Last Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 4)
Page 3
“Game on, then. May the best man win.”
She ignored him as she sat down and opened up the laptop, instead focusing on the day’s tasks.
Before she knew it, the office was deserted, leaving Ashley and a few stragglers furiously typing away, blue light reflected on their faces. The sound of a vacuum droned from down the hall. She changed into a sweater dress and boots, hung her suit on the door, and left a note for her assistant to have it dry-cleaned while she was gone. Cashmere coat belted tight, chunky scarf in place, she was prepared to wait for a cab, but it was her night, as there was one in front of the building.
“JFK.” Plenty of time to make the eleven o’clock flight.
Or so she thought.
“Doesn’t it figure.” She stared at the departures board in dismay as fellow travelers grumbled around her. In the time it took to get to the airport, the flight had been delayed. Hungry and irritable, she found a restaurant, only to discover everyone else had the same idea. Her dismay grew as she listened to the wait times at two other places. This was the downside of New York: everyone was used to getting what they wanted at all hours of the day and night. Not wanting fast food, she tried one last place where she could sit down, relax, and enjoy a glass of wine. As she was contemplating asking a group of businessmen if she could join them, a man managed to make himself heard above the din of the crowd. It was a cultured voice, one you knew came from the East Coast, with a lineage of horses, servants, a house on the Vineyard, and Ivy League schools. Mitch.
“Over here, dude. You can join me.”
Suspicious, but grateful, she sat down, ignoring the dude. He called her dude or bro or fella all the time, trying to make some kind of stupid point. Usually she ignored him; sometimes she responded at his level, calling him sugar, honey, girl, and chick. Immature, but it usually made her feel better.
“Thanks. Can you believe we’ve been delayed two hours?”
“There’s a storm overseas. I had the office call ahead so they know we’ll be arriving late.”
The server stopped at their table, looking as frazzled as Ashley felt. After ordering, she sat back, people-watching. There were lots of business travelers and a few families with kids asleep at the table. Where were they all going?
Mitch talked about himself and what he was going to do with all the money from his promotion while she mainly nodded and enjoyed her dinner. Otherwise she was afraid she would end up screaming and having a full-blown tantrum in the middle of the restaurant. No, she would do what she always did. Work three times as hard as he did. At the end of the trip, she’d be the one laughing when Harry had to grudgingly concede she was the better person for the job. Mitch wiped his mouth and placed the white napkin to the side of his plate.
“Listen to me. I’ve been talking about myself all through dinner. So where are you from? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”
“Buckhead.”
Mitch’s eyes rose. “Nice area. Had a friend at school from there. Maybe you know the family. The Winstons?”
She shook her head. “No. But then again, I was always studying. Didn’t have much time to make friends.”
He pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, instead scratching his chin as he looked out over the restaurant. It was dimly lit and outrageously overpriced, but she was grateful for the warm meal and a chance to relax.
The cologne Mitch was wearing made her nose itch. Abruptly he turned to her and said, “You know, it’s strange how much you remind me of a guy I knew at school.”
“Really? Why strange?”
And just like that, she knew she’d made a mistake. Had seen that look on his face in meetings, the look of a shark ready to devour the helpless fish as it tried to swim away.
“The guy I knew had a huge chip on his shoulder. Scholarship student. Solid middle class; you know the type. Hated the kids with the latest phone, clothes, or sports car. He drove some old clunker we nicknamed the boat. Had a basic phone and generic laptop. Some old TV in his room. Think he was from some no-name town in the middle of nowhere. You know the type, always trying to pretend he was something he wasn’t.”
Ashley’s insides felt as cold as the snow outside. Her nails dug into her palms so deeply she was surprised she hadn’t drawn blood. But he couldn’t see her hands under the table, and outwardly she plastered on her most serene smile and tilted her head up at him.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but I know the type. Every school has them, don’t you think?”
He was interrupted from answering by the server bringing their check. Mitch reached for it. “I’ll put this one on my expense report. You take the next one.”
When she stood, the tablecloth caught on her belt, sending the wineglasses falling. Mitch caught the glasses before they hit the floor.
“Oops, tired, I guess. I’ll see you on the plane. I’ve got a few things to catch up on. Thanks again for sharing your table.” And without waiting for an answer, she briskly walked out of the restaurant, forcing herself not to run for the ladies’ room and hide until it was time to board.
For one awful moment, she thought he’d found out her most shameful secret. But it was just Mitch being his horrible self, bluffing to see what she might confess. And there was no way Ashley would ever tell the truth about where she came from. Not to him or anyone else. Not ever.
Chapter Four
Why did he feel as if he’d spent the night sleeping on broken stone? Come to think on it, why was it so bloody cold? Had the fire gone out? Christian woke, the smell of rotting wood filling his nose, the taste of decay thick in his throat. A cloud of dust filled the hut when he stretched, his back cracking as he twisted. The leather flask was heavy in his hands as he tilted it to his mouth, letting the cold water quench his thirst.
“Pardon, my lord. Everyone has been searching for you.” A small boy of no more than six winters stood in the doorway, shuffling his feet.
