“She has been rather busy,” Barney Somerville commented. As a vicar, he felt it incumbent on him to be fair, anxious though he was to know how his story turned out. “She has retired, left her old house, spent months house-hunting, moved into her new house, and is now renovating.”
Lady Ruth Winderfield was prowling impatiently along the spaces between the lines in her manuscript. “That’s easy for you to say, Reverend. You and Theo are first on her list. She has to have you done by early next month.” She bit back what she was going to say next, but the Marquis of Aldridge guessed her complaint.
“You and Val were about to enjoy your first kiss, were you not? And now it has been months. But take heart. She must finish your story before it is my turn.” His smirk turned wry at the edges. “I’ve waited years,” he murmured, almost too low to be heard. For the moment his heart was in the hazel eyes that lingered on the lady he loved. Saint Charlotte, they called her. She had rejected him several times, and how his author was going to resolve this was beyond him.
Otto had been sitting hunched over a tankard of ale, but he looked up at Aldridge’s complaint. “At least you are sure your story will be written one day,” he pointed out. “She doesn’t think she’ll have time for mine. And I read the original at school. It did not turn out well.”
Barney clapped the big dark-skinned man on one rugged shoulder. “She specialises in happy endings, my friend,” he pointed out.
Theo looked up from the game of cards she was playing with Otto’s wife, Desiree. “Why don’t we write a letter?” she suggested. “A summary of our concerns. A manifesto, if you will. We could send it through the Teatime Tattler. I know she reads that.”
Aldridge twirled his empty glass between his fingers. “Dear Jude, your characters are revolting?” he suggested.
“Set aside time to write us now, or we leave.” Otto’s blunt suggestion fell into a brief silence, which Val broke, speaking as Theo’s pen flew across the page at his dictation.
“Dear author, please remember your characters. We are yearning to get out of your head and onto our pages.”
(Book sculpture by Susan Hoerth)
Dear characters and readers. I have missed you all. I’m trying to carve out some time to write each day, and hope to catch up soon. Love you all.
Dristan of Berwyck sat next to his wife Amiria watching the wedding celebration before them. His great hall was filled with the sound of the minstrels playing their instruments for the dancer’s enjoyment. He should be happy for Killian of Clan MacLaren, along with Lady Ella recently of Hull. So why did he feel so uneasy?
Amiria’s hand patted his arm before she rested her head upon his shoulder. “Stop frowning, my love, or you shall scare our guests away thinking they have once more awoken the Devil’s Dragon,” she said with a laugh. “What troubles you so that you must frown on such a festive occasion?”
“I only ponder how many more of these women not born of this time shall invade our gates,” he mused aloud. He reached for his chalice of wine and took a large drink before continuing. “How many more of my knights will be taken in by their charms?”
She lifted her head and placed her hand upon his cheek. “Surely you wish your men to be as happy as we are, Dristan. Does it truly matter if they find love with a lady born in this time or from the future?” she asked.
“Nay, I would not deny them. But why does Time seem to take the best of my knights?” he grumbled.
Her laughter rang out and the sound was pleasing to Dristan’s ears. “Killian is hardly leaving, my lord, and mayhap Riorden and Fletcher will return for a visit soon.”
“I am not so certain they will return for any length of time. Who do you suppose will be next to find wedded bliss?” His eyes ran over the crowded room.
“We can always ask our healer. You know Kenna can give us the answers you stand in need of,” Amiria replied before taking a sip of her own chalice.
“Nay! I may be curious as to which of my knights I will lose next, but I will not mess with Time in such a way. Let everything fall into place without Kenna’s help,” he said before standing and taking his wife’s hand. “Let’s dance. We might as well join the celebration.”
Amiria laughed again before taking his hand. “I am just as certain we shall have many such celebrations in this hall in the years to come.
This original piece is part of Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing’s MacLarens and Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time series. Read on for an excerpt from her latest novel Love Will Find You where Killian and Ella have a date with Time!
Excerpt:
Ella’s nerves were on edge. That must be why she was feeling so anxious when she noticed Killian making his way across the hall. She reached for her chalice of wine, her fingers trembling before she managed to wrap them around the cup to take a sip without the heady red liquid spilling all over her gown. Perchance she should excuse herself and seek her chamber to rest. That was all she needed. She just had to go and rest before she left Berwyck forevermore to finally meet her destiny.
“He favors you,” Amiria’s voice was a soft whisper barely heard above the lutes playing in her hall.
