Kohl, Candice - A Twist in Time.txt
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suspected he sounded polite rather than sincere. “You
always seem to be away of late, when e’er I come to
Laycock.”
“I may be the youngest son, but when I am the only
son remaining home, I have responsibilities.” Andrew
halted before the couple.
“Speaking of your duties, Andrew,” Philip continued,
“what of the messenger you agreed to send to York? I
would think that by now we might have had some word.”
“You offered to write the missive. Did you?”
“Well, nay, I did not. I presumed—”
“If you wrote no letter, there was naught to send.”
Philip exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Then we’d best
attend to the matter immediately. All this time I’ve been
waiting—“ He inhaled a quick, noisy breath. “Judith
needs to reassure her kin that she is well. She should
be reunited with them.”
“I agree. But do we know her kin?” Andrew cocked
an eyebrow as though issuing a challenge.
Philip looked as annoyed as Judy felt. “Sir Peter
Lamb,” he ground out. “You know good and well ’tis he
that I speak of. My grandsire’s old friend seems the
likeliest prospect.”
“A prospect is not a verity. Besides, I thought we
agreed Judith is not yet well enough to travel.”
“Sending a message on her behalf would not exert
the lady at all.”
“Then I shall send out a rider if you write the damned
message.” Andrew moved his head slightly and
addressed Judith directly. “If it is your desire, my lady.”
Such a simple, reasonable question, yet it infuriated
her. Did he dare to hint that she might prefer staying
with him rather than returning to her family? Judy felt
like the Prisoner of Zenda confined in the keep with
Andrew Laycock!
“Please,” she snapped. “Go ahead. Whatever you
think best.”
With a wave of her hand, she turned and stomped
away. But both men caught up with her, flanked her,
and kept pace.
“When we return to the keep, I’ll write the letter,”
Philip announced. “When you determine who will ride
to York with it, Andrew, do send him on his mission
straight away. There remains several hours of daylight
yet.”
“Very well. Straight away. Rest assured,” Andrew
muttered peevishly.
Judy knew why Philip felt annoyed. She knew why
she did, too. But she had no idea what had ticked Andrew
off. Oh, he had been sulky and sullen since she’d slapped
him—though he had absolutely no right to feel that way.
If any man had ever deserved a woman’s full fury, it
had been Andrew. But Judy presumed the incident would
have lit a fire beneath him. By all rights, Andrew should
have been moving heaven and earth to try to locate her
family. The sooner he did, the sooner she’d be gone and
out of his hair. At least, in theory. Because Andrew didn’t
know any effort he made would prove fruitless. Only Judy
did, and she wasn’t telling.
“You know where the bailiff’s chamber is,” Andrew
said to Philip as the three of them entered the keep
and clamored into the great hall. “He’ll have parchment
and brush so you may compose your missive.” He turned
to a servant. “Jock, find me, ah...Louis. Aye, he’s a fair
rider. Find Louis, and have him come to me promptly.”
“Milord.” The manservant, Jock, gave his master a
quick nod and then dashed from the hall.
“It shan’t take me long,” Philip advised Judy. He
squeezed her hand reassuringly and then took to the
stairs, leaving her alone with Andrew.
“Forgive me,” Andrew mumbled as he poured himself
a goblet of wine from a jug left on the high table.
Judy was very nearly floored by the unexpected
apology. “For what, exactly?” she asked suspiciously.
“For interrupting you and my friend. ’Twould seem I
kept you from getting a good swiving from the most
popular lover in this shire.”
If she had been a bomb, she would have exploded.
“You—you cockshead,” Judy screeched. She’d heard the
word bandied about and thought it seemed the perfect
epithet for Andrew Laycock.
He whirled. “How dare you, you—”
“Watch what you call me, mister!” she warned,
waggling a finger at him. “I’ve had about all the insults,
neglect and unconscionable behavior from you that I’m
going to take.”
“Uncon—?”
“Forget that you’ve left me to my own devices the
entire past week. Forget that I have nothing to do, no
one to speak with, except for Philip, if and when he visits
here. But do try to recall that you attempted to rape me
not once, but twice.”
“I never attempted to rape you,” Andrew insisted,
stomping toward Judy. “Why would I—I—have to force
myself on a wench? Women come to me begging, do you
hear? Begging!”
“Geez, Louise, you’re arrogant,” she returned.
Andrew sounded like every boy she’d known in high
school—all boasts, no conquests. “Begging? I don’t think
so.”
“What would you know?”
“I know that I rejected you. And you know I might
want Philip. That ticks you off, doesn’t it?”
