As she lay there, the combs from her hairdo poked into her scalp. With an immense amount of effort, she managed to tear the beautiful objects from her hair, scattering them on the floor. Panting, she lay back against the pillows.
Another bout of nausea took hold of her, and, afraid she would miss the bucket from so high up, Jennifer slid off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. The cool stone felt delicious against her fevered body. She gripped the bucket with both hands and threw up again, wondering how it was possible there was anything left to come up.
She hadn’t heard the door open, but there he was. Strong hands held her hair as she heaved out her guts.
When she finished, he put his arms around her to lift her off the floor. A hand on his arm stopped him.
“Leave me.”
“You needs be abed.”
“I’m afraid I’ll be sick again and ruin the sheets.”
He scoffed. “You are sick and should be abed. Do not trouble yourself. I will care for you.”
And she believed him. There was no reason she should, having only met him a couple of days ago, and yet deep within her soul, Jennifer knew he would take care of her. And in her delirium, she decided that with him by her side, she would live through the night.
The man scooped her up and deposited her in the bed, then pulled the covers up to her chin.
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“You are pale as snow. Rinse your mouth out.” He handed her a cup of water, but when she sniffed, she found it was cider. She rinsed out her mouth and spat into the bucket. He had replaced the bucket, and there was another sitting by the hearth. Jennifer didn’t even want to ask what he had done with the other one.
He stood up to leave, and she made a sound in the back of her throat. Instantly he was by her side. Another tear slipped down her face. “Please. Don’t leave me. I’m afraid I’m dying, and if you go, I won’t see the sunrise.”
He kissed her on the forehead. She heard him speaking to the guard at the door, then he was back, dragging the chair across the floor to the bed.
As her eyes drifted closed, Jennifer felt the warmth of his hand as he stroked her palm. Too spent to speak, she surrendered to the nothingness.
Chapter Nineteen
“Is the lady unwell?” Maude thrust her bosom at Alistair, the guard posted outside the faerie’s chamber.
His face was grave. “Aye.” He looked down the corridor then whispered, “She may die.”
“I will pray for her soul.” She was filled with joy. Holding up her basket so he could see inside, she pressed against the man. “I have brought cherries in honey, the lady’s most favored dish.”
“Nay, she cannot eat.” He looked pale in the dim light. “She cannot even drink broth without purging.”
“Then I will come back on the morrow.” She smiled as she left the castle. The odd woman would no longer watch her.
As she passed through the gates, one of the guards called out, “Where you off to, Maude?”
She waved at the man. “Off to fetch herbs from the water’s edge. I won’t be long.”
“Do not tarry. The gates will close for the night soon.”
Once the guard was no longer watching, she ran to the woods. Deep in the wood was a meadow, where she would meet her love.
No one followed her. Maude looked around before calling out, “Are you there, then?”
Hamish Armstrong stepped out from behind a tree, and she ran to him as he gathered her in his arms, kissing her, hands fumbling under her dress. He was older than she by a score, and so handsome, even with the ugly scar the wicked English gave him in battle. Hamish had promised to care for her. He had told her how terrible Lord Somerforth was. Raping and killing the weak. Eating children when none were watching. Maude crossed herself. Aye, Hamish was a good man.
Their lovemaking was over too soon. He smoothed her skirts down and leaned against a tree. “Do they know I was in the castle? Did the wench with black hair tell that bastard Somerforth?”
Maude shook her head. “Nay. She did not. At supper, I made sure she would not tell his lordship what she had seen.”
“What have you done?”
“Poison. She is dying. On the morrow she should be dead.” She frowned. “I don’t know if the poison will work. She should be dead by now, yet she lingers.”
He pulled her to him, stroking her hair. “Why not?”
“She’s a faerie,” Maude whispered.
Hamish looked thoughtful. “The Armstrong could use a powerful faerie. He could take Somerforth with ease if he had a faerie under his power. I will send word and find out what we must do.” He idly stroked the scar on his neck. “We will need iron to bind her.”
Hamish reached in her dress, fondling her. She pressed against him. “When will we marry?”
He stepped back. “When Lord Somerforth is dead by the Armstrong’s blade, I will be free to marry you. Stay in the castle and keep spying. We need you. I need you, love.”
He kissed her again, setting her on fire, then melted away into the trees as she looked after him longingly. She would watch the faerie. Aye, she would do anything for the man she loved.
“I want a bath.”
Edward did not grin. His lady was in a foul humor, and he did not want another boot thrown at his head. She had been recovering from her illness for a sen’night, and her irascible moods were to be feared.
“Then on this day, you will be pleased.” He stood back, and servants entered carrying a wooden tub. ’Twas not as large as the one in his chamber, but ’twas improper for her to bathe in his chamber until she was his lady.
“Really?” She clasped her hands together. “Oh, thank you, Edward.”
As the water heated, he pulled the stool to her bedside. “Shall I read to you?”
“Don’t sit too close. I stink.”
He sniffed. “Perhaps a bit.”
She feigned outrage. “You’re supposed to say, no, lady, you are a delicate flower and would never have an odor about your fetching person.”
