before the castle surrendered. ’Twas most likely the shock of my stepmother’s death that killed him.”
Tabitha swallowed. Hard. “No wonder you’re in such a bad mood. You’re probably suffering from posttraumatic stress syndrome or unresolved grief. Perhaps a good psychotherapist …?” She stammered to a halt. His unflinching gaze made her psychobabble sound unbearably trivial.
For some inexplicable reason, his grip on her chin gentled. “Brisbane took my home. He took my family. He took my freedom. He left me with nothing but my honor. And you, my lady, handed that to him on a silver platter when you defended me with my own sword and allowed his men to make mock of me.”
Raven’s a craven!
Ravenshaw’s a boor! Defended by a whore!
“What was I supposed to do?” Tabitha protested. “Let him cut you down in cold blood?”
“Aye,” he replied without hesitation. “At least I would have died with my honor intact.”
She wanted to denounce his archaic reasoning, but the image of this proud knight driven to his knees at his enemy’s feet was too fresh in her memory.
She was horrified to feel her throat closing. “I’m sorry,” she said fiercely, returning his glare, trying to hold back tears.
Sir Colin of Ravenshaw was not a man to be melted by heartfelt apologies. He stilled the trembling of her lower lip with his thumb before turning away from her. “Not half as sorry as I, my lady.”
Tabitha huddled in a corner of the cell, transfixed by the waning torch flame. She’d been watching it burn for a long time and knew it would be only a matter of minutes before it smoldered to ash, leaving them in darkness. She thought longingly of the contents of the Gucci purse she’d left in her apartment—a travel flashlight, a half-eaten Twinkie, a pack of sugar-free gum. Although only hours had passed since Brisbane had locked them away, she could no longer remember the last time she’d eaten or drank or slept.
Probably because it had been several centuries in the future.
What would Uncle Cop make of her disappearance? Would he call the police or would he assume the envelope he’d given her had contained some crucial information about her parents’ whereabouts? He had no way of knowing she’d discovered her mother’s amulet. It saddened her to realize that it might be days before anyone even noticed she was missing. She had no close friends and her coworkers at the lab were probably celebrating the absence of their perfectionist boss.
Sir Colin hadn’t spoken a single word to her since their earlier confrontation. His silence only deepened the frigid chill until Tabitha could feel it sinking into her very bones along with the icy fear she could no longer ignore. If her parents hadn’t arranged this bizarre encounter, then that meant they weren’t safe at home, chuckling at her predicament. They were still missing, perhaps even … She shuddered away the possibility, refusing to consider what she couldn’t accept.
It wasn’t until Sir Colin’s soft snores pierced the eerie hush that she dared to creep over and make use of the bucket, her cheeks burning the entire time.
She shuffled back to her corner to find the torch fading. No longer able to stifle her shivers, she inched closer to the knight’s shadowy form. She’d felt lonely most of her life, but she’d never felt quite so alone. She couldn’t blame Colin for hating her. It had taken her only a few careless minutes in this century to destroy a reputation he’d labored on for a lifetime.
The torch sputtered. She bit her lip, willing it to keep burning. With a hissed sigh, the flame collapsed, losing the battle against the darkness.
Tabitha froze. She’d survived New York blackouts before, but she’d never endured a darkness so palpable. It pressed down like a lead weight. It seemed to her that they weren’t so much imprisoned as buried alive. She forgot to breathe, so paralyzed with fear she didn’t even realize the
Tabitha swallowed. Hard. “No wonder you’re in such a bad mood. You’re probably suffering from posttraumatic stress syndrome or unresolved grief. Perhaps a good psychotherapist …?” She stammered to a halt. His unflinching gaze made her psychobabble sound unbearably trivial.
For some inexplicable reason, his grip on her chin gentled. “Brisbane took my home. He took my family. He took my freedom. He left me with nothing but my honor. And you, my lady, handed that to him on a silver platter when you defended me with my own sword and allowed his men to make mock of me.”
Raven’s a craven!
Ravenshaw’s a boor! Defended by a whore!
“What was I supposed to do?” Tabitha protested. “Let him cut you down in cold blood?”
“Aye,” he replied without hesitation. “At least I would have died with my honor intact.”
She wanted to denounce his archaic reasoning, but the image of this proud knight driven to his knees at his enemy’s feet was too fresh in her memory.
She was horrified to feel her throat closing. “I’m sorry,” she said fiercely, returning his glare, trying to hold back tears.
Sir Colin of Ravenshaw was not a man to be melted by heartfelt apologies. He stilled the trembling of her lower lip with his thumb before turning away from her. “Not half as sorry as I, my lady.”
Tabitha huddled in a corner of the cell, transfixed by the waning torch flame. She’d been watching it burn for a long time and knew it would be only a matter of minutes before it smoldered to ash, leaving them in darkness. She thought longingly of the contents of the Gucci purse she’d left in her apartment—a travel flashlight, a half-eaten Twinkie, a pack of sugar-free gum. Although only hours had passed since Brisbane had locked them away, she could no longer remember the last time she’d eaten or drank or slept.
Probably because it had been several centuries in the future.
What would Uncle Cop make of her disappearance? Would he call the police or would he assume the envelope he’d given her had contained some crucial information about her parents’ whereabouts? He had no way of knowing she’d discovered her mother’s amulet. It saddened her to realize that it might be days before anyone even noticed she was missing. She had no close friends and her coworkers at the lab were probably celebrating the absence of their perfectionist boss.
Sir Colin hadn’t spoken a single word to her since their earlier confrontation. His silence only deepened the frigid chill until Tabitha could feel it sinking into her very bones along with the icy fear she could no longer ignore. If her parents hadn’t arranged this bizarre encounter, then that meant they weren’t safe at home, chuckling at her predicament. They were still missing, perhaps even … She shuddered away the possibility, refusing to consider what she couldn’t accept.
It wasn’t until Sir Colin’s soft snores pierced the eerie hush that she dared to creep over and make use of the bucket, her cheeks burning the entire time.
She shuffled back to her corner to find the torch fading. No longer able to stifle her shivers, she inched closer to the knight’s shadowy form. She’d felt lonely most of her life, but she’d never felt quite so alone. She couldn’t blame Colin for hating her. It had taken her only a few careless minutes in this century to destroy a reputation he’d labored on for a lifetime.
The torch sputtered. She bit her lip, willing it to keep burning. With a hissed sigh, the flame collapsed, losing the battle against the darkness.
Tabitha froze. She’d survived New York blackouts before, but she’d never endured a darkness so palpable. It pressed down like a lead weight. It seemed to her that they weren’t so much imprisoned as buried alive. She forgot to breathe, so paralyzed with fear she didn’t even realize the
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