Things had been going so well. The hall and several other rooms were painted and cheery, she’d gotten the kids into a routine, and then there was Richard.

They spent a great deal of time together. In the evenings, they’d sit by the fire; she would read, and he liked to brush her hair—so much so that she’d finally come to love her crazy curls instead of being annoyed by them.

He’d even left his hood down the last time a merchant arrived, so he was making progress. Chloe had been in the stables, petting the horses and a couple of the cats, and when she came out, the sun was doing its best to shine.

There was so much beauty around. As much as she missed Holden Beach and the sound of the ocean, she’d come to love it here. The land, sleeping for winter, waiting to be awoken by a kiss from spring, all stirred something deep within her soul.

She’d made her way up to the battlements. The guards were used to her presence. As she looked out at the forest, she knew. “I could stay in a place like this.”

The thought was banished just as quickly. She had to go back. With no idea if time passed the same here as it did in the future, Chloe wanted to be with her family. Her grandparents had turned eighty this year, and while people lived longer in her era, who knew how much time they had left?

It was almost like she could feel the stones calling her, a sense of urgency to go home. Could she even go back? Granda said it was possible if the fates were favorable, but her great-aunts never returned. And Chloe didn’t know if it was because they’d found their one true love or because they couldn’t go back and had made a life here in the past.

She walked for a while longer, deciding she needed to go check on the painting progress on the second floor. If one of the boys had painted the cat or dog again, she’d have their heads.

Later that afternoon, she was on her way to the solar to read for a little while before supper when she heard voices. It was something about the tone of the voices that made her stop and listen.

Chloe knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but it was Garrick and Richard, and they were being quiet enough that she knew something was up…so she crept closer and listened at the partially open door, hoping no one would catch her.

“You are a lord now. Take Chloe to wife. Get her with child so you have heirs.” Garrick’s deep voice rumbled out the door. It was a bit soon, if you asked her, but no one did, so she leaned closer to hear what Richard would say to that idea.

“She turns out my servants, thinks I cannot fight my own battles, distracts me until I do not know if I have put hose on, so I look to see. That bothersome wench has disrupted my peace. Rearranged my home, painted the bloody walls in cheerful colors. It was quiet before she came. I do not want her here. As soon as the messenger arrives, I will send her to Falconburg and be done with her for good.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. A tear trickled down her face to tickle her chin. So that was how he really felt about her. Shaky, her stomach turning over and over, she fled to her chamber and threw herself on the bed.

He didn’t want her here, had been humoring her all this time. Flirting with her for what? Practice for a woman he’d marry? Not some silly girl like her?

The urge to leave was so strong that she’d packed half her belongings when movement at the window caught her eye. It was snowing again. Why had she thought snow was pretty? It made it impossible for her to travel. She’d never make it almost two hundred miles to Falconburg.

What he’d said hurt more than she thought it would. When she was sixteen, she started dating, had even thought she’d been in love, but it had never felt like what she’d felt with Richard. He got her—didn’t think she was too quiet, or didn’t smile enough, or wasn’t pretty enough. She thought he’d accepted her for her. That, with his scars, he’d learned to look deeper than the outside. How wrong she’d been.

There was a knock at the door, and one of the girls stuck her head in. “I’m to fetch ye for supper, mistress.”

Chloe didn’t turn around. She didn’t want the girl to tell anyone she’d been crying. “Could you bring a tray to my room? It’s my womanly time, and I want to go to bed early.”

“I will tell my lord and I’ll bring you some spiced wine with your supper.”

“Thank you.” Chloe wiped her eyes, wishing she had her phone and could call Sara Beth to tell her what had happened. They discussed in minute detail everything their boyfriends said, looking for hidden meanings or hashing over an argument or something nice that was said. There wasn’t anyone here she could talk to about Richard.

“Where is Mistress Chloe?” Garrick asked Richard.

He finished chewing. “’Tis her womanly time.” He shuddered.

Garrick blanched. “We will leave her to rest.” Garrick drained the cup of ale and refilled it. “It has been more than three years, and your visage is still ugly. Then again, you were always ugly, but the scars are not so terrible nowadays.”

“I will not be jeered at. Think you I don’t know what is said about me? The wicked Beast of Bainford?”

Richard stabbed the knife into the table, glad Chloe didn’t see him do it and scold him for his lack of table manners.

“Do you know parents tell their children I will come and take them away? That I will cook and eat them? And they say I will send the little ones to my master, the devil, if they do not obey their parents.” He scowled, sending a serving girl running back to the kitchens. “I will not see the disgust and revulsion on their faces. I am ruined. Leave me be.”

Garrick rolled his eyes. “You are my oldest friend, but sometimes you are an arse. You cannot see what is in front of your face. You have a home, a title, a woman who loves you—”

Richard shoved away from the table. He had lost his appetite and would not hear any more womanly prattle from Garrick.