First Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 3) by Cynthia Luhrs
Authors: Cynthia Luhrs
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Buckingham Palace as tourists tried to get him to react to whatever crazy thing they were doing.
He looked relieved. “You should not jest so, lady.”
When she whirled around to go back in the room, a bout of dizziness hit her. Fingers grasped the door but missed. Then strong arms swept her up. She’d know the feel of them anywhere.
“Edward. I was going to come down and find you, but Mr. Crankypants wouldn’t let me pass.”
Alistair blanched at Edward’s look. Too bad she couldn’t see it—she bet it was a doozy.
“I will see you in the lists later.”
The poor guy turned even paler and fled down the corridor. Edward grumbled under his breath as he carried her down the stairs and outside. She waved to a few of the people who’d come to see her while she was sick. The men were in the lists, and she smiled at one of the archers. His aim was atrocious, but he made up for it in gusto.
“Where are we going? I thought I was going to watch you practice your swordplay?”
“Womanly, the lot of them.” He cursed. “Nay, we will spend the afternoon in the rose garden. There is a gift for you.”
“Presents? I love presents.”
He chuckled. They entered the walled garden, the scent of roses permeating the air. The day was warm, the sky blue, and the man she’d fallen hard for over the past week and a half was as perfect as if she’d conjured him up with a magic potion.
In the center of the garden were a fountain and a stone bench.
“Close your eyes.”
She did as he asked. Waiting. Then she felt him put her down on the bench, but he didn’t sit beside her. There was a rustling before he said, “Open your eyes.”
“Oh!” There before her was the most wondrous gift. She reached out, and, knowing what she wanted, Edward stepped into her arms.
Her voice was choked. “It is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. How can I ever thank you?”
There before her was everything she needed to paint. An easel made of wood and a bundle on the ground unrolled to display the contents. There was a stack of parchment and wood panels for sketching and painting. Assorted brushes, pen and ink, and a beautiful wooden box that was so ornate it looked like a jewelry box.
Edward set it beside her and opened it. “Does it have what you need?” He sounded unsure. “The monks said ’twas what you would require.” He touched a brush. “They are made from squirrel.”
Jennifer looked at the tiny jars. Pigments in various colors. She held up each one, opening it and exclaiming over the colors. There were also sticks of mineral pigments: umber, red and yellow ochre, and lime white. When she opened one of the jars, she quickly closed it again and gasped.
“That’s ultramarine. It must have been ghastly expensive.”
“The monks were delighted to take my gold.” He ran a finger down the side of her face, twisting her hair between his fingers. “The color is the same as the dark flecks in your eyes. The moment I saw the color, I knew you must have it.”
“Oh, Edward.” Tears threatened but didn’t fall. “I’m so very happy.”
He held up two more jars. “One of the monks said these are for water and egg to make tempera.”
“I’ll paint the castle and the gardens and the people.” She looked at him, feeling shy yet aching. “Would you sit for me?”
He startled. “You wish to paint me?”
“I do.”
“Aye, my visage should be captured. The future men in your time are weak and should see what a knight of the realm looks like.” The arrogance was back, and she grinned.
“Of course, my lord.”
“Harrumph.” He pulled her on his lap. “Tell me all you would paint.” With a finger, he tilted up her chin. “I would send the monks wagons of gold to see you so pleased.”
She laughed. “Don’t say that. You haven’t seen how much I love to paint. We might have to live in a hut after I squander all your gold.”
Chapter Twenty-One
During her stay, Jennifer had managed to avoid getting on a
He looked relieved. “You should not jest so, lady.”
When she whirled around to go back in the room, a bout of dizziness hit her. Fingers grasped the door but missed. Then strong arms swept her up. She’d know the feel of them anywhere.
“Edward. I was going to come down and find you, but Mr. Crankypants wouldn’t let me pass.”
Alistair blanched at Edward’s look. Too bad she couldn’t see it—she bet it was a doozy.
“I will see you in the lists later.”
The poor guy turned even paler and fled down the corridor. Edward grumbled under his breath as he carried her down the stairs and outside. She waved to a few of the people who’d come to see her while she was sick. The men were in the lists, and she smiled at one of the archers. His aim was atrocious, but he made up for it in gusto.
“Where are we going? I thought I was going to watch you practice your swordplay?”
“Womanly, the lot of them.” He cursed. “Nay, we will spend the afternoon in the rose garden. There is a gift for you.”
“Presents? I love presents.”
He chuckled. They entered the walled garden, the scent of roses permeating the air. The day was warm, the sky blue, and the man she’d fallen hard for over the past week and a half was as perfect as if she’d conjured him up with a magic potion.
In the center of the garden were a fountain and a stone bench.
“Close your eyes.”
She did as he asked. Waiting. Then she felt him put her down on the bench, but he didn’t sit beside her. There was a rustling before he said, “Open your eyes.”
“Oh!” There before her was the most wondrous gift. She reached out, and, knowing what she wanted, Edward stepped into her arms.
Her voice was choked. “It is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. How can I ever thank you?”
There before her was everything she needed to paint. An easel made of wood and a bundle on the ground unrolled to display the contents. There was a stack of parchment and wood panels for sketching and painting. Assorted brushes, pen and ink, and a beautiful wooden box that was so ornate it looked like a jewelry box.
Edward set it beside her and opened it. “Does it have what you need?” He sounded unsure. “The monks said ’twas what you would require.” He touched a brush. “They are made from squirrel.”
Jennifer looked at the tiny jars. Pigments in various colors. She held up each one, opening it and exclaiming over the colors. There were also sticks of mineral pigments: umber, red and yellow ochre, and lime white. When she opened one of the jars, she quickly closed it again and gasped.
“That’s ultramarine. It must have been ghastly expensive.”
“The monks were delighted to take my gold.” He ran a finger down the side of her face, twisting her hair between his fingers. “The color is the same as the dark flecks in your eyes. The moment I saw the color, I knew you must have it.”
“Oh, Edward.” Tears threatened but didn’t fall. “I’m so very happy.”
He held up two more jars. “One of the monks said these are for water and egg to make tempera.”
“I’ll paint the castle and the gardens and the people.” She looked at him, feeling shy yet aching. “Would you sit for me?”
He startled. “You wish to paint me?”
“I do.”
“Aye, my visage should be captured. The future men in your time are weak and should see what a knight of the realm looks like.” The arrogance was back, and she grinned.
“Of course, my lord.”
“Harrumph.” He pulled her on his lap. “Tell me all you would paint.” With a finger, he tilted up her chin. “I would send the monks wagons of gold to see you so pleased.”
She laughed. “Don’t say that. You haven’t seen how much I love to paint. We might have to live in a hut after I squander all your gold.”
Chapter Twenty-One
During her stay, Jennifer had managed to avoid getting on a
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