There was no point in denying that she knew whom Amiria meant. “You are mistaken,” Ella replied taking another sip from her goblet before setting it upon the table. She clutched her hands together upon her lap, her knuckles quickly becoming white. Her heart tapped a ferocious beat inside her chest. This was not happening! Not when she was this close to being reunited with the one man she had crossed time for.
Amiria reached over to clasp her hands, giving them a slight squeeze. Ella turned to look upon her friend, who had given her shelter more times than she could count over the years. Amiria was a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and eyes of violet. She reminded Ella of a Viking shield maiden of old, since Amiria could wield a sword as no other woman of Ella’s acquaintance.
“I have waited many a year for some woman to catch his eye,” Amiria replied, her tone conveyed all the love she felt for the man who had watched over her like her father would have done if he yet lived.
Ella saw Killian’s progress was interrupted when he began having speech with Gregory, another of Dristan’s knights. “I have not caught his eye, my lady. Besides you know my fate lies in another direction.”
Amiria sighed, leaning over towards her husband when he whispered in her ear. She began to rise but bent over to kiss Ella’s cheek. “Be kind to him, Ella. I do not wish to see him hurt.”
Before Ella could make any reply, Amiria left to dance with her husband. They were an impressive pair, the two of them, and she was happy the couple twirling across the floor had found true love. Everyone deserved to find the person who called to them, soul to soul, Ella included.
Killian stood in front of the table clearing his throat, bringing her back to the challenge before her. “Mayhap ye would favor me with a dance, Ella?”
He appeared nervous, but the smile she gave him was genuine when he willingly dropped the whole lady business and called her only by her first name. “Aye, of course, Killian.”
His faced showed the briefest glimpse of relief before a mask of indifference fell into place. He came around the table, gave a courtly bow, and then offered his arm. Hesitant, but curious if she would have the same reaction as when she had touched him earlier, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Her breath hitched at their contact. How could this be happening? She did not understand what was going on with the man who began ushering her through the patterns of a lively tune.
The other dancers upon the floor became a blur, her partner the only one who remained in focus. Each time they came together and touched, small sparks flowed like the sweetest nectar through her body. The sensation warmed her entire being, making it hard to remember the steps of the dance. Her wits surely must be addled as she continued to gaze into the hypnotizing eyes of her partner.
Killian was an accomplished dancer, of that there could be no doubt, despite him always showing the outside world a gruff appearance. He took her by the waist and lifted her high while the dance continued, his arms of steel more than capable of easily picking her up as though she weighed nothing at all. As he lowered her back to the floor, her eyes widened as she slid down his body. Her hands remained on his shoulders as they just stood there, the dance all but forgotten.
Love Will Find You: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time (Book Four) By Sherry Ewing
Sometimes a moment is all we have…
Ella Fitzpatrick is a woman with a secret. As she comes and goes from Berwyck Castle, seeking refuge within its gates, she yearns to be reunited with the one for whom she crossed time from the twenty-first century. She has lived another lifetime in the twelfth century waiting for the date of their reunion and it is almost upon her. But how could she have known the man she believes she loves is not the person she needs?
Killian of Clan MacLaren has been infatuated with Ella for many a year but has guarded his heart, knowing her affection lies with another. When Ella must flee Berwyck, Killian vows to escort her to her encounter with destiny. But passion flares between them and there is no doubt the bond they have is far greater than either of them expected.
Their time together is running out. Killian has a decision to make that might give him and Ella a future together. If you could change someone’s past, would you seize the moment?
Love Will Find You can be read as a standalone novel. If you love action-packed time travels, adventurous medieval romances, and swoon-worthy characters then you’ll love Sherry Ewing’s Knights of Berwyck series.
Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist.
You will have heard of the shocking acts of public disorder here in our quiet little corner of the world. Dear Mr Horner and I are horrified at the most recent event, when a large group, dressed as savages and armed with axes, invaded private property and destroyed more than nine hundred thousand pounds of goods and the chests those goods were stored in.
The protests in March were bad enough. One must regret the loss of life when the soldiers opened fire on the crowd, but beyond a doubt, the protesters started it when they threw snowballs at a guard outside the Custom House. I think (and Mr Horner agrees with me) that the soldiers in question deserve a strong reprimand for firing on the mob, though we agree that we were not present, and cannot understand how threatening the protestors appeared to the poor soldiers.
