“And if it’s never found?”
Not something she wanted to consider. Besides, Alicia had found a way to do this; surely she’d show up at some point to take Kate back with her. She wouldn’t just leave her here. “It’s not like it vanished into thin air. I’ll offer a reward or something.”
Alex sat next to her again, his thigh brushing hers, and, for a brief moment, she time traveled back a few minutes to that kiss they’d shared.
Then she laughed at herself. Stuck in medieval England, no way of fending for herself, yet her traitorous hormones zeroed in on him like radar and her libido switched into party mode.
“You have something of value for this reward, Kate? I fear your plastic will not entice many people.”
“Good point.” And good timing. The last thing she needed to be noticing was the samba her nerve endings were doing when she was near him.
“As your betrothed, I’ll offer the reward. You’ll need to provide me with a drawing of the window.” He picked up her hand and brushed his thumb over the emerald.
Subtle he was not. But then, he probably didn’t have reason to be. For all intents and purposes, he was the law around here. And it was nice of him to help her out. He could have her beheaded, or hung, or drawn and quartered, or whatever they did with people who didn’t go along with their agenda these days.
“Thanks. That’s very generous of you.” She glanced at him. With that grin and how he looked in armor, being engaged to him could have its benefits. Then again, she was done with guys, remember? Especially autocratic, commanding, medieval ones.
She pulled her hand back. It was a pretend betrothal and she’d better remember that. “So, it looks like I’m going to be marrying some earl in the fifteenth century.” She shook her head and exhaled. “That’s one I never thought I’d say.”
“I’m not ‘some earl,’ Kate.” Alex’s grin faded, his peerage bridling in umbrage. “And until you are able to return to your time, you could do far worse than become my countess. Marriage to me does have its advantages.” His gaze swept over her, the lingering glance somewhere below her collarbone a dead giveaway. She squirmed and he smiled knowingly.
She crossed her arms. “Typical man. That hasn’t changed in five hundred years.”
“Good to know.” H stood up and smiled, again offering her his hand. “So, we are agreed? I’ll offer a reward for the return of your window, help you discover whatever it is the gypsy feels is missing from your life and, in return, you’ll continue as my betrothed. Will that do?”
Do? Do what? She completely forgot the conversation with that potent, charming and altogether too-sexy smile of his. A smile to charm, to dazzle, to bewitch. And it worked. Lord, did it work. All of a sudden, everything that made her female started humming. She wanted to reach out and caress those lips with her fingertips, slip her hand through his hair, press her body—
Chill, Kate. Vacation flings were not exactly advisable when the guy was a chauvinistic lord from another century.
“Agreed?” Too bad he had the requisite sexy voice that did delicious things to her nerve endings and reminded her just how long it’d been since she’d felt desired.
Great. One more thing to pile on the lack of options she now had.
Resigned, Kate stuck out her hand. “Agreed.”
His fingers closed over hers and he tugged. Just a bit, but it was enough. “Then we should act the part.”
He kissed her. Hard. Demanding. His tongue swept her lips, their seam, then inside. Her breath caught and she wrapped her free hand around his neck. He shuddered when she flexed her fingers, as affected by her as she was by him.
She kissed him back, intertwining her tongue with his. Any thoughts about slowing down flew out the tent flap as he swept his arms around her, crushing her to the hard steel of his armor.
She gasped as Alex rubbed his cheek with its hint of five o’clock shadow against hers. His tongue flicked out, sending shivers up her spine as he licked along her jaw to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, his hot breath warming her damp skin. It’d been so long since she’d felt like this, desired and desiring.
His hand stole to her chest and she couldn’t breathe as her breast filled his palm, fireworks exploding from every stroke of his fingers. His thumb slid to her nipple, back and forth, the friction causing the hollow in her stomach to fill with a cyclone of butterflies. Her legs threatened to give out, as every sensation spiraled to the very center of her. She squeezed her legs together, trying to ease the ache, and ended up pushing her hips at him, clutching his well-defined backside, and dragging him up against her.
