Page 12 of Falling for the Knight

She took a deep breath, liking this idea less and less. Unfortunately, she’d never been much of a poker player. She had no choice but to see it through.

“The twenty-first century. I am from the twenty-first century.”

The look on his face was exactly what she would have expected, so Hannah talked fast.

“My sisters and I came to Scotland on the one-year anniversary of my parents’ death. They died in a car accident—you wouldn’t know what that is, but . . . never mind. We were supposed to go home tomorrow and wanted one last sightseeing excursion. We’d heard Leannan Falls had some kind of ‘healing properties.’ Of course, I didn’t believe that, but Caroline, that’s my youngest sister, can be pretty persuasive. And not only did we go to the falls, but she convinced us to jump in. Like a Three Musketeers thing, one for all . . . you don’t know that either. Anyway—”

“Hannah—”

She was losing him. “Please listen to me,” she begged. He did want to believe her, she could tell that much. He looked like a client who didn’t have the money to spend on his event but really, really wanted to hire her anyway. “We jumped. I was terrified, but we did it. And then I woke up on your beach.”

She let that sink in.

“I thought at first you were role-playing for some event, or maybe showing off the castle by donning your best medieval garb.”

Oh God, he didn’t even know what medieval meant.

“When I saw the courtyard . . . I could hardly believe it. I never pass out. Never. But maybe it was my mind’s way of preserving me, kind of like if you go through a trauma or something and then can’t remember it afterward. I don’t know. Anyway, the more time I spent here, the more it struck me that the level of detail was just . . . unbelievable. And the torches. And the way you all spoke as if—” she laughed, “—as if you were from a whole different time.”

The concerned furrow in his brow had grown deeper with every word. He thought she was certifiable.

“And you hadn’t heard of things like the U.S., or a cell phone, and something just clicked. It sounds nutso, I get it. And part of me still wonders if I’m dreaming. But I pinched myself, more than once actually, and—”

“Another time?”

“The future, to be precise.”

She took a deep breath and waited.

Please, please believe me.

* * *

She needed a physician.Or perhaps a healer. For all Tristan knew, only the priest could help her. A shame. So beautiful and yet . . .

He’d become impatient waiting for her, so he’d decided to check on her and Joan—only to find her on the wall-walk. It had taken him a moment to recognize the beauty in the bright blue dress. Where had Joan managed to find a gown that fit so well on such short notice? Though its long, wide sleeves were no longer in style, the color suited her. He’d have preferred her hair down, but Joan had pulled it back with one single braid encircling her head. She had the face of an angel, the sharp eyes of an intellect, and the enthusiasm of a young girl, though he thought she was probably not much younger than him.

And she was also quite mad.

“I think perhaps—”

“You don’t believe me. I can tell.” She reached into the small pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out the strange black box he’d examined earlier. “This”—she waved it at him—“is a cell phone. Take it.”

He would do no such thing.

“Look,” she said, shoving it into his face. “You can make phone calls on it. That is . . . speak to people in other locations. But it’s dead. From the water.”

Tristan really needed to get that healer.

She put it back and took out another item. Before he could stop her, Hannah took his hand, opened it, and dropped something into his palm.

It was a thin, flat rectangle made of some strange slippery material with raised markings on it. He turned it and attempted to read the markings.

“A credit card. See, my name is there. And that’s plastic. I’m surprised it stayed in my pocket. You won’t see that for a few hundred years. You can use it to buy things in my time. It’s like money. Coins.”

He turned the card over in his hand for a long moment before giving it back. Tristan leaned against the parapet. Dusk was just beginning to set, and the meal he’d looked forward to was likely well under way. He wasn’t sure what to think. But the idea that she’d fallen into a waterfall and traveled back through time . . . He’d heard of such fanciful tales but had no use for such things as magic and faeries. Only the real world interested Tristan.

“The Black Plague,” she blurted.