A Knight to Remember: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 1)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  “Is Blackford really haunted?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. An ancestor came up with the idea to keep people away, and it’s worked wonderfully well. With the place falling down, it isn’t safe, and I’d hate for someone to get hurt exploring.”

  Relieved, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You own a castle, a piece of history. Don’t you have any desire to rebuild? Live in the home of your ancestors?”

  He looked horrified at the idea. “In that drafty old pile of stones? There’s only one wing intact. The expense would bankrupt me.” Simon made a face.

  “All those unclean people living inside the walls for hundreds of years.” He shuddered. “Not to mention the astronomical cost of heating the place and hiring staff. I’d be broke in a year. There’s a cottage on the grounds where we’ll stay overnight. I wanted you to know my family, even if it’s only through our history.”

  She reached up to touch his face. “I’m sorry you’re the only one left. I wish my parents were still here. I miss them every day.” She sneezed three times. “I’m sure your parents were very proud of you.”

  Simon handed her a soft handkerchief from the pocket of immaculate navy slacks. “What would I do without you, Lucy?”

  She sniffed. “I’m glad I said yes to the blind date.”

  “It was fate.” He smoothed her hair back and pulled her close.

  The drive through the village was charming. The few shops, pub and other assorted businesses clustered together inside the village along the main road. Old cottages dotted the countryside, making her feel as if she’d stepped back in time. What would it be like to live here?

  Simon pointed ahead of them, and when she turned to look, a shiver ran down her spine, as if one of her sisters had dropped a handful of ice down the back of her shirt. Sadness seemed to permeate the very air as they approached Simon’s ancestral home.

  “Blackford Castle. Not the largest holding, but the grounds are extensive.”

  “You were right, it’s very forbidding.”

  The car came to a stop in front of a tiny cottage. The smell of the sea made her inhale deeply. One of her favorite smells in all the world. Simon was looking at the cottage with a frown as they stepped out of the car.

  “It’s small but serviceable. I sent instructions to air the place out. A group of women from the village come weekly to clean, and there’s a caretaker who lives on the western edge of the grounds. If you need anything while we’re here, let Carson know.”

  Lucy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the hauntingly beautiful ruins. She wanted to cry looking up at the place. It seemed lonely and filled with sadness. For a moment she felt dizzy, a sense of déjà vu passing over her. Which was ridiculous, as she’d never been out of the States. She shook herself, tore her gaze away from the battlements and pointed to the tiny cottage.

  “It’s straight out of a fairy tale.” And it was, with its thatched roof and overgrown garden. She could live here and be happy. Bet there wasn’t a single piece of white furniture or carpet in the whole place.

  “At one time I thought of turning it into a gift shop and charging admission to the ruins, but after running the numbers I decided against it.”

  As Simon opened the door to the cottage, a big black bird flew out. He threw his hands up, dancing around and emitting what Lucy would have called a shriek. But that wouldn’t be very nice to say. A laugh escaped and she clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in another. Red-faced, Simon brushed himself off, hair mussed and panting.

  “Did you see? Damned raven almost took my head off. I despise ravens. Filthy birds.”

  Lucy bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “You probably scared him.” If she laughed, he’d think she was making fun of him and pout the rest of the day.

  “Right.” He smoothed his hair down and shot her a suspicious look. Guess she better work on her poker face.

  “Fred, bring the bags inside.”

  The silent driver nodded and Lucy let Simon lead the way. The door opened the rest of the way with a loud groan. Simon wrinkled his nose.

  “It’s outdated and fussy, but it’ll do for the one night.”

  “It’s absolutely charming. I love it.”

  The driver stood stiffly outside the doorway.

  “Anything else, my lord?”

  “That will be all. I’ll…we’ll be going back to London tomorrow. Be here at ten.”

  With a nod, the driver motored down the lane and they were alone. Lucy couldn’t wait to explore the small cottage with its chintz furniture and linen curtains fluttering in the warm summer breeze.

