“I am telling you the truth. Come here. Look at this tag and tell me what it says.” He had to believe her. She couldn’t bear the pain and accusation in his eyes.
With a disgusted sigh, he took hold of the tag and scowled at it. The scowl slowly dissolved to dark pensiveness. “Manufactured by Crance and Nolan. Established 2009.”
“2009 was the year Crance and Nolan became a company. I bought this bag the year after they opened. In 2010. At that time, it was the best on the market. I needed it for a trip to Africa.”
He didn’t speak, just slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with her. She sensed his leeriness growing stronger, morphing into complete fear and disbelief. All the emotions played across his face.
“I volunteered abroad for a while. Did medical work to help others. That’s what took me to Africa.” Babbling didn’t help, but she couldn’t stop it. Exhaustion and desperation had shifted her mouth into high gear. She unzipped a pocket, pulled out her phone, and held down the button, praying it would power up. If it didn’t, she could get a full charge one last time with the emergency battery charger stored in another pocket. Bitter satisfaction filled her when the screen lit up. She had a ninety-eight percent charge. Plenty to show Quinn the date and time stamps on the pictures she had taken to send to Maggie and Human Resources. “Here. Below this picture of the tourist sign for the waterfalls. See the date and time?”
He stared at the thing as if it would attack him.
She held her finger down on the photo, and the image came alive. Leaves fluttered in the breeze, and the people moved because she had taken the photograph with the live image option on the camera app.
All color drained from his face. He backed up a step. “So, ye are a witch, then?”
“No.” She swiped through her photos to one taken in front of Finchcrest and held it for him to see. “I am a surgeon at this hospital. Finchcrest. In London. I am lost in time. Trapped in the year 1296, where if I tell the truth, everyone will want to burn me at the stake because what really happened to me is too impossible to understand.” She shoved the phone into his hands and showed him how to move through the photos. “Here. Look. This is the life I left behind. Places. People. Medical notes. All of them time stamped. Dated, so you can see I’m not lying.”
His gaze slowly lifted from the phone and settled on her. He stared at her. His expression blank. Unreadable. The only hint at his thoughts was the muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. After what seemed like forever, he threw the phone back on the bed, stormed out the door, and slammed it shut behind him.
Locks clicked with a heart-stopping clank of doom. Evie sank to the floor. It was all over. She had no doubt that Quinn’s offer of protection had just been rescinded. She was on her own. Again.
Chapter Thirteen
How could itbe true? How could anything she had said be true?
Quinn charged down the steps, trying to outrun the nightmare his new wife had laid at his feet. He halted partway down.His wife.The woman he had offered his protection. He sagged back against the cold hard wall and drew a shaking hand across his eyes. Evie. Not just anywoman.But Evie, the one who already held his heart.
Last night came back to him in a flood of wondrous sensations and fierce emotions. He raked both hands through his hair, fighting against the memories. She had loved him. And he had loved her. Maybe not in words, but with each caress, every intimacy shared, they had melded their bond. Given it strength. God help him, he did love her. Even now. After everything she had said, he still loved her.
He pulled in deep breaths and blew them out as he lowered himself to sit on the steps. He could neither move forward nor go back. Not until he calmed and figured out this impossibility. With arms propped on his knees, he held his head in his hands. The grey stone stairs stared up at him, silent and unhelpful.
The future. The year 2019, no less. Scratching at the stubble of his beard, he concentrated on the facts, remembering every detail. All the way back to the day they met. The tiny torch she controlled with the flick of a finger. The white pebbles that lessened the pain in his head. Her tasty bars of power. Her knowledge. A guilty uneasiness squeezed his chest. She had saved Fern and the wee bairns. Never had she done any harm.
Her inability to tell a convincing lie pushed to the forefront of his turmoil as if pleading her case. He saw through her as easily as looking through water from a Highland spring. Evie couldn’t lie to save her soul. The lass was from the future. Not a witch. Nor one of the Fae. But a woman who had somehow tumbled back through time. The eerie certainty weighed heavy in his gut like a poorly digested meal.
He pushed himself up from the steps and continued downward, at a loss for what to do now. If anyone else ever found out, it would not bode well. They would accuse her of witchery and hunt her down no matter how hard he tried to protect her. As he passed the archway to the second floor, he paused, then backed up a step. Fern. His sister would know what he should do. She had always possessed a quickness for decisions that he envied. He hurried down the corridor and knocked on the door to her suite, hoping that arse, Gilbert, wasn’t about.
Her maid Janet answered, bobbing a quick curtsy and throwing the door open wide when she saw it was him. “My chieftain. Her ladyship will be verra pleased to see ye.”
“She is strong enough for a visit?” He prayed she would be. If not, he would have to sort out this mess himself, and he preferred to do it with the help of Fernie’s level-headed opinion.
“Aye, m’chieftain. I shall let her know ye’re here.” Janet lumbered across the sitting room and slipped inside the bedchamber.
When the door opened again, it was Fern, taking one slow step at a time. “And why are ye not still in bed with yer wife getting her with yer first child?” Even with the dark circles under her eyes, they still sparkled with mischief.
“I need to speak with ye. Badly.”
All mischief left her, replaced with concern. She held out a hand. “Help me to my chair, aye? I’m still fearsome sore.”
“I imagine ye would be,” he said. “She cut ye open like field dressing a deer.”
“Thank ye for the observation, brother.” She shot him a stern look as she settled into her cushions. “Now, what is wrong? I see it in yer face. Have the English gotten to our people?”
He glanced around, noting that Gilbert’s chamber door was closed. “Where is yer husband?”
“Gone to the village. The tanner wished for help with his books.” Fern folded her hands across her middle. “Isla is getting Evalie and Alexander settled for their morning nap.”
“Evalie and Alexander. Proper names.” Although he wasn’t certain she would agree when he told her what he had to say. It was obvious she had named her daughter after Evie.
