His brows lifted. “Oh? Why, pray tell?”
“I need to talk to you about why I’m still here at the castle—about how I came to be at the castle.”
Aldridge’s blue eyes sharpened with interest. “It is a story that I would very much like to hear.”
Kendra drew in a deep breath, aware that what she told him would change everything. The last time she’d taken such a chance, she’d been fourteen and telling her parents that she wanted her independence. When they’d let her go without a fight, she’d felt betrayed. She had never entirely trusted anyone after that, certainly not with her emotional welfare—too risky. Now, she was going to take another huge risk, and one that, if it went wrong, could mean the madhouse.
But maybe it was time to trust in someone other than herself. “I’ll tell you my story, Your Grace. But you might want to sit down for it.”
73
Three days later, Kendra sat beneath an ancient oak on the hill overlooking Aldridge Castle. She remembered her first view of the mammoth structure, and how she’d been struck by its majesty, its incredible history. Who would’ve thought she’d have a small part in it?
She saw a rider on horseback gallop toward the castle, and then disappear behind the stone walls. Though she should have been too far away to make out his identity, she knew, by the way her heart began to race, that it was Alec.
That reaction worried her. And it was still worrying her when, twenty minutes later, the horse and rider emerged and did a circular dance, as though scanning the area, then began galloping toward her.
Kendra tensed automatically and forced herself to relax as they came up the hill. Alec’s look was appraising as he pulled up on the horse’s reins, stopping a few yards from her, and then swung down from the saddle. He left the beast untethered, but the Arabian seemed content to munch on grass where he’d been left.
“You are much improved, Miss Donovan.”
“Thank you. You look tired.”
He dropped down beside her, stretching out his legs and leaning back on an elbow. “It’s been a difficult week,” he admitted.
“Gabriel?”
“Buried . . . and hopefully at peace.”
Kendra hoped so, too.
Alec was quiet for a moment, then glanced at her. “I spoke with Duke. You told him.”
“Yes. I should have told him from the beginning. He was quicker to believe than you—than even myself.” She had to smile. “It took me a full day to convince myself that I wasn’t in some sort of altered state of consciousness, or hadn’t just gone crazy. He had a zillion questions.”
Alec laughed. “Yes, and he’s quite put out that you haven’t answered any of them.”
“I’m not sure I can. Or should. Time travel is very much part of the theoretical world. And one theory says that if I gave you or your uncle information about the future and you act on it, it could change the future in unpredictable—possibly destructive—ways.” She sighed and shook her head.
“That is one theory. What are the others?”
“That certain milestones are set, unshakeable. No matter what I do, I cannot change them.”
“Because it’s destiny?”
She frowned. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I was of the belief that we shape our own destinies.”
“I was of the belief that there was no such thing as time travel.”
“Fair enough.” He gave her an unreadable look. “Duke said that you plan to walk into the stairwell again during the next full moon. You believe your wormhole will open, and you will be able to return to your time?”
“It’s the only thing I’ve got. There was a full moon during this time period when I came through the vortex. I’m going to re-create the experience—retrace my steps.” She gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Alec plucked a blade of grass, and twisted it. “You could stay.” When she said nothing to that, he asked, “Do you have . . . close friends and family awaiting your return?”
“I’m sure there are people wondering where I am,” she said dryly. The U.S. government, for starters. Going back meant living her life on the run. For the first time, Kendra realized what that meant. No long-term friends. Always looking over her shoulder.
Then again, there was no guarantee that if the vortex opened and she returned to her time line, she wouldn’t be stepping into the assassin’s bullet. Time may have stood still on that end of the wormhole.
“People you care for?” he persisted.
She looked at him, and shook her head. “Not really. But I’ve got to go back.”