Through The Leaded Glass

by Fennell, Judi

  Through The Leaded Glass

  Copyright 2013 Judi Fennell

  Published by Mergenie Books

  Cover design by Kim Van Meter

  Interior layout: www.formatting4U.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at JudiFennell@JudiFennell.com. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For more information on the author and her works, please see www.JudiFennell.com

  This book is also available in print from online retailers.

  Praise for Judi Fennell’s stories:

  “Fennell’s light and lively writing is full of humor and cleverness, and the occasional tributes to fantasy classics add extra fun to the spicy story.” ~ Publishers Weekly

  “Sizzling sexual tension, plenty of humor, and a soupçon of suspense…in Fennell’s fanciful romantic comedy series.” ~ Booklist

  “Cute as a pink Persian kitten, this scamper of a romance… will keep the reader enraptured.” ~ Publishers Weekly

  “Fennell’s sexy contemporary romp…takes its cue from Barbara Eden’s indelible television role, but with enough original touches, careful research, and world-building to make this tale…pure fun.” ~ Booklist

  “Filled with laughs, action, and an absolutely magical romance, this is one for the keeper shelf.”

  ~ Kate Douglas, bestselling author of Wolf Tales

  “You will want to believe in magic!”

  ~ NYT bestselling author Kerrelyn Sparks

  “Fennell’s got detailed world-building, creative secondary characters, and an impressive

  use of mythology in this great read.” ~ RT Book Reviews 4 Stars

  “Judi is a master of romance and fantasy.” ~ ReadAHolic

  “It’s a hit. This was one awesome series and this book was

  a wonderful conclusion.” ~ Night Owl Romance, TOP PICK

  “Another thrilling addition to the Mer series. Judi Fennell packs a literary punch.”

  ~ Once Upon A Romance

  “Fennell (is) proving herself to be a solid storyteller.”

  ~ RT Book Reviews

  “Judi Fennell’s books: Romance that’s funny, engaging, definitely hot, and makes you feel good when you’ve finished the book!” ~ Sia McKye, Over Coffee

  “Nora Roberts? Danielle Steel? Much acclaimed romance writers should step aside. There is a new romance writer in town.”

  ~ ABibliophile.com

  “Simply hilariously good fun. A guilt-free bit of enjoyment (and) a delightful read.” ~ Romance Reader at Heart

  “Waves of sensuality, ripples of emotion, and depths of fun. Not to be missed!”

  ~ LA Banks, The Vampire Huntress Legends Series

  “Fennell’s flair for injecting humor in both her plot and dialogue marks this story as her own.” ~ BookLoons.com

  “The opening to (In Over Her Head) is one of the best hooks I’ve read. (Fennell’s) undersea world building is incomparable... if you enjoy humorous, extremely well-written paranormal mermaid romance, this is an excellent choice.” ~ Joey W. Hill, National best-selling author

  To my kids for putting up with visits to the faire,

  And to the folks at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire for such a great show. Your imaginations have sparked mine.

  Prologue

  English Countryside, 1487

  The earl of Shelton’s day was well on its way to hell.

  “God’s blood!” Alexander Traverse stormed into his tent and slammed his gauntlets onto the table.

  Nicholas, Baron Crawford of Caversham, amiable friend, but more often of late, miserable sot, raised his mug with an “I’ll toast to that,” before slumping back into his chair.

  Alex slammed the gauntlets again. “My pardon for interrupting your rest, Nick.”

  Nick peeled one eye open. “I’m not resting. I’m toasting your upcoming betrothal.” He sloshed some ale over the rim.

  Alex grabbed the drink. “You’ve had more than enough.”

  “No.” Nick made an ineffectual grab for the mug which almost sent him tumbling to the ground. “I haven’t had enough.”

  “What’s gotten into you, Nick?”

  “‘Bout half a cask of ale, I’m guessing.”

  Alex spilled the remains into a ewer and tossed the mug onto a bench. “I need you sober.”

  “But I need me drunk.” Nick looked around. “What’d you do with m’drink?”

  “Your drink is the least of my worries when the Shelton betrothal ring has gone missing.”

  Surprisingly, it only took two bleary-eyed blinks for Nick to understand the implications. “The ring’s gone? But… but that means…”

  “That there is a thief in my home.”

  Nick managed to sit up. “More than that, it means your luck is gone. You shouldn’t joust. And Isobel—oh, no.” He crossed himself—surprising because religion was usually the first thing Nick tossed when he tossed back his drink. “You can’t ask for her hand now.”

  “Of course I can. I just can’t use that ring to do so.”

  “Isobel will never agree, Alex. No woman will. The legend says—”

  “I’m more concerned with a thief in my home than an ancient legend, Nick. And, as a God-fearing man, I’d think you’d place no faith in the legend of the ring. You can’t possibly believe in it.”

