Lonely is the Knight (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 3) (5 page)

The healer insisted Henry leave her at a house in the village.

“I will visit with another healer and see you again.”

He helped her off the horse. “As you wish.” If he believed in otherworldly things, which he most certainly did not, Henry would have been awestruck by her power. Instead he was simply being chivalrous.

He threw the reins of his horse to a waiting boy. “Take good care of him.” Henry flipped the boy a coin.

The child bit the coin and grinned. “Thank ye, my lord.”

He entered the inn. It was hot and smelly.
 

“Henry, over here.” Antoine leaned back against the wall with a wench on either side of him. He was playing cards with three other men.

He knew Antoine from the times he’d visited court. Sir Antoine would never think of others first. But as Antoine’s home was on the way to Ravenskirk, Henry had been obliged to stop there.

Another wench brought him ale. “My lord. Is there anything else you require?” She leaned down to display her considerable wares. While Henry loved the company of women, he left wenches to his knights.

“Care to lose a bit of your gold, Lord Ravenskirk?”

While Henry enjoyed competing in tourneys, he did not care overmuch for cards. Counting all those numbers made his head ache.

“Not tonight. I needs see to the men and horses.”

He made his way out of the smoke-filled inn, to the stables. “Have you eaten, Adam?”

The boy had come to him by way of his brother Edward. He would serve as squire to Henry.

“Yes, my lord. I saw to the horses first.”

“Sleep out here tonight. I don’t like the looks of the men inside.”

The boy nodded. Restless, Henry stroked the neck of his favorite horse. A few of his men found their way into the inn to drink and wench.

It was growing dark as Henry made his way back inside. Antoine and the men he was playing cards with were deep in their cups.

“One hand, Henry. Come, it seems I am short of gold.”

Henry grimaced, but sat down to play one hand. Antoine threw the last of his coins onto the table, along with something else that glinted in the light.
 

“Where did you come by the trinket?”

He shrugged. “Payment for helping the healer. She was in here moments ago.”

Henry was aghast. “’Tis not chivalrous.”

“I care not.” Antoine drank the rest of his ale; a bit dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin, and onto his tunic. “The witch cursed me.”

“Do not jest.” Henry felt a chill go through the room. He looked around for enemies, catching the eye of his men. He saw them stiffen. He shook his head. He didn’t know what made him so nervous, only that he was. “In the woods earlier, did you throw her in the water?”

“Nay.” Though Antoine looked guilty. “She said I would pay for stealing from her. I should have her beaten.”

Henry spoke softly. “’Tis our duty to help those weaker than we. The healer is under my protection. You should not have demanded payment from her.”

Henry picked up the necklace. He didn’t know why, but something about it made him want to touch it. It was made of gold. With an emerald, a diamond, a sapphire, and a gold charm in the shape of a horse with a horn? No, ’twas a unicorn.

Antoine snatched it from his hand. “I need that to wager with, my friend.”

Henry took Antoine’s wrist and squeezed, making him gasp. “Let go.”

The arrogant idiot let go of the necklace. Henry took it as the others started to protest. He dropped a bag on the table, the heavy clink quelling their outrage. He opened it and withdrew several pieces of gold, much more than the necklace was worth.

“This will suffice.”

Everyone nodded. Satisfied, Henry tucked the necklace into the pouch at his waist. He could stand it no more—he strode out of the inn. He needed to walk. To clear his head before he started a fight. His brothers were always lecturing him on thinking first before acting.

As he paced around the building, one of his men ran out, shouting, “Lord Ravenskirk, come quickly.”

Henry sprinted inside. Antoine’s face turned from crimson to purple. Everyone watched, looks or horror upon their faces. The healer stood in front of the table, her long silver hair unbound, the purple cloak wrapped tightly around her.

He pounded Antoine on the back. It was too late—the man fell headfirst into his plate.

One of the men playing cards said, “He choked on a bone.”
 

Henry looked to the healer. She inclined her head to him and quietly made her way out of the inn. No one stopped her, though many crossed themselves as she passed. Had she truly cursed Antoine to die? No. Henry would not believe in curses. Antoine was a glutton. Anyone could choke on a bone and die.

The next morning, Henry and the men set out from the inn in a somber mood, most of the men still feeling the effects of the ale from the night before. After riding a few hours, they stopped alongside a stream.

Henry threw the reins to his squire. “I’m going to wash.”

He hadn’t had time that morning. Wanted nothing more than to be on his way home. He felt the urge to hurry. As he cupped water in his hands to drink, he heard a noise. Henry looked up to see the healer. She had a basket over her arm filled with green things.

He bowed. “Madam. My apologies.”

She cocked her head at him. “For what, Lord Ravenskirk?”

He opened the pouch at his waist and withdrew the necklace. “In the commotion last night, I failed to return this to you. I did not know Antoine demanded your necklace in payment for helping you. There was no payment required.”

He reached toward her to give her the necklace and found he could not let go. The piece clenched tightly in his fist. For a moment he hesitated. The healer watched him, a smile on her face, and shook her head.

“You will have need of it. Keep it close. For there is one who must have the necklace.”

She leaned down to pick watercress growing at the edge of the stream. “The necklace will find its way back to me on its own when it is no longer needed.”

