Page 6 of An Unlikely Knight

“In one of your interviews, you were acclaimed as a prolific medium. Is that true?” Erin asked as Tammie, Sabrina, and Gwen moved closer with curious expressions.

Daniella shrugged. “I consider myself more of a foreteller. I can sometimes see things that will affect people. I am rarely wrong.” Her lips curved as she scanned Erin’s face.

“You are keeping a secret. Very soon, you will have to face not only your fears but also an experience that will forever change the course of your life.” Daniella blinked as if coming out of a trance and busied herself opening the book.

“That sounds a bit ominous,” Erin said, her voice steady despite the thudding of her heart.

“Not at all,” Daniella responded, as she signed the book with a flourish. “Stay the course and all will be well.”

When she turned away to take one of the sisters’ books, Erin walked to the table where the food and beverages were and poured herself a glass of champagne that had been opened as soon as the reading ended. She drained the glass and refilled it.

Tammie neared and filled a flute with the bubbly liquid. “That was interesting.”

“Before you ask me. I am still not convinced, but I will consider helping you. I am in the process of moving, so next week is the soonest I can come to Dunimarle,” Erin said, referring to the castle. “I am not sure why I am doing this.”

“Oh my goodness,” Tammie whispered and put the glass down. Then with her usual exuberance, she clapped softly and bounced on her toes. “I am so happy. We have to get Padriag out.”

Not wanting to have to speak to the author again and hear another foreboding message, Erin walked to the front of the shop, said her farewells, and hurried out. The jarring difference between the interior of the bookstore and the outside was stark. The air was chilly, autumn soon turning into winter.

* * *

It was Erin’s first night in her new flat. She wandered from one room to the other, a bright smile on her face. Her new home was bright and spacious, almost double the size of her last place.

She didn’t dare question her good fortune, curious as it was that she was able to claim it before anyone else. Moving to the French doors, she longed for spring to start planting out in the small enclosed garden. Already she’d found several nurseries where she could buy indoor plants that would thrive from all the light.

Her mind went back to the day before, the words Daniella McFadden had read and how she’d somehow caused Erin to rashly agree to help Tammie. She’d gotten caught up in the moment. What Daniella had stated was vague and could have been said to anyone causing the person to interpret it in a way that was personal.

Turning away from the view, she lowered to the couch and stared blankly at her cell phone. She should cancel, make up an excuse. Letting out a sigh, she brought up Tammie’s phone number and her thumb hovered over the send button.

“Do you live here?”

The masculine voice made Erin jump to her feet and shriek at the same time. Later she’d ponder her immediate reaction of throwing her phone at the intruder leaving her without an option of calling for help.

Padriag Clarre stood in the middle of the room, looking as if he belonged there. “When did you move in?”

“Wh-what the hell are you doing in my flat?” Erin stalked to the French doors and threw them open. “Get out of my house.” She pointed to the open doors.

Instead of making to leave, he frowned at her. “Technically, this is my home.”

Dressed in a manner that could only be described as a casual mixture of medieval and modern, somehow he pulled it off. The tunic top over jeans and leather boots under a thick fur coat was definitely an interesting combination.

“This is not your home. How did you get in?” Erin glared at him, her arm still outstretched toward the open doorway.

His wide shoulders lifted and lowered, his expression bland. “Do you really need to ask? I materialized from the other realm. Where you were awed by my incredible masculinity and sword fighting.”

It was Erin’s turn to return the bland stare. “You were not that impressive.”

“Ha! So you admit it. You were in awe.”

She took a tentative step toward him, meeting the hazel gaze with her own. “Did it really happen? Are you really trapped there?”

There was a flicker of something, the carefully held mask slipping for an instant, and she recognized fear and perhaps sadness. Before she could be sure which, his expression of nonchalance returned.

“Some say trapped, others called it an adventure.”

“It is not an adventure if you can’t leave at your own will.”

Padriag walked to the French doors, his gaze on the garden. His closeness gave Erin the opportunity to study him closer. Tall, about six feet, with reddish hair that brushed his shoulders and a mustache and a closely cropped beard of the same red hue, he looked to be more Irish than Scottish. Scanning his body, hesitating on his butt, she had to admit the man was built perfectly.