Till There Was You

by Lynn Kurland

Styrr snorted. “I wouldn’t bother.”

  “I would,” Zachary said. “Because Mary of Artane is worth the effort.”

  He watched Styrr begin to calculate furiously. Maybe he was feeling Robin’s gold slip through his fingers and was busy counting how much of it he’d already lost.

  “I just wouldn’t bother with the sword,” Zachary continued. “I’d rather use the lance.”

  “Can you joust?” Mary whispered.

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m undefeated.” Never mind that he was undefeated because he’d never faced anyone over pointy trees. His skills, such as they were, lay with the sword, his knives, and his hands. He had the feeling, though, that Styrr never bothered with lances, either, and wasn’t going to want to learn anytime soon.

  “Jousting is for barbarians,” Styrr said huffily.

  Zachary watched Robin shift just the slightest bit. He imagined the good lord of Artane had spent more than his share of time on horseback, trying to knock his opponent off his with a very long stick. Styrr wasn’t scoring any points presently. He glanced at Robin, then turned back to Styrr.

  “Then let’s choose something else,” Zachary said briskly. “Name your weapon, name the day, and I’ll best you. Shall it be right now with the lance? Tomorrow with the sword? The next day with my fists?”

  Styrr threw back the rest of his wine. “I wouldn’t stir myself to even consider such a ridiculous contest.” He set the cup down on the floor next to his chair, then looked down his nose. “I am the lord of Styrr,” he said, his tone slathered with hauteur, “and I bring a castle, a garrison of fifty knights, and a hundred acres of arable land. What do you bring?”

  Zachary watched Robin reach for Mary’s hand and pull her over to stand next to him. Zachary released her not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t miss the symbolism. Robin was taking her back and whoever was willing to sacrifice the most for her would have her.

  He realized at that moment that he would have given absolutely anything to have been that man.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to Styrr. “I bring the willingness to fight for her. Again, the rest could be earned, couldn’t it?”

  “That settles it,” Robin said, pushing off his table. “I say in a se’nnight, with swords, in my lists. Geoffrey, you’d best go dig out your blade.”

  “You cannot mean for me to actually lower myself to contend in any fashion with this peasant,” Styrr said stiffly. “I am one of Henry’s most valued courtiers. You cannot expect me to sully my hands in such a fashion. You cannot be serious.”

  “I find, increasingly, that I am,” Robin said grimly. He walked over to his door and opened it. “You’ll want to find your mother and escort her to table, I’m certain.”

  Styrr’s mouth fell open. “But, Robin—”

  “That is my lord Robin to you,” Robin said sharply. “Now, show me the courtesy due me and be on your way. You and your mother will sit on my right, of course, in the places of honor.”

  Zachary found himself to be the recipient of a look of absolute hatred, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before on Styrr’s face. It bothered him far less when it was directed at him than when it was directed at Mary.

  But just as quickly as it had come, the look was gone. Styrr looked at Robin and made him a slight bow.

  “If it amuses you, my lord Robin,” Styrr said smoothly. “I will be pleased to humiliate this creature the cesspit spewed out, but it will be at a time of my choosing. I will extend him the very great courtesy of four days to attend to his skills. I wouldn’t want to kill him too easily.”

  Four days. Zachary shivered. That was the date he dreaded. He had no idea how that would factor into Mary’s death, but it couldn’t be coincidence. It was exactly as he’d feared. He took a deep breath, but couldn’t bring himself to look at either Mary or her father.

  “Generous,” Robin conceded.

  “I am that.” Styrr sent Robin a confident smile, then left the solar, pulling the door to behind him.

  Robin locked the door, then turned around and leaned back against it, his arms folded over his chest. He seemed to consider for a moment or two, then he opened the door again and exchanged a very quiet word with Parsival. Zachary turned away to find Mary watching him. Her expression gave nothing away.

  He sighed deeply and walked over to stand close to her, with his back to her father. He wondered if it was possible that a fraction of his misery might be showing on his face. Perhaps Mary saw it, because her smile was pained.

  “Your chivalry is showing, you know,” she said quietly.

  He dragged his hands through his hair. There was no possible way to tell her everything he knew. Worse yet, he wasn’t sure he dared tell her what he felt. He could only smile at her wearily. “I don’t deserve anything kind you can say about me.”

  “You’re rescuing me. Is that not deserving of a kind word or two?”

  Not when what he wanted to be doing was offering for her in truth. Not when he had no choice but to try to save her life, then walk away. Not when what he should have done was keep on going to Falconberg, step inside that bloody faery ring, and get back to modern-day Scotland—

  Where he would have spent every moment of every day for the rest of his life wondering how he could continue to draw breath when he’d been such a callous bastard.

  Necessarily callous, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  He was saved from having to answer by the sound of Robin coming over to sit by the fire.

  “Come sit, Zachary. Mary, pour us wine.”

  Zachary sat. He didn’t protest when Mary’s hands trembled so badly that he ended up wearing part of what should have gone into the cup. He smiled up at her and ignored the pounding in his head.

  You have to go, you have to go, you have to go.

  He would. But not yet.

