Page 64 of Falling for the Knight

“My lady,” Cook said, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

Tristan’s chest swelled with pride as he turned around. This time, there was no mistaking it. Cook grinned like a squire the day before his dubbing ceremony.

“They sent her,” he said. Tristan’s feet were weighed to the ground. He couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe. Something about Cook’s words . . . the idea was as absurd as, well, her being here at all. Yet somehow Tristan knew it was true. Whether it was their spirit, some strange magic at the waterfall, or both, Hannah was meant to be here. With him.

He couldn’t answer, so instead Tristan attempted a smile before taking his leave. And though he’d once convinced himself that leaving Saxford might be best for Hannah after all, he no longer believed as much.

He needed to see her.

Immediately.

* * *

Hannah had not meantto leave the hall prematurely, but she didn’t feel like returning after her talk with the two maids. Privacy was difficult to come by in a castle, with the exception of the bedchambers, which were afforded to very few. Not ready to return to her room, she found herself wandering the corridors.

Toward Tristan.

Hannah stopped, waiting for some kind of divine intervention to guide her. She wasn’t one to trust herself to the hand of fate or astronomy or any other superstitious nonsense . . . but then again, she had traveled back in time.

Despite herself, she had begun to imagine what saying yes to Tristan’s unconventional proposal would be like. The idea was not an unpleasant one. In fact, there was much to recommend it. Including Tristan himself. On the other hand, even if—and that was a big if—she decided to stay, would she still wish to do so if her sisters were found and wanted to return if such a thing were possible? And these were obviously dangerous times, and she remembered quite clearly that life expectancy had been much shorter in the Middle Ages. Could she stay here, without antibiotics or safe birthing practices, and give up all that she’d built back home?

“Finally . . .” Tristan’s squire panted as he ran up to her. Beads of sweat dotted his brow.

“What is it?” Something was very wrong.

“I looked in your chamber and in the kitchens. My lord was beginning to worry . . . the men are back . . . he couldn’t find you.” The boy’s words jumbled into each other.

“What did you say?” She held her breath as she waited for him to speak.

“I looked everywhere—”

“Nay, about the men?”

Durwin blinked as he finally caught his breath. They both looked up to a wall torch that flickered as if a gust of wind had caught it. What the hell was that? They were indoors and far from any window or door.

“Aye, the men. My lord requests your presence immediately.”

Calm down, Hannah. They probably did not discover anything.

“Take me to him,” she said, picking up her overly elaborate skirts.

They practically ran to Tristan’s solar, a room she’d only been to once before. Just as they arrived, Hannah felt his presence behind them.

“Thank you, Durwin,” he said, his greeting also a dismissal. The boy bowed and left as she turned around.

Hannah prided herself on being independent. She didn’t need a man, could manage very well all by her lonesome. But her body had apparently not received the message, because when Tristan looked at her that way—like she was the only woman in this or any time—she wanted to wrap her arms around him and stay by his side for eternity.

“Are you ready?”

She swallowed. No, not really. “I suppose.”

He took a step toward her, giving her a better view of his face, and she saw faint lines around his eyes where there were usually none. Was he tired? Worried? What was it like to know you would be leading your men to battle at any time? It wasn’t a responsibility she envied.

“Are they in there?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Tristan nodded. When he reached for her, Hannah’s shoulders relaxed, the tension instantly melting away.

Her pulse raced as he leaned down to kiss her, the tender caress most welcome.

After the too-quick kiss, Tristan pulled back. He wanted to say something, and she did as well, yet neither of them did. They stood just inches apart, silent, until he finally took a step back. The air around them seemed to crackle with energy.

“Come,” he said, stepping in front of her. Hannah held her breath as he pushed the door open.