A Moonlit Knight_A Knights Through Time Romance

by Cynthia Luhrs

  Chloe was so busy taking everything in, trying to commit every detail to memory so she could tell her granda, that she hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped until the beast lifted her off the horse, like she weighed less than a bag of groceries, and set her firmly on the ground.

  A young girl was waiting to greet them.

  “Merry,” he said. “Fetch blankets and spiced wine. The lady is going to break her teeth if we do not warm her.”

  “Aye, my lord.” The girl scurried away to do his bidding.

  “Come.” He didn’t wait to see if Chloe followed him as he strode into his home. Well, he certainly had the bossy lord thing down pat. Chloe couldn’t feel much of her body as she stumbled into his home and into a huge room.

  The great hall was bustling with activity. What looked like old, weathered wood picnic tables were in the process of being pulled away from the walls and set up in long rows with benches on either side for seating. Her stomach grumbled again as the delicious smell of food filled her nose.

  He led her to the kitchens. The warmth made her want to curl up in front of the roaring fire. Chloe groaned as the tingling spread from her toes and fingers through her body as she defrosted, dripping water onto the stone floor while steam rose from her clothes.

  “Rest, mistress.” The young girl Chloe had seen outside set a cup of wine in front of her, the wood tabletop worn smooth by countless hands over the years. The smell of spices hit her nose, making her mouth water.

  “Merry, right?” Chloe took a sip, the warmth spreading through her veins. “Thank you.”

  Chloe looked to Richard, who was standing with his feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his chest, and the hood was still up. She could tell he’d suffered some kind of injury but couldn’t get a close enough look to tell what kind.

  “I cannot thank you enough for saving me from those awful men.”

  Finally warm, she pulled the heavy cloak off and hung it on a peg near the fire to dry.

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Merry, but the girl quickly averted her eyes.

  Richard, however, thoroughly looked Chloe up and down.

  “We will have speech tonight. There is much to discuss, Mistress Chloe.” She saw his lips move as he read her shirt. He blinked several times.

  “‘I’m not antisocial, I’d just rather read.’ What is ‘antisocial’?” Richard frowned at her shirt. “Why do you have words on your tunic?” He looked her up and down again, his eyes taking in every detail.

  Chloe had the urge to smooth down her hair, but she resisted.

  “Why are you dressed as a man? I have not seen such strange garments or shoes.”

  The wine went down fast, considering she didn’t drink—wasn’t old enough—but she’d been cold and it warmed her up, even though it tasted a bit like fruit and vinegar. Tart. Chloe held the cup up, grateful when Merry refilled it.

  This man was too observant for his own good.

  “Let me see. Antisocial means I like to be alone.” She held up two fingers. “Where I come from, lots of people have words on their clothing. It is a way to express yourself.” The third finger went up. “All women wear pants and shoes like mine. Your garments look odd to me.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Any more questions?”

  “Where is your escort, mistress?”

  That was what she got for asking instead of keeping her big mouth shut. Luckily, Chloe was saved by her own stupidity. She’d put the cloak too close to the flames, and it had caught fire.

  There was a commotion, everyone jumping into action to put out the fire before she burned down the kitchens. “I’m so sorry. I’m just exhausted. It’s been a horrible twenty-four hours.”

  “You needs rest. I will see you to a chamber before you set fire to the rest of my home.”

  Chloe stuck her tongue out at his back, knowing it was childish, but happy when Merry and another little girl giggled. An adorable kitten ran past them as he led the way. Chloe wanted to pick up the cute little cat, but Richard was walking so fast that she practically had to jog to keep up. The guy was six two or six three to her five six, and he had long legs.

  He still hadn’t removed his hood, making her desperately curious to know what had happened. They wound around and around up the dim stairs to the second floor.

  “Watch your step; many of the chambers have not yet been repaired.” He sounded gruff and embarrassed.

