by Lynn Kurland
“It would be an honor, my lord Seakirk, to serve you however I may. You’ll have my report as soon I’ve learned aught.”
“I’ll expect nothing less. You may go.”
Stephen bowed again, then tripped over his ghostly feet a time or two and escaped out the side door. Kendrick smoothed his hand over Genevieve’s hair.
“Your beauty makes my men clumsy, my love. ‘Tis a wonder I can put one foot in front of the other.”
She didn’t return his smile. “This is worse than I ever imagined, Kendrick. What if William is still alive?”
“Then we’ll find him and I’ll challenge him to meet me in the lists.”
“But after what he did the last time—”
“I’m forewarned this time. He’ll not best me.”
Genevieve looked at him with troubled eyes. “Maybe it’s all a joke.”
Kendrick shook his head. “Nay, the letter clearly states that he paid Richard of York ten thousand marks of silver, not a small sum I might add, to do me in. And I daresay he achieved his end of escaping death by forfeiting another five thousand marks of silver to the coven of witches at the abbey.”
“Witches?” she echoed. “At an abbey?”
“A rumor in my time, but obviously not far from the truth.” He dragged his hand through his hair and released his breath slowly. “I wish I had but one more go at him in the lists!”
“He’s long dead, Kendrick,” she said gently. “There are no such things as witches. It’s probably just a sick joke. Let that be enough for you.”
“His head on a pike would be enough for me,” Kendrick grumbled. He looked at Genevieve and his expression softened. “Doubtless you’re right, my love. I’ll let it go. After I thrash Royce in the lists.” He kissed her, then rose. “Come with me, Royce. Have the car keys handy, Gen. We’ll likely have to carry Royce to hospital once I’m through with him.”
Royce snorted as he followed Kendrick from the kitchen. “What a dreamer you are, my lord. I daresay your sweet bride will exert herself greatly to put your soft pudge into the car, as I fully intend to humiliate you this mom. Perhaps you should spare her the effort and concede the match now?”
“Kendrick,” Genevieve called, “don’t forget you promised to take me to Adelaide’s this afternoon. Nazir has already called me twice this morning, wondering when I was coming into town.”
“Give me an hour to train, then I’ll shower and take you. I’ll buy you lunch too, if you think up a few pretty insults for Royce.”
Genevieve only grinned and waved him away. Kendrick kept up his chatter with Royce until they were outside, then he continued to talk as they made their way across to the inner bailey wall. Royce’s grin immediately faded to concern once Kendrick turned to him.
“Kendrick, you don’t suppose it’s true, do you?” he said in a hushed voice. “That he bought your death?”
“Aye, I believe that readily enough,” Kendrick replied, looking about casually. No sense in babbling his innermost thoughts to an audience. “And I daresay I believe the other just as readily.”
“But why would he do it?”
“Don’t you want immortality?” Kendrick said, swinging his gaze back to his captain’s. “Despite the obvious difficulties, haven’t you enjoyed the past seven hundred years? Didn’t you watch in awe the first time you saw a moving picture or a rocket blast off into space? Didn’t you weep the first time you heard Mozart’s symphonies? Didn’t you long to drive a car, fly in a plane, sail on a ship? Why would anyone have willingly chosen death, when those were the alternatives?”
“Ah, but none of those things was worth the price of my soul,” Royce said. “And are those pleasures of mortality worth the cost of being separated from family that has passed on before?
If something happened to Genevieve, would you sell your soul to tarry here without her, or would you accept death when it came, knowing that your joy would be full when you saw your love again?”
Kendrick smiled. “You know my answer to that. But ‘tis of William we speak. He had no family, no lover, no friends. He was shamed, shunned, exiled. Think you he wouldn’t have sold his soul for revenge?”
“God help us if he did.”
“Aye,” Kendrick agreed. “But surely he is nothing more than a mortal man. I can best him. We will find him and I will challenge him to face me over lances.”
“And when you best him, what then? Will you send him away?”
