He hardly heard the guards arrive. They had to knock twice before he acknowledged them. “Guard my mother well,” he said, marching past them and out, heading down to his own rooms.
He opened the door to his bedchamber with the usual key and let himself inside. Then he closed the door, standing back for a moment and contemplating what he was about to do.
What if she was a witch? What if all of this was an elaborate ruse to cast a spell upon him? Was the key about to send him to his doom?
“Only one way to find out,” he said out loud, pushing the key into the lock and turning it a moment later. The clunk of metal shifting told him he was locked in. The key fit. That was something.
Taking a deep breath, he turned it the other way, sliding it free and waiting, listening. What was that on the other side? Was that her voice?
He pulled the door open and was hardly able to believe what was there.
The corridor of the castle had gone. In its place was a small porch like none he’d ever known. It was white, painted wood. At his feet was a rug with the word ‘Welcome,’ stamped into it. In front of him was a second door a mere two feet from where he stood.
He reached out and touched it. It was real.
There were two panes of glass neater than any in the castle, symmetrical squares and clear beyond measure. He could see through them into a hallway beyond though the hall itself was in darkness. She was on the other side somewhere. He could just tell.
He took a step forward and was about to open the door when something stopped him. Turning around, he pulled his bedchamber door closed behind him first, locking it once more with the silver key.
He turned again, facing the door that couldn’t be there. Lifting up one hand, he knocked loudly and waited. Through the glass a light went on bright like the light of the sun. And as he marvelled at that, he saw something much brighter. It was her.
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy had no idea what was waiting for her when she went to answer the door. She hadn’t slept well. She vaguely remembered having had a bad dream but she couldn’t remember anything about it.
Tabby was obviously feeling better. When Daisy woke up a little after six she found her housemate in the kitchen making coffee, humming to herself. “The cold didn’t kill you then?” she asked as she walked in, yawning loudly a second later.
“Definitely on the mend,” Tabby replied. “Coffee?”
“All the caffeine. I feel like I got about ten minutes sleep.”
“Well, you did have quite the journey last night. Middle Ages and back again on a single tank of gas. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t joke about that, please.”
“Sorry.” She poured two mugs of coffee and passed one to Daisy. “How are you feeling? Seriously though.”
“I just want to forget about it all. I never want to hear anything about Jock MacGregor ever again.”
She was just lifting the mug to her lips when she heard a knock on the front door.
“Who’s that?” Tabby asked.
“If only there was some way of finding out.”
“Don’t joke. It’s six in the morning. No one knocks on the door at six in the morning. No one good, anyway.”
“So what? Do we not answer it?”
“I don’t know. What if it’s burglars?”
“Would they knock first?” Daisy put her mug down, turned and headed for the front door. Through the glass she could see nothing. That was weird. Through the kitchen window she’d been able to make out the first light of dawn but through the front door window only darkness.
There was movement. Whoever it was they weren’t outside the main door. They were inside the porch. How had they got in there?
Feeling as if she was about to make a huge mistake, she walked up and slid the bolt back, pulling the door open. “Yes?”
She fell over at the sight before her, stumbling backward, her knees going weak. “It’s you,” she managed to say, as a hand was held out toward her. “What are you doing here?”
