Once and Forever

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  “Since I am queen, I am now superior to you?” she challenged as he rose.

  He saw her challenge immediately and stared at her for a moment, as though testing where she wanted to go on this one. Maggie’s answering grin was genuine. He nodded, letting her know he accepted, and then he grinned at her with the sexiest smile she had ever seen in her entire life and tomorrow she was going to be forty years old!

  Oh, c’mon… her mind was rebelling as her body was shot through with intense sexual tension. It felt more powerful than when she had been young! And in an instant, she knew she had little to worry about turning the big 4-0 tomorrow. She had never felt more alive!

  “If I am correct,” Nick said as leaned his hand on the edge of his chair and examined his fingers, “if I have spoken my truth, and we are together in the year 1598, then you have traveled through time to be here. For me, there is no other answer. Therefore, you have experienced the power of something I cannot define. It is beyond my scope of language.”

  He slowly reached for his goblet and extended it in a salute. Once more their gaze was locked with such intensity that another surge of sexual tension raced inside of her, shocking her with its intensity. She was now keenly aware that she had extended a challenge to someone extraordinary. He might be an actor. He might be nuts. He might be an angel in heaven, and he might be a fellow inmate of life. Whoever he was, whatever his story, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

  There was no fear.

  It was as though the space between them collapsed as their gaze deepened and Maggie felt herself opening to him with respect.

  When he spoke, his voice sounded… real.

  “I am in the presence of someone divinely… gifted. A queen, at the very least. Someone more, I think.” His smile was humble, yet respectful of his own station in her presence. “I would bow deeply, Maggie Whitaker.”

  She was stunned. Rattled. Flattered. Hit for a loop, her mother would say.

  So many thoughts ran through her head that she felt dizzy as she tried to maintain balance. This was about some challenge… right? Who had challenged whom on this one? It might have been the ale, yet Maggie had to admit that if she were stone-cold sober she would have felt the same thing.

  Wow!

  And she had thought she didn’t go for that romance-hero kind of guy. She was too… what? Practical? She wanted to laugh at herself, yet knew she’d better keep it together as Nick sat down and invited her with a gesture to join him. He held out his hand to her, and as she placed hers inside his strong palm, she felt a jolt of energy pass through her, igniting her already inflamed senses.

  She slowly sat in the opposite chair before the fire and tried to appear composed, even though her mind was telling her that the man of her dreams was sitting right across from her! It could not be possible. It couldn’t! She didn’t want to buy his story!

  There wasn’t anything called time travel. There wasn’t… What was she? The queen of craziness? Because she’d have to be crazy to believe it! And yet… something had happened. She could no longer deny the existence of that little girl, the light, the disappearing hedges. It had happened, and she had been transported to the other side of the looking glass, where everything seemed so real. It was if she were the only single person since she’d left the woods who knew it was the year 2000. But she wasn’t alone. This man was saying he accepted her story as her truth. He was merely stating his.

  Now that sounded crazy.

  Her brain seemed to crash with the concept and she had to force her lips to move. “And what if you are not correct?” She couldn’t believe she was afraid of the answer.

  He smiled tenderly. “Then you have learned precedence.”

  She sucked in her breath as his words struck another chord within her. A tender, sweet one that resonated so deeply that she felt her heart opening more.

  “Do not mistake my bow as an act of submitting to another’s power over me. It is not so, Maggie Whitaker. I am but acknowledging that I am in the presence of someone who also knows about power. And that may be a woman who travels through time or a queen who marries a country to save herself and her beliefs. Would you not agree it is the use of power that earns respect?”

  “Of course.” Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t want to drink anymore ale.

  “Also, I admit, when we met, I took offense at your assumption I was an actor. I believed I hid that well. Your choice remarks about ego were well received, m’lady.”

  As if reading her mind, he replenished her drink and handed it to her. She accepted the goblet and held it in her hands as she stared at him in the firelight. She simply could not believe she was falling in love. One day with this man and she knew… knew… that they were supposed to meet.

