by Carly Fall
He bowed his head. “As you wish, your Grace.”
* * *
At that point, Jayden had had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. He glanced around the neighborhood again and sighed. Bella would have to deal the final death blow to Ulric, so she would need to become proficient in the handling of weapons. At one time, she’d wielded a sword and a knife as good as any man, and he hoped that with a little training, the skills she’d had so many centuries ago could be brought to the present day.
5
Bella woke at her usual time, four in the morning, surprised by how soundly she had slept. When she’d first lain down, she’d questioned whether she’d be able to drift off at all. Apparently, the answer had been a resounding yes.
As she lay in bed, memories from the night before came crashing back. She stared at the ceiling, feeling a little more grounded in reality, and acknowledging that everything she saw last night had been real—she couldn’t fully accept everything one hundred percent, but she was getting there.
For the next six days, she’d have to be very careful, and found herself grateful that Jayden had come to her when he did. If not, she’d most certainly be dead. She had better thank him, as she didn’t think she’d done so last night.
As for this being her second life, she had a hard time wrapping her mind around that. She’d grown up with a basic knowledge of most religions, but had never participated in any of them. She certainly hadn’t given any real thought to the concepts of Heaven and Hell, but she had an angel staying with her, and she’d seen a demon with her own eyes last night. So, perhaps now would be a good time to admit both did exist. And if Heaven and Hell were real, then the act of being reincarnated could be, as well.
Feeling antsy, she rose from the bed and used the bathroom, then quickly dressed. She decided to do some baking, as it always relaxed her and helped her focus.
On her way to the kitchen, she wondered where Jayden had gone, then remembered he’d said he would keep watch from outside. Peeking out through the closed curtains in the living room, she hoped the night had been demon-free. The darkness hindered her view, so she rounded the corner into the kitchen and turned on the lights.
She glanced at the contents of her refrigerator. It seemed she had enough ingredients to make one batch of muffins. She opened the cabinet and found some chocolate chips, deciding to throw those in. One of her favorite things had always been chocolate chip muffins and a cup of tea. Because said muffins had caused her backside to grow at an alarming rate, she’d become an avid runner. She longed to hit the streets this morning, but fear kept her locked inside.
As she measured and stirred her ingredients, she considered her options.
Perhaps she should just leave the area. That seemed like the easiest and most simple thing to do. She could drive down the mountain and stay with her parents, or even go to the airport and catch a flight to anywhere in the world.
The front door opened, causing her he stomach to clench as she peeked around the corner. Jayden walked in, and her breath caught in her throat, as if she really saw him for the first time. His thick, leather-clad legs carried him with grace and confidence, the matching vest strained against his barrel chest. He carried his sword and knife with strong hands. His onyx eyes glittered in the low lights as he ran a hand through his black hair. With his brawn and power, she actually felt a little more confident that she’d survive the week.
He smiled and nodded at her. “I saw the lights come on. You’re up early.”
“I’m always up at four. Did you see Ulric?”
He shook his head. “No. It was a quiet night.”
Relief washed through her. “That’s good.”
She turned back into the kitchen, and he followed, setting his weapons on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”
“Baking.”
Picking up the spatula, she continued to stir the batter and add more chocolate.
“I see you still have a sweet tooth.”
She glanced over at him, his gaze soft as he looked at her with a small grin.
A jolt of recognition slammed into her chest, making her breath catch. How had he been aware of that, unless they did know each other in a previous life?
She turned back to her bowl without answering. “If what you say about this being my second life is true, and we lived in the fourteenth century, why don’t you have an accent? Why do you have the same vernacular as a modern-day person from the United States?”
When he spoke, his accent was thick as mud. “Aye, m’lady. I have lived as an angel for many moons, and I’ve studied the evolution of humans. My dialect has changed with the centuries.”
She smiled, the deep baritone voice resonating within her as something very familiar.
“What about you? Who exactly were you to me in my past life?”
He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. “I was a knight, assigned to protect you from yourself.”
Another punch rallied through her, signaling he spoke the truth. How could this be? She put down her spatula and turned to him, confused. “What?”
“As I told you last night, you had a bit of a defiant streak in you. You did things that ladies of that time shouldn’t do, like pretending to be a boy so you could spend time in the stables, and sneaking around town spying on those who frequented the taverns and whorehouses.”
She laughed in spite of herself, trying to imagine doing those things, in that time. Apparently, her previous life hadn’t been filled with boredom and loneliness. She hadn’t needed to emerge from any ruts, and she hadn’t felt as if she had anything missing from her life.
“Did you make me a respectable princess?” she teased, thinking that her actions then seemed so innocent now, but had required a bodyguard to keep her in line. How silly it all had been.
He shook his head. “On the contrary. As it turns out, you were a terrible influence on me.”
Heat burned her cheeks as her heart fluttered in her chest, and she busied herself with pouring the batter into the baking cups. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know exactly how she’d proven to be a bad influence on him, and decided to change the subject.
