The old man looked Joe square in the eyes. “Are you saying you have never had to defend yourself against another?”
Joe straightened, recalling all the fights he’d gotten into as a young boy. He couldn’t count the times he’d ended up in the principal’s office, knowing there would be no consequence since he had no mother and his father was clear across the country. “I suppose you could say I’ve gotten into my share of scrabbles. But,” Joe quickly added, pointing a finger at the old man, “that was a long time ago. I was young, and it’s completely beside the point.”
As if he were a lawyer stating his case, Joe paced the hut as he added matter-of-factly, “I’m not from this time. I’ve never raised a sword in battle. But for some incredible reason you and Alexandra believe I, of all people, could travel across unfamiliar territory to fight off who knows how many armored warriors; never mind breaking into Richard’s castle or saving Alexandra’s sister.”
“You will do fine,” the old man assured him.
Joe scoffed. “Forced marriages are common during these times, am I right?” Joe asked. “Why not offer Sir Richard your congratulations then sign an agreement, requiring him to provide your village with assistance.”
Alexandra paled. For the first time since her grandfather spoke, she came forth, her face flared red in sudden anger. “You do not know Sir Richard as we do,” she said. “He has no honor. He sends his men off to kill innocent people if it suits his plans, or even his mood.” Her body trembled. “Nay, I would never know a day’s peace knowing my sister was sacrificed for our good will, knowing full well she would be forced to suffer his cruelty day in and day out.”
Joe let out a ponderous sigh. Their minds were made up. And so was his. For the next twenty-nine days he would go along with this charade. If they wanted to believe he was some sort of superhero brought here to save the day, then so be it. He would journey into the woods with Alexandra, along with anyone else she managed to gather for this suicide mission, then camp out for a few weeks. But he wasn’t going to lay siege on any castle. He wasn’t going to die for Alexandra’s sister, a woman he had yet to meet, and a cause he knew little about. “So what’s the plan?” he asked out of what he considered to be morbid curiosity.
“Go ahead, Grandfather, tell Sir Joe the plan.”
The old man tugged at the moth eaten blanket until a large hole revealed knobby knees. “Aye, er, the plan. Hmmm.” He rubbed his beard again as if that might help stir his memory.
Joe rolled his eyes. “There isn’t a plan, is there?”
Neither Alexandra nor the old man could look Joe in the eye. “We’ll just sort of wing it, is that it?” Joe asked. “Once we get to Richard’s castle I’ll just catapult Alexandra over the stone wall and hope for the best.” He rubbed his palms together. “There, we have a plan. Let’s go,” he said, motioning for Alexandra to come along. “I’m ready.”
Alexandra brought a hand to her hip. “Your sarcasm is not amusing.”
Joe cocked his brow. “What? There is a stone wall, isn’t there?”
“Alexandra,” the old man said, his voice firm. “Sir Joe and I need a moment alone.”
Alexandra appeared apprehensive at the idea of leaving him with her grandfather. Nonetheless, she headed for the exit. “I will ready the horses and await Sir Joe near the stables.”
They watched her leave.
“She is lovely, is she not?” the old man asked after the linen flapped shut.
“She’s a nice girl,” Joe said, but all he was thinking about was how the hell he was going to live without Advil for the next twenty-nine days.
“You are a lonely man, are you not?” the old man asked. “No family, no one to take care of you?”
Joe felt a twitch in his jaw. “I enjoy being by myself. And just for the record, I do have family...” The word caught in his throat. “I have my father.”
“Ahhh. He must be worried about you.”
“Worried sick, I’m sure.” Joe wondered what the old man was getting at. “Was there something more you wanted to say?”
“Aye. I wish to speak to you of my granddaughter. A stubborn, strong-minded young woman she is, but she has a good heart.”
Nodding, Joe tried to rub some of the tension from the back of his neck.
“There is a reason Alexandra has not yet married.”
Ah, Joe thought, now they were getting to the heart of the matter.
“Alexandra’s husband was chosen for her years ago. Although she expresses an unwillingness to settle down, I believe she secretly dreams of the day when she will be married and busy with children of her own.”
Joe did not like where this conversation was going. “I’m sure she’ll make a wonderful mother.”
“And a wife,” the old man added.
“Any man would be lucky to have her,” Joe agreed, backing toward the door.
The old man beamed.
Joe tugged at the medieval wool tunic that felt too tight against his chest, growing tighter by the second. The hut felt suddenly stuffy and hot, making it hard to breathe. “If you don’t mind...”
“It is not just any man who shall be so lucky,” the old man added before Joe could escape. “’Tis a very special man. A learned, lonely man who seeks that which all children crave...the love of his parents, or shall we say parent.”
Joe felt the warmth drain from his face as the old man’s words confirmed his suspicions. “Listen here,” Joe said, tired of the old man telling him what he was missing in his life. “I don’t crave any such thing. I know my father loves me. I have letters from him to prove it, many, many letters. And in her own special way,” he added with more acerbity than intended, “my mother loved me, too. I don’t need...” Joe narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at the old man and then suddenly lost his train of thought. “Are you saying Alexandra has not married all these years because she’s been waiting for me?”
