by Jennae Vale
“Angelina, please…”
“Oh, right. I was supposed to teach you how to make coffee.” She proceeded to throw away his efforts, starting over again, and Richard watched carefully as she explained the process. When she was done, she cocked her head to one side. “Got it?”
“Yes. I believe so.”
“Good. You can join Nick. I don’t need any help.”
“I’ll go, as long as you promise you’ll allow me to speak with you later.” He wasn’t going to budge from the kitchen until she agreed.
Angelina appeared as if she would argue with him, but instead, she relented. “Okay, okay, I’ll listen. I promise. Now go.” She made a shooing motion with her hands and somewhat relieved, Richard left her and joined Nick by the fire.
* * *
Breathing a sigh of relief, Angelina busied herself with preparing breakfast. Thank goodness he’d left her alone! It had been difficult, but somehow she’d managed to keep her eyes off his chiseled abs and strong, hard chest. She was feeling vulnerable and that was not okay. She hadn’t been vulnerable where a man was concerned in forever, so this had to stop – now! She was perfectly capable of detaching herself emotionally from a man. Granted, it wasn’t usually after one single extremely hot kiss, but he obviously wasn’t interested and so she would live with that. She was friends with Nick, but she wasn’t sure she could be friends with Richard. They’d have to keep their interactions on a purely professional level. What on earth does he want to talk to me about?
If he was going to tell her that after their kiss he found he wasn’t attracted to her, she’d be hurt, but she’d deal with it. She didn’t believe that was the case though. She had experienced a magnetic attraction to him and was sure he had as well. So what was his problem? Gritting her teeth in frustration, Angelina took her bad mood out on the eggs, whipping them beyond what was necessary and then adding them to the pan where she was sautéing some vegetables. Once everything was ready, she put together a plate for each of them and set them on the breakfast bar.
“Nick, Richard, food’s ready.” She poured some fresh coffee and when she went to sit down, found that the two shirtless wonders had each taken an end seat and left the center stool for her. She was used to seeing Nick half dressed. He was very comfortable in his own skin and never gave a thought to whether or not she minded. She didn’t, of course. Nick had a great body, but Richard’s was even better. And now here she was, having to sit next to him. She was the meat in a half-dressed man sandwich. Great. Just great. The last thing she wanted was to be subjected to the force field that seemed to emit from Richard every time she got close to him, drawing her in. Just as she expected, her skin started to burn up the minute she sat down. Her appetite immediately disappeared and instead of eating, she shoveled her food around on the plate while the two men ate every crumb on theirs.
“Are ye going to eat that?” Nick asked eyeing her untouched food.
“No. I’m not very hungry this morning.” Angelina pushed her plate towards him and he took half and sent the rest down the counter to Richard.
“Where’s yer appetite gone to, lass? Did Richard do something he shouldnae have after I went to bed last night? Is that why ye cannae eat?” Nick’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
Angelina didn’t answer immediately and she could sense Richard’s discomfort in the seat next to her. “Of course not, don’t be silly. Nothing of any importance happened. I’m just not hungry. Can’t a girl skip a meal without you jumping to ridiculous conclusions?”
Nick chuckled in apparent disbelief. “I’ve a few phone calls to make, so if ye’ll excuse me. Richard will help ye with the dishes, willnae ye?”
“Yes, I’d be happy to.” Angelina noticed Richard was giving Nick that pained expression again.
“You go sit in the living room, or do whatever it is you do after breakfast. I can do this myself.” The last thing she wanted was to be in close quarters with Richard. She’d barely made it through breakfast and she still had to find a way to get out of their little ‘talk’.
“Alright, I’ll go take a shower then.” Richard departed the kitchen, leaving Angelina to clean up the mess. She quickly got everything done and before Richard had finished showering, she gathered her things and slipped out through the door like a thief in the night, or rather like a woman determined to avoid any further discussions.
