First Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 3) (8 page)

“Aye. From whence do you hail?”

“America. Land of the free…” She blew out a breath. “And lately, home of the crazy.”

America
. She was one of them. A future girl. Edward thought he might faint, but knights, especially fearsome knights such as he, did not swoon. Ever.

Edward turned to the men. “Alistair. You and Thomas will say nothing of our guest. I will speak with you anon.”

Thomas willingly went up the steps. Alistair paused, looking back at him. “No good will come of her being here. Send her back to whence she came.”

“Harrumph.” Edward nodded to Brom, who moved to stand at the bottom of the stairs in case any came to find them. Then he turned back to the woman. “Where in America do you come from?”

“Maryland. Baltimore.” She waved a hand. “Let me see if I’ve got this? You think you’re in medieval England? And we’re close to the border of Scotland, which is why I must be a spy?” The woman rolled her eyes. “That sound about right?”

Edward felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He had heard such a tone before from all of his brothers’ lady wives. ’Twas what he called mockery and they called sarcasm.

She wrapped his cloak more tightly around her pleasant form. “Quit fooling around. I’m dirty and hungry and I want a shower before Monica comes back tonight and hogs the last of the hot water. It is still night, isn’t it?”

“Is this Monica an Armstrong?”

“What? No. She’s a mean girl.” She let out a snort and threw up her hands. “Whatever. I get cranky when I’m hungry.”

Whatever
. Yes, she was a future girl.
 

“’Tis almost time for supper. And aye, this is England and we are the only stronghold between that savage country.”

“Don’t really care about the stronghold crap. Take me to your leader so I can get back to my day, okay? No wonder I’m hungry. I’ve been down here all night.” The woman scowled at him. “Hurry up. I have things to do. Just wait until I see Mark and the rest of them. Leaving me down here all night. They can fetch their own damn water for the rest of the week. Jerks.”

Edward made the fetching shrew a small bow. “I am the leader. Edward, Lord Somerforth, at your service, demoiselle.”

She blinked at him, unsure and muttered, “Great. Next he’ll tell me his name is Thornton and I’m in his castle. Sooo not funny.”

Edward knew the witless look on his captain’s face must be the same on his own visage. Brom unsheathed his sword as the woman took a step back, and Edward noticed her strange footgear.

“Aye, I am Edward Thornton.” Christian knew he wanted a future girl. Disappointment pierced his breast as he met Brom’s gaze. “Likely Christian sent her. One of his fugitive brides. ’Twas a fine jest. I will repay the whoreson next I see him.”

“Who is Christian? A bride?” She shuddered. “I’m not married. No way.”

“Christian Thornton, Lord Winterforth? My youngest brother.” Edward watched her face as he spoke.

“Never heard of him, but I have heard the name Thornton.” The woman pulled some kind of thread from her arm and pulled her long hair into one of the fetching ponytails he’d seen Anna wearing the last time he saw her. She pointed to his sword. “If you’re Lord Somerforth, how do you have your sword? I found it half buried out in the field before I ended up here.” She tapped her full lips then pointed at his blade. “Does that one have your name engraved on it?”

Edward unsheathed his sword. “This is the sword you found in a field?” He scoffed. “I would never leave my sword in the mud.”

She peered closely at the blade and nodded. “Exactly that sword.” She reached out to touch the wording, but he grasped her hand before she could touch the blade.

“Careful, ’tis sharp.”

She looked at him with mistrust. “Do you have a piper?”

He paled. “I did.”

“Where is he? He’s been playing for me.”

“He died saving Charlotte. My brother’s wife.”

She reached out, but instead of touching him, she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry.”

“He played for you? You saw him?”

There was sorrow in her face when she said, “I never saw him, but I heard him several times. Everyone at the camp said he only played for the Thornton women, but I told them how silly that was. I’m not a Thornton. My name is Jennifer. Jennifer Wilson.”

Brom arched a brow. It had to be.

“What is this camp?”

“Sheesh. You guys really like to stay in character, huh? I was staying at the ruins for the summer, working for the professor. I’d been painting.”
 

“Ruins?”

“Funny. The ruins of Somerforth.”

He swayed. “My home no longer stands?”

“It fell hundreds of years ago.” She frowned at him. “There aren’t any Thorntons left, as far as I know.”
 

His voice sounded rough to his ears. “What year did you say it was, Mistress Jennifer?”

“Fine. I’ll play along. It is 2016, my annoying lord.”

Brom’s shoulders shook as he covered his mouth. Catching sight of Edward, he coughed. Edward tried to scowl but failed.

“What’s so funny?”

Brom wiped his eyes. “Apologies, lady. Tell her, Edward.”

“Tell me what?”

Edward said quietly, “’Tis the Year of Our Lord 1334.”

She laughed then stopped, her eyes huge. “You’re not acting? Swear it?”

“I vow it.” He held out his arm. “Come to the hall, where ’tis more comfortable. You are shivering.”

The woman named Jennifer blinked at him.

“Are you coming, mistress?”

She straightened. “Of course I am. Who wouldn’t after that statement?”

Her hand looked small on his arm, and he felt the chill through his tunic.

“Could you take me outside? I need to see.”

“Aye, mistress.”

He led her through the hall, Brom stopping to speak to several of the men. Her grip tightened on his arm as she took in his hall, the people. A small sound came from deep within her. She swayed, and he did not think; he swept her up into his arms.

