First Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: Cynthia Luhrs
start working around seven.”
“Perfect,” she said as he meandered away, talking to himself and making notes on a small spiral pad he’d produced from the pocket of his khakis.
The rest of the afternoon was hers to do as she pleased. Jennifer grabbed a bottle of water along with the canvas bag containing her paints, and decided to capture the castle ruins. Tomorrow she’d set up in the old rose garden. To thank the professor for making room for her this summer and keeping her parents from driving her crazy with their “you need a good job or find a rich man and get married” speeches, she’d do a watercolor of the ruins, one of the coast, and another of everyone digging.
With no job upon graduation and the prospect of taking a mercy job working for her dad at his doctor’s office, Jennifer was grateful he’d taken pity on her. Though in truth she thought he was afraid of her mother’s temper, and that was what motivated him. Didn’t matter to her—a gig was a gig. Her dad had friends at the local college and had pulled some strings. Jennifer didn’t care if she cleaned or ran errands; it didn’t matter. For the entire summer she was living in the English countryside, sleeping next to a ruined castle. So much better than working retail or being stuck in an office all day.
When she returned home at the end of summer, she’d buckle down and find a job. Maybe at a college or museum doing whatever they needed. But for now, living in a tent in Northern England, almost on the border of Scotland, was her idea of heaven on earth.
The afternoon light deepened into evening when Jennifer stretched and went to work cleaning her brushes. Standing back to view her work, she closed her eyes then opened them to see what her gaze went to first. What needed more work or stood out too much. She’d set up at the furthest point of the castle. The dig was taking place at the rear, and she was looking at what would have been the front.
She pulled the rough sketch out and shook her head. Before starting the painting, an image had come to her as fully formed as if she were looking at it in real life. The sketch showed Somerforth as she imagined it. Not a ruin but a fully functioning castle. Her hand moved of its own volition as she frantically captured the picture in her mind’s eye before it vanished. When complete, Jennifer let out a breath. It had felt like someone else was moving her hand, for she couldn’t possibly have created such detail from her imagination.
Tonight at dinner, she’d ask if anyone knew what Somerforth looked like before it fell. For as much as she’d searched online, Jennifer couldn’t find a single image, other than the ruins and one sketch of the front, which looked nothing like what she had done. The professor might like both works, even if one was only a product of her fanciful imagination. For now, she tucked the sketch into the back of the pad and followed a worn path back to the camp, stopping on the way by a picturesque bubbling brook to wash up.
When she sat down at the outdoor table that evening, one of the grad students, a pretty girl with golden hair, sneered and whispered something to her friend. Why did there always have to be a mean girl in the bunch?
“Don’t mind Monica. She’s mad you got the open position instead of her bestie this summer.” A guy with hazel eyes nudged her. “I’m Mark.”
She introduced herself to those she hadn’t already met and tried to ignore Monica. Dinner was stew with bread so delicious Jennifer could have eaten an entire loaf. Mary had a magic touch. Mark said she made it with honey, which reinforced her suspicions when she’d met the woman, and explained the smell that followed Mary everywhere she went. Exhaustion set in as Jennifer sipped a pint, the buzz of conversation lulling her into a stupor. The time change and travel had finally caught up to her.
“I’m about to fall asleep. See you all in the morning.”
“Need a
“Perfect,” she said as he meandered away, talking to himself and making notes on a small spiral pad he’d produced from the pocket of his khakis.
The rest of the afternoon was hers to do as she pleased. Jennifer grabbed a bottle of water along with the canvas bag containing her paints, and decided to capture the castle ruins. Tomorrow she’d set up in the old rose garden. To thank the professor for making room for her this summer and keeping her parents from driving her crazy with their “you need a good job or find a rich man and get married” speeches, she’d do a watercolor of the ruins, one of the coast, and another of everyone digging.
With no job upon graduation and the prospect of taking a mercy job working for her dad at his doctor’s office, Jennifer was grateful he’d taken pity on her. Though in truth she thought he was afraid of her mother’s temper, and that was what motivated him. Didn’t matter to her—a gig was a gig. Her dad had friends at the local college and had pulled some strings. Jennifer didn’t care if she cleaned or ran errands; it didn’t matter. For the entire summer she was living in the English countryside, sleeping next to a ruined castle. So much better than working retail or being stuck in an office all day.
When she returned home at the end of summer, she’d buckle down and find a job. Maybe at a college or museum doing whatever they needed. But for now, living in a tent in Northern England, almost on the border of Scotland, was her idea of heaven on earth.
The afternoon light deepened into evening when Jennifer stretched and went to work cleaning her brushes. Standing back to view her work, she closed her eyes then opened them to see what her gaze went to first. What needed more work or stood out too much. She’d set up at the furthest point of the castle. The dig was taking place at the rear, and she was looking at what would have been the front.
She pulled the rough sketch out and shook her head. Before starting the painting, an image had come to her as fully formed as if she were looking at it in real life. The sketch showed Somerforth as she imagined it. Not a ruin but a fully functioning castle. Her hand moved of its own volition as she frantically captured the picture in her mind’s eye before it vanished. When complete, Jennifer let out a breath. It had felt like someone else was moving her hand, for she couldn’t possibly have created such detail from her imagination.
Tonight at dinner, she’d ask if anyone knew what Somerforth looked like before it fell. For as much as she’d searched online, Jennifer couldn’t find a single image, other than the ruins and one sketch of the front, which looked nothing like what she had done. The professor might like both works, even if one was only a product of her fanciful imagination. For now, she tucked the sketch into the back of the pad and followed a worn path back to the camp, stopping on the way by a picturesque bubbling brook to wash up.
When she sat down at the outdoor table that evening, one of the grad students, a pretty girl with golden hair, sneered and whispered something to her friend. Why did there always have to be a mean girl in the bunch?
“Don’t mind Monica. She’s mad you got the open position instead of her bestie this summer.” A guy with hazel eyes nudged her. “I’m Mark.”
She introduced herself to those she hadn’t already met and tried to ignore Monica. Dinner was stew with bread so delicious Jennifer could have eaten an entire loaf. Mary had a magic touch. Mark said she made it with honey, which reinforced her suspicions when she’d met the woman, and explained the smell that followed Mary everywhere she went. Exhaustion set in as Jennifer sipped a pint, the buzz of conversation lulling her into a stupor. The time change and travel had finally caught up to her.
“I’m about to fall asleep. See you all in the morning.”
“Need a
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