The Amethyst Amulets

by Cillian Burns

  Lily interrupted their private moment. “Shall we get started?” She gave Nick a long stare. Once again, some silent communication passed between them. Why was Lily sticking to Nick like a fly caught in honey? The two only knew each other through her. Didn't they?

  "If you have work to do, Lily, I can walk home,” Nick said, then swiveled his dark gaze from the older woman back to Julie.

  Julie bit back a question. Darned if she'd ask what was going on. Nick had been taking himself home without help for as long as she'd known him.

  "You won't have to walk. I'm staying.” Lily sat down and pulled a yellow legal pad that Julie had placed on the table in front of her. Picking up the pen that lay beside it, she looked expectantly toward the other two. “I'll take notes."

  Why didn't Lily want to leave them alone together? Although Nick offered to walk home, the minute he said it, Lily appeared to make up her mind to stay.

  Julie seated herself and said briskly, “Let's discuss the meat and fowl."

  To her surprise, Nick spoke up. So far, he had seemed reluctant to say much this evening.

  "Suckling pig, spring lamb like we had tonight, perhaps veal or venison. As to fish..."

  He trailed off. Had he run out of ideas already?

  "Perhaps some fowl,” Lily suggested. “Chicken, pigeon, some stuffed doves."

  "And a duck or two,” Nick added.

  Julie frowned. “This is getting expensive. We could just have some mutton instead of all the birds. Chicken would be okay. They're fairly cheap."

  They argued for fifteen minutes about which dishes to serve, Nick continually insisting his guests would expect the best.

  "Why do you say that?” Julie asked. “If we emphasize quality, variety won't be so important. A fish, two meats and a fowl should be sufficient."

  "Then we must have huge quantities of those four.” Nick was adamant.

  "Huge quantities? How many people are you asking this year?"

  "Why, the whole village and the household knights and retainers."

  "The whole village!” Julie gasped. “Close to five thousand people live here. You can't afford that kind of party, Nick."

  "Oh?” He raised an arrogant dark eyebrow. “Are you an authority on my finances, Julie?"

  "Probably more than you are,” she shot back.

  Nick snorted. “I would never permit a woman free access to my estate records."

  "Uh, Nick...” Lily began.

  He turned to her. “No, Lily, let her talk. I am curious what she knows about the earnings of my lands."

  "For heaven sakes, Nick. I do your books. How could I not know?” Her tolerance of Nick's new macho attitude was wearing thin. He was wasting time playing the lord of the castle again. And what household knights and retainers? The cook, the cleaning women?

  "You do my...” He stopped, his lips thinning into a straight line.

  He slanted a glance at Lily, seeming to seek confirmation.

  She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  "From now on, I will keep my own records. He gave Julie a withering look.

  "Fine.” She tilted her chin. “You do that.” Since he hadn't been good with numbers before, why did he think he could do better now?

  "Women keeping accounts!” he muttered, shaking his head.

  "Could we get back to the feast?” Julie asked icily.

  "Let us speak of drink.” Nick glanced at his half full glass of beer. “Do you have ale in this misbegotten time? If so, I suggest..."

  "Stop right there. I'm tired of your lord of the manor play-acting. Just lose it and get down to the matter at hand."

  "To what do you refer?” he asked, his voice as cold as hers. “I am the lord of the manor, not acting like one."

  She was about ready to tell him what he could do with his job till she remembered the paucity of her own bank account. Until she could test the publishing market with a finished book, she'd better play it a bit cool. It wouldn't be much longer, she assured herself.

  "We're getting nowhere.” Julie folded her arms across her chest. “If you give me your guest list tomorrow, I'll start on the invitations."

  They still had time to decide which foods to choose. When the acceptances came back, they'd have a better gauge for the exact amounts to order. Even with the help of the Medieval Society's treasury, the price for so large a group was astronomical and would certainly take a big bite out of Nick's meager bank account.