  Fluttering? Lucy blinked and the curtains were still. A small laugh escaped as she realized old houses were drafty. There wasn’t any such thing as a ghost. With a small twirl, she turned to pull Simon along but stopped, her hand held out in midair.

  Simon looked nervous. He was never nervous. She was about to ask him what was wrong, but he took her by the arm, not noticing her hand already hanging in the air like a bent tree limb, and dragged her over to one of the chairs. A puff of dust exploded when she sat, and she sneezed three times. He grimaced and brushed dust off his slacks before kneeling beside her.

  “Darling, I know it’s only been a few months, but you are the only one for me. Make me the happiest man in England and marry me.”

  Chapter Two

  “I don’t know what to say.” Lucy eyed the sparkling ring.

  Simon knelt beside her and fidgeted with his cufflink.

  “Say yes. And then tomorrow night we’ll be married in the great hall of Blackford Castle.”

  She sat there staring dumbly down at him as every moment of their time together flashed before her eyes. Lucy clapped a hand over her mouth, jumped up from the chair and ran outside. Over and over she heaved into the lovely rosebushes by the front door. Skin clammy, she wiped her forehead with her shirt and leaned against the cool stone wall of the cottage.

  “Darling, are you ill?”

  Simon started to pull her close, caught a whiff of the stench and made a face of disgust. “Must have been all the lunch you consumed. You ate way too much. It has made you ill.”

  He took her by the hand, leading her around the cottage to a chair. Grateful, she leaned back, taking shallow breaths though her mouth.

  “I’ll get you some water.”

  He returned with a bottle of water, and for a second, she thought maybe she’d change her mind.

  “Thank you.” The reality of him asking made everything clear. She’d overlooked his condescending attitude and mean remarks to her because of the way he could be so solicitous and charming. The way it sounded when he called her darling in his sexy English accent. But they weren’t compatible. Didn’t have the same values or want the same things out of life. He was money and modern and obsessed with fitness. She believed you worked to live, ate dessert first and loved everything old. This man was not the one for her.

  “Simon, I don’t think…”

  “All the arrangements have been made. I purchased the dress I saw you mooning over.”

  Lucy took a gulp of water. “I can’t marry you.”

  For an instant she swore he looked furious, but then he smiled and she could see the charm oozing out of him. “Don’t be—”

  Lucy held up a hand. “Please. Let me finish.”

  She took a deep breath, her stomach settling down now that she’d accepted her decision.

  “You’ll make someone a wonderful husband. But not me. We’re too different. You’re modern and love to exercise and hate animals and small children. Not to mention, we have different ideas of how people should be treated. You wouldn’t be happy with me.”

  He turned his most dazzling smile on her and stood to pace. “I know we’re different. Don’t you see? You keep me grounded. And yes, I believe those of a lower social rank deserve different treatment than those of my own social class. You’ll get used to me.”

  He looked at Blackford.
“You can keep a pet here at the cottage. Perhaps a horse. Would that make you happy? Think what a delightful story to tell our sons about how I proposed here at the family estate. For I must have an heir and a spare.”

  She could see why the man in front of her was so successful. He simply ignored what he didn’t want to hear and moved forward.

  “It’s tradition, you know.”

  At a loss, she tilted her head to look at him. “What is?”

  “Each member of the Grey family brings his or her intended to the castle to marry. Only the two of them. And the priest, of course. Then they spend the night in the only room still intact and celebrate with a private brunch the following day.” He held out his hands, looking earnest and worried. “Afterwards, we’ll invite your sisters to London for a smashing party.”

  “But—”

  “The family tradition goes back hundreds of years…I know it’s rather laughable in this day and age, but there’s a prophecy.” He looked out the window toward the castle currently under discussion.

  “The prophecy decrees in order to have a long-lasting, happy marriage with an heir—”

  She noted he stumbled over the words long-lasting.

  “—we must marry under the roof of Blackford Castle and spend our wedding night within the walls. It will be like camping. You Americans enjoy camping.”

