CHAPTER 1
Autumn1311—BlackfordCastle, England
Who would have ever guessedthat Lucy Merriweather, a nobody from a small beach town in North Carolina, would fall through time and end up with her very own castle in medieval England?
Not her, not in a million years.
Yet here she stood on the battlements of Blackford Castle, woolen shawl around her shoulders to ward off the chill, looking out over the land.
The men were used to her coming up here, and knowing she wanted time to herself, simply nodded and left her to her thoughts.
“My lady.” The guard dipped his head as he passed.
The man looked disgustingly alert, considering how early, or how late, depending on your frame of mind it was, not to mention the lack of coffee.
From what she remembered, coffee didn’t appear until the 16th century. Surely, there was some way to get her caffeine fix? Maybe an adventurous traveler would make his or her way to England, bearing the delicious beans? Or tea. She’d be just as happy with tea.
Thinking of coffee led her down roads that were best avoided, especially during this time of year.
Whilst Lucy might not have been a warrior like her husband, she’d fought tooth and nail for her happily ever after, made the choice to stay here in medieval England with her very own knight. What did the romantics say?
Right.
Love always found a way.
The crisp autumn wind tousled her long brown hair, mischievously obscuring her vision. Lucy reached into the pocket of the apron she wore over her clothes for a bit of green ribbon, swiftly braiding the unruly locks. Once that was done, she wrapped a scarf she’d crocheted around her neck and ears to keep warm. The winds off the ocean were stronger in the fall and winter, and were the main reason she would never cut her hair short as she needed all the warmth she could get.
Okay, so maybe she was a little vain. After all, her hair was her best feature, long and thick with pretty gold highlights in the summer from the sun.
Why hadn’t she grabbed a cloak on her way out here? It wasn’t like it had been a nightmare. No, the dream that jolted her awake was of her life before—her aunts, sisters, and the scorching humid summers in Holden Beach.
The yearning to smell the ocean, to taste the salt on her skin, was so strong that she’d jumped out of bed, barely holding in a gasp as her feet hit the cold floor. She stumbled to the door, grabbing a scarf on her way out and had run down the corridorsto the battlements, letting the chilly air soothe her jumbled thoughts.
While she could have sat in the window seat in their chamber and looked out, even opened the window to smell and gaze upon the sea, it wasn’t the same as leaning over the battlements and looking out at nothing but ocean all the way to the horizon.
Where had the time gone? It had been four years since Lucy had fallen through time and landed in medieval England. Whilst William was wonderful, the kind of husband she’d only dared to dream of ever finding, not to mention her children, whom Lucy loved more than life itself, she’d still had a difficult time adjusting to the customs and behaviors of this time.
Not to mention the superstitions, which still hovered around her like a cloud of mosquitos after all these years. All because of horrible, awful Clement.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, savoring the salty sea air. When she opened them again, she gazed out over the turbulent gray waters of the North Sea stretching out before her, comforted by the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, as she watched the sky shift from night to day.
William always said that her gray eyes were the color of a winter storm or that they reminded him of the ocean in winter. Who knew such a gruff, intimidating man could be so very romantic?
The rugged landscape that had become her home tugged at her heart, along with the imposing castle and fierce warriors that protected the lands.
This place was so very different from the humid, sweltering summers of Holden Beach, North Carolina. Even the ocean here looked different, though, as she tasted the salt on her lips,she could almost imagine herself back in her own time. In the future.
Here at Blackford, waves crashed against the rocks, violent and deafening, while in Holden, some days the waves boomed against the shore and other days they gently rolled in, the wet sand glittering like diamonds. In her old life, it was hot well into November, but here? It was already chilly during the day and downright cold at night. Her hands and feet were always cold, no matter how close she came to burning them before the roaring fire.
Had her sisters held a nice funeral for her? Maybe Aunt Pittypat and her friends had conducted a ritual on the beach under the full moon to bid her farewell into the afterlife?
Aunt Mildred, Lucy was sure, would have attended the ritual, but with her trademark perpetual frown.
There had to be some way Lucy could leave a message, a sign that would endure through the ages, to let them know she was alive. Not only alive, but thriving. In love with a good man, mother to two adorable boys.
Over the years, she’d contemplated burying a note in a bottle or writing in a journal, but so far, hadn’t made any decisions.
Fear of the wrong eyes stumbling upon the message had held her back, especially after Clement almost killed her soon after she’d first arrived. He’d believed she was a fairy or a witch, either of which could get you hanged or burned at the stake in this day and age.
