Page 13 of Promises Made at Midnight
“And who is this vision that you bring before us, Sir Ulrick? I do not believe we have had the pleasure,” Dristan asked, taking a sip of his wine and peering at him over its rim.
“Good day to you, my Lord Dristan and Lady Amiria. May I present Lady Bridgette Harris of…” Ulrick turned to lean down and whisper in her ear. She shivered. “My apologies, but you never answered from whence you hail.”
She smothered a womanly giggle before quietly replying. “Bridgette from Michigan.”
Michigan? Where the bloody hell is Michigan, he pondered, before bringing his attention to the matter at hand. “My liege and my lady… I present to you Lady Bridgette Harris of… Michigan.”
Dristan almost choked on his wine, and he and his wife exchanged a knowing look.
“Where?” Drake demanded, leaning forward in his chair where he sat behind Amiria. “Did he say Michigan? I have never heard of such a place.”
Bertram slapped his forehead. “God’s Wounds… ’tis another one!”
“Mayhap she is acquainted with the ladies Katherine, Jenna, Amy, and Jade,” Taegan proposed, with a grin.
“Does she have a friend?” Cederick called out, before Morgan gave him a shove for being rude.
Dristan held up his hand to halt further conversations running amuck amongst his guardsmen. “Enough,” he ordered, quieting his men before smiling kindly. “Lady Bridgette, may I present my wife Amiria. Please be seated next to her. Turquine, make room for our guest, and you as well Taegan, so that Ulrick may be near his lady.”
“Oh, I’m not his lady,” Bridgette replied warily, looking to those who were staring at her with mixed emotions racing across their visages. “We just met.”
Muttering beneath her breath something about how she did it again, she bobbed a short curtsey. “My thanks, my lord,” Lady Bridgette answered, smiling brightly before she took her seat and began watching the jousting. She was not aware of the undercurrents of disbelief circling around her as Ulrick’s comrades all began to surmise their own opinions.
With a nod from Dristan, who glared at him with a raised brow, he took his place next tohis lady. ’Twas clear she had no idea everyone near her was observing her every move with a fair mix of curiosity beneath lowered eyes, especially him. Completely absorbed in the competition she was viewing, she clapped and cheered those who won a match and flinched when knights lost, especially when some were unseated from their horses. She had not even been aware of clutching his arm in fright when Kenna was called to see to a knight’s injury.
With a halt to the jousting, some of the crowd began to disperse to attend other festivities. Ulrick was about to ask Lady Bridgette if she wished to find her attendants when she stood upright peering into the crowd.
“Oh my God! There’s that lady I was talking to before I passed out at the fountain,” she exclaimed, pointing into the crowd.
Ulrick looked in the direction and also saw the old woman from the well. He rose, too, knocking over his chair, knowing he must needs have speech with her.
“Excuse me, please,” Bridgette began as she started to hurry from the platform. “I’ve got to talk to her.
“My lady, wait…” Ulrick declared, but before he could follow her, Killian gasped. He was one of Amiria’s guardsmen, although he was more of an uncle than just a warrior to protect her.
“Bless my soul! ’Tis yer grandmamma, Amiria,” Killian stated, before snapping his mouth shut.
“Where?” Amiria proclaimed. She must have recognized the woman, since she gave a friendly wave with a smile of happiness radiating across her face. “Now isna this a wonderful gift? I canna believe she has appeared before us after all this time.”
Since the lady’s Scottish brogue became very pronounced, Ulrick assumed Lady Amiria was speaking the truth when she said her dear departed grandmother had appeared as a ghost. Everyone seemed to realize that a specter was amongst them, as some stood in disbelief, whilst others began to make the sign of the cross.
“Go find Bridgette, Ulrick,” Amiria warned, “and quickly. There’s no telling what will happen when she discovers she is no longer in her own time.”
With a sense of urgency, Ulrick caught a brief glimpse of the purple hue of the lady’s gown before taking the steps two at a time in order to pursue her. Only God above knew for sure what he was to do once he caught up with her.
CHAPTER10
Bridgette gathered up a fistful of her dress to try to catch up with the woman outrunning her—an astounding feat for someone her age. She would catch glimpses of the old lady through the crowd, but she continued to remain out of Bridgette’s reach. How did she do that anyway?
Bridgette had a moment of hesitation, knowing she was getting farther and farther away from the jousting field. She should head back to Ulrick, not that he was her keeper or anything. When she realized the woman had disappeared, Bridgette finally took a moment to get a good hard look at her surroundings. She almost fell down right where she was standing, but a smelly pile of manure on the ground warned her of what she might actually plummet into. She closed her eyes and opened them slowly, but there wasn’t any kind of a change to what her vision beheld.
Her hand rose to her throat in shock, while she made every attempt to calm her breathing. Several more gulps of air filled her lungs before she shook her head in denial. It just couldn’t be possible but there it was… a castle and a very large one at that.
She had to be imagining the sight. Bridgette tried closing her eyes again and rubbing them for good measure. She exhaled a shaky breath and slowly opened them once more. Nope… it was a castle, rising majestically a short distance away and sitting on the edge of a cliff. She inhaled again and almost lost it when the salty scent of an ocean breeze came into her nose. The distant sound of waves crashing into the shoreline reached her ears. Certainly, her ears weren’t deceiving her, also.Where the hell am I?she wondered trying to keep what sanity she had left in her poor meager little brain.What happened to the fair in Michigan?
Her world spun around her… or, rather, a world that was clearly not her own. Thatched-roof cottages were everywhere she looked. Serfs went about on whatever business they were attending when not tilling the fields. A man in a blacksmith shop pounded a large hammer on the anvil in front of him before holding up the sword he was working on and plunging it into a bucket of water. She heard the sizzling sound as the metal began to cool. Hawkers called out to come buy whatever products they were selling.
Bridgette continued her assessment of her situation in disbelief. There wasn’t any pavement, or tourists, or any trace of a modern convenience anywhere! No cameras flashing in her face as people came to take her picture, no people chatting on their cellphones, no vendors trying to sell ice cold beverages or junk food, no electricity, and no modern buildings of any kind! Nothing… zip… nada!Dear God! Where the hell am I?
