Charlotte had changed Henry for the better. All of his brothers were different. How might a wife change Christian?
Would she scream at him or be kind? Mayhap she would watch him in the lists and when he brawled in the hall with his brothers, cheering him on. As the years passed, what would it be like to have his family all together? It was important his brothers and their wives thought well of his bride. She would be part of the family he loved. All the women were beautiful, and he hoped his intended’s visage would be pleasing. And when he made love to her, she would not turn away, but enjoy the act that would result in sons.
The merrymaking continued long into the night, and Christian was the last to retire to his chamber. As he stepped over men sleeping in the hall, he stopped to admire the painting Jennifer had done of Henry, Charlotte, and their son. Beside it was a painting of Ravenskirk Elizabeth had painted. He would ask them to paint his home and family when the time came.
The next morn Christian fussed over Charlotte and the babes, slapped Henry on the back, and filched the remaining tarts. He gave one to the lad who had tracked him to the hut. The boy had a black eye and split lip, but was otherwise unharmed.
“How did you fare?”
The boy grinned and sat on the stone wall facing the lists.
“You should have seen him. Splash. He flailed about, screaming like a wee girl. Didn’t know he couldn’t swim.”
The boy hitched up his hose. “I fished ’em out and said don’t ever cross me again.”
“Good for you. Where is he now?”
“Skulking about.” The lad held his nose. “In all me life I’ve never smelled such a stench.”
The scarf Lucy had crocheted Christian was warm as the wind whipped through the courtyard. His family had come out to see him off. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of leaving them and traveling to Winterforth alone.
“Dust. I’ve dust in my eye.”
Edward simply smiled and for once didn’t say anything, which told Christian they all knew how he was feeling.
“Send word when you’ve arrived home.”
Edward too wore a scarf, and as Christian looked around, he saw most of the people wearing Lucy’s scarves and hats.
“Be careful going home. There have been odd happenings.”
Robert sidled up to them. “Connor.”
“Aye. I owe him my life for saving me from the Johnston hanging me.” Edward grimaced.
“Do you know what’s being said about our fearsome brother?” John embraced Christian, and he knew his brother understood his feelings. For John had been alone many years before rejoining the living.
James rocked back on his heels. “’Tis said you have powerful protection.”
“From faeries,” William added.
Edward scoffed. “Nonsense.”
“Nay, brother.” Robert spoke in a low voice so the lads in the lists wouldn’t overhear them. Christian leaned forward too. He wasn’t superstitious, but what had happened…
Robert continued, “You survived Maude trying to poison you. The Armstrong and Johnston failed to kill you, and were both killed in your stead, and now the Scots believe you to be immortal.”
“I’d wondered why there hadn’t been any raids of late.” Edward stroked his chin. “I won’t soon forget what happened.”
“What are you lot whispering about like a bunch of gossips?” Melinda held out a parcel. “Charlotte sends her love. We all do. There’s food for a se’nnight in there. Be careful.” She kissed him on the cheek and turned to James. “I’ll remind you of this day when you call me an interfering busybody, James Rivers.”
“My shrew of a wife, how I love thee.”
She blushed. “Flatterer.”
“Go on,” Henry said.
“It was an hour or so before dawn when we were attacked. One of the Scots had seen the thief’s face and knew ’twas not me who burned.” Edward’s brother shivered. “The sky opened, the rain lashing us, then the lightning filled the sky. As I watched, Connor took an arrow through his hand, went down on one knee…” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “He vanished.”
“Now the Scots believe you ate Connor for supper and that is why they could not find his body.” William chuckled. “They may never vex you again. I shall remember this in case I needs strike terror in my enemies’ hearts.”
John gaped. “You would eat your enemy?”
“Nay.” William scoffed. “But I would make sure no one ever found the body so they thought I did.”
“Do you think the same thing happened to Connor as did your wives?” Christian paled at the thought of Connor finding himself facing the Romans.
“Mayhap. We will never know.” Henry pulled Christian into an embrace. “What an adventure he must be having. I will miss you, brother.”
Christian bade each one goodbye—his throat pained him so that he did not trust himself to speak without bawling like a babe.
Before he rode out of the gates, a commotion sounded, the dogs running out of the keep as if chased by demons from hell. Each dog was dyed a different color. One yellow, one green, and one a rather sickly shade of blue. The boys ran after them as fast as their small, chubby legs would carry them. Jennifer chased after them brandishing one of her paintbrushes.
“You little monsters, you used all of my paint.”
She came to a stop and blew the hair out of her face before turning to the group. “Did you see what they did? They painted the dogs.”
He couldn’t hold it in: Christian threw back his head and laughed as William and John narrowed their eyes.
“Your time is coming,” John said.
Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth, but the giggles escaped. “Maybe they were just trying to help you.”
Jennifer waved the paintbrush at her. “If you want me to make more paint for you, you’ll quit laughing, otherwise you’re out of luck.”
Elizabeth hugged her sister-in-law. “You know I’m only teasing.”
“I know. But it makes me mad.” Jennifer huffed, a bit red in the face, the scent of her paints following she and Elizabeth wherever they went.
