Evermore (Knight Everlasting Book 3)

by Cassidy Cayman

  No! He was depraved. He probably planned to knock into her. And he was delusional. Thinking she was someone else, a mistress of his perhaps. Maybe he assumed because she wasn’t of high birth that she would welcome his advances. Well, she may never be married, but she would never sink to being some man’s mistress.

  She pushed him forcibly from her mind, unable to eat her meal while he was tormenting her thoughts. She couldn’t keep herself from sneaking peeks at him though. Batty sat down with her and blathered away about one thing or another between bites. Nothing was really out of the ordinary. They had unexpected guests at the castle all the time. She didn’t know why she was so unsettled by Lord Jordan.

  “It’s because of his monstrous advances, that’s why,” Batty said.

  Marjorie groaned, realizing she must have spoken her thoughts aloud. She never did such things.

  “I just want to forget about it,” she said. “When do you think he’ll leave?”

  Batty shook her head, gazing at Marjorie sympathetically. “Who knows? I hate to burden you further, but one of the boys told me more guests are on their way here.”

  “Who?”

  “It was little Sam who told me while I was helping him chop fish heads. He heard it from one of the guards on the wall.”

  Marjorie sighed impatiently. “Who is the new guest?”

  Batty blushed. “Oh, that’s very exciting news. It’s Lord Drayton and his men. Quite a party it should be. It’s rumored he’s looking for a wife.”

  “Bah, when are they not looking for wives?” Marjorie said scornfully. “He’ll be sorely disappointed to learn he’s too late. But when will they arrive? If the guards saw them from the wall, they must be close.”

  “No, it was one of his men who rode ahead to give us notice. That was kind, wasn’t it? And what do you mean too late? It’s only Fay who’s married. Sophie or Anne might be the lucky choice. He’s supposed to be extremely rich.”

  “You still didn’t tell me when they would arrive,” Anne said. “Sophie’s as good as betrothed to Sir Leo. You’re blind or daft if you disagree. Anne says she’ll never marry. And at this point, I have to believe her. Finally, Sir Walter is extremely rich. Why would that impress anyone here?”

  Batty made a face at her. “I’m not going to accuse you of constantly draining away all my joy because of what happened to you today. But I think Sophie can do better than Sir Leo.” She lowered her voice at the last part.

  “Well, good thing it’s not up to you, because mark my words. They’ll be announcing it any day now. And you only think there’s something wrong with him because he’s so ugly. But he’s kind and it’s clear he adores her. Looks aren’t everything, Batty. Your handsome Brom is going to be an old, stooped, toothless man one day. Will you love him any less?”

  Batty stood up. “You’re too mean to speak with anymore. And I pray that Brom lives to be an old, stooped man. I’ll love him even more.”

  “You forgot toothless,” Marjorie said.

  With a huff and a toss of her skirts, Batty stamped away toward the kitchen.

  Marjorie found that upsetting Batty didn’t improve her mood. She got up and headed toward the stairs to get Anne’s room ready for when she retired for the evening. She pulled the heavy stairwell door open and came face to face with Lord Jordan.

  Was he a ghost? She was certain he’d just been at the high table with Sir Walter. It was more likely he followed her the moment she left the great hall. She turned on her heel to get away from him. He jumped off the bottom stair and whisked around her so fast her skirts swished.

  “Lord Jordan, please excuse me,” she said firmly. She gave him her nastiest look. It was the one that made Batty cry.

  He held up his hands and bounced back and forth in the hallway to keep her from passing. He was truly a madman. She turned again, thinking to run up the stairs to Anne’s room. He’d never follow her there. But he’d most certainly be faster than her and she didn’t want to be trapped in the stairwell with him.

  “Please, Lyra, listen to me for one minute.” He stopped bobbing and clasped his hands together in front of him. “Okay, Marjorie is it? I’ll call you Marjorie if that will make you talk to me.”

  “My lord, my name is Marjorie. It’s only right that’s what I should be called. But I beg you not to address me at all.”

