Lonely is the Knight (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 3) Page 5

  Everyone else around was relaxed. Walking, doing their own thing, enjoying the warm day. This guy, though, he wore a jacket in the summer. And while he had on sunglasses, she could tell he was alert, completely focused on her, ignoring everything else around him.

  She meandered down the promenade and suddenly knelt down to tie her espadrille. In the reflection from the shop to her right, she could see him following. He was keeping back far enough so she wouldn’t notice, but he must not realize how out of place he looked. Who was he?

  As she walked faster, Charlotte kept glancing around her. She didn’t see anyone else following her, just this guy. A car horn beeped, startling her.

  “My brother is dead because of your sister.” He jerked her by the elbow. Charlotte opened her mouth to scream then shut it with a snap as something sharp poked her in the side. After her time with the guys up north, she knew the feel of a knife.

  “Scream and I’ll gut you like a fish. My brother and I work for the same company. Told them I’d be happy to finish the job.”

  “Wait. Your brother was the jerk who tried to kill my sister? Simon died a long time ago. Why can’t you people just let it go?”

  He sneered at her. “It’s the principle, luv.”

  Charlotte watched as a couple pulled up in a roadster. She tripped, jerking away from him. “I can’t walk as fast as you. Hold on.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she leaned down and untied her shoes. She tied the long laces together and dangled them from her free hand. When she stood up, she turned around slowly, like she had all the time in the world. Completely unconcerned he could kill her.

  “I love to go barefoot in the summer, don’t you?” She looked down at her bright blue toes. All the while keeping an eye on the couple. The man spoke Italian. The woman with him was gorgeous, with long black hair, bright red lips, and legs for miles. She wore enough gold jewelry to tempt a pirate. The man put his hand on the woman’s lower back, giving her bottom a little smack as they went inside a jewelry store.

  Charlotte adored cars. Who in their right mind left an Aston Martin V12 Vantage S Roadster just sitting there, running? What kind of person did that?

  Crazy pants, that’s who. The car was a beautiful machine, except for the color. It was banana yellow. She cringed, feeling sorry for the Aston Martin. Driving that car, people would see it coming from miles away. But then again, that was probably the point, wasn’t it?

  Before she could overthink it, Charlotte stomped on her captor’s foot as hard as she could. As he yelped, she twisted away from him, pressing down hard on the fleshy part of skin between his thumb and first finger, hitting a nerve. He yelled out and dropped the knife.

  She made a run for it. Charlotte hopped in the car, threw it into gear, and took off. Her heart beating a thousand times a minute, she looked to the left to see her would-be captor yelling and shaking a fist. Then he started to run.

  There wasn’t much time. In the rearview mirror, she saw the Italian guy come running out of the store, shouting obscenities. You didn’t have to understand the language to get the gist of what he was screaming.

  As she sped away, she called out, “Sorry!”

  Though in her defense, who would leave a gorgeous, low-slung roadster just sitting there running, with the door open, beckoning her? It was if she was meant to borrow the machine.

  “Think of it as a hard lesson learned, buddy,” she yelled as the car surged forward, her long blonde hair streaming out behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  June 1330—Ravenskirk Castle, England

  Henry couldn’t stop staring at the necklace. Why did she say he must hurry home to Ravenskirk? As he walked through the forest, he looked over his shoulder. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Henry let out a breath. The old woman was more than she seemed. As if the bird heard his thoughts, a raven cawed from the trees. Henry crossed himself and laughed at what he had done. Did he really think the woman had turned into a bird and flown away?

  One of Henry’s knights called out, “We had begun to wonder what happened to you, my lord.”

  Another leaned forward in the saddle. “You met with the witch of the wood.” He crossed himself. “’Tis rumored she is a powerful which. Did she try to steal you away, our lovely lord?”

  Henry wanted to laugh but couldn’t. He felt uneasy, as if the trees were watching him. The woman had some great power about her, and he would not risk angering her spirit.

