“Your Ladyship, you have struck out in the wrong direction…”
She stopped. Turning around, she began to pass him, and murmured, “Thank you.”
“I shall attempt to mount, as you suggested.”
Again she stopped walking and turned back to him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I repeat, I shall attempt to mount my steed, as you suggested. I am certain Your Ladyship heard me the first time. Your arrow has found its mark.”
“My arrow?” Now what was he talking about?
He leaned his arm on the saddle, and began speaking as though to the horse. “The Lady Margaret requires complete humility, I see.” He turned toward her. “If thou must hear it all, then so be it,” he continued with a sigh, “my pride prevailed over my reason. Thou art correct. If I cannot ride, then you must lead me.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job of it, even backward… Nick.”
He reluctantly grinned, as though he couldn’t help himself, and Maggie saw the action completely transform his expression. She didn’t desire anger from this man. Even though his manners were above reproach, something about him made her instinctively know that there was a strength, a forceful intensity about him that he kept under the surface, under control. She simply desired his attention in order to communicate, which wasn’t going so well, she admitted.
She stood behind him, while he nearly hung on the saddle with both arms. Hearing his short gasps of pain as he stood on his injured leg, she wished she could do more than watch as he set his good leg to the stirrup. With one good bob, he began to lift himself, and once his bad leg was off the ground, he appeared to falter.
Maggie, not knowing what else to do, put her hands under his firm behind and gave him a shove.
“Hold his head down!” he yelled back at her as his cape fell to his right side and over her head.
“Oh… oh, yes… of course,” she muttered, while throwing off the cape. Grabbing the reins, she pulled down. The horse lowered its head, and Nick groaned as he swung his bad leg over its neck and straddled the horse.
“Argggh… I swear by the fists of Thor!” His voice roared into the surrounding woods as he maneuvered his injured leg into position and settled onto the saddle.
Maggie winced in sympathy. Once she saw him sitting upright, she stood back and wiped her hands on her skirt while catching her breath. “There. Now, isn’t that better? You’re off your feet. In a few moments, your leg will ease up and we can start moving.”
He wiped his forehead on his cape and looked around him in disgust. “I cannot believe this predicament. I must look the fool. I can only hope better fates are with me now and no one comes along.”
“You’re not a fool, Nick. A fool would stay out here with no hope of help. You overcame your pride and used your intelligence.” There. That ought to make him feel better. But he did look pretty silly facing the rump of a horse.
He looked down at her and his eyes seemed to get lighter, almost a luminous, ethereal blue. “You may be confusing. You may even try a saint’s patience, but you have shown your wisdom. And I thank you for reminding me that pride never serves, Lady Margaret.”
She felt locked in his gaze, losing herself in the depths, and pulled back from the attraction by picking up the reins of the horse. “Well now, we’ll just walk slowly, and soon we’ll both reach our destinations. You just get as comfortable as possible. It can’t be that far.”
Nicholas Layton drew in his breath and stared down at me remarkable woman. She held her station as if she were the Queen herself, not budging an inch from her inner beliefs, and yet she was as contrary as a wildcat with a speech pattern that he was barely able to assimilate. The wealth of her bejeweled dress spoke of her rank and standing, yet she was also quite lovely in her feistiness, her spirited common sense. And she had called him to answer for his pride. Not many, save Francis, could have aimed so well to hit a target and not wound… too dearly. He mentally shook such thoughts out of his head. She belonged to another. As odd as this woman appeared, he was not to judge. He had heard the rumors from Francis last week that Lord Amesbury was marrying the Lady Margaret for the wealth she could provide Amesbury’s dwindling coffers. Also, for several years the rumors at court were not kind, for gossips whispered that since Lady Margaret lost her husband, she was… peculiar.
Gathering his wits about him, he cleared his throat. “Even at a slow walk it shall take a bit of time,” he said in answer to her statement.
“To get back to the faire? You’re joking. Minutes, at the most.”
