Page 69 of Beyond Dreams

“But Lucas—” his wife instantly objected, turning her pretty, magnified eyes up to her husband. “She’s from—”

“Aye, and we’ll get to it, love, but nae here. Abovestairs, if ye please. Let us convene in your solar.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” agreed Cora. But first she faced Holly again, taking both her pale hands in her own. With a sympathetic, nearly pained smile, she said quietly. “I’m Cora. I sense you are terribly afraid, but you don’t need to be. You arenotalone, I promise you.”

Holly’s responding gasp, which was actually a cry of heartfelt thankfulness Graeme determined, startled him for all the emotion felt in the sound. With her gasp, her eyes welled with tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, overwrought with emotion that only puzzled Graeme more.

“Everything will be all right,” Cora promised her, taking her by the shoulders, leading her away from Graeme. The other two women flocked around Cora and Holly as they walked across the hall.

Graeme allowed them to move a few steps away from him, but did not allow Lucas the same when the man made to follow his wife. Indifferent to the rudeness he put on display, Graeme caught his host by the shoulder, clutching at the fabric of his tunic, turning his feral gray gaze upon him.

“What goes on here? What is this?” He didn’t even know the proper queries to ask.

Lucas allowed the transgression. “She dinna tell ye?”

Hardly able to conceive that Lucas might be speaking of the most remarkable thing that Holly had told Duncan, which Duncan had subsequently, irritably, shared with him, Graeme growled, “Tell mewhat?”

Lucas laid his hand over Graeme’s, slowly peeling it away from his person. “Come, let’s take this above stairs. This is the new wife of Duncan, I presume.”

“Shewas,” Graeme clipped, “until she revealed she was nae a MacHeth after all, and...some other extraordinary, implausible lies.”

Lucas’ expression, which so rarely softened, did now, filling with so much pity for Graeme’s confusion. “Prepare yourself, my friend. If she is what I ken she is, ’tis all true.”

***

She wasn’t sure ifshock or relief should be the greater emotion she felt now. She allowed Cora to lead her up a wide set of stairs to the second floor, and into a chamber at the end of the hall. Her legs felt as they were filled with concrete, so heavy and cumbersome was her tread, weighted by bewilderment.

The bespectacled young woman, Cora, came off instantly as welcoming and sincere, but she’d learned the hard way to take nothing at face value. She glanced over her shoulder while a crazy upheaval somersaulted in her gut. Graeme had made no secret that he had no use for her, but he was safe and secure, she believed. These people, the women too eager to sweep her up the stairs—Cora inexplicably wearing very modern glasses!—unnerved her to no end. Her panic receded only when she saw the massive, gray-eyed man squeeze Graeme’s shoulder and direct him toward the stairs to follow. Those two other men who’d been inside the hall followed in their wake.

The solar within Newburn was possibly nicer than the one the Doirin and Moire used at Thallane. Holly let her eyes dart all around the room, stunned to find cushioned arm chairs and a long settee, along with several side tables and smaller chairs, most of which appeared at first glance to be more modern than anything she’d seen in this time period. Curtains fluttered in the two long and narrow windows, light and airy cotton ones, fringed with a tasseled trim, more specific to twentieth century than 1303. Only the tapestry carpet seemed to fit with her perception of a contemporary piece.

Cora directed her to one of the large arms chairs and bade her sit, which her limbs advised as a good idea as well. When the chamber filled with all four women and all four men, the door was closed, the sizeable chamber shrinking a bit for being crowded with so many large men.

Cora addressed the other two women, all three standing in front of Holly. “I’m not exactly sure how to begin,” she confessed.

The blonde-haired woman replied immediately. “Let’s start with introductions.” She turned to Holly. “You’ve met Cora. And I am Kayla Forbes,” she said, and pointed to a dark-haired, blue-eyed Josh Duhamel-type who looked about as pleased at Lucas Thain had sounded at whatever the hell was going on. “Kayla MacClellan now. That’s my husband, Michael.” She took the hand of the woman next to her. “This is Gabby—formerly Gabrielle Noble, wed to Aedan and hence a Cameron.” She stared at Holly with great expectation when next she said, “Cora and I were born in New York and Gabby hails from Kansas. Have you...ever heard of those places?”

Holly’s lips trembled again. She began to nod, her head bobbing uncontrollably. She felt all at once vindicated—she wasn’t nuts—and then fleetingly super pissed off, supposing some really horrible prank had just been played on her. Like she’d outwitted, outlasted, and outplayed any other contestants inSurvivor: Middle Ages. But she didn’t care. It was done, obviously. Mind-numbing relief and so many other emotions overwhelmed her so that she dropped her head in her hands and wept, her entire body shivering.

Graeme grumbled something in Scots, which made Holly lift her face, just in time to see the one name Aedan put a hand to Graeme’s chest. “Leave the lasses to it.”

Holly blinked and stared first at Aedan, who pierced her with his emerald eyes before she transferred her gaze to Graeme, who looked very much like Duncan just then for the fierce mien he displayed.

Taking a deep breath, she faced the three young women again, just now amid all these shocks realizing they spoke perfect American English as she did, though Gabby’s was tinted with the slightest midwestern accent.

She tried to process what was happening, with what little they’d told her.

“So...this is just all...fake? Like a game or something?” She’d be writing a strongly worded letter to the creator of this bullshit.

Cora’s shoulders sank. “See?” She said to her two friends. “That why I think we shouldn’t play coy. Just lay it out for her.” She slapped the backs of her fingers of one hand against the palm of her other hand, once each for each subsequent and fantastic statement she made. “Yes, it’s 1303. Yes, time-travel is real. Yes, we know what you’re going through. No, there is no cure.”

Gabby, with her gorgeous ebony hair and clear blue eyes, swallowed and said, “I guess you just have, Cora.” She winced, examining Holly’s reaction, only more confusion.

Kayla went to her knees before Holly, laying her hand consolingly on her leg. “I know it’s a lot. We’ve all been there. We, too, were moved through time. It’s incredible. It’s hard to believe, but it is real. We know very little about the how of it, or even the why. But we’re actually here right now—we’ve come together—hoping to summon the wi—women who brought us here.”

“Sidheag?” Holly wondered.

“Oh, gosh,” whined Cora. “There’s another one? Wait until I see that Samara!” She turned to her very invincible looking husband, planting her hands on her hips. “Lucas, seriously. Something needs to be done about these witches. They’re getting out of hand.”

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