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The Amethyst Amulets

Page 9

by Cillian Burns


  "I understand your distress. I myself am somewhat puzzled about where we are."

  "You're puzzled!"

  "You will not like what I have to say."

  "Try me.” She folded her arms across her chest as if to protect herself from the intense look in his golden eyes. A chill surfed down her spine.

  "Out of necessity, I brought you back with me and...” He paused.

  Back? “Back where?"

  "To my time."

  She regarded him coldly. “What are you talking about?"

  Nick took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “My time is 1250 AD. Yours is 2009.” His fingers gripped her shoulders and he punctuated each of his words with a light shake. “I—am—from—your—past. I was sent to your time for some reason. I know not what. Now, I have returned to my own century and brought you back with me."

  She could only stare. “W-why?"

  "Because I need your help.” He released her shoulders and stepped back.

  "Help with what? You aren't making any sense."

  "Will you at least listen?"

  Julie massaged the place between her eyes where a headache was forming. “Do I have a choice?"

  "Nay."

  She sank down on a stool in front of the fireplace where a half-hearted blaze wavered from the drafts swirling around the floor. Nick leaned a hip against the high bed, his expression grim. He didn't look as if he were about to amuse her with some highly romantic but totally improbable story. In fact, he appeared very much in earnest.

  "What I have to say will sound strange to you, Julie, but when I found myself in your time, I, too, had trouble believing. Then I saw the wonders around me and knew the impossible had happened."

  "Nick..."

  He raised a hand. “Hear me out."

  She nodded. “All right. Go on."

  "I needed someone to help protect my baby son. At least I thought I did,” he said, his black eyebrows drawn into a frown.

  "You thought? Don't you know?"

  "There is a problem with that. I have returned to my time, but it is a year earlier than when I left. This is the day I married Lady Julianne, daughter of Sir Hector of Northbridge. It is May 1, 1249. Edward is not yet born, much less in need of protection."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Very."

  "Assuming you're right, what do you need me for?” Although she hated to admit it, something about Nick had changed. Despite his puzzlement about the date, he seemed in charge of the situation, a man used to solving his own problems, not asking for help.

  "I am not sure,” he said. “When I left here, the year was 1250, and my wife had just died giving birth to my son."

  Julie found herself caught up in his story in spite of her doubts. “So, if your wife died and you had a newborn son, why did you leave?"

  "It was not by choice. While I sat in the great hall mourning the loss of my dear wife, I inadvertently did something which caused me to move through time. I found myself standing in the bailey talking with you about the Medieval Society's upcoming feast. For a minute, I thought you were my wife, Julianne, because you looked so much like her. After you left, Lily told me the year and who you were."

  "Why am I not surprised Lily is involved in all this.” Julie decided it would be more amazing if she weren't. This explained her friend's occasional odd statements.

  She raised her eyes to Nick's. He watched her, apparently waiting for what he had said to sink in. “Go on."

  He nodded. “She said my essence was using the body of the man you call Nick and that I was the stronger personality so I dominated."

  Julie's disbelief wavered a little. Though highly implausible, it could explain her sudden attraction to Nick. “If you're not Nick, then who are you?"

  "I am Nicholas de Montclair, Baron of Barstow, just like your friend in 2009. The difference is seven hundred and fifty odd years and I am not an earl."

  Julie shook her head firmly. “Going back and forth through time isn't possible."

  "I will prove who I am in the morn. Now, I think we had best sleep. My people believe we just married and I do not want them to think otherwise."

  Julie shivered and moved the stool closer to the fire. Nick strode across the room and added a large log. Sparks flew as the flames ate at the bark. “It will be warmer shortly."

  He propped a hand on the mantle and stared down, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at him. That great smile played around his sensuous mouth once more. But charm wouldn't work.

  She rose and stretched. “Where are you sleeping? And the answer better not be here."

  Nick laughed. “A bridegroom sleeping in some place other than with his wife on their wedding night? I think not."

