A Moonlit Knight_A Knights Through Time Romance

by Cynthia Luhrs

  “I’ll tell Mildred and Drake. They’re planning to spend a couple of weeks in the mountains, at the lake house one of those rich executive types your grandfather trains with swords owns.” She heard muffled talking before her mom came back. “I have no idea why anyone would want to swing a sword around. It’s so silly. Technology is where it’s at. Did I tell you I picked up a new client? The vet in town wants me to manage their social media. Isn’t that great?”

  “Great.” It was easier to answer her mom’s last question and ignore the rest. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with her mom. Her conversations jumped all over the place. Unbelievable when she was so organized with her business. She’d started out creating websites for local businesses and then branched out to running their social media.

  Chloe didn’t have the heart to tell her mom that her grandparents already knew the plan and that she’d texted them to let them know she arrived safely. They talked for a bit longer, and Chloe felt better, knowing her mom wouldn’t worry. She snorted. That was an exaggeration—of course her mom would worry, but not as much as if Chloe had been traveling all around the world. Next summer, maybe she’d take a trip to India or Australia. The guys from down under didn’t seem to care she was plain.

  “I love you guys. I’ll miss you both.”

  “Love you, honey. Have fun and be safe.” Chloe could hear Arthur in the background asking if she had enough money and if she’d brought an umbrella. He was so practical, and her mom adored him. They were a good match, even if he was a little boring. Then again, Chloe was boring, so what did she know?

  “Miss? The bus is leaving. You coming?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” Chloe wheeled her suitcase over so the guy could put it in the baggage hold. On the bus, there were about twenty kids, and she guessed they ranged from her age to twenty-five. Everyone was friendly enough, chatting away as the guide pointed out the sights. It was going to be a great summer. Maybe Sara Beth was right—maybe Chloe needed to kiss a few boys. Have a fling.

  No. She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t the fling type, but a kiss or three would be okay.

  As she shifted in the seat, something clinked, and she put her hand in the inside pocket of her trench, touching the bag Granda had given her before she’d left. He’d called her upstairs and handed her a bag of old coins. “Not like you could spend them. More to bring you the favor of the fates.”

  Then he’d winked at her. “You never know what the fates have planned.”

  * * *

  “My lord, riders approach.” The newest man to join Richard’s small guard stood before him, looking at the ground. As the seasons passed, winter had given way to spring, the snow replaced by green, and Richard found himself with seven men willing to serve him. He tried not to think overmuch on how long it took the men to look him in the eye.

  No longer did he look upon his visage in still water—nay, he no longer cared what was said about him. And if he kept telling himself such untruths, mayhap in time he would come to believe ’twas true.

  His steward spat on the ground. “More mouths to feed for supper.” He called to the two serving girls who cleaned and took care of the laundry. As they had no cook, Edwin saw to the food. Richard put a hand to his gut, thinking on the barely edible fare that came from the kitchens. When they passed the overgrown garden, he sighed. ’Twas nigh impossible to find servants who did not cower in fear and run before their first night at Bainford passed.

  In the courtyard, Richard tightened his hood and waited as the men approached.

  One of the men held out a pouch, bulging with coin. “We come to best the Beast of Bainford.” The trembling of his hand, the coins jingling, gave away his fear.

  A sneer filled Richard’s face. “And you?” He looked to the other man. “Have you too come to try your skill against me?”

  The man swallowed. “Aye. I have.” He held out a small bag of coin, and Richard frowned. “’Tis a paltry sum.”

  “My boy has eight summers, and the girl ten. They will work hard.”

  This man wanted to wager his children? Richard forced himself not to gape at the dolt. Instead, he shrugged.

  “As you will.” He stroked his chin, looking them over. “They are scrawny.”

  “Please. Don’t eat us.” The girl wept as her brother comforted her. “Don’t cry, Merry. I won’t leave ye.”

  “Enough. To the lists, where I shall relieve you of your gold.”

