Believe

by Victoria Alexander

  Still, it would be nice to know, even in general terms, what the date was. To satisfy her own curiosity if for no other reason. Although, when it came right down to it, did the date really matter? What were a few years, give or take a century or two, in the scheme of her adventure?

  Adventure? She skirted a pile of manure and wrinkled her nose. That was the word Merlin had used. What did he say? Something about her being in for the adventure of a lifetime? No, he’d said she was in for a remarkable adventure. It was her visit to Greece that she’d thought of as the adventure of a lifetime. What a laugh. Not even the most adventurous vacation could compare with undertaking a legendary quest with a mythical hero. An undertaking that was quite simply terrifying.

  Then why did her blood shiver with anticipation?

  She pulled up short and ignored the curious or casual or irritated stares of those forced to step around her. When had her fear turned to excitement? Her hesitation to eagerness? Her reserve to a restless need to get started? She groaned to herself. God help her, she wanted this so-called adventure. This quest. This journey into the unknown at the side of a man who had already touched a chord in her heart.

  And if her heart was damaged in the process? Was that yet another of the dangers and challenges and risks that Merlin warned of? When it came right down to it, was that too high a price to pay for the adventure of a lifetime? Maybe not, but she’d just as soon avoid that particular risk, thank you very much.

  A grin broke on her face. Let Galahad bring on his test. Adrenaline surged through her. She wasn’t one of his typical damsels in distress and she wasn’t a mere anything. She was a modern female and knew a woman could do damn near everything a man could do. Not that she’d ever tried, personally, but…what the heck. She’d lived a relatively low-key, completely normal life before now. Maybe it was her turn.

  The refrain of I Am Woman echoed in her head. She was ready. No, she was more than ready. Ready for challenges and tests and whatever else lay ahead. And more than ready for him.

  “’Twould give a king’s ransom to know your thoughts, my lady.” Galahad’s voice sounded close to her ear.

  She spun around to find him right behind her. He grinned with a look of welcome that nearly took her breath away. She gazed up at navy eyes sparkling in the early-morning light and lips full and inviting and wondered how she’d ever be able to resist him. And why she’d want to.

  She laughed. “Good morning. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  He returned her smile. “’Tis a day unusually pleasant. As is your temperament.”

  “I have been kind of bitchy—er—ill tempered since I got here and I apologize.” She tilted her head and caught his gaze with hers, a flirting technique she hadn’t used for years. Judging by the expression of mixed surprise and delight on his face she couldn’t quite remember why she’d given it up. “Do you think we could start over?”

  Galahad cleared his throat. She’d obviously caught him off guard. Good. He beat her hands down when it came to all things physical but there was nothing in her equality rulebook that said she couldn’t use every weapon at her disposal to meet and best whatever came along. Including Galahad. As far as she was concerned, flirting was just another weapon.

  He swept a low, graceful bow. “Indeed, my Lady Tessa, I am at your service.”

  “Great.” She beamed at him, hooked her arm through his and they started off. She wasn’t sure exactly where and Galahad paid no attention to what direction they headed. Instead, he stared down at her with a bemused expression, as if she were a new species he’d just discovered.

  “’Tis an interesting song. I’ve not heard it before.”

  “What song?”

  “That which you hum.”

  “Oh that.” She hadn’t realized she’d been humming. “It’s kind of a hymn.”

  “Indeed. Odd-sounding tune.”

  “I’ll bet you won’t hear anything else like it.” Not for centuries anyway. “So, are you ready for my test?”

  “Your test?” He shook his head as if to clear it. His brow furrowed. “Tessa, ’tis no longer necessary to go through with it. Willingness to attempt such a trial, one whose nature is unknown to you, is test enough.” He smiled. “I grant your courage to be unquestioned and concede defeat.”

  “I appreciate that.” She squeezed his arm. “And I must admit it’s really tempting, but I believe part of all this worthiness stuff involves honor, doesn’t it? Keeping your promise, that sort of thing?”