“You—you rejected—me?” Andrew sputtered,
shaking his fists. “Nay, ‘twas I who scorned you. Had I
wished to bed you, I would have had you wet and wriggling
beneath me. But I did not, do you hear, I did not. ’Tis
why it bruised me not at all when I vowed to leave you
chaste. Despite my early intentions to take my ease
with you, once I had a closer look, I saw you had no
appeal.”
Judy’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t even think how
to respond to such an aspersion. In that moment of
quandary, she took a step toward Andrew so that they
stood very close. So close they were nearly eye to eye.
“I have no appeal, huh?” she finally returned,
knowing that comment had not been worth her furious
thinking. “Then why does it annoy you that Philip and I
were kissing? Because, really, if you don’t desire me,
why would you care that he does?”
Andrew exhaled a long breath, let his hands drop to
his sides, and uncurled his fingers. Evenly, he replied,
“I care only about Philip. We have been friends, closer
than brothers, since we were young lads. I’d rather he
did not sully himself with the likes of you before he
recovers his senses.”
Judy saw red. “Liar! You’re jealous! The only women
who’ll lie down for you are whores or peasants who fear
you because you’re sometimes lord-and-master of
Laycock Keep. When I rejected you, you were stymied.
You’d never put the moves on a woman with any
standards before. Now you’re mad as hell that I refused
you.”
“Stymied? What is that?
” Andrew inquired scornfully.
“A really good word you’re too ignorant to know.”
“Me? Ignorant?” He inhaled deeply, which expanded
his chest. “You, wench, are the ignorant one. You cannot
speak French; you hardly speak English. You do not know
your kin or where they are from. Damnation, you were
on your way to London when you found yourself at
Wixcomb—they’re not at all alike, Judith. No one else
would confuse the one for the other.”
“You—“ She raised her hand. She didn’t know how
Andrew managed to provoke her so easily when none of
the men in her previous twenty-seven years had ever
brought her to the brink of violence even once, let alone
twice.
But she could not follow through with another
stinging slap. Andrew caught her wrist and held it in
an iron grip.
“Would you like the truth, wench? You’ve no appeal
because you’ve the body of a boy, not just the hair and
clothing. Naked, ’tis obvious you have no hips, no
buttocks, hardly enough bosom to notice. By the saints,
you stand as tall as most of the men in England. No real
man could be aroused by a lofty, lanky figure the likes
of yours. If Philip seems intrigued, ’tis only because he
finds you uncommon. But his interest will soon wane.”
Judy sucked in her breath. Never had anyone
insulted her so thoroughly, so painfully, as Andrew of
Laycock just had. He hadn’t condemned a singular
attribute, but the whole of her person. His cruel criticism
should not have affected her—Judy knew enough to
consider the source. But for some reason, the source of
the insult made it sting all the more.
Her mind raced. Andrew didn’t find her attractive?
Hot damn, but she would make him find her attractive,
make him pine for her, drool over her, and want to kill
himself for not being able to have her. No butt, no boobs,
no way! She worked out at a gym, she had tight buns
and a flat stomach. In the right ensemble, with her hair
just so and her feet balancing in precariously high,
stiletto heels, Andrew would willingly crawl through a
nest of vipers to reach her—and surely die from snake
bites before he ever did. But where would Judy get the
right clothes, the right style? She couldn’t go to a salon
for a complete make-over. She couldn’t have her hair,
face and nails done. She couldn’t pour herself into some
tight little designer number that showed her legs and
her cleavage.
And why would I want to? Judy nearly screamed
aloud. She didn’t have enough to contend with, living
in an antiquated time in a foreign country, all by some
force of magic she could neither control nor understand?
Dear God, she had to be going mad to think, even for
half a minute, of ways to get this idiot boy to lust after
her. She didn’t even like him—she sure as hell did not
want to sleep with him. She liked Philip, and he already
had the hots for her. Maybe she would sleep with him.
But, if there truly was a God—and Judy believed in her
little Catholic heart there certainly was—He would see
she got home to her own time, her own country, before
very much longer. What any medieval knight thought
of Judy Lambini would prove completely irrelevant.
Judy glared into Andrew’s dark eyes. His anger made
them glint, so that they shone like hard, dark chips of
obsidian. “I hate you,” she spat.
“Do you?”
Still grasping her wrist, Andrew skimmed her cheek
with the knuckles of his other hand. He barely touched
her—his skin grazed hers as lightly as a gentle breeze.
Yet it melted Judy’s bones, as though she’d been
skewered with a blazing bolt of lightning.
Despite her resolve, she shuddered and went soft,
but so did Andrew’s eyes. As she watched them
unblinkingly, Judy saw those orbs liquify and lighten
from a shade of black to the color of chocolate.
