by Lynn Kurland
“Good heavens,” Stephen breathed.
Tess looked at him, but she could find absolutely nothing to say. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she just might lose all the control over herself she’d been exercising over the past six weeks. Freaking out in the middle of a courtyard at Cambridge wasn’t exactly how she wanted to carry on with her academic career.
Stephen took off his scarf and wrapped it around her neck. “Tess, love, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You don’t look any better,” she said pointedly.
He laughed rather uncomfortably. “Yes, well, I was expecting to see you. I wasn’t expecting to see him.” He took her backpack from off her arm and slung it over his shoulder. “Who was that?”
“Who do you think it was?”
“I’m not sure I want to speculate,” he said carefully. “How long ago did you meet him?”
“Last week,” she said. “I think.”
His face was full of pity. “Ah, my dear,” he said, reaching out and gathering her under his arm. “You’ve been through it, haven’t you? Let’s go hide in my office, and you’ll give me the whole story.”
She didn’t argue—not that she had the chance to. He shepherded her toward his office without hesitation and without brooking any argument. Those de Piaget men: putting sheepdogs to shame for over eight centuries.
She walked into his office, then sighed a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding on to as he shut the door behind him. She let him see her settled in the most comfortable chair he owned, an overstuffed floral thing that he reserved for special company, accepted a cup of tea, then set it aside when she realized she wasn’t going to be able to drink it.
Stephen sat down across from her and looked at her critically. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I’ve been depressed.”
“You have cause, I daresay.” He rose. “Don’t move.”
“I don’t think I can.”
He returned in ten minutes with a full tray of things he badgered her into eating. She smiled and sighed.
“You are truly a good friend, Stephen,” she said.
“’Tis fortunate I long ago gave up any designs on you,” he said with an answering smile, “else that might have smarted a bit.”
“I have no sympathy for you,” she said, pursing her lips. “How many dukes’ daughters are you dating at the moment?”
“Three,” he admitted without a shred of embarrassment. “I’m bored to tears by them all.”
“You need someone less stuffy.”
“We’ll discuss the sad state of my amorous adventures after we’ve dissected yours,” he said, sitting back in his chair and propping his ankle up on his other knee. “Care to tell me a bit about your potential lover I obviously just frightened off?”
She sighed. “Don’t make me give you details you already know. Haven’t you been nosing around in your family’s genealogy? Can’t you guess who that was?”
He considered her for a moment or two in silence. “Montgomery’s brother would be my first guess, but who’s to say? Do you know?”
“I don’t.” She paused. “Not for certain anyway.”
“Haven’t you been to the library?” he asked, his face again full of pity.
“You know I haven’t.”
He only sighed. Then again, he knew what she’d been through. He’d watched her send her sister off to points unknown.
“And I’m not going to,” she added.
“Tess, my dear, be sensible about this,” he said sensibly. “You know—thanks to that rogue Kendrick—how Pippa’s fairy tale goes. She lives a lovely, happy life with a man who absolutely adores her. Her children all survive to adulthood. All you would be searching for were details about Montgomery’s brother. His twin, from all appearances.”
She blinked, hard. “And despite all that, I don’t want to find out something unexpected that I won’t like. There, that’s a piece of absolute honesty for you.”
He rose and put a cashmere throw over her. “I’ll go hunt. You sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You look exhausted. Beautiful, of course, but exhausted. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Tess closed her eyes and sighed. She supposed she wouldn’t sleep, though she was equally sure she needed it.
She woke to late afternoon shadows. She blinked and looked at Stephen, who was sitting across from her reading. The light sitting behind him on the table was lit, casting a warm glow along with the fire over an office fit for an earl. In Stephen’s case, he had the academic credentials to merit it.
He looked up and smiled at her. “Feel better?”
“Not at all,” she managed, trying to sit up. She groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. “How long was I out?”
“Three hours. I’m sorry. I should have put you somewhere else before you began your beauty sleep.”
She shook her head and hid a yawn behind her hand. “What did you find out?”
She realized only as the question was hanging there in the air between them that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Nothing but happy things about your sister,” Stephen said gently.
“Really?” she asked carefully.
“Yes, Tess, really,” he said, in a bang-up imitation of her accent, which was not far from his, actually. “Love, happiness, and hordes of children wielding sharp swords and no doubt saying things like groovy and far out, dude.”
Tess didn’t want to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. “My parents would have been proud, I’m sure.”
“No doubt,” he agreed. “And if you’ll know what else I discovered, it would seem that Montgomery did indeed have a brother, a twin it would seem. His name was John and he died in 1233. He was all of nineteen.”
“But he didn’t,” Tess protested. “He’s here. Well, not here, but in our time.” She paused. “I’m not imagining that, am I?”
“No, love,” Stephen said gently, “I fancy you aren’t.”
