A Knight Such as This: Enhanced with Interactive Content & Game (Time Travel Romance) Book 1 & 2 (Ravenhurst Series)

AUTHORS NOTE

The seventh book in the Ravenhurst is a full- length novel and a standalone book, (approximately 80,000 words) which means it does not have to be read with the other books in the series. However, if you would like the full Ravenhurst experience, you can grab Forgotten Time, book 1, free, at select retailers such as Barnes and Noble, IBOOKS, Kobo etc. If you want it free for Kindle, send an email to the address below and will send you a copy for that device.

lbeaumontbooks@gmail.com

CHAPTER ONE

Lake Lure, North Carolina

A lone motorcycle rumbled into a parking lot outside the ‘Mountain Lake Resort’ Bar/Restaurant.

Cutting the engine, Lucian Scott pulled off his helmet and eased back on the seat. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in Lake Lure, North Carolina, of all places, but it seemed as good a place as any to disappear for a while.

And he needed to disappear.

At least until he figured out a way to get the money he needed to pay back his gambling debts—Lucian had an appetite for the finer things in life but not the money to acquire them, which he thanked or blamed, depending how one looked at it, on his father, and his tightfisted brother, Reed.

Irritated more at himself than his brother or father, at this point, he climbed off his bike and made his way up the wooden stairs to the outside bar for a drink. The bistro style wrought iron tables and chairs were on a deck overlooking the lake, so the view was nice. He wished he could say the same about the room he rented. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and right now he was near broke.

Attached to the bar was a restaurant and further up the mountain, there were cabins for rent. They were really nice but far from his price range. In another life, his old one, he would have stayed in one of those cabins and been eating a fine dinner in the restaurant instead of trying to fill his belly on the free snacks.

Seating himself, he picked a table by the railing under a tree and pulled the bowl of snacks closer. A warm breeze wafted off the water and a few ducks floated on top bobbing in the wake of a boat that just passed. The tree overhead was almost bereft of all the leaves but the ones that still clung to the branches were bright yellow.

Settling back in the chair, he propped his booted feet up on the rung and grabbed a few pretzels out of the bowl to munch on. There weren’t many people out on the deck except for two women who were seated a few tables away, surrounded by shopping bags. They looked to be having a heated discussion about something.

Close to the door to the restaurant an older man was reading a book, and sipping on a beer. Every few minutes the man would look up to watch a tall slender man and a pretty brunette woman on the other side of the deck while they practiced some kind of dance routine to a catchy old fifties song. Through the windows of the restaurant, he could see some of the servers getting the tables ready for dinner. The smell of steak and seafood made his stomach rumble even more.

Hey there. What can I get for you?

Lucian pulled his eyes back from the window and was surprised to see a rather pretty blonde, with long shapely legs standing in front of his table with a pad and pencil. She was wearing a white polo, black shorts and a red half-apron tied around her slender waist.

I’ll take a whiskey, straight up. No ice.

Any preference on what kind? She lifted her brow flirtatiously.

Lucian didn’t notice. Whatever is the cheapest.

She smiled at that. A man after my own heart.

Yeah, he chuckled. I guess.

She stuffed her pad back in her pocket and tucked her pencil behind her ear. A glass of cheap whiskey, coming right up. Winking, she turned and walked back inside.

Lucian appreciated the view and then shook his head. He had to remind himself he was swearing off women for a while. Grabbing a few nuts, he tossed them in his mouth and turned back around to watch the dancers practice.

♦

Inside, the dining room was awash in murmurings of idle chitchat from the servers getting ready for the dinner rush, along with the distinct clatter of trembling fine china, crystal stemware, and polished silver, as the tables were prepared.

Molly pulled back her unruly mass of curls into a messy bun. If one looked closely, especially in the sun, they would see streaks of copper highlights. Her father would say they came from her mother’s side of the family.

Leaning back against the carved mahogany bar, the one her father personally had imported from England, Molly took a sip of water with a single slice of lime inside, wishing she wasn’t working so she could have something stronger.

Her boyfriend, Dan, was supposed to help her out at the restaurant today to teach some of the new hires how to dress tables but he bailed at the last minute. What else was new, she thought grimly. He told Molly, he needed take care of some business. What the might be, she had no idea—he never told her squat, anymore.

Surveying the progress, she looked around the restaurant and then outside. Esmerelda was standing on the deck, with her hands on her hips, practicing Baby, while Sergei moved his slender hips back and forth, with his imitation of Johnny, from the movie Dirty Dancing, to the lyrics of, ‘Hey Baby,’ by Bruce Channel.

