“Christian, I want to go home.”
“And if you cannot?” His voice was soft.
“Then I will have to find a job. Something useful.”
He touched her cheek, and she saw the wetness in the torchlight. Ashley hadn’t even noticed she was crying. He stood so close that she could see the gray flecks in his blue eyes, his expression inscrutable.
“I will send word to my brothers. We will return you to your time.”
“But what can they do? It’s not like they have a time machine.”
Christian sighed. “We will talk more after supper.”
He dismissed her guard and led her back to her room, where he stopped outside the door. It was strange knowing she would be sleeping alone for the first time since she’d arrived.
“I’ve had a bath prepared.”
Without thinking, Ashley hugged him tight.
“I could almost forgive you for not telling me about your soon-to-be wife.” She rubbed her hands together. “It’s like Christmas is coming early. A bath. Thank you so much.”
He looked stunned, but nodded. “The women will aid you.” He turned on his heel and left the corridor, and for the first time she was alone, and the emptiness he left in his wake was enough to fill a stadium.
“We will bathe you, lady.”
The two girls looked young, Ashley guessed early teens. They helped her undress. One held up the dress, frowning. “I’ll take this to be cleaned.”
The other one handed her another round ball of rose-scented soap. Ashley wanted to kiss the girl.
“Shall I wash your hair for you?”
“Please.” Having someone else wash her hair was a decadent feeling. As she soaked in the tub, watching the water turn gray, Ashley felt her muscles relax, the heat doing its job.
While the girl scrubbed her—which was a new experience, as she’d never had anyone bathe her before—Ashley thought about going home, started making lists in her head. Christian. It would have never worked anyway, since she couldn’t have babies. He’d made it clear he wanted a big family.
The water was cool by the time she climbed out, her fingers wrinkled. The girl dried her off with a large piece of cloth.
The other one had brought something for her to wear. As they dressed her, one of the girls made a clucking noise. “The dress is too short, lady.”
Ashley looked down to see her ankles showing.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s clean and it fits. I thank you for the dress.”
“When the merchant comes, you may choose the material for new dresses.”
“That would be nice.” She planned to be long gone by then.
One of the girls combed her hair, braiding it and pinning it up, chattering away, the sounds washing over Ashley.
“Did you know there’s to be a wedding, lady?”
The other one chimed in: “Lord Winterforth is finally getting married.”
Ashley snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The same guard who escorted Ashley around the castle was waiting outside her door, leaning against the wall, when she emerged from the room.
“The dress is lovely, though you’re rather tall for a woman.”
Ashley looked down at her stocking-covered ankles. She’d let the girls take her boots to be cleaned, so she was wearing soft shoes that reminded her of slippers.
“I’m not tall where I come from.” She was five seven, and in New York she often felt short when she ran into a model on the street. It was an easy breed to spot, the girls impossibly thin and incredibly tall. During her time here she’d seen plenty of people of average height and just as many short ones, though Christian and some of his guards were over six feet. She guessed there would always be outliers.
“I don’t know your name. I’m Ashley.”
“My name is Quinn, lady. We are to sit at the high table with my lord.”
He led her through the great hall as she stared at the transformation that had taken place while she was bathing. Tables and benches that had been pushed up against the walls earlier were now in rows, running up and down the hall. Many of the people she had seen since she’d arrived were already seated. There were tablecloths on the table, and from the dishes and the amount of food being served, she figured out Christian had plenty of money. Not that the castle didn’t give it away, but he could have been one of those titled but poor guys. He didn’t act like some of the guys she’d met at home that flaunted their wealth. The hedge fund guys were the worst.
Ben’s face flashed in front of her eyes. He was going to be surprised when she finally made it back home. Though as practical as he was, by now he’d probably moved on to someone else. Ashley waited a moment to see if she was upset, but she wasn’t. That alone told her she had been coasting through life with him. She heard Christian laughing with a couple of his men as they approached the table. Yep, she was upset thinking of him married to someone else. Sad to leave him.
The table at the front of the hall was fancier, with a linen tablecloth, silver goblets, and actual plates. The other tables had trenchers. At the end of the meal, Quinn said, they were given to the poor in the villages and the animals.
Christian stood, as did the other men. He pulled out the chair next to him.
“You are beautiful.”
“Thank you. It feels good to be clean again.”
Ashley couldn’t have said what she ate. She was too busy looking at everyone, taking it all in. The memories would sustain her when she went home. First thing on her list? Diving into history.
Christian and everyone in the castle would be long dead when she went home. Would there be any mention of Winterforth in a book? Did she want to know Christian and his perfect wife had three adorable kids and lived happily ever after?
“Is aught amiss?” The look of concern on his face made her want to run from the hall.
“No, I was just thinking.”
“Of your home?”
“And other things.” She sipped the wine. “Tell me about growing up here.”