“He won’t be alive to walk away.”
“Kendrick, I daresay I needn’t tell you how your lady will react to the news that you intend to fight to the death. Don’t force me to take your place at her side once you’re gone.”
“As if she’d have you.”
“Many wenches would take me, and willingly too.”
“The blind and daft ones.”
Royce drew his sword and lashed out. Kendrick only had time to jump back and draw his own blade before his captain was coming at him furiously. Kendrick didn’t even have time to grin at Royce’s ferociousness. All he could do was concentrate fully on keeping his captain at bay. Perhaps it was best. It took his mind off his problems, the main one being how he would find William of Sedgwick. Killing him was a different matter entirely. Murder was a slap-on-the-wrist offense in medieval times, when it could be proved that it was actually murder and not self-defense or good business. Modern man was a sight more particular about his affairs.
Well, that would come later. Now the task was to find William, then understand what he wanted. And hope he could be bested.
An hour later, Kendrick descended the stairs to his great hall and heard the babble of male voices coming from the kitchen. He sprinted the distance, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. If anything had happened to Genevieve…
“Well, I don’t think I could relate it to anything you’d understand.”
That was Genevieve’s voice.
“It looks powerfully sticky. What does it taste like?”
Kendrick pulled up short at the doorway to the kitchen. He was so surprised by what he saw, he couldn’t find his wits to scatter the souls with a bellow.
No less than half his ghostly garrison was in his kitchen. Some sat on the counters, others sat at the table, still others hugged the walls. And all of them were watching Genevieve finish off half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even more astonishing was the fact that she looked perfectly at ease, as if she were holding court and these were her loyal and harmless court jesters. Kendrick leaned against the doorframe and looked over the band.
There was Stephen, of course, standing behind his lady with his sword in his hand, looking mightily fierce, as if he intended to behead the first lout to even belch without permission.
Ah, then Colin of Berkhamshire, a seasoned warrior of forty-five summers who had cut such a swath through Germany that Kendrick was certain the republic was still reeling from the aftershocks. And there he sat on Genevieve’s left, behaving as prettily as if he’d been born and reared in a sewing circle.
Oh, and not to forget Robert of Conyers. Kendrick smirked. Genevieve would think twice about chatting with him so easily if she’d had half an inkling of the man’s fierceness on the battlefield. Kendrick had watched him lay waste to half a garrison by himself, be wounded half a dozen times, yet rise from his bed the next day to fight again. And there he sat, hanging on Genevieve’s every word as if he’d never before heard a woman talk.
“Well, it is kind of sticky, but that’s just the nature of it,” Genevieve said, washing down her sandwich with a swig of milk. “And it tastes like peanuts. Does anyone know what peanuts are?”
There was much low murmuring, as if the lackwits actually discussed amongst themselves whether or not they had tasted such a thing. Robert of Conyers spoke up.
“Nay, milady, we’ve no such knowledge. Can you not liken it to something else?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s a one-of-a-kind taste. But you guys recognize milk, don’t you?”
“So does Kendrick, and for breakfast too, if you can believe it.”
“And what does my lord Kendrick think of these peanut-jelly concoctions?” Robert asked. “Does he find them to his liking?”
Kendrick frowned. “As she said before, ‘tis nothing you would understand. If you lads have finished with my lady, I’ve a mind to have her to myself. Now.”
The kitchen emptied so quickly, Kendrick had to hold onto the doorframe to keep his balance. It was a good thing his lads were ghosts, else he might have been trampled in the stampede. Once the dust had settled, he looked over to see Stephen still at his post. Stephen sheathed his sword and crossed the room, where he made Kendrick a low bow.
“Your lady is safely delivered to you, my lord. And I have no word on our quarry. I will inform you when I have tidings.”
Kendrick nodded imperiously and Stephen departed. Kendrick sauntered over to the table and looked down at his love.
“Wooing the garrison, my lady?”
