One Magic Moment

by Lynn Kurland

  She looked at him in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I’m not. I suppose ’twas naught but luck I was able to escape to the Future with both my swords. After cursing myself for being too stupid to plan for more than just a main gate and a backup, I walked back to Edinburgh to settle for what had become my life.” He paused. “I am, as you might imagine, not particularly keen on traveling through time. Apparently James MacLeod is, but he can keep the exhilaration.”

  She took a deep breath and pulled away. “I think I need to walk. It’s too cold to stand still.”

  He nodded, then took her hand. He kept pace with her, but couldn’t help but note her silence. Perhaps she was regretting having come with him—not that she’d had any choice in that—or regretting having met him in the first place.

  But if she hadn’t and she’d been thrust back in time on her own . . .

  “And so there I was,” he continued, because he couldn’t stomach where his thoughts had been leading him, “leading a very quiet life in the village when into my shop came a dark-haired angel who seemingly couldn’t judge the distance between her car and a brick wall.”

  “It was my oak, which you know,” she said archly. “And I was knocking off mirrors on purpose, to give you business, which you also know.”

  “I’ve never been more grateful for a bout of altruism, believe me,” he said with a smile.

  She nodded, smiling in return, but there was something about that smile that didn’t quite ring true.

  Odd.

  He pressed on. “All of that leads us to our current place, where you can continue to imagine the unpleasant surprise I had in finding out how much you knew about the Middle Ages. And whilst you’re imagining that, I’ll describe for you if you like in great detail the torment I was in, knowing that growing too close to you would force me to reveal things I’d spent eight years hiding.”

  She shrugged. “It wasn’t as if you did anything particularly medieval, like play the lute or sing in Norman French, or know where all the important doors were in my castle.”

  “And if I hadn’t been my brother’s twin, would you have known?”

  “I probably would have thought you just eccentric,” she conceded, “though you might have given yourself away that first time you came face-to-face with Stephen.”

  “I suppose I must credit him with some discretion,” John grumbled. “At least he didn’t blurt out some sort of exclamation of surprise right there in a university courtyard.”

  “He’s nothing if not discreet.”

  “I suppose so,” John said, then he froze. One of Wyckham’s guardsmen was signaling to him, as discreetly as Stephen de Piaget could have likely wished. John forced himself to breathe normally as he had a look around himself. He saw nothing, but they were perhaps closer to the forest than he would have wanted to be at another time. He nodded slightly, then smiled at Tess. “I can no longer feel my toes, so why don’t we repair to a hot fire?”

  “Wimp.”

  He laughed a little, then put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her to her horse. He boosted her up into the saddle, then put his hand on her foot. “We’ll have another riding lesson tomorrow, if you like. You could consider it hands-on training.”

  “I’m not sure I can ever give another lecture again after this.”

  “It isn’t as if you can use any personal anecdotes, is it?” he asked dryly. He paused and looked up at her. “Has it been so terrible so far? Well, save our journey here, which was hellish.”

  “No,” she said seriously. “Your brother and his wife are wonderful hosts.”

  “And he’s filthy rich, which helps,” John agreed. “For the average peasant, the current time period isn’t as lovely, though my father and brothers have gone out of their way to be good masters.”

  “I think I’m happy to be a peasant in my time.”

  “Which you aren’t any longer, Lady Sedgwick,” he said pointedly. “We’ll discuss just what that means for your future when we have the time.”

  She nodded, but didn’t look at him.

  He put her reins in her hand, then walked over to his horse and swung up into the saddle. He realized then just how much he’d missed riding, though he’d indulged whenever the opportunity presented itself. Even so, it hadn’t been often enough. Perhaps Tess wouldn’t be opposed to stocking her stables with a bit of good horseflesh. He could teach her how to ride, then teach their children—

  He put the mental brakes on that before the thought went any further. If he didn’t find out what was amiss with her before long, he wouldn’t be managing to get himself inside her stables, much less purchase beasts for their children.

  He rode with her through Wyckham’s gates, then jumped a little in spite of himself at the sound of the portcullis slamming home behind their guardsmen. He grimaced and supposed he would deserve every word of the lecture he was certain his brother would soon be giving him. He should have been watching their surroundings.

  He’d been too long out of the appropriate century.

  He dismounted, helped Tess from her horse, then handed the reins off to a stable boy without thinking. He froze when he realized Tess was watching him in a particularly serious way. Had she noted something amiss where he had not?

  “What is it, love?” he asked.

  “I was just watching you be the lord of the manor’s brother and thinking that you’d done it a time or two before. Nothing more than that.”

  “If being that brother gets us a decent glass of wine and a hot fire, then it serves us well, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded, then walked with him silently to the hall door. She stopped him before he opened it. “I’m sorry,” she said, very quietly. “About your father.”

  He latched on to that topic with alacrity. Perhaps that was all that bothered her. If so, he would talk about it until she was satisfied.

