Last Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 4)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  “Do not fear, demoiselle. I will not let you fall.”

  The accent was like a cup of hot chocolate, wrapping her up in warmth and totally delicious. The guy might be a self-absorbed actor, but she was totally buying the rough and ready yet super-hot knight character. While an actor might let her fall off the horse, a knight would not. As they rode out of the clearing and through the woods, she looked for any sign of other campers. Not a single tent or faded wood building.

  What kind of campground was this? The answer came immediately. Christian wanted to be far away from the other actors, camping rough with only his sword. It would explain the sword and authentic-looking daggers in his boots.

  A snort escaped. Did someone from craft services leave food by a rock? In an effort to be discreet, Ashley twisted in the saddle to get a look at his ears. Nope, not pointed, so he wasn’t playing an elf.

  “Have I seen you in anything?”

  “You are seeing me now, Mistress Ashley.”

  “Funny. I meant, what movies have you done? TV? Commercials?”

  “Your speech is odd. I know not movies and TV and commercials. Are they food where you come from?”

  “Never mind. I get it, you’re staying in character. Fine, I’ll play along.”

  The horse jolted her to and fro as they cleared the woods. Odd. There were no houses or cars as far as she could see. Not a single paved road, nothing more than a path, and a muddy one at that. No sign of a movie crew. No lights or power lines or cell towers.

  Holding her breath, Ashley listened. No sounds of planes, helicopters, or ringing phones. It was unsettling, like waking up to find herself in the middle of an apocalyptic movie. This is why she hated the country. There was nothing to do or see; they were in the middle of nowhere. Had a helicopter dropped this guy off so he could be far away from everyone else? What a diva.

  If they were in America, at least there’d be a strip mall or fast food joint by now. But here? A big fat nothing. They passed a man, dressed in similar clothes as Christian, on a rickety cart pulled by a horse.

  Okay, she was going with the movie or TV set theory. A theme park would have made the news, even if it was supposed to be a secret until it opened to the public. Christian certainly had the model looks down pat. Oh well, it didn’t matter if she was in the middle of a movie shoot as long as they made their way to people. With phones. But no more camping. She despised camping. Her idea of camping was a hotel with no spa services.

  The horse shook its head, making her scoot back until she was pressed against her rescuer. As if the animal knew he made her nervous, he twitched an ear and snorted. Animals were unpredictable; give her a subway car any day. She sniffed again, deciding she’d never complain about the smell of a subway station or the back of a cab again as long as she lived.

  Smelly or not, she’d ride a horse or a cow as long as the beast got her to the office so she could find out what Mitch had been up to. No doubt he was sabotaging her at this very moment. The guy knew how to network with the old boys’ club, she’d give him that much.

  Ashley always had a hair elastic around her wrist or in her purse. While she’d been a grouchy snot to Christian, she’d grown tired of the wind blowing her hair in her face. As she reached up to rebraid it, she caught sight of her bangle watch, the one she put on every morning. Would he think she was weird if she buried it and said a few words? It pained her to look at the frozen clock hands; it made her feel like time was on fast forward and she was stuck on slow. Sighing, she coiled the braid into a low chignon.

  The wind blew through her, the cold reaching inside of her, turning her organs to popsicles. As if he’d read her mind, he pulled his cloak around them both, the heat flowing into her, as good as any radiator.

  The endless countryside combined with the motion of the horse made time stretch and slow. Ashley shifted, her thighs and backside sorer than they’d ever been after an extreme cycling class.

  “I swear my butt is numb,” she muttered.

  He chuckled but didn’t answer, which was just as well.

  “I don’t know how long it takes by horse, but if we rented a car it would only take three hours to get to London, or four as lost as you were, stupid maps app—at least, that’s what I was told. This horse seems like it’s taking an awfully long time. Doesn’t he go any faster?”

  “We’ll get there when we get there. You must learn to take the day as it comes.”