  Lily stood and gave Nick's sleeve a gentle tug. “Come on, Nick. I do have an order to finish before bedtime. I'll drop you off—unless you really want to walk.” Her enigmatic smile made Julie think of the Mona Lisa.

  Nick rose also and stared at Julie. “You are an unreasonable woman.” he said, his voice cold. However, his eyes said something entirely different. The heat in them stunned her and provoked an answering warmth low in her belly.

  Regaining her equilibrium, she said, “If you'd been more cooperative, we might have a tentative menu by now."

  Were these the same two people she'd known for years? Lily had never displayed an interest in the castle's affairs before and Nick had never become more than mildly annoyed at anything. Why so macho all of a sudden? And what was Lily's stake here?

  He waved his hand dismissively. “I will leave that to you and the disrespectful cook. The entertainment I will undertake to provide.” He turned his back on her and started for the door, apparently expecting Lily to fall into step behind him.

  "Are you sure that, too, isn't part of my duties?” she asked rather nastily.

  Nick stopped and turned around. “Just what is your position, Julie? You are neither my steward nor my wife as far as I can ascertain."

  Julie hesitated.

  Nick glanced at Lily who again shook her head.

  "I thought not,” he stated arrogantly. Under his breath, he murmured to Lily, “Her being my dead wife would have been too good to be true."

  The comment hadn't been meant for her ears, but her hearing was excellent. That showed Nick still had feelings for her, although why he kept referring to her as his dead wife puzzled her.

  Nick gave her one last smoldering look before turning on his heel and marching out the door. Was it anger or desire that surged like ocean waves through her body?

  Lily shook her head and smiled in apology as she followed him.

  Julie shut the door on their departing backs and leaned her forehead against its solid oak thickness. Just where had Nick's sudden air of command come from? He'd always loved playing his ancestor, but had never gone to the lengths she'd seen tonight. Had he slipped over the line between make-believe and reality? And if so, why did she feel so attracted to a madman? Maybe she was the one losing it.

  With a sigh, she went back into the parlor. Before settling into her favorite chair, she threw another log on the fire.

  Drawing a soft, blue wool afghan over her lap, she laid her head back against the leather chair. Shutting her eyes, she let a picture form in her mind. A picture of someone who would love her deeply and be willing to overcome great odds to win her. Someone with an inner strength who would not expect her to solve every problem that came along. Someone whose values she could respect. Someone who would treat her as an equal yet let her lean on him occasionally. In other words, someone vastly different from Nick. She sighed and gave her head a hard shake. She was becoming a closet romantic, dreaming of a person who didn't exist. A knight in shining armor, if you will.

  Her stuffy old colleagues at the university would be shocked to learn what lay beneath her outward facade of cool competence. Dreams weren't meant to be shared, except with someone special. Much as Julie loved her work, she had met no figurative knights in shining armor. Not even one in rusty armor, she thought wryly.

  With another sigh, Julie stopped day dreaming and began filling out the tentative list of food and drink for the feast that they had begun earlier. She could do it without Nick, but she believed he should help with planning his own party, especiall
y one as important to the Medieval Society as this one.

  May Day had been a huge celebration in the Middle Ages. The lean winter was over and the beautiful English spring arrived to feasting and dancing. In ancient times, the Celts had celebrated the same day which they called Beltane, a day set aside for worshipping the Earth Mother with sexual abandon. Then came the Romans, who drove out all but a few remnants of the Druids and their adherents.

  She gave herself a mental shake and focused on her list. For some reason, she got no farther than wondering how many chickens they'd need. Her mind refused to concentrate on the task at hand and kept conjuring up Nick in his new, more interesting persona. And that was odd in itself, since she'd never given a thought to him outside the time they spent together working on accounts or looking at armor.

  She yawned. It was bedtime. With a book as a substitute for her dream knight, she mounted the narrow oak paneled staircase to the small bedroom tucked beneath the thatched cottage's eaves. As she undressed, her mind trotted out all the things that needed to be done in the morning. Tomorrow was Saturday. She'd run out and talk to George about the food. And get the guest list from Nick. She paused. Would she find the same old Nick blathering on about his suits of armor like always? Or the man she'd seen tonight who acted more like he wore one than collected them?

