The Inscription by Pam Binder Read Free Book Online Page A

seated himself on a three-legged stool and began to turn the spit. In a matter of seconds sweat dripped down his face.
    Amber edged away from the wall. Of course, this was none of her business. Maybe he was getting paid lots of money for his part in the reenactment and would not appreciate her interference. She hesitated. It had never stopped her before.
    Una paused in the work of forming dough into braided loaves, seeming to have read Amber’s mind. “Daniel will leave when the meat is done. But ‘tis better than tending his father’s herds in the bitter Highland winds.”
    So the boy had two choices; freezing or roasting. Maybe she could appeal to reason.
    She cleared her throat. “His schoolwork is going to suffer if he’s too tired to study.” When she became a principal of her own school, she would make sure student activities did not interfere with their lessons.
    Una rubbed the side of her face, leaving a smudge of flour. “The boy has no need to learn letters. This be a fine occupation. Because of it, his family has the scraps from the laird’s table.”
    What Una said was not making sense. Unless… it was like Lachlan and Angus’ conversation. They not only dressed as if they were living in the sixteenth century, they talked and acted like it. And then there was the business with the tutor. The events she’d experienced since she awoke scrolled through her mind. Like pieces of a puzzle, they started to form an answer.
    The fire hissed as fresh drippings from the meat splattered onto the coals. She swallowed. The walls seemed to press in on her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man wipe the blood on his hands off on his shirt, and then walk over to Una. He pinched off a corner of the dough with his fingers and tossed it into his mouth. His teeth were black and decayed. On the table blood mingled with the dead chicken, fish and vegetables.
    “A goblet of wine, lass?”
    She shook her head. “I need some air.”
    Una pointed to an archway next to the fireplace.
    Amber picked up her skirts, hurried in that direction and pulled the door open by the rope handle. A welcome rush of cold air swirled around her as she walked out onto the narrow balcony. She took a steadying breath as she looked at the purple heather that spread like a thick blanket over the endless hills and framed the shore on either side of the castle.
    Amber closed her eyes, trying to remember. Without turning to her right, she knew there would be a rolling field that led to a road. The grass would be soft and there would be a cluster of alders where she and Steven had made love. She had been eighteen then and he was on vacation with his family. The flood of memories made her feel dizzy, and her legs started to buckle. She opened her eyes and gripped the railing to keep from railing. The cold rough stones cut into the palms of her hands. She knew where she was. She was at Urquhart, a castle that had been blown up in the eighteenth century. Amber was seeing Urquhart as it must have been before time and wars had destroyed it.
    She gathered the heavy folds of her dress and walked slowly down the narrow steps to the courtyard. She concentrated on not slipping or falling. A dog barked as she reached the bottom of the steps. The noise grated as she headed toward the gate. She had to get closer to the water. Wide metal strips attached by large bolts crisscrossed the thick wooden door. It was clearly made to protect the people within the walls and to withstand ramming by an enemy. It was also made to keep the inhabitants in. Would she be allowed to leave? She slowed her pace and forced the panic out of her thoughts as she approached the gatekeeper. He was young and looked as if he shared the Viking belief that baths sapped your strength. He looked very strong. She hoped that he wasn’t very bright.
    He stepped in front of her. “Halt.”
    What could she say that he would believe? She pasted on a smile and tried to invoke a Highland brogue.