However, the protests have escalated, with rocks thrown through windows, printed death threats sent to upright citizens who were just going about their business, and people assaulted and beaten.
Politics have invaded even our drawing rooms and breakfast tables, with social shame awaiting those who dare to continue to imbibe their favourite beverage. One of my friends went so far as to suggest that we should no longer associate, as I refuse to give up a harmless drink to support treasonous mutterings against the rightful actions of government.
Then came the activities of last night. How can any right-thinking person think that a political disagreement justifies the destruction of private property? I shudder to think of the way the perpetrators of the heinous act menaced their way to dominance of the goods by their fearsome appearance and their numbers. The poor sailors on board that ship must have been in fear of their lives.
Of course, I support the right to freedom of speech, but rioting and looting cannot be supported, surely? So Mr Horner says, and I quite agree with him.
I have asked Mr Horner if we might return to London, dearest Agatha. So many people here, however upset they are with the destruction of property, are claiming that the anger behind the act is justified that I fear they may turn to even more violence.
Mr Horner disagrees. He believes that strong action from the government will ensure that everything settles down. He points out that even Mr Washington, who is a leader of the most vocal party of radicals, has spoken strongly against the most recent action, accusing the participants of madness. After all, nobody wants a revolution.
I can only hope that Mr Horner is correct.
I will keep you informed, my dear. Pray for me and for all of those loyal to our beloved Mother Country and the King.
Ever your loving sister
Agnes
(Mrs John Horner)
The Boston Tea Party was one in a series of protests against coercive acts by the government against the citizens of the American colonies. At the time, to be loyal was to want to stay British.
The tea belonged to the East India Company, not to the British government. However, the government had given the Company a monopoly on tea imports to the American colonies.
The stupid Government reaction to the protests meant that they escalated and eventually became full-scale revolution. In light of modern events, I find it intriguing that the destruction of one million dollars (in today’s terms) of private property is now regarded as a heroic act.
Ella finished writing her name to the parchment and set the quill down to inspect her short letter to her sister. She bit her lip in indecision wondering about the possibilities of this ever reaching her sibling. Poor Jennifer must be frantic with worry after so much time but still… Could it be possible Ella was gone for only a brief instant from her future life in the twenty-first century? Time had played enough games with Ella and Killian for that matter. She was done traveling through time and was content to live out her life with those she had come to love.
The ink dry, she sealed the letter with wax and watched as Killian brought over an iron box that looked as though it could survive a century or two hidden with the stone wall of Berwyck Castle. She placed a kiss upon the parchment, set it inside the box, and Killian closed the lid with a smile.
“She will find it somehow, my dearest Ella.” His Scottish brogue brought a delightful shiver to her skin and she hoped that feeling never went away. He put the box inside the wall and proceeded to replace the stone in order to hide the box’s placement.
“Do you think so?” she asked before he took her in his arms. A small memory of Ella and her sister in a park flipped through her mind and she smiled knowing his words were true.
“Aye. Ye know she will someday know ye found love,” he whispered before he bent down and sealed his words with a kiss.
Killian gave her no further time to ponder the mysteries of them being together. Time had brought her to this man and she would never be parted from him again.
Ella’s nerves were on edge. That must be why she was feeling so anxious when she noticed Killian making his way across the hall. She reached for her chalice of wine, her fingers trembling before she managed to wrap them around the cup to take a sip without the heady red liquid spilling all over her gown. Perchance she should excuse herself and seek her chamber to rest. That was all she needed. She just had to go and rest before she left Berwyck forevermore to finally meet her destiny.
“He favors you,” Amiria’s voice was a soft whisper barely heard above the lutes playing in her hall.
There was no point in denying that she knew whom Amiria meant. “You are mistaken,” Ella replied taking another sip from her goblet before setting it upon the table. She clutched her hands together upon her lap, her knuckles quickly becoming white. Her heart tapped a ferocious beat inside her chest. This was not happening! Not when she was this close to being reunited with the one man she had crossed time for.
Amiria reached over to clasp her hands, giving them a slight squeeze. Ella turned to look upon her friend, who had given her shelter more times than she could count over the years. Amiria was a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and eyes of violet. She reminded Ella of a Viking shield maiden of old, since Amiria could wield a sword as no other woman of Ella’s acquaintance.
“I have waited many a year for some woman to catch his eye,” Amiria replied, her tone conveyed all the love she felt for the man who had watched over her like her father would have done if he yet lived.