  To her dismay, tears sprang in his eyes, making them sparkle in the candlelit hallway. “I only came because you said I could get back. Tell me that’s true.”

  He was standing a good distance from her and keeping his hands clasped in front of him. He looked pathetic enough that her fear lessened a bit.

  “Certainly you can leave any time you want,” she said, softening her tone. “But I don’t know why you say I told you anything about coming here. How could I have done that when I only met you for the first time today?” She backed up a few steps, relieved he didn’t advance on her again.

  He still stared at her. Disbelief shone in his glistening eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?” he asked raggedly. “You’re really not Lyra?”

  She felt truly sorry for him now, willing to forgive his transgression. It was clear he wasn’t in his right mind. “I’m sorry. I am not her.”

  The disbelief in his expressive, mad eyes turned to abject terror. Marjorie feared he might faint when he swayed on his feet. “Lord Jordan, I’ll call for help. You don’t seem well. Please, perhaps sit down—yes, there on the floor is fine.” She ran back toward the great hall and met with Sir Leo and Sophie on their way out. “Your friend, the chancellor, is ill, Sir Leo.” She pointed behind her to the sad figure sitting against the wall, his face in his hands.

  “Oh God, Jordan,” Sophie said, hurrying to him.

  Marjorie almost grabbed her back, to warn her that the man might be dangerous. But she didn’t think he was anymore. At least not in his broken state. It took her a second, but she finally wondered why Sophie was so concerned about someone she’d only met that day. Perhaps because he was so close to Sir Leo? She caught Sir Leo’s eyes and quickly looked away. She was still a little afraid of him, despite what she said to Batty.

  “That will be all, thank you, Marjorie,” he said dismissively. “I’ll take care of Lord Jordan.”

  She nodded and ran, glad to be away from the oppressive air in the hallway. Something about seeing that poor man brought so low over nothing had her discombobulated. She liked it better when she was able to hate him freely. The entire rest of the night she couldn’t shake his stricken face when he realized she wasn’t that Lyra he kept asking for.

  Before she went to bed, she offered up a little prayer that whoever Lyra was, he could find her or forget about her. She tossed and turned enough to get Batty to complain about it from her own tiny bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to be still until she finally fell asleep.

  *

  They each walked on one side of Jordan, guiding him back to Leo’s room. Sophie had been all ready to ream him a new one, but had stopped short when she saw him hunched over in the hallway, face in his hands. Thankfully, he wasn’t crying. She couldn’t stand to see him or her father cry.

  She knew it was sexist to not want men to cry, but that was how she felt. If a single tear had rolled down her brother’s cheek, she would have lost it. Everything she’d been carrying around since she got there. All her fears of losing Leo if the curse reset itself again without warning, of having whoever or whatever was assisting the curse make another attempt to murder her, of life in the Middle Ages in general, would come crashing out of her.

  They got him sitting on a chair in Leo’s room and Sophie pressed a cup of wine into his hand. He drank it down.

  “It’s really not her,” he said. “She’s really not Lyra.”

  “Of course she isn’t,” Sophie said gently. “I told you who she was. And you have to leave her alone. I heard you accosted her in the hallway earlier. You’re going to get a bad reputation.”

  “You know I didn’t
accost her. We only bumped into each other.”

  “Because you were following her?”

  “Drop it, Soph. I had to talk to her, but she said she wasn’t Lyra.”

  “Yes, we’ve covered this.”

  “But it was her, I know it was,” he said, wild-eyed. “Or someone who looks exactly like her.”

  “Was it dark when you saw her? Lyra?”

  She couldn’t help say the name with some derision. Even if she was for real, which Sophie highly doubted, she’d gotten her brother to essentially kill himself. For that, she was never going to be one of Sophie’s favorite people.

  Jordan shrugged. “A little, but I’m not wrong. I’d know that face anywhere.”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you say you thought your witch friend was hot? Nobody could say that about Marjorie.”

