by Lynn Kurland
Nicholas shook his head. “You know I wouldn’t have.” He considered John for a moment or two. “You haven’t told me all.”
“I couldn’t stomach telling you all,” John said with a deep sigh, “but I will tomorrow. After I spend a pleasant night on my lady’s floor, keeping her safe.”
“Don’t be daft,” Nicholas snorted.
John shot his brother a look. “I’m sorry, did I ask your opinion?”
“I’m sorry, but aren’t you old enough to know better?”
“I want her protected.”
“Then wed her.”
“I’m working on that,” John said through gritted teeth. “And until that time, I’ll do what I must—which includes sleeping on her floor this night.”
Nicholas leaned back against the wall casually. “Let us consider my defenses, shall we? First we have the outer walls, manned by very canny lads with very sharp swords. Should some fool attempt the unthinkable—in the bitter cold, no less—and scale those walls, he would meet his end on one of those very sharp swords. Should he overcome those lads and drop down into the courtyard, he would meet not only braying hounds, but more lads with steel.”
John sighed, but that didn’t stop the deluge.
“The hall is secured and the great hall guarded by yet more men. Should some canny lad—which I can guarantee you couldn’t possibly be a lad sired by Richard of Chevington—manage to get inside the hall, he wouldn’t live to see your lady’s bedchamber door.”
“I’m not sure I feel any better,” John said grimly.
“Then realize that my hall will soon be so overflowing with family and rambunctious children that you’ll likely end up on a pallet on the floor in my chamber. If Tess doesn’t mind sleeping with a blade in her hand, you might perhaps lay your head across the chamber from hers.”
John closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “You’re right.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow about Chevington’s get,” Nicholas said seriously. “Montgomery had trouble with Everard.”
John pursed his lips. “I’m unsurprised.”
Nicholas clapped him on the shoulder, then turned him and pushed him down the passageway. “Her door is bolted, and there is Sir Ranulf come to keep watch. She’ll be perfectly safe.”
John stopped and looked at his brother. “She doesn’t know the dangers.”
“And that, brother, is something I understand perfectly,” Nicholas said, “having considered the same thing with my bride.”
John smiled faintly. “I suppose that’s true.”
Nicholas slapped him affectionately on the back of the head. “It is, dolt. Trust me.”
John nodded, waited until Sir Ranulf was fully installed in front of Tess’s chamber, then sought his own bed.
He would, however, be up before too many watches had passed. Everard of Chevington might have been a fool, but John was convinced he knew about gates through time, which made him a dangerous one.
He shucked off his boots and went to bed fully dressed, lest something happen and he be needed in a hurry. If Tess called for him, he certainly didn’t want Nicholas trotting down the passageway in answer.
I love you.
He closed his eyes. The saints preserve him, but he did.
And if he ever talked her into loving him in return, he would make sure she didn’t pay a steep price for it.
Chapter 23
Tess followed her guardsman—who appeared to be one of several—along the passageway and down the stairs to the great hall. She couldn’t imagine why she even had guardsmen to begin with, but John was, as she could readily attest, a bit on the paranoid side. She would have thought that being inside his brother’s hall would have made him relax a bit, but perhaps he knew things she didn’t. The collection of men who were either standing at attention in various strategic spots in the great hall or pacing unobtrusively along the walls or up in the gallery didn’t seem to be overly concerned, but perhaps they were used to humoring paranoid brothers of their lord.
She shook her head. She couldn’t imagine being a medieval knight, either as part of a permanent or rotating garrison, and having one’s life be taken up with protecting the keep’s inhabitants during good times and whoever else could cram themselves inside the walls when times weren’t so good. She supposed at least the weapons then were less devastating than during her time, though perhaps no less deadly in their own way.
Her trip with John north was certainly proof of that.
“My lady Jennifer is resting above and instructed me to offer you the run of the keep until she descends,” Sir Ranulf said with a slight bow. “Shall you go to the kitchens?”
Tess shook her head. She wasn’t much of a breakfast person anyway and while Nicholas’s cook was indeed better than she’d dared hope, she didn’t think she would be indulging in anything before lunch. Her stomach was in knots after spending the night torn between remembering that John had told her he loved her and reminding herself that she couldn’t be the one to tear him away from his family.
And she’d been worried a medieval thug would be what would do her in. She’d never expected the danger to her heart would come from an entirely different place.
“I wouldn’t mind just wandering, if possible,” she managed, when she realized Sir Ranulf was still waiting for her answer.
He nodded. “Of course, my lady. Lord John is, I believe, with Lord Nicholas in the courtyard.”
That sounded like an excuse to go outside and freeze. “I think I’ll go fetch my cloak—”
“No need, of course,” Sir Ranulf said. He beckoned for a page, then sent him scampering up the stairs.