“You have been gone for two days.” The boy looked hopeful as he blew his nose on his sleeve, the noise making Christian’s horse snort.
“Might you return? The cook is making tarts, and the smell, it makes me hungry. Lord Ravenskirk said I might have one if I found you and brought you back. I’m one of the best trackers, can find rabbits even in winter, everyone says ’tis so.”
The look of hope and hunger on the boy’s face made Christian curse.
“What kind of tarts?”
The boy licked his lips, a lock of unruly black hair falling over one eye, giving him the look of a rather small pirate eyeing a vast treasure.
“Apple with cinnamon.” He held a hand to his stomach as if imagining the warm pastry filling his belly.
Grumbling under his breath, Christian swore again.
“Aye, I will return anon. You shall have your tart.” The boy’s smile filled the room and banished the gloom from Christian’s soul. “You shall have two; tell my brother I said such.”
He was a Thornton. Thorntons always did their duty, and for as long as Christian could remember, he wished to marry and have babes to carry on the Thornton name. All of his brothers were wed. ’Twas past time. Even if he had to knock on every door in the realm, he would find another bride and wed before year’s end.
Resolved, he tossed the boy onto the horse and they rode out as Christian hummed under his breath. The sky was a muted gray, the smell of juniper and snow filled the air, and he was grateful for the warmth of the scarf Lucy had made for him. There was no wind; he could see Ravenskirk reflected in the water surrounding the castle, making Henry’s home look twice its size.
The clatter of the horse’s hooves on the bridge and the sound of his and the boy’s stomachs rumbling made such noise that Christian was surprised the entire guard didn’t turn out to see what army was invading.
The boy sniffed. “I smell the tarts.”
“I do as well. We best make haste.” Christian inhaled, his belly rumbling. In the future, if he ran away, he would pack victuals for the journey.
“Aye, see to the horse, then fill your belly and bring me one of those tarts before my brother eats them all.”
The lad took the reins, leading the horse away. Before Christian had gained the hall, a terrible scream rent the air, seeming to shake the very foundations of the keep as he drew his sword and ran. Inside the hall, there were no invaders, and his brothers were unharmed, pacing in front of the fire. William gaped at him whilst James looked to the stairs.
Christian looked about for the women. “Is aught amiss? Are we under attack?”
“The prodigal returns.” Edward peered closely at him. “Why do you gasp like a fish out of water?”
“I heard screams, thought the women were in danger.”
“Henry is in danger of losing his manly bits if the threats coming from Charlotte are to be believed.” Edward rocked back on his heels. “With her in my army, I could take Scotland.”
Another scream followed by a stream of cursing met Christian’s ears, and he winced. “I didn’t know Charlotte knew such words.”
“She says it’s fun to learn all the bad words.” Henry gulped his wine and glanced toward the stairs.
Edward stroked his chin. “You were wrong, James. Christian looks like he spent the past two days in a barn, not enjoying the favors of a woman.”
“Aye, so he does. Where have you been, dolt?”
“None of your concern. Can’t a man spend a bit of time alone without you lot gossiping like old women?”
His eldest brother pursed his lips. “The lists. You will feel better after time in the lists.” Edward rubbed his hands together. “Shall we go now?”
Christian scowled. “Not everything can be fixed by stomping about with a sword.”
There was stunned silence.
“Truly? I find brawling in the mud does wonders.” William smirked. “We should all have a go, see if your swordplay is as lacking as your ability to find a bride.”
“Haven’t you heard? I can find them; it’s the wedding of them that’s the problem.” Christian rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Henry.
His brother, soon to be a father for the second time, was the same color as the clouds in the sky. His hands shook as he drank deeply from the goblet he was holding as if it had powers from faerie. “Have you seen Peter’s monsters? How they terrorize the servants?”
William cuffed him on the ear. “If Lucy hears you speaking ill of our grandchildren, she will invite you out to the lists or poison your wine. Though, in truth, Peter would agree. I confess, we sometimes hide in the stables or the larder to escape the twins when they visit.”
“Lads are easy,” Henry said. “Give them a sword and send them to foster with a good family. But girls. And twins as well. They may only be four, but I would rather face a fire-breathing dragon than the two of them with mischief on their minds. Poor Peter.” He shuddered.
“They’re already beautiful,” William said. “I’ll have to kill every man that comes to woo them. I told my son his daughters are not to marry until they are two score, if ever.” He grunted. “Did you hear what the angels did a fortnight ago? They put rotten eggs in all the guards’ boots then sounded the alarm. Had been searching out old eggs and hiding them down in the cellar for months. When the guards put their boots on, the stench was dreadful.” He leaned against the wall, crossing one booted foot in front of the other. “As all grandmothers, Lucy is blind to their faults. Thought they were clever to plan such a trick at their ages.” He grinned. “I was rather proud of them, but don’t tell my wife.”
“Melinda thought it was amusing,” James added. “Said when she was six she let a skunk into the car of a mean teacher; said she wasn’t sure who was more alarmed, the skunk or the man. All the women look at those two savages and all they see are angels.” He poured wine for them.
