by Lynn Kurland
She looked at him again and thought she might have seen a few uncomfortable things flash in his eyes. Maybe he was having the same thoughts. But, knowing Richard, she had the feeling he wouldn’t talk first. Maybe he was better at dealing with nerve-stretching tension than she was. She had to break the silence.
“You like the hall,” she said. Oh, that was scintillating!
“Aye,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
“Um, great.” She nodded. “That’s great.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Great.”
“Do you want to look at it some more?” she offered.
He nodded. “Aye.”
They knelt down side by side with their elbows on the floor. Jessica stared at the plan. Richard stared at the plan. Jessica waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.
“Maybe we should go take a walk,” she suggested. Now, that was a stroke of inspiration. Running like a coward sounded like a marvelous idea.
“Great,” Richard agreed.
Great, Jessica thought to herself. Another word inserted into medieval vocabulary with a meaning that wouldn’t be used for who knew how many years. If Richard hadn’t sounded so cute saying it, she might have corrected him.
Then again, with the way things were going, she doubted she could have done much besides smile stupidly up at him.
Richard gathered up the plans and carefully stowed them in his trunk. He locked it, then put the key in the pouch at his belt. He walked to the door and pulled Jessica’s cloak off the peg. Jessica turned her back and let him slip it over her shoulders. She froze when she felt his fingers digging hesitantly for her hair. Richard stopped, removed his hands, then turned her around. He looked down at her, mute.
“That didn’t hurt,” she managed.
He relaxed. He probably didn’t realize it, but she saw the tension depart from his jaw. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he slid his hands along the sides of her neck and under her hair. He gently pulled it free of the cloak and let it fall. He kept his hands where they were, far longer than was necessary. Jessica didn’t argue. She was too busy falling into the depths of those turquoise-and-silver eyes.
He finally pulled his hands back, trailing them softly over her skin as he did so. He took a step back and reached for the door.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
They left the room. Jessica followed Richard up the circular stairs and out onto the circular roof of their bedroom. Men nodded to them as they passed. Richard walked over to the wall and then looked at her. Jessica leaned against the stone and stared out over the sea.
“This is the most beautiful place,” she whispered. “Don’t you love the sea?”
“Aye,” he replied, his deep voice almost as soft as hers. “Aye, ’tis a good place after all.”
He didn’t touch her as they stood together and soon the chill washed away the potency of what she’d felt below. She looked up at Richard as she started to shiver.
“Can we go back? I’m getting cold.”
He nodded and turned with her. She made a side trip to the garderobe, and when she reentered Richard’s room, he was sitting in front of the fire, sharpening his sword.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced.
“A good rest to you,” he replied, not looking up.
So, it was business as usual. She wondered if she should have been disappointed. Somehow, she was just too relieved to have everything back to normal. A simple kiss had knocked her for a loop. Just that small, brief display of an unguarded Richard had been enough to convince her that the man was a raging inferno inside. She hoped she had cover nearby if he ever exploded, with passion or anger. She had the feeling it would be one of the more memorable events of 1260.
“Shall I wake you before I leave in the morn?” he asked.
Jessica paused at the foot of the bed. She wasn’t a morning person. Richard wasn’t either, if his black humor before ten A.M. was any clue, but he was nothing if not disciplined.
“Please,” she answered.
“You’ll want to get an early start.”
“Yes.”
“Autumn is hard upon us. It grows cold this far north in the winter.”
“Cold?”
“Much colder than it is now.”
“Great.”
“Hurry and you’ll have a nice, warm hall to hide in while the snow falls.”
“You don’t want to make any changes on the plans?”
He was silent for some time.
“They’re perfect.”
She couldn’t possibly have asked for a higher compliment than that.
And she fully intended to savor it for a very long time, as she was just certain it wouldn’t be happening again.
17
Richard dragged his sleeve across his mouth and left the kitchens. Watered-down ale had not been made to quench a man’s thirst. Maybe it had to do more with what he thirsted for—and he suspected that it was not ale. He had no trouble clapping his eyes upon the prize.
She was standing in the middle of his bailey, wearing one of his tunics and the hose she had cut down to her size—with his help of course. The woman couldn’t sew to save her life, but, saints, she could plan a hall! When he’d looked at her drawing the night before, he’d been too shocked to speak. There, before his eyes, had been something straight from his fondest dreams. How she’d managed to reproduce it on paper was still something he couldn’t understand, but he’d stopped questioning it. It was likely something she’d learned in the future.
Aye, he had relented and allowed himself to believe her. Where else would she have latched onto such foolish notions about men and women? And where else could she have learned to heal as she had?
If it were true, then that also meant that she had left behind her a life that she likely longed for a great deal.
And, quite possibly, a man.
Richard unclenched his jaw and turned his thoughts away from that. If she wanted to try to return to her time, she would tell him. Until then, he would keep her close, protect her with his life, and pray his heart didn’t crumble to dust at the very sight of her.