Ella saw Killian’s progress was interrupted when he began having speech with Gregory, another of Dristan’s knights. “I have not caught his eye, my lady. Besides you know my fate lies in another direction.”
Amiria sighed, leaning over towards her husband when he whispered in her ear. She began to rise but bent over to kiss Ella’s cheek. “Be kind to him, Ella. I do not wish to see him hurt.”
Before Ella could make any reply, Amiria left to dance with her husband. They were an impressive pair, the two of them, and she was happy the couple twirling across the floor had found true love. Everyone deserved to find the person who called to them, soul to soul, Ella included.
Killian stood in front of the table clearing his throat, bringing her back to the challenge before her. “Mayhap ye would favor me with a dance, Ella?”
He appeared nervous, but the smile she gave him was genuine when he willingly dropped the whole lady business and called her only by her first name. “Aye, of course, Killian.”
His faced showed the briefest glimpse of relief before a mask of indifference fell into place. He came around the table, gave a courtly bow, and then offered his arm. Hesitant, but curious if she would have the same reaction as when she had touched him earlier, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Her breath hitched at their contact. How could this be happening? She did not understand what was going on with the man who began ushering her through the patterns of a lively tune.
The other dancers upon the floor became a blur, her partner the only one who remained in focus. Each time they came together and touched, small sparks flowed like the sweetest nectar through her body. The sensation warmed her entire being, making it hard to remember the steps of the dance. Her wits surely must be addled as she continued to gaze into the hypnotizing eyes of her partner.
Killian was an accomplished dancer, of that there could be no doubt, despite him always showing the outside world a gruff appearance. He took her by the waist and lifted her high while the dance continued, his arms of steel more than capable of easily picking her up as though she weighed nothing at all. As he lowered her back to the floor, her eyes widened as she slid down his body. Her hands remained on his shoulders as they just stood there, the dance all but forgotten.
Love Will Find You: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time (Book Four)
Sometimes a moment is all we have…
Ella Fitzpatrick is a woman with a secret. As she comes and goes from Berwyck Castle, seeking refuge within its gates, she yearns to be reunited with the one for whom she crossed time from the twenty-first century. She has lived another lifetime in the twelfth century waiting for the date of their reunion and it is almost upon her. But how could she have known the man she believes she loves is not the person she needs?
Killian of Clan MacLaren has been infatuated with Ella for many a year but has guarded his heart, knowing her affection lies with another. When Ella must flee Berwyck, Killian vows to escort her to her encounter with destiny. But passion flares between them and there is no doubt the bond they have is far greater than either of them expected.
Their time together is running out. Killian has a decision to make that might give him and Ella a future together. If you could change someone’s past, would you seize the moment?
Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist.
To the Esteemed Editor, The Teatime Tattler, London
Sir, it is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to document the sad fall of a former ornament of our Society.
Your readers will remember Lady S. B., sister to the Earl of Hy., a lady past her first years, and with two scandals already in her past. She has been betrothed twice, and married not at all. On both occasions, the lady has emerged with her reputation intact, but after recent events, one must wonder if we have been over generous to a serpent in our midst.
Be that as it may, Lady S. has continued to enjoy the approval of Society, and has persisted in trading on that approval in pursuit of funding for one of her many causes.
Those enjoying the hospitality of the Duchess of Hfd have recently been treated to the less than edifying spectacle of the half-breed viscount pursuing the Earl of Hy.’s sisters. Or was the pursuit the other way? We thought he preferred the younger, but he was seen kissing the elder. Under the mistletoe, to be sure, but such a kiss, sir!
It takes so little to ruin a lady. One kiss, and a woman past her first years, who might be supposed to have more sense, has eloped with two rakes. Not one, sir, but two. Neither of them the man she kissed.
It is to be hoped her brother will cast her off completely for the sake of her sister, Lady F., though saving that chit’s reputation is probably already a lost cause.
Be that as it may, we can be sure that the worthy leaders of Society can loosen their grips on their pocketbooks.
Editor’s note: Our readers will be pleased to know that the lady who is the subject of this letter was safely conveyed to London, with her maid in attendance. Her wedding followed shortly after. The Teatime Tattler wishes to convey congratulations to the happy couple, now the Earl and Countess of S.
To Wed a Proper Lady
Everyone knows James needs a bride with impeccable blood lines. James needs Sophia’s love, more.
James, eldest son of the Earl of Sutton, must marry to please his grandfather, the Duke of Winshire, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her, he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy: the man who is fighting in Parliament to have his father’s marriage declared invalid and the Winderfield children made bastards.
