Kohl, Candice - A Twist in Time.txt

by A Twist in Time. txt (lit)

  Ten minutes later, she stood on that infamous plot

  of land outside the bailey walls. Nothing happened. She

  felt nothing at all, not even a breeze, certainly not a

  static charge of electricity. So after a time, she gave up

  in defeat and returned to the bailey.

  Near the wash house, where cauldrons used to boil

  woolens stood empty and dusty, Judy flipped over a

  wooden pail and sat down with a heavy sigh. Ignoring

  her, laborers and servants bustled around doing

  whatever it was they did. Judy envied them. No matter

  how menial or endless the peasants’ chores, at least

  they had something to do. She, on the other hand, found

  herself treated like a princess, or someone with severe

  mental deficiencies, by all the household staff. Bridget

  or Sally helped to dress her every morning and undress

  her every night. Cook prepared meals twice a day, which

  were served to her either at the high table or in her

  room. In between, she had nothing to do, no purpose at

  all, which sometimes felt more strenuous than grueling,

  forced labor. On occasion, she’d felt so fatigued by

  boredom, she’d considered asking Bridget if she had any

  chores she could help with. But Judy had bitten her

  tongue before making the offer, sure that if Andrew

  found her toiling around the keep like a common laborer,

  he would conclude she was no better. She didn’t intend

  to let Andrew Laycock believe that Judy Lambini, literary

  agent with the Edwin Grant Agency, was nothing more

  than a lowly peasant!

  Oh, how she missed her life as a career woman. Not

  just the big stuff, the cool stuff, like parties, receptions,

  or the thrill of negotiating a really big sale. She missed

  the everyday things—long phone conversations, harried

  taxi cab rides, breakfast and lunch conferences, quick

  trips to the deli, the dry cleaners, or the newspaper stand.

  But they were lost to her now.

  Temporarily. Judy refused to accept she might never

  return home. Maybe, the next time she went to “her”

  spot behind the bailey walls, all those weird sensations

  would quicken again, just as strong as they’d been the

  night she had flown through time. And she would fly

  right back—or forward—into the future. Of course, there

  remained the strong possibility that she might have to

  wait until next Halloween to do a time travel encore.

  But at least she wouldn’t have to wait another whole

  year for that holiday to roll around. Springtime blossomed

  all around Judy, which meant it could only be six months

  or less ’til All Hallow’s Eve and—what had Ian

  MacCoombs called it? Samhain, yes, that was it.

  Samhain.

  When Judy did go back to her own time, she

  anticipated making headlines, and not only in the

  tabloids. To ensure the experts took her seriously and

  no one called her a crackpot, she had to have proof of

  her adventure. To that end, she had recently begun

  collecting artifacts. Just before she’d left the keep, she

  had confiscated a malleable pewter goblet. Already, in a

  box under her bed, she had stashed a bit of decorative

  sewing and a scrap of parchment she’d found lying in

  the yard, discarded in a crumpled ball. These items could

  later be identified as authentic.

  But filching odds and ends from the castle didn’t

  require the time and perseverance of a scavenger hunt.

  Judy needed something to occupy herself so that she

  wouldn’t think about the knight who’d gone away or the

  one who hadn’t.

  Despite her best intentions, Judy glanced at the

  keep. Her mind promptly played the pink elephant trick:

  Andrew’s image popped up in her head and refused to

  disappear, no matter how she fought it. Though she

  attempted to recall every nasty, arrogant, insulting

  thing he had said to her, especially during their last

  argument, what she remembered, instead, was the way

  he’d touched her. The look in his eyes, too. Recalling

  either would have made her sigh with longing. Recalling

  both made her feel warm all over, especially between

  her legs.

  “Damn!” Judy swung her head back and again

  surveyed the yard. This time, she willed herself to pay

  attention to the laborers’ occupations. The workers

  appeared quite efficient despite the limitations of their

  world, and more amazingly, they seemed totally oblivious

  to the animals underfoot. If Judy found the situation

  fascinating, it occurred to her others would as well—

  others of her own time.

  Pulling a notebook and pen from her bag, Judy began

  scribbling down her observations. Though she loved

  books and had a passing familiarity with the process of

  writing nonfiction, Judy couldn’t be sure she had any

  real writing talent. But now seemed the perfect

  opportunity to take a stab at it. God knew, she had the

  time.

  ***

  Andrew remained in the shadows of the stable,

  watching Judith. He had been observing her since he

  sent Sally to her room to announce she had a visitor.

  He knew Judith expected Philip, for he’d seen the

  anticipation in her expression when she entered the

  hall. He had also seen the disappointment written on

  her face when she spied the messenger awaiting her

  instead. Damn Philip of North Cross! What was it about

  that fair-haired knight that made damsels swoon? Philip

  himself seemed unaware. So much so, he had been

  searching for a bride, as though it required a bit of effort.

  At least, for a change, Philip’s mother, the lady

  Edwinna, had inadvertently helped Andrew’s cause

  instead of her son’s. Whatever business she’d sent

  Philip on would keep him away from Laycock and Judith.