They were getting ready for one of the last theme weekends, at the restaurant/bar she managed for her father, which included troupe dancers who impersonated the cast from the Dirty Dancing. Johnny, aka, Sergei, and Esmeralda, aka Baby, were both from Ukraine.

Molly had a deal with the dancers. Instead of paying half up front like most of her competitors in the area, she instead promised them part of the proceeds. Since the dancers seemed to get more into character, it turned out better than she had expected.

She had come up with the idea a few years back when the Restaurant/Bar was nearing bankruptcy.

Her father wanted to sell it off to developers for Luxury Mountain Homes but Molly had begged him to give her a chance running it. After a lot of complaining/begging, he had finally relented and gave her a year to turn it around. That’s when she came up with her version of a Dirty Dancing weekends with the tag line: Discover the magic of a bygone era at Mountain Lake Resort. And just like the movie, the guests would get dancing lessons; participate in games, such as charades, a scavenger hunt, and a viewing of the movie as well as party that would follow where all the dancers would reenact the final dance scene in the movie.

Molly pulled her eyes back from outside as a waitress walked up to the bar.

Hey Tim, can you get me a whiskey, straight up, no ice?

Anything for you, gorgeous.

Molly rolled her eyes. She never got comments like that. Fine. Maybe it would be inappropriate since she was the boss, but it would have been nice to hear some kind of compliment once in a while. Dan never told her she looked good.

Frowning, Molly noticed very quickly how short her shorts were. Her butt cheeks were practically falling out of the back of her shorts. Sighing, she walked over to the bar. Hi there, she said in her best managerial voice. What’s your name?

The girl gave Molly a bland stare which immediately rankled her.

She blew a bubble and snapped it loudly. Tracy.

Tracy, are you scheduled to work in the restaurant tonight?

Yeah.

You can’t wear those.

What can’t I wear? She scowled.

Those shorts.

And who are you to tell me what to wear? Tracy asked indignantly.

Molly tensed. I’m your boss.

Rodrigo didn’t say anything to me.

I just bet he didn’t, Molly mumbled.

What was that?

I’m Rodrigo’s boss too.

Oh. She cast her eyes downward.

Molly gave her a smug smile. Take that, she wanted to taunt her suddenly.

Well, Boss Lady, she said just as smugly. What would you like for me to wear?

Molly tensed from her smartass tone. Black pants.

But I don’t have black pants.

Then you won’t be working tonight.

But I have a customer now.

Fine. Serve your customer, then after you set up the rest of the tables on the far wall, you can punch out. Normally Molly wouldn’t have made the girl do the tables too, but she didn’t like her attitude.

The girl made a disgruntled face. Fine.

Molly was about to say something else but her phone bleated. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she looked at the number. It was Dan. Great. I have to take this.

Don’t let me stop you. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar.

Molly gritted her teeth and answered her phone. Yes, Dan, what is it? she snapped.

What’s with the tone?

I’m in the middle of something.

Can’t it wait?

No, Dan, it can’t. She walked away from the bar for some privacy.

God, why are you always such a b--!

What? Molly, lowered her voice so she couldn’t be overheard. What’s so important?

Can you bring me some food? I’m starving.

Are you kidding me? Molly couldn’t believe he expected her to drop everything just so he could tell her he was freaking hungry.

No. I am not kidding you. You know how I get if I don’t eat, Dan complained.

Well, if you are that hungry why don’t you get yourself something to eat?

There’s nothing good in your fridge.

Molly tensed even more. Why are you at my place?

You have cable.

I thought you had something to do?

Ah, I did but uh, I finished.

She exhaled. Fine. But I can’t leave for a while.

After Dan rattled off the list of food he wanted, he added, Thanks babe. You’re the best.

Yeah. You’re welcome. Molly ended the call and rubbed the back of her neck, trying ease the tension gathering there.

Dan always pulled crap like this. Honestly, she was starting to wonder why she was even still with him.

Walking back to her spot at the bar, she watched Tracy walk outside to a guy sitting all by his lonesome. He was pretty hot. Actually, he was more than pretty hot—he was divine. The wind whipped his shoulder length dark hair back away from his rugged profile. He looked like one of those cologne models.

Dan, on the other hand, was cute, not hot, but she loved him, right? She did at one time, but lately he seemed so distant. He hardly ever wanted to make love anymore. And if he did, he was usually drunk which made the whole thing a little one- sided.

Her father didn’t like Dan at all. He said Dan was a little prick.

For once, she agreed wholeheartedly with her father, well…almost. Dan may not be a little prick but he certainly had one.

As soon as that thought entered her mind, she felt a pang of guilt. Forcing her eyes away from the handsome stranger, she made her way to the kitchen to place Dan’s dinner order.

♦

Lucian reached inside the snack bowl, snagged out a few more pretzels, and popped them into his mouth.

