“I’m so glad you brought Lulabell. I was worried she’d be towed.”
Darla hugged her. “She’s fine, and so is the camper. I explained to the guy who owned the furniture store what happened and he said we could pick it up today.”
Lulabell was her vintage Beetle. A mechanic whose daughter she’d befriended at a sit-in offered it to her after his darling daughter decided enough with the protests, time to make real money. She went into finance and drove a huge Mercedes. The man had lovingly restored the car, and Elizabeth had fallen in love with the quirky bug at first sight. It was a deep metallic sapphire blue with huge white daisies painted all over it. Talk about an attention getter. The interior matched. Blue with daisies covering the seats. And it coordinated perfectly with her apple-red vintage camper.
Darla held up the keys. “You feel up to driving?”
“I couldn’t sleep at all. It was so noisy, and something about the sensation of being behind bars…” Elizabeth shuddered. “It’s the worst feeling ever.” She held up her hands. “I know. I say every time, no more arrests. Honestly, I don’t know how people in jail survive. Without the sun on my face or the freedom to go where I want, and when I want…I think I’d curl up and die.”
She hugged Darla tight. “Thank you again for bailing me out. And coming down here with my lawyer. I’m sure by now he’s tired of bailing me out. So you drive and I’ll relax.”
From the police station it was a twenty-minute drive to the furniture store where the camper was parked. Darla chatted while she drove, catching Elizabeth up on life. Her dear friend was a lawyer in private practice. She had recommended Elizabeth’s present lawyer, saying he had more experience. Darla’s two older sisters shared the firm, taking on a variety of interesting cases. As they drove, something peeking out from the seat caught Elizabeth’s eye. It was a glossy magazine with a knight in shining armor on the front.
“What’s this? Is it yours? Boy oh boy, if all medieval knights looked like this, I’d be all about giving up hot showers.”
Darla pushed her glasses up. “It was the strangest thing, I found it under the windshield wipers on the car. I meant to throw it away, but with all the commotion, I hadn’t gotten around to it. Who leaves a Renaissance faire magazine under somebody’s windshield wiper?”
Elizabeth flipped through the pages, stopping to read an article on swords. Ever since she was a child, she’d load up at the library, devouring books. After she’d worked her way through the children’s section, she’d read anything she could get her hands on. Turning the page, a jolt shot through her. The advertisement took up the entire page, the picture pulling her in, tempting her to read the accompanying text.
It was the pinnacle of a princess castle straight out of a fairytale. More ornate than she had ever imagined as a child. Someone with a serious royalty complex must have designed the place. And the countryside—it was breathtaking. All the verdant green, gardens, and the surrounding landscape… Her fingers itched to pick up a paintbrush.
She was so busy imagining herself walking through the grounds that she almost missed it. The advertisement was actually a contest. It seemed all she had to do was write an essay, and the winner would spend an entire week in an authentic English castle. Her excitement mounting, Elizabeth read on.
“Listen to this, Darla…the winner of the contest will enjoy a week at Highworth Castle located near Sutton. The castle has been privately owned and beautifully maintained… Can you believe it? Look at this.” Elizabeth waved the magazine in front of Darla’s face.
“Driving here, remember?” Her friend looked over. “I don’t know; it looks like a wedding cake designer threw up and a castle came out. Since when do you want to stay in a drafty old castle?”
“Only since I was a little girl and dreamed of being a princess with my very own castle. And, of course, the castle came equipped with a dragon and a handsome prince. Rooms with no purpose other than my enjoyment.” She sighed. “I know it’s silly. Castles and princes are so out of reach for most people that they might as well be a fairytale. But a girl can dream.”
Chapter Four
The tables were pushed against the walls. Men bedded down for night in the hall as Robert moved amongst them like a spirit, making his way down to the cellars. Which also served as a dungeon as needs be. In the darkest time of night, when he was unable to sleep, he would prowl the rows, counting the casks and jugs until he was tired enough to return to his chamber. The castle was asleep, quiet except for the men on guard.
As he was counting the third row, the sound of wood scraping against stone had him drawing his sword. The door to the tunnels swung open, and the blade stopped a hairsbreadth from the man’s neck.
“Not a verra warm welcome, now, is it?” The rich Scottish burr filled the room, echoing off the stone.
Robert re-sheathed his sword, grimacing. “You almost lost your pretty head. How did you know about the passageway?”
“Ye told me about it one night long ago.”
The Scot stumbled and Robert held up a torch. “What is amiss? You come to Highworth in the dead of night not by the door but through the tunnels. ’Tis not safe for you here.” He squinted, noting wet spots on the man’s plaid.
Connor McTavish took three steps before collapsing on the stone floor. Robert swore as he knelt down. Up close, Connor smelled of war. River water and mud, unwashed skin, and the stench of old and new blood. The man’s normally ruddy skin was tinged with gray.
“Bloody hell.” Robert did not have time for such trouble. The man’s eyes fluttered. He reached up and, with surprising strength, grabbed hold of Robert’s tunic.
“Ye owe me a debt. A life. Or have ye forgotten?”
