Page 16 of Last Knight (Knights Through Time #7)
All at once, the hundred niggling things that were wrong hit her. She hadn’t seen a single light, nor paved road. Not one car or bus, not one normally dressed person. And not a single movie camera or film crew. The scenery seemed the same, but what did she know?
Ever since she’d fallen into the water, Ashley had been cold, but this was different—this was the kind of cold that soaked into her very cells and molecules, freezing her from the inside out.
No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to get warm.
Was she having an out-of-body experience or hallucinating as she lay on a cold metal table in some sterile hospital?
Christian didn’t seem the least bit upset that they’d been attacked and he’d killed two men. As if it were a normal day at the office for him.
She’d heard one of the men tell the others he’d planned to rape her. So while the rational, law-abiding part of her wanted to call for the nearest police officer, another part, a primitive part she didn’t even know existed deep within her, was savagely happy Christian kept her safe.
Everything came crashing down, the pieces locking into place with a snap. No matter how unbelievable it sounded, it must be true. Ashley grasped Christian’s sleeve, clenching the fabric.
“What year is it?”
“’Tis the Year of our Lord 1334. October. And no, I don’t know what time it is. You do not know what year ’tis?”
Why was he so calm?
“Of course I know. Just checking. 1334. Huh. Well, things are starting to make a little bit of sense, I guess.”
“Are you going to swoon again, demoiselle?”
She followed him, talking fast, her mouth trying to keep up with her brain.
“I’ve never fainted before. Not once in my whole life until I met you. Not even when I saw a hockey player get run over by another player. His skate sliced the guy’s arm wide open. You’ve never seen so much blood on the ice.”
He’d gone to the pool of water, waded in, and washed the blood from his hose.
Christian rinsed off his blade, frowned at her, and pulled her in.
The icy water stole her breath, her teeth chattering so hard she couldn’t speak.
He scooped water, wiping her face, and then she knew—she had blood all over her. From touching the dead man.
“I…I can’t.”
“Shhh, I’ve got you.” He lifted her from the water and climbed out. Not knowing what to do or where to go, she stood there staring at him. With a curse, he picked her up and carried her back to the camp, where he built up the fire.
The cloak was gone. The men had taken what remained of their food, drinks, and even the precious little bit of soap as well.
Now what? It wasn’t like she could flag down a passing motorist for help.
Somehow she’d fallen into the water and ended up in Wales, almost seven hundred years before she would be born.
Was this what happened to people who went missing?
The ones with their faces posted online?
The rational part of her mind knew a percentage of them had been murdered, or were runaways, or disappeared on purpose.
The reptilian, ancient part of her shivered, knowing there was a greater power in the world than she had ever suspected.
Had others fallen through time? And if they had, what happened to them?
Did they end up in the same time as her?
Did they go to the future? Or did some of them find themselves in ancient Rome or Greece?
Maybe they landed in the middle of the French Revolution?
What if a few missing people had gone back even further, all the way to the time of dinosaurs?
What must it be like for them? Did they survive? Or die the first day?
Medieval times. Not a good time to be a woman. The fire blazing, she hadn’t noticed Christian sitting close to her, watching.
“Why are you acting like nothing’s wrong? ”
“You suffered a fright and will calm once you are dry. In the morning, we will continue on.”
But he acted like someone had taken his last slice of pizza and then it all made sense.
“It’s really not your fault.”
He looked despondent. “’Tis my fault. I’ve never been taken unaware. I have failed in my knightly duties. But do not be distressed. I will find them. ’Twas my favorite horse and my best sword.”
While he went on about what he would do to the men when he found them, she needed to come up with a plan.
To survive here, Ashley had to accept she was truly in the past. There was a time during the first year after she’d graduated from college that she thought if you took her and dropped her off at her old college dorm, she’d go to her room, speak to her roommate, and head off to class as if no time at all had passed.
So while she knew she was addicted to knowing what time it was, she’d always had the ability to quickly adapt to her surroundings.
To fit in. No matter if it was a boys’ club or other place she was unwelcome, she knew how to blend.
When she traveled, she was quiet, taking everything in until she felt comfortable. Immediately going into local shops and purchasing something to wear to look like a local. No ugly American abroad for her. Ashley straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this.
“Christian. Where did you say we’re going?”
“Winterforth. Four days’ ride to London. I will see you where you needs be.”
Where she needed to be? Not where. When. Though how did she get back to her own time when she didn’t have a clue how she’d traveled through time in the first place?
Ashley wanted to try clicking her heels together or saying abracadabra or some other incantation, but she felt silly, and he would think she was crazy.
The last thing she wanted was to end up in an asylum or locked away in a convent.
It was a wonder he hadn’t thought she was crazy already by the way she’d been acting.
Think, Ashley. From the moment she arrived, she went over everything she’d said and made a note to be much more careful. To listen and learn. Blend until she could figure out a way to go home.
And suddenly Ben, and the merger, her promotion, and even Mitch seemed very far away. Her priorities shifted. All she cared about now was going home. New York was full of jobs. Let Mitch have the promotion. She was smart. Another firm would be lucky to have her.