  The Irishmen stopped their labors, taking places along the walls, calling out wagers. A year ago, Richard would have not allowed any to watch him fight, but that was then. Now, he relished his role as monster. The gold he had won fighting men had paid for the repairs to his home.

  The gasp when he removed his hood and cloak made Richard tighten his hand on the hilt of his sword. The hiss of the sword as it came free from the scabbard filled the air.

  Mere moments later, ’twas over. These skirmishes were short-lived—the men lost their gold, went to drown their sorrows in the tavern, and told more and more outrageous tales about the beast and the evil doings at Bainford Castle.

  One of his guard aided the two men in finding the gates, on foot. For Richard had taken their horses as well as their gold.

  Once they were gone, he turned to face the children, the girl hiding behind her brother.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Nay,” the boy said. But he looked Richard in the eye and did not flinch.

  “What are your names?”

  The boy stood tall. “I am Robin.” He pulled his sister next to him. “This is Merry.” He whispered something to her, and she nodded. Impossibly blue eyes, the color of the North Sea, met his.

  “I can cook and sew,” she said.

  “Edwin will be pleased.” Richard clapped his hands together as the children jumped. “To the kitchens. You will eat, then my steward will show you where to sleep and what to do.”

  “Thank ye, my lord,” the boy said.

  “Are you not afeared of me?”

  “Our father beat us. You cannot be worse,” Merry said.

  A rider could catch the man, bring him back to Richard. Nay, he would let the man go. Many beat their wives and children, though Richard did not. He had been beaten enough as a child that he would never lift a hand to the helpless and weak.

  “Do your chores and speak to no one of the goings on at Bainford, and I will not beat you.” He grinned at them. “Nor will I eat you. Come, let us fill our bellies.”

  * * *

  The next month flew by. Chloe loved everything about England. The history, the accents, the vibe—it was all perfect. Even the rain was welcome. A ponytail had become her go-to hairstyle to keep the brown corkscrew curls tamed. She and two girls from Australia had been traveling together. The girls were funny, routinely making Chloe snort water out of her nose. They reminded her of Sara Beth. Her friend would be thrilled: Chloe had kissed one Brit and one Scot, so in her book, the trip was a success. It didn’t really matter that the kisses were just kisses; she didn’t feel them down to her toes, they didn’t make her swoon, and no one swept her up onto his horse and carried her off to his castle.

  If she didn’t love books so much, she’d hate the authors for making her believe with every fiber of her being that a single kiss could change your life.

  She’d let her family know she was off to spend a few weeks wandering around the Cotswolds. The area was like something out of a travel commercial, so picturesque that she never wanted to leave. The flowers were beautiful and the thatched cottages made her want to curl up in a garden with a book and wile the day away reading.

  Yesterday, she and her new friends had gone on a guided walk and taken a tour of the area. There was a nearby lake perfect for swimming, and a castle ruin. Today she wanted to visit a stone circle she’d heard about last night: the Rollright Stones.

  “Come on, go with me. It will be interesting, and afterwards drinks are on me at the pub. Please?” Chloe said.

  “No w
ay.” Lola shook her head so hard that her sunglasses went flying into the street and were run over by a passing car.

  Jules chimed in: “You heard the stories those girls from Japan told us last night down the pub. Sometimes the stones just disappear. Giant stones vanishing in the fog. I heard they practice witchcraft there. Even the guide said never to go there alone.” She shivered. “Forget it. Let’s catch a ride and go to the lake for a swim.”

  But Chloe felt something pulling her in the direction of the stones. She wanted to take pictures and send a few to her granda. Ask him what he remembered.

  “Hey, ladies. Lookin’ good.” A couple of guys visiting from New Jersey pulled over and rolled down the window. “Want to go for a swim with us?”

  “Yes,” Lola and Jules said at the same time.

  “How about you, Chloe?” Benji leaned over to look out the open window. “Coming with us? Or you planning to sit in some boring garden and read all day?”

