Saying it out loud helped. Losing herself to another time and place in a book would also help. After a few chapters, she had to go to the bathroom. Too much tea or nerves. The book landed on the floor as she slipped out from beneath the covers, and the cold made her flinch.
As she knelt down to pick up the book, the candlelight illuminated something under the bed. Her fingers touched a scrap of fabric. It felt like linen and was beautifully embroidered with flowers and vines. It also looked really old, like something she shouldn’t touch. Probably priceless. But it was a scrap with frayed edges. Maybe a ribbon at some time?
But she didn’t want to relinquish the piece. It comforted her. “Surely it won’t hurt to use it as a bookmark for one night?” Elizabeth knew she had a bad habit of talking to herself out loud whenever she was alone. Hearing the sound of her voice in the quiet made her feel less alone.
She hurried to the bathroom, wishing she’d brought slippers. A gust of wind blew down the hallway, extinguishing the candle. That was odd. The glass should have protected the flame, and she’d sworn all the doors and windows were shut. When she crossed the hall to check the room with the hole in the roof, Elizabeth tripped over the rug and went down hard on the stone.
“Ouch.” Her knee burnt. Limping to her temporary room, she lit the candle again. The drops of blood welling up on her knee were the color of rubies in the warm light. A tissue stopped the worst, and she went back to the book.
Thunder rumbled and she slammed the book shut, the scary chapter not helping her overall mood. “Nope, no more creepiness tonight. Next time I’m going with a cotton candy romance.” Yawning, she checked the time on her phone.
“Busy day tomorrow. Better get some sleep.”
She turned on her side, and the crack of thunder was so loud the windows rattled. Elizabeth jolted up in bed, and her knee hit the nightstand, knocking the book to the floor. The lightning cast shadows in the room, and as she watched, they climbed the walls and oozed across the ceiling. As she picked the book up, the strip of fabric fell out, landing on her knee.
“Oh no. I’ve ruined it. With my luck it was probably worth thousands and thousands of dollars.” Holding the linen to the candle, she gasped. Three spots of blood dotted the artifact. Her stomach flipped over. In the morning, she’d have to confess. Not only to breaking and entering but to ruining a piece of history. The look on Featherton’s face would be one of disappointment. He’d politely ask her to leave, and she’d have to say goodbye to Highworth, all because curiosity once again got the better of her.
The windows crashed open, wind blowing through the room, sending the room into blackness. Elizabeth screamed, throwing the covers over her head, cowering, holding tight to the scrap of fabric.
The storm raged, and she knew if she didn’t get out of bed and close the windows, everything in the room would be wet and ruined. “You can do this. Do it fast and get it done.”
She jumped out of bed, blinking rain out of her eyes as she pushed against the wind to shut the windows. Water pooled on the floor dangerously close to the priceless rug. There was no time. Lightning flashed so close it left a jagged imprint on the back of her eyelids. No way no how was she leaving the safety of this room. The hallway would be dark, and her room… She shuddered. It would be even scarier. Elizabeth yanked the flannel nightgown over her head and mopped up the water on the floor. There was a hook on the wall near the fire. The gown would be dry in a few hours. Tonight she’d sleep in her birthday suit. Her creepy room needed the light of day before she’d venture back in there.
The windows rattled again and she leapt into bed, finding she was still holding tight to the scrap of fabric. The thought of cleaning it crossed her mind, saving her from telling Martha and Featherton what she had done. But what if it disintegrated? The lightning turned blue and green and she threw the covers over her head like a child. Underneath the thunder she heard the faint sound of music. Nope, she wasn’t looking. What if there was a ghost in the room? This wasn’t the kind of adventure she’d had in mind. She wanted fun, not a horror movie.
Elizabeth didn’t know how long the storm raged before it finally settled down. Risking a peek, she peered into the blackness, unable to see anything but a few rough shapes. For a brief moment she swore the room seemed different. The smell of leather and wool and something spicy. But she chalked it up to nerves. As the adrenaline wore off, exhaustion set in and Elizabeth fell fast asleep.
