A Moonlit Knight_A Knights Through Time Romance

by Cynthia Luhrs

  It was gritty but got the job done, and her teeth felt clean and smooth.

  Back in bed, she pulled the bed curtains, shutting out the light. They made a huge difference in keeping her warm.

  The next morning, Chloe thought if she could change one thing in the past, it would be hot showers. Water heated in a small pot over the fire and the tiny lump of weird-smelling soap worked, but it wasn’t even close to hot water and gardenia-scented body wash.

  Grateful there wasn’t a mirror to show her how wild her hair must look, Chloe put on the same clothes she’d worn since arriving. She’d been studying the dresses and aprons the women and girls wore, thinking about what she’d wear to fit in while she was in the past.

  Apparently, she’d slept in. The hall was almost empty, most of the tables and benches already pushed back against the walls. With a grumble, her stomach let her know what it thought about missing breakfast. She’d kill for a Pop-Tart.

  “Mistress, come break your fast.”

  “Good morning, Robin.”

  The boy looked to be around twelve years old. He had a bit of dirt smudged on his chin and a rip in his hose.

  “Looks like you’ve already been up for a while,” she said.

  He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Aye. ’Twas my turn to empty the waste barrels, but I wrestled Tom and Jim.” He jumped in the air. “I won. They have to empty the barrels for a se’nnight.”

  “Good for you.” She smiled, seeing him jump and hop all the way to the kitchens.

  “It smells so good in here.” Chloe took a seat nearest the fire, on a stool at the table.

  A bowl of what looked sort of like oatmeal was placed before her. As she watched, Merry drizzled a bit of honey on top.

  “Thank you.”

  “Aye.” She popped her brother on the arm with the wooden spoon. “I had to hide your porridge so this one wouldn’t eat it all.”

  Robin pretended to pout. “Can I go now? Richard is breaking the new stallion this morn.”

  “Off with ye,” his sister said. She bustled around the kitchens, looking like she’d been cooking all her life.

  The porridge was tasty and filling. Chloe sipped the water Merry gave her, grateful the girl remembered. It was too early to drink ale, even if it was watered down. The thought of wine made her throat close up. Her head still pounded.

  “How old are you, Merry?”

  “I have twelve years, mistress.” Merry wore a kerchief on her hair, and her apron was already dotted with flour as the girl formed loaves of bread.

  “Twelve? I thought you were older. You’re in charge of the kitchens?”

  The girl continued to work, a few other little girls coming in and out while they talked.

  “Aye. My da came to best the beast. He wagered us.”

  Chloe gasped, but the girl went on as if she hadn’t heard.

  “Robin and I were afeared of the beast, but then we saw him. He had kind eyes.” She stopped to shoo a cat away from the hearth then turned back to Chloe. “Our da beat us. My lord does not beat us.” She wrinkled her nose, pursing her lips. “He is fearsome when he bellows and when he fights. His face is ugly, but he is good to us. My brother and I will serve him well.”

  Loyalty. Chloe respected that. She knew beatings were common in medieval times, that children and women were treated differently, but to hear it spoken so matter-of-factly made her appreciate her own time even more.

  She scraped the last bit of porridge from the wooden bowl. “That was delicious. I’ll wash the bowl if you’ll show me where.”

  “Nay, mistress.” Merry shook her head. “Jane will see it done.”

  Knowing when she’d been dismissed, Chloe got up with a smile. The kid was twelve and already ran the kitchen like a boss.

  Chapter 15

  Richard used the hem of his tunic to wipe his brow, grateful for the cold air. The paltry swordplay of his new guardsmen left much to be desired as he worked his way through the lists until he was sweaty and his leg trembled.

  “Again,” he called out to the men as he sat on the stone bench and leaned against the wall. One of the men went down, rolled across the lists, behind a wagon, and shrieked like a lass.