* * *
“Where’s Angelina?” Richard asked, as he exited his room fresh from the shower.
“I dinnae ken where she went off to in such a hurry, but she didnae even say goodbye. We’ll see her later today at practice.” Nick stood up and walked towards Richard. “Would ye like to tell me what happened between the two of ye? The air in the room between ye was thick.”
“Nothing happened.” Richard was embarrassed by his behavior the previous night and didn’t feel like sharing with Nick.
“Fine, but I know otherwise. I can read it all over yer face, and Angelina’s was nae any better. And I heard ye tell her that ye needed to explain yerself.” Nick wore that crooked grin that women found disarming, but Richard found just plain annoying. “I ken yer attraction to her and I see that she feels the same. Why can ye nae just enjoy yerself? Live for the here and now, and dinnae worry for tomorrow.”
“If only I could, my friend. You’ve always been able to do that, but as you know, it’s not quite as easy for me.” Richard walked to the window and gazed down into the street.
“Mayhap that is what yer here to learn.” Nick’s expression seemed to suggest he thought he had just solved the puzzle, but Richard wasn’t so certain.
“Perhaps it is, but I think there must be something more. I only hope it reveals itself to me soon. I’d like to go home.”
Chapter 10
As far as practices went, this one had been uneventful, but progress was made among all the men and Richard was certain that by the time the tournament rolled around they would be more than ready. Much to his disappointment, Angelina had not joined them. She’d called Nick and told him she wasn’t feeling well and was going to stay home and rest. Richard knew he was the cause of her absence and he felt terrible about it.
Nick called a cab and they headed back to the house, to discover Quinn waiting for them, and he was carrying Richard’s new sword. If anything would draw Richard out of the doldrums, it was the arrival of a shiny, sharp new sword. He hefted it in his hand for the first time and tested the weight of it. It was lighter than he’d expected, but very finely constructed. In fact, he decided after a moment or two, he liked the lightness. Tiring during a long battle was never good and the weight of this sword would assist him in that regard. The hilt was exquisitely crafted, with black leather and steel wrappings and the wing-like extensions on the guard were beautiful to gaze upon and equally utilitarian. Overall, Richard was quite pleased with Quinn’s efforts.
“Shall we go in?” Nick suggested. “’Tis cold out and I’d enjoy a glass of whiskey. I’m sure you two would like to join me, eh?” He opened the door and Richard and Quinn followed him inside.
“Quinn, you’ve done a fine job. This sword is well balanced, light and beautiful. It will serve me well in future battles. Thank you.” Richard continued admiring his new sword, inspecting the fine scrollwork on the blade and the black stones embedded in the guard. “You are a most talented craftsman.”
“I’m happy you’re pleased with it. I make so many swords and the new owners almost never truly appreciate the finer details involved. I can see that you are a man who knows his way around a weapon.” Quinn accepted the drink Nick was offering him. “Thank you. When is the next tournament?”
“In a little less than two weeks. Will you be joining us?” Nick handed Richard a glass and then waved them both over to the living room to sit down.
“I’ll be there. I know you guys don’t fight with real swords, but it’s still great fun to watch. Who’s your competition this year?” Quinn sipped his drink, directing his gaze over the top of the glass
at Nick.
“Malcolm Granger and his lads. I cannae lie. He’s been a difficult competitor in the past, but with Richard here, I feel confident that we can win this,” Nick said.
“Malcolm Granger – I wouldn’t put it past him to fight with real swords. He’s ruthless when it comes to winning, you should be careful of him.” Quinn’s face showed his concern. “He’s been a customer of mine in the past. He had some swords that had been found on an archeological dig and he wanted me to replicate them for him, making them look like new, of course. He was willing to pay whatever I wanted to ensure they were perfect. I like to work alone, but he stood over my shoulder watching my every move and giving me direction on the proper way to make a medieval sword. He paid me well for the work, but there’s something about him that I just don’t like.”
