Dougless smiled, her head back against his. He had noticed, she thought. He had.
When her hair was combed, he toweled it dry, then held up the white terry robe the hotel furnished. “Come,” he said, putting on the other robe.
He led her downstairs, through the darkened hotel lobby, and into the kitchen.
“Nicholas,” she said, “we shouldn’t be here.”
He kissed her to silence. “I am hungry,” he said as though that were excuse enough.
Being in the hotel kitchen when she knew they shouldn’t be added excitement to this most wonderful night. She looked at the back of Nicholas as he opened a refrigerator door (and felt a little pang that he had learned of refrigerators from someone other than her). Now he was truly hers, she thought, hers to touch whenever she wanted. Holding his hand, she pressed her body against his and put her head in the crook of his shoulder.
“Nicholas,” she whispered. “I love you so much. Don’t leave me.”
Turning, he looked into her eyes, and his face was full of longing. He looked back in the refrigerator. “Where’s the ice cream?”
She laughed. “In the freezer. Try that door,” she said, pointing.
He wouldn’t let her out of his sight or touch as he pulled her toward the freezer. There were big cardboard vats of ice cream inside. Clinging together like Siamese twins, they went about the kitchen and found bowls, spoons, and a steel ladle. Nicholas scooped out an enormous amount from one vat into each bowl, then slipped the vat back into the freezer. He dribbled vanilla ice cream down the front of her, then licked it off, the ice cream traveling lower, just below his tongue. He licked the last just as it reached her red-gold curls.
“Strawberry,” he said, making Dougless laugh.
They sat facing each other, legs crossed, on the eight-foot-long butcher-block cutting table (“Unsanitary,” Dougless said), but she didn’t get down. They ate quietly for a moment, but then Nicholas dropped ice cream on Dougless’s foot and licked it off. Dougless leaned forward to kiss Nicholas and “accidently” dropped ice cream on his inner thigh.
“I’ll bet that’s awfully cold,” she said against his lips.
“I cannot bear it,” he whispered.
She slowly, so that her breasts raked along his bare body, made her way to the splat of ice cream on his thigh, licked it off, and when it was gone, she continued licking. The ice cream was forgotten as Nicholas leaned back against the table and pulled her up to him. As though she weighed nothing, his biceps bulging, he picked her up and set her down on top of him, his hands moving up her body to clutch her breasts as Dougless moved slowly up and down.
It was a long time before they arched together, Nicholas pulling her down to him to kiss her hungrily and fiercely.
“I believe, madam,” he whispered in her ear, “that you have melted my ice cream.”
Laughing, Dougless snuggled against him. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” she said, her hand caressing his chest and shoulders inside the sleeve of the robe that he still wore. “I’ve never met a man like you.”
She lifted on one elbow and looked down at him. “Were you an unusual man in the sixteenth century, or were they all like you?”
Nicholas grinned at her. “I am unique, which is why the women—”
She kissed him to silence. “Say no more. I’d as soon hear nothing more about your women—or your wife.” She put her head down. “I’d like to think I’m special to you, not just one of hundreds.”
He lifted her chin to look at her. “You called me across centuries, and I answered. Is that not enough to make you ‘special’?”
“Then you do care for me? At least somewhat?”
“There are no words,” he said, then kissed her lightly and pushed her head back down, but as he stroked her damp hair, he felt her relax against him and knew she was falling asleep. Closing her robe, he bundled her into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen and up to their room. Once they were inside their room, he removed both their robes, put her into bed, then climbed in beside her. She was already asleep as he snuggled her to him.
But Nicholas wasn’t sleepy at all. He tried to pull her closer to him, her bare bottom up against his half-swollen maleness, his leg over hers, but she was as close as could be.
She asked if he cared for her, he thought. Cared for her? She was becoming all to him, his reason for living. He cared what she thought, what she felt, what she needed. He couldn’t bear more than minutes away from her.
Each morning and afternoon he went to pray for God to return him to his own time, but part of his mind thought constantly of what it would be like to never see her again, to never hear her laugh, to never see her cry again, to never hold her in his arms.
He ran his hand over her shoulder and tucked the cover closer about her. Never had he met a woman like her. She had no guile, no sense of taking what she wanted, no sense of self-preservation. Smiling, he remembered her protests when he’d first met her. She’d said she would not help him, but he’d seen in her eyes how she couldn’t bear leaving him alone in a strange land. He thought of the women of his own time and knew of no woman who would help some poor madman.
But Dougless had, he thought. She’d helped him and taught him and . . . loved him. She’d given her love freely and completely.
Completely, he thought, smiling in memory of this night. No woman had ever responded to him with such complete abandonment as Dougless had tonight. Arabella used to demand. “Here! Now!” she’d say. Other women thought they were granting him a favor. Lettice . . . He didn’t like to think of his cold wife. She lay in bed stiff-limbed, her eyes open, as though challenging him to do his husbandly duties. In four years of marriage he’d not been able to get her with child.
