A Knight in Central Park

by Theresa Ragan

  Joe put a hand to his head and felt a knot the size of a walnut. What the hell happened? His head jerked up at the idea that the intruder was still in the room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. Though his vision was blurred, there was no mistaking the woman hovering over him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The woman he’d left in the hospital hours ago had somehow tracked him down and snuck into his house. “What the hell did you do that for?” he asked. “And what are you doing in my home?”

  “No need to curse,” Alexandra scolded. “Your assistant brought me here.”

  He glared at her.

  “How was I to know it was you?”

  His blood surged as he sat up. “I live here.”

  “Shelly assured me you would enter through the front entry if you were to come home.”

  “I would have come through the front entry,” he said through clenched teeth, “if I had had my keys.”

  “Perhaps next time you will remember them.”

  Examining the knot on his head with his fingertips, he tried to think of a clever reply. No such luck. As his vision became less hazy, he realized she looked different. She wore a floor length cotton nightgown and her hair, a mass of fiery red curls, fell over her shoulders like a silk shawl.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you gawking at?”

  Tired, frustrated, and in pain, Joe attempted to shake his head in annoyance, but it hurt too much. Instead, he lifted himself to his feet, grabbed the robe slung over the end of the bed, and tossed it to her. “Nothing,” he growled. He then stepped closer to her, leaned his body into hers, ignoring her gasps, perhaps even enjoying them as he reached around her, quite slowly and quite purposefully as he quite innocently switched on the lamp.

  “There,” he said, stepping back. “Is something wrong?”

  She pushed her arms into the robe and pulled the sash tight. “Are you asking me if something is amiss?”

  “No. I’m asking you if something is wrong.”

  “Must you always speak like a jackanapes, Sir Joe?”

  A twitch set in his jaw. “Just call me Joe.”

  She just stood there, stiff and unbending.

  He shook his head, wincing at the pain such a small movement caused. “Unbelievable.”

  She cocked her head. “What is that?”

  “The fact that I’m having any sort of conversation at all with a woman who has limped her way into my house without permission only to knock me over the head with a—” He glanced around the room. “What did you hit me with?”

  Tentatively, she retrieved a toilet plunger from underneath the pillows. Not just any plunger either. This one had been a housewarming gift and it had a solid handle of brushed steel. No wonder his head felt as if it had been bashed in with a baseball bat.

  He took the weapon from her and set it out of her reach. “I hit you with my car and now you’ve hit me with a plunger. I’d say we’re even.”

  She frowned. “Is it bleeding?”

  “No,” he said as he took a seat in the heavily upholstered chair facing the bed. “Go ahead, get back into bed.”

  For the first time since he’d met her, she looked wary of him, maybe even intimidated. He figured she deserved it. If she wanted to sleep in the home of a man she didn’t even know, then she’d have to face the consequences.

  He tapped a finger to his knee and waited for her to climb into bed, finding himself ridiculously mesmerized by her wriggling bottom as she struggled to do so.

  “Now explain what you’re doing here,” he said after she adjusted the blankets.

  “As I said before, your lady friend brought me.”

  Somehow he managed to remain calm. “I want to know why you’re really here. Is this something you do on a regular basis, you know, step in front of cars, hoping to find shelter for a few days, a few weeks, maybe months?”

  “If I speak the truth, will you promise to hear me out?”

  “Promise,” he said, leaning back into the chair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Thirty minutes later, Joe realized, they were getting absolutely nowhere. As she rambled on, he found himself wishing he’d never asked the question. He should’ve left well enough alone and gone up to bed the moment he’d seen that it was her. Instead, he listened as she babbled on about coming from a time when knights roamed England and castles were common; the late fifteenth century to be exact, when King Henry VII held the throne, uniting the houses of Lancaster and York.

  He guessed that Alexandra had majored in medieval history before going off the deep end. “So,” he said, when she paused for a breath, “you’re from another time?”

  “Aye.”

  “And you have until the next full moon to get help?”

  She nodded and added in a serious tone, “King Henry is very sly. He has taxed the common people heavily, which has made circumstances surrounding our village unsafe. Noblemen like Sir Richard are doing as they please, taking from the poor until there is naught left but bitterness and fear. ’Twould seem Sir Richard has his mind set on marrying my sister, but I will not allow it. He is a cruel and evil man, which is why I am here.”

  He cocked his head. “And why is that?”

  “To get help, of course.”

  “Of course.” First thing in the morning he was going to hunt Shelly down and let her have a piece of his mind for leaving this woman in his house.

  Alexandra settled back into the mounds of pillows, making little noises of contentment. “It is a relief to have it all off my chest. I was afraid you would not believe a word I uttered, for even I failed to believe my grandfather’s tales. But you, Sir Joe, are a suitable listener, indeed. Shelly said you were a kind, generous man, and I should have known after our meeting this morn that you would not turn me away.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “Because your kindness shimmers in your eyes like a lost treasure in the sand.”

  He cocked a brow upward. “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “You are a gentle warrior with a good heart, and you are going to help me. It is your destiny. My instincts tell me all of this. My instincts rarely fail me.”

