about him, from his dark locks to the angle of his clean-
shaven chin, appeared the same as Andrew’s. And
though each stood at a different but somewhat modest
height, the trio had identical builds, even identical
strides!
The blue-eyed man—Judy thought he seemed the
eldest, probably only slightly older than herself—thrust
out his arm, pointing at her. The tip of his finger nearly
touched her nose, and she flinched, pressing herself
against the back of her chair. He barked at her in his
sharp, incomprehensible language.
Judy hadn’t a clue as to what he had said. But she
heard herself respond with the only French phrase that
remained in her vocabulary ten years out of high school:
“Je m’appelle Judith.”
Judith. God, how she hated her given name, or at
least she had as a teenager. But Mademoiselle O’Flynn,
her tenth grade French teacher, had insisted she use
it in class. So that’s what came out now. I am called
Judith.
The man scowled but continued to address her. Judy
remained bewildered, and she’d used up her entire
repertoire of conversational French. So she sat there
finishing her second large mug of wine and fighting the
urge to bring her legs up under herself and curl into a
protective ball.
“She doesn’t speak French, Robin,” Andrew
announced. “She appears only to speak English, though
not very well. If you wish her to understand, speak slowly
in that tongue.”
“You have no Norman French and speak English
badly?” Robin asked Judy with a frown. “Where are you
from, wench? And do not lie, I warn you.”
She refrained from announcing—haughtily—that
she hailed from America. Andrew hadn’t been very
impressed with that information. And if she really had
traveled back in time, America did not yet exist as a
country. If she named it, this man, Robin, would believe
she lied. Since he had warned her not to, she hedged.
“A faraway land.” In miles and time.
The thought made her wince, and she swallowed
back tears. When the servant with the jug appeared
again, unobtrusively topping off the men’s tankards, she
held out her own for refilling. As soon as she could bring
the cup to her lips, she swallowed back more wine.
“Your family. What are you called?”
“Lam—”
Her history, not surprisingly, failed her. Judy didn’t
know what the situation between England and Italy
might be. Was there an Italy? Weren’t they all city-states
with petty kings to rule them? Did the Pope and King
John get along? Were these English nobles Catholic or
Protestant? When had the Reformation occurred? Judy
couldn’t remember, if she’d ever known. Her head hurt,
so she gulped the dregs from her cup, hoping to dull the
pain.
Fortunately, she found herself spared having to
provide her surname, which sounded so obviously
Italian to anyone with an ear, because Andrew
commented, “Judith Lamb. A fair enough name. Indeed,
an English name.”
The third brother—Elfred, she presumed—reached
out and roughly tucked up her chin. “Aye, a fair name
and a fair face. But why is her hair unseemingly shorn?
And these clothes.” He lowered his hand from her chin,
grabbed her wrist, and yanked her to her feet. “What
manner of garments are these?”
Judy’s metal mug clattered to the floor as she lost
her grip on the handle. It rolled toward her tote, which
Andrew had set down a few feet away. Immediately Judy
stooped down, as though to pick up her tankard but
actually to retrieve her bag. Unfortunately, her head
swam and she wobbled, allowing Robin a second to
perceive her intentions. Moving more quickly than she,
he scooped up the tote and stepped beyond her reach.
“Give it back,” she cried, lurching as she stood
upright. If Andrew hadn’t caught her about the waist,
Judy thought she might have sunk to her knees.
Cradling the tote in one arm, Robin attempted to
open it with his free hand. He had no success. “There
is no string,” he observed, “no tie. ’Tis sealed.”
“How can a satchel have no opening?” Elfred asked
curiously as he leaned forward to peer at the bag in
Robin’s hands.
“No doubt it’s been sewn shut,” Andrew surmised,
taking the tote from Robin.
“It is not sewn shut,” Robin declared with authority.
“I examined it.”
“Then ’tis a mystery I will solve.”
“And what will you do with the wench here?”
“She is a mystery I should also like to solve.”
Robin made a scoffing noise. “What? You’ve naught
to do otherwise?”
“Nothing except protect those who remain here after
you and Elfred leave.” Andrew gestured with a broad
sweep of one arm to include no one at all.
“You needn’t mock me, Andrew. Though ’tis true
Mother and our sisters are away at a wedding, and Elfred
and I will soon be joining our sire near London, you are
needed to protect the demesne, our servants, and the
town’s folk of Wixcomb.”
“I mock no one, Robin,” he insisted, though Judy
heard a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Why should I resent
being left behind, still again, to watch over the babes
and the aged when I have such a comely wench to
amuse me?”
