A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 3)

by Diane Darcy

  Wallace gave an uncomfortable shrug. He could give the man an easy answer, and tell him that he was doing it for the sake of the women, but if Lord Marshall could be blunt, he could as well. “Truth. Regardless, I will hound the king until I get another shot at Dinsdale.”

  Lord Marshall’s glance was shrewd. “I’d say your chances are not good for a rematch. From what I hear the king let God’s will be done, and as far as he is concerned, it was.” He shot a meaningful glance at Cara.

  Wallace’s jaw set tight. He would not argue with the man. He simply said, “We’ll see,” and drank some ale. A moment later he asked. “You saw the joust, then?”

  Lord Marshall shrugged. “I was there, but did not witness it. I had my own troubles to deal with. How will you approach the king? I’d not imagine he’ll be receptive after Stirling.”

  Wallace gave a shrug. “In much the same way I did the last time. Wear him down until he gives in.”

  “Good luck to you on that. King Henry is not the easiest to deal with.”

  “Nay, he is not.”

  “What of Dinsdale?” Lord Marshall asked. “I saw him fight once, and he is good.”

  “Not as good as me.”

  Lord Marshall chuckled, “Then I look forward to the fight.” He ate a chunk of chicken with his fingers, and then added, “You know, ’tis the father you have to watch out for. A sneaky, backstabbing weasel.”

  “I am aware.”

  Lady Marshall instructed the minstrels to play a tune. He met his mother’s gaze, saw the yearning there, and knew she missed their former situation, as much as he did.

  The great hall, the well-trained guardsmen, the music. All had been theirs not so long ago, until it had been stolen by the Dinsdales.

  Marshall might not have faith that Wallace would be able to get a rematch, but Wallace did.

  As far as he was concerned it was a game of chess, and he’d simply lost the last round. The game had reset, and the king was fickle. His head could be turned. He’d done it once, and forced the match against Dinsdale, and he would somehow do it again.

  With the exception of his father, what he’d lost, would be regained, and Wallace would hold onto it with a tight grip.

  “That is quite the necklace she wears. She comes from wealth?”

  “Just the necklace. Though ’twill go a long way toward helping my situation.”

  Lord Marshall nodded, but didn’t comment further.

  A few minutes later Lord Marshall tried to engage Cara in conversation, and her head dipped shyly.

  To his knowledge, she did not have a shy bone in her body. Her demeanor confused him and he wondered if she was somehow frightened by Lord Marshall and wished he was closer so he could reach across the table to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Where do you hail from?”

  Lady Cara gave a slight shrug, and Lady Marshall was quick to insert, “She’s from Wales.”

  “Nearer Cardiff or Bangor?”

  Cara glanced at Gillian, and then shoved a piece of bread in her mouth.

  Again, Gillian answered for her. “That’s right, sort of in the middle there.”

  “Aberystwyth?”

  Cara gave a nod and continued to chew, and Lord Marshall glanced at Wallace in slight exasperation, and finally gave up trying.

  Wallace stared at Cara for a while longer, trying to discern what caused this change in personality.

  Perhaps Lady Marshall had asked her to refrain from engaging her husband?

  Was Lord Marshall a seducer then? Had he done something to upset Cara? Caught her in the hallway alone, perhaps?

  The thought had sudden anger burning in his chest.

  He looked away from Lord Marshall at the musicians so he wouldn’t stand and challenge the other man, regardless of the fact that he’d hoped to travel with him.

  He tried to rein in his crazed thoughts, especially when he saw Lord Marshall put an arm around his wife and pull her close and kiss the top of her head.

  Mayhap he had the wrong of it, and naught untoward had happened.

  But the moment he got Cara alone, if she had the slightest complaint, he would challenge his host, and to blazes with their burgeoning alliance.

  After the meal and entertainment were over, cleanup started and the tables were being put away.

  Gillian was quick to escort the ladies up the stairs, and when she reached the top, Cara felt a hand at her elbow.

  She turned to find Wallace, one step below her, and found she liked that he didn’t have quite as much of a height advantage. “Hi, I didn’t see you there.”

  He held onto her as the other ladies went down the hall, and then asked, “Is aught amiss?”

  “No, everything is great. Your friends are nice.”

  He looked, moody, stubborn, his brows a dark slash. “And Lord Marshall? Did he act in any way untoward?”

  It took her a moment to work out that he was asking if the other man had said or done anything to make her uncomfortable. “Lord Marshall? Are you kidding me? His wife has him locked down tight. I don’t think he even realizes I’m alive.”

  The hand on her arm relaxed, but she found she wasn’t willing to give up this advantage now that he only had a few inches on her.

  She placed her arms on his shoulders and laced her fingers together behind his neck. “Hello, handsome.”

  He looked startled at the compliment, and then relaxed a bit more, his big, warm hands coming up to settle on her waist.

  “Am I to be taken advantage of, then?”

  She chuckled. “Only if you beg.”

  He shook his head and she laughed. “Someday, I’ll make you beg, just you see if I don’t.”

  He eyed her, but didn’t comment and she glanced back to see Wallace’s family escorted into their room by Gillian, who glanced back at her and gave her a thumbs up before continuing into the room.

