Falling Through Time: A Lighthearted Time Travel Romance (Knights Through Time Romance Book 13)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  In the parking lot, Duncan loaded the bags into the car and put the cart in the stable.

  When he turned around, he eyed the metal beast.

  “Might I drive the carriage?”

  12

  Violet’s hands shook when Duncan put the car in park. He’d asked her if he could drive, and in a moment of insanity, she’d agreed.

  It wasn’t like anyone would check for his license. So she moved the car to an empty parking lot down the street and showed him the basics. After a few false starts he had it down and loved driving, the faster the better.

  Violet promised that tomorrow they’d spend the day at the beach. He was like a little kid, the wonder and joy he found in the smallest things, like the scent of a bar of soap or watching a kite in the sky. As much as she wanted to be mad at him for destroying her phone and tablet, not to mention putting her behind on her designs, she smiled more. Happier than she’d been in a long time.

  “Is this the place?” Duncan stretched as he got out of the car. The more time she spent with him, the more she believed he might have traveled through time. It was crazy and yet, if it were true?

  “This is it. The coin shop is three doors down.”

  She pointed down the street. “I need to meet Sam and see if the shop suffered any damage. Then I can meet you there.”

  “Nay, lass.” Duncan took her arm as they walked to the boutique. “I go with ye. Then we will change my money to paper.” He snorted. “Gold to paper. ’Tis a strange world.”

  After she unlocked the door, he gently pulled her behind him.

  “Let me go first to make sure all is well.”

  “Sam?” Violet was thankful he’d boarded up the windows before the storm. She would have to set up the displays again, but that was so much better than having to replace everything. It didn’t look like there was much damage.

  “Sam? It’s Violet.”

  The hammering coming from the back of the shop stopped.

  Sam met them halfway through the shop.

  “Violet. How did you survive the storm?” Her grandmother’s handyman caught sight of Duncan.

  “Who might this be?” He grinned at her, making her roll her eyes. The old matchmaker.

  “Sam.This is Duncan.” She looked at Duncan. “This is Sam.”

  They shook hands and of course, Duncan had a thousand questions spilling off his tongue. Sam led the way, Duncan talking a mile a minute. He was going to help Sam finish cutting boards to board up a shop across the street who hadn’t boarded up their windows before the storm.

  The display racks and clothes were safely upstairs. The display cases were fine, and the mannequins were upstairs, waiting.

  They’d been extremely lucky. Sam probably already let her grandmother know the old boutique was fine, but Violet sent her a text to let her know things were fine. She added on that she had something to discuss, leaving out the fact it was a man. A medieval man from Scotland.

  Violet carried a couple mannequins downstairs. Someday she’d have her own line of clothing. Her parents would be proud of her and wouldn’t think she was a failure because she’d dropped out of college.

  Grandmother suggested selling online if things didn’t work out with her parents, but Violet wanted to see her clothes in a physical store, her name in script on the wall.

  The sound of footsteps and male voices startled her. Violet looked up to see Duncan and Sam covered in sawdust.

  “We’ll go out on my boat. You can catch our supper.” Sam clapped Duncan on the back.

  “Aye, I look forward to it.”

  Sam looked around. “I would have carried the mannequins for you.”

  “They aren’t heavy. I’m glad there wasn’t any damage. Thank you for boarding up the windows and the doors.”

  The store was dark with the windows boarded up. Light from their flashlights made it seem like night.

  “I let your grandmother know everything is fine.” Sam shook Duncan’s hand. “I’ll be by later this week to take Duncan fishing.”

  When they went outside, Violet stood blinking in the sunlight. Sam would lock up when he finished removing the rest of the boards.

  The antique coins were worth a lot. It had astounded her when the dealer at the coin shop quoted the amount.

  The man was a friend of her grandmother’s so Violet told him Duncan was a friend visiting from overseas. And that an ancestor had left the coins to him. The man was delighted to get his hands on the coins, especially the rare coins Duncan had in his possession.

  It would be a few days before he had the money for Duncan, so the dealer gave him a few thousand now and would call when he had the rest of the money.

  The coins were in excellent condition because they were new. Violet tried to process the information. Willed her brain to accept time travel was real, but it was so surreal she couldn’t get her brain to believe Duncan was a time traveler.

  Since her brain wouldn’t cooperate, she let her subconscious work it out while she went about her business. Sometimes her best design ideas came to her right before she fell asleep or while she was at the beach staring at the waves, so maybe with a bit of time her brain could accept what her heart wanted to believe.

  “Let’s walk for a bit.” Violet was happy the damage to the historic street was minimal. Mostly broken windows and water damage. People were out cleaning up, waving and talking to each other.

  Duncan stopped in front of a shop.

  “Sam told me about this place. He said the witch inside might help me.”

  “You told Sam you… fell through time?” Violet didn’t know how’d she’d explain the situation to her grandmother.

  “Aye. He figured it out.”

  Sam was a man of hidden depth. Not to mention he’d had a thing for her grandmother for as long as Violet could remember.

  “Why don’t you go in and talk to her. Maybe she knows how you can get home.”

