Forever Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 2) (12 page)

Elizabeth pushed the thought of plague away. Not acceptable. No way did she want to live through such a terrible time.

“Sorry, Mom, there’s no adventure or fun in the plague.”

Somehow she’d find a way back. Back to her own time. And running water, electricity, and Wi-Fi. When she got home, she’d find adventure, but without swords and men who thought to send up a warm cup of wine when it was cold outside.

Chaos filled the courtyard. No one was paying any attention to her as the guests tried to depart at the same time. Now was her chance. She picked up her skirts and ran. Made it all the way to the first portcullis before a knight caught her by the arm.

She kicked him in the shin, and when he hopped back, she broke free. Though she didn’t get very far before Rotten Robert caught her. For a moment she thought she’d barf when he slung her over his shoulder.

“I lost and you will go with him. Do not make me tie you up. From the moment you arrived, you have been nothing more than an annoyance. I beseech you, mistress. Do not cause me any more trouble.”

“I don’t care what year it is—you shouldn’t be able to sell another human being. It isn’t right. I don’t care if this is how things are in the past.”

She felt his body tense.

“What do you mean ‘the past’?” He spoke quietly, as if he knew how dangerous their conversation was. “Why does the year matter?”

Time to backpedal. “You know, you’re very archaic. I’ve seen more modern castles.”

“Nay, lady. Highworth is a marvel of its time.”

She snorted into his back. “Maybe if I fell through a rabbit hole.”

“Lady?”

“Never mind.”

Robert held her to him, almost gently. “I did not sell you; Radford won you fairly.” Then he paused before adding, “Circumstances change—do not forget that, Elizabeth.”

“Whatever.”

Then the moment they shared was gone and he dumped her to the ground at the feet of Radford.

“Get in the carriage, girl.”

Elizabeth rolled under the carriage, jumped up, and ran. She didn’t get very far before Thomas caught her. Leaning close, he whispered in her ear, “There is more at stake here, lady. Robert is not a wicked man. He is doing what he must to keep all of us safe. Even you.”
 

“I don’t care what’s going on. He can’t send me with that odious man. He’s mean. I can tell.”
 

“Trust me, lady. Robert is doing what he thinks will keep you from harm.”

She pulled free from his hold and walked back to the carriage. A man with greasy-looking brown hair stood in front of her. “Lord Radford says I am to put you in the carriage.”

“I can do it myself.”

The man leered at her. He threw her over his shoulder, copping a feel. She kicked and screamed, swearing at them all. What was with everyone treating her like a sack of corn? With a grunt, she landed at the feet of Mr. Frog. She was jolted across the floor as the carriage lurched forward.

No matter what, she would find a way to escape. There had to be one kind person in this awful place. If she did find a willing soul, what would she say? The only thing she was sure of was that Highworth was critical to her getting back to her own time. So let Froggy take her to his home; she’d find her way back to Robert’s. And Mr. I Know What’s Best For You could stuff it.

She might as well try to make the best of the situation until she could figure out a plan. Find the fun and all that bullshit.

“Isn’t your name Paul? It seems silly to call you Lord Radford.”

He sputtered, turning red in the face. “You will not address me so familiarly. I am Lord Radford to you, nothing more.” He looked her up and down, sneering. “You are no lady. I am supposed to believe you are a faerie, but you have done no magic. Therefore, I will address you as girl or wench.”

Frustration got the better of Elizabeth, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

He narrowed his eyes and didn’t laugh, as most men would have. “You will be like a wild horse in my bed, wench. I will enjoy breaking you.”

The tone of his voice and the look on his face filled her with fear. She was alone in medieval England with no rights and no one to protect her. This man could do with her as he chose and no one would lift a finger to help her. This was sooo not the adventure or the fun she’d hoped for.

Robert blinked, cursing the light. His mouth was dry and his head ached.

“Wine?” His steward flicked a hand in front of his nose.

