“The shield,” said Nick.
“This?” She lifted it. “Why on earth are you so bent up about a shield?” She pulled it off her arm and—
Her world spun again.
The dented, tarnished remnant of a shield she’d purchased from Master Griff was now a perfectly restored piece of armor, metal gleaming like a newly-minted nickel. The etchings around the edges were inlaid with gold like he’d said, and if those sparkling stones weren’t real jewels, she’d sell her grandmother’s ruby ring.
Alex took it from her. “Easy enough. The ring, as well.”
The ring.
Kate brought her hand up, and—oh, God. What she’d thought had been brass was gold and it glistened. Without a single ding. And that gem could only be an emerald.
Her knees buckled and she groped for a padded bench beside her before both her legs and her sanity gave out.
The men didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to; they were looking at her as if she had two heads. And considering what she was thinking, that might not be too farfetched.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“As I said, I should ask you that question.” Alex pulled up a stool and sat inches from her. “How did you come to have my property?”
“Look, I have no idea what’s going on here. Why that shield looks so new or the ring…” She closed her eyes. This didn’t make any sense. Old things just didn’t look new. Not by themselves.
She opened her eyes. It had to be some kitschy, trick prop or something. Something to keep the customers coming back. A promotional item the RenFaire publicity department came up with to drum up business. That had to be it.
She let out a relieved breath. It’s a show, Kate. These people were actors and it was their job to convince faire attendees they really were in the past.
She chuckled. “You know what? You guys are good. I don’t know how you did it, but these are great.” She pointed to the shield. “Quite the marketing ploy. I’ll have to get in touch with your merchandiser.” She stood up. They definitely had a customer now. She knew just the account she could use these types of things for. Maybe customize them with the client’s logo. There was that trade show next month—
Alex tugged her back down. “You’re not free to leave.” His grip tightened. “Not until you explain.”
“Explain what? Look here, mister. Let. Me. Go.” She yanked, almost falling over when he actually listened. “Okay, this little play-acting has gone on long enough. I’ll buy your products; just let me out of here. I was supposed to meet my friend a while ago. Give me your card or whoever’s responsible for these things and I’ll touch base with them when I’m in the office on Monday.”
Alex said nothing. Nor did Nick.
Nothing made a sound.
It was utterly quiet.
Too quiet.
So quiet, Kate suddenly felt uncomfortable. Uneasy.
She put her hands in her lap, the ring burning cold against her skin. Alex’s stare wasn’t helping matters.
She looked around the tent. There was a woven rug on the ground, benches ringing it, a small table with a basket of apples. Fat wooden barrels—casks—on one side. Must be one hell of an after-party when this show closed up for the day. A helmet rested on another table, visor closed, large blue plume rising from the top, and a broadsword leaned against the table. She hoped they put that away before breaking open the casks. Nick was proof that booze and broadswords should not go hand-in-hand.
The silence was deafening. Why wouldn’t one of them say something? Her insides twirled and she was reminded yet again that skipping breakfast hadn’t been the best idea.
She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. Something weird was happening..
She looked at the armored breastplate he wore, hesitantly touching the cool polished surface. This was talent. With her college medieval history class and Alicia’s constant history lessons, Kate knew armor making was an art. One that went out with the Middle Ages.
Her hand drifted to her lap. She took another look around the tent and the thunk in her stomach had nothing to do with that skipped meal.
No. It was ridiculous. What she was thinking could not be. The ring and the shield were some new type of gimmick. Ingenious products. Nothing more.
“Enough is enough.” Kate shot to her feet, thrusting all thoughts of anything else from her mind. She was an intelligent woman. Rational. And her rational intelligence was telling her that it was time to get out of here and find Alicia. Back to normal. Fast.
She shoved past Alex, but Nick blocked the tent flap.
“Would you mind calling off your goon?” she asked without turning around.
She felt Alex behind her before her touched her shoulder. And, boy, did she feel that. A zinger, right through her entire nervous system.
“Tell me what I wish to know and I’ll consider allowing you to leave.”
She shrugged off his touch and turned around. “If I knew what you wanted to know, I’d tell you. But I don’t, so I’m leaving.”
Exhaling heavily, he crossed his arms. “I would have thought you’d have a ready explanation. You couldn’t have believed you’d carry off this pretense.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t like to be accused of something I didn’t do.” She also didn’t like his intimidation tactics. She hadn’t allowed her ex-husband to intimidate her and there was no way any other man would.
She crossed her arms and drew herself up to her full five-eight. “Look here, buddy, I’ll say it again. I don’t know what you’re talking about and, frankly, I don’t care.” She turned toward the flap, glaring at the man in her way. “Get out of my way.”
“Not until you return my ring,” said Alex.
Kate spun back around—which wasn’t helping with the world-tilting thing. “You have some nerve. What is this, a new way to mug someone? Tough. I am not giving you this ring. I paid for it; it’s mine. Go find your own.” She slammed her hands to her hips and glared at him.
Alex had the gall to smile.
