The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

  "Damn you, Alexander, why must you be so stubborn?"

  Anger was good. Alex wished he could muster up a bit of his own. It might make him feel better. ''If there were any way I could remain, believe me I would. Margaret is a woman without peer."

  "You couldn't take her with you?" George asked, his ears perking up.

  Alex had already considered that alternative and dismissed it. ''If I did, she could never come home again. I don't think she'd like that."

  George sighed, then looked heavenward. "I imagine she wouldn't." He looked at Alex gravely. "Well, then, I see there's nothing else to be done. I'm grateful for your aid. Margaret will be, too. In time."

  Alex nodded and stepped away. He didn't even allow himself the luxury of another look around the hall. He had to go home. Maybe Zachary had wrecked the Range Rover. That would give him an excuse to beat someone senseless.

  Alex saddled Beast with shaking hands. He rode through the gatehouse and across the drawbridge. The view before him began to blur. He dragged his sleeve across his eyes and swore most foully in Gaelic. It didn't help.

  But smashing his fist into Jamie's face several times certainly would. Alex decided that was the first thing he would do once he got home. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so miserable.

  It started to rain. Alex wasn't surprised. It was a perfect accompaniment to the misery in his heart. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

  "And just what did you think you were going to do?" he asked himself out loud. He had no answer for it. He'd been a total jerk. It didn't matter that she was irresistible. He'd known he would have to leave and she would have to stay. He should have kept his hands and his damn mouth to himself.

  If she just hadn't been so intoxicating ...

  It took him at least an hour to get to the faery ring. The rain continued to mist around him. Not a nice downpour that would have been over in a few minutes. This was rain that soaked him to the skin, plastered his hair to his face, felt like it was determined to get right down to his bones. It would have served him right to die of pneumonia.

  The ring wasn't blooming, though the green shoots left no doubt as to where it lay. Alex wondered if that might stop him from getting home, then shrugged his doubt aside. It wasn't flora and fauna that made the difference. There was a gate here. It could be the dead of winter and he'd still get home. The ring hadn't been blooming in the twentieth century, either.

  He urged Beast forward until they were standing in the midst of the ring. "Well, here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath.

  They waited.

  Beast tossed his head.

  Alex looked up at the sky. It was still full of clouds, and the mist continued to swirl around him.

  Was she still in her bedroom or had she headed for the lists to wreak havoc on her guardsmen? Would she fall straight into Edward's arms when he came to claim her?

  "Okay," Alex said, with a sharp shake of his head, "this isn't helping. I've got to concentrate on something else."

  He turned his mind to Jamie's keep and conjured up the most accurate mental picture he could. He made sure to include Jamie's Jag in the front and his own Range Rover. No sense in plopping himself forward to Jamie's fourteenth-century keep.

  Alex felt unease nag at him, but he shoved it away. He'd done this before, when he and Jamie had gone back to tidy up the past. All you did was think very hard about where you wanted to go and poof! you were there. At least that was how it had worked before.

  Beast pranced nervously, disrupting Alex's concentration. Alex dismounted and soothed his horse with long strokes along his neck.

  "Hush now, monster," he said softly. "We're almost home, then I'll have Zach give you a nice rubdown. Think about those tasty oats at home, Beast, and that fresh hay. No more of this medieval fodder for you, my friend." Alex continued to whisper, bringing image after image to his mind and concentrating with all his strength. His head began to ache with the effort, but he didn't give up. Just a few more minutes and he'd be home.

  And Margaret would be left behind him eight centuries in time. He would never see her again. He would never watch her reach unconsciously for her knife when he'd said something to irritate her. He would never see her emotions pass over her face with perfect clarity.

  He would never in his lifetime find anyone to compare to her.

  "Hell," he groaned. "This is definitely not working." He threw his arm over his stallion's neck. "Let's try a few key phrases, Beast." Alex planted his feet apart and looked up at the sky.

  "Beam me up, Scotty."

  Nothing.

  "Take me home, country road."