  She looked so innocent, so earnestly naïve, that he could hardly stand the thought of disappointing her. Why upset her tonight? What good would it do? He gave her a pitiful smile. “I’ll help you...first thing in the morning.”

  He stood. His head still throbbed. He went to the window and closed it, making a mental note to have the lock fixed.

  Alexandra’s eyes were closed by the time he turned back. He watched her snuggle against her pillow like a contented cat, and then he headed for the door.

  “Sir Joe,” she called softly.

  He turned and leaned against the doorframe. “What is it now?”

  “Thank you. Grandfather said I would find a brave champion to help us, and he was right.”

  Something twisted in his gut. To think she thought of him as her champion when all he wanted to do was get her out of his home as quickly as possible. It was more than his conscience could stand. “Is there anything you need?”

  No response. Just like that she’d fallen asleep. The woman probably hadn’t slept in a regular bed in months.

  He went back to her bedside to turn off the lamp. Strange, he thought as he watched her for a moment, how different she looked from earlier in the day when her hair was matted to her head and dirt covered her face. She was actually pretty in a cute, impish sort of way. With her red hair, small nose, and fine cheekbones, she looked like a fairy princess who’d come right out of a children’s book.

  Too bad she was as crazy as a loony bird, he thought as he clicked off the light.

  Alexandra bolted upright in bed. Her heart fluttered against her chest. The darkness was literally swallowing her whole. It was eerily quiet.

  Where was she?

  Her brother needed her. She remembered now. She had to find him. Her feet hit the ground. Pain shot up her leg, but noth
ing could keep her from seeking out Garrett.

  She hobbled across the room, made her way through the door, clawing through the darkness and gulping furiously for air as if she were drowning. The dark terrified her almost as much as the thought of not being able to find her brother.

  He needed her. She sensed it.

  She felt his very essence as he called for her, leading her up the stairs of some strange, forbidding castle, the floor cold against her feet. Panic choked her as she limped from one room to the next, afraid of what she may or may not find.

  And then she saw him...lying on a bed of downy blankets. Up close, she saw Garrett’s dark head of hair peeking from beneath linen sheets. “Thank you, Lord, for keeping him safe,” she whispered as she climbed on top of the layers of soft linens and edged herself closer to his side.

  She closed her eyes. She would let Garrett sleep a bit longer, at least until she caught her breath. Then she would take her brother back home where they would both be safe.

  Chapter Five

  Where there is great love there are always miracles.

  —Willa Cather

  Yawning, Alexandra peeked sleepily through one eye and then the other, noting the streaks of sunlight coming through the window and hitting the wall just so. As she stretched her arm toward the ceiling, every bone in her body tensed. Something was amiss.

  The walls were neither stone nor wattle and daub, but covered with colored parchment instead. She felt a movement upon her chest and stifled a gasp.

  Slowly, afraid of what she might see, she peered downward. A hand lay upon her breast. A large masculine hand that rose and fell with each breath she took. Time held still as she turned her head until she was gazing into the sleeping face of Sir Joe.

  She had done it again!

  She had walked in her sleep. And right into Sir Joe’s bedchamber. She tried not to wake him as she pondered her predicament. Her nose itched and her leg began to cramp.

  As if he sensed her dilemma, Sir Joe stirred, pulling her snug against him until her lips were pressed firmly to the hard cords of his neck.

  She dared not breathe.

  If he found her here in his bed, he would surely throw her out on the streets.

  It was not Sir Joe’s fault she walked in her sleep and crawled into his bed.

  His stubbled jaw rested on her forehead. He mumbled incoherently for a moment before falling silent again. She was sure he had drifted back to sleep until his fingers began to massage her chest. She never had her breast kneaded in such a way. She sucked in a slow deep breath and determined that Sir Joe smelled nice, like pine-scented soap and the fresh outdoors.

  As his hands moved over her body, she stifled a groan at the sensations he awakened in her. Surely this was not how a man was supposed to make a woman feel. Although the men in her time paid her little attention, she was not an inexperienced lass...not completely. She had been kissed more than once, and she would never forget Sir Lionel’s fast and fumbling hands before she was forced to kick him on the shin.

  With her face pressed against Sir Joe, she found it hard to take in too many details, but her awkward position did not stop her from seeing well-muscled shoulders. And he had lots of dark curly hairs sprinkled about his chest. She never would have guessed that such a wonderful specimen of a man was hidden beneath those strange garments he wore.

  Sir Joe mumbled again, prompting her to attempt to ease her way off the bed. But before she could get away, he opened his eyes.

  She froze.

  They were nose to nose. She felt strongly compelled to say something. “Good day, Sir Joe. I trust you slept well?”

  She followed his sluggish sleepy-eyed gaze to where his hand lay on her chest.

  As if he were afire he tossed the covers aside and jumped from the bed. He pointed a reproving finger in her direction, his face a fiery red. “What are you doing in my bed?”

