With You Here

by Sarah Monzon

You daft cow. That wasn’t how he wanted her to think of him. Some famous playboy athlete who would say and do anything to score with a woman. Way to start off on the wrong foot.

  He was right, too. Amber’s gray eyes widened and then blinked. Mila, on the other hand, hid her head in her husband’s shoulder, her snort muffled.

  Seth ran a hand over his head. If he backpedaled, would it only make matters worse?

  He’d never really cared what people thought of him before. And the world had a lot of opinions of him, he knew. They weren’t exactly silent about them. Social media posts. Newspaper headlines. Sports announcers. His life was public fodder, but he’d always believed he could leave their judgments out on the pitch.

  Amber folded her arms across her chest and gave him a calculated once-over.

  Sodded, daft cow. For some reason he cared what this woman thought. She was…enchanting. Only minutes in her presence and she’d cast some sort of spell over him. There seemed to be an aura about her, although he didn’t care for that word. But there was an innocence. A fresh, untouched innocence that drew him like a parched man to a gentle spring.

  The moment their gazes had collided, something had happened. What that something was—too soon to name. It hadn’t been a lightning strike or an electrical current. No, the feeling was more subtle than that. More like a gentle nudge. Interest that stood up and paid attention.

  Almost like the first time his foot had connected with a football. Something in him knew he’d found that special thing that would become immensely important to him.

  “I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” Her brow cocked, almost mocking him.

  His lips tipped. Pure, but equal part moxie. Not to mention a leg that could kick a ball into the corner of the net. An intoxicating blend, to say the least.

  He sandwiched the ball between his hip and forearm. He’d never been at a loss for words when it came to women. A flirty compliment, a well-placed wink. His nerve endings hummed beneath his skin, a witty, bantering comment on his lips that would be sure to make her flush with pleasure.

  Is that the man you still are?

  No, but he’d be hanged if it felt near impossible for the tiger he’d been to change his stripes. He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard.”

  She blinked again, looking like he’d caught her off guard by his admission. That was good, right? He didn’t want her to label him with a title that didn’t fit him any longer. Even if that was still his natural M.O.

  “That was a great shot, by the way.” The words he should have said to begin with finally left his mouth. “How’d you learn to kick like that?”

  When she grinned, her whole face lit up. “Three older brothers will teach a girl a lot. Like how to dribble a ball, both basketball and soccer. I can also throw a mean spiral.”

  He clutched a fisted palm to his chest. “Will I be coming on too strong if I propose now?” Okay, so he’d changed, but maybe not completely. Besides, he didn’t think there was anything in the Bible against a little innocuous flirting. And their banter was harmless. He wouldn’t let it lead it to the same destination it had in the past.

  She held his gaze for a beat then laughed. “You’re funny.”

  “Don’t encourage him.” Ben shook his head but grinned.

  Mila turned her attention to her wristwatch before patting her husband’s arm. “The meeting with the board of directors starts in ten minutes. We must be going.” She swung her gaze to Amber. “You will be okay?”

  Amber hid a yawn behind her hand. “Of course.”

  “Gut. Yasmin can answer any of your questions, but I think you and Seth will have plenty to discuss.”

  Ben leaned down to kiss Amber’s cheek goodbye European style, and Mila did the same to Seth. With her lips an inch from his ear, she whispered, “This one will not need her older brothers to rip out your heart if you hurt her.” A kiss punctuated her threat before she stepped away with an elegant smile on her face.

  He’d volunteered at the center before, so he’d had plenty of time to get to know Mila and Ben. The two directors may look like sweet humanitarians, but mama bear and papa bear would more adequately describe them. And apparently Amber had been adopted as one of their cubs.

  Good. She was far from home and family and friends. She needed people who would look after her. But they didn’t need to fear him. He wanted to hurt her as much as he’d want to hurt a puppy, which was not at all.

  He gazed down at Amber, his attention caught by the wisps of dark blond hair curling around her neck in the breeze.

  When presented with a beautiful, spellbinding treasure, a person shouldn’t handle it roughly, smashing it open. They should be gentle, carefully unraveling each of its mysterious layers. And that’s how he saw her. For some reason, he had just been presented with a precious gift.

  She turned and looked up at him. “So.” Her mouth widened, turning into another yawn. “Sorry about that.”

  “Jet lag is a killer.” But even the time difference and lack of sleep couldn’t dim her inner glow.

  “Tell me about it.” She blinked back the moisture the yawn had produced in her eyes. “So, should we get started?”

  Seth glanced at the equipment shed. He already had a good handle on the program and the lineup for the next month. He didn’t want to waste time going over mundane details. He looked back at Amber, noting the dark circles under her eyes, and felt a tug in his chest. He wanted to suggest she take a nap but knew from experience how bad an idea that actually was. Instead, he folded himself down onto the grassy field and patted the spot next to him.

  Suspicion clouded her eyes, but she lowered herself onto the ground beside him. “How is this—”

  He lay back, the blades of grass tickling his triceps as he interlocked his fingers and placed them over his eyes. “Tell me about yourself. Who is Amber Carrington?”

