by Lynn Kurland
How could he refuse? He put away his gear, but left the candle. After all, when you had a treasure to hand, it was best to look at it in the light.
The candle had burned low before he was finished with the work she had for him, but he didn't mind. He would burn up a thousand candles and more to please her.
He fell asleep with Amanda of Artane in his arms.
He was smiling.
* * *
Chapter 38
Several months later, Amanda stood at the end of another bed and wished she dared pace. But she feared to be a distraction, so she stayed where she was and looked at the occupant of that bed, wincing at the moans that had once been easy enough to listen to, but now were quite loud.
"Soon," Gwen said. "Soon."
"Not soon enough," Anne said, through gritted teeth.
Gwen laughed. " 'Tis the same amount of work, my love. Wishing to hurry will not help."
" 'Twill be over with faster," Anne gasped.
Amanda put her hand over her own belly that showed nothing as yet and wondered how it was she would manage when her turn came to be laboring to bring forth a babe.
Time passed, and Amanda wasn't sure for whom it passed more slowly. At least Anne had something to do. All Amanda could do was watch.
"Where is Robin?" Anne panted.
"Downstairs," Amanda said.
"Why?"
"I think he fears what you will do to him if he is within reach," Amanda said honestly.
"Fetch him," she said, then cried out in pain.
Amanda ran to the door and threw it open. She didn't have to go far. Her brother was standing uncharacteristically still, leaning against the far wall. In his own way, he was as pale with strain as Anne was with the pain.
"She wants you," Amanda said.
He nodded and pushed away from the wall. Amanda caught him by the arm and smiled.
"She's strong and healthy. The babe will be fine."
He looked at her sharply. "Think you?"
"I know so," she said confidently.
She wasn't about to tell him how she knew, though she supposed he guessed.
But he put his shoulders back just the same and followed her inside the chamber.
An hour later, Amanda walked down the stairs to the great hall. Isabelle was upstairs, cooing over the babe already. No doubt her brothers, husband, and father were distracting themselves in the lists.
But on the chance she was mistaken, she tried her father's solar. She knocked, then entered to find Jake sitting across the chessboard from her father. They both looked up.
"The babe is born?" Rhys asked.
She nodded.
"Lad or lass?"
Amanda looked at Jake for a moment before she turned back to her father. "A wee lad," she said gravely.
"And the name?" Rhys asked. "And please let it be something I can pronounce."
She smiled dryly. "Phillip was not hard, Father."
"With Robin, I just never know."
Amanda looked again at Jake. He was watching her placidly, with no worry or concern in his eye, just the quiet confidence she had come to count on, even when he was feeling his way through unfamiliar situations. He merely waited, sure and steady.
"The name?" Rhys prompted.
She shivered. "Kendrick."
"Kendrick!" Rhys echoed, "what kind of name is that?"
"Something Robin heard somewhere." She swallowed. "It was something he decided the moment he found that Anne was with child again." She paused again. "He's said nothing to anyone about it, not even Anne."
"Well," Rhys said, "to each his own." He shook his head. "Kendrick, indeed. I suppose I'll grow to like it well enough."
"I'm sure he'll be a fine lad," Jake said confidently. "Indeed, I make a prediction that he will be a marvelous warrior in the tradition of his father and grandfather."
"And his uncle," Rhys said seriously.
Jake smiled. "You are too kind, my lord."
"He's screaming like a banshee already," Amanda muttered.
Rhys stood. "Do you think I might venture a visit, or is it too soon?"
Amanda shook her head. "The babe was born half an hour ago. I daresay you might go have a wee peek at your new grandson."
Rhys smoothed his hand over her hair as he walked toward the door, then paused and smiled at her. "All will be well with you, too, love, when your time comes."
"I know, Father," she said softly. She waited until he had gone, then looked at her husband.
He merely sat in his chair, watching her with half a smile.
She walked across the room and sat on his lap.
"Oof," he said.
"Oaf," she replied, putting her arm around his neck. "I am not so heavy."
He kissed her gently. "I was teasing. So, Anne is safely delivered, I see."
"Are you surprised?"
He smiled. "What do you think?"
"I think you were unsurprised," she said, resting her cheek against his. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I am happy for them."
"So am I." He paused, then pulled away to look at her. "Are you convinced now?"
She smiled, knowing of what he spoke. "I was not unconvinced before."
"Is the proof reassuring?"
"Jake," she said with a laugh, "I never needed any proof."
"Did you never doubt me?" he asked. "Not once?"
"Never. Well," she said tugging on her hair, "apart from the time I didn't think you were coming back, nay, not once. Especially not once I knew for myself that you didn't have wings like a fairy."
"Thank heavens for that."
She looked at him in silence for a moment or two, then spoke carefully. "Two more?"
"Two more that live," he said quietly. "As far as any Robin and Anne might have who don't, I can't say."
"And about ours?" she asked carefully. "Do you know anything about ours?"
He shook his head. "I don't."
"Couldn't you have looked?" she asked plaintively. "Whilst you were about that fetching of your gold and gems?"
