It was only later he realized his brothers had never answered him as to his bride’s visage.
Christian looked to his brothers, standing tall at the front of the chapel, dressed resplendently. The women had servants scurrying to do their bidding all day, covering the chapel in so much greenery he was surprised the trees were not all bare. The overwhelming smell of juniper made him sneeze. They had insisted his bride would wish the chapel to be pleasing. Women. Let them have their womanly things.
He shifted from foot to foot, wondering what was taking so long. His intended’s dam was arguing with her husband as Christian strained to listen. The man grew red in the face, the discord causing Christian to pray he would not be ill all over his new tunic and boots.
The door opened with a bang, interrupting his thoughts, as he watched Melinda stomping toward him, followed by her sisters. Jennifer, Elizabeth and Anna trailed behind them and his stomach revolted.
It seemed everyone was in attendance except his bride to be. The women looked like a flock of birds, dressed in their finery; too bad the scowls on their faces took away from their loveliness. He risked a gaze at his brothers, and what he saw had him touching the blade at his side. Before James reached Melinda, she poked the man in the chest. Seemed he would not be Christian’s father-in-law after all.
“Your wretched daughter has run off with one of the stable boys.”
The girl’s mother sidled away, but was stopped by Lucy brandishing one of the wooden sticks she used to make scarves. As Christian looked more closely, he saw a piece of yarn hanging from her skirts, hidden away in one of the pockets she and her sisters insisted in putting in every garment. When he’d asked, they blushed and said they didn’t think such a small thing would have a very large impact on history—at least, they hoped not. Charlotte had laughed, saying she hoped whoever invented pockets would still invent them, but Melinda chimed in and said, “Perhaps he got the idea from us, and isn’t that something to make you think?”
Christian did not think overmuch on future doings. He preferred to believe the women came from a faraway land, but not from the future. Thinking of the future made his head ache. His attention was pulled back to Melinda as she took the runaway bride’s mother by the arm.
“Don’t even think about sneaking out of here, lady.”
Then the bellowing began. Not by him. Deep down he’d expected the girl to bolt. Whilst his family roared and made threats, Christian strode out of the chapel, stopping in the kitchens to pilfer some of Henry’s best wine, then made for the stables, where he saddled a horse and rode out of the gates.
After the third one had run, Christian quit counting how many brides he had lost. Was this the fifth? Mayhap he should visit the abbey on his ride. In all his score and four years, he’d never raised a hand to a woman. Today he thought on the widow responsible for his current state of affairs, and his fingers twitched next to his blade as he remembered the embarrassment of confessing his shame to Edward.
“All because of one night.” Christian leaned closer to Edward. “At court last year, a wealthy widow took me to her bed.” He snorted. “The lasses always flock to my bed, and I had heard she did not want to marry only to enjoy the bed sport, so I eagerly followed her to her chamber.”
Edward tapped his foot, trying to hide his impatience.
“I was deep in my cups and I… Bloody hell. I fell asleep. The next morn, she told all I suffered grave injury as a boy and could not have babes.” He threw up his hands and paced. “None will have me. Each lass finds a reason why she cannot marry me, or their sires agree to the betrothal and the girl runs away. They would rather be beaten than face a life without children. I will die alone.”
“You are Lord Winterforth,” Edward said. “Not as handsome as I, and your swordplay is lacking, but you are a Thornton, and any would give much to ally with us. Marry a girl and put a babe in her belly that will end the rumors.”
“Nay, Edward. The last one ran away to France to marry a baker rather than face me at the altar. I am doomed to loneliness.”
Edward rolled his eyes. “Then put a babe in one of the serving wenches’ bellies, give her a few coins, and stop this nonsense being spouted amongst the eligible maidens of the realm.” Edward threw up his hands. “Hell, marry a foreign lass.”
Christian was horrified. “I will have an English bride, and I cannot put a babe in a woman’s belly on purpose. Father taught us to cherish all women. Not to ill-use them. A babe would be my responsibility. What do I know of raising a babe? ’Tis women’s work.” His shoulders slumped. “I cannot.”
“Ask Charlotte or Anna. All of the women in our family enjoy meddling. Surely they can find you a wife who will not bolt before you have bedded her.”
“And you? Why, then, have you not married, if ’tis so simple any dolt can do it?”
“I have been visiting eligible maidens, and soon I will choose one to become the lady of Somerforth.”
Christian raised a brow.
“Harrumph. None have suited me thus far. All of them are much too biddable.”
“I would gladly have a meek and quiet wife. One who will leave me to hunt.”
Edward cuffed Christian. “Dolt. Do not let Melinda hear you say such, or she will swear to find you a shrew to plague you the rest of your days.”
“You want a future girl? Now who is daft? There are none to be had. ’Tis not possible.”
Done with thinking about the past, he urged his horse to a gallop. Christian rode until the dark mood dissipated. In a clearing, he came upon an abandoned hut. ’Twas gloomy and dusty inside, and he had to shoo away the vermin who had made their homes in the hovel. He would spend the afternoon wallowing. Robert said it did wonders, though now he was married, he no longer wallowed. Elizabeth did not hold with feeling sorry for oneself.
