by Lynn Kurland
"Write this for me," the abbess commanded in a clear voice. "I don't want to sully my hands with it."
"As you will," said Sister Eunice, she of the birch rod that had a decided lack of patience.
Amanda stood at the doorway, wondering how an interruption would affect her immediate future, when she heard the most astonishing thing.
"To Ledenham," Abbess Joan began, "from me. Fill in that bit. You know how I want it to sound."
Amanda clutched the wooden tray. Ledenham? Somehow, she suspected this could not be good.
"I have the woman you want and she is being properly instructed in meekness and respect. I have not alerted those at Artane simply because I was certain that you, my good Ledenham, would wish to have the pleasure of informing Artane that you were the one to hunt down and capture—nay, that isn't the proper word. What word would you choose, Eunice?"
"Retrieve?" Eunice suggested. "Slay? Corner?"
"Oh, by the saints," Abbess Joan said in disgust, "you've little wit for this sort of business. Write 'capture' and be done with it. Say that I thought Ledenham would wish to be the one to say to Artane that he had found his miserable daughter—nay, do not write that, you twit—and 'twas for that reason that I have not informed Artane that the wench is here." She sighed so loudly, Amanda winced. "Tell him to come fetch her. Soon. Or if he thinks she needs a bit more instruction, I will be happy to provide it. And indeed, she could do with several more doses of humility. Why it falls to me to do it, I cannot fathom, but my work is never finished, it seems."
The sound of a chair scraping against the stone startled Amanda so badly that she almost dropped her tray. She hastened back the way she had come, then turned and groaned loudly as she made her way along the path.
The saints preserve her if the abbess thought she'd been eavesdropping.
And the saints preserve her from what she'd heard.
She shouldn't have been surprised. So, she was to be sold to Ledenham just the same. She could have at least been having a few last days of comfort and security at Artane. Her life there was looking far less intolerable than it had looked but a fortnight ago.
She tapped softly. "My lady?" she said. Meekly.
The door was pulled open and Sister Eunice stood there, scowling. "Took you long enough."
"My apologies, my lady," Amanda said, bowing her head humbly. "I will endeavor to make greater haste the next time."
The abbess grunted. "Set a guard over her. Well, beat her first, then set a guard over her. By the saints, I loathe these pampered lords' daughters. 'Tis such an effort to teach them what they must know to become proper nuns."
Amanda almost snorted. Indeed, 'twas only with great effort that she managed to keep her head down and her face impassive. Why, that great lying sow! She had no intentions of Amanda becoming a nun. Amanda wondered how she would escape, and if she managed it, how she would manage to walk all the way back to Artane.
'Twas a certainty the abbess wouldn't give her back her horse.
Eunice cuffed her so hard, her ears rang and she almost dropped her tray. "Clumsy gel," she said.
Amanda managed to set the tray down and escape the cell before she heard, or felt, anything else. But she had the feeling her evening would finish as it always did, with her enduring more instruction in the meek arts. One thing she could say for Eunice, though, was that she didn't have the patience for it. A blow or two and the woman was ready to be off to bed.
Amanda looked at the sky as she walked back to the kitchens. She didn't even have the strength to weep. She was a fool; she had put herself in this horrible place and she had no one to blame for it but herself.
She wondered if, by some miracle, Jake had returned to Artane.
Did he love her still?
Would he be able to pry the truth from Montgomery?
She didn't hold out much hope for either.
So she trudged back to the kitchen and prayed for a bit of privacy, if only enough to scrape the bottom of the stew pot and ease the gnawing in her belly before Sister Eunice sent for her to further her lessons in meekness.
She hadn't reached the kitchens before there were men flanking her, grim-faced men who did not touch her, did not speak to her, but walked so close to her that she knew beyond all doubt that escape was no longer a possibility.
By the saints, what had she done?
She had no answer, so she continued on her way.
And she prayed for a miracle.
