The Amethyst Amulets

by Cillian Burns

  Lily entered and shut the door behind her. “So, you arrived safely."

  "Yes, and thank you, Lily. You showed up just in time."

  "I was afraid I'd cut it a little close.” Her friend crossed the stone floor and laid her hand on Julie's shoulder. “At first, I was afraid Nicholas was going to let Miles kill him in order to protect you."

  "Oh, no!” Julie cried. “He wouldn't do that.” She hesitated. “Would he?"

  "He nearly did. He slipped once and almost let Miles take him. I had to intervene."

  Nicholas had nearly died to keep her safe. Was he sacrificing himself for her or for the real Julianne? He hadn't touched Julie since the night they'd made love, and she'd become pregnant. Had they made love only to provide the seed to make all this happen again? Had he gritted his teeth and pretended his arms were around Julianne instead of her? When he thrust into Julie, had he dreamed of the much younger girl he'd married, wished her back and Julie into the future?

  Lily smiled slyly at her. “It's like that, is it?"

  "Like what?” Damned if she'd admit her feelings for Nicholas to the one who'd gotten them into this muddle. Of course, she really couldn't fool Lily—the all-knowing.

  Lily laughed. “He'll be here soon. Looking for you."

  "Does he know about the amulet?"

  "Probably surmised it. He's not stupid.” She walked to the window. “I see a cloud of dust on the horizon. He's coming."

  Julie slid off the bed and joined her. “I don't see anything. Where?"

  Lily pointed. “There."

  "You have better eyes than I do.” Julie squinted, but saw nothing.

  "You'd best wash and dress before he comes."

  Julie's heart tripped over itself. She almost wished he'd stayed with Eleanor for a time. Would he think she'd somehow been responsible for the whole abduction thing? And worse still, when he learned she was pregnant would he make Lily send her home and try to change history with Julianne? She could bear his anger better than his disappearance from her life.

  Admit it, you love him. He's everything you ever wanted in a man, even if having him seems impossible.

  With a sigh, she looked at Lily. “You know what I'm thinking, don't you?"

  "Yes. But what seems impossible right now, may not be at another time."

  Julie walked to the window and stared at the growing dust cloud on the horizon. “And that means...?"

  "Just what I said."

  "Lily, I swear your cryptic comments will be the death of me,” Julie spluttered.

  "When the time arrives, you will understand.” Lily came up behind Julie and put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. “Do not be afraid, Julie. Just follow your heart."

  Someone knocked on the door. As Julie admitted Gwyneth, she turned to discover Lily was gone. How does she do that?

  The little lady-in-waiting entered, followed by three boys carrying a large wooden tub and several pails of hot water. They set everything down in front of the fire.

  "Since my lord approaches, I thought you would like a bath.” Gwyneth motioned to the boys. “Be quick. Pour the water in the tub. Then go and get some more,” she ordered.

  Julie smiled to herself. Her maid had much to learn about honey, vinegar and flies.

  "Thank you, Gwyneth. I need to wash the smell of prison from my body."

  When the boys finished filling the tub with warm water and departed, Julie stripped off her clothes and sank into relaxing water. Gwyneth handed her a sliver of lilac perfumed soap to scrub her body and, with the maid's help, to wash her hair.

  While Julie finished bathing, Gwyneth laid out a silk gown in a delicate shade of violet. Gwyneth wrapped a linen towel around her as she stepped from her bath. When Julie was dry, the little maid helped her to don a fresh shift and laced up the gown, followed by an amethyst velvet surcoat, its wide sleeves edged in white fox fur.

  The late fall air, blowing in the open window, promised an early winter. With a shiver, Julie went to sit on a stool before the fire so Gwyneth could towel dry her long hair, then comb out the snarls.

  "I do so wish I had such silky golden locks as you, my lady."

  "I'm very fortunate."

  "No, I think it is my lord who is fortunate to gaze daily on such as these.” She held up several curls. Julie smiled, but refrained from scolding the girl again for prying.