  Her stomach flipped over when she said the words, but Violet ignored it. Duncan had a life in the past. He didn’t belong here, no matter how much she might want him to stay.

  “I’m going in the fabric shop. Come find me when you’re done.” She pointed across the street, happy to see her favorite store was open.

  “Violet?” Duncan took her hand. “Thank ye, for believing me.”

  She cleared her throat. “We’ll figure out how to get you home.”

  For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something but then he turned and went into the shop, the bells tinkling as the door opened.

  13

  The smell of incense filled the air as Duncan entered the shop. Light filtered through the unbroken windows. ’Twas hushed, a feeling in the air, one he had experienced in many places where the old gods dwelled.

  Of all the shops on the street, the storm had harmed not a single flower in the planters outside this shop. The witch must possess immense power to have turned away such a savage storm.

  He gazed at the strange objects on the shelves, keeping his hands at his sides, for he would touch nothing here. Lost in the colors of the stones on a table, Duncan startled when a soft melodious voice spoke next to his ear.

  “A warrior caught unaware.” She laughed, the sound tinkling like the chimes on the door. “How may I aid you, warrior?”

  The witch was beautiful, with wise brown eyes that looked through him into his heart. She had long black hair she wore in a braid down her back. Her dress was white and went to the floor. The way she watched him reminded him of a hawk.

  She stood close to him, the scent of heather, fire, and something mysterious surrounded her as Duncan tried to hold his breath.

  “You’ve traveled a great distance.”

  “Aye. Might you aid me?”

  Duncan knew ’twas dangerous to seek the aid of a witch, but he had no other way to get home. He’d stood on the dock and prayed. He had wished on the moon, but nothing happened. He only hoped she did not trick him or turn him into a sheep.


  “I am Enola. Come.”

  She turned the sign on the shop to closed.

  “Your shop was unharmed in the great storm.” Duncan followed her into the back of the store to a corner with two blue chairs, a rug, and tables. He sat, one booted foot crossed over his knee. He liked the jeans Violet procured for him. They were soft and sturdy.

  Duncan had changed into the jeans and soft shirt at the store. Violet told him he would be hot in the jeans, but he liked the hose. Hand on his boot and dagger, Duncan leaned back in the chair. He would show no fear.

  The witch, Enola, smiled as if she knew what he was thinking and about the daggers hidden in his boots, but she said not a word.

  “I’ll make tea. Relax.” She bared her teeth in a smile. “I don’t bite.” Low laughter sounded as she glided behind a dark blue curtain. “Unless you ask nicely.”

  Wisely, Duncan kept his mouth closed.

  When she returned with a tray, the scent of food made his stomach growl for it ’twas past dinner, or what Violet called lunch.

  Enola poured the tea, then handed him a plate with two sandwiches.

  “Eat. You look hungry. I won’t be able to concentrate with you thinking about food the entire time you’re here.”

  With a grin, he picked up the food. “Ye won’t turn me into a toad or sheep, will ye?”

  A smile tugged up the corner of her mouth. “Not unless you give me cause.”

  He swallowed his fear and took a large bite of the sandwich. After he had finished, Enola took the plates away. When she returned, she sat across from him, a clear stone in her hand.

  “Why are you here?”

  He blinked. “I dinna ken. The storm brought me.”

  “You have no family.” The stone seemed to glow in her palm.

  Uneasy, Duncan shook his head to clear the scent wafting through the place.

  “My brother’s wife and her babes are my responsibility. I must return to them.”

  Enola looked through him, focusing on something he could not see. There was a powerful presence in the room, something ancient and wise. His hand twitched as if seeking his blade.

  “Your brother is at peace in the afterlife. His wife and children are well cared for. She married again, to a man in your village. A suitable match.”

  Enola cocked her head, and Duncan jumped when he noticed her brown eyes had turned bright gold.

  “Is there nothing to keep you in this time?”

  He hesitated. “Violet has been kind to me, nothing more. She is strong, content to be on her own. The woman does not need me.”

  A light seemed to glow all around Enola as she spoke.

  “Sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we need.” She stroked the clear stone, which had turned a pale blue.

  “If you truly wish to return home, you may.”

  Her voice sounded far away.

  “At what cost? There is always a cost when there is a fairy or witch involved.”

  Chimes tinkled as wind blew through the shop. It smelled of the highlands and the sea.

  “The next full moon there will be a storm. Not like the one that brought you here, but a storm full of thunder and lightning.”

  Enola leaned forward and took Duncan’s hand, her voice low and full of power.

  “When lightning strikes your blade, think only of home, cut your palm and dive into the water from whence you came.”

  He blew out a breath. “There is a magnificent beast in the water. An alligator. Violet said never to swim in the water.”

  Enola smiled, light suffused their hands. “The beasts are ancient and add their own magic to the night. Do not fear them, they will not harm you when you dive in the water.”

  “And what of Violet?” Duncan could not look away from Enola, nor from the golden light surrounding them both.

  The witch arched a brow. “What of her?”

  “Will she find happiness?” He could not leave without knowing she would be safe and happy in this strange world.

