| FEATURE AUTHOR | “What…what year is it?” she asked as if her thoughts were a thousand leagues away. His expression darkened. He didn’t like being made to look a fool. “It’s the year of our lord, fourteen hundred and eighty-five. Who are you?” he demanded. “Where did you come from?” “Stop the horse!” She had grown quite hysterical. Her hands were shaking when she brought them her mouth. Nicholas brought his mount to a halt. He didn’t need this bother in his life. He had battles to fight to keep the York name alive. When he wasn’t fighting, he had all the issues at home to deal with. Namely, his cousin Reg, Reg’s wife, Adele, Adele’s maid Margaret, and Reg and Adele’s four children William, Eddie, Kate, and Andrew. They were enough to make Nicholas swear off having children if he ever married. “Let me get off! she shouted again. “I have to get back!” “Back to where?” he put to her, for she looked as if she knew. “Home.” Her eyes filled with water and appeared like the color between heaven and the sea. “I have to find a way home.” “Where?” Why was he asking? He had duties to see to at his own home. Mayhap after that. But no! He wouldn’t keep her with him for so long. Not another person in his castle. He should have realized it on the battlefield, before he took her, but he was covered in blood and exhausted. He hadn’t been thinking straight. “Not where,” she muttered. “When.” He arched a brow. Should he help her dismount? “When?” 18 | UncagedBooks.com
“Twenty-nineteen.” He gave her a hard stare. “What does that mean?” “The year of our Lord,” she corrected, wide-eyed, “Two thousand and nineteen.” He wanted to laugh, but someone else’s affliction was no laughing matter. He groaned instead. He hadn’t meant to do so as loud as he had. But what the hell was he supposed to think? He frightened her. She pulled away and tried to slide from the saddle. He didn’t want her to fall so he hooked his arm under hers and lowered her down. He shouldn’t leave her. But he didn’t want to coddle a mad woman—and he certainly didn’t want to bring one home. “Farewell then,” he said and nodded to her. She said nothing but looked around. She appeared faint. He closed his eyes. “I don’t belong here,” she sobbed. He opened his eyes and set them on her. “But here is where you are.” “No! No. I don’t want to be here because you see, I know how crappy medieval times were. There’s… there’s no Advil. No antibiotics. My phone—” She looked at him with a whole new horror in her eyes. “My parents, my brother, my friends.” She began to walk. He kept his horse at a slow pace beside her. “Are you certain you were not hit over the head, Miss? Your family might not be gone. They might be close by.” “Look—” He did, expecting that she might be about to show him how she had done it. How she’d come from the air.
