Beyond Time: A Knights Through Time Travel Romance (Knights Through Time Travel #1)(3)

“Why is Gilbert not here to hang me himself?” The Englishman grunted as he shifted, his hand going to his side, where he’d been beaten and bloodied when he was taken.

“The Armstrong had a fire and is feverishly trying to save his stores of grain.” Connor grinned. “He’s the reason there’s a price on my head. Aye, now the score is even.”

A sound made him turn his head to locate the source, and when he was satisfied they were undiscovered, he turned back to Edward.

“The executioner has been well paid and will not remove the hood.” From a hole in the planks, Connor watched the crowd, jeering and throwing rotten vegetables at the doomed man. The Johnston, chest puffed out, held up his hands.

“My people, you are safe. Edward the Terrible will not steal away another child to take back to his dark fortress and roast over a spit. No more children will be eaten.”

“Harrumph.” Connor brushed dirt from his face, stepping back as the trapdoor opened and a man fell through, jerking before falling still.

“That might have been me at the end of that rope.” Edward crossed himself. “Tell me, who was the man?”

“A thief sentenced to death. I offered him gold for his family.” Connor grinned. “Aye, you can repay me and then some. I want two of your finest horses as well as the gold.”

“I will see it done. Many thanks, Connor.”

The spectacle over, the crowd wandered away, returning to their daily lives, though a few curious souls lingered to watch the villain’s body being removed. ’Twas to be left as a warning to others not to trifle with the mighty Johnston. However, on the morrow all they would find was an empty grave, the body vanished. Connor had paid the executioner well to burn the man. ’Twas the gravest insult to burn a body, but he could not risk the truth. Later people would hear Edward was alive and well, and the bloody Thornton’s legend would grow even larger along with the man’s opinion of himself.

“’Tis said the Thorntons have powerful protection,” Connor said. “Some speak of deals with the devil, others of pacts with faeries.”

The Englishman grinned. “Nonsense.”

“Many believe you and your brothers to be immortal.” Connor kicked at a rock in the dirt with a booted foot.

Edward brushed off his tunic and hose. “I won’t soon forget what you’ve done for me.”

Connor arched a brow. “Wait until we arrive safely at your castle before you thank me, Thornton.”

They waited until nightfall before leaving the cover of the scaffolding. Through the village, they crept as thunder rumbled across the night sky. By the time the moon was high, they were already deep in the forest, making their way back to Somerforth when clouds hid the moon and rain fell, lashing their skin as the sky lit up. With a terrible storm of such making, Connor could believe evil spirits were following them, making him wish he was settled in an inn, a serving wench on either side, a tankard of ale in front of him.

Perhaps God was displeased he had a man’s body burned. Ach, well, he had no time to dwell on what the almighty did or did not approve of. When he faced his maker, he thought saving an honorable man would outweigh the burning of the thief’s flesh.

Edward for once did not speak, his breath coming in rasps as they made their way back to the man’s home, where Connor would saddle his new horses, bags of gold safely hidden, and be on his way. ’Twas not wise to linger overlong in any one location.





Mellie stretched, working out the kinks in her shoulders, leaning left and right, gazing at the house as she spun the Lazy Susan to and fro, checking for cracks in the slabs of clay. In front of her on a wire shelving unit, houses stood waiting, leaning precariously, dressed in bright and crazy colors, and inside every house, only seen by peering in a window, was a woman. Always barefoot. Some read; a few bathed or napped; others washed a dish or stood gazing out a window. The houses were two feet tall, and by her count there were almost thirty on the shelves, waiting patiently for her to find her nerve and send them out into the world.

With a dispassionate eye, she noted all the glaring imperfections as she wiped a smudge of clay from the back of her hand. Was her work as horrendous as Aunt Jilly’s?

The jarring ring of a cell phone snapped her out of an argument with her internal critic.

“Hi, Jacob.” Melissa frowned as she listened. Someone was out sick, and they needed her to fill in at the museum gift shop today. “Wait, I don’t work weekends, and you know I usually work six or eight hours.”

The young voice cracked. “I’m sorry, but we’re short-handed, I need you the full twelve hours. I’ll pay time and a half.”

Mellie absently twirled a curl around her finger. “Throw in meals and beverages from the cafe?”

“Done.” The sigh of relief told her she should have asked for more.

A glance at the clock told her the museum opened in half an hour, and wow, Greg was really late. “I’ll try to make it by opening chimes, but I might need another half-hour.”

“I’m sending a car. Don’t tell anyone.”

A smile escaped. “Thanks, I won’t say a word.” The museum kept a sedan on call. She’d eyed it with envy when she left work during a storm or on a wintry day. “See you soon.” The food and transportation more than made up for losing the entire day, not to mention time and a half.