His face brightened. “My sire owned several estates, and this was one of them. When I came of age, ’twas mine. Each of my brothers has a castle as well.”
She grinned. “Of course they do. I vaguely remember you telling me you had brothers, but not much else, too much to drink that night. Do your parents live close by?”
“Nay, they passed years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose those you care for.”
He was interrupted by a man asking him a question, and Ashley turned her attention to the people, watching them and learning so she would fit in while she was here. For however long that was. Christian was deep in conversation with the man next to him. She touched him on the shoulder as she got up.
“I’m going up to the battlements for some air.”
“Don’t stay long, you’ll be cold.”
Quinn followed, still chewing.
“I’m going up to the battlements. You don’t need to follow me.”
“I am to guard you—where you go, I go.”
“Let’s go to the kitchens first so you can finish your meal.”
He snatched up the trencher from the table, and she followed him into a bustling room. It was warm in the kitchen, and fascinating watching what everyone was doing. Everyone had a task, and she wondered if they were born to it. She made a note to ask when she had a chance to speak with one or two of them alone. She didn’t want everyone gossiping about the weird girl.
Ashley finished her wine while Quinn finished his meal. When he was done, he led her up to the battlements and took up his customary place against the wall.
At the far end of the wall was another guard. The moon was out tonight, and she’d never seen so many stars. Content to just be, Ashley figured it would only take days after she returned home until she was back to her obsessive self, always needing to know what time it was and frantically crossing items off her list. What else would she do? Mo
ve upstate and start a farm? No, she’d meet her goals and forget the past…and a man with blue eyes who had touched her soul.
Quinn was talking to another man—they had their backs turned away from her and the other guard wasn’t paying attention, so it was now or never.
Ashley looked at the moon, closed her eyes, and made a wish. For good measure, she tapped her heels together three times, hoping maybe the person who had written one of her favorite books had been a time traveler like herself.
But when she opened her eyes she was still standing on the battlements, and there were still men with swords. What was she going to say to the authorities when she made it back? Would she show up the same day and time she’d left? Or would the days missing be the same? If she returned at the same time, she’d simply go on her way to the party and beat Mitch out of the promotion. But if it was later…she better come up with a story to tell. Because there was no way she was telling everyone she’d landed in medieval England, not unless she wanted to find herself locked up for evaluation.
On that thought… Were all the mentally ill people really ill? Or were some of them time travelers who’d made the mistake of telling what they’d experienced?
While she walked back and forth, she thought back to how she’d found herself here. There was nothing that stood out in her mind other than the storm. She’d been digging up something golden. Ashley rubbed her thigh, the cut now a scar. Then again, what did she expect—flashing lights with a sign saying Time travelers enter here?
So if there wasn’t anything that stood out, wouldn’t it reason that she could easily go back? Was it a matter of will? Ashley knew she was stubborn, to her detriment at times. She had to do things herself, couldn’t take the word of others.
And so she sat on the wall pressing her hands against the stone, and thought of home. Summoned up the inside of her apartment. The food truck that sold lobster rolls on the corner, the aroma of melted butter so strong she swore she could smell it, and the sounds of the city. The honking, yelling, all the different cultures together in one place. She could see it clearly in her mind.
“I want to go home. I’m back home where I belong.”
She opened her eyes and slumped on the wall. She was still here.
“I could’ve told you that wouldn’t work,” Christian said.
“Well, I had to try, didn’t I?”
He sat down beside her. “My brothers may know the way for you to go home.”
“You said that before, but how could they?”
“You can ask them.” He fidgeted and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Do you know I’ve never seen my betrothed?”
“How can you marry someone you’ve never seen?”
“James and Melinda arranged the match.” He turned to face her. “I have been betrothed five times. This is the sixth. They all run away.”
“Why?” Then she remembered. “Oh, because of what’s being said about you? But I thought it wasn’t true?”
“It isn’t.”
And he went on to tell her the story.
“And so that is why every lass in the realm will not wed me.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous. And I agree with your brother Edward. You should’ve gotten someone pregnant then married her.”
“That is what they all said. But I told you why I would not.” He fiddled with the hilt of his sword. She noticed he had another very similar to the one that was stolen.
When he spoke his voice was low, and she smelled the wine he had with dinner and the scent of spices from the meal on him.
“I wished you to know I do not love her. I hope she and I will like each other in time. Marriage is the natural progression of life. We marry and have babes, continue our name. ’Tis a duty. My brothers wed for love, but I have not been so fortunate. My only hope is that my wife and I will care for each other in time.”
“You said your brothers married for love. Don’t you want to as well?”
“Of course. But none will have me. And in truth, love is not necessary for marriage.”
“You know, it’s funny—I used to think the same thing about relationships. But it must be something about this place, because I’ve changed my mind.”