“They invited themselves,” she smiled. “A great bunch of guys, huh?”
Kendrick laughed. And this from the woman who could hardly bear to hold hands with him a few weeks ago? How much she had changed.
“If you only knew just how fierce they were,” he said with a smile. “But you seem to have tamed them nicely. Now, must I call them back, or can you make do with me for the rest of the afternoon?”
She rose and hugged him. “How green your eyes have become, my lord.”
“They have always been green.”
“I know,” she smiled. She kissed him softly. “Let’s go check on Nazir, then come home. I made the boys promise not to come in unless they were invited. I need privacy to seduce you, Kendrick. And I’m thinking I’ll be needing a whole lot of privacy tonight.”
She patted him on the behind as she passed him. Kendrick laughed to himself at the come-hither look she cast him over her shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. Aye, things had changed indeed.
The village looked the same as when he last saw it. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at each man who passed, though, wondering if he would recognize his old enemy. He saw no one suspicious. Nazir was overjoyed to see Genevieve and threw himself at her feet, begging her to release him from punishment. Kendrick had a hard time not laughing at the horror stories Nazir spouted, merely to garner sympathy.
Nazir’s pleading was in vain. Kendrick extricated Genevieve from his servant’s clutches soon enough and promised Nazir all manner of gifts and privileges if he would merely behave himself for another week. Worthington would return from his cruise by then and be ready to babysit. Kendrick knew he wasn’t equal to the task and he didn’t want Genevieve using her time that way, especially when there were far more important things for her to be doing.
He had planned to let her seduce him after they returned to the hall, but when they returned, he found himself with a different desire entirely. He bolted the hall door, then carried his lady up the stairs before she could protest. Once they were safely ensconced in their bedchamber, he undressed her, then fell with her to the bed. It was the most passionate experience of his long life and he almost fainted with his release. Genevieve wept.
Then they burrowed under the covers and Kendrick held his love as she drifted off to sleep.
He spent the night awake. He examined his situation from a hundred different angles and racked his brain for a suitable strategy. At least Genevieve was relatively safe. The good Inspector would take care of finding Bryan McShane and that would be solved.
Or would it?
Kendrick sat bolt upright, his mind working furiously. Bryan’s superior’s name was W. S. Maledica. Maledica? How could he have been so stupid? Maledica, from malediction? A curse? He clapped his hand to his head. By the saints, he was a fool! He’d never thought to question the man’s initials, but he had the feeling that when he called the office in the morning, he’d find they stood for William Sedgwick. But why? Why had Bryan McShane been so eager to have Genevieve? Correction, why had William sent Bryan to kidnap Genevieve? What did she have he could want?
Or was it another angle entirely? Did William know how much Genevieve meant to him? Was William merely using her as another means of tormenting him? But how could William possibly know just how deeply he loved Genevieve? Or that they had been wed? Or that he now possessed a body of flesh and bones?
Kendrick lay back down slowly, taking a deep breath and releasing it. So many questions and so few answers. He would have to redouble his efforts to find William. And if worse came to worse, he would lure him to Seakirk and kill him within the walls. That would be fitting, wouldn’t it?
Assuming, that is, that he could be killed.
Kendrick gathered his lady close and closed his eyes.
Heaven help him.
Chapter Thirty-four
Genevieve walked into the house, wondering if her feet were touching the ground. She’d gone to the doctor, thinking she had the flu and wanting to know why it had lasted so long. She’d never considered the possibility of a child, though why she hadn’t was a good question. She and Kendrick had been married two months. And now a baby. She grinned as she hugged herself and danced all the way to the kitchen. Kendrick would be thrilled.
Wouldn’t he?
Yes, he would. Just last night she’d been poring over a book of heraldry with him. Kendrick had shown her his family’s coat of arms, and how he would change it now that he was lord of his own keep. His sons and daughters would bear it, each a bit differently according to their birth order. She hadn’t missed the note of wistfulness in his voice when he’d contemplated such a thing.