  “Violet will become a famous fashion designer and move to a great city.”

  Enola gripped his hand tighter. “But know this, she will never marry, never have babes, her heart will never be truly full.”

  Duncan let out a breath, the tension leaving his body. “Yet she will have everything she desires?”

  “Will she?” The witch looked past him as if she were watching Violet.

  “Aye. Violet says she desires to make clothes. She wants people to remember her name.”

  Enola shook her head. “Listen to her heart, not her words.” And with that, the witch let go of his hand and sat back, the color leaving her skin, her eyes back to brown. Her hand shook when she picked up the teapot.

  “Are ye well, mistress? Ye look tired.” Duncan took the teapot and poured for her, handing her the cup.

  He pulled one of the remaining coins from his pocket. He had kept a few and liked to touch them, to remind him of home.

  “For your aid.” He held the coin out to her.

  When she took it, her skin was cold as if she’d fallen into the loch in the winter.

  “You will need two coins to return home.”

  He nodded. “I thank ye.” Duncan hesitated.

  “Ask.”

  “Might I stay? Here in this time?” He sat still, waiting to hear what the witch might say.

  She nodded.

  “You can. When the storm comes, go inside and no matter what, do not venture outside until it is over.”

  Warmth spread through his body. “What happens to me? If I go back or if I stay?”

  Enola met his gaze. “Do you truly wish to know?”

  “Aye. Tell me.” Then he held up his hands before she could answer. “Wait. Do not tell me the date of my death. I do not wish for that knowledge, only tell me what becomes of me?”

  “If you go back, you will always be an outlaw with a price on your head. In time you will take a wife who does not care you are an outlaw. You will have a good life. She will give you many babes. And one day, when you are old, you will die in your bed, content with the life you have lived.”

  ’Twas a good life. All that a man could ask for, but he had to know. “And if I stay?”

  The clear stone on the table turned pale pink as Enola answered him.

  “If you stay in this time, your heart will be full and your soul content. You will take her to wife, have babes, and live long full lives together. Violet is your match in every way.”

  “But she would not be a famous designer? Her dreams would not come true?”

  Enola whispered, “No. She would not. Violet would stay here in Florida with you for the rest of her life.”

  Duncan’s joy turned to sorrow. “’Tis much to think on.” He stood.

  “I thank ye.”

  As he left the shop and walked down the street to find Violet, he pondered everything the witch had told him.

  Inside the fabric store, the many colors of fabrics amazed Duncan. He found Violet at a counter piled high with bolts of bright fabrics.

  “Duncan!” She grinned at him. “I went a little crazy, but I had an idea for a collection of long flowing dresses. The customer would feel like they came from another time. We all need comfort.”

  He picked a thread from her hair. “Aye, they would. A time filled with vermin, sickness, and war.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.” Then she leaned close, the clean scent of her washing away the otherworldly scent from the shop. “Well, what did the witch tell you?”

  He hesitated, spared from answering when the shopkeeper told her the total. Duncan felt faint at the amount Violet paid.

  Violet reached for a bolt of fabric.

  “Nay. I will carry them.”

  They made it through the shop without him dropping the precious fabrics. As Violet opened the door, a woman stepped inside and looked Duncan up and down as if he were a horse she were considering buying.

  “Well, aren’t you a handsome one. It sur
e is nice to have a big muscular man around.”

  Violet grinned. “It sure is.”

  With the fabrics stowed safely in the car, she turned to him.

  “Don’t keep me waiting. What did she say?”

  Duncan swallowed. “The witch said I can go home.” He told her some of what Enola said, but not all. Not yet.

  Violet clapped her hands together. “That’s splendid news. Let’s see, when’s the next full moon.”

  She pulled out her phone. “I’m so happy for you, Duncan. I know how much you miss your time.”

  “Aye. ’Tis good news.”

  He wished to stay here in this time. With Violet. But how could he? If he did, Duncan would destroy her dreams.

  14

  Violet promised Duncan they would spend the day at the beach since she’d spent the last two days working on the designs for her parents.

  Normally she was extremely productive, her supplies and idea boards neatly laid out but with Duncan around? The man had an insatiable curiosity about everything.

  And she meant everything. He wanted to know how they got the color in the pencils and how she could make the same design on her tablet. The man touched the fabrics and messed up the order.

  He tried to entertain himself, but after the second crash, followed by swearing in Gaelic, Violet was ready to tear her hair out, so she sent him across the street to aggravate Dora and Mr. Williams.

  He came back covered in paint. He looked like a rainbow exploded. Duncan sheepishly admitted that he and Dora painted pictures. Then he scratched his head and admitted they looked like paint splashed all over the canvas. But Dora seemed happy with her modern art, so he didn’t say a word.

  Both dresses she’d designed were the best work she’d done in a long time. When she sent them off to her parents, her heart skipped a beat and she might have crossed her fingers behind her back.

  “Please oh please, let me be a famous designer,” she whispered. Keys and tote bag in hand, she waited, but he didn’t appear.

  “Duncan. You ready to go?”