He gave himself a hard shake, then leaned back against his bailey wall. Everything else aside, at least Jessica knew what he wanted to have built. Now the question was: could she build it?
He had the feeling, looking at her with her hands on her hips, surveying her workers, that she could.
Then he noticed she wasn’t having any help. He stood back and watched as she bent and picked up a stray stone, then cast it aside. She picked up another and repeated her motion. Richard frowned. The louts weren’t paying her heed. He strode over to her and stopped with his back to her workers.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
She looked up at him and he blinked in surprise. If he hadn’t known better, he might have suspected that she was thinking of giving up.
“What?” he asked. “What pitiful ailment do you suffer?”
He cursed himself the moment the words left his mouth. If she hadn’t looked close to weeping before, she did now. Nay, not tears! Richard stiffened his spine, praying Jessica would see him and do likewise.
“Tell me,” he said quietly. “I will aid you if I can.”
That, at least, seemed to break up the clouds hovering overhead. Jessica put her shoulders back and seemed to get hold of herself. Richard congratulated himself heartily on avoiding a drenching.
“They won’t help me,” Jessica said.
He wanted to turn around and beat the bloody hell out of each and every male in her garrison of carpenters. Then he watched as Jessica stuck her chin out stubbornly.
“The jerks,” she added.
Richard could think of several stronger terms, but he refrained from suggesting them.
“What did they do when you ordered them to work?” he asked.
“Order?”
Ah, that was the problem. Richard shook his head slowly.
; “Jessica, you do not ask laborers if they will do as you bid them. They agree to that bargain when they agree to work for you. What you do is go over to them and begin to assign them tasks.”
“And if they say no?”
Richard was very tempted to do the ordering for her, just to save her the grief, but he knew better. These were Jessica’s lads and they had to understand from the start that she was in charge. They never would if he stepped in now.
“If they say you nay, then you show them the gates and invite them strongly to make use of them.”
“And if they all leave?” Her voice was hardly a whisper.
“I’ll hire you more skilled laborers,” he promised. “Having these lads leave is the least of your worries. Making certain that your walls are straight and your floor is level are your first concerns. This hall will stand until your time if you build it aright.”
“My claim to fame,” she said, smiling weakly.
He reached out and tugged gently on a lock of unruly hair, then tucked it behind her ear. “Aye, wench, your claim to fame.” He pulled his hand away quickly once he realized what he was doing. “What will be your first task?”
“Leveling the ground,” she answered promptly.
“Where is my ring?”
She held up her hand. He’d bound a strip of cloth around the band to tighten it before he left the bedchamber that morn. His ring sat on her thumb; too big, but it would do.
“Now, you’ve taken up enough of my time with these womanly trivialities,” he said. “I’ve a garrison of knights to train, you know. Important work,” he stressed.
A sudden fire blazed in her eyes and Richard nodded with satisfaction. The wench was powerfully easy to govern, a task made all the more simple by the fact she wasn’t aware of him doing it to her. He lifted a single eyebrow in challenge, inclined his head in his most lordly manner, and walked off.
Once he’d reached the barbican of the inner bailey gate, he snatched a worn cloak from one of his guardsmen, wrapped it around him to conceal his armor, and climbed up to the walkway. He meandered down the way, keeping the hood close ’round his face. He stopped just above where Jessica’s men rested comfortably and turned just far enough to be able to see and hear what she would do.
Jessica strode over purposefully. He had to admire her carriage. Worthy of any commander, to be sure. She clapped her hands a time or two.
“Hear me,” she commanded. “I’ve drawn a deep mark in the dirt where the walls of the great hall will be. I want the ground inside those marks completely free of rocks and debris. And,” she added, “this isn’t a request.”
Her English wasn’t good, but Richard knew that was because she was trying to speak a language that had been dead to her for several hundred years. She was understandable; nothing else mattered.
One or two men rose, then saw that their fellows weren’t moving and sat back down.
Jessica folded her arms over her chest. Richard almost smiled at that. Then he hastily wiped any trace of expression off his face. No sense in letting anyone see his moment of weakness. He gathered his amusement and admiration for his future woman and held it all inside, where he could enjoy it privately.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough,” Jessica said. There was an edge like a steel blade in her voice, sharp and cutting. “I want the ground cleared. Now.”
“Says who?” a lad asked scornfully.
“I am in charge,” Jessica said. “I wear my lord de Galtres’s ring. That is enough for him; it’s enough for you.”
One of the others guffawed. “Like as no’, ’e’s tumblin’ ’er,” the man said, laughing again. “Are ye good atwix’ the sheets, lady?”
Richard took a step forward, then realized he’d fall from the walkway if he moved any farther. The blood thundered in his ears, but he forced himself to listen and remember just who had made the comment. The man wouldn’t leave the gates without a token of his displeasure.
Jessica smiled. How she did it, he certainly didn’t know, but she managed.
“Anyone else agree with him? Yes? Please step forward.”
