Till There Was You

by Lynn Kurland

  “Who?”

  “Maryanne.”

  She blanched. She looked at him, then shook her head. “Impossible.”

  “I thought so, too, at first, but—”

  “That’s when you borrowed a horse from my father and fled?” she managed. “Instead of telling me?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. I was caught between watching you die and knowing that I couldn’t change history by preventing your death. Changing the past changes the future. If I had tried to save your life and you had lived out the rest of your life having children where you weren’t supposed to, watching grandchildren come where there had been none before—” He broke off and had to take a steadying breath. “I couldn’t stay and watch something happen to you, but I couldn’t stay to stop it.”

  “So you ran.”

  “I ran.”

  “But you returned.”

  He smiled, though he supposed it had been a rather sick one. “For all the good it did. Styrr succeeded in poisoning you, just as you’d feared, and I spent the day watching you fade.” He paused until he thought he could manage the rest. “I knew there was only one hope to save your life. I told your father what I planned. He and your mother agreed it was worth the risk, since remaining in 1258 would mean certain death for you.” He paused. “And so, I brought you to my time.”

  “The Year of Our Lord’s Grace 2006.”

  He nodded.

  “And I can’t go back.”

  He looked at her hands because he couldn’t look at her face. “You could try, I suppose, but I can guarantee the experience will be terrible. You would either arrive before you died, in which case there would be two of you wandering around where there should be only one, or you would arrive after they had buried you, they would think you were a witch, and probably burn you and your parents both.”

  She put her face in her hands.

  He didn’t dare touch her, but he did take his knife back and put it in his boot. He wished desperately for something soothing to say, but there was nothing. Mary would either come to grips with what he’d done, or she wouldn’t. He would have given anything to have helped her, but there was only so much he could do. She would have to do the rest.

  He could only hope she wouldn’t hate him after she’d managed it.

  Time passed.

  Finally, she dropped her hands into her lap. But she didn’t look at him. She was taking deep breaths, as if she wanted to avoid making untoward noises.

  “Do you want to rest a little?” he asked, finally.

  She nodded.

  He helped her up, then walked her over to Moraig’s bed to lie down. He hesitated, then sat down in the chair Sunny had drawn up beside the bed. He watched Mary close her eyes.

  He wasn’t sure she slept.

  He knew he didn’t hold out any hope for it himself anytime soon.

  Chapter 22

  Mary sat up on her bed, ignoring the desire to lie back down and remain there for the whole of the day. It wasn’t as if she would have managed to sleep anyway. Her mind was so full of impossible things that she divided her time between either catching her breath or trying to keep from weeping.

  And she never wept.

  Well, she’d wept in Zachary’s arms on the shore, and she’d been powerfully tempted the day before, but that wasn’t her usual manner of conducting her life. She certainly had no intention of displaying such a weakness again.

  Though she supposed she might have been entitled to such a display, given the events of the previous day.

  She had managed to pass through yesterday’s afternoon by feigning sleep. She’d spent the evening in the company of the women of Zachary’s family whilst he hovered at the edge of their talk, silent and grim. His sisters, by marriage or not, had fed her, bathed her, then put her to bed in something called flannel jammies. She found them to be marvelously soft and quite comfortable, with the added benefit of not being skirts so she might have hopped on a horse and ridden off if she’d cared to.

  ’Twas possible she had slept occasionally during the night, but she was quite sure Zachary hadn’t. He had lain down on the floor next to her bed, but every time she’d leaned over to peer down at him, his eyes had been open.

  She knew he grieved for her.

  She had woken a few minutes ago to find him gone, though she supposed he hadn’t gone far. He felt responsible for her. He was that sort of man. A lovely, chivalrous, responsible sort of man.

  She looked to her right at the fire he had no doubt made for her comfort and thought about what he’d said to her the day before.

  The Future?

  It seemed nothing more than something a minstrel would have set to music with the hope that his lord wouldn’t find it so ridiculous that no supper would be forthcoming after the song. But why would Zachary lie to her?

  He wouldn’t because he hadn’t ever lied to her in the past and could have no reason to begin the practice presently. She had called him mad, but he’d looked in full possession of his wits.

  Perhaps she should have considered more seriously before how strange his clothing had been, and how lacking in modern-day skills he’d been. Or how little like a peasant he’d appeared. Or how strangely he had pronounced so many words and how quickly he’d learned how to say them properly. A highly educated, very well-fashioned, exceptionally handsome smith who couldn’t shoe a horse, had fighting abilities her cousins salivated over, and couldn’t wait to be somewhere he hadn’t been willing to talk about.

  She supposed ’twas possible that everything he’d said had been the truth, but she could scarce believe it. The Year of Our Lord’s Grace 2006?

  And she was now there with no way to return home.

  She pushed herself to her feet, away from thoughts that were too uncomfortable to face. She gained the hearth, but had to lean there until the floor stopped heaving beneath her feet and she was certain she could remain upright. She thought she might attempt to cross the floor to the kitchens. Perhaps she would investigate less troubling things for the moment and see if a distraction didn’t soothe her.

