Page 26 of Last Knight (Knights Through Time #7)

As much as Ashley wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, she craned her neck to see as the carriage door opened.

The horses were all black, and the carriage had curtains covering the windows.

It looked like it would probably be a bumpy ride, but it certainly would’ve been better than being on horseback for weeks on end.

Why couldn’t Christian have been traveling in a carriage when she met him?

It would’ve made their journey from Wales so much easier, and maybe they wouldn’t have been robbed.

Come to think of it, he always had guards around him, but he was traveling alone.

As a merchant she didn’t question it, but as a rich noble? Why?

An older woman stepped out first, dressed simply, probably the chaperone.

The two men who had been driving the horses unpacked the luggage, and Ashley wanted to laugh.

It looked like the girl packed more than Marsha packed, and that was saying something.

Marsha would show up for a weekend trip with six or eight bags, while Ashley had one bag and one tote.

There had been a lot of speculation around the castle—she’d heard the girl wasn’t a noble, but came from a family that Ashley would have called solid middle to upper-middle class. The father was a merchant who had made a deathbed promise to his wife to make a good match for their daughter.

The lack of sound had her turning to see everyone avidly watching to see what the girl looked like. Christian’s steward, whom Ashley called the weasel, scurried forward to greet the women. Which guard would he assign to his future wife? Quinn cleared his throat.

“What?”

He grinned. “She’s not as comely as you, lady.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

His face turned serious. “Nay, I suppose it does not. ’Tis a shame. I rather thought Lord Winterforth would plight his troth to you.”

“Go play with your sword or something,” she grumbled at him.

Because really, her guard was just being loyal.

The girl was breathtaking, with pale skin, an oval face, and a high forehead.

Her hair was so blond it was almost white, making her gray-blue eyes look almost silver.

She looked like a painting in a museum. For the first time in her life, Ashley felt like the frumpy middle-aged housewife who had let herself go and was now confronted with the mean girl from high school at their reunion who, of course, still looked perfect.

Christian bowed, and the girl nodded, but Ashley couldn’t hear what they were saying from here. No matter; she’d seen enough. It was either go home or find a job here—well, not here as in Winterforth, but here as in the past.

There was only one place to go, a place in a million years she’d never dreamed she’d long for.

The stables. The atmosphere there was meditative.

Brushing the horses, talking to them. They listened and didn’t talk back.

The whole place calmed her. What did it say that she no longer thought the horses stank, and had come to like the smell of the stable and the horses? Talk about a change .

One of the boys greeted her, handing her a brush without a word. They’d come to know her routine over the past week or so.

The boys went about their chores, and during her days here, she’d noticed they tended to find time to sneak away and do heaven knew what.

Not that she cared; she was glad for the privacy.

As she brushed the old horse who had brought her to Winterforth, the one she had secretly started to call hers, she talked to him.

“Guess what I brought you today?”

The horse twitched an ear.

“That’s right, I snatched a carrot. But don’t tell the others. They’ll be jealous.”

The horse munched the carrot, and Ashley heard a noise.

It sounded like her stomach, but her stomach wasn’t growling.

She whirled around but didn’t see anyone in the stables, so she chalked it up to coming from one of the horses.

It was warm and cozy in here with the horses, insulated from him and the decisions she needed to make.

As she brushed the horse, she kept looking at the other stalls.

Something was different. Then, in the empty stall next to hers, she saw the hay move.

She tiptoed over, brave with the knowledge Quinn was only a scream away, and kicked at the pile of hay. A boy popped out, making her shriek.

Quinn appeared, sword drawn.

“Sorry, he scared me.”

Her guard scowled at the boy. “Do not scare our lady.”

The boy gulped. Ashley could feel him trembling as she held on to his arm.

“Thank you, Quinn. You can go back to whatever you were doing.”

“Guarding you, lady.” He winked and sauntered out of the stables.

She waited a few minutes before she let go of the boy and knelt down to look at him .

“You scared me and you frightened the horses. What are you doing hiding in here?”

The boy was dressed in rags. His hose had holes in the knees, while his tunic was too tight and showed a strip of skin at his belly. He wiggled, revealing bruises along his side, making her sick to her stomach. One of the marks looked like a handprint.