Robert cursed again. “I have not forgotten,” he said stiffly. A year ago, he’d been in an establishment of questionable reputation with several friends. The drink and women were plentiful as they wagered through the night, falling deeper and deeper into their cups. He would never forget how the night ended. “Much as it wounds me to admit, I would have died had you not been there.” Robert snorted. “Though even the great McTavish himself could not have dispatched eight men on his own.”
The Scot grinned. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Good thing you were too bloody stubborn to die.”
“Mayhap I should fetch a looking glass so you can see one who is truly stubborn.”
“The church would not care for such an object. You are vain enough without admiring your form all day and night.” The Scot chuckled then sputtered, spitting out blood. Wincing, he let go of Robert’s tunic. “I call the debt due.” The man went silent.
Robert leaned close, relief spreading through him when he felt breath coming from Connor. “Damn you, McTavish.” He stood, looking down at the warrior wanted by many, including his king. The Scot had killed many English soldiers. To harbor him was treason. Robert’s brothers and wives would be in danger as would all of those under his protection at Highworth. Robert had not forgotten all those years ago, what John had cost the family. They’d lost all. Lands, titles, gold.
If he kept Connor McTavish hidden, the Thorntons would lose their lives if anyone found out. No one would be safe. But a debt was a debt. And his damnable knightly honor demanded he pay no matter the risk. Stomping about made him feel a bit better. With a deep breath, he softly knocked on the door.
Featherton stood there fully dressed. “My lord.”
“Do you sleep in your clothes?”
The man scowled. “How may I serve his lordship this fine eve?”
Robert chose to ignore the sarcasm. “’Tis important. Connor is in the wine cellar.”
Not even a raised brow. Featherton stepped out of the room, closing the door and striding down the corridor. He woke a small girl sleeping in the kitchens.
“Janet, wake up, girl.”
The child sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“Go and fetch Thomas. Bring him alone to the cellar. No one else, understand?”
She nodded and s
campered off. Robert watched her go. “Still not speaking?”
Featherton looked at the empty doorway. “No, my lord. The healer said the child had seen such horror she may never speak.” He shook his head. “We do not know all that happened to her.”
Robert remembered finding the child hiding in a bush. He was after a stag and there she was, curled up like a fox kit, drenched in blood. The child blinked up at him and held out her arms. Never uttered a word. At the castle, she wouldn’t go with anyone else until he reassured her all would be well. Many times he found her trailing after him, but still she did not speak.
Thomas met them in the cellars. “You cannot help him. ’Tis treason.” His captain of the guard looked down at the Scot and cursed.
Robert knew the feeling well. “I owe him a debt, Thomas.”
“Give him gold and send him on his way.” Thomas prodded the big Scot with a booted foot. “Perhaps he will die. It would be for the best.”
Featherton sniffed. “There is a large price on his head. Many would turn him in for the gold.”
“Nay. He stays.” Robert took the man’s arms. “We will put him in the empty chamber next to mine. Tell no one.” He looked to his steward. “Janet can tend to him. We keep him locked away until he is healed enough to leave.”
“Why, Robert?” Thomas looked at him. “You risk all for a Scot who would slit our throats in our beds.”
“Not now.”
Janet tugged on Robert’s tunic.
“Everyone is still asleep?”
She nodded.
“Thank you, lass.”
Robert bent down. “Help me move him.” They carried Connor silently through the hall and up to the chamber. Robert suppressed a chuckle at the number of weapons Featherton piled on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Two swords, two daggers, and four dirks.
“No wonder he was so heavy,” the steward said as he laid the last dirk on the pile of weaponry.
Janet silently entered the room and set about cleaning the man’s wounds. She motioned them over, pointing to the slashes on his chest and the hole in his shoulder and arm. Robert threw the ruined silk under tunic into the fire. Arrows couldn’t pierce silk. The point went in, taking the silk with it. He could see a bit of the fabric in the man’s shoulder. ’Twas good—it could be removed without leaving any of the arrow behind.
“Damn it to hell.” Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “He needs a healer.”
Robert looked to Featherton. “Wake the witch.”
Thomas crossed himself. “Nay. He may be a bloody Scot, but we cannot. She will steal his soul.”
“You are an old woman. The healer will keep our secret, though she may turn you into a frog for crossing yourself in her presence.” Seeing the expression on his captain’s face, Robert laughed. “I should not jest. In truth, I do not know if she is healer or witch, and I care not.”
Robert looked out the window into the blackness. In a few hours it would be morning. “Connor McTavish saved my life.” He turned to face the men. “’Twas a year ago during winter. Eight men caught me unaware in the inn. I was…unsteady. The Scot saved me. Fetched a healer. Stayed with me until the fever passed and I healed.” He blew out a breath. “After, when I was still weak as a babe, he tracked down the three men who had escaped. Killed them one by one.” He stared down at the man. “If he had not raised his blade, I would be dead.”
Thomas cursed. “You told everyone you spent the winter with a woman.”
Robert shrugged. “Even then Connor had a price on his head. And my pride was injured.”
“I will fetch the healer,” Featherton said as he left the room.
“Not a word to anyone.” Robert looked from Thomas to Janet. Both nodded. “Janet, you will aid the healer.”