  Silence met his question. He thought about unhooking his fingers from across his eyes so he could read her expression, but that was more an excuse than anything. He wanted to study her some more. Figure out why he was so drawn to her at a single glance.

  He’d never believed in love at first sight. Wasn’t calling his instant interest that either. But he’d heard stories. True stories from residents at the care homes he’d visited. Gazes meeting across busy pubs during the war, a few dances together, then getting married a week later before being shipped off. Later celebrating over half a century of marriage—a lifetime of love.

  Every time he heard one of those stories, the teller always said the same thing. They just knew. Didn’t need time and didn’t have any doubts. They knew.

  Did he—

  A puff of breath interrupted his internal musing, and the warmth of Amber’s body beside his as she lowered down to lie on her back in the grass caused the hairs on his arms to rise.

  “Amber Carrington? I thought she was the woman you loved.”

  His lips pulled back in a smile. Innocence and sass. A combination he very well could fall in love with. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve been called worse.” A serious undertone coated her words.

  “Oh?”

  She sighed. “Never mind.”

  Too late. He already minded. But he’d let it go for now. “So, what brought you out here? Why’d you volunteer for something like this?”

  He felt her shift, then a shadow crossed over his face. Must be leaning up on an elbow.

  “Shouldn’t we be going over procedures or something? A schedule or layout of duties?”

  He pretended to consider her question before dismissing it. “This is more important.”

  “How is lying in a field talking more important than preparing?”

  He let his fingers slide apart and propped himself up on his elbows. Meeting her gaze, he said, “Because you’re dead tired but can’t sleep, so at least lying down with your eyes closed will let your body rest. Also, we’re going to be working together. A lot. So we n
eed to get to know each other.” Pinning his interest in her on them being coworkers felt a little misleading, but he didn’t want to scare her off. Besides, admitting that something in him recognized something in her sounded too much like a sappy chick flick. A rotten sappy chick flick.

  She chewed her bottom lip, but then let her body fall back to the ground. “My brain feels like it’s sloughing through a swamp. You go first.”

  He peered down at her with her hair splayed around her head like a crown and smiled. She looked like an angel, and he felt like the devil.

  She caught him staring. “What?”

  He shook his head. Get a grip on yourself. “What do you want to know?”

  Her mouth pulled to the side. “Swamp brain, remember. Answer your own question. Why are you volunteering here? Is it for publicity? Required hours or something?”

  “I can see why you’d think that.” He lay back beside her, his arm brushing hers. She scooted over to put space between them. Probably better that way. His brain was feeling a bit swampy at the moment as well. “But, no, actually. I’m not here for publicity or punishment. In fact, according to my team, I should be partying it up in Vegas about now.”

  “Why aren’t you then?”

  Did she really not know anything about him? It sounded conceited, thinking every single person in the world cared about the ins and outs of his life, and he knew that wasn’t true. But it had been so long since he’d met anyone who didn’t that he’d forgotten what it was like.

  Refreshing. So completely refreshing.

  He picked at a blade of grass. “That sort of fast living doesn’t appeal to me. Not anymore.”

  “But working with displaced children does?”

  “Yeah, it does. For all the altruistic reasons of wanting to help, but for selfish reasons too.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Hopefully honesty wouldn’t shoot him in the foot. He liked this woman and wanted her to think well of him, but he needed to be truthful, too.

  “Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” It had been one of the first Bible verses he’d memorized. One he repeated to himself often when he felt like he didn’t know what he was doing or when his teammates were giving him a particularly hard time.

  Amber rolled onto her side and created a triangle with her arm, resting her head on the heel of her palm. “What could be selfish about being here and serving?”

  He avoided her gaze this time, instead staring at a lone dandelion growing along the sidelines of the pitch. “Being with the kids helps me remember. Sometimes with the lights flashing and the cameras in my face and some of the other aspects of the world of professional sports, I forget why I love football so much. But seeing their faces when they score their first goal, watching them develop confidence and work together as a team, I remember. I remember what being guileless looks like without all the lies and other stuff to muddy the waters.” He shrugged. “They give back to me more than I can ever give to them.”

  Her gaze went to the ground. “I guess you could say I’m here because I’m running away. Or trying to find something. Or seeing if I have what it takes.”

  His fingers itched to touch her. Push away the confusion and sadness that seemed to have blanketed her. Instead, he picked a few blades of grass and tossed them at her head. “That’s a lot of ‘or’s.” He grinned, hoping that lightening the mood would bring the glow back to her face.

  She gasped then plucked her own grass to chuck at him. “Not all of us have everything figured out like you seem to.”

  He laughed. “You’re further from the truth than Ben was from making that goal earlier.”

  Her lips bowed in a small smile. “He was pretty far off, wasn’t he?”

  “My sister could have come closer.” And she hadn’t touched a ball since the first year he’d played professionally.

  “Don’t knock little sisters. They’ll surprise you.”

  He gazed down at her. “You have no idea.”

  A loud rumble filled the space between them. Amber pressed her hand to her stomach, her cheeks tingeing pink. “How embarrassing.”