  "And I think so.” She pointed downward. “The floor is all yours."

  Nick laughed again. Opening a chest he removed a quilt. “For tonight, I bow to your wishes. Tomorrow we will talk and decide how we will proceed."

  He removed his surcoat and hung it on a peg. Next came his tunic. Once again, he bared his massive chest to her eyes and once again she felt an unexplainable attraction to this mysterious man. She swallowed hard.

  He started to untie his leggings.

  "Stop right there,” she said in a small voice. Temptation shouldn't come so attractively packaged.

  Nick grinned. “I usually sleep naked."

  "You don't tonight."

  He chuckled, dropped to the floor and rolled up in the quilt in front of the fire. “Goodnight, Julie."

  "I see nothing good about it."

  Silence, followed by a soft snore, met her statement.

  Let him sleep. She had some thinking to do.

  Angry and frustrated by happenings beyond her control, Julie climbed up on the bed fully clothed and pulled the coverlet over her. Tired as she was, sleep eluded her. What Nick had said couldn't possibly be true. His story laid out events as he wished them, not as they were. But how could she disprove it? Well, there was one way and with him asleep, she could check it out.

  Julie sat up and slid quietly off the bed. Picking up her shoes, she tiptoed across the cold stone floor and opened the door. When it swung inward with no noise, she breathed a sigh of relief. Why had she humored Nick? She'd just go home. Even walking in her dance slippers across the fields was better than lying on that bed doing what Nick ordered.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs without seeing anyone. The hall lay in semi-darkness, the flames in the two huge fireplaces having been banked for the night and most of the candles gutted. Her gaze fell on many shadowy lumps stretched out on the floor and benches along the walls. People sleeping. People who didn't smell good. A dog whined in his sleep. She didn't remember seeing any dogs earlier. Rushes rustled beneath her feet. They hadn't been there earlier this evening.

  She moved slowly among the sleepers, careful not to wake anyone. She decided the members of the Medieval Society had gone a bit too far to assure authenticity. Surely, they weren't enjoying the hard stone floor.

  The keep's door was shut and barred. Could she lift the heavy slab of wood holding it closed? As she reached for it, a man stepped from the shadows.

  "Here now, wench, what be ye trying to do?” He grabbed her arm and yanked her against him. His rancid breath nearly gagged her.

  "Take your hands off me."

  His clothes were rough, his armor rusty and his right hand held a battered sword.

  He growled when Julie tried to pull away and increased his grip on her arm.

  "Release her.” A familiar voice behind her halted the ruffian who immediately dropped her arm and stepped back.

  He bowed. “Milord."

  "Hands off, Emil. This wench is my lady wife."

  "Forgive me, milord. I did not recognize her in the dark."

  Julie stared at them both, feeling that recurring chill encase her spine. Nick moved to stand before her. He was clad only in his leggings. He jerked his head and the guard melted back into the shadows.

  N
ick—or was he really the ancient Nicholas—stared down at her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “Running away could be very dangerous, especially at night, my love."

  Just a hint of fear tickled her mind. She'd never felt any threat from the gently-mannered Nick, not like what emanated from this man—a man who expected to be obeyed. Like a real knight from the Middle Ages. Like maybe Nicholas de Montclair, the thirteen century Baron of Barstow.

  Could he have possibly been telling the truth? Had he really come to the twenty-first century and then brought her back with him to the thirteenth? Nothing around her appeared as she remembered except the great hall itself, and even that was different. She couldn't explain the guards. There had been none at the Medieval Society's feast, and while Nick and some of the guests wore swords, those were merely ceremonial.

  "Nick..."

  "Nicholas.” Taking her hand, he led her back across the great hall and up the steps. “This penchant of your century for shortening names is strange."

  Back in their chamber, he escorted her to the bed, then walked back and barred the door. He turned to face her, his dark brows drawn together in a fierce scowl. “Did you think I slept so deeply I would not hear the door open?"

