Stardust of Yesterday

by Lynn Kurland

  He paused, catching another whiff of Worthington’s work. Without saying a word, he pulled Genevieve toward the kitchen. What heavenly smells.

  “Not so fast,” Genevieve laughed, running to keep up with his long strides.

  Kendrick only threw her a smile and kept on. By the saints, he was starved! He plunked his lady down into a chair, then advanced on the ovens. Reaching out to steal a flat cake only earned him a sharp rap with a spoon from his steward.

  “Sit down and wait, as befits gentlefolk.”

  Kendrick opened his mouth to retort, then felt Genevieve tug on his arm. He turned his frown on her, but she wasn’t impressed. He grumbled at her as she led him over to the table and pushed him down in a chair.

  “Behave.”

  He sat back with another frown, vowing under his breath to eat the table if sustenance wasn’t supplied posthaste. He watched as Genevieve picked up a plate and walked over to the stove. He suppressed the urge to rise, haul her against him and ravage her mouth. His blood was still fired with the sweet kisses he’d stolen up in the bathroom. With any luck at all, he’d have more of them as quickly as possible. Surely Genevieve would see her way clear to indulge him in that, wouldn’t she?

  “Worthington,” Genevieve said as she began to fill the plate, “he’s liable to skewer us and set us to roast over the fire if we’re not careful. I think we’ll have to forgo politeness in favor of safety this morning.”

  Kendrick flexed his fingers as she set down a plate heaped full of various exceedingly edible-looking provisions in front of him. She caught his hand as he reached out to snatch a tasty-looking bit of meat.

  “Silverware, Kendrick.”

  He looked dubiously at the fork she offered him. “Never saw the need for those. We didn’t have them in my day.”

  “Well, your day is now 1996 and we use forks. And that’s spicy sausage you’re eyeing. It’ll burn your mouth.”

  “I am perfectly capable of deciding what I will and will not eat,” he said, ignoring the fork, reaching for a link with his fingers and popping it in his mouth. It was blisteringly hot and so spicy that his eyes began to water. He stubbornly continued to chew, blinking rapidly. By the saints, his mouth was on fire! Genevieve laughed and handed him a glass of milk. He downed it in a single gulp.

  “Wonderful,” he gasped.

  She pulled out the chair on his right and dropped down into it. “You’d better fry up more of that sausage, Worthington. His Lordship loves it.”

  Kendrick flashed her a scowl before he turned back to his plate and examined what was left. He tore off a hunk of bread and munched on it as he tried to decide what would be the least humiliating of the meats to try next. Not having paid attention to mortal fodder for the past few centuries had left him feeling rather ignorant. At least the bread was something he knew how to eat. And how fine it was, completely free of the rocks and dirt that had always seasoned the bread he had eaten during his time.

  “Try the ham,” Genevieve suggested. “Smoked, but fairly mild.”

  He took her suggestion and knew heaven the moment the meat touched his tongue. He closed his eyes and groaned as he chewed.

  “That good?”

  He looked up to find Genevieve smiling at him gently.

  “Bliss,” he sighed.

  Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. He washed down the contents of his mouth with another swig of milk, deciding right then that he definitely preferred ale, then pulled Genevieve into his arms. She began to weep; great, heaving sobs of pure misery.

  “Genevieve, by the saints, what ails you? Are my manners so poor?”

  That jest only served to make her weep the more. He looked at Worthington who held up his hands in a helpless gesture. Kendrick tucked his lady’s head into the crook of his neck and began to rock her slowly.

  “My love, what troubles you so?” he whispered.

  “I’m so afraid,” she said, clutching him as if she feared hell itself planned to instantly spirit him away.

  “Of what? There’s nothing to fear.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “My sweet Gen, nothing is going to happen to me. Didn’t I ask you to trust me? I’ve been given another chance. We’ve been given another chance. I’ll be right here by you for the rest of your life. We have years to do all the things we talked about doing: traveling, restoring old castles, having children.”