“I ken yer meaning. He can be a bit of a bastard. Let him bring his best and we’ll see if he can win.”
Richard listened intently and decided he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Do you truly believe he’ll use real swords?” If that were the case, their group would be at a distinct and dangerous disadvantage.
“Like I said, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Quinn answered.
“Then we’ll bring ours along. We won’t reveal them unless it’s necessary, of course, but if he does dare to draw his, we’ll be prepared.” Richard placed the sword back into the finely crafted sheath, which Quinn had made of matching black leather with steel accents.
“Richard, there is one other thing I’d like to show you. Prior to working on the sword you now hold, I designed a matching dagger. I brought it with me, thinking you might like to have both.” Quinn drew a sheathed dagger from the inside pocket of his coat. “No pressure, of course. You don’t have to take it if you don’t need it or want it.” He smiled at Richard, as if he already knew what his response would be.
Palming the dagger, a warm smile spread across Richard’s face. Unsheathing the blade, he performed the same ritual he had completed with the sword.
“I can see that you’re smitten,” Quinn chuckled.
Nick stood up to investigate the dagger that had Richard so enthralled and whistled. “More fine work, Quinn.”
“What will you take for both pieces?” Richard asked. He wanted both sword and dagger, but wondered how he could possibly pay for them. He had none of the modern currency that would be required, a problem he’d overlooked until now.
“They’re already paid for,” Quinn answered.
“Impossible. I’ve given you no payment.” Richard was puzzled, looking back and forth between his friend and Quinn.
“I’ve paid for them out of the school’s funds,” Nick explained.
“The school’s funds? But why?” Richard didn’t think he could accept such a generous gift, especially since he knew that the school was Nick’s only source of income.
“Yer working with me to get the group ready fer competition. We never discussed what yer pay would be. Besides, what kind of instructor would ye be, without a sword and dagger of yer own?” Nick cocked an eyebrow at Richard and slapped him on the back.
“You are truly a far greater friend than I deserve,” Richard said, embarrassed to find himself a little misty eyed. He had plenty of coin from his own time, but that would do neither of them any good here. “I give you my word, I will work my hardest to see everyone at their best for the tournament.” Nick had told him there was a prize of $10,000, which would be awarded to the winning team and Richard was determined to do whatever was necessary, to ensure Nick won the prize money. It would go a long way towards repairing the roof at the practice space and replace the many worn items Richard had noticed.. He wouldn’t let his friend down.
Nick raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to luck!”
“To skill,” Richard corrected.
* * *
The cozy little restaurant was situated in an alleyway in the financial district. Angelina had agreed to meet Malcolm for drinks and dinner after he called her earlier in the day. It was obvious he had a thing for her, but up until this point, she had avoided his requests for dates. Tonight was different. She needed a distraction, something to help her stop thinking about Richard Jefford, and Malcolm Granger fit the bill. He was waiting for her outside the restaurant as she made her way down the alley, which was lit by dozens of tiny fairy lights reflecting off the wet pavement and giving the alley a romantic, golden glow.
“Angelina,” Malcolm greeted. “I’m so happy you could make it. You’re looking beautiful tonight.” He took her hand, and as was his habit, kissed her knuckles.
“Thank you, Malcolm.” There was no physical attraction there between Angelina and Malcolm. When he kissed her hand, no delicious tingles set off alarm bells, the way a mere glance from Richard did. Malcolm was safe. Nothing would happen between them, because Angelina wouldn’t allow it.
“I wish you had allowed me to send my car for you. I hate to see you out alone at night.” Malcolm opened the door and took her elbow, guiding her inside. The restaurant was dimly lit, a place for romantic liaisons. She hated to disappoint Malcolm, but there was no way she was going to find herself without a way home at the end of the night, and if it came right down to it, she’d be sure to tell him she’d rather keep their relationship platonic.
