“No, that isn’t what I mean. Don’t you think it’s enough to love someone? Without asking for anything in return?”
Batty snorted. “Certainly not. What’s the point of loving someone who’ll never love you back? Like I already said, it’s a recipe for heartache.”
“I disagree. Having those pure feelings should be enough. I think so, anyway.”
Batty thrashed around under her covers until she was able to sit up. Marjorie could see her outline in the dark and could easily imagine her round face was filled with disbelief. “Do you love Lord Jordan? Despite the fact he’d never love you? Is that what you’re saying?”
Marjorie wanted to snap that Batty was being cruel, but she knew she was only being honest and pragmatic. Her oldest friend didn’t want her to suffer heartache. For a long moment, she couldn’t answer the question. Denying her secret love seemed wrong. She couldn’t do it that disservice.
“It’s only an intellectual discussion, Batty,” she finally sniffed. “Something you wouldn’t understand, of course.” Batty had answered her with a snore.
Looking around behind her to see if Jordan was climbing the ladder yet, she still believed what she said was right. Love was something you gave. If it wasn’t returned to you, that didn’t mean it wasn’t real or was without worth. And her secret feelings for Jordan made her happy. She didn’t care what Batty said. Much.
She pulled her elbows in from the arrow slit and wandered to the bench where she’d set her neatly-wrapped package. It wasn’t too late to hide it. She sat down and slid it under her skirts and stared up at the sky. Perhaps he wasn’t coming.
“You look pensive.”
She turned at the sound of his voice, smiling brightly. “Oh, Jordan, hello.” She jumped to her feet and curtsied, something he continued to tell her not to do.
“Your smile makes the sun look dull,” he said, holding out his hand for her to sit back down. He sat next to her and held out a cloth sack. “I brought bread and your favorite dried herring.”
It wasn’t her favorite, she actually only ate it under duress. “How did you know that?” she asked, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. He looked so pleased with himself.
“I told the cook this little picnic was for you and asked him what you especially liked.”
Well, that explained it. The cook was the grumpiest man in the castle, only rivaled by Edgar at his drunkest. Still, the cook’s ill will didn’t dampen her happiness that Jordan had thought to bring her something. Feeling her face heating up, she pulled her own gift out from under her skirts.
“I made this for you,” she said in a rush, all but shoving the package into his lap. He tore open the cloth wrapping and held up the tunic she’d sewn for him. “I hope you don’t find it too poor,” she said. “But since your trunk was lost on the journey from Italy, I thought it might be useful if not lovely.” She looked at her hands. She’d made countless shirts but never one as a gift and she worried he might find it lacking.
“Are you serious?” he asked, standing up and holding it against himself. “It looks like it’s going to fit perfectly. I’m so tired of wearing the same thing over and over. This is amazing, thank you.”
And just like Batty had foretold, he leaned over and plopped a kiss on her cheek. Beaming, he sat down and inspected the tunic as if it were a rare tapestry. She gaped at him, the spot on her cheek feeling like it was on fire. She wanted to run, she wanted to stay and find a way to get him to kiss her again. She’d never felt so exposed in her life. Slowly, as if her hand were being dragged through honey, she touched her cheek. He stopped admiring the shirt and turned to her.
His smile faltered when he saw her holding her cheek as if she’d been slapped. She didn’t want him to think she felt that way, but she was powerless to move.
“I’m so sorry, Marjorie,” he said, putting the tunic aside and reaching for her hand. With a slight laugh, he stopped and clasped his hands in his lap. “I was so excited about my present, I forgot myself. I’m really sorry. Please, don’t be offended. I didn’t mean anything by it. In, uh, Italy, we do that sort of thing more freely.”
He didn’t mean anything by it? So this was the recipe for heartache that Batty warned about. And it did most certainly ache. She had two choices. Pretend she didn’t care or … “I’m not offended. I quite liked it.” How she hated her pale skin, always burning with every bit of emotion. Despite her cheeks feeling like a freshly-baked ham, she didn’t look away from his surprised smile. “I’m pleased you like my humble gift.”
