From This Moment On
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
PRAISE FOR USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR LYNN KURLAND
“Kurland surprises and enchants, with each turn
of phrase and page.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Kurland reveals a remarkable talent and
a delightful sense of whimsy.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Kurland’s special brand of humor and delightful
storytelling always gives... fans a ‘must read.’ ”
—Romantic Times
“Ms. Kurland has moved to the head of the class as one
of the top scribes of historical drama by demonstrating a
talent that many writers would kill to call their own.”
—Harriet Klausner, Painted Rock Reviews
“Lynn Kurland is a welcome new voice in romance.”
—Susan Wiggs
“Keep them coming, Ms. Kurland.”
—Rendezvous
AND FOR HER PREVIOUS NOVELS ...
My Heart Stood Still
A ROMANTIC TIMES TOP PICK
“Written with poetic grace and a wickedly subtle sense of humor ... the essence of pure romance. Sweet, poignant, and truly magical, this is a rare treat: a romance with characters readers will come to care about and a love story they will cherish.” —Booklist
“Bringing back beloved and familiar faces... Lynn Kurland adds another rich and riveting layer to her great series of books.”—Romantic Times
“A totally enchanting tale, sensual and breathtaking... An absolute must-read.” —Rendezvous
“This is another of the fabulous MacLeod family stories, which you won’t want to miss—it’s great.” —Old Book Barn Gazette
If I Had You
“Kurland brings history to life... in this tender medieval romance.” —Booklist
“A passionate story filled with danger, intrigue, and sparkling dialogue ...” —Rendezvous
“An enjoyable book with wounded characters who come to feel whole because of their love for each other. I encourage medieval fans to give it a try.” —All About Romance
“A heartwarming book.” —Old Book Barn Gazette
The More I See You
A ROMANTIC TIMES TOP PICK
“Delightful and humorous.” —Booklist
“The superlative Ms. Kurland once again wows her readers with her formidable talent as she weaves a tale of enchantment that blends history with spellbinding passion and impressive characterization, not to mention a magnificent plot.”
—Rendezvous
“Lynn Kurland is a literary magician... The More I See You is just one more jewel in Ms. Kurland’s crown!”
—Romantic Times
“Entertaining ... The story line is fast-paced and brings to life the intrigue of the era ... wonderful... Lynn Kurland is definitely a writer whose star is on the rise.”—Harriet Klausner
Another Chance to Dream
A ROMANTIC TIMES TOP PICK
“Kurland creates a special romance between a memorable knight and his lady.” —Publishers Weekly
“Lynn Kurland weaves a vivid and realistic tapestry combining threads of history, humor, and romance.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
“[A] wonderful love story full of passion, intrigue, and adventure... Lynn Kurland’s fans will be delighted.”
—Affaire de Coeur
The Very Thought of You
“[A] masterpiece... this fabulous tale will enchant anyone who reads it.” —Painted Rock Reviews
“Outstanding and imaginative. Lynn Kurland gives her fans another time-traveling treat to savor.” —Romantic Times
This Is All I Ask
“In this character-driven medieval romance that transcends category, Kurland spins a sometimes magical, sometimes uproariously funny, sometimes harsh and brutal tale of two people deeply wounded in body and soul who learn to love and trust each other... Savor every word; this one’s a keeper.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Both powerful and sensitive, this is a wonderfully rich and rewarding book.”—Susan Wiggs
A Dance Through Time
“One of the best ... a must-read.” —Rendezvous
“Lynn Kurland’s vastly entertaining time travel treats us to a delightful hero and heroine... a humorous novel of feisty fun and adventure.” —A Little Romance
“Her heroes are delightful... A wonderful read!”
—Heartland Critiques
“An irresistibly fast and funny romp across time.”
—Stella Cameron
Titles by Lynn Kurland
STARDUST OF YESTERDAY
A DANCE THROUGH TIME
THIS IS ALL I ASK
THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU
ANOTHER CHANCE TO DREAM
THE MORE I SEE YOU
IF I HAD YOU
MY HEART STOOD STILL
FROM THIS MOMENT ON
A GARDEN IN THE RAIN
DREAMS OF STARDUST
MUCH ADO IN THE MOONLIGHT
WHEN I FALL IN LOVE
The Nine Kingdoms series
STAR OF THE MORNING
Anthologies
THE CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Julie Beard, Barbara Bretton, and Jo Beverley)
CHRISTMAS SPIRITS
(with Casey Claybourne, Elizabeth Bevarly, and Jenny Lykins)
VEILS OF TIME
(with Maggie Shayne, Angie Ray, and Ingrid Weaver)
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
(with Elizabeth Bevarly, Emily Carmichael, and Elda Minger)
A KNIGHT’S VOW
(with Patricia Potter, Deborah Simmons, and Glynnis Campbell)
TAPESTRY
(with Madeline Hunter, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and Karen Marie Moning)
LOVE CAME JUST IN TIME
TO WEAVE A WEB OF MAGIC
(with Patricia A. McKillip, Sharon Shinn, and Claire Delacroix)
THE QUEEN IN WINTER
(with Sharon Shinn, Claire Delacroix, and Sarah Monette)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely concidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
FROM THIS MOMENT ON
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley edition / October 2002
Copyright © 2002 by Lynn Curland.
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eISBN : 978-1-440-67309-2
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Prologue
A hearty brew shimmered and danced in the firelight as it tumbled into waiting cups. It was swirled about, admired, sniffed by noses well accustomed to that sort of work. Experienced hands brought cups to lips where the contents were confidently consumed with the full expectation of a hearty belch to follow and a bit of hand-slapping on the table to show appreciation.