That damn armor prevented them from getting closer. She tugged at his collar. “Alex—”
Alex covered her mouth with his again, and his hands explored her back, then her backside, pulling her gown up her legs. So much for not having a fling. She trembled with the sensations running through her. She’d never felt like this so quickly before, as if her nerve endings were dirty dancing under her skin.
It scared the hell out of her.
She broke away. Alex, damn him, his mouth twisted to a mocking smile, held on to her dress.
“Do you mind?” She yanked the fabric.
“I do,” Alex said, pulling just as hard and bringing her back against him. “You have a child, have had a husband. You can’t claim maidenly virtue.”
She couldn’t help the anticipatory shiver that raced up her spine when his breath fluttered over her ear. Damn him for being right. But she mustered her self-esteem and shoved him away. “Look, I agreed to the engagement. Sex doesn’t come into the bargain—got it? We are not doing…” She waved her hands between them. “This.”
Alex dropped her gown. “Pity. This would be pleasant.” He stepped back. “But, unfortunately, I don’t have the time to pursue it. We must devise an explanation for your sudden appearance.” He walked toward the table, too damn composed for her liking. “You are widowed—”
“Divorced.”
He turned. His eyebrow arched. “Widowed. From a nunnery.”
“A nunnery? Aren’t nuns supposed to be shy and quiet? And pious? I’m about as pious as your broadsword. And as for shy and quiet, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not about to go ‘my lord’ing you all over the place. There’s no way—”
“Kate, you have some interesting ideas on my world. I’d like to see yours someday to discover where you learned such things. But a nunnery is an acceptable place for you to have resided after your husband died.” His arched eyebrows dared her to contradict him, but Kate let him finish. “I stopped there in my travels and it was then that we met.” He studied her and Kate felt like something under a microscope as he rubbed his chin. He sighed. “It will be a love match.” He sighed again and closed his eyes briefly.
“A love match? I can’t go around here pretending to be in love with you. I’m not that good an actress.” Now, lust, on the other hand, was a whole different matter, but she didn’t want to do that either. At least, consciously. Her subconscious, though, was jumping up and down in agreement. She willed it to shut up.
And almost succeeded.
“We must present a love match, Kate, or no one will believe I turned aside Isobel and her lands for you.”
There was an ego stroke. Not. But she shoved her pride out of the way. “Fine. Whatever. We’ve got a bigger problem on our hands, though.” She would have smirked at his questioning look, but it wasn’t a laughing matter. “I really don’t know all that much about your world, the country, or the daily life here. I’ll probably screw up big time. I’m a twenty-first century American, for Pete’s sake.”
“What’s an ‘American’?”
“See? I shouldn’t say things like that. Who knows how it’ll affect history? My history, your future... Let’s see.” She closed her eyes, calculating Columbus’s soon-to-be discovery. “Yep, five years. Definitely your future. And I’m not saying anything about that.”
“Very well, Kate.” Alex tapped her
arm. “You were widowed young, have been in seclusion since your husband’s death, and know little of the world. It will have to do. Now, I must defeat Farley in the tournament. After that, we’ll discuss the rest of our plans.”
“And my window?”
“We’ll look for it immediately after the joust.” Alex retrieved his gauntlets and held out his arm. “So, Lady Katherine, will you accompany me as my betrothed?”
Kate tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, committing herself. “I guess I don’t have a choice. Just don’t get any big ideas, my lord.” She sniffed. “And don’t expect me to keep calling you that, either.”
“Expect you? Isn’t it enough I believe in time travel and fortune-telling? Now you wish me to believe in miracles as well?”
Chapter Five
The faire grounds were bustling around them and Kate tried to take in as much as possible. How could she have assumed this was a re-enactment earlier?
The clothing, for one, should have been a dead giveaway. For the most part, gone were the decorative jewel-covered gowns she’d seen in the twenty-first century. Here people were poorer, villeins freed from a day of work. If this was their finery, it was decidedly lacking in beauty.
