Page 19 of Last Knight (Knights Through Time #7)

He had her inside the inn and all the way to the steps leading up to the rooms above when she turned.

“I want another beer.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough this eve?”

“Just one more, then bed.”

Christian called to the serving wench, who brought them cups of ale. They leaned against the wall, where he kept one hand on Ashley’s arm so she would not slide down the wall.

“I believe you’ll regret this in the morning.”

“Regrets. The world is full of regrets.” She drank half the cup and let out a very unladylike belch.

“You know, I don’t know why I trust you, but I do.

Trusting people has always been difficult for me.

But when I do trust, I’m loyal to the end.

” She poked him in the shoulder. “But if you betray me, I will never forgive you.”

She squinted, wrinkling her nose. “I hate camping. I hate horses. And I hate the way it smells in here. Like old beer, body odor, and wet dog.” She leaned into him, so close he could count the three brown spots above her eyebrow.

He’d never noticed them before; they were faint and formed a half-circle, calling attention to her eyes.

“I love my creature comforts. Massages, pedicures, spa days. How will I ever get back home?”

“Do not worry. I will find a way to send you back.” He took the cup from her. “You have a lovely voice.”

“I never sing in public, but I didn’t want to sleep outside.” She turned a brighter pink. “I’m afraid of things crawling on me while I sleep.”

“Aye, the wee beasties can be fearsome.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Nay, mistress, I would not jest. Shall we seek our beds?”

She shook her head. He did not let her stumble. All she’d had to drink had softened her edges and prickly temper.

“I hear music. I want to dance.”

One of the men was playing a lute, and others were dancing with the serving wenches. Christian made her a low bow.

“Then we shall.” He offered her his arm, which she took, and he smiled as she held on rather tightly.

The women were in high demand, and before he knew it, Ashley was swept away to dance with others.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, where he could make sure no one made untoward advances.

The amount of ale he had consumed was making Christian drowsy when a slap rang out.

He pushed off from the wall to see Ashley scowling. The man in front of her raised a fist. Christian waded into the crowd, pushing and shoving men aside, as he lunged for the man.

“You will not hit a lady.”

“Look who it is. Lord Winterforth, the man who can’t please a woman.” The man sneered at him. “That’s no lady.”

Christian’s fist met the man’s nose with a crack. He pushed Ashley out of the way. “Stay by the wall.”

The brawl spread throughout the tavern, hands and fists flying.

Christian swore as someone kicked him. Only for a moment did he turn his head to look where he’d sent Ashley out of harm’s way, and a fist caught him on the side of the head.

Seeing two of the men in front of him, he swung for the middle and caught the man in the jaw.

The man in front of him fell, and Christian touched a finger to his teeth; one was loose.

He spat blood on the floor and caught the next man, the one who had started this fight, in the face. He grunted and fell.

Cold water hit Christian in the face.

“Bloody hell,” he bellowed.

The innkeeper and his wife were dousing everyone with water, breaking up the fighting and bringing the patrons back to their senses.

Blood dripped from a cut above Christian’s brow as he made his way to Ashley. She had her eyes shut tight, and as he neared he could hear her humming softly. He stepped over a broken chair.

“Mistress?”

She opened her eyes. “You’re bleeding.”

“A bit.”

She snatched a cloth from a broken table and touched it to his nose and lip.

“Does it hurt very much?”

“Nay, ’tis naught but a scratch.”

The innkeeper stomped over to them. “There will be no room for you tonight. ’Tis going to a paying customer. Sleep in the stables.” He cursed and muttered as he kicked a broken bench away.

Christian opened his mouth to say he would pay for the damages, but he remembered that he was not Lord Winterforth, he was a merchant, and a merchant would not have the funds for this. When he returned home, he would send his messenger with gold for the innkeeper.

He swept Ashley up in his arms, to the cheers of the crowd. She couldn’t stop laughing as he carried her to the stables.

“What amuses the lady? ”

“I’ve only seen a fight like that in a movie or at a hockey game. It was…so fast.” She touched his cheek, the look in her eyes making him cease walking.

“You were amazing. Thank you for defending me.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “It smells in here. Like your horse.”

He put her down. “The innkeeper threw us out. Welcome to your chamber, my lady.”

With a sigh, she flopped down on the hay. “Well, at least it’s warm.”

He should be able to provide for her, to procure the nicest room, a beautiful cloak, yet he was penniless until they reached Winterforth. Unless he told everyone who he was, but no—he wanted to remain Christian the merchant for a little while longer.

She took hold of his hand, pulling him down next to her.

“I have to tell you something. It’s very important.”

She looked around to see if anyone was listening. There was a stable boy in the corner, curled up in the hay sleeping. Christian pressed his lips together so he would not laugh as she placed a finger to her lips.

“We must be very quiet. I don’t want anyone to hear. They would never believe me.”

She looked into his eyes, and he felt his world shift.

“I was on my way to England, for work, when I landed in the water and somehow found myself here.” She waved a hand around. “You said it was 1334?”

Christian nodded, afraid to break whatever enchantment she was under. He wanted to hear her story. Why had she waited so long to tell him from whence she came?

“What year do you come from?”

“2016. I don’t live in Wales or England. I’m from America, from the greatest city, New York City. There’s so much to do. You can find something to eat anytime, day or night. And there are so many people.”

She gripped the sleeve of his tunic .