  "I have a right to leave if I want to,” she insisted.

  He shook his head. “There are reasons why you must not leave, Julie."

  "What reasons?” She frowned and drew her mouth into a tight line.

  "Can you not wait until the morrow for an explanation?"

  "No, I can't. So let's have it."

  Nicholas seated himself on one of the two stools before the fire and she took the other. She saw his gaze drop to the amethyst amulet resting between her breasts. Leaning forward, he pulled it over her head.

  "This necklace was my wife's,” he explained when Julie glared at his action.

  "Then how did Nick get it?"

  "It was never Nick's. I brought it with me from my time. How, I'm not sure."

  Julie shook her head. “No, Nick gave it to me. He got it from Lily and...” She stopped, her hand flying to her mouth.

  "Aye, Lily."

  "So you didn't just give it to me because it looked well with my costume?"

  "Nay, I wanted you to rub it and come back here with me."

  Julie thought a minute. “And rubbing them brought us back here?"

  He nodded. “I had a most urgent need to return to my time. I have an enemy who wants both me and my son dead. And when I left, that man was staying in my castle."

  Julie absently stroked the velvet pile of her surcoat. Everything this man said began to sound plausible. If this wasn't Nick, then where was her employer?

  "What have you done with Nick?” she demanded, suddenly afraid for her friend.

  "I've done nothing with him. I merely, uh, borrowed his body while living in your time. At least Lily seemed to think so."

  "And for some reason, Lily has an interest in this. I wondered why...” Julie hesitated.

  "Why Lily seemed to be watching over me?” Nick chuckled. “She was worried I would betray myself with something like forgetting to use my fork. I found it a most useful tool. Mayhap I shall order some made."

  Thinking furiously, Julie found an anomaly in his story. “But you said this is or was your wedding night. So on this date, your wife cannot be dead. Where is she?"

  Nicholas's laughter stilled. “It is only a guess, but I believe you are Julianne."

  Julie's heart began to pound. “What do you mean?"

  "It seems obvious that two Juliannes and two Nicholases cannot exist at the same time,” he said slowly.

  "Dear God!” Julie whispered, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

  "Perchance you are living in my wife's mind as I dwelled in Nick's."

  "That's insane."

  "My sentiment exactly.” Nicholas gave a wry smile and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, Julie, if you would please stay in bed and not roam around the keep, mayhap we can discuss this more on the morrow. I, for one, am exhausted."

  Weariness wrapped around Julie like a large fuzzy blanket. “Yes, I'm tired, too. However, if you are who you say you are, I'm very angry with you for involving me in your plans, especially without my consent. And don't think you're getting half of this bed either."

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “Am I not?"

  "You seemed to have no trouble with the floor earlier. That is if your snoring meant you were really asleep.” She rose and climbed onto the bed, pulling the coverlet up around her ears.

  "Goodnight, Julianne,” he said softly.

  "Goodnight, Nick.” That would show him she hadn't bought into his story.

  "On the morrow, I will show you things which will prove what I told you.” He seemed very sure of himself.

  "That remains to be seen.” She rolled over.

  A soft, very male chuckle rumbled across the darkness.

  Julie ground her teeth and tuned him out.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 9

  Julie awoke suddenly. Darkness surrounded her. And warmth. A muscular arm held her close against a hard chest. Even breathing told her he slept.

  Was it Nick—or Nicholas?

  She lay very still, not wanting to wake him. If she did, she'd have to demand he get out of her bed. While he slept, she could enjoy the comfort and safety of his large body wrapped around hers. Not only was she warm, but the threat of the unknown which had plagued her throughout the night remained a hazy, half-dream. Reality would kick in before long, and then she'd have to deal with it.

  All too soon, he stirred. First his warm breath, then his lips found her ear. He kissed it and whispered, “Good morning, Julianne,” before she could push away from him.