* * *
Chapter 29
Jake looked over his gear set out on the bed and made certain he had everything he needed. There were the eight bags of gold, which damn well better be enough to buy him an enormous castle, a big fat title to go with it, and one quite lovely and irreplaceable Amanda of Artane.
He didn't want to consider the alternative: rich, titled, and still single in 1227.
He checked his mental list of gems, placed in several sacks and scattered throughout his clothes. He decided he would slip things in various locations on his person so if he did get robbed, at least the thugs might miss something.
He also had a few art supplies. He'd thought to perhaps take more things, something to prove his birth date, but decided against it. He wasn't sure about the state of witch-burning in the thirteenth century, but he had no desire to become familiar with it firsthand.
He dressed himself in his old medieval gear, then packed up the rest of his things. He put on his worn boots, strapped his sword belt around his waist, and looked around to see if he had left anything behind. His bed was made and a small box sat there prominently. It was for Kendrick. He was almost positive Kendrick would enjoy it.
He shouldered his pack and headed downstairs. Lord Edward was there at the table, having his kippers and cold toast. Jake accepted the invitation to join him. Lord Edward looked at Jake over the rim of his teacup.
"So, you're off this morning?" he asked politely.
"One could hope," Jake said with a smile.
Lord Edward shook his head, as if he just couldn't quite believe something.
Probably the events of his life during the past week, Jake surmised.
"I wish you good fortune," Edward said, setting down his cup. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You've already done a great deal," Jake said. "You were kind enough to allow me to paw through many of your treasures. That was an unexpected pleasure."
"It was the very least I could do," Edward said. "My wife so loves your jewelry and it was enormously kind of you to bring her something new as a parting gift."
"My pleasure," Jake said sincerely. And it was. Helen, the current Lady of Artane, had gushed so much the night before that Jake had been tempted to blush. Ah, that all his customers could have been so satisfied.
He looked up from his breakfast to find Gideon coming to the table with his wife Megan at his side. Jake sat back and listened to them sit and chat with Gideon's father. They seemed surreal, somehow, Gideon and his family, as if he were observing them in the right place but definitely the wrong time.
Gideon turned to him. "Your bodyguards are waiting for you at the gates whenever you're ready."
"Thank you," Jake said. "I don't think I'll need them much longer. I've left cash for them. You'll pay them once I'm safely away?"
"Certainly," Gideon said. He smiled ruefully. "You know, I feel terribly responsible for all this somehow."
"I'll be thinking kindly of you for eternity," Jake said with a laugh.
"Yes, but the primitive conditions," Gideon protested. "No mobile phones, no computers, no ability to do business all over the world from the ease and comfort of your office." He shivered. "I don't think I could do it."
"I would say that technology is overrated, but that might be too much for you," Jake said. "I admit I will miss some of the tools of my trade and the ease of getting supplies. But the trade off is worth it."
"She must be spectacular."
"She is. In every respect."
; Gideon paused. "And your family here?"
"They'll survive," Jake said, and that was the understatement of the millennium. "I'm hoping for a new set of relatives in the near future."
"Well, you'll be marrying into a good bunch," Gideon said with a smile. "Sterling souls, all through the centuries."
Jake nodded with a smile. Amanda would be a Kilchurn, not a de Piaget, but hopefully her family wouldn't hold that against him.
Assuming she would marry him after all.
"Friends?" Gideon asked.
"I've said good-byes," Jake said easily. He'd called his old Eton chum Alistair for their once-a-year catch up. Penelope he'd already led astray. Thad had listened to Jake's story silently, without even so much as a change in his breathing, from what Jake could tell over the phone. He'd wished Jake good luck, told him to remember all he'd learned in Thad's Survival School, then said he would miss him.
Actually he'd said, "Later, Buddy," but Jake had translated that easily enough.