“I love the noise. I love the smell of the concrete, the buildings, and even the terrible subway stations.”

Then she nodded at him.

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know what a subway is. It’s like a metal box that takes you very quickly from one place to another. And horses?”

She waved a hand, and would have rolled off the hay had he not caught her. It seemed he was always catching hold of her.

“We don’t have horses—well, we do, but they’re more for looks.

Some of the police ride them around the city, and you can take a carriage ride through Central Park.

But the general population doesn’t use them anymore.

We take cars, and cabs, and the subway, and trains, and planes.

” She widened her eyes. “Oh my goodness. I have to tell you about planes, going to the moon, and books and movies and coffee—beautiful, wonderful coffee.”

Ashley pursed her lips. “You’re not saying anything.”

Had she forgotten she had told him she was from America and then lied and said she was not? Would she remember having speech with him, telling him her secrets, when she woke?

He took her hand in his, surprised at how small it was, the skin soft and unmarked.

“I believe you, Ashley. I am a learned man. There is more to our world than what we can see and touch.”

“I’m so glad you believe me. I was worried I would find myself tied to a stake, or you’d try to have me exorcised or put away wherever you put crazy people in your time.”

Yet as she talked about her home and why she loved it so, he still did not tell her the truth about himself and what he knew about her.

When she paused, he asked, “Why don’t you have a husband?”

She let out a sigh. “I have a boyfriend. His name’s Ben. He’s a doctor for the Rangers. That’s a hockey team.” She made a swinging motion with her arms. And went into an explanation he tried to understand, to no avail .

“So that’s hockey, and the fight in the inn kind of reminded me of what happens at a hockey game, sometimes.

Anyway.” She waved a hand around again. “We’re both really busy.

He travels with the team and is always working with one of the players, and I work so many hours.

Sometimes we only see each other for an hour out of the week. But it’s convenient.”

This woman from the future had built high walls of stone deep within her heart, guarded by fierce knights. ’Twas only when she drank to excess that she threw open the gates.

“It’s convenient, you see. What we have together isn’t love. Love is really hard. And relationships are a lot of work. I’m not very good at them. Are you married?”

“Nay, I am not married, though I would like to be. I don’t know if marriage is hard. It doesn’t seem so for my brothers.”

Ashley put her hands on his chest and didn’t say anything. The way she was looking at him—it was the way he’d always wanted a woman to see him, the way his brothers and their wives looked at each other, full of love.

“I want to kiss you.”

She leaned forward then suddenly sat back, clutching her stomach. And before he knew what had happened, she had thrown up all over his boots.

As she swooned, he caught her, laying her gently down in the hay. Satisfied she was asleep, he went outside to wash. He had not behaved honorably. He wanted to kiss her. Make her his. In the time they had been traveling together, he had come to care for her.

Nay, he was betrothed. He must aid Ashley and send her back to her own time and to Ben. Though the thought of another man kissing her… Nay, she said she did not wish to stay in his time. She would not be happy here with him. So he would let her go.

’Twas not proper to sleep next to her, but she was shivering, so he pulled the cloak over them and held her close, feeling her curves as the smell of ale and the faint scent of roses lingered in her hair.

She looked beautiful in the wrinkled, muddied gown with a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

He wiped it off with his thumb as she curled up next to him mumbling in her sleep.

When she was gone, he would not forget her.

He would think of her and wish her happiness, even as the loneness crept back inside his heart.

Ashley woke to the worst hangover she’d had in her life. The sensation of someone watching her made her slowly crack one eye open. Christian leaned against the wall.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t normally drink much, and I certainly don’t act like a crazy person.” She pointed to his nose. “Is it broken?”

“Nay, ’tis nothing. How is your head?”

“Full of stuffing. Did I drink all the ale in the tavern?” She narrowed her eyes. “You look like you feel fine.”

“I did not drink as much as you. You had a great deal to say.”

What had she told him? It was all a big fat blank.

“I don’t really remember what we talked about. Did I say anything…odd?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Nay, you did not. I can hear you are hungry from here. Shall we break our fast?”

Why had he hesitated? Was he being tactful, or had she told him she was from the future? No, if she had, there was no way he’d be acting like everything was fine. A memory flashed and she cringed. Had she tried to kiss him?

She looked up at him through her lashes.

He wasn’t acting weird. No way was she ever drinking that much again.

Three years of college and she’d never gotten up on a table to sing in front of a crowd.

And it ended up being for nothing, because they’d had to sleep in the stables anyway.

Wait. The brawl was her fault. That horrible man had made the lewdest suggestion, and she’d slapped him. Then all hell had broken loose.

There’d been one time when she was out with Ben and the team, celebrating a win, and she’d had too much to drink, but this…this was ten times worse. As much as the thought disgusted her, she knew the guys on the team swore by having a small drink with breakfast to get over a hangover.

What she wouldn’t give for some Lindsay Stirling playing softly in the background while she popped a few aspirin and slept the day away.

Inside the tavern, the debris had been cleared away, leaving two tables and chairs.

She cringed. They’d be lucky if they were given a piece of moldy bread after the damaged they’d caused.

Stupid guy. Guess it didn’t matter what time she was in—jerks were jerks throughout history.

She couldn’t hold the smile in—the memory of Christian popping that guy in the nose, defending her honor. Medieval men. She sighed. Too bad she couldn’t remember what they’d talked about last night. Oh well, it couldn’t have been too important, or he would have said something.