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

Careful not to bang into anyone with her carry-on, the sight of slicked-back blond hair had Ashley searching for a way to cross the aisle to avoid him .

“Tell me you’re not stuck in the back with the other cows?”

Nope. Too late.

“Of course you upgraded to first. I’m in business.”

Mitch looked like he’d gotten a good whiff of garbage on a hot summer day.

“Bad enough. Listen, Ash, I’ve already taken care of renting a car, so you can catch a ride with me when we land.

We’ll need to get checked in at the hotel and changed for the costume party.

It’s a bit of a drive out to the country.

Some moldy old estate; probably reeks of dust and old rugs. We’re to arrive dressed.”

“What do you mean a costume party?” Her fingers and toes went numb. “You said it was a cocktail party. What kind of costume party?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? Guess Harry didn’t tell you.

It’s a medieval costume party. Havers loves the era, and we’re to arrive dressed.

” He looked her up and down. “My assistant called ahead to let them know we’re running late, but assured them we’d make it to the party by the end of cocktails at the latest. I don’t know why we couldn’t get dressed there, since we’re staying overnight.

I hear our new boss is brilliant with numbers but crazy—oh, excuse me, eccentric. ”

She pressed her lips together, rolling her shoulders to ease the knots. Now she knew why he’d offered to share his car: he’d sabotage her, make sure she didn’t have a costume, and put himself one step closer to winning. Payback’s a bitch, Mitch.

“No, Harry didn’t tell me. Appreciate the offer, but I’ll grab a cab, since now I need to find a costume.”

“Good luck.” He glanced at his watch. “We won’t land until one, and it’s at least a two-hour drive to the estate, so by my estimation, you’ll have a max of three hours to find a dress and change in order to leave on time…

and we all know how important it is for you to be on time.

I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you come up with, and don’t worry, I’ll let Havers know you’re running late. ”

He flicked a glance behind her. “Better move on. You’re holding up the line.”

“See you there.” Ashley gritted her teeth and smiled so she wouldn’t smack him and get thrown off the plane. The suitcase banged into his seat, and he yelped as the drink splattered on his sleeve. Served him right.

“Cardiff, Wales. What do you mean we’re landing in Wales?”

The man seated next to her shrugged at the announcement from the cockpit. Ashley felt the hysteria rising, threatening to spill over and make her run screaming down the aisle.

A severe storm had shut down Heathrow, diverting them to Wales, where there was another storm, but apparently not so bad they couldn’t land.

It was supposed to clear in a few hours.

The Wi-Fi on the plane didn’t work, some kind of mechanical issue, so she had to wait until she landed to search out a dress for tonight.

By the number of people making use of the little bags behind their seats and the stench filling the cabin, she should have known there would be a problem. Only an iron will had kept her from barfing along with most of the passengers as the turbulence grew worse.

The man next to her closed his eyes, gripping the armrest, his lips moving over and over. Finally the announcement came they were landing. The passengers couldn’t get off the smelly plane fast enough. Stale air, vomit, and peanuts—it was revolting.

After she cleared customs, Ashley tried to call Mitch.

It was time to put her dislike of him aside.

They could ride together, and she’d call shops on the way for a costume to wear to the party.

London would have lots of shops with dresses, right?

Surely an hour would be enough time to find a dress?

She’d wear it out of the store and make it in time for dinner.

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the rental counter, and definitely not answering his phone.

She spoke to the woman behind the rental counter.

“Wait, you don’t have any cars? I’ll take anything, except a motorcycle. Don’t know how to ride one of those.” When she leaned on the counter, her palms encountered something sticky. Gross. She rummaged in her bag for a tissue and discreetly wiped down the area.

The sound of the woman’s fingers on the keyboard were like tapping against a window. Each time she typed, Ashley swore she smelled apples. Was it hand lotion?

“No, I’m terribly sorry. With the storm and the additional passengers from London, we’ve had everyone wanting a car today.”

She tried Mitch again. No answer. Why did she have the feeling he’d done this on purpose?

He must be laughing, knowing she would be stuck in Wales while he drove to London, probably had his assistant book the car as soon as they touched down while she’d been too busy thinking about the damn dress.