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth woke to the sound of snoring. Snoring?
She shrieked. The body next to her pulled her close, throwing a rather hairy leg over hers. The body in question was a large man who reeked of alcohol and cheap perfume. He mumbled and touched her again, his hand stroking her breast, whispering what sounded like French into her hair.
The slap echoed across the room. “Take your filthy hands off me this instant.”
The man sat up, bare-chested, with muscles in all the right places—not that she noticed.
“Didn’t I pay you enough, demoiselle?” Bloodshot blue eyes roamed over her, making her snatch the blanket from the bed, wrapping it tightly around her.
“Why are you here? None of you are allowed to sleep in my bed. And you know my rule: you are never to spend the night.”
What a player. Steam came out of her ears, or at least she imagined it would if she were a cartoon. How dare he. “Pay me?”
“One does pay a whore for her services, yes? Or were your soft mewing sounds last night a gift?” He arched a brow, staring at her pale pink toes and leisurely making his way up to her face. “You are naked and in my bed, therefore you are a whore…or you are a reckless maiden seeking to trap me into marriage.” He narrowed his eyes. “Know this: I care naught for your reputation. This is a mere trifle. Leave my chamber and go home to your sire.”
Fury burnt through her. As she spluttered a scathing reply, a commotion sounded beyond the door. Great. Featherton was going to have her head. Right after she threw a fit. This room was supposed to be off limits. The lord of the castle never visited. Was it a prank?
The blood drained from her face, making her sway, dizzy for a moment. Oh, hell. Did this man own Highworth? He would make her leave, and she’d only arrived last night. No way—she wanted her full week here. Without him in what she’d decided was her room.
As the door slammed open, Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height. All five feet and five inches. Though it was a bit hard to look intimidating when you stood with a blanket wrapped around your naked body.
Several men and a boy barged into the room. The boy’s mouth dropped open. “My lord, there’s a faerie in your chamber.”
The men with him crossed themselves.
“Look at her feet.” One of the men pointed.
Another made a sign of horns with his fingers. “Begone, evil faerie.”
The third man grabbed his hand and tried to whisper. “Do not. Look at her hair. She will curse us all.”
Elizabeth barely resisted the urge to laugh.
“My lord. Er, you aren’t wearing any clothes.” The boy looked back and forth from her to the man in question.
Nice. Not only was he the owner, he’d brought a bunch of idiots with him. Elizabeth didn’t find any of this a bit funny.
“Now that you mention it, Rabbie, she does look like a faerie.” He made her a low bow. “My apologies. You are not a whore, you are a faerie.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “Or are you a faerie whore come to take me away to the faerie hill?”
She made a face, instantly despising him. He sounded much too intrigued by the idea. Before she could retort, the sound of metal scraping against metal made her turn to find four swords pointed at her.
The tall man sniffed. “She smells nice. Best remove her before she curses all of us.”
“Call me a whore one more time and I’ll punch you.” She pointed at each man. “I’m not a faerie or a maiden. My name’s Elizabeth and this castle is mine for the week. What’s with t
he swords?” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Bit over the top, don’t you think?”
This guy had serious delusions or a Renaissance faire fetish. But Elizabeth had to give them credit—the French they were speaking sounded surprisingly authentic. The bad words she recognized, but the rest was gibberish.
One of the men stepped forward. He must be the leader of these faux-knights. “Robert, she is no whore, nor is she faerie or witch. She is a lady, mayhap witless, and you have compromised her. Send a messenger to her father, telling him you will do right by the girl.”
The man called Robert scowled. “I woke to find her in my bed, unclothed. She most certainly is a whore.”
Elizabeth had had enough of being called a lady of the night. She hauled back to smack him again but he grabbed her arm, yanked her to him, and kissed her. The first thought that raced through her mind was he had a body made of marble. The second was how infuriating he was, and the third? Not one to lie to herself, she admitted he could kiss. The kiss started out demanding then turned questioning. She found herself responding before she came to her senses, pressed her palms to his bare chest, and shoved. Hard.
