“I would not have put it that way, precisely, but I suppose it’s a fairly appropriate description.” Merlin shrugged. “It’s very much dependent on your point of view. Time is relative, my dear. Your own Albert Einstein recognized that.”
“You mean the theory of relativity, and the space-time continuum?”
“My, I am impressed.” A wicked twinkle danced in his eye. “I would have thought Einstein’s theories would have been in the realm of myth for you. After all, they’re not something you can touch or see.”
“Maybe not but Einstein was real.” She smiled smugly. “You are not.”
“I taught him everything he knew,” Merlin said under his breath.
Tessa groaned. “I give up but I’ll play along. Okay. We’re between moments. I’m here in the wonderful world of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.” She raised a questioning brow. “You haven’t come right out and said it, so this is just an assumption on my part but this is Camelot, right?”
“Very good. My faith in your intelligence has not been misplaced.”
“Thanks loads. And I’m here, first of all, because you’re pissed that history has treated you exactly as you wanted to be treated, as a legend. Right?”
“When you put it that way it does sound rather fickle of me,” Merlin said thoughtfully.
“Doesn’t it though?” She couldn’t resist a satisfied smile. “And the second reason has to do with him.” She waved at Sir Hunk. “So who is he anyway? Arthur? Lancelot?”
“My goodness, no, he is much too young to be the king or Sir Lancelot. That, my dear, is Galahad.”
“Galahad?”
“Lancelot’s son.”
“I knew that.” She circled the kneeling knight. “He’s the one of the knights who found the Holy Grail. Depending on which version of the legend you look at, Galahad and, I think, Perceval and Bors were the only knights to succeed in the quest.”
“I am relieved to note that in spite of your disbelief, you are well versed.”
“I do my homework.” Tessa studied the stationary warrior. He looked as good up close as he had in the illustration but not quite as perfect. Tiny lines creased the corners of his eyes and Tessa wondered if it was from the glare of the sun on the polished blade of his sword or if it was a result of laughter, loud and unrestrained. The set of his chin wasn’t merely defiant but resolute, as if this was a man, firm and unyielding, who carried himself with the arrogance born of unquestioned confidence. And she was right about his eyes. They were blue, so deep and dark she thought at once of—
“Velvet? Sapphires? The sea?” Merlin said.
“No,” Tessa said absently. “I was thinking more that dark, blue-black color of the sky right before a thundersto—” She glared at the sorcerer. “Would you stop that.”
His eyes widened with innocence. “What?”
“Reading my mind.”
A smirk creased his lips. “I had no need to read your mind. Only a fool would fail to recognize your thoughts about—” He cleared his throat. “Sir Hunk.”
Heat rushed up her face. “If you don’t mind, let’s keep that one to ourselves. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him.”
“Or you.”
“Or me.”
“Although, I daresay, Galahad would not be surprised at the title. Once he understood its meaning, of course.” Merlin chuckled. “He’s not unaccustomed to a great deal of attention from the ladies of the court.”
“I’ll bet.” She blew out a long breath and met Merlin’s gaze with her own. “So what do I have to do? About him that is.”
“You know his destiny is to find the Grail. What you do not know is that he cannot succeed in his quest alone, without help.”
She stared into Merlin’s black eyes. “You’re kidding.”
“I am as enamored of a good jest as the next man but no, my dear, I am not kidding.”
“Wait a minute.” Tessa shook her head. “I’m not going on any Grail quest. Absolutely not. The only place I’m going is home. And then I’m going to Greece. And that’s it. Where I’m not going is on a guided tour of the Middle Ages, even with a guy who looks as good as this one does. I’m sure there are dozens of cute little medieval sweetie pies running around Camelot who would just love to spend some quality time with Galahad here searching for the Cup of Christ.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Get one of them to accompany your knight in shining armor. I’m not interested in the Arthurian version of Mission Impossible.”