  “Womanly weeping will not save you, lad. If this ’twas a real battle, you would have lost your head. Again,” Richard called out. The noise came again. ’Twas not a lad—’twas a lass. In mere moments, he was around the wagon to find his man standing over Mistress Chloe who was taking deep, gasping breaths.

  “Damnation, man.” His fist met the man’s face. “You could have killed her.”

  “I am truly sorry, my lord.” The man bowed his head, wiping the blood away. “Forgive me, lady.”

  Richard offered her a hand, her skin soft as silk in his palm. Dust covered her from head to toe as he hauled her to her feet. She held up a finger and bent over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily. ’Twas a moment before she could speak.

  “I wasn’t looking where I was going. My fault.” She waved the man away.

  He squeaked and fled when Richard glared at him. While she panted, he studied her. The ribbon she’d used to tie back her hair had come undone, the curls blowing in the wind.

  “Your ribbon.” He bent to fetch it before it blew away.

  “I don’t want to lose it or my hair will look like the chickens have been nesting in it at night.”

  The thought of a chicken sitting on her head made him smile. She tied her hair back as he watched, itching to wrap the curls around his fingers. Each one stuck out from her head in a different direction. He knew enough of women to know if he laughed, she would be most vexed.

  Deep brown eyes met his, forcing Richard to stand his ground. He had removed his cloak to fight, leaving his visage exposed. To her credit, she did not scream nor run away.

  He picked up his cloak from the bench and fastened it about her. “To keep you warm. ’Tis cold and you should not be out.”

  Her nose and cheeks were pink as she pulled the cloak against her.

  “Shall I show you Bainford?” He proffered his arm. After he had saved his sire, one of the courtiers had taken pity on him and given him lessons on how to be chivalrous—not that it did him any good, but ’twas a way to pass the time and not think about the pain.

  “I’d like that.” She took his arm, her hand small and delicate.

  “The lads repaired the garrison, the chapel, and the stables. They are most happy to work indoors and repair the towers.” He pointed to the Irishmen, a few singing while they went about their labors, going in and out of his home.

  In the stables, she fed the horses a bit of carrot, smiled over the chickens, and stopped to pet every dog and cat they passed.

  “Come up to the battlements. From there, you can see everything.”

  He took hold of her hand as they climbed the stairs so she would not fall, her odd footwear making squeaking noises on the stone. Out on the roof, the wind blew, and he pulled the hood of his cloak up over her head to keep her warm. When he tucked a curl behind her ear, he noticed there was a tiny hole in each ear. He opened his mouth to ask, but she smiled at him, making him forget what he was going to say.

  “It’s beautiful up here.” She turned around in a circle. “Which way is London?”

  He turned her around and pointed. “To the east.” She smelled of dust and cold, and he’d never thought a woman smelled lovelier.

  “And Falconburg?”

  “To the north and west.” He turned her again.

  “I thought I was good with directions, but since I’ve…been here, the truth is out.” She grinned. “I’m awful at directions.”

  The weak sunlight hit her face, the tiny freckles across her nose he’d not noticed until now. Her skin was smooth, the color of honey, as if she had been outside every day letting the sun kiss her skin. The unmarked skin filled him with envy. And while she wasn’t what most men would call beautiful, he found her most comely—too lovely to ever want someone as ugly as he.<
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  “How old are you?” She tilted her head up.

  “A score and three.”

  “You seem older. I guess because you’re responsible for all this.” She gestured to the courtyard and lands below.

  “And you? How many years have you, Chloe?”

  “I’m eighteen.”

  “So old? Why are you not married with a household and babes of your own? Did you flee your husband? Are you a widow?”

  She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him. “Did you just call me an old maid?” She poked him in the chest. “Listen to me. Where I come from, women choose when they want to get married, if ever. And no one tells them who they have to marry or if they have to have kids.” She paced the battlements, her cheeks a fetching shade of pink.

  “Flee my husband,” she mumbled. “I do not have a husband, and no, I’m not a widow.” She sounded rather remarkably as he did when he was vexed. “You know, I know things are different now, but the way you asked me, it wasn’t very nice.”

