Lonely is the Knight (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 3) Read online

  Well, that wouldn’t do. She was from a family of curious women. Charlotte packed up the makeshift picnic, made her way down from the battlements, and dropped everything off in the kitchens before going outside. They’d spent the entire past week together.

  The activities served as a distraction from endlessly asking when the messengers would return. He hadn’t said, but she thought Henry was concerned too. They should have been back by now. She hoped they hadn’t caught whatever illness was going around.

  Henry had taken her on rides to see his lands and meet his people, but only after he’d sent men first to make sure no one was sick. He’d provided dancing and singing at night in the great hall and spent afternoons in the solar with her. Sometimes they read or talked or simply sat, enjoying each other’s company. He was charming and fun to be around.

  Now, sugar, you know you like the boy. She rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t she have heard Aunt Pittypat’s voice in her head when she was lying about her sisters to Henry?

  “Is aught amiss, mistress?” Little Addie trembled in the corner.

  Charlotte knelt down beside her. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll find out what’s happening. If it were something bad we would have heard all the men shouting and running around.”

  The girl looked doubtful, but wiped her eyes. “As you say.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She went outside to see what was happening. There was a man lying in the back of a wagon, not moving. It was Liam, one of Henry’s knights.

  “What happened?”

  Henry looked furious. “Lord Hallsey attacked the village again. Burnt it to the ground. Liam managed to cut down three of the men. They were wearing Hallsey’s colors.”

  “He needs stitches in that arm.” She looked away from the blood and around the courtyard.

  “Aye, I’ll see to him. I’m good with a needle and thread.” One of the girls eyed Liam as if he were her next needlepoint project, and Charlotte winced. Poor guy wasn’t going to get a shot to numb him before the stitching started. Her stomach turned over from thinking of the needle going in and out of his flesh.

  “Are you unwell?” Henry took her arm, frowning.

  “I’m fine. Just thinking about how the stitches will hurt.”

  He scoffed. “Hear that, Liam? The lady is worried you’re going to cry like a babe.”

  She wanted to smack him.

  “’Tis naught but a scratch, mistress. Don’t worry your comely head. Though a kiss might help.”

  “She’ll not be kissing one ugly as you, man. There’ll be no kissing. No stealing longing glances either.”

  Hmm, he sounded jealous. Charlotte grinned. In the short time she’d been here, she’d gone from a full-on crush to seriously liking Henry. Maybe he liked her too. She wanted to skip around the courtyard singing, but then the people would think she was stranger than they already did. A giggle slipped out.

  Henry raised a brow, but she shook her head. The men pulled Liam out of the cart. There was a horrible gash across his thigh and another on his back. The smell of something salty and meaty filled the air as they passed by her. She reeled back. It was one thing to see a wound, but to smell it as well was a bit more than she could handle. Charlotte gagged.

  The girl who would stitch up Liam followed the men, barking orders.

  “Excuse me?”

  The girl turned.

  “You will clean the wound with alcohol before stitching him up, right?”

  “Are you a healer, mistress?”

  “No, but I know a bit about injuries. The alcohol will prevent foul humors from entering the body. You pass the needle through fire and then dip it in the alcohol, and pray for fast healing. Then wrap the wounds with clean bandages.”

  She realized everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen. Charlotte made sure not to say germs, since no one would know what they were. Had she said something wrong?

  The girl slowly nodded. “A few years back, a healer passed through, said he learned about using alcohol from a healer to the east. Thank ye.”

  Henry patted her shoulder. “You are a kind woman.” He stared at her and Charlotte fought the urge to fidget. “Yet unused to seeing injured men. Your sire kept you locked away?”

  “No, I just don’t like the sight of blood.”

  He was about to say something else when another rider appeared. The man was covered in mud, as was the horse.

  “The villagers are making their way here, my lord.”

  “We must make ready.”

  Charlotte stood in awe as he barked out orders left and right. Someone bumped into her.

  “Henry?”

  “Aye?”

  “I’m good at sorting people out. Can I help with everyone arriving? I’d like to keep busy. It will keep my mind off wondering when the messengers will return.”

  “If any of the villagers have the sickness, you must not let them stay.” He brushed a lock of hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ear. His fingertip brushed her cheek.

  “What do I do with them?”

  “Tell the man I send with you. He will send them to make camp outside the walls. And mistress?”

  She turned to him.

  “The messengers will return any day. Do not worry. I said I will aid you in your quest to find your sisters, and I will do everything in my power to find them. I know how important family is.”

  Could he be any more perfect? She knew there was no Lady Ravenskirk, but did he have a girlfriend? ’Cause if not, Charlotte decided she wanted to apply for the job.

  “Everyone, over here. If you’re part of a family, stand over here to my right with your family. The rest of you move to my left.”

  There were people everywhere. From babes to old folks to dogs and livestock.

  “Animals go to the barn. The boys will see them fed and cared for.” Charlotte dusted her hands off on her dress.

  A small hand tugged at her skirts. “Mistress? My lord thought you might be thirsty.” The boy held up a glass.