  “So,” Robin said slowly, “you want to challenge Geoffrey of Styrr for my daughter. And just what do you hope to accomplish by it?”

  Zachary took a deep breath and discounted what he wanted to say in favor of what he needed to say. “I want Mary to have the life she wants.”

  Robin pursed his lips. “And if I don’t give her to Styrr after I’ve promised to, what will become of my honor? How will I show my sweet visage at court without being mocked relentlessly?”

  “You never go to court, Father,” Mary put in.

  He shot Mary a dark look. “I go occasionally, when I have no choice.” He turned to Zachary. “Well?”

  Zachary had a sip of his wine before he thought he could manage to spin the story he needed to. “Events have been changed,” he said, “because Styrr agreed to risk it all on a single fight with the winner claiming the prize. Your honor will remain intact and your daughter will remain a—” He’d started to say alive, but he bit off the last word just in time. “Your daughter will remain as she wishes to be, doing what she wishes to do.”

  “And what do you suppose that is?”

  Zachary couldn’t look at Mary. He didn’t dare look at her. He could only take another in a long succession of deep breaths.

  “I think she wants to remain at Artane, to care for your horses and live with the family she loves.”

  Robin studied him for several minutes in silence. “And you, Zachary? What do you want?”

  Zachary felt a little winded. He looked at Robin and saw that the man knew exactly what he was asking and precisely the effect the question was having. He had to have another drink before he trusted himself to answer.

  “My lord, what I want doesn’t matter. I have no title, nor any means of having one, nor any means of convincing you to give your daughter to me. And even if a miracle occurred and I could have any of those things—along with the miracle of persuading your daughter to want me in the first place—the hard truth is that I cannot stay. I must return home. But before I go, I want to make certain Mary is out of danger from Styrr.”

  He made the mistake of glancing Mary’s way as she sa
t on a stool next to her father. The firelight flickered against her fair skin, her dark hair, her pale eyes. It was all he could do not to look at Robin, give him the entire truth, then ask the man if there wasn’t some way he would just ignore all the current medieval conventions and give him a woman so far above him in rank that in a normal household he probably would never have been allowed to do more than polish her riding boots.

  He found Robin studying him. It was possible there was pity in the man’s eyes.

  Fortunately, the pity was soon gone. Robin set his cup aside.

  “I suppose, then, we’ll see how you fare in the lists, and see what is left of my honor as a result. Go have a wash before supper, children. Mary, you might sit next to your cheeky champion if you like. I imagine I should go put a guard in the kitchens, lest we all find ourselves poisoned by mistake.”

  “I think that would be a very wise precaution,” Zachary said quietly.

  Robin shot him a look, then shook his head. “You’ve been drinking the same water Mary has. Styrr is nothing more than what he appears. And since he is just that, you should have an easy enough time besting him. Just the same, you’ll train with me tomorrow.”

  Zachary was very surprised by the offer. William had said that Robin had been notoriously stingy with his trade secrets. He had trained his sons and grandsons without question, his nephews when he thought they merited it, and only a very few of his squires because they were good enough—and of those only the ones who didn’t crawl home begging their sires to send them somewhere else.

  “Unprecedented,” Zachary managed.

  “Aye, it is,” Robin agreed. “Yet another in a very long line of concessions I’ve made to you for some unfathomable reason. Perhaps I’m approaching my dotage sooner than I feared.”

  “I imagine you don’t have to worry about that,” Zachary said with a smile. He paused, then couldn’t help a question he likely was a fool to ask. “And you don’t think I can best him with what I know?”

  Robin’s eyes actually twinkled. “I never said that, did I? But we’re discussing swordplay, not that other business you’re so proficient at. And speaking of that, if I were you, I would be more worried what that damned Jackson Kilchurn would leave of me than I would be what damage Styrr might do. You’ll want to thank me for saving your sorry neck.”

  “I’m very grateful.”

  “See how you feel tomorrow afternoon.” He rose. “Best have a decent meal. It might be your last.”

  Zachary rose, then held out his hand to pull Mary to her feet. He didn’t dare keep hold of her hand, though. He looked instead at her father.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You will leave her childless, Zachary,” Robin said mildly, “and forced to endure my foul humors until the day I die.”

  “Better that she be alive to do so than the alternative,” Zachary said quietly.

  “I think you credit Styrr with too much cleverness.”

  “Desperation, rather.”

  “Foolishness, assuredly,” Robin said dismissively. He walked over to his door and held it open. “You may dance with her once tonight, lad, if she’ll agree to it.”

  Zachary nodded his thanks, then waited for Mary to leave the solar first. He watched Robin reach out and smooth his hand down her hair as she did so. The sight struck him so forcefully, he felt his eyes burn.

  Damn it anyway, he had to get out of medieval England before he completely lost it.

  Robin didn’t farewell him as affectionately, but he also didn’t boot him out the door, so it could have been worse. Robin only watched him silently, then pulled the solar door behind him and went off apparently to make sure dinner wasn’t going to kill them all.