A dozen lads stood up and sauntered over. Richard threw his cloak back off his shoulders and signaled to the score of knights who immediately caught sight of him. If those men took one step closer to her, they’d be dead. A score of crossbows were immediately trained on the bailey.
Jessica gave the men another smile. “The gates are behind me. Walk through them on your way out.”
“Just a bloody moment—”
“Out!” Jessica barked.
“I’ll speak to His Lordship about this,” one of the men snarled.
“Give him my regards while you’re at it,” Jessica said. She waved the men toward the gate, then looked at the remainder of her workers. Richard made sure the louts were leaving before he turned his attentions to the rest of her lads. A score and ten, possibly two score. She’d be lucky to keep half that.
“Anyone else feel inclined to forfeit a steady job and excellent pay?”
Twenty men walked away. Richard did a quick count. A score left. That wouldn’t build a hall. He’d have to hire more men, but he’d do it gladly. He waited until he saw that the remainder of the laborers were starting to do as Jessica bid them, then ran back along the battlements. He tossed the cloak to its owner and thumped down the stairs. He strode out to the lists, unsmiling. He had six men to beat the hell out of before he could do any work.
He walked straight up to the man who had insulted her and smashed a fist into his face. The man didn’t get up. Richard identified the other five, who had all gone pale, and pointed toward the outer gate in the distance.
“Take your fellow and begone. Show your faces inside my gates again and you’ll not leave alive. No apologies will be accepted,” he added, when one of the men opened his mouth to speak.
Richard turned to the other score.
“I’ve little time. What miserable troubles do you have?”
“My lord,” one of them began, stepping forward, “the woman, she thinks to give us orders.”
“Did you not see my ring on her finger?”
“Aye, milord, but she’s a woman—”
“She’s building my hall.”
“But, milord, I can’t work for a woman!”
“Fine, don’t,” Richard snapped. “’Tis less gold out of my coffers if you leave.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
The matter was far from his mind, though, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as eighteen of the twenty went back inside the inner bailey. A nod sent a handful of mailed knights striding after them. Richard knew no words were necessary to tell his lads that he expected Jessica to be protected. Every last man in the bloody keep could do little but gape at her when she passed. She’d come to the lists once and only once. Two men with broken bones were enough to convince him she was a distraction none of them needed while training. In truth, having her work on the hall was a perfect way to keep her tucked inside the bailey, though he half suspected she would continually have an abundance of guardsmen she didn’t need.
Eighteen men were soon huddled in a group on the side of the field. Richard savored a bit more pleasure as he beckoned to their new leader. The old one had obviously thought no gold in his pocket to be preferable to working for a woman. Fool.
The new man stopped and made him a hasty bow. “Milord, she won’t have us back.”
Richard lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
“Milord, I’ve a family to feed,” the man complained. “I need this work.”
“You should have thought of that before.”
“Milord, she’s just a woman!”
“Never,” Richard said quietly, “ever say that about Jessica Blakely. She is not a woman to underestimate.”
The man chewed on that one for a moment or two. “Milord, would you speak to her?” He dropped to his knees. “I beseech you.”
“I’m not the one to be begging to,” Richard said, turning his
head and spitting, as if he had nothing better to do. “But I’ll come along, just for the sport. I’ve need of a cup of ale anyway.”
He led the pitiful group of laborers back up to the bailey. Jessica was knee-deep in giving instructions. When she saw him, and what was behind him, she turned.
“Well, buckaroo,” he said, hoping she would recognize one of her future words and understand he was trying to send a message with it, “I see you’ve let these men go.”
“I did,” she said calmly, clasping her hands behind her back.
“I understand they’re willing to work now.”
She shrugged. “They didn’t seem too apologetic, nor very willing to listen. I don’t have time for that kind of man.”
Richard sighed heavily, as if it truly grieved him. He turned to the men and held up his hands helplessly.
“You didn’t apologize well. I can’t help you.”
The leader stepped forward. “But, my lord!”
“I have no say in this.”
The man approached Jessica. “Lady Jessica, we want our jobs.”
Jessica looked up from where she was digging a rock out of the ground. “No.”
The man gaped. Richard wanted to laugh.
“But, my lady, please!”
Jessica rose and looked at the man. “Do you have any idea how carefully this project must proceed? A rock laid improperly, a stone set crookedly, and the entire building will be askew. I need men with good eyes and strong backs. And ones brave enough to have a woman lead them. These other lads are courageous. Are you?”
“Aye, lady,” the man said. He didn’t sound too convinced, but Richard knew he’d gain respect for her soon enough.
“Then go pick up rocks,” Jessica said. She turned back to her digging, dismissing the men, who immediately set to work.
Richard started to walk away but Jessica’s calling his name stopped him.
“Aye?” he asked.
She smiled and the beauty of that smile smote him in the heart. He had a hard time catching his breath.
“Thank you.”
He nodded weakly. “Aye.”
“That’s yee-hah. It’s what buckaroos say.”