  “How can you not? Your family’s good fortune is said to be tied to the ring.”

  If it were anyone but his friend questioning him, Alex would thrash him for his insolence. “No more ale, Nick. You sound as mad as that gypsy woman this morn. Though she did say it with sweeter breath.”

  “The gypsy wasn’t Telesa?”

  “No. Another. A stranger.” Which was the damnable thing. He would not have expected Telesa to allow a stranger into her territory.

  “What did she say?” Nick asked, looking more sober by the minute.

  “Don’t tell me you believe in fortune-telling as well as legends.”

  “Gypsy women’s tales—especially strange gypsy women’s tales—are not to be dismissed. You of all people should know. What’d she say?”

  Alex knew all about gypsy fortune-telling thanks to Telesa and her band. They’d camped on his family lands in his youth and he’d seen how they used their so-called fortunes as mere ploys for trinkets and gold from the gadje.

  He pulled on his gambeson. With his squire off to replace the bridle Alex now believed had been destroyed on purpose, Nick was the only aid he’d have to arm himself for today’s joust—hence the reason he was doing it himself.

  “The gypsy was spouting dire warnings of death and destruction unless I aid the woman who finds what I’ve lost.” He picked up his cuirass. “Help me with this.”

  “No.” Nick back in his chair. “Dire warnings, Alex. This could be the day you finally lose. You shouldn�
�t joust.”

  “Dear God, Nick, what’s wrong with you? It’s a story. A legend. And I didn’t lose it; it was stolen.” Of that he was certain; he’d hidden the ring with the rest of the keep’s valuables after his wife’s death.

  He sucked in the pain that still had the power to steal his breath a year later. Jeanne. And the baby she’d died birthing. Only young William was left.

  Alex closed his eyes. Damn fate for taking them from him. And damn the king for requiring him to marry again.

  But such was his duty. His dammed duty.

  He shoved the gauntlets aside as he set the cuirass on the table. “There’s no truth to the legend, Nick. I’ll beat Farley, ring or no. I haven’t lost to him yet.”

  “Yet. The ring’s never been gone before.”

  “You want me to forfeit over a legend?”

  “It’s not as if you need the gold.”

  “True. But what of honor? How well do you think Isobel would regard my suit if I bow out of the joust like a coward?” Nick knew nothing of honor anymore. He was drunk more often than not. But then, he could be for he didn’t stand to lose what Alex would if he didn’t follow the king’s edict. “No, Nick, I must meet Farley. As I need Isobel’s birthing ability to ensure the Traverse lineage, she needs my reputation to save her family land.”

  “Her birthing ability?” Nick picked up a gauntlet and flung it at him, his aim on point, surprisingly. “God’s teeth, Alex, you reduce her to a brood mare? What about her status as your wife?”

  “Jeanne was my wife.”

  “It’ll be difficult to beget legitimate heirs from Isobel without marriage.”

  “Of course I’ll offer Isobel marriage. But I don’t have to like it.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “ ‘La grandeur d’un home se mesure à la parole tenue.’ “ The measure of a man is but the strength of his words. The Shelton motto had been ingrained in him since youth. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for his older brother. Alex wouldn’t be in the position he was in if Frederick had sired his sons on the right side of the blanket. “I gave my word to King Henry that I’d marry within thirty days.”

  “But what about love?”

  What did Nick know of love? The man flitted from intrigue to intrigue like a butterfly among flowers. Alex, however, was all too familiar with the concept. Which was why that emotion would never again enter into his marriage. It had hurt too much when he’d lost it. “Help me prepare for the joust, Nick. I’ll make swift work of Farley, then return to my keep to discover who has stolen the ring, and Isobel will never be the wiser.”

  About many things, actually. Other items had gone missing over the months. A hawk, a horse, provisions from the pantry… The girth on his saddle had been loosed on three occasions, as well, and now there was the frayed bridle. And the ring.

  Something was very wrong at Shelton and Alex was determined to find out who was behind it.

  ‘Twas bad enough he had to dance to the king’s tune; he wouldn’t dance to a thief’s.

  Chapter One

  Pennsylvania Countryside, Present Day

  Oh lord, get me out of this mess.

  Kate Lawton untangled her curls from the grommet holes of her green brocade surcoat and surveyed the area around her. Ready or not.

  Not.

  She adjusted the neckline of the gold shirt and tossed an over-sized sleeve off her wrist. Her watch snagged on the lining. Great. Alicia would kill her if she wore a twenty-first century item with her so-called authentic medieval costume where anyone could see.

  She took flung the watch into the back of her Beamer with the rest of her modern day trappings. Well, except for the credit card, cash, and ever-present cell phone she shoved into her pocket. Those she couldn’t do without. And she was keeping her running shoes on. They’d be hidden beneath the burgundy taffeta skirt.