  Zachary walked with Mary along the back of the great hall, then up the stairs. He had plenty of help in the endeavor, though Jackson was conspicuously absent. He was probably off somewhere sharpening all his blades so he would have a good selection to choose from when he meted out his revenge. Zachary walked with Mary down the hallway until she stopped in front of her mother’s solar. He looked at her in surprise.

  “What?”

  “I thought you might like to linger here,” she said gravely.

  Heaven help him, she was too observant for her own good. He put his hand on the wood, found it to be nothing but wood, then smiled at her.

  “I think your mother’s solar must be a pleasant place.”

  “It would be, if Styrr’s mother would leave us in it by ourselves.”

  He nodded, then continued on with her until they reached her bedroom. She smiled up at him.

  “Thank you.”

  He took a deep breath. “What you really want is your horses.”

  “Of course,” she said. “What else?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back. It was safer that way.

  No footprint, no footprint, no footprint.

  Well, he’d already screwed that up, but perhaps he could leave as few as possible.

  He took a step backward and made her a low bow. “I’ll save you a place at the table.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. She looked at him again, then slipped inside her room and shut the door. Zachary rubbed his hands over his face, then turned to the audience to his left. Connor, Theo, and Samuel were standing there, looking like three Nordic statues with their blond hair and intimidating physiques. Well, Connor intimidated. Theo and Samuel terrified with their aura of mischievousness alone.

  “And what are you three supposed to be?” he asked.

  “Guardsmen,” Connor said. “I’m watching after Mary.”

  Zachary looked at the twins. “And you two? Are you guarding her from me as well?”

  Theo grinned. “Nay, we’re here to keep you safe from Jackson. Thad’s coming later to aid us when he’s recovered from what his brother did to him in the courtyard.”

  Zachary laughed uneasily. “I think I might appreciate the help.”

  “You will,” Samuel agreed promptly. “And Parsival found you a sword of your own. You might want to take it with you to supper.”

  Zachary imagined he probably should. He walked with them to a chamber where he found clean clothes and a sword that were apparently meant for him. More generosity from a man who had already given him more than he deserved.

  He had a wash and changed his clothes, then headed for the door. Theo and Samuel were apparently taking their guard duties very seriously. They escorted him down to the great hall, pulled out his chair for him, then stood behind him against the wall as if they’d been his pages and he a great lord.

  Styrr was already there, sitting to his mother’s right. He looked at Zachary disdainfully, then turned back to talking at Robin over his mother’s head.

  Mary came running out of the stairwell only minutes later. He stood up because that’s what his mother had taught him to do. Well, that and the sight of Mary de Piaget in a dress merited it.

  He pulled out the chair next to him, saw her seated, then smiled over his shoulder at Theo, who had held his own chair for him. Mary moved her chair closer to his.

  “We’ll share a trencher, fortunately,” she muttered.

  “Afraid you might stab Styrr with your fork?”

  “With any luck.”

  He smiled, then reached out to pick a piece of hay out of her hair. She looked at him quickly.

  “I was in haste.”

  “You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, because she was and because he just couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “Don’t change anything.”

  She looked at him as if she’d never seen him before.

  No footprint.

  He thought if he heard those words in his head one more time, he would come unglued. He ignored the echo of them and sat back in his chair to nurse a cup of wine he was certain didn’t taste any worse than medieval wine usually did. And while he sat there, he came to a conclusion or two.

  He could get hit by a bus and his life would be over. Well, he couldn’t
at the moment, but he could in the future. Mary could be trampled by a horse. The material point was, their lives could be over in the blink of an eye and then where would they be? And if they both might be dead in a week, what would be the harm in perhaps reaching for a bit of happiness for themselves while they were able, no matter how fleeting it might be?

  He suspected they might come to regret it. He also suspected that he would never in his lifetime meet another woman like Maryanne de Piaget.

  He leaned over toward her. “If you were to die tomorrow, what would you want to do this evening?”

  She looked at him, startled. “Bid farewell to my horses, of course. What would you want?”

  “To dance,” he said quietly. “With you.”

  Her eyes widened briefly. “In truth?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Will you?”

  “Aye.”

  “Pick one I know.”

  “You only know one dance.”

  “See how simple that was?”

  She smiled, then looked away still smiling. He watched her and saw the wheels turning, as usual. He looked over her head to see her father watching her as well, an expression of faint alarm on his face.

  Zachary understood completely.

  Mary turned back and looked at him in silence for a moment or two. “To meet as equals?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “’Twill irritate Styrr greatly.”

  Zachary shook his head. “Mary, I don’t give a damn what Styrr thinks. I’m happy to irritate him with many things, but not anything that has to do with you. I just want to take advantage of the fact that your father has granted me one dance with you tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll bargain for two.”

  She lifted her chin just the slightest bit. “I’ll leave your heart in ruins.”

  He smiled. Or at least he attempted to. “You already have.”

  She looked almost as devastated as he felt. She turned to look out over the great hall. “Where are those bloody minstrels? We need a distraction.”

  He couldn’t have agreed more. It was foolish to think about wooing her in any meaningful fashion, and he could think of a dozen reasons just off the top of his head why he shouldn’t, but somehow when he looked at her those reasons didn’t seem very important.