  Wallace saw it too, and chuckled.

  There were now a couple of maids coming up the stairwell. If she was going to take advantage of the situation, she better hurry.

  Leaning forward, she touched her lips to Wallace’s, intending a short, sweet kiss, but apparently, he had other plans.

  He pulled her close and planted one on her, and after a moment she strained upward, helplessly wanting more. The unexpected possessiveness of his mouth on hers wrenched a moan from her, causing the maids stalled behind them on the stairs to giggle.

  Trembling slightly, she pulled back, smiled, and shook her head. “You’ll talk me into staying, yet.”

  “I will.”

  He said the words so confidently, that she almost believed him. Well, maybe she wanted to believe him, as the thought of going back home and never seeing him again caused her heart to twinge.

  She clung to his shoulders before letting go and moving back. “Are you coming with me?”

  He shook his head. “If you feel safe enough, I will sleep downstairs with the men.”

  “I feel perfectly safe.”

  “Unless you want me up here?”

  She giggled. “Oh, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? I’m sure your mother and your sisters would love having you in there while we’re getting ready for bed.”

  “Mayhap we could get our own room?” The smile he shot her was pure masculine amusement, and in that moment, he was simply irresistible.

  She leaned close and whispered, “I’m going to tell your mother.”

  He laughed as she backed away, and they both smiled as she turned away and headed for the door to her room.

  She could hear the other ladies inside, Gillian in particular chatting and laughing, and paused in the doorway to turn back and look at Wallace.

  He was still watching her, and he looked big, buff, and pleased with himself as he leaned against the stone wall and waited for her to go in the room.

  She blew him a kiss.

  He caught it, and then kissed the top of his closed fist.

  Aww. What a heartbreaker.

  S
he was still grinning widely when she entered the room.

  Chapter 20

  It was early when Cara felt herself being shaken awake.

  It took a moment to remember where she was, and the candle hovering around Gillian’s face told her exactly who was waking her.

  Cara smiled. “Why do I feel like I’m camping, and we’re about to raid the snack drawer and tell ghost stories?”

  Gillian muffled a giggle. “Come on, I want to talk to you.”

  Cara glanced at Lady Helena who snored very softly, and then at Amelia and Dori on their pallets on the floor, both of them unmoving.

  “What time is it?”

  “Who knows? But I did hear a cock crow, so it’s got to be coming up on dawn soon.”

  Cara quickly pulled a dress over her head. She slipped shoes on, and soon they were both out in the hall.

  “We’ll have to be quiet as you never know where people have bunked down for the night.”

  Cara followed Gillian down the darkened hallway, the candlelight casting shadows that revealed and receded with every step they took.

  They descended a curved staircase that eventually came out into a large kitchen.

  “Who goes there?” A woman’s voice asked, and a figure rose from the floor near a gigantic fireplace on the opposite side of the room.

  Gillian lifted the candle high.

  “Lady Marshall and Lady Cara.”

  The woman’s bulky white nightgown glowed in the darkness.

  “Are you hungry? I could make a bowl of porridge if thy stomach needs settling.”

  “Thank you, Cook, but we are headed to the chapel to pray this morning.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  There was a whole lot of disapproval in those words, but Gillian ignored her and went to the back door to lift the bar.

  Cook sprinted across the room, much quicker than Cara would have believed possible.

  “Let me get that, my lady. As you well know, Lord Marshall has forbidden you to lift aught.”

  Gillian’s scoff made it plain what she thought of that, but she stepped back and let the other woman lift the bar.

  As Cook made a disapproving noise, Gillian and Cara went outside to face a cool September morning.

  Gillian twined her arm with Cara’s, and they huddled together for warmth as they walked along an alley, and then ducked underneath a low archway.

  They were back in the courtyard and Cara could see the chapel across the way, a candle burning brightly in one window.

  She glanced around but didn’t see a single soul.

  “Now, what are we doing, exactly?”

  “We have an appointment.”

  Cara glanced at the darkened keep with its imposing double doors, half expecting Kellen or Wallace to come out at any moment, and catch them in the act of ... what? Going to church?

  It was Cara’s turn to giggle. When they quickly crossed the hard-packed earth of the courtyard and arrived at the chapel, Gillian knocked softly on the door.

  It opened almost immediately, and Cara recognized the priest who sat with them the night before.

  “Come in, come in,” he gestured them inside where there was a fire crackling happily in a hearth near the front by a podium.

  There were a few benches scattered about, and the walls glowed a dull orange color in the candlelight.

  “Have a seat, right over here.” He led them to a table with three chairs around it and a candle glowing brightly in the center.

  Cheese, crackers, and mugs had been set out, and the priest was quick to pour them each a drink, and he bustled around seeing them settled before he sat down himself.

  “Now, Lady Marshall, you know I’m always willing to accommodate you, day, night, or at the ungodly hour of dawn. Tell me what this is about, and perhaps we can all get a bit more sleep before your husband comes to find you, and sends me to perdition for my part in this.”

  Gillian smiled, her eyes twinkling at the priest. “Oh, come now, my husband is a teddy bear and will hold you completely blameless if we’re discovered.”

