Page 54 of So Close To Heaven
Ivy drew in a deep breath and then exhaled. “It’s the end of August,” Ivy said gently. “The year is thirteen hundred and five.”
A silence followed, stretching long and thin, though there was nothing silent about Claire’s face. First came a sharp blink, her brows knitting as if she hadn’t heard correctly. Then her mouth opened slightly, only to press shut again, the muscle in her jaw twitching. Her eyes flicked away, darting toward the stone wall, then back to Ivy, gray irises widening with disbelief before narrowing, sharp with suspicion. For a heartbeat, Ivy thought she might laugh—her lips even curved that way—but instead the sound that escaped was closer to a scoff, brittle with rising panic.
“I know it’s sounds—” Ivy started.
“That isn’t possible,” Claire finally said. Not angry—just bone-weary certainty.
“I know,” Ivy consoled. “I know exactly how it feels to hear that and believe—knowin your heart—that it’s not possible.”
“Because itisnot,” Claire insisted. “What are you—why would you say that?” Her face pinched, disappointment shadowing her features, as if the small trust she’d begun to place in Ivy had been carelessly broken.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy moaned. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she rushed out. “I didn’t want you to find out like I did—unexpectedly, on the back of a horse. I passed out. I couldn’t handle it.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, sharp with challenge. “You’re suggesting I traveled through time.”
“Yes. Just as I did.”
“Obviously, that’s not possible.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so either—until three weeks ago.”
“So you’ve been trapped... here? In another century for three weeks?”
“Yes.”
Anger finally surfaced, roughening her voice. “Okay, no. This isn’t funny. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but—”
“I’m not making it up—oh, how I wish it weren’t true either.” Ivy lifted her hands, voice careful. “I was hoping to break it gently—”
“Stop.” The woman’s eyes shone, not just with disbelief but betrayal. “It’s ridiculous. Where is my phone? I had it with me when I was separated from my husband. I want it. I need to—”
“Claire, first I swear to you, you had no phone on you,” Ivy assured her. She shrugged helplessly, so very sorry for the distress she’d caused. Her tone was a mix of contrition and pity when she said, “And, you simply can’t use a twenty-first century phone in the fourteenth century.”
“Stop,” Claire pleaded, agitated.
Ivy’s shoulders sagged. She nodded slowly. “I know how it sounds. I know it’s—”
Claire lurched back a step, palms lifting as though to ward her off. “Enough.” The word cut sharp, her voice turned brittle and acidic. “Thanks, but I think I’ve heard plenty.”
She stumbled as she pivoted, muttering a curse, then gathered up the hem of the borrowed gown. Without another glance at Ivy, she fled, the fabric snapping around her legs as she half-ran, half-stumbled across the yard.
Ivy sighed, knowing she would have to try again, either later today or tomorrow.
***
Claire didn’t speak to her for two days. Ivy’s heart broke a little with the silence, but she understood. If their positions were reversed, she wasn’t sure she’d be speaking either.
Still, she made certain Claire was well looked after. For herself, Ivy might never have been bold enough to insert herself into the running of a medieval household; left to her own devices, she would have lingered on the edges, trying not to offend, forever second-guessing what was expected or permitted of her. But it turned out she found it far easier to step forward on behalf of someone else. For Claire’s sake, she crossed thresholds she would have never even tiptoed past. She went down into the kitchens, introduced herself to the women bustling there—a few she already knew or recognized—and after the first few nervous times, found them welcoming enough. She asked that meals continue to be carried up, lighter fare at first, so Claire wouldn’t be forced to venture outside her room before she was ready.
She also took precautions. It felt uncomfortably like imprisoning Claire at Caeravorn, but Ivy remembered Alaric’s strict instructions before he left. The countryside was not safe. So she sought out Kendrick and Ewan, asking them to keep a discreet eye out. If Claire wandered too near the gates, they were to—gently—steer her back. And if things grew heated, they were to summon Ivy at once.
And while she waited for Claire to come to terms with her present reality—as much as she was able—most of Ivy’s waking thoughts were miles away—marching with Alaric and his men. She saw him in every still moment: a shadow across her mind as she worried over Claire, as she ate, as she lay sleepless in bed. Again and again she returned to that kiss.
It had startled her, shaken her, undone her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. She’d never experienced anything soconsuming—not with David, not with anyone. His mouth had taken hers with raw certainty, fierce and tender all at once, and she’d felt herself unravel under the weight of it. It had been less like being kissed and more like being claimed. It had felt as if all the scattered pieces of her had suddenly fallen into place. Nothing before had ever felt half as right.
And yet, he was out there now—somewhere—sword in hand, risking everything for Scotland’s freedom.
For hours, her imagination tormented her with grim possibilities: an arrow finding its mark, a blade slipping past his guard, the sound of his voice silenced forever. Fear churned in her stomach until she could hardly eat.