  He shrugged. “It was many years ago, though I will admit I’m not sorry for the chance to set things right.” He started to say he hoped the price wouldn’t be too high, but he forbore. “You will enjoy talking to him, I think. He doesn’t care for politics, particularly, but he’s a master at the game. He’s played it with both John and Henry, which you might find interesting.”

  She looked a little winded. “I can hardly wrap what’s left of my mind around the thought of it.”

  He smiled and offered her his arm. “Perhaps you will have made a list of questions by the time we see him.”

  She looked a little green at the thought, but since he felt the same way, he couldn’t fault her for it.

  He could, however, frown a little over the fact that she wouldn’t hold his hand. He made no especial note of it openly, but he noticed. There were thoughts she was entertaining that he suspected he might want to be privy to sooner rather than later.

  The afternoon had passed more swiftly than he would have thought possible and with no chance to speak with Tess privately. He wished, rather more fervently than he likely should have, that he could have taken her by the hand, put her into the passenger seat of his car, and gone for a very long drive until he’d determined what sorts of thoughts were vexing her.

  By the time evening shadows had fallen, he was limiting himself to conversation in his brother’s solar, though he couldn’t begrudge himself the pleasure of that. There was something very lovely about sitting with his family and carrying on as if no time had passed.

  In truth, it was a joy—if he could unbend far enough to call it such a maudlin thing—to pass an evening with his brother and sister-in-law, enjoying their wee ones until the lads were put to bed, then speaking of simple things that required no especial effort. He had given Nick the most basic of details regarding his life the night before and had intended to save the rest for when his siblings arrived. At the moment, he was asked to do nothing more taxing than take a lute and sing things that didn’t require him to look over his shoulder to see who might be listening.
r />   Jennifer sighed at one point. “You play so well.”

  John shot her a look. “You, my lady Wyckham, are not without your own unholy set of skills, but I accept the compliment just the same.”

  “You should,” Nicholas said with a snort, “considering that you can thank Grandmère for luring Queen Eleanor’s best lutenist to Artane to give you lessons.”

  Tess made choking noises. “I knew it,” she managed.

  Nicholas laughed. “John, my lad, you picked a formidable woman to woo. I don’t think you’ll be keeping many secrets from her.”

  “I certainly haven’t managed to yet,” John said. He shot Tess a quick smile, then looked at Jennifer. “I would ask you to play for us, but perhaps not after you’ve spent the day chasing little ones.”

  “In the morning,” Jennifer said, then she shifted uncomfortably. “And with that, I think I’m for bed. It was a pleasure, John. Sleep well, Tess.”

  He rose as Nicholas escorted his wife out of the solar, then put Nicholas’s lute away. He paused and looked at Tess sitting there in front of the fire, staring into it gravely. There was no time like the present, as the saying went, to determine what was amiss. Though he supposed weariness might be troubling her, or trying to acclimate to a different time, that didn’t explain why she was holding him at arm’s length.

  He pulled up a stool at her feet, sat down, and looked up at her. “Spill it,” he said distinctly, in English.

  She looked at him in surprise. “What?”

  “You’re chewing on something that’s bothering you,” he said bluntly, “and I want to know what it is.”

  “You’re bossy,” she said with a weary smile.

  “You haven’t begun to see bossy, woman, so out with it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. A long trip here and some culture shock. I’m busily rewriting my dissertation in my head, that’s all.”

  He rested his elbows on his knees, then held out his hands. He simply watched her until she put her hands into his. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was on the verge of a bout of tears.

  “Is it your sister?” he asked carefully.

  “Peaches?”

  “Nay, but I imagine she will know where you’ve gone. I was speaking of Pippa.”

  “No,” she managed. “I’m not worried about her.”

  “Then what?”

  She looked at him, her lovely green eyes very red. “I’m just happy for you,” she said very quietly. “That you have your family back.”

  He was, too, but it was nothing to weep over. Well, he supposed he already had and he suspected he would do it again in the future, but for the moment he was well. And it shouldn’t have affected Tess save that she had a tender heart. Perhaps she was watching Jennifer and seeing her sister Pippa in that role. It couldn’t be that she thought she would have to do the same thing.

  The thought was so startling, he would have flinched if he hadn’t been so accustomed to masking his emotions. She couldn’t believe that he would want to stay in the past.

  Could she?

  He had to admit that he’d entertained the thought—for exactly three seconds before his good sense had returned. He loved his family, true, and he was enormously glad to see them, but . . . well, how did he go about telling them that it had been a lovely visit, but he would rather go back to living in the Future?

  Of course, it wasn’t just the Future that drew him. If he’d had no reason to return save his material possessions, then aye, he might have considered other things. But Tess’s life was there, not in the past. He couldn’t ask her to give that up. And for what? The ugly truth was, his inheritance was tied up in Switzerland. Was he to keep Tess in the past and beg a piece of land from his father to work until his back was broken and Tess’s fingers were worn to nubs?

  He rose, pushed the stool back, then pulled Tess to her feet. He looked down at her.

  “Would you,” he asked very quietly, “permit me a chaste, though very lengthy, embrace?”