Jake applied himself to his last modern meal—without allowing himself to dwell on the possibility that it very well might not be his last modern meal—and made polite small talk with his host, Gideon and Megan, and finally Kendrick and Genevieve.
And then, quite suddenly, he knew he had to leave. It was as if he'd just heard the final call for a flight over the PA system. He stood up, thanked his hosts, and asked Kendrick if he was ready for a little drive. Kendrick nodded and walked with him out of Artane's doors.
"Weird, isn't it?" Jake asked as they descended the steps to the courtyard.
"Aye, very," Kendrick said with feeling.
"Do you regret coming?"
"Nay, not at all," Kendrick said. "It was long overdue. I daresay Gideon and I will have many fine conversations in the future about things past and present. I'll enjoy that."
"Think of me while you're doing it."
"Hmmm," Kendrick said, noncommittally.
"You are completely without mercy," Jake said with a laugh. "Aren't you going to give me one bloody little hint?"
"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
"And if I don't make it?"
"Call me and I'll come fetch you. You can begin a new life as a coin dealer."
Jake shook his head. He had his own opinions on what would happen later that day, but he would do just as Kendrick did, and keep his opinions to himself.
The journey to the appropriate spot took far less time than Jake suspected, though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Cars were, admittedly, faster than horses.
Kendrick stopped his Jag, turned off the motor, and looked at Jake.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Then I wish you good fortune. Leave us a message somehow if you get lost in time. Apparently your attorney's brother-in-law is quite the time traveler."
"James MacLeod?" Jake asked with a smile. "Yes, I heard all about him. I think you should get to know him. You might like to do some traveling with him."
Kendrick shook his head with a shiver. "Surely you jest. I've already seen all the centuries between mine and yours. I've no desire to see them again. Though I must admit, I think Laird MacLeod and I might have an interesting conversation or two about them." He put his hand on Jake's shoulder. "If you become lost, find a way to leave your mark and we'll come fetch you and deposit you in the right place."
"I'm so relieved."
"You should be," Kendrick said, suddenly serious. "This is no game."
"I never said it was," Jake said easily. He got out of the car, then leaned back in and looked at Kendrick. "You'd better get the bouncers out of here. I think I need privacy to do this properly."
Kendrick inclined his head. "As you wish. Be careful."
"You too. Those boys of yours are hellions, but I think your daughter is going to give you the most grief."
"Cad," Kendrick said. "She's an angel."
Jake pursed his lips and shut the door. He shouldered his pack, patted his sword, and climbed over the fence to the field where he'd arrived. He looked around him to make certain his father wasn't going to leap out of the trees with dozens of gorillas in tow, then looked at Kendrick and waved him away.
The cars pulled away slowly. Jake watched them go, realizing that if he was extremely fortunate, those would be the last cars he would ever see.
He sighed and tromped off through the little tree break and into the clearing where he knew the gate to be. He had the same feeling of urgency he'd had before, when he'd known he needed to be at the proper place at the proper time. He gripped the straps of his rustic backpack and said a little prayer. He wondered what was really the best way to proceed.
Should he sing? Walk three times counterclockwise and mutter a druidic incantation? Alex had told him to think about where he wanted to go and the gate would take him there.
So he thought about Amanda. He pictured her so vividly that he could almost see her in front of him. He closed his eyes and wished with all his heart. He waited.
Nothing happened.
Well, he was nothing if not patient. He stood there, hoping that he wouldn't soon hear the sound of his father yelling for his goons to attack. He heard very few things, actually. A bit of wind stirring the trees. Far off traffic from the A1. The waves against the shore near the castle. And then he began to have a hard time telling the difference between the three.
But he had no difficulty at all hearing the gasp behind him. He spun around to find none other than Montgomery de Piaget standing there, clutching his horse's reins as if they were all that held him fixed to reality.
Montgomery crossed himself.
Jake took a brief moment to let out a shaky breath. He'd made it. One very large hurdle down; several more to go.
