One Dark and Stormy Knight

by Hermione Moon

  Imogen’s eyebrows rise.

  “The bouquet,” he murmurs. “The one you saw Mary giving me yesterday. My sister’s just had a baby. The flowers were for her.”

  Imogen tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay. I’ll note that down.”

  “I’m telling the woman,” he says softly. “Not the DCI.”

  Imogen blushes. Smiling, I slip out of the office and leave them to talk.

  I’m walking slowly back through the library when she catches up with me.

  “Well?” I ask her.

  “Well, what?”

  “Did he ask you out?”

  “That would be inappropriate, considering he’s a suspect.”

  “Aw,” I say, “Immi…”

  “He did,” she says, and smiles. “And I said no, not until the case is solved.”

  “He was okay with that?”

  “He was fine. He understands.”

  I stop and give her a hug. She laughs and hugs me back.

  “We need to find who did this,” she says, somewhat fiercely.

  “I know.”

  “Not just because I want to date Christian Wheeler. But for Luke, and for the town.”

  “I know. We’ll find him.”

  She releases me, and we head through the bookstacks.

  I stop by the front door. “I wonder who picked up the vase Christian knocked off? The murderer?”

  “Possibly,” she replies. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone admits to it.”

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Have a great evening.”

  We part outside, and she heads off to her car, while I return to the café.

  It’s late afternoon. Cooper’s already left, and Delia’s starting to wipe down the tables as the last customers finish their tea and scones. I slip by the knight, sure I can feel his gaze on me as I go into the kitchen and start tidying up. Soon, though, I’m engrossed in the task, washing the pans, emptying the dishwasher and filling it again, wiping down the work benches, and getting everything ready for the next day.

  Delia finishes her tasks, collects her coat, and waves goodbye. She goes out, and I see her walk across to her car, get in, and drive away.

  I go over to the door and let Merlin in, then lock the door behind him. I need to sweep the floor and wipe down the counter, but I’m too nervous. Instead, I stand in front of the knight.

  “Arthur,” I whisper, “are you there?”

  I blink, and there are the blue eyes, staring at me from behind the visor. “I’m here,” he says.

  I expected it, and deep down, even though I wouldn’t admit it to myself, I hoped he’d appear, but my heart still skips a beat.

  “Shall I take off the helm?” I ask him.

  “Turn off the light first.”

  I flick the switch, leaving the break room light on, and return to him. Then I undo the catch of the helm, lift it off, and place it on the table.

  He blows out a breath. “It’s warm in there.”

  I back up a little and perch on the edge of the table behind me. His dark hair is sticking up on top. The grey streaks at the sides look like wings. He must have spent most of his time outdoors, because his face is tanned and slightly weather-beaten. I kept telling myself he couldn’t possibly be as handsome as I remember, but I was wrong. He’s gorgeous.

  I’ve been thinking about talking to him all day, and now I don’t know where to start. What on earth do you say to your knight in shining armour when he turns out to be real?

  Chapter Ten

  “How are you?” Arthur asks.

  “I’m okay, thank you.” I think he’s referring to what happened at the Abbey. “Were you watching me? With Luke?”

  “Yes. He looked upset.”

  “He was. That’s why I hugged him.” I don’t know why I feel I have to explain myself.

  “I understand,” Arthur says. “You loved him. You wanted to make him feel better.”

  You loved him. Suddenly I realize the implication behind that statement. “You know that I dated him,” I state. He nods. Oh… I think back to all the moments that have happened in this café, moments that Arthur must have witnessed. He told me, I’ve been watching you since you were born. He’s seen me as a baby, as a child, as a girl growing into a young woman. He’s watched my life unfold. This was where I first introduced Luke to Mum when I brought him home. He came here often in the first year at university when we were on vacation. I kissed him here. It’s also where I came to tell Mum when he broke up with me. Where I sat and cried my heart out. And it’s where I sat and cried again when Mum died.

  “Why have you never shown yourself before now?” I ask, emotion tightening my throat. “There were so many times I could have done with comfort, with help…”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t been aware, the way I am now. I was present, but also not…” He frowns. “I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It sort of does. It sounds as if your experience has been like coming out of a coma. Gradually becoming more conscious.”

  “Maybe.”

  We study each other in the quiet room. Merlin sits in front of me, wagging his tail at the knight. Arthur glances at him and smiles.

  “I’m sorry I ran off the other day,” I tell him.

  “That’s okay. I think you’re very understanding, considering.”

  “I have some questions.”

  “It would be very strange if you didn’t.”

  “First of all,” I say, “how come I can understand you? Why aren’t you speaking whatever language you spoke back then?”

  “I’m… not sure. My world has… faded, over the years. I listen to your customers and friends, to the radio, and I watch TV. I suppose that’s helped.”

  I glance over my shoulder at the small TV set. I sometimes put it on in the afternoons, and the radio is nearly always on.

  “You look nice today,” he says.