  She slipped a long cotton nightie over her head and slid beneath the covers. The book she opened failed to gain her interest and she soon turned out the light. As she dozed, Nick's face formed in her mind. Strange. He'd never appeared in her daydreams before. For some reason, he'd seemed sexier and uncharacteristically arrogant tonight. The last puzzled her. In all the time she'd known him, Nick had never said an unpleasant word or given her a dark look. Yet this evening, he'd demonstrated both. Had he kept his true nature hidden all this time? And why choose tonight to let Mr. Hyde appear? She definitely didn't like it.

  Don't you? Isn't this what she envisioned in her knight? More assertiveness?

  Well, no, not quite like that. She wanted to be courted in a chivalrous fashion, not told what to do and what not to do. She wanted her man strong without the male chauvinism of the real medieval knights.

  Use your head, girl. Men were like that back then.

  But this is now, not then. Confusion threatened to overwhelm her. Just who was Nick anyway? A mild mannered historian—or something quite, quite different? One thing for sure—tonight's Nick had definitely caught her attention.

  Nicholas said very little to Lily on the drive home. His senses were reeling. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

  As they crossed the drawbridge, he turned to the silent woman beside him. “You will come in, Lily. I have more questions."

  Lily nodded. She pulled the car next to the keep's steps and they got out. Once inside, Nicholas motioned for her to stand before the lord's table. Too agitated to seat himself in his chair, he paced back and forth. Vaguely, he again noticed there were no rushes strewn about. And the place lacked the familiar smells other than a bit of mustiness. But that could wait. First, he had to find out a few things.

  "Lily,” he began slowly, “tell me about the present Lord Nicholas de Montclair."

  "He's a very unpretentious man. He usually drops both the ‘Lord’ and the ‘de’ and goes by just plain Nick Montclair. He's scholarly and loves the subject he teaches at Cambridge University—the medieval period of English history, specializing in the thirteen century, as does Julie. And he collects old suits of armor."

  He glared at her for a moment, then changed the subject. “If there is a man with my name living here, where is he?"

  Lily pursed her lips. “I told you before. I believe you both are inhabiting the same body, with you as the dominant personality."

  Nicholas halted beside the trestle table and pounded his fist on it. “Bloody hell, woman. I will not have this!"

  Lily jumped and the table trembled. “I can't see that you have much choice,” she replied tartly.

  He scowled at her. “How so?"

  "Do you know how to send yourself back in time?"

  "No. Do you?"

  Lily looked smug. “Certainly. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't."

  Nicholas's jaw dropped open. “You brought me here? For what purpose?"

  "Hopefully, for a very good purpose."

  "Which is...?” he demanded, looming over her.

  Lily stepped away from him. “I can't tell you why yet, but you will find out eventually.

  "Woman..."

  "Let it be, my lord. Suppose you get a good night's sleep and we'll talk more tomorrow.” She waved her hand and stood watching him, as though waiting for something.

  Nicholas wanted to protest, but his body rebelled. Weariness washed over him when she mentioned sleep.

  Reluctantly he nodded. “Until tomorrow."

  With another wave of her hand, Lily again disappeared. He remembered the strange stories he'd heard in Damascus. Tales of magic lamps inhabited by genies. Could Lily be one of those? A nervous shiver raced down his spine. He'd been raised with a healthy respect for creatures with magical powers. If Lily were one, he'd just as soon not know. Shaking his head he mounted the stone stairway. He needed sleep. He'd deal with tomorrow when it got here.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 5

  As Julie drove through the archway between the lower and upper baileys, she spied Nick stripped to the waist and swinging one of the castle's broadswords over his head. She stifled a gasp as his blade swooped down and just missed decapitating a harmless yellow mongrel sniffing at his shoes. The dog yelped and slunk off, his tail between his legs.