  Their eyes locked. He was illuminated in the fire’s glow, seductive in the magic light. What was that…that wild racing through her body, as though she’d just connected to something important, something she thought she recognized in his face?

  “Is it good to be queen?” he softly whispered.

  Chapter Eight

  It was as though she were living a fairy tale.

  When she had awakened it was to three costumed women bustling about her room, withdrawing the heavy curtains around her bed, lighting fires, serving her honey wine and delicious biscuits. She had been pampered, groomed, and left to ponder the incredible turn of her life. Sitting in a chair, gazing out to the rose garden below… Maggie again wondered if she’d had a nervous breakdown and was actually sitting in an institution hallucinating. Yet, as her fingers touched the heavy, rich material of her gown, she realized that everything felt so real, looked so clear, even the breeze coming in through the window smelled more sharp, cleaner.

  And what about last night with Nick! Now that was about as real as anything she had ever experienced. He was… she fought for a word. Incredible. It had to have been the ale. Something. She could not be forty years old today and considering love with a singer who claimed to be living four hundred years in the past!

  If she had gone crazy, she was certainly in a great place to be “out-there.”

  Inhaling deeply, Maggie looked out to the lovely rose garden and stood up. Even though she’d said she would help Elthea, she simply had to escape, for she found herself being drawn more and more into this fantasy. His fantasy. It was seductive….

  A mental picture of Nick wishing her a good night raced through her mind. She had thought, just for a moment, that he might kiss her. He had been staring at her mouth for the longest time, as though wondering what it might taste like. At least she’d been wondering, and that, alone, should be proof enough that she needed to find an escape. If she remained, Maggie feared she just might believe she had time traveled… and that would mean, of course, that she was insane and should be institutionalized! Her brain was starting to hurt from trying to analyze everything.

  Dressed in her refreshed ruby gown, Maggie looked once around the chamber and walked toward the door. It was now or never.

  What did Aunt Edithe say? There is no safety, nothing guaranteed, in an adventure?

  Ironically, Elthea had scolded her with almost the same message.

  Don’t think about it now, she admonished herself as she pulled up the metal latch and opened the heavy door. Looking out to the empty stone hallway, Maggie moved forward and tiptoed to the stairway. She would just go down it, walk through the great hall, and out into the garden. Once there, she would meander toward the entrance to this place and run.

  That was her only plan. It had to work.

  She opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and entered in back of the great hall, behind the head table. Several people were working, sweeping and assembling tables, and some raised their heads and stared at her.

  Startled by their presence, Maggie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath as she closed the door behind her and entered the massive room. She kept reminding herself to stay calm as she walked farther into the hall, and appreciated the high, stiff
collar of her underblouse that forced her to keep her chin up.

  Two women, sweeping, bowed and lowered their heads as she passed.

  “M’lady,” they whispered in unison.

  Maggie smiled and nodded with a simple, “Good morning.”

  Several others followed the ritual, and she found herself smiling and nodding as she briskly walked past them. This was her first honest attempt at role-playing and she felt foolish. Maggie almost laughed at her nervousness. How can one be honest and be playing a role, other than herself? Don’t think, her mind commanded, and she was reminded that her immediate objective was to get to a door, either door to the sides of the fireplace, and leave this crazy place that seemed so real.

  Success!

  Once out of the great hall, Maggie hurried to the main door and slowly opened it, wincing at the creaking of the old oak. Closing it behind her she inhaled the fresh air and immediately walked to the nearest rosebush, while attempting to remain as nonchalant as possible. She stopped and, while waiting for her heart to slow down the hammering inside her chest, sniffed the delicate fragrance coming from the pink rose.

  She’d made it… at least so far no one had questioned her or tried to stop her. Encouraged, Maggie slowly walked to the next flowering bush and the next and the next, all in the direction of the gated door that would lead across a wooden bridge and to freedom.