  She could smell the fruity wine. “I am parched. Thank you. Could you tell Mrs. Benton I’m going to start sending families into the great hall for supper?”

  “Yes, lady.” He smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

  Charlotte tried to get everyone’s attention a few more times, but with at least a hundred people in the courtyard it was no use. So she stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

  The courtyard fell silent. She clapped her hands together. “Right. Those with families go to the great hall for supper. Stay together. The rest of you follow them in. Tonight families with children will sleep in the hall. Once it is full, we have room in the chapel and other buildings.”

  Thank goodness no one showed signs of the sickness. She’d have felt awful turning them away when they had no place to go. Dust filled the air as people traipsed inside the castle. Charlotte drained her cup.

  “Where did you learn to do that, lady?” A small boy looked up at her as if she’d conjured dragons out of thin air.

  Another frowned. “Ladies shouldn’t make such loud noises.”

  She giggled. “I learned it from a boy when I was about your age. Would you like me to show you?”

  The five boys nodded. Charlotte smirked. “Go help in the kitchens. Do whatever is asked of you. After the musicians finish playing, help put away the tables and benches. Then tomorrow I’ll teach you to whistle like me.”

  They huddled together, whispering. The tallest one with black hair and green eyes stepped forward. He held out a hand. “Do we have your word?”

  Charlotte spat into her palm, held it out to him, and grinned. “Aye. Do I have yours?”

  A huge smile broke out on the boy’s face. He spat into his hand and shook. The other four boys did the same. She waited until they’d wandered away before wiping her palm on her skirts. She’d seen the men and boys spit and shake and knew it would carry weight with the boys, but talk about disgus
ting.

  “Foul wench. You are a woman. Not a man. How dare ye act like a man. Giving orders and raising your voice. Women should be silent.” Timothy’s eyes blazed.

  She’d seen that look on religious zealots before. Had come in contact with enough of them during her travels to know how dangerous they could be. Graciousness and a sense of humor usually worked.

  “Timothy. How lovely to see you. Would you escort me in to supper?”

  He crossed himself. “Nay. You are a demon. I must go to the chapel and pray for your immortal soul.”

  “Thank you. I can use all the prayers I can get.”

  He looked horrified as he ran for the chapel. He was really going to be mad when she filled it with people tonight. They needed every inch of space, and the chapel would fit a good forty or fifty people. If he fussed, she’d tell him it was the displaced villagers or their livestock. She’d make sure to speak to Henry about him too. Charlotte didn’t want to wake up to find herself tied to a stake and Timothy gleefully throwing the first torch.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charlotte stopped in the kitchens to speak to Mrs. Benton. She’d seen Timothy huddled together with three other men, likely telling them of the evils of the female sex after he’d finished praying.

  “Do we have enough food and drink for everyone for the next month? I’m guessing it will take that long to start rebuilding the village.”

  The plump woman looked up at her, a frizzy brown curl escaping from her cap.

  “Aye. Ravenskirk boasts a large wine cellar.” The woman snorted. “Likely more than Lord Ravenskirk and all his knights could ever drink. His father was a great lover of drink and made sure there was always more than enough.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron and gestured for Charlotte to sit down. The woman poured them ale. Since she’d been in the past, she swore she’d drunk more than she had in her entire life combined. But though she drank a great deal, she never found herself drunk. Well, except sometimes at supper. When the musicians played and she danced, she found she might drink a bit much and be tipsy by the end of the night.

  The cook handed her a piece of bread spread with butter. “And the food? Do we have enough? What about this winter?”

  “We have a large larder; do not worry yourself. The lord has always been worried about siege. We will last through the summer, the winter, and to next spring.”

  “A siege? Is that possible?” Charlotte didn’t consider herself claustrophobic by any means, but knowing that she was in the castle sitting in the middle of the water with no way out made her nervous.

  “Don’t worry, love. Ravenskirk has never been besieged in all the time I’ve served here. A score of years. I served the lord’s sire before he passed and left the castle to young Henry.”

  “What were his parents like?”

  Mrs. Benton frowned. “His lady never stayed here. She preferred to spend her time at court. They were rarely together, and when they were…” The woman looked around, but everyone was so busy going about the task of feeding everyone, no one was paying them any attention.

  “How they screamed at each other. They hated each other.” She leaned across the table, and Charlotte found herself doing the same. “’Tis a wonder they managed to have five boys.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But ’tis said hate and love are two sides of the same coin. Perhaps they came together in the bedroom, or mayhap they liked to continue the fight there.” The woman slapped her thighs and laughed.

  “Was the marriage arranged?”

  “Aye. As most noble marriages are. He had a title and a great deal of land. Her family had a great deal of money.” The woman shrugged. “’Tis the way of the nobles.”

  And Charlotte had to wonder—would Henry marry a noblewoman? She was a nobody. Would he even consider someone like her? She mentally smacked herself. First she had to find her sisters. Then she might consider staying here with Henry…if he even wanted her to.

