Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

this case, it is more commonly referred to as ‘irrefutable proof’.  I am not mad, Laird, and here is undeniable evidence of that fact.  It is a handgun, a weapon made to fire small projectiles called bullets at a very high rate of speed for the purpose of harming or killing an attacker or enemy… or in this case, a ceiling.  Come here and look at it.  Hold it. Believe it and then maybe you can believe me.  Just don’t walk out that door.”

She said it all so matter-of-factly, James was almost inclined to believe her right then and there but curiosity consumed him.  He paced slowly back toward Scarlett, never taking his eyes from the small black object in her hand.  “Let me see it.”

Knowing that she finally had his complete attention, Scarlett ejected the clip and pulled back the barrel to release the bullet from the chamber.  Turning the pistol, she offered Laird the butt end.  It was an extreme length to go to; to secure his faith but she hadn’t seen any other options.  She needed to stop him before he got on his horse and left the truth behind.  It had been either the ceiling or him.

Hopefully she wouldn’t regret her choice.

“What is it?” he asked, rolling the handgun in his hands.  It looked so small in his palm.  Harmless.

“I told you what it is,” she said.  “The best I could relate it to for you is a hand cannon I saw at the exhibit.”

“This disnae look like any hand cannon I hae e’er seen,” Laird said, still examining the weapon.  “’Tis too small and frail looking to do much harm.”

Scarlett held up a small shard of metal and he took it rolling it between his fingers.  It was smoothly tooled and oblong.  “That’s a bullet.  Like a cannonball, it is propelled from the barrel at a high rate of speed.  Fast enough to do more than enough damage, especially at close range.  Now tell me, have you ever seen anything like it before?”

He hadn’t.  That fact unnerved him but he wasn’t keen on accepting her far-fetched explanation for it just yet.  “I’ve heard of places far to the east that have developed advanced weaponry.”  It was an inadequate option and his lass knew it as well given the soft, sympathetic smile that was curving her bonny lips.

“It’s overwhelming, I know.  Believe me, I had my fair share of shocks when I arrived in this time.  But I accepted it, sooner rather than later, and you need to, as well, Laird.”

So simple a request, yet so difficult despite the evidence in his hand.  Nay, James did not believe it had come from the farthest countries to the east but it was no simple thing to believe her explanation either.  It was an unholy option.  More heretical than anything that had yet fallen from her lips.  The logical part of his mind revolted, the other part exulted for he hadn’t wanted to accept that Scarlett was naught but a madwoman.  “It is beyond belief.”

“Yes, there’s no questioning that,” she agreed.  “So now that we’ve got that settled, will you tell the King that he must withdraw before they reach Flodden?”

“Nay, lass, I cannae do it.”

“Why not?”

“I am in the King’s service but I hae no’ his ear,” he said evasively.  “Even if I did, I doubt he would believe me. I dinnae truly believe it yet and I hae nae desire to be thought mad.”

“Mad as me, right?”  Scarlett shook her head, frustrated with the lack of progress she was making with him.  “What else can I tell you, Laird?  You cannot let this happen.  I cannot let it happen. I think I must have come back here to save you.  But I’ll need you to believe in me if I’m going to make that happen.”

“Ah, lass,” he said, tweaking her earlobe.  “I always kent ye’ve been hiding something from me.  But I cannae simply accept this reason as truth.”

“Even with the evidence in your hand?”

James looked down at the wee hand cannon once more and tossed it on the bed.  Aye, he was curious and a large part of him wanted to believe her incredible tale.  To believe that the woman who had come to mean so much to him in such a short amount of time wasn’t fit for Bedlam.  But it was just too bizarre, too ungodly a fable for him to just set aside everything he knew about the world in blind faith.

He needed time to think.

36

 

“We’ve languished here for days whist ye dally wi’ Lady Heron as if we’ve nothing better to pass the time!” Lord Lindsay slammed his fist down on the thick wooden table with a solid thud.  “Our men sit idle, some are beginning to drift away and still we’ve nae progress forward.  Surrey hae nae such hesitation.  His son brings ships filled with supplies and arms.  The Sassenach forces hae left Alnwick and arrived at Woller Haugh this day.”

“Beware how ye speak to yer king, Lindsay,” King James uttered darkly. He must have tired of Lady Heron’s bed, at least for the time being, to take some interest in the strategies for the days ahead. “We will carry on as planned.”

James lounged back in his chair placed far away from the crowded council table, brushing the pad of his thumb thoughtfully across his lower lip as he listened to the Lindsay rant against the King.  Enemy of the Hepburns the Lindsay might be but his arguments made far greater sense than they should.  Given the words he had read over and over again these past two days, he was beginning to agree with the Lindsay’s assessment.

Slipping his hand into his sporran, he ran his fingers over the pamphlet he kept there.  Ten pages of thick, glossy paper emblazoned with colorful artwork such as he had never seen.  Paintings so finely detailed he could see nary a brushstroke.  He’d marveled over them for hours.  It had