“Tevin?”
“All right.” He pursed his lips.
“And if this man here—”
“His name is Munn. And he’s a brownie,” Tevin said as if she should have known as much.
Perhaps she should have known considering the man had pointed ears like an elf, and wore pointy green boots on oversized feet and a pointed green cap on his head. He reminded her of a court jester she’d seen in one of those popular historical period series DVDs she borrowed from the library.
“Well, if Munn says you should stay away from that Ciaran guy, then you should stay away from him.”
The brownie gave a quick nod. Twirled in a circle and…disappeared.
What the hell? Emily blinked. Shook her head. “Didhejust vanish into thin air?”
“Yep. He does that. He’s a brownie.”
“So you said.” She shuddered. “We need to go home. Can you remember how to get back to the mound where we arrived?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Where’s your shirt?”
“It was too hot to wear it to fight.” He dashed to the foot of the wall and grabbed the polo and his dirty sweatshirt from the ground.
She followed and helped him pull both over his head. “Let’s hurry back to the mound and go home. ’Kay?”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” Isobell said.
Emily spun about. She hadn’t heard the woman approach. Would Isobell try to stop them from leaving?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Back in the bedroom assigned to her, Emily massaged the tense fingers of one hand with those of the other while waiting for a maid to prepare a bath. Isobell had impressed upon her the risk of running off half-cocked alone through unknown terrain with a child who couldn’t possibly remember the way to the faerie knoll. Since no one at the castle would defy an order from their chief and oblige her and Tevin with escort to the mound, Emily had agreed under duress to accept the hospitality of Castle Lachlan for another night’s stay.
“Please,” Isobell said. “Reconsider Gregor’s offer to take you as wife.”
Emily frowned and shook her head. Why didn’t they understand?
“Do you have an intended in your future time?” the other woman pressed.
“Not exactly. I planned to marry Kim in the fall. You might remember him from the inn. He bartended in the lounge. Anyway…” Emily’s voice quivered. “He was diagnosed with brain cancer several months ago, and died.”
Just mentioningitmade her chest constrict with remembered pain.
“I am sorry for your loss, but that leaves you with little reason to reject Gregor’s proposal. Jillian and Stephen, as well as the others, are likely frantic about you and Tevin’s disappearance, however, they are well aware of the fickle nature of the Fae and of theSithichean Sluaigh. They each had similar ordeals years ago. They would wish us andyouto do whatever possible to ensure yours and Tevin’s safety. A marriage with Gregor would help.”
Emily had no response. There had to be another way.
Isobell’s heavy sigh ratcheted up the guilt niggling at Emily.
Even if she could forgive him for shooting at her with an arrow—which she couldn’t—she didn’twantto marry Gregor. It wouldn’t matter if he was the best catch in all of Scotland circa 1521. She didn’t want to marry anyone. Especially someone she’d only recently met. She couldn’t disrespect Kim’s memory. She still loved him. His sudden illness and as sudden death had left a hole in her chest and her heart broken in a zillion tiny pieces. She couldn’t marry someone else. Even if it was only in name.
Besides she wasn’t staying in this time. She and Tevin were going home.
No. They couldn’t make her do something she didn’t want to do.
“Your bath is ready, mistress.”