The old man answered with a grin and a nod. “Upon your return from Radmore’s Keep, there will be much to celebrate.”
“That’s what this is all about?” Joe raked a hand through his damp hair. “I hate to disappoint you, but I cannot marry your granddaughter.”
“You have no choice in the matter. It is your destiny to do so.”
“It’s not happening.” Joe crossed his arms over his chest. “And, just to be sure you don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes, I refuse to go in search of your other granddaughter until somebody hands over the last stone.”
There was a long pause. A trickle of sweat slid toward Joe’s brow at the thought that he might never find that stone. The hut was the size of a small office. The air inside had grown warm and thick, making it hard to breathe. “I’ll stand here all day if I have to,” Joe lied. “I will not budge until I have the stone in my possession. I want assurance that in twenty-nine days I can leave here the same way I came...unattached.”
“You do possess a stubborn streak.”
“Stubborn as an ox.”
“Then you leave me with no choice.” The old man pushed the covers aside and slipped his hand into a fist-sized hole in the ratty mattress. “Here,” he said, holding the last glistening stone in his open palm. “I trust you will now keep your end of the bargain?”
Two brisk strides brought Joe to the old man’s bedside. He took the stone and held it to the light, relieved to see faint lines weaved through silver ones. “I’ll do what I can, that’s all I ever promised.”
“Be forewarned, my son. ’Tis more than a simple stone that brings you here.” He laid his head back upon a large straw-stuffed pillow. “Though I trust you will learn that for yourself before long.”
Joe watched the old man, even felt a tad sorry for him. Seventy-five, maybe eighty years old, and he still believed in dreams and destiny and miracles. Rightly so, considering the old man was still among the living, not to mention, the time-traveling stones. Joe went to the door and turned back. He held up the rock. “Where did you find such a treasur
e?”
“Perhaps upon your return you will visit with me long enough for me to tell you of my journeys.”
Joe nodded. The faint smell of moldy cedar drifted between them. The old man must have many interesting stories to tell, Joe thought. He wouldn’t mind sitting down with the man under different circumstances.
“Alexandra tells me you seek lost treasure.”
Joe nodded. “That’s right. As long as I’m here I might as well take a look around, keep my eyes open.” The prospect of learning the identity of the Black Knight along with the possibility of finding an ancient artifact or two filled him with a sudden eagerness to set off for the hills. He could almost see the pride on his father’s face when the Academy verified the authenticity of his findings. Maybe there was some truth to what the old man said about destiny after all.
“My instincts tell me you will not leave this world until you have found what you are seeking.”
“Well, thanks,” Joe said. As he pushed open the linen cloth, a welcome breeze swept over him. “I appreciate your vote of confidence.”
The old man lifted a frail hand. “Be careful that you leave no rock unturned. A tragedy it would be if you were to leave behind that which you cherished most.”
Joe peered into the old man’s eyes for a few seconds longer than he intended before deciding the old man had way too much time on his hands. “I’ll be careful. But don’t blame me,” he said, laying splayed fingers to his own chest, “if I don’t come back with Alexandra’s sister. I’m not Zorro and I’m certainly nobody’s hero.”
The old man smiled as if he understood.
As Joe walked off, he found himself shaking his head at the idea of everyone thinking he was some sort of champion sent here to save the day. Hero, husband, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the man for the job.
Chapter Eleven
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
—Albert Einstein
Alexandra tightened the saddle strap between glances toward Grandfather’s hut whilst her sister, Susan, filled her head with endless plaints. What was Grandfather saying to Sir Joe? Alexandra could only pray Sir Joe would remain agreeable to her plight after speaking with the old man for so long. She never knew what Grandfather might say or do, and it never bothered her much until now. If the old man had spoke of marriage, she would die of humiliation, for Sir Joe had made it clear he had no desire to take a wife.
Neither did she have any wish to marry, but that was different since she had no choice in the matter. Surely, her friends and neighbors would be quick to blame her for his refusal to marry. Whilst growing up, she tended to squabble with the males in the village, always challenging one boy or another, proving she could hawk better, ride better, swim better, and hunt better. By the time the boys became men, they all decided it served them well to stay clear of Alexandra Dunn.
And just as well. Anything they could do, she could do better. But how was she to have known that someday she would meet Sir Joe and thus begin to wallow in dreams of being held in his arms?
Many of the elders in the village considered her to be unladylike. Absurd. Certainly there must be other women who preferred riding a horse to weaving. Being skilled with a bow and arrow and favoring hawking over cooking did not make one unladylike. Being cooped up inside all day embroidering would simply bore her to tears.
“Do you have to leave us again?” Susan asked, cutting into her thoughts. “The Tibbs force us to do all of their chores whilst most of the young women in the village do nothing but flutter their eyes at every man who passes through Brookshire.
Alexandra took the sheepskin cloak Susan held and tied it to the saddlebag on her mount. “As always, you exaggerate.”
Susan frowned. “What of Rebecca? As soon as you leave, she’ll more than likely give me that sad look of hers, all the while following me around like a second shadow. And Garrett,” she added desperately, “what am I to do about him and his never-ending pranks? I beseech you, dear sister, to reconsider. I am much too young to care for the likes of them.”
