Heathrow was bustling as Chloe cleared customs, her luggage in tow. She’d carried on her small bag, planning to take advantage of the laundry offered at most hostels. After thinking about it, she’d decided to come clean with her mom. They thought she’d be traveling all over Europe instead of spending all her time in England. Chloe had been so sure her parents would tell her not to believe all of Granda’s stories, and she didn’t want to hear it, so she’d made up the whole “visit a ton of countries” itinerary.

During the flight she’d decided her mom would be happier knowing she was spending all her time in one country, and Chloe would feel better knowing she wasn’t deceiving them. If they started in on their tired “not romanticizing the past” talk, she’d tune them out like she did when she got lost in a good book.

The black lightweight trench coat with the pink polka dot lining kept her dry. Normally she hated rain, it made her curls extra springy, but here? The light drizzle made the day picture perfect.

The bus to take her to the hostel would be here shortly, so she called her mom while she waited. A couple of guys with Australian accents smiled, and she tripped over her bag, feeling like an idiot. Had they smiled because of the outfit or because they thought she was cute? Chloe wished she was pretty like Sara Beth instead of plain and average. Boring and quiet.

Mean girl Caroline made sure everyone knew boring, bookish Chloe. So she preferred books to people—why did Caroline have to be so judgmental? It wasn’t like Chloe judged Miss Meanie on her shallow personality.

“Hello? Chloe?”

“Sorry. Hi, Mom. I’m here. In England.”

“Arthur, come here. It’s Chloe. I’m putting you on speaker.”

She turned to face the airport, glad the gathering tour group couldn’t hear her talking to her mommy.

“How long will you be in England, honey?”

“For the whole summer.”

There was a moment of silence, and then her mom was talking a hundred miles a minute.

“We’re so glad you’ll be in one country. Much safer. Be careful. Watch out for muggers. Always watch your drinks when you’re out. Boys will put roofies in your drink. Keep your money and passport hidden. Do you need anything? Did you bring enough clean underwear? Where are you going first?”

“Mom. Stop.” Geez, so many questions. “I’m taking a tour around London with a group and staying in a hostel for a week or two. When I figure out where I’m going next, I’ll call, okay?”

“I’ll tell Mildred and Drake. They’re planning to spend a couple of weeks in the mountains, at the lake house one of those rich executive types your grandfather trains with swords owns.” She heard muffled talking before her mom came back. “I have no idea why anyone would want to swing a sword around. It’s so silly. Technology is where it’s at. Did I tell you I picked up a new client? The vet in town wants me to manage their social media. Isn’t that great?”

“Great.” It was easier to answer her mom’s last question and ignore the rest. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with her mom. Her conversations jumped all over the place. Unbelievable when she was so organized with her business. She’d started out creating websites for local businesses and then branched out to running their social media.

Chloe didn’t have the heart to tell her mom that her grandparents already knew the plan and that she’d texted them to let them know she arrived safely. They talked for a bit longer, and Chloe felt better, knowing her mom wouldn’t worry. She snorted. That was an exaggeration—of course her mom would worry, but not as much as if Chloe had been traveling all around the world. Next summer, maybe she’d take a trip to India or Australia. The guys from down under didn’t seem to care she was plain.

“I love you guys. I’ll miss you both.”

“Love you, honey. Have fun and be safe.” Chloe could hear Arthur in the background asking if she had enough money and if she’d brought an umbrella. He was so practical, and her mom adored him. They were a good match, even if he was a little boring. Then again, Chloe was boring, so what did she know?

“Miss? The bus is leaving. You coming?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Chloe wheeled her suitcase over so the guy could put it in the baggage hold. On the bus, there were about twenty kids, and she guessed they ranged from her age to twenty-five. Everyone was friendly enough, chatting away as the guide pointed out the sights. It was going to be a great summer. Maybe Sara Beth was right—maybe Chloe needed to kiss a few boys. Have a fling.

No. She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t the fling type, but a kiss or three would be okay.

As she shifted in the seat, something clinked, and she put her hand in the inside pocket of her trench, touching the bag Granda had given her before she’d left. He’d called her upstairs and handed her a bag of old coins. “Not like you could spend them. More to bring you the favor of the fates.”

Then he’d winked at her. “You never know what the fates have planned.”

“My lord, riders approach.” The newest man to join Richard’s small guard stood before him, looking at the ground. As the seasons passed, winter had given way to spring, the snow replaced by green, and Richard found himself with seven men willing to serve him. He tried not to think overmuch on how long it took the men to look him in the eye.

No longer did he look upon his visage in still water—nay, he no longer cared what was said about him. And if he kept telling himself such untruths, mayhap in time he would come to believe ’twas true.

His steward spat on the ground. “More mouths to feed for supper.” He called to the two serving girls who cleaned and took care of the laundry. As they had no cook, Edwin saw to the food. Richard put a hand to his gut, thinking on the barely edible fare that came from the kitchens. When they passed the overgrown garden, he sighed. ’Twas nigh impossible to find servants who did not cower in fear and run before their first night at Bainford passed.

In the courtyard, Richard tightened his hood and waited as the men approached.

