Free Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) by Diane Darcy

would wear a gown that reveals her enticements.”
    Enticements? She finally noted the other ladies in the crowd wore loose fitting clothes. Who were these people? Religious fanatics? She could literally feel herself sweating with fear. “I didn’t choose this dress. It was selected for me, just like the hair color. I may have come here without an invitation,” she thought that sounded better than trespassing and theft. “But I’m innocent of consorting with Satan, I can tell you that for certain. Now, again, I have to ask, who is in charge here?”
    “The MacGregor is in charge, but we dinna wish to disturb him over such a small matter.”
    She let out a breath. The MacGregor. Okay. Good. Someone else in charge was wonderful news. Hopefully the man had a little more sense. “My life is not a small matter to me. And you don’t know for sure how the laird will feel about your accosting me. You could get in big trouble for something like this. Big trouble.” She stressed.
    “Laird MacGregor is like to be hard wi’ ye.” The thin, anxious man spoke up. “He isna a merciful man. He’ll likely be glad to see you burnt so as to keep ye from causing trouble to the land. Better that we should just end yer existence quickly and mercifully.”
    She wracked her brain to try and remember what, if anything, she knew about the current Laird MacGregor, but came up blank. As usual, she’d been much more interested in the past than in the present. But what she did clearly hear was that they didn’t want Laird MacGregor finding out they were about to commit murder. Even if the anxious man was right, and it was jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire—in this case literally—what did she care? Either way she was cooked. This way gave her more time to figure something out.
    “Bring her,” the old guy stated, his tone implacable.
    “Wait. Wait a minute,” she shrieked as she was manhandled forward again. “Get Laird MacGregor!”
    The man at her back stopped again. “Willie, mayhap we should—”
    “Listen not to the trickery of witches.”
    “Willie, sir.” Samantha made her voice as placating as possible. “If you could please just—”
    “Silence. Bring her.”
    As if to make up for his doubt, the man at her back shoved her past the monument to Ian MacGregor's mother. She could see the birds carved into the side of the rock, clear, deep, and fresh. She could see the base at the east side with very little grass, the dirt undisturbed.
    Fear and begging for her life had kept her from analyzing the 13th century comment, but really, what was going on here?
    She looked up the road to see the castle, what she could spot of it anyway, hidden by trees the way it was. The glimpse didn’t tell her much.
    She quickly considered the facts as she knew them.
    First, she’d found the crown. Second, she’d fought with Jerry. Third, Jerry had placed the crown on his head. Fourth, night had turned into day. Fifth, the monument was different, newer. Sixth, the same monument was now in the middle of a medieval village. She knew for a fact that there hadn’t been a village here before. Not for centuries, anyway. And seventh, she was about to be burned alive if she didn’t think her way out of this.
    She analyzed the area. It looked authentic. It smelled authentic. So, she was in the same location, different time of day, and, from the looks of the crops and vegetation, a different time of year.
    If she didn’t know better, she’d think she and Jerry had time traveled to the past.
    She tried to scoff at the notion.
    Time travel was impossible. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t like she’d studied the science or anything, but she was in intelligent woman. She’d certainly have heard about time travel if it was available.
    And yet...all the facts fit.
    On the other hand, they might not have heard anything about it if it meant people just time traveled and ended up elsewhere, burnt as witches, never to be seen again. If she