  There were bowls and platters and cups that were made of a glass so fine, she hardly dared touch them. She did anyway and was surprised at their chill. She touched everything else, including the cold, smooth box of a very strange green color. She didn’t open anything though, not knowing how it might react to being invaded.

  She left the kitchens and staggered to the garderobe. She caught her balance on the wall and suddenly the chamber was filled with light. She would have gasped if she hadn’t been so winded. She looked at the wall and saw some sort of small, flat box under her hand. There seemed to be a moveable bit of some sort of something on it. She took her courage in hand and pushed on the upper half of it.

  The lights were extinguished. She pushed down and the lights lit themselves again.

  Magic, or Future marvel?

  She supposed it could be nothing but the latter. By the time she had satisfied herself with that miracle, she felt ready to take on other things. The waterfall from the polished steel spout she had already seen, as well as the polished mirror that had frightened her so badly the day before. She was also accustomed to the seat that served as a very luxurious and tidy chamber pot. It was a vast improvement over her father’s garderobe, that much she could say.

  She had to sit on the edge of the bathing tub for a moment and rest. Thinking on her parents was still an ache in her chest that she wasn’t sure she would ever find a way to assuage.

  Her parents and the lads, as well. No matter how daft they had driven her, she would miss Jackson and Thaddeus and Connor. And the little twins. And perhaps Parsival most of all, Frenchman though he might have been. To think she would never see them again ...

  She decided abruptly that ’twas best she not think on it. Not yet. Not until she’d had a chance to find her balance for a bit.

  She looked up at the window in the ceiling above her. It seemed a strange place for it, but Sunshine had told her that Z
achary had put it in. Indeed, he had designed the entire chamber she was in currently. The most luxurious surroundings a witch could possibly wish for, Sunny had said with a deep smile, as if she was terribly fond of Zachary. The window had been put in the ceiling to give light to a place that might have otherwise been too covered in shadows.

  Much as Zachary had done when he had walked into her life unannounced and shown her how much more lovely her life could be with him than with Geoffrey of Styrr.

  The life that, inexplicably, she now had.

  She considered Zachary’s actions a bit more. Now that she looked at them knowing who he was and when he came from, she could understand why he had done what he had. She could see why he had been so anxious to return home and why he had made such an effort not to change the events that had transpired in the keep.

  And likely why he hadn’t done damage to Styrr in the courtyard that day when Styrr had been trying to belittle him.

  Of course, there was the wound to Jackson’s pride to consider, but perhaps that couldn’t have been helped. Indeed, she supposed it might have done her cousin a bit of good to be humbled by someone besides her father or Kendrick.

  She could now also understand why Zachary hadn’t been willing to stay even after she’d asked. How could he have, when his home had been so very far away? At least he had held her as if he never wanted to let her go. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to let her go. The fact that he’d troubled himself to endure her father’s instruction in the lists to ensure that she wasn’t forced to wed Styrr said something about at least his sense of duty toward her, didn’t it?

  Because I want her for myself.

  His words in her father’s solar came back to her as if he’d just spoken them aloud. That hadn’t been possible then. But now things were different. She was in his time and had no one to turn to but him.

  Was it possible he merely felt a sense of obligation where she was concerned?

  She climbed to her feet and went to fetch her clothes that Elizabeth had left sitting on a little stool near the wall before she thought on that, either. She dressed, then had to sit again until her head stopped spinning. She finally rose, swayed, then forced her legs to steady themselves beneath her. She had no more time for thinking. The Future, her future was upon her and she could do nothing but rise to the challenge of meeting it.

  She studiously ignored the fact that she almost collapsed twice before she gained the front door to the cottage.

  She looked at the cloaks hanging there by that door and chose a likely one. It fit strangely, but she made do. It fastened in the front with tiny little metal teeth, but mastering it would take time and she had no more time to spare, so she made do there as well.

  She walked outside and stopped just under the eaves of the house. It took only a moment for her to find Zachary. He was standing under one of the mighty trees that flanked the path that she could see wound off through the woods. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought him a statue. He was so desperately handsome and so terribly solemn that she half wondered if he had been overcome by all that he carried on his shoulders. She couldn’t say she had reacted very well the day before to the tidings he’d given her, though she imagined he hadn’t expected anything else.

  He was wearing the clothing her sire had given him. It occurred to her suddenly that he was doing so for her comfort, not his own.

  By the saints, he was a man without peer.

  She leaned back against the side of the house and simply drank in the sight of him. His sister and sisters-in-law loved him; that was obvious. They had sung his praises without hesitation, something she had been willing to listen to without reservation. It had made her wonder, with a rather unpleasant feeling actually, if she might be looking in a direction she shouldn’t. She had asked Sunshine casually if Zachary had many women chasing after him.

  Dozens, Sunshine had said without hesitation. But none he’s ever loved.

