As they walked back toward the castle, the revelation hit. The failure of her experiment should have devastated her, and part of her was devastated, but if she were honest, another part, growing stronger by the day, felt something like relief.
The great hallwas quiet save for the crackling of the fire when Baldwin returned from changing his wet clothes. Beth sat before the hearth, wrapped in a woolen blanket, her damp hair catching the firelight like burnished copper. She’d changed into a simple linen shift, her feet bare on the rush-strewn floor.
“You’ll catch a chill,” he said, settling on the bench beside her.
“Probably,” she agreed with a small smile. “Though I’m not convinced ‘catching a chill’ works the way everyone here thinks it does.”
Baldwin studied her profile, the delicate curve of her nose, the stubborn set of her chin. “What were you attempting in the garden?”
For a long moment she was silent, watching the flames dance. “I thought I might find a way home,” she finally said. “The storm... it reminded me of the night I arrived here. I thought perhaps I could recreate the conditions.”
“And now?”
She turned to face him, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Now I accept that this is where I am. Where I’m meant to be, perhaps.”
Something loosened in his chest, a tension he hadn’t fully acknowledged until it released. “And does that thought bring you sorrow?”
“Not as much as it should,” she admitted softly. “There are... reasons to stay even as I miss my parents.”
Their eyes met, and Baldwin felt the world narrow to this moment, this woman. The space between them was charged with something more powerful than the lightning outside.
Before he could respond, the hall door opened, and Jason entered with a tray. “My lord, I’ve brought mulled wine to ward off the chill.”
The spell broken, Baldwin nodded his thanks as his squire set down the tray and discreetly withdrew. He poured two cups, handing one to Beth.
“To new beginnings,” he said, raising his cup.
Her smile was tentative but genuine. “To accepting where you are, even if it’s not where you expected to be.”
They drank in companionable silence, watching the fire burn lower. Outside, the storm began to abate, the thunder growing more distant, the rain softening to a gentle patter.
“The other manuscripts you brought,” Beth said after a while, “I’d like to study them more. Perhaps tomorrow?”
Baldwin nodded, pleased. “The library is yours to explore. I have matters to attend to, seeing the new lands the king granted me, but afterward, I would welcome your thoughts on what you discover.”
“I’d like that,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“You should rest,” Baldwin said, rising. “It has been... an eventful night.”
She stood as well, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said suddenly. “For not asking too many questions. For just... being there.”
“Always,” he replied, the word carrying more weight than he’d intended.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned toward the stairs that led to her chamber. At the foot of the steps, she paused and looked back.
“Baldwin?”
“Yes?”
“I think... that is... I’m glad it didn’t work.”
Before he could respond, she was gone, her footsteps fading on the stone stairs. Baldwin remained by the fire, a strange lightness filling his chest. Outside, the clouds parted, revealing a sky washed clean by the storm, stars emerging one by one in the vast darkness.
For the first time since Beth’s arrival, Baldwin allowed himself to hope that she might stay, not because she had no choice, but because she wanted to. Was he actually starting to believe her claims of being from the future? The thought didn’t startle him as much as it used to. Perhaps he would ask her about her time and the flying machines he heard her telling Eleanor about.
CHAPTER 12
Beth stared at the massive chestnut mare with the same trepidation she’d once felt before presenting her doctoral dissertation. The beast, for she couldn’t think of it as anything else, shifted its weight and snorted, sending a cloud of warm breath into the crisp morning air.