By the time she arrived, Mitch would have already kissed up to Mr. Havers and would be the one taking home the promotion.

She’d be the one packing up the sad little cardboard box while her coworkers whispered and wore sad fake smiles on their faces.

No. This was not happening. She’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much to give up now. A pit stop in the ladies’ room where she touched up her makeup and put her hair up in a ponytail, and Ashley was ready to do battle.

Though an hour later she was forced to concede defeat.

There was a problem with the train: it was delayed until late afternoon.

The cabs and limos were gone, already spoken for, and she hadn’t had any luck getting a boat, either.

The man on the phone thought she was joking when she asked about helicopters, and hung up on her.

As she slumped in a chair, drinking a bottle of sparkling water, the smell of pine needles made her nose itch.

“Heard you need a ride to London.”

The guy was dressed in jeans and a sweater with his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He gestured to the door. “My mum works for the rental company. Said I was to find the nice American and see if she wanted the car that just came in.”

The water shot out of the bottle as she squeezed it hard. “Oops. Yes, I want the car. Thank you, you’ve saved my job.”

“Don’t know about all that. Come along before there’s a stampede.” He looked back at her. “She said you were the only one who didn’t yell at her.”

“Why would I? It’s not her fault the sky is falling. Unless she’s Mother Nature and she works at a rental car company in an airport for fun.”

The guy pretended to think about it. “Some days I think she could be Mother Nature. When she’s mad, I take myself off to the pub until she calms down a bit.”

“I’m sure that makes her happy. ”

The guy left her at the counter, and after filling out the forms, she was in possession of the last rental car in all of Wales, for all she knew.

Let Mitch think he’d won. On the way, she’d call the hotel and have them hold her room, then she’d call costume shops, and once she arrived in London, she’d skip the hotel, go straight to the shop, wear the dress out, and drive as fast as she could out to the country estate of Mr. Havers.

It was a little after two now, with the three and a half hours there, a half-hour at the shop, and two to the estate… She’d never make it. That would put her there at eight tonight if nothing went wrong and she floored it all the way.

She sat in the car, adjusting the mirrors, and made the call. “Dot, it’s Ashley?—”

“I heard you had to land in Wales. How’s the weather?”

She tapped her foot. “Listen, I need Mr. Havers’ number. I’m running late.”

There was silence. “You’re running late? Is the world ending?”

“Funny, Dot. The number.”

She waited until her assistant came back on the line with the number.

“Thank you. Could you call shops between Wales and the estate, as well as London, and see if you can find me a medieval dress? Maybe I can make the after-dinner drinks.”

“Okay, that’s a lot of calls, but I’ll see what I can find online first. Dinner isn’t until eight—Mr. Havers eats late—so as long as you arrive by ten or eleven at the very latest, I think you’ll be fine.”

Ashley hung up and dialed the estate, where she spoke to the butler or somebody who said they would inform her new boss. He was aware of the weather and understood. Flexing her hand to get the blood flowing again, she punched the air. “Yes!”

With a cushion of a couple of hours, she’d make it no problem. Impressed by her charm and good looks, Mr. Havers would offer her the promotion on the spot, and Mitch would be the one walking briskly out of the building, carrying the pathetic box .

A horn honked and she waved. “Sorry. American here. Not used to driving on the left.”

Okay, so the guy couldn’t hear her, but it made her feel better to say something.

For the next hour, she paid attention to the road and focused on staying on the left.

Before she left for the trip, Dot had asked her about driving on the left, couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t drive on the right.

Ashley had dredged up some obscure bit of knowledge and told her it was because America was such a young country compared to Europe.

Her assistant was sweet but not that bright, and blinked at her.

“What do you mean?”

“In the past, in a feudal and violent society, pretty much everybody traveled on the left because it was sensible. Think about it. Most people were right-handed, and swordsmen preferred to keep to the left so their right arm was closer to an opponent and their sword.” And that was the extent of her medieval knowledge.

Not like she needed to know anything else; she worked in finance, not at a museum or historic site.

Always forward, never back. That was her mantra.

The girl had nodded. “So we drive on the right because we never cared about all that silly stuff.”