Page 2 of Last Knight (Knights Through Time #7)

Christian Thornton, Lord Winterforth, had spent the entire journey thinking on his betrothed.

’Twas past time for him to do his duty. Marry.

Have children to carry on the title and Thornton name.

In the three weeks since he left his home at Winterforth and rode through the gates at Ravenskirk, not once had he wondered if he might come to love his bride to be.

Duty first. Always. Let his brothers marry for love; recent events had shown him love was not to be.

After losing several prospective brides, he and his brothers—well, in truth, Charlotte and Melinda—had taken matters in hand, declaring he would marry at Ravenskirk.

Charlotte had muttered about placing extra guards on duty or tying the girl to a chair until the deed was done.

Christian had tried not to take offense.

Henry’s wife was due to give birth any day, and her temper made even the fiercest of his brother’s guard flinch under her sharp tongue.

Though as he looked at his brother’s home, he noticed differences between Ravenskirk and Winterforth.

The new tapestries on the walls, cushions on the chairs, and the clean floors.

He had never worried about the state of his hall.

But now he was to be married, his wife would want changes.

Women desired their homes to look and smell lovely.

As he was thinking about the changes she might desire to undertake, and how much gold it would cost, a voice startled him.

“You look as if you’re off to the gallows this fine morn instead of meeting your intended.” Edward cuffed him on the shoulder. “She is a good lass from a wealthy family. Look happy, or she may think you do not wish to wed her.”

“If she is so delightful, why does she not run away like the others?”

“Hush, whelp.” Christian’s eldest brother leaned in close, trying to whisper. “Her dam has been ill and not heard the rumors. With a bit of extra gold, her sire was willing to ignore the foolishness of womanly gossip.”

Edward scratched his nose. “He is eager to wed into one of the richest families in the realm.” Then he smirked. “Best lock up the larder. His lady will eat everything, and you’ll have nothing left to survive the winter.”

If a wedding was to be a happy celebration, why did Christian wish to run home and draw up the bridge? Forget about duty and responsibility and find a girl who wanted the man, not the name or the gold. But he was a Thornton, so he would do what needs be done.

“When the girl hears what is being said about me, she will cry off like the others.” Christian kicked at the dirt as he watched Henry train in the lists.

John joined them, wiping his brow. “Her sire will see the deed done. Now go inside and make yourself ready. You are to be married, and I for one am looking forward to seeing the last of the Thorntons wed.”

“’Tis long past time. Even I wed whilst you’ve been dithering about.” Robert swaggered up to them, grinning. “If I could marry, certainly you can find one bride in the realm to have you. Though you are puny, and not as handsome as I.”

Christian narrowed his eyes. “If this one flees…”

“She will not,” James said as he poured a bucket of water over his chest, the steam rising from his skin. “For if she does, Melinda has sworn to hunt her down and drag the girl back by her hair.”

“Not if Lucy gets there first.” William rocked back on his heels. “Marry the girl, get her with child, and put these ridiculous rumors to rest. Nothing more than idle gossip.”

“From a powerful widow who crushes men beneath her pretty toes for sport. What was I thinking to bed her?”

“I’ve seen her. You likely weren’t thinking clearly.” Robert leered at Christian.

Christian cared for his family. A great deal.

But at this moment the meddling bunch made him want to renounce them all and join the monastery.

Did they allow the monks to ignore their prayers and spend their days fighting, hunting, and riding?

Most likely not. Stretching to his full height, he decided.

Once married, he would get his new wife with child and the rumors would fade away. A Thornton always fulfilled his duty.

“Shouldn’t I at least speak to the girl afore we wed this day?”

A chorus of “nays” met his ears.

“Is she a terrible shrew? Or so ugly you needs keep her hidden?”

“Dolt.” Edward sent him sprawling in the dirt.

Rolling to his feet, Christian came up swinging.

James called out encouragement as Christian caught Edward in the face.

Yet his brother merely grunted and tossed him into the water trough.

Spluttering, he glared but failed to look fearsome as he caught sight of the blood running from Edward’s nose and laughed.

For a moment, he wished he had been born an only child.

It was only later he realized his brothers had never answered him as to his bride’s visage.

Christian looked to his brothers, standing tall at the front of the chapel, dressed resplendently.

The women had servants scurrying to do their bidding all day, covering the chapel in so much greenery he was surprised the trees were not all bare.

The overwhelming smell of juniper made him sneeze.

They had insisted his bride would wish the chapel to be pleasing.

Women. Let them have their womanly things.

He shifted from foot to foot, wondering what was taking so long. His intended’s dam was arguing with her husband as Christian strained to listen. The man grew red in the face, the discord causing Christian to pray he would not be ill all over his new tunic and boots.

The door opened with a bang, interrupting his thoughts, as he watched Melinda stomping toward him, followed by her sisters. Jennifer, Elizabeth and Anna trailed behind them and his stomach revolted.

It seemed everyone was in attendance except his bride to be.

The women looked like a flock of birds, dressed in their finery; too bad the scowls on their faces took away from their loveliness.