Here you go, handsome. A glass of whiskey landed on the table.

Thanks. What do I owe you? He reached into his back pocket.

Don’t worry about it. She put her hand on his arm. It’s on the house.

You sure?

Yeah. She smiled, perching her hip on the barstool at his side.

Perks of the job?

I guess you could say that. She glanced in the windows and stood up suddenly. I’ll be back in a minute.

I’ll be here.

Great. She gave him another sweep with her baby-blues. See you in a few.

Okay.

Turning, she made her way back inside.

CHAPTER TWO

Lake Lure, North Carolina

Molly walked out of the kitchen into the main dining room and immediately spotted Tracy, leaning against the bar talking to Tim.

Still irritated at the girl’s lackadaisical attitude toward her earlier, she walked up to the bar. Tracy, I thought I told you to dress the tables.

With what? I don’t see any clothes.

Molly’s mouth dropped open and then she closed it. Not with clothes, she finally said.

Then how do I dress the tables? She widened her eyes.

Molly tensed. With dishes and tablecloths.

Oh. She chewed on her lip.

The cart right there.

Oh. I didn’t see that. Tracy walked up and grabbed the wrong cart.

Not that one! Molly rushed forward and grabbed hold of the stack of plates before they toppled to the floor.

Which one then? Tracy crossed her arms under her substantial breasts.

That one. Molly pointed to the other cart.

Oh. Tracy gave her a disparaging look as she walked over to the other cart and grabbed hold of the handle. The wheels on the cart squealed as Tracy pushed it forward.

By the windows, Molly called out when the Tracy veered off to the left.

I am, but this stupid cart is not cooperating.

Molly thought Tracy was stupid, not the cart. Groaning inwardly, she walked over to help Tracy push the cart full of dishes over to the tables lined up on the far wall by the windows.

Can you handle it from here? Molly asked, wishing not for the first time that she had stayed in bed this morning. After she had another fight with Dan this morning, everything had gone downhill the rest of the day and now this girl was really testing her patience.

I guess so.

Molly pulled her phone out of her trouser pocket and perched her hip on the edge of one of the tables. She had three messages. Punching in her code, she lifted her phone to her ear. It was Dan, again.

Moll’s, don’t forget the cheese sticks.

She hit delete.

The next message played.

Hey sweetheart, it’s your father, just checking in. Call me. Molly smiled. Her dad’s calls always made her feel better.

She listened to the next message, which was from her best friend Peggy, the one getting married in a few short weeks.

MOLLY! Peggy’s voice was insistent on the other end. Did you ask? Did you get it?

Opting not to call, she texted her friend a quick message: Working on it.

Molly was supposed to bring the liquor for the wedding but she needed to clear it with her father. And even though she assured Peggy she could get the booze, she still hadn’t asked. Debating whether to call her father, she stared at her phone.

Now what? Tracy asked.

Molly exhaled and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She would have to call her father later. Dress the tables.

What? Tracy gave Molly a blank look.

Pushing her shoulders back, Molly put on her best managerial face. Watch, she instructed. Leaning over, she pulled out a starched white linen tablecloth from under the cart.

This is how we dress a table. With a flick of her wrists, Molly sent the fabric snapping into the air and floating soundlessly down on top of the table.

Next, she said, making sure Tracy was paying attention, we put the plates on top. Each setting gets three. She pulled a stack of plates off the cart and one by one, she arranged two plates together and put the smaller one at the top."

What’s the smaller one for? Tracy asked.

It’s where you put the bread.

Oh. Tracy’s full lips pursed together.

Molly gritted her teeth. Just place the silverware on either side of the plate. The small fork goes first, then the larger one. On the right, you place the table knife.

What about the spoon?

After you put the cup and saucer on the table, here, she instructed, setting the aforementioned cup and saucer at the top of the plate, she then pulled a spoon off the cart and angled it across the smaller plate.

Oh. I see.

After each place is set, be sure to put a vase of flowers in the center and then place the linen napkins on top like so. Molly set the rest of the things on the table and looked pointedly at Tracy. Do you think you can finish these?

You want me to do them all? Tracy looked appalled by the prospect.

Yes. All of the ones against the windows.

It’s going to take me a while. Tracy begrudgingly turned and walked off towards the tables.

Who didn’t know that was coming, Molly grumbled under her breath, then added louder, I’ll be back to check on your progress in a few minutes.

Lifting her hand, Tracy waved off her comment.

Molly felt like pulling out her hair. Normally she was pretty patient dealing with new hires but the stress of Peggy’s wedding and Dan, once again, being Dan, was apparently taking its toll on her.