  Right. First car she spotted, Ashley was stealing his sword and committing grand theft auto.

  Chapter Ten

  Christian adjusted his hold on Ashley. An occasional snore escaped her lips as she mumbled something too low for him to make out. First she was cold, then his horse was too slow, and finally she grumbled she would be old and gray before they arrived at whatever rat-infested place he was taking her.

  Eventually she fell asleep, sparing his ears from any more abuse. Was this how he sounded when he bellowed at his men? Nay, he could not.

  The one thing he had learned about Ashley was not to let her get hungry, for when she was, she turned into a bellowing shrew, and did not find it amusing when he told her such. Instead she retorted that he hummed when he was thinking and she found it most annoying.

  The sound of water led him to a small clearing, where he dismounted, lifting her in his arms. He set her on a pile of leaves and covered her with his cloak then took care of his horse.

  ’Twas late in the day and would be dark soon. Tomorrow there would be an inn, and Ashley could have a bath and a hot meal. He looked to the sky. The smell of snow in the air was faint, and he prayed the weather would hold until they reached the inn tomorrow. They had passed few travelers and seen no one for most of the day, so he went to fetch water and firewood.

  The waterfall soothed him as he thought about his guest. ’Twas evident she was unused to sleeping outside. Curious about her time, it had taken all of his considerable control not to ask her questions, for he did not wish to give himself away. He washed quickly, the water chilling him, then brought water back to the clearing.

  “Are you hungry?” He spoke softly to wake her. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment he wondered what it would be like to see those intelligent green eyes every morn.

  “I thought you would like to wash and eat.” He helped her stand. “Walk; it will ease the pain.”

  “I’m starving.” She took a few steps and groaned. “You know, I thought I was in good shape, but riding like this, it’s like a weekend of boot camp with a drill sergeant from hell.” She rubbed her rather fetching backside and rolled her shoulders.

  “I’d love to soak in a hot tub for an hour. Or a massage. That would be heaven.” A few more steps and she stretched. “I hear water.”

  Christian pulled her behind him, unsheathing his sword.

  “What—”

  A bird took to the sky; no other sounds came, so he re-sheathed his blade.

  “Is everything okay?” She looked as skittish as a newborn colt.

  “Aye. ’Tis nothing.” He searched through the bags and came out with a small wrapped bundle. “Soap. For you to wash. Tomorrow we will reach an inn. Then you will have a bath and a proper meal.”

  Ashley took the soap, inhaling. “Roses.” She threw her arms around him. “Thank you. For the soap and giving me something to look forward to.”

  He pointed through the trees. “Follow the sounds to the water. I have nothing with which to heat the water. My apologies.”

  The smile on her face was like the sun coming out in summer, warming him after the long winter.

  “I’m just grateful for the soap. I’ll make do.” She walked through the trees, and a moment later he heard her yelp.

  “Oh my gosh, that’s cold. You weren’t kidding, were you?”

  Christian chuckled. “Wash, and I will prepare our meal. There isn’t much, though I have plenty to drink. Would you prefer wine, ale, or water?”

  “In the middle of the day?” she called out. He heard spl
ashing. “I guess since we’re staying in character, I’ll take ale. I always did enjoy a good beer.”

  He had a small fire going. Normally he would not build one when he traveled alone, but she was cold, and unused to being outdoors. So he would risk it.

  The smell of roses preceded her. “Sit and warm yourself.” He motioned to a log he had pulled close to the fire. Her hair was wet and twisted into a long braid. “Did you go in?” He pointed to her hair.

  “I wanted to but it was freezing. So I leaned back and dunked my head under.” She handed him the soap and damp cloth. “I used the cloth to wash. I didn’t know where you wanted me to put it.”

  He draped it over a branch to dry by the fire. “You’re shivering.” He wrapped his cloak around her then selected the choicest morsels.

  “You hum a lot.”

  “Do I?” Christian blinked at her. “So do you.”