  “Excuse me, Your Lordship, but how many children?” Worthington interrupted dryly.

  “How many would it take to make you daft?” Kendrick said, fighting his smile.

  “If they were to be anything like their sire, the thought of even one makes me shudder.”

  Kendrick chuckled and gave Genevieve a squeeze. “Do you hear, my love? Wouldn’t it please you to make our illustrious busybody daft? How will we do that if I’m not here to father a few children by you?” She didn’t answer, but at least her tears were beginning to cease. “Gen, I will not leave you. I vow it. You’ll doubtless be enormously weary of me by the time we’re old.”

  She pulled back and shook her head. “I could never grow tired of you.”

  He put his finger under her chin and tipped her face up for his kiss. Such sweet lips, wet with salty tears. He wondered if he would ever taste her mouth enough to satisfy himself.

  “My lady, you’ll never know just how long it will take to tire of His Lordship if you do not feed him.”

  Genevieve pulled back and smiled up at Kendrick. “I think that’s a fancy way of reminding me that your breakfast is getting cold.”

  Kendrick gave Worthington a dark look. “What he’s trying to tell me is how desperately he needs an extended holiday.”

  Worthington set down more dishes piled high with pancakes, eggs, rolls and fruit. “You would starve without me.”

  Genevieve smiled. “Worthington, I’ll cook for him for a bit.”

  “And I’ll help her,” Kendrick said firmly. “After the wedding tomorrow, you’re officially on holiday. Take a cruise. Go to the Colonies, or the south of France. I’ll pay for whatever you want.”

  “Anything?” Worthington said, his ears perking up.

  “Aye,” Kendrick grumbled. “You deserve it. Go make your plans. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

  Worthington didn’t need to hear that twice. He was nothing but a flurry of coattails as he scuttled from the kitchen. Kendrick reached for the eggs and began inhaling them.

  “Tomorrow?”

  He stopped chewing. “Too soon?”

  Genevieve shook her head, but he knew that the thought made her nervous. He settled her more comfortably in his lap and began chewing again.

  “We don’t have to consummate the marriage right away,” he offered.

  She gulped and said nothing.

  After he’d stuffed three slices of ham into his mouth at once, he gave the matter more thought. He could wait to love her. For a few more hours. Surely by then she would have grown accustomed to him.

  Or so he hoped.

  Kendrick spent the rest of the afternoon planning. Organizing sieges had always been one of his strengths and he put that skill to good use in planning his wedding. He tucked Genevieve into bed for a nap, then set to work arranging all the proper documents and procuring Adelaide’s brother for the ceremony.

  And then he spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to get over the shock of having watched Royce and Nazir walk into the hall, as tangible as he was. They spent the afternoon in the kitchen, discussing both the significance of Genevieve’s having signed the deed and the definite improvements that had been made in mortal fodder since the Middle Ages. By the time night fell, Kendrick had broken up two fights between his captain and his Saracen, eaten enough to make himself sick and put the finishing touches on the ceremony to be performed the next day. He’d assured himself again that Genevieve’s wedding present had been prepared as he’d requested, then sent his lady off to bed.

  By the time he retired, he was wide-a
wake and frustrated. He could hear Genevieve tossing restively in the next chamber. He wanted to go to her, but knew better than to do it. There was something troubling her, something she obviously didn’t want to share with him. Not that he’d had time to question her. Nay, he’d been far too busy plotting and planning. And he was currently suffering because of it. If only she would trust him! Didn’t she know he loved her more than life, that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make her happy?

  He sighed. Tomorrow they would be wed, then he would eject all the guests from his hall and have a very long talk with his lady and find out just what sorts of things were going through her overactive mind. A pity his return to life had signaled an end to his mind-reading capabilities. They certainly would have made things a great deal simpler.

  He closed his eyes. Tomorrow. He would solve all their problems tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Genevieve tiptoed into Kendrick’s chamber, wanting to make sure he slept soundly. The light from the candle by his bed cast warm shadows over him. How innocent he looked in sleep, almost harmless. She reached out to smooth the hair back from his face.

