Page 23 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)
Lucy and Callan still hadn’t found William or her guard, but the closer they were to Blackford, the more Lucy held on to the belief that they would intercept them soon.
If she made it home safe and sound, and found William and the children unharmed, Lucy decided right then and there that she’d stay put at Blackford for the foreseeable future.
This entire fiasco had taught her a simple truth. If she was constantly looking back, she’d miss the wonder right in front of her.
It was time to let the past go, once and for all.
To accept her aunts and sisters were in their own time doing well, to fully embrace this life and time.
Four years had passed since Lucy made the choice to stay, to create a life with William.
Memories were fine, but it was time to stop dwelling on her old life.
Traveling through time had simply been some kind of cosmic blip. It wasn’t something that would ever happen again, that much she knew from when she’d made her choice from within the storm.
While she knew the decision to let go of the past wasn’t a make the choice and be done with it kind of thing , Lucy hoped now that she’d reached the acceptance stage of what she’d been going through every year around Halloween since she’d arrived, hopefully her decision would make it a little easier to finally let go of the past.
“Ye seem far away with the faeries.” Callan looked like he belonged on a horse, his hair tied back, the muted colors of his plaid blending in with the painted hues of gold and green blanketing the landscape.
The sound of his voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
“I was thinking about my life before I met my husband.” Lucy hesitated as she guided the horse down the narrow dirt path. They’d been traveling since first light, traveling for what seemed like months, and her body ached from the long days on horseback, but still they rode on.
“Oh, aye?” Callan would have made a great poker player. He kept his emotions from his face, whereas she knew her face showed everything.
“My life before was very different.” Not wanting to conjure the ghosts of her aunts and sisters, she simply said, “Someday I’ll tell you all about it.”
Grateful he didn’t press her, they rode in companionable silence.
Worn out from so much riding and the stress of being pursued, Lucy convinced Callan to risk staying at an inn tonight.
Yesterday, Lucy had been talking about Blackford when they’d passed a messenger on the road who had claimed to have seen her husband with a group of men heading in their direction.
He remembered William because he had watched him take part in a tournament at court last summer and had won a wager when he’d bet on William.
The news provided her with a glimmer of hope, easing the ache deep in her bones and her heart.
“Up ahead, lass.” Callan pointed.
Traveling with him had been eye-opening.
Some people were rude and said awful things to him, others were afraid, and a few were spoiling for a fight.
All this time on the road had made her grateful to have him as a traveling companion.
If she’d been traveling alone after her escape, Lucy realized she would have been in a world of trouble.
The inn gave off a welcoming vibe with its thatched roof, timber walls, and the scent of wood smoke.
“I’ll see to the horses.” Callan dismounted as if he’d been out for a lovely ride in the country instead of riding for a million years. It was disgusting how sleeping rough and riding all day didn’t bother him in the least.
“While you take care of the horses, I’ll go in and inquire about food and lodging.”
Dismounting stiffly, Lucy stretched, and when no one was looking, bent over to press her palms flat to the ground, the stretch feeling good to her poor body. Callan led the horses to the adjacent stables, where a teenage boy hurried out to take the reins, eyes wide upon seeing Callan.
Wearily, she made her way inside, thinking that the inn was an ideal place for her husband and his men or her own men to stop for a rest.
Lucy hoped Margery was doing well being out on the road for so long, and while she knew that Thomas and the men would keep her safe, she worried over the woman who had served her so well for the past two years.
This early in the day, the inn was practically empty. After inquiring about rooms, and ordering a bath, Lucy went out to the stables to tell Callan there was indeed, room at the inn. It would have been funnier if it was Christmas instead of barely a week until Halloween.
The stables smelled pleasantly of horses and hay as she stepped inside.
“Callan?”
He stepped out of a stall, patting his horse.
“They’ll be well taken care of here.”
She brushed a bit of straw off her dress. “They only had one room, but we can share.”
The affronted look blew away a bit of the weariness as a smile rippled across her face.
“Nay, lass. It wouldna be proper.”
Her brow arched up. “We have been traveling together for what feels like a hundred days. We’ve slept near a fire every night. What’s the difference?”
The blasted Scot shook his head as if she were daft.