Halfheartedly, she called after them, “You better run, you little monsters. I’m giving your slice of pie to the dogs.”
The boys were wise enough to remain quiet.
As he rode out across the bridge, Christian thought of Winterforth filled with the sound of laughter, the loneliness banished for good. With one last look at Ravenskirk, he had the feeling the next time he was here, his life would be irrevocably changed.
Chapter Five
Careful not to bang into anyone with her carry-on, the sight of slicked-back blond hair had Ashley searching for a way to cross the aisle to avoid him.
“Tell me you’re not stuck in the back with the other cows?”
Nope. Too late.
“Of course you upgraded to first. I’m in business.”
Mitch looked like he’d gotten a good whiff of garbage on a hot summer day.
“Bad enough. Listen, Ash, I’ve already taken care of renting a car, so you can catch a ride with me when we land. We’ll need to get checked in at the hotel and changed for the costume party. It’s a bit of a drive out to the country. Some moldy old estate; probably reeks of dust and old rugs. We’re to arrive dressed.”
“What do you mean a costume party?” Her fingers and toes went numb. “You said it was a cocktail party. What kind of costume party?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? Guess Harry didn’t tell you. It’s a medieval costume party. Havers loves the era, and we’re to arrive dressed.” He looked her up and down. “My assistant called ahead to let them know we’re running late, but assured them we’d make it to the party by the end of cocktails at the latest. I don’t know why we couldn’t get dressed there, since we’re staying overnight. I hear our new boss is brilliant with numbers but crazy—oh, excuse me, eccentric.”
She pressed her lips together, rolling her shoulders to ease the knots. Now she kn
ew why he’d offered to share his car: he’d sabotage her, make sure she didn’t have a costume, and put himself one step closer to winning. Payback’s a bitch, Mitch.
“No, Harry didn’t tell me. Appreciate the offer, but I’ll grab a cab, since now I need to find a costume.”
“Good luck.” He glanced at his watch. “We won’t land until one, and it’s at least a two-hour drive to the estate, so by my estimation, you’ll have a max of three hours to find a dress and change in order to leave on time…and we all know how important it is for you to be on time. I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you come up with, and don’t worry, I’ll let Havers know you’re running late.”
He flicked a glance behind her. “Better move on. You’re holding up the line.”
“See you there.” Ashley gritted her teeth and smiled so she wouldn’t smack him and get thrown off the plane. The suitcase banged into his seat, and he yelped as the drink splattered on his sleeve. Served him right.
“Cardiff, Wales. What do you mean we’re landing in Wales?”
The man seated next to her shrugged at the announcement from the cockpit. Ashley felt the hysteria rising, threatening to spill over and make her run screaming down the aisle.
A severe storm had shut down Heathrow, diverting them to Wales, where there was another storm, but apparently not so bad they couldn’t land. It was supposed to clear in a few hours. The Wi-Fi on the plane didn’t work, some kind of mechanical issue, so she had to wait until she landed to search out a dress for tonight.
By the number of people making use of the little bags behind their seats and the stench filling the cabin, she should have known there would be a problem. Only an iron will had kept her from barfing along with most of the passengers as the turbulence grew worse.
The man next to her closed his eyes, gripping the armrest, his lips moving over and over. Finally the announcement came they were landing. The passengers couldn’t get off the smelly plane fast enough. Stale air, vomit, and peanuts—it was revolting.
After she cleared customs, Ashley tried to call Mitch. It was time to put her dislike of him aside. They could ride together, and she’d call shops on the way for a costume to wear to the party. London would have lots of shops with dresses, right? Surely an hour would be enough time to find a dress? She’d wear it out of the store and make it in time for dinner. But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the rental counter, and definitely not answering his phone.
She spoke to the woman behind the rental counter.
“Wait, you don’t have any cars? I’ll take anything, except a motorcycle. Don’t know how to ride one of those.” When she leaned on the counter, her palms encountered something sticky. Gross. She rummaged in her bag for a tissue and discreetly wiped down the area.
The sound of the woman’s fingers on the keyboard were like tapping against a window. Each time she typed, Ashley swore she smelled apples. Was it hand lotion?
“No, I’m terribly sorry. With the storm and the additional passengers from London, we’ve had everyone wanting a car today.”
She tried Mitch again. No answer. Why did she have the feeling he’d done this on purpose? He must be laughing, knowing she would be stuck in Wales while he drove to London, probably had his assistant book the car as soon as they touched down while she’d been too busy thinking about the damn dress. By the time she arrived, Mitch would have already kissed up to Mr. Havers and would be the one taking home the promotion. She’d be the one packing up the sad little cardboard box while her coworkers whispered and wore sad fake smiles on their faces.
No. This was not happening. She’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much to give up now. A pit stop in the ladies’ room where she touched up her makeup and put her hair up in a ponytail, and Ashley was ready to do battle.
Though an hour later she was forced to concede defeat. There was a problem with the train: it was delayed until late afternoon. The cabs and limos were gone, already spoken for, and she hadn’t had any luck getting a boat, either. The man on the phone thought she was joking when she asked about helicopters, and hung up on her. As she slumped in a chair, drinking a bottle of sparkling water, the smell of pine needles made her nose itch.