  I look down at myself. I’m wearing a short denim skirt and a white T-shirt. My hair is in its usual scruffy bun. “I’m hardly dressed to the nines,” I say.

  “You’d look beautiful no matter what you wore.”

  I look back up at him, my face warming. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “Sorry,” he says.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I scold.

  “All right.” He smiles.

  When he smiles, I get a tingle all the way down my spine. It makes me feel tongue-tied, like Imogen was with Christian. I should have made a list of questions to ask him.

  It occurs to me that he can’t have had anything to eat or drink for fifteen hundred years. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty?”

  “No.” He shifts inside the armour, as if he’s trying to roll his shoulders.

  “Can you take the suit off?” Suddenly, more than anything, I want to see what he looks like without the steel plates strapped to him. As nice as it is, I want to see more than just his head.

  But he just shakes it. “I don’t think so. I’m not quite… ready.”

  “Beatrix—my aunt—says she thinks your soul is tied to the ruby, not the suit. She thinks we might be able to remove it and have it fitted into a piece of jewellery you can wear.”

  He looks at the pommel. “Really?”

  “Would you like me to try it?”

  “Yes,” he says. “When we’ve finished talking.”

  “Okay.” I’m happy to have a conversation, but I know I’m not doing very well at it. I feel a little shy, like he’s a famous movie star.

  I realize I’m slowly coming to the conclusion that he is who he says he is. Well, he’s obviously magical. He can appear and disappear at will. I suppose it is possible he’s a malevolent spirit who’s here to do me harm, but my instincts tell me that’s not the case. And as my instincts are pretty much all I have, I’m going to have to listen to them.

&
nbsp; “You really are Arthur,” I say.

  “I am.”

  “Arthur, Dux Bellorum.”

  He laughs for the first time, a sexy chuckle that rumbles in his chest. “Yes,” he says. “Leader of battles. That is a good title.”

  “Not king.”

  “No, not king.”

  “But you are aware of the legend of King Arthur? That you’re famous across the world?”

  “The world?”

  “Everyone knows who King Arthur is,” I say softly. “There are so many books and movies about you.”

  “You shouldn’t say that. If my head gets any bigger, it won’t fit in this helm.”

  I laugh, and he smiles. “You don’t laugh enough,” he says.

  I ignore the compliment, because it makes my tummy feel funny. “How much of the legend is true?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid.” He gives me a rueful smile. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “I’m talking to the man who did his best to remount the Roman cavalry, re-man the Saxon Shore forts, and keep Britannia safe for many years. I can’t imagine how you could possibly disappoint me.”

  Ooh, he liked that. His smile is warm, making me turn to caramel inside.

  I turn my attention to the Labradoodle who’s sitting in front of me, looking up adoringly at the knight. “So was Merlin real?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “So he’s not a reincarnation of him. Aw, what a shame.” I lean forward and ruffle the dog’s ears.

  But Arthur says, “Not of a mythical wizard, no. But he was one of my closest friends.”

  I stare at him. “You’re kidding me?”

  “You told me not to say things I didn’t mean.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Of course.” He looks at the dog. Then he laughs. “Just a bit.”

  “Just a bit, what?”

  His eyebrows rise. “He said he thinks we’ve shocked you.”

  I blink. “What do you mean? Who said that?”

  “Merlin. You can’t hear him?”

  “Of course I can’t hear him. He’s a dog.”

  “I can hear him,” Arthur says. “Must be a magic thing.”

  “Seriously? You can hear Merlin speak?”

  “He has a nice voice. And he’s a great poet.”

  “A poet?” Now I feel as if I’m going mad.

  “His name was Taliesin,” Arthur says. “But he’s happy with Merlin.”

  I’ve heard of the bard Taliesin. There are rumours that he sang at Arthur’s court. And now his spirit is in my dog? Merlin looks up at me with his big brown eyes, then nuzzles my hand. Am I crazy to believe all this?

  And yet, what other explanation is there for the man inside the suit of armour who can disappear at will?

  I look up at him. He’s waiting patiently for me to process this new information.

  “There is something I have to ask you,” I say.

  “Ask away.”

  “The stories about Guinevere and Lancelot… about them being, you know, lovers… were they real?”

  His gaze holds mine, and it’s firm and unrelenting. “Absolutely not. As I said, I had many advisers and warriors. But I was faithful to Guinevere, and she was faithful to me. We were in love. We had no need to look elsewhere for companionship.”

  I hadn’t realized until that moment how nervous I was about his reply to that question. I’ve always hated the stories about Guinevere cheating on her king with his favourite knight. “You say ‘she,’” I note, somewhat jokingly, “not ‘you.’ Have you changed your mind about me being a reincarnation of your Guinevere?”

  “Not at all. I know saying that makes you uncomfortable, though.” He sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since the last time we talked, and you were right. I can’t expect everything to return to the way it was. Even if you are, at root, the same soul, you’re not the same person you once were. You have no memory of our previous life, and how we felt about each other. It would be arrogant of me to think that nothing would change.”

