Kohl, Candice - A Twist in Time.txt

by A Twist in Time. txt (lit)

she was available.

  Judy felt flattered. What would it be like to date this

  guy? An honest-to-goodness knight, handsome, virile,

  young—well, too young, really. A few years her junior,

  same as Andrew. But she sensed a maturity in him

  that Andrew seemed to lack.

  Philip seemed unlike Andrew in other ways. True,

  she hadn’t known him long enough to make final

  judgments, but she hadn’t known Andrew any longer.

  Judy sensed the differences between them lay not only

  in the obvious, the one being fair and the other dark.

  Philip was also mannerly while Andrew was boorish,

  and he seemed genuinely concerned for her, not intent

  on using her body for his own pleasure.

  “I think I would know if I were married,” Judy

  allowed. “Surely, I’d know if I had children. I’m quite

  certain I do not.”

  Philip didn’t move his feet, but he angled his head

  slightly and leaned forward so that he seemed to stand

  even closer to Judy. “I agree that you would do well to

  trust your instincts. You appear a maiden to me, also.

  You manner is not that of a married lady. But still, ’tis

  important you learn the truth. If you’ve no husband,

  you surely have parents who miss you and may fear

  you are dead.”

  An image of Judy’s folks, Tony and Nancy Lambini,

  at their house in Queens, filled her with sudden despair.

  By now, they knew of her disappearance. By now, they

  feared her dead.

  “Do not cry,” Philip urged softly, flicking a tear from

  the corner of Judy’s eye with the pad of his thumb. “In

  due time, we will locate your kin. You shall all be

  reunited. And though they are surely concerned at this

  moment, when you return, they will be overjoyed.”

  Maybe yes, maybe no. Philip, despite his confidence,

  had no means of locating the Lambinis and reassuring

  them that their daughter lived. And she certainly didn’t.

  With no idea how she had arrived here, Judy had no

  idea how to get back to where she belonged.

  “I think—I think I should go inside.”

  “Very well.” Philip turned, placed his hand lightly in

  the small of Judy’s back, and escorted her into the keep.

  “What’s happened?” she asked, puzzled by what she

  saw when they stepped through the archway into the

  great hall. The tables had all been removed, replaced by

  people lying on the floor as though they intended to sleep

  there. “Is something wrong?”

  “Those would be my questions,” a familiar voice,

  behind her, said. “What’s amiss? Did something

  happen...that should na’ have happened?”

  Judy whirled around to face Andrew. His face looked

  flushed, and he reeked of booze.

  Philip, who turned more slowly to confront his friend,

  countered, “What would cause you to ask that? There

  has been no trouble.”

  “You two ha’ been gone quite a...” Andrew hiccuped...

  “while. The servants ha’ sought out their pallets in the

  hall.”

  “Judith and I merely took a stroll around the keep.”

  Andrew said something to Philip in French, and Judy

  saw Philip flush with anger.

  “What did you say?” she demanded of Andrew. “Speak

  English so that I can understand.”

  He stepped closer and explained, “I merely asked if

  you two had sought out pallets. Or if you’d lain in the

  hay.” He reached out and pulled Philip’s mantle off her

  shoulders. “Nay,” he mumbled, his face so near Judy’s

  that his pungent breath made her recoil. “No bits o’ straw

  that I can see.”

  “Andrew, you’re drunk.” Philip grabbed his cloak

  away. “Otherwise, you’d never dare suggest such a vile

  thing about us.” He continued speaking, but as Andrew

  had done, Philip lapsed into staccato French.

  “Oh, aye?” Andrew returned with words Judy

  comprehended. “Ask the lady,” he sneered, his dark eyes

  flicking to hers, “whom she had in her bed this

  afternoon. She, without a stitch o’ clothes on!”

  What Philip might have said didn’t interest Judy in

  the least. It was her host’s retort that concerned her,

  incensed her. What he had attempted earlier in the

  day had been reprehensible. And she had had clothes

  on, at least her sweater! To refer to his own lecherous

  assault as though she’d encouraged his advances,

  participated in them, enjoyed them...!

  Judy’s indignant fury caused her to do something

  she had never before done in her life. Drawing back

  her hand, she slapped Andrew smartly across the face.

  He sobered instantly. Judy saw it in his eyes. But

  he made no move to retaliate, physically or verbally. He

  merely stared at her for a long moment and then turned

  on his heel, leaving her to Philip’s care.

  Seven

  For a week, Andrew kept himself scarce, though

  Philip visited Laycock frequently. Philip came to see

  Judy, not Andrew. She was glad of it, for he eased her

  loneliness and enabled her to forget, for a little while

  anyway, the horror of her predicament. And the more

  time she spent with Philip, the more she admired him.

  Judy sincerely doubted the same would have proved true

  if she’d been forced to endure Andrew’s company for any

  length.

