Page 41

O ne Year Later

Golden afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees, casting dappled patterns across Beth’s journal.

She sat beneath the ancient oak that had become her favorite retreat, her back against its rough bark, knees drawn up to support the leather-bound book Eleanor had gifted her at Michaelmas as she looked out over the lake.

The pages no longer held the frantic scribbles of a woman desperate to return to her own time, but rather the measured hand of someone who had found her place.

She dipped her quill into the small pot of ink balanced precariously on a flat rock beside her.

The breeze ruffled the pages, and she pressed them flat with her free hand, the emerald ring on her finger catching the light.

Queen Elizabeth’s gift. A reminder of a life that now seemed both yesterday and a lifetime ago.

“The seasons have turned completely since I first arrived at Glenhaven,” she wrote, her script flowing more confidently than it had a year ago.

“The leaves are beginning to flame into copper and gold once more, and I find myself marking time differently now. Not by classes and semesters, but by the rhythm of the castle, the cycles of planting and harvest, the festivals that punctuate our days.”

She paused, watching a pair of swallows dart overhead. In the distance, the lake shimmered like hammered silver.

“I still dream of my laboratory sometimes,” she continued.

“Of plastic beakers and electric lights, of my parents’ voices.

But I wake to Baldwin’s arms around me, to Eleanor’s laughter echoing down the corridor, to Maggie’s bread baking in the kitchen, and I know I am where I belong.

The cost of my past is measured equally against the richness of my present.

I have lost time, but gained love. I have lost certainty, but discovered faith in myself and my heart. ”

Beth closed the journal, tying its leather cord with fingers that bore the calluses of a different life now, one marked by herb-gathering and occasional archery practice with Eleanor, who still insisted Beth learn to defend herself “properly.”

A shadow fell across her, and she looked up to find Baldwin watching her, his gray eyes warm with affection.

He had shed his formal attire after the morning’s business, and wore only a simple linen shirt and breeches.

His dark hair was tousled by the wind, and the severe lord she had first encountered had softened into a man who smiled more easily, who laughed with his household, who had learned to trust again.

“Writing your scientific discoveries, my lady?” he asked, lowering himself beside her with the fluid grace that still made her heart skip. “Or perhaps plotting some new experiment to terrify the stableboys?”

Beth nudged him with her shoulder. “That was one time, and the smoke was hardly noticeable.”

“The horses disagreed,” Baldwin said solemnly, though his mouth twitched. “As did Sir Roland, who still claims his eyebrows have never grown back properly.”

“Roland exaggerates,” Beth said, tucking her journal into the pocket of her gown. A compromise between medieval fashion and practicality that Eleanor’s seamstress had created at Beth’s insistence. “Besides, you were impressed when I showed you how the metal reacted to the acid.”

“I was impressed that the metal basin survived your ministrations.” Baldwin took her hand, his thumb tracing the curve of her palm. “Though I confess, I find your enthusiasm for discovery far more appealing than I once did.”

“You mean you no longer fear I’ll burn down Glenhaven in pursuit of scientific advancement?”

“Oh, I still fear it,” Baldwin said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “But I’ve accepted it as a small price to pay for keeping you.”

Beth leaned against him, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and cloves. “And how fared your meeting with the steward? Has the harvest been good?”

Baldwin nodded, his expression satisfied. “Better than expected. The new method you suggested for rotating the crops has yielded more than we hoped. The villagers are calling it a miracle.”

“Not a miracle,” Beth corrected. “Just science. Nitrogen fixation and soil regeneration.”

“Your ‘science’ sounds suspiciously like magic to most ears,” Baldwin said, his voice low and teasing. “Father Gregory still crosses himself when you speak of invisible creatures living in the soil.”

“Microorganisms,” Beth said primly. “And Father Gregory is more open-minded than you give him credit for. He’s been helping me translate some of the old Arabic texts on medicine.”

Baldwin’s arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. “I thank God daily that you chose to stay,” he murmured against her hair. “Even if your knowledge sometimes makes me feel like the village idiot.”

Beth turned to face him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You are the wisest man I know, Baldwin. You understand people in ways I never will. You see to the heart of matters, while I’m still puzzling over details.”

His gray eyes darkened. “I see to the heart of you, of the future. And find it matches mine, beat for beat.”