  Angry that Nick would endanger the animal, Julie leaped from the car. “Stop that!” she shouted as she ran toward him.

  Nick lowered his weapon and stood waiting for her, a smile on his face.

  "Good morning, Julie.” He swiped an arm across his forehead to wipe away the perspiration.

  Julie lurched to a stop in front of him. “What are you doing?” she cried, feeling her face flush with irritation and something else she preferred not to give a name.

  "Practicing my swordsmanship. One's skills become dull if not honed.” He looked puzzled at her angry frown.

  "Cut it out,” she snapped. “The audience is me, not a bunch of American tourists."

  "Those people in my keep yester morn were tourists, were they not?"

  Julie glared. “You know they were. Let's focus on today, Nick. I need that list of invitees to the May Day Feast.” Foolishly, she'd let this infuriating man crawl under her skin again. Calm down, she told herself. If he succeeds in upsetting you, he wins the game he's playing.

  Nick looked puzzled. “List? I told you to invite the whole village. The weather is fine. We will set up tables out here so everyone..."

  Julie grabbed his arm—the one without the sword—and gave it a shake. “You will not invite everyone. You can't afford five thousand guests. Last year, about sixty people came. That's a manageable number.” She pressed her lips together tightly. This was one battle she intended to win

  "I have money,” he stated stiffly, as if he'd read her mind. “Why do you preach economy? My estate has always been rich."

  Julie sighed and let go of his arm. He just kept ignoring the harsh facts pertaining to ancient castles moldering away in today's world. “With the Crown taking most of your income in taxes and the tourist fees barely keeping you afloat, you can't afford to entertain half the county. You know this, Nick. You just don't want to face facts."

  "I see,” he said slowly.

  While she watched him absorb what she'd said, her eyes slid unchecked down his bare chest. She'd never realized what a splendid body Nick had been hiding under his loose sweaters and baggy tweeds. Sweat covered his tanned skin. He had muscular arms and a washboard stomach—very nice indeed. And his jeans fit much too well for her peace of mind. No doubt about the hardness of thigh—or other parts contained by the tight pants. He must
have been exercising for years with his armor and broadswords, though she'd never observed him before. And while it had done wonders for his body, it didn't really please her, merely underlined the growth of his obsession with the thirteenth century. But still, that body...

  Before she could stop herself, her gaze raked over him again. He grinned, revealing a set of straight white teeth. Lifting an eyebrow, he said, “So I do interest you,” as he sheathed his sword.

  "Not for a minute.” She spun on her heel and headed toward the keep.

  Nicholas chuckled. Since his fourteenth year, women had flocked around him. But after his formal betrothal to Julianne, he had eyes for no other. Then his laughter stilled. His dear wife. Gone two days, and already his eyes wandered. He clenched his fists and strode after this woman who looked like his wife but was not Julianne.

  He caught up with her at the steps to the keep's front door. “Where are you going?"

  "To your office to find the guest list.” She didn't look at him, just climbed the stairs and started across the great hall.

  Relieved not to have to locate the place himself, Nicholas followed her to a room in the east wing which had not been there before. It was small and paneled in dark oak. A large carved oak table took up the middle, a comfortable chair behind it. On the surface was a gray metal box with a lighted glass area at the front. He wondered what it was.

  He soon found out. Julie tapped her fingers on some squares on the oblong flat box in front of it, and a bunch of numbers appeared. Leaning closer, he saw the estate accounts laid out in legible order.

  His horror at the difference between what was owed and what was in the account was lessened only by his curiosity. “What is this thing?” He pointed at the box.

  Julie glanced up at him. “Have you had a head injury I don't know about?"

  Ignoring her question, he demanded, “Just answer me."

  She swiveled her chair around and stared at him. “I don't know why I'm humoring you. It's a computer, as you well know."

  Whatever that was. He watched as she scrolled through the accounts, then asked,

  "Where are the tenants’ yearly payments?"