by Lynn Kurland
“Tell me more of this lad,” he demanded. His voice next to her ear sent chills down her spine. “Is he handsome?”
“Oh, Kendrick,” she pleaded.
“I want to know,” he rumbled. “I will know if there is another man I must needs kill this night for taking you from me. Now, tell me of your knight. Is he handsome?”
Kill a man for taking you from me? Genevieve felt a warmth spread through her chest, a delicious feeling of belonging she had never before experienced. A smile started deep within her and worked its way out, bringing tears with it.
“Genevieve, speak,” he repeated gruffly. “Is he handsome?”
“Tolerably.” As if Kendrick didn’t know that already.
A catch of breath, then a soft grunt. “Arrogant?”
She smiled again. “Very.”
“Foul-tempered?”
“Not always,” she said, feeling her smile turn wistful. “No, he can be sweet when he wants to be.”
“Genevieve.” Kendrick’s voice had suddenly become very hoarse. “My love, you have your castle of dreams. Here, beneath your feet. And you have your knight. If he pleases you.”
Genevieve turned slowly. Never had she wished for flesh-and-blood arms to hold her more than she did at that moment. She leaned back against the wall and looked up at Kendrick. The light from the moon fell down softly on them, casting Kendrick’s face in shadows. But there was enough light for her to see the gentle expression he wore and the honesty in his eyes.
“Shall I slay your dragons for you, my lady?”
“Oh, Kendrick…”
“Yea or nay.” He held up his hand and his sword was immediately there, winking at her in the moonlight. “My sword is drawn and ready. Shall I wield it? Shall you be my lady and give me reason to fight?”
Genevieve stared up at him, mute. Her dreams were coming true right before her eyes and she hardly knew what to think. She’d wished on enough stars in the past, politely suggesting the delivery of someone who would love only her. Stardust was rumored to have powerful wish properties, but she’d never really believed it.
Until now.
“Oh,” she said, wiping at her eyes, “yes. I would like that very much.”
The sword disappeared. He lifted his hand and put it against her cheek. A shadow of longing crossed his features and he quickly dropped his arm. But he did not move away.
“If I had the power,” he murmured, “I would kiss you senseless.”
She shivered at the thought.
“You’re cold,” he said, stepping closer to her, as if he could warm her himself.
“No, not exactly,” she breathed. Those shivers definitely weren’t from the cold.
He stared at her for several moments in silence, his expression grave. Finally he smiled, a wistful little smile that made her want to cry all over again.
“Come,” he said softly, “let us descend. I have no cloak to put around you. If you make ready for bed, I’ll tuck you in.”
She nodded and followed him along the parapet.
“Will you sing to me tonight?” she asked.
“Name your pleasure.”
“That song you sang yesterday morning.”
“Which one?” he stalled.
“You know which one. About the bawdy wench who drinks all the knights under the table, then takes their armor off them and sells it. I really liked that one.”
Kendrick groaned as they walked through the door and started down the stairs. “Only if you promise never to mention it to Royce when you meet him.”
“Why not?”
Kendrick flashed her a grin. “Because it happened to him.”
Genevieve smiled back, then allowed her thoughts to wander as Kendrick began to sing.
The irony of her situation made her smile again. She’d finally found a man who respected her and what did he have to be? A ghost. Just as intangible as the knights in shining armor she’d spent her life dreaming about.
Somehow it just figured.
But she certainly wasn’t going to complain.
Chapter Fourteen
Genevieve woke and stretched, smiling at how rested she felt. No nightmares. No ghosts brandishing battle-axes and threatening her with death. The only thing her gallant ghost had been brandishing over the past week was a wry wit and a knee-buckling smile.
No, calling him her ghost just wasn’t true anymore. He was her champion. She had the insane desire to get up and sew a ribbon for him to wear on his arm. Would he and Nazir stage a mock tournament for her benefit?
She’d woken during the night to find she had fallen asleep on top of the covers after spending half the night talking to Kendrick, something that had happened regularly for the past few days. The blanket that covered her was certainly nothing she’d put there herself. Kendrick had been watching her with a gentle smile. He’d dismissed her worry over possible aftereffects from the exertion, saying, with a wink, that he’d been working out. How could you argue with a man who pumped iron so he could cover you up when it was required?
“Kendrick?” she said aloud.
Aye, love. His voice whispered across her mind like a caress.
Where are you?
On the roof. Do you miss me?
She smiled. And this from the man who’d had her death on his mind not a month earlier. Things change.
“So they do.”
She jumped as she heard his voice next to her ear. He had materialized next to her on the bed. That any man should look so lazy and satisfied so early in the morning had to be a sin. His grin deepened as he looked at her.
“Did you dream of me?”
“You would know.”
“You told me to stay out of your mind. I’ve been behaving.”
“Why do I have the feeling it’s a stretch for you? I shudder to think of the gray hairs you gave sweet Lady Anne.”
Kendrick grinned again. “My mother thought me to be a most perfect child. It was my father who did most of the yelling over my antics.”
Genevieve turned on her side to face him. Oh, how she loved mornings in bed with him. It made her never want to get up.