  Mary looked down at her hands. Well, at least she’d bathed away most of the stable leavings from under her fingernails. She’d also washed her hair. And she was the daughter of Robin de Piaget.

  Not that that meant much in 2006, likely.

  She realized that Zachary was looking at her. She smiled. Or, she attempted to smile, rather. She didn’t think it had gone very well. He pushed away from his tree and walked up the path toward her. She forgot, from time to time, how tall he was, or how broad through the shoulders. It wasn’t that she wasn’t accustomed to well-built men. She was just very unaccustomed to one making her feel very fragile and delicate. And in need of a great amount of chivalry.

  “Maryanne,” he said gravely. “How are you?”

  She was tempted to blurt out the truth, that she was terrified and wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms and hide there until she felt more herself. But she was her father’s daughter and he would have found such a lack of courage—even given the difficulties of her situation—to be unacceptable. She put her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

  “I’m ready to assault this new world.” She swayed as she said it, but Zachary didn’t seem to notice.

  Then again, he very casually reached out and put his hand on her arm to steady her, so perhaps he noticed more than he let on.

  “Then it’s fortunate that Jamie brought a horse for you this morning.”

  “Did he?” she asked, feeling pleased. That was indeed something solid and familiar. “Does it need breaking?”

  “It needs to be put out to pasture,” Zachary said dryly, “but Jamie didn’t intend it to be an insult. He thought you might like to ride in a few days and that a gentler mount might suit your still-healing condition.”

  “But I’m ready today.”

  He released her arm and she swayed again. She tried to take hold of herself and will her form to shake off the lingering mal aise, but she was disappointed to find that wishes were, as her aunt Jennifer was wont to say, not fishes.

  She frowned thoughtfully. Her aunt had had several very odd sayings. Spoken in a rather garbled echo of the peasant’s English. She hadn’t thought much about them at the time, but she began to wonder about them now. In fact, she found there were several things she wondered about.

  Odd that those things seemed to center themselves around her uncle Nicholas’s trunk, the innards of which she, Theo, and Samuel had only had a single brief glimpse. They’d managed to finger a pair of very magical-looking gray boxes, admire strings of a marvelous stuff attached to those boxes, and turn the pages of a handful of manuscripts in a language neither she nor the twins had had the time to decipher.

  They had also managed a look at a map marking several strange and very mysterious locales before they’d been forced to bolt from the solar and feign business in another part of the keep. She had been, at the time, far too old to engage in such investigations, but it had been Theo and Samuel to goad her into it, so perhaps she could be forgiven. They had been convinced for a time afterward that Nicholas was a warlock, but perhaps they could have been forgiven for that as well.

  “I think, Maryanne, that you should go back inside—”

  “Nay,” she said quickly, focusing on Zachary, “I am well. I need air.”

  He frowned, but she returned the frown. She even managed to get her arms folded over her chest, lest he think that she might be less fierce than she should have been.

  He studied her gravely for a moment or two, then carefully reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He smiled at her, but his smile faded rather quickly.

  She shook her head before he could begin what she was certain would be a conversation about things that were difficult. If she’d spoken about any of it, she would have broken her own vow and begun to weep. As it was, she could still scarce restrain herself from throwing herself into his arms and begging him to hold her and keep her safe.

  ’Twas appalling, truly.

  He smiled slightly, as if he understood what she hadn’t said. “All right,” he sai
d softly, “we’ll go. Let me bank the fire first.”

  She leaned against the door frame as he did so, then walked with him around the house. There was a very small but adequate stall there, a stall inhabited by the largest horse she’d ever seen. Zachary put reins on him, then backed him out of the stall. The beast looked as if he would have liked nothing better than to pass the coming hour grazing, but he didn’t argue when Zachary boosted her up onto his back. Zachary paused, then handed her the reins.

  “Mary—”

  “Zachary, please,” she interrupted quickly. “Please just let us take this poor beast and give him a bit of exercise. The rest will still be awaiting us later.”

  Some of the tension seemed to go out of him. “You’re probably right.”

  She waited, but he made no move. “Are you not riding with me?”

  “I’m waiting for you to go find a useful tree stump. I don’t think I can get myself up onto this old lad’s back without help.”

  She did so, then soon found herself with Zachary’s arms around her.

  “You steer,” he said. “I’ll nap.”

  She wondered at first if he held on to her so tightly because he truly intended to sleep and didn’t want to fall off, but she knew he was an excellent rider. She was tempted to believe that he truly wanted to have his arms around her, but that seemed a complicated way to do what he simply could have done any time he cared to.

  Unless he thought he couldn’t.

  She didn’t dare broach the subject with him. There she was, hundreds of years out of her own time, in a land where she had no kin, no gold, nothing but what she was wearing, and she was left with no choice but to rely on the kindness of a man who owed her nothing at all.

  A bit like his situation in her time, actually.

  “You’re distracted.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’ll try not to lose us.”