by Sherry Ewing
Fletcher’s conflicting emotions led him across the solar to stand at the window. The day had been clear, and the night appeared ’twould be the same. Yet he was troubled, not only with thoughts of performing his duty to his father, but of leaving Jenna behind.
“I have not been home in many a year,” he stated, pushing his hair back from his face, the breeze having disheveled his locks. “I am unsure how I feel about returning to a place I have not seen since my childhood.”
“I remember your father with great fondness, Fletcher. He was a man I looked up to during my time in service to him. I pray all will be well with him, and that he recovers from his illness.”
“Thank you, Dristan. I know he thinks of you as a son. I am more concerned with how Jenna will react when I must needs tell her she shall remain here at Berwyck whilst I am gone, attending to my affairs at Lancashire.”
“She will be safe here.”
“’Tis not her safety I am concerned about, but some inner fear that to leave without her would be an unwise decision on my part.”
“You have no choice in either matter. I will keep a close eye so you need not worry about her. You require speed to reach your father’s side in time and do not need the additional worry of traveling with a woman.”
“Aye, I know you have that aright, but there is still something leaving me unsettled.” Fletcher saw Dristan’s puzzled expression and knew he yet had questions. “Do not ask me why I feel this sudden apprehension. I only know ’tis here, hiding just beneath the surface.” Fletcher held his hand to his heart.
Dristan came and clasped his hand down upon Fletcher’s shoulder. Fletcher returned the gesture. They had been more than just friends for all the years they had been together. ’Twas more of a brotherly bond from watching each other’s back for more years than either could remember.
“I do not know if I should envy you and Riorden, or pity the both of you, for the modern women who have traveled great distances to find you. Mayhap, ’tis the unknown premonition of events yet to happen that leaves you on edge,” Dristan said thoughtfully.
“This does leave one to ponder the true meaning of time, does it not?”
“Aye, but I will leave such rambling thoughts to those who must deal with them or the bards who come to weave their tales in my hall,” Dristan replied honestly. “You best say goodbye to your lady afore you take your leave of her. If she is anything like Lady Katherine, she will not be pleased you do not take her with you.”
Fletcher made his way to Jenna’s chamber, hesitating afore he gave a firm knock upon the portal. She opened it faster than he had anticipated, almost as though she had known he was heading in her direction. He saw her take only one look at him afore worry became etched upon her lovely face.
“What’s wrong?” she inquired of him in a startled whisper. She opened the door wider, surprising him when she grabbed a hold of his arm then all but pulled him inside the chamber. The sound of the door shutting and the bolt being slammed into place, ensuring their privacy, gave him further pause. “Tell me,” she demanded. “Your face is as white as a ghost.”
“’Tis my father. I have received word he is on his death bed and languishes to hold on to life ’til I arrive home,” Fletcher answered, going to the hearth and throwing a log onto the fire. He began to pace, not knowing how he would tell her she was to stay here at Berwyck. “I must needs leave with all haste, for I may already be too late.”
“And where is home?”
“Lancashire Castle. ’Tis to the south, but north of London.”
“Since I don’t have much here to call my own, it won’t take me too long to gather a few things to take with us,” she replied in a rush. “What about you, Fletcher? Will it take a while for you to gather whatever we’ll need to travel so quickly?”
Jenna began to flutter about the room like a small bird in flight. He had a hard time catching hold of her hands in order to cease her packing. “Jenna,” he began, “you must stay here where I know you shall remain safe.”
“But I’ll be safer with you. Please don’t leave me here, Fletcher,” she cried out. “We’re supposed to be together. You said as much yourself.”
“Aye, and I spoke no falsehood when I made such a vow to you.”
“Then why are you leaving me behind with people I don’t know?”
He grabbed a hold of her, and her body trembled against his own whilst he placed his hands around her waist, pulling her close. “I must travel fast, my lady. The midnight hours are not a time to be traveling about with a woman whose safety is most precious to my own wellbeing.”
Her arms tightened around his own waist in a sign she was more frightened than he thought.
“I’m so s-scared, Fletcher,” she stammered, confirming his own fears.
He lifted her chin between his fingers to fully gaze into the green of her eyes. “There is nothing to be afraid of, ma petite. Dristan will watch over you, and I will return afore long.”
Her hands reached up and around his neck ’til she stood on the tips of her toes. God’s blood! How was he to leave her behind when she was awakening parts of him not stirred in such a long time? He clasped her to him ’til their bodies were molded one unto the other, but ’twas her words that ignited the fire within him that would surely become a blazing inferno.
“Kiss me, Fletcher,” she murmured softly, leaning further into him. “Kiss me, and prove to me you won’t forget me while you’re gone.”
Forgetting any oath of chivalry he may have made to leave her untouched, he swooped down to devour her mouth as he all but claimed her. This kiss was nothing compared to the one they had shared earlier this day. Nay, ’twas possessive, demanding, as if they had been starved for the other their entire lives, and, perchance, therein lay the truth of what emotions she stirred in him. He had been waiting for her all his life. Jenna would complete him as no other woman on this earth ever could.