“Then why would they say he’s dead?”
“Well, it isn’t as if anyone in the past could have said he popped through a time gate and landed in the future, is it?” he asked dryly, then he paused and looked at her with a frown. “I can scarce believe those words came out of my mouth.”
“Life is weird.”
“You ain’t just whistlin’ ‘Dixie,’ sister.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “You’ve handled it all remarkably well.”
“So, my dear, have you,” he said. He smiled, then his smile faded. “I have the feeling our good John hasn’t had such an easy time of it, though. Wouldn’t you say?”
“He doesn’t seem unhappy,” she ventured, “but I honestly don’t know him that well. He seems to divide his time between telling me he never wants to see me again and rescuing me. I’m not sure what to think.”
“He’s no doubt afraid if he draws too close, you might find out his secrets.”
She pursed her lips. “He has good reason. If you only knew how many times I’ve had to bite my tongue already.”
Stephen tilted his head and smiled. “The poor lad. I imagine there’s a tale there we would both find very interesting, though I imagine you’ll have it before I do.”
“Not if he keeps running away.”
“He keeps coming back, apparently, which is promising.” He set his book aside. “Let me take you to supper, and we’ll put off thinking about uncomfortable things for the evening. When do you lecture tomorrow?”
“Ten,” she said, happily accepting his hand to be rescued out of the chair of no return.
“Then let’s distract ourselves with a film as well as supper. There’s a French indie piece I’ve been wanting to see.”
“Can’t talk any of your girlfriends into going with you?” she teased.
“Darling, if it doesn’t involve Drury Lane and my Rolls, they have other plans.”
“Do you have a Rolls, Stephen?” she asked with a d
isbelieving laugh.
“It’s actually His Lordship’s, stored cunningly in a garage downtown. I trot it out if I’m escorting Granny to tea or fear I’ll be photographed with some society lass or other. It makes Father happy to see me carrying on with the trappings of my titles.”
“You’re such a snob.”
He laughed easily. “That’s me. Now, where are you staying? I would suggest you remove yourself to my flat, but that might cause eyebrows to raise.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m crashing on Holly’s couch.”
“I’ll drop you there—”
“No,” she said quickly. “I need the walk. The nap about did me in.”
“I’ll call for you in an hour, then,” he said. “Does that suit?”
“Only if you’re bringing the Rolls.”
He laughed and went to hold open his door. “Begone, gold digger.”
She paused at the threshold and looked up at him. “Thank you, Stephen.”
“What are friends for?” he asked with a heavy sigh.
She smiled and patted him on the cheek before she walked out of his office and down the hallway.
It took her twenty minutes to get to her girlfriend’s street. She might have made the front door in twenty-one, but she was rendered momentarily motionless by the sight of a pricey black sports car parked illegally out in front of the gate of that particular house on the row.
She took a deep breath and continued on her way until she had her hand on the gate. She looked at the man who rose immediately from his perch on the front stoop. He walked over and opened the gate for her.
“I’m not stalking you,” John began.
“I never thought you were,” she said calmly, though she was feeling slightly less than calm. She looked up at him. “Did your appointment go well?”
“My wha—oh, that,” he said, shifting. “Um, aye.”
Tess almost felt sorry for him. Maybe he’d never come that close before to looking at his past while witnesses watched.
“I called your sister to find out where you were staying,” he said.
“Did you?” she asked in surprise. “She doesn’t have a listed number.”
“Your business does, though, and she was good enough to answer the phone.”
She shook her head with a weary smile. “Sorry. I’m not all here today.”
He took a deep breath, then clasped his hands behind his back. “Might I take you to dinner?”
“Is this another non-date?”
He started to speak, then shut his mouth and simply looked down at her.
“Am I bothering you again?” she asked. She wasn’t sure why she was so hell-bent on pushing him. There was just something terrible about knowing such a devastating secret about someone else yet keeping it to oneself. She wanted to blurt out that she knew it all, that he was no longer alone.
But she imagined if she did, he would hightail it out of there and she would never see him again. If there was one thing she was utterly certain of, it was that John de Piaget would never willingly divulge his secrets.
At the moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You drove a very long way to do something nice for me. I would love to come on a non-date with you tonight, but I already have plans.”
“Do you?”
“With the Viscount Haulton,” she said with as little emotion as she could possibly put into her words. She should have left it at that, but she found that she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we made it a trio.”
John wasn’t biting. “How about breakfast?” he countered.
“I have a lecture to give.”
“Lunch tomorrow, then.”
“I have a train to catch.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
She looked at him seriously. “I thought we weren’t going to do this.”
“We aren’t doing anything—”
She might have felt sorry for him that his life was full of nothing but his ridiculously expensive rocket on wheels, his unpleasant gig at a major recording studio, and his appalling good looks that no doubt felled every breathing female within a fifty-mile radius of himself at any moment, but she’d had enough of being good enough to take to lunch and for a ride in his car only so long as she knew her place.
