Page 18 of Wolf's Keep

“I did not think so. Come, sit. You need have no fear I will hurt you, but I will have answers.” Dropping his arms, he turned away, walking back to his stool by the fire and sat down. After a few indecisive moments, thoughts of defying him on principle flitting across her mind, Erin followed. For all his arrogance, the man had a shrewd intelligence. No wonder the count relied on him for advice.

Sitting on the stool, Erin folded her arms over her chest, facing him across the fire. His lazy amusement at her capitulation served only to poke at her indignation. Her top lip curled in a snarl. She didn’t see she had much of a choice, but she’d keep her distance. Forewarned now, the battle lines were clearly drawn. She’d withstood men like him her entire adult life. She could resist him.

“Where are you from?” he asked, skewering her with that intense stare of his, his gaze flicking to her watch, then back to her face. “Or should I ask…when?”

She gasped. He knew or had at least made an educated guess. No skepticism, no derision. He didn’t eye her with suspicion or make the sign of the cross. He crossed his legs in front of him, hands clasped in his lap, watching her. How could he be so calm when she felt like her entire world had turned on its axis? He either had a brilliant poker face or he had a prior knowledge, an understanding of the forces at work here predating her sudden appearance.

“I thought so,” he said when she didn’t respond. “Tell me how you came by the amulet.”

“Not until you tell me what it is?” she fired back, wrapping herself in the shreds of her bravado.

He shrugged. “It is what brought you here.”

Her eyes widened. Confirmation. The disc had power. “How?”

“Did you not read the inscription?”

“Well, yes, but… Are you suggesting it’s a…magicspell?”

“You tell me. You were the one with it in your possession.”

“It has your family crest on it.”

He tugged on his beard, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Tell me where you found it.”

Erin hesitated. They could dance around each other all day and get nowhere. He wouldn’t simply admit to owning an amulet that could transport a person through time. He already suspected she’d traveled here from another century. Confirming it would change very little.

Taking a deep breath, resisting the urge to squirm on the stool, Erin unfolded her story, outlining her job as an archaeologist, the concept of an excavation site, the location of the dig and her discovery of the gold disc he called an amulet. She made no mention of the underground cell, the skull, the skeleton or his death. Knowledge was power, and she needed that information to tip the scales in her favor.

Finishing her tale, she lapsed into silence. Outside the storm raged, inside the only sound was the crackling of the fireplace. A log shifted, sparks shooting onto the floor, and Erin flinched.

Say something, damn it.

He sat, rubbing his hand over his jaw, tugging at his beard, in no apparent rush to respond. Erin fidgeted. While he appeared the epitome of control, underneath, barely below the surface, lurked something dangerous, ready to burst out at a moment’s notice. Had she told him too much? Tested his receptiveness? She didn’t want to wake the beast. Not if she could help it.

After what seemed like an age, he spoke. “You found the amulet at Langeais Keep?”

She nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Just the amulet?”

She nodded, maintaining eye contact. “So far, but you have to understand the nature of an archaeological dig. These things take time. We sift through dirt and rubble and rocks carefully. Artifacts are often broken, small and scattered. We don’t want to miss anything by rushing.” Kernels of truth made it easier to lie. Had she convinced him? She couldn’t say.

“You mentioned another keep, a newer one.”

She came from a time in his future, but did he realizehow farinto his future? Telling him about the fifteenth-century château at Langeais would certainly put things in perspective for him.

“The original keep, the one from the tenth century… I mean now…” She stopped. This was a lot more nerve-racking than she had expected.

“Go on.”

He asked for it.

“The original keep is nothing but ruins, destroyed in the Hundred Years War, which took place from 1337 to 1453. All that’s left are a few crumbling walls.”

She looked up to see how he had digested this information. He’d not moved a muscle.

“Not long after, King Louis XI built a château, more elaborate, still defensive, but not a simple design like the original keep. It still stands, but it’s nothing more than a sightseeing attraction now. A place for people to visit, to see what an actual castle looks like.”

---