Common sense began to seep into his brain, and it took every ounce of control within him to pull her from his arms. Her eyes begged him in silence to change his mind, but he could not take the chance of putting her in danger. With one last look at her, he made his way to the door and yanked the offensive portal open afore speaking his mind.
“Keep within the castle walls, Jenna. I will return as soon as I am able.”
“Just come back to me,” she whispered. There was a catch in her voice, and Fletcher could only ponder how close she was to shedding a river of tears that would surely be his downfall.
“I will. Of that, you can be sure, my lady,” He gave her one last glance. “Wait for me…”
Afore he changed his mind, he shut the door and made his way from the keep. The night was dark by the time he left Berwyck’s gates, along with the half-dozen knights who accompanied him. Far into the evening hours, he kept up a furious gallop in order to reach his destination. The sound of the horses’ hooves kept his mind on something other than the troubling matters inside his head. He swore he could hear Jenna’s tearful crying penetrating down to his very soul.
Chapter 19
Jenna pushed a lock of hair away from her face with the back of her hand. Specks of flour danced before her eyes as the beginnings of a sneeze tickled her nose. She held her breath and turned her head, waiting. But nothing escaped her, and now she had the sudden urge to blow her nose. Where was a good old tissue when she needed one?
The kitchen really was the center of every home. In the case of a castle and the multitudes of people who needed feeding throughout the day, it was a working marvel of achievement. And it was scorching hot from the fires that needed to be kept constantly lit. People scurried from one chore to another and sometimes barely missed tripping over one another as they went about their labors. No one seemed to mind when she asked Cook if she might be of some assistance. He had peered down at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows and promptly shown her the technique of preparing bread.
She returned her attention to the dough she had been k
neading. Who would have figured Jenna would be learning the finer points of bread making, including picking rocks and small stones out of the flour? Sifting it time and again had taken seemingly forever until Cook finally approved of her efforts. The finer the flour was sifted determined if it would be good enough for the lord and lady of the keep. The coarser the bread seemed to determine one’s station in life. She could only imagine the number of teeth broken by serfs biting down into a rock.
Jenna punched at the dough again and again with her fists, working it back and forth upon the wooden board. Particles of flour floated in the air, and she noticed how her arms, going all the way up past her elbows, were covered with a dusting of white powdered specks. She could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. No one would surely comment on how she appeared in the kitchen, since many of the other occupants were covered in similar foodstuff. At least she wasn’t butchering meat.
After forming the dough into two large balls, she placed a moist cloth over the bowel to let them sit and rise. She never had thought how much effort it was to make a loaf of bread, never having had the need, or the ability, to do such menial labor. A supermarket had anything and everything she could ever need at her disposal, and Jenna rarely had time to make things like this from scratch.
She accidently knocked a wooden spoon off the table she had been working on, and silently cursing her carelessness, she leaned over, only to have to get on her hands and knees to try and reach the object. Wiggling her fingers, she attempted to grab hold of its edge, but it lay just beyond her reach. Hunching down even further, she at last managed to clasp it, and, with a triumphant shout of glee, Jenna rose from the filthy floor only to notice the entire kitchen had become oddly silent.
All eyes were downcast, as if they had given some offense. Turning in the direction of the main archway, Jenna saw Dristan looking at her. Up and down went those steely grey eyes taking in her filthy attire until a frown of displeasure became plastered on his handsome face. She looked around, hoping it had been someone else who had angered the man, but quickly came to the realization he was staring only at her. There was no other who had apparently given him offense.
He crooked his finger in her direction, leaving her no choice but to follow the irate man. Seeing as she hadn’t been on the receiving end of his foul mood, she thought it best to comply and listen to her woman’s intuition telling her to keep up with his hurried stride.
Jenna watched the commanding presence of the man who was Amiria’s husband. She didn’t know much about him, but what she had heard made her shiver. Not that she actually believed the rumors he was in league with the Devil and did his bidding. But she had listened to the maids whispering how his reputation as the Devil’s Dragon had won him many battles, including the siege years ago at Berwyck. It was hard to imagine such an event happening against these walls that now kept her safe from outside influences. Not to mention she had seen Dristan with his children. He had a soft spot there, for sure, although she knew he would never admit it out loud.
Dristan made his way into the garden behind the kitchen area and leaned up against a fruit tree to pick a ripe apple off its branches. He offered it to her, and she gladly accepted the juicy bit of fruit. He picked another before motioning for her to sit on a wooden bench underneath an archway of flowers then took his place, beside her.
They sat there in silence, just the two of them. The sound of their munching was the only disturbances to the peacefulness surrounding them. Finishing the treat, since the only thing remaining was the core, Jenna set it aside and for the first time looked down at the apron tied around her waist. It was disgustingly soiled. Her stint on the floor searching for a spoon hadn’t helped it any. Dristan’s expression was grim while he again took a look at her garb.
“You might as well tell me why you’re so ticked off at me and get it over with, Dristan.” She gave him a sideways glance and saw his brow furrow in puzzlement at her words. “You’re angry with me…why?” she finished while rubbing her arms to help remove the flour.