“’Tis late. I will see you to your chamber.” As they passed Quinn, Christian paused. “Seek your bed and guard the lady in the morn.”
At the door to her chamber, he opened his mouth then closed it.
“I wish…”
“Don’t. Wishing doesn’t change anything.”
He nodded and turned to go.
“I never had regrets until I met you,” she whispered as she closed the door behind her.
It wasn’t until she was in bed that she realized she’d never gotten an answer. She pulled the covers up under her chin and thought about it. Why hadn’t Christian explained why he thought his brothers could help her? Had they met someone else like her? She planned to find out tomorrow. Because there was no way she was sticking around while the guy she was in love with married someone else. Until she could get home, she would hide her feelings and pretend they were friends.
Was she really in love? She never had been, so maybe this was just a remnant of him saving her. She’d heard about women falling for cops or firefighters who rescued them. This was the same.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter Eighteen
“Walter, did you see to it Mistress Ashley is in her chamber?”
His guard nodded. “She is, my lord and I sent Quinn to seek his bed.” With torches lit, they made their way down the stairs through the hidden room of the cellar to the old passageway that led to the river.
“The passageway has been cleared. All is prepared.”
Ulrich turned and nodded. The torches cast light on the damp stone. The sound of water running down the walls, and the sense of someone watching him, made Christian uneasy. His guard looked tense, and then Morien stepped forward, the man moving without making a sound. It was unnerving.
“Thornton.”
Christian nodded. “Are we ready?”
The smuggler inclined his head, and his men filled the passageway. Walter led them deep into the cellar to the hidden room where they had stored the wool Christian had held back from selling this summer, in anticipation of such a venture.
The smuggler crossed his arms across his chest, his face half hidden in shadow as he eyed his men scurrying to and fro.
“What would ye have done if we had not met?” Morien pointed to a bundle of wool as it passed through the passageway and was loaded onto the barge.
“I would’ve sold it next summer at Westminster, as I have always done.”
Ulrich returned, his steps echoing in the passageway.
“I have had a word with the rest of the guards. They believe you will not be able to keep this secret from the rest here at Winterforth for long. A few have been asking questions.”
“Soon enough, we will swear all of Winterforth to secrecy. They will understand what is at risk.”
The smuggler’s men were quick, and the wool was loaded onto the barge. Christian stayed, watching as they pushed away, making no sound. He turned to his men.
“’Twas a good night. The gold from this partnership will see Winterforth and its inhabitants through the winter and spring.”
Christian had one last task to complete before sleep would be his. A widow in the village did not have money to bury her husband, nor food to feed her children. He dressed in a pair of old hose and tunic, clasped a black cloak around his shoulders, and rode out on the black horse.
The stable boys were used to him riding out at night, as were his guards; the men at the gate greeted him with a soft “my lord,” raising the gate only enough for him to pass under. His hood up, he rode for the village, turning back, searching for one window. ’Twas dark, Ashley was asleep.
He had heard what she did not mean him to. Regret. Aye, he understood it well, for he felt the same. What could he do? Not call off the betrothal; it would impugn his c
ousin’s honor and his own. Nay, he must keep to his commitment and marry the girl, though he wished for the first time that the girl would run, as the others had before her, leaving him free to woo and marry Ashley.
The village was quiet, all asleep, as he rode through the streets. While he knew one of his guards could have seen to the task, Christian needed to do this himself. ’Twas his responsibility to care for all those not only at Winterforth, but in the villages as well.
The home where the widow lived was dark, and no smoke rose from inside, so likely she could not afford to keep a fire going day and night. The horse tied to the post, he lifted the latch on the door, placing the bundle inside on the floor. In the morn, she would find food and enough gold, enough to pay not only for the funeral but to feed her children. Enough until he found her a place in a household doing laundry or cleaning. She would labor and her children would no longer go hungry. Perchance she would marry again and have more babes.
The clouds and moon left shadows on the ground, and the horse knew his way home. As they approached, Christian called out quietly to the guard. The gates were raised and he rode into the courtyard. The stable boy, rubbing his eyes, waited. Christian tossed him an apple he’d taken from the cellar. The boy accepted the treat with a grin; he would not speak of the night rides.
Yawning, Christian stopped in front of Ashley’s door, listening. Assured she was sleeping, he went to his own chamber, weary from lack of sleep.
Yet slumber would not come, as he found himself looking at the moon, asking the fates to aid him. If he were free to woo Ashley, if she would stay, he would modernize the castle for her, give her all he possessed to make a home for her. Would it be enough, or would she stand at the window, looking into the night, longing for home?
Ashley woke, humming under her breath. She missed having music play through the room, like she missed a switch to fill the room with light. One of the servants had been in while she’d slept and stoked the fire, so the room was cozy. She was getting accustomed to being here—the cold didn’t bother her as much as when she’d first arrived and thought she’d never be warm again.
Last Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 4) Page 13