One of the men held out a pouch, bulging with coin. “We come to best the Beast of Bainford.” The trembling of his hand, the coins jingling, gave away his fear.

A sneer filled Richard’s face. “And you?” He looked to the other man. “Have you too come to try your skill against me?”

The man swallowed. “Aye. I have.” He held out a small bag of coin, and Richard frowned. “’Tis a paltry sum.”

“My boy has eight summers, and the girl ten. They will work hard.”

This man wanted to wager his children? Richard forced himself not to gape at the dolt. Instead, he shrugged.

“As you will.” He stroked his chin, looking them over. “They are scrawny.”

“Please. Don’t eat us.” The girl wept as her brother comforted her. “Don’t cry, Merry. I won’t leave ye.”

“Enough. To the lists, where I shall relieve you of your gold.”

The Irishmen stopped their labors, taking places along the walls, calling out wagers. A year ago, Richard would have not allowed any to watch him fight, but that was then. Now, he relished his role as monster. The gold he had won fighting men had paid for the repairs to his home.

The gasp when he removed his hood and cloak made Richard tighten his hand on the hilt of his sword. The hiss of the sword as it came free from the scabbard filled the air.

Mere moments later, ’twas over. These skirmishes were short-lived—the men lost their gold, went to drown their sorrows in the tavern, and told more and more outrageous tales about the beast and the evil doings at Bainford Castle.

One of his guard aided the two men in finding the gates, on foot. For Richard had taken their horses as well as their gold.

Once they were gone, he turned to face the children, the girl hiding behind her brother.

“Have you eaten?”

“Nay,” the boy said. But he looked Richard in the eye and did not flinch.

“What are your names?”

The boy stood tall. “I am Robin.” He pulled his sister next to him. “This is Merry.” He whispered something to her, and she nodded. Impossibly blue eyes, the color of the North Sea, met his.

“I can cook and sew,” she said.

“Edwin will be pleased.” Richard clapped his hands together as the children jumped. “To the kitchens. You will eat, then my steward will show you where to sleep and what to do.”

“Thank ye, my lord,” the boy said.

“Are you not afeared of me?”

“Our father beat us. You cannot be worse,” Merry said.

A rider could catch the man, bring him back to Richard. Nay, he would let the man go. Many beat their wives and children, though Richard did not. He had been beaten enough as a child that he would never lift a hand to the helpless and weak.

“Do your chores and speak to no one of the goings on at Bainford, and I will not beat you.” He grinned at them. “Nor will I eat you. Come, let us fill our bellies.”

The next month flew by. Chloe loved everything about England. The history, the accents, the vibe—it was all perfect. Even the rain was welcome. A ponytail had become her go-to hairstyle to keep the brown corkscrew curls tamed. She and two girls from Australia had been traveling together. The girls were funny, routinely making Chloe snort water out of her nose. They reminded her of Sara Beth. Her friend would be thrilled: Chloe had kissed one Brit and one Scot, so in her book, the trip was a success. It didn’t really matter that the kisses were just kisses; she didn’t feel them down to her toes, they didn’t make her swoon, and no one swept her up onto his horse and carried her off to his castle.

If she didn’t love books so much, she’d hate the authors for making her believe with every fiber of her being that a single kiss could change your life.

She’d let her family know she was off to spend a few weeks wandering around the Cotswolds. The area was like something out of a travel commercial, so picturesque that she never wanted to leave. The flowers were beautiful and the thatched cottages made her want to curl up in a garden with a book and wile the day away reading.

Yesterday, she and her new friends had gone on a guided walk and taken a tour of the area. There was a nearby lake perfect for swimming, and a castle ruin. Today she wanted to visit a stone circle she’d heard about last night: the Rollright Stones.

“Come on, go with me. It will be interesting, and afterwards drinks are on me at the pub. Please?” Chloe said.

“No way.” Lola shook her head so hard that her sunglasses went flying into the street and were run over by a passing car.

Jules chimed in: “You heard the stories those girls from Japan told us last night down the pub. Sometimes the stones just disappear. Giant stones vanishing in the fog. I heard they practice witchcraft there. Even the guide said never to go there alone.” She shivered. “Forget it. Let’s catch a ride and go to the lake for a swim.”

But Chloe felt something pulling her in the direction of the stones. She wanted to take pictures and send a few to her granda. Ask him what he remembered.

“Hey, ladies. Lookin’ good.” A couple of guys visiting from New Jersey pulled over and rolled down the window. “Want to go for a swim with us?”

“Yes,” Lola and Jules said at the same time.

“How about you, Chloe?” Benji leaned over to look out the open window. “Coming with us? Or you planning to sit in some boring garden and read all day?”

What a jerk. “I’m going to visit the stone circle.”

Jules gasped. “Don’t.”

The boys laughed. “Oooh, isn’t that the haunted place?” They made ghostly noises and tried to talk in scary voices, but only succeeded in sounding like they’d been watching too many B-movies.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “You guys have fun.”

“Oh, come on. We’re just teasing you,” Benji said. “Get in. We’ll drop you off on the way.”