“To find the Grail he needs what only you can provide.” Merlin’s voice was mild but his eyes smoldered with a strength of purpose that told her in no uncertain terms she had no choice.
“What’s that?” Caution edged her words.
“You must determine it for yourself.”
“A riddle?” She groaned. “You’re starting this with a riddle? I hate riddles.”
“Learn to like them.” He smiled wickedly. “I suspect you shall face quite a few during this quest.”
“What do you mean, ‘you suspect’?” Distrust narrowed her eyes.
“Time, just like life, is not an absolute.” He shrugged. “With every spin of the wheel, the outcome may well change. I cannot say with certainty that all will end as it has before. As you, and I, expect.”
“What can I expect?” she said slowly. “I mean, if I do this, help this guy, what happens then? Will you send me home?”
Merlin nodded. “That was my original plan.”
Tessa eyed the frozen figure. If all of this wasn’t real, and she still stubbornly clung to the fast-fading hope that it was simply a creation of an overactive imagination trapped in a comatose mind, then she had nothing to lose by joining Galahad. If it was real, joining in Sir Hunk’s quest was apparently the only way to get Fred Astaire a.k.a. Mr. Wizard a.k.a. Merlin to send her back where she belonged. “It looks like I don’t have a hell of a lot of options, do I?”
Merlin cast her a disapproving frown. “I would not have phrased it in quite that manner. The chapel, remember? However, your assessment of the situation is accurate.”
“Swell.” She heaved a sigh of surrender, turned her back on Galahad to face Merlin head-on. “I’ll do it but only on the condition that you promise to put me back exactly where you found me when this silly quest is over.”
“I promise.” He traced an X on his chest with his index finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“That’s cute.” Tessa snorted in disdain. “I had the distinct impression you live pretty much forever.”
“I do.”
She raised a brow. “Then that oath you just took is relatively worthless.”
“Relatively.” He grinned and his dark eyes twinkled. “Everything is relative, my dear.”
“You really don’t play fair, you know. You hold all the—hey!” Merlin’s eyes were still plain to see but the rest of him appeared to be fading. She could see the wall of the chapel right through him. Although she did seem to be getting used to the unexpected. The panic she’d known earlier was now nothing more than a queasy unease at talking to an all but invisible magician. “This is really annoying. What are you doing now?”
“I have a few odds and ends to see to.” There was scarcely anything left but the amused tone and the gleam in his eye.
“Hey, don’t leave me!” She practically screamed the question as if invisible was synonymous with deaf. “What do I do about him?” Tessa flung her hand at the figure behind her in a gesture of impatience.
“I’m certain you two shall hit it off with no problem.”
“No problem?” She yelled but it was too late. She was in a chapel in an age she didn’t like, stuck in a legend she didn’t believe in, by a wizard who didn’t exist. Alone. Could life get any more perfect?
“God’s blood! What manner of demon is this!”
She winced at the sound of the strong, commanding voice and knew, without turning to face him, just whose voice it was.
Damn, she hated
the Middle Ages.
Chapter Three
Tessa swiveled slowly and swallowed hard.
If she thought Galahad filled the room kneeling it was nothing compared to his awesome presence upright and prepared for battle, his sword drawn, his eyes flashing. He was absolutely magnificent. And more than a little scary.
“Whoa. Hold it right there, Big Guy.” Tessa thrust her hands out as if to ward off the knight towering over her, taut with power.
The tension eased out of him. He lowered his sword and laughed. “Hah. ’Tis but a lad. Take care in the future, boy, not to catch a warrior unawares while he thinks he is in the presence of God and none other.” A wide grin stretched across his face. “You are lucky this day. A lesser man than myself would have separated your head from your body first, and only then questioned the wisdom of the act.”
“I guess I should be grateful.” Tessa glared up at him. “Not that I did anything that would warrant getting my head chopped off, mind you, but I suppose if those are the house rules I’ll have to play by them. Talk about arrogant.”