A discreet sniff told Robert he did not stink. Featherton smirked.

“Do you have to bellow so, Featherton?”

The man banged around the chamber, muttering. Robert rolled to his side and sat up, reaching for the cup. The tableau from last night played in front off his eyes. The look on Elizabeth’s face as she was tossed into the carriage. He was an arse. One thing in particular stood out.

Whatever
.

A word he had come to know well. A word only a few used. Elizabeth’s tone was full of disdain when she spat the word at him. He’d wanted desperately to tell her why he was behaving like a dolt, but he could not. Radford needed to believe he had won her fairly. If he suspected a ruse, he would sniff around until he found Connor. The man was the worst sort of gossip.

Four interminable days. Each day the same. He woke to scorn from Featherton, rode, crossed swords in the lists, and drank until he required aid to find his chamber. For four days it had been thus. Everyone was tired of him. He was disgusted with himself.

Robert staggered out to the lists. “Who’s first?”

A knight stepped forward as Robert unsheathed his sword. The sound of metal on metal made his teeth ache.

“I am sorry, my lord.” The knight shrank back, and Robert looked down to see his sleeve turn crimson.

“’Tis naught but a scratch. I would have lost my head if you weren’t treating me like a small child. The fault is mine.” He waved the man away. One of the servants bound the scratch on his arm. Deciding to take his foul self elsewhere, Robert paced back and forth on the battlements to calm his mood. Usually it worked, but not for the past several days. Thomas joined him.

“Fight like a witless babe for real and you will die. For four days you have moped around the castle. Go and bring the lady back.”

“I cannot jeopardize Connor’s safety. No matter how much I worry for her. Future girls are strong. She will be fine.”

“Go and fetch her. Tell her why Connor is here. She has secrets of her own. She will keep ours.”

Robert stopped pacing. “When did you become so wise?”

Thomas laughed. “I have always been wise. You don’t listen.”

Robert clapped him on the back. “You’re right. I will fetch her.” He took a deep breath of icy air.
 

Thomas put a hand on his arm. “Take men with you. ’Tis not safe to ride alone through the countryside.”

“I find my mood improved. To the lists, so I can grind you into the mud.” Robert unsheathed his sword. “I would ask you to remain here and keep an eye on our guest. But if it will ease your womanly fears, I will take three of the men.”

And for the rest of the afternoon, Robert worked up a sweat. Made preparations to leave the next morning and fetch his Elizabeth back. Future women had fierce tempers; he might needs duck when he explained why he’d been such an arse.

Elizabeth had been escorted to an opulent chamber. Or as she thought of it, a pretty prison. A bath had been brought in and two girls helped her bathe. After three days in a carriage with a man who believed bathing made one ill, it was heavenly to soak in the hot water, relaxing while one of the girls scrubbed her hair. The soap was scented with lavender, helping her to relax. A third girl crept in, carrying some kind of cloth to dry her off. When Elizabeth stepped out of the tub, she noticed the black eye.

“What happened?”

The girl flinched. “Nothing, lady.”

“A black eye isn’t
nothing
. Who hit you?”

The other women looked around, fearful of being overheard. One of them leaned close to Elizabeth. “Lord Radford is cruel.”

The other girl hung the chemise and dress near the fire to warm. “We fear for you, lady.”

The one with the black eye started to cry. Elizabeth went to her, heedless of the towel falling. “Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

One of the women wrapped Elizabeth in a blanket and the four of them sat by the fire.

“His temper is fierce. I broke his prized statue. I didn’t mean to. But he…” The girl clutched her arms, her face pink.

Elizabeth patted her shoulder, pulling the girl close. “You don’t have to go on. Did he force you?”

The girl leaned back and looked up at her, tears running down her face. She nodded. And Elizabeth swore. One of the women put a hand to her mouth. “I’ve never heard such words from a lady.”