Only the hand-slapping that followed this imbibing had less to do with appreciation than it might have another time.
“By the fires of Hell, Magda,” bellowed one of the guzzlers, spewing her drink onto the floor and gasping for air, “ ’tis the foulest thing you’ve foisted off upon us yet!”
Magda, a white-haired, sweet-faced woman of advanced years, held her own well-herbed ale in her mouth, her eyes wide, her brew unswallowed.
“Tell her,” the first said, glaring at the third occupant of the chamber. “Tell her, Berengaria, that at no time will she ever succeed in brewing a proper potion!”
Berengaria reached for a bit of wine to wash down the unappetizing swill, but refrained from criticizing. “It wants but a bit of sweetener, Nemain.”
“No honey ever fashioned by any bee this side of Hell could turn this into anything drinkable,” Nemain grumbled. She turned her attentions to the hapless potion maker. “Drink yours down, you silly nun.”
Magda’s eyes widened even further.
Nemain, never one to let words attempt where actions would succeed, reached over and pinched Magda’s nose closed.
It was done, Berengaria noted, with more vigor than was truly necessary, but it certainly accomplished what it was meant to. Magda swallowed in desperation, then coughed out her own concoction—all over the front of Nemain’s gown.
Ah, well, there would be hell to pay now. Berengaria rose and left the luxurious chamber she shared with her fellows before the curses and cursings began flying about. No sense finding herself in Nemain’s sights unnecessarily.
She made her way down the stairs and through the great hall, nodding and smiling to those who greeted her. It was a strange thing, she supposed, to find herself so generally welcome in a lord’s hall. Her chosen occupations—midwife, healer, or witch, depending on who was offering an opinion—gave some reason enough to shun her. Then again, she made her home currently at Blackmour where there were souls about in abundance with reputations black enough that hers seemed rather pale by comparison.
She left the hall, stumbling a bit as the pull of future events drew her sight from that which surrounded her. She gained the garden before she was no longer seeing what was before her, but rather something beyond the castle walls.
The vision of a young woman came to her, an amply rounded girl with a cloud of pale hair and eyes so light they were almost painful to look at. Straining further to see what was yet unrevealed, Berengaria took note of the girl’s companions: a trio of giggling maids and a young knight charged with the guarding of them all. Berengaria peered more intently at the little company, but no further illumination came to her. Was she beginning to lose her gift? Perhaps the white hairs in her crown spelled not only the ending of her youth, but the wilting of her powers as well.
She came to herself to find that she was staring down at the frail beginnings of the spring garden. The vision had to do with events yet to come to pass in the keep; of that she was certain. But who was the girl? Her companions? When would they arrive and what troubles would they bring with them?
Well, this was a puzzle, to be sure, but one she was obviously not going to solve at present. Further intuition would no doubt come to her in time. For the moment, perhaps plucking a few errant weeds would be a work worthy enough for her.
Her labors were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a rather loud and energetic soul who had the most unwholesome knack of knowing just what plant she had in her sights. He smiled a gap-toothed grin at her, then with a screech made straightway for the only thing growing with any vigor.
“A dwink,” he announced, holding up crushed stems of tender rue. “For me.”
Who was she to resist such a command? “Aye, Robin, my lord,” she agreed, “I’ll make you a drink, but not of that. ’Twould work a foul work upon your sweet self. Let us be about finding something more toothsome for you, shall we?”
Robin nodded enthusiastically, then turned and began to pluck up all of the green shoots that fell within his reach. Berengaria hastily refocused his efforts. The choices were few, but there were enough goodly herbs about for her to fashion him a drink that wouldn’t finish him before his time.
But even as she carefully guided the hands of Blackmour’s curious heir, she found herself distracted by what she’d seen. It troubled her greatly that she could not divine who the girl in her vision was, or what ailed her. With a gaggle of handmaids and a young knight to attend her, what could she possibly run afoul of?
Unless it was not the girl who needed aid.
Berengaria considered again the wenches from her vision, then dismissed them. They were silly girls with the usual cares and malice in their souls that came from petty jealousies. Nay, there was nothing noteworthy there.
The knight received her scrutiny next and ’twas only after a pair of moments that she realized with a start that this one was definitely not what he seemed.
“Bewengawia, now!”
Berengaria came back to herself and nodded to her charge. “Off to the kitchens with us, aye?”
Robin took her hand and began to pull her back toward the hall. Berengaria followed willingly, now fully satisfied that she had an idea of who the players involved in the near future might be. She could readily divine what their roles were and was happy to see events moving along as they should have. She suspected, though, that there might be others at Blackmour who would be less than cheerful over the arrival of
this little company.
Ah, well, such was the course of true love.
But with her there to aid faltering feet along that road, how could it be anything but a pleasant and fairly uneventful journey?
“Bewengawia,” Robin said, with an imperiousness that would have pleased his father greatly, “now.” Then he paused and sighed. “Pwease,” he added reluctantly, in a manner that would have pleased his father just as well.
Berengaria reached out to ruffle his hair. “Forgive me, little one. I have been distracted by other things, but I am yours for the rest of the morn.”
His long-suffering sigh was truly impressive, but he ruined it by grinning up at her and darting across the hall, leaving her to follow.
She suppressed the urge to have a final peek at her vision. Her efforts were best spent now on keeping young Robin from poisoning himself. The future would proceed as it cared to; there was nothing she could do about that.