  A curl escaped and was blowing in the wind. Richard reached out and tucked it behind her ear. “I did not mean to offend. I am unused to company.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all huffy. It’s just my friend, Sara Beth, her mom thinks if you don’t have a husband by the time you finish college, you won’t ever find one.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “College?”

  “I meant university.”

  Now ’twas his turn to gape at her. “You go to university? A woman?” Richard could see her thinking. What was Mistress Chloe hiding? And why was she telling such tales?

  She waved a hand around. “Never mind. I think I’m still a bit woozy from bumping my head. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  Hrumph. He did not believe the little shrew for one moment. In time he would find out what she was hiding, and if she meant him or those under his protection at Bainford harm.

  “You said you were traveling to Lancashire to visit relatives when you and your escort were assaulted and separated. Along with your belongings?”

  “Yes. That is what I said.” Mistress Chloe suddenly found something in the sky that warranted her attention.

  “And Lord and Lady Falconburg are expecting you?”

  She fidgeted. “That’s correct.”

  “The Red Knight would take my head if I do not see you well cared for. You will tell me about the ruffians.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell them how kind you’ve been.” She looked into the courtyard. “Look, it’s Moo.”

  “Moo? I see no cattle.” Had the lass gone daft?

  “No, Moo is a kitten.” She touched his arm, then pointed.

  He followed her direction to see the wee beast.

  “Look. He’s stalking the chicken.”

  The wee cat was indeed. Then the hen turned and scared the animal, who ran for the safety of the stables.

  Mistress Chloe’s laugh filled the air.

  “The ruffians, mistress?”

  She sighed. “Somehow, a man— I think he was a noble by the way he was dressed. You should have seen his sleeves—they were this wide.” She opened her arms.

  “Aye. I have seen such garments. ’Tis not practical to fight wearing such a tunic.”

  “No kidding. It’s how I got away. He had climbed into my bed—”

  “What?” he roared. “This man defiled you?”

  “Oh my gosh, lower your voice.” She hunched down as a few of the men looked up at them. “No. He did not. Though I think he planned to.” She touched the stone walls, not meeting his gaze. “That’s how I got away. I yanked on his sleeves, and when he fell off the bed, I kicked him and ran.” She looked at the ground. “I think it was my fault. I went to use the…garderobe in the night and must have forgotten to bolt the door. That’s how he got into my room. Then I was chased again in the woods. I got lost, was chased again, and during that time, I hit my head, so some things are hard to remember.”

  “Such as losing your escort and forgetting what year it is?”

  “Exactly.” She smiled at him. “It’s getting awfully cold up here. We should go inside. Do you think it will snow today?”

  “Come. I will see you settled in front of the fire with a cup of wine.” He knew she did not wish to talk of what had happened to her. The woman had been running with men chasing her. She was scared, but she was not telling him everything.

  Richard had grown up with other children like him and learned to survive by his wits and his fists. Mistress Chloe was up to no good, and he was going to discover why she was really at Bainford. If she meant to betray him, he would cast her out of the gates and leave her for the wolves to eat.

  Chapter 16

  Whew, that had been close. Chloe held on to Richard’s arm as he led her from the battlements down the stairs and into his solar.

  “I have built up the fire and sent for wine, my lord.” Richard’s steward, Edwin, looked older than her granda with his white hair and brown eyes, but she couldn’t be sure. The few women who worked at the castle were all younger than they looked. Either the product of a hard life or not enough moisturizer.

  Growing up at the beach, Chloe was a big believer in sunscreen and moisturizer. What would happen if she didn’t make it home in time to start school? Would the college hold her place or give it to someone else? No, she couldn’t think about home right now. If she did, she’d cry, and Richard could not stand womanly weeping.

  One of the boys brought them wine, along with a bit of cheese and bread. When the child put the tray down, he stopped chewing, an innocent look on his face. It took everything Chloe had not to bust out laughing.