  “Aye, but—”

  “No buts. I gave my word and that’s that. So.” She gazed up at him with her newfound confidence. “What have you got in mind?”

  He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Come on, out with it.”

  His words came slowly. “Upon further consideration, I fear the test I have devised is not perhaps as fair as it should be.”

  She laughed. “What do you mean?”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “’Twas meant as much to scare you as to prove your worth.”

  “Scare me?” What had he come up with? After all she’d been through lately it would take a lot to scare her. “I can take it. It’s not like it could kill me.” All right, maybe not a lot. “Could it?”

  “Nay.” He scoffed, then hesitated as if thinking about it. “’Tis a slim chance but…” He shook his head. “Nay.”

  “Glad you sound so confident.” Maybe not much at all.

  “’Twas conceived to test trust as well as courage.”

  “Trust?” Did I Am Woman fade slightly in the background?

  He steered her toward the outer gates. A bow and a quiver of arrows leaned against the wall next to a lumpy burlap bag. He slung the quiver over his arm and picked up the bow and the bag. Archery? At least this was something she could handle. Maybe. It might depend on what was in the bag.

  “You swore you trusted me with your life.”

  “Sure. What’s not to trust?” Did her voice sound a bit weaker to him too or was it the blood roaring in her ears that dampened the sound? And where did that damn music go?

  “Aye.” He cast her an admiring gaze. “I am impressed, Tessa St. James. ’Tis not easy to trust your life to a man who is in many ways unfamiliar to you. You are indeed a woman of rare courage and faith.”

  “There’s that word again,” she muttered.

  They stepped through the castle gates and his long strides led them from the town and toward a meadow bordered by a distant band of trees. She had to practically run to keep up with him. Where was he taking her? Probably someplace to easily dispose of the body.

  Ridiculous. She stared at his broad back and fought back the fear that rose in her throat. She did trust him, more or less. Not that her instincts when it came to men were always on target. Far from it. Still, aside from a little arrogance and male chauvinism that she should have expected anyway, he pretty much lived up to his legend. And Oriana agreed he was a good guy. On the other hand, there were huge discrepancies between the myth and reality.

  For one thing, according to some versions of the legend, Galahad was known as the virgin knight.

  “What is this?” She stared at the object he pulled from the bag and handed her.

  “’Tis a cabbage.” He quirked a brow. “Do you not recognize it?”

  “It’s kind of small for a cabbage, isn’t it?” She hefted it in her hand. “It’s not much bigger than a softball.”

  “’Tis a good size for our purpose.”

  “You think so, do you?” Somehow, given the archery equipment, and the fact that they’d stopped at the only tree between the castle and the woods—add to that old scars on the bark—she was fairly certain they weren’t here for a picnic. “And what exactly is that purpose?”

  “’Tis the test.” He picked up the bow and snapped the line with a sharp twang. “A test of courage and trust and skill.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.” In fact, it sounded like a piece of cake. Good, she could breathe aga
in. Not that she was an ace at archery. But at least she knew which end of the arrow to point. “I’ll give it a shot. I tried a little archery in school.”

  “The good sisters,” he said absently, still checking out the bow.

  “Yep. Sister Abigail was quite an athlete.” He looked up at her. “Sports? Games? Running, jumping, that sort of thing?”

  “’Tis an odd activity for a nun,” he murmured, apparently finding the bow to his satisfaction. He selected an arrow from his quiver and examined it.

  She leaned back against the tree. “Not where I’m from. There are Sister Abigails at every Catholic girls’ school in the country. I think they breed them in some secret science lab deep in the sub-basement of a convent conveniently disguised as a Holiday Inn in Southern California.”

  He glanced at her sharply and she laughed. “I’m kidding. Seriously, Sister Abigail was great. There was a hot rumor that, before she became a nun, she’d been picked to try out for the Olympic rowing team but didn’t make it. Something about a chromosome problem…”

  Galahad didn’t question the term. In fact, he appeared to have tuned her out completely.