He drew her close and stroked her hair. "In all honesty, Amanda, I couldn't make myself look in any of the books that would have told me just what had happened to you." He sighed. "I suppose I was afraid I would find out you'd married some hulking brute named Sven who would have sired on you a dozen lads named Sven and you would have lived out your life in Swedish bliss."
She smiled and pulled back to look at him. "And if you'd discovered that? What would you have done then?"
"Changed history," he said confidently.
"The saints be praised."
He stroked her cheek. "You know, while we were in London and you were bringing all the men at court to their knees, I nipped out and found paints and brushes. I would like to paint that portrait of you I promised, if you would allow it. In your wedding gown."
"If you like," she said, pleased. His portrait of the king had been a great success and they had invitations to do the same for many of the nobles in London. "With long hair," she reminded him.
"Of course."
She sat on his lap, and snuggled close to him for a great while in silence, so long that she wondered if he had gone to sleep. She finally lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. His eyes weren't closed, but they stared at nothing.
"Jake?" she asked.
He shook his head and smiled. "Yes, my love?"
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
"How can you ask?"
"Because you've drawn me the marvels you left behind. I wonder if you miss them."
He stroked his chin. "Hmmm, let me see. I traded in a life of travel, luxury, and ease without you for a life of travel, luxury, and ease with you. How can that possibly be a poor trade?"
"You do not have luxury and ease," she pointed out.
"Don't I?" he mused. "A fine castle—"
"With rats in your cellar and birds nesting in your bedchamber."
"True, but that can be fixed," he said. "No, it
does seem very luxurious, that rat-infested castle on the sea."
She laughed and kissed him. "Very well, my lord, I agree. 'Tis marvelous fine, that hall of ours, and I look forward to living there once Nicholas and his lads repair the roof. Though why you allowed Nicholas anywhere near that keep…"
"He knows you'll be living there as well. He'll see it repaired properly," Jake said confidently. "It is a good life, Amanda, and one I will be forever grateful for. And you are the reason for it."
She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She had to agree with him. She had traded a life of ease without Jake for a life of wonder with him.
She thought about that night on the roof, when he'd promised to pull down the stars from the sky and give them to her.
If stars were happiness, he had done that and more.
She pulled back and kissed him. "Come with me and see your nephew. He's a fine, strong lad."
He smiled. "I'm quite sure he is. I can hardly wait for him to grow up so I can begin to torment him as he deserves."
"I think you have a tale for me."
"I do," he said with a grin. "And it is a most remarkable one. But no more remarkable than ours." He put her off his lap and rose. "Maybe I'll begin the torment today," he muttered as they left the solar. "He will deserve every moment of it, the little brat."
"Jake!"
He smiled at her. "I'll wait until he's older before I make his life hell." He squeezed her hand. "Let's go."
Amanda followed him, wishing she knew the future, but perhaps just as happy that she didn't. After all, her future was walking beside her, humming in that way that Robin tended to do when he was feeling particularly pleased about something. She smiled to herself, understanding that as well.
After all, they had their entire future before them and nothing but love to fill it with.
Stardust dreams, indeed.
* * *
Chapter 39
Genevieve de Piaget sat in a comfortable chair in what had served as the Lord of Artane's private study for centuries and sighed happily. It had been a wonderful two weeks that had stretched into a month. Watching Kendrick with his family had been wonderful, but what she had really enjoyed had been roaming with him over his boyhood home, listening to his memories, laughing at his antics… seeing him at Artane.
He was sitting next to her, laughing with Gideon over one of Gideon's childhood debacles. Genevieve looked at Megan, very pregnant and obviously ready to be not so anymore, but happy as well. The children had been in various stages of sprawl on chairs, benches, and carpets until Kendrick had taken them all upstairs and put them to bed. The baby, as always, slept peacefully in her mother's arms.
All was right with the world.
"Do you think he made it?" Megan asked suddenly.
It was the question no one had asked in the month since Jake had disappeared. Genevieve was certain the others had been wondering, but no one had apparently had the guts to just blurt it out. She supposed she couldn't blame them. It was just so strange to think of a modern man giving up his life for nothing more than a dream in the past. She'd broached the subject with Kendrick more than once, late at night, but each time he'd suddenly begun to snore. Either he didn't have the answers, or didn't want to break it to her that Jake was lost in Anglo-Saxon England where he would no doubt find himself either killed outright or taken aboard a Viking sailing ship as a galley slave.
"I called Alex yesterday," Gideon offered with a smile. "His words were, and I quote, 'No body, no problem.'"
"So like a lawyer," Megan laughed.
"Well, maybe it's time for the one in the know to cough up some information," Genevieve said pointedly. She looked at Kendrick. "That would be you, my lord. Do you think he made it? And isn't it about time you opened that box he left you?"
"He left a box?" Gideon asked, his ears perking up.
Kendrick sighed and rose. "I'll return in a moment."
Genevieve was certain that had been one of the longest moments of her life. She didn't consider herself overly curious, but she had to admit that in this, the suspense was killing her.
Kendrick came back inside the study. Genevieve shivered in spite of herself. How many times had he done that eight hundred years ago?
Probably too many to count.
