The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

"Aye," Margaret said with a sigh as she pushed herself to her feet. "If I can bear their spitefulness."

  "I'll handle them. You just worry about relaxing and standing still so they can fit you. Did I tell you how much

  Alex loves you? You should see his face when he talks about you. I've never seen him like this before."

  Margaret knew Elizabeth was trying to soothe her and she appreciated it greatly. It was good to have her courage bolstered against the time she would have to endure Lydia's spiteful cats and their seamstresses.

  By the time they reached the castle, Margaret was starting to believe Elizabeth's words. Alex had looked happy to have his title, hadn't he? And she most certainly came along with Falconberg, didn't she? And hadn't he said he cared nothing for her land, only her person?

  She found herself fanning her cheeks. Saints above, she was to be wed with the man on the morrow. That would entail kissing and a good deal more, she knew that much.

  "Margaret? You look a little flushed."

  " 'Tis nothing," Margaret croaked. "Exertion from the day, I'm sure."

  Elizabeth looked at her knowingly, then laughed. "I'll just bet. Come on. I think your dress should be green. It's Alex's favorite color."

  And it would look well with red, which was the color her face was going to be for the rest of her life. Margaret followed Alex's sister into the keep and prayed she would survive the next pair of days.

  Marriage.

  Saints, but it made a difficult day warring seem like a morning spent lolling about in the garden!

  Twenty - three

  Elizabeth MacLeod stood in Lord Tickhill's chapel and wondered if her brother might have been better off if she'd stuck with a safe career like food preparation or road construction—something that would have kept her away from research books on medieval Scotland. She couldn't deny that it had worked out well enough for her, since it had been that book on the Clan MacLeod to plop her back in medieval Scotland and into the arms of her husband. But she'd never intended that her own jaunt through the ages would so affect another member of her family.

  Though it wasn't as if she could take all the blame for Alex's time traveling. Elizabeth looked up at her husband. Here was the man to blame, she thought with a scowl. He'd been the one to take Alex on a little jaunt through time to right a wrong; her brother had been doomed from then on.

  Of course, so had she. She'd tried to put her foot down about Jamie doing any more wrong righting, but when he'd stalked into their bedroom one night wearing an eyepatch and carrying a cutlass, she'd known she was in trouble. His announcement that he'd found a spot of ground on his land that smelled suspiciously like rum had somehow led them back to Renaissance Barbados and a few adventures she'd been happy to return from.

  She should have known Jamie's poking around on his land would land Alex in another century. But how could she begrudge him this? She'd never seen her brother more in his element.

  He knelt before the altar, dressed in chain mail which was covered by a surcoat she'd stayed up most of the night to see finished for him. What little light came from the two windows of the nave fell down on him almost like a spotlight. He looked as if he belonged in this stark place with its stone floors and tallow candles. Elizabeth had watched him put in his time in the corporate world wearing silk suits and expensive Italian loafers, but somehow hammered metal rings and scuffed boots were far more appropriate. If anyone loved a challenge it was Alex, and he'd certainly found it here.

  It had been a fairly overwhelming morning. The chapel at Tickhill wasn't very big, and it had definitely been a squeeze to fit everyone in who wanted to be in the same space as Richard of England. Elizabeth stood crammed against the wall, a choice spot reserved for members of the immediate family. She had spared a fleeting thought to twentieth-century standards of bathing before resigning herself to a few uncomfortable hours of not being able to breathe.

  And then had come Alex's knighting ceremony. The king had come to the front of the chapel, dressed to impress in his royal robes with his crown gleaming on his head. Alex had knelt before him in freshly polished chain mail, his dark head bowed humbly. Elizabeth had been half tempted to pinch herself to make certain the sight before her was real. The king had raised his own sword, given Alex a sturdy blow to the side of the head, and informed him that was the last assault he ever had to endure without retaliation. Then he had handed Alex William of Falcon-berg's sword and instructed him to use it in defense of the realm, the widows and orphans and all those who could not defend themselves.