He’d also shown her the coat of arms for Sedwick. A dragon rampant. Genevieve had gotten shivers at just the sight of it. William couldn’t be still alive. If he were, she sincerely hoped he’d chosen some nice warm place like Africa to call home. Anywhere far away from England.
Genevieve walked into the kitchen and saw the note on the refrigerator. Kendrick’s bold scrawl greeted her eyes.
My Gen, Royce and I’ve gone riding, as you instructed us to do before you left. I hope you passed your time at Adelaide’s pleasantly and came home with a few fine acquisitions for your trouble. I’ll’be home before noon.
Kendrick
It was only eleven, giving her enough time to bake a batch of cookies and maybe catch a chapter or two of the novel Kendrick continued to try to hide from her. She lifted the lid on the cookie jar. She pulled her book out, smiling as she did so.
“Subtle, Seakirk,” she said, dryly. “So you want your cookies, do you?”
“Not that he’ll have a mouth with which to eat them,” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.
Genevieve whirled around, her hand at her throat. Then she gasped. There, standing at the door to her kitchen, was a man in full battle gear. Heavy chain mail covered his arms and legs; a helmet rested on his head; his long sword hung by his side, well within reach of his gloved hands. He stared at her from out of one blue eye and one brown. Embroidered on his surcoat was a mythical creature depicted in a fighting stance, colored in black and red.
A dragon.
It was William of Sedgwick’s crest. Genevieve gasped again and looked around frantically for a weapon. She lunged for the block of knives and came up with a meat cleaver. Thick fingers went around her wrist, squeezing until she had no choice but to drop the knife. She tried kicking. William caught her across the cheek and sent her sprawling. He hauled her up and pinned her against the wall. Genevieve couldn’t find any breath for screaming. The man was easily as tall as Kendrick and just as broad. And he looked like he’d like to kill her.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“I’m surprised de Piaget hasn’t told you about me. I vanquished him at a tourney many years ago and he, being the woman he is, cried foul.”
“That’s not how I hear the story—” She gasped as his fin
gers tightened around her throat. “Saw…scar on his…back.”
“Sleeping with a ghost, my dear? How quaint.”
“He’s not—” She shut her mouth with a snap.
William’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not what?”
“Nothing.”
He buried his hand in her hair. “I have a deed for you to sign, sweet wench, then I believe I’ll have you a time or two. Won’t that please His Lordship well?” William laughed loudly. “God’s teeth, what a fine jest! Not only will I have his castle, but I’ll have his woman too, all while he sits unable to do anything about it.” He pulled her toward the door. “Where is your illustrious lover? Off haunting the stables like the misbegotten cur he is?”
Genevieve didn’t answer. She had to find a way to warn Kendrick. William held her by the hair once they were outside, then reached in his car and retrieved his briefcase. He opened it and pulled out a deed to the castle.
“Sign it.”
“Why should I?”
“Because once I own Seakirk, de Piaget will never have it,” William smiled pleasantly. “Won’t that be a fine jest? He’s bound to Seakirk only for so long as he doesn’t own the castle legally. And now I will be the one to hold the deed.” He laughed again. “Ah, to see him in a hell of my making has always been my fondest desire.”
“He wasn’t the coward—”
William slammed her against the car so hard, she lost her breath. “Foolish bitch! You’ve no idea how I suffered. My lands were stripped from me. My title was taken away and my family shunned me. I was forbidden to compete in any tourney, not only in England but in Normandy and France. God’s bones, woman, I was reduced to begging! It took me years to earn the silver to pay for de Piaget’s demise and I paid for the silver in blood. Now sign the damned paper and let us be done with it!”
“She’s already signed one deed. She has no need to sign another.”
Genevieve looked up to see Kendrick sitting on his horse not twenty paces away. And surrounding him, as far as the eye could see, were other mounted men, all dressed in full battle regalia. Genevieve couldn’t tell which ones were ghosts and which ones weren’t.
