Page 13 of Love Beyond Time
Fear gripped my belly as I faced my mother.
“What is this? Is this some kind of joke, Mom? Have you been down here before?”
“What are you talking about?” She reached forward and grabbed the plaque out of my hands, letting out a low yelp as she looked down at the image.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“Umm . . . this is just a coincidence, darling. No, I haven’t been down here before. I think it’s been a very long time since anyone’s been here. We do have Scottish ancestors, you know? You just look a lot like the woman in the painting.”
She continued to mumble comforting words, but I could see fear spread across her face. I tugged the plaque out of her hands and blew the dust off the top, revealing etchings underneath the painting of my picture.
I didn’t recognize the language, but slowly I began to sound out the words. From the moment I began to utter the strange syllables, I felt the room change.
The fear that had started in my belly moved up until it paralyzed me entirely. Small hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end.
Something pulled me toward the words, forcing me to utter them even as I tried to swallow the sounds coming from my mouth.
As I finished the string of sounds, I felt my body pull apart at the seams, spiraling me into agonizing pain. I cried out at the same time I heard my mother’s horrified scream in front of me.
I dropped to my knees as the room trembled around me. My skin was on fire, and I felt as if someone was stabbing me repeatedly.
“Bri! Bri! Oh my God, Bri!”
I wished I could see my mom. I could hear her terrified screams not far from me, but my vision blurred as pain continued to course through my body.
Just when I thought I could bear no more pain, I heard what I thought was my spine snapping, and I gladly embraced unconsciousness.
Chapter 9
Scotland—1645
Vision slowly made its way back to me as I waited for the blurry images to clear. I reached to grip the edge of the table and struggled to pull myself to my feet. I moved my hands to grip the sides of my head, only briefly registering that my fingers didn’t come away from the table’s surface covered in dust. I could hear the blood pounding in my head, and I couldn’t catch my breath. A voice from behind me started to penetrate my foggy brain.
On unsteady feet I spun toward the doorway, struggling to make out the form standing in front of me. I knew it had to be my mother, but it didn’t look like her. This was a short, plump woman, while my mother was tall and slim.
I closed my eyes briefly and opened them once more, hoping it would help me clear my sight. It did nothing to increase my vision, but I could now make out the woman’s words.
Why is Mom talking like that? I don’t understand what she’s saying. Am I injured? My head certainly feels like it. Did part of the ceiling collapse? What’s happening?Thoughts coursed through my mind as I listened to the woman’s ramblings.
“Oh God! Oh dear, sweet Mother O’ God! The old laird was right. What is old Mary going to do now? And with the lass just hours away from her wedding! Lassies picked a grand time to be messing with magic, they did!”
That’s definitely not Mom. Am I in the hospital or something? Wait! Wedding? What the hell is going on?
I struggled to process my surroundings as I felt the woman’s hands grip my shoulders and shake them.
“Lass! Are ye all right? Old Mary needs ye to speak.”
“Please, stop shaking me! It’s killing my head!” I gasped and reached to grab my head once more, realizing I could finally see the woman clearly. The pain that had nearly ripped me in half only moments ago had slowly eased into a migraine.
“Oh dear heavens, lass! Where’d ye learn to speak in such a manner? Ye must be from far away, dearie. Old Mary’s never heard any such speech in her life.”
I felt the shaking stop and looked into the gray eyes that were studying me fiercely.
“Oh, by the Saints, lass! I never believed his stories, but ye do look remarkably similar; except Lady Blaire would never dress in such inappropriate attire. Why, ye look like the worse kind of tavern wench! I can see the shape of yer legs, lass! Not to mention . . .”
My head was throbbing too incessantly to concentrate. I scanned the room, while silently willing the woman to stop speaking.
I knew I wasn’t in a hospital. The space looked old and somehow familiar. Slowly, I turned my head back to the table I was leaning against now and saw the portrait of myself.