  Towering over her with that menacing frown, he seemed to have overlooked the fact that he wore not a stitch of clothing. Or mayhap he enjoyed flaunting himself in such a manner. He had one of the finest chests she’d ever seen on a man. And she’d indeed seen her share considering her father hired no less than a dozen men whenever the crops warranted it. But not one of those men had ever taken off his breeches and stood naked before her as Sir Joe was doing now. His rigid manliness demanded her attention. She stared with wide, unblinking eyes, unable to bring herself to look away.

  With an exasperated shake of his head, Sir Joe retrieved his clothing from across the room and stepped hastily into his breeches. “Alexandra,” he said as he turned back to her, “what kind of game are you playing?”

  “’Tis no game, I swear. I have been cursed all of my life with a sleep-walking ailment.”

  His face was pinched tight. “You are certifiably insane.”

  “But you will help me nonetheless?”

  With his face an annoyed shade of red and his teeth clenched together in such a menacing way, he looked angry enough to take on Sir Richard and his men.

  The thought cheered her immeasurably.

  “You may get your kicks out of pretending to be a maiden in distress and crawling into bed with strange men,” he said, “but I personally don’t find it amusing.”

  Alexandra sat up, bristling at his words. “You, an unseasoned knight from a pampered world, are accusing me—” She pointed to her chest, “Alexandra Dunn of being a loose woman?”

  Enough was enough. Pushing herself from the bed, she hobbled his way, wagging a finger at him as she went. “Although I have had fair enough chances to do so, I have never before crawled into a man’s bed. I am a virgin and I plan to keep my maidenhood intact until I marry.”

  “Oh,” he said, “I get it. You’re looking for a husband.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You knotty-pated ox. It would be a stormy day in the forest before I would marry the likes of you...or any other man.”

  He winced. “Where do you come up with these things? Knotty-pated ox?” He shook his head.

  They both heard the loud click of the front entry door being opened and then clicking shut.

  “Quick,” Sir Joe said, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Where’s your robe?”

  “Belowstairs,” she said, wondering why the sudden concern. “Is something wrong?”

  Sir Joe grabbed her arm and ushered her quickly towards his chamber door. Escape was impossible, for Shelly and another woman already blocked the doorway. Shelly was dressed in a loose-fitting blouse and tight breeches, while the other woman was attired in a matching two-piece garment that revealed long legs; the woman also wore the strangest footwear Alexandra had ever seen, making her appear three inches taller.

  “Joe,” the woman with Shelly choked out, “what is going on here?”

  Sir Joe’s countenance paled.

  Shelly turned about and quickly disappeared.

  Obviously the woman with the scowl had some sort of claim on Sir Joe. Alexandra shrugged. As long as he kept his promise to help her, she cared not how many women he courted.

  Sir Joe rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not what it looks like,” he told the woman. He gestured toward Alexandra and said, “She snuck into my room last night while I slept. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Alexandra raised a brow. “You dare accuse me of being a wanton woman when you were the one who pulled me snug against your body and kneaded my breast?”

  His jaw hardened. Her half-naked champion appeared to be at a loss for words.

  “You touched this woman’s breast?” his lady friend asked.

  Sir Joe shot Alexandra a piercing glance before he turned back to the woman and said, “I don’t know. I don’t recall.”

  “You don’t recall?” The woman threw her hands in the air. “I come here to apologize for last night, find you in your bedroom with another woman, and you don’t remember whether or not you touched her breasts?”

  “I never lie,” Alexandra chimed in.

  Sir Joe�
�s face flushed with anger. “She never lies,” he said incredulously. “Tell Suzanne where you’re from. Tell her about King Henry and all of the king’s horsemen. Go ahead.”

  Alexandra sighed. Sir Joe failed to believe her after all. All his talk...just a cartful of lies. Despite her damaged leg, she made her way past the tall, elegantly dressed, sweet-scented woman. Sir Joe’s true character mattered not she told herself. It mattered only that he believe in her plight...and the sooner the better.

  Joe watched Alexandra hobble away before he turned back to face Suzanne. As always, Suzanne was perfection in her dark tailored suit and pearls. Her blonde hair was rolled tightly upon her head, her anger flaring from icy blue eyes. “I know this looks bad,” he said, “but you have to believe me. That woman is crazy...absolutely nuts. I did not invite her into my bed.”

  “How can I believe you after what I just saw and heard?”

  He pointed to his chest. “Because you know me.”

  As if that were the lamest answer he could have ever come up with, Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Did you touch her breast, or not?” she asked once more.

  His silence spoke volumes.

  Suzanne marched from the room.

  He nearly tripped over his feet trying to catch up to her. For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom how he always seemed to get himself into these messes. “Shelly let that woman in the house last night after I told her not to,” Joe finished just as Suzanne reached the front door. “When I woke up this morning, she was in my bed.”

  Suzanne paused, her hand nestled around the knob as she waited for an answer to her question.

  “Yes,” he finally said regretfully, “I touched her breast. I thought it was yours.”

  Suzanne growled, threw the door open, smacking his toe in the process. She marched to the curbside, unlocked her Mercedes, and slid into the driver’s seat.

  Joe glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t you go anywhere,” he told Shelly. Then he shut the door and limped after Suzanne.

  The car engine came alive.

  Suzanne rolled the window down a crack and said, “You must really think I’m gullible.”