The girl nodded and went back to cleaning Connor’s wounds. Janet cleaned and helped in the kitchen. She tended minor wounds, had a soft touch. The child would grow up to be a healer; Robert knew it deep in his bones. He should think on asking the healer to take up residence at Highworth. Teach Janet.
Until Connor was gone, it was dangerous for all. Not just at Highworth, but for his brothers and their families. His cousins as well. Everyone must stay away. ’Twas the only way to keep them safe.
Chapter Five
“Mom? Where are you guys?” Elizabeth listened to the static on the phone as her mom’s voice faded in and out before finally becoming clear.
“Rainbow, darling. Your father and I are in Peru, but not for long. We’re planning our next adventure. We’re off to India. Seeking enlightenment. An entire year of traveling around the country and spending time with gurus. Doesn’t that sound fantastic?”
Elizabeth loved her parents but they were the flightiest people on the planet. “It sounds great, Mom. I was wondering if you guys might be coming home after India?”
She explained what had happened, the latest arrest. How she felt she wasn’t making enough of a difference anymore.
Her dad’s rich baritone voice came on the line, filling her with warmth. “Sweetheart, your mother and I think you just need a change to shake things up a bit. Sorry, honey, we’re not coming home. Didn’t we tell you? We’re planning to travel the world. Who knows if we’ll ever be back.”
There was a muffled conversation and then he was back. “You’re welcome to come out and join us…”
Elizabeth knew they loved her, but truly didn’t want her to join them. They were the happiest when they were together, just the two of them. That was why they’d raised her to be independent, they told her, so she could carve her own life out of this world. As her mom liked to say, every baby bird must leave the nest and fly away. Only in this case, her parents were the ones flying away.
“I appreciate it, Dad. I was thinking of taking a trip to England, a little time off. Maybe when I’m there, I might come see you both for a few days.” No matter if she won the contest or not, Highworth Castle had gotten under her skin.
“Wait a minute, honey. Your mom has something she wants to tell you.”
“Your father says you’re thinking of going to England? What a marvelous idea.” Her mother’s laugh tinkled through the phone, bringing her close. From all the noise, it sounded like her parents were walking through some kind of marketplace.
“If you do go to England, make sure you visit Huntington Castle. It’s our old family castle. We had some moldy old ancestor, what was his name? Oh yes, Captain Rawlins Huntington. He lived, let me think…I believe it was around the mid-1600s. Its all ruins, been that way for hundreds of years. Nothing much to see but if you’re there anyway, pop over.”
“How come you never told me about him? I didn’t know we had a family castle.” Excitement flooded through Elizabeth. First the old woman in the cell, then the magazine, and now this revelation from the parental units. It was a clear sign from the universe.
“You know, you look like your ancestor, Merry Huntington. Apparently all of the Huntington women share the curly hair and green eyes. The men ended up with blond hair and brown eyes. Anyway, she was a direct descendant of Rawlins, but from what I understand he never married. Too many greats to keep track of. Merry was considered quite scandalous. Supposedly we inherited our penchant for adventure from her.”
“I don’t remember ever seeing a portrait of either of them.”
A sigh sounded over the line like the wind in the trees. “We had them. Remember the fire? You were only five, but the whole house burnt up. The portraits were in the attic. We lost everything. You know, the fire was a blessing. Losing everything forces you to reconsider your life. Before it happened, your father and I were terribly materialistic. Afterwards we realized how lucky we were not to have died, and that’s when we decided to simplify our lives. A year later we started traveling about.”
“Grandma never said anything about our family tree.”
“Oh, you know your grandmother. She didn’t want to encourage your wildness…” Her mother trailed off.
Eliza
beth wondered if her mother felt bad, leaving her with her grandmother for so long while they traipsed around the world. Though really, she hadn’t minded. Whenever they came back, they had some interesting item they’d found and tons of stories. Both of her parents were more like a fun aunt and uncle than real parents. The other kids at school had parents who attended their games, brought cupcakes to school, and were always around.
“My mother convinced us not to take you out of school and drag you all over the world. I told her we would home-school you, but you know your grandmother—she believed in a rigid schedule and a formal education.”
Horns and yelling sounded across the line. Her mother’s voice turned soft. “We did what we thought was right. No sense dwelling in the past. But one thing I know for sure: the sense of adventure is as strong in you as it is in your father and I. Your grandmother? Somehow the adventure bug and curly hair skipped her. A homebody through and through. I should go; there’s some sort of accident up ahead. Lots of yelling.”
“Wait, Mom. What happened to Merry?”
The laugh on the other end traveled the line, wrapping her in a hug, and Elizabeth’s throat closed up. “I almost forgot. And I really shouldn’t be laughing; it isn’t funny. She was hanged at Execution Dock in Wapping for piracy in May of 1701. The story goes she put the rope over her neck herself. Swung next to the infamous Captain Kidd. She never sailed with him. They were on different ships. You know, she dressed as a man and sailed with a rather bloodthirsty crew for years. Lived an eccentric life, to say the least.”
“I wish I could have met her.” Elizabeth was stunned. She had no idea her ancestor was so fascinating.
Forever Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 2) Page 2
