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

by Cynthia Luhrs

  She’d stayed in school, changing majors, unable to decide what she wanted to be for ages. It was fun learning new things. With so many choices, how could she pick one?

  When she tried, she saw all the possibilities stretched out before her and couldn’t make a decision. After eight years, her parents had had enough, so she ended up with a degree in art history and no job offers. Her father was disappointed, but her mom…she claimed a migraine and “took to her bed,” as she called it. As far as her mother was concerned, the fact Jennifer hadn’t graduated with an MRS degree was the worst disappointment of all.

  For once she’d evaded Alistair, and now she had no one to send for food or drink. Hungry and thirsty and getting crankier by the minute, Jennifer decided to confront Edward. She’d give him a piece of her mind. The womanizer. The ass was always stomping about, grumbling and bellowing at everyone. Maybe he had a point there. She tried it. “Wow, this feels great. No wonder he stomps about so much.”

  She bellowed and tried out a few choice swear words. Yep, it felt bloody great. Stomping into the great hall, she barked at the first servant to cross her path.

  “Where is his high and mighty annoying lordship?”

  The man blanched. “In the solar with Lord Winterforth.”

  Figured. The single brother was here. They were probably planning a night of debauchery visiting the village wenches. Why not go on a road trip and kiss every woman in the entire damn country while he was at it?

  Grumbling under her breath, she came to the doors of the solar. The door was ajar; she heard voices.

  “Aye, Jennifer is a bothersome wench.”

  How had she been so stupid? Feelings hurt, she turned away and made it halfway down the corridor until she stopped. A servant passed, carrying Edward’s sword.

  “Where are you going with Edward’s blade?”

  The man showed her the crack in the emerald. “My lord was fortunate he did not lose his hand.”

  She needed that sword, so she summoned her best mean-girl voice. “Give it to me. I will take it to the blacksmith. You might drop it, and our lord would be most displeased.”

  The man took one look at her face and handed over the blade. Pleased with herself, she went to her chamber, wrapped the sword in a cloak, grabbed her easel and satchel, and took one last look around.

  She was bothersome? He preferred someone else? Fine. She’d find Connor. It wasn’t too far across the border. If she was careful, she’d be okay. He would feel obligated to help her. So she’d stay with him until there was a storm and she could return to her own time, where she could rebuild the walls around her heart. Somehow he had snuck up in the deep of night and smashed them to bits, and she hadn’t lifted a finger to stop him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When she made it through the portcullis and halfway to the woods, Jennifer should have known something was up. It shouldn’t be that easy, not with the castle on high alert.

  “Where are you off to, mistress?” Alistair fell into step beside her, a grin on his face.

  She practiced scowling and stomping. “None of your bloody business. Begone.” But of course he followed her. Changing course, she walked until she saw the mill. She needed to paint the scene; it was calming and would make the perfect addition to her collection. Alistair stood beside her. What was the use of having a guard if she couldn’t order him around?

  “Leave me so I can be angry.”

  The guard backed away from her. Jennifer sat on the bank, listening to the wheel creak as it went round and round. It was so peaceful that she sat and watched it. Once she calmed down a bit, she’d paint the scene, and then she was leaving to find Connor.

  A pretty girl came out.

  “Mistress?”

  “I wanted to sit here by the water for a while.”

  The girl disappeared and came back with cups of cider for them both.

  “You are the lady from the castle? The one who paints such beautiful paintings?”

  “Yes, that’s me. Thank you. I thought I’d paint the mill.” She looked at the girl. Obviously shy, she didn’t meet Jennifer’s eyes when she talked. The girl either looked at her feet or off into the distance.

  “Will I be in your picture?”

  “You will. Would you like that?”

  The girl nodded. They sat in silence for a bit until the girl haltingly spoke. Telling Jennifer about her life and how much she enjoyed baking. As the girl talked, Jennifer let the words wash over her until something caught her attention.

