“In your chambers, yes. She is not to wander the castle unaccompanied, nor is she to speak with anyone outside our household without permission.” He fixed Beth with a stern look. “Is that understood?”
The lovely yet infuriating woman nodded, relief evident in the slump of her shoulders. “Thank you.”
Baldwin turned to leave, then paused. “Mistress Elizabeth?—”
“Just Beth, please.”
“Mistress Elizabeth,” he repeated firmly, “should you attempt to flee again, or should you bring any harm to my household, the consequences will be severe. Glenhaven stands under the king’s protection, and any threat to its people is a threat to the crown itself.”
She swallowed visibly. “I understand.”
“Good.” He nodded to Eleanor. “See that she is properly attired. Those... breeches are unseemly.” At the door, he turned. “Mayhap you should keep your origins quiet.” He looked at his sister. “You as well. We shall say she was set upon by bandits in the woods and...” he hesitated. A young woman traveling along was scandalous. “Mistress Elizabeth is a recent widow and under my protection.”
Eleanor grinned. “A fine tale indeed, brother.”
With a grunt, he strode from the chamber, Eleanor’s excited chatter starting immediately. “You must tell me everything about where you come from! Is it true you traveled through time? Are all women dressed so scandalously in the future?”
Beth ran her hand along the cool wall of the corridor. “Load-bearing arches. Ashlar masonry. For a structure built without steel reinforcement, this place would meet some surprisingly advanced structural load requirements.”
Eleanor threw her a puzzled look.
“Er... I mean... very sturdy castle.”
Baldwin shook his head, suppressing a reluctant smile. His sister had always been too curious for her own good. Perhaps that curiosity would serve them well now. Eleanor might succeed in learning the truth where his more direct questioning had failed.
“The future.” A snort escaped. The woman was daft... even if she was rather fetching.
He made his way back to the great hall, where the household was gathering for the morning meal. The trestle tables wereladen with fresh bread, hard cheese, and cold meats. Servants moved between the kitchen and the hall, bearing pitchers of small beer and bowls of porridge sweetened with honey.
Roland appeared at his side, a trencher of bread in hand. “What will you do with her?”
He accepted a cup of ale from a passing servant. “Watch her. Learn what I can.”
“And if she is what she claims? A traveler from some future time?”
“Quiet.” Baldwin’s fingers tightened around the cup. “Then may God have mercy on us all, for such knowledge was never meant for mortal minds.” He told his friend the tale he had concocted as to how Mistress Elizabeth, or Beth as she preferred, had come to be at Glenhaven.
Roland cleared his throat. “Lady Agnes is leaving for London. Says your sister is no lady, and she is going to be a companion to a proper lady. Alric will see her safely there.”
Baldwin let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s the third one this year.”
Dismissing thoughts of his sister’s companion, he drained the ale in one long swallow, trying to drown the image of those green eyes, defiant and vulnerable all at once. Whether witch, madwoman, or time traveler, Mistress Elizabeth Anderson was trouble. Of that, Baldwin was certain.
And yet, as he took his place at the high table, he found himself looking toward the door, waiting for her to appear.
CHAPTER 4
Baldwin’s mood darkened with each stride across the courtyard. ’Twas rumored the king might stop at Glenhaven during his royal progress, and his steward had just informed him the larder needed replenishing before the king and his entourage descended upon the castle like locusts. He adjusted the heavy signet ring on his finger, the metal warm against his skin. The weight of it, like the weight of his responsibilities, never left him.
King Edward had not attended his sister Margaret’s wedding a fortnight ago, a slight that had tongues wagging throughout the realm, but now His Grace traveled through the countryside, making his royal progress. Soon he would be close enough to visit Glenhaven, if it so pleased him. Baldwin must be prepared, regardless of whether the king’s visit was certain or merely possible. The coffers would suffer for it, but one did not disappoint the king.
“My lord,” called Sir Roland, striding toward him with that easy gait that had always irritated Baldwin in their youth. Even now, with a decade of battles behind them both, Roland moved as though life were a jest rather than a burden.
“What news?” He asked, voice clipped as he thought of the amount of gold a royal visit would cost him.
“The village is preparing for market day. Your sister insists on attending.” Roland’s mouth quirked. “And she’s taking your... guest with her.”
Baldwin’s jaw tightened. “Saints preserve us.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. Eleanor’s fascination with Beth had grown daily, and the two women were becoming fast friends, a development that both pleased and troubled him.