“I love it,” he said. “And it’s not humble, it’s magnificent.”
She burst out laughing, wondering how he could always make her so comfortable in the worst times of distress. Being kissed and admitting to liking it wasn’t close to waking up in the woods and not knowing why, but it was disconcerting all the same.
“You must stop being so blatant in your lies. It’s only a tunic.”
He grew serious. “Look me in the eyes,” he demanded. “See if I’m lying.” He gazed at her without blinking and she was captivated by the blue that rivaled the sky.
“Very well, I believe you.” She stood up and waved along the walkway. “You wanted the tour?”
He jumped to his feet, tucking his present under one arm and offering the other to her to hold. She gathered up the cook’s unpleasant bounty and they strolled arm in arm along the wall. “This thing is huge,” he said after they made it only a quarter of the way around. “And not as interesting as I thought it would be.”
She laughed, delighted at his candor. “It’s only a wall,” she said. “Let’s sit and enjoy the nice day and you can tell what news there is about Lord Drayton.”
She also hoped to get some news about Sir Leo and Sophie’s status. When Sophie wasn’t crying she was sullen and quiet. Even Batty couldn’t get her to talk about Sir Leo denouncing his mother in order to save face with Sir Walter so they could still get married. Despite that heroic and heartbreaking deed, there had been no betrothal announcement and Sir Leo had only been at the castle three times in the fortnight since everything came to light.
Jordan groaned. “I wish it could be over already. Three more people who work land for Sir Walter came forward, saying they’d been approached by Drayton. Only one of them accepted the offer and he was so pitiful, Sir Walter merely banished him. The other two will get lashed for not coming forward sooner but they get to stay and continue working their land. Did you hear Sir Tristan’s men found the beginnings of another underground bunker closer to the keep?”
She nodded grimly. “Batty knew from Brom when they returned yesterday. So frightening to think how close they were to succeeding. It’s all thanks to you they didn’t. You saved not only Anne’s life but Sir Walter’s, countless men who would have been slaughtered in the fights to come … surely even mine.”
He blushed, which showed he had humility, unlike many of the knights who could not shut up about their victories. Every day she found new reasons to like him more. “I just got lucky,” he said.
“You were brave,” she insisted. “But what of Drayton? I can’t believe he still lives.”
Jordan shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. She knew he had no love for the man but thought his peaceful beliefs kept him from admitting the foul creature should be dead. “I heard Sir Walter complaining about having to continue to feed him,” he said. “He’s only waiting on word from the king. Tristan told me Sir Walter is within his rights to make the final decision, but he wants everything to be honorable and impartial, unlike Drayton.”
“It’s clear he should be executed,” Marjorie said, clenching her fists.
She longed to be in the first row of spectators when he was hanged, then drawn and quartered. Batty had heard about it in gruesome detail from Brom and had, in turn, shared it all with her. It almost seemed too easy of a death for such a depraved man.
“That’s a pretty bloodthirsty face you’ve got on,” Jordan said, a slight smile on his lips, but
a worried look in his eyes.
“He plotted to kill my family, take my home.” She pounded her fists on her knees. “If it weren’t for Sir Harold, Anne would be heartsick. And poor Sophie. Everything that’s happened has ruined her chances for happiness as well.”
Jordan closed his eyes in despair. “That has to work out, it has to. Leo’s just too ashamed to ask and he needs to get over it. No one believes he had any part of his mother’s greed.” He looked at her sadly, then up at the sky. “We needed to have that big wedding, too.” He stopped abruptly and turned to her with wide eyes. “I mean, Sophie wanted to have a big wedding. Leo mentioned it a lot before he left.”
“We may still have a wedding, yet,” she said. It did still sometimes seem odd to her how much he cared about Sophie and Leo’s relationship, but she imagined it was because he was such a caring person and such a good friend. “I never thought it would be Anne, and I hate the idea of leaving the castle, but she’s so happy, how can I complain?”
He grabbed her hand, brows furrowed. “But why would you leave the castle?”