  She waved away the comment. And no, she most certainly did not like to camp. Her idea of camping was a hotel without room service. A castle without running water or electricity? Forget it.

  “You’re not listening to me. I should have ended things sooner, but I thought maybe seeing you in your own country, feeling at home, I’d see the real you. And I realized this is the real you. I wish things were different. I’m sorry, Simon. I can’t marry you.”

  He gathered her into his arms and patted her hair. After a few minutes passed, Simon stepped back and gazed into her eyes, the saddest expression she’d ever seen gracing his face.

  His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m terribly sorry you feel that way, darling. We would make a good marriage together. Why don’t you take the day to think about it and we can discuss our plans over dinner?”

  He slid the ring over her knuckle, and Lucy felt the weight of countless years tightening around her finger. The ring shifted, and for a moment she thought it would fly off her finger and roll away as if it didn’t want to be there. She snorted. Well, I don’t want to wear you either, but we’ll humor him until dinner.

  For the first time, in a long time, she’d stood up for herself. It felt good.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. Lucy made it to the village before yanking the heavy ring off her finger and shoving it in a pocket. Shoulders squared back, she told herself for the umpteenth time, He’s not the one for you.

  The small village was delightful. The fish and chips from a street vendor divine, and she was content to wander in and out of shops and up and down the old streets, happy to soak up a new experience.

  It would have been perfect to live here, to make the small cottage her own. Getting married to a man you didn’t love? The cost was too high. Truth be told, she wanted someone who loved her for her. A man who used his actions, not a bunch of pretty words. Lucy rubbed her temples, feeling old at twenty-four. There had to be a man out there for her. Wasn’t there someone for everyone? Did her one and only live in some remote country she’d never visit?

  Back at the cottage, she opened the door, wincing when it hit the wall with a bang.

  “Did you enjoy your time in the village, darling?”

  She was unsurprised to see an elaborate dinner laid out on the scarred wooden table.

  “It was picture-postcard perfect.” A chair beckoned, and she sank into it. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

  “We must eat. I thought a nice dinner and conversation would be a perfect way to end the day.” Simon smiled the smile of a predator just before it pounced. “I’ve even turned my mobile off. I know how much you hate it when I take calls during dinner.”

  She blinked, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. He never turned his phone off. Once she heard him in the bathroom doing his business. Poop, by the loud noises. He was holding a conversation. The man would be first in line when some company invented cellular implants. Simon stood in front of her wearing his sweetest smile. The one that usually made her give in to whatever they disagreed on. Be strong. You’ve made your decision. Don’t let him charm you into changing your mind all because you want to live in a cottage by a ruined castle. In England.

  “Would you care for a glass of champagne?” He gestured to a large silver bucket on the sideboard.

  “I’d love one, thanks.”

  He smiled and popped the cork. The faint smell of bubbles filled the air. “You look so beautiful, darling. Your eyes are the color of fine silver. They were the first thing I noticed about you.”

  The chair creaked as Lucy squirmed. Something sharp poked her in the hip. The ring. She leaned back so she could wriggle her fingers in the pocket of her jeans. The ring sparkled in the palm of her hand. As she laid it on the table with a click, she heard a raven calling outside the window.

  “If you want me to leave now, I will. Please know I’ve given your proposal a great deal of thought. I’m certain of my decision.” She took a deep, fortifying breath.

  “Please don’t try and change my mind. I’m sorry I agreed to the trip when I had concerns about us…I thought it would be a good way to see if we were truly suited. You need someone who wants the same things in life as you. I’m not her.”

  He took the ring, pocketed it then placed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “While I shall never recover from the rejection, I have decided I will not be angry. Perhaps it is best to know now instead of having children and putting them through a dreadful divorce years later.”

  This was a change. Her forehead crinkled as she waited for him to say he wanted her to leave. Simon remained quiet. Maybe they could have a nice dinner, and when they returned to London tomorrow she’d book a ticket back home.