Christian held the wine up. “At least you never desert me.” The horse shook his head and went back to grazing at the grass growing through the window where the wall had fallen down.
All of the Thornton men were considered handsome. Some of the most handsome man in the realm. While he did not consider himself vain, Christian knew his visage was pleasing. Women remarked on the color of his hair, saying it was like the sun shining on gold. They praised his eyes, saying they were as blue as the sea, and his teeth straight and white as snow. But today he felt as deformed and hideous as a troll living under a bridge from the old tales.
Was his temperament foul? Did he bellow overmuch? He did not think it so, but mayhap he should ask Lucy. Or perhaps Charlotte. She was more tactful in her replies.
Christian leaned back against a heap of rags, coughing as dust filled the room. He would drink and forget. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. After all, it likely couldn’t get any worse, could it?
Chapter Three
The cold marble seeped through her yoga pants, chilling her, as Ashley sat on the pristine white counter, feet in the sink, eating cereal for dinner. The fuzzy pink socks looked like an old, worn towel as she tapped her toes to the music playing.
The best thing about living alone? No one fussed about feet in the sink or cared that she sat on the counter eating dinner. No one complained if she napped on the weekend or slept half the day away—not like she did, but still, it was nice to have the option. Because when she did take the rare day off? It was pajamas all day, binge-watching her favorite shows, and naps galore. Ashley answered to no one, not even Ben.
The spoon slipped out of her hand, clattering as it hit the dishes in the sink before coming to rest in a teacup. Abruptly, she put the bowl down, jumped off the counter, and went to lean against the window in the living room, looking out into the darkness, her reflection staring back. Resting her cheek against the cold glass, she wondered, why did the past always pick the absolute worst time to sit down for a spell? The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the room, overlaid with a kind Southern voice. Turning the lights out as she moved through the apartment, hoping to banish the memories, she found h
erself in the bathroom, water running, with no recollection of brushing her teeth. She had to touch the toothbrush to check. Sighing, she climbed into bed, flannel sheets warm against her skin as she tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. But sleep was nowhere to be found, not so close to Halloween.
Out of practice, huffing from the exertion, Ashley coiled the jump rope and stowed it in a wicker basket next to the sofa. Outside, big, fat, fluffy flakes were falling, and she smiled, watching a child dressed in a bright red coat and matching boots dart across the street, his mother trailing after him. She loved this neighborhood, adored her rent-controlled prewar apartment, and as she stood there thinking about two very different childhoods, Ashley swore she could smell hot chocolate.
There was a knock, the door opened, and in came her boyfriend bearing the source of the smell.
“I knew you wouldn’t have time to grab one on the way in today.” He handed her the hot chocolate. “Made sure they added extra whip.” He peered closely at her before taking her wrist, his lips moving as he counted.
“Whoa. Have you been moving furniture? You’re sweating and your face is really red.” Ben looked around as if he should notice something out of place.
“Nope. Jumping rope. When I was a kid, I carried my jump rope with the purple handles everywhere. Picked up a new rope yesterday and thought I’d see if I still had it.” She touched her side, pinching the bit of extra padding. “You know how it is around the holidays, all the extra food and drink, trying to avoid gaining five pounds.”
She took a sip, the chocolatey goodness filling her mouth, the warmth traveling through her chest, flooding her body with contentment.
“Have I told you how perfect you are? Though I should lay off this stuff until January.”
“Not for at least a day. I know how much you love hot chocolate.”
Ben kissed her on the cheek, a whiff of cinnamon filled her nose, and she spotted the ever-present pack of gum in his shirt pocket. “And for the record, you do not need to lose five pounds. You’re fine the way you are.” He looked her up and down. “Unless you’re planning to wear your Rangers jersey into the office, you’re going to be late.”
His comment ripped her out of the cobwebs of memory. “I can’t believe I lost track of time. I never do that. You’re right.” She smooched him as she made for the bathroom. “Don’t forget, I leave for London after work tonight.”
“I know, that’s why I stopped by, to say goodbye.” He stopped her, pulling her close. “You’ve got this. No way Mitch will get promoted over you. You’re way sexier. Just remember what we talked about.” He looked at his phone buzzing away and frowned.
Her boyfriend was the team doctor for the Rangers and was even busier than she was, which was saying something.
“I remember. I’m going to take him down.”
Ben grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “You know, that’s one of the things I like about you.”
“What’s that?”
“No drama. Sometimes you’re like a guy but in a woman’s body.” He held up his hands. “Not that I have some kind of weird issues or anything; I’m just saying you don’t get all wound up in the emotional stuff. You’re practical and you’re not clingy. I like that about you.”
“Not like your ex, the beauty queen. What was she again, queen of green beans?”
He chuckled. “Queen of the sugar snap peas, five years in a row, the longest reign in town.”
The gagging noises covered her shudder, making Ben chuckle.
“Thanks again for the hot chocolate. And for stopping by. I’ll text you when I land, let you know how it goes. Better jump in the shower so I’m not late.”
“The day you’re late is the day the world ends.”
“Funny.” She kissed him, tasting the cinnamon on his lips. “Go have fun stitching up the players.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ll grab dinner when you get back. Celebrate your promotion.”
