Forever Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 2) (11 page)

Shut up
, she told the voice in her head.

He opened the door. “Cows do not speak.” The man in the corridor stood to attention as Robert looked her over, tapping his lip. “Nay, I would say you are like a fisherman’s wife, always vexing me.”

“And you are a slimy slug that crawls around the outside of a trash can.” She took his arm. “I’m famished. Since I can’t have a bath, tell me you at least provide breakfast for the prisoners.”

He turned that million-dollar smile on her. “I would never starve such a beauty. I am not a barbarian.”

“Could have fooled me.”

In the hall, he led her to a seat in the middle of one of the tables. The bowl in front of her looked and smelled like oatmeal. One of the men saw her sniffing.

“’Tis porridge.”

“Smells good.”

He grunted and dug in. There was dried fruit, butter, and cream provided to add to the food. She ate, hungry and grateful for the filling meal. There was wine or ale, so she went with the wine. At least it would warm her up. Ever since she’d woken up in the past, she’d been cold. Elizabeth had felt silly wearing the cloak inside, but here in the hall, seated away from the fire, she was grateful and didn’t care who looked at her funny. She pulled the cloak tighter, wishing for a nice, chunky scarf and gloves, or better yet, electric heat. With it this cold inside, she dreaded to think what it must be like outside.

“Come with me, mistress. We’ll go up to the battlements where we can see everything.” Rabbie offered his arm.

Elizabeth brought the cup of wine with her. It wasn’t hot chocolate, but it would have to do.

“Lead on.” The winding steps took them to the very top of the castle.
 

“The view is spectacular.”

Forest and land, occasionally dotted with small houses, lay before her. No commercial development of any kind. The lack of strip malls was a plus for being in the past. Rabbie sat on the wall, his legs dangling over the edge. She peered over, watching everyone coming and going, the men gathering around as Robert and the frog, as she had come to call Lord Radford after their meeting, prepared to find out who was the better man.
 

While she looked around, what was wrong with the entire scene finally hit home. While her mind told her she had fallen through time, it was difficult to believe. But looking out over the grounds—there was no paved parking area outside of the castle. No paved roads. No cars. She stood still, listening.

Over the sounds of metal, voices, and animals, she heard nothing but the wind. No modern-day noises. No cars, no horns, no planes in the sky. Not a single ringing cell phone. She’d kept trying to convince herself she truly had landed in the past, but it was the lack of the roads that finally convinced her beyond any doubt. Rabbie caught her arm as she swayed.

“Take care, mistress. My lord would not be pleased if you fell over the edge.” He looked over. “Your head would split open like a melon.”

Boys. Bloodthirsty, no matter the century.
 

“Thank you for looking after me.” Stepping back, Elizabeth racked her brain. Finding herself trapped in the past meant she needed to know everything she could about this time.

“Excuse me. What’s the date today?” She’d been too afraid of the answer before to ask. Now, accepting she was here, Elizabeth needed to know.

The boy shrugged, more interested in what was going on below. The guard passing by spoke slowly as if she were a rather stupid child.
 

“’Tis Wednesday, the thirteenth of November.”

“And what is the year?”

The knight and the boy blinked at her, the guard taking a step back, like she had escaped from the funny farm and he wasn’t sure what her next move might be. The man looked over the wall, down at the men assembled below, before looking at her.

“It is the Year of Our Lord 1333.”

She clenched the cup and took a deep gulp, draining the red wine. “Thank you. I guess I forgot.”

They looked unconvinced, but let it go as a shout rose up, drawing their attention. The men were on their horses, the excitement in their voices rising up as they called out, making their choice for the winner. Men shouted, horses’ hooves thundered, and Elizabeth barely paid attention, still stuck on the date. It was 1333. A very long time from 2016. She’d guessed she’d landed in medieval England, but to hear the date out loud, so many things now made sense. Castigating herself for not paying more attention during history or taking an interest in world news, Elizabeth opened every file cabinet in her brain and rifled through the contents, looking for any scrap of information she might have stored away regarding this time period.

As she was sifting through various tidbits, a shout filled the air. She looked down to see the frog had won the horse race. Robert’s voice carried, clear and deep.