  He refilled the glasses. “Let’s enjoy dinner, drink our champagne and forget I even asked.”

  She relaxed a little and took a sip of champagne, stopping to enjoy how the bubbles tickled her nose.

  “Tomorrow I’ll ready the jet to take you home. No hard feelings.” Simon handed her a chocolate-covered strawberry.

  Relief swept through her. So he wasn’t the right guy, but at least he was taking her rejection like the well-mannered lord she’d thought he was when they first met.

  She would act like a grownup as well. “I appreciate it.”

  With the worry banished, Lucy relaxed and enjoyed the sumptuous meal. The conversation flowed, and Simon was his most charming self. Every time she blinked he was refilling the glass. Bleary-eyed, Lucy giggled.

  “I better stop drinking. I’m tipsy.” She stood, and for a moment wobbled as the room tilted before she gained her balance. Teetering over to the window overlooking Blackford Castle, Lucy tripped, sloshing champagne onto the floor.

  “Oops.”

  “We’re both rather pissed.” He raised a glass. “We won’t be needing the bubbly for our nuptials, so let’s pop another bottle. Bottoms up and all that rot.”

  Things started to go fuzzy and dark around the edges. Through a gauzy curtain she watched the glass slipping from her fingers, hitting the floor and shattering.

  Someone must’ve stuck cotton in her ears. So not funny. Lucy shook her head and blinked. Simon stood before her holding a large box in his arms. What on earth?

  “I know we’re not suited to each other.” He opened the first box, pulling out the most beautiful pair of crystal-encrusted blue wedge heels she’d ever seen.

  “I bought these hoping you would say yes. I’d like you to have them anyway.” With a flourish, the lid came off a much larger box, revealing a stunning dress. A sparkly fit for a princess dress that looked very much like a weddi
ng gown. The same gown she’d pinned on Pinterest.

  “I don’t understand. We’re breaking up—why would you give me my fantasy wedding dress?” The alcohol made everything seem like a dream. Had she fallen asleep and was dreaming?

  “I respect your decision. Though wouldn’t it be fun to wear the dress? Pretend we’re getting married?”

  “Fun isn’t the word I’d use.”

  Simon took her hands in his. “Pretend we’re in a play. I may never meet the right woman. At least this way I can tell myself I didn’t stomp on tradition, even if it is a fake wedding.” He looked into her eyes and a tear ran down his cheek.

  “Please, Lucy. I know I’m drunk, but please, won’t you do this one silly thing for me?”

  Maybe it was the champagne or his tear. In the three months they’d been dating, she’d never seen Simon upset, let alone cry. Seeing his tears made her feel like a jerk for smashing all of his carefully laid-out plans to bits. She hiccupped. Why not play along? It was make-believe.

  “Oh, all right, I’ll do it.”

  With a whoop of laughter, Simon spun her around.

  “Wait, put me down before I barf.”

  Simon beamed at her gently, setting her back on solid ground. “I’ll change and be waiting in the great hall. This will be so much fun, darling.”

  He made a call on his mobile, and a minute later two of the cleaning women appeared in the doorway, waving to Simon as he left.

  Before Lucy could protest, she was dressed in the stunning gown and hurried into the waiting car for the short drive up to the castle. They were getting fake-married on Thursday. June twenty-first. The first day of summer. A day she would have picked for her real wedding.

  Hadn’t she read some old rhyme? Something about Wednesday the best day of all. Thursday for losses? Was it a bad omen? She snorted. It was silly to believe in things like ghosts and omens. Or, for that matter, that it was good luck to have rain on your wedding day. Even if it was a fake wedding. It kinda felt real.

  Simon would be waiting in the great hall. It was dark, so the castle didn’t come into view until they were right in front of it. She wrinkled her nose. The place looked menacing and creepy. As if something bad was biding its time deep within the stone, ready to eat her should she set foot in the place. Her laugh filled the car, startling the driver.