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The moment seemed to endure for an eternity. Prayers spewed from her mouth in incomplete words, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel until the car finally stopped and all was quiet.

Little by little, she became aware of her surroundings. Rain tapped against the car where she sat frozen, the Aston Martin having ended up facing the same direction she’d been traveling before, though the vehicle was entirely off the road.

She looked out the window of the passenger side, experiencing further shock to discover how close she’d been to striking the trees lining the drive.

A shaky breath escaped her lips, and she set the car in park.

That was close.

After another quick prayer heavenward—this time of gratitude—she shook the adrenaline from her hands and drew deep, soothing breaths.

The car was fine. The trees were fine. She was fine. They were all fine. But she really needed to get going.

Without waiting another minute, Winnie shifted to first gear, then slowly eased the Aston Martin forward.

Only it didn’t move.

“No,” she stated firmly. She would not accept that sort of behavior from the sports car.

She drew a deep breath, then tried to move forward once more.

Again, it didn’t move.

“Come on, you worthless, too-good-for-yourself car. Move!”

She slammed her high-heeled foot onto the gas as hard as she could, but the back wheels merely whirred as they spun in circles in the thick mud beneath her.

After another futile moment of watching from the rearview mirror as mud flew out behind her, she stopped, shifted the car in park, then released another sigh as she dropped her forehead on the silver-winged decal on the steering wheel.

The windshield wipers still thwapped uselessly along the window, the rain continuously tapping on the metal roof and echoing loudly around the car.

Well, this was it. She would take one moment more to enjoy the warmth of the car before she accepted the inevitable—walking without cell service in the growing darkness, down an eternal driveway to see if there really was a house at the end of it.

If she were a crying woman, she would have tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes by now. But she was a Knox. And Knoxes didn’t cry. No matter how badly they wanted to.

Raising her head from the steering wheel, she accepted her fortune and unbuckled, checking once more for service before reaching forward to turn off the car.

Her hand froze on the button as a flash of silver between the trees caught her eye. What was that, another car on the twisting road? Were the Wintours coming in search of her?

Taking heart for the first time that day, she narrowed her eyes, straining to see through the trees as the silver flashed again in the dim light.

She frowned. That looked like a super small car. And it was driving through the trees, not around them.

Her jaw grew slack. That was no car. That was a…No. Her eyes were definitely playing tricks on her. And yet, after another moment, she could no longer deny what she saw driving, or rather, riding toward her.

It was a man on a horse. But not just any man. He was a knight in full-on shining armor gripping a lance in his right hand.

What century had she just driven into?

CHAPTER TWO

Winnie watched warily as the knight approached her car at a steady trot. What on earth was this guy doing? Assuming it was a guy, of course. Did he work at the estate as some sort of cosplaying attraction, haunting the grounds at night? Was he simply a lunatic trespasser? Or had her car spun around in circles so fast that she really had traveled back in time?

She shook her head with a frown. She may be jetlagged beyond belief, but she was lucid enough to know that wasn’t possible. Still, he had to be a crazy-pants to be dressed like this while riding around in the rain, whatever his reasons. Either way, Winnie wasn’t about to stick around to find out what exactly those reasons were.

Shifting her car into first gear once more, she attempted to gently ease the Aston Martin out of the mud, but she didn’t move an inch forward as her car fishtailed again.

She growled in frustration, glancing up to see the knight almost upon her. In spite of her hesitations, she couldn’t deny what an epic view she was privy to, having a full-armored individual riding toward her with all the confidence of a crusader. His lance was upright, as rigid and firm as an evergreen, and his thick armor accentuated his shoulders and masculine posture. And while his face was hidden behind his helmet and visor, that merely added to his mysterious nature—a nature that screamed, “You can’t handle how legit I am riding atop my noble steed right now, can you?”