  When Gwyneth finished her job, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

  At that moment, shouts and the pounding of horses’ hooves brought Julie to her feet.

  She rushed to the window and peered out. In the bailey below, Nicholas dismounted, took two steps, then stopped and gazed up at her window. She waved.

  "Stay right there, my lady,” he called. “I will join you shortly."

  Julie drew back, a nervous tremor running down her spine. He'd smiled and didn't appear angry with her. Good. Not that she couldn't stand up to him, but she hated arguments and accusations. She'd done nothing for which to beg forgiveness. However, his viewpoint and hers might be a tad different, because he probably didn't know the whole story or understand, precisely, what had happened to her.

  She heard his boots on the stairs, and then the door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. Lifting her chin, she stared straight into his golden eyes as he halted in front of her.

  "Julie,” he said hoarsely. “You are safe, dearling. I thought, mayhap, you might have been stabbed before you...flew away."

  He had been worried about her, not thought she had somehow caused the whole mess. His sober stare was all concern.

  "As you can see, I'm perfectly all right.” She took a backward step. The intensity of his gaze made her uneasy.

  He placed a hand on her forearm, halting her retreat. “Do not be afraid, love. I am not angry except with Miles and his henchman.” He paused. “There is nothing to be upset about, is there? You have not done some foolish thing, have you?"

  Julie remembered her women's self defense classes. Would that come under the heading of foolish? Maybe. But since she had not engaged Sir Miles in hand to hand fighting, she decided to omit mention of karate and archery practice—while wearing men's clothes.

  "Of course not,” she replied tartly, hoping he wouldn't get wind of her little enterprise. Not that she feared him, not really. But he was a thirteenth century man whose views about women were less than enlightened.

  She switched the subject. “How did you make out with Earl Simon? I assume that's where you've been?"

  He laughed. “Aye, and if by ‘make out’ you mean ‘deal with him,’ all went well. Navarre is satisfied and de Montfort was made to give a little.” He yawned. “I have been on the road a prodigious long time, wife, and when I arrive home tired, I find you missing. Then I have to go save you from Miles, exhausting me further,” he teased.

  "Poor man,” she murmured, trying to keep a straight face.

  "Not to mention that my shirt and leggings are soaked with sweat. Help me out of this chain mail and I will make use of your bath."

  When she scowled at his demands, he grinned again. “Be warned, you will not enjoy having me near, since your nose is so easily offended by body odors.” He referred to a comment she had once made about ordering the castle folk to bathe more frequently.

  A knock on the door interrupted Julie's retort. Will had come to undo Nicholas’ armor, freeing Julie from the task. Apparently, Will anticipated his master's desire to wash, because the same boys who had brought her bath earlier trudged behind him, lugging more buckets of hot water. They bailed out her dirty bathwater using the empty pails they brought, then filled the tub again for Nicholas.

  She saw him eye the procedure, then shake his head slightly. Could he be remembering the modern bathroom in her time?

  The boys finished and departed, followed by Will who shut the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone.

  Nicholas stripped off his leggings and stood by the tub his gaze on her, a hot, needful one.

  "
Will you bathe me, Julie. A good wife helps her husband remove the day's soil."

  "I'm not a good wife. I'm not a wife at all.” She had to force herself to swallow and stop, taking short, panting breaths. Her eyes were drawn to his broad chest with its matting of curly black hair, and a quick downward glance told her how much he wanted her.

  Finally finding her tongue, she replied, “If you wish,” in a tone which sounded much calmer than she felt. She raised her gaze to his and knew he'd observed her examination of his manhood.

  His lips quirked upward. “Come here, Julie.” He held out his hand. Slowly, she moved forward and laid her palm against his. His fingers rotated and closed over her hand. He moved it down his chest, over his stomach and placed it on his erection. “Feel how much I missed you,” he murmured, his eyes burning into hers.

  "Um, yes, I, er, see.” She pulled her hand away and stepped back.

