Chapter Twelve
Lucy spent the day with William. He introduced her to the inhabitants of his lands. She didn’t like the word peasant, but worker didn’t fit either. It wasn’t like they could quit.
“Could we visit the village?”
“Aye. I will take you tomorrow, if you like.”
Before she could answer, a guard came running toward them. William had a hand on his sword, ready for trouble.
“My lord, come quickly. One of the men found a body.” The guard looked at her, and Lucy recognized him from the morning she woke on the battlements.
“The man is dressed in odd garments.”
“Where?” William demanded.
“When we searched the cove, we didn’t go far enough around the western side. The tide was coming in. The man is wedged into the rocks.”
William took off at a jog, making Lucy run to keep up with his longer legs. She didn’t know why, but she had the feeling she needed to see the man.
Could it be?
She’d been planning to take the path down to the cove later today and dip her toes into the sea. As they made their way down the path, her apprehension grew.
Two of William’s men stood waiting. A third called out, “Up here, my lord.”
He turned and looked at her. “Stay here.”
“Please, let me come with you.” She placed a hand on his arm.
Lips pressed together, he seemed about to refuse and then changed his mind. “Come along, but be careful—the rocks are treacherous.”
He scrambled up the rocks as if he were a goat. She picked her way up, stumbling and grasping for a handhold when William reached down, put his hands on her hips and lifted her over a particularly large rock. He set her down on a flat stone. A piece of cloth was wedged in the rock to her left. William bent over and picked it up. The cloth looked to have been blue at some point. The color his men wore.
The guard leaned close to William. “’Tis a piece of Alan’s tunic.” The man pointed to a large rock a few feet away, where Lucy could see a piece of cloth sticking out. “Over here.”
She followed, her sense of unease growing greater with every step. There, wedged into the rock, was the broken body of a man. The breeze shifted and Lucy started to gag.
The body was badly decomposed from the elements. She started to turn away when something caught her eye. Trying to breathe through her mouth, she bent over and let out a gasp.
William’s expression darkened. “You know this man?”
The world started to spin. She felt her insides heave, but at least this time she threw up on the rocks instead of his boots.
“Simon. What took y’all so long to find him?” She was shaking so badly, she didn’t realize her teeth were chattering until the clicking sound made her bite the inside of her cheek to stop. William put a hand under her arm to steady her.
“The current is treacherous on this side of the cove—mind your step. He has been here quite some time, my lady. The sea air is not kind.”
He was nice enough not to mention how birds or other animals had eaten parts of him. Her stomach rolled thinking about it.
One of the guards looked at William. “He fell from the battlements. If he had washed out to sea we never would have found the body, or it would have washed ashore days ago.”
William nodded. “I’m sorry for not believing you when you said there was a man with you, lady.” He looked at the men. “Give the lady a moment then take the body to be buried in the plot behind the chapel.”
The men moved away, giving her space. So many emotions ran through her, Lucy was having a hard time thinking clearly. “I recognize his suit and cufflinks.” She pointed at the arm sticking out at an unnatural angle.
William looked at where she was pointing and leaned closer. She heard him inhale sharply.
“The crest carved into the gold—a boar’s head. A rose in its mouth.” He pointed at Simon’s cufflink. “The Grey family crest.”
Normally William’s skin had an almost golden hue from all the time he spent outdoors, but right now he looked about the color of milk. Lucy worried he might be the one to faint. There was no way she could catch him. The man had to outweigh her by a hundred pounds.
He leaned closer, ignoring the terrible smell, and looked at what remained of Simon’s face. “Clement has no other family. But this man is clearly kin to the Grey family. He looks like Clement. They could be brothers.”
He probably didn’t realize his hand was on the hilt of his sword, and Lucy took a step backward, stumbling before she caught herself.
“I ask you again, my lady. Who is this man?”
A raven called out, circling above them. Lucy took a moment to watch the bird before meeting William’s sharp gaze. She took a deep breath, but before she could answer he said, “Such fine craftsmanship. I recognize not the clothing he wears.” He watched her closely. “But ’tis similar to the clothes you were wearing when you arrived on my battlements, lady.”
He fumbled with the cufflinks, trying to remove them. “No one is to know of this.” His hand went to a knife at his belt and she stopped him.
“Please,” she said softly, “let me.”
You can do this, Lucy Merriweather. Don’t think about the body as a person. Simon is long gone. This is nothing more than a shell left behind. It’s the same as going to a funeral. You can do this.
She swallowed, moved next to the body and knelt down. This close, the smell was almost overwhelming. If it wasn’t for the breeze she thought she would’ve been sick again.
As fast as she could, she removed the cufflink, handed it to William then looked for the other. The arm seemed to be wedged under the body. No, it wasn’t attached to the body. She started to gag and forced herself to swallow. Weakly, she looked up at William and pointed. “Can you move him so I can reach the other one?”
He moved Simon enough for her to remove the cufflink and drop it in his hand. The watch. No one could see it. Lucy took it off his wrist, trying to forget all the times his hand had held hers. She handed it to William, who looked at it curiously then added it to the pouch at his waist.
