Just as they reached the iron-banded door at the top of the stairs, the crying ceased. The ominous silence echoed like a dirge. Tabitha shuddered.
Colin reached around and squeezed her trembling hands. "Don't be afraid, lass. Tis probably naught but the wind whistling through a crack in the stone."
She offered him a tremulous smile, trying not to cower. Easing her even more firmly behind him, he splayed his hand against the door and thrust it open in one decisive motion.
An array of bewildering impressions bombarded Tabitha's fear-numbed senses: a gold crucifix hanging askew on a plastered wall; the muffled coo of a dove; slender candles flickering on a carved altar. Disengaging himself from her grip, Colin drifted forward, drawn inexorably toward that row of flickering beacons in a place where he had expected to find only darkness.
A tranquil hush hung over the chapel. Which only made the shock more keen when something large and squat came charging at Colin out of a shadowy corner, bawling like an enraged heifer.
Caught off guard by the flying tackle, he went sailing backward, striking his head against the wall with a resounding thud. Plaster dust clouded the air. Choking back a scream, Tabitha raced toward the altar. She snatched up a candlestick, determined to bash Colin's assailant over the head with it.
A woman's plaintive wail of dismay froze her fingers around the polished brass.
"Colin! Master Colin, is that you?"
Tabitha slowly turned to find Colin being cradled across the lap of a woman large enough to be a defensive end for the New York Giants. The candlestick slid from her hand to clatter on the plank floor.
"Och, Colin, me puir wee laddie!" the woman crooned. "I've gone and killed you, I have!" Flesh jiggled on her arms as she pressed Colin's face to the spongy mountains of her breasts, rocking him as if he were an infant.
As he struggled his way free to keep from smothering, Tabitha fought a hysterical desire to giggle.
"Auld Nana?" he whispered, blinking up at the woman through dazed eyes. "Is that you, Nana? I thought you were dead."
"And I, you, m' sweet lad," she murmured, stroking his dark curls. " 'Twould seem we were both wrong."
Colin shook his head as if to clear it, then scrambled to his feet. He jerked his tunic straight, his stormy glower warning Tabitha not to laugh. But she was too busy scanning the shadows for the source of that peculiar cooing. Perhaps a dove had flown in through the shattered stained-glass window over the nave.
As Colin helped Nana to her feet, groaning beneath his breath with effort, Tabitha murmured, "Colin?"
"Aye?"
"If Nana's no ghost" – she pointed toward the basket in the corner, her finger trembling – "then neither is she."
Colin gazed at Tabitha for a long moment as if afraid to look at the basket, hope chasing doubt across his face. Nana clasped her beefy hands and stood silently as he took one step toward the corner, then another, his confident gait robbed of its swagger. As he lowered his powerful body to kneel beside the makeshift cradle, an inexpressible tenderness softened his rugged features.
He reached into the basket and lifted the baby girl nestled within as if she were fashioned of spun glass, a treasure beyond price. Dark curls, nearly identical to his own, furred her tiny pink head. She cooed down at him in delight, then burped as if she'd just downed an entire pint of Molson's.
It was in that moment when Colin turned to her with tears of wonder and thanksgiving misting his eyes that Tabitha knew she was lost.
More lost than she'd been when she tumbled into this alien century. More lost than when his lips had tenderly grazed hers for the very first time.
She wanted him to look at her that way as she marched down a flower-strewn aisle to stand at his side. She wanted him to hold her children with the fierce strength in his warrior's hands gentled by love.
She managed to smile at him through her own unshed tears, thrown off balance by the most damning truth of all. She wanted him.
Sir Colin of Ravenshaw, the seventh laird of Castle Raven, marched down the moonlit hill, a conquering hero at last.
Tabitha trailed shyly at his heels with a beaming Nana lumbering behind. The child in his arms had set up a lusty wail, but he simply pressed a kiss to the tip of her adorable little nose, making no attempt to quiet her. The baby puckered her pliant features into a miniature of her brother's habitual scowl. The poor thing probably had gas, Tabitha thought. God only knew what Nana had been feeding her.
