< previous page page_252 next page >

Page 252
ises, all the waiting." She pounded her fist into the soft lump of dough she'd just made.
Holly, kneading dough, clucked sympathetically.
"When she died, I left home, such as it was, for good. But all through my childhood, no matter where we were, I had strange dreams. I heard a voice tell me, 'You must right a grievous wrong.'"
"An omen!" breathed Holly.
"I suppose. But there's something else you should know." She took a deep breath, bracing herself for denials, accusations of craziness, whatever. "My homeI was born in the year 1968." She heard Holly's gasp but kept her eyes trained on her flour-covered hands.
"You . . . you aren't . . . I mean . . . "
She stopped Holly's stammering by continuing. "I'm not from this time, Holly. I'm"
René walked in. "Ah, ladies, you are busy, I see. Bon!" He puttered around for a while, checking on the food, grabbing clean tankards from a table. The room remained silent. "Did I interrupt something, mademoiselles?"
Mariah hazarded a glance at Holly, who regarded her with a wide-eyed stare. "Girl talk," Mariah confirmed.
"Then I shall leave."

"Ah, these conspiring young ladies," René said morosely. "One moment friendly. The next . . . "
Glancing away from the horse he curried, Thorn looked at his friend curiously. Was conspiracy the explanation for Mariah's strange claims? Somehow, she was working with Holly for . . . what? To take over the inn? Unlikely.
What else could they possibly want from him?
Thorn knew what he wanted from Mariah . . . didn't he? He wanted her to leave. To stay. To stop confusing him.
Their lovemaking the previous day had been like nothing he had ever experienced. She gave of herself completely. There was nothing subservient about her in bed, any more than otherwise. Her wonderfully lithe body had spurred him on, had encouraged him to heights he had never thought attainable.

 
< previous page page_252 next page >