  “My father says Lord Somerforth will offer for me. I will be a great lady.”

  “How…nice.”

  While the girl talked, doubt flooded through Jennifer, and her temper came back with a vengeance. She knew Edward had his lid popped. All the signs were there. He was so ready to be married that he’d wed the next nice girl, no matter who she was. The miller’s daughter or her—what difference did it make?

  Forget it. He was not the one for her. It was better to be alone. Edward was trouble. Not just with a capital T, but all caps TROUBLE.

  No, no, no. No more mooning over the hot English knight. Remember Charlie? How he destroyed her mom? He was husband number two. Her mother spent a month in bed after catching him in the dining room with the housekeeper. On the table. When her mother got out of bed, the first thing she did was sell the table.

  “Are you daft, woman?” Edward thundered.

  Jennifer heard a squeak. The miller’s daughter ran for safety. Too bad Jennifer hadn’t sketched the girl or the mill yet. She’d have to rely on memory once she got to Connor’s home. If she painted him a picture or two, maybe that would be payment enough for taking her in and hiding her from Edward.

  Jumping up, Jennifer turned to see him seated on his horse looking like some ancient bloody warrior come to claim his prize. Not going to work this time.

  “Go away and leave me alone.” She scooted the bundle closer to her.

  The awful man pointed at the tip of the blade sticking out from the cloak. “You are a thief. You took my sword. Why didn’t you steal a horse as well?” Edward dismounted and stalked over to her. Jennifer refused to look at him.

  “I need the sword. The horse. Well, I didn’t know how to care for him, and I wouldn’t want him to suffer.”

  It was quiet except for the turning of the wheel. Where was her guard? She turned to see Alistair trudging back to the castle. She hoped he wouldn’t be in too much trouble for letting her escape.

  “Where will you go?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You can’t go back. To your home. The sky is blue—there is no cloud and no storm.” He sighed. “Why do you vex me so?”

  Eyes narrowed, she stomped until she was an inch from his chest.

  “I’m not staying where I’m not wanted. I’ll go to Connor; he’ll help me. I can stay there until a storm comes.”

  “He will tumble you in the bloody stables. I forbid it.”

  “Forbid? You forbid me? Who in the hell do you think you are to forbid me?” She poked him in the chest. “I think I should be the one forbidding you.”

  “Bloody future women. Never listen. Always think they can do what they please with no thought of anyone else.”

  “You said I was bothersome.”

  “’Twas said with affection.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re a liar.”

  He roared at her. Like he was the injured party.

  “You insult me, madam.”

  “Good. Now go away and leave me alone, you womanizing jerk.”

  “Nay. I will not.”

  Pacing along the bank, Jennifer called him all kinds of names, using slang to hopefully make him wonder what she was saying. Her fury ruined the peaceful scene.

  Edward took hold of her arm. “Enough. You will cease calling me names. You will come home now. And you will obey me.”

  Oh, hell no. “Obey? Listen here, you egotistical dumbass, you might be some powerful medieval lord, but I�
��m a modern woman and I do what I want, when I want.”

  She was so furious that she picked up his sword, pointing it at him.

  He held his hands out, moving toward her. “Put down the blade.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I hate you.” The end of the sword quivered.

  The horrible man must have heard something in her voice, as she watched the anger drain out of him.

  “Why are you angry with me?”

  “The miller’s daughter said you’re going to marry her. If that wasn’t bad enough, I saw you.”

  He waited. She wanted to hit him. He was going to make her say it.

  “Kissing that woman with the baby in the alcove.”

  For a moment he looked confused. How many women had he been kissing that he wasn’t sure which one she meant?

  “I have made no offer to the girl’s sire. Nor will I.” He tapped his lip a moment. “You said kissing?” Then he brightened. “Aye. The Johnston woman.”