“Tell me more,” she prodded.
“The list of my escapades is long.”
“Bore me for a minute or two.”
He propped his head up on his palm. “Well,” he said, posturing as if he expounded some deep concept, “I suppose you might have labeled me an inquisitive child—”
“Troublemaker,” she translated.
“Highly intelligent—”
“Bratty—”
“Enterprising—”
“Your poor mother,” she laughed.
“She found me charming,” he said, pretending offense. “It didn’t bother her in the slightest when I took apart the drawbridge to see how it worked.”
Genevieve gasped. “You didn’t. How in the world did you manage it?”
“Did it at night,” Kendrick said proudly. “I was only fortunate none of our enemies knew of it or you wouldn’t have such a handsome knight at your disposal.”
She ignored his vanity. “What did your father do?”
“Praised me for my questioning mind, then shouted at me until I thought I would go deaf. I was let off lightly that time. He actually looked like he wanted to beat me when I dismantled the smith’s forge.”
Genevieve groaned at his unholy grin.
“Phillip, my brother, was with me.” Kendrick laughed at the memory. “I can still hear him pleading: ‘Kendrick, Father will take a switch to you! I beg you to reconsider. Oh Kendrick, please, please, please do not do this.’ Phillip never was one for straying too far out of the bounds of propriety.”
“Did your father spank you for that?”
“He got drunk instead and threatened to disown me.”
“Did he ever hit you?”
“Nay, but he certainly shook me vigorously when I took apart his favorite suit of chain mail on a dare from my sister Mary.” He winked at her. “I told
you she was deceptively angelic-looking.”
“You were very fortunate that your father had such control.”
He sobered instantly. “Yours didn’t?”
“My father hardly stirred himself to speak, much less anything else. He and I both were too busy being ordered around by my mother. She wore the pants in my family.”
“A bit on the headstrong side, aye?”
“You could say that.”
“She just needed to be taken in hand. Like you. A strong woman needs a stronger man.”
“Like me?” she echoed. “What are you talking about? And who are you to think you need to take me in hand, as you so charmingly put it?”
He smiled as he leaned forward until their noses would have been touching had things been a bit different.
“I am your lord. My duty, and pleasure, is to protect you, care for you and see that you lack for nothing.”
“In return for what?”
“Complete obedience,” he said with a straight face.
“Kendrick, that is the most medieval attitude I have ever heard!”
“What else could you expect from me?” he asked with a smile tugging at his mouth. “Get dressed, my lady, and let me show you just how sweet having me lord over you can be.”
She pulled the covers up to her chin. “Leave.”
“I’d rather stay.”
“Go,” she said, pointing to the door. “And don’t you dare peek.” She stopped suddenly. “Do you watch me shower?”
“Though I’ve been sorely tempted, I haven’t,” he said solemnly. “Should I start?”
She pointed again at the door. “Walk through it so I know you’re not just hanging around where I can’t see you.”
He obliged her with a regretful sigh. Genevieve bolted from the bed and hurried through her morning routine. She pulled on her favorite pair of jeans and groaned at the snugness. Looking in the full-length mirror near the armoire only showed her the thoroughness of the damage. Too many healthy meals at Worthington’s table had contributed to this problem.
“Nonsense. You look ravishing.”
She whirled around in surprise. Kendrick was leaning lazily against the footpost of her bed.
“You promised you wouldn’t peek!”
“Genevieve, you’re completely dressed.” “How would you have known?” she demanded.
He grinned sheepishly. “I peeked.”
She opened her mouth to retort, then shut it. Why bother? After all, it was his bedroom.
“Our bedchamber,” he said softly.
Genevieve felt herself begin to blush. “Don’t you get any ideas about taking up residence in here, buster. You don’t sleep anyway.”
“I do on occasion. Just out of habit, of course.”
“Well, do it somewhere else. Yours is the only bed in the house at the moment.”
Kendrick walked toward her slowly and stopped when he was only a hair’s breadth from her. “You are a saucy wench, aren’t you?”
Genevieve suppressed the urge to gulp. He was just so big. She looked up into his eyes and felt herself sway. It was an effort not to just give in and let him have what he wanted. It was especially hard in light of the fact that she really wouldn’t have minded having him around twenty-four out of twenty-four hours each day.
But ghost or not, she just wasn’t ready to give up that much privacy.
“You can’t sleep here,” she managed.
He folded his arms over his chest and frowned down at her. “Already you forget who is lord here.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” she reminded him breathlessly.
“I at least want napping rights,” he rumbled. “I can become very out of sorts if I don’t have a rest just before tea.”
She had to fight her smile at his stubbornness. “Nothing else?”
“Nothing else,” he muttered, “though I hardly believe I’m saying the like.”
Whew. A nap in the daytime was one thing; sleeping through the night was another. She could handle the first.
“Very well, then, my lord,” she said. “Napping rights are yours.”
“That was easy enough. See you how sweet being obedient is?”
“Oh, yes,” she said dryly.
“And now I will show you how indulgent I can be. What is your pleasure for the day?” He backed up a pace or two and made her a low bow. “I am your willing servant.”