  What a jerk. “I’m going to visit the stone circle.”

  Jules gasped. “Don’t.”

  The boys laughed. “Oooh, isn’t that the haunted place?” They made ghostly noises and tried to talk in scary voices, but only succeeded in sounding like they’d been watching too many B-movies.

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “You guys have fun.”

  “Oh, come on. We’re just teasing you,” Benji said. “Get in. We’ll drop you off on the way.”

  Chapter 5

  They let her off in Great Rollright. After wandering around the village and grabbing a bite to eat in a cute café with chintz dishes and window boxes full of flowers, Chloe found a place renting bicycles. They had a map that would guide her to the stones.

  “If we’re closed when you return, just lock up the bike,” the owner, Ian, said. Then he tried to waggle his brows but only ended up looking like something had startled him. “Don’t linger after dark. Wouldn’t want you to disappear with the stones.”

  “Thanks, and ha ha. I’m sure it’s fun to scare the tourists.” It was only a couple of miles to the stone circle. The bike was red with a cute wicker basket on the front and a rack on the back. She’d purchased a couple bottles of water and an apple to bring with her.

  Normally Chloe liked to read paperbacks or hardbacks. It was something about the smell of the paper, she guessed. But when she went on vacation, an e-reader was the only way she could bring enough books with her and not worry about lugging around fifty pounds of reading material.

  She planned to ride around, spend some time taking pictures of the stones, and then spend the afternoon reading. Tonight she’d stay in town and catch a ride back to the hostel in the morning. Ian said he’d drive her after breakfast. It was the first day in a week it hadn’t rained. The sky was a brilliant blue, a few lazy clouds floating by, and the sun reminded her of home. Closing her eyes, Chloe could almost smell the ocean, hear the waves crashing on the beach, and see Gull Cottage waiting to welcome her home, her grandparents on the porch enjoying a glass of wine before dinner.

  Summers in Holden Beach were humid and hot, so sixty-five degrees almost felt a little chilly today. Biking in the sun would warm her up, so Chloe had worn a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that proclaimed, I’m not antisocial, I’d just rather read. A navy-blue hoodie went into her tote bag in case the temperature dropped this afternoon. Rain always made it feel cooler.

  It was an effort, but she’d managed to pull her long curls into a ponytail and tie a navy ribbon around the pony holder to match her shirt. No flip-flops today. Chloe had left the beloved sparkly footwear she normally lived in back at the hostel, not knowing if she’d have to hike up to the circle or not. Instead, she’d worn a pair of white sneaker mules. They were comfortable and she could walk around all day. Mules were her favorite. Chloe hated the feeling of a shoe on her heel unless it was a boot. Weird, right? But oh well, that’s who she was. The nice but kind of odd girl.

  Tote bag secured on the bike rack, Chloe fished a pair of oversized dark sunglasses out of the tote, put them on, and pedaled out of town, enjoying the day.

  The stones sat on a hill with spectacular views in all directions. Chloe parked the bike and twisted the cap off the water bottle, drinking deeply as the breeze brought the scent of freshly cut grass and another smell she’d come to recognize and love. The scent of old stone. It was a peaceful place with a kind of quiet energy. Like walking through Gettysburg or a very old cemetery. You lowered your voice, walked quietly, and were aware of all those who’d come before, the sacrifices they’d made for causes they believed in.

  The stones were made of limestone and looked pitted, worn from the ravages of time. With nothing but time, she wandered among the stones, taking pictures with her phone. There was a metal railing around both the King Stone and the Whispering Knights so she couldn’t get too close. Not that she wanted to—there was a feeling when she stood near the railing, telling her to go back, that she didn’t belong in this place. With a nervous laugh, she moved away, looking over the landscape. The land was green, with tiny wildflowers growing amongst the stones.

  Chloe had the place to herself as she walked around the King’s Men stones. Birds sang and the sun warmed her skin. The three girls from Japan had said a witch turned a king and his knights to stone. And that the stones would disappear and reappear at odd times.

