It was the blond who broke the silence. “Tell us, mistress, what century is it?”
“Look, I don’t have amnesia or anything. Please just give me my things and I ’ll be on my way. ”
Lily silently tried to calm herself with reassurances that, certainly by the end of the day, and with a glass of particularly strong single malt in hand, she would be able to chalk this up to some grand Scottish adventure. And so she filled the unsettling silence with an answer to his question. Anything to get dressed and get out of there.
“The twenty -first. ” She cursed herself the moment she said it, wishing it had sounded more like a proclamation than a question. She was still flustered, though, from the black-haired man’s unwavering stare.
A distant look washed over the blond ’s face. If Lily didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn that it was awe. “ So, I haven ’t been asleep for a hundred years like Rip Van Winkle, have I?” she croaked, trying to break the tension with a weak joke.
Neither of the men in the room got the humor. The black-haired one finally spoke. “No, lass, I don’t know any Winkle. Stop nattering and listen. Were you at the labyrinth?”
“I, well, yes I was. At least that ’s what I think it was. Some sort of old-fashioned garden maze. The walls were high and covered with vines with black berries.” Lily force d her mouth to curl into a weak smile. “Like some sort of grim Halloween version of a holly bush. ” She hoped a dose of feeble humor would normalize the situation. As if she always sat around in a nightie chatting about the local scenery with some menacing warrior and his costumed pal. “Vines with black berries? Aye, lass, it wasn’t holly, ’twas the devil ’s cherries. Those who study such things know it as deadly nightshade. It’s quite rare in Scotland. Any there is would’ve been cultivated by the witches who claim the fruit ground into a paste helps them to fly come Samhain. ” His tone was scientific, and though it was clear he himself didn ’t fancy such notions, it struck Lily as more than a little peculiar that someone could discuss such things with a straight face. “Villagers say it’s the devil himself who goes about tending it in his leisure. ”
Preposterous subject matter aside, Lily was mesmerized by the sound of the man’s voice. If she weren’t so taken aback by his fearsome presence, she imagined she would find it sexy. It was deep, resonant, and she found she listened more to the rhythm of his brogue than to the actual words he was saying.
It took her a moment to register their conversation. Lily responded, “Yes, I think…that’s all very interesting, now if you ’d just help me with my things, I will …”
The blond disregarded her entirely and insisted to the man in the corner, “Be it three hundred years or thirty, Ewen, this makes no sense.”
Ewen raked his hand through his black hair and mused, “Och, it wouldn’t be so easy as that to puzzle through now would it? The stone chart must be part of the key. ”
“Of course!” the blond exclaimed. “It’s to do with planetary alignment, with the stone chart at the heart of the maze representing some specific configuration of the constellations. ”
Lily tried to keep her composure. “ Could you share with the rest of the class please?”
The blond turned to her, appearing almost perplexed that Lily would speak unsolicited, and declared in a peremptory tone, “If you would but please to let us think.”
The black-haired warrior whom Lily now realized was named Ewen looked at her distractedly. “Tell no one what you have just told me.”
“What did I tell … ?”
Ewen didn ’t let her finish. “Hush, lass! The year is 1654. ”
That shut her up. Clearly she was dealing with some very unstable people. The lodgings were on the rugged side and they were wearing some peculiar costumes, but that only further proved that she was dealing with men who had only one foot in reality.
A snippet of Gram’s song popped into her head, and Lily thought of that fey lad who claimed to come from a future grand. The lyrics were simple, but who knew, maybe there were people out there who would actually believe a ballad about time travel when they heard it, and she ’d stumbled into a couple of frustrated historical reenactors hoping to get whisked back for real. Either way, Lily had to figure out how to get out of there.
Looking around the room, she saw no modern appointments, though she figured that much of Europe was charming old estates and stained glass anyway. She knew that unlike Americans, most people in the world didn ’t have forced central air and a television in every room.
The blond leaned toward her and whispered almost frantically, “That maze is a doorway of some kind. I was but fifteen when it took me. ”
He turned to Ewen and continued, “If you do the calculations, it’s clear that the years do not map correctly. The only explanation is that traveling is based on the stars. It would stand to reason that to voyage through time is indeed to voyage through the stars. Oh truly, Lochiel, a fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi! ”
Lily gaped at the dandily dressed man who was now spouting Latin.
He amended, “That is to say in more vulgar terms, you are betwixt a rock and a hard place, my dear foster brother, if you had harbored hopes of returning this anonymous woman to her own place and time. ”
Lily’s nervousness blossomed into full -fledged panic.
“Och, I know the Latin, Robbie. A precipice in front and wolves behind, aye? Don’t be daft. Sometimes you can’t see past the page to the life in front of you. Your Latin is of no use to me. I ’d have action, not adages. ” Ewen paused. “Tell me, did you burn her clothes as I asked?”
Lily screeched, “You did what?” She was now terrified. Neither man seemed to notice her, though. The blond nodded, “My apologies, Ewen, I suppose I can be a bit of a helluo librorum, a true glutton for books am I!”
The laird merely glared .
Robert added hastily, “The sweater and shawl were acceptable. The breeches, though”—he sighed wistfully “those I was forced to surrender to the smithy ’— s fire and a true shame it was. I ’ve never laid eyes on such finely crafted material. Breeches cut for a woman—who would imagine?”
That did it. So these men thought that all women should wear only dresses. Weird historical reenactments are one thing, but burning her Levi 501s was entirely another issue. Adrenalin pumped through her. She tried to appear casual while she searched the room for clothing and an easy exit. She prayed that there were other people in the house and not just these wackos. The nightgown must belong to someone—if there were another woman in the house, Lily thought, she might be sympathetic and offer help.