Accepting any portion of this bizarre business would mean she’d have to accept the whole of it. And there was no way on earth she was accepting the idea that she was sitting in a lumpy bed in medieval Scotland.
She snorted her disbelief, bolstering her confidence, and pushed herself out of bed, pulling the woolen coverlet along with her and wrapping it around her body.
Besides, given time, surely she could come up with some plausible explanation for how she could pass out in one place and wake up somewhere else.
“That could happen.” She again spoke out loud, comforted by the sound of her own voice reflecting off the stone walls. “Easily.” There had to be all sorts of nonmagic and certainly non-Faerie explanations for sucha thing. There’d been an earthquake, she remembered that much. And afterward, Colin must have carried her somewhere, though what had happened to Jonathan Flynn she had no idea at the moment.
That explanation made sense. Sort of.
But wishing something into existence? No. Faerie Magic? No. Time travel?
“Oh, hell no!”
There. She felt better already.
She padded over to the fireplace and turned back to survey the room. First thing she needed to do was get out of here. While this place would certainly pass muster as a first-class reproduction of a medieval bedchamber, outside these four walls she would surely find evidence of where she really was.
Though, if there actually were other people downstairs as Colin had said, she’d really prefer not to be traipsing around in nothing more than a blanket.
A knock on the door caught her off guard. It wasn’t likely Colin would bother to knock. He had, after all, claimed this was his bedroom.
“Bedchamber,” she corrected under her breath, as she went to open the door a crack to peek outside.
“Hi!”
The woman standing in the hallway was stunning. Her long, black hair was pulled back in a tie and hung over her shoulder in a soft, dark swath. She smiled over a huge armful of cloth she carried.
Abby’s first thought centered on hoping that bundle was clothing. Her second hit with a little more shock. Could this possibly be the woman Colin had said he was sending?
“Please don’t even try to tell me you’re Colin’s mother.” She couldn’t be more than mid- to late twenties at most.
The woman laughed as she pushed past Abby and into the room, a hearty, happy sound trailing after her much like the scruffy little dog at her feet.
“No, I’m not Rosalyn. I’m Colin’s sister-in-law, Ellie. And this is Missy.” She pointed to the dog who had already made herself very much at home in front of the fire. “I hope you don’t mind dogs, do you? They’re with me so often, I sometimes forget that some people are bothered by them.”
“No problem.” Abby shook her head, tightening her hold on the coverlet she wore.
“Great!” Ellie smiled and dumped her fluffy load on the bed, busily sorting things out into piles. “When Caden—that’s my husband. He’s Colin’s older brother. Anyway, when he asked me to come up and help get you oriented, I just grabbed up an armload of stuff from a bunch of us. I figured somewhere in the mix, we’d find something to fit you until we can get the sewing ladies to do their thing.”
Abby’s stomach sank at the thought of a whole houseful of people knowing she was hiding out in Colin’s bedroom, sans a single stitch of clothing. Humiliation might have had a chance to really get its claws in if something else hadn’t distracted her.
“Do their thing?” How not medieval was that? “It’s kind of hard to swallow Colin’s line about this being 1306 when your speech patterns sound pretty much like mine. Well, except for the whole southern thing you’ve got going on there.”
Ellie plopped down on the bed next to the piles she’dlaid out. “Texas drawl. I don’t think it ever goes away.” She shook her head, a soft smile curving her lips. “But don’t let that fool you, Abby. It is Abby, right?” When Abby nodded, she continued, “This is most definitely 1306. Believe you me, two years ago when those damn Faeries dropped my butt here in a bolt of their green lightning, I didn’t believe it either, so I completely understand your hesitation. Nevertheless, it’s a fact. You’ve just made yourself a trip to medieval Scotland.”
Abby took a step back, sitting rather suddenly with a definite thud on the stool by the fireplace. Next to her, the little dog readjusted its position, scooting closer to her foot as if to comfort her.
“Okay then, how? How does it all work? Convince me this really happened. I have an open mind. I’m a scientist. An archaeologist. At least, I will be when I finish up my graduate work.” She shook her head, irritated that she couldn’t even rant properly without correcting herself. “But I won’t be easily fooled. I’ve had history classes up the wazoo. If this is truly medieval Scotland, tell me how you communicate with these people. They sure as heck didn’t speak our version of English. Don’t speak. Whatever. How do you explain that one?”
Ellie shrugged one shoulder, lifting what looked like a thin nightgown and shaking it out. “I’m not sure I can. To be honest, Abby, I don’t put much thought into it anymore. It’s all tied up in the Faerie Magic. It brought me here to where I belonged. Because of it, I understand them, they understand me, and I’ve never been happier. So, what say we just let all that go and find something in this mess that fits you so we can take you downstairs and introduce you to the family. How’s that sound?”
It sounded like distraction to Abby, and she wasn’t having any part of it.
“Magic. Faeries are responsible for whisking me through time. You honestly expect me to believe that line of bullcrap?”
Ellie stood and walked over to where Abby sat, holding out the garment in her hand. “I don’t expect anything from you, Abby. You can deal with all of this however you need to. This is fact. Whether you like it or not, there really are Faeries in the world. There really is Magic. Just like in all the stories we heard as little girls. But the thing you need to understand is, it’s not the Fae who are responsible for your being here.Youare responsible for your being here. You obviously have Faerie ancestry, because you wished yourself here and here you are. Now, let’s try this one on you. I think it looks about the right length.”
Thatwishingcrap again.