  “I’m much prettier than the lot of you.”

  The men chuckled as they made their way home. The day was warm and the men in good spirits as they rode. As they crossed through a small village on the outskirts of his lands, an old, hunched-over woman stood in the road, blocking their way.

  “Hold.”

  “My lord, men came. They stole our livestock.” She stood there, wringing her hands.

  Henry dismounted. He went to the woman, taking her arm, and gestured to one of his men. “Bring ale.”

  He led her over to a low stone wall and saw her seated.

  “What did these men look like?”

  The woman spat. “They wore the colors of Lord Hallsey. Said he was to be our lord now. Is this true, Lord Ravenskirk?”

  He cursed viciously. “The whoreson is growing bolder. How dare he send men onto my lands to steal.

  “Do not fear, madam. I am your lord. And I will see your livestock returned.” He pointed to four of the men. “My knights will guard the village until I have taken care of the threat.”

  The woman knelt at his feet. “I am most grateful.”

  Henry pulled her up by the arms. “You are under my protection.”

  He spoke to the men: “Be aware of your surroundings. If I know Hallsey, he will strike again. Be ready. And send word if anything happens.”

  Henry tossed one of the knights a bag of coins. “Purchase new livestock and whatever else was taken.”

  The men nodded as Henry mounted and urged his horse to gallop. He muttered, “I have beaten him in every tourney, and how was I to know ’twas his wife? All women look alike in the dark.”

  He must’ve spoken louder than he thought, for his men chuckled and continued making ribald jests the entire way home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte lifted one hand off the wheel. Nope, no more shaking. The adrenaline was finally wearing off. She shifted, easing the seat back as far as it would go. The bulk of the backpack made her lean forward. In her haste to flee, she’d left it on, and so far there was nowhere to stop and take it off. The messenger bag dug into her hip as the seatbelt mashed into her side.

  A huge sigh of relief coursed through Charlotte. Even with all the commotion, she hadn’t lost the two precious bags. But both pairs of boots and the rest of her stuff were still sitting in the hotel. In her bags she had the daggers and her medieval clothing, along with the journal and other odds and ends. Her bracelet sparkled in the sunlight. A glance in the rearview told her she’d gotten away. Charlotte kept close to the coast. At some point, she’d have to find a way to return the car. Apologize for what she’d done. Hope the guy would understand and not press charges.

  Twenty-two years and she’d never stolen a thing. Not even a pack of gum when she was a kid. Charlotte snorted. The Aston Martin was significantly larger than a pack of gum.

  But my oh my, could this baby fly. The leather seats enveloped her, and the sound of the engine and the salty air made her want to drive forever. Forget all about some crazy guy wanting to kill her all because of another dead guy.

  It was like some video game gone rogue. Charlotte flicked through the stations until she found one playing eighties music. It seemed the DJ was on the same wavelength, as one perfect driving song after another came on. Singing along, Charlotte pressed down on the gas.

  Maybe thirty minutes had passed, and the instant she started to relax, a glance in the rearview showed a car coming up fast. She stepped on the gas, laughing as the car surged forward. For a moment she wondered ho
w fast the car could go. Too bad she was running from a killer instead of taking a road trip.

  She had to slow down as she took the next curve. Apparently the guy behind her had no such qualms, for he bumped her. The impact jarred her from her teeth to her toes as she fought to keep control of the car.

  Thank you, universe, for keeping other cars off the road. Where was everybody? It was a beautiful day and the promenade had been packed. Okay, maybe not a totally clear road. A truck passed her, preventing the man chasing her from hitting her again. She made the mistake of looking over the edge. There was no shoulder, and no guardrail, just a very steep and scary drop-off. Charlotte inched the car over toward the centerline.

  As he crept closer to bump her again, Charlotte jammed on the brakes. She watched in slow motion as his car seemed to bounce off the Aston Martin. Saw him frantically trying to gain control as the car started to spin. Helpless, she watched as the car spun off the edge, seeming to hover in the air before it vanished. If someone had asked her, Charlotte couldn’t tell them if it was the fireball she saw or the explosion she heard first.

