Audrey rolls down a hill and back nine hundred years. The Norman knight who claims her must discover who wants her dead.
No, surely this couldn’t be the visitor’s center. The new one was behind DeSheppey castle, and that was nowhere in sight. She frowned at what looked like the chapel tower she’d toured with Mrs. Panni. Had it truly been that small? It had seemed so much larger at the time. Then she saw the hall and her mind reeled. It wasn’t yet finished—only the shell stood. Yet it had been complete and over nine hundred years old when she explored! Surely her mind was playing tricks on her.
She fought down a panic creeping up her spine. “Where’s the rest of DeSheppey Castle?” Her attention focused on the people drawing near. Why were they staring at her? Their costumes were accurate, but for the medieval era, not the renaissance. There was something about these people—not quite the look of the homeless, but certainly not the look of healthy, well-fed, middle-class people who indulged in fantasy several weekends during the summer. But then, this was winter, not summer, wasn’t it? Re-enactments were held in summer. She looked at their necks and saw lines of grime, as if they hadn’t bathed in days, or weeks. Possibly months?
“She makes no sense!” Rolf snapped.
“No doubt a spy sent by Cynric,” Perryn said. “Up to no good if she’s Saxon. Lock her up with Edwyn, and you can whip them both at the same time.”
The people made the sign of the cross at her, and she backed into her Norse god. “Okay, I’m well and truly freaked out now, so you’ve done your job. Please let me go.”
“What is it?” Rolf asked of the crowd.
“’Tis Deira, returned,” one woman said in an awed voice.
“The old lord’s daughter has come back!”
Rolf turned her to face him, gripping her arms tightly.“Now we know who you are, Deira, daughter of Druce.” He shook her. “What mischief are you about?”
“Listen cowboy, you may look like a Norse god, but you’re acting like a barbarian!” She stomped on his booted foot with no effect, other than a grunt. Releasing one of her arms he pulled her after him.
“Now what?” She twisted and pulled in effort to escape his iron grip. His hold tightened. “Lay one hand on me and I’ll gut you! I’ll geld you, I swear! I’m a black belt!”
A voice sounded behind them.
When the Norse god stopped, she ran into him, promptly slapping him with her free hand. He didn’t seem to notice.
Rolf turned to Perryn, his voice sharp. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. If this is Deira, Druce’s daughter, this girl, this woman, died ten years ago. She’s buried here.”
Blurb for Audrey’s Love
While on a trip to England, Audrey rolls down a hill one summer night and lands in the winter of 1068. She finally accepts the fact she has gone back over nine hundred years to the past, but…why? What is she supposed to accomplish?
Sir Rolf first believes the strangely garbed woman who rolls in front of him is the wife of a rich lord. Then he is convinced she is a Saxon spy. But the Saxons at his holding insist she is Deira, the old lord’s daughter returned to them-except Deira died and was buried ten years ago. After learning the dead daughter was murdered, Rolf knows he must protect Audrey from the murderer, who may strike again.