  They came to a stop at the end of the long hallway that was lit with actual torches. Though the walls were bare stone, they hadn’t been painted, and there weren’t any paneling or tapestries on the walls, either. Was he one of those nobles with a title but no gold?

  The heavy wooden door swung open with a creak.

  “Your chamber.” He stepped into the room and made quick work of building up the fire. Chloe wanted to tell him to slow down so she could figure out what he did, but he was already finished. She’d have to hope one of the servants would take care of it or show her what to do. Especially because she’d lost the small book of matches somewhere along the way.

  “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  He nodded. “More snow will fall this night. You would have frozen outdoors.”

  He crossed the room but paused in the doorway. “Rest. I will send someone to wake you before supper.”

  “Thank—” she called out, but he was already out the door. Guess he wasn’t one for small talk. Neither was she. It wasn’t a bad trait, except when she wanted lots of information.

  The room was a bit small. The bed had linens and pillows, along with a wool covering, but they all looked shabby. Like they’d been in storage a long time and moths had gotten at them. But at least the room was clean. There was a pipe sticking out of the wall with running water. Chloe drank deeply, grateful for the water. There was a ewer and basin on a table, and a small trunk at the foot of the bed. Outside the window, she could see the woods, the landscape silver and white in the fading afternoon light.

  Exhausted, she climbed into bed, only stopping to kick off her shoes. She was asleep before her head hit the down-filled pillows.

  Chapter 13

  “Mistress?”

  Chloe woke to see a little girl holding a striped kitten. She yawned. “What a little cutie.”

  “His name is Moo because he meows at the cows. He believes he is a cow.” The girl giggled. “I’m Maron. ’Tis time for supper. His lordship would have you join him in the hall.”

  Chloe smoothed her hair down, grateful there wasn’t a mirror. After getting wet and sleeping on her hair, she must look like Medusa.

  Maron frowned. “You wear hose?”

  Time for the first of many lies to come. “For traveling. I lost my clothes, so I don’t have a gown to wear to supper.”

  The girl had to be six or seven but acted much older. “My lord will see you have proper clothes befitting a lady.”

  Chloe followed Maron, listening to a constant stream of chatter revolving around her bratty brother, the kitten, and how much she liked living at Bainford, even though she missed her mama.

  What she omitted was just as fascinating to Chloe. Not a word was uttered about Richard being the beast, or about his face. The few of his people she’d met thus far were loyal, and that said a lot about the man.

  At one end of the hall, there was a raised dais with a table and tablecloth. In the middle of the table she saw Richard with his hood still in place. Was it on account of her, or did he always keep it up?

  When she was close, he guided her to the seat on his left and pulled the chair out for her.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. I feel much better.”

  Servants brought in bread—no pebbles included, thank goodness—and delicious, tangy cheeses. There must have been around thirty or forty people, counting the guards and all the kids.

  He poured her a cup of wine.

  “The wine is excellent,” she said.

  “The cellar is well stocked.”

 
She noticed the holes in the tablecloth and wondered if he was one of those guys obsessed with wine. It would explain the state of his hall. Most of the people eating at the lower tables had their own knives. Chloe hoped Richard would either have an extra knife or let her borrow his. When the servants brought out the food, she exhaled. It looked like chicken pot pie, and there were spoons.

  Her stomach let out a roar. Embarrassed, Chloe felt warm all over as she saw the corner of Richard’s mouth turn up, as if pulled by a string. He pushed the dark hood back and stared at her. Daring her to flinch or scream or something.

  Instead, Chloe forced herself to take a drink of wine, to not react. The damage was horrible. There was scarring around the black fabric he wore to cover his eye, which she now knew he must have lost. Half of his eyebrow was missing and there was terrible scarring down the side of his face. She’d seen similar damage in a classmate who’d been in a car that caught fire. It looked like it had happened a few years ago—the scars were faded, not an angry red or pink like on her classmate.