“Faire? What is this faire you speak of, m’lady? Surely you can ascertain you are in the middle of a forest.”
She turned to him and the expression upon her face was… not pleasant.
“I don’t know how to get this through to you,” she impatiently stated. “I am a customer at this Renaissance Festival. I’m here with my aunt and her companion, and when we entered the maze we were separated. Now I need to find them and—”
“You were with the Countess Elthea?” Pushing himself erect in the saddle and looking anxiously about the woods, he asked, “Where is she? Is she injured?”
“I was with my aunt. My aunt… not this fictional person you keep talking about. You still don’t get it, do you? I’m not playing!”
He hadn’t the slightest idea of how to answer this peculiar woman. Was she truly mentally unsound?
“Okay, let’s just drop it and get out of here,” she exclaimed with a dismissive wave of her hand, then wiped at her brow as she looked down the path. “Sheesh, it’s hot. Hold on… don’t turn around.”
Of course he did, and was startled to see her releasing the closings on her garment. “Lady Margaret!” Shocked, he called out to her before she proceeded. Surely this woman was not in her right mind to be disrobing publicly!
“What? I’m just taking off this stifling blouse. How would you like it if you had to wear this getup?” She pulled at the delicate material around her chin. “If you turn back around, I can unbutton it and pull it through the sleeves. It’s too damn hot to wear now.”
Stunned, Nicholas watched her reach down under her bodice and then become most distressed as she pulled the material away from her body. She patted her chest, then clutched her throat. “My pearls! What have I done?”
“Your pearls, m’lady?” Still in a state himself, he could merely repeat her words as she worked at pulling the material of her underblouse through the sleeves of her gown. She looked… frantic, mad even, as she struggled.
“Dear God, what have I done? Where are they? I can’t have lost them. I can’t! Damn it. I can’t do it like this.” Trapped inside the material, she pushed her arms once more through the sleeves and stomped toward the woods. “Now turn away, and this time I mean it,” she added as she reached behind her and began unlacing her gown.
He watched in astonishment as she walked behind a bush. Glancing over her shoulder to him, she shouted, “Turn around!” and he did. He stared down the path and simply could not believe what he was experiencing… thrown from his horse, a most unfortunate meeting with the Lady Margaret, seated backward upon his animal like a simpleton, and now witnessing the Lady Margaret undressing herself. What was Francis always saying to him? That all circumstances are meant to occur and are fraught with meaning? Well, he would like to get Francis’s opinion of this afternoon’s debacle. Imagine… Lady Margaret disrobing! He wished he could remember the gossip at court. Surely this type of behavior went beyond the realm of peculiar.
Just as those thoughts passed through his mind, Nicholas found himself turning his head ever so slightly toward the woods. He had to remind himself to breathe as he beheld a most astonishing sight. The scattered sunlight illuminated a wood nymph pulling down the top of her gown and removing her underblouse. He caught the tantalizing silhouette of her waist, her full breasts, the graceful line of her neck and bared arms as she pulled the blouse away and revealed herself to his spellbound ga
ze. She was… magnificent in her freedom, and the most outrageous being he had ever encountered. Male or female.
And he was mesmerized…
Lady Margaret quickly slipped her arms into her sleeves and pulled up the bodice of her gown to cover her nakedness. Not that much of a fool, he looked away just as quickly. Even though he was seated ass backward upon his faithful steed, he had enough wits not to be caught.
“Breathe, Nicholas. Breathe,” he reminded himself, acutely embarrassed to be in this situation and feeling his body immediately react to another man’s woman.
“Oh, what have I done? Where is it?”
Her voice sounded near, and he straightened his shoulders in an attempt at composure. “What is it that distresses you so, m’lady?” He knew what distressed him and tried to wipe the amazing vision of this woman revealing herself from his mind.
“My pearls! I’ve lost them!”
