Dreams of Stardust

by Lynn Kurland

  "I think I'm feeling the desire to rid myself of modern-day trappings and go be a recluse in Greenland. Or Antarctica."

  "That works."

  "Then tell me what to do," Jake said, setting his cup back on the table and leaning forward for business. "I need to get back to my life."

  "Does she know?" Alex asked quietly.

  "Amanda?" Jake shook his head. "Her brother does. She has another brother who thinks I'm a fairy, another who thinks I'm a spy, and another who just hates me for general reasons."

  "Do you plan to tell her?"

  "When I have a few things to show her that might get her to stop looking at me in that way she has that says 'whacko on the loose.'"

  Alex laughed. "I understand that look." He paused. "You don't want to bring her back here?"

  Jake shook his head. "She has family; I don't. Well, none I care to own. I couldn't ask her to leave that. Besides, I like medieval England. It's a good, simple life."

  Alex nodded. "I have to agree. It has its dangers, just like any other century, but on the whole, it is a good place." He reached for his briefcase. "All right, here's the plan. I've got some things here for you to sign. I've had a friend of mine checking on your office. Apparently everything's been locked up and still untouched, so you may as well start making plans for what you're going to do there. As far as the rest of your assets go, I've drawn up documents that will get them legally transferred back to you. I can't say what's left of the trust fund. We can try to get that back from your father, but it could take time."

  "I don't have time. I also don't have but a fraction of it left where Jackson III thinks it is." He smiled. "I love the Swiss, don't you?"

  "I do, but you'll still need proof you aren't legally dead," Alex said. "Even Swiss banks are going to want that. Let's set that up, I'll introduce you to our favorite coin collector, and you can go from there. Don't access your accounts, though, until we've confronted your father."

  "I won't," Jake said. "I've already faced his thugs once. I don't have time to come back for round two."

  Alex handed him the papers, then looked at him. "So what will you do when you go back?"

  "I'll probably do some of what I do now. I don't know why I can't design jewelry. I'm a good artist. Maybe I'll paint royalty for a living, or hunt gems in faraway places that no one knows about yet." He shrugged. "I'll keep myself busy."

  "And you think you can get back?"

  "I'm counting on that," Jake said. He looked up from the papers suddenly. "Where did you go back? Was there a specific place, or did you just stumble onto an odd-looking patch of grass?"

  "There is, if you can believe this," Alex began with pursed lips, "a fairy ring near Falconberg. In fact, my brother-in-law Jamie could give you an entire list of places you might try. I seem to remember there is something definite near Artane. That must be how you returned."

  Jake nodded. "I know the place. In fact, I don't think I'll ever forget it."

  "Then you won't need Jamie's map," Alex said. "But if it doesn't work, let me know and I'll check out alternate routes."

  Jake felt as if he were booking a flight and trying to decide the best way to avoid long layovers. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't be having any of those during a plague-ridden time in England. There were much worse things than cold stone toilet seats and no ice in medieval drinks.

  Kendrick returned, rumpled and perspiring, to sit down on the other side of Alex. "Boys," he said, with feeling.

  "We're having a boy," Alex said with a smile. "In October, actually."

  "Your first?"

  "Our first baby together," Alex said. "We have a pair of adopted children as well."

  Kendrick wiped his brow. "I wish you good fortune, then. Lads are marvelous, but you'll find them to be as fine a workout as time spent in the lists."

  Jake left Kendrick and Alex to the discussion of Scottish versus English training and how that might be compared to the raising of young boys, and concentrated on the papers in front of him. He signed them all, then he pushed them away, sat back, and contemplated his immediate future.

  Well, his immediate future was taking too damn long. He'd already been away from Amanda for almost six weeks. He had to get back, and soon.

  He would confront his father, get his business back, then get on with his life. He wished there were some way he could communicate with Amanda, if only to tell her to hang on another couple of weeks.

  Surely she wouldn't give up on him.

  * * *

  Chapter 26

  Montgomery stood in his accustomed place before the fire, but there was no ease there for him today. There was too much chaos in his home, too many questions, too many loud, raised voices for there to be any peace for him.

  Especially since he knew the one thing the rest of his family didn't, the one thing that would have saved them the grief they were going through.

  Robin was pacing and cursing. Nicholas was sitting at the high table, alone, with a cup of strong ale in his hands. That cup had become almost a part of him over the past se'nnight. It was not like him to drink so much, but Montgomery couldn't blame him. Nicholas obviously thought 'twas his doing that Amanda had fled. Montgomery supposed there was some truth to that. If Nicholas had kept silent about his desires, perhaps Amanda wouldn't have flown.

  Nay, that wasn't true either. She would have flown no matter what Nicholas had or hadn't said.

  She thought Jake wasn't returning.

  It had broken her heart.

  Montgomery rocked back on his heels and considered the truth of the matter. Jake had not returned, 'twas true, but had that been his choice?

  Montgomery had come to believe quite completely in the past several se'nnights that Jake was indeed a fairy, come to rescue Amanda from her scurrilous suitors. No doubt Jake had gone back to his homeland to gather his belongings, but not been allowed to return. Perhaps he pined in his captive state, wishing with all his heart he could return, bringing gold with him, to wed with the woman he loved.