Tess spared a moment of regret for the fact that she likely wasn’t going to manage to hire any eight-year-old boys to run her errands for her at home, then accepted her cloak and walked across the hall, preceded by Sir Ranulf and followed by a cluster of guardsmen she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t imagine Nicholas was worried about her making off with any of his medieval relics, so she had no choice but to believe the men were there for her protection.
Weird didn’t quite cover it.
But since she wasn’t sure her medieval French would hold up to the scrutiny of a long conversation about the reasons for that, she decided to just go with things and see where they led. It was yet another in a very long line of academic distractions she indulged in purposely to keep herself from thinking about things she couldn’t fix and didn’t want to face.
She realized immediately upon exiting the keep proper that she wasn’t nearly as flexible as she would have liked to have thought herself. The sight of a fully functional medieval courtyard was, to put it bluntly, shocking. Peasants were going about tasks that seemed to include caring for livestock, mailed men were either training or patrolling, and the sound of the blacksmith’s hammer was like a clarion call that screamed not of your century, girlie.
Or something to that effect.
Tess took a deep breath of bitterly cold air, coughed vigorously for her trouble, then held Sir Ranulf off when he peered at her to apparently make sure she wasn’t going to swoon. She walked down the steps and decided that since there seemed to be a group of men standing just beyond the barbican gate and since two of the taller of those men were fair-haired and dark, there was obviously something interesting going on that might be of some educational value to her. It was a decent-looking distraction, if nothing else.
She walked over to that little cluster of men, making furious mental notes right up until the moment she got a glimpse of what was lying there in their midst.
A lifeless hound.
Sir Ranulf stepped immediately in front of her. She was accustomed to that sort of thing, so she didn’t protest. Of course, she didn’t let it stop her from trying to move to his left. She had a bit of a tussle with her other guardsmen bringing up the rear, but she finally managed to at least peek between shoulders and look at what was going on. There was something far too posed about what she was seeing there in front
of her.
As if someone were sending a message.
John and Nicholas were standing together, almost mirrors of each other except for their coloring and age. They apparently realized she was standing there at almost the same time because John moved just before Nicholas’s elbow caught up with his ribs. He stepped over the hound, walked through the sea of men who parted for him, and put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her around without comment and walked her forward, back through the gates.
She went, because he’d obviously trained her very well.
“What,” she asked when he finally gave up herding and reached for her hand to tuck under his arm, “was that?”
“A not very amusing prank,” he said with a shrug, “which we’ll leave the mystery of to someone else. Now, what would you care for first: a walk on the roof or breakfast?”
“Are you distracting me?”
“I don’t know,” he said, frowning thoughtfully. “Is it working?”
“John,” she began with a long-suffering sigh.
“A walk on the roof,” he said, “after we have a moment or two by the fire. Having a bird’s-eye view of the castle will be very informative, I’m sure.”
She supposed that was better than either revisiting what they’d discussed the night before or wondering why someone would leave a lifeless hunting dog at Nicholas’s front gate.
She went along and decided to save her questions for a more opportune moment. She agreed to wait by the fire—under guard, of course—while John went off to find bread and cheese and something to drink. She even humored him by eating more than she was comfortable with, which she was sure would lead to a mid-morning nap. She wasn’t entirely sure that hadn’t been his plan, catching sight as she did of the look on his face.
He was worried.
And he was subjecting her to an unusual amount of frowning scrutiny, as if he thought she might be thinking thoughts he wouldn’t care for.
She put on her most untroubled smile, to throw him off the scent. Besides, what else could she do? If he wanted to stay, she couldn’t order him to take her home. She might be able to get there on her own if she could get a peek at the infamous map in Nicholas’s trunk.
It occurred suddenly that if his brother Robin was coming south from Artane, his brother would also be going home again. There was no reason she couldn’t hitch a ride with him and use that big X near that castle to get herself back to her proper place in time. The current Earl of Artane would let her crash for a couple of days until she’d stopped bawling her eyes out over what she’d left behind in 1241, then she would get herself on a train and go home—
John rose to his feet suddenly and pulled her up to hers. “You think too much about things I don’t think I like. Let’s go walk.”
She was wrapped in the exceptionally luxurious cloak loaned to her by the lady of Wyckham, then left to wait while John did whatever medieval lords’ sons did when they were on edge about something. He had a couple of conversations with a pair of guardsmen while trying to look very casual about them, then looked around the hall with the same sort of carelessness. His eyes, however, were missing no detail. If someone had made a false move, she had no doubts that John would have reacted instantly in a way that would have rendered his foe quite unable to do anything else.
Tess shivered in spite of herself. Even with all the things she knew about medieval times, actually being in medieval times and enjoying its particular mores was almost too strange even for her strong stomach. All the things she had learned in a purely academic way had now become reality. Henry III was sitting on the throne of England, men were going to war, nobles were bickering, buildings were being built with heavy taxes.
She was surrounded by men carrying swords they obviously knew how to use.