Sophia keeps secret her tendre for James, Lord Elfingham. After all, the whole of Society knows he is pursuing the younger Belvoir sister, not the older one left on the shelf after two failed betrothals. Even when he asks for her hand in marriage, she still can’t quite believe that he loves her.
In the following excerpt, Sophia decides to follow James to London.
The duchess excused herself and left, to return after a few moments. “A messenger has come to fetch my son Jonathan. If you will excuse me, my friends, I will go and help him prepare for his trip. Please. Continue the celebrations. I will join you again as soon as I can.”
Sophia followed her into the hall in time to hear Aldridge say, “If you must go, use my yacht. It stands off Margate, but we can be there in two days, and she is faster than anything you’ll pick up in London. You will not have to wait for the Thames tide, either.”
“What you propose is not safe, my darling boy. The Grand Army is in your way. You could be shot as a spy,” the duchess said. “Why, this friend of yours cannot even give you assurance that the grand duchess will not behead you on sight. It is possible that…”
“Mama, all things are possible.” Gren was lit from within, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if his joy were too big to contain. “All things but one. I have tried living without the woman I love, Mama, and that, that is impossible. Anything else, I can do. Wait and see.”
“I have sent a message to the stables,” Aldridge said, “and another to my valet telling him to pack for us both. Mama, we shall rest overnight in London then leave at first light for Margate. If you have any messages, write them now.”
“Take me.” Sophia did not know she was going to speak until the words were from her mouth.
“Lady Sophia?” Lord Aldridge was frowning.
“You are right,” Sophia told Gren. “Only one thing is impossible, and that is living without the man I love. I should have said yes. I will say yes. Take me to London, Gren, and to James.”
Gren looked at his brother and then back at Sophia. “We shall be travelling fast,” he warned.
“All the better.”
“What will Hythe say?” the duchess asked.
“I hope he shall wish me well, but I am going, Aunt Eleanor. If Lord Aldridge will not take me, then I shall catch a mail coach.” The decision made, she would not let anything stand in her way.
Lord Aldridge spread his hands in surrender. “Say your farewells, then, Lady Sophia. We leave in thirty minutes.” He turned to his brother. “I’ll write to Baumann. You’ll need money, Gren. He’ll know who can supply it overnight at short notice at this time of year.”
Hythe was not happy. “Sophia, you cannot mean to go chasing after Elfingham. Why, he might already be wed to Lady Charlotte.”
“He is waiting for me, Hythe. He needs me at his side, and that is where I want to be.”
“I can take you to London after the New Year’s Eve ball,” he suggested. “In just a few days.”
“Aldridge and Gren can take me now, today. In a few days, the duke may be dead, and James will be in mourning.”
“The duke might be dead now, Sophia. This is a mad start, running off with two of England’s worst rakes. What of your reputation?” He frowned. “At least take your maid.”
“Theodosia gets sick in a fast coach. Besides, Felicity will need her.”
“Felicity. What of Felicity? You cannot just race off and abandon her.”
Cedrica spoke up. “Do not be silly, Lord Hythe. Her Grace will chaperone Felicity, you will protect her, her maid will take care of her, and I will make sure she behaves. Sophia, Her Grace will have a maid she can send with you to give you countenance. Let me speak to the housekeeper while you set Theodosia packing a bag for you.”
After one astonished look, Hythe subsided, and almost before she knew it, Sophia was on her way out the door. Felicity hugged her and wept a little on her shoulder. The duchess gave her an absent peck on the cheek, most of her attention on her own sons, but then had a sudden thought.
“Wait!” she said. “Saunders, fetch me paper, ink, and a quill. You will find some in the Gold Drawing Room on the library table.”
While the duchess wrote a letter in neat copperplate using her finest paper, others of the party, Cedrica among them, gave their best wishes for a safe journey, “and a happy arrival,” Cedrica whispered.
Then the duchess handed her the sealed and folded letter. “The Archbishop of Canterbury is an old friend of mine, dear Sophia. This letter will get your James in to see him. You will need a license, my dear.” She kissed Sophia again then went to kiss Gren and weep a little onto his shoulder.
At the last moment, Hythe caught Sophia up into a fierce hug. “Tell him from me that he is to treat you well, or he will have me to deal with. And you can always come home, Sophia.”
She hugged him back and allowed Aldridge to hand her up into the carriage.