  He had been devastatingly good-looking before. The candlelight turned his hair colors of fall. Chestnut, mahogany, and copper. The eye she could see was a dark blue, full of intelligence, and matched the blue of his tunic and hose.

  She smiled at him and took a bit of the chicken pot pie. He kept refilling her glass. She wasn’t used to so much wine and knew she was getting tipsy when she wanted to stand up and tell everyone all about planes, trains, and cars, and that they had a queen for a monarch, not a king.

  “You have food in your belly and are dry and rested,” Richard said. “Let us have speech. Where is your escort, Mistress Chloe?”

  Richard startled her, and the wine sloshed over the cup, staining the tablecloth red.

  He patted his mouth with an edge of the tablecloth she hadn’t spilled on. “Tell me your tale.” He leaned back in the chair, stretching out, looking every inch the fallen pirate king.

  She’d been thinking about her story. Keeping it real enough, she wouldn’t get confused, but not so real that he would think she was a faerie or witch.

  “I have relatives near Lancashire. That’s where I was going when I was assaulted at a tavern where we’d stopped for the night. My escort and I were separated, along with my belongings.”

  “Lancashire, you say. Where were you coming from?”

  She could almost see him filing away every detail. Why had she had so much to drink?

  “The Cotswolds.” She wiped her mouth with the tablecloth as others were doing, avoiding the spill.

  “’Tis a rather large area.”

  “Tetbury,” she said, remembering one of the market towns that thrived in the wool trade during medieval times.

  He looked unconvinced but let it go. She’d said Lancashire instead of Blackpool, figuring it might be more familiar, as Blackpool was a small coastal hamlet.

  He poured more wine. “What are the names of your relatives?”

  “I’m going to Falconburg Castle to see my great-aunt, Melinda Merriweather. Do you know her?”

  “I have heard of Falconburg but do not know its lord. What is her husband’s name?”

  “Lord Falconburg.” Nutella on toast. Chloe knew the story of how they’d found out the king had been at Falconburg for a Christmas dinner. What was Melinda’s husband’s name? There had been a guest list. She knew this. Darn it. Too much wine had made her fuzzy.

  Careful to keep his good side to her, he frowned. “His given name.”

  “James Rivers.” Ha. That was it.

  “The Red Knight. I know him by reputation.” Richard shifted in the chair. “I will send a missive.”

  “Thank you. I am sure they will be wondering where I am. Might you have men who could take me? I can pay them.” She looked around the hall while she waited for him to answer. Four hearths were set into the walls, large enough for twenty people to stand next to each other, and the fires crackled merrily. High above, there were windows to let in light. Not much at this time of year, but at least it wasn’t totally gloomy. There weren’t any tapestries on the walls or rugs on the floor, and, quite frankly, the whole place smelled like it needed a good cleaning. The overall effect was shabby and unkempt.

  The kids and servants blatantly stared at her, while his guardsmen were more discreet. Proper clothes would help her blend in, let her move around and observe. She reached for her phone for the hundredth time.

  “Is there a cloth merchant? The loss of my clothing… I would like a gown. My jeans—hose were only to travel, not meant for all to see.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “You are my guest.” He looked at her t-shirt. “The merchant will be here on the morrow. I will have gowns fashioned for you.”

  “Thank you.” Chloe beamed at him, feeling happy and light, almost like she was floating above her body. This was going to be easier than she thought. It was too bad she couldn’t stay a while longer. She thought of the phrase “still waters run deep” when she looked at him. She wanted to get to know him better. He couldn’t be much older than her, but he had an old soul. It seemed like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  No. She shook her head. Mustn’t lose sight of why she was here. She had to get to Falconburg and meet Melinda. Then she would go home and fondly remember her adventures in the past, preferably after a long, hot shower, a pizza, and at least half a day catching up on texts and social media.

  After supper, Richard offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you to your chamber.”

  “Dinner was really good.” She yawned, tired and restless at the same time. Was this what being tipsy felt like?