  Or so Montgomery told himself.

  But what he couldn't tell Robin and the rest of his brothers was where Amanda was hiding. He'd made the vow, but vowed in his heart that if Jake returned, he would tell him where Amanda had gone, so Jake might rescue her and bring her home.

  Not that Seakirk Abbey was all that far away. But it was far enough, and Montgomery missed his sister already.

  But Jake had not returned, so Montgomery was left standing by the fire, trying to stay warm, trying to keep his vow of silence, and trying not to believe that the man his sister loved had decided she wasn't worth the effort of returning.

  He wanted to believe that least of all.

  * * *

  Chapter 27

  Jake stood at the door of his vault, slid Penelope's key into the computerized lock, and sighed in relief at the reassuring click. He looked into the dimly lit room. The walls were a very reassuring black, the carpet under his feet a plush, creamy white. He kicked off his shoes, leaving the security of his person to the dozen very large men he'd acquired through Thad and Alex, and walked into his sanctuary.

  He wandered around the room, looking at the small, glass-fronted display niches where he kept his more unusual pieces, just for the pleasure of seeing them, not for any more pedestrian reason. He paused before each one, remembering the path of creation he'd taken, what had inspired him, why he'd chosen not to sell them.

  And then he stood in the middle of his vault, looked around yet again, and wondered if it was worth giving it up.

  Amanda.

  Her name whispered across his soul, along with a sense of urgency. He'd been home close to two months already. Two months for her to wonder if he was returning. Two months for that bloody Nicholas de Piaget to convince her he was a better choice than a no-name merchant who couldn't even heft a sword.

  He blew out his breath. Unfortunately, things just took time, especially when you wanted the wheels of justice to turn in your favor. He'd tried to use
the time well, spending every waking hour in the lists at Seakirk, either honing his skills with Kendrick, or the former captain of Kendrick's guard, Royce. That had passed the time usefully, at least. Maybe he would never be Robin's equal; at least he might last a little longer against him than before.

  Of course, that wasn't the only thing of note lately. He'd had his confrontation with his father, yesterday as a matter of fact, and found it to be enormously satisfying.

  He'd walked into a room packed with shareholders and made it almost to the podium before his father had looked up from his notes and noticed him.

  Jackson III looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

  Why, Jake wasn't sure. After all, III had to have known Jake had escaped the asylum. Where had his father thought he'd gotten himself to? The local pub in his altogether for a week or two of abuse?

  He hadn't asked his father that, of course. He'd asked his father a few other, pertinent questions while idly watching a very interesting slide show up on the big screen. When Jackson III had turned to see what Jake found so fascinating, he'd swayed.

  Jake was certain that had been a first.

  Medical records, e-mails instructing a north country loony bin to keep Jake sedated no matter the destruction to life or limb, photos of a grieving father juxtaposed with an alarmingly fast takeover and emptying of accounts, Jake's assistant illegally detained under the auspices of state home heath visits by non-state employees. The visual aids had been numerous and riveting.

  The photographers who had quietly followed Jake into the ballroom along with the bobbies had been in a feeding frenzy, capturing III at his most unflattering.

  Amazingly enough, III had been more than willing to talk turkey.

  And so they had, in a very plush boardroom in the hotel where III had obviously planned to come back and relax after his exertions before the stockholders. Jake had eaten heartily of a rather fine catered lunch, invited his quite gray-looking father to do the same, then settled for a few signatures, a few more photographs, and a few stern words of filial rebuke.

  And so ended one father-son relationship.

  Jake pulled himself back to the present with a sigh. He stretched, then walked across the room to get what he had come for. He pulled out several quite fine aquamarines and put them in his pocket. And then he opened the glass case above the drawers and took out the ring he'd been thinking of from the moment he had seen Amanda.

  It was a simple thing. Baguette diamonds and aquamarines embedded in a band of platinum. It wouldn't get in her way when she went about her daily tasks. He looked at the size and hoped it fit because there was little hope of adjusting it once he was back in the past. He put it into his pocket, then continued his circuit of the room, pulling out of drawers things that pleased him, or that he thought might be useful in the future.

  Or the past, as it were.

  He also selected a handful of finished pieces, ones for whom he had a particular person in mind.

  Then he chose some raw rocks. They could be finished to medieval standards, or just left as is and traded for what he would need. He put those in a large pouch he'd brought for just such a purpose, then walked to the door. He paused, then took a final look around at his life's work.

  Penelope's work now. He pulled the door shut behind him and turned to look at his assistant sitting uncomfortably in his chair. He handed her the key.

  "Yours," he said with a smile.

  She shook her head. "You can't mean it—"

  "I do."

  "But, Jake, you can't leave. Not after all you've built up. To go to Greenland! What in the hell are you going to do in Greenland?"

  "Fish," he said. "Freeze."

  She looked at him, tears standing in her normally quite dry eyes. "You've got a terminal illness, don't you? You're just doing this so I don't know."

  "Caught," he lied easily, wondering why he hadn't thought of that. "Just take the business, Penelope. I ransacked the vault anyway, so you'll find your windfall to be perhaps less than you might think."