He turned his head and looked down to her as all shreds of composure, any remote hope of composure, abandoned him. Without her underbodice, the Lady Margaret’s breasts were deliciously exposed. No, not merely exposed, but framed by a square neckline bordered with jewels. What human being, awake, could not look?
“What am I going to do? I have to find them,” she cried out, bending over to search the ground.
He didn’t need to be asked. He averted his gaze without being told. Besides, if he continued to lose himself in her delights, he would also lose his ability to speak. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his forehead on the ruff of his shirtsleeve. She was right. It was exceedingly hot.
“Pray tell, Lady Margaret, when was it you last had them?”
She looked up at him. “I had them here at the faire. And in the maze. I must have lost them when your horse attacked me.”
Immediately she proceeded to the spot where she had fallen. She bent over again and Nicholas cursed his body’s response. This was a most delicate position in which to be placed. Shifting himself on the saddle, he looked behind him again and saw that she was now on her hands and knees, searching frantically through the dirt and leaves.
“Lady Margaret,” he called out, hoping to make her stop such foolishness. She didn’t appear to hear him as she continued to pick at twigs and fallen leaves. “Lady Margaret, do not distress yourself,” he again called, urging the horse with his feet to proceed forward.
It was most awkward, seated backward, yet Goliath sensed his direction and walked willingly. From some distant part of his brain, he saw himself, his position, his intention, and realized anyone observing would be rolling on the forest floor in peals of laughter. However, gentility, as he had been trained to believe, prevailed, and he proceeded closer to the woman.
Nicholas murmured to his horse and the animal stopped, not in the least concerned about what fools they looked, and lowered his head to the ground. “Lady Margaret, if you could but help me down, I can assist you. I am cursed by this injury and cannot dismount without aid.” There. That was truth, spoken without pride.
She stopped crawling on the dirt path and turned her head to look up at him. His own heart seemed to catch at the expression of grief upon her lovely face.
“You don’t understand,” she cried, leaning back into a sitting position and punching at the billows of material that engulfed her. “These pearls are special. They’re a gift. I have to find them!”
He thought she looked as though she were seated upon a ruby toadstool and marveled at her lack of decorum. Should anyone else come upon them, her seated thusly along a road, him seated backward upon a horse, they would think them surely mad. By the grace of Her Majesty the Queen, he wasn’t so sure himself any longer.
“Help me dismount, and I shall assist thee,” he again offered… anything to make her rise. Was she so distraught as not to realize her lowered position offered him the opportunity to behold her most excellent breasts?
“What?” She gazed up to him, as though his words were finally piercing through her mists of madness. “Are you nuts? And go through that ordeal again to get you back up there? I’ll find them. I have to. They must be here… somewhere. Damn it… what’s happening? Why is everything so screwed up?”
He watched her cover her face with her hands, and she seemed to surrender as her shoulders sank in dejection. “Lady Margaret,” he said in a low, gentle voice, “please do not distress yourself any further. I promise you shall have your pearls. Lord Robert will send someone to find them. If not, I shall scour these very woods myself. You shall have your proper jewels again.”
Sniffling, she lowered her hands and stared at him with eyes that sparkled with unshed moisture. “You know, Nick, you might be weird, but you’re really sweet. Thank you, but you just don’t understand. They were given to my aunt by someone special, and he told her she would know when the time was right for her to pass them on. She waited years and years and deemed me worthy of them. Me! And now I’ve lost them.”
“We shall find your maze then,” he said, wanting to wipe away her grief. “’Twas then you stated the pearls were still with you.”
“Right. And where is this maze? I didn’t run that far before your horse attacked me.” She turned her head toward the woods. “Where is it?”
He had no answer for her. No maze that he had ever heard about existed in the forest. “My lady,” he said gently, “my horse did not, and would not, attack you. ’Twas you who nearly ran him off the road. Goliath is a most gentle creature.”