As her churlish bellow rolled through their camp, Colin's people came spilling out of their tents and bedrolls, obviously fearing they had been set upon by an entire horde of murderous apparitions. They swarmed around their laird, seeking comfort in his unexpected presence.
Arjon and the blonde emerged from the same rumpled bedroll while Granny Cora limped out with her unlit pipe still clenched between her yellowed teeth. Jenny clung to her mama's shift, her freshly cropped curls tousled by sleep.
"Dear God in heaven! What terrible noise is that?" Magwyn cried, clapping her hands over her ears.
Colin grinned down at his squalling charge. "Is that any way to address your lady? I find her tones to be rather dulcet. I suspect she'll be a fine singer someday." Almost as if responding to her besotted brother's praise, the baby waved her fat little arms and lapsed into a happy chortle.
Tabitha had never been one to "ooh" and "ah" over drooling infants, but even to her skeptical eye, there was something alluring about the child's rebellious curls and petulant rosebud of a mouth.
Iselda pointed a trembling finger at Colin's burden before swooning in Magwyn's arms. Magwyn staggered beneath her bulk.
" 'Tis the ghost!" called out Chauncey, tripping over his overgrown feet. "The ghost from the tower!"
Nana boxed his ears and shoved her way through the mob like a running back plowing through the defensive line. A symphony of grunts and groans marked her progress as she smashed toes and elbowed spleens.
"She's no ghost, you buffoon, and neither am I."
"Auld Nana!" breathed Magwyn. "You're alive."
"No thanks to the likes of you," Nana retorted. "I suppose it never occurred to any of you to trot your lazy arses up the stairs and tell puir Auld Nana the siege was done."
"Now, Nana," Colin said, "if they had, you would have ambushed them just as you did me." He addressed the gaping crowd. "You should have seen her. She came charging out of the darkness, howling like a blood-mad Valkyrie, determined to defend her precious lady to the death. She was magnificent!"
Her pride mollified, Nana tucked her chins and gave his cheek a sound pinch. "Go on with you, sugar-tongued lad."
Tabitha took a step backward, hoping to melt into the crowd and seek the shelter of Colin's pavilion. Her feelings for him were still too new and tender to withstand public scrutiny.
Arjon yawned and ruffled his hair into feathery tufts. "Just how did you come to be prowling around the castle in the dead of night? We've been abed for hours." His companion giggled, her swollen lips suggesting they'd been indulging in more pleasurable pursuits than sleep. Tabitha touched a finger to her own lips, wondering if they looked as thoroughly kissed as they felt.
Depositing the baby in Nana's arms, Colin replied, "It seems there was only one among us bold enough to beard the dreaded Ravenshaw ghost in its lair." Before Tabitha could duck out of his reach, he drew her into the heart of their circle and turned her to face the villagers. " 'Twas Tabitha who dared to mock superstition and enter the castle. Tabitha who braved all manner of fearsome trials" – this with an audible smirk in his voice – "to free your lady and Auld Nana from their tower prison."
"It was nothing," she mumbled.
Colin continued as if she hadn't spoken, fumbling with the hem of his tunic. "In honor of her bravery, I would like to present her with a token of my own heartfelt gratitude."
Tabitha's breath caught on a wheeze, but it was too late to stop him. He was already lowering the amulet over her head. Even in the hazy moonlight, the
emerald shimmered against her breast like the eye of a dragon.
She gazed down at the stone with a mixture of awe and dread. She'd never dreamed Colin's trust would be such a terrible burden. It both bound her to him and gave her the means to abandon him forever. The decision was hers.
Logically, she knew it would be safe to turn in his arms, safe to kiss him without risking some manner of magical calamity. Yet somehow it was more dangerous than ever before. So she stood stiffly – without turning, without touching, without acknowledging the gift of his trust.
"To Tabitha!" shouted Chauncey.
"Aye! To the Lady Tabitha!"
They all took up the joyous cry, startling the baby into a fresh wail. Her voice was nearly drowned out by Colin's rich laughter as he wrapped his arms around Tabitha from behind and hugged her to his heart. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had traveled over seven hundred years from home only to find the place where she had always belonged.
