Love Came Just in Time by Lynn Kurland Read Free Book Online

just saw.”
    Abby would have felt the same way, but she had inside information. It was hard to swallow, but she had the feeling Sir Maximillian Sweetums was a ghost. She held onto her shaking host and wondered just how to break the news to him.
    â€œThings of this nature do not happen,” Miles said, his voice hushed. “’Tis a modern age. I do not believe what I have just seen.”
    Abby looked up at him. “Honey, I think you’re living in the past. Everyone else has indoor plumbing.”
    â€œHow much more modern an age can it be?” he asked, returning her look, his eyes wide. “I don’t care overmuch for his politics, but King Henry is a most forward-thinking monarch.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother. Not that again.”
    â€œAye, that again,” he said, some of the color returning to his face. He released his deathgrip on her and stepped back a pace. “Saints, woman, where have you been?”
    â€œOut to lunch,” she returned, “obviously.”
    â€œHenry rules England,” he insisted.
    â€œNo, he doesn’t.”
    â€œBy the very saints of heaven, you are a stubborn maid! Have you forgotten the bloody year? Who else would sit the throne in 1238?”
    Abby blinked. “Huh?”
    Miles clapped his free hand to his head. “That swim addled your wits, Abigail.”
    â€œWhat did you say before?” she managed. “What year?”
    â€œ1238. The Year of Our Lord 1238!”
    Abby kept breathing. She knew that because she had to remind herself to do it. In, out, in, out. Twelve-thirty- eight , twelve-thirty -eight . She breathed in and out to that rhythm.
    It couldn’t be true. She looked around her at the stone room. There weren’t any fireplaces; just Miles’s bonfire in the middle of the room. No electricity, no central heat, no carpet. The walls were bare, leaving their stone selves fully open to perusal. No twentieth-century construction job there.
    She looked down. There was stone beneath her feet, what she could feel of it beneath the layer of scum and hay. She looked around again. There were a pair of crude wooden tables near the walls, and chairs that looked rustically crafted. But that was the extent of the furniture. She took a deep breath. Well, the place certainly smelled like 1238.
    She looked up at Miles. He stood in homespun clothing exactly like hers, wearing a very medieval frown. He didn’t have the benefit of modern grooming aids, if his finger-combed hair and non-ironed tunic were any clue. He’d definitely been packing a sword the night before. He’d said he was a knight. Could that be true too?
    Abby looked toward the door. Maybe if she stepped outside into the fresh air, she might have a different perspective on things.
    She wanted to saunter across the great hall casually, but she had the feeling it had come out as more of a frantic get-me-the-hell-back-to-my-century kind of run.
    She struggled with the heavy wooden beam that obviously served as a dead bolt in 1238. Heavy hands came to rest on her shoulders.
    â€œAbigail—”
    â€œLet me out!” she shrieked.
    â€œAbigail—” he said, starting to sound a bit concerned.
    Abby wasn’t just a bit concerned. She was on the verge of having hysterics—and she was starting not to care just exactly what Garretts did and did not do.
    â€œPlease!” she begged.
    Miles heaved the beam aside and opened the door, in spite of her attempts to help. She ran outside.
    It was raining. She slogged straight into three inches of muck.
    â€œYuck!” she exclaimed.
    She would have run anywhere just to be running, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet unstuck from the goo.
    â€œAbigail.”
    Before she could tell Miles just what had her so frantic, she found herself turned around bodily and gathered against a very firm, very warm body. Without giving his good or bad points any more thought, she