“Please. Ooh, please, Lord,” a woman begged, “bring me back to the twenty-first century. I’ll do anything. And please stop that man from chasing me. He scares me–”
Ben came upon her kneeling in front of the memorial. Standing behind her, he could only see her long waves hanging to her waist. In the sun, gold and autumn bronze puddled in soft copper waves. He could see her wrists and hands as she lifted them in prayer. She appeared as delicate as the lilies around her.Someone was chasing her. She was afraid. He took a step a little closer.
He moved his gaze over what he could see of her clothing. Her legs seemed to be bare but for her torn black hose beneath pants that only reached her thighs. She wore odd boots that came to mid-calf and appeared to be made of some sturdy material.
“I don’t know how I got here but I can’t stay here,” she continued to pray. “That man scares me. Don’t let him find me, Lord. I’m afraid that if he does, he’ll–”
She must have sensed him behind her because she stopped praying and turned slowly to look over her shoulder at him.
Ben was prepared to offer her help, but when he looked at her every other thought but one fled from his mind. She was beautiful and…oddly clothed, as if she didn’t come from Colchester. Perhaps even from England. She stood to her feet slowly and turned around to face him fully, confounding him further. She moved with caution, like a feral kitten, ready to flee.
Ben couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was petite, more like a mythical garden creature than a human woman. Her skin was milky white with smudges of dirt on her cheeks and chin. She stared at him with large, pale blue-green eyes that slanted upward at the outer corners like a cat.
“What do you want?” she asked him, ready to spring away.
Ben had the ridiculous urge to smile at her. No. She deserved a scowl for entering his garden uninvited. “This is my garden.”
She eyed him suspiciously then took a step to leave. “Oh, sorry for trespassing. I didn’t mean to--
“Is someone following you?”
She nodded and gave him a desperate look. “He…he put his sword to my throat. I’ve been running for days.” Her belly made a loud sound, and she rubbed her palm across it. “I’m starving, Mister. I’ve been hungry before but not like this.” She lifted the back of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Maybe just a little water?”
He didn’t want to get involved.
“Follow me,” he muttered and began to turn toward the house. He saw her falling from the corner of his eye and reached for her, catching her in the crook of his arm. She felt fragile and weak and he was overcome with the unwanted desire to protect her.
He pulled her a little closer.
“Please,” she whispered weakly. Her eyes were beginning to close. “Don’t hurt me.”
She closed her eyes and her head lolled back over his arm.
“Damnation,” Ben breathed out. Now what was he supposed to do? He lifted her, in both arms, ignoring the pain to cradle her.
“Miss? Miss?” He gave her a little shake but she didn’t respond. He looked toward the house and then hurried to the back door.
“Stephen!” he called out. The steward appeared while Ben carried the woman to the back of the kitchen and the empty cot in the corner, half hidden by pots of herbs and spices, along with sacks of apples. “Bring water,” he told the steward as he set her down and then stood over her. Her fiery hair spread out around her head as if it were the sun behind her.
“Who is she, Sir?”
“Water first,” he ordered, then found a wool blanket and covered her with it. Yes, he thought while Stephen hurried to his task, who was she? She was clothed in nothing his eyes had ever seen before. Who was following her and why? His curiositywas piqued–and nothing had piqued it in so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
He lifted one of the kitchen torches from the sconce on the wall and bent beside the cot. He held the torchlight near her face, over the alluring curves of her jawline and the pert tilt of nose. Studying her made him feel something warm and inviting. Who was chasing her? Why would anyone want to hurt such a fragile being? He’d prefer it if she didn’t die. He wanted her to open her eyes again so he could ask her why she had asked the Lord to bring her to the twenty-first century. No. He didn’t care why. He shouldn't get himself more involved than he already was.
When Stephen returned with the water, he helped Ben sit her up. Ben had to sit at the head of the cot and nestle her head between his chest and his arm to keep her steady while he wet her lips and then her tongue. He told Stephen and his sister, when she joined them, where he’d found her and what she had been doing.
“It doesn’t look like there is much we can do for her,” Prudence said, “Benjamin, I don’t know why you would lay her in our food supply seeing how filthy she is. We should put her out.”
“We’re not putting her out,” Ben rested the woman’s head on the cot and stood up. “I’ll decide what to do with her when she wakes up. For now, Stephen, assign someone to watch over her.”
“Yes, Sir,” the steward said as his lord left the kitchen.
Ben left the house again and surveyed the area around the house and garden for any sign of a man lingering about. After almost an hour he was satisfied there was no man close by who didn’t belong here. He returned to the kitchen and went to the back where she still lay sleeping on the cot. One of the servants, Edith was her name if Ben remembered correctly, was sittingwith her. When she saw him, she leaped back and almost fell over backwards in her chair.
“Oh, Your Grace, I didn’t see you,” she told Ben as he righted her.
“Has she improved at all?”
