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as a spy for the Southern states, to arrest and prosecute those working for the cause. Could she not contact
anyone, or retrieve her own clothing, for fear of discovery?
The anger seemed to drain from her with each question he posed. Uncertainty entered her eyes. She
looked away and visibly searched within herself for answers to his questions. Was she testing out lies? She
stared at the floor for so long, he feared she would refuse to answer.
Finally she raised her eyes to meet his, the anger now replaced with something akin to resignation. A
ripple of dread spread up his spine at that look. Whatever followed could not possibly be something he
wanted to hear.
"I don't know how to tell you this," she began, and his dread increased. "I. . . I'm . . . not from here."
He blinked at such an obvious statement.
She clasped her hands, swallowed, and looked at her lap. After several seconds she raised her head
and sighed. Her head shook in denial as she spoke.
"I don't know how to tell you this so that you'll believe me. You've . . ." She looked down at her lap
again and then back at him. "You've been very good to me, and I wouldn't repay your kindness with lies.
Besides," she gave him somewhat of a pained smile, "I can't think up any lies that would answer all your
questions."
The dread nearly smothered him now, but she seemed genuinely distressed. He forced patience into his
voice while he tried to relax the muscles knotting at the base of his neck.
"What is it, Shaelyn? I can be an understanding man."
She gave him a doubtful look, chewed on her lower lip, then finally locked her gaze with his.
"I got on the ship," she began, "to do an article."
Oh, no. Not the journalist story. He struggled to keep the disbelief from his eyes and nodded for her to
go on.
"I went to the cabin that Pete sent me to. Pete was one of the sailors on board. Anyway, in the
companionway I dropped my pen and paper. The hallway was dark, so I had to sort of feel around for
them. That's when I found the ring." Her hand went automatically to tug on the band. "Just as I put the ring
on, the ship lurched. I bounced off the bulkheads and banged my head. I thought that's why the room spun
and I got so dizzy."
She searched his face and he nodded, trying to keep his expression open. She looked miserable, as if
the words wouldn't come. Her mouth opened to speak a couple of times, but then she dropped her gaze
back to her lap. She quite obviously was struggling for words. He forced himself to remain quiet while she
worked through it, though the effort was nearly impossible.
She looked back up at him, her eyes pained, begging apology, begging to be believed.
"The story I was writing was about. . ." She hesitated, as if she wouldn't finish, but then she rushed on.
". . . was about the turn of the millennium." She swallowed hard, her gaze locked with his.
The millennium? The turn of the millennium? The year 1000? What had that to do with 1830, or why
she was on the ship? Why had she been so hesitant to tell him that? He continued to look at her, the
questions forming on his lips, but she stopped him from speaking.
"I put the ring on. . ." she began, the same plea for belief in her eyes, but with a sense of resignation
now instead of misery, ". . . when I put the ring on . . . it was in 1999."
His initial reaction was an uncontrollable arching of his eyebrows. Total silence filled the room, save for
the faint heartbeat that drummed ever louder in his ears.
Nineteen ninety-nine? What a very foreign-sounding number. What could she possibly mean by that?
Surely not the year 1999. That was what. . . one hundred and seventy years in the future? Why, that was
just before . . . A shiver snaked up his spine. . . . The turn of the millennium!
His gaze focused back on Shaelyn, who obviously knew exactly what he was thinking, and who stared
at him, affirming what she'd said and what he thought with her direct gaze. Almost challenging him with it.
"You cannot possibly mean . . ." he began, but the words refused to come.
She lifted her chin and finally glanced away.
"That's why I don't have any clothes to send for. Why I don't have any family or friends to contact."
Alec massaged his eyes, then dragged the palm of his hand down his face to rasp against his freshly
shaved chin.
1999? Did she honestly expect him to believe her? Was she insane? Did she think him that ignorant?
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