“If Anne marries Sir Harold, she’d live with him at Kings Way. And, of course, I’d go with her. I’ve always served Lady Anne. But why do you look so upset about that?” She looked away, almost too shy to want to hear the answer.
“I’d miss you,” he said forcefully. He still had her hand in his and he squeezed it. “You’re … my best friend here.”
She turned to see him staring at her questioningly, though he’d asked no question. She was suddenly too warm, too close to blurting out her own feelings for him. A change of subject was needed at once.
“Since Anne’s been feeling so much better, we’ve planned an excursion to Cambrey Village in two days. Gunther will be accompanying us as well as Sir Tristan and Sir Harold. Would—would you care to join us as well? It’s not a long ride and there are some fine shops there.”
“I’d go if the shops were awful. Is Sophie going?” he asked.
She couldn’t hide her frown. Why did he always care so much about Sophie? She paused to wonder if she was feeling jealousy. If so, she didn’t care for it at all. “I suppose. She doesn’t say much but I can’t see her missing out. It’s been ages since we got to go.”
“Do you think I could get a messenger to Leo? Tell him to go? It would cheer her up to see him.”
She relaxed and the heavy jealous feelings lifted. “Yes, that’s a wonderful idea. Sophie’s about given up hope, which is foolish. Anne thought Sir Walter was wary at first, but now she believes he’d accept if only Sir Leo would ask. You’re right that no one believes he was complicit with Lady Alise. That woman was never anything but mean spirited and selfish.”
“Okay,” he said with a huge grin. She felt almost the same seeing his smile as she did looking at Anne’s beautiful tapestries. Like her soul was singing. “I’ll wear my new tunic.” She smiled and leaned back against the wall. “That can’t be comfortable,” he said. “In fact, this bench is about as cold as a block of ice. Do you want to go down?”
Indeed, the afternoon was waning into dusk and the wind had picked up. The bench was as cold as Jordan said and the wall behind her back was rough and scratchy. And yet, she would have stayed out there with him forever. “I’m fine if you want to stay a bit longer,” she said.
He smiled at her some more and scooted closer. “I could stay out here forever,” he said.
She knew it was hopeless and wishful and foolish, but she imagined he added “with you” onto the end of the sentence. She nodded her acquiescence and also scooted a little closer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being so near to him.
Chapter 19
Jordan didn’t know why he should be so happy as he was getting dressed that morning. He was still under a curse, his sister barely looked at him, and he was covered in new bruises. The last was his own doing because he’d approached Tristan’s squire Brom and asked for some simple training. He wanted to be able to defend himself fourteenth century style. Brom was a jovial jokester of a guy but didn’t pull his punches. Or go easy with the wooden practice sword. After only a week of training, Jordan didn’t think he was getting any better, but Brom was encouraging, telling him repeatedly he wasn’t a total loss and would make a fair warrior one day. It was a bit nicer than a lot of the encouragement he’d gotten from his old football coaches, so he kept showing up at the practice field at the crack of dawn each morning.
Since Sophie was giving him the cold shoulder, he’d taken to eating with Brom and some of the other squires at one of the low tables in the great hall. An unexpected and pleasant side effect of that was Batty often joined Brom, and Marjorie often tagged along with Batty. At least that was what he thought, until Batty teasingly asked Marjorie why she so suddenly decided to sit at that table. Batty had looked straight at him while she said it, making him think Marjorie wanted to be close to him. That was probably the reason he’d been walking on air despite the many other reasons he should be fussing and fretting.
It seemed to him that Marjorie had incredibly high standards when it came to men. And why shouldn’t she with that knockout face of hers? She also had opinions and seemed well-educated by any standards, not just fourteenth century. It was clear she could read, as she always had her nose in a prayer book and, oh yes, she was good and devout. He never gave that a thought back in his own time, but he found he liked it now. There weren’t many choices for women in this time. Get married, be a servant, go to a convent. He was sure there were more, but none that Marjorie would ever have to face. He knew having so few choices would put him in a rip-roaring bad mood, but Marjorie accepted it all with aplomb. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Sophie and Fay had once described her as sour or grouchy. He only ever saw her with a smile. He didn’t want to be arrogant, but was he the reason for the smiles? He hoped so.