Filled with relief, Henry tucked the necklace back into the pouch. He withdrew a handful of coins. “Take them.” She shook her head, and he said, “Please, madam. I am sure you know those who have need of my gold.”

She looked at him. Then she accepted the coins.

“May I escort you to wherever you’re going?”

“I am quite safe in the wood. And you must go home. Do not tarry.”

He wanted to ask her why, but there was something otherworldly going on, and Henry decided against it.
 

“You will make a good husband.” And with that remark, a shudder of fear ran through him. He had vowed never to marry. Never have a woman scolding him day and night. Filled with hatred whenever she looked upon his face. Henry turned and made his way back to the men.

“You enjoy now, miss.”

“Smells delicious.” Charlotte left the chip shop and made her way to a park across the street, where she found a bench and sat down to eat lunch. It was fun to people-watch. To make up stories of what they did for a living, who they loved, and their favorite place to travel.

The visit to the museum had ended up being a bust. No painting with anyone resembling Lucy. Nothing at all about either of her sisters. Realistically, she hadn’t expected to find anything. But she had to wonder. Melinda had been sure she’d seen the painting of Lucy. So what had happened to it? The only explanation Charlotte could come up with was that Melinda or Lucy had done something to change time, and now the painting no longer existed today.

Why hadn’t she gone with Melinda when she called? If she had, maybe they’d all be together. Then again, Charlotte was assuming her sisters ended up in the same time and place. How awful it would be to go back in time and be in the wrong year or country.

Her heart beat faster, sweat dripped down her back, and everything around her sounded muffled. Something was wrong. Was she suddenly allergic to the fish? She couldn’t breathe. Was she dying?

Time passed, and slowly her breathing returned to normal. The panic attacks had started when she was eighteen. Now she never knew what would trigger one.

Arriving back in London, spending time with the history buffs, and finalizing her affairs had made what she was about to attempt seem real. Charlotte noticed everything. The smell of exhaust from automobiles, the sounds of cars and trucks, the motion when riding the tube. People fascinated her. Seeing them hurrying to and fro, heads down and tapping away on their phones, even in restaurants.

She saw a family of four in a café. Mom, dad, and two kids. Everyone was on their phone, and there was silence at the table as they all typed away, oblivious to each other.
 

Then there was the overwhelming amount of choices. From the grocery store, to the bakery, and cheese shop. They could walk into the store and buy fruit and vegetables all year round, out of season.

Heck, most of the people she knew didn’t even have to worry about where their next meal would come from. It didn’t matter if it was winter; you simply went to the store. While rationally Charlotte knew things were going to be very different in the past, she was having a hard time wrapping her head around it.

She stood, threw the wrapper in the trash, and started wandering. There were a bunch of shops on the other side of the park and, according to her guidebook, several antique shops. She turned the corner and tripped over an uneven cobblestone as she heard the music. That haunting melody.

“I know that song.” Icy fingers stroked the back of her neck. Up ahead at the corner, she saw a man wearing a blue tunic and hose. He was playing the pipes. The man nodded to her, beckoning her forward. No one else seemed to notice him.

“I’m glad we had a family full of eccentric women or I might think I was hallucinating,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. As she reached the corner, the piper vanished. Where to start? Charlotte slowly turned in a circle. There was a dusty-looking shop on one corner and a coin shop across the street. Perfect—she’d start with the money.
 

“Afternoon. Help ye, miss?”

Charlotte looked at the cases. There were so many different types of coins. How would she ever decide?

“I hope so.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. “My grandfather loves old coins. And since it’s his ninetieth birthday, I wanted to do something extra special. I’m interested in purchasing coins from medieval England, specifically from the early to mid-1300s.”

The man wrinkled his brow, then his face brightened. “Have just the thing, I do. Back in a jiffy.”

The man stepped behind the curtain, and Charlotte could hear cabinets opening and closing, the sound of boxes sliding around, and the tinkling of coins. The man pushed through the curtain, dust on his dark brown vest, his gray hair sticking out on the sides. “These will do quite nicely, I think.” He set down a battered black leather case in front of her, opened it, and pulled out five trays.

“I must admit, I don’t know a lot about coins, so I’ll need to rely on your expertise.”
 

“Did you have an amount in mind to spend?”

Charlotte opened her messenger bag and rifled through the contents. She came out with a small bag, which she opened, and placed a wad of cash on the counter.

“Ten thousand pounds.” She knew it was a lot, but she wanted to be prepared. Who knew what she might run into? And it wasn’t like she had kids or anyone to leave the money to. Jake was getting the house and the contents of her checking account, so the rest was hers to use. Oh, how Aunt Pittypat would have loved this adventure. She’d already bought eight thousand in gemstones. They were hidden in the lining of her messenger bag.

The man’s brows went up, one of them twitching as if it were a caterpillar crawling across his face. He rubbed his hands together and grinned.

“Your grandfather is a lucky man to have such a generous granddaughter. We can do quite well with that amount.”

The coin dealer sorted through the coins, setting some aside, mumbling to himself. Charlotte had a feeling it was going to take a while, so she wandered around the shop, stopping to look at whatever caught her eye. It was obvious the man loved what he did, had a love of history.