at the idea. Once she learned he was her lord and master, she would not dare lay a hand on him. If his plans for the next several days went aright, he would soon know more of this unusual lass.
Before dawn broke the next morning, Lydia forced herself to stillness so Elise would not wake. She needed to think.
Several times the previous day she had sensed that something was familiar that should not have been. Earlier, she had hoped it was because she had read so much about medieval times.
Now, she knew it was because she had lived it before.
Moaning softly, she curled into a tight ball. Her brain screamed what her mouth could not. “Why! How could this happen? How am I going to stop it? Will I ever go back?” She prayed to her mother and father, both gone two years before in a plane crash. If only she could talk this over with them.
The sound of horses tramping in the bailey drew her to the window. Clutching the neck of her sleeping garment together, she looked out. Rushlights on the outer walls of the keep lit the area below. Riders milled about in helmets and mail. A flash of white to the left caught her eye. Angel. When the
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Sophia Johnson
destrier’s rider looked up at her window, his gold-plated nose guard caught the light, making it gleam like the sun. She felt his hard stare.
Damron had sensed she was there, though he could not see her. Quickly, she stepped back from the window. She heard the clop of many hooves, the creaking of saddles and words softly spoken. Were he and his men continuing their journey to Scotland? She took a deep breath. Hopefully, she would find her way back to her own time and body before they met again.
From this moment on, she must think of herself as Brianna, or everyone would believe her crazed. What year and month were Lord Damron and Lady Brianna wed? She broke out in a cold sweat. Though she had never felt such a strong sexual attraction to any man as she had for him, she couldn’t marry him. How could she commit her heart, her soul to a relationship when she didn’t know whether she would be here for the rest of her life, or be whisked back to the future at any moment?
In times of stress, she often rode before dawn. As the sun crept over the horizon in the early morning hours, it brought peace to her troubled mind. Dressing in deep green, she combed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. Fastening a heavy black mantle about her shoulders, she made her way down to the stable. The stable master came to tend her.
“Please ready Sweetpea. I want to ride before the day begins.
I wish to do so astride.” She prepared herself for his protest.
The man did not seem surprised. He called for an escort and placed a boy’s saddle on Sweetpea. After checking each fitting, he helped her mount. He turned his head when she threw her right leg over the saddle. As she rode through the gateway with four men in front and four behind, she sighed with relief.
Brianna reveled in Sweetpea’s power as she rode through the woods. The wind slipped her hair loose from the ribbon, and her tresses flew around her head as free as the tall grass
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blowing around them. Husky laughter rose from deep in her throat. She urged Sweetpea on until the men trailed behind.
They let her take the lead. It was evident they were used to the way she rode.
The beauty of the morning enthralled her. The sun began to rise over the eastern mountains, and its fiery light turned the tips of the wet leaves and grass to jewels.
A mischievous gust of wind whipped her mantle up from her legs, leaving them bare below her knees. As she drew in a deep breath of pine-scented air, she took pleasure in the feel of the horse and the early dawn. Finally, she realized the sounds of her escorts had diminished. She panicked.
“Oh, damnation. Don’t tell me I’ve lost them again!” she shouted. Again? Her eyes widened at the memory. The sound of hoofbeats thundering ever closer caught her attention. She
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