  "But—"

  "You know how to run the business. You'll know how to keep it running. Or sell it and do what you want. I don't care."

  "I don't design as well as you do," she said in a quavering voice.

  "Rubbish," he said. "You're every bit as good as I am; you just love different things. You have plenty of gems in there to use in very nice pieces. Keep the name if you like, and transition the clients over gently. You know my style. Introduce yours slowly, and over time people will forget what was and concentrate on what is."

  She looked at him for several minutes in silence. "Don't you want someone to be with you?" she asked softly. "You know. When you go?"

  "I have friends," Jake said. "They'll be there."

  "And you're going now?"

  "In a few days."

  "You won't call… when the end…"

  Jake shook his head. "This is good-bye, Pen. You've been a fabulous assistant and a good friend—"

  She jumped up out of the chair and threw her arms around him in an impulsive gesture he certainly hadn't expected. She kissed him quickly, then ran from the room. Jake looked at Kendrick, who was masquerading as one of the dozen bodyguards. Kendrick grinned and shrugged. Jake sighed.

  "All right, guys. One more stop, then you can be on your ways."

  He ran his fingers along his desk one more time, looked around his office, then followed his strongmen from the room and shut the door behind him for the last time.

  He took the train north with Kendrick, watching the countryside speed by at a dizzying rate. Kendrick allowed him the peace for his own thoughts, which he greatly appreciated. He considered the jewels in his pocket and more in his duffle bag; he considered the enormous sum of money which was ready to be deposited into a discreetly numbered Swiss bank account in return for hundreds of coins of a medieval vintage; he stared out the window and considered the fact that he would never again travel at this rate of speed from London to the Scottish border.

  Speed was overrated.

  So were a great number of modern inventions.

  Though he supposed he might truly miss a soldering iron and his nice, very expensive pinpoint torch. He seriously doubted an open fire, hammer, and anvil would yield the kind of creations he'd managed in the past.

  Well, perhaps he would invent new ways of working with gems and metals. There was something to be said for progress.

  All of which was merely windowdressing, given the nature of the true gem he was hoping for.

  "I hope she waited," Jake murmured.

  "Mandy's impetuous," Kendrick noted. "I have to admit that nothing she ever did surprised me, once I understood her character."

  Jake looked at Kendrick sitting across from him, a medieval knight who looked perfectly at home in jeans and a T-shirt. No sword at his side, but even so, he gave off a definite don't-mess-with-me aura.

  "Do I make it?" Jake asked.

  "Don't ask me that," Kendrick said, looking out the window. "Go on with your plans, as planned. Just don't ask me about the outcome."

  "There's a name for a man like you," Jake said easily.

  Kendrick looked at him with dusty green eyes. "What if I told you she wed with a man named Rolfe who sired ten children on her, beat her regularly, and made her life hell until the day she died in childbirth with babe number eleven? What would you do then?"

  "Change history," Jake said.

  "Then what does it matter what I tell you?"

  Jake sighed. "It doesn't. I would go anyway and damn the consequences."

  "I thought you would."

  Jake laughed in spite of himself. He'd gotten what he deserved, he supposed, for going back on his own decision to forge ahead without any details.

  "Besides, you don't really want to ruin the suspense, do you?" Kendrick asked with twinkling eyes. "Where's the sport in that? Real men don't read the last five pages of a book first."

  "Your wife does."

  "She's not a ma
n, she's a tender-hearted angel," Kendrick said with a smile. "Suspense kills her. You've more spine than that, haven't you?"

  "If I make it, I suppose I'll remind you that I do in a million little ways, making your young life hell in payment. How does that grab you?"

  Kendrick leaned forward. "Real knights don't flinch."

  "I'll remember that."

  "I imagine you will."

  Jake laughed and settled back to watch the scenery, allowing his mind to go pleasantly blank. He supposed he might even have napped here and there. He supposed it might be the very last time he napped in a train, so perhaps it wasn't all bad.

  Assuming he made it.

  Assuming he wasn't going to have to spend the next five years alternately begging Penelope to give him back his business and trying to dump half a million dollars in medieval gold coins.

  Heaven help him.

  Genevieve was waiting for them at the station with the kids. Kendrick hopped in the car with her, and Jake piled several of his bodyguards in a rental, with another rental following. He would let the men go when he was sure the coast was clear—probably about three nanoseconds before he popped himself back into the past.

  They drove to Artane with Kendrick in the lead. Jake was amused to find Genevieve driving, for a change. Apparently she wasn't all that confident in Kendrick's reaction to seeing the family seat after all these years.

  Jake could hardly wait to see Kendrick's reaction when he laid his eyes on Gideon.

  They wound their way down from the Al, through the village, and into Artane's carpark. Jake hung back as Kendrick walked up to the front gates with Genevieve at his side and his children scampering around him like puppies.

  "You can't park here after six," a crusty old man said, coming out from the gatehouse. "His Lordship won't have it, I tell you. Besides, we're closed."

  "I'll make sure we move the cars later," Jake said dryly.

  The man folded his arms over his chest. "You need tickets."

  "You said you were closed."