Robert entered the hall, pale and sweating. “James, I found your Emma with the boys. They were showing her how to throw a dirk. Saints, she’s not yet two.”
Christian clapped a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh. Henry and John’s sons might only be two years old, but they were more terrifying than the girls. When he had children they would be well mannered and well behaved.
James sprawled in the chair, legs stretched out in front of him. “Never too early for the lass to learn.”
“Better not let Melinda hear you say such.” Robert wiped his brow and poured a cup of the spiced wine.
James looked to the stairs as if worried his wife had somehow heard him, and this time Christian could not hold the laughter in.
“I will remind you of this moment when you have your own offspring.”
He stopped laughing. Melinda could terrify the guard with a look. As his brothers had children, Christian watched them to see what kind of parents they might become. Anna and John let their son run free, while Charlotte and Henry believed in rules, which Christian found amusing. Though with their second child on the way, perchance his brother would not worry overmuch. Then again, what did he know? He didn’t yet have babes. Or a wife.
As if she had heard Christian’s thoughts, Charlotte let out another scream, causing Henry to spill his wine.
Christian paced the length of the hall, grateful everyone was too concerned with the coming babe to question him overmuch on where he had spent the past two days.
A sound on the stairs brought them to their feet as Melinda appeared, looking tired but full of joy.
“Congratulations, Henry. You have two beautiful girls.”
Henry swayed, and would have ended up face first on the rug if James hadn’t caught him. The rest of them were too stunned to move. More twins. Girls. Mayhap Christian had been too hasty in wanting children. He’d never thought he might have girls. What did one do with small females?
James pushed Henry down in the chair. “Put your head between your legs and breathe. Deep breaths.”
The smell of whiskey filled the room. Robert inhaled deeply. “From Connor. Before he…left.” He poured and passed a cup to Henry.
“Drink. You’ll feel better.”
Henry took two gulps before looking up at Melinda. “Did you say two girls?”
Melinda’s joy filled the hall. And that quickly, Christian again wanted children, even twin girls. Surely they could not all be like Peter’s daughters. He took a drink of Connor’s whiskey, enjoying the smoky taste as the liquid pooled in his belly, filling him with warmth.
“Yes. Twins.” She hugged Henry, her eyes meeting James, and something passed between them, bringing the loneliness back to Christian’s heart.
“Ready to see your daughters?”
Henry nodded weakly. “Aye.”
He allowed Melinda to lead him out of the hall.
“Well done, brother.” Robert raised his cup.
John and Edward discreetly wiped their eyes as Henry passed by.
“Girls.” Christian shuddered. “What does one do with girls?”
“Just wait, whelp. ’Twill be your time soon enough,” William said before striding from the hall. “I’m for the lists. Who’s with me?”
His entire family was gathered around the table. The ever-present loneliness Christian normally felt was replaced with joy at seeing Charlotte’s new babes. It was decided to change the failed wedding feast into a celebration of new life. The hall was filled with sounds of merrymaking as the musicians played, voices carried through the hall as the men drank and jested, and his brothers teased him that it would soon be his time. In truth, he liked the noise. Winterforth was barren without the sound of children running about, stealing tarts from the kitchen. To have his family close was as much as he could ask for. He stretched his legs out under the table. ’Twas a good day.
Lucy draped one of her scarves around his neck and sat down beside him. “I’m sorry the kids played tug-of-war with the dogs and ruined your scarf. I made you another in blue to complement your eyes.�
� She smelled of wine and wool, the silver of her hair shining like the moon in the candlelight.
“I’m awfully sorry about your betrothed. We all want you to be happy. So don’t marry the next girl that comes along just because she’s available. Make sure you care for her. I promise, the wait will be worth it.” She brushed off her skirts as she stood, her gaze finding William. “After all, you’ll be married the rest of your life. Might as well enjoy talking to her.”
“I would be content to find one who would converse with me at all.” Christian watched her go then turned his attention to the other women, shamelessly listening while pretending to enjoy the music as the women spoke of womanly matters.
The boy who’d found him in the hovel ran through the hall. Christian reached out and caught him. “Where are you off to?”
“He ate the tart I was saving for later, my lord.” The boy glared at the retreating backside of another boy. One much larger.
Christian eyed the lad with a practiced eye. “He’s bigger than you, and I’ve heard no one can best him among the stable boys.”
The boy lifted his chin. There were crumbs on the front of his tunic, and they fell to the floor as he hopped about telling Christian what he would do to the boy when he caught him. Christian listened, making appropriate sounds until the lad was done.
“Might I offer a suggestion?”
The boy leaned forward to hear him above the noise in the hall.
“When he is in the privy, push him in, then run like hell.”
The boy grinned. “He’ll pound me, but ’twill be worth it.”
“Aye. ’Tis good to stand up to those who are cruel to others.” Christian hoped the boy wouldn’t take too harsh a beating. Standing up for himself would show the bigger lad he would not back down. And some days that was all a man could ask.
Christian spent the evening talking to the lads about swords and battle and all the chivalrous duties a knight must perform. There was a warmth that filled the hall. Not from the fire, but from those within the walls of Ravenskirk.