  Since Andrew’s family remained away as well, he would

  use this time to get what he wanted. What he wanted

  was Judith Lamb. Andrew hadn’t forgotten his promises

  to her, those she’d tricked him into making. But she’d

  offered no certain proof of the gentleness of her birth,

  and until such time as he found himself presented with

  fact, Judith remained fair game. Andrew wouldn’t force

  her, nay. But he would, by God, seduce her.

  He approached her now, making no effort at stealth.

  But when he stopped beside Judith and said her name,

  she jumped, nearly dropping the book she’d been

  hunched over. Standing, she rounded on Andrew and

  glared at him. Her frown bespoke both fear and fury, but

  even before she opened her mouth, Andrew knew which

  emotion she would unleash.

  “What do you want?” she snapped suspiciously.

  “To join you, if I may.” He kept his tone level, polite.

  “You own the place, more or less. I can’t stop you.”

  With a flounce, Judith sat down again while Andrew

  took another pail to use as a stool for himself.

  “I understand a messenger recently came to


  Laycock,” he said casually.

  “Philip sent him,” Judith volunteered far too quickly.

  “He wasn’t from that alchemist who lives in York, the

  one you—we—think could be my father. So there hasn’t

  been any news about my family connections.”

  Andrew canted his head to one side and considered

  the wench thoughtfully. If he didn’t know better, he would

  suspect she didn’t wish to have news from Sir Peter.

  Why not? Had she lied about everything, especially her

  loss of memory? Had she run away from her father or

  her husband? Or was she, as he suspected, a peasant

  who had fooled the younger lords of Laycock?

  “I am very aware of the news the messenger from

  North Cross brought,” Andrew assured Judith. “’Tis my

  business, as lord and master, to know. Yet you must

  realize that any word from York would come by my own

  man, the selfsame one I sent with Philip’s missive.” If I

  had, indeed, sent Louis to York with Philip’s missive.

  “Oh. Right.”

  She nodded and crossed her legs. The top one bobbed

  violently beneath her skirt. Judith seemed rather

  distraught, and Andrew could think of only one reason

  for her distress. “Are you upset because Philip’s gone

  away?”

  “Upset?” Judith made a face as she turned to him.

  “Don’t be—“ She broke off, and suddenly her eyebrows

  went up. Rather sweetly, she exclaimed, “I mean, yes,

  of course! Oh, I’m very upset. When a day goes by that I

  don’t see Philip—”

  “Enough!” Andrew snapped, unable to listen to more,

  be it truth or lie. “He’ll return. You shall see him again.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Judith graced him with a catlike

  grin before raising her chin a notch, turning aside, and

  gazing across the yard.

  Andrew had an impulse to grab her and kiss her so

  hard, she wouldn’t worry if she saw his friend soon or

  not at all. He didn’t, though, because he feared he

  wouldn’t see the result he desired. Why didn’t he have

  his friend’s power over women? And what were those

  powers exactly?

  “You think highly of Philip,” Andrew observed evenly.

  “You’re not alone. Females he has barely glanced at and

  never spoken to faint in his wake. What is it about him

  that so appeals to damsels like yourself?”

  “That’s easy.” Judith continued looking away. “He’s

  the opposite of you.”

  “What!” She might just as well have slapped his

  cheek with a leather gauntlet. “I fear you are quite

  wrong. Philip and I are both barons’ sons, and the

  youngest sons at that. We were even born the same

  year, so we are both now a score and two. We are also

  both knights who have earned our spurs. Philip and I

  are very much alike.”

  “Ha!” Judith barked a short laugh and deigned to

  appraise him, starting at the top of Andrew’s head and

  working her way down to his shoes. He thought her bold

  gaze lingered overlong somewhere below his belt, and

  to his chagrin, he felt self-conscious. “Not a chance,

  Andrew. Philip is blonde and blue-eyed, extremely

  handsome. You’re dark and—you’re not.” Judith turned

  away again.

  Andrew suppressed another violent urge to grab her.

  But this time he felt no desire to kiss Judith. Instead,

  he wished to shake her hard. God’s wounds! He never

  used force against females—why did this mysterious

  woman spark his fury and oblige him to throttle her?

  “I see,” he managed to grind out between clenched

  teeth.

  For a long moment, silence reigned. Then Judith

  announced breezily, “I heard you had a grand passion

  for someone called Chandra. Then she dumped you.”

  Andrew didn’t know that phrase, but he understood

  the gist. Though his urge to throttle someone didn’t

  wane, suddenly Philip became the object of his fury. He’d

  have joyously strangled the blackguard, had his

  erstwhile friend been present to do so. Why, by all the

  saints, had Philip told this curious nomad, who claimed

  no identity beyond her name, all the sorry details of his

  life? Chandra had made a fool of him, marrying that

  landed lord from across the Channel without even

  advising him of it beforehand. The incident wasn’t

  something Andrew cared to recall, let alone have spread

  hither and yon, and sung as a sad ballad. Why would

  Philip dredge up and confide the particulars of old,

  painful events?

  Andrew’s pride suggested an answer. “How did you

  hear of Chandra?” he asked. “Did you inquire about me

  and my women?”

  Judith flushed darkly, the blush creeping up to her

  cheeks from her throat. But she did not reply.

  Andrew smiled. “I was much younger then,” he

  explained casually as he locked his hands over one

  knee. “Chandra is gone now, and good riddance. But

  what of you? Have you known a great love of your own?”

  “