  She felt a twinge of remorse for leaving Elthea like this and more than a twinge about Nicholas, but none of it was really normal, and she needed to get back to normal people who took showers and had working indoor plumbing, telephones, and drove cars and spoke in a language that wasn’t archaic. Oh yeah… and men who didn’t look in her eyes and read her soul. Normal people. Her aunt Edithe would help solve this mystery, she thought as she inhaled the scent of another delicate rose. If there was a weird group of people that practiced living in the Renaissance, she was sure Malcolm and Edithe would know about it.

  “The loveliness of my mother’s flowers surely pales before thy own beauty, cousin.”

  Startled, Maggie, none too gracefully, stood upright and turned toward the sound of the deep male voice. A man dressed in dark green britches and a white shirt with intricate lace on the high collar and flowing sleeves was walking toward her with a smile upon his face. Behind him stood several men, who seemed pleased to be witnesses.

  “Forgive me, Your Ladyship, for interrupting such a private moment, yet I could not help myself in finally making your acquaintance. I am most happy to see the blush of good health upon thy comely cheeks.”

  He stood before her and Maggie felt the pounding of her heart in her ears and in her fingertips. It was Lord Robert! She was sure of it, as his mouth held the same pleasing tilt as Elthea’s. Now what was she supposed to do?

  Immediately, she remembered last night with Nicholas. Just change the names, her mind commanded.

  Slowly, Maggie lowered herself into a deep curtsy and bowed her head.

  “I am honored, Lord Amesbury,” she whispered, as a bird let out a loud cry above them.

  “Prithee, rise, dear lady and allow me to gaze upon thy countenance, for I fear the small portraiture I have held these many months does thee no justice whatsoever.”

  Oh shit, now he’11 know, Maggie thought, and took a deep breath as she accepted his outstretched hand and slowly stood upright. Raising her chin, she gazed into his eyes and smiled, wondering if he would see she was an impostor and end the charade right then.

  “Thou art far more lovely than I had expected. The years have been kind to thee, dear cousin.” There was flirtation in his dark eyes and some kind of knowing in his full smile. He wasn’t bad-looking… at all. Tall, dark with a full head of hair that curled around his handsome face and quite sure of himself, too.

  For some reason, Maggie didn’t like being around him. It could be because Elthea and Nick had warned her about him, or it could also be that she wasn’t all that fond of a man, even a good-looking man, assuming anything about her. For some weird reason, he reminded her of her ex-husband, physically, and in that barely contained arrogance of a man who knows how to get what he wants from a woman. She had to also remind herself that he, like all those around her, actually believed he was someone else and his someone else was betrothed to the Lady Margaret. What a web they all were weaving. It was hard to keep the roles in order. Now, how was she supposed to answer him?

  “You are very kind, m’lord. Thank you.”

  Seemed polite enough.

  “Your cousin, my lady mother, informs me you have suffered a misfortune while on your travels to Greville Manor. I pray you are recovered sufficiently, m’lady? Perchance, a recounting of your tale would enable that I might dispatch my guards posthaste to apprehend the scoundrels who accosted you, and your cortege. Such an affront upon a person of the nobility is punishable by—”

  “Dear cousin Margaret,” Countess Elthea called out, as she hustled through her garden. “Thou gave me quite a fright, I fear.”

  Caught for sure, Maggie could only smile with an odd mixture of the disappointing failure to escape and immediate relief to be rescued. She was not doing well on her own with Robert. “I was admiring your beautiful roses,” she murmured, as Elthea joined them and looked cautiously from Maggie to her son.

  “Good morrow, my dear lady mother. It appears our lovely cousin Margaret shares thy passion for flowers.” He raised his mother’s hand and lightly kissed her fingertips. “’Twas here I happened upon her, a most inviting vision of loveliness she presented, that I was compelled to seize such advantage and dispense with formal introductions. You might have warned me my future bride was so pleasing that the winged birds above would sing her praises. I am most pleased.” He glanced to his cronies behind him and smirked.

