First Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 3) by Cynthia Luhrs Read Free Book Online
Authors: Cynthia Luhrs
engraving on the blade. Tilting it back and forth, she squinted at the lettering until her eyes crossed. “Thornton.” She looked again. “No way.”
Was this some kind of joke? Was Monica going to jump out and laugh at her? This was Edward Thornton’s home. No way would his sword be sticking up halfway out of the ground waiting for her to find it. One of the others would have found it. And she’d been coming to this exact spot for over a week to paint. No way she would have missed it.
The wind picked up, and she pushed a stray lock behind her ear. The blade looked much newer than the others she’d seen. On those, the lettering was worn partially or completely off, there were cracks in the jewel if there was one, and the blade looked dull. This sword looked… Well, let’s see.
Today’s watercolor was already ruined. Jennifer ignored it and rummaged in the tote bag, coming up with a cheap scarf she’d purchased in the airport. She blocked the rain with her body, dropped it across the sword, watched it slide down the edge of the blade, and gasped when the two halves were blown away on the wind. It had to be new. No way it would still be that sharp after almost seven hundred years.
Lightning lit up the sky again, and she saw red in the grass. There in the dirt where she’d found the sword was a red stone. Another immense stone. A ruby. The smell of electricity filled her nose and vibrated through the stone and up her arm. The skies opened up, the wind whipping her hair in her face. The easel blew over and was gone.
“No.” She ran to pick up the watercolors and brushes, the ruby in one hand and the sword in the other. The ground met her face as she tripped over a rock and went down hard, her fingers skittering down the lettering on the sword as she cried out. Both her palms were skinned and she’d cut the side of her hand. Pushing to her feet, adrenaline coursing thorough her body, Jennifer limped toward the wet supplies, stuffing them in the bag, which had been looped over a stone. Over the thunder and rain, she swore she heard the piper playing.
Lightning hit a tree, the crack so loud she wanted to cower on the ground. As she pulled the bag free from the stone, the ground started to shake. Earthquake?
The ground buckled and she was tossed into the air. Rocks, grass, and roots were all around her, the smell of the earth strong in her nose. The storm raged until finally there was nothing, only gray mist and the ghostly sounds of the piper.
Within the mist, she heard a voice. “To the end of time I will play for you…” The voice faded into the mist as Jennifer said, “I am not a Thornton. My name is Jennifer Wilson.”
The voice whispered on the wind, “But you will be.”
Lightning flashed within the mist, the sound of metal screaming made her teeth ache, and the wind swirled around her so strongly that her feet left the ground.
“Make it stop.” She screamed, covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes tight. “Please, I want to go home.”
Chapter Ten
The next day, Edward and the men were returning from a skirmish across the border, driving a score of cattle. A minor clan allied with Clan Armstrong had dared to take three stag from his lands, and in return, Edward whisked away the clan’s cattle. No one stole from a Thornton and got away with it.
On the lookout for angry Scots, the men were already wary when a scream sounded through the wood. Urging the horses forward, they came upon a small hut.
“Brom and Alistair, to me. Ballard, lead the men and cattle back to Somerforth.” He dismounted and hit the ground running.
With a booted foot, he kicked the door open, unsheathing his sword. Brom followed, leaving Alistair outside to guard their back in case ’twas a trap. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the croft. The home was small but tidy, and as he looked around he saw no threat. Where was the woman?
A makeshift screen in the corner
Was this some kind of joke? Was Monica going to jump out and laugh at her? This was Edward Thornton’s home. No way would his sword be sticking up halfway out of the ground waiting for her to find it. One of the others would have found it. And she’d been coming to this exact spot for over a week to paint. No way she would have missed it.
The wind picked up, and she pushed a stray lock behind her ear. The blade looked much newer than the others she’d seen. On those, the lettering was worn partially or completely off, there were cracks in the jewel if there was one, and the blade looked dull. This sword looked… Well, let’s see.
Today’s watercolor was already ruined. Jennifer ignored it and rummaged in the tote bag, coming up with a cheap scarf she’d purchased in the airport. She blocked the rain with her body, dropped it across the sword, watched it slide down the edge of the blade, and gasped when the two halves were blown away on the wind. It had to be new. No way it would still be that sharp after almost seven hundred years.
Lightning lit up the sky again, and she saw red in the grass. There in the dirt where she’d found the sword was a red stone. Another immense stone. A ruby. The smell of electricity filled her nose and vibrated through the stone and up her arm. The skies opened up, the wind whipping her hair in her face. The easel blew over and was gone.
“No.” She ran to pick up the watercolors and brushes, the ruby in one hand and the sword in the other. The ground met her face as she tripped over a rock and went down hard, her fingers skittering down the lettering on the sword as she cried out. Both her palms were skinned and she’d cut the side of her hand. Pushing to her feet, adrenaline coursing thorough her body, Jennifer limped toward the wet supplies, stuffing them in the bag, which had been looped over a stone. Over the thunder and rain, she swore she heard the piper playing.
Lightning hit a tree, the crack so loud she wanted to cower on the ground. As she pulled the bag free from the stone, the ground started to shake. Earthquake?
The ground buckled and she was tossed into the air. Rocks, grass, and roots were all around her, the smell of the earth strong in her nose. The storm raged until finally there was nothing, only gray mist and the ghostly sounds of the piper.
Within the mist, she heard a voice. “To the end of time I will play for you…” The voice faded into the mist as Jennifer said, “I am not a Thornton. My name is Jennifer Wilson.”
The voice whispered on the wind, “But you will be.”
Lightning flashed within the mist, the sound of metal screaming made her teeth ache, and the wind swirled around her so strongly that her feet left the ground.
“Make it stop.” She screamed, covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes tight. “Please, I want to go home.”
Chapter Ten
The next day, Edward and the men were returning from a skirmish across the border, driving a score of cattle. A minor clan allied with Clan Armstrong had dared to take three stag from his lands, and in return, Edward whisked away the clan’s cattle. No one stole from a Thornton and got away with it.
On the lookout for angry Scots, the men were already wary when a scream sounded through the wood. Urging the horses forward, they came upon a small hut.
“Brom and Alistair, to me. Ballard, lead the men and cattle back to Somerforth.” He dismounted and hit the ground running.
With a booted foot, he kicked the door open, unsheathing his sword. Brom followed, leaving Alistair outside to guard their back in case ’twas a trap. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the croft. The home was small but tidy, and as he looked around he saw no threat. Where was the woman?
A makeshift screen in the corner
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