Before she could respond, the sound of laughter floated toward them.

Eleanor appeared on the garden path, her golden hair loose around her shoulders, her blue gown swirling around her ankles.

Beside her walked Sir William, the young knight who had caught her eye at court.

His face was alight with admiration as Eleanor gestured animatedly, describing something that had clearly amused her greatly.

Baldwin tensed slightly beside Beth, and she squeezed his hand. “She’s a woman grown,” she reminded him gently. “And Sir William is a good man.”

“He’s still a man,” Baldwin muttered, but relaxed as the couple approached.

“Brother! Beth!” Eleanor called, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “We’ve been seeking you everywhere. William has news from court.”

The young knight bowed, his earnest face breaking into a smile. “King Edward has granted me the lands at Thornfield,” he said.

“With a proper estate of my own, I can now—” He faltered, glancing at Eleanor, who nodded encouragingly. “That is, I wished to speak with you, my lord, about a matter of great importance.”

Baldwin rose, pulling Beth up beside him. “I suspect I know what matter you wish to discuss, Sir William.”

The knight straightened his shoulders. “I have come to ask for Lady Eleanor’s hand in marriage,” he said, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hands. “With your blessing, of course.”

Baldwin regarded him solemnly, and Beth felt a flicker of sympathy for the young man who stood so bravely before her husband’s scrutiny. Then Baldwin’s expression softened.

“And what says my sister to this proposal?” he asked, turning to Eleanor.

Eleanor stepped forward, her chin lifted in the familiar stubborn tilt that Beth had come to love. “I say yes,” she replied. “I would have William as my husband, brother. He values my mind as well as my beauty, and has promised I may continue my sword and archery practice, in private, of course.”

Beth bit back a smile at the alarm that flashed across Baldwin’s face.

“Is this true, Sir William?” Baldwin demanded. “You would allow such... unladylike pursuits?”

William nodded, his gaze steady. “Lady Eleanor’s spirit is what drew me to her, my lord. I would not cage a falcon merely to admire its plumage.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before Baldwin inclined his head. “Well spoken,” he said. “We shall discuss the details of the marriage contract in my solar tomorrow. For now, you may walk with my sister in the garden, within sight of the castle windows.”

Eleanor beamed, pressing a swift kiss to her brother’s cheek before taking William’s arm. “Come,” she said. “I wish to show you the roses I’ve been cultivating. They’re quite unlike any others in England.”

As they walked away, Beth heard William ask, “Are these the roses that reportedly change color with the phases of the moon?”

Eleanor’s laugh floated back to them. “Beth says it’s merely a reaction to the soil’s composition, but I prefer my explanation.”

Baldwin shook his head, but his eyes were fond as he watched his sister’s retreating form. “She’ll lead him a merry dance,” he said.

“And he’ll be happier for it,” Beth replied, leaning into his side. “Just as you’ve been happier since I stormed into your life and disrupted all your carefully ordered plans.”

Baldwin turned to her, his hands coming to rest at her waist. “Happier? Is that what you call this constant state of bewilderment and concern that you’ll disappear back to your own time?”

But there was no real worry in his voice, not anymore. Not since the night of the storm, when she had made her choice and stayed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Beth said softly. “This is my time now. My place.”

Baldwin’s arms tightened around her, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “Did you imagine a life like this?” he whispered. “When you were in your world of wonders, did you ever dream of castles and knights and a husband who still marvels at your strange ways?”

Beth closed her eyes, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against hers.

“I imagined many futures,” she said. “But never one so perfectly mine as this one.”

His kiss was gentle, a promise renewed with each passing day. When they parted, Beth looked up at Glenhaven Castle, its stones golden in the afternoon light. Home.

Hand in hand, they walked back toward the castle, where Maggie would be preparing the evening meal, where Father Gregory would be waiting to share his latest translation, where Roland would regale them with exaggerated tales of his latest hunting expedition.

The future, her past, stretched out behind her, a road untraveled. But ahead lay a life built on choice and love, on the certainty that some things transcended time itself.

And that was science even Beth couldn’t explain.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed Somewhere in Time. Next up is, The Scot Who Loved Me , where you’ll meet a geologist and a Jacobite spy. I hope you love it.