  He was quiet on the way to her room. Being a bit shy and quiet, Chloe liked that the silence didn’t feel forced. It was comfortable.

  Did he know he hadn’t put his hood back up? Or had he figured she now knew what he looked like, so why bother? She wanted to tell him not to be self-conscious, that we all carried scars, some on the outside, others deep on the inside.

  But she didn’t know him well enough to offer an opinion without being asked. Grammy Mildred had taught her just because you had an opinion, it didn’t mean you needed to share it with the world. She thought people not minding their own business was a big part of what was wrong with the world. Chloe wished Gram and Granda could meet Richard.

  At the door, she took a deep breath. She had to know without a doubt. To hear it said out loud so she’d be sure she wasn’t going batty.

  “Um…what year is it?”

  “You do not know the year, yet you know from whence you came and where you are going?”

  “I’m really tired. I did tell you what happened to me.”

  “Why were you pursued by ruffians?” he said, not quite believing her but too polite to call her a liar. At least, that was her guess as to what was going on behind that poker face of his.

  “It doesn’t matter, I’m safe now.” Seeing his expression, she added, “If you really must know, I’ll tell you tomorrow after breakfast.” She touched his arm. “I bumped my head. Some things are clear, others not so much.”

  Either her answer satisfied him or he was enough of a gentleman not to call her on it.

  “’Tis the Year of Our Lord 1337.”

  Chloe was glad she still had her hand on his arm, or she might have fainted at the confirmation of what she’d figured out. Now she had to find Melinda, because Chloe didn’t know where the other Merriweather women lived and her granda had already gone to the future. If only she could figure out how the stones worked so she’d know how to get home after she’d met her relative. Her head was woozy, the doorway to her room tilted. Too tired to think about it, she smiled at Richard.

  “Good night, Lord Bainford.”

  “Richard.” He cleared his throat. “Sleep well, Mistress Chloe.”

  “Just Chloe,” she said.

  “Chloe.”

  She stood against the bolted door for a long time before climbing into bed.

 
; Chapter 14

  The dream was so realistic that Chloe woke panting. Though in her dream, the man who’d grabbed her in the tavern had dragged her out into the snow and raised a dagger. Then she woke, twisted in the sheets, panic filling her until she remembered. She was safe. Richard had rescued her.

  Almost like the fairy tales where she always had a starring role, her very own knight had ridden out and plucked her from danger. Mind you, he wasn’t wearing armor, and he was grouchy—oh right, and they didn’t fall in love at first sight.

  A small giggle escaped as she thought of one of her all-time favorite movies, Enchanted. She too had fallen into another world and found her other half. Chloe blamed her granda for ruining her for all the high school guys.

  Oh…that was smart. Maybe he’d done it on purpose. She rolled her eyes. It would be like him to keep her a kid as long as he could. They had a lot to discuss when she made it back home.

  The castle was quiet, everyone asleep, the fire burning well enough that she knew a servant must have come in and checked on it sometime while she’d been asleep. Her nose was cold, while the rest of her was toasty warm under the covers. The thought of touching the stone floor with her bare feet made Chloe put it off as long as possible, but eventually she knew that she’d have to find the bathroom…make that the garderobe.

  With a small yelp, she ran across the icy floor and down the hall—wearing her t-shirt and jeans, since no one had loaned her anything to sleep in. Guess she had to wait until the merchant showed up in the morning. Robin had pointed out the facilities when he’d followed his sister, Merry, earlier.

  Finished seeing to her needs and extremely happy she’d found a fabric padded seat instead of cold stone, Chloe ran back to her chamber, but paused by the basin and ewer.

  She’d been so tired that for the first time since she could remember, Chloe had gone to bed without brushing her teeth. Her teeth felt scummy and rough when she ran her tongue over them. There was enough light from the fire to see, and if she didn’t brush them, she’d think about it the rest of the night. Wrinkling her nose, she eyed the twig. The paste reminded her of that baking soda toothpaste her gram liked.