Her Knight at the Museum

A centuries-long curse is no match for rom-com shenanigans when a medieval knight is brought to life in modern-day Chicago. Forgotten by time and abandoned by hope, Sir Griffin de Beauford’s existence stretches out before him. Cursed by a ruthless enchanter to see, hear, and think, but never to move or speak, Griffin suffers the long, lonely centuries trapped in stone…until an unexpected kiss from a fair maiden breathes new life into his soul--and his body. Emily Porter, a recently divorced conservator at the Art Institute of Chicago, is charged with the restoration of a statue of a medieval English knight. Breaking curses was But the modern age tries Griffin’s patience and pride, and Emily is a prime suspect in the investigation of the missing sculpture. In a complicated world, can they find their way to a fairy-tale ending?

Auteur

Bryn Donovan is the author of several romance novels, including Sunrise Cabin, a Publishers Weekly bestseller. She’s also written nonfiction books and the story treatments for two Hallmark Channel movies. Her work has appeared in McSweeney’s, Writer’s Digest, and many literary journals. A former executive editor in publishing, she earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. She’s a voracious reader, a rescue dog lover, and a hopeless romantic who lives in the Chicago area and blogs about writing and positivity.

Échantillon de lecture
One

Emily unwound the cloth from the head of the stone sculpture and found herself face-to-face with the knight.

A spark of awareness, as though she'd met the intimate gaze of a stranger, made her catch her breath. There was something about his unguarded expression-the half-parted lips, the searching look in his eyes-that was more human than any statue she'd ever seen before.

"Hello, handsome," she murmured. "Welcome to Chicago."

Tingles between her legs surprised her. How long had it been since she'd felt that? Not since she'd found out Tom, her now ex-husband, had been cheating on her. No, even longer than that, if she was honest.

As a museum conservator, she didn't usually have that kind of reaction to old objects. It would've been really distracting as she worked to restore them to their former glory. But the face of this statue, even with some white streaks of sulfation, was already pretty glorious. His hair flowed loose to his shoulders; typical for a nobleman in the early 1400s. The mustache and short beard wouldn't have been strictly fashionable at court in his time, but they suited him.

She'd already removed the layers of protective wrapping, and she'd told her coworkers in Objects Conservation that she'd let them know as soon as she revealed the actual sculpture. He was their newest acquisition, and even for a huge museum like the Art Institute, he was an exciting one. She had a strange urge to close the door to the photography room and keep him to herself for a while.

But of course, she wasn't going to renege on her promise. She had a six-month contract at the museum, but when Jason had hired her, he'd told her it could turn into a permanent position, which she desperately wanted. It wasn't as though there were tons of opportunities for art conservators.

She stepped off the stool and took a moment to use the hem of her shirt to clean a smudge off her glasses. With a project like him, she wanted her vision to be crystal clear. Then she went to the door. In the main office area, Terrence Russell, a tall Black man with glasses who'd worked there for fifteen years, sat hunched over his computer, the coffee she'd brought him in hand.

Because of Terrence's seniority, Emily had interviewed with him, too, and she'd liked him immediately. He was married to a law professor at the University of Chicago, and he had a small studio in Hyde Park where he made sculptures out of wire.

Emily had jumped at the chance to do the morning caffeine run; little things like that were important when you were trying to fit in. Laurie MacGriogair wasn't at her desk, and Emily tried not to be relieved by that fact.

"Terrence, do you want to come see the knight sculpture?"

"Absolutely," he said, getting to his feet.

"Um, I want to, too," Laurie said. Emily looked over to where the fortysomething redhead stood at the supply closet. She sounded annoyed that she hadn't been invited.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

Terrence and Laurie made their way to the black, windowless room where conservators took the first official photographs of a new acquisition. Emily got on the stool again to pull back more of the unbleached cotton wrappings, revealing the top half of the breastplate of the armor.

"He's so big!" she exclaimed to her coworkers. What would the knight think of her saying that-if he'd actually been a knight? He'd love it. She was sure of it.

Laurie shrugged. "It's nothing compared to the Buddha I worked on last year."

"He's big for late medieval England," Emily clarified, although Laurie probably knew that was what she meant.

Jason Yun, their boss, wandered in. He was wearing one of his frequent tailored suits, and his hair, more black than silver, was tousled as usual. He didn't say hello or good morning, which made Emily nervous, but as he scrutinized the sculpture, she thought she saw pleasure in his keen dark eyes.

"It's good to finally see it again," he said.

Jason was the Curator of Applied Arts and Design, so ordinarily, he would've been Emily's boss's boss. But the Director of Conservation was on maternity leave, so for the time being, the conservators reported to Jason. Unlike most curators, Jason actually had conservation experience: he'd been a part-time assistant while getting his PhD.

Laurie squinted at the face of the sculpture. "I would've guessed he was a fake."

"He's definitely real," Emily blurted out.

Laurie opened her mouth to speak, but not before Jason said, "Emily spotted a fake at the Getty Villa."

Terrence turned to her. "Seriously? What was it?"

"An ivory statuette of the Virgin Mary," Emily said, feeling both proud and shy. She'd told Jason about this in her interview, and a former coworker she'd used as a reference had confirmed it. She suspected it was one of the reasons she'd gotten this job.

"How did you know it was a fake?" Terrence asked.

"Um, it had a flat background, so it originally would've been attached to some kind of plaque, but on the back, there weren't any signs of points of attachment."

But as she'd told Jason, she'd recognized it as a fake on sight, and she couldn't even say exactly why. She just hadn't gotten that feeling of history from it-an invisible but undeniable sense, like a vibration.

She definitely got some kind of vibration from this knight.

Jason circled the statue, looking at it from all angles, his hands clasped behind his back. "The documentation goes back to the 1460s, though we have no idea who the artist was."

Artist? Devil, more like!

Emily froze and whipped around to gaze at the sculpture's face. Her heartbeat kicked into a higher gear. She was half sure he'd said that.

But of course he hadn't. He was a big hunk of carved limestone. A remarkable big hunk of carved limestone, but still.

She gave an uneasy laugh and said, "He almost looks real." Laurie took a sip of coffee, then grimaced down at the cup.

"For the period, it's an unusually realistic style," Jason acknowledged.

"It's so iconic," Terrence said, amused. "Classic knight in shining armor."

Emily went back to unwrapping him, her fingers grazing his bare neck.

"Did you wash your hands?" Laurie asked.

"Of course. Just a minute ago." Many people thought that art conservators always wore gloves whenever they touched a valuable object. Often they did, both to protect a fragile work from the oils…