  Rolling free, she turned to face him. “Why are you in my bed? I thought we agreed you'd sleep on the floor.” She kicked off the coverlet and started to slide off the mattress. But her escape was hindered by scads of hanging velvet material. Bed curtains. That explained the darkness. She shoved them open and the wan light of dawn met her gaze.

  He laughed. “You agreed to that. I did not."

  "Get out.” She shoved him with little result—like trying to move a stalled lorry.

  "Listen to me, Julianne.” She started to protest his use of that name, but he rose up on his elbow and laid his palm over her mouth. “Aye, from now on you will always be Julianne in public.” He stared down at her, his amber eyes unsmiling. “The castle folk believe you are Julianne, so while you are here you must not confuse them.” His expression allowed her no dissent.

  Julie picked up on the ‘while you are here.’ “You're saying I don't have to stay?"

  "I am saying I may need your help. Then we will see."

  "And who will decide that—you or Lily?"

  Nick shook his head. “I do not know."

  Thinking they were getting nowhere, Julie changed the subject. “And while we're at it, just why are you in my bed?"

  Nick sat up and let the covers slip well below his waist. “Your ladies will be arriving soon to dress you. There must be no rumor that all is not well with us."

  He reached for his knife which lay on the table beside the bed. Pricking his finger, he shook a few drops of blood on the linen sheet.

  "What are you doing?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her annoyance.

  "Proving your virginity and the consummation of our marriage to the household."

  She raised a cynical eyebrow. “Isn't that taking all this a little too far?"

  "If I thought so, I would not have done it. As I said before, we must make everyone think all is well with us.” He sat up straighter and pushed back to rest his broad shoulders against the headboard.

  Julie tried not to notice the expanse of bare skin the slipping coverlet revealed. “All is not well with us. If you think..."

  He interrupted. “Then we must make it appear so. Our lives may depend upon it."

  "Aren't you exaggerating?"<
br />
  Nick propped himself on one large hand and leaned down near her ear. “No, Julie, I fear I am not. I told you my enemy was within the keep when I left. That was a year from now. And he was also here for my wedding one year earlier.” His grim expression convinced her of the seriousness of his words. Or at least his belief in them.

  "So who is this threat to your life?"

  "My brother-in-law, Sir Miles Norville. You know his descendant, Sir Stephan Norville."

  Julie's mouth dropped open. “Are you sure?"

  "Aye, he is married to my sister, Eleanor, and he covets my demesne now just as his descendant in your time covets Nick's."

  His darkly handsome face so close to hers, his warm breath laving her cheek, his soft rumbling voice, all conspired to make her heart pound in her chest like a military drum cadence.

  "I know Stephen is married to your sister, Margaret. They were at the Medieval Society's feast last night.” She refused to accept that these people were not Nick or Margaret or Stephen.

  "I did not wish to invite them, but you..."

  Julie interrupted. “She's your sister. You couldn't ignore her."

  He frowned. “As I was saying, I did not wish to invite her because I detest her husband—both in your time and mine.

  Deciding to drop the whole disagreeable subject, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid to the floor. Her feet touched a woven reed mat, not a rug. She shuddered, then glanced down at her clothes. The purple velvet dress she'd worn to the Feast had suffered from being slept in. She tried to smooth out the worst wrinkles without much success.

  "Where's the bathroom?” she asked, hoping to find familiar twenty-first century fixtures in a small tiled room. Anything to prove him wrong.

  "I will show you.” He slid a muscular bare leg from under the coverlet.

  "No! Don't get up.” Without seeing more, she knew he was naked, since she'd just spied his clothes flung over one of the stools. “I'll find it."

  Amusement dancing in his eyes, the man who claimed to be Nick's ancestor sank back and folded his hands behind his head. “As you will, Julie."

  At the end of the corridor, she found only a stinking garderobe. Baffled by this development but afraid to accept its connotation, Julie relieved herself, then returned to the bedchamber to find him up and dressed.

 

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