  Jamie had then come forward and, with great deliberation, tied Alex's spurs to his heels. Elizabeth had exchanged a quick look and a smile with her brother and had known exactly what he'd been thinking. This was certainly not anything they had ever fantasized about over coffee back home in the neighborhood deli. Alex's dreams had included his own Lear and a nice country home, and hers had encompassed a successful career as a writer. Somehow, spurs and hobnobbing with medieval royalty hadn't been on the list.

  Elizabeth dragged herself back to the present to find that Jamie had returned to her side. She watched as her brother, still kneeling on that cold stone floor, placed his hands in the hands of a medieval legend and pledged his life to him.

  "I, Alexander of Falconberg, do swear..."

  "Saints, Elizabeth," Jamie whispered into her ear, "if your sire could but see this!"

  She nodded, smiling. Her dad was forever giving Jamie a bad time about his own claims to nobility. That his son should now have the same claim would have pushed him right over the edge. An earl in his own right and soon to be married to the daughter of a medieval baron. Elizabeth shook her head with another smile. She very much doubted this would have entered her parents' minds as they sent Alex toddling off to kindergarten all those years ago.

  She looked across the nave and saw Margaret standing half in sunlight, half in shadows. She couldn't deny that Margaret was perfect for him. And it was perfectly clear that she loved him desperately. Elizabeth couldn't wish for more for her brother. If this was what Fate had in store for him, she certainly wouldn't stand in the way.

  The priest replaced the king at the altar, and Margaret was summoned forward. Alex was immediately on his feet, holding out his hand. Elizabeth smiled as she watched Margaret approach. She looked wonderful and desperately happy, though Elizabeth could tell she was trying hard not to show it.

  Green had been the right choice for her gown. That was another of Elizabeth's all-night projects. After a couple hours' sleep, she had risen to see Margaret dressed, though her real mission had been to make sure Margaret showed up at the chapel. She'd thought her brother was being a bit extreme with his renewed threats, but Margaret had seemed somewhat cheered by them.

  Alex's voice was deep and steady as he repeated his vows. Margaret's was less steady, but she didn't hesitate. And then the priest blessed them and began Mass.

  Elizabeth remembered vividly her own marriage to the man with his arms around her in his medieval chapel. But she'd only been surrounded by the members of Jamie's household. Leave it to Alex to find a way to get married with the ultimate in nobility present. Jamie had the right idea: Her dad would just croak when he heard about it.

  Once Mass was finished, the king led the way from the chapel. Alex and Margaret had the place of honor behind the members of his household. Elizabeth caught her brother's eye and smiled through her tears at him. He looked happier than she'd ever seen him before and that was enough for her. Margaret, however, looked as if she were being led off to the chopping block. Elizabeth had tried to reassure her that consummating her marriage would be a good thing, but Margaret had remained unconvinced. Alex would have his work cut out for him.

  "He looks powerfully happy," Jamie murmured in her ear. "Wouldn't you say?"

  She turned in his arms and rested her cheek against his chest. "He does. And I'm happy for him."

  "And a wee bit sad, no doubt."

  Elizabeth lifted her head and smiled at
him. "I'll miss him. But I think he belongs here."

  "Aye, this is a good place for him, Beth. He's well suited to this labor. And he now has a fine mate."

  She nodded in agreement.

  "As do you," Jamie prompted.

  "As if I needed reminding of that," she said, leaning up to kiss him softly. "I've never once regretted my choice."

  "Nor have I. What say you we find ourselves a meal, then see if Alex's young Frances won't look after Ian a

  bit longer? I've a mind to seek out a bit of privacy to show you just how pleased I am that I had the good sense to wed you."

  "Works for me," she said with a smile.

  Alex sat next to Margaret at Odo's table, which had now become the king's table, and couldn't stop smiling. He was married to the woman of his dreams, he'd managed to save her land, and he was looking forward to a large chest of Brackwald's gold to come his way very soon. Maybe all those years of corporate piracy hadn't been wasted after all. He'd tripled Ralf's ransom just by reminding Richard of all the damage Ralf had done to Margaret's property and her people. There was the pleasure of seeing Ralf turn purple with rage, of course, but Alex also knew he now had the means to make whatever additions to Margaret's garrison she might want, as well as fix that leak in her roof that turned the solar into a wading pool when it rained.