“Actually, I was thinking of starting on the other rooms. Do you want to help?”
“I don’t know how much help I’d be, but I’ll come along.”
“I’ll be glad to have you,” she said.
Genevieve hadn’t had the courage to tackle the walls and floors of the other guest chambers. Carpet would have to be torn up and wallpaper torn down. It was a job she knew she couldn’t do herself. She looked up at Kendrick as they stood in what had been the French Smurf room.
“If I bring in men to do the dirty work, will you behave?”
“Your doubt wounds me. Why would I frighten unwitting souls?”
“I seem to remember screaming a few times when I first arrived.”
“You were different. I planned to scare you s—”
“Kendrick!”
“Witless,” he finished with a grin. “I was fairly clever about it, even if I do say so myself.”
“Clever doesn’t quite cover it.” She looked around the room, trying to imagine it with wooden floors and stone walls. “Where did you get the furniture in your room?”
“Jonathan had it made for me. You remember, Matilda’s grandson who painted my family’s portrait?”
“Impossible. Furniture can’t last that long.”
“It can, when it’s taken care of. Besides, no one used the chamber, it being the master’s and all. Whoever tried found out swiftly that they’d made a serious mistake.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Kendrick, you are a horrible man, haunting hapless souls like that. Was it fun?”
“Excruciatingly amusing. I wish I’d taken more time to enjoy it, though I doubt I could have.” He looked at her and his smile was full of love. “ ’Tis only recently that I’ve found joy.”
She smiled weakly, feeling a familiar blush stain her cheeks. Would his comments never fail to make her redden? She took a deep breath and put on a bright smile. She didn’t have the stamina for this conversation now. Maybe when her blush had faded, say, in a few weeks.
“Do you know of any good antique stores nearby? Or perhaps an old castle we could ransack?”
“You are changing the subject, but I will humor you. I can send Royce and Nazir furniture hunting. Once the enemy is identified, it would be a simple thing to storm the keep with a staggering amount of money in hand. Though I would worry about Nazir’s taste in furnishings.”
I HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE!
Genevieve shivered as the echo of the shout died away. “I thought he was a roamer.”
“He’s become a homebody since he saw the new attraction at Seakirk,” Kendrick said, with a grumble. “Be warned that the only place I managed to forbid him to watch you was in my bedchamber. He won’t appear to you unless you call to him, and he certainly won’t harm you, but I can’t guarantee anything else. He can be a pest.”
I AM NOT A PEST.
Genevieve laughed at the petulant tone that echoed in her mind. “He seems very sweet.”
“And how do I seem, Lady Genevieve?” Kendrick asked softly, catching her gaze and holding it effortlessly. “I vow it’s been an eternity since you last mentioned it.”
“You seem a bit on the lazy side,” she breathed, seizing on the first thing that came to mind. “Help me plan, would you? The day’s a wastin’.”
He laughed. “Saints, Genevieve, you’ve no romance in your soul. Very well, what will you have me do? And pray make it something that requires your undivided attention.”
“Give me some ideas,” Genevieve suggested. “Should I do all the bedrooms in a medieval style or woul
d you prefer they each have their own time period?”
“Anything but Louis Fourteenth,” he said, with a shudder.
She couldn’t help her laugh. “No arguments there.”
Kendrick turned to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should do something like that farmhouse you did in upstate New York. You know, I actually am very fond of the Shaker style. The lines are simple, almost peasantlike in their lack of ornamentation. Aye,” he said, warming to his topic, “and then maybe a room done all in that country look that’s so popular in the Colonies these days. Like the Montgomery place in Ohio.” He began to pace, talking animatedly and gesturing now and then to emphasize his point.
Genevieve was speechless.
“Can you quilt? If not, we’ll hire someone to do it. And then perhaps a room done in a sort of a nineteenth-century, old rich look. Mahogany tables. Tapestry-covered chairs. Beveled mirrors. Aye, I’ve always had a fondness for beveled mirrors, even if I can’t see myself in them.”
“You know the Montgomerys?”
“Of course. Pay attention, Gen. Where was I? Ah, beveled mirrors.”
“Do you know the Allans, too?”
“Of course,” he said, waving aside her question. “Talked to them on the phone while I was trying to get…you…over,” he said, his little speech winding down as though he were a marionette in sad need of a cranking. He looked at her helplessly. “Genevieve, I…I never meant…”
It couldn’t be. Genevieve shook her head in disbelief. Kendrick strode over to her and she backed up until the wall stopped her movement. He looked down at her with an expression of anguish.
“I never meant—”
“Never meant to what?” she demanded, recovering her powers of speech. “Ruin my business? It was you, wasn’t it?”
“You wouldn’t accept my offer—”
“So you took my dream, the only thing I had ever loved and ruthlessly smashed it to pieces.”
“Genevieve, I never meant to hurt—”
“You called them all, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice cracking.
He paused, then nodded, mute.
The emotions bubbled up inside her, churning like a mess of noxious waste in a mad scientist’s beaker. Kendrick had ruined the only thing she had built with her own hands, simply to bring her to her death.