John stopped his frowning and turned to look at her. All right, it was one thing to see the guy traipsing around in fake period clothing; it was another thing to see him in native garb. There were knives stuck down the sides of his boots, a sword belted around his hips, and hose instead of trousers. He looked as if he’d never spent a day away from the current year, never driven a car, never shopped at the local Tesco for crisps and fizzy drinks.
He looked at home, truth be told.
He walked over to her, stopped, then clasped his hands behind his back. “Lady Tess,” he said with a very small smile.
She closed her eyes briefly, because it almost hurt her to look at him. “Lord John.”
“Turnabout, is that it?”
“You seem to have latched back on to your title easily enough,” she managed.
He leaned in close. “Are you kidding? It’s absolutely barking, but I thought I would frighten my family if they saw me in a state. I was hoping you’d let me fall apart in your arms somewhere quiet tonight.”
Heaven help her, that was the last thing she wanted him to do. She took a deep breath, then nodded, because it was easier than telling him that she was sure now that he would be better off in the past, and she intended to hitch a ride with his brother as soon as possible.
A throat cleared itself pointedly from behind him. Tess jumped a little when she realized Nicholas was standing there, his ears perked up. She sighed in relief. The cavalry had arrived.
John turned and looked at his brother. “If I could, I’d kill you and not regret it.”
Nicholas put his hand to his heart. “I’m wounded, John. Here I am, simply trying to save you from your sorry self and these are my thanks?” He looked at Tess. “Shall I thrash good manners back into him, Lady Tess? He’s been out of my reach for too long, I fear.”
Tess smiled at John’s brother, then listened as he and John discussed the points where John might be lacking in quite a few things. John finally told his brother to shut up, promised his willing self to be grilled about a variety of subjects later in Nicholas’s solar, then pulled her across the great hall with him toward the stairs. He paused at the entrance to the stairwell and looked at her.
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said very quietly.
She swallowed, hard. “I don’t think you really need me.”
“And that, my dearest Tess, is where you are absolutely wrong.”
He might have a different opinion after she’d left him happily back in time with his family, but she wasn’t going to argue the point at present.
“Let’s go up on the roof,” he suggested, then took her hand and pulled her along after him before she could protest.
She walked with him up stairs and down passageways until they exited a guard tower. She was absolutely not a fan of heights, but she had to admit the view was spectacular. John didn’t seem to be bothered by their vantage point, but then again, he’d grown up with it. He looked thoughtfully over the landscape for several minutes, then glanced at her. He smiled, then his smile faded as he apparently realized she wasn’t doing the same.
“I thought you’d be enjoying the view,” he said.
I was—of you was almost out of her mouth before she could stop it, but she bit back the words. The truth was, looking at him in his native land, as it were, was killing her. If he went back to the future, he would trade family for . . . what?
Her?
He cleared his throat. “You know, my brother will thrash me if I pull you into my arms and distract you properly here where all can see.”
She attempted a smile, but didn’t think she’d managed it very well. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About what I saw there this morning,” she lied. Among other things she wasn’t about to divulge.
He tilted his head over his shoulder toward the east. “What’s coming from that direction in a pair of hours is much more interesting, I guarantee it.”
She looked behind him. She had to squint to see the company, but see them she could. She looked at him in surprise. “Who is that?”
“Robin, I imagine, with his wife, Anne, and their children.” He looked at her steadily. “His sec
ond son is named Kendrick.”
She took a deep breath and attempted to put aside her thoughts. The truth was, she couldn’t do anything about returning home until John’s brother arrived, and that was assuming he would be willing to help her. At the moment, her options were to mope, which she never did, or enjoy every moment possible with a man she was crazy about.
She chose the latter, because it was the only choice she could make.
She took a deep breath, then lifted an eyebrow. “So I know something you don’t know. How convenient.”
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the parapet wall. “And if I demanded that you tell me?”
“I would tell you to stuff it.”
He laughed, apparently in spite of himself. “You have very little respect for either my ego or my sword, my lady.”
“Oh, I have a great respect for both, you bully,” she said. “I’m just playing hardball.” She frowned. “How would you translate that into your version of French?”
“I’ll think about it and tell you after you’ve told me what I want to know.”
“You go first.”
He looked over his shoulder. Sir Ranulf was standing ten feet away, looking fierce. Tess didn’t bother wondering who might be lurking in the guard tower behind her. She didn’t suppose the walls were thin enough for that to make any difference. John sighed and moved to stand next to her. She wasn’t about to make too much room for him, which he obviously noticed.
“Afraid of heights?” he asked in surprise.
“Just talk fast,” she said, trying not to be too obvious about clutching the rock she was leaning against.
He turned to face her, then put his hand against the wall, keeping his arm between her and a fifty-foot tumble unto the courtyard floor. He smiled down at her. “Better?”
“Better,” she said, her mouth dry. “And just for the record, the only reason I’m still up here is because I’m trying to go native.”
He smiled. “And doing a smashing job. Now, whilst I have you at my mercy here, give me the details that I want.”