say.” Lady Fiona motioned toward the pile on the bed. “I’m sure she will find something suitable there.”
Then she excused herself and left the room, leaving the door open. Malcolm made no other move to enter the room. They stood several feet apart, Chloe feeling awkward where she was by the hearth, the warmth of the fire radiating through her.
“I don’t mean to be a problem—” Chloe began.
“Och, dinnae worry, lass.” He waved away the thought as if it meant nothing. “But I need to return to Dundale.” He cut a glance to the pile of clothing on the bed. “There’s a chill to the wind. Ye’ll be wanting a cloak. I’ll wait for ye by the stable with the horses.”
He left. Chloe heaved a sigh, sure she had insulted Lady Fiona and that amused Malcolm.
She walked to the bed and rifled through the clothing until she found what appeared to be a fur-lined cloak with a hood.
She pulled it on over her shoulders to test the size.
It fell to the floor, dragging a bit behind her as if it were too long.
That would have to do. She stuck her feet in her sneakers.
Satisfied, she headed out the door to meet Malcolm.