  “Thank you.” I’m relieved he understands.

  “I will just have to win you all over again.”

  My mouth opens, but no words come out. He gives a small, mischievous smile.

  I clear my throat. “What if I don’t want that?”

  He sighs patiently. “Then I’ll go on my merry way and be the saddest man in the kingdom. I’m not a fool, Gwen. I’m not expecting anything. But expecting and hoping aren’t the same thing. And I hope you’ll come to see what a wonderful, amazing, irresistible, modest man I am.”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking. “Are you teasing me?” I ask suspiciously.

  “I am. I’m very dry.”

  I look at Merlin. Arthur laughs. “He said you’re going to have to get used to my sense of humour.”

  Merlin’s tail wags vigorously from side to side. “Does he mind being a dog?” I ask.

  “He doesn’t like dog food much,” Arthur says. “But apart from that I think he quite enjoys it.”

  I shake my head slowly, not sure if I can take all of this in. “So where do we go from here?” I ask softly.

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Do you know why you’ve become more aware? Why you’ve come back?”

  “No.”

  “Is it to save England again?”

  “I don’t think so,” he says gently. “I think it was you, Gwen. Seeing your sadness, your need… it brought me back to life.”

  We study each other for a long time. I like his manner. He’s so calm and composed. I don’t want to admit it, but I love the thought that he came back for me. What girl wouldn’t find that romantic?

  “I saw something odd yesterday,” I tell him.

  “Oh, what?”

  I describe the twelve astrological glyphs visible around where Liza died. “I don’t know what they mean, though,” I admit. “But I also saw her ghost, and so did Merlin.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Really?”

  “In the library. Luke saw her, too.”

  “Hmm. That’s not good. It means her spirit has been unable to move on to the higher planes.”

  “Like yours?”

  He tips his head from side to side. “Maybe.”

  “You think someone created a soulstone for her?”

  “Possibly. Or maybe it’s some other kind of magic that’s keeping her here.”

  “How much do you know about magic?” I ask him.

  “A little. Morgana used to talk to me about her abilities.”

  “I wish I was a real witch,” I say.

  He smiles. “You are.”

  “I make muffins, Arthur. I’m not exactly all, you know, abracadabra and stuff.”

  “Well, I think we both know real magic doesn’t happen with the wave of a wand. And you are underplaying your skills. The ability to affect people’s emotions with the food that you bake is no small thing. But you can do much more than that.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say doubtfully.

  “Your abilities go back many, many generations,” he says. “Maybe even to Morgana herself, who knows?” He surveys me thoughtfully. “Have you read your grandmother’s journals?”

  I stare at him. “What?”

  “When she ran the café, she used to sit over there,” he gestures with his head toward the corner by the window, “and write every night before she went home.”

  I’m astounded. “I didn’t know that. I haven’t seen anything she wrote.”

  “Maybe you could have a look in your mother’s things and see if you can find them. They might give you an insight into what the astrological symbols mean.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I don’t want to leave, but I’m tired, and Merlin needs feeding. “I should go now,” I admit reluctantly.

  “Of course,” he says. “Are you going to take out the ruby?”

  Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that. It’s the mom
ent of truth. Will I be able to make my knight in shining armour really come to life?

  Chapter Eleven

  I go over to the counter, extract the small tool bag I keep tucked in one of the cupboards, and take out a flat-headed screwdriver. Then I come back to Arthur.

  “So… you want me to take out the ruby?” I ask him.

  “Worth a try,” he says.

  I unscrew the lid of the pommel and lift a finger to the jewel inside. “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “I suppose you can just put it back.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me.”

  “Are you certain about that?”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Gwen. You’re stuck with me now.”

  I reach out a hand and brush my thumb across his cheek. “You have stubble,” I whisper.

  “Do I?”

  “You didn’t have it yesterday.”

  “Hmm. You’d better get me out or my beard will end up curling out the bottom of my armour.”

  I’m only half listening; I can’t believe I’m actually touching him. King Arthur. He’s really alive.

  “How old are you?” I ask softly.

  “Thirty-three.”

  “I’m thirty later this year.”

  “I know. The twenty-third of September. I’ll take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

  It doesn’t surprise me at all that he knows my birthday. I look up into his eyes. “Can you do that?”

  “I’ll have to get out of the suit of armour first or everyone will stare. It’s quite noisy.”

  “I mean, can you live a normal life? Will you be able to eat and drink? Will you age?”

  “The stubble suggests so.”

  I rasp my thumb on it. I’m so full of hope, it’s hard to breathe. He holds my gaze patiently, letting me study him. Then his gaze drops to my mouth. Oh my. He’s thinking about kissing me.

  Reluctantly, I move back a little. One step at a time.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “Here goes. Once it’s out, I’ll take it to the jewellery shop tomorrow and ask them to set it in a necklace or something.”

  “All right.”

  I insert the tip of the screwdriver in between the ruby and the claw of its setting. “Ready?”

  “I trust you,” he says.