“We have each won a wager, therefore we shall have a third to decide the winner. Would you agree, Radford?”

The man puffed himself up. Elizabeth held in a chuckle as she watched him toddle over. He kind of looked like a frog the way he walked, slightly bobbing up and down and side to side.

“The joust. I will contribute jewels and gold to the purse. The winner takes the girl, horses, jewels, and gold. All.”

“I will match your stake.”

There was an area roped off. Rabbie told her it was the lists, where the men usually practiced swords.

“Thomas is teaching me to fight.” He stood up straight then blushed. She looked to see why, and noticed Joan hurrying across the courtyard.

“Like that, is it?”

The boy looked at her. “Mistress?”

She pointed. “You like Joan.”

“Aye, but she says I am much too young for her.”

Elizabeth touched his arm. “How old is Joan?”

“She is eleven.” He watched the cute girl all way into the hall before turning back to Elizabeth. “I am only ten.”

“One year isn’t anything much. My mom is twelve years older than my dad. Give her time; she’ll come around.”

The smile on Rabbie’s face made her grin. “I will. Joan is the only woman in all the lands for me.”

“You’re young. You could meet lots of other pretty girls,” she teased him.

“Never. There is only Joan.” He looked so certain that it made her momentarily jealous, wishing someone would be as certain of her. To distract herself, Elizabeth pointed to the men below. “Do they do this a lot?”

The boy considered her question. “My lord is very good at the joust. And sword fighting. He is one of the best in England. Has won a great deal of gold. Have no fear; he will win.”

A door opened and one of the servants came out bearing a tray. “Lord Highworth bid me bring you spiced wine. He didn’t want you to catch a chill.”

How unexpected. So he could be kind when he wished. Elizabeth accepted the cup, feeling the warmth seep into her hands. She looked down to find Robert looking up at her. Lifting the cup, she mouthed
thank you
before turning to the servant. “Thanks. It’s exactly what I needed.”

While she’d been busy thinking about the timeline of history, Robert and Radford had dressed in chainmail, with several plates of armor covering the vulnerable parts of the body. They sat on huge horses, waiting as men brought out long wooden lances.

She could feel the excitement in the air as Rabbie and the guard both leaned forward, watching.

“Come on, beat the whoreson.” The guard pounded the gray stone wall with a gloved fist.

She caught some of the crude remarks bantered back and forth as both riders prepared. One of the men called out and they were off. Galloping toward each other, lances down; the earth trembled as the horses thundered onward. The anticipation was infectious, and she leaned forward, clenching the cup in her hands, anxious to see who would win. And what her fate would be. For she had no rights. Was at the mercy of a jerk or a frog. Which was the least worst choice?

The scene unfolding in front of her made Elizabeth feel like she was standing on a movie set or attending one of those medieval dinners. She’d never been to a Renaissance faire, but imagined it must look similar.

As the horses brought the men closer and closer, Robert teetered back and forth in the saddle.

She squinted. “Is he drunk?”

The guard frowned, but it was Rabbie who spoke up. “No more than usual, mistress.”

As if that was supposed to make her feel better. When the frog’s lance struck Robert, she couldn’t help it: Elizabeth screamed. In slow motion, she watched as he leaned far to the right like a metronome but did not fall, instead coming back to center, leaning to the left, and then returning to an upright position in the saddle. The pounding of her heart made it hard to hear what the men below were saying. She clenched the cup so tightly she was surprised it didn’t shatter into a thousand pieces.
 

They went again, and she swore her nerves couldn’t take it. This time Robert hit Radford, who listed precariously to the side but did not fall. The whole thing was nerve-racking.

Rabbie rubbed his hands together. “’Tis the last time. My lord will take him down now.”

Radford’s lance struck Robert in the chest so hard he went flying backward off the horse, landing in the mud with a splat. The cloak trimmed in white fur and beautiful embroidery was now covered with muck. At least the mail and armor would wash off.

The inventive swearing made her grin. When Elizabeth made it home she’d have to remember some of them. As she watched, Radford dismounted and bobbled over to Robert, leaning over him. The man had his back to her, so she couldn’t see the look on his face or hear what he said. But she knew it had to be bad from the way Robert stiffened.

