Page 53 of Falling for the Knight

Was that what a life of a lady entailed?

Of course it did. This was not the twenty-first century, and if women had a place of importance here, it was the exception and not the rule. Even the allure of staying with Tristan couldn’t compensate for that dreadful fact.

Staying with Tristan? Impossible.

Still, there was no denying the idea had crossed her mind. What if she discovered Caroline and Allie had come through time as well? Would they want to stay or go back if such a thing were even possible?

Don’t be ridiculous.Even on the off chance they did want to stay, she could not. She’d spent the past several years building a successful business, and the very idea of subjecting herself to these fourteenth-century notions of womanhood . . . nay, it was a silly idea.

She could never, ever stay here. Not in a million years.

* * *

“Don’t go back.”

Tristan stood beside her at the falls, knowing she was prepared to jump. Knowing, somehow, that it would work this time.

“Tristan, I . . . I must.” With that, she took a step toward the edge of the falls, and he knew he was about to lose her, he knew . . .

“Tristan.”

This time, his name was in Gerard’s voice, and the image of Hannah on the precipice of the falls faded from his vision. A dream, then. But hadn’t his mother always told him dreams told the truth?

After four days with them, Kenton had left that afternoon. They’d spent most of the night before continuing their discussion of the Sutherland threat, and after a long day of training, Tristan must have fallen asleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept during the day.

“How long did I sleep?”

Gerard crossed his arms. “You missed supper,” he said, “which I thought was most unusual.”

Damn.

He had seen little of Hannah these last few days. After the first night of Kenton’s visit, she had avoided taking an active part in their talk at dinner. He could tell she’d been frustrated with the older man’s questions. Coupled with the fact that the men he’d sent to scout for her sisters—or any information about Leannan Falls—were due back any day, she was not herself.

In the meantime, her easy manner had accomplished the impossible. It seemed Hannah found an unlikely friend. She and Cook, known for his surliness, had apparently been inseparable these last few days. Tristan was curious about that rumor and anxious to mitigate the damage Kenton had done.

He loved the man like a father, but he could be difficult at times. Tristan’s mother had always commented on the lord’s high-handedness, however grateful she’d been for his role in Tristan’s life.

“As long as you are well,” Gerard said, “I will take my leave. Good eve, my lord.”

His steward grinned, knowing how much the title annoyed him, especially when used in private. He was well past caring about appearance, and anyone who knew Tristan’s history knew better than to expect conventionality to reign at Saxford. It was why his people had accepted Hannah so quickly.

A few moments later, a servant arrived with a wooden tray. Gerard had evidently ordered the meal, but Tristan wasn’t hungry.

For food at least.

He’d thought about going to Hannah nearly every single night, only to remember all the reasons he should not.

But Tristan no longer cared about convention or propriety or all the differences that stood between them.

Hannah was in his blood. The memory of their day in the village would not leave him. He awoke each morning feeling the phantom pleasure of her body pressed against his. When she smiled at anyone but him, Tristan wanted to pull her into his arms and make her forget anyone else existed.

His will had been tested every day and night, and tonight it failed him.

He needed to see her.

Now.