He risked a gaze at his brothers, and what he saw had him touching the blade at his side.

Before James reached Melinda, she poked the man in the chest. Seemed he would not be Christian’s father-in-law after all.

“Your wretched daughter has run off with one of the stable boys.”

The girl’s mother sidled away, but was stopped by Lucy brandishing one of the wooden sticks she used to make scarves.

As Christian looked more closely, he saw a piece of yarn hanging from her skirts, hidden away in one of the pockets she and her sisters insisted in putting in every garment.

When he’d asked, they blushed and said they didn’t think such a small thing would have a very large impact on history—at least, they hoped not.

Charlotte had laughed, saying she hoped whoever invented pockets would still invent them, but Melinda chimed in and said, “Perhaps he got the idea from us, and isn’t that something to make you think? ”

Christian did not think overmuch on future doings. He preferred to believe the women came from a faraway land, but not from the future. Thinking of the future made his head ache. His attention was pulled back to Melinda as she took the runaway bride’s mother by the arm.

“Don’t even think about sneaking out of here, lady.”

Then the bellowing began. Not by him. Deep down he’d expected the girl to bolt. Whilst his family roared and made threats, Christian strode out of the chapel, stopping in the kitchens to pilfer some of Henry’s best wine, then made for the stables, where he saddled a horse and rode out of the gates.

After the third one had run, Christian quit counting how many brides he had lost. Was this the fifth?

Mayhap he should visit the abbey on his ride.

In all his score and four years, he’d never raised a hand to a woman.

Today he thought on the widow responsible for his current state of affairs, and his fingers twitched next to his blade as he remembered the embarrassment of confessing his shame to Edward.

“All because of one night.” Christian leaned closer to Edward. “At court last year, a wealthy widow took me to her bed.” He snorted. “The lasses always flock to my bed, and I had heard she did not want to marry only to enjoy the bed sport, so I eagerly followed her to her chamber.”

Edward tapped his foot, trying to hide his impatience.

“I was deep in my cups and I… Bloody hell. I fell asleep. The next morn, she told all I suffered grave injury as a boy and could not have babes.” He threw up his hands and paced.

“None will have me. Each lass finds a reason why she cannot marry me, or their sires agree to the betrothal and the girl runs away. They would rather be beaten than face a life without children. I will die alone.”

“You are Lord Winterforth,” Edward said. “Not as handsome as I, and your swordplay is lacking, but you are a Thornton, and any would give much to ally with us. Marry a girl and put a babe in her belly that will end the rumors.”

“Nay, Edward. The last one ran away to France to marry a baker rather than face me at the altar. I am doomed to loneliness.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Then put a babe in one of the serving wenches’ bellies, give her a few coins, and stop this nonsense being spouted amongst the eligible maidens of the realm.” Edward threw up his hands. “Hell, marry a foreign lass.”

Christian was horrified. “I will have an English bride, and I cannot put a babe in a woman’s belly on purpose. Father taught us to cherish all women. Not to ill-use them. A babe would be my responsibility. What do I know of raising a babe? ’Tis women’s work.” His shoulders slumped. “I cannot.”

“Ask Charlotte or Anna. All of the women in our family enjoy meddling. Surely they can find you a wife who will not bolt before you have bedded her.”

“And you? Why, then, have you not married, if ’tis so simple any dolt can do it?”

“I have been visiting eligible maidens, and soon I will choose one to become the lady of Somerforth.”

Christian raised a brow.

“Harrumph. None have suited me thus far. All of them are much too biddable.”

“I would gladly have a meek and quiet wife. One who will leave me to hunt.”

Edward cuffed Christian. “Dolt. Do not let Melinda hear you say such, or she will swear to find you a shrew to plague you the rest of your days.”

“You want a future girl? Now who is daft? There are none to be had. ’Tis not possible.”

Done with thinking about the past, he urged his horse to a gallop.

Christian rode until the dark mood dissipated.

In a clearing, he came upon an abandoned hut.

’Twas gloomy and dusty inside, and he had to shoo away the vermin who had made their homes in the hovel.

He would spend the afternoon wallowing. Robert said it did wonders, though now he was married, he no longer wallowed.

Elizabeth did not hold with feeling sorry for oneself.

Christian held the wine up. “At least you never desert me.” The horse shook his head and went back to grazing at the grass growing through the window where the wall had fallen down.

All of the Thornton men were considered handsome.

Some of the most handsome men in the realm.

While he did not consider himself vain, Christian knew his visage was pleasing.

Women remarked on the color of his hair, saying it was like the sun shining on gold.

They praised his eyes, saying they were as blue as the sea, and his teeth straight and white as snow.

But today he felt as deformed and hideous as a troll living under a bridge from the old tales.

Was his temperament foul? Did he bellow overmuch? He did not think it so, but mayhap he should ask Lucy. Or perhaps Charlotte. She was more tactful in her replies.

Christian leaned back against a heap of rags, coughing as dust filled the room. He would drink and forget. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. After all, it likely couldn’t get any worse, could it?