“She kisses like a whore.” He grunted and kissed her again, nibbling her lips. Time to teach the arrogant ass a lesson. Not to take without asking. She bit down on his lip.
The man swore and shoved her away.
“Take her to the dungeon until I’m ready to deal with this lady who claims to be neither whore nor faerie nor maiden.” He glared at her, touching a finger to his lips. “As you do not enjoy my company, let us see how you prefer the rats.”
The boy gasped. “My lord, they will eat her.”
“Nonsense. Perhaps a few nibbles.”
As the men took hold of her, she fought back, screaming at the top of her lungs, kicking and swearing. Her elbow connected with one of the men’s noses. He dropped her, holding his nose as blood ran through his fingers.
“I will curse you if you don’t release me this instant.”
The others backed away, looks of terror on their faces. Except for the leader. He looked like he was holding in a laugh. And the man who’d accosted her? Robert? He looked furious, the intent plain on his face.
She made it three steps before her feet left the ground and she found herself looking at a very nice backside.
“I demand you put me down this instant.”
The man who’d kissed her ignored her. No matter how much she twisted, kicking, screaming, and pounding on his back.
“You better have a fantastic lawyer. I’m going to have you arrested for assault.”
He jogged down the stone steps, making her head bounce against his back. Torches lit the way. Wait a minute. Torches? Had the power gone out? Or did he have such a gigantic ego, he demanded torches to give the castle an authentic feel? What an insufferable, heinous jerk.
Lifting her head to see where they were going made Elizabeth’s neck ache, so she settled for looking to the side. Had he taken her through a different passage?
“Where are you taking me? Hello? This is so not funny.”
He didn’t answer. The hall looked different. But they passed through so fast she didn’t have time to figure out what was bothering her. A man opened a door.
“My lord, might you reconsider? The lady can be placed in one of the other chambers until you decide her fate.”
“Out of my way.” He snarled at the man.
The guy gulped and moved. They were going down a set of stone stairs, the treads worn smooth in the middle. It grew colder and colder. Water trickled down the stone walls. At the bottom she saw rows and rows of casks.
A note of fear crept into her voice. “This isn’t funny.”
He kept moving, refusing to speak to her, bringing back the white-hot anger.
“Listen, you arrogant ass, put me down this instant.”
Metal creaked, she caught a glimpse of bars, and the breath whooshed out of her as he tossed her to the ground. She landed on a pile of blankets, and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing and sputtering, Elizabeth managed to get to her feet. Not again. The cell door slammed shut and a key turned in the lock. He strode away.
“Wait. You can’t just leave me here.”
His boots slapped on the stone as he walked away from her. She heard him talking to the man who’d told him not to do this. Maybe he would help. “Hello? Tell him to let me go.”
The men sounded like they were arguing.
“Damn you. I demand a phone call. I want my lawyer, you insane bastard.” She threw in every curse word she knew, even inventing a few on the spot.
At that, he turned, came back, and peered through the bars, his blue eyes almost violet in the dim light from the torches. “Highworth belongs to me. The cheek of the lass.”
The other man grinned. “By the saints, I’ve never heard such words from a lady.”
“That’s no lady.”
Robert turned on his heel and left, the other man following.
Elizabeth stood there until the anger drained away. She sat down, careful not to send up another cloud of dust, and pulled the blanket tight around herself. She’d now been locked up eight times. But this was the first time she didn’t have any clothes.
Chapter Eleven
Could it be? Were the fates laughing at him from above? Robert frowned. Punishing him for mocking them? The woman in his dungeon could only be one of two things: faerie or future girl.
If she was truly from the future, ’twas not her fault she woke in his bed. Did it mean Highworth stood through the ages to come? Was she mistress of the castle? He thought on her words. Nay, she said she was visiting for a sen’night.
