One Magic Moment

by Lynn Kurland

  Roland shrugged, but apparently couldn’t help a smile. “Everard couldn’t read the note you left him, and he was too stupid to imagine I might poke through his things whilst he was otherwise occupied. So, aye, I’ve been using your gate, when I’ve had the urge to roam. I stumbled by accident upon the one that lurks in my father’s forest, though I’m afraid Everard saw me at it. I began to suspect over the past pair of months that Everard might understand its use, so I’ve nipped back home now and then to keep tabs on him.”

  John realized Roland was speaking English. “Interesting way to pass your time.”

  “It is,” Roland agreed. “I’ve tried several centuries. Can’t quite decide on what suits me the most, but I can name a couple I didn’t particularly fancy.”

  John turned slightly to look at Tess, who was leaning heavily against his brother’s shoulder. John reached over and caught her hand, then pulled her over to stand next to him. “I should introduce you to my lady wife. Tess Alexander, this is Roland of Chevington.”

  “I know,” Tess said faintly. “Or I will know, I should say.”

  Roland frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  John took a perverse pleasure in enlightening the man. “You, it would seem, have a few things to do that you haven’t thought of yet. I would simply suggest that you do them properly.”

  Roland frowned. “How does that work?”

  “Don’t ask,” Tess said, a little breathlessly. “And, John, don’t torment him. We owe him quite a bit.”

  Roland shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll go have a think about that, shall I? Unless you’ve any hints to give me before I do.”

  “I don’t think I should,” John said seriously. “I don’t want the Future changing because of something I blurted out. Just carry on. You seem to have done a smashing job all on your own.” He paused. “I suppose we’ll let you get back to your jet-setting ways, unless you’d care to come inside for supper.”

  Roland tilted his head and looked at him. “I assume you’re preparing to be lord of the manor.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “The lady Joanna told me she wished she could leave the place to you but since she had no idea of your whereabouts, she would be forced to find someone else suitable. That someone would not, she assured me, ever be anyone from Chevington. After making certain I understood that, she instructed me quite politely to go to hell and take my brother with me.” He laughed a little. “I’m not sure she wants me in her gates again, though I must declare that my motives were pure.” He looked at Tess. “A pleasure, my lady. I hope we’ll meet again.”

  “I do, too,” Tess said gravely.

  Roland made them both a small bow. “Well, I’ll see to cleaning up what’s left out here and perhaps beg a meal in the garrison hall. Then I think I’m for France.” He laced his fingers together and stretched his hands over his head. “Post-revolution France, though. I’ve had enough of bloodshed for the day.”

  John watched him walk away, then sighed deeply, wondering why he was so unsettled. It wasn’t that Roland might not manage to do what he was supposed to have already done—from a certain perspective, of course. He frowned, looked about the battlefield, then his gaze fell upon just what it was that had left him feeling as if things weren’t as they should have been.

  “And just what in the hell,” he asked the miscreant politely, “were you thinking?”

  Well, he might have been a little less than polite, but he was covered in blood, so he thought he might be permitted an enthusiastic question or two.

  Tess put her hands on her hips. “Don’t yell at me.”

  “Tess, this is a damned battlefield!” he exclaimed. “Of course I’m going to yell at you. You’re bloody lucky I don’t take my sword to you!”

  She ducked behind his brother, but Montgomery only laughed and moved out of the way.

  “I’m not about to get between you two,” he said frankly. “I’ve trained my lady to stay at home with the doors bolted. Obviously, John, you have some work still to do.”

  Tess glared at her brother-in-law, then walked forward until she was standing toe-to-toe with him. “Your sister Amanda found the clothes for me,” she said, sticking her chin out.

  “A messenger would have sufficed,” he said with a scowl.

  “Are you having your first row?” Montgomery called back over his shoulder.

  “We already had that,” John said shortly. “This is the second, I daresay. Perhaps the third.”

  “She helped save your life, you fool,” Robin said as he walked by, covered with muck and other substances John didn’t care to identify. “If I were you, I would take her inside and indulge in a little wooing. She’s liable to bolt her door against you otherwise. Not that I ever give my lady any reason for that, but I am, as many have noted, a perfectly chivalrous knight.”

  “Yeah,” Tess said, nodding. “What he said.”

  John realized he was becoming the center of attention for the rest of the men of his family, none of whom he was particularly interested in hearing from at the moment. He nodded briskly to them, took Tess by the hand, and marched off the field.

  “At least you put your sword away,” Tess said breathlessly.

  “I can draw it again, just as easily.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He realized she had stopped only because she was stronger than she looked and she’d almost pulled him off his feet. He looked at her, fully prepared to enlighten her about all the things that could have happened to her, then he realized she was holding it together by a very tenuous thread.

