The More I See You

by Lynn Kurland

  James’s face was ashen and Richard dropped his hand. Dread struck him like a fist in the belly. He felt the bottle slide through his fingers and land with a thud in the dirt at his feet.

  “What befell him?” Richard asked hoarsely.

  “Ruffians.” James’s voice cracked. “Kendrick is dead, Richard. Robin sent me to fetch you.”

  Richard felt himself stagger, felt Jessica’s hand clutch his. James’s image swam before his eyes.

  “Dead?”

  “So Richard of York claims.” Kendrick’s cousin was shaking. Richard wondered if it was from grief or rage.

  Richard shook his head, as if by so doing he could shake off James’s words. “It cannot be.”

  “It is,” James said grimly. “A messenger arrived at Artane just as they were setting off for the wedding.” He swore viciously. “By the saints, I vow I’ll kill Richard and Matilda both!”

  “I’ll help,” Richard said. He looked about him at his guard, which had encircled him. “John, saddle fresh horses and rouse the guard. James, refresh yourself as you may. We’ll leave as soon as Jessica and I can prepare.”

  He turned toward the stairs. The ground felt unsteady beneath him. He felt Jessica’s arm go around his waist, heard her ask him something, but he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t believe his ears. Kendrick dead? By ruffians? Nay, Matilda was behind it, of that he was certain. Proving it would be a different matter.

  He wanted to weep. Kendrick of Artane had been his first and only friend. He’d never made a friend in all the years he had squired at Artane, never met anyone whom he trusted. Kendrick had come home a week before Richard had won his spurs. It had been instant affinity. When Richard had stated his desire to see the world, Kendrick had come along as if it had been preordained. He, Kendrick, and Royce of Canfield had wrought deeds on the continent that would likely be sung about until Jessica’s time. Kendrick had accepted Richard without question, without prying, without judgment. Richard had loved him deeply.

  And now he was gone.

  Richard followed Jessica to their chamber, then looked at her as she threw clothes onto the bed. He realized eventually that he was doing nothing but standing there staring stupidly at her. And, as he watched his magical creature of sea and light move about his chamber, he was faced with another, even more sobering thought.

  He could lose her, too.

  He felt his way down into a chair, the pain in his chest cutting off his air. All it would take was one bolt from a crossbow or one blow from a broadsword and her life would be snuffed out just as easily as Kendrick’s. He would recover from Kendrick’s loss. He would have Jessica to help him.

  But Jessica’s loss?

  What if her time snatched her away just as easily as it had flung her here? What if he were looking at her, reaching out to touch her, and suddenly she vanished?

  A cold cup was pressed into his hands.

  “Drink.”

  He drank. The cup was taken away. He saw Jessica’s beloved features come into view.

  “Richard?” Her gentle fingers smoothed over his brow. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Richard, I’m just so sorry.”

  He reached for her. She came to him and fit perfectly into his arms. Richard clutched her to him, buried his face in her hair, and tried to still that horrifying fear that continued to reach out for him. He wouldn’t lose her. If he had to move Heaven and Hell to keep her, he would.

  “Richard, I know you loved him.”

  Richard couldn’t bear to tell her that it was the thought of losing her that terrified him so. He continued to hold her, rocking her, trying to soothe himself with the motion and the feel of her in his arms. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the fear receded. It left him cold and weary.

  “I’ll take you to Artane, then go with the lads,” he said, pushing her back.

  “But, what if—”

  “I have to do this, Jessica. I have to know.”

  “If I lost you . . .”

  He knew the feeling. “You won’t.” He squeezed her a final time, then put her off his lap. “We must make haste. Need you anything else?”

  “I’m ready. I packed what I thought appropriate.” She looked up at him suddenly. “I only have one gown.”

  “There are seamstresses aplenty at Artane. I’ll have you something fashioned, if you feel the need of it.

  She tried to smile, but failed. Richard slung the saddle-bags over his shoulder, kicked the ashes back into the hearth with his foot, then took Jessica’s hand and led her out the door.