  "Do I frighten you?” he asked, reaching for her once more.

  "No, Nicholas, but we have to talk."

  "Talk? Right now, woman, talk is not what I want.” But he stepped into the tub and settled down in the warm water. “Ah, that feels good. Let me soak a minute and then I will tell you of my needs.” His eyes drifted shut.

  "First, I really must tell you of my needs."

  His eyes flew open. “Are they different?"

  "Well, yes. Please listen, Nicholas.” She had to tell him about the baby. Then they had to discuss how this would affect their lives.

  "All right, dearling. What must you tell me that cannot wait until later?"

  Grabbing up a towel, she coaxed him from the tub. She wrapped the towel around his waist and led him across the room. “Please, Nicholas, sit here beside me.” She sat on the bed and patted the coverlet beside her.

  He stared into her eyes for a moment, then did as she asked.

  "Is something distressing you?” His arm wrapped quickly around her shoulders and drew her against him. “Did Miles...?"

  "No, nothing like that,” she assured him, enjoying the heat emanating from his chest. She would love more than that, but not yet.

  "Tell me, Julie. I will make it right.” His grave expression told her he'd finally sensed her seriousness.

  "I wish it were that easy,” she said with a sigh. “But it's not. Nicholas, we are expecting a baby, and there's no way you can make that right."

  To her surprise, he smiled and wrapping his other arm around her, drew her tightly against him. “What good news. My son will be born after all."

  "Our son,” she corrected him.

  Nicholas’ lips tilted upward at her correction. “When are we expecting him?"

  "In the middle of April."

  He hesitated, then said quietly, “The same as before."

  "Yes."

  "Things will not happen the same way,” he declared, but he didn't sound totally convinced.

  "No, of course not."

  They sat in silence for several minutes, each drawing on the other's strength. Then Julie said, “I'm healthier than Julianne was and that should make a dif—” She stopped, horror-stricken. “But I'm using her body, not mine.” Though she'd tried her best to build it up, she could see and feel little change.

  They stared at one another as the truth sank in.

  Nicholas slid off the bed. Shedding the wet towel, he stepped back into the tub while fear and hope battled each other in his heart. He could not lose both Julianne and Julie. Somehow, he would keep it from happening again.

  He lathered his arms while ideas chased around in his mind. Mayhap he could force Lily to use the magic she had not used with Julianne. He could feel his fingers tightening around her neck. Witch or no, he would kill her if she let Julie die too.

  Without a word, Julie came to his side, took the cloth from his hand and washed his back. Her little hands felt so good as they slid over his skin and tired muscles. Then she stepped in front of him and moved the soapy cloth around his chest. His eyes appreciated the full curve of her breasts, then wandered to her stomach. The gown she wore molded a roundness which had not been there before he left for London. His child was growing apace and he was caught between heaven and hell.

  Would he lose her again? Many events had been different this time through 1249. Could Julie's strong will pull her through despite the frail body of Julianne? From previous experience he knew Lily would tell them nothing. At least she had intervened in time to save Julie when he himself could not prevent Selwick from killing her.

  He looked up into her eyes. Their violet depths were misty, tears forming silently and running down her peach-tinged cheeks. “Do not cry, sweeting. I will make it come right, I swear."

  "I hope so,” she whispered, and he could see her teeth had sunk into her full lower lip, as though she was trying to hold back sobs.

  "Julie.” He stepped from the tub and picked her up in his arms despite the wetness of his body. “Come, dearling, you are exhausted from all you have been through. You need rest."

  Striding over to the bed, he held her with one arm and snatched back the fur coverlet with his other hand. He helped her out of her clothes, then laid her on the soft feather mattress and pulled the coverlet up to her chin.

  "But you have needs,” she said in a soft voice.

  "They can wait, love. Sleep now.” He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. Fire shot through him. Truly, he did need Julie, but not at the expense of her health. “You will do much resting and eating. We will build you up, make you tougher. Together."