  Her mouth fell open. She dropped his sword and pushed him as hard as she could. Edward stumbled backward, tripped over a clump of grass, and fell into the pond. When he surfaced there was something green on his head. A duck paddled by, quacking at him, and she lost it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hold it in. The laugh bubbled up and spilled out of her mouth. She was laughing so hard, she doubled over, crying.

  When the laughs had dwindled to snorts, she wiped her eyes and looked at him. He dumped out a boot and a frog hopped away, which, of course, made her laugh all over again as he scowled at her and put his boots back on.

  “I’m still mad at you.”

  With three strides, he pulled her to him. “She kissed me. I pushed her away and told her my heart belonged to another.”

  “Oh.” Who was it? No, she would not ask. Jennifer tried to pull away, but he held her closer.

  "’Tis you, you little fool.”

  She looked up at him and saw the truth in his face.

  “I am a dolt. I should have come to you and told you so you did not hear tales from those who would be jealous.”

  “You don’t want the miller’s daughter or the woman who kissed you?”

  He sighed. “Nay. A future woman has bewitched me and ruined me for all others.” Water dripped on her face, and he wiped it away. “Forgive me?”

  The anger left her. She should have asked him, but she’d jumped to assumptions again. Though this one had merit, given the revolving door of men in her mother’s life.

  “Already done.” And then she lost her train of thought as he lifted her up and his lips met hers. He trailed kisses from her cheek down her throat and across her eyelids. She sighed into his mouth, her hands touching his face and hair. As he pressed his mouth to hers, she lost herself in the scent of him and surrendered.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jennifer had tried to be useful, but it hadn’t worked out very well. Edward had plenty of servants to do everything, from cleaning to polishing silver to making candles and doing the laundry. She’d tried to help cook, but it was a disaster.

  The look on Edward’s face as he ate the pie made her laugh until her side ached. Insisting it was delicious, he finished it, but she’d noticed Brom feeding his portion to the dogs under the table. The captain of the guard had winked at her, and she did the same when Edward wasn’t looking.

  Then she’d tried embroidery, but as in her own time, she didn’t have the patience. It took forever to complete one tiny design. Her work was like the pig who painted with a paintbrush in his mouth, while the rest of the women’s skill? They were Monet.

  Gardening had also been a fail. Maybe in time she’d come to recognize what was what, but for now, Edward suggested she should paint. The man went on and on, saying how he needed her paintings on his walls and for his brothers. It was kind of him, but made her think: what did the other women like her do in this time? Were they ladies of leisure, or did they have skills?

  She at least could work with the cook to decide the menu, but she wasn’t yet comfortable approving purchases. Not until she had a better understanding of the cost of things.

  So she’d retreated outside to paint. This morning the fog had been thick with a fine mist of rain, making the world around her feel magical as the music from Jennifer’s favorite show, Outlander, played in her head. Sure, it was set in Scotland and she was in England, but the mood fit. Looking out over the lush green landscape as the fog started to dissipate, she was content. With a critical eye, she looked from her painting of the woods to the woods standing silent.

  A growling noise filled the air as her hand went to her stomach. This time it wasn’t her, it was Alistair, who turned red when she grinned.

  “Sorry I kept you so long. I’m hungry too. Let me finish up and we’ll go eat.”

  Before she ended up here, Jennifer used to pretend she was happier being alone and left to her own devices. During her time here she’d come to see it was a coping mechanism. A way not to get hurt. After all, if she risked nothing, she had no chance of building lasting connections with others.

  She scooped a bit of dirt into an empty jar. It mixed well with water, and she could try using it as paint. The cherries she’d snatched from the larder made a perfect red, while the fresh blackberries she’d found yesterday worked well after she’d smashed them through linen. Wood ash made gray, chalk gave her white, and various flowers gave her bright yellow, orange, red, and pink. Green was the easiest, as she could use grass, mint, or spinach. The carrots were a bit gritty, but after they sat a while they should work relatively well.