“I didn’t steal nothing.” The boy spat. “Let me go.”

“How old are you?”

His eyes downcast, he shuffled his feet. “Six.”

“Now tell me, how did you come to be here?”

“My parents left me in the woods for the fairies. I’m cursed.” Bravado gone, a tear streaked down his dirty face, leaving a clean track of skin in the dirt. Brown eyes met hers, and deep within, something shifted inside her.

The boy pulled his hose down a few inches so she could see his hip. There was a large birthmark that almost looked like a flower.

“Why are you showing me your birthmark?”

“The mark of the devil, lady. I am cursed. The priest said so.”

She took a handkerchief from her sleeve, dipped it in the water from the horses’ bucket, and scrubbed the boy’s face until it was pink and clean.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are not cursed. Your parents were wrong to do what they did.”

He was watching her seriously, but skeptically as well.

“I want to show you something.”

With a glance around to make sure they were unobserved, Ashley pulled her skirts up to her knee, rolled her stocking down, and turned around.

She pointed. “It’s not a curse. It’s how you were born. Many people have them.” She dropped her skirts and turned to face the boy. “Do I look cursed to you?”

“Nay, lady.” He looked thoughtful. “Ladies shouldn’t show their legs. ”

Ashley grinned. “No, they shouldn’t. But we’ll keep it a secret between us, shall we?”

The boy nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Merrick.”

“I’m Mistress Ashley. How did you find your way to Winterforth?”

His stomach growled again. “I walked for a fortnight.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that something about his acceptance of his situation broke her heart.

“Come along; let’s get you something to eat, and then you can come back and help me finish brushing the horse.”

He followed her into the kitchens, keeping close. The cook glanced at her and frowned.

“Mrs. Smith, I found Merrick in the stables. Looks like he could use a meal and a bath.”

The boy protested.

“The cost of your meal is a bath.”

He slumped, but nodded.

Mrs. Smith clapped her hands together, nodding at Ashley over his head. She had seen the cook saving scraps for the poor, knew she had a soft spot for the lost ones, as she called them.

“We will take care of him, lady.”

The boy grabbed hold of Ashley’s skirts, brown eyes beseeching. “Don’t leave me here, mistress.”

Ashley knelt. “I’m going to find Lord Winterforth and tell him you’re here.” Seeing his terrified look, she clarified: “Don’t worry—you are under my protection, and he will allow you to stay.”

She brushed a curl back from his face. “Do what Mrs. Smith tells you and don’t make a fuss when they give you a bath. You are rather smelly. I think the horses smell better than you.”

He gave her a tiny smile. It was enough.

Ashley whispered, “I bet if you’re good, Mrs. Smith will find something sweet for you to eat after dinner. ”

She met the gaze of the cook, who nodded, wiping her eye.

“One of the girls will come and fetch me when you’re nice and clean. Then I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

The boy didn’t speak, he simply nodded and watched her go, the look on his face one of utter desolation. It took everything Ashley had not to run back and pull him close, hold him tight, tell him she would protect him always. Never let anything happen to him and that he would never be alone again.

She was furious his parents would leave him, even though she knew how strong superstitions in this time were, and when she looked at it from their point of view, she could almost understand. She would keep him safe and tell him how to hide his birthmark.

It was early afternoon, so Christian was probably in his solar with the rodent steward, going over the books.

As she raised her hand to knock, she heard low voices.

There was something about the tone that made her pull her hand back.

Christian’s guards were nowhere to be seen, but Ulrich was always close, so she likely only had minutes until he came back.

Knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop if she didn’t want to take a chance on hearing something she didn’t like, she put her ear to the door anyway.

“You must send her away, my lord. She is a temptress. You are to be wed. ’Tis not right to have your mistress under the same roof as your wife.”

His mistress? Was that what people thought of her?

Feeling sick, Ashley left without telling Christian about Merrick.

She’d overstayed her welcome, and there was no way she wanted people gossiping about Christian.

He’d had enough awful things said about him.

As for her? What did she care what they thought? She sniffed and turned away.