  Today, walking with Philip beyond the bailey walls,

  Judy found herself returning again to the place she’d

  awakened that first morning to discover she had been

  hurled back through history. If Philip wondered why she

  frequently led him to this precise spot, he did not ask.

  His questions all had to do with York and the old knight

  called Peter Lamb as he attempted, not too subtly, to

  help Judy recall her past. Yet she never let on that she

  remembered her entire life in vivid detail anymore than

  she ever revealed the accoutrements in her tote bag.

  “My lady?” Philip spread his cloak on the ground in

  a Galahad gesture. Joining Judy as she sat, he stretched

  out his legs and crossed his booted feet at the ankles.

  “Have you had any word from your father?” she asked

  him, fairly certain that Andrew had no word from his

  own.

  “Aye. One of my brothers returned home briefly, and

  he caught me up.” Philip plucked a blade of tall grass

  and chewed on it. “King John balks at the conditions

  the English barons propose, but in the end, he knows

  he must accept them.”

  “Why?”

  When Judy asked questions, Philip answered

  eagerly, even patiently. Through him, she had already

  learned a great deal about everyday matters in this year

  of 1215—also of greater, more political ones.

  “John lost all his French fiefs when King Philip

  declared him a feudal felon many years ago. He has

  known little but defeat in his attempt to reclaim or

  expand his holdings. Five years past, he had some

  success in Ireland. But last
summer, he found himself

  retreating from the French at Bouvines. Here in

  England, most noblemen are dismayed and disgusted

  by his unsavory character, his endless greed. So the

  barons have decided he must not be allowed to put

  himself above the law any longer. If John does not agree

  and sign our written conditions, he’ll find himself

  murdered before he can rule another day.”

  He smiled at Judy and considered her thoughtfully.

  “’Tis unusual that a woman, especially one so young as

  you, is intrigued with politics. Most damsels I know are

  more concerned with home and heart.”

  Judy quelled her impulse to protest. She could have

  lectured Philip for an hour, but that not only would have

  been presumptuous, it would be pointless. The edicts

  and expectations of her lifetime did not apply to his. So

  she bit her tongue and smiled back at him instead. “I’ve

  always been different.”

  “Is that so?” Both Philip’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you

  remembering this, Judith?”

  “What? No. It’s...just something I sense. My

  instincts, I suppose you’d say.”

  “Ahhh.” He glanced around and reluctantly changed

  the subject. “What say you we visit the village?”

  “No.” Judy avoided going into town. It wasn’t the

  Wixcomb she wanted it to be. Worse, she didn’t care to

  return there and relive her initial experiences of that

  first morning, when she’d foolishly presumed the hamlet

  to be little more than a theatrical set. “I like it here.”

  “Why?”

  Because it connects me to my past. It’s where I fell that

  last night in my own time, and where I woke again in yours.

  “I don’t know. It’s peaceful and pretty.”

  “Aye.” Philip nodded as he gazed at the forest that

  consumed the land to the north ’til it reached Laycock’s

  postern walls. “All England’s pretty, I suppose, if you like

  trees.”

  “Don’t forget the meadows,” Judy added, turning

  around and gesturing toward the grass-covered hills that

  separated Laycock Keep from Wixcomb, to the south.

  “They’re pretty, too.”

  Judy supposed they really were, to people who liked

  that sort of scenery. The prettiest thing she could

  imagine seeing would be the corpulent, bristly-chinned

  hot dog vendor, Maurice, who worked the corner near

  her office. Judy could envision his aluminum cart with

  its frayed, cockeyed umbrella, and she could almost

  smell the kraut and onions, too.

  “Are you sure I cannot persuade you to walk to the

  village?” Philip persisted. “There are artisans living

  there as well as farmers. I’d buy you a trinket.”

  “Philip, you don’t have to buy me presents.”

  His eyes met Judy’s. “But I would like to. I should

  also like you to visit North Cross someday soon. Will

  you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Judy didn’t want to go anywhere too far away. Here

  was where she’d landed after her initial time travel.

  Here was where she certainly had to depart if she ever

  managed a return trip.

  Yet she felt guilty refusing Philip. As Wixcomb was

  only a stone’s throw away from “her spot,” she pushed

  herself to her feet and agreed belatedly, “I suppose a

  walk into town would be nice after all.”

  Just as Philip rose to join her, a startling static

  charge of energy shot through Judy, making her sway

  as though she were standing on the deck of a ship that

  sailed through rough waters. The electricity didn’t

  emanate from the air, as though a thunder storm

  threatened, but pulsed instead from the earth. For the

  briefest moment, the hair on her arms rose. Abruptly,

  and as suddenly as it came, the sensation vanished.

  “Judith? Are you well?” Philip grabbed her shoulders

  and searched her face.