  As he put his foot over the threshold, a terrible feeling of dread came over him. He almost pulled back, bolted the door, and told Jessica they would be hiding in that chamber for the rest of their lives.

  For he had the feeling that the next time he entered his bedchamber, he would be alone.

  He shook his head, then forced himself to leave his bedchamber. He slammed the door behind him, trying to shut out his foolish thoughts. Nothing would happen. Jessica would be perfectly safe at Artane, especially with the guardsmen he would place about her. He had no worries at all for himself. Richard of York was a sniveling, greedy whoreson who preferred to live off the women he bedded rather than seek his own way. York would take one look at the host from Artane and flee with his tail between his legs.

  James was already mounted and waiting. John was bellowing orders for provisions and snapping out instructions for care of the keep to Warren. Warren didn’t look capable of manning a tent, much less Burwyck-on-the-Sea. Richard decided at that moment to leave Sirs William and Stephen behind. At least William might keep Warren’s feet on the correct path. It was tempting to leave more men, but Richard suspected he would have need of them. Hamlet he could leave at Artane to watch over Jessica.

  Godwin and John he would keep with him. He would have use for their talents, especially Godwin’s, if he managed to encounter Richard of York alone.

  Richard pulled his brother aside. “I have confidence in you,” he said grimly. “I have confidence that you won’t want to look me in the face if I return and find my castle in a shambles.”

  “Aye, Richard,” Warren said, straightening his shoulders. He was growing, Richard realized with a start.

  “No strong drink,” Richard commanded. “No wenches. Your duty is to the keep first, your pleasure last. Am I understood?”

  “I won’t fail you.”

  “See that you don’t.” Richard embraced his brother quickly, ignored the astonished look on Warren’s face, and walked away. He put Jessica up into her saddle, then checked the last-minute preparations.

  Within minutes they were riding over the drawbridge. He wondered absently if they might have been better served traveling by daylight, then pushed aside the thought. There was a full moon and the countryside was easily discernible. At least they would make some headway that night before they rested. For all Richard knew, Kendrick was still alive somewhere and time was of the essence.

  And then from the side of the road a body leaped out in front of him. Horse reared and almost sent Richard tumbling off his back.

  “You fool!” Richard shouted. “What were you think—”

  He was so surprised at the sight before him that he couldn’t finish.

  “Brother,” Hugh said, his face cast in shadows. “I have need of speech with you—”

  “Not now,” Richard said, waving him away.

  “But it must be now,” Hugh said, refusing to move. “There is an evil in your hall, brother, an evil—”

  “Out of my way,” Richard said, urging Horse forward. “I’ve no time to listen to your ramblings!”

  “The woman,” Hugh said, pointing his finger at Jessica. “I know what she is! I know what she’ll do to you!”

  If Hugh hadn’t been family,” Richard felt quite certain he would have trampled him merely to silence him. As it was, it was all he could do not to wallop Hugh strongly and hope to dislodge some small lump of sense inside his he
ad.

  “Return in a month’s time,” Richard said impatiently. “I’ve no time to see to you now, nor any time to listen to more of this drivel. Now move aside!”

  “She’s bewitched you,” Hugh said as he stumbled out of the way. “I’ve come to save you, Richard!”

  Richard snapped Horse’s reins and prayed Hugh would be silent.

  “’Tis brotherly love that drives me!” Hugh called after them.

  Richard looked at Jessica. “My brother spends too much of his time thinking on things better left alone,” he said apologetically.

  “Remember, I’ve met him before,” she said, with a faint smile. “No need to explain.”

  With that settled, Richard put Hugh completely out of his mind and concentrated on the journey before him. He kept Jessica close to him and made sure they were both surrounded by his men. He’d lost one thing precious to him.

  He’d be damned if he was going to lose the other.

  32

  Hugh de Galtres stood at the side of the road, looked after the company riding away into the distance, and wondered what he could do now. His hands were empty, the pouch on his belt just as empty, and his brother’s heart full of faery spells.