  Jennifer had annoyed Brom until he told her the cost of the paints. She almost had heart failure, and decided on the spot to make some of her own to experiment with and see if she could save a bit of money. Hard times were ahead, and rich or not, she wanted to pull her own weight in one area.

  Edward had read a letter to her from Elizabeth, who was married to his brother Robert. She and the others wanted family portraits and scenes of daily life. Edward promised they would take a long trip next month so she could meet everyone. In anticipation, he’d given her gold for new dresses. One of the girls helped her pick out the fabrics. So far, she hadn’t selected a lady’s maid. Three of the girls seemed perfect, and she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so she waited, hoping to figure out which one to pick. Then again, Edward told her she could have them all, but it seemed a bit excessive. Six other castles. Each of his brothers and William and James all had their own castles.

  Finally a chance to talk to others from her own time. Trade stories, commiserate over the loss of showers, and to find out everything they knew about Edward. Jennifer couldn’t wait to go, but she wanted to be back in time for Christmas to spend it at Somerforth. Christmas. It was months away, yet she’d begun to think of this time as the place she truly belonged.

  She sniffed the jar of dirt. Jennifer wasn’t sure how long her homemade paint concoctions would keep. She needed to make notes. The egg tempera had worked out well once the cook provided her with vinegar. The experimentation was part of the fun. Finished packing up her supplies, she followed Alistair and the men back to the castle.

  “I will take your paints to your chamber, lady.”

  “Thank you, Alistair. Then make sure you eat. I know you get cranky like I do when you haven’t eaten.”

  He blushed. “Aye, lady.”

  She’d missed dinner. Thankfully, in the kitchen she found a plate with bread, fruit, cheese, and a blackberry tart that cook had saved for her.

  After she’d finished the meal and washed it down with a cup of cider, she caught the eye of one of the many kitchen lads.

  “Where is Edward?”

  “In the lists, lady.”

  Several of the servants had been horrified when they caught her drinking cider. It was considered lower class. Oh well; she liked it, and it was a nice change from wine or ale. On her way outside, she spoke to a few of the servants. Where was Maude? The girl seemed to know Jennifer was
watching her.

  She’d told Edward of her suspicions. Brom questioned the girl. The captain knew she was hiding something, but he was not convinced she was the traitor. They’d agreed it must be the mystery man whom the girl pretended not to know. That was fine. Brom could rival any police detective; he’d find out who the man was and where he was hiding.

  In the lists, several of the men practiced swordplay, some wrestled, and others were practicing with longbows. The clang of steel drew her attention. There he was. Muscles bunching and flexing as he parried and thrust. If he could come to the future with her, he’d make a fortune training body-conscious men. A body like his couldn’t be found in a gym—it required hard work.

  Even as a child, she’d loved the ballet, the lines of the body as the dancers moved. It was the same seeing Edward in hose. Why had it ever gone out of fashion?

  Sunlight reflected off his hair. He’d pulled it back. Was that a ribbon? Jennifer clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling. The man had taken her blue ribbon to tie his hair back. How many colors of blonde could she count within the golden strands?

  Ever since she’d met her closest friend, Maddie, in first grade, Jennifer had wanted blonde hair. Maddie had perfect spiral curls spun out of gold. Not hair like hers, black as a crow. And straight no matter what. She’d curled it, set it in rollers, even tried a perm once, but nope, it remained thick, heavy, and straight. On the plus side, she never woke up with bedhead.

  Jennifer later wondered what clued her in to the impending arrow. Was it the sensation of the air moving, or maybe a shout penetrated her brain? She didn’t know as she dove for the ground, barely avoiding the arrow aimed at her face.

  “Damnation, you could have killed her.” Edward watched helpless as the man turned, the arrow flying toward his lady. He’d never been so happy that Roderick’s aim was so bloody awful. “Your aim is supposed to improve with practice, is it not?”

  “Apologies, my lord.” The man hung his head.

  “Go practice in the field where you can’t hit anything but a tree or rock.”