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Hannah had visited “medieval” villages while in Scotland, full of Tudor-style homes and quaint shops, and this looked nothing like them. This was a real medieval village, not some re-creation or throwback to an earlier time.

Frankly, it terrified her.

She should be used to the shock by now, but every time she was confronted with new evidence of the time jump, Hannah’s brain went into overdrive. She couldn’t speak . . . could hardly breathe.

Holy shit, she was sitting astride a horse, next to a knight, above a medieval village filled with huts. She was living in the fourteenth century.

“Hannah?”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly you are not,” Tristan said next to her.

“I will be.”

“Come,” he said, spurring his mount forward.

“The most fertile fields are that way,” he said, pointing beyond the village. “The marshlands we rode through are good for grazing, but not much else.”

Not surprising. They’d passed a windmill, but other than that, there’d been no signs of life.

They rode down a slight decline, Hannah trying not to grip the reins too tightly.

“Though small, Saxford Village serves the people well.”

As they approached the village, Tristan’s face lit up. “There is the church,” he said, pointing to the only building that had an actual roof rather than some clay-straw hybrid. “And that building, the forge. Our smith is quite skilled, but he’s had some help.”

Tristan was clearly proud of the skills that had gotten him noticed by Lord Kenton. Rightly so.

“Are a smith and an armorer the same thing?”

Tristan led her to a building not far from the forge. He dismounted, helped her to do the same, and then tied their horses to a wooden post.

“Nay, they are not.”

He didn’t elaborate. “Wait here.”

A stable. She couldn’t tell from her earlier angle, but as Hannah moved around the building, the sounds and smells from within revealed its purpose. She turned toward the center of the village and watched children playing with a ball that looked like it was made of string. They paid her no mind, but the same could not be said for the adults.

Hannah had always assumed peasants, if that was what these people were, would not be well-dressed. In movies, they always looked like their clothes were about to fall off their bodies. But there were a few young women in the crowd, and the only real difference between their dresses and hers was their gowns’ fabric and lack of adornments. Otherwise, they were styled similarly.

She felt Tristan behind her before he spoke. Awareness of him washed over her, sending a shiver down her spine. Hannah had been so nervous and excited to ride all on her own, she’d nearly forgotten her attraction to him.

Nearly, but not quite.

There was no use denying it. Not that it mattered much since this was only a temporary home for her. Hannah chuckled aloud at the thought of returning to Boston pregnant, fielding questions about the baby’s father.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice so close to her ear it sent another shiver through her.

“Nothing,” she said, turning. “Where to?”

“Afternoon, my lord.”

“Albert,” Tristan said to a short, bearded man headed in the opposite direction. They walked past the forge, away from the playing children, and Tristan exchanged greetings with several more of the townspeople.

“This isn’t at all what I expected,” Hannah said, turning to see the women still staring at her.