“I… This is a real castle.”

Outside, she gasped, trembling in his arms.

“Formidable, isn’t it?”

She wiggled. “Please put me down so I know I’m not hallucinating. I need to feel the ground with my own two feet.”

He frowned but did as she bade him, staying close in case she swooned. The woman turned in a circle, stepping away from him and into the path of two of his guardsmen practicing swordplay. The whoosh of a blade stole the breath from him.

“Damnation,” he thundered. “You almost took her head.”

One of the men shrugged. “She should have ducked.”

The blow Edward dealt the man sent him stumbling back, rubbing his jaw. The future girl slowly turned in circle after circle, mouth agape.

“’Tis a difficult thing, the knowledge things are not as we expect them to be.”

She gripped his arm, her mouth opening and closing. Then her eyes rolled back and he caught her, sweeping her into his arms as she swooned. A gasp had him scowling at the men who were gaping at her bare legs. He tucked the cloak firmly around her and strode through the courtyard as people stopped to gape, but none said a word, fearful of his foul temper.

Brom ordered the men about and followed Edward, snorting and mumbling.

“You take sport in my discomfort.”

Cheerily, Brom replied, “Aye. I do.”

Edward stomped up the stairs, entering the empty chamber next to his.

“Bring me wine,” he bellowed as he laid her on the bed.

His captain failed to suppress a guffaw.
 

“Do not say a word, dolt.”

The wretched whoreson turned away, shoulders shaking before he gave up and laughed until his eyes leaked.

“Seems the fates have a sense of humor. They sent the future girl you wanted.” He pretended to think. “What was it you said? ‘The vexing makes them bewitching’ or some such drivel?”

Edward sighed. “She is glorious.”

His captain pursed his lips. “Will you send word to your brothers? She should meet the others.”

The woman was asleep on the bed. The need to protect her rose within him. Her hair spread across the pillow, the strands like the finest silk. She was fiery and would make him a perfect wife. She mumbled in her sleep, throwing an arm across her face. The cloak gaped open and he looked his fill. A fine, shapely form, long legs, and a fine, plump…

“Edward?”

“Aye?”

“You’re drooling on her.”

“I do not drool.” He frowned and stomped from the room, passing a girl carrying a pitcher of wine. “Leave it for her.”

The girl almost dropped the wine in her haste to flee his foul humor. His brothers’ wives led them about by the nose. Edward would not allow such behavior. She would be his lady and obey him as her lord. For he was the most feared knight in the land and knew what was best for her.

Jennifer’s eyes fluttered open. She was in a bed in a very authentic-looking medieval chamber.
 

“I don’t understand.” The smell of horses and grass filled her nose. It was coming from the cloak she was wrapped in. It smelled like
him
. And just like that, everything came crashing back.
 

“Medieval England.” Somehow she’d fallen through the earth and wound up at Somerforth in the year 1334 and met the lord of the castle, Edward Thornton. If he hadn’t taken her outside to show her his home, with people going about their day-to-day lives, horses, men fighting with swords, and the castle…she would have thought she’d hit her head and was dreaming. The castle looked like she’d imagined and sketched.

“Oh no.” All her watercolors and sketches were probably ruined by the storm. It was daytime, so did that mean the students had figured out she was missing? Did time work the same way? Maybe she’d only been gone for a minute? Or worse, days or weeks? It would take a while for her parents to figure out why she hadn’t responded to their messages. They were so busy that they really wouldn’t worry until she didn’t come home at the end of the summer.

“Stop being negative. You got here; you can get back.” Then another thought occurred. If she went back now she’d miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime to experience life in medieval times.
 

The door opened, and a man stuck his head in, blanched, and slammed the door.

“Wait.” But he was already gone. The floor was uneven. No, she was dizzy. Gripping the post at the corner of the massive bed, Jennifer took a few deep breaths. Who knew how long she’d stood there thinking about the unbelievable fact she’d somehow traveled through time when the door banged open again and the man who smelled like a fantasy strode in like he owned the place. Which, come to think of it, he did.

“Are you going to swoon again?”

Like it was her fault? Anyone would have fainted finding out they’d woken up almost seven hundred years in the past. She removed her death grip from the bed and glared at the hottie.

“No. I’m fine.”

He nodded and picked up a pitcher she hadn’t noticed. The bossy man practically pushed her down into a chair and handed her a beautiful goblet. Before she could examine it, he poured a dark-colored liquid into the cup. The tangy smell of wine filled her nose.

“Drink.”

She took a sip, then a few more, letting the alcohol work to calm her frazzled nerves. While he watched her, she looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished with a stool, a chair, a small chest at the foot of the bed, and, of course, the huge bed. The thing could sleep four comfortably. It had rich-looking curtains tied to the post at each corner. The man must have decided she wasn’t going to fall over. Seeing such a massive man sitting on the small stool made her smile.

He took her hand in his, rough calluses scratchy against her skin. The huge hand dwarfed hers.

“You know where you are?”

“Somerforth Castle.”

He beamed at her as if she had just spelled
cat
for the first time.

“And
when
you are?”

Before speaking, she drained the wine and pointed to the pitcher. He absently refilled it.

“If I remember correctly, you said I’m in 1334?” There, she’d gotten the date out without her voice breaking. Saying it out loud made it more real. Final. As if seeing the tableau wasn’t enough, she had to own the date by speaking it out loud.