  By the saints, ’twas a catastrophe.

  He wished mightily for a bit of salt to cast over his shoulder. Having none, he used a goodly amount of spittle and hoped it would suffice.

  His brother was far worse off than Hugh had feared.

  He looked at Richard’s distant form, then looked back at the keep. He hadn’t looked carefully at Richard’s company, so ’twas impossible to tell who remained in the keep. If it was just Warren, then Hugh would have an easy time of devouring a goodly portion of Richard’s larder. But what if others had remained behind? Hugh had no desire to tangle with Sir Godwin. Even Sir Hamlet, that bowing idiot, was powerfully skilled with a sword.

  Perhaps Burwyck-on-the-Sea was not the place for him. That left only one other choice. He would have to follow Richard to Artane. Perhaps he would have himself an audience with Lord Robin. ’Twas rumored that the man was full of good sense and properly immune to the charms of any foul beast. After all, Christopher of Blackmour had fostered with the man and he was rumored to be possessed of a most evil demon. Yet still Robin had prevailed over him.

  Hugh nodded to himself, pleased with his decision. He would travel to Artane and fall upon Lord Robin’s mercy.

  He would, however, give Blackmour a very wide berth.

  He frowned. There was also the abbey at Seakirk to avoid. ’Twas rumored to be inhabited by witches as well.

  Hugh sighed. So many places to fear.

  With another handful of signs for luck, he turned his face northward and began to walk.

  33

  Jessica had never been so glad for the sight of anything as she was for the sight of Artane in the distance. The trip had been endless. She didn’t consider herself a bad rider but there was a difference between riding for an afternoon of recreation and riding for over a week as if all the hosts of Hell were behind you. None of the men seemed to think anything of it, and that made her feel very sorry for them. Hamlet had even gone so far as to say that Richard seemed to be taking his bloody time about it all.

  What she wanted now was nothing more than to sit down on something that wasn’t galloping. The only thing that would have been more welcome than the sight of a medieval keep was a medieval keep with a Mini Mart next to it, but she wasn’t quibbling. If Richard’s descriptions were accurate, Artane was almost as modern as Burwyck-on-the-Sea. The most notable difference was, however, the fact that Artane was finished. She was just certain that could only be a good thing.

  By the time they reached the gates, Jessica was clinging to her horse by sheer willpower alone. One more good jar and she would have been facedown in the mud. Not that she would have reached the ground. There were enough people running around that she likely would have landed on them instead. If the number of men milling about was any indication, Kendrick’s family was gearing up for a war.

  Jessica looked next to her to see how Richard was holding up. He didn’t look good, but he didn’t look quite as shell-shocked as he had. His expression was grim but determined. She had the feeling Kendrick’s attackers wouldn’t live very long to regret their actions.

  They came to a halt in the courtyard and Jessica watched as more people poured from the great hall. It was then she wished she had taken Richard up on his offer to have an extra gown or two fashioned for her. She felt like a slug in her tunic and hose—and a poorly dressed slug at that.

  Richard swung down. “Stay,” he commanded, sparing her a glance before he walked away.

  “Arf,” she muttered. She watched him walk over to a tall man who sported only a bit of gray in his black hair. The man looked so much like an older version of Kendrick that she suspected he must be Lord Robin, Kendrick’s father. If his looks had said as much, the grief in his face would have.

  Robin put his arms around Richard and hugged him. Jessica was surprised to see Richard allowing the familiarity. Then again, this man had taken him in. She knew little past that, besides a couple of minor stories Kendrick had told, but surely Richard had to have some affection for his foster father. As Jessica watched them, she decided that one way or another, she would have a few details out of Richard after all this mess was sorted through. Maybe they both needed some time to sit down and tell stories of their past. She had the feeling, though, that she would be the one doing most of the talking.

  The men spoke together for several minutes, then Richard returned and held up his arms. Jessica let him help her down and was grateful for his hands on her waist while her legs reaccustomed themselves to terra firma. Richard put his arm around her and led her over to Robin.