  “I—I’m fine. I probably stood up too fast. Got a little

  light-headed for a second, is all. Let’s go.” She turned,

  extricating herself from Philip’s grasp. But with her very

  first step in the direction of Wixcomb, Judy tripped on

  the hem of her skirt.

  He tried to catch her, but his fingers only clutched

  air as Judy stumbled onto her knees. “Judith!” Philip

  followed her down to the ground so fast, it seemed he

  also fell. Suddenly, they both lay sprawled across his

  cloak.

  “Methinks you are not destined to walk to the village

  today.” He chuckled and shook his head, grinning at

  Judy ruefully. Then his smile vanished. “Mayhap you

  are destined to be here...in my arms.”

  Reaching out, Philip grasped Judy’s waist and tugged

  her closer to him. Their noses nearly touched, and she

  could see flecks of black in his cerulean blue eyes.

  Philip kissed her expertly, and Judy offered no

  resistance. This was the stuff of which young girls’

  fantasies and chick flicks were made—handsome

  knights wooing beautiful damsels in the grass under a

  cloudless, blue sky. All right—knights wooing damsels,

  period, Judy amended. Considering how tense and

  unpredictable her life had become, she deserved

  whatever respite came her way. A little romance...who

  would complain?

  Philip began exploring Judy’s parted lips with his

  tongue. She responded in kind—it had been a long, long

  time since she’d been thoroughly kissed, and Philip was

  one great kisser. He seemed to interpret her

  enthusiasm as permission to press his knee between

  her thighs. Gaining purchase above her, he maneuvered

  Judy onto her back.

  Boy, this guy was slick. He knew just how much

  pressure to apply with his mouth and how far to go with

  his hands so that she wouldn’t feel threatened. Philip

  could give lessons, Judy found herself thinking.

  He began to fondle her breasts through the fabric

  covering them. Judy sighed as her nipples hardened.

  She knew her body was primed to respond to Philip’s

  expert touching, and briefly, she envisioned full carnal

  congress with this golden-haired knight. But the image

  disappeared when Judy realized she could think about

  her situation as though it were happening to somebody

  else. Obviously, she hadn’t given herself up to the

  moment or been swept away in a tide of passion, so she

  reversed her original inclination to let things escalate.

  If she didn’t feel crazy with desire, she didn’t want to

  make love. She’d been there, done that. The morning

  after was the pits.

  “Philip, no. Stop. Cut it out!”

  Immediately, Philip ceased. Pulling away, he looked

  to Judy for some explanation or, perhaps, for further

  direction.

  Geez. Handsome, one hell of a lover, a gentleman to

  boot, and I’m telling him no. Judy really hated to cut him

  off, but she had to.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I just don’t—”

 
“I understand,” he interrupted. “You do not know who

  you are or if you belong to someone. Thus, ’tis I who

  should ask forgiveness. I had no right to take advantage

  of you, Judith. I vow, it shan’t happen again.”

  “Well, leave a girl a little something to hope for,”

  she said, hoping to sound glib while trying to ignore the

  heated flush crawling up her cheeks. “My feelings, my

  status, could change by next week—or even tomorrow.”

  Philip gave her a heart-stopping smile, but Judy’s

  heart didn’t skip a beat. “Then I will hope also.”

  The two of them fell into companionable silence as

  they rearranged themselves on Philip’s cloak. Finally,

  side by side and sitting upright, their hands clasped over

  their knees while they gazed idly at the landscape, he

  spoke as though there had been no pause in their

  conversation. “Judith,” Philip said, “when we know, in

  fact, who you are and that you remain an eligible

  maiden, may I—may I court you?”

  She had thought that’s what he’d been doing. “Do

  you mean you want to ask somebody’s permission to

  see me? Someone like my father, my—my sire?”

  “Aye, exactly.” He nodded.

  “Well, sure. That is, you may,” she agreed, refusing

  to dwell on the fact that in his lifetime, Philip would

  never be able to meet Tony Lambini and ask for his

  daughter’s hand.

  “I look forward to it.” As he spoke, Philip leaned

  toward Judy. By the time he had uttered the last word,

  his lips again melded to hers.

  “Excuse me!” another manly voice boomed.

  Philip leapt to his feet, and Judy almost fell onto her

  back. They both glared at Andrew, who stepped out of

  the trees, leading his horse behind him. He looked so

  dark and dangerous that Judy’s pulse quickened.

  Immediately, she reached up to Philip and took his

  hand. When she’d gained her feet, she kept her fingers

  twined through his.

  “I did not mean to intrude,” Andrew insisted, though

  he’d clearly intended to do just that.

  “You didn’t.” Judy hoped she sounded cool. She really

  wanted to smack the obnoxious lord of Laycock.

  “If I did not, then my old friend here has lost his

  touch.” He smiled—no, he sneered, his gaze on their

  clasped hands.

  “Andrew, ’tis good to see you,” Philip told him. Judy