  Okay, now she really didn’t like him. He not only overplayed the part of lord of the manor, but he also actually believed that his opinion of her looks was important. What arrogance! Immediately, she remembered that he thought Lady Margaret was about to marry him, and so he would flirt. She glanced at Elthea and recognized her pleading expression, as though begging her to go along with the charade. There was something, almost fear, in the woman’s eyes, and Maggie found herself bowing once more in answer to his compliment.

  “Impetuousness can wither even the strongest of hearts, my lord and son.” Elthea gave him a mildly chastising glance. “We shall make the formal introductions in the proper manner, Robert. Such an untimely meeting before an audience is most unseemly, is it not?” And she glanced to the men, who were still staring with great interest. “Pray thee, allow me to escort this lovely child from here and return her to her chamber, where she may recoup fully from her arduous journey and prepare for the coming festivities.” She squeezed Maggie’s hand.

  Robert smiled to his friends, then bowed with great flourish. “I beg your forgiveness, my lady mother and dear cousin Margaret. My heart overwhelmed my good senses.” He took Maggie’s hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles in an intimate gesture. “Until this evening… when we may be formally introduced, then we shall feast and celebrate our betrothal with fine food and drink. Anon, m’lady…”

  Maggie pulled her hand away quickly, grabbed her skirt, and curtsied with a quick bounce. “Good day, m’lord,” she whispered, while staring the man down. Nicholas might not approve, but she wasn’t lowering her head to this pretentious man again.

  “We beg thy leave, Robert.” Elthea curtsied once more, pulling Maggie back with her.

  “Come,” Elthea said, “I have sent for the mercer, the draper, and the stapler. You might be surprised at the quality one finds this far from court. As soon as your silks and linens have been selected, the tailor and seamstresses are prepared to replenish your wardrobe posthaste.’ Already the draper has arrived and is waiting in your chamber, dear cousin.” Maggie knew that speech was more for an impression than truth. Elthea took Maggie’s arm and looked back to her son watching their departure from the garden.

  Ne
ither woman said another word as they walked through the courtyard and back toward the main door. Just before they entered, Maggie distinctly heard Robert laughing with his men and one of them saying, “Fie me, but thou hath lucked well again, m’lord. Not half as sorry-looking as thou had imagined!”

  Maggie’s back stiffened as she barely heard Robert’s reply. “I am pleased.”

  “Child, do come along,” Elthea encouraged, as Evan opened the huge front door and exchanged an expression of relief with the countess.

  Once inside the hall, Maggie pulled away from the woman. “I can’t stay here! I have to leave and get back to my own people!”

  “Hush,” Elthea warned, and looked around the foyer for others who might overhear. “’Tis neither the time nor the place for this discussion. Come with me to my chamber, that we might converse in private.”

  And so Maggie found herself back in the castle, back in the deception, and back into insanity.

  “Prithee understand, the fabrics delivered are for the true Lady Margaret, and I regret our stapler cannot finish a new gown for you prior to this night’s gala,” Elthea whispered as she patted Maggie’s hair, which had been twisted into a coronet. She checked the pins on the circle of diamonds that rested on top. “You are an angel, child,” she breathed in appreciation of her creation.

  Maggie sat frozen at the vanity table, unable to speak, just staring into the hazy mirror.

  “Regardless, tonight you are so lovely, familiarity of thy raiment shall be overlooked. All shall be taken quite agog, I am certain, by your piercing blue eyes.” Maggie could tell Elthea was trying to smile reassuringly. “Practice caution, child, for the eyes are the windows to the soul… and our deception must be convincing for tonight’s performance. Once the feast has concluded, you may retire. Then an outing shall be arranged for you to search out thy…”—she paused— “… thy maze and the illusions surrounding it.”