  Alex wanted to laugh, but this wasn't funny. It hadn't taken any key phrases to get home with Jamie.

  "I want hamburgers. I want Twinkies. Geez, I'll even take a Lilt at this point." Lilt seemed to be the Brits' equivalent of Sprite. Maybe not his favorite, but pop was pop when you were stuck in medieval England.

  He wasn't stuck. He'd do this on his own or die trying.

  Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be happening.

  "Damn you, Jamie!" he shouted. "I finished my job, now get me the hell out of here!"

  Silence. He contemplated a trip to Jamie's ancestral home in Scotland but immediately discounted the idea. He'd traveled back through the centuries under the boughs of that magical wood near the keep but only with Jamie. There was no guarantee it would work. Especially not in February. If the cold didn't get him, the snow would. Or the Scots. Alex could speak Gaelic as well as the next Celt, but would they leave him alive long enough to realize that?

  A bloodcurdling scream tore through the stillness of the morning, abruptly stopping Alex's intention to drop to his knees and weep. He yanked on the reins and pulled his horse into the shadows. The screaming continued, more than one voice. Leaving Beast tethered, he crept back through the woods.

  Hoarse shouts mingled in the air with the strangled cries of what sounded like a man and a woman. The metallic taste of fear came immediately to Alex's mouth. What in the hell was happening down there? There was a road leading through the forest, but the trees were too thick to see who was on it or what they were doing to their victims. Alex knew he would probably be outnumbered and probably arrive too late, but he couldn't just walk away. Whatever the reason for the fight, the opponents were surely mismatched. Alex heard the ring of steel and the stomping of hooves. Mounted knights were involved, that much he could tell.

  A small body crashed through the undergrowth and into Alex's arms before he saw it coming. The child began to scream, and Alex hastily clamped a hand over its mouth. His mouth. It was a small boy, probably no more than two or three. His eyes were wide with terror and he had soiled himself repeatedly. Alex's heart broke.

  "Hush, little guy," he whispered urgently. "I won't hurt you." He gathered the child close and wrapped his coat around him, still keeping the boy's mouth covered. He rocked the child slowly, trying to cover the boy's ears and his mouth at the same time. Alex hardly needed to see who had been slain to know it was the child's parents. He felt an overwhelming urge to retch.

  He stiffened as he heard the jingle of horses approach. He ventured a look through the trees and saw three knights on horseback gathered not thirty feet away.

  "Ye fool, ye lost the child!"

  "I weren't the one supposed to kill the child! That was yer task, ye bloody idiot. If ye'd not been so busy with rapine, ye'd have seen it accomplished!"

  The third man spoke. ' 'Bah, bloody peasants. Who gives a rat's arse about 'em? The boy'll be dead by morning. If the cold don't get him, the wild beasties will."

  "Aye," agreed the first. "We must away 'afore Falcon-berg's scouts spot us. 'Twas risky to chase 'em this far onto 'er land."

  "Brackwald demanded it," the second knight growled. "We did naught but what 'e told us to do. I'm for returnin' and collecting me gold."

  "Aye," the third agreed. "But 'tis a pity we didn't see Falconberg. I'd like to ride that hag a time or two."r />
  The other two guffawed and tried to top the first's boasts. Alex gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain immobile when what he wanted to be doing was beating the bloody hell out of each of the three.

  And then he realized what had seemed so strange.

  The knights were wearing Margaret's colors.

  But they weren't her knights.

  The child in his arms continued to tremble, and Alex began to rock him again, praying the motion would give him a bit of comfort. He waited until he could no longer hear the knights, then remained motionless for another quarter of an hour. All he needed was to be ambushed by three men in chain mail.

  He had to see if anyone was left alive. He rose to his feet and started through the woods toward where he'd heard the sounds coming from. Then it occurred to him that this was perhaps not exactly a sight fit for the child in his arms. He paused and listened. There was no sound, not even the sound of birds. The odds of anyone having survived were very slim indeed. Maybe the best thing he could do was head back to Falconberg and have Margaret send her men back to take a look around.