CHAPTER THREE

Lake Lure, North Carolina

Around ten thirty Molly stepped inside her house and shut the door. She was beat. The television was blaring and there was an odd smell coming from her kitchen.

Molls, is that you? Dan called.

Yes. Who the hell else would it be? she thought with irritation.

What took you so long? Dan stepped out of the kitchen with a plate of food in his hand.

I was teaching a new hire how to dress the tables. She hung her bag on the hook by the door and kicked off her flats onto the rug.

"Why don’t you get Rodrigo to do that?" He sang his name.

Molly knew Dan didn’t like Rodrigo and the feeling was mutual. Rodrigo said Dan was a sot.

Because he had other things to do. She picked up the bag of takeout and carried it into the living room.

You really need to delegate better, Dan said, adding his two cents.

I delegate just fine.

He gave her a doubtful look but didn’t press the subject. Did you bring the food?

Obviously. She held up the brown paper bag.

Good. I’m starving.

Really? She gave him a doubtful look. You have a plate full of food.

It’s just some snacks to tide me over until you saw fit to bring me food.

Here. She shoved the bag in his hands. I’m going to take a shower.

Uh huh, he said distractedly, watching television as he dug into the bag with gusto.

♦

Jesus. Lucian threaded his fingers through his thick shoulder length hair. This is what my life has come to.

Sighing heavily, he looked around the room he had rented. The furnishings were sparse at best and only consisted of a bed, chair, desk, and an old tube television that sat cockeyed on a faded dresser. Heavy pattered yellow curtains hung crookedly on the far wall, and a tan metal air conditioner/heater was underneath the window that made a knocking sound every time it kicked on.

Dropping his hands, he lifted up a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses. A mirror was on the wall behind the bed. He assumed it was to make the small room seem larger but it didn’t really help. A lone floor lamp stood in the corner for no other apparent reason than to take up space, because when he tried to turn it on, it didn’t work. An ugly print of some animal was on the other wall, with a mountain scene and a stained multi colored shag carpet covered the floor.

Lifting his glass, he downed the contents and then refilled it. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he was back in England, begging his brother to help him out of yet another mess that he had gotten himself into.

The latest was a gambling debt. He owed some lowlifes from the underbelly of society quite a bit of money; if it wasn’t for that, he would have never entertained the notion of returning home to Ravenhurst—he hated it there. But he had a plan and it was a damn good one, too, until Cecily, the Bitch as he now referred to her as, betrayed him for money. He hoped Karma came and bit her in the ass like it was doing to him now.

The door creaked open and steam entered the room, along with the waitress from the bar he met earlier. Her long, bleach blonde hair hung limply around her lightly tanned shoulders and a yellowish colored towel that he was sure was once white, was tucked securely under her arms.

Did you pour a drink for me? she asked.

What do you think? His gaze smoldered under dark lashes, casting shadows across his high cheekbones as his lips turned down in annoyance. She wasn’t the brightest bulb in the room and that was saying something since most of them didn’t even work.

Before she found her voice to answer, he lifted the glass in her direction.

Oh, she giggled and sauntered over to him. Thanks. She plucked the glass from his outstretched hand and slammed it back with little finesse.

Swiping the back of her hand over her mouth, her gaze dropped to the thin line of dark hair that formed right below his navel and disappeared into the band of his low-slung jeans. Slowly, her eyes coasted up from his ripped stomach, to his bare muscled chest, to his dark, almost black gaze as she handed out her glass for a refill.

He took the glass, splashed more whisky in the bottom, and then handed it back to her.

A knowing grin slid over her pretty face as she took the glass once more. Taking a delicate sip, this time, her full lips lingered on the rim of the glass.

You want some more? His dark brow lifted in question.

What do you think? Her lazy drawl poured over him like honey.

Lucian knew she wasn’t talking about the whiskey this time. Drop the towel. His voice was deep, firm—the kind of voice that warranted attention.

Cradling her glass, she bit her lip seductively and let the towel slip out from under her arms; it fell with a whooshing sound down onto the ugly stained carpet.

That’s better. Reaching down, Lucian unfastened his jeans, his dark gaze never wavering from hers. Plucking the glass from her fingers, he set the glass on the dresser at his side. Come here, he said.

She stepped forward.

He reached down and covered her breast. Her nipple puckered instantly. You like that?

Hmm, hmm, she said, returning the favor by pressing her hand to the front of his jeans.

Lucian rubbed his thumb back and forth over her taut nipple.

She increased the pressure on his growing erection.

Keep that up and we won’t even get to the bed.

I don’t care. We can do it here or even on the table if you like?

Reaching down, he hooked his arm around her back; one under her knees, sweeping her easily into his arms.

Giggling, she wound her arms