  “So, how’s the Camelot soccer team doing? They’re the Knights, right? Heard they lost that last game to the Vikings.”

  “What?” His head jerked up, his forehead furrowed with confusion.

  “Nothing.” She smiled sweetly.

  Galahad narrowed his eyes suspiciously then turned his attention back to the arrow. Poor guy. Did he understand even half of what she said?

  He nodded to himself then glanced at her. “Ready, my lady?”

  “Sure.” Her confidence had faltered but was definitely back. It made absolutely no difference how good or bad she shot, he’d already said the test was a moot point. It was only important that she was willing to do it. “Who’s first?”

  Galahad ran his hand along the bark of the tree, his fingers stopping at a point about level with her chin. “Hold the cabbage here against the tree, above this notch.”

  “Okay.” Of course. He planned on skewering the veggie to the oak to use as a target. It was a rather small target but—what the hell. This might be fun.

  “Hold it thus.” He positioned her hand. “Excellent.” He picked up the bow. “Now, keep your hand steady.” He turned and started off.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I cannot shoot at this range,” he called over his shoulder.

  “But how are you going to keep the cabbage on the tree?” she shouted.

  “You will hold it.” He kept walking.

  What did he say? “I will what?”

  “Hold it. Hold the cabbage,” he yelled.

  “I will…what!” She dropped the cabbage and hid her hands behind her back. “I will not!”

  He stopped in mid pace. She could see his shoulders rise and fall. Was he heaving a sigh of frustration? Or laughing? He turned on his heel and strode back to her.

  She pulled her gaze from him to the cabbage on the ground. It was an awfully small cabbage. She swallowed hard. What happened to the fearlessness she’d known just a few minutes ago? Probably hiding under a bed somewhere. Exactly where she should be.

  “Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to stand in front of this tree.” She smacked the bark. “This little, tiny tree.”

  “’Tis a young oak.” His gaze traveled upward toward the top of the tree with a mild affection. “When I was but a lad, it served my friends and myself well for sharpening our skills. We thought it grew here for us alone.”

  “It’s not much of a target. You can practically put your hands around it.”

  “Aye. ’Tis a challenge.”

  “So, I’m supposed to stand here, next to your challenging target, holding a pathetic excuse for a vegetable in my hand, waiting for you to shoot an arrow at me?”

  “’Twill not be shot at you.” He scoffed. “’Twill be shot at the cabbage.”

  “The cabbage in my hand.”

  “The very one.”

  “I think we need to talk about this.”

  “’Tis little left to say. You asked to be tested, a test of my choosing. Furthermore, within the hour, you insisted ’twould be a question of honor for you to carry out your end of the bargain.” A smug smile played across his lips. “I cannot have forgotten such a thing. Do you now regret your words?”

  “Regret my words?” she repeated slowly. “No, not exactly. But have you ever done this before?”

  He laughed. “As boys, ’twas a favorite game of skill and nerve.”

  “What about lately?”

  He snorted in disdain. “’Tis a sport for children, Tessa.”

  “Just out of idle curiosity, how many people are wandering around Camelot with only one hand?”

  He stared at her for a moment then grinned. “You’ve a clever way with you, my lady. None have ever lost a hand here,” he bent toward her, a wicked light in his eye, “but many have sacrificed a finger or two.”

  “Swell.” There really wasn’t any choice. Either she could renege and have him treat her like a second-class citizen for their entire time together or she could grit her teeth, pray hard and hold the cabbage.

  “Well?”

  She stared into his endless blue eyes, ignoring the laughter lingering there. Damn, she really did have faith in him. She really did trust him.

  “Let’s do it,” she said faintly.

  His grin widened, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “’Twould be a pity to lose even one finger so lovely as these.” He nodded, turned and strode off, glancing over his shoulder. “Trust, Tessa, ’tis all that’s needed.”

  “Right. Hey!” Tessa called to his retreating back. “Are you any good at this?”

