Beyond Time: A Knights Through Time Travel Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Reading List

  Want more

  About

  Beyond Time

  A Knights Through Time Travel Romance Novel

  Book 1

  Cynthia Luhrs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Beyond Time, A Knights Through Time Travel Romance Novel

  Copyright © 2017 by Cynthia Luhrs

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my fabulous editor, Arran at Editing720.

  For You

  Who reads late into the night, whispering ‘just one more chapter’.

  ONE

  Present Day—Silvercreek Harbor, Maryland

  “Wish my shift was over. I hate working nights and weekends. How’d you manage only working weekdays?”

  Melissa Evers, known as Mellie to her friends, grinned at Claire, who was busy blowing her red bangs out of her eyes and fanning herself.

  “On my first day of work, it was pouring down rain. Some tiny lady with huge white hair, wearing a million rings, was getting out of a black sedan and yelling at the driver for not having an umbrella, so I gave her mine.” She tucked a springy curl behind her ear and set the heavy backpack next to her feet.

  “Turns out she was some big, important board member—showers the museum with loads of cash every year.”

  Claire laughed as she rang up a customer, bagging the Matisse keychains and Picasso pens. “Thanks, come again.”

  The gift shop had emptied out, most of the patrons eating dinner as Mellie tidied up the counter while Claire idly flipped through a book on medieval castles.

  “You have the best luck, Mellie. If that had been me, I would have never noticed her. I’m always head down, engrossed in my phone, mumbling ‘sorry’ as I bump into people.”

  Mellie checked the time on the battered Cinderella watch. “I’ve got to run to make it to my class on time. Last one and I’m done for the summer.”

  “How are the accounting classes going? What do you have, another year?”

  The nametag stowed in a basket under the counter, her blue smock placed on top so it would be ready and waiting on Monday, Mellie didn’t even have to think about the lie anymore. The baskets reminded her of a kindergarten class, patiently waiting for the kids to come back to their cubbies after a fun weekend.

  The words rolled off her lips easily—the more she said them, the easier they came. “Yep, one more year and then I’ll be a cog in the corporate machine, like most people.” But in truth, she was officially done with school and had one year to put her plan in motion.

  “Your family must be thrilled. Get a job with a big company and you’ll make bank.”

  Not meeting Claire’s eyes, Mellie redid her ponytail, forcing the springy curls into some semblance of order. “Yep, that’s the idea. Have fun this weekend. At least you have nights off. Any big plans?”

  Her friend widened impossibly green eyes and, not for the first time, Mellie wondered if she wore colored contacts. “New man. I know he’ll be better than the last one. How about you?” Claire waggled her eyebrows. “What are you and Greg doing? Spending the weekend inside snuggled together like two lovebirds?”

  Happiness flooded through Mellie at hearing his name. “We’re going to the art festival and then dinner. On Sunday, antiquing for the day, a perfect weekend.”

  Claire, who was so beautiful, left men drooling but still managed to scare them away after a couple of weeks of her clinginess, placed a hand over her heart.

  “I swear, you found the last perfect man out there. How long’s it been?”

  “Six delightful months.”

  “Oooh, bet a ring’s coming. That one has the marriage look about him.”

  “You say that about every single guy you meet.”

  Mellie tied the laces on her sneakers, gathered up her backpack, stuffing the lunch bag inside, then impulsively hugged Claire.

  “Caught him looking at rings last week on his tablet.”

  Claire squealed, jumping up and down. “You’ll have a ring to show off next week, I just know it. I might have to pop in early on Monday to see the rock.”

  Still smiling, Mellie clocked out and floated all the way to school, feet never touching the ground, where she was enrolled full-time and taking extra classes every semester so she could graduate a year early. Everyone thought she was taking classes to become an accountant, but what she kept from them all, especially her family, was that she was studying art.

  The painting was dry. She stood back looking it over with a critical eye and frowned. The work wasn’t very good, but she hoped she’d met the requirements to pass the class. In time and with lots of practice, maybe by fall, her work would be good enough to take to the gallery she passed every day on the way to the museum. The one with the vibrant colors and workers dressed in black, with no price tags listed on any of the pieces. It screamed only professional artists shown here. How she longed to tell people she was an artist, spending her days working in a studio overlooking the water with paint on her smock, a cat curled up in the sunshine.

  But not even the flaws in the work could take away the warm feelings swirling around inside. On the way home, she thought about what kind of wedding she and Greg would have. Big, showy, with all their family and friends. And the ring? It would sparkle from across the room. It was the fastest she’d ever walked the three miles home from school.

  Could it really be this weekend? The past six months had been ideal, if she said so herself. Mellie never nagged, always asked Greg how his day was—in short, she’d read every article out there, and there were a lot, to make sure she was the perfect girlfriend.