  She hesitated, then nodded and allowed him to gather her in his arms.

  But not before he saw a single tear fall to the floor.

  By the saints, she was thinking exactly what he’d never thought she would. He rested his cheek against her hair and cast about for a decent way to tell her that there was no way in hell they were staying in 1241, not if he had any means at his disposal to get them home. He thought about several ways to phrase it, but nothing seemed to convey what he wanted. He finally sighed and blurted out the next thing that came to mind.

  “I love you,” he said, then he froze.

  She did as well, then she pulled back far enough to look up at him. “What?”

  He chewed on a backtrack, or a diversionary bit of blather, but couldn’t quite muster up enough energy to give either a go. He took a deep breath.

  “What I said,” he managed. “Which I meant.”

  She closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, which grieved him more than he would ever admit. He groped for a shield—he was a bespurred knight, after all—but found nothing there to protect his heart. All he could do was stand there and shake like a fool as she put her arms around his neck, leaned up on her toes, and held on to him tightly.

  “I love you, too,” she said, her voice as full of tears as her eyes had been.

  “You don’t sound too happy about it,” he said gruffly.

  “You don’t, either,” she said with a miserable laugh. “In fact, I think you’re about ready to bolt.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she sank back down to her heels.

  “You know what I can be,” he managed.

  “It’s part of your charm.”

  He attempted a smile, but failed miserably. “Actually, I’m afraid you’re the one who’s about to bolt.”

  She shook her head. “You have the keys, my lord.”

  He nodded, then took her face in his hands and brushed away her tears. “I think there’s something else amiss, but I’m not sure you want to discuss it any more than I think I can bear to hear it.”

  “Probably not.”

  He bent his head and kissed her cheeks, one by one, then lifted his head slightly and looked at her. “Do you think you might set that aside for the next few minutes and concentrate on something else?”

  “Something, or someone?” she asked.

  “Let’s determine that later—”

  “Or now, which might be a much more appropriate use of your time than wearing down the resistance of an unwooed maid,” a voice said distinctly from the doorway.

  John lifted his head and glared at his brother. “I’m sorry,” he said curtly, “I didn’t realize you’d been invited to this conversation.”

  “It didn’t look like conversation was what you had in mind,” Nicholas said pointedly, “which is why my arrival could be considered so timely and fortuitous. Now, why don’t you release your sweet lady, and I’ll escort her to her bedchamber.”

  John considered objecting, but he caught sight of Tess’s face. He had the feeling she was up for a right proper meltdown. He bent his head to whisper in her ear.

  “Do you want to fall apart with me or without me?”

  She patted his back. “I’m not sure you would want to watch.”

  He pulled back and looked at her seriously. “This once, Tess,” he said quietly. “The next time, I’ll be there to hold you.”

  She smiled gravely, then nodded as she pulled away from him. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes, then produced a smile. John supposed there was no sense in pushing her. It had been a long journey, and the change of venue was a bit abrupt. If she needed time to get her feet under her, he had no business interfering.

  He took her hand, then looked at his brother. “In a different day, I would have kissed her just now.”

  “The saints be praised I’m here to help you determine when during the course of your wooing that would be appropriate. And I’m telling you that that m
oment is not now.”

  “I don’t suppose you would tell me when that moment might be,” John said carefully, “that I don’t miss it.”

  Nicholas stroked his chin in a manner that was so reminiscent of Robin, John almost choked.

  “I believe,” Nicholas began slowly, as if he truly considered the matter, “that there must be dancing first. Perhaps a chaperoned walk or two. Flatteries and pleas directed toward her guardian at the moment, so that you might earn his favor.”

  John pursed his lips. “Don’t tell me. That would be you.”

  Nicholas held out his arm. “Lady Tess—”

  “Forget it,” John said briskly. “I will escort her to her chamber. You may come along if you wish it.” He didn’t protest when Nick fell in on the other side of her. He supposed he’d spent enough time with his elder brother over the years to know when something was bothering him—and it wasn’t just the thought of John pulling Tess into a darkened corner and kissing her senseless.

  He walked Tess up the stairs, then embraced her chastely in front of her bedchamber door. He imagined, judging by Nicholas’s enthusiastic clearing of his throat, that he’d stayed at the task a bit too long.

  He kissed Tess with equal chasteness on the cheek, then released her reluctantly. She thanked Nicholas for the escort, smiled wearily, then closed and bolted the door.

  John turned to his brother and scowled. “Do you care to tell me now what all that was about?”

  “Just a bit of sport at your expense,” Nicholas said with an easy smile, “but also a chance to speak with what privacy is possible. Did you discuss with Sir William your outing this afternoon?”

  “I didn’t have a chance,” John said, frowning.

  “You should have,” Nicholas said frankly. “He said there was someone in the woods.”

  John rubbed his hands over his face. “I feared as much.”

  “Is that why you ran all the way from Chevington?”

  John looked at him seriously. “That, and I couldn’t keep Tess out in the wild with just my sword between her and death. Would you have walked with Jenner?”