Montgomery started to back up. Jake rolled his eyes and strode forward. "It's only me, Montgomery," he said, grasping the lad by the shoulder. "Stop looking at me as if I were a demon."
"You're a fairy," Montgomery said in a strangled voice.
"I am not."
"You are too. You sprang up from the grass."
"Are you sure?"
Montgomery nodded, wide-eyed.
Jake smiled. "What are you doing out here?"
Montgomery smiled suddenly. "I was looking for you. I hoped the fairies would release you soon, and here you are."
Jake considered the very weary-looking young man, and smiled. "How well did you sleep last night, Montgomery?"
"In truth, not very well," Montgomery admitted.
"If you were to ask me," Jake began, "I would say you were sleeping standing up. I've had it happen to me. I've been so tired that one minute I was staring at nothing and the next something was there, but in reality what had happened was that I'd fallen asleep for a moment or two." He smiled reassuringly. "Happens all the time."
"I still think you're a fairy," Montgomery said stubbornly, but then he smiled. "And I feared the fairies had taken you captive and wouldn't let you return." He looked behind Jake. "Where is your horse?"
"I walked."
Montgomery nodded wisely. "No wonder it took you so long."
"Has Amanda forgotten about me?" Jake asked lightly. "Or has she ground Robin into the dirt with her marvelous swordplay?"
Montgomery hesitated. Jake looked at him, wondering suddenly if he'd taken Amanda's affection for granted.
"What?" Jake asked sharply. "What happened?"
"She isn't at Artane," Montgomery said carefully.
"Was she abducted?" Jake demanded. "Or," he said slowly, "or did she decide to marry someone else?"
Montgomery shook his head miserably. "She ran."
"She ran!" Jake exclaimed. "Why?"
"I daresay," Montgomery said slowly, "she thought you had changed your mind."
Jake took Montgomery by the arm. "Come on. Let's go home. Is Robin still there?"
"Aye, and Nicholas as well. Everything is as you left it."
Jake swung into Montgomery's saddle and pulled the
boy up behind him. He thundered back to Artane, through the village, and up the way to the gates in his best Nicholas de Piaget impression. He dismounted in the courtyard and ran up the steps and into the great hall. Robin was standing in front of the fire, alternately stroking his chin and rubbing the back of his neck. Anne sat in a chair next to the fire, holding her son and speaking in a low voice. She looked up first as Jake entered and the relief on her face was clearly visible.
Jake was very glad he'd brought something especially beautiful for her.
Robin looked less relieved, but no less welcoming. "You're late," he said shortly.
"I hurried," Jake said. "What happened?"
"I've no idea," Robin said. "Amanda was troubled, as you might expect, but I credited that to her worry over your delayed return and ability to win her."
"Well, if gold will win the day, the day will be won," Jake said. He unslung his backpack. "Is there anywhere safe I can store this? It's my future."
"The solar," Robin said. " 'Tis as safe as anywhere. Follow me and we'll see to hiding it."
Jake nodded, smiled at Anne, and followed Robin to the back of the great hall.
The same great hall in which he'd enjoyed fried eggs, fried tomatoes, and cold toast that morning, if anyone was curious. He was still contemplating the complete improbability of that when he ran bodily into Amanda's other elder brother.
He looked Nicholas in the eye—grateful he could do so without having to look up at him—and smiled politely.
"My lord," he said, inclining his head.
"You've returned," Nicholas said flatly.
"I have."
"She's gone, you know," Nicholas said, in that same, flat tone that spoke volumes about the depths of his grief. "The saints only know where."
"Why did she go?" Jake asked.
Nicholas opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and jerked his head in Robin's direction. "In the solar. We'll speak of it there."
Jake had no argument with that. He followed Robin into Rhys's solar, acutely aware that Nicholas was behind him and could have stabbed him in the back at any time. Robin gestured to the heavy trunk pushed up under the window.
"That's safe enough."