“Aye, the lad will be three soon, ’tis past time he had his own horse. Mayhap I should purchase four, so Peter has his own steed as well.”
Men and their horses. If he lived in her time, Lucy bet he’d already be thinking about getting a truck for Jason.
“You just have horse fever from seeing all the animals in the king’s stables.”
Then Lucy lowered her voice as they walked, to make sure they weren’t overheard.
“I can see it now. You would have had sports cars, a big truck for hauling stuff, and at least a motorcycle or two.”
His eyes lit up, the color reminding her of the lush green of the English countryside in summer.
“Aye. Tell me again of these horseless carriages that go so far and so fast.”
Men and their toys. They talked of cars, trains, planes, and cruise ships, as Lucy told him of the time when she and her sisters took a cruise to Alaska.
How much they loved the wilderness, seeing the wildlife, and the blue color of the glaciers. They’d spent a week on a cruise, then rented a car and spent a week driving through the interior, eating salmon, and going whale watching. The tour to watch the bears catching salmon on the water was one of her favorite memories.
One man called William away to see to improvements to the garrison while she made her way to the kitchens to consult with the cook for the weekly menu.
Soon the pace would slow even more, everyone hunkering down for winter, the garden sleeping until spring, the animals warm in the stables, and Thor catching any mice or rats who ventured onto Blackford land, and when he could get away with it, stealing butter and milk from the kitchens.
As the afternoon sun cast a gentle glow through the windows, Lucy’s gaze shifted to the tapestries that adorned the walls. Each woven thread told a story of knights and ladies, battles, and triumphs. She traced the intricate patterns with her fingers, marveling at the craftsmanship, knowing tapestries like these would survive through the ages.
A thought sparked. Maybe she could commission a tapestryof their family at the castle? If it survived, maybe her aunt and sisters would see it in their own time? It would be safer than a note in a bottle. It was something to think about.
The solar was warm from the fire crackling in the huge hearth, the laughter of her husband and children banishing the melancholy that had plagued her for the past several days.
Dressed in a simple black tunic and hose, William sat in front of the fire, their toddler, Jason, bouncing on his knee. His giggles filled the room as her husband tossed him into the air, making Jason laugh with delight and Lucy cover her eyes.
Dark hair framed a harsh face, and William’s nose, well, it looked like he’d broken it more than once. He chatted away in Norman French, Jason responding as Peter slept in his cradle.
There was a scar at the corner of her husband’s nose that gave him a rakish pirate look. After all this time, he still made her toes tingle. He was over six feet tall, solid with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and strong legs. The men in this time were built like brick walls. Her husband had a soft heart when it came to family, though he’d deny it to his dying breath.
The nanny checked on Peter as Lucy worked on her embroidery. She turned her emerald ring around on her finger as she looked over the tree she was attempting. It was still difficult, but she was getting better. The little girls in the castle didn’t laugh as much as they used to at her crooked stitches.
When she’d first arrived at Blackford, William hadn’t allowed women in the castle. He’d been married before, and the ugly gossip still spread like tendrils of fog throughout the castle and village. The rumors that he’d killed Georgina refused to fade away, but Lucy believed her husband had told her the truth.
Clement and Georgina plotted against William, and later Georgina and her lover did as well. Sometimes the villagers ortravelers from far away still called her husband The Butcher of Blackford. While he said it didn’t bother him, Lucy knew now that he had children. He wasn’t as enamored of the bloodthirsty moniker.
Later that evening, as the children lay asleep in their beds, Lucy and William retreated to the comfort of their chamber, listening to the rain on the windowpane. A fire crackled in the enormous hearth carved with hellhounds, swords, and warriors on horseback, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. They sat close together, enjoying a cup of warm spiced wine, sharing stories about the rest of their respective days.
“Lucy,” William’s deep voice broke the silence. “You seem far away of late. Is aught amiss?”
William’s hand found hers, his fingers intertwining with hers. “You miss your world, your family?”
Lucy nodded. “I always feel their absence the most this time of year. In my time, we’d be getting ready for Halloween, decorating the house and carving pumpkins.”
She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about the changing seasons and the traditions that come with them.”
Lucy let out a long sigh. “Halloween, or Samhain, as you call it, was my favorite holiday. My sisters and I had so much fun. Our aunt always encouraged us to stay up late and come up with elaborate costumes.”
William nodded. “Samhain is a special time of year, a celebration of the changing seasons and the harvest. ’Tis a bridge between our world and the spirit world. ’Twas so different in your time? Tell me again about your customs.”
“Halloween was so much fun.” She told him about trick-or-treating, and dressing up, and playing on the beach under a full moon.
“On Halloween night, after we got back from trick-or-treating, my aunt and all her friends, and whoever lived nearby, would all go down to the beach and celebrate with a huge bonfire. We’d all laugh and dance until dawn.”
He touched her cheek, and when she turned, gently kissed her.