Chapter 16
Castle Raven was open for business. Daybreak found its denizens scurrying in and out of the castle like a colony of industrious ants. With the ghost banished and their tiny lady freed from her tower prison, Colin's people were eager to reclaim both their home and their lives.
When Tabitha had finally drifted into a troubled sleep the night before, Colin had been huddled over the baby's basket, counting each of her even breaths. Tabitha had awakened at dawn to find him sprawled on his stomach on the floor of the tent, sound asleep. After covering him with one of the furs, she'd crept over to take his place, standing guard against the fleeing darkness.
Despite several eager offers, he still refused to relinquish the baby he'd christened Wee Blythe to any of the village women. He insisted on directing most of the repair efforts while carrying the baby in the crook of his arm like a squirming football. He wore Tabitha's wire-framed glasses perched low on his nose and it was the very incongruity that made him so irresistible.
The village women had to settle for fussing over Nana. Accepting that her precious charge was safe at last had done wonders for the old woman's paranoia. The near madness she'd suffered in the tower seemed to be subsiding with encouraging haste, allowing her to accept Granny Cora's offer to share a pipe beneath the refreshing shade of a willow.
Tabitha would have found their joy infectious if her own mood hadn't kept veering between exhilaration and despair. Every time her gaze accidentally brushed Colin's, she feared they would change the course of history by discovering electricity five centuries before Benjamin Franklin. The unspoken promise in his eyes sent heat sizzling through her, melting the core of ice around her heart and sending the runoff to pool in more provocative places.
But when he turned away to shout a fresh order at Ewan or Chauncey, despair gripped her. She knew she owed him the truth. Even if it meant risking the fragile bond that had grown between them. She had to tell him that she didn't belong in his arms, in his life, even in his century. But she no longer knew if she could find the courage to leave him.
And what about her parents? If their plane had gone down over the Bermuda Triangle, her return to the twenty-first century wouldn't bring them back. But if they were alive, her unexplained disappearance would break their hearts. They might live out their lives believing she'd been prey to a kidnapper or serial killer. She squeezed the amulet, almost wishing Colin had tossed the hateful thing down some bottomless well.
"Lady Tabby!" A fair-haired, baby-faced little boy with an irrespressible cowlick poked his head through an arrow loop set high in the castle wall. "Do come, Lady Tabby! Tis wee Lucy who needs rescuin' now."
"I'll be right there, Thomas." Tabitha rushed up the stairs and enhanced her reputation for daring heroics by saving Lucy from a rather fierce-looking mouse who had cornered the baffled kitten on a window ledge.
As she emerged from the castle, crooning to the cat in her arms, Arjon dropped his bundle of singed tapestries to pinch back a sneeze. "Should have left the little monster for rat bait."
"Shame on you, Sir Arjon," she retorted, kissing Lucy's fuzzy head. "It's not very chivalrous to insult a lady."
"I've seen him bed women with longer whiskers," Colin called out from atop a pile of salvaged wood.
The worldly Arjon blushed and the women beating the soot from the heather-stuffed mattresses tittered. Colin winked at Tabitha over the top of her glasses, tilting her world on edge once more.
She absently deposited Lucy in an empty cooking cauldron, oblivious to the wicked arch of Arjon's eyebrows.
"Jenny, you take care up there," Magwyn shouted, distracted from scraping tarnish from a silver candlestick by the sight of her daughter scampering over the tower ramparts like a lithe little monkey.
Jenny just giggled and waved before lurching after the other children. Magwyn shook her head and went back to her chore. "I ought to give the child a sound thrashing, but I can't resist her laughter after all this time. Tis music to my ears."
Tabitha smiled, remembering the first time she had heard Colin laugh aloud.
But then Magwyn glanced back up at the ramparts, and her face went stark white. Tabitha followed her gaze skyward, shading her eyes against the morning sun. Fear plunged through her heart.
Jenny wasn't laughing anymore. She was dangling from an outcropping of stone by her frail fingertips, poised above a sheer drop of seventy feet to the cobblestones below.
Magwyn's scream was the voice of every mother's nightmare. The icy aria seemed to go on and on, freezing everyone in the courtyard with horror.
Everyone but Colin.
