“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

Hannah still marveled over the fact that she’d married a medieval knight, an actual lord who literally carried a sword commanded many under him. Less than a fortnight had passed since their hasty wedding, an event that would have made her former self weep for its simplicity. But Hannah was a changed woman. Tristan had just tossed her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, something that would have shocked her if she were back home. Now she simply asked a very reasonable question.

“Your favorite epithet,” he teased. Tristan ignored her question and continued to carry her up the stairway that led from the kitchen to the courtyard above.

“Cook has had you locked inside there for long enough,” he complained.

Hannah tried to raise her head to deny the claim, but she forgot all about her next retort when his hand slipped from her waist to the bare skin just above her leather boot. It moved higher and higher with each step they climbed until it splayed across her thigh, much too high for him to pull it away with any modicum of decorum were they to be discovered.

It was nearly sundown, and while most of the residents of Saxford had already begun to filter into the hall for the evening meal, she’d chosen to skip the ridiculous custom of changing for supper to help Cook with his final preparations for Lord Kenton’s visit. Tristan’s mentor would be arriving any day to discuss both the peace treaty with Sutherland and, presumably, to congratulate them on their nuptials. Kenton unnerved Cook, which she could understand, and he’d gone into overdrive to ensure all was ready for the overlord’s arrival.

“I was just helping him prepare for Kenton,” she argued. “Certainly no reason to . . . oh!”

His hand slid even higher, and she could no longer ignore the fluttering inside her stomach. In such an awkward position, Hannah should be concentrating on getting down and preserving her decency, not on anticipating what her husband would do next.

When he lowered her to the ground nearly as abruptly as he’d picked her up, Hannah did protest. Or attempted to protest, at least. Just when she opened her mouth to say something, Tristan took full advantage and slammed his mouth against hers. He kissed her with such force it pushed them both back against the stone wall of the kitchen from which they’d just emerged. Luckily, he’d moved them to the side of the building first, away from prying eyes.

But still . . .

Vague thoughts of teasingly berating him drifted away as a deep longing bubbled up from her core and coursed through every inch of her body. He affected her this way every. Damn. Time. When Tristan planted his hands on the wall behind her, bracketing her head, she pulled him toward her. She only stopped when the evidence of his need was pressed against her.

“My lord . . .”

Groaning, Hannah hid behind Tristan as he pulled his lips from hers. She didn’t dare laugh at his expression. Poor Gerard.

“The king,” Tristan ground out, his annoyance evident, “and his men better be waiting at the gates.” He did not turn to look at the steward. Instead, he watched her, his eyes hooded and his lips still wet from their kiss.

Damn, he was hot.

“We do not know who the riders are, my lord. But a small party is approaching from the north.”

Still, he did not turn. His gaze held her in its thrall.

Hannah knew she shouldn’t taunt her husband. If she did, she was likely to pay for it later that evening.

That very thought was what made her do it.

Hannah opened her mouth ever so slightly, letting the tip of her tongue rest against her top lip. Then, moving as slowly as she could manage with him looking at her like that, she brought her lower lip into the fold, biting it.

When his low, tortured groan elicited a laugh from her, Gerard cleared his throat.

Tristan finally did turn toward his steward. “Meet them at the gate,” he said, the authority in his voice making her even more eager for him. “We will be on the walk.”

The wall-walk, he meant, where he could see the riders approach from a safe distance. If he were alone, Tristan would have joined Gerard, but he took more precautions with her safety. And judging from some of the conversations between he and his marshal, such measures were warranted.

Grabbing her hand and winding his fingers through hers, Tristan led her through the courtyard as Gerard hurried away in the opposite direction, toward the gatehouse.

“Do you think Kenton is here early?”

“His colors would have been recognized.”

Of course. She still had so much to learn about her new home, her new time.

“So why exactly did you drag me from the kitchen like that?”

She stood a step above him, which meant they were nearly equal in height.

He shrugged. “I wanted you for myself, and it seemed the quickest way to get you away from Cook. And I remembered how easy it was to carry you this way.”

Of course. He’d slung her over his shoulders like this on the first day they’d met. She’d passed out after seeing the chaos of Saxford’s inner courtyard, incapable of processing that she’d been marooned in medieval England. Though she’d only leapt off Leannan Falls at the urging of her sister Caroline, her reluctance had been due to the height—not to the possibility that the falls were truly enchanted. And yet here she was . . . the jump had landed her nearly on the doorstep of the man she was meant to love.

She took his hand again as they looked out beyond the castle walls to the lush green landscape beyond. Hannah loved to be up here just before the sun set and night blanketed everything. A view, Tristan had pointed out, that would have once terrified her.

But it also reminded her of home. Not Boston, but her true home, the one where she and her sisters had spent so many nights watching the sun set, lying in wait until it was dark enough for them to chase unsuspecting fireflies to fill their jars.