  He laughed as if the question was too ridiculous to answer. “I am a knight of the realm.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better! Have you ever hit anyone in this game?”

  “None that did not move.”

  “Great.” She bent down and scooped up the cabbage. If possible, it seemed even smaller than before. She glanced at Galahad. He was getting pretty far away. Surely, he couldn’t possibly plan on shooting from such a long distance away?

  Apparently he could. Finally, he stopped, turned toward her and loaded an arrow.

  She breathed deeply, set the cabbage flat on her palm and held her hand against the tree. Was that the tree moving or was she shaking? Had she ever been this scared? It was the medieval version of chicken. If she so much as flinched she’d be coleslaw. Still, even if she lost a finger or two, she’d still have nine others. Or eight.

  He raised the bow and took aim. Her heart hammered against her chest. If she was really brave she’d watch the arrow come toward her. Who was she trying to kid? She squeezed her eyes shut tight and prayed. Dear God, if you get me out of this I’ll go to church every Sunday from now on. Why not? Her credit was probably thin but not gone. This was a deal she’d made before, usually on the top of a roller coaster. This time I really mean it.

  A twang sounded in the distance. Help! The arrow thudded into the oak. The tree shook. She snapped open her eyes and jerked away her hand.

  The cabbage, the very small cabbage, was skewered to the tree. Tessa stared and pulled great gulps of air. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Galahad start toward her but she couldn’t wrench her gaze away from the impaled cabbage. The arrow quivered, centered almost perfectly in the vegetable. Her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. Courage sure took a lot out of you. Galahad was good. Very good. Obviously, there was never any real danger for her as long as she kept her hand still. As long as she had enough courage to trust him. And faith. Still, he had scared the hell out of her.

  “Tessa!” He knelt at her side, his anxious gaze searched her face. “Are you unharmed? When you collapsed, I feared—” He glanced up at the cabbage. “But I did not hit you.”

  “No, you got the cabbage. Perfectly, in fact.” She brushed her hair away from her face with a shaky han
d. “Why didn’t you tell me how good a shot you were?”

  “I said I was a knight. Besides, did it not take greater courage to face someone whose skill was unknown? Did it not require a greater level of trust?” He got to his feet and extended his hand.

  “Not to mention fear,” she said under her breath and grabbed his hand. “Trust is important, isn’t it?” He helped her to her feet.

  “Indeed. You place your trust in me and, in return, I trust in your courage.” Galahad grasped the arrow and jerked it out of the tree. The cabbage fell in two pieces to the ground.

  “It goes both ways then?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “In that case…” She picked up his bow and plucked the string. Could he take it as well as he could dish it out? “It’s your turn.”

  “My turn?” Confusion washed across his face.

  “It’s your turn to…um…hold the cabbage.”

  “I think not.” Indignation sounded in his voice.

  “Why not?”

  “I have no knowledge of your skill.”

  “I didn’t know how good you were when I did it.”

  “But I am a knight.”

  “And I had Sister Abigail. Trust, Big Guy, remember. You said it yourself—I barely know you. That ‘I’m a knight’ line might be self-explanatory here but where I’m from it doesn’t mean a whole lot. You did nothing to ease my fears. Blind trust, faith—that’s what you asked for from me.” She bent down and picked up the smaller of the cabbage halves. “Now, it’s my turn to ask it from you.”

  “’Twas not I who asked for a test. I have no need to prove my worthiness.” He folded his arms over his chest and glared. “I am a knight.”

  “You can say it all you want, but let me tell you a couple of things.” She leaned the bow against the tree and carefully selected an arrow, mimicking his earlier actions. She bit back a smile. The man was definitely nervous. “I’ve been a Girl Scout, I am a member of several scholastic fraternities, hold a VISA gold card and I’m a natural blonde. None of that gives you the tiniest clue about my ability to handle this thing.” She tapped the arrowhead on his chest. “If we’re going to work together, shouldn’t I have as much confidence in you as you have in me?”