The maître d’ rushed over to them. “Mr. Granger, it’s good to see you! Your table is ready, right this way.” He led them all the way to the back of the restaurant and into a candlelit alcove, a cozy booth for two away from the prying eyes of the other diners. The maître d’ stood there for a moment or two, wringing his hands and clutching the menu to his chest.
“I’ll call you when we’re ready for dinner, in the meantime, please bring the wine I ordered when I booked.” Malcolm ignored the maître d’s bowing and scraping and turned his attention to Angelina. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you,” she lied. In fact, Angelina was feeling anything but comfortable under Malcolm’s intense scrutiny. “I had no idea this restaurant was here,” she said. “It’s very nice.”
“I like it. A little hideaway, tucked into an area most people wouldn’t even find accidentally. Privacy is of the utmost importance to me, Angelina.” His eyes probed hers and she squirmed, ill at ease with his fierce attention. “Ah, here’s our wine.”
The waiter poured them both a glass of the finest cabernet, obviously a bottle pre-approved by Malcolm. He raised his glass. “Shall we make a toast?”
Angelina nodded nervously, convinced this had been a very bad idea. She should never have agreed to meet Malcolm for a dinner date; it was becoming obvious now that he was interested in pursuing a relationship. She reluctantly raised her glass.
“To us,” Malcolm said. “And more particularly to you. I’m a lucky man to have garnered an evening alone with the beautiful Angelina Lawson.” He didn’t appear to notice Angelina’s reluctant smile, instead clinking his glass with hers and then sipping his wine. Angelina followed suit, resisting the urge to throw back the entire glass. Malcolm trailed a path across the back of her hand with his fingers, before she swiftly cleared her throat and pulled her hand away, pretending to adjust the napkin in her lap.
“How are things going in the world of medieval artifacts?” Angelina questioned, hoping to take his mind off her.
“Quite well. You know I always get what I want, one way or another,” he said, the double meaning obvious in his response. “I’ve recently been searching for a medieval sword, one that is said to have belonged to King James the Fourth.”
“You mean the Sword of State, gifted to the King by Pope Julius II.” Angelina was a medieval history buff, so she was confident this might be the sword he was referring to.
Malcolm eyed her with apparent surprise. “No, that sword is already recovered and in Scotland. As much as I might wish to add it to my collection, it would be difficult to obtain the weapon.”
“I should think so,” Angelina responded bluntly. “That sword belongs to the pe
ople of Scotland and is not for sale.”
“Precisely why I’m searching for the brother to the Sword of State. It is identical in many ways, but rather than being blessed by the Pope, it is said to have been magically imbued with the ability to grant its owner great power, and the ability to rule the world.” He searched her face and Angelina did her best not to look shocked at his obvious desire for even more power than he already held. She knew that Malcolm was one of the wealthiest men in the world. He could buy anything he wanted – or almost anything – but she was quite determined the one thing he couldn’t buy was her.
“Did this sword actually exist? Do you have any proof? And if it did exist, why didn’t the King use it to his own benefit?” Angelina nervously spun her wine glass between her fingers.
“Some say that while he was aware of its value, the King wasn’t quite prepared to use it at that particular point in time, and so he sent it off somewhere for safe keeping. After his death, the sword would have been left to his son James the Fifth, who was a small child. The regent at the time was his mother and then John Stewart, the second Duke of Albany. At some point during these two reigns, the sword disappeared and therein lies my problem. I have many sources who believe that it most certainly did exist, but they don’t know why it went missing or who might have taken it. I intend to find out.”
“It could all be just a fabrication, a fictional tale passed down for generations. How can you possibly find something that may not have even existed?” Angelina scoffed.
“As I said, I’m convinced it did exist. I’ve had my people searching historical records and speaking with archeologists and historians. As a matter of fact, just today, my Acquisitions Director sent me a sixteenth century map, showing the possible location of the sword.” He smiled brightly at her and appeared as excited as a small boy on Christmas morning. “If only I could travel back in time…”