  Jolly old England, here I come. She made sure she had her ticket, then headed to the castle gate of the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, passing a King Arthur wannabe and his two goth-Guineveres. Merlin stood by a fountain in the market square speaking to a courtier, a hunchback chatted with a fairy, and a tavern wench practically spilled out of her costume welcoming people to the “shire.” People really did this on their days off? Strange. If Alicia weren’t her oldest and dearest friend…

  Kate dug her cell phone out of her pocket and called her.

  “Good day to you, fair lords and ladies.” For all Alicia’s Anglophilia, she sure could butcher an English accent. “I’m off to the shire and unavailable ‘til Monday. Please leave a message at the chime.”

  Kate tapped the phone off and sighed. Technology was a wonderful thing—why the hell couldn’t her friend have decided to abandon this century after Kate had caught up with her? She was already thirty minutes late.

  Shaking her head, Kate pulled out the map Alicia had e-mailed her and looked for the route to the jousting field along Guildsman’s Way. Alicia had marked a blue banner as their meet-up spot.

  Following the signs, Kate passed minstrels, a street juggler or two, and more than a few knights in shining armor, along with hundreds of others in period costume. Any period, it seemed, that suggested England of yore. Young and old, even babies, were done up in the spirit of the faire. Kate smiled when a little girl of about two jumped around waving a pirate’s hook and grabbing at the plumed hat on her head.

  Soon, very soon, that would be her and Emma. One more office visit to complete the adoption agency’s paperwork and then she’d be all set for the trip to China next month to get her daughter.

  She took a deep breath and continued down the road, determined to enjoy today and not live in the future, though it couldn’t come quick enough.

  Guildsman’s Way was filled with all sorts of shops. Mostly kitschy, but then, what would one want after a day spent in old time England but a bunch of shields and swords and… were those lizards? She looked at the sign. Ah, baby dragons. That was actually a great marketing idea.

  The jester juggling medieval cookware through this crowd, however, wasn’t. He was a disaster waiting to happen.

  Which, of course, was what happened. Kate almost got conked on the head with a cast iron skillet when the breeze blew his silver and purple ruff into his face and his figurative house of cards came tumbling down.

  As it was, she half-fell onto a table outside one of the shops, then almost skewered her palm when it landed on a bunch of metal-worked jewelry. Rings, circlets, costume pieces in tarnished brass with bad fake jewels—even a tacky dog collar choker.

  She was about to turn away when she saw an interesting ring. The dingy brass band was more polished than the others near it, though the fan of metal behind the stone was banged and dull. Grime covered the glass emerald and she was surprised by its weight. If she didn’t know any better—and the price weren’t so low—she’d swear that enormous gemstone was real.

  She slid it onto her finger. It was the right size. Maybe…

  Nah. Like she’d have any place to wear a banged-up piece of costume jewelry. She removed it and set it down, only to plant her palm on top of it when the jester knocked into her again.

  She looked at the ring. It looked… odd. As if the surface was rippling with different shades of green.

  It had to be a trick of the light. She picked it up, turning it to so the facets caught the sunlight. There was an engraving inside the band. “La something something, à la, something.” Illuminating.

  She was about to put it back when the merchant bowed to her from behind the table. He was dressed head to toe in orange and brown, complete with an obnoxious feather in his hat that brushed across her face.

  “May I help you, my lady? I have a goodly assortment—”

  The clang of the jester’s cookware as he walked away and the wail of a fire engine drowned out the rest of the man’s words.

  “Shall I wrap that for you or will you wear it?”

  “What?” She looked at the ring. “Oh, no,
I don’t want—”

  “Nonsense, my lady. Of course you do. Why the stone matches your surcoat. It’s one of the finest specimens I have from the late medieval period.” He took the ring from her and slid it back onto her finger. “And perhaps I could interest you in a matching necklace and ear bobs?”

  The guy was slick, and what the hell… It’d make a good story. “Earbobs sound painful, but I will take the ring.” She gave him his five bucks; he’d earned it.

  “Pray, do not miss Captain Drake’s Golden Hinde, my lady, on your way to the joust. I’m certain you shall find other items of interest there. “

  “Uh, sure. Thanks.” Kate doubted it. One banged up piece of fake jewelry was enough. So was all the “my lady”ing. Kate Lawton, Assistant Vice President for McGoldrick Advertising, was through being “my lady”ed. That had been the sarcastic term Jay, her ex-husband, had used every time she’d wanted to get a job or start a family. Since the divorce, she’d worked too hard to earn her title and the respect of her colleagues to be addressed in such an archaic, sexist way. It was her personal measure of success that she’d earned the career and respect she’d sought. And now, she was just a few signatures and a plane ride away from the family part.

  Still, when she saw the ship—a pirate ship—complete with mast, bow, and gangplank, she decided to stop. Alicia loved all things pirate and a bribe, er, gift might mitigate any anger for being late.