“Your accent is awful. I do not speak thusly.”
“Aye, you do.”
“Harrumph.” He opened the book, some tale to cause womanly weeping about a knight and his lady. Jennifer watched him. Did she find him pleasing? Every day he came to her chamber to pass the hours. They had talked of family and of her world. So many wonders. His brothers’ wives had given up the marvels of the future. Might Jennifer stay too? He knew she was opposed to marriage. Her own sire and dam were with others. In her time, men and women grew tired of marriage and simply found another. The church no longer held the power it did now. The men of her time were not men of honor.
The first days, he was filled with dread she would die. The healer said ’twas the meal, but no others were ill. Edward believed there was trouble afoot. A person wishing his lady ill will. Brom agreed and thought ’twas poison. As of yet, his captain had not found the one responsible.
“My lord?” One of the servants stood before him. “Your lady’s bath is ready.”
“Finally.” Jennifer sat up, swayed, and turned the color of the stars.
“Easy, love.”
He lifted her from the bed. She wore another of his tunics, had refused to wear her clothes until he let her up from the damn bed as she bellowed at him.
“Shall I have them stay and aid you?”
“Please.”
Edward eased her into the bath and nodded to the two women. “I shall be in the lists. When you are finished, dress and I will carry you out to the garden.”
Her eyes shone, and he prayed she would not weep. He could not bear to see a woman weep.
“Promise?”
“Aye, you have my word.” He said no more as she kissed his cheek. “Give them my tunic to wash or I will have to fight with no clothes.”
She scowled. “And have half the village come to stare. Don’t worry, they can have this smelly shirt.”
He heard her sighing as the women bat
hed her. Thinking of his lady in the bath, being washed, sent desire coursing through him, so he took himself to the lists. Swordplay would distract him from her shapely arse.
Edward wiped his brow. He had run through the garrison, saw to matters requiring his attention, and now he stood back, hands on hips.
“She will be most pleased.”
He looked to his friend. “Think you?”
“Aye.” Brom fingered the gifts. “How much gold did you give to the abbey?”
“A great deal, but it will be worth every coin to see her smile.”
“If you say.” Brom looked unsure. “I would give my intended a horse. Practical and useful. No flowers that die, or foolish trinkets.”
“A horse?” Edward snorted. “This is why you have that scar above your brow.”
“’Twas worth it. She was a fine wench.”
Edward rolled his eyes. “I will woo Mistress Jennifer, then I will wed her.”
“Better you than me.”
Chapter Twenty
Was he ever coming to get her? Jennifer was thrilled to be clean and no longer stinking like week-old garbage. She’d groaned when the women scrubbed her hair. The healer and Edward said it was a bad case of food poisoning, but if it was, why hadn’t anyone else gotten sick? After a while, she’d decided it was a lingering effect of time travel. But wow, she’d never been so sick in her whole life. The first few days, she swore she was going to die.
Not eating anything but broth for a week had made her cranky. She’d been dreaming of pizza, and mac and cheese, and tacos. Not to mention chocolate and her favorite cereal.
Alistair had been a pain in the butt over the past week. Sure, he was just doing his duty, guarding her. But every time she tried to leave, there he was, outside the door, barring her way. She scowled at him, and for the first time he scowled back.
“You frowned at me.”
“Lady? I would not.”
A small giggle escaped. “Oh, yes you did. I’m telling Edward.”
He looked panicked. “Nay, lady. My lord would be most displeased.”
“You’re mad you’ve had to stay inside all week watching over a mere woman, aren’t you?”
Alistair clasped his hands together. "’Tis my duty to watch over you.”
“Admit it and I won’t tell Edward you’re being mean to me.”
The man looked horrified. He swallowed and looked down the corridor as if another guard might help him, but there was no one. His shoulders slumped.
“Aye, ’tis true.”
Jennifer laughed for the first time in a week. She laughed so hard she cried, her side ached, and she started snorting. Pulling herself together, she patted his arm. “I wasn’t really going to tell on you. I’m not a rat. I just wanted to hear you admit how horrible it’s been to be stuck inside all week.”
She’d come to like Alistair. He was eighteen and took his duties very seriously. So much so that she could imagine him outside Buckingham Palace as tourists tried to get him to react to whatever crazy thing they were doing.
He looked relieved. “You should not jest so, lady.”
When she whirled around to go back in the room, a bout of dizziness hit her. Fingers grasped the door but missed. Then strong arms swept her up. She’d know the feel of them anywhere.
“Edward. I was going to come down and find you, but Mr. Crankypants wouldn’t let me pass.”
Alistair blanched at Edward’s look. Too bad she couldn’t see it—she bet it was a doozy.
“I will see you in the lists later.”
The poor guy turned even paler and fled down the corridor. Edward grumbled under his breath as he carried her down the stairs and outside. She waved to a few of the people who’d come to see her while she was sick. The men were in the lists, and she smiled at one of the archers. His aim was atrocious, but he made up for it in gusto.
“Where are we going? I thought I was going to watch you practice your swordplay?”