Kendrick resumed his seat and held out the box for inspection. "Here it be," he intoned. "The box that may well answer all our questions."
"Just open it," Gideon said with a laugh.
Kendrick made a great production out of opening the box. He removed a small canvas. He handed it to Genevieve.
"Here, curious one. You look first."
Genevieve looked at the subject. She was dressed in a dark blue gown and sat on a stone bench near a window. A sword was propped up at her side and loose gemstones spilled over her lap and onto the bench. The woman was, Genevieve admitted readily, exceptionally beautiful, with long dark hair and arresting aqua eyes.
"Amanda?" she asked.
"Amanda," Kendrick agreed. "She was passing fair."
"No, she was stunning," Genevieve corrected him. "No wonder I hear your ghostly lads talking endlessly about her in the lists, in the garden, in the kitchen—"
"When they're not singing your praises," Kendrick reminded her.
Genevieve smiled. "It's all right. She can be beautiful and it won't bother me. I wonder, though, why Jake left you this and where he got it?"
"It was in one of the cabinets in the new wing," Gideon supplied. "Well, new is relative, I suppose. It was built in the eighteenth century."
"Positively modern," Genevieve said dryly. "I wonder how Jake got hold of it."
"He pinched it, the rogue," Kendrick said. "As for the reason why, look on the back."
Genevieve turned the small portrait over and read:
To my love Amanda, always and forever, JAK IV
Genevieve looked up at Kendrick quickly. "Then he made it."
Kendrick handed her a piece of paper. "Apparently so. I daresay he found the portrait before he wrote this."
Genevieve handed the portrait to Megan, then read the note:
Kendrick—I won't let them destroy Seakirk in 1260, though I should, you closed-mouthed bugger. No thanks necessary. JAK
She put the paper down and then smiled at Kendrick. "Well, there are a couple of clues, at least. I wonder what else happened to them?"
"We have a very large volume of family history," Gideon said. "But why use a book when you have an eyewitness?"
"Yes, Kendrick, spill the beans," Genevieve said. "You promised you would."
"And so I did." Kendrick rubbed his hands together, smiling. "Very well, what will you know first?"
"How many children did they have?" Megan asked.
"Eight," Kendrick replied. "Six that lived past infancy."
"Oh," Genevieve said with a wince. "Poor Amanda."
"Aye, well, it grieved her greatly, as you might imagine, and I daresay it changed her, but she was never one to shy away from the difficult. She was grateful for the children she had, as was right."
"Were they happy?" Genevieve asked, feeling rather wistful about it all of the sudden.
"Aye, very," he said. "Jake became quite powerful in his own right and many came from far and wide to seek his counsel." He looked at Gideon. "Perhaps that book would be interesting. I for one would like to see what it says about quite a few things."
"I'll go fetch it, if you like." Gideon disappeared into the depths of the castle, then returned quite a while later with a large book in his hands. He sat down at the table with them, then opened the book and flipped through the pages until he slowed, then stopped. He read in silence for several minutes.
"Well?" Megan prompted. "Gideon, what does it say?"
He looked at them and smiled. "They were indeed the proud parents of eight children and not a one of them was named Kendrick."
Kendrick laughed. "In truth, what does it say?"
"It is as Kendrick said in
regard to the children," Gideon said with a smile. "And apparently Jake became quite a famous painter of portraits and much sought after not only for his skills with silver and gems, but also with the sword."
"Aye, I can vouch for the latter," Kendrick said, stretching in satisfaction. "After all, I taught him a goodly bit of what he knew."
"Which you probably learned from him in the first place," Gideon said. "It says here that you squired for him for a pair of years."
Kendrick shrugged with a grin. "I cannot deny it. Auntie Amanda could neither cook nor sew, but she set a famously fine table in spite of that, and looked lovely doing it. She had men lining up at her gates, vying for the chance to prepare delicacies to tempt her notoriously discriminating palate and create beautiful gowns for her pleasure. Besides, Raventhorpe was right on the border. Scads of brilliant adventures waiting there for the lad with the right set of skills."
"Troublemaker," Genevieve said fondly.
"Aye, that and more," he agreed.
"Jake said he wouldn't let your family destroy Seakirk," Genevieve said. "How did he stop it? Did he try to talk you out of going to marry Matilda of Seakirk? Did he try to warn you what her plans were for you?"
"Ah, now there is a tale indeed," Kendrick said with a nod. "Oddly enough, Jake had little to say about Matilda or my bargain with the king. That was unusual, for he was never shy about expressing his opinions. My greatest friend, Richard of Burwyck-on-the-Sea, was most adamant that I not wed with her, but Jake, nay, Jake said very little indeed. My father finally pressed him for an opinion and he unbent far enough to remark that he was certain things would work out in the end."
"Mysterious," Megan said.
"Well, I daresay my father trusted him completely. I had no idea at the time of Jake's true identity. My uncle Montgomery swore until his dying day that Jake was really a fairy, but none of us younger generation believed him. To us, Jake was a marvelous treasure who brought us back astonishing things from his travels."
"Did they travel much?" Gideon asked. "He and Amanda?"