“Why can’t we just leave the area?”
There was a beat of silence, and she wondered if her turn in the conversation had surprised him.
Finally, he spoke. “Because, you need to deal the final death blow to Ulric.”
Well, the discussion had just taken a very serious turn. Stunned, she set down the bowl and faced him. “Me? Why?”
He laid both hands on her shoulders. “Because if you don’t, he’ll stay here in this plane, and won’t stop until he’s killed you, and many, many others. You’ll never be safe, Bella. He’ll pursue you until he’s caught you and murdered you again.”
Her heart slammed in her chest as her fear and confusion escalated. “I-I don’t know anything about killing demons! Or anything, for that matter! I’m a baker, Jayden. The biggest weapon I’ve ever held was a chopping knife for quiches!”
He smiled and squeezed her arms. “That’s not true. You were once an amazing swordswoman—as good as any man, and even better than some.”
She studied his face, certain he’d lost his mind, and she felt on the verge of losing hers. “And if this is all true, somehow, this skill is supposed to return to me? I’m supposed to pick up that sword, and my ability from hundreds and hundreds of years ago will just suddenly manifest itself?”
He shook his head. “No. It will take practice, Bella. But it’s there.”
Taking a deep breath, she rolled her eyes. She could wield a spatula, but not a sword.
“If you try, I think you’ll find that you surprise yourself,” he added.
Glancing around the kitchen, she tried to find a way out of this mess, but none came to her.
Eyeing the sword, she had her doubts she could even pick the damn thing up, let alone handle it effectively and kill a demon.
Gazing up
at Jayden, she saw in his eyes that he had faith in her, that he truly believed what he said.
And just like that, she would be going from baker to a swordswoman.
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. This week got weirder with every waking hour.
6
They had spoken but a few words to each other. As he trailed her around the castle, he couldn’t imagine living her life, often wishing he could take a dagger to his own throat, and it had only been three days.
Two cousins had visited her, and he’d watched as the princess’ gaze had glazed over as they’d chirped giddily about potential husbands. She’d sat passively as her lady’s maid showed her the finer tips of embroidery. She managed to read when she found time, and also spent long spells staring out the window completely motionless, as if she waited for her death to come galloping up on a large, black stallion.
In a way, he pitied her, but she was a princess and this was her life. She certainly had it better than the peasant women of the village, who he didn’t doubt wished they could be in her position.
When she stared out the window, deep in thought, happened to be his favorite time to study her. She held herself like a queen—back ramrod straight, her skirts the perfect length as they skimmed the floor. Some days, she wore gowns of bright, vibrant fabrics that accentuated her bosom. Other times, she dressed in drab colors and styles, almost as if she mourned a death.
Today, as she stood by the window in her solar, her gaze had been trained on the garden for what seemed like hours. Although the flowers stood in full-bloom, he couldn’t imagine her appreciating their beauty for such a long period of time. Perhaps she didn’t even see them as she delved so deep into her own thoughts.
He leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, to her left. As the rays of the sun filtered through the window and hit her hair, he noticed a bit of purple in the dark strands.
“You do not speak often.”
Her voice startled him, and he stood up straight as she looked over her shoulder and trained her gaze on him.
“Neither do you, Princess.”
She sighed and studied her hands, then walked over to the two high-back chairs set up for conversing, her skirts rustling around her ankles. “Sir Jayden, please come sit with me.”
He moved into her direct line of sight. “That would be inappropriate, Princess.”
She rolled her eyes. “The only one who will ever care is my father, and he left before daybreak to see his mistress in Hanover.”
Surprise rolled through him and he arched his eyebrow. He didn’t know the prince held a mistress, but Jayden had always wondered why the man had never remarried after the death of his wife.
“Yes. She is a single noble lady, a widow, whom my father took a liking to. They have been carrying on for nigh upon a decade. She never wanted to be a mother, but she does want to be queen, so she and my father wait in secret for my grandfather to die. I hope he outlives them both.”
She smiled demurely at him, and his heart clenched once again at her beauty. Frankly, he also found himself in a bit of shock at her revelation. He doubted the prince would find it amusing that his daughter would air his secret affairs.
“Now that you know a little gossip of the scandalous royal family, please, sit.”
She motioned to the chair to her left, and he sat down as she requested.
As she studied him, her gaze seemed to rake over every inch of his face, and he considered that mayhap, he had crumbs from his morning roll in his beard. Clearing his throat, he straightened his tunic and sat up a bit taller. For some reason, he did care what she thought of him.
Finally, she spoke. “When my father first gave you this ridiculous assignment, my intention was to ignore you, to pretend that you did not exist.”
He waited, uncertain how to respond.
“But, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot do that.”
He furrowed his brow. “And why is that, Princess?”
She leaned forward, eyes glittering with mischief, and he tried to ignore how the action gave him a better view of her décolletage.