Handing the baby off to Nana, he raced for the tower. Tabitha knew he wasn't going to make it. He was a hero, not a superhero. And when he failed, he would blame himself, just as he blamed himself for Regan's suicide.
She could almost hear Jenny's grunt of effort, feel the rough stone scraping the tender skin off her fingers, suffer her burning shame as the little girl wet herself for the first time in years.
As Jenny's left hand lost its grip and clutched desperately at the air, Magwyn's own fists clenched and unclenched as if she didn't know whether to hide her face in her hands or shake her fist at the unforgiving sky.
Colin was just dragging open the outer door to the tower when Jenny fell. Oddly enough, it was Magwyn who went dead silent as Jenny's shrill scream lacerated their ears. Colin turned to watch, his face awash in helplessness and horror, as the child plunged toward the ground, her arms and legs cartwheeling madly.
Tabitha did not remember grabbing the amulet. Could not have pinpointed at what precise second she abandoned her insecurities, overcame her repressions, and wished, harder than she'd ever wished in her entire life.
Jenny's scream dwindled to a delighted, "Aa-a-a-a-h…!" as her fall slowed to a float. She drifted toward the earth, her skirt billowing outward like Mary Poppins's parasol, and landed with feathery grace in Tabitha's outstretched arms. Tabitha buried her face in the child's sweaty throat, cherishing the feel of her solid little body.
The child wiggled out of Tabitha's fierce grip, drawing back to gaze raptly at her face. Her voice, husky from disuse, seemed to echo through the courtyard. " 'Twas a bonny catch, Lady Tabby. Are you a witch?"
Tabitha swept her gaze around the ring of astounded faces. Colin slowly drew off the glasses, staring at her with the same baffled astonishment as the rest of them. She briefly closed her eyes to blot out his face, praying he would understand.
She could not lie to the hopeful child in her arms, nor could she go on lying to Colin. The past had become her present and he had become the only future she could envision. What better time than here and now to embrace the heritage she'd always denied? Here in this enchanted kingdom where knights in shining armor fought to slay the dragons of evil and the most powerful spell of all was true love. Tabitha almost wished her mother was there to witness her proud declaration.
She smiled tenderly at Jenny, but her gaze drifted over the child's head, coming to rest lovingly on Colin's bewildere
d face. "Yes, darling. I'm a witch."
Silence greeted her words. A silence so profound Tabitha could hear the papery rustle of swallow wings in the chapel nave high above, the scrape of a dislodged stone as someone took an involuntary step backward.
Her glasses slipped from Colin's limp fingers. His face went utterly expressionless. The tan bled from his swarthy skin, bleaching it white. It was almost as if her abrupt confession had turned him to a pillar of salt.
Tabitha's second clue that something was wrong came when Magwyn tore Jenny out of her arms. "But, Mama," the little girl wailed. "Falling was fun! Might I do it again?"
"Hush, child," Magwyn said harshly. She backed away from Tabitha, wearing a mask of mingled horror and betrayal.
It didn't take her long to realize Magwyn's reaction mirrored that of the crowd surrounding them. Some were backing away; others were muttering beneath their breaths and tracing crosses on their breasts. She watched in helpless dismay as, one by one, faces that had been beaming at her only minutes before closed in on themselves, becoming the forbidding visages of strangers. Only Arjon's eyes betrayed a flicker of sympathy, which was somehow more damning than the open condemnation of the others.
"Oops," she whispered.
She'd made some colossal social blunders before, but this might even be worse than the time she'd stepped on the First Lady's train at a presidential dinner given in her father's honor. Or the time she'd called the wife of a potential multimillion-dollar client by his mistress's name.
"Burn her!" shouted an old man, waving his palsied fist in the air.
"Aye, she's a confessed witch. We must burn her," Granny Cora echoed sadly.
"I thought you only burned heretics," Tabitha said weakly.
Chauncey, ever helpful, chimed in. "We strangle witches. Then we burn 'em."
The accusing mutters rose to shouts. Tabitha touched a hand to her throat, backing toward Colin without even realizing it. Jenny began to cry, her heartfelt wails only adding to the chaos.