Page 20 of Falling for the Knight

Faeries existed only in children’s tales, and were even less believable than time travel. Even so, Walter and John were right. After nearly ten years of peace, he couldn’t be the one to break the treaty with Sutherland. It would expire on its own the following month, and when it did, a battle would be coming.

And he was prepared for it.

* * *

Hannah paced in the bedchamber,as she now knew it was called, that she’d slept in the night before after Tristan had left her hot and bothered. Her tossing and turning most of the night had little to do with her predicament and everything to do with the man she nearly lost herself to on the doorstep of this chamber.

She’d awoken this morning to the comforting thought that it had all been a dream—only to open her eyes and find herself here, dressed in the potato sack of a nightgown Joan had given her. A fresh wave of panic had washed over her, and nothing short of seeing those falls would help. To think she’d been worried about catching her flight. Ha! She was pretty sure airlines would not exist for hundreds of years.

With nothing to do but wait, Hannah studied the bed she’d slept on. She supposed the oversized frame would be called a four-poster bed back home, though Hannah had no idea if those words would be used here. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, or so she imagined based on how it felt. Surprisingly, the blankets, or coverlets as Joan called them, were as soft as the bamboo ones she’d recently purchased for her room in Boston. The stone walls were covered with colorful tapestries, expensive-looking ones, though she was no tapestry expert.

Joan had appeared not long afterward with a tray of food and a change of clothes. The ‘lord’ apparently thought it best she eat here, alone, rather than disturb his hall with her presence. She honestly didn’t care. Frankly, being surrounded by men who looked as if they’d jumped off the pages of a medieval encyclopedia unnerved her. Here, at least, she could pretend she had not somehow traveled back through time in that waterfall.

Healing properties indeed.

A knock landed on the door, which was opened before she could respond. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his big body filling the entire entranceway. Tristan was dressed much as he’d been the day before, in thick woolen hose and a cream linen shirt layered beneath an armless jacket-type thing.

Hannah shivered.

“I see Joan has found you another gown?”

This one was much simpler in style than the blue one she’d worn to dinner. Joan had insisted on a slip . . . no, she’d called it a chemise, but Hannah hadn’t really seen the purpose. This gown, though cut quite low in the front, covered every other inch of her. But she’d relented, not wanting to raise any questions.

“She has,” Hannah said, spreading the material out around her feet. How did women get anything done in these? “Whose gown is this?”

Rather than answer, Tristan came inside.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She knew from Joan that Tristan had never been married. Saxford had lacked a mistress for the ten years he had been lord here. Hannah had been about to ask about the previous lord when another servant had come looking for Joan. Apparently, she was the laundress here too.

Hannah hated laundry and couldn’t imagine doing it without a washer and dryer, especially given how much fabric was used in each gown.

Which got her to thinking about the other things that had not been invented yet. How was she supposed to live without computers? The internet? Instagram? She forced herself to stop that particular train of thought. She was going to find her sisters and get home. Somehow. Staying here was not an option.

And yet, the first question she found herself asking was, “What do you call a girlfriend in your time?”

“Girlfriend?” Tristan took another step inside and closed the door behind him.

Her body didn’t care about the fact that she was six hundred years and a few thousand miles from her home. With every step he took toward her, Hannah struggled to slow her rapid heartbeat. “Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Someone that you date. Actually, you don’t date, come to think of it, do you? People just get married, right?”

“I don’t know this word, date.”

Finally, he halted his advance. He definitely did not smell like she’d have expected. While she distinctly remembered one of the guides talking about medieval people’s lack of hygiene, he smelled quite nice, like pine. A scent she never imagined would smell quite so . . . sexy. What else had they gotten wrong?

“When a man and woman . . .” Hannah had never been shy. But man, this guy flustered her. “Get to know each other. Before they marry. Or maybe they don’t.”

“Have . . . sex?” he said with a smile. “Is that what you mean?”

“Never mind,” she said, trying to dismiss the whole topic. What had she been thinking? If she was lucky, she’d find some way to get back home. Then they’d never see each other again. “When am I leaving? Did you find someone to bring me to the falls?”

“Answer me, Hannah.”

Her name had never, ever sounded so . . . sensual.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Not exactly. “More importantly—”

“I will answer your question when you answer mine.”