One Scottish Lass A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella

Chapter 10

Sorcha's smile faded on her lips. Julie stalked toward her, her eyes bright, her gaze determined. Sorcha realized suddenly that the garden around them was utterly deserted. Not another sound came to them from the large, shadowy expanse of flower, hedge, and dense shrub.

Julia pressed her hand to the jeweled rose at her breast as she approached. Her voice was a steady recitation through thin lips. "All of my years of efforts, all of my careful planning, and one Scottish lass come down from the Highlands thinks she can throw it off."

She gave a low, harsh laugh. "Do you really think I'll let you interfere with my plans?"

Sorcha carefully wet her lips. From what she'd overheard earlier, she had no doubt that Julia would go to any length to see her quest through. Sorcha knew had to say whatever it took to make it back to the safety of the house.

"I don't mean to cause any trouble," she vowed, hoping her face looked appropriately contrite. "I'm only here because my mother brought me. Tomorrow I'm sure we'll head back home, and –"

Julia's voice became rough. "You won't be heading back home," she corrected. "I heard your mother talking with Lady Davenport and Jonathan. Apparently they were arranging for you both to come stay at the house for a few weeks, to ... 'catch up on family relations,' I think it how they put it."

She gave a sniff. "It seems, for the moment, that Jonathan has found you amusing. Like some sort of stray pet."

Sorcha's heart glowed. Could it be true? Could Johnny have been as taken by her as she was by him?

Julia's gaze darkened. "You're not listening to me, are you? I said that your days of interfering are over."

Sorcha suddenly realized that Julia had gotten quite close to her. She was now pressed up against the cold, stony edge of the well.

Her throat went dry. She had to say something to placate Julia. "I'll get my mother to leave. I'll say I'm sick with the flu and we don't want to get anybody else sick. I'll figure something out - I swear it."

Julia's face softened and became almost tender. "Oh, we're long past that, my sweet little darling. I'm afraid that whatever you might try to say to your mother, Jonathan would manage to find a counter. He can be stubborn like that. I do believe, even if you found your way back to Edinburgh, that he'd only find a way to follow you up there."

Sorcha's emotions spun in turmoil. The elation over Jonathan's interest roiled with the fear over the calm, dead focus which had entered Julia's eyes.

Julia took another step, and Sorcha's panic burst out of her. "I'll do whatever you ask! Anything at all. Please don't kill me!"

Julia barked a laugh. "Kill you? No, of course not. You are not worth killing. Not like certain others." Her eyes shone like black marbles in the night. "But, still, we do have to get you out of the way. And it is Samhain, after all. The night of all nights."

Iron bands constricted around Sorcha's chest. She could barely get the words out. "What does that mean?"

Julia's eyes opened wide. "Why, my dear, didn't you know? This well is enchanted. If I toss you down it, you won't be killed. You'll simply pass into another world. A separate dimension. One far away from here, where you can't bother me any more."

Her grin widened. "I won't have killed you. Just sent you on a little trip. I'm sure you'll enjoy it immensely." Deep satisfaction swelled in her voice. "And, in the meantime, my darling Jonathan and I will go back to the way things always were."

She raised her arms.

Sorcha's heart thundered against her ribs. She forced the words out, words which seared her soul to even speak. "Julia, please! If you let me go, I'll even help you win Jonathan. I'll do whatever it takes to -"

Julia sadly shook her head. "I am so sorry, my dear. It's as simple as this. I need you gone." Placid calm settled over her features. "It's time for your journey to begin."

Suddenly, without warning, Julia dove forward, slamming Sorcha hard in the chest with her shoulder.

Sorcha had been watching for an attack, but even so the ferocity of it stunned her. She flailed, grabbed, and latched onto a piece of Julia's sleeve. The fabric ripped off of the dress, and Sorcha screamed as she fell into the well, the streamer of fabric trailing her into the depths.

She fell ...

Fell ...

Darkness.