Then the frog straightened up and, even with his vertically challenged self, managed to look down his nose at everyone. Radford puffed out his chest. “You lose, Thornton. I will have a fine time with my spirited filly. Where is the faerie?”

That horrible little man was talking about her. This was not good. She couldn’t go with him; there was something about him that set off all the warning bells in her head. Elizabeth would have bet her camper and Lulabell that he wasn’t a nice guy at all. Some of the richest men were the worst, thinking the law didn’t apply to them. That they could do whatever they wished, with no thought to the consequences. Every fiber of her being told her Radford was one of the bad guys.

While Robert had acted like a complete jerk since the night she’d woken up in his bed, at least she knew he wouldn’t harm her. Well, other than throwing her in the dungeon, but she guessed it was better than being burnt at the stake for being a witch or a faerie. In this day and age, men thought women of knowledge were evil, so she’d count herself lucky. At least so far.

When Robert made it to his feet, he swayed for a moment. He was a lord with scads of money and a fairytale castle, yet all he wanted to do was laze about, drinking and fooling around. What a waste. Elizabeth thought of everything he could do to make people’s lives better. Rabbie had told her a little of the Thornton brothers. It didn’t sound like the rest of them behaved like frat boys.

What was up with Robert? There was something bothering him. She knew it like she knew when a coal company was hiding damning information. A gift, her mom said. The ability to see the truth.

The guard turned to her. “I am truly sorry. ’Tis time, mistress.”

There was no other way. She couldn’t escape; there were too many men milling around. They would catch her in a second. The dress and cloak slowed her down. She knew. Last night in her chamber she’d run across the room fully dressed, counting the seconds. Then after Joan helped her undress and left, she tried again. So much faster. The voluminous dress and cloak nearly tripped her.

And if she did escape the castle, where would she go? It wasn’t like there was a road or car for her to flag down help. There wasn’t a way to call for help, either. No phones.
Face it. You’re all alone in medieval England without a cent to your name. And the only man you know just doomed you to leave with a disgusting frog.
 

As they made their way to the lists, Robert looked sheepish.

“I am sorry, Elizabeth.”

She backed away from him. “You’re not sorry. If you were, you wouldn’t have offered me up as the prize in your stupid little game in the first place.”

Lord Radford pranced over. As he opened his mouth to speak, Featherton appeared, a few hairs out of place, which for him meant there was some kind of major disaster. He was so much like the Featherton from her time that a wave of homesickness washed over her, threatening to pull her under and carry her away.

“Are you unwell?”

She saw the concern in Robert’s dark blue eyes. Too little, too late. “I’m fine.”

Featherton wrung his hands. “The kitchen maid has taken ill. Fever is spreading through the castle.”

Right. And she had a lovely swamp for sale. Neither Featherton would ever wring their hands. Not even if the roof collapsed. She pursed her lips, thinking. Illness was something he would whisper about to Robert, keeping it from the guests. But the steward purposely spoke in a loud voice so everyone could hear. Why? What on earth was going on? Did it have anything to do with the mysterious Scot hidden away?

Lord Radford jumped back, holding a cloth over his nose and mouth.

“Come. We depart.” He shrieked at his servant to bring his belongings, and bellowed to another for the carriage and horses to be made ready.

The other men quickly followed suit. Rabbie had told her they were minor nobles, third and fourth sons who traveled from estate to estate like locusts feasting on the fields.
 

Fever was serious. Part of her wanted to yell out,
You think the fever is bad just wait until the plague hits
. But she couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe her, and she’d likely find herself frantically blowing out the flames beneath her feet. Dread skittered down her back. When had the plague decimated England?
 

“Think. When was it?” She racked her brain, and a snippet floated from one of the file drawers to the floor of her head. “The Hundred Years’ War comes next. The plague sweeps across England in…1348.” She let out a sigh. Fifteen years from now. What if she was stuck in the past? Trapped in time. There would be a front-row seat with her name on it. There she’d have an up close and personal view as the plague ravaged the country. If it didn’t kill everyone around her. Including her.