  Supper was a lively affair. Though with so many people, it was stifling in the hall. It was the first time since traveling to the past that Charlotte had found herself hot and sweaty.

  Henry made sure she had the choicest bits from the platter as it was passed around. He was always refilling her glass, and seemed to know what she needed before she asked. He had an easy smile and laugh for everyone. She’d noticed more than one serving girl and woman from the village giving him the eye.

  The musicians tuned up, and as the final plates were cleared away, Charlotte stood to help move the tables and benches back against the wall.

  “Nay, lady. Leave it to the servants.” Henry stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Really, I don’t mind. I don’t think I’m above anyone else.”

  He looked at her, a strange look on his face. “I have known many women, and none of them would do half the things you have done since arriving. Chester said I should put you in command of my army the way you sorted everyone in the courtyard today. I am most grateful.”

  She felt the heat go to her cheeks and hoped she wasn’t blushing. By the twinkle in his eye, though, she knew she must be. He bowed to her. “Dance with me?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the dances.”

  Henry smiled. “Will you allow me to lead, my lady? For I am sure one as graceful as yourself will float on air.”

  “My sister Lucy had a favorite saying. She liked to say a man was so charming he could beguile an alligator into becoming a vegetarian. I think she must’ve been thinking of you.” She grinned at him.

  Henry pursed his lips. “Alligator?”

  “You know, like a crocodile.”

  “Aye. I know about crocodiles. ’Tis rumored one of my brothers wanted to have them sent over from a faraway land and put in his moat. But alas, it is too cold in England for the beasts.” He fiddled with his sleeve. “Vegetarian?”

  Charlotte mentally cursed. She was trying so hard not to introduce any new words or ideas, but every now and then something slipped out. It was funny—you didn’t think about what you said or knew to be common knowledge until you were thrust into a situation that was completely different.

  “Vegetarian means a person or animal who does not eat meat.”

  She watched his lips move as he replayed what she said, and saw when he got it. Henry threw back his head and laughed, the candlelight making the highlights in his hair shine. His laugh was deep and rich and warmed her from the inside out. He led her out to the dance floor and Charlotte lost track of time.

  Henry finished seeing to the needs of his men and the villagers under his care. He checked the larder to reassure himself it was sufficiently stocked. He’d never known a day of hunger even through the years of famine. His family had an obsessive need to store food and drink for lean times.

  It was late as he strode into the kitchen. Here, though, no one would sleep. There were too many mouths to feed. He found the cook and spoke quietly to her.

  “How are the girls and lads I sent to help doing?”

  “They’ll do just fine. I thank ye for the help.” Mrs. Benton pointed to Charlotte. “She is different from other ladies of the court. After she saw all the villagers settled in the hall and the chapel, she helped some of the children with their tasks in the kitchen. She shall make someone a fine wife. Perhaps someone we know.”

  Henry wisely kept his mouth shut. Those under his care seemed to think it was their duty to find him a wife. No matter how much he protested, they insisted he needed to be married and provide an heir. Only Royce knew of his vow.

  Charlotte sat at the table, her face resting against a platter, sound asleep, a glass of wine still in her hand.

  He reached out and stroked her hair. She mumbled something he couldn’t understand.

  “Charlotte. Wake up.”

  She grumbled in her sleep but did not wake. Henry picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. She was tall for a woman, yet so thin. He looked to the cook. “Make sure she eats, Mrs. Benton.” />
  The woman beamed at him, and Henry knew she would be matchmaking. He carried Charlotte through the hall, stepping over bodies, and up the stairs. When he reached her chamber, he shifted her to open the door and she stirred.

  “Five more minutes.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked at him. “What time is it? Is it morning already?”

  Henry looked down at her, feeling something in the air shift. She was beautiful and kind to everyone she encountered. She was willing to do whatever was needed for his people without complaint. Indeed, she would make someone a fine wife. Henry didn’t want her to be anyone else’s wife.

  Mayhap he should speak with the priest about his vow. Was it possible? Could he have a marriage different from his parents? Might two people who cared for each other continue to care for each other as they spent their lives together?

  “’Tis late. Go to sleep.”

  She kissed him on the cheek and closed her eyes. Henry almost dropped her. He heard the sound of a throat clearing, and turned.

  His captain stood there, a smirk on his face. Henry scowled at Royce. He would pay the man back in the lists tomorrow. He carried Charlotte over to the bed, gently laid her down, and smoothed the hair back from her brow.

  He found he wanted to kiss her, but wouldn’t dare with Royce watching.

  Henry closed the door softly behind him, thinking of the angel asleep on the other side of the door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next several days passed in a blur. Charlotte was busy helping Henry deal with the villagers’ needs. Every day she looked in the larder and wandered through the storage room holding the wine and drink. It was her form of meditation. Seeing the food and drink made her feel like everything would be okay. After all, it wasn’t like there was a grocery store down the street if she needed something.

  Charlotte was so full after lunch. She and Henry took a walk outside the castle. The open space and lack of people allowed her to reset and enjoy the day instead of worrying all the time.