Could she be a faerie? He had never seen such hair. Hers had long curls begging to be touched. But the colors? Purple, blue, and pink. Perhaps a faerie. If she was, she could not escape. His dungeon was made of iron, and all knew faeries could not abide iron.
Neither boded well. He could not afford distraction. Had no time for her womanly matters. Not with Connor locked in the chamber upstairs, a price on his head. Nor with the guests arriving tonight.
“You should release her. Place her in the chamber next to Connor.” Featherton finished buttoning the buttons of Robert’s cotehardie. It fit snugly across the torso, and he raised his arms, checking the fit, ensuring it was not too tight to draw a sword. The rich velvet was embroidered with stags and other animals. The black pouch with the silver clasp was attached to the jeweled belt at his waist. Robert checked the weight.
“I added more gold, knowing who was in attendance tonight.” His steward sniffed.
Robert grinned. “There will be many wagers. I intend to win them all.” He looked down, pleased by his appearance. Lord Radford would be the only one dressed finer than he.
“I will see the wench, but mark my words, she is bound to bring trouble to Highworth.”
Mayhap he should free her. Assist her in her quest to go home. But in truth, he did not know if she could travel back to her own time. Robert tried to remember what his brothers had told him. None of their wives had gone back, though he thought there was a chance they could… When everyone left and Connor was healed and gone, then he could see to the meddlesome female.
Until then, he would tell her nothing. What was one more lie of the hundreds he’d told women over the years? Future girls. They were always getting in the way. Robert could not let her cause trouble.
Robert’s steward made a sound in the back of his throat indicating his disapproval as he left the chamber. After filling a cup with wine, Robert took the stairs down to the dungeon to check on his guest. As he approached the cell, he saw someone had found her a stool. She was sitting on it, leaning against the wall, staring into the distance. As he approached, she bolted to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.
“You look like a puffed-up peacock dressed like that. What is it, Halloween?” Even though she was shorter than him by eight inches, she managed to look down her nose at him. Robert’s mouth twitch
ed.
“What are you?”
“What am I?” She blinked at him. “I’m not a what. My name is Elizabeth Smith. I won the right to stay here for a week, and I don’t find any of this the least bit funny, even if it is some kind of authentic castle experience.” She stepped forward, gripping the bars so tightly her hands turned white. “Let. Me. Out. Now.”
She was most definitely a future girl. “Where are your garments?”
“There was a storm. I didn’t want the rug to get wet, so I cleaned up the rain with my gown.” She mistook the look on his face for disapproval. Nay, he was most interested in her lack of a dress.
“I was the only one in the castle. Well, except for Featherton and Martha, but they stay in a cottage at the edge of the woods.”
He was so busy admiring her hair. It reminded him of the evening sky so much that he almost missed the words.
“You know Featherton?”
“Of course. He’s the one who showed me to the chamber.”
But she looked away and he knew she was lying. She squirmed, holding the blanket tight to her body. But how did she know his steward’s name?
“Well, actually, he put me in the chamber down the hall. But it was creepy, so I went to the room at the other end of the hall. It was much more to my taste.” She scowled at him. “If you are the owner, why are you here? It might be your room, but it’s my castle for the whole week. So get out.” Then she blinked at him, a look he’d seen on many a woman when they wanted his gold or his name.
“But first let me out so I can go back to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.”
Robert rocked back on his heels. Tapped a finger to his lips as if thinking. “I am Robert Thornton, Lord of Highworth. No one had the authority to grant you the right to reside at my castle. And wenches are not allowed in my chamber. Ever. Nor are they allowed to spend the night. If I let you go, will you leave now and stop vexing me?”
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and glared at him. He couldn’t help but notice the pink in her cheeks, the fullness of her lips, and how her green eyes sparkled like emeralds when she was angry. Which she most definitely was. With him. ’Twas a new feeling. Wenches wanted him; they were never angry with him. Except when he left them.
Forever Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 2) Page 5