“I will sleep with the horses.” Then he muttered under his breath in Gaelic, making her glad she didn’t understand what sounded tone-wise like rather a lot of grumbling about vexing women.
Lucy put her hands on her hips. “Whatever. Dinner will be ready in a few hours. You will come inside and eat a proper meal.”
“As ye say, Lady Blackford.” He teased.
The sarcastic retort never left her lips as a heavily laden cart rolled to a stop, pulled by two beautiful gray horses.
Travelers, much like messengers, meant news.
In the small town she’d grown up in, they all knew the mail person who always had juicy gossip to share when she brought the mail and packages.
Callan nodded to the man, who didn’t look the least bit surprised to see a Scotsman at an inn in the middle of nowhere .
Lucy waited until the man clambered down from the cart and spoke with the stable boy.
“Good day to you, sir,” she greeted him. The merchant was well-dressed, with a friendly smile.
“And to you, lady.” When he saw her looking at the cart, he waved her over, eyes crinkling.
“My name is Aaron. I am at your service. Come and see. I come from the coast bearing many exotic offerings.”
“Lucy, Lady Blackford. And this is Callan.” Normally Lucy wasn’t formal and just gave her first name, but she wanted any they met along the way to know she was Lady Blackford, in case the travelers ran into William or the men during their journey.
Aaron went on with his spiel as she and Callan looked over the goods he had to offer.
Thank goodness she’d kept coins sewn into the hem of her dress and cloak so the mercenaries didn’t steal it from her, otherwise they would have had to resort to theft during their journey.
It was bad enough her captors tried to take the daggers William had given her.
The comforting weight of them in her boots made her smile.
When she caught sight of linen and velvet fabric, Lucy wanted to weep. The innkeeper’s wife and sister were both seamstresses, so Lucy hoped there would be time for them to sew her a simple dress and new chemise. She couldn’t wait to be clean again.
She watched while Callan made a show of looking over the fine cloth, rubbing the linen between his fingers. Content to let him haggle with the merchant over the prices, both of them obviously enjoying themselves, until at last they came to an agreement, both parties satisfied.
With a nod from Callan, she paid the merchant, who quickly hid the coin away on his person. She’d purchased enough wool for a simple dress, along with linen for a chemise for her and a new shirt for Callan.
She’d offered to have a tunic and hose made for him, but he’d declined, saying his plaid just needed to be brushed and aired out.
Her own dress wasn’t so easily taken care of. It was stained, ripped, and itchy. While she knew the garment could be cleaned and mended, it held bad memories of the time she’d spent locked away by Angry Agnes.
A raven called out, making Lucy jump, but when she looked around, she didn’t see any sign of the dreadful woman or the mercenaries.
Not knowing where Agnes was or what she was doing had added to Lucy’s stress as they’d traveled.
There were nights she kept watch for half the night because she couldn’t sleep without having nightmares of Agnes hurting her boys.
Eager to take the fabric inside to the innkeeper’s wife and sister, a tiny grain on the bottom of the cart caught Lucy’s eye.
She pointed, eyes wide. “Is that?”
“Aye, ’tis a wee dead maggot.” Callan made a face.
With a scowl at Callan, the merchant looked to where she was pointing and brightened. He reached behind two barrels and pulled out a leather sack. The man carefully opened it, revealing a linen sack which he opened, gently putting the single grain back with the rest.
The man treated the bag as if it were filled with gold.
“Aye, ’tis rice.” He pursed his lips, black brows high. “Not many know of the grain.”
Unsure when rice actually made it to England, Lucy vaguely remembered something about the 15th century, but couldn’t be sure, so she said, “A traveler from far away passed through last summer with a few grains he’d won on a ship. Wherever did you come across it?”
Callan gave her an odd look, almost like he knew she was lying, but instead of saying anything, he leaned against the wagon, listening, ignoring a passing family who were whispering and pointing at him.
During their time together, she’d noticed he was good at reading people, enough so that she tried to be careful of what she said, otherwise, before she knew it, she’d be explaining time travel to him.
When the merchant took a breath, eyes crinkling, Lucy wanted to laugh, recognizing the signs of a natural storyteller readying himself to tell a story.