While she finished getting ready, she’d been thinking about what Ben had said. Had she become too hard? Pushed aside her femininity so she could get ahead and be one of the guys? Mitch accused her of being as frozen as the snow blanketing the ground. At the time, she’d laughed and said better frozen than a puddle to be stomped in, but now she had to wonder. Where was the line between ambition and ball breaker?
During her commute this morning she used the precious time to read a few chapters of the novel she’d been reading for a month. Before college she’d read several books a week; now she was lucky if she read twelve in a year. A guy smelling like old cheese and cheap cologne passed by, making her throat close up. Gotta love the subway.
Over the past week she’d started jumping rope again after seeing a class at her gym using the rope to warm up. During college, it was like meditation, calming her mind from its normal state of flitting about like a butterfly on cocaine, but not today. She was really out of practice. After she got back in the groove, maybe the meditative feeling would return.
Blinking at the contrast between the dark subway and the stark brightness reflecting off the snow, she searched for a pair of sunnies in her bag as she stepped off the curb, jumping back as the swish of tires filled the air. A group of women on bicycles cycled past, wearing black leggings and nothing else but brightly colored paint. They looked like an abstract painting of a rainbow as they passed by, too quickly for her to read the protest signs they had tied to the bikes. Whatever. She’d seen women wearing less in nightclubs, and there was always some kind of protest going on, though the poor girls must be freezing.
Almost to the office, the shriek made her turn, but it was the accent that made her wince.
“Why I never. Harlan, did you see those gals? Wait till I tell Darlene. She’ll never believe it. Tell me you got a picture. They must be colder than the devil in Siberia.”
The man mumbled something Ashley couldn’t hear as the woman’s voice rang out across the street.
“Come on, let’s get goin’, I wanna be first in line.”
The lilt, the dropped Gs. No matter how hard she tried, the past broke through the locked doors within and flooded her brain. Like a movie on fast forward, one blinking streetlight, cows in a pasture, empty shelves, and laundry flapping on the line in the sticky heat flashed in front of her eyes. Scowling at the tourists, Ashley huffed, weaving through the masses of people as if she’d been doing it her entire life instead of three short years.
“I can’t escape. What is going on? Some kind of Southern special on visiting New York in the fall?” she grumbled under her breath as tourists stood in the middle of the escalator instead of standing to the right, so those on the left could actually walk past them and get to their offices on time. How could anyone in the civilized world not know that unwritten rule?
Maybe she needed to book a massage, because she was in a snit that even hot chocolate couldn’t cure. The carpeted hallway muffled her steps, a few early risers working away. On the way to her office, she stopped to pick up her messages from the assistant she shared with two others. Of course the girl wasn’t in yet; she usually rolled in around nine and took two hours for lunch.
The hedge fund was Ashley’s first job out of college, and in the three years she’d been here, she’d worked her way up from an entry-level position to a junior executive at the age of twenty-three. She’d busted her butt, graduating both high school and college a year early, taking a full course load and ending with a double major in finance and economics. By the time she hit twenty-five, she planned to be a face on the org chart. But now the company was merging with a firm based in London so they could go global and be more competitive. With changes in leadership and her job on the line, there was no way she’d lose out to Mitch. She’d rather eat dirt and go crawling back to Georgia.
Her boss was older, still had the mentality that women should stay home and take care of the kids. Made it plain he thought she didn’t belong, and she’d had to work twice as hard to prove othe
rwise.
Of course Mitch was already seated in Harry’s office, the two of them laughing and joking. She pasted on a friendly smile as she strode into the immense corner office decorated in old-world elegance and oozing money.
“Ashley, nice of you to join us this morning.” Mitch ran a hand through his hair. The kiss-up had obviously been here since dawn, beaten her in yet again. She’d have to step up her game; that was three times this month.
“Harry was telling me the news.”
“News?”
He smirked at her. “Leadership has to tighten budgets. One junior executive has to go. Our little trip to London will decide who gets promoted and who gets canned.”
She nodded at them both and lied through her teeth. “That’s a great idea. Though wouldn’t it make more sense to find something else for the loser? The firm puts a great deal of resources into training. Seems a shame to lose the knowledge.”
Harry smiled at her as if she wasn’t especially bright. “Women never want to make the hard choices. No, the loser will be packing up their desk and finding another job. I have goals to meet and I intend to exceed them. Leadership is watching.”
“Works for me,” Mitch said.
As Harry’s assistant interrupted to tell him he had a call, Mitch and Ashley walked out together. In the hallway, he moved into her personal space. His breath was hot against her neck and she caught the scent of coffee and doughnuts.
“No one likes a manly woman. Don’t you know by now? Harry likes the dumb model type. Look at all the assistants. Guess we both know who’s going to be packing up when we get back.”
Ashley stepped on his foot with her heel, pressing down hard.
“Damn, that hurt. You did that on purpose.” Mitch scowled at her.
She paused in the doorway to her office. “You and Harry may be part of the good old boys’ club, but I’ve worked hard to get where I am and there’s no way you’re taking this promotion from me. I’ve earned it.”
Last Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 4) Page 2