  The priest looked at her like she was a wacky, but lovable child. “I will agree he can be a bear, and I prefer not to disturb His Lordship and save myself from attack. Now, what is this about?”

  Gillian lifted a hand. “This is my new friend, Lady Cara Jones.”

  The priest nodded at the formal introduction but gave Gillian a questioning look. “Aye, so you said.”

  “She’s from California.”

  At that the priest, who’d been reaching for cheese and crackers, let his hand thump to the table and sat up straight, his hand falling to his lap.

  He drew in a breath, said nothing, looked at Cara, then Gillian, and then closed his mouth.

  He blinked a few times, and then drew in another breath. “I don’t suppose that is located in your America, is it?”

  “Why, yes, it is.”

  “Some seven hundred years from now?”

  Gillian smiled. “You are quick this morning.”

  “What has Lord Marshall said of this?”

  Gillian waved a hand in the air and then ended in a shrug. “Some things are best left unsaid.”

  “He does not know?”

  Gillian smirked. “No need to burden him with unwelcome news, is there?”

  Cara snickered. “Anyone want to explain what the problem is, if Gillian here is also from future America?”

  “It’s not exactly a problem per se, it’s just that Kellen will lose his freaking mind.”

  “Again, I have to ask the obvious. If you’re from there, then why can’t I be as well?”

  “Because he’s afraid I’ll find a way back home again and leave him forever.”

  Cara’s eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh, he’s keeping you prisoner here?”

  Gillian’s laugh was genuine and amused. “No, I’m with the man I love, and I’m here to stay. It doesn’t stop him from worrying however, and, in fact, just last week I met another of our ilk at Stirling Castle. As predicted, Kellen lost his mind.”

  “There’s another one of us?”

  “Yes, Samantha Ryan, and she’s a professor of antiquities in New York City.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve written to her, but it’s too soon to hear back yet.”

  “This is just unbelievable. What is happening here?”

  “Well, for my part, I had an heirloom ring that brought me to this place. Samantha said she had a bejeweled crown, and it looks to me as if you’re wearing a fabulous necklace that would certainly qualify as antique.”

  Cara’s hand went to her throat and touched the necklace that now seemed so much a part of her.

  “You can’t get it off, can you?”

  Cara shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “I can help you with that. But first, I’ll let the priest here tell you about Saint Cuthbert.”

  Cara turned her attention to the priest who cleared his throat importantly.

  “Saint Cuthbert was a priest who did many a good deed. Since Lady Marshall here has come to us, I’ve made it my business to look further into the man’s life to learn why he was a saint, what he did with his life, and what happened to him.”

  When he paused, Cara was quick to insert, “And?”

  The priest threw a pleased glance in Gillian’s direction before answering.

  “And, it seems that for all his good deeds, the man had a mischievous side.”

  “And?” Cara said again, she just knew she was about to find out the man was a devil worshiper or something, going around and cursing jewelry so as to entrap innocent women in some evil scheme.

  “And, I will return shortly.”

  The priest got up and went through an arched doorway and Cara turned to Gillian. “Can I just get the condensed version and go back home?”

  “Do you really want to?”

  At that, Cara sat back in her chair. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I? Can I?”


  Gillian placed an elbow on the table, her face in her palm, and looked like the cat who caught the canary. “I mean, Lord Wallace Wolfsbane.” She wolf whistled. “I wanted to go home at one point as well, but, Lord Kellen Marshall.” She shrugged. “So, what do you do?”

  Cara wasn’t sure she liked the implication. “I go home, that’s what I do. Resume my life as a Hollywood makeup artist, if I haven’t been blackballed at this point, and live happily ever after.”

  “With who? Do you have a significant other?”

  Wallace, kissing him, popped into her head. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. Safe, protected, aflutter.

  She so easily drew smiles from him, and it made her feel like a magician or something when she did.

  With little effort on her part, she raised his spirit, drew him out, got him talking, and kissed him pretty much whenever she wanted.

  If given the choice, she might take him home. Who else did she have? Nate? The man she’d thought was a friend, who’d attacked and backstabbed her?

  There was a huge hookup culture on Hollywood sets, one she’d always found distasteful. They made movies about falling in love, emotional relationships, heartfelt feelings, all the things she was finding with Wallace that had been absent in her life, and the lives of her friends.

  She held her parents up as a standard, proof that true love existed, but she’d never experienced it herself.

  Until now.

  Gillian watched every emotion flit across her face with an understanding smile.

  “But how could you stay? It’s so primitive and raw.”

  Gillian’s smile widened. “Exactly.”

  Cara laughed, understanding the other woman meant her husband.

  “What if something happened to him? Could you go back then?”

  “Don’t even say that. Don’t even put that out there. I’m here, I’m happy, and I’m not worrying about the future.”

  Cara envied the other woman her resolve.

  Her love life, too, for that matter.

  How would she feel if she did go back home, and Wallace was no longer part of her life?

  An aching emptiness had her rubbing her chest. Wallace strong, competent, worried about his people, his family, and so gorgeous he made her teeth ache just thinking about him.