Page 69 of Stay with Me

Eric took a step back. “I don’t know where you really came from or what you’re really doing here, but I suggest you return to wherever it is you belong.”

She didn’t flinch. She’d learned never to let a man intimidate her. But this time, his statement rattled her.

With a final glare, Eric spun, retrieved a sack, then strode toward the woodland. Within seconds, he disappeared into the thick depths.

Ralph halted halfway across the butts and stared after the spot as though contemplating summoning the young man back.

Sybil remained where she was, stiff and uncertain. Maybe Eric hadn’t exactly figured out she wasn’t from 1382. But he sensed something. If he could so easily recognize she wasn’t who she claimed to be, how many others would wonder the same? Or perhaps already had?

“How do you fare?” Ralph shifted to assess her.

“I’m fine.”

Was Eric also right that Nicholas would never be able to love another woman besides Jane? Would he always have his former love at the back of his mind when they were together, comparing her and finding her lacking?

Over the past few days of his absence, she’d done little else but think about him, so that her longings for him had only increased to almost unbearable proportions. It was worst when she had nothing to do or when she was lying on her pallet at night.

She missed him and replayed the time she’d had with him, reviewing each detail about him, every nuance, every word. In doing so, she’d only fallen more in love with him. And now she lived for his return, hoping he’d charge through the thick brush, ride right up to her, dismount, then grab her into another one of his kisses that upended her world.

But maybe it was time to push aside her desire for him. Maybe Eric was right, that she wouldn’t be any good for Nicholas. Those thoughts already lingered—that Nicholas would be better off without her. If she left him now, she’d spare him the heartache that would come later if she didn’t live through the entanglement in two eras.

She’d been putting off searching for the holy water as if that could put off the inevitable decision of whether to stay in the past or return to the present. She’d delayed long enough.

“You sure you’re faring well?” Ralph’s gaze turned sharp.

She started toward the livestock pen. “If you can spare the time, I’d like to ride to Canterbury today.”

He hesitated. “It’s best if we stay clear of busy places.”

“I understand.” She didn’t break her stride. “If you feel safer waiting outside the city, I’ll go in by myself.”

“No, you won’t.”

She stopped and fisted a hand to her hip, biting back a retort. What did she expect she could accomplish in Canterbury? She couldn’t just walk up to the doors of St. Sepulchre and demand they give her holy water. She’d likely need to sneak in. But the truth was, if Simon hadn’t been able to wrest control of the well with armed knights at his disposal, how would she be able to succeed by herself?

Would she need to make her presence in the past known to Arthur Creighton and his daughter Marian? Although she hadn’t met Arthur, she’d worked briefly with Marian. Harrison and Ellen had insisted Arthur and Marian had gone in the past. But the newlywed couple hadn’t known Arthur’s fate. Maybe he was dead.

Although Sybil hadn’t wanted to entangle her time in the past with either Arthur or Marian, what if she had no choice? Especially since Harrison had mentioned their ties to the wellspring at St. Sepulchre. Was it possible, once they knew of her circumstances, they would allow her to retrieve the holy water she needed to return to the present?

There was only one way to find out.

“If not Canterbury,” she said to Ralph, “then I’d like to ride to Chesterfield Park.”

He rubbed at his beard, then released a sigh. “We’ll have to stay off the main trails and roads.”

“I’ll follow you.”

The ride took them nearer to Canterbury than she’d been on any other day. And the closer she drew, the stranger she felt—light-headed, dizzy, even tired.

As she clung to the reins and nudged her mount up a short hill, a wave of nausea hit her. She swayed, and the jarring of the horse threw her to one side so that she almost toppled off.

“Hold up,” she called to Ralph, who was several lengths ahead of her. The nausea swelled with a pressure that told her she would be sick to her stomach at any second.

She reined in and scrambled to dismount. She’d been getting better at climbing down from the horse, but this time her haste made her clumsy. Thankfully her feet made it to the ground before she threw up.

When finished, she braced her hands on her thighs, drawing in deep breaths. But the dizziness swirled around her so she would have fallen if not for Ralph already at her side, steadying her.

“You need to sit down and rest.” He spoke as firmly as always, as if she were one of the archers under his command.

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