Page 71 of Luthias

Emery glanced at the bed, wishing she could climb back into it and hide under that soft, warm blanket. Instead she squared her shoulders, marched over and pulled the big door open, and stepped out of the room.

Two spears crossed in front of her nose, making her freeze in her tracks.

“Fetch the laird,” the man on Emery’s left said to the one on her right, who pulled back his spear and took off down the passage. The one who remained behind shifted to block her path. “Go back inside, Mistress, and rest.”

He sounded just like Luthias, Emery thought, and even looked a little like him with his long red-gold hair. Instead of crystal amethyst his eyes were dark blue, and he was a bit shorter but just as well-built as the laird. On the side of his neck was a dark red splotch that looked like a burn or a birthmark, but otherwise his skin appeared flawless. If she had been in the twenty-first century she would have guessed him to be an actor or model playing a medieval warrior. Yet his tunic, trousers, boots and tartan all looked handmade and period-perfect, which supported her theory.

Wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Tell me something. I’m in Scotland, and the year is thirteen-something, right?” As he nodded she felt a little steadier. Her theory was correct, that was all that mattered. Now she needed to find that sword and jump back to her time. “What’s your name?”

He hesitated before he said, “Ameron MacRoss.”

“Nice to meet you, Ameron.” She would have shaken hands, but he was still holding the spear in his. “I’m Emery. I’d really like to take a look around the castle. Please step out of the way.”

“I cannae, Mistress.” The guard matched her movements as she tried to go around him. “The laird ordered you remain in his chamber.”

“The laird, huh? Sorry, I didn’t hear anything about that.” She took a step back and started to turn toward the room, and then darted in the opposite direction and ran.

Ameron shouted and came after her, so Emery didn’t have time to hide anywhere. She reached a wide set of stairs and hurried down them, passing torches set in heavy wall brackets and more window slits. When she reached the bottom step she saw a big arch and ran through it, only to collide with a huge, scowling man with very odd, jack-o-lantern hair.

“You,” he said.

“Me.” As he lifted his fist as if to punch her, Emery kicked him in the shin as hard as she could. “Hey, don’t hit girls.”

She ducked under his arm as he tried to grab her and took three steps before she bounced off a towering, lanky black-haired guy with snow-white skin.

“Dinnae run, wench.” He caught her arm, but before he could tighten his grip she wriggled free and then stumbled, falling to her knees.

Emery looked up into the very scary face of a man with a horribly bruised eye that looked filled with blood.

“Oh, my god.” She pushed herself to her feet and put a hand on his cheek as she peered at his eye. “What happened? Are you all right?” She turned to see the other men just herding around them, as if nothing was wrong. “Don’t just stand there, he’s hurt. Someone call––oh, no, that’s not an option now––do you have a doctor here?”

“Eh?” the very pale man said as he joined the injured man. “You’ve a wound, Chieftain?”

“No, naught.” The chieftain looked bewildered now as he looked at someone else, and the light showed more of his features.

When Emery brushed her hair back from her eyes she realized he had a port-wine birthmark that completely covered his eye and one-quarter of his face. What really made him appear wounded was her own stupidity, she thought, feeling her stomach sink down to her knees.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see your face clearly, so I thought you were hurt.” As more highlanders surrounded them, she grabbed his hand and murmured, “Listen, I kind of ran away from two guards. Do I get a beating for that?”

“Your guards may.” The birthmarked man gestured for the others to move away, and then Emery saw Luthias approaching them.

“That’s the guy who talked about beating me,” she whispered to her new friend. “Could you not let him do that?”

“He’ll need go through me first, my lady.” He awkwardly patted her shoulder as if to reassure her.

“I’ll take her, Darach.” Luthias inspected her before he said, “Mistress Parker, you should be resting. Permit me escort you back to your chamber.”

“Really? Ameron told me that it was your chamber. Don’t you have any guest rooms around here?” Looking down her nose at a man who stood a foot and a half taller than her required some clever head tilting, but she managed. “I don’t know why this happened, but I’m here, so let’s be friends, okay? Where’s that sword with the magic powers? I’d really like to look at that one again.”

“I told her a wee bit of the legend,” Luthias said to Darach, who sighed.

“Dinnae pay heed to her lies,” the bad hair day guy said as he pushed his way through the other men to join them. He gave Emery a look so full of contempt she expected him to try to punch her again. “’Tis clear she serves the Carack. Give me an hour with her, my lord, and I’ll ferret out why.” As the pale, dark-haired highlander made a rough sound he glared at him. “Think you I shallnae, Taveon? I dinnae care she’s a wench.”

Boy, this guy really had it in for her. Since Emery had always been the smallest one in her grade school classes, however, she’d learned early on how to deal with bullies like him.

“Who are you? The clan’s biggest blockhead?” As the men around them chuckled, she regarded the bully. “Look, I don’t know who the Carack is, but I don’t serve him or anyone.” She leaned closer to Darach to murmur in a loud stage whisper, “Does he know Halloween isn’t for another four months?”