  She passed a goblet of wine to Richard. “I don’t think my feet have been warm since I arrived.” She kicked off her sneakers and wiggled her toes in front of the fire. There was a gurgling, and she looked at the boy in alarm, worried he was choking. Instead, she saw his little cheeks full of bread and cheese. He chewed a moment, then opened his mouth, the words coming out muffled around the food he hadn’t yet swallowed.

  “Mistress. Your toes. They are blue with cold.” He bent down and took her foot between his hands, rubbing her feet so vigorously that she almost fell off the stool.

  “My feet are cold but it’s not that bad. My toes are painted.”

  The boy stopped and gingerly touched her big toe. “How do ye get the paint on your feet? Why would you paint your toes?”

  A shadow fell over her legs as Richard leaned down to get a better look as well. “Aye. Tell us, Chloe.”

  Like she needed another thing to explain. As payback for drawing the attention of Mr. See All and Know All, she ratted out the kid. “Finish swallowing all the cheese and bread in your mouth, and I’ll tell you.”

  “What have I told you about eating from the trays?” Richard scowled at the boy, who chewed furiously. Tomas gave her a look that promised retribution at a later time. She’d be sure to check her bed for a fish or dead mouse or whatever little boys did in this time period.

  The kid swallowed and hung his head. “I’m sorry, my lord. I was hungry.”

  “Do it again and you’ll be emptying the waste barrels for a fortnight. And cleaning up after the dogs and cats for another fortnight.”

  “I willna do it again, my lord.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. “Off with you.”

  “You have odd customs in Tetbury,” he said to Chloe. “’Tis passing strange, for I have been there and did not see a soul dressed in such odd garments, or heard anyone talk with your accent.”

  Nosy busybody of a man. She smiled sweetly at him, using her best “I’m not doing anything” look she gave to teachers when she was texting Sara Beth instead of paying attention in class. “I wasn’t born in Tetbury. I only lived there a short time.”

  “Where were you born?”

  This was a bit trickier. She sent up a sorry to the universe for what she was about to say. “I’m from a land far, far away, across the ocean. It’s called America. We we
re sailing to England when there was a terrible storm and the ship went down. My parents died and I was left in the care of a distant relative.”

  “More distant relatives.” He looked at her for so long that Chloe squirmed under his gaze. “I am sorry for your loss. My dam died when I was but six.”

  Now she felt awful, but she couldn’t very well have him sending out messengers to try and tell her nonexistent family she was safe.

  “I’m sorry. Is your father living?”

  His face darkened. “Nay.” Then he abruptly got up and strode to the door. “I shall fetch you for dinner.” With that, the door banged shut behind him, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  After dinner, she was sitting on the floor of the hall with several of the kids, playing with half a dozen kittens, when the merchants arrived. Two of Richard’s guardsmen led them in, and the man himself had his cloak on and the hood up—something he did when he went out or strangers came to the castle.

  The merchant was short and round, with dirty blond hair. He’d brought a young girl with him, and the girl had the same nose and eyes. She had to be his daughter. He looked around the hall as if committing every detail to memory to tell everyone at the pub afterward. Chloe narrowed her eyes, the merchant already losing points with her.

  “Shall we begin? I have lovely silks for gowns, lace, and ribbon.”

  Edwin stepped forward. “You may display your wares here.” He motioned to where several tables had been left out after dinner. There were clean tablecloths on them to protect the man’s wares.

  The man clapped his hands together at the children helping. “Careful—do not let the cloth touch these filthy floors.”

  Oh no, she didn’t like him at all. She’d gone with her mom once to see the local laundromat owner at her home. Her mom created amazing websites and often would meet clients at their business or home. The lady was a serious hoarder, and the house smelled, but Chloe knew not to say a word about the state of the woman’s home. She and her mom simply pretended the towering piles weren’t about to fall on their heads.