  “Overly warm?” Leo said, head tilted to the side. “She isn’t that, you’re right.”

  “He meant that she was extremely attractive,” Sophie explained. “And you know Mom didn’t like you to say that about women,” she added to Jordan. He rolled his eyes at her.

  “Ah, well …” Leo trailed off, too polite to finish his sentence.

  “See, Marjorie isn’t hot or even all that pretty.”

  “When did you become such a mean girl?” Jordan asked bitterly. “I think she’s pretty. Gorgeous, in fact. I was surprised because Lyra’s glamors were always of someone older than her. Like, decrepit old.”

  Sophie recalled the person in the attic. Raspy voice and wispy, white hair. She shook it off. “Okay, to each their own, then,” she said.

  “You’re one to judge who anybody finds attractive,” Jordan said, nodding his head at Leo.

  Leo leered frighteningly, his scar stretching. “I’m handsome,” he said without pause.

  Sophie beamed at him. “You are, sweetie.”

  “He was joking, dummy,” Jordan said.

  “He’s correct. I was making a jest, dearest. But thank you. I appreciate that you think so.”

  She put her face in her hands, dismayed at the turn of topics. It went to show how insurmountable their problem was that they’d veered so far into trifling matters. “What do we do?” she moaned through her fingers.

  “The plan has not changed,” Leo said. “He’ll meet someone at our wedding and the curse will be broken.”

  “There might be some women with that party that’s supposed to arrive in three or four days,” Jordan said listlessly.

  “What party?” Sophie sat up straight. She’d just spoken to Catherine two or three hours earlier and hadn’t heard a peep about it. How could Jordan have gossip before her? Catherine was probably too busy warning Sophie about the depraved guest.

  He closed his eyes. “Lord Drayton? I’m pretty sure that’s right.”

  Sophie’s stomach turned over and her skin went cold. She struggled to breathe. Leo noticed her distress and sat beside her, taking her hand.

  “What’s the matter? Do you know him?” Jordan asked.

  She nodded, still finding it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. Leo put his arm around her and answered for her.

  “Some of the same events keep recurring every time the curse resets.”

  Sophie found her voice at last. “He’s been here twice already, at least that Fay and I know of. He’s an ass. And he’s way, way early. Everything happened a lot faster last time than the time before, but this is much too fast. It’s only been a day. One day, Leo. What are we going to do?”

  Leo remained silent at her side. Jordan got up and paced. Finally, he stopped. “It was your coffin,” he said, voice cracking.

  “What?” It was such an out of the blue statement.

  “You came back on a plane. In cargo,” he said. “That was bad enough. Then Mom wanted a closed casket. She was really cagy about it, like something might have been wrong with you. That was bad, too.” Jordan paced a few steps and stopped again. “But your coffin was all wrong. I mean, it was wrong enough you were in one at all, but it was this stupid, dark, shiny, old man coffin.”

  A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away, not allowing any more to fall. “I would have wanted a white one,” she said.

  “Right?” he agreed eagerly, pacing once more. “So everything was wrong and I already didn’t want to believe you were gone. When Randolph told me you might not be, I jumped. I honestly thought I was saving you, Soph. Not screwing things up worse.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go to my funeral,” she said, her throat sore from holding back the floodgates. “That was my fault. I put on the dress, same as you.”

  They were silent for several long seconds when Leo snorted. Then laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was imagining your brother in a dress.”

  “That’s not very sensitive,” Jordan said.

  “A lot of men wear dresses in our time, it’s perfectly fine,” Sophie said at precisely the same time.

  But she couldn’t help a short burst of laughter coming out. Jordan was a pretty tall, muscular guy. He must have split most of the seams and it probably barely covered his knees. She could almost picture dear old Randolph helping him into it and her laughter grew. Finally, Jordan joined in.

  “It wasn’t my style at all,” he said, making her laugh harder. When they settled down, he said seriously, “You know how you found that book Fay wrote? What if we wrote something for Mom and Dad? If Randolph finds it, he’ll make sure to get it to them.”