“Heard you need a ride to London.”
The guy was dressed in jeans and a sweater with his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He gestured to the door. “My mum works for the rental company. Said I was to find the nice American and see if she wanted the car that just came in.”
The water shot out of the bottle as she squeezed it hard. “Oops. Yes, I want the car. Thank you, you’ve saved my job.”
“Don’t know about all that. Come along before there’s a stampede.” He looked back at her. “She said you were the only one who didn’t yell at her.”
“Why would I? It’s not her fault the sky is falling. Unless she’s Mother Nature and she works at a rental car company in an airport for fun.”
The guy pretended to think about it. “Some days I think she could be Mother Nature. When she’s mad, I take myself off to the pub until she calms down a bit.”
“I’m sure that makes her happy.”
The guy left her at the counter, and after filling out the forms, she was in possession of the last rental car in all of Wales, for all she knew. Let Mitch think he’d won. On the way, she’d call the hotel and have them hold her room, then she’d call costume shops, and once she arrived in London, she’d skip the hotel, go straight to the shop, wear the dress out, and drive as fast as she could out to the country estate of Mr. Havers.
It was a little after two now, with the three and a half hours there, a half-hour at the shop, and two to the estate… She’d never make it. That would put her there at eight tonight if nothing went wrong and she floored it all the way.
She sat in the car, adjusting the mirrors, and made the call. “Dot, it’s Ashley—”
“I heard you had to land in Wales. How’s the weather?”
She tapped her foot. “Listen, I need Mr. Havers’ number. I’m running late.”
There was silence. “You’re running late? Is the world ending?”
“Funny, Dot. The number.”
She waited until her assistant came back on the line with the number.
“Thank you. Could you call shops between Wales and the estate, as well as London, and see if you can find me a medieval dress? Maybe I can make the after-dinner drinks.”
“Okay, that’s a lot of calls, but I’ll see what I can find online first. Dinner isn’t until eight—Mr. Havers eats late—so as long as you arrive by ten or eleven at the very latest, I think you’ll be fine.”
Ashley hung up and dialed the estate, where she spoke to the butler or somebody who said they would inform her new boss. He was aware of the weather and understood. Flexing her hand to get the blood flowing again, she punched the air. “Yes!”
With a cushion of a couple of hours, she’d make it no problem. Impressed by her charm and good looks, Mr. Havers would offer her the promotion on the spot, and Mitch would be the one walking briskly out of the building, carrying the pathetic box.
A horn honked and she waved. “Sorry. American here. Not used to driving on the left.”
Okay, so the guy couldn’t hear her, but it made her feel better to say something. For the next hour, she paid attention to the road and focused on staying on the left. Before she left for the trip, Dot had asked her about driving on the left, couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t drive on the right. Ashley had dredged up some obscure bit of knowledge and told her it was because America was such a young country compared to Europe. Her assistant was sweet but not that bright, and blinked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“In the past, in a feudal and violent society, pretty much everybody traveled on the left because it was sensible. Think about it. Most people were right-handed, and swordsmen preferred to keep to the left so their right arm was closer to an opponent and their sword.” And that was the extent of her medieval knowledge. Not l
ike she needed to know anything else; she worked in finance, not at a museum or historic site. Always forward, never back. That was her mantra.
The girl had nodded. “So we drive on the right because we never cared about all that silly stuff.”
“Something like that.” Ashley went into her office to gather up a few more files. Dot was incredibly nice, but sometimes Ashley wondered how the girl managed to get the job. Her company wasn’t known for hiring those with less-than-average intelligence. And then she remembered someone saying that Dot had a cousin high up in the firm, which explained a lot. Or maybe Mitch was right and Harry only hired bimbos.
A half-hour later, Dot called. “I couldn’t find anything, and I’m late for my date, so just show up as you are and smile. It will all work out.”
And that was Dot. Sweet and completely out of touch with the real world. “Thanks for trying.”
With a little under two and half hours to go until she arrived in London, Ashley wasn’t conceding defeat yet. She used the voice assistant on the phone, furiously calling shops. By the fifth call, she’d hit pay dirt. The man promised to hold the two dresses he described and stay open for her. Both sounded perfect for a medieval night in the countryside. Mr. Havers was a bit obsessed with the time period, and she wished she’d had more time to review history so she could contribute something interesting to the after-dinner conversation.
Ashley firmly believed in visualizing her goals and imagining where she would be in five years. The only thing looking back was good for was regret, and she was not going there. Regret didn’t help anyone. And since it didn’t serve a purpose, she refused to indulge.
As the road curved and she went through yet another small town, Ashley spotted a pub. The hollow feeling in her stomach had gotten worse as she drove. She needed to eat, especially since she wouldn’t get anything until morning if she didn’t make dinner. With a look at her watch, she put the turn signal on. Mitch would be doing whatever he could to annoy her tonight, so she couldn’t afford to be cranky. She’d have to take the precious half-hour and eat. Stopping would put her to the party by eight thirty. She’d eat fast.
Last Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 4) Page 4