He stopped getting dressed. Why did he hope so? He couldn’t waste his time or Marjorie’s. It was the height of douchebaggery to lead a woman on in this time. He enjoyed meeting up with Marjorie at the chapel and for stolen moments in the evenings. He was flattered if she chose to sit with him at meals. He only had his own casual dating experiences as a point of reference. He knew he liked Marjorie far more than anyone else he’d ever dated, but there was no such thing as casual dating in this time. If you were the least bit interested, you’d better have marriage on the mind.
“I do have to get married,” he said, pulling up his hose.
He was better at getting dressed, but he still missed things he’d never thought twice about before, like zippers and elastic. He knew the curse only said he had to prove true love and faithfulness weren’t a lie, but how else could he do that without a marriage proposal? If anyone had told him in his own time he had to get married within a few months or a year’s time, he would have laughed so hard he would have puked. Then he would have actually puked when he found out they were serious. But now, it didn’t bother him so much.
Tristan and Fay were so happy he sometimes couldn’t look at them, feeling awkward and uncomfortable around their blatant love. And before the Drayton debacle, Sophie and Leo had been the same. He hoped Leo would man up and meet them on the way to the village that day. He’d sent the message but hadn’t heard back. The stubborn ox better not disappoint his sister or Jordan would put his new, fledgling skills to use to beat the crap out of him.
He pulled Marjorie’s tunic over his head and smoothed it down. It made him feel warm, and not just because of the soft fabric. His own sister couldn’t be bothered to make him anything when she knew he was wearing Leo’s borrowed and ill-fitting clothes. Sweet Marjorie had noticed and jumped all over it. Wasn’t that something a wife would do? He got goosebumps thinking that word and shook his head. Too soon. And yet, he knew he was under a time limit. Was there such a thing as too soon now?
All he wanted to do was enjoy the day and see some new sights. He carefully chose a simple, gold chain out of his stash of things from the future. If there was t
he equivalent to a pawn shop, he meant to get some money. The kindness of strangers was beginning to wear on him and he wanted to feel like he had his own worth. No one would fall in love with, let alone marry, an unemployed pauper. He grunted and then laughed at himself. Of course, that had been exactly what he was in his own time, but he hadn’t been so marriage-minded then.
“Stupid curse,” he muttered as he left the room.
Fortunately, they’d let him keep the chamber despite Leo leaving to settle the mess his mother had made at his own home. Even the curse couldn’t steal his good mood, especially when he saw Marjorie already in the great hall. He sat beside her and she solicitously loaded up a trencher with food for him.
“Ready for the big day?” he asked. To his slight disappointment, Batty turned up and slumped onto the bench across from them.
“Batty, you look awful,” Marjorie said. “Are you ill?”
“Only exhausted,” she said. “Fay woke me in the night to help Catherine deliver the babies. You were sleeping like a log.” Her tired face broke into a smile. “It’s a good thing Fay’s been following her like a watchdog. I think they were a bit early, and it was a harrowing struggle. But they’re all well and lovely and as cute as ducklings.”
Marjorie half-raised from her seat in her excitement. “Babies? Anne was right? It was twins?” Her eyes filled with happy tears and she crossed herself. “God bless the little angels.”
“A boy and a girl, in that order. The girl was as ornery as can be, not wanting to face this world I suppose, but she settled down well enough.” Batty sighed. “Fay said she was going to skip the village, so I suppose Sir Tristan won’t go either.”
“You’re not too tired are you?” Marjorie asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry, I’m going. I can’t believe Fay would rather sleep. You can tie me to the saddle to keep me on the horse if you have to, but I’m most certainly going.”
“Is the village that great?” Jordan asked. They both looked at him as if they were seeing him there for the first time.
Evermore (Knight Everlasting Book 3) Page 15