  Inside the cozy apartment, she pulled the curtains open to take advantage of the night view, the lights from the boats in the harbor winking and reflecting off the water. The phone rang, interrupting her reverie.

  “Hey, sis. Sunday dinner at our place.”

  “Dinner?”

  Cal huffed. “Don’t even tell me you forgot. Everyone will be there to celebrate Thurston’s graduation.”

  “When we were little, schools only celebrated high school graduation. Now they graduate all the time. Kind of makes the high school milestone less important, don’t you think?”

  Her eldest brother turned his doctor voice on her. “What’s wrong? Did Gary break up with you? What happened this time? He fall in love with a stripper?”

  “It’s Greg. And nothing happened. We’re great.”

  The sound he made in the back of his throat made Melissa want t
o reach through the phone and strangle him. She didn’t mean to say the words out loud, but her mouth took control of her brain.

  “In fact, we’ve been ring shopping.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. “Good job, sis. He’s with a good firm, and Heath will love having another lawyer in the family. Wait until Mom and Dad hear.”

  She winced. “I’d rather surprise everyone with the ring.”

  “Right.” Cal sounded sheepish. “Guess women like that kind of stuff. Well, at least this one is a keeper. Can’t wait to meet him.” Another call beeped in. “Speak of the devil, it’s Heath. We’ll see you Sunday.”

  Her middle brother was delighted to hear the news, and as she crossed her fingers, Mellie sent up a silent prayer. Please let it be this weekend.

  “Can’t wait to talk shop with Greg. See you on Sunday. And sis?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t forget a present for the little angel.”

  She hung up. Both her brothers were super successful, one a high-powered lawyer and the other a cosmetic surgeon. They had the perfect, thin blond wives along with two kids and a dog. While she, the surprise baby before her mom hit menopause, floated through life—or, at least, that was what they all thought. Her mom was a dentist and her dad a CEO of the local utility. Yep, she was the one whispered about, the free-spirited loser, just like Aunt Jilly, whom no one ever mentioned except to talk about her for another year after she showed up for the big family Fourth of July party.

  It was almost ten. Greg should have been here hours ago; she was the one late getting home from school. Thinking of her boyfriend made her check that she didn’t have paint on her to give away she wasn’t sitting through dreary classes. It was odd for him to be late, and now that she thought about it, he hadn’t texted or called once all day.

  When her text went unanswered after an hour, she called, her lips pulled down as if by a hook. No answer. Guess he was still busy with the big case. Her boyfriend was an up-and-coming lawyer and worked all the time, though he usually found a few hours during the week and on weekends for them to do something, even if it was only a movie or quick dinner. But he’d promised they’d spend the whole weekend together. At eleven, she called again.

  “Hey, honey it’s me. Guess you left your phone on silent again or out in the car on the charger. My final went really well and I’m exhausted. I’ll see you at nine tomorrow. Sleep well.”

  As she curled up in bed, the warm breeze carried the sounds of the boats through the open window, and Mellie fell asleep dreaming of the perfect wedding…though when she turned to face the groom, he didn’t have a face and was nothing more substantial than a stick figure.

  TWO

  1334—England

  “Bloody English,” Connor McTavish muttered as he crouched beneath the scaffold, boots sinking in the muck, the stench of death filling the air as he breathed shallowly through his mouth, tasting the sweat-stained cloth tied around the lower half of his face.

  “Hush, ye wee bastard.” He cuffed the man crouched next to him, glaring at the Englishman, willing the man to be quiet. Damned Thorntons.

  “This is the last time I save your womanly hide. When next we meet on the field of battle, I will end you. Though I may be an outlaw, I am a Scot and you are English, not worth my breath nor my neck in a noose.”

  Edward, the eldest of the Thornton brothers, snorted. “I swore to repay you tenfold for saving my hide last winter. Though if I had not been unsteady, I could have taken all eight men myself.”

  “And fetched the healer as ye bled out in the dirt? Who would have tended ye until the fever broke? A serving wench?” Connor clicked his teeth together. “She would have robbed you blind and slit yer throat while you slept. Then again, the wench likely would have told the bastards where to find you and collected a coin for her efforts.”

  “You have my gratitude for tracking the cowards down and ending them.” Edward scowled. “A Thornton always keeps his word. I will see those you care for are taken care of. But know this: when I next meet you on a field of battle, I will grant you a quick death and then say a prayer after, Scotsman.”

  Connor rolled his eyes in the gloom. “Perhaps I should let you hang and wed your woman.” He put a finger to his mouth. “’Tis a jest. Future women are troublesome wenches. I would sooner wed a pig.”

  “Why is Gilbert not here to hang me himself?” The Englishman grunted as he shifted, his hand going to his side, where he’d been beaten and bloodied when he was taken.

