Read Online Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) by Diane Darcy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diane Darcy
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hours to unearth the Crown of Scotland.
Confused, she glanced around and found herself standing in the middle of a medieval village. Jerry’s jaw slackened, his eyes confused as he gazed from one place to another, taking everything in.
“Jerry? It’s daytime...the huts...their clothing...” Her voice quavered. “How did that happen?”
He finally turned, shrugging helplessly, his eyes wide, his mouth working. He looked more out of his depth than she’d ever seen him.
Eyes on Jerry, on the only person making any kind of sense to her befuddled brain, she shook her head slightly. “What is going on here?”
“I... I really don’t know.” He started backing away, toward a wooded area. “Maybe we should get going. Get back to our cars. You know what, Samantha? You’re absolutely right. You found the crown. I was just a bystander at the event. You figured out where it was, you dug it up, the find is yours.” He backed up a few more steps, away from the village and into the vegetation.
She glanced around. The men wore stockings, tunics, and leather boots. Women and children wore long skirts, sleeveless tunics, and wimples covered the ladies’ hair. All the material appeared to be wool.
She viewed the fifty or so homes, the village. There was a blacksmith shop, and a church, complete with graveyard. Further on, a mill stood at the edge of the houses next to a stream. She looked out into the fields, heavy with crops.
She turned to her left to gawk at the castle, higher up on the hill, surrounded by trees, a ruin no longer.
Then she examined the monument, not ten feet away, smack in the center of the village square, the birds freshly carved, and the ground at the eastern base undisturbed. Just beyond, three men stacked wood on a bare spot on the ground. She tensed. Surely they were kidding about burning her. They only wanted to scare her. Right?
The noise level rose as more and more villagers walked over to see what was happening. Occasional shouts of witch, and sorceress rang out.
Jerry stood just inside the bushes and trees at the edge of the village. Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she stated calmly, “Jerry, please don’t leave me here. At least stay with me as I try and sort this out.”
Another man came forward, an ax over his shoulder. His muscle and bulk were impressive, his feet bare. He headed to join the men splitting wood.
Jerry chuckled nervously as his eyes darted about. He gestured her forward, both hands beckoning as he backed away. “Why don’t you just come with me? Leave the crown. We’ll sort the whole thing out later, all right?”
Samantha studied the two men in front of her, the young man’s eyebrows drawn down, his face set in determination, his arms crossed. The older man stood still, stern-faced, craggy, and unforgiving.
“That’s a good idea.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Sir, if you could just release me, my associate and I will be on our way.”
“The witch is no free to leave.” The old man glared at her. “We’ll no have a witch wandering about the wood cursing our land, livestock, and children.” He jutted his chin at Jerry. “Ye may go. Within the hour, her influence over ye shall be ended. Go in peace and gratitude for this boon, else share her fate.”
Sweat broke out on Samantha’s back and her heart pounded against her breastbone. “What do you mean, share her fate. What fate?”
The old man turned back, his face hard, his wrinkles accentuated by his frown. “Thou shalt no’ suffer a witch to live.”
She swallowed. “Is this some sort of joke because I was trespassing? Because I dug up the crown? I’m not a witch and this isn’t the 14th century.”
His eyes narrowed. “Aye. ’Tis the 13th. And wi’ hair the color of sin, think ye that ye can fool us into believing ye other than a witch? And a gown such as yours serves no purpose but to tempt man into sin. Think ye we do no’ have eyes in our head to see such?” He pointed at
Confused, she glanced around and found herself standing in the middle of a medieval village. Jerry’s jaw slackened, his eyes confused as he gazed from one place to another, taking everything in.
“Jerry? It’s daytime...the huts...their clothing...” Her voice quavered. “How did that happen?”
He finally turned, shrugging helplessly, his eyes wide, his mouth working. He looked more out of his depth than she’d ever seen him.
Eyes on Jerry, on the only person making any kind of sense to her befuddled brain, she shook her head slightly. “What is going on here?”
“I... I really don’t know.” He started backing away, toward a wooded area. “Maybe we should get going. Get back to our cars. You know what, Samantha? You’re absolutely right. You found the crown. I was just a bystander at the event. You figured out where it was, you dug it up, the find is yours.” He backed up a few more steps, away from the village and into the vegetation.
She glanced around. The men wore stockings, tunics, and leather boots. Women and children wore long skirts, sleeveless tunics, and wimples covered the ladies’ hair. All the material appeared to be wool.
She viewed the fifty or so homes, the village. There was a blacksmith shop, and a church, complete with graveyard. Further on, a mill stood at the edge of the houses next to a stream. She looked out into the fields, heavy with crops.
She turned to her left to gawk at the castle, higher up on the hill, surrounded by trees, a ruin no longer.
Then she examined the monument, not ten feet away, smack in the center of the village square, the birds freshly carved, and the ground at the eastern base undisturbed. Just beyond, three men stacked wood on a bare spot on the ground. She tensed. Surely they were kidding about burning her. They only wanted to scare her. Right?
The noise level rose as more and more villagers walked over to see what was happening. Occasional shouts of witch, and sorceress rang out.
Jerry stood just inside the bushes and trees at the edge of the village. Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she stated calmly, “Jerry, please don’t leave me here. At least stay with me as I try and sort this out.”
Another man came forward, an ax over his shoulder. His muscle and bulk were impressive, his feet bare. He headed to join the men splitting wood.
Jerry chuckled nervously as his eyes darted about. He gestured her forward, both hands beckoning as he backed away. “Why don’t you just come with me? Leave the crown. We’ll sort the whole thing out later, all right?”
Samantha studied the two men in front of her, the young man’s eyebrows drawn down, his face set in determination, his arms crossed. The older man stood still, stern-faced, craggy, and unforgiving.
“That’s a good idea.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Sir, if you could just release me, my associate and I will be on our way.”
“The witch is no free to leave.” The old man glared at her. “We’ll no have a witch wandering about the wood cursing our land, livestock, and children.” He jutted his chin at Jerry. “Ye may go. Within the hour, her influence over ye shall be ended. Go in peace and gratitude for this boon, else share her fate.”
Sweat broke out on Samantha’s back and her heart pounded against her breastbone. “What do you mean, share her fate. What fate?”
The old man turned back, his face hard, his wrinkles accentuated by his frown. “Thou shalt no’ suffer a witch to live.”
She swallowed. “Is this some sort of joke because I was trespassing? Because I dug up the crown? I’m not a witch and this isn’t the 14th century.”
His eyes narrowed. “Aye. ’Tis the 13th. And wi’ hair the color of sin, think ye that ye can fool us into believing ye other than a witch? And a gown such as yours serves no purpose but to tempt man into sin. Think ye we do no’ have eyes in our head to see such?” He pointed at
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