Damn him to hell.
“Good-bye, John,” she said curtly.
He caught her as she brushed past him.
She supposed there had been a few things in her life that had just about done her in. Pippa’s leaving. The first time she’d put the key in the door of her very own great hall. Seeing John de Piaget on the street in her village.
Having him touch her hand.
Again.
“I’m . . . uncomfortable around nobility,” he said, finally.
She just bet he was. She also imagined she could make a very long list of other things that he was uncomfortable around, beginning and ending with committing for any length of time to the same woman. She didn’t look at him.
“Stephen and I were going to see a film. Too dark and public for any noble conversation.” She paused. “You could take a date. I’m sure you wouldn’t have any trouble digging one up.”
He didn’t move, but he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.
Just once.
“No,” he said finally.
“No to the film, or no to taking a date?” she asked, because she was an idiot.
“No to taking a date,” he said very quietly.
She pulled her hand away, though that about killed her, too. “I gave my word to him, and I don’t break my word.”
He took a deep breath. “Breakfast, then—nay, you have class. Lunch, then.”
She turned to look at him, then. “Just lunch?”
He shot her a look. “A lunch date, Tess.”
She discovered abruptly that it was much easier to deal with him when he was snarling at her. “That’s Dr. Alexander to you, buster,” she managed.
He looked at her in surprise, then seemed to realize she was teasing him. Some of the tension went out of him. “As you will, then, Dr. Alexander. I’ll come listen in on your class, then we’ll go find sustenance.”
“I don’t date students.”
His mouth fell open, then he shut it with a snap and his eyes narrowed. “I’m about to let you take the train home.”
“I’ve done it before.”
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I know, but you won’t tomorrow. I’ll find you tomorrow after your class. And I’ll wait now until you are safely inside. And tell that bloody friend of yours to pick you up and drop you off right here at your door else he’ll answer to me.”
“He’s a gentleman.”
“I imagine he is, damn him to hell,” he muttered. He looked at her, then made shooing motions. “Go on, woman. Go inside.”
“Are you always this bossy?”
“I’m protective.”
“Awfully protective of someone you don’t like.”
He looked at her evenly. “I never said I didn’t like you, Tess.”
“You said I bothered you.”
“Two entirely different things, love.”
She was tempted to call Stephen and tell him to get lost, but she was afraid if she did, she would do something stupid, like throw herself in John de Piaget’s arms and tell him that she now understood why her sister had fallen so hard for his brother in such a short time.
“Be nicer to me tomorrow,” she advised.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I haven’t begun to be nice to you.”
And that, she could safely say, was one of the more terrifying things he’d ever said to her. She walked away while she still could, though she made the mistake of turning and looking before she shut the door. John was leaning against the wrought-iron fence with his arms folded over his chest, watching her.
Heaven help her, she was in trouble.
She shut the door before she got into any more of it.
Chapter 8
John walked into a building that was almost as old as he was, then frowned as he looked about him for some indication as to where Tess might be teaching. He supposed it wouldn’t be one of the smaller chambers, so he made his way to what looked to be a lecture hall.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with places of higher learning. He had, over the course of the past eight years, attended many lectures at various universities. It also wasn’t that he hadn’t had an excellent education at his father’s direction, but there had been, he would readily admit, a few new things added to the body of knowledge since his father’s day. Just becoming familiar with even a sketchy overview of all the history he’d missed had taken him a solid year of reading every chance he had.
He had, as the opportunity had presented itself, attended lectures at Cambridge along with many concerts. He was actually rather surprised he’d never seen Tess before. Then again, he likely wouldn’t have taken a class from her given his determination to avoid all things medieval.
Ah, how the mighty were fallen, something he was especially cognizant of as he put his ear to the wood of the door, then opened it slowly.
The hall was larger than he would have expected, but that might work to his advantage. He would be able to slip into the back of it without being noticed.
Or, perhaps not. Tess looked at him the moment he closed the door soundlessly behind him, then went back to her lecture. That he could have borne, perhaps. It was looking for a seat at the back of the hall and finding only one empty one that unnerved him. Of course, that could have been because a man had removed his well-used briefcase from it and nodded encouragingly.
The Viscount Haulton, as it happened.
John would have looked for somewhere else to sit, but he’d been caught, and he was nothing if not polite. He supposed he might come to regret that at some point.
So he sat down next to the future Earl of Artane and suppressed the urge to pull his sunglasses down over his eyes. He supposed that would call more attention to himself than he wanted, so he refrained.
And aye, he knew bloody well whom he was sitting next to. He had a BlackBerry and knew how to use it. Not that he’d needed a quick search to figure out who the man was. A good look at him would have told John all he needed to know.