“Best not to let anyone know about or see these.” He looked at her and she nodded.
Her stomach was done waiting. She scrambled down the rocks, slipped a couple times, skinned up her calf and made it all the way to the sand before she barfed.
From somewhere far away, she heard William call out, “Remove the body. I will see the lady to her chamber.”
And then there was only blackness.
Lucy opened her eyes to see a raven sitting on a rock watching her. What was it with the big birds? Ever since she’d arrived in England she’d seen them everywhere. From the one at the tiny cottage with Simon to another almost every day or every few days here at the castle. William should have had a raven on his shield instead of a hellhound.
She was leaning against something soft. Her elbow dug in as she sat up.
“Oof.”
“Sorry.” The soft rock was William.
“Feeling better?”
“I swear, I’ve never fainted this much in my entire life.” She tilted her head, looking up into his face. For a moment they simply looked at each other. The raven cawed, took to the air and broke the spell. He looked away first.
Simon being thrown back in time with her rocked her to the core. Why? For what purpose? Because he’d been outside so long, she couldn’t tell exactly what had happened, but the gash running from his neck down through his shoulder seemed to be what killed him. Her insides heaved from thinking about the injury.
Simon was dead.
Cold, hard truth flooded through her veins. She was alive because the guard, Alan, had killed Simon before he could kill her. He didn’t deserve her guilt. Nor would she feel sorry for her ex. Another truth rattled around inside her brain. She snorted. She’d gone from being married to being a widow in less than a night. Had to be some kind of record. Even celebrity marriages lasted longe
r.
Hazy memories surfaced from the night in question. Fragmented images of Simon punching her, hands locked around her neck and the night lit by lightning, with blood raining down. The guard must’ve stabbed him.
Alan had saved her life. She would be forever grateful. William said he had no family. Lucy thought for a moment. She would plant flowers in his honor. It was a small thing, but at least it was something she could do to mark his sacrifice.
How did you thank someone for saving your life?
Chapter Thirteen
The words William spoke washed over her like water smoothing out the sand. Everything a soft blur. She was up on her feet racing up the path before she’d made the conscious decision to go.
As she ran into the middle of the courtyard, she hunched over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily.
There had to be someone who would know.
“Lucy. What ails you?” He spoke softly to her as he would to a skittish horse.
How could he understand?
“I need a witch. She’s the only one who can help me.” A tear slid down her face as she wiped it away.
There was a man watching her. She ran up to him. “Do you know where I can find a witch? Is there one in the village?”
He gasped in horror, crossing himself before backing away.
The next two people she asked did the same. One even spat on her shoe.
“Cease,” William bellowed. He picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and stomped inside past the gawking observers.
Her tarnished knight in this nightmare of a fairy tale grumbled and swore all the way up the stairs and into the chamber. He kicked the door closed and tossed her on the bed like a sack of potatoes. Well, potatoes were probably treated more gently. At least the jolting ride up the stairs and through the air to land on the mattress snapped her out of what was shaping up to be a major hissy fit.
“Have you lost your wits, lady?” William thundered. By the saints, the woman tested his knightly vows with her feebleminded ravings.
He paced around the room, mood growing fouler with every step.
“The entire village will demand I toss you into my dungeons then burn you at the stake.”
She looked at him, her eyes beginning to leak. Nay, this would not do. Womanly tears undid him.
“I didn’t know you had a dungeon.” Lucy Merriweather started to blubber. “Are you going to k…k…kill me?” She pointed to his hand, which happened to be twitching next to his sword.
“Blackford doesn’t have a dungeon.” He stiffened. He did not abuse women. William patted the sword then frowned severely at the wench. She’d been nothing but trouble. Vexing him, taking him away from his duties and causing an uproar among his knights.
“Nay. I will not kill you. Though I am sore tempted.” Another tear slipped down her lovely face, making him feel completely helpless.
“Tell me why you risk burning to seek a witch,” he demanded. Trying but not wholly succeeding in not bellowing at her.
She looked up at him. “Tell me again. What year is it?”
“Damnable chivalry.” With a strained smile he replied, “The Year of Our Lord 1307.”
Lucy started babbling so fast he couldn’t understand her odd manner of speech. William held up a hand. “I beseech you, stop.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Breathe, my lady. Then begin again.”
She smiled. A small smile, but it was enough to knock him senseless. What would it be like to have her gaze upon his visage every day for the rest of his life? William made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and gestured for her to continue.
She blew out a breath. Then another. “The morning you and your men found me on the battlements…”
He reached out and thumped her on the back, almost sending Lucy to her knees. “I give you my vow, I will render whatever aid you require. Do not fear me.”
“You see. The night before, Simon drugged me…you know, like poisoning? He tricked me into marrying him.”
William felt as if he’d taken a blow to the head. Did she love the man they had discovered broken on the rocks? What kind of husband poisoned his betrothed?