  Seth pushed himself off the ground and held out a hand to help her up. “You should have said you were hungry. Come on. I’ll introduce you to some great local foods. We can keep getting to know one another.

  She accepted his help up but then quickly dropped his hand. Her weight shifted between her feet.

  Seth tilted his head as he watched her. “Something wrong?”

  She seemed to be having some sort of mental conversation with herself. Finally, she sighed, her fingers all tangled together in front of her. “Are you…”

  He waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Am I…”

  Her fingers twisted. “Look, I know this is going to make me sound like a crazy person, but are you asking me to lunch as a friend, a coworker, or…as a date?”

  Now it was his turn to shift his weight. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Why? Because I’m an athlete? Because you think I might make an inappropriate pass at you? Because—”

  “Because I don’t date.” Her words rushed out, tumbling over each other.

  He paused. “You don’t…date?”

  Her head oscillated side to side.

  “Like, ever? No one?”

  The oscillating continued, although she added a smirk to her lips. “I told you I’d sound crazy.”

  “Not crazy. But can I ask why?”

  She twisted something on her finger. A ring? “I just never really got the whole idea of dating.”

  “Fun, companionship, romance. What’s not to get?”

  “Temptation, heartbreak. And I do believe in romance. But more in a courtship type relationship. Meaning I can see myself marrying the guy one day, not just having fun marking time with him now.”

  “And you can’t see yourself marrying me?”

  She laughed, but her face turned a becoming shade of pink. “I think you might like the fast lane after all, Seth Marshall. Proclaiming love and proposing on the first day?”

  Seth let a grin slip across his face. “Touché.” Her stomach growled again, and his focus dropped to her midsection.

  She shrugged.

  “I propose we table this conversation, because I find it utterly fascinating and want to revisit it but I don’t need you fainting in want of nourishment. And as a non-dating friend, I’d like to buy you Käsespätzle, which is the equivalent of the best macaroni and cheese you’ve ever eaten.”

  Amber grinned. “I accept your proposal.”

  Seth watched her walk toward the center and smiled to himself. So, she didn’t date. He wasn’t about to let a small detail like that get in his way.

  Chapter Seven

  Holy Roman Empire, 1527

  “The portcullis is being raised for visitors, princess,” Hette announced, her hands circling one another. Over, under. Around they went, a constant motion of worry since the arrival of their other guest, Lorenz Meier.

  Christyne narrowed her eyes at Hette’s hands, the force of her sharp gaze causing the motion to cease. If Hette did not desist from her endless worry, the ever-astute Bishop Wilmer would press her to confession at his next visit.

  Her heart skipped a beat as her mind caught up with Hette’s declaration. They had visitors? “His Excellency is not scheduled to arrive until Father’s marriage.”

  The maid’s skin appeared pasty in the shadows of Christyne’s bed chamber. “It is not the bishop.”

  “Then who? The captain of the guard would not lower the gate for just any man.”

  Hette’s eyes lowered to the ground. “The Duke of Schlestein.”

  Christyne crushed the velvet of her gown in her fist. “The duke…but I have refused his offer. He has no business in our lands. Leastwise, not when Father is away.”

  “He is not alone.” Hette’s gaze bounced around the chamber, rested on Christyne but a moment, then lowered
to the woven rushes once more. “He has a small unit of landsknecht with him.”

  Christyne sucked in a breath. “Does he scheme to take me by force like some peasant? I will not allow it.”

  “Mayhap, princess”—Hette visibly swallowed—“his presence has to do with the heretic you hide beneath the castle.”

  She considered this. Lorenz—for she had started to think of him by his Christian name since saving his life—seemed to have been fleeing north when she stumbled upon him in the woods. Could he have pursuers from multiple directions?

  One way alone to determine the answer.

  She released the fisted material in her hand and smoothed out the length of dark purple velvet. For the past several days, she had continued to don her servant’s rough woolen kirtle in order to attend to Lorenz’s injuries, but her skin had begun to itch, and she had felt the need for comfort this morn.

  Christyne had soaked in a hot bath while Hette scrubbed her skin fresh and washed her hair. The purple gown, with its laces in the front along her midriff, cinched her in and accentuated the curves the Lord had bestowed upon the fairer sex. The style had been made popular by Cranach, painter in Saxony, when he put to canvas the royal daughters of that house in such raiment. Christyne pressed her hand to her stomach. She hoped she looked half as enchanting in her gown as those ladies had in theirs. As armor girded the warrior in battle, so a graceful gown and a demure smile would gird her for the confrontation to come.

  She patted the back of her hair, making sure the coiffure Hette had arranged earlier was still in place. Her palm ran across the tiny pearls adorning the golden weave of her hauben, not feeling any stray hairs.

  If it was to battle she headed, then she was prepared.

  Hette’s wringing hands caught her attention. She sighed, realizing she must face this foe alone.

  “Stay in my chambers until you are summoned.” She softened the command with a small smile and then drifted out of the room.

  A barrel of a man stood in front of the hearth in the great hall, his royal blue cape falling to mid-calf. A hat rested in his hand, plumes of colorful feathers dancing about with the small movements of his twitching fingers.