Galahad’s brows drew together in puzzlement. “You make no sense, boy. Your words have a foreign flavor that is unfamiliar to me and their meaning is muddled.” His expression cleared. “Ah, I see. Poor lad. Addle brained, no doubt.”
“Addle brained?” Disbelief stuck the words in her throat. “Addle brained?”
Galahad nodded solemnly. “’Tis a sure sign of a mind befuddled when a youth repeats his words.”
“Repeats his words? I don’t repeat my words.”
Galahad cast her a pitying look as if she were some pathetic creature not worth wasting his time on and slipped his sword back in its sheath. “Now, be gone with you, lad, and leave me to my prayers.”
Galahad turned in dismissal and Tessa stared at his broad back. The man not only thought she was a boy but a stupid boy at that. Well, not for long.
“Wait just one minute. We need to get a few things clear.”
Galahad turned toward her slowly and his gaze meshed with hers. His eyes narrowed and a warning simmered there. This was not a man used to taking orders. Unease trickled through her. “What do you want, boy?”
“I want quite a bit but we’ll start with the basics. First of all, I’m not a boy.”
He shrugged. “You are a feeble excuse for a man.”
“I’m not a man. I’m a girl—er—a woman.”
His gaze traveled over her blonde hair caught in its low ponytail, navy linen blazer, white oxford shirt and jeans, then back to her eyes. “No woman of proper demeanor, nay even a slut, would don clothing such as yours.” Sympathy softened the look in his eyes. “Now then, boy, from where do you come?”
“I’m not a boy!” Tessa gritted her teeth. Obviously there was only one way to convince this medieval Neanderthal. She grabbed the edges of her jacket and opened it wide. “See. Look. What do you call these?”
He drew his dark brows together thoughtfully. “’Tis an unusual garment.”
She glanced down and groaned. The oxford shirt revealed none of her feminine curves, exactly why she typically wore it for class, but was not much help right now. Great. No wonder he still thought she was male. “Okay, now watch.” She reached behind her back and pulled the fabric tight against her chest. “There. What do you think now? Boobs.”
She glanced up to meet his gaze and froze. He stared at her chest with an intensity that brought a rush of heat to her cheeks, as if he’d never seen breasts before. Maybe she’d gone a tad too far. This was the Middle Ages after all. They probably didn’t use the word boobs, although she was fairly certain he caught her meaning. She snatched the lapels of her jacket and yanked it closed. “That’s enough. You got the point.”
“Indeed.” He swept a low mocking bow. “My lady.”
He straightened and the wicked light of a man at ease with casual flirtation and effortless seduction danced in his eyes. “Please forgive my error. I see now how very mistaken I was. I can only believe ’tis the unexpected nature of your presence that clouded my senses. I should well have noted the delicate curve of your cheek, the length of lash shielding your eyes, the full pout of your lip and the firm thrust of your,” he grinned, “boobs.”
“Oh, jeez.” She rolled her gaze toward the arched, stone ceiling and muttered more to herself than to him. “How humiliating.”
“Still, ’tis but one certain way to know a wench from a lad.” With one, strong arm he pulled her into his embrace. Before she could so much as squeak, his lips crushed hers. She struggled but it was like fighting a tree. A huge, solid, unyielding oak. His arms were tempered steel pinning her tight to his hard, muscled chest, his lips firm and heated against hers. For a fleeting second desire washed over her and she wanted to surrender to the passion in his kiss. In any time period this guy knew what he was doing. How easy would it be to enjoy his knowledgeable touch? He drew back and stared down at her, for the barest moment looking as intrigued and affected by their encounter as she. His grin was a bit lopsided, his arrogance slipping just a touch. “Aye. Indeed you are a female.”
“Indeed I am.” He released her and without thinking she clasped her hands together, twisted and rammed her elbow into his stomach.
“Oooph.” He doubled over and she smiled with satisfaction.
“St. Margaret Mary’s High School. Self Defense 101.”