  “The Armstrong had a fire and is feverishly trying to save his stores of grain.” Connor grinned. “He’s the reason there’s a price on my head. Aye, now the score is even.”

  A sound made him turn his head to locate the source, and when he was satisfied they were undiscovered, he turned back to Edward.

  “The executioner has been well paid and will not remove the hood.” From a hole in the planks, Connor watched the crowd, jeering and throwing rotten vegetables at the doomed man. The Johnston, chest puffed out, held up his hands.

  “My people, you are safe. Edward the Terrible will not steal away another child to take back to his dark fortress and roast over a spit. No more children will be eaten.”

  “Harrumph.” Connor brushed dirt from his face, stepping back as the trapdoor opened and a man fell through, jerking before falling still.

  “That might have been me at the end of that rope.” Edward crossed himself. “Tell me, who was the man?”

  “A thief sentenced to death. I offered him gold for his family.” Connor grinned. “Aye, you can repay me and then some. I want two of your finest horses as well as the gold.”

  “I will see it done. Many thanks, Connor.”

  The spectacle over, the crowd wandered away, returning to their daily lives, though a few curious souls lingered to watch the villain’s body being removed. ’Twas to be left as a warning to others not to trifle with the mighty Johnston. However, on the morrow all they would find was an empty grave, the body vanished. Connor had paid the executioner well to burn the man. ’Twas the gravest insult to burn a body, but he could not risk the truth. Later people would hear Edward was alive and well, and the bloody Thornton’s legend would grow even larger along with the man’s opinion of himself.

  “’Tis said the Thorntons have powerful protection,” Connor said. “Some speak of deals with the devil, others of pacts with faeries.”

  The Englishman grinned. “Nonsense.”

  “Many believe you and your brothers to be immortal.” Connor kicked at a rock in the dirt with a booted foot.

  Edward brushed off his tunic and hose. “I won’t soon forget what you’ve done for me.”

  Connor arched a brow. “Wait until we arrive safely at your castle before you thank me, Thornton.”

  They waited until nightfall before leaving the cover of the scaffolding. Through the village, they crept as thunder rumbled across the night sky. By the time the moon was high, they were already deep in the forest, making their way back to Somerforth when clouds hid the moon and rain fell, lashing their skin as the sky lit up. With a terrible storm of such making, Connor could believe evil spirits were following them, making him wish he was settled in an inn, a serving wench on either side, a tankard of ale in front of him.

  Perhaps God was displeased he had a man’s body burned. Ach, well, he had no time to dwell on what the almighty did or did not approve of. When he faced his maker, he thought saving an honorable man would outweigh the burning of the thief’s flesh.

  Edward for once did not speak, his breath coming in rasps as they made their way back to the man’s home, where Connor would saddle his new horses, bags of gold safely hidden, and be on his way. ’Twas not wise to linger overlong in any one location.

  Mellie stretched, working out the kinks in her shoulders, leaning left and right, gazing at the house as she spun the Lazy Susan to and fro, checking for cracks in the slabs of clay. In front of her on a wire shelving unit, houses stood waiting
, leaning precariously, dressed in bright and crazy colors, and inside every house, only seen by peering in a window, was a woman. Always barefoot. Some read; a few bathed or napped; others washed a dish or stood gazing out a window. The houses were two feet tall, and by her count there were almost thirty on the shelves, waiting patiently for her to find her nerve and send them out into the world.

  With a dispassionate eye, she noted all the glaring imperfections as she wiped a smudge of clay from the back of her hand. Was her work as horrendous as Aunt Jilly’s?

  The jarring ring of a cell phone snapped her out of an argument with her internal critic.

  “Hi, Jacob.” Melissa frowned as she listened. Someone was out sick, and they needed her to fill in at the museum gift shop today. “Wait, I don’t work weekends, and you know I usually work six or eight hours.”

  The young voice cracked. “I’m sorry, but we’re short-handed, I need you the full twelve hours. I’ll pay time and a half.”

  Mellie absently twirled a curl around her finger. “Throw in meals and beverages from the cafe?”

  “Done.” The sigh of relief told her she should have asked for more.

  A glance at the clock told her the museum opened in half an hour, and wow, Greg was really late. “I’ll try to make it by opening chimes, but I might need another half-hour.”

  “I’m sending a car. Don’t tell anyone.”

  A smile escaped. “Thanks, I won’t say a word.” The museum kept a sedan on call. She’d eyed it with envy when she left work during a storm or on a wintry day. “See you soon.” The food and transportation more than made up for losing the entire day, not to mention time and a half.

  Used to working quickly, Mellie cleaned up the small work area she’d created out of the tiny guest bedroom. Before shutting the door and locking it, she took a final look around, making sure nothing was out of place.