As he caressed Dougless’s bare arm, in her sleep she tried to move closer to him. He kissed her temple. How could he leave her? he asked himself. How could he go back to his other life, to his other women, and leave her alone and unprotected? She was so soft that it was no wonder she was at the mercy of men like the one he’d pushed out the door.
Nicholas thought of his mother and his wife. Those two women would be able to take care of themselves no matter what befell them. But not Dougless. He feared that a week after he left, she’d be back with that odious man whom she believed she loved.
He stroked her hair. How could he leave her alone with no one to protect her? He did not understand the modern world. It was her father’s duty to choose a husband for her, yet the man left his daughter to her own devices. Smiling, Nicholas thought of how Dougless would fare with a man of his time who a father might choose for her. All her childish talk of love would mean nothing against the joining of estates.
But as Nicholas looked down at Dougless, he knew he was beginning to understand what she meant. Love. Dougless had said that perhaps he’d been sent to the modern world not for honor but for love. At the time, Nicholas had scoffed at the idea. This cataclysmic thing had happened for love and not for honor? Not possible! But they’d found the name of the traitor and Nicholas had not left her world.
He remembered Dougless saying that everything in the past had turned out all right. All right to her, perhaps. He was remembered as a fool, but then, perhaps he had been a fool. There had been many other women besides Arabella, all of whom he needed when he had a wife like Lettice. It was true that perhaps cuckolding Robert Sydney had been foolish enough to cause his own death, but if he could return, he would right the wrongs.
If he returned . . .
What then? He’d still be married to Lettice, and there would be women like Arabella to tempt him. Even if he could free himself from the accusation of treason, would his life change?
He turned on his back, holding Dougless tightly to him. What if he remained in this century? What if he had misjudged God’s purpose? What if he had been sent forward in time, not to return and change what had happened then, but to do something in this time?
He remembered the books he and
Dougless had looked at. There were books of houses from around the world, and they had intrigued him. Dougless had talked about something called architecture school where he could learn to design houses. To learn to be a tradesman? he thought in wonder. But, truthfully, “having a profession,” as she called it, did not seem to be something bad in this century. Instead, men like Harewood who were mere landowners were looked down on—by Americans anyway, Dougless had explained.
America, he thought, this place that Dougless talked about constantly. She said they could go to America and “set up housekeeping” and he could go to school. School at his age? he’d asked disdainfully, not letting her see how the idea intrigued him. To live with Dougless in this modern world and design buildings? Was this the reason he had been brought forward? Perhaps God saw Thornwyck, liked it, and so had decided to give him another chance, Nicholas thought with a smile, laughing at the idea of God being so frivolous.
But what did he know of God’s purpose? Obviously, he hadn’t been sent forward in time to find out who betrayed him. He’d found that out days ago, yet he was still here. So why had he been sent to the modern world?
“Nicholas!” Dougless cried out, sitting up with a jolt.
As he pulled her back into his arms, she clung to him. “I dreamed you were gone, that you weren’t here, that you’d left me,” she said, blinking back tears and holding him so tightly his ribs were close to cracking.
He stroked her hair. “I will not leave you,” he said softly. “I will remain with you for always.”
It took a moment for his words to reach Dougless. She lifted up to look at him. “Nicholas,” she said slowly, questioning.
“I . . .” He took a breath. The words were hard for him. “I do not wish to return. I will remain here.” He looked at her. “With you.”
Dougless buried her face in his shoulder and began to weep softly.
As he stroked her body, he couldn’t keep from laughing. “Are you sad that I do not leave you so that you may return to this Robert who gives diamonds to children?”
“I’m just so happy.”
He took a tissue from a box beside the bed. “Here, stop your weeping and tell me more of America.” He gave her a sideways look. “And tell me of your uncle who is king.”
Dougless blew her nose, then smiled at him. “I didn’t think you heard that.”
“What is a cowboy? What is a passport? What is the Grand Canon? And do not move so far from me.”
“It’s canyon,” she said, moving back into his arms as she began to tell him of America, of her family, and of her uncle who’d married a princess and was now king of Lanconia.
As the dawn light came into the room, they began to make plans. Dougless would call her uncle J.T. and explain as best she could that she needed a passport for Nicholas so he could go to America with her. “Knowing Uncle J.T., he’ll want you to go to Lanconia so he can inspect you first. But he’ll like you.”
“And his queen?”
“Aunt Aria? Well, she can be a little intimidating at times, but she used to play baseball with us kids. They have six kids of their own.” She smiled. “And she has this weird friend named Dolly who runs around the castle wearing blue jeans and a crown.” She looked at Nicholas, at his black hair and blue eyes, and thought of the way he walked, the way he sometimes had of looking at people that made them shrivel. “You’ll fit in in Lanconia,” she said.
They had breakfast served in their room, and over the table, Nicholas said, “I’d rather have strawberry ice cream.”
In another moment they were on the floor, rolling about exuberantly as they tore at each other while they made love. Afterward they filled the tub and sat at opposite ends as they planned more of their future life together.
“We’ll go to Scotland,” Dougless said. “While we’re waiting for the passport, we’ll stay in Scotland. It’s a beautiful country.”
Nicholas had his foot on her stomach, kneading her flesh. “Will you wear the heeled shoes to ride a bicycle?” he asked.