  “Maybe,” she said, not sure continuing to cross timelines was a good idea. It was what had gotten both of them there in the first place. “I’m exhausted. Can you promise you won’t accost Marjorie anymore so I can get a good night’s sleep? And give up on the Lyra business? I promise there’s no way back. But if we break the curse, we can make lives here.” She took Leo’s hand. “I’m happy now, I swear it. I wouldn’t go back even if there was a way.”

  Jordan gave her a look that plainly said he didn’t believe her. Then he frowned. “I didn’t accost Marjorie, but all right. I’ll leave her alone.” He sighed deeply, clearly not wanting her to leave. “But I want to get back. I can’t understand why you’re fine with staying.” He paused and scowled at Leo. “Besides your great love.”

  “It is a great love,” she said, squeezing Leo’s hand. “And I found a new family. Anne and Fay and Father didn’t replace you and Mom and Dad, but they’re wonderful. I’m getting a little better at sewing every day and once Leo and I get married, I can take care of our home and children.” She held up her hand before he could remind her of the modern world aspirations she’d given up. “There are a lot of fascinating things about this time that I could have never learned from books. Most important of all is, we can’t get back.” She enunciated every word. “I learned to accept it and you will, too.”

  “But how? Yay for you for learning to sew. Sounds fascinating, but what can I do? A twenty-first century man is as useless here as our cell phones would be.”

  “I could teach you how to defend yourself,” Leo offered when she remained silent.

  She wanted to encourage Jordan but what he said was true. It was easier for her to blend in since women were paid so little mind. She nearly gagged in modern day outrage at the thought, but all she really had to do was get married and let Leo take care of her. It was a good thing she adored him so much or she’d want to rebel as much as Jordan still did. She shrugged helplessly at her brother.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” she said. “But you’re here …”

  “Yes, yes, I get it. Learn to fit in, stop fighting reality. You can go to sleep.”

  He waved her off and turned his back so she could kiss Leo goodnight. It wasn’t until she was in her room and Batty was taking out her braids that she realized Jordan hadn’t promised to give up on the Lyra business. So much for her good night’s sleep.

  Chapter 9

  One thing Jordan wasn’t used to was being bossed around by his younger sister. She might have been the so-called e
xpert of this time due to being there longer, but he wasn’t going to take her word as law. The moment he heard Leo snoring away in his bed, Jordan got up off his pallet on the floor and crawled to the door. He had to stop every three seconds because he was positive every creak of his elbow joints or the slightest tap on the floor was going to wake up the ex-knight. But his battle senses must have been dulled to complacence in the safe, cozy castle because Jordan eventually made it to the door.

  He prayed to every entity he could think of before easing it open an inch. No squeaks, so he took a moment to thank all the entities before slowly sliding it open enough for him to crawl out. He continued on his hands and knees for several feet outside before standing up and jogging as silently as he could down the stairs. He managed to find his way to an outside area behind the kitchen. After a frustrating half an hour, he finally got outside the walls. A good lot of that was waiting for the guards on the wall to be in a position not to see him when he was on the other side. He had no doubt at all he’d be in big trouble if not dead if he was caught racing toward the forest.

  But there he was, racing toward the forest once again, expecting an arrow in his back at any moment. It wasn’t until he was twenty feet inside the treeline that he slowed his pace. He had no idea if he was anywhere near where he first met Lyra, but she was a witch who could travel through time. He expected her to be able to find him.

  “Lyra,” he hissed. Nothing, not even the rustle of a small animal. He hoped there were only small animals out here. He deepened his voice. “Lyra, I summon you to keep your promise.”

  He sat down and leaned against a tree. He hadn’t really expected his dramatics to work, but he was desperate. He’d try anything. Despite the cold, he dozed off, only to be awakened by twigs snapping nearby. There was a rustle of fabric and Lyra stepped into the clearing. Or Marjorie. He rubbed his sleep-clouded eyes and stood up.