He gasped. “I would not call it defense.”
She dusted off her hands in an exaggerated gesture of a job well done. “Don’t ever mess with one of Sister Abigail’s graduates.”
Tessa never even saw him move. One moment he was bent, clutching his stomach and the next she was jerked through the air, turned and pinned flat, her back against his chest. One massive arm encircled her waist, his other wrapped around her just below her neck. Her feet dangled a good three inches above the floor. His grip was surprisingly restrained but left no doubt that this specimen of medieval manhood could crush her as easily as he snuffed out a candle.
His voice growled beside her ear. “And you should not, er, ‘mess’ with one trained under the guidance of the king’s master at arms himself.”
“Put me down, you big ape.” She kicked out, trying to break free. “What kind of knight are you anyway? Between this and that kiss you laid on me, the age of chivalry is obviously not what it’s cracked up to be.”
“Chivalrous behavior is wasted on those who do not display courtesy themselves.” His breath was warm against her neck and a twinge of excitement shivered through her. “Still, my apologies.” He loosened his grip and she dropped to the floor. “Perhaps ’twould be best to begin our acquaintance anew.”
“Perhaps it ’twould.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “You first.”
“I?” Confusion furrowed his forehead. “’Tis not I who interrupted you.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” What the hell was she supposed to do now? She pulled a steadying breath and stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Tessa St. James. Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure, dear lady, is mine.” He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss that was barely more than a whisper. His dark gaze never wavered from hers and unexpectedly her breath caught. Merlin sure had this guy pegged, all right. He was a hunk and he knew it. “What is your purpose here, Tessa St. James?”
“It’s kind of a long story.” His eyes really were something.
“I have naught to do save listen.” Eyes that were blue as the night with the glitter of stars scattered here and there.
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“’Tis apparent, fair lady, you are a stranger to this land. Your arrival ’twould seem to be the place to begin.” And his voice, deep and resonant with a gentle strength that seemed to seep inside her soul. He was good.
“Well…” She stared up at him, caught in the raw power of his presence. Merlin wasn’t the only one practicing magic around here. “I was in the—how tall are you anyway? About six-three, six-four maybe
?”
“I stand a head above most men but not so tall as my horse. But you…how could I not see you for what you are? As tiny and delicate as a rose in bloom.” He gazed at her with a look that clearly indicated she was one blossom he wouldn’t mind plucking. A look that left her wondering just how delightful plucking might be. He was very good.
And he knew it. Maybe it was the satisfied upward quirk of his lips at the corners or the way he leaned subtly closer to her as if to snatch her, unresisting, into his arms or the tinge of success that shaded his eyes, or maybe it was the whole package presented by the body language of Sir Hunk, but Tessa abruptly realized the man thought he had her in the palm of his hand. He wasn’t far wrong.
In the interest of self-preservation, she took a hasty step back and shook her head. “Watch it, pal. That rose business may work like a charm on your typical damsel in distress but I’m made of different stuff. So you can turn off the knight-in-shining-armor charm right now.”
His eyes widened with innocence. “I fear you have mistaken my intentions.”
“Right.”
He heaved a patient sigh, as if used to dealing with recalcitrant females. “I shall watch my words with you in the future. Now, how came you to be here unbeknownst to me? I heard no sound of your entry into the chapel.”
“Remember that long story I mentioned?”
He nodded.
“This is part of it.”
“I can well imagine what kind of tale would explain your strange garb.”
“My strange—oh, my clothes.” She glanced down and shrugged. “Actually, where I come from this is considered almost classic, in a terribly casual sort of way.”
“Odd leggings.” He reached out a long, tanned finger and poked at her jeans. “Why do you not wear a gown? Even in the far reaches of the realm, women do not wear clothing such as this. ’Tis not suitable for a female.”
“It’s suitable for me. Besides, I didn’t have time to pack. I arrived rather unexpectedly.”
Believe Page 4