  He sat back and stared out over the great hall, still feeling a bit stunned by the events of the morning. As if marriage to a woman eight hundred years older than he wasn't enough to send his head spinning. He'd pledged fealty to Richard of England. Somehow, it was the very last thing he'd ever thought he would do.

  He looked at the woman of his dreams and smiled at her. She was fingering her dagger hilt as she surveyed the occupants of the great hall. Well, at least she wasn't looking at him as if she'd like to carve him up.

  "It looks like Odo managed to dig out another bottle of good wine," he said, hoping to distract her from whatever mayhem she contemplated. "Want a sip?"

  She nodded and accepted the cup. "Many thanks, husband."

  Alex laughed at the grimness with which she used the term. "You're very welcome, wife."

  Her face was becoming a very attractive shade of red.

  "I had to try it and see how it felt on the tongue," she admitted.

  "What, the wine or calling me husband?"

  "The latter."

  "And how was it?"

  She actually seemed to be taking time to analyze it. After due consideration she looked at him with a small smile.

  "Pleasing," she conceded. "Though you may well imagine I never thought to hear myself say those words."

  He tried not to choke. "I'm flattered."

  "As well you should be."

  "Oh, Margaret," he said, leaning over to kiss her firmly on the mouth, "I really do love you."

  "Do you?" she asked, seemingly surprised.

  "Of course I do. Didn't you know?"

  She shrugged. "I thought you might. You look at me very intently quite often. Then again, you look at your supper in much the same way, so I wasn't all that certain."

  He smiled dryly. "It's not the same thing at all. I like food. I love you."

  He waited. And when she said nothing in return, he elbowed her.

  She frowned at him. "What?"

  That was the thing about Margaret: Fishing for compliments never did any good.

  Alex sighed. "I just told you I loved you. Some sort of sentiment in return would be well received at this point."

  She looked at him thoughtfully and that, for some strange reason, scared the hell out of him. He didn't expect anything less than an honest answer, but he wasn't sure all of a sudden that he wanted to know the truth.

  She turned in her chair so she could look at him even more closely, and Alex had the insane desire to squirm. Great. He'd just risked life and limb to have this woman and she wasn't sure how she felt about him.

  Though she had shown up in the chapel. That was a good sign. She hadn't hesitated while repeating her vows, though she had stumbled a bit over that "obey thee in all matters" part. The priest obviously hadn't heard her mutter "when it suits me" under her breath, but Alex had. He'd squeezed her hand and winked. The day she actually obeyed him in anything would be the day they were firing up snowmobiles in hell.

  "Well," she began, "I had tender feelings for you from the beginning, I think."

  Tender feelings were good.

  ''Though those were certainly trampled upon when you left without a backward glance."

  "I glanced backward a lot," he countered.

  "You didn't. I watched you from the battlements."

  Alex raised an eyebrow over that. So, she'd been watching him. Her eyesight must have been failing her or she would have seen him almost clotheslined by a stray branch as he twisted in the saddle for one last glimpse of her keep.

  ''I think, though, that my heart was truly softened when I learned what it had cost you to pick up a sword in my defense. Not that you were all that successful with it."

  He smiled. "It's the thought that counts."

  She pursed her lips. "Perhaps." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment or two. "I fought it fiercely after that, but 'twas sadly enough a battle I could not win." She looked at him and smiled. "Aye, I believe I love you well enough."

  An "I love you" with both hands on the table and daggerless. Alex wondered if it would be rude to haul her upstairs while she was having such warm feelings for him.

  Well, there was certainly no time like the present. Alex pushed back his chair—and heard a muffled oof. He paused, half crouched, and looked behind him. One of the king's pages was there, clutching his middle.

  "Oh, sorry," Alex said, sitting back down. "Didn't see you."