  “Jessica, Robin of Artane. My lord Robin, may I present my lady, Jessica of Edmonds, lately of Burwyck-on-the-Sea.”

  Jessica wasn’t sure if Robin would want to shake hands or not, so she just smiled gravely.

  “A pleasure, my lord.”

  Robin returned her nod seemingly automatically, then he shook his head as if he’d just heard Richard’s words. “How was that?” he asked.

  “She is my betrothed wife,” Richard said.

  A hint of a smile crossed Robin’s features and he took Jessica’s hand. “Well met, then, lady. I vow I despaired of this one ever finding a woman strong enough to face him. You must be accustomed to holding your ground.”

  “The tales I could tell you,” Richard muttered. “But I won’t,” he added at Robin’s pursed lips. “Trust me, my lord, she holds her own very well. I’m sure the lady Anne will find her much to her liking.”

  Jessica gave Robin’s hand a squeeze. “My only regret is that we aren’t meeting under easier circumstances.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.” It was hopelessly inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say.

  Robin accepted her words with a short nod, then released her and turned to Richard. “We’ve few chambers empty with so many here. Anne will see to the settling of your lady. I have need of you in my solar.”

  “Of course.”

  Robin nodded to them both, then turned and walked away. Richard took her hand.

  “I’ll find you later,” he said grimly. “I imagine ’twill be very late and we will leave for Seakirk very early. You’ll be perfectly safe here, but I’ll leave someone behind with you. Likely Hamlet or Godwin.”

  “Take Godwin,” she said promptly. “You might need his particular talents.” She’d heard a few of his torturing stories. They were not pretty. “I’m sure I can make do with Hamlet. I’ll keep him under control.”

  Richard nodded, then fumbled around in the purse at his belt. He took her hand and slid a ring onto her finger.

  “I meant to give you this,” he said. “Before, ah, the tidings came . . .”

  “Oh,” she said, looking down, “Richard, it’s beautiful—”

  “Aye, and so are you.”
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br />   And with that and a firm brush of his lips across hers, he was gone. Jessica stood in the inner bailey of Robin of Artane’s courtyard and stared down at what she assumed was her wedding ring.

  “Ah,” said a well-worn voice at her side, “Edric did fine work on that. A right proper gift.”

  It was. The stone was a pale green set in a band of gold. The pattern etched into the band reminded her of waves and she could have sworn that the prongs holding the stone were actually griffin’s claws. It was disturbing and beautiful and Jessica couldn’t have been more pleased with it. Richard had to have designed it; the ring could have come from no one else’s imagination.

  Jessica looked up at Sir Hamlet. “I have one for him. I just didn’t think to bring it.”

  “We won’t be here forever, my lady. I’ll think on a felicitous way to present him with your favor once we return to Burwyck-on-the-Sea.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Leave it to me.”

  As she hoped that might be enough to keep him from working his magic on Robin’s garrison, she was more than willing to agree.

  Richard’s guardsmen moved off to take care of their guardly business and she found herself left to herself, to stand in the middle of the courtyard and wonder where it was she was supposed to go. She dithered for a few minutes, but at the precise moment when the discomfort was at its peak, a servant of some sort curtsied in front of her.

  “If you’ll follow me, my lady?”

  “Gladly,” Jessica said, and meant it. Maybe it would be possible to have a face wash and something to drink.

  She followed the young girl into the hall, up a set of stairs, and through various passageways until she found herself ushered into what she assumed was a solar of some kind. Several women sat on chairs, children sat on stools, and gloom sat heavily on everyone regardless of age.

  An older woman with long silvery-blond hair rose and beckoned to Jessica.

  “I am Anne,” she said simply. “Kendrick’s mother.”

  Jessica would have known that from the color of Anne’s eyes. They were Kendrick’s eyes, only there was no twinkle of humor in them at the moment. Jessica wasn’t sure if she should bow or curtsy or just stand there and wait for instructions. She tried a smile, but she had the feeling it hadn’t come out all that well.