Robin tsked, and Elfred said testily, “You could do
other with your life, Andrew. You could do as I do, and
ride the circuit with other knights, competing in
tourneys that earn us good, solid coin.”
“Is that where you are going? To compete for money?”
“Nay, I—”
“Elfred is coming with me, as you certainly know,”
Robin put in. “He asked to join Father, and I decided he
could.”
“But I asked, and you said nay,” Andrew pointed out.
“Damn you! For a brother I love well, Andrew, you
try me sorely! What do you think, that we are joining
our sire and the other English barons to tryst with
comely damsels and drink ourselves into sweet dreams?
This business with King John is serious. If Lackland
fails to concede to our demands, there will be war!”
Judy jerked, and Andrew tightened his hold around
her waist. His hand actually slid upward so that his
splayed fingers pressed against her ribs, and the edge
of his thumb grazed the underside of her breast.
Under other circumstances, Judy would have
extricated herself from his embrace. Certainly, she’d
have given the groper a good tongue-lashing. But Robin’s
bellowing had the same effect as someone beating a
kettle drum—she flinched and her lashes fluttered. So
Judy remained anchored by Andrew’s arm, deciding that
staying on her feet was preferable to falling down, even
if the man who served as her anchor copped a feel.
“Grow up, little brother,” the blue-eyed knight urged.
Judy felt sure that he and Andrew had had similar
conversations before, and that Robin had grown tired of
them. “There is slim chance that Elfred will ever rule
Laycock, and none at all that you will. Elfred accepts
his lot; you must, too. For now, enjoy your days as lord of
the keep, while Father and I are away. Mayhap the
experience will enable you to oversee your own fief
wisely, should you obtain one.”
“I shall bear your advice in mind, Robin. And I shall
most surely enjoy my authority, fleeting as it is, by
entertaining myself however I like.”
Robin glanced at Judy. “Aye, that you will, I’m sure,”
he said before turning to Elfred with a shrug. “Let us be
off. This curious wench has delayed us, and we’ve no
time to dawdle. I must join Father as soon as I’m able.”
“You can’t mean to leave that—that urchin here with
Andrew!” Elfred sputtered.
“Aye. Why not? She appears harmless enough, and
she seems to amuse him. At least, she soon shall.”
“Robin, you cannot be serious! We should take her
with us and, at the very least, leave her far away from
Laycock Keep.”
“Why should you do that?” Andrew demanded.
“Because she is not one of us,” Elfred explained. “She
speaks no Norman French.”
“That only marks her as a common peasant. Do you
fear the humble folk who work our land?”
“She doesn’t work our land, nor is she wedded to a
man who does. She doesn’t even dwell in Wixcomb—
she could be anyone from anywhere! In these troubling
times, ’tis not a risk I think we should take.” Elfred
paused but continued to scowl at Andrew. “What ails
you? You cling to her as though she were your lady love.”
“I thought we determined she is no lady.”
“I sure as hell am a lady!” Judy announced
indignantly, snatched from her languor by the insult.
In the boozy state that, like Demerol, dulled Judy’s
senses, she’d been content to try to understand as much
of the conversation floating around her as her drink-
addled mind and their curious accents allowed. She had
even permitted Andrew’s subtle groping without too
much indignation. But she would be damned if she’d
allow these ghosts, or whatever they were, to insult her.
There, she drew the line.
To emphasize her assertion, Judy belatedly grabbed
Andrew’s offending hand and threw it off. Unfortunately,
dignity failed her when she tried to step away and
stumbled, nearly falling.
Again, Andrew seized her. This time, when he
caught her, he hugged her to him. He even gave her a
speculative smile before raising his chin to gaze over
her head at his brothers.
“Did you hear that, Elfred? The damsel here insists
she’s nobly born. Mayhap ’tis true, despite her
questionable use of English and her appalling attire. If
it is, I should locate Lady Judith’s kin. It might improve
my lot if her sire, or her husband, could reward me for
my efforts.”
“Lady Judith!” Elfred sneered contemptuously. “Not
in a thousand years.”
“If she be not a lady, it matters naught to me.” Andrew
made his eyebrows dance.
“You are ailing,” Elfred insisted, shaking his head
in disgust, “if a female in chausses and a child’s short
tunic heats your blood. Have your way with her, if it
pleases you. But if she proves to be a spy working for
our enemies or—or a witch, your swiving will cost us
dearly.”
“A spy? A witch?” Andrew sneered. “I am not ailing,
Elfred, but your wits are addled!”