  A piece of debris from the car flew up and hit her on the shoulder. “Ouch, damn it.”

  Charlotte touched her shoulder. Her fingers came away red. Her hand shook on the wheel, blonde hair whipping in the wind, blowing across her face.

  She couldn’t stop. The authorities would arrest her. Not only to question her about what happened, but for stealing the car. If she failed to go back in time, she’d have a big ole mess to clean up.

  As her breathing slowly returned to normal, Charlotte pulled out her phone, tapping the maps app for directions. Once she got to Falconburg Castle, she’d anonymously call and tell them where they could find the car.

  Boy oh boy, that guy was gonna be furious when he saw the damage. A piece of banana-yellow plastic flew across the road and skittered over the edge. Charlotte winced. She wouldn’t think about how much it would cost to fix the beautiful car.

  There were ominous storm clouds gathering above her and still no place to pull over. “Please let there be a turnoff soon.” Thunder reverberated through the sky and lightning flashed as the first drops of rain started to fall.

  One good thing about going fast? The faster you drove, the less wet you got. Charlotte hit the gas coming out of the curve. It was pouring now and the thunder was getting louder. In the middle of the storm, Charlotte swore she heard the familiar haunting tune. She didn’t see the piper anywhere, but she knew it was him.

  “My lady, beware!”

  Lightning hit the car, surrounding it. Blinding white light filled the vehicle as her body went numb. She felt tingly all over, like her entire body had fallen asleep. Charlotte couldn’t feel the wheel; her fingers were numb. The electronics in the car went haywire. It was like driving in a bubble of energy. She hit something in the road and the car started to spin. There was a partial guardrail, and Charlotte prayed it would hold. Sparks flew up around her, mixing with the lightning, and a horrible screeching filled the air as the guardrail gave way.

  Charlotte screamed as the car went over the edge. For a moment the car seemed to hover in the air. Then she smelled something burning, heard a crash, and everything went black.

  Charlotte came to, choking on seawater. Her fingers desperately worked to free the seatbelt as the car sank deeper and deeper and she was pulled under.

  The seatbelt finally came loose, and she swam toward the surface, lungs bursting. When she surfaced, Charlotte found herself in the midst of a terrible storm. Waves crashed over her, sending water up her nose. The salt water made every cut from the accident burn. How had she survived going over the cliff?

  She held her hand up and saw the blood. Fear filled her. Out of all the thousands of time she’d swum in the ocean, Charlotte had never worried about sharks. But here, bloody and in the middle of the ocean? She couldn’t catch her breath. This was it. Now she’d never find her sisters. It was too late. She was dying. The wind howled and waves crashed over her as Charlotte struggled to take a breath. The certainty she wasn’t alone in the water was the last thing she remembered.

  They were half a day’s ride from Ravenskirk. Out of all his family’s estates, it was Henry’s favorite. His eldest brother, Edward, lived in the largest castle. Robert was lord over the most ornate estate. Henry teased him that it was too beautiful to be formidable. His youngest brother, Christian, had the smallest home, yet it controlled a strategic point, its bridge the only access across the river.

  Henry thought of his second-eldest brother, John. He felt the loss every day. Once in a while Henry woke in the middle of the night, sure he had heard his brothers laugh. The feeling John was still alive would fill him. Those nights he could not sleep and would pace the battlements until dawn. John’s castle was the scariest. ’Twas rumored to be haunted, and Henry wondered if the servants had all fled without their lord there. Mayhap not. Edward would see to it in John’s absence. Henry let out a breath. He should visit. Make sure ruffians hadn’t invaded.

  A raven landed in a tree, pulling him out of his melancholy thoughts. The bird tilted his head at Henry, cawed, took to the air, and cawed again. The black bird flew to another tree, and seemed to look back at him as if to tell him to come along. Talking birds? He was a dolt.