Hannah gave her attention to the riders. As they were about to enter the gates, one of them, a woman, looked up. At first, Hannah thought her mind must be playing tricks on her. Surely the woman riding in front of the dark-haired man only resembled Caroline because she was thinking of her sisters. But as she held the woman’s gaze, a joy so overpowering that it nearly brought her to her knees told her what her eyes had not yet completely reconciled.

Her sister Caroline was about to ride into Saxford Castle.

She was going to faint again.

But just as he reached out to catch her, Hannah lifted the hem of her gown and ran back the way they’d come. He followed, calling to her, attempting to learn what—or whom—she’d seen below. But instead of answering, Hannah nearly fell down the last remaining stairs in her haste.

Tristan’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword as he followed his wife. She ran toward the newcomers as if . . .

Nay, it couldn’t be.

Even if her sisters had fallen through time as she had, how could they have found her so quickly? He’d sent men back to Edinburgh to make further inquiries, and he and Hannah planned to visit the city themselves as soon as Kenton’s visit came to an end. But the frantic pace she set . . .

When the visitors came into view, Tristan’s eyes found a woman who looked remarkably like his wife, her hair loose and flowing freely. Hannah’s shouts told him what he already knew—his instinct had been correct.

“Caro! Oh my God, Caro!”

When Caroline’s horse halted and the man she was riding with helped her dismount, Hannah ran up to her and the two women embraced as if . . . as if they’d thought they would never see each other again.

A lump formed in his chest and rode up to his throat. As he watched his wife’s reunion with her younger sister, Tristan felt his own eyes fill with tears. He did not wish to disturb Hannah, but he moved closer, choking back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

Tristan glanced at her companion, a Scotsman, and the five other men on horseback. There were six in all, and their plaid was one he’d never seen before. Tristan held his hand out to the man who’d dismounted and now stood by Caroline’s side. He would normally wait for Gerard to make the introductions, but the circumstances were anything but normal.

“Tristan, Lord of Saxford and husband to Lady Hannah—”

“You’re married?” Caroline said as the two men shook hands.

Hannah and her sister broke apart but continued to hold each other’s hands. They began talking at once, and the Scot’s name was lost in the torrent of words.

“You’re here?” Hannah pulled her a little closer, as if she needed the proof of it.

“I thought I would never see you again,” her sister said.

“I thought the same. I can’t believe you are truly here, at Saxford.”

“After we jumped, did you surface in Scotland?”

“No, I woke up here, at Saxford. On the beach just down there.” Hannah pointed to the place where they’d first met.

“And how the hell did you get married? When?”

For the first time since she’d spied her sister approaching, Hannah looked at him. Dropping one of Caroline’s hands and taking his, she introduced them.

“Caro, this is Tristan. The man who found me.”

The sisters exchanged a knowing look.

“I think I understand. This is Callum. He found me, too.”

With his free hand, Tristan gestured toward the keep. “Mayhap we should continue this discussion inside.”

“That would be wonderful,” Caroline said. “But before we do, I have to know—is Allie here?”

Hannah released his hand and turned to face her sister.

“No.” Her gaze darted from her sister to the remaining riders. “So you haven’t seen her?”

Caroline’s brow creased. “No. But based on what we learned at Leannan Falls not long ago, I think she could be here in this time with us.”

“Wait. You’ve been back to the falls too?”

Caroline nodded. “We just came from there. We met the strangest woman. She said I was one of the ‘women of the water’—one of the three women of the water. Which means Allie could be out there somewhere.”

Hannah turned to him. “Do you think that could be the same woman your men met in Edinburgh?”

“Aye, it could be indeed.” He shifted his gaze to Caroline. “We returned to the falls not long after Hannah arrived. She jumped in, attempting to go back. Then we sent men to search for information about you and Allison.”

The thought of that day still pained him. Sometimes he still awoke from dreams that Hannah had indeed gone back, leaving him forever. But she was always warm in bed beside him.

The Scot spoke then. “That is how we found ye. The woman spoke of men asking about others like Hannah. Saxford men.”

“So you have no idea where she is?” Hannah asked.

“No, but I have a feeling she’s close. The old woman said that we were brought here to meet our soulmates.” She shot a warm glance at the Scot before continuing. “Whether it was fate or destiny or a cursed faerie—” she waved her hand, “—that sounds pretty weird. I didn’t understand most of what that woman was saying, but I think whatever force brought us here knows that we couldn’t truly be happy without each other.”

“So the rumors are true. We heard much the same.” Hannah took a deep breath. “When Tristan’s men returned, I knew you and Allie had come through the falls. But I still can’t believe you’re safe and here with me at Saxford.”

“We shall find your sister.” Tristan would make sure of it.

“Aye,” Callum agreed. Their eyes met, and they both nodded, making a silent accord.

“For now, come inside as guests of Saxford—”

“Yes, come. We have so much to catch up on,” Hannah said. “And a lifetime to do it in.”

Thank you for reading FALLING FOR THE KNIGHT! I hope you loved meeting Tristan and Hannah. Get final book in the Enchanted Falls trilogy, FALLING FOR THE CHIEFTAIN by Keira Montclair, and in Kindle Unlimited.

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