  His first instinct was to pull her into his arms, but he was covered in blood and filth. The last thing he wanted was for her to be wearing any more of the battle on her than she already was. Then again, it was probably the first and last time she would ever march out onto a medieval battlefield, so perhaps it didn’t matter. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, hoping as an afterthought that he didn’t pinch her with his mail. He wasn’t at all sure that some sort of unsettling noise didn’t escape him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a gulp. “I didn’t know what else to do.” She pulled back and looked up at him, her face covered with dirt and filth. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be looking in the right direction.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then ran his blood-caked hand over her hair. “Let me have a wash, then we’ll borrow Grandmère’s solar and I’ll go to pieces in front of you. The sight of what’s left of a man after he sees the woman he adores standing behind him in the midst of a war will be very educational, I imagine.”

  Her eyes were full of tears. “Your grandmother told me to come.”

  “As you were pulling on hose, no doubt.”

  “Actually, yes.” She took a deep breath. “She passed on before I finished dressing.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then looked at her. “At least we were able to see her a final time.” He let out his breath slowly. “I must make certain all is clear on the field, then see to arrangements for her. But then, my lady, we will have some privacy.” He paused. “Though I don’t agree with your methods, I am most grateful for the warning.”

  “So am I,” she said fervently.

  He managed a smile. “I think you just might love me.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Tell me later?”

  “I will, in detail.”

  He smiled, saw her back to the hall, then returned to take care of the duties that fell to him as lord of Segrave. He supposed there was no shame in admitting that a good deal of what held him together was the thought that he could indeed take the woman he loved, find a private chamber somewhere, and hold her close whilst he shook.

  She would understand, he was sure.

  Unfortunately, it was quite a bit later than he wanted before he managed to see the castle settled, his family occupied with tasks pertaining to the necessary burial arrangements, and himself and Tess trudging up the stairs to a guard t
ower. He invited the men there to step outside for a moment or two, drew Tess inside, then locked the door.

  He turned and leaned back against the wood, then looked at Tess who was standing in the middle of the small room, rubbing her arms and looking absolutely shattered. She turned around in a circle, presumably looking at what wouldn’t be intact in her century, then stopped and looked at him.

  He held open his arms.

  She walked over and into his embrace without hesitation.

  He held her close as she wept. He honestly couldn’t blame her. He had, after his first battle, puked his guts out, then wept in private where his brothers hadn’t been able to see. His father had known, of course, but he’d only offered a quiet embrace, then absolute silence on the matter thereafter.

  “I am sorry,” she managed, finally, pulling back to drag her sleeve across her face. “I just didn’t know what else to do. I was honestly terrified that I wouldn’t get to you before Everard did.”

  He dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief his mother had handed him at some point during the afternoon, then handed it to her so he could take her face in his hands. He kissed both her cheeks, then looked down at her.

  “I’m just sorry that you needed to,” he said quietly.

  She shook her head. “I don’t imagine I’ll be asking you to apologize for yelling at me.”

  He managed a bit of a laugh. “That’s probably very sensible. Words spoken in the heat of battle can’t be used against a man after the fact.”

  “Is that in Robin’s knightly code?”

  “My father’s, actually, inspired no doubt by my mother’s propensity in her youth to pick up a sword and attempt to wield it in his defense.”

  She smiled a little. “She didn’t.”

  “Oh, she did, imperiling all those around her, friend and foe alike. I have the feeling my father might have expressed his disapproval of her actions in less than dulcet tones on more than one occasion. Hence the addition of his no-apology rule. He would have been at it endlessly otherwise.”

  Her smile faded. “I don’t ever want to do that again, John. Ever.”

  “Thinking of changing your academic discipline?” he asked lightly. “Victorian England, perhaps?”

  “Believe me, I’m tempted. Especially since it would mean you’d have to wear heels and hose more often.”

  “Thank you, but nay,” he said with a half laugh. “I’ll remain comfortably in boots, if it’s all the same to you.”

  She looked at him seriously for a moment or two, then pulled his head down toward hers.

  John decided, after she was finished almost bringing him to his knees, that she had abandoned most of her worries about his wanting to stay in the past.

  “Did that ceremony count?” she asked breathlessly.

  He was very happy to have a door to lean against. “Definitely.”

  “I’m not sure it’s good to begin a honeymoon the night before a funeral.”

  He smiled and pulled her close. “My grandmother would have approved, actually, but you might have a point. Besides, I haven’t wooed you very well yet.”

  “Outside of threatening to take your sword to me, you haven’t wooed me at all.”

  He raised his eyebrows briefly. “You should have concentrated a bit harder on your brief lessons with Robin, then you wouldn’t take the threat so seriously.”

  She pulled out of his arms. “I’ll go see if he’s busy—”

  “Nay, you won’t,” he said with a laugh, catching her before she escaped. He wrapped his arms around her, then looked at her gravely. “We will mourn my grandmother, take care of certain formalities pertaining to titles, then I believe we’ll have a proper ceremony in the chapel.” He paused. “Do you mind being chatelaine for a few days until we have this all sorted?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not.”

  “We’ll turn for home soon enough, I hope.”

  She was very still. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

  “How can you ask?” he asked, pained. “After all that’s befallen us over the past day?”

  “Because you now have a keep,” she said very quietly.

  “So do you. I like yours better.”