  Then she did cry, and he held her to his damp chest, thinking he would slay many dragons and monsters to keep this one, small woman alive and at his side.

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  Chapter 21

  When Julie awoke, fingers of sunlight slanted across their bed and Nicholas lay beside her snoring softly, his arm holding her tightly against his side.

  His dark lashes resting on tanned cheeks quivered ever so slightly. Was he dreaming? Or was he watching her through the thick veil of those same lashes? He was so perfect. That straight nose, that firm black-stubbled chin, those lips which could be full when aroused and thin when angry. She sighed.

  His looks were only a small part of her fascination with him. He could be gentle as he had been last evening, when he held her tenderly in his arms while she cried, and fierce, as she'd seen, when he fought Miles. The men respected him and carried out his toughest orders without grumbling. He administered his demesne fairly, and the people worked all that much harder for not being whipped or forced to pay unfairly-large taxes. He could be funny at times, that mobile eyebrow shooting into the air as his eyes twinkled with laughter.

  Oh, dear God. How could such a cruel joke be played on her? To have found the perfect man but to have him live over seven hundred years in the past, remote and untouchable, was horribly ironic. Especially when she would have to return to her own time without him.

  Gradually, she became aware Nicholas was watching her.

  "Good morn, dearling. Did you rest well?” he murmured, his index finger tracing the line of her jaw. A smile curved his generous mouth.

  Julie smiled back. “Yes, I did. And from the snoring, I think you did, too.” Her teasing brought an even broader grin to his face.

  "As I told you last even, my trip to Gascony was fatiguing. Then, when I arrive home looking forward to a soft bed and an even softer wife, I find my greatest enemy has imprisoned her in his keep and I must fight to get her back. Julie, sweeting, your escapade kept me from my lands, my bed and...other delightful prospects.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  She felt a blush wash across her cheeks. “Nicholas, I thought you meant to remain faithful to the wife whose body I'm in.” Not what she wanted to say, but fairness demanded it.

  "Is my sin any greater for repeating it?” he asked softly, rising up on his elbow and gazing down into her eyes.

  "Probably,” she murmured, wanting him to think only of her and knowing it was wrong.

&
nbsp; "Then gladly will I fall on my knees and repent each time we make love.” His eyes burned with amber fire as he lowered his lips to hers.

  Could he maybe be falling in love with her, just a little? Without thought of consequences, Julie opened to him, letting the heat and the softness of his mouth blot out the memories of her treatment by Miles, as well as the possible deadly outcome of childbirth. Her arms crept around his neck as he rolled over her, his naked body pressed hard against her own needful one. He was her soul mate and she desired to become one with him, to no longer be alone but a part of this miracle which had bridged the chasm of time.

  Nicholas murmured her name over and over, calling her Julie, never mistaking to whom he was making love. He had seen her face in the heavens on a moonlit night in Gascony. He had held her in his heart as he pounded the dusty roads. He had found Julianne pleasing and sweet. But Julie was all fire. His tender feelings for Julianne had been replaced by stronger ones for Julie. The girl who had been his wife was gone, and in her place stood this woman of intelligence, courage and passion. One he loved more than life itself. If it was wrong, so be it. While he held Julie in his arms, his heart thumped with the steady beat of the love he felt for her, and he would do anything in his power to keep Lily from sending her back to the future. He would prostrate himself before the Druid witch, kiss the hem of her none-too-clean gown, whatever it took.

  Julie's soft breasts pressed against his bare chest. He groaned and cupped her face for another kiss. Her mouth fit his like a dream, and her tongue danced the ancient rhythm with his.

  When they pulled away from one another, panting for air, he found a spot behind her ear to tickle with light kisses. Julie shuddered and clasped him tighter to her.

  She wore only her fine linen shift. Nicholas pushed it slowly upward. Leaning down he kissed and laved every inch of her smooth inner thighs, glancing up at her face as he moved ever closer to his goal.