That’s it; she was out of here. She shoved Nick aside, but Alex was too fast. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up against him.
Her world tilted again, but in a completely different way. Her skin burned where he touched and her heart pounded. The scent of him: earth and exertion, leather and horseflesh, filled her senses. His size, his body, surrounded her. Overwhelmed her in a way that had nothing to do with intimidation. For a moment, she forgot what they were arguing about, focusing solely on where she was. And where his hand was. And his lips… where they were.
“Tell me how you obtained that ring,” he said, those lips tightening into a scowl.
Kate blinked. Back to reality. She tried to pull away, but Alex wasn’t giving her an inch. “You’d better let go of me before I report you to your boss.”
Alex merely tightened his hold.
“Fine.” She huffed, sucking in another breath that he’d stolen—on two levels. “I got it from a pile of old junk.”
Nick snorted.
Alex glared. “An inventive story. But I want the truth.”
Alarm bells sounded in her brain as her bravado fled and fear finally made itself known. What had she stumbled into? These guys weren’t about to go postal on the fairgrounds, were they? Ransom her? Or… worse?
She had to get out of here. Preferably before she died from lack of oxygen.
Okay, survival first, crazy thieves second.
“All right. Look, it’s true. I did buy it from someone.” She injected every drop of sincerity she possessed into her words.
He loosened his hold. Barely. “Who?”
“One of the vendors.”
“Which one? What was he selling? What did he look like?”
“Hey, give me a chance to answer, will you? And some air, too.”
Alex let go and Kate took a deep breath. “That’s better.” She adjusted the stupid sleeve that
had been caught behind her back. “He was some merchant. Wore orange and brown. Chatty. Tried to sell me a bunch of other—”
“Farley.” Alex rubbed his jaw and looked at Nick. “Of course.”
“But how would he know where it was?” Nick asked. “And why was he in the market? Shouldn’t he be preparing to meet you in the lists?”
The two men seemed to forget about her as they discussed this Farley person and castles and vendettas and a slew of other things, which was just fine with Kate. She inched toward the opening.
“Don’t move.”
She considered bolting, but then Nick stepped on the hem of her dress. She glared at him. “Do you mind?”
“I don’t, no,” he said, tapping the hilt of his sword again. “But Alex? I do believe he does. A lot.”
“That I do.” Alex swiped his hand over his mouth and along his jaw.
Not fair. That was one sexy move—even if he was exasperated with her.
Join the club.
“How could you wear it throughout the village without thought to the consequences?” he asked.
“What consequences? It’s a ring. What’s significant about that? Lots of people wear jewelry. One woman had a fortune’s worth sewn into her costume that was eclipsed only by a really bad hair dye job.”
“But not everyone wears that ring.” Alex took a step toward her. “My ring.”
Kate refused to back away. “How can it be your ring? I bought it fair and square.”
“You don’t know the significance of his ring?” asked Nick, his hand still on the sword hilt.
“What’s so special about it? And quit calling it ‘his ring.’”
“But it is his ring.” Nick flexed his hand on the sword.
She was not going to let them intimidate her. “Look, I’m telling you the truth. It’s mine. I bought it. And I don’t see what the big deal is. Just go talk to whoever came up with this idea and get your own.”
“Fine,” Alex said. “You bought it. Who has seen you wearing it?”
“Other than Bad Hair Dye Woman and her maid? I have no idea. Whoever was paying attention as we walked down the street. A few vendors. I only bought it within the last hour.” Which made her even later to meet Alicia. She had two reasons for wanting to get out of this tent. She looked behind her. Still too far to make a run for it. And then there was Nick…
Alex did that sexy hand swipe thing again. “Even an hour can pose problems, especially if the woman’s hair was orange.”
“God’s blood, no.” Nick’s mouth fell open. “Pray, say it wasn’t.”
Kate tried to keep the smile off her face. Served the two of them right. “Yep, it was. And she had the worst teeth I’ve ever seen. Why? Ring some bells?”
“God’s blood, woman. What have you done?” Nick grabbed a pitcher and downed whatever was inside. Kate was betting on beer. Went with the whole lumberjack image. “Do you have any idea who Alex is?”
“Well, since he nixed Galahad, I’ll go with Henry the Eighth.”
Nick slammed the pitcher on the table. “He is Alexander Traverse. Earl of Shelton.”
An earl. At least he didn’t aspire to king, Kate had to give him that. “Okay. Right. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”
But then she couldn’t help laughing. At herself for buying into their act.
They were actors. RenFaire revivalists. Not some psychos trying to scare the daylights out of her. They were just staying in character. Lord-of-the-manor-ing her. She almost clapped, they were that good.
Yet, they stood there so quietly angry, the veins in Alex’s neck standing out above his collar, that she reined in her laughter. Nick wasn’t laughing either and that niggling feeling that something wasn’t right returned.
They were a little too into their roles.
Hell. Alex could have the stupid ring. It wasn’t worth the time she was losing with Alicia and she had more important things to do than get caught up in a medieval drama.