  She met his eyes. “But you’re now the lord of Segrave, John. I’m not sure you can walk away from that.”

  He snorted. “For all the good that title will do me in the Future. I doubt it will even earn me a free entrance to a Trust site. Nay, Tess, my grandmother left me the keep for her own perverse reasons, but she didn’t intend I live here. She knows where my heart is.”

  “What are you going to do, then?” she asked, relaxing a bit.

  “We’ll put someone in charge, promise Montgomery all manner of prepackaged snacks to inspire him to check in on the steward now and again, then wait for one of our nephews to grow up and claim it.”

  Tess considered. “How about Rose?”

  He smiled. “It would serve her right, the hellion. A perfect idea. I’ll put it in trust for her until she comes of age. She’ll have to see if she keeps it on her own or not.” He rubbed her back for a moment or two, then pushed away from the door. “Let’s go find a hot fire. My father has been itching all evening to talk to you about politics. I’ve just gotten back into his good graces; I don’t want to fall out of them by keeping you up here where we’ll get into all sorts of trouble.”

  She caught his arm before he pulled away. “Will you play for me?” she asked quietly. “Your mother and I will sit and weep together while you do.”

  He gathered her close for another eternal moment, then put his arm around her shoulders and opened the door. He couldn’t do anything but nod. He hadn’t played for his family in years, so he wasn’t entirely sure he would get through it without a few stray tears of his own.

  He wondered, along with his rules of knightly behavior, why his father had never told him about all the bittersweet things he would face in his life.

  He took a deep breath and led his lady wife down the stairs. He would sort it all in the morning, decide what in the world he was going to do with a keep he was responsible for eight hundred years in the past, and make plans for his future.

  And he would be very grateful to have those he loved around him whilst he did so.

  Chapter 31

  Tess stepped off the train in her own station and took a deep breath. It was one thing to walk from medieval England through a time gate to modern-day Chevington and see the castle wearing the ravages of time. It was another thing entirely to get off the train near Sedgwick, look over at the departure board, and see the appropriate date.

  She felt a warm hand wrap around hers and looked up to see John standing next to her. She smiled.

  “Almost home.”

  “If Oliver saw his way clear to leave the Vanquish for us instead of poaching it for himself,” John said with a snort. He looked around, then took his own deep breath. “This is very strange.”

  “It’s been that sort of month.”

  He laughed and leaned over to kiss her. “So it has been, my love. Let’s go home, and we’ll discuss it over a traditional English breakfast cooked for supper by yours truly.”

  She hesitated. “Are you really okay living at Sedgwick?”

  “Unless you want to move into my cottage or set up a tent at Segrave, I think that’s the only option open to us,” he said dryly. He lifted an eyebrow. “Can you stomach the thought of me there?”

  “Let’s go home and I’ll see if you suit.”

  “Elitist snob.”

  She laughed and hugged him before she walked with him out of the station. His car was indeed waiting for them there. She had to admit, there was something rather pleasant about the seat of a sports car as opposed to the back of a horse. She was very glad they’d managed to shower at an inn near Chevington station. She wasn’t sure John would have let either of them into his car otherwise.

  She put her hand on John’s leg and closed her eyes as he drove back. She wai
ted until he pulled into their car park, shut off the engine, and sighed before she looked at him.

  “You look tired,” she said with a weary smile.

  “I think I could sleep for a solid se’nnight,” he agreed. “Well, for the most part.”

  She blushed, though she knew she should have been well past that. They had spent almost a fortnight at Segrave, first mourning Joanna’s death, then celebrating her life, then turning to their own celebration. She had soaked up every moment possible with Pippa, spent copious amounts of time with John’s mother and sister, and happily served as a medieval lord’s wife the rest of the time.

  The partings hadn’t been particularly joyous, but she’d had the distinct feeling they hadn’t been final. She wasn’t sure she would be using any gates again anytime soon, but she certainly couldn’t say the same for others in John’s family.

  She considered, then looked at John. He shook his head slowly.

  “Don’t ask.”

  “I have to.”

  He sighed deeply and looked at her. “Tess, my dearest love, I do not want to go back and live in 1241. I do not want to go back to the Middle Ages and be lord of Segrave. I will miss my family, ’tis true, but I’ll hazard a guess we’ll see them now and again. Until that time, we’ll make do with each other, your sisters, my nephews and other assorted extended connections. Do you believe me now?”

  “I don’t know,” she said seriously. “Lord of Segrave and all.”

  “Earl of Sedgwick and all,” he retorted.

  She laughed a little. “And you think I’m sharing my title with you?”

  He leaned over to kiss her. “As I said before, you’re an elitist snob. Now, take me inside your lovely hall, woman, and be at your leisure whilst I make you supper. I don’t know about you, but I want something to eat that I didn’t have to slay myself earlier in the day.” He started to open his door, then looked at her. “Wait for me.”

  “Forever,” she said with a smile.

  He kissed her again, then crawled out of his car. Tess waited for him to open her door, then found herself helped up to her feet and into his arms.