Elizabeth scowled. “I am not a lady. I’m just a woman, like the rest of you. No means no. A man should listen.”

One of the women blinked at her. “He owns us. He can do as he pleases. No one would help us.”

The oldest of the three—she looked about seventeen—said, “Three of the kitchen maids have given birth to his babes. All girls. Which infuriates him all the more.”

Elizabeth stood. “Help me dress. I do not wish him to find me like this.” She held up the dress. It was gray and trimmed in fur. “He lays a hand on me and he’ll lose it.”

There had to be a way to help these women. But she didn’t know how. Her main thought was escaping, and if she escaped, how could she do them any good? Then again, how could she help them by being locked up in this chamber? She’d have to find a way to escape and get help. To come back and help these women. She didn’t care what century it was. No meant no.

And if Lord Radford thought he could have her, he could think again. For it would be a cold day in hell before he laid a froggy finger on her skin.

The guards roughly tossed Elizabeth to the floor of the chamber. “Ow. Thanks, guys. I really wanted this knee to match the other.”

The door shut, the key turning in the lock. Not a very cheery bunch. Her knee and hip ached, the bruises a lovely purple-blue, but Elizabeth smiled through the throbbing pain. This was the fifth day she’d survived without Radford touching her.

Every night they dined together and then he would make a pass at her. And that was when she got it through her head…she wasn’t like the servants. Because if she was, he would’ve forced her. None of the servants or guards would lift a finger to help if she screamed. They’d go about their business, pretending they didn’t hear what the high and mighty lord was doing.

Thank goodness things would change in the years to come. Men still took advantage of women, but at least women had rights. When she made it back home, she’d vote in every election and speak out for women. Her mother had protested when she was younger. Before going to live with her grandmother or on one of her parent’s trips back home, Elizabeth remembered helping her mom make signs at the kitchen table. While other kids were playing with dolls and trucks, she was coming up with pithy slogans and watching her mom fight for what she believed in. It was an unconventional upbringing, but it had suited her, and Elizabeth believed her childhood was helping her cope with finding her way in the past.
 

Her captor was shorter than her by almost five inches, but he had a good eighty to a hundred pounds on her. All he had to do was sit on Elizabeth and she’d be unable to move.

The first night when he slobbered over her, he’d been rewarded with a cup of wine to the face. The second night when he pulled her down on his lap, she’d dumped a bowl of soup on his head. And the third night, she wasn’t proud of her actions, but after he’d ripped her dress and gotten grabby, she bit him. Hard enough to draw blood. She’d gotten a split lip in return, but he left her alone. That was what he got for trying to cop a feel.

Last night was the fourth night. And it was the first time she’d felt bone-chilling fear since arriving. The creep had cornered her in an alcove and pinned her there. Standing so close she couldn’t get a knee up. So she pretended to give in. Let him kiss her. As he slobbered all over her face and neck, she’d pretended to hold his hand. As if the disgusting man could believe she found him appealing.

Then she took hold of his little finger and bent it back hard enough to hear the crack. He fell to his knees, yelping in pain. For good measure, she kicked him in the gut before taking off running. When she hurdled a kneeling servant scrubbing the floor, her skirts caught and she went down hard. Her elbow hit just right and pain arced through her body. And that was when the guards caught her. Carried her kicking and screaming to the chamber and tossed her to the floor, locking the door. At least she’d gotten one guy in the face and another in the gut on the way. Later, Radford opened the door, surrounded by guards. Smart man. He bellowed, swearing tomorrow night he would have her. The guards would hold her down, and when he was finished, he’d give her to them.
 

She’d stayed defiant until he left. Then she collapsed, shaking on the bed. There was no way she would end up as a victim. Elizabeth had experienced her fair share of drunken frat boys during college. Learned how to put them in their place when they didn’t want to hear no. She was a grown woman and knew where to hit for maximum impact to protect herself. As far as she was concerned, all girls should be required to take self-defense classes in high school.