Alexandra gazed upon her younger sister for a moment. Susan never failed to remind her of her father. She had the same golden hair and blue eyes. Alexandra and Mary were the unfortunate ones to have been born with eyes the color of dull moss and hair the same shade as pomegranate seeds. But as life reminded her every so often...life was not always fair.
“Susan,” she said. “I have no wish to leave you, but I must. Mary is counting on us.”
“Mayhap Garrett and I should come with you.”
“Who would take care of Rebecca? Besides, I promised mother I would always look out for you. I shan’t break that promise by allowing you to be put in harm’s way.”
Susan was quiet for a bit, but not for nearly long enough. “Are you going to marry him?”
It took her a moment to realize Susan spoke of Sir Joe. Alexandra stopped packing. “Of course not. How many times must I tell you I have no interest in men, especially overly coddled, spoiled men like Sir Joe.”
“But I saw the way you watched him last night, the way your eyes light up when he is about.”
“You speak foolishness,” Alexandra said. “He has no plans to stay any longer than he must.”
“Grandfather assured me your journey would end in marriage, just as any good fairytale would end,” Susan said, her voice brimming with excitement. “And Lydia Tibbs insists that every woman needs a man eventually.”
Alexandra snorted. “Rubbish. I, for one, need not a man in my life to be content.”
“Then why,” Susan said, “did I so often hear you pray to God, asking Him to keep you from a life of loneliness, and thus aid you in finding a good strong man?”
Alexandra snorted. “I was desperate. I needed help in the fields. Besides, that was a long time ago.” Before father left, and she became weighed down with responsibility. Before Jonathan Wheaton kissed her, pleading with her to give her heart to him before running off to marry another soon after. It was before Alexandra realized the knightly heroes of Grandfather’s stories were only figments of his imagination. Men like that did not exist in the real world.
“Do not fret,” Susan said. “I, too, have prayed to God, asking that He send me a strong warrior who shares my appetite for love and life. A man who—”
Alexandra clamped a hand over Susan’s mouth. “Hush, you are too young to speak of such things.”
“I am ten and six.”
“I beg of you,” Alexandra said. “Do not speak of such things until you know of that which you speak.”
“I am not a small child.” Susan’s eyes widened suddenly. “Look, here he comes now.” Susan stood on tiptoe so as to get a better view over Alexandra’s shoulder. “He is quite a prize, but I would guess your man to be unhappy about something. Mayhap you can cheer him with one of your stories.”
“He is not my man,” Alexandra said, exasperated. Even so, she turned to look. “And even if he were, I would not whittle away the hours pondering ways to make him content.”
Alexandra’s face heated at the sight of him. Until now, she had failed to notice the snugness of his clothes. She had been certain Lydia’s husband, Ari, was of the same proportions. But her eyesight was surely failing for the leather breeches were unyielding upon Sir Joe’s form, revealing a lean and narrowed waist and muscled thighs that threatened to break the seams. Even the tunic was taut against his chest. His sleeves were rolled upward and the sight of his broad form dressed in such a way made her heart beat a little faster.
Alexandra forced a smile. Nudging Susan’s arm, she said, “Fetch my satchel, would you?”
Reluctantly, Susan headed off.
“’Tis good to see that Grandfather finally set you free,” Alexandra said to Sir Joe, doing her best to appear unaffected by his presence. “I was afraid he would ramble on for most of the day, telling you things you had no care to hear.”
“He was fine.”
“So, what did he say exactly?”
Sir Joe seemed to ponder her question. Verily he was trying to annoy her, and doing a fine job of it when he merely shrugged and said, “Not much.”
“He said not one word about me?”
Sir Joe scratched his chin, recalling the conversation as if it were a fortnight ago instead of only moments before. “No,” he said with a shake of his head, “he didn’t have anything to say about you.”
Although a part of her was relieved, another part felt insulted. “Not one word?”
“Not one word. Now about these clothes,” he said before she could question him further. “They’re too small. They won’t do.”
Alexandra turned back to tightening the saddle that needed no adjusting. “’Tis only a matter of getting used to.”
“Look at me,” he said, plunking his hands on his hips. “I can hardly walk.”
Alexandra shifted about once more, her gaze lowering before quickly shooting upward, away from the swell of his manhood straining against the taut fabric. Hastily she turned back to face the horse and adjust a stirrup. Her cheeks heated. “I fail to see the source of your distress.”
He leaned low to her ear. “I don’t believe you. I think you see exactly the source of my distress.”
Chills crawled up her back.
“I want my clothes back,” he whispered. “Where are they?”
Alexandra shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her neck. “I told Ari he could have them.”
“You what?”
She turned about so quickly she forgot he was so close and so very tall. Her nose brushed against his chest. He smelled of fresh pine and—and flowers? She smiled. “Did you use my soap when you bathed?”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “I didn’t think you would mind.”
“Oh no, I do not. ’Tis only that I have never smelled lavender and rosewater on a man before.”
A Knight in Central Park Page 10