“Judith!”
Philip called to her from the stairs. Unwittingly, he
saved her from herself.
“Y-yes?” she returned, whirling around to face him.
At that instant, Philip appeared on the lower steps.
Hurrying forward across the great hall, he waved a small
sheet of stiff paper in his hand. “Judith, I have the letter
for Peter Lamb. Andrew, where is your rider?”
“Give that to me.” He snatched the parchment from
Philip’s fingers. “Jock hasn’t returned with him yet. I’ll
go and find Louis myself.”
***
Andrew took a deep breath the moment he stepped
outdoors in an attempt to control himself, to gather and
harness his feelings. Any appearance of calm he had
exhibited in the hall had been an illusion. Inside, his
stomach roiled. He felt primed to explode, like fermented
spirits that erupted from their containers.
“Milord, you wished to speak with me?”
Andrew snapped his head around at the sound of
Louis’ voice. The guard, in mail, looked flushed and
sweaty. He had been training on the practice field.
Glancing down at the bit of parchment in his hand,
Andrew shook his head. “Nay, Louis,” he said as he
crumpled the paper into a ball. “’Twas a mistake. Go
back to what you were doing.”
Eight
“Milady!” Round-faced, button-eyed, pug-nosed Sally
opened Judy’s door and poked her head inside. “Milady,
there’s someone to see you below, in the great hall.”
“Thank you,” Judy said, and the servant retreated,
closing the door again.
It had to be Philip. He hadn’t been to Laycock for a
visit in two whole days, and Judy sorely missed his
company. Actually, she missed his protection. When
Philip was near, Andrew was not. But during Philip’s
recent absence, Andrew had kept close to the keep. He
didn’t seek out Judy’s company. In fact, he barely
seemed to tolerate her presence when they shared
meals at the dais table in the hall. Nor did he speak to
her unless absolutely forced to. Worse, Judy sometimes
felt him staring at her, studying her, whenever they
were in any sort of proximity. His scrutiny made her
nervous. What was he thinking? What were his
intentions? After that fight they’d had...
But Philip had finally returned. With him to amuse
her, to help make the time pass more pleasantly, Judy
wouldn’t have to think about Andrew Laycock.
She bounded down the stairs and jerked to a halt.
The man she saw wasn’t Philip at all, but a stranger.
This unfamiliar knight, she realized with a pang, could
only be a messenger, one who carried word from the old
man, Sir Peter-the-alchemist-and-inventor. Damn! The
news he brought wouldn’t serve her interests at all.
Once Andrew learned she wasn’t related to this fellow,
he’d boot her out on her ear. He wouldn’t start looking<
br />
for some other family connection in some other place.
And even if Philip made good his invitation, if she visited
North Cross, how far would she be from that place outside
the bailey walls, her launch and landing pad to and from
the future?
Judy glanced furtively about, relieved Andrew was
nowhere in sight. Maybe she could lie to the messenger,
assuring the man she’d pass the news along to Andrew
so that he needn’t bother. Or, maybe not. Because in
all likelihood, he had already reported to Laycock’s
current lord-and-master. Still, she might have a few
minutes left to her. She could make a run for it. She
could hide in the woods...
Oh, that was a plan, Judy thought with disgust before
nodding at the knight, resigned to hearing his news.
He spoke French. Judy interrupted, insisting on
English, and he began again. “My lady,” he said, “Lord
Philip wishes to advise you that he has been sent away
on business for his mother, Lady Edwinna of North
Cross. He shall be gone as briefly as possible, and if
you’ll allow him to, upon his return he shall call upon
you immediately.”
Closing her eyes, Judy exhaled an audible sigh.
When she blinked her eyes open again, she nodded and
smiled. “I see. Well, thank you. And—and of course, he
may call upon me. I will be looking forward to it.”
The messenger turned to leave, and Judy hesitated.
Now what? Sure, she’d been granted a reprieve to remain
living in this tense sort of limbo awhile longer, but so
what? She felt as though she’d been condemned to
solitary confinement while the keys to her cell hung
on a ring just beyond her reach. The tedium and the
frustration were driving her insane!
Andrew’s nowhere around, a voice in her mind
repeated. It was true. Judy decided to escape, at least
from the confines of this fortress and her bedroom, and
perhaps all the way to the future. If her luck continued
to hold, she wouldn’t encounter Andrew along the way.
She ran upstairs again and retrieved her tote. When
she returned to the great hall, she found it as empty as
when she’d left it. She also noticed, on the high table,
an array of assorted utensils. Using a little sleight-of-
hand, Judy made a U-turn on her way to the door and
strode past the table, sliding an object into her bag.