Dougless laughed. “Don’t make fun of me. Those shoes got me what I wanted.”
“And I too,” he said, looking at her from beneath his lashes.
After the bath they dressed, and Dougless said she’d call her uncle J.T. right away.
Nicholas turned away. “I must return to the church for one last time,” he said quietly.
Dougless felt her entire body stiffen. “No,” she whispered, then ran to face him, her hands gripping his arms.
“I must,” he said, smiling down at her. “I have been often and naught has happened. Dougless, look at me.”
She lifted her head, and he smiled. “Are you onion-eyed yet again?”
“I’m just frightened.”
“I must pray for forgiveness for not wanting to return to save my name and my honor. Do you understand?”
She nodded mutely. “But I’m going with you and I don’t let go of you. Got that? I don’t wait outside for you this time.”
He kissed her. “I mean to never again release you. Now we will go to the church for my prayers, then you will call your uncle. Does Scotland have trains?”
“Of course.”
“Ah, then it has changed. In my time it was a wild place.” Putting his arm about her shoulders, he left the hotel with her.
SEVENTEEN
At the church, Dougless wouldn’t release Nicholas. He knelt to pray, and she knelt beside him, both her arms tightly locked around his shoulders. When he didn’t push her away as she feared he might, she knew that, in spite of his pretended amusement, he was as frightened as she was.
They knelt together on the cold floor for over an hour. Dougless’s knees hurt from the stones, and her arms ached from holding on to Nicholas, but she never considered relaxing her grip. Twice, the vicar came in and stood for a while watching them, then silently walked away.
As hard as Nicholas prayed for forgiveness, Dougless prayed twice as hard for God not to take him away but to let him stay with her forever.
At long last, Nicholas opened his eyes and turned to her. “I remain,” he said, smiling. Laughing, he stood up, and Dougless, almost crippled, also tried to stand, her arms still tight around him.
“My arms have no blood in them,” he said, chiding her gently.
“I’m not letting you go until we’re out of this place.”
He laughed. “It is finished. Can you not see that? I am still here. I have not turned into marble.”
“Nicholas, stop teasing me and let’s get out of here. I never want to see your tomb again.”
Still smiling at her, he started to take a step, but his body didn’t move. Puzzled, he looked down at his feet. From his knees down, there was nothing, merely space. There was floor where his feet should have been.
Quickly, he pulled Dougless into his arms and held her as though to crush her. “I love you,” he whispered. “With all my soul I love you. Across time I will love you.”
“Nicholas,” she said, her voice betraying her fear at his words. “Let’s get out of here.”
He held her face in his hands. “Only you have I loved, my Dougless. No other woman. Only you.”
She felt it then. She felt that his body was no longer solid in her arms. “Nicholas,” she yelled in fear.
He kissed her again, kissed her softly, but with all the yearning and wanting and desire and need he felt for her.
“I’m going with you,” she said. “Take me with you. God!” she screamed. “Let me go with him!”
“Dougless,” Nicholas said, and his voice was far away, “Dougless, my love.”
He was no longer in her arms but standing before his tomb wearing his armor. He was faded, indistinct, like a movie seen in a bright room. “Come to me,” he said, holding out his hand. “Come to me.”
Dougless ran to him, but she couldn’t reach him.
A streak of sunlight came through the windows and flashed off his armor.
And then there was nothing.
> For one hideous moment, Dougless stood and stared at the tomb; then she put her hands to her ears and screamed, a scream such as no human had ever uttered before. The old stone walls vibrated with the sound, the windows quivered, and the tomb . . . The tomb just lay there, silent and cold.
Dougless collapsed to the floor.
EIGHTEEN
Drink this,” someone was saying.
Dougless caught the hand that held the cup to her lips. “Nicholas,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. Her eyes flew open and she sat up. She was stretched out on a pew in the church, just a few feet from the tomb. She swung her legs to the side, placing her feet on the floor, but she felt too dizzy to take a step.
“Are you feeling better?”
She turned to see the vicar, his kindly face full of concern, a cup of water in his hand.
“Where is Nicholas?” she whispered.
“I didn’t see anyone else. Should I call someone for you? I heard you . . . scream,” he said, knowing it wasn’t a scream. Just remembering that sound made the hair on his body stand on end. “When I got here, you were lying on the floor. Could I call someone for you?” he asked again.
On weak legs, Dougless made her way to the tomb. Slowly, memory was coming back to her, yet still she couldn’t believe it. She looked at the vicar. “You didn’t see him leave, did you?” she asked hoarsely. Her throat was raw.
“I saw no one leave. I just saw you praying. Not many people pray with such . . . intensity today.”
She looked back at the tomb. She wanted to touch it, but she knew the marble would be cold, so unlike Nicholas. “You mean you saw us praying,” she corrected.
“Just you,” the vicar said.
Slowly, Dougless turned to look at him. “Nicholas and I were praying together. You came in and saw us. You’ve watched him for days.”
The vicar gave her a sad look. “I’ll take you to a doctor.”
A Knight in Shining Armor Page 23