“You are a lady under my care,” he stated so matter-of-factly, her brow rose at his assumption he should be concerned for her welfare. She was within his castle walls. Nothing was going to penetrate these defenses. Of course she was safe.
“What does that have to do with why you’re pissed off…upset with me?”
He continued to peruse her until she squirmed uncomfortably. “I shall never get used to the way you modern women have speech. First Lady Katherine, now you. Am I forever to be plagued with women from your century ending up at my gates?”
Jenna shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you. Would it make you feel better if I called you my lord instead of your given name?”
“I doubt how you address me shall make any difference or stop these wild occurrences. Call me what you will,” Dristan huffed, apparently annoyed he could not figure her out.
“I still don’t know what has you so upset, my Lord Dristan,” Jenna replied respectfully. She immediately could tell he was pleased on how she addressed him.
“God’s wounds, woman, you were in the kitchen like some common serf. A lady does not comport herself to sink so low as to perform such menial labor. She has other means to occupy her time,” he growled. Standing, he began to pace in front of her until he stopped.
“I don’t see how giving a helping hand where it’s needed is such a big deal. Your own wife spends most of her time, when not attending the children, out in the lists, hacking away with a very lovely sword you, yourself, gifted her with,” Jenna’s sharp retort caused Dristan to point his finger at her.
“Amiria is different,” he interjected.
“Of course, she is, and I admire the fact she stands at your side as an equal, for the most part. Very uncommon, I’m sure, for this time period when most women are just chattel to men and kings. I think highly of you and hold you with the utmost respect that you allow her to do so.” She watched in amusement as his lips snapped shut. “I’m not one to just sit around doing nothing, my lord. I don’t see the differences in a person’s station in life of lady over serf. So, for me, I don’t feel like I’m crossing some invisible barrier that shouldn’t be breeched. As long as I can be of some use, I don’t mind pitching in where I’m needed. It’s very common where I come from.”
“You are a long way from home, Lady Jenna, and hence are not familiar with our ways. It may be wise for you to observe the approach of things afore you try to go changing the lives of others you will one day leave behind,” he murmured with a meaningful gaze.
Her breath caught in her throat as she understood the significance of what he was trying to tell her. “Are you attempting to tell me I’ll be leaving Berwyck?”
“We are all destined to find our own paths to follow in this journey we call life. Yours brought you here to this time and place. No one can say how long you shall remain with us.” Dristan’s tone held a reverent, thoughtful quality, giving Jenna pause to ponder his words.
Becoming lost in thought as the reality of her world came crashing down around her, she recognized she could very well be stuck here for the rest of her days. But, would that be such a horrible thing? She tried to imagine herself as a lady of some far off castle, as she had for most of her life. Trying to visualize and wish for something that was never going to happen was one thing. Now she had the opportunity to fulfill all of her wildest dreams. Who could have predicted such an anomaly Time had presented her with, such an incredible opportunity?
“I just wanted to be of some use. I certainly didn’t mean any harm,” she replied softly.
Dristan came and sat back down beside her to pat her hand. “No harm has been done. I merely make the suggestion that whilst you are here, you should learn all you can of our ways. I know, ’tis much to take in.”
Jenna leaned back against the bench, trying to fight off the sudden urge to cry. “I feel so lost, Dristan,” she groaned, forgetting to use the formal way of addressing him, a
s she had but moments before. “I have no connection to my past life, including a mother who must surely be frantic with worry about me. I have no connection to Berwyck, with the exception of the kindness of strangers. More importantly, with each passing day, I feel my connection to Fletcher slipping through my fingertips like water. He gets farther and farther away from me with the passing of each and every second of time, if that makes any sense at all.”
“Fletcher will soon return, and yet, I am just as certain he will not remain at Berwyck for long.” Dristan counseled her with a firm voice of reason. “His duties to the king and his father’s estate will now fall to him with his sire's passing, or should he not recover fully from his illness. He will, of course, hasten to conclude his business at Lancashire, for he will want to fetch you. If nothing else, he will want you to take your place at his side. Such a position, as his lady, will require specific obligations to not only him, as your lord, but to his people…your people.”
“I don’t even have the vaguest idea where I would begin to learn everything I would need to know.”
“We shall begin by requesting Amiria’s aid. I will send her to your chamber once you’ve changed.”
“You’ll help me?”
She watched as his brow rose to her question. “You had your doubts?”
“Why wouldn’t I? There’s no reason for you to give me any kind of assistance when you hardly know me.”
He stood. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “I know of you, Jenna. You are the woman who will steal the heart of yet another of my knights. For that reason alone, I would lay down my life in order to protect you.”
He escorted her to the steps of the keep and left her to make her way to her chamber…Fletcher’s chamber. With thoughts of learning everything she could stuff into her poor little brain about the running of a castle, she practically ran up the several flights of stairs. Jenna wanted to make Fletcher proud and not be someone he’d be embarrassed to be around. Finally, she had a purpose. It was time to take her place in twelfth century England.
