Page 32 of Love Beyond Time
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They continued to take turns shooting arrows until all that they’d brought stuck out of the target. After the first one, Blaire had hit every single one right in the center.
Eoin had expected her to excel. That’s why he’d asked her to go shooting, so that he could prove Arran’s ridiculous theory wrong. But why did he feel so surprised?
He knew all that Arran had suggested was impossible, but just to humor him, shouldn’t he test her in some other way as well? A fair number of lasses in the Highlands could shoot a bow and arrow decently, and he knew there were always a few people who could succeed at anything at their first try. Perhaps Blaire was one of those naturally gifted people?
As they gathered up their mess and began the half-mile trek back to the castle grounds, Eoin thought of a few questions that he knew would help put his own mind at ease, and hopefully put an end to his brother’s ridiculous notions.
“Blaire, do ye remember the time ye shot me in the arse? Did ye really think it necessary? All I did was tell ye that you could no come down to the village with me and Arran.” He turned to watch her closely, hoping she would correct him. He knew why she’d really shot him. His father had spent what seemed like half a day explaining to him why he was never to speak to a lady in such a hurtful way ever again.
“Nay, Eoin. That isn’t why I shot ye, that day. I shot ye because ye told me I was the ugliest lass that ye’d ever seen, and ye’d rather kiss Griffin’s arse than be married to me someday. It was the summer we walked in on our fathers discussing the betrothal.”
“Aye. That’s right. I do apologize, Blaire. I was young and foolish. At that age, I’d rather have kissed Griffin’s arse than any lass.” He laughed, thinking himself foolish for giving Arran’s notion any thought.
As they reached the castle grounds and Eoin stashed their equipment away, he thought of one last question as Bri turned to make her way up to her room in the castle. “I canna remember which ear it is that yer father canna hear from. Which is it?”
“It’s his right.”
As she turned and walked inside the castle, Eoin felt his heart drop into the deepest depths of his stomach.
He knew it had always been her father’s left ear.
Chapter 20
Was it his right ear or his left? Dammit! I couldn’t remember, and I second-guessed myself a thousand times as I made my way back to my bedchamber. Why did Eoin ask the question in the first place? Was it really that he just couldn’t remember, or did he suspect something?
It had to be the first. What on earth could he suspect? Surely, even if he found my behavior different than Blaire’s, he wouldn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that I was someone else. From everything Mary had told me, I looked exactly like her.
It didn’t matter at this point. If he asked, surely he wouldn’t know whether or not what I told him was true. He wasn’t testing me; although, the way he went on and on about how great Blaire was with a bow and arrow, it did sort of seem that way. Luckily, I’d had a knack for it. Who knew? I’d never been coordinated at anything, and all of a sudden I was an expert archer. The entire situation was just too odd for words, and it made me even more anxious to get back to work in the spell room. I’d spent far too long here, and with each passing day I found myself more reluctant to spend hours searching through spell books. I’d much rather spend my time exploring the castle, visiting with Eoin, or actually cooking with Mary like Eoin thought I was.
And while I missed my mother, homesickness wasn’t setting in like I thought it should have. I loved it here—the lack of cars and modern technology, the way you didn’t hear car horns and sirens every time you stepped outside, the way everything was quieter and, as a result, more simple as well. People had to work so much harder for everything that there was an overwhelming sense of pride and work ethic that just radiated from every person I’d met while here.
I was also beginning to love everyone at the castle: Mary, Eoin, even Kip and Arran, both of whom seemed dead set against getting to know me. It was okay. I still felt more at home here than I did in my newly remodeled former bachelor pad of a home, where I’d spent so many nights alone. It was comforting to know that there were people just down the hall. It somehow made every second feel less lonely.
Yeah, it was definitely time to get back to work in the spell room. As nice as it was to escape reality here for a few weeks, this was not where I was meant to be. If that was the case, I would’ve been born here, hundreds of years ago. I was an unnatural imposter, and it was vital that I find the spell that would get me back home.
Estimating that I still had a couple of hours before everyone gathered for the evening meal, I made my way down into the kitchens to let Mary know where I’d be. Her hands were busy, pulling away at some nameless animal I was certain would be staring up at me from a plate come dinner, and as she nodded in acknowledgement that she’d heard me, I made my way into the secret spell room in the back of the basement.
Walking to the side, I scooted past a pile of books I’d already gone through, which were now serving as a secret hiding nook for my beloved normal clothes. Now an expert at laces, I whipped myself out of the heavy gown I was wearing and quickly slid on my jeans, bra, t-shirt, socks, and tennis shoes, smiling as I instantly felt more like me.
I’d methodically sorted out every book in the spell room and had separated them into piles according to language, age, and probable relevance. I was now on my last pile of books written in English, and I hoped with everything I had that what I needed would be in this pile. If nothing turned up, I was going to be forced to enlist someone who could read Gaelic to help me with the rest of the book. I knew that doing that would significantly increase the risk of Eoin discovering the truth.
I let my head fall loosely toward my chest and rolled it around in both directions, trying to release some tension and get myself into work mode. Crawling onto the old wooden bench that sat in front of the desk, I pulled both of my legs toward me, turning them in so that I sat crisscross on the bench.
The ability to move my legs freely after being trapped under heavy layers of fabric was so refreshing that I found myself sitting in odd positions every time I came down to the spell room to work. Throwing my arms high above me to stretch before reaching for the top book on the large stack, I felt the back of my shirt rise with the movement of my arms, exposing the lower half of my back. It stayed bunched there as I reached for the top book and opened it on the desk, bending to begin my examination of its contents.
I knew Mary would have keeled over at the sight of such skin exposure, but the coolness of the room felt nice on my back, and what did I care anyway?
I was alone in the room; and would be until dinner.
* * *
He was certain she hadn’t seen him peeking out from behind his own door as she exited her own and made her way down into the kitchens. He knew he was making a mistake by following her. What did he expect to find her doing? She was on her way to help Mary in the kitchens; the same as she did everyday around this time.
Still, she’d misspoken about her father’s ear, and it caused a sense of dread and unease to build in his stomach. Eoin couldn’t do anything, or think about anything else, with the last three words she’d said to him churning in his mind.
He knew Arran was wrong. He was married to Blaire, not a different-but-similar-looking lass. But he did now see what Arran had been trying to tell him the other day, something was different about her. She was keeping something from him and everyone else in the castle.