“Oh, right…” she muttered, pushing upward into a kneeling position, then grabbing her skirt and holding it up while struggling to stand. Sniffling, she said, “You’d have to have been in my shoes, Nickie. I thought the hounds of hell were coming after me.”
Even the glimpse of her shapely legs faded when he realized what he’d just heard. She had called him Nickie. No one upon this earth called him that. It was an endearment his saintly departed mother used and one that melted his heart. “Forgive me and Goliath, Lady Margaret. Let us all depart this unfortunate place for more peaceful climes. Lord Robert shall indeed send someone to retrieve your jewels.”
Walking toward him, the lady nodded and picked up her underbodice from the tuft of grass where she had dropped it. “You’re right; maybe there’s a lost and found office where I can file a claim,” she murmured, blinking back tears as she held the reins and tossed the material embroidered with golden thread over Goliath’s back. “Let’s go.”
“Ahh, Lady Margaret… ?” he called out as Goliath began to move. “Have you forgotten that I am turned in the wrong direction?” Surely he wasn’t about to travel like this.
She was determinedly looking toward the woods. “I have to find that maze. They must be there. C’mon, let’s hurry. I need to talk to someone in authority. Shit I hope they’re insured.”
“Insured?” Again she was drifting into that strange speech pattern.
“It doesn’t matter,” she stated, walking faster. “They are valuable beyond money.”
He had to hold on to the saddle to keep his balance as Goliath kept pace with the woman. “Lady Margaret. I must turn around.”
“Oh, we’ll get you turned around before we reach the faire. Just let’s hurry right now. I don’t want anyone to pick up those pearls and walk away with them. I would never forgive myself.”
“And I shall never forgive you if someone should witness me in this confounding position.” Really! He never would have mounted this way, had she not assured him she would assist him in righting himself.
She didn’t hesitate in her direction. “Pride again, Nick?” she asked over her shoulder as she picked up her skirt and urged the horse to a faster pace. “These pearls are more important than your ego. Let’s just reach someplace civilized, and I promise I’ll help you then.”
He simply could not believe her. She was the most unpredictable woman he had ever encountered, and he knew further entreaties would not be heard. She was determined now. Nicholas wondered if he could turn himself around, yet every time Goli
ath hit a rut in the road his knee reminded him that he was as good as lame.
They didn’t speak until she reached a fork in the road. She began turning about to the left when he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “We must proceed this way,” he said, pointing in the other direction.
She stopped and stared down both paths. “I think you’re wrong. The parking lot was this way… away from the village.”
“That,” he said emphatically, jabbing his finger in the air, “is away from the village. Your Ladyship’s path will lead us back to the village, a much farther distance. We will find assistance my way.”
She seemed to ponder his words. “Okay, so this is the way to a first-aid station? This is where the employees go?”
“I simply cannot comprehend m’lady’s thoughts. Could you but speak plainly?”
She shook her head, as though he were the one unbalanced, and Nicholas drew up his shoulders and sat to his full height to prepare himself for her retort.
“Is… this… plain… enough? I… need… to… find… someone… in… charge.”
He realized she was distraught, yet she was trying his patience beyond its limit. “Pray do not address me as though I am without the intelligence to know whence I came. The Lord Robert of Amesbury is in charge of this land, and he will be all the assistance you need, Lady Margaret.” He didn’t care how lovely she was, that the sight of her and her exquisite body made both his knees go weak, even his injured one, or that she had called him by his mother’s childhood endearment.
She was odd.
Extremely… odd.
They proceeded in silence, and Nicholas was determined he would not break it. Surely, anyone observing would agree that he had extended himself beyond the realms of propriety. His chivalry was intact. Bruised a tad, sitting upon the rump of his horse, but intact nonetheless.
As they rounded a bend in the road, the horse suddenly stopped and Nicholas turned his head to see why they had paused. Lady Margaret stood, transfixed, staring ahead of her. Looking in that direction he saw Greville Manor, standing majestically beyond the woods.
Once and Forever Page 6