And although the cloth was brightly colored, their clothing had been made for function. The homespun dresses and woven breeches all bore signs of wear. And just passing these folks gave her pause; bathing was not a daily occurrence and washing machines were eons away from invention.
The air around her, however, was fresh. She hadn’t realized she didn’t know what truly fresh air was. No fluorocarbons polluted the air, no car exhaust or industry waste; heck, the ozone layer was still intact. She breathed deeply—then choked on the stable smell. Oh, well, at least horse exhaust was better than car exhaust.
Horses neighed, musicians sang, and the townspeople’s laughter and the clang of metal-working all provided a surreal backdrop as she looked at the jousting field.
Ringed by a post and rail fence, a long oval of hard-packed earth stretched out before them. Freshly cut oaks divided the field for the opponents to face off against each other. Dozens of men in suits of armor sat on similarly attired horses, jockeying for position against the fences while the crowd cheered. Squires scurried here and there, carrying loads of armor almost bigger than they were while vendors milled about the ringside hawking meat pies and mead, sweetmeats and pastries like current-day peanut vendors at sports arenas.
Benches ringed the field, filled with spectators waiving the colors of their favorite knights whose heraldic banners snapped in the breeze. The covered dais was as she remembered it, and the blue banner was in the same place it’d been in the twenty-first century. And Alicia was probably just as MIA there, too
“Alex.” Kate leaned close to be heard over the crowd’s noise. “Alicia told me to meet her by the blue banner.”
Alex nodded. “The Shelton area.”
If she’d needed further proof of Alicia’s intentions, that was it. Mixed with the annoyance of Alicia playing both God and Cupid, was the awe that her friend had found out how to do this in the first place. She better know how to undo it, too.
Horses charged across the lists in all their jousting glory, encased in shining armor, the riders’ colors and heraldry flashing from their headpieces. They met at the middle with cringe-worthy clashes of lances to shields, and jarring thuds as the unlucky opponent was butted from his saddle to the dusty field.
A man dressed in thigh-molding breeches—not a good look on him—and a tunic stretched almost to bursting at the seams approached them. “Shelton. Heard the news. Does this mean the Marston lands are fallow?”
Alex grabbed her hand and started walking. In the opposite direction. “Wexham. You may inquire to the state of the lands from Lady Marston herself.”
“Boy, you weren’t kidding,” Kate said when they were out of earshot. “Word does travel fast. Who was that?”
Alex shrugged, but it wasn’t nonchalantly. “Many will scramble for Isobel’s lands now that I have no claim on her.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea the ring would cause such problems. It’s not as if I was expecting to be dropped back here like Dorothy.”
“Who?” He patted her hand and she felt the tension leave him. “Never mind. I understand, Kate. But Wexham, and others, won’t do well by Isobel. I fear it is she who’ll be the most harmed by your arrival.” A man and a woman interrupted them, more proof of Lady Aubridge’s efficient gossip-mongering.
Alex had just made the introductions when a shout diverted his attention. “Ah, there are Nick and Tristan. I must speak with them.” He squeezed her arm and left her to chat with her inquisitors.
Great. Somehow she had to perpetuate their lie, keep the conversation to a minimum, and avoid anachronistic behavior. Piece of cake.
***
“Are you mad? The future?” Nick gaped at Alex. When he’d first seen the ring on the woman’s finger, his heart had leapt. He knew of Lady Aubridge and her talk. Knew, as well, that Isobel would be the first to be told. But this… This Nick hadn’t expected.
Nor did he know if he could trust it—no matter how much he wanted God to have sent him a reprieve.
“You know me better than that, Nick,” Alex answered. “Her story’s true.”
“Have you considered that she and the gypsy woman are plotting together?” his friend, Tristan, asked. “A novel way to force you into marriage.”