“Womanly, the lot of them.” He cursed. “Nay, we will spend the afternoon in the rose garden. There is a gift for you.”
“Presents? I love presents.”
He chuckled. They entered the walled garden, the scent of roses permeating the air. The day was warm, the sky blue, and the man she’d fallen hard for over the past week and a half was as perfect as if she’d conjured him up with a magic potion.
In the center of the garden were a fountain and a stone bench.
“Close your eyes.”
She did as he asked. Waiting. Then she felt him put her down on the bench, but he didn’t sit beside her. There was a rustling before he said, “Open your eyes.”
“Oh!” There before her was the most wondrous gift. She reached out, and, knowing what she wanted, Edward stepped into her arms.
Her voice was choked. “It is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. How can I ever thank you?”
There before her was everything she needed to paint. An easel made of wood and a bundle on the ground unrolled to display the contents. There was a stack of parchment and wood panels for sketching and painting. Assorted brushes, pen and ink, and a beautiful wooden box that was so ornate it looked like a jewelry box.
Edward set it beside her and opened it. “Does it have what you need?” He sounded unsure. “The monks said ’twas what you would require.” He touched a brush. “They are made from squirrel.”
Jennifer looked at the tiny jars. Pigments in various colors. She held up each one, opening it and exclaiming over the colors. There were also sticks of mineral pigments: umber, red and yellow ochre, and lime white. When she opened one of the jars, she quickly closed it again and gasped.
“That’s ultramarine. It must have been ghastly expensive.”
“The monks were delighted to take my gold.” He ran a finger down the side of her face, twisting her hair between his fingers. “The color is the same as the dark flecks in your eyes. The moment I saw the color, I knew you must have it.”
“Oh, Edward.” Tears threatened but didn’t fall. “I’m so very happy.”
He held up two more jars. “One of the monks said these are for water and egg to make tempera.”
“I’ll paint the castle and the gardens and the people.” She looked at him, feeling shy yet aching. “Would you sit for me?”
He startled. “You wish to paint me?”
“I do.”
“Aye, my visage should be captured. The future men in your time are weak and should see what a knight of the realm looks like.” The arrogance was back, and she grinned.
“Of course, my lord.”
“Harrumph.” He pulled her on his lap. “Tell me all you would paint.” With a finger, he tilted up her chin. “I would send the monks wagons of gold to see you so pleased.”
She laughed. “Don’t say that. You haven’t seen how much I love to paint. We might have to live in a hut after I squander all your gold.”
Chapter Twenty-One
During her stay, Jennifer had managed to avoid getting on a horse. They were pretty, and she’d fed them carrots but ride? No way.
So how was it she found herself nervously eyeing a beautiful black horse with a white patch in the center of its forehead that looked almost like a heart?
Edward came striding toward her. The man pulled all the energy to him, every eye watching him. The movie-star effect.
“The cook packed the tarts you enjoy.” He put his arms around her waist, and she wiggled way. “Is aught amiss?”
She took another step back. “No. Why don’t we walk to the coast? A nice, long walk would be lovely. It’s a beautiful day.”
“Do not be foolish. The horses are faster.”
But she took another step back. The stable boy stood waiting, and there were a few of Edward’s men around. They would all laugh at her.
Up on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, “I can’t ride.”
“You recovered a sen’night ago. Are you unwell again?”
“Shhh.” She put a finger to
her lips. “No. I never learned how.”
Edward blinked at her. “You are unable to ride? How do you travel in your time?”
His men, hearing, took a few steps closer.
“Nice. You were supposed to whisper.”
He looked abashed. Alistair eyed her as if she were from another planet, which, given the years, wasn’t too far off base.
“You are a woman. How have you never been astride a horse? Was your sire cruel? Did he beat you and lock you in your chamber?”
They were drawing a crowd. Everything was closing in, and all she wanted to do was run away. But she’d been pushing herself out of her comfort zone. Trying to get used to being around more people. There wasn’t much privacy in medieval England. So she straightened and looked each man in the eye.
“When I was a…child, my sire sent me to learn to ride for a…sen’night. Since then I have never been on a horse. Where I come from, people do not ride horses.”
This caused all kinds of discussion.
Edward pressed his lips to her ear, sending shivers down her back. “Cars?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded, but the smug look on his face pushed the shivers away. So she stepped on his foot.
“Cars go much faster than horses.”
“Harrumph.”
As they stood there grinning at each other as if tied together by an invisible thread, Brom sauntered up, glanced between them, and grinned. He slapped Edward on the arm.
“Haven’t seen such a smile since we were at court.”
For a moment Edward frowned, then he grinned at her. “A beautiful woman will make all men fools.”
Heat traveled up her ribcage. “All beautiful women?”
Brom laughed.
“Nay, mistress. Only you.”
“Oh. Well then.”
His men looked just as amused, and she’d had enough of being out of her comfort zone for the day.
“Guess you better help me up on this horse.”
Edward lifted her up. “Midnight is gentle. She will follow Thor.”
Just like she’d follow him wherever he went, but of course she wouldn’t tell him that. His head was big enough as it was.
First Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 3) Page 8