  He handed her the flask. Ashley held it up, touching the leather, then shrugged and took a sniff.

  “Bottoms up.” She took a deep drink and licked her lips. A drop of ale ran down the corner of her mouth, and Christian reached out with his thumb to wipe it away. She went still and he snatched his hand back.

  They ate in silence as if they had eaten many meals together.

  Christian was so distracted seeing to her needs he missed the sound until ’twas too late. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and cringed. In all his years he had never been taken unawares. If his brothers found out, he would never hear the end of it. Five men surrounded them. He stared at Ashley, willing her to understand.

  “Do not say a word.”

  She nodded, the bread in her hand forgotten, her eyes huge as she watched the men.

  “Give us everything you have and we’ll let you live.” The leader of the little band brandished a slightly bent sword.

  Christian studied every face, marking them men. A blade poked him in the side. “You heard him. Hand over your gold.”

  Another man nodded to Ashley. “You too, lass. Give us the odd bracelet. I sees gold on the edges.”

  She swallowed, but handed them the bracelet and necklace she was wearing. As she leaned forward to hand it to them, something fell out of her pocket, and Christian cringed.

  One of the men snatched it, held it up, then scratched his head, his face full of confusion. They all gathered around to look, and he wondered what future trinket she had brought with her.

  “What do they have?”

  “My lipstick,” she whispered.

  One of the men touched the red stick. His finger came away red.

  “Witch. She is in league with Satan.”

  This was bad. Christian had heard enough times how careful Charlotte had said they all must be not to change history. And what would happen if someone ever found an object from the future.

  “What do you do with the red stick?” he whispered.

  “Seriously? This is taking the whole acting thing a bit far, isn’t it?” But she sighed and said, “It goes on your lips to make them more red. You know, to make women more attractive to men.”

  He looked at her lips. They were full and pink and pleasing. Christian shook himself. Nay, he would not think upon her lips. He was betrothed.

  The men had their blades out, approaching Ashley.

  “Pardon.”

  The men looked to him.

  “I am charged with taking her to the bishop of Winchester. She is a distant cousin and filled with sin.”

  Ashley gaped at him.

  The men peered at her. “Aye, she has an evil look about her.”

  The men muttered amongst themselves before one shrugged and tossed the small tube into the woods.

  “No, I need that.”

  Christian took her hand in his. “Now ’tis not the time.”

  She seemed to sense the danger, for she did not argue.

  The leader sneered at him. “The sword and the gold.”

  The sword was Christian’s favorite, a gift from his sire, and it pained him to hand it over. But he stood and handed the man the sword, along with the pouch at his waist. ’Twas all the gold he had with him. Why had he not hidden gold in his boot?

  “And the dagger in your boot.”

  Christian handed over the dagger, grateful the man had not seen the other. They examined the goods as Ashley leaned close to him.

  “Why did you say I’m full of sin? That’s crazy.”

  He shrugged. “The red color for your lips.” His ears burned and he coughed. “’Tis what a woman of low class—a strumpet—uses to darken her lips. I said you were cousin to the bishop so they would not harm you.”

  “Thank you. But you called me a whore.”

  “I did not mean what I said.”

  She scowled at him. “Jerk.”

  The leader kicked him. “Why so quiet? You fear us?”

  Christian scoffed. “Nay, I am marking your faces so when I find you again and take back what is mine, I will slit you from belly to neck and leave you to die in the dirt.”

  The man snarled, showing a great deal of missing teeth as he took hold of Ashley, who let out a scream loud enough to bring any thief within a day’s ride. The men startled, giving Christen the moment he needed. The dagger left his hand, ending the man where he stood. Another was dispatched before the other three turned and ran, stealing his favorite horse.

  Disgusted, he wiped the blade clean of blood on his hose. Ashley’s mouth opened and closed but no words came forth. She pointed, hand shaking.

  “Blood. That’s real blood. I can smell the copper smell. There’s steam rising from where you stabbed him. They’re dead. All dead.”