“Be still, both of you,” Robin snapped. “Indeed, Elfred,
you speak foolishly, and I’ve no time for it. I am leaving
now. Join me if you wish, or go joust, or stay here and
keep a wary eye on Andrew and the girl, whichever you
will. Father and I have serious matters to attend to.”
He turned and strode away.
Elfred hurried after him. “What of that sack she
carried?” he asked Robin. “It has no seams, it must be
enchanted. And what of the wench herself?” Without
missing a step, Elfred turned back and pointed to Judy.
“Her speech is neither true Saxon nor English. Her
clothes are all male. And her hair! She is too foreign
and curious to shelter anywhere but the scullery.
’Twould be better if she be disposed of.”
Disposed of. A pang of fear permeated the alcoholic
haze still cocooning Judy, and she whirled within the
circle of Andrew’s arms to call out to his brothers.
“I—ruined my clothes!” she announced, barely
thinking up the lies before they spilled from her lips.
Yet her explanation caught Robin’s and Elfred’s
attention, for they halted at the archway near the door
and turned around to face her. “I—I caught my hems on
fire. Luckily, a boy—a lad—offered me these garments
he’d outgrown, or I’d be naked. As for my hair—”
“What of your hair?” Elfred prompted.
Judy recalled a scene from one of her authors’
manuscripts, a period story, a historical. “I was ill with
fever not long ago,” she informed them. “They—they
shaved my head.”
“There!” Andrew said. “A fever and deliriums could
well explain why this damsel—mayhap a noble damsel—
was wandering about unescorted.”
“She was lost?” Robin asked, peering at his brother
with narrowed eyes.
“Aye,” Andrew replied. “When I first encountered her,
she asked me for directions.”
“To where?” Robin had drawn closer, and he spoke
directly to Judy now. When she failed to answer quickly,
he pressed, “From whence do you come?”
The Twilight Zone.
“What place do you seek?”
Another dimension.
Robin’s handsome face turned ruddy, and Judy knew
she had better say something quickly. “London,” she
told him, naming the first city Americans thought of
whenever they thought of England.
“London! No matter where you began your journey,
be it within or beyond England’s borders, to find your
way here when looking for London, you surely traveled
far out of your way.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
He transferred his scowl from Judy to Andrew. “What
is it she said?”
“I told you, she does not speak English properly.”
“Then how is it you understand her strange tongue
so well? And what language is it that she does speak
properly?” he fumed. “Latin?”
“Not even close,” Judy remarked with a snort. Then,
peering into Andrew’s tankard and discovering it still
held wine, she decided not to let the grape go to waste.
Taking th
e mug, she hoisted it, threw back her head,
and downed the contents. It was, she determined, much
easier dealing with these horrors smashed instead of
sober.
“God’s tears, the waif is drunk,” Elfred observed as
he retraced his steps to stand beside Robin.
She definitely was that, and knowing it, Judy
grinned. So far today, it was the best thing that had
happened to her.
“’Scuse me,” she apologized with a hiccup, covering
her lips with her hand and closing her eyes.
That proved a mistake. The moment she did, she
felt nauseous. Even when she snapped her eyes open
again and tried to focus on Robin’s face, he and the room
beyond him whirled. Judy’s stomach churned as she
fought the urge to vomit.
“Aye, she’s drunk,” Andrew confirmed, slipping an
arm behind her thighs and lifting her like a baby. “Don’t
fret, Elfred. I doubt the wench can do much harm. Even
I should be able to handle her.”
Though her lids felt heavy and remained nearly
closed, Judy detected the leer in Andrew’s chocolate-
colored eyes when he glanced down at her. She’d visited
enough singles’ bars to recognize the gleam and to
understand that “handling her” was precisely what he
had in mind.
“See that you do, Andrew,” Robin advised. “Use her
’til you’re sore, and if you determine where she belongs,
send her back there. But I remind you, little brother,
you do have duties at Laycock which you’d best not
neglect.”
“I’m fairly confident I can manage all of them and
Judith as well,” Andrew returned. “Farewell, brothers!
Rest easy in the knowledge that Laycock Keep shall still
be standing upon your return.”
With Judy still cradled in his arms, he strode across
the hall and began to climb the exceedingly narrow,
winding staircase to a floor somewhere above.
“Where...are you taking me?” she asked.
“To bed.”
Oh, bed. That sounded nice. A mattress and covers
to cuddle up in.
Damn! Judy went rigid in Andrew’s arms when, a
heartbeat later, she recalled his true intentions. Her
mouth dropped open in startled concern as he kicked
open a door, banging it against an inside wall, and
dropped her roughly onto a bed. When he jumped onto
the bed and stretched out beside her, Judy finally found
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