Novel indeed, for no other woman had tried it, Nick knew. He’d held his breath as Alex had rebuffed one after the other. Until, that is, the king had suggested Isobel, and his own hopes in that arena were dashed forever.
“I’ve considered it, but she has items I’ve never seen. She knows things—”
“What things?” Tristan asked.
“Things that will come to pass.”
Nick had to step in. He was all for Isobel being free to marry, but for Alex to have lost his wits…”So you can’t know if they’re true, Alex. Very clever, especially because she now has what she wants.”
“Harsh, Caversham.” Tristan smacked him in the shoulder. “And what about you? You haven’t been yourself of late.”
True. Because he’d been unable to think of naught but Isobel in Alex’s bed. The image tormented him.
But Alex was his friend and the king’s loyal subject. He wouldn’t defy the king by not marrying Isobel no matter how much Nick wished unless he had a very good reason.
“Henry wants land, Alex. Does this woman bring you any? Will you change your mind when she brings you nothing but a shield and a ring?”
Alex rubbed a hand over his face. “What would you have me do, Nick? There’s a thief in my keep threatening my son, Isobel won’t accept second best, and everyone believes Kate is my betrothed. I have no choice.”
“And when she returns to her time?”
“I’ll find another. Someone young and able to bear heirs.”
“But Isobel may not be free.” Would that it were true.
Alex nodded. “True. The king will not leave her lands available for long.”
Which was why Nick had to make certain that events unfolded as he wanted.
***
Alex rescued Kate with a quick dismissal to her grand inquisitors, pulling her behind one of the scaffold supports.
It was about freaking time. She could only smile and nod and try to pass for pious for so long.
“I’ve explained everything to Nick and Tristan. They’ll help us in our search for the villain.”
“And they believed you?”
“Let’s say, they believe I wouldn’t be so foolish as to take your word without very good reason. That I believe your story convinces them.”
“Can you trust them?”
“My lady, you presume too much. I’m the earl of Shelton. You can depend upon my word. Let this be the last time I assure you of that.” He shook his head. “You’re either highly impertinent, or the men of your time have lost their—�
��he coughed—”to allow their women to behave so.”
“Look here, oh lord and master. You can just knock off the chauvinistic attitude. This is my life you’re entrusting to them. I have a right to know.” She put her hands on her hips, warming to the tirade. He’d pushed the wrong button with that state-of-the-union speech. “And you can stop impugning my era. We’ve accomplished quite a bit you can’t even dream of.” She poked him in his oh-so-expansive chest, making a point to look him in the eye. “Men and women.”
A man as big as Alex, with mahogany hair a shade darker than his tunic, rounded the corner, laughing. “If I hadn’t believed it before, I do now.” He nodded at her. “There’s not one woman, nay, person, who’d dare give Alex such a dressing-down. Though—” The look he gave Alex was smug. “I’m certain he deserved it.”
“I like your attitude.” Kate smiled and stuck out her hand. “Kate Lawton.”
“Tristan Baxter, Viscount Hambledon, at your service, my lady.” He kissed the back of her hand, his lips lingering just a smidge longer than was polite.
And she only knew that because Alex got a funny look on his face and tugged her hand back with a look capable of slicing skin. “If you’ve quite finished, Tris, I must prepare to meet Farley in the lists. Please accompany Kate to the Shelton area. I’ll return shortly.” He raised her hand to his lips, giving her a momentary reminder of what had transpired between them in the tent. “After I win.”
Kate pulled her tongue off the roof of her mouth, drew in a deep breath, and followed his friends to their seats beneath the blue banner, scanning the crowd for Alicia.
No luck. She wasn’t sure what Alicia hoped to achieve by her continued absence, but Kate was more than ready for this nightmare to be over. “I wonder where the little rat is now,” she muttered.
“There,” Tristan pointed to an orange banner. “Beneath the banner with the phoenix at the center. Ironic since Farley can never hope to rise above Alex’s heels.”
Through The Leaded Glass Page 6
