Old Magic(46)

I glance at Jillian. ‘Look at his condition, Jillian. Wouldn’t he need his strength about him for this sort of thing?’

Jillian’s face distorts as she thinks about this. ‘Strength is certainly important, Kate, but so are emotions, and Jarrod’s are highly charged right now. In this state he’s probably psychologically more accepting.’

‘What are you saying? That we should do this thing now?’

‘Well, I have everything prepared.’

I stare at them both in turn. Things are happening too fast. Surely more thought has to go into this decision.

‘I’m ready, Jillian,’ Jarrod says softly. His deep green eyes find mine, remaining steady, determined, challenging, as if defying my idea of him being a spineless gutless wonder.

‘I’ll let your mother know you’re staying the night.’

Jillian goes to phone Mrs Thornton and I grab the moment to explain that I think he should wait a few days, one at least. But Jarrod rejects every point I make. Even suggesting his mother needs him at home while his father is ill in hospital makes no difference.

‘Something else could happen, Kate,’ he reasons. ‘If there’s something I can do tonight, right now, to stop this craziness, then I have to try. No matter the consequences.’

He means his own death. And I know what he’s thinking. If he can’t lift the curse and dies trying, at least his family will be rid of the curse for this generation. Of course he isn’t thinking how devastated they’d be at losing him. So I remind him of how much they need him at home, how much they’ve already been through; but he can only see that, should he fail, his family would be better off.

Jarrod is so adamant that all I can do in the end is agree and support his decision. I hand him the medieval garments Jillian prepared, explaining how to put them on. Nothing too difficult, a pair of tight woollen hose for his legs, a fine linen shirt, a long pleated tunic with padded shoulders, which belts at the waist with a buckle, and soft brown leather boots. He nods and I leave the room while he changes.

I go to my own room and change also. Jarrod doesn’t know this yet, but Jillian’s plan includes me. It’s the only sure way of knowing we can get Jarrod back to this time and place safely. He could possibly do it himself if he accepted that he has the gift, but he hasn’t yet, and maybe never will. So we can’t chance his going alone.

I step into my woollen stockings and flinch at the rough feel that makes me suddenly want to scratch. Maybe I could do without them? But, no … to succeed, it will have to be done right, to the smallest detail. The undergarment is next, soft and full length, with buttoned long sleeves from elbow to wrist. Over the top of this I pull on a long full robe, the top half snugly fitting my bust and waist with quite a flare to the floor. It has vertical slits at my hips to slip my hands through to lift the long undergarment. There are thirty-six annoying buttons down the back, and elbow-length sleeves that hang almost to the ground. My boots are also leather, not that you can even glimpse them underneath all this fabric. I brush my long hair, then braid it into two coils over each ear.

I practise slipping my hands through the dress slits to lift the undergarment as I descend the stairs. I’m concentrating so hard on not tripping on the long hem that I walk right through to the kitchen, where my subconscious mind registers Jarrod and Jillian’s voices, before looking up.

It’s the dead silence that hits me first. Both Jarrod and Jillian are staring at me. I hear Jillian’s breath suck in sharply while Jarrod just looks stunned, his mouth hanging slightly open as his eyes take it all in from my medieval hairstyle to the full length beige-coloured garment. ‘You look brilliant,’ he says softly, then adds, ‘But why are you dressed up?’

It’s time to tell him, obviously Jillian hasn’t. I mentally thank her for this and take two small steps forward, conscious again of the full length skirts and how they sway when I walk. ‘Didn’t I tell you? I never grew out of playing dressing up,’ I joke, trying to inject some humour. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring. ‘I’m going with you of course.’

He leans forward, locking his fingers firmly around my wrist. ‘No.’

I send Jillian a pleading look.

‘She has to accompany you, Jarrod.’

He spins towards her. ‘Do you think I can’t do this without Kate?’

I snort at this, yanking my wrist out of his hold. Typical male pride. ‘This isn’t meant to be a cut to your ego.’

He snaps his head back to mine, eyes blazing at the insult. ‘I wasn’t thinking that. I’m actually thinking of you. Of the dangers.’