  "My lord," the boy wheezed, "the king sends a message to you."

  Great. Maybe Richard wanted to head up the bedding ceremony. Alex wondered if telling the king there was no way in hell he was going to see Margaret naked would be a violation of his recently pledged oath of fealty.

  "Yes?" Alex asked carefully.

  "He invites you, the lady Margaret, and the Scot who is your brother-in-law and his wife to his crowning in London." The page, who had no doubt seen a great many things, looked as stunned as Alex felt. "'Tis a very high honor, my lord."

  Alex looked at Margaret, whose eyes were equally as huge in her face. "Wow. What do you think?"

  "You ask me my opinion?"

  "Of course I'm asking your opinion. Share and share alike, remember?"

  "Well," she said, looking a bit stunned, "I just assumed you would—"

  "Ask your opinion on matters that concern us both," Alex finished for her. "What do you say?"

  She shook her head with wonder. "My sire would have fainted dead away at the thought."

  Alex looked to his right where Jamie and Elizabeth sat. ' 'Did you guys hear that?''

  Jamie nodded. "Aye. It would be something to see, surely."

  "Can you stay that long?"

  Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jamie, then nodded to Alex. "We'd love to come."

  "Then it's settled." Alex looked at the page. "Tell the king it would be our pleasure to be there."

  The page nodded and dashed off. Alex settled back in his chair and let it sink in. He would be watching Richard of England be crowned for a second time. Talk about a story for the grandkids.

  "Wow," he said.

  "Aye, wow," Margaret agreed, reaching for his hand. She clutched it with hers. "I've never been to London. Have you?"

  "Yes, but I imagine it had changed a bit when I saw it."

  Margaret looked at him in faint surprise, then a very indulgent smile came over her face. "Oh, Alex, some day your mind will come fully clear. I'm just certain of it." She patted his arm. "I'm not worried, are you?"

  His wife thought he was nuts. Great. "I'm just happy you're so patient with my insanity," he managed.

  "How could I not be?" she asked.

  Another page tugged on Ale
x's sleeve. "My lord Alexander, Lord Odo sends word."

  It was the afternoon for messages it seemed. Where was a good administrative assistant when you needed one? Alex put on a patient smile.

  "Sure, what is it?"

  "He says the king prepares to leave within the hour."

  "Well, then maybe we'll just take our leave of Tickhill at the same time," Alex said, looking at Margaret. "You're ready to get home, aren't you?"

  She nodded. "More than."

  The page looked shocked. "But, my lord, the bedding! Lord Odo has had his finest chamber prepared and reserved for you a bottle of his finest claret. All is in readiness."

  Margaret had turned a pasty white. Alex almost reached over to push her head between her knees and tell her to keep breathing.

  "Well," she said, her expression one of grim stoicism, "I suppose it must happen sometime."

  Alex blinked. "Don't sound so thrilled."

  She gritted her teeth. "I've seen mares bred, Alex. I've heard their screams and know what the bedding entails. And what I didn't already know, Lydia's ladies enlightened me on." She fingered the hilt of her dagger. "I'm prepared."

  Alex knew the first thing he was going to do was relieve her of all her weapons before he made love to her. He leaned over and kissed her, and continued to kiss her until he felt her relax and begin to kiss him back. Then he pulled away.

  "Forget everything you've heard and seen before now. It's going to be great."

  She looked at him narrowly. "Are you lying?"

  "Why would I lie?" It would be good, really good, if he could just keep her from killing him the first time. "I think you'll like it a lot."

  She sighed. "Perhaps, though the thought of accomplishing the deed on Lydia's bed isn't all that appealing."

  Accomplishing the deed? Alex looked to his right to see if Jamie had heard Margaret. Jamie was frowning thoughtfully off into space. Alex cleared his throat and Jamie shot him a brief glance.

  "Flowers," he advised.

  Alex grunted. Margaret would probably sneeze.

  "You must have some romantic item to soften her heart," Jamie insisted softly, turning to him. "I would suggest wooing her to your bed, perhaps with a bit of verse or a song."