  Alex made his way back to Beast and swung up into the saddle. He turned his mount toward Falconberg. At least the boy in his arms had had the good sense to run.

  Did the peasants train their children to do just that? The poor kid. Orphaned and terrorized. What kind of world was this anyway?

  It was a world he was now stuck in.

  At least he had something to concentrate on besides his own crushing panic. He released the boy's mouth and wrapped him more securely in his coat. The child was weeping silently, and Alex's heart wrenched at the sight. He gently brushed the dark, curly hair back from the boy's face.

  "It's okay, little fella," he said softly. "We'll get you home and into a nice hot bath. You'll like Meg. I think she'll like you, too. What's your name? No, never mind. We'll figure that out later." Alex ignored the horrific stench that hit him square in the nose. Just a few more minutes and then the boy would be clean and dry. With any luck at all, the lad would be young enough that the horror would fade quickly.

  The gate guards were surprised to see him. The drawbridge was let down immediately, and he heard his presence being announced all the way up to the keep. Great. Margaret would probably bar the door before he got there.

  George was waiting for him on the steps. Alex dismounted with the boy still in his arms. A stableboy took Beast away. George looked at Alex with a relieved smile.

  "Changed your mind, did you?"

  "No, I didn't," Alex said. Even saying it numbed him to the core. "I couldn't leave."

  "Ah," George said with a nod, "you couldn't leave her."

  "I didn't say that. I couldn't get home. It was physically impossible. Don't ask me to explain because you wouldn't believe me if I did. For now, I just need a place to stay until I figure out what to do. Will Margaret let me stay?"

  "I don't know. She hasn't come out of her chamber yet."

  "Good grief, George!" Alex exclaimed. "Have you checked to see if she's all right?"

  "So young and arrogant you are, lad," George grumbled. "Think you she would weep so much over you?"

  "I would weep that much over her."

  "Then stay, and solve the problem for the both of you!"

  Alex sighed. "I can't, George. I need to get this little guy settled, then decide what to do."

  George grunted, then looked at the smelly bundle in Alex's arms. "Who've you got there?"

  "I'm not sure. Let me get him cleaned up, then we need to talk. There are very strange things going on."

  George nodded and led the way into the house. Alex carried the boy upstairs to William's room. He held the boy close and continued to rock him as a tub was brought up and buckets of water emptied into it. Cook came in on the heels of the last bucket of water with a tray full of food. Margaret came in right behind her.

  Alex couldn't help but look at her. She looked as bad as he felt.

  "I never gave you leave to enter my house again," she said hoarsely.

  Alex stood near the tub with the child in his arms and hardly knew where to start. He wanted to apologize for hurting her. He wanted to clutch her to him and tell her how damned scared he was because he thought he might never get home. He wanted to promise her he'd stay until he was certain she was safe. Seeing firsthand the outcome of Ralf's cruelty had left him more unnerved than he'd imagined it might.

  But what he really wanted to do was grab on to her and never let her go. Ever.

  Unfortunately, it was the one thing he couldn't do. So instead, he stood there motionless, holding onto a small boy who clutched his coat with both tiny hands. All he could do was stare at her, mute. "Who is this?" Margaret asked. Alex swallowed, hard. "A child of one of your servants, I assume. Brackwald's knights killed his parents."

  "Merciful saints above," she breathed. "Are you certain?"

  "Very."

  "And you rescued him? Without a sword?"

  He shook his head. ''He was being chased. I just happened to be in the right place to catch him and hide him."

  She nodded absently. "Those who live on the borders teach their little ones to run at the first sign of trouble. Are his parents still alive?"

  "I didn't look. If they weren't, I didn't want him to have to see it. If you want to send someone, I can tell them where to go. Do you want to bathe him?"

  Margaret jerked backward, looking as if he'd asked her to put her hand in a snake pit. "I know nothing of children," she gasped. "I cannot tend him."

