“You, my friend, are getting fat and lazy, eating so well since Merry took over the kitchens,” Garrick jested as he swung his sword, his hair plastered to his neck.

“I am not fat nor lazy, you insolent cur.” Richard wielded his sword, muscles flexing as he lunged.

Garrick had come and gone over the past years, staying until he was required to fight. Knowing how much it pained Richard not to fight, his friend did not talk overmuch of the skirmishes.

They had been in the lists all morn. At times, the loss of his eye made Richard sick when he swung a sword. He would go a fortnight, mayhap two, when his leg and arm did not pain him, making him believe ’twas healed. But nay, ’twas merely the cursed fates jesting with him. For the next morn he would wake in a foul temper, his head and body aching.

Bent over and gasping for breath, he knew ’twas going to snow again. Ever since his injury, much like his steward, he knew when it would rain or snow by how much his leg and eye pained him.

When he stood, Richard blinked slowly until he no longer saw spots. Nay, no spots, but his servants leaving through the gates.

“What the bloody hell? Why do you leave Bainford and your lord?” he roared.

One of the men sneered. “The odd wench threw us out.”

“Told us to leave and never show our faces at Bainford again, else she would see us run through,” said another.

Chloe. Who did the wench think was to order his servants about as if they were her own? He was lord here, not her. Bainford was his home; he would not have a wench with odd ideas turn it upside down.

By his count, he was left with a few women and more than a score of young ones. Full of fury, Richard sheathed his sword.

“Where are you off to? You haven’t paid me back for my insults.” Garrick waited, sword at the ready.

Richard narrowed his eyes. “You knew?” The look on Garrick’s face told the tale. “I will see to you later.”

Richard’s heavy steps into the hall had the lasses fleeing.

“Chloe. Come here,” he thundered.

One of the little ones ran up the stairs with a squeak. While he waited, he paced back and forth across the hall until his anger was stoked higher than a bonfire.

She wiped her face with her apron, a damp tendril stuck to her cheek. “What’s so important?”

“Are you chatelaine of Bainford?”

“Obviously not.” She looked to the doors. “Oh, that’s what you’re yelling about.” She turned her back on him. “I have work to do.”

“Damnation, woman. You will face me when I speak to you.”

She turned around, hands on her hips. “I don’t care for your tone.”

“I am lord of Bainford, not you. I have let you go around in my tunic and hose like a man, and have I said a word? Nay. And this is how you repay my hospitality? You turn out my servants without asking me.”

She took two steps closer, brown eyes almost black, her entire face and neck pink as she poked him in the chest.

“Quit yelling at me and let me explain,” she bellowed, sounding a bit like him. Tapping her foot, she blew a curl out of her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I know you are lord here. For your information, those lazy servants don’t do anything around here but laze about and gossip, and I won’t have it.”

“You won’t have it?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You are not my lady wife. ’Tis not your place to turn out my servants.”

“I wouldn’t be your wife if you were the last man on the planet, you…you—”

“Go on, mistress. Say it.”

“You ass!” She pushed him hard enough that he rocked back on his heels. ’Twas merely because she startled him. A woman was not so strong.

Richard leaned forward until he was close enough he could feel her breath on his face. “You were going to call me beast.” He sneered at her.

“The hell I was, but you sure are acting like one. I was only trying to help. To get rid of those who love drama. They’re toxic.”

“Get out,” he roared.

She took a step back, and the hurt on her face made Richard want to take back the words, knowing he was being an arse, but he was too angry.

Garrick and his guardsmen leaned against the walls of his hall, no doubt come to defend her. They followed her about like lads. His oldest friend placed a hand on his arm. “Richard, do not do this. Let me explain.”

Richard shook him off. “Leave me be.”

Two of the little girls were weeping. He could not bear the noise.

“Cease,” he said, which only served to make them weep louder.

“Don’t make them cry. You are so mean. To think I thought you were kind and nice.” Chloe’s eyes blazed.

“Why are you still darkening my hall? Get out or I will have you thrown into the moat.” She gasped, as did several others. He scowled. “Get back to your labors, the lot of you.”

Chloe ran up the stairs.

