2009: Leigh Halliday falls asleep in the bed once owned by King Richard III, She wakes up in the same bed, but in Richard's time, 1485.
1485: Guy Blakamour, trusted knight of King Richard, believes Leigh is his bride Sandrissa. The king arranged the marriage, and Guy never set eyes on her before now. According to Leigh’s history books, Guy was executed for treason and drowning his first wife. When she meets another time traveler from the 21st century, she learns that Guy's 'treason' and 'drowning' of his wife was a setup by a Welsh clan who's hated Guy's family for centuries. As she grows to love Guy, she puts her life on the line to clear his name and attempts to return home with him. But is their love destined to transcend the time spectrum? Only fate will tell.
Traveling Light is a time travel romance in which modern heroine Leigh goes back to 1485 England and meets the love of her life, and faces death to save him from being killed in battle.
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"Come with me, Guy. We may never get another chance," she pleaded, and he sat on the bed next to her.
"I must go to battle, Leigh," he declared, “but I cannot leave your side until I convince you. Surely you can wait a few more days."
"Guy, you'll die, I know you will. Her voice was choked with tears. Don't go to battle just to die, please, I lost one husband, don't let me lose another!"
"But I am not truly your husband . . . yet."
"You never will be if you go to battle!” She grasped his arm. “Please, Guy, Richard will have understood. Come with me."
"Leigh . . . just come with me."
She was pulling him down with her into the center of the bed. She wrapped herself around him, bringing him farther and farther into the feathery deepness. Together they floated and drifted. She could feel the strange pull, that spinning sensation she'd felt that long-ago night. As her eyes closed, she could feel her body suspended in that distant spacetime, a passageway not of her world or any other world, but a void into which they both entered. She grasped him, her fingers clamped around his arms. He was still with her. Then, ever so slowly, he began slipping away.
"Guy! Stay with me!"
"I cannot, love, I am falling!"
"No! Oh, God, no!" She clutched at his arms, his hair, his doublet, yet he kept slipping away; that same force that was bringing her forward was pulling him back. He grabbed her arms, but his fingers soon lost their grip. She could feel him tugging at the watch, then it slid off her wrist, scraping her knuckles as he grasped at it. The band snapped, her last connection with him now broken, and the force tore them apart. "Guy!" she screamed his name one last time, flung her arms out to him, but clutched only emptiness. He was gone.