  "Great," Alex muttered. He knelt down beside the tub and tested the water. Satisfied, he stripped off his coat and the child's filthy rags, rolled up his sleeves and put the toddler into the water.

  "I thought you were going home."

  Alex couldn't look at her. He could hardly bear to say the words. "I tried. I couldn't."

  "Perhaps it was that you didn't want to."

  Alex met her gaze and winced at the faint flicker of hope he saw in her eyes. "I don't want to go, but I can't stay," he said softly. "I have to go home. If I can get there."

  He watched her digest that, then continued to look at her as the transformation took place before his very eyes. She stiffened her spine and the light went out of her eyes. Her hair might have still been loose and her mail still reposing in her bedroom, but Margaret the Shieldmaiden was definitely back in charge. All men are liars. Hadn't she said that to him when he first met her? So he hadn't outright lied to her. He'd never said he would stay. But he'd certainly kissed her as if he meant to hang around. It amounted to about the same level of deception. He sighed. So much for having won her trust.

  "The child will sleep here," she announced.

  "That's very kind of you."

  She paused. "You may stay to watch over him. For however long you will."

  "Of course. Also very kind."

  "I am doing it for the child. No one else."

  Alex understood that message loud and clear. ''I know. I don't blame you for being angry with me."

  "I wouldn't waste my anger on you," she said quietly, then left the room.

  Ouch. Alex knew he deserved that, but it stung just the same. But it was much less than he should have had coming to him. He had been a complete idiot. He never should have gotten involved with her personally. It would have saved them both a good deal of grief.

  And he also would have missed out on the French kiss of a lifetime.

  Alex looked down at the boy who was watching him now with wide, tear-filled eyes.

  "She's a hell of a woman," he said.

  The boy only blinked.

  Alex smiled. "I've never met anyone like her, little guy, and I've met more women than you've ever seen. And that's the problem. Who could I possibly ever run into in my time who would compare to her?"

  The boy said nothing.

  "My thoughts exactly," Alex agreed. "But the thing is, I just can't have her. We're worlds apart, literally." He smoothed the boy's hair back from his f
ace. "My work here is done, anyway. I'm sure it was just a fluke that the circle didn't work. I guess my hanging around longer certainly worked out well for ..."

  Alex paused and looked at the toddler sitting in very murky bathwater.

  "For you," he finished.

  Well, that answered a few questions. Maybe rescuing this little guy was the last of the things he had to do in the Middle Ages. Alex felt an overwhelming sense of relief. That had to be it. He'd saved Margaret and now he'd saved one of her people. Whew.

  Alex smiled. "All right, buddy, let's get you out of that tub. I think it's time you had a little nap. I'll hang around for a couple of days and make sure you're settled. A good night's sleep will help. Things will look better in the morning. My mom always said that was true." He rinsed the child off, then dried him with a soft cloth. "I guess you don't have to go to the bathroom, so I'll just tuck you in." He dug around in William's trunk until he found a soft undertunic. It was hopelessly large, but looked kind of cute on the dark-haired, pale-eyed lad. Alex gathered him close again. "What's your name, little one?"

  "Amery."

  Alex pulled back in surprise. "Amery?"

  Amery put his thumb in his mouth and began to suck.

  "Well, Amery, I'm Alex. Nice to meet you. Don't worry about Meg. She'll take care of you." He scooped Amery up and carried him to the bed. The child cried out the moment Alex put him down. This might prove more difficult than he'd anticipated. He tucked Amery in, then sat with him until the boy fell asleep.

  Then he leaned back against the chair and closed his own eyes.

  What a hellish day it had been.

  He had the feeling the next few just weren't going to get any better.

  Two days later he stood in much the same place, looking at the little boy sleeping in his bed. Fatherly feelings welled up in him. It was well past time he settled down and started a family. Maybe if he concentrated on that thought while in the faery ring, he'd actually make it home this time. Yes, he'd just hurry right home and apply himself to the task of finding a wife.

  He studiously ignored the fact that the perfect choice was sleeping down the hallway from him.