“You are an arse,” Garrick said as he led the men outside, leaving Richard to ponder what he had done.

Chloe pushed the door closed, angry it was too heavy to slam. Why was he being so mean? They’d made so much progress. He’d been nicer to everyone lately.

She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. Everyone had seen their fight. There was no way she could tell him she’d fired the servants because of what they said about him. She wouldn’t hurt him like he’d hurt her.

Not even giving her the chance to explain, though? That he would think she was trying to take over? What did she know about running a castle? Not much. She was still figuring out how to clean.

Maybe he wasn’t a beast in looks, but he sure was acting beastly. He’d made his feelings clear, and she wasn’t staying where she wasn’t wanted. Chloe pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and breathed deeply. Once she had herself together and wasn’t shaking, she went to the trunk and opened it, digging through everything until she came up with the knapsack. She pulled it out and added the gowns and the old tunic and hose, along with her extra shift and hose. Should she leave him some money to pay for the clothes?

With a shake of her head, she decided nope, the clothes would be payment for the work she’d done. Every coin was precious now that she would be traveling to Falconburg.

A small sob escaped as she looked at the hair ribbons. They too went in the bag. The coins were last. She split them between her boots, the pockets in her cloak, and the knapsack. That way, if she was robbed, hopefully they wouldn’t get everything.

The beautiful cloak with the fur-trimmed hood and pretty embroidery made her heart hurt. She had begun to feel like she belonged. That if, for whatever reason, she couldn’t get home, it would be okay.

Chloe squared her shoulders. Family was family. Once Melinda and her husband heard who Chloe was and about her predicament of being stuck in the past, they would take her in. She could be a nanny to their kids, or she could clean. Turned out she was pretty good at getting a dirty old castle to sparkle.

When she’d first arrived, the hall was a horrific mess. Chickens nested in the corners of rooms and the dogs and cats roamed freely—which was fine, but there was hair everywhere, and between them, the kids, and the men, there was a ton of mud and muck tracked in every day, which no one cleaned up. Now, though, the hall was clean, and kept clean every day.

With a last longing look at the fire in her chamber, she softly pulled the door closed behind her.

On her way out, Chloe went to the storage room. When they’d been cleaning, they’d found earthenware vessels one of the women told her they were pots to keep fire going while traveling. She took one, added twigs, and lit it from the fire in the kitchens.

Two of the little ones were asleep by the hearth. Careful not to wake them, Chloe took a metal cup she could use to melt snow for water. Bread and salted, dried fish also went into her pack. That would hold her until she found taverns that weren’t scary. No way would she sleep in a tavern, not after the last time. She would eat and move on, finding someplace else to sleep. Where, she didn’t know, but something would come to her.

No one stopped her. Chloe paused when she got to the portcullis, but no one said a word, and Richard didn’t come for her to tell her he’d been an idiot.

It was cold, but at least it wasn’t snowing, and the longer she was in the past, the less the cold bothered her. Chloe guessed she was getting used to it, though she missed the hot, humid days at the beach.

Walking to the north and west, she hoped, Chloe came upon an old shack. It was falling down, but at least it would provide her shelter for the night.

Not wanting to share the space with any critters, she stomped around, hoping it would be enough to scare them away. At least she didn’t have to worry about snakes.

During her freshman year, a black snake got into school and terrified the girls for weeks, popping out of lockers and slithering under bathroom stalls before a boy caught it and took it outside. Chloe shuddered thinking about how she checked under the toilet seats each time she went, afraid it would be hiding there.

In place of a hearth was a ring of rocks. The wood outside was wet, so she picked up bits and pieces inside and used that for kindling. It was smoky inside, making her cough and gag, but soon enough she got used to it, only rubbing her eyes occasionally. At least she wouldn’t freeze.

What was wrong with Richard? Did he really care she’d fired his help, or was it because he really didn’t want her there and it was an easy excuse to get rid of her?

Gram’s voice filled Chloe’s head. It wasn’t your place to fire the help, even if it needed to be done. You overstepped and should apologize.

Well, it wasn’t like she was going to go back and beg. Forget it. Falconburg was her destination. The further away from Richard, the better.