  “Not all. Three escaped with my sword, dagger, gold. And my favorite horse.”

  “Well, I lost my watch and necklace. Not to mention my lipstick.” She swayed. “I… There’s something very wrong here.”

  And with that, she swooned.

  Ashley came to screaming. The last thing she remembered was seeing two men fall to the ground bleeding, their eyes open and unseeing.

  “Breathe. Slow and easy.”

  She scrambled away from him, pointing a shaking finger. “Please tell me that was a very realistic stunt with fake blood.”

  “They would have killed me and done worse to you first. Nay, Ashley. They are dead.”

  The two man lay on the ground. She nudged the closest man with her boot. When he didn’t move, she crawled over, placing her face close to his. It smelled like he’d been rolling around in a dumpster. Taking shallow breaths through her mouth, she placed a finger under his nose.

  Nothing.

  “He’s really dead. I’ve never seen a dead person before.”

  All at once, the hundred niggling things that were wrong hit her. She hadn’t seen a single light, nor paved road. Not one car or bus, not one normally dressed person. And not a single movie camera or film crew. The scenery seemed the same, but what did she know?

  Ever since she’d fallen into the water, Ashley had been cold, but this was different—this was the kind of cold that soaked into her very cells and molecules, freezing her from the inside out. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to get warm. Was she having an out-of-body experience or hallucinating as she lay on a cold metal table in some sterile hospital?

  Christian didn’t seem the least bit upset that they’d been attacked and he’d killed two men. As if it were a normal day at the office for him.

  She’d heard one of the men tell the others he’d planned to rape her. So while the rational, law-abiding part of her wanted to call for the nearest police officer, another part, a primitive part she didn’t even know existed deep within her, was savagely happy Christian kept her safe.

  Everything came crashing down, the pieces locking into place with a snap. No matter how unbelievable it sounded, it must be true. Ashley grasped Christian’s sleeve, clenching the fabric.

  “What year is it?”

  “’Tis the Year of our Lord 1334. October. And no,
I don’t know what time it is. You do not know what year ’tis?”

  Why was he so calm?

  “Of course I know. Just checking. 1334. Huh. Well, things are starting to make a little bit of sense, I guess.”

  “Are you going to swoon again, demoiselle?”

  She followed him, talking fast, her mouth trying to keep up with her brain.

  “I’ve never fainted before. Not once in my whole life until I met you. Not even when I saw a hockey player get run over by another player. His skate sliced the guy’s arm wide open. You’ve never seen so much blood on the ice.”

  He’d gone to the pool of water, waded in, and washed the blood from his hose. Christian rinsed off his blade, frowned at her, and pulled her in. The icy water stole her breath, her teeth chattering so hard she couldn’t speak. He scooped water, wiping her face, and then she knew—she had blood all over her. From touching the dead man.

  “I…I can’t.”

  “Shhh, I’ve got you.” He lifted her from the water and climbed out. Not knowing what to do or where to go, she stood there staring at him. With a curse, he picked her up and carried her back to the camp, where he built up the fire.

  The cloak was gone. The men had taken what remained of their food, drinks, and even the precious little bit of soap as well. Now what? It wasn’t like she could flag down a passing motorist for help. Somehow she’d fallen into the water and ended up in Wales, almost seven hundred years before she would be born.

  Was this what happened to people who went missing? The ones with their faces posted online? The rational part of her mind knew a percentage of them had been murdered, or were runaways, or disappeared on purpose. The reptilian, ancient part of her shivered, knowing there was a greater power in the world than she had ever suspected. Had others fallen through time? And if they had, what happened to them? Did they end up in the same time as her? Did they go to the future? Or did some of them find themselves in ancient Rome or Greece? Maybe they landed in the middle of the French Revolution? What if a few missing people had gone back even further, all the way to the time of dinosaurs? What must it be like for them? Did they survive? Or die the first day?