Love Between Times

 

 

Love Between Times
Beth Ford
Publication date: November 27th 2024
Genres: Adult, Romance, Time-Travel

When Ashley’s conventional 21st century life falls apart, she returns to England to write the book she shelved years ago, determined to take control of her life.

Meanwhile, in 1377 Wiltshire, Thomas fights his family’s desire that he become a priest and plots to chase his dream of knighthood instead. While Ashley and Thomas search for answers, Thomas suddenly appears in the modern day.

Unable to communicate, his first encounter with Ashley ends with the police demanding his immigration papers. All Thomas wants is to return to the world he understands, but he and Ashley are drawn together again and again. How will they find the answers Thomas needs before the authorities close in without losing each other forever?

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Neither of them said a word. They stood in shock, each assessing the other.

Ashley stared at the young man’s strange clothes. He wore a long, blue shirt over—were those tights?—and oddly shapeless leather boots. Everything he wore appeared homemade. The leather crossbody bag he wore was the only thing he had of decent quality.

She lifted her gaze to his face. His eyes immediately captivated her. They were the most gorgeous shade of blue she had ever seen. His face wasn’t bad either. His hair was thick and a bit long. Even beneath the beard she could tell he had a strong jawline and fine cheekbones. He appeared her age or a bit younger.

Snapping back to herself, she took a few steps backward to put some distance between them. “Sorry,” she said nervously.

The man cocked his head at her like a curious cat trying to figure out what the game was.

“Are you all right?” she finally asked.

He said something that she couldn’t interpret. It was her turn to look confused.

“Are you going to Salisbury?” she asked, since he was headed in the opposite direction she was. Then tried again, “Salisbury?”

“Sarisbury,” he said firmly, correcting her. The middle sound held more of a “r” shape in his mouth instead of an “l.” She couldn’t tell where he was from. The words he had said to her sounded like nothing she had heard before.

But they were getting somewhere. She pointed down the hill toward the city. “Sarisbury,” she said, mimicking him.

He nodded, satisfied. His gaze tracked in the direction she pointed. When his eyes lit on the city, he took a few inadvertent steps back and stumbled over a tree root. Once he was steady on his feet again, he glanced wildly along the horizon. Her eyes darted between him and the view, trying to guess what had surprised him so. Between them and the city, a stretch of highway trailed along the horizon. Nothing particularly remarkable about that. But the man turned pale and crossed himself. When that didn’t improve things in his mind, he pulled a necklace out from under his tunic—she had decided that was the best word for what he was wearing. The necklace was a simple leather cord holding a wooden cross. He rubbed the cross fervently and his lips formed a prayer she couldn’t interpret.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

He glared at her before he turned and dashed back into the forest.

Ashley hesitated, then followed after him. Despite the fact that running into the woods after a potentially crazy man sounded like a setup for a horror movie, she had to make sure he was okay. She couldn’t just leave him here.

He didn’t go very far. A dozen or so feet farther into the woods, he knelt in front of a low, flat rock. Was he praying?

He stayed in that position for several minutes. Ashley hung back, debating what to do. All thoughts of her feud with Sadie blew away, and she focused on this new confrontation. Did he need help? He certainly seemed lost and scared. She would almost think he was a hermit living secluded in the woods, if they weren’t so close to town and the highway. She considered his clothes. Was there a medieval reenactment happening nearby, maybe at Old Sarum where she had been headed? His outfit appeared of that time period. Had she interrupted some event? But no, the small copse was silent except for them and the distant sound of cars passing along the road.

She still hadn’t decided what to do when his eyes opened again. He looked around. When he saw her his face fell, but he didn’t appear so scared this time. He set his jaw in determination, stood, and approached her.

He said something to her. She almost understood a few words. There was something in the middle that sounded like “thu”—was he saying “you” maybe? When she showed no recognition, he said something again. It sounded different this time. The accent on a few words reminded her of French, but she didn’t speak that language except for a few important phrases she had picked up through pop culture such as Voulez-vous couche avec moi? That probably wouldn’t be the best sentence to introduce herself with. She captured a smile before it appeared on her lips.

It would be mortifying if it turned out she just didn’t understand his accent. When she’d lived in England before, she had always found it nearly impossible to understand anyone from Sunderland. Maybe he was from there. “Sunderland?” she asked. He still looked confused. So much for that theory.

He watched her as if he expected her to provide him with some clue or direction.

“Do you need to go to Salisbury?”

“Sarisbury,” he said. This was still the only word they agreed on.

She sighed. If he was a psycho murderer, it was probably best to get out of the countryside and back into the city where she could get help. She inclined her head toward Salisbury. He nodded and followed her down the hill.

Author Bio:

Beth Ford is a historical fiction author living in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. She is the author of the novels In the Times of Spirits and Love Between Times as well as the Cassie Woods, Reporter novella series. Her upcoming novel After the Spirits Come: A Continuation of Dickens's A Christmas Carol will be released February 11, 2025. Her work has also appeared in a variety of literary journals.

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