  Her hand went through him and touched the pillow.

  “Kendrick!” she screamed. He didn’t move. She tried to shake him but her hands clutched nothing. “Kendrick!” she screamed, over and over again, overcome by the terror she had been fighting all day. “Kendrick!” she sobbed, clutching at shoulders that were not there.

  “Genevieve, wake up!”

  She opened her eyes. Kendrick had his hands on her shoulder, shaking her. She sat up with a cry and threw her arms around him.

  “Oh, Kendrick, I dreamed you were a ghost again. I tried to wake you, to touch you, but I couldn’t feel you!”

  Kendrick pulled her from her bed, swung her up in his arms and strode from the guest room. “We’ll go lie down and I’ll hold you. That will soothe you.”

  He was naked. Lie down with a naked man? The thought was like a bucket of ice water thrown in her face. Her reason, and her apprehension, returned with a rush.

  “Oh, but I’m all right,” she said quickly. “Kendrick, take me back. I can’t sleep with you tonight.”

  “I’ll not take you, Genevieve.”

  “But—”

  “Enough,” he said firmly. “I’ve spent the past two hours tossing and turning and listening to you do the same. This is foolishness.”

  She couldn’t argue with him. It had taken her two hours to fall into a very uneasy sleep and that sleep had resulted in a horrifying nightmare. Perhaps if she held onto his hand while they slept, her fears would be eased.

  Kendrick shut the bedroom door behind them and walked to the bed. He pulled back the covers and laid her down. Even by the faint light of the dying fire in the hearth, she caught a full view of his nakedness. She jerked the covers over her head.

  “Put some clothes on,” she whispered frantically.

  She heard him sigh heavily, rummage around in the room, curse heartily as he stubbed his toe, then sigh again as he slid under the covers next to her.

  “Are these strange, thick hose without feet enough or must I dress completely?” he grumbled.

  She threw the covers off and escaped the bed on the other side, tears of humiliation already stinging her eyes. Kendrick caught her before she reached the door. He turned her around and gathered her close.

  “Forgive me, Genevieve. ‘Twas a foolish thing to say.”

  “Let me go. I’ll go back to my own room and you can sleep however you want.”

  Kendrick was silent but he did not release her. Finally the soothing motion of his hand skimming over her hair teased her into relaxing. She leaned against his broad chest, his warm skin and the steady beating of his heart soothing her further. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her over to the hearth. After tossing another pair of logs onto the fire, he sat down in the large chair and drew her down onto his lap. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face up.

  “Having a body again has allowed me to slip into old habits,” he said softly. “In my time, I never wore a stitch of clothing to sleep in. After wearing mail day and night while I was away and not changing clothes for weeks on end, being free of the confinement was a heady pleasure.”

  “You can sleep however you—”

  He put his hand over her mouth.

  “It was thoughtless of me to parade about naked before you. I should not have done it this morning after I showered, nor should I have done it tonight. This morning I was teasing you and tonight I was in too much haste to gain your room to think of clothing. The fault is mine.”

  “I don’t mean to be a prude,” she whispered.

  “It is proper that you are shy. I am a thoughtless knave to have embarrassed you thusly.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her cheek. “Forgive me.”

  “Why are you so sweet?”

  “I do it to redeem myself for all the times I have been so impossible.” “You’ve never been impossible.”

  “Give me a chance,” he said, in a stage whisper. He pressed his lips against her hair. “Let’s go wash away those tears, then go to bed. You don’t want your eyes to be red tomorrow. Royce will challenge me on the spot if he thinks I’ve driven you to weep already.”

  She nodded and rose. Kendrick took her hand and led her to the bathroom. He flipped on the light, then winced right along with her at the brightness.

  “Candles were easier on the eye,” he muttered as he wetted a washcloth.