“Here.” She twisted the ring. “You can have it. No hard feelings. Your performance was worth the five bucks I paid for it.” She forced a smile. Anything to get out of this tent.
“Wait. Don’t.” Alex ran his hand through his hair, knocking the tie out of his ponytail, and, oh man, was that a good look on him.
She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, and her costume suddenly seemed to be shrink-wrapped to her body as the temperature in the tent spiked a few degrees.
Oh for pete’s sake. How could she be attracted to this nut? She tugged harder on the ring.
“No.” He put his hand over hers. “Keep it.”
“Hang on. One minute you’re all, ‘Mine mine mine,’ and now I can keep it? Make up your mind.”
Alex didn’t say anything. Neither did Nick. Something was… not wrong, per se, but off.
Really off.
She looked at their faces, their costumes. The homemade candles. The broadsword. The restored shield. She raised her hand to stare at the shining ring. The ring that had been dull and dented earlier.
The skipped-breakfast feeling started again in her stomach.
Kate looked at Alex, standing there without one ounce of humor and as into his role as someone could be and not have it be real…
“What—” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “What’s the date today?”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “The fourteenth of September.”
She sighed in relief.
Until he added, “In the year of our Lord, fourteen hundred, eighty-seven.”
Chapter Three
“Fourteen hundred…?” No no no no. Absolutely not. “I’m not buying that.”
It was ridiculous. Impossible. She was done. D-O-N-E with these two wackos.
A surge of adrenaline allowed her to run around Nick and get out of the tent before he could react.
Thank God for her running shoes. She’d head to the crenellated wall that enclosed the faire and follow it back to the castle gate. Alicia would have to show up there at some point, probably mad as hell, but Kate was done with this nightmare. She had a baby to get ready for and a life to get back to.
She poured on the speed as she rounded the back of Alex’s tent. Fourteen eighty-seven? Yeah, right. Nice try. She’d had enough of bizarro-world. La-La Land. Whatever.
Shouts behind her urged her faster while she scanned the countryside for the faire wall.
There wasn’t one.
There also weren’t any sounds from the turnpike.
Kate’s steps slowed. No way…
She looked up. Harrisburg had a pretty busy airport; there were always planes in the sky and it was a clear day. Not a cloud.
Nor a plane.
Not even a hot air balloon.
It couldn’t be…
She stopped. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she scanned the horizon. Besides the no-plane thing, there also were no power lines. No smoke from the nuclear reactors at nearby Three Mile Island. The skyline was as pristine as—
No way.
Alex grabbed her arm and Kate let herself be turned around. It just couldn’t be…
“Would you care to explain this mad dash of yours?”
Funny how, even with a chest covered in armor, the guy wasn’t breathing hard. But he also wasn’t trying to wrap his mind around the impossible.
“You said fourteen eighty-seven, right? I’m not hearing things?”
“You heard me correctly.” He gestured back to his tent. “Now, may we finish our conversation with some civility?”
He didn’t give her any choice as he kept his firm hold on her arm and started walking. Kate’s body went on autopilot because her brain was too stunned at what was staring her in the face.
Fourteen hundred and eighty-seven. Oh. My. God.
***
Master Griff, or, rather, Jonathan Griff when not working on this project for The Boss, checked the time on his watch and gnawed on his lip. He’d thought the process would go a little more smoothly than this.
He fluffed the cloud beneath him and made sure the window wasn’t in any danger of falling to earth. That would cause some problems.
He swished the peephole in the cloud a little wider. Certainly Kate would believe Alex. This obviously wasn’t Pennsylvania, and it most certainly wasn’t the twenty-first century.
But that was the problem with twenty-first century inhabitants. They were beyond taking things on faith. Which made his job so much harder. Help your Charges find what they most desire. Make them Believe. His position’s all-encompassing job description. He really had his work cut out for him this time.
And here, he’d thought he was one step closer to getting his wings…
***
“Drink,” Alex ordered when they returned to the tent. He pressed her onto the bench and put a mug of something in her hand. “I don’t want you fainting before I get answers.”
“I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“Your life is not over.”
“Yet,” added Nick.
She took a sip from the mug. Wine. Well, it was five o’clock somewhere, right?
How about in fourteen eight-seven? Was it five o’clock now?
Kate took another sip. Bigger, this time.
Good God. This place… It was real. Alex and Nick… They were real, not some wackos—oh, God. She was the wacked-out one.
She looked around. That helmet on the table; it was part of an actual suit of armor, like the one he was wearing, and the gloves—gauntlets—he’d removed earlier. All those people in the arena… the boy on the hill… the merchants…
“Well, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.”
Nick glared. “His name is Traverse. Lord Traverse. Not Toto.”
Kate smiled, but it wasn’t with amusement. She was losing it. “Forget I said that. It’s after your time.”
Oh. My. God. After his time. What was she saying? What was she thinking? Where was the level-headed executive now? The woman able to juggle five projects at once and pull in new accounts to boot?
Oh, just somewhere in the fifteenth century.
Through The Leaded Glass Page 3