AUTHOR – Gloria Gay
GENRE – Time Travel PUBLICATION DATE – July 10, 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 1678 Words
PUBLISHER – Kindle Direct
COVER ARTIST – Killion Group
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She stared at him. Now that he had leaned toward her she could see his face clearly. This was the second time she had seen this man. The first time had been when she had stared at his portrait. Electricity zig-zaged through her body, clear down to her toes. What did this mean?
Jane took out a tissue from her front jacket pocket and pressed it against her cut, mopping up the blood that had trickled to her chin and neck all the time the man was speaking to her in an irate tone:
“My brother is hurt and it appears you were also injured and it serves you right!”
Jane shifted her leg to ease the shooting sparks of pain going up her side and on her right arm.
“What's your name?” Jestyn asked when Jane just stared at him.
“Of all the insolent…I have a good mind to give you a thrashing.”
“So you beat women?”
“You're a woman? A woman wearing breeches?” His voice was incredulous as he continued asking, “And what kind of strange breeches are these? And where did you get this lantern? Is it magic?” The man looked keenly at the strong light coming from the flashlight. “Did you use magic?”
“Magic?” said Jane looking down at her flashlight. A flashlight was magic to this guy? “Listen,” she added when he just stared at her, “this pain is more than I can bear. I – could you help me up? My leg – something’s wrong with my left leg. I can’t get up.”
“It’s either sprained or broken,” the man replied. “You cannot walk on that – uh – limb for now.” His tone had changed on hearing she was a woman rather than a rascally youth spooking his horses on purpose.
“My name is Jane Fielder,” Jane said, in a more appeasing tone, I’m a reporter for CBS and I – I seem to have lost my way.” If this man was the only one that could help her, in spite of his strange attire, she should try to ask nicely.
“I’m Jestyn Greywick, miss,” he replied.
For a stunned moment Jane said nothing. Then she dragged out a few words. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“This whole thing…” Jane said, “…your costume, dressed as Jestyn Greywick…the carriage…were you – are these scenes arranged for tourists?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Fielder,” he said.
“What I mean is you can’t really be serious about your name unless you’re – oh, I get it. You’re pretending to be Jestyn Greywick. That was the name of the man in the portrait I saw moments ago.” Jane felt dizzy and probably wasn’t making sense, judging by the look in the man’s eyes.