  “I believe it,” she agreed as he tilted her face up and gently washed her cheeks and eyes. He patted her face dry with a soft cloth, then flicked off the light. Genevieve followed him back into the bedroom, then slipped under the covers and shivered as Kendrick banked the fire. He came back to her and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “Afraid of ghosts?” he teased.

  “I still don’t think I’ve forgiven you for the arrow coming out of your chest. That was disgusting.”

  He grinned. “I thought it marginally clever. I didn’t even get a good scream out of you.”

  “You didn’t deserve one, you jerk. I hope it was the most unsatisfying week of your life.”

  “It was.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll keep watch.”

  “Where?”

  “By the fire,” he said, rising.

  “But you can’t sleep there.”

  “You would rather have me in your bed?”

  Genevieve searched for something to say besides the truth.

  “Your silence answers for you, my lady.”

  “Oh, Kendrick, it isn’t you.” Then she felt herself blush. “Well, it is you. Sort of.”

  “There is no law that says the marriage must be consummated tomorrow night.”

  “It has to happen sometime.”

  “You flatter me. Nay, I know,” he said gruffly, as she started to rise, “you did not intend it thusly.”

  Genevieve wanted to say something to reassure him, but came up with nothing. The shocks she’d endured that day had taken their toll on her. The knowledge that she would actually be married the next day was the final straw. It wasn’t the marriage that made her nervous; it was the after part. Kendrick had been a good sport about it that day, but probably only because he’d been too busy putting out fires to pay her much attention. Tomorrow everyone would leave and she would be alone with him. She knew he would never hurt her, but he would certainly want to be close to her. Physically. Intimately.

  The thought made her want to bolt.

  She watched him sit down in front of the fire and stretch out his long legs.

  “Kendrick?”

  “Aye.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  He paused. “A bit.”

  He obviously knew what she was talking about. “A bit?” she prodded.

  “Somewhere between ouch and slit my throat, if you please.”

  Oh, goodness.
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br />   Kendrick stood at the altar of his chapel and held his lady’s hand in his. This was the moment he’d thought would never come. Genevieve was his. He looked down at her surreptitiously and felt his heart swell within him. How beautiful she looked in the antique wedding dress Adelaide had provided. Her hair was piled atop her head with a few tendrils hanging down in ringlets over her neck and temples. Kendrick’s fingers itched to take it down and bury his hands in it. Sweet, sweet Genevieve.

  He was given leave to kiss her and he did, though not nearly as thoroughly as he would have liked. For one thing, she was stiff as a sword in his arms. Perhaps it was wedding jitters. Goodness knows he might have felt them himself, had he not been so eager to bind her to him. Genevieve was different, though. He knew he made her nervous, but had no idea how to ease her fears. If their marriage was to be something other than in name only, he would have to bed her. Though the very thought sent blood rushing to strategic parts of his anatomy, it likely sent fear rushing through her veins.

  Patience, Seakirk. It would take patience to show her he could bring her pleasure. And he was a patient man. He’d waited seven hundred years for her. What was a few more days?

  He held one of his wife’s icy hands between his own and strove to warm it. It was useless. She was as skittish as a mare in a stable full of randy stallions. As if he intended to bed her on the spot!

  Patience. He had enough, didn’t he?

  By late afternoon, he was busy shooing everyone from the keep. Worthington was certain he and Genevieve would starve and had made Adelaide promise to check on them every other day. Worthington was planning a cruise to the Greek islands but had promised to call from each port. Kendrick told him not to bother.

  Royce was looking forward to a fortnight or two spent boarding at Adelaide’s and being introduced to all the eligible maidens in the area. He had been the first one out the door when the time to leave had come. Nazir, on the other hand, did not want to go. He wasn’t at all enthusiastic about the prospect of staying with Mistress Adelaide, as he was sure the woman would poison him if given the chance. Kendrick smothered his smile at the looks his brave Saracen and Mistress Adelaide were exchanging. He sincerely hoped she had insurance for her shop. It was impossible to predict what mischief Nazir could combine.