Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) by Diane Darcy Page B

was scorched, someone would die this night, and ’twould not be the female.

    ~~~

    Samantha tried to appear calm, confident, and brave; the kind of girl sent as emissary to a king. She attempted to keep the tears at bay, and tried not to stare at the guy holding the torch.
    She was too young to die. And she’d never be old enough to be burned to death as a bunch of strangers watched her skin char and melt from her body.
    What was wrong with these people?
    She gulped a few times, trying to still the panic, instinctively knowing that any sort of hysteria would be like fuel on the fire. Ugh . Bad analogy. She closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them. “Look, guys, you need to understand that I’m a very nice person. I’m trustworthy and hardworking. I know my hair looks terrible, but this color is all the rage in...in London right now. I was assured that this unfortunate shade would fade quickly. I hope that’s true, because I actually like my own hair color much better.”
    She looked down. “And this dress is horrible, I know it. But I’m planning to give it to charity the moment I can. I’m kind that way, and I don’t like to waste good material.”
    She noticed a large man running down the dirt road leading to the castle, others trailing behind him. Was rescue at hand? Or was this an afternoon’s entertainment that no one wanted to miss?
    Clearing her throat, she swallowed against the tightness. “I’m sure you’re all wondering where I came from and what my purpose is in being here. Well, the truth is, I’m actually working for King Alexander III.” She tried to make eye contact with the men and women in the crowd, one at a time. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “I’m on a secret mission for him, and if I end up getting killed, he’s not going to be very happy with any of you, is he?”
    No one commented, but they did seem less fearful and more curious. Finally, a man stepped forward. “Why would King Alexander work wi’ a witch?”
    The large man came to a stop at the edge of the crowd, breathing hard, but at the comment about the king, he looked at her, his expression sharp. He leaned an ax against a broad shoulder, the blade pointing skyward and she froze. Was the guy some sort of executioner? The crowd shifted as they poked and prodded each other, until everyone knew he was there. He was hard to miss and they were obviously ill at ease. The guy was big, muscular, and ruthless-looking. He certainly scared Samantha with his size and menacing air. Would he side with these maniacs?
    Another man carrying weapons slid through the crowd around to the other side.
    She tugged against the rope, the bindings cutting into her wrists. “I’m not a witch, I’m an emissary to the king.”
    A woman’s voice rose from the middle of the crowd. “She’s English. Ye can tell from her speech. They do things different than we do. It doona mean she’s a witch.”
    “Shut it, Edina,” Willie said. “Stay out of this.”
    A man placed his arm around the woman and shushed her.
    “Yes. Yes, that’s true.” Samantha nodded vigorously, anxious to get a discussion going. “We English are a little odd in our appearance, that’s for sure.” The fact that she was American would only confuse the issue, and she definitely wanted to keep it simple. “Please, let me go now. The king will be very angry if I end up getting burned, and you can just imagine what he would do.”
    She pulled, using her whole body to try and lift the pole, but it held firm. “Plus, I’m courteous and helpful and I give to charity and everything. You don’t want to burn a good-hearted person such as myself, right? Think of your eternal souls. And just imagine the smell. It...it won’t come out of your hair or clothes for weeks, I can promise you that.”
    She laughed nervously, chattering now, seeming unable to stop herself, her gaze going to the guy in the back again, positive he’d affect the outcome somehow. “And