“First, I would like you to call me Arabella, and I shall call you Jayden.”
“I cannot do that, Princess. It would be disrespectful.”
She sat upright and waved her hand in front of her face. “Nonsense. I am ordering you to do so. You cannot defy me.”
He exhaled and glanced about the room. If someone heard him uttering her given name, they might report it to her father … he could incur the wrath of the prince. However, he didn’t want to disappoint her. “I shall use your given name when I am certain we are alone, but at no other time.”
She grinned, seeming satisfied. “Very well. That is an excellent compromise. Now, as I was saying, I do find it hard to ignore you, Jayden.”
“And why is that?”
“You seem to try to make yourself as unassuming as possible, yet, I feel your stare upon me. At first, it troubled me, but now, I must admit that I enjoy it.”
Bloody hell. He hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious, and shame and embarrassment burned in his cheeks. “I apologize, Princess.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
“I apologize, Arabella.”
“Very good. Nonetheless, I have come to the conclusion that if we are to spend so much time together, we should become well-acquainted, and perhaps, even become friends.”
He sighed, having no notion of what he could possibly have in common with a princess.
“Please, do tell me about yourself.”
Jayden shrugged, feeling this conversation would be a waste of time, but pressed on anyway. “There is not much to tell, Princess. I am a knight. My duty is to serve my king, your grandfather.”
“And your father?”
“My father also served your grandfather, but he was killed in the battle of Bayton.”
She pursed her lips together and sadness washed through her dark gaze. “I am sorry to hear that. We were both young children then. It must have been difficult for you.”
Her words rang in his ears, and he heard the sympathy in them. “Aye, but he was a warrior, and he gave his life for his king. His death was a noble one.”
She nodded. “Your mother?”
“She was a servant, who passed away three years ago.”
Her eyes grew wide. “My mother died bringing me into the world. The maids raised me. What ailed your mother?”
He fondly recalled his mother’s smile and the way she’d gently squeezed his hand before closing her eyes, never to draw another breath. “The Black Death claimed her.”
She shook her head. “Aye. It has claimed many lives. You are very fortunate that you had the opportunity to know her.”
“Yes. I agree. She was a good woman.”
A few moments of silence passed, and he wondered what went through her head. Her brow furrowed as she gazed out into the gardens again, apparently deep in thought.
He cleared his throat, thinking the conversation had come to a standstill, and he grew a bit uncomfortable. He grasped for more words to say. “Were the maids good to you, Arabella?”
She turned her attention back to him. “Yes, they were. My needs were met, but they could never love me as my own mother would.”
“Mayhap not.”
“As you know, my father believes I am a bit peculiar because of it. What do you think?”
He shrugged. “I have not seen any behavior that would lead me to that conclusion.”
She giggled, and her smile caused his breath to catch in his throat as it seemed to make the room even brighter. It was a true smile and laugh, one straight from her heart, one he had not seen before. He felt for the first time he was seeing the real Arabella, not the princess who put on airs for those around her.
“Yes, things have been a bit too quiet lately. Perhaps we should fix that.”
He shook his head, not certain he wanted to know what her cure for boredom might be. Thus
far, his assignment had been tedious, but simple, and he preferred it that way. “No, Arabella. Please, do not do anything that could land me in trouble with your father or the king.”
Her gaze bore into him as her smiled faded. “How old are you, Jayden?”
“I have just reached five and twenty.”
“And you are unwed.”
“Aye.”
“I am now ten and eight, and will be married soon—a union I do not want. It seems so unfair to me that I must bend to my father’s will. What do you think?”
“I am certain you will find a way to be happy in your marriage.”
She stared at him a long moment, the brightness in her eyes fading as fast as her smile. “I do not believe that to be true, Jayden. In fact, the whole idea of marriage frightens me to death.”
7
Although Jayden didn’t need to rest, he claimed that he did, just to put a little space between him and Bella. Leaving her in the kitchen, he stretched out on the bed in her guest room, sighing at the feeling of a soft mattress beneath him. He smiled as he remembered his lumpy cot made of straw from so long ago.
Being near her again brought him happiness, a joy he hadn’t felt for centuries. His longing to pick up where they’d left off all that time ago consumed him, but he realized she may find his feelings a bit overwhelming at this point. After all, he recalled every detail of their time together in the past, while she had no memory of her previous life.
Honestly, he shouldn’t be thinking about his love for his princess; he should be worrying about how he would teach her to kill a demon. He felt certain her sword skills would reappear—she just needed to practice.
Closing his eyes, he grinned as he remembered when she’d first decided she should take up a weapon. Even looking back on it now, he chuckled at her determination.
* * *
He didn’t know how long he’d been shadowing the princess. The monotony of her life made one day bleed into the next, until he began to lose count of how many nights had passed. However, he no longer desired to fall on his sword out of boredom, and actually began to enjoy their conversations and his time in her company.