  Something unnatural was happening. Henry didn’t know why—mayhap ’twas his encounter with the witch in the wood—but something about the bird made him sit up taller in the saddle. He must make haste. The men, sensing his unease, urged the horses to a gallop. Henry didn’t know why he must get to the beach, only that the feeling was strong.

  “Do you see any wreckage?”

  His men dutifully looked to the land and sea for signs of a shipwreck.

  “None, my lord.”

  “Make haste—there is someone washed up on shore.”

  Two of the men stayed with the horses.

  “Bloody hell.” He dismounted, running down the curving path to the shore. ’Twas a woman on the beach. He knelt down beside her. Was she dead?

  Henry placed a finger under her nose and felt air. She lived.

  The girl had beautiful long hair the color of winter wheat, her face deathly pale, lips slightly blue. One of the men jumped back, crossing himself. “She has black legs and white arms—a demon. Where are her clothes?”

  Another of the men sounded horrified. “My lord, look at her feet. Her toes. They are blue, like the scales of a fish.”

  Another of the knights said, “We should leave it. Look at the hump on its back.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. “’Tis not a hump. ’Tis a pack of some sort. Dolt.”

  A few of the man nervously laughed. Henry rolled her to one side.

  “She is an angel,” the man whispered.

  “And you have been kicked in the head too many times.”

  The man was right. The girl had the face of an angel. Her clothing was scandalous. Where was her dress? The angel started to cough and retch, and the men jumped back, crossing themselves.

  “’Tis a mermaid.”

  “Nay, look at the black legs. ’Tis a sea monster washed up.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Henry said. “It is a lady washed ashore from a wreck.”

  One of the men scratched his head. “Then why isn’t there any wreckage or a ship anchored at sea?” He seemed to think about what he said before he bobbed his head and said, “Mayhap she fell from heaven.”

  Dolts. The lot of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlotte rolled over, retching until her sides hurt. She was lying in the sand, water lapping at her, and she smelled…horses and men.

  Someone was speaking to her. She felt warm hands rubbing her arms. Everything was blurry. But at least she wasn’t dead. Charlotte squinted up at the cliff but didn’t see any sign of the guardrail. She looked toward the water where the car had sunk. Hope the guy had good insurance. There were voices babbling all around her, but she couldn’t make out the words. Once again Charlotte su
ccumbed to darkness.

  Slowly she swam toward the surface of consciousness. The sound of men’s voices filled the air. Was she back at the camp? Someone had moved her away from the water and she was leaning against rocks, draped in a cloak. She coughed again, spitting up salt water. Her bracelet was gone. She must have lost it during the accident.

  A man knelt down in front of her. He was out of focus, so she was guessing she must’ve hit her head pretty hard in the accident. Charlotte could hear him talking but couldn’t make out the words. A sense of dread filled her as she patted her body for the precious backpack and messenger bag. The bags were shoved into her lap, and she exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

  “We mean you no harm, demoiselle. You are safe.”

  The voice was warm and comforting. Charlotte wanted to open the bags, check the contents, but her hands weren’t working properly. She hugged the bags tight as she felt herself falling.

  Henry caught the girl as she swooned again. He wanted to move her but was afraid she’d injured her head. They would wait. When she woke again, he would take her home. To Ravenskirk.

  He turned her to the side as she retched again. “My lady?” Henry caught sight of her bare feet. “Something is amiss with your feet. The water has turned your toes blue, like the scales of a fish.” He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

  “Norman French, right?” She laughed, the sound tinkling on the air like raindrops on glass. He wanted to hear her laugh again.

  “Could you speak regular English, please? And my toes are fine. It’s how we decorate them where I’m from. Could you tell me exactly where I am?”

  By her speech, she was no noble. She had a strange manner of speaking. He wondered where she was from. She gazed up at him, and Henry lost himself in the clear gray depths. He would not have to look down to speak with her. She was uncommonly tall for a woman.