She wished she was at home. She wished she’d never agreed to take on the Scottish project. That way she could have spent her life hating Gavin and not finding out just how handsome he was, how those smoldering eyes made her tingle deep inside every time he looked at her.
And as for that voice of his…
Just hearing it made her tremble, her mouth becoming dry, the need to swallow uncontrollable. No doubt she looked like a gulping fish whenever he looked at her.
It would have been so much easier to hate him if she hadn’t met him. “Thank you, Tony Carson,” she said bitterly.
The more she thought about it the more she thought they’d conned her. How likely was it that Boris wanted her to run a huge project in Scotland when he wouldn’t even promote her instead of Alan?
What was more likely was what Tony had said. She had a link to the Frazer clan. They hadn’t picked her for her business acumen, nor for having any detailed knowledge of the Middle Ages. No, they’d picked her because she was a Frazer, the last remaining member of that line. They obviously needed Frazer DNA for this for some reason.
The big question was why. What was in it for Tony? It couldn’t just be to prevent the long war from happening. Why would he care about something that took place so long ago? There had to be something in it for him. Was it to do with the knife maybe?
She had no idea and unless she tracked down the key, she would never find out the answer to any of her questions.
The food was cold. Roasted chicken legs sat beside a pile of chopped up turnip and a goblet of wine.
She picked up the wine and tasted it. Sweeter than she was expecting and utterly delicious. It had a hint of summer berries to it and yet there was something darker, almost smoky. She took another sip, wishing she was in some wine bar somewhere. That was where she belonged, not here in the middle of a castle surrounded by nothing much at all apart from misery and death.
Stop it, she told herself.
There was no point giving in to despair. If she did that, she had no hope and she needed hope. She needed to focus. Treat it like a project at work. She had a task to do. What was it?
Her mind moved back to what she was here to achieve. Steal the knife. It had to be done before the peace treaty.
What was it the book had said? The peace negotiation took place on Halloween, 31stOctober. She needed to find out the date she arrived, that would tell her how long she had to get the knife.
What if someone else finds the key in the meantime?
She shook her head. There was nothing she could do about it if they did. She needed to expend her energy on the things she could control.
First things first, get out of the room. Steal the knife. Then find the key. Actually, it didn’t really matter which order she did it in as long as it was all done before Halloween. Then she could go home and put this behind her.
Could she find the key and go back without the knife? Sure she could but then she’d be unemployed. Do this and her entire family history would change. Maybe it would be like the Back to the Future movies. She’d get back to find her house was suddenly a mansion, her parents alive and happy.
She smiled, closing her eyes and picturing it. Somehow Marty McFly kept intruding, telling her to get out of his happy ending and back to her own story.
“No happy ending yet,” she said out loud, picking up a piece of chicken. If she was going to do this, she needed to keep her strength up.
Once she’d finished eating, she opened the bag and pulled out the stunning contents, trying to remember how medieval clothing worked.
There was a beautiful long red dress with gold thread worked into the collar that formed a swirling Celtic pattern that shimmered in the light. Rummaging further, she found a thin chemise, black stockings of wool, and leather shoes with no laces. She could only hope they would fit.
There was a hat with a cord to fix it under her chin. She knew there was a special name for that but she couldn’t remember what it was.
She noticed a distinct lack of underwear so she kept her own on while she changed into the highland clothes.
Sliding up the stockings, she wasn’t sure if they would stay up on their own but they did, the wool clinging tighter to her legs than she was expecting.
The dress fit perfectly. She looked down at herself once it was on, marvelling at how good it looked. All of a sudden she felt more at home and she wished she had a mirror to look into.
She ran her hands down the velvety fabric, straightening it out where the lines weren’t quite right.
The shoes were a looser fit than the stockings but still good enough for the short time she was planning to spend in the past.
With the hat tied upon her head, she felt like quite the medieval noblewoman. She waved her hand in the most regal way she could manage, nodding to an invisible crowd.
“Good morning,” she said, looking down her royal nose at the masses. “I am your lady. Flowers? For me? Thank you. Why yes, I am the greatest noblewoman who ever lived, thank you for saying so.”