  One of the locals told them there were so many stones, no one could ever count them correctly. The guy had leaned in close to them as he drank his pint. Most of the stories said if you could count the same number of stones three times, your heart’s desire would come true.

  His friend crossed himself and said no, that was wrong. The way he’d heard the tale was if you counted three times and got the same number of stones each time you counted, you would die a horrible death that very night.

  The Australians laughed and said it was probably to keep people from damaging the stones. Then again, the girls lived with all kinds of poisonous snakes that could kill you in an instant, not to mention crocodiles. And while they said they didn’t believe the stories, they weren’t willing to risk any bad karma. That was how Chloe found herself alone with her thoughts with the entire day stretching out before her, all the time in the world to explore.

  Hungry, she unhooked the tote bag from the back bike rack and picked a spot in the middle of the circle. There she spread her lunch out on an old tablecloth someone at the hostel had given her so she wouldn’t get grass stains on her jeans.

  Alone with her thoughts, she ate the hefty sandwich she’d bought from a pub in the village, enjoying the tang of the cheese and the crusty bread.

  To have seen so many of the places her granda told her about made Chloe feel the history in every stone she touched, every street she walked, and every building she passed. If only she were a “real” Merriweather.

  Yes, she was by name, but not by blood. That was why nothing had happened for her all these years. A cloud passed over the sun, and Chloe shook her head.

  “Stop it. You’re eighteen and an adult.” Okay, so maybe it was odd that she spoke to herself out loud, but sometimes it helped her think, to work through whatever issue she was struggling with. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to complain.

  Lots of kids wanted to be astronauts or ballerinas or princesses or dinosaurs, and they didn’t go around for the next ten years acting all sad because their childhood fantasy didn’t come true. It was time to forget silly childhood dreams and put away her fantasies of time travel. Even though she knew time travel was possible. Her great-aunts had traveled back in time, and Granda had come forward in time. Ever since she could remember, she’d tried various experiments, read everything she could on the matter, all to no avail.

  Just because time travel happened for some people didn’t mean it would happen for her. Life wasn’t fair, and it was time to get over it and move on with her life. Figure out what she really wanted.

  Chloe tidied up the remains of her lunch and went to pack it away to take back to tow
n and dispose of it there. Looking at the stones, she squared her shoulders and glared. A sharp pain traveled from her stomach to her heart as she made her decision.

  “Fine. You win. I’ll quit living in my head and join the real world.” And if she wiped a single tear away, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to notice.

  She fastened the strap to keep the tote from blowing away. “Ow.” Chloe snatched her hand back, shaking it back and forth. Bright droplets of blood landed on one of the stones. There must have been a sharp edge on the bike rack.

  The textured stone invited her to touch as she walked around the circle, leaving little drops of blood on the stones. The air smelled of green things growing, and a faint scent of roses helped wash away the melancholy that sometimes filled her. Almost as if she had lived in another time and her soul yearned to go back.

  A light breeze lifted the corner of the tablecloth. She straightened it out and lay down on her back, the crossbody bag under her head for a pillow. The bag of old coins she’d brought along at the last minute were lumpy, so she adjusted them until the bag was comfortable.

  Too bad she didn’t have a glass of Southern iced tea. Tea made everything better. Emotionally drained from the war within, she closed her eyes. The e-reader slid off her stomach and came to rest by her side. As Gram said, she’d just rest her eyes for a few minutes.

  Chapter 6

  “Edwin,” Richard bellowed as he hopped about on one foot.

  “Yes, my lord?” His steward shuffled into the chamber, looking even more bent than the past summer. Nigh on two years Richard had been lord over Bainford, and in truth, he enjoyed the solitude. Richard snorted. Solitude.

  “What is that infernal noise?” He’d sat on the trunk at the foot of the bed and examined the source of the pain. A wooden wolf with red on its snout seemed to mock him. How it ended up in his chamber was a mystery. One of the lads, no doubt.