“He said there was a curse on Blackford Castle…your castle. It was late, there was a terrible storm and when he tried to kill me…something happened. One minute I was about to go over the wall, the next I woke up here. In the past.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Simon brought me to the castle. His castle. In the year 2015. More than seven hundred years from now.”
William wanted to wring his hands as if he were a blubbering woman. He stiffened his back and resisted. She was daft.
He vowed not to shout at her. One did not shout at the witless.
“Have you kin waiting for you?”
Lucy swallowed several times, blinking rapidly. “I have…had two sisters. Simon told me he had them murdered. Now I am trapped here. In the past. I have no hope of ever seeing them again.”
“I know a terrible ailment befell you. Mayhap your wits are muddled.”
She scowled at him, placed her hands on her hips and poked him in the chest.
“Listen here, buster. The king you serve now? Edward II? He’s going to be off the throne in 1327 and then he dies. A terrible death, though now there’s speculation as to what really happened. Anyway, in my time, there’s a woman on the throne. Queen Elizabeth II.”
He scoffed. Poor girl. Beautiful and filled with nonsensical ravings. “A woman on the throne of England? Nay.”
Lucy stamped on his foot. “I wish I’d paid more attention in history class. You’re laughing about a queen? How about this? We don’t ride horses anymore. We have cars. They go incredibly fast and don’t need to be fed. We have contraptions allowing us to fly through the air to other countries in a matter of hours. Hell, in my time we’ve sent men to the moon and back.”
She stomped around the room, anger making her even more fetching. This time, he did not laugh.
“Don’t even get me started on television, internet, phones. Wait—”
Her face took on a rapturous glow.
“Cheesecake. Chocolate. Pizza. Sushi. Hot showers. Movies and more books than I could ever read in a lifetime.” She sat down on the bed, slumped over.
“Icy cold Pepsi.”
“Enough.” He came to kneel before her, not knowing what to say or how to render aid. He said the first thought that came into his head. “I have books you may read.”
With that, he watched in horror as her eyes began to leak. Blubbering ensued.
Not knowing what to do, he sat beside her, gathered her to his chest and thumped her on the back.
“Er…your tale…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. One thing he knew for sure? She was not from the future. It was not possible, therefore she must be feebleminded. Mayhap from her injuries the morning he found her.
The only sounds were her muffled sobs as William stroked her hair. Her stomach grumbled. She wiped her nose on his sleeve then tilted her head back to look at him.
The anguish in her gaze undid him. William leaned closer, feeling her breath on his face.
A knock sounded at the door. He jerked back. Bloody hell, he’d almost kissed her.
Lucy pressed fingertips to her lips. He’d almost kissed her. One moment she’d been crying all down the front of his tunic, the next his mouth was an inch from hers. Up close, she noticed flecks of gold in his piercing green eyes.
She knelt in a corner of the garden, surveying her work. One tiny spot was now weed free and ready for planting.
“Mistress, will these do?” Albin held up clumps of dirt attached to green leaves and flowers. “I dug up the roots so you could plant them. Five different types. Is it enough?” He knelt down beside her, eager to show off his gift.
“Thank you, they’re perfect. Why don’t we plant half here and take the rest to plant around Alan’s grave?” She smiled at him. “Would he like that?”
The boy frowned, a serious lo
ok of concentration on his face. He nodded to himself and gathered up half the flowers. “Alan didn’t like womanly things, though I believe he would be happy we are remembering him.” He started running toward the little cemetery behind the chapel. “Come on, mistress Lucy.”
She laughed. At least he wasn’t calling her “my lady” all the time. Thomas stood guard a few feet away, trying very hard to look ferocious. All the boys worshipped William, and she’d caught a few of them practicing his walk and expressions on more than one occasion.
Albin went to fetch a bucket of water from the well to water the newly planted flowers. They’d planted primrose, bluebells, poppies, snowdrops and cowslip that smelled like apricots.
A tear dripped down onto the stone marking Alan’s grave. Pretty soon, she was crying so hard she couldn’t see. She cried for being so naive, over the loss of her sisters and over a man losing his life protecting her.
Albin was only eight. She muttered a bad word. The kid acted more mature than she did.
With a shake of her head, Lucy stood up, dusting her hands across her skirts.
“Crying doesn’t help.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, stretched and decided to make the best of the situation. Time to grow up.
Chapter Fourteen
After a dreadful breakfast of burned porridge, Lucy was ready to scream. Would it offend Bertram if she asked William if she could help in the kitchen?
She was willing to bet he’d be all about edible food. Since arriving at Blackford, she’d been so wrapped up in accepting she was truly in the past that she hadn’t really done much exploring.
After her major meltdown in front of William and the castle inhabitants yesterday, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone to work in the garden or hide in the kitchen and cook.
Simon was truly dead. The part of her who’d fallen for him mourned his loss. But…the small animal part of her rejoiced. She might be trapped in 1307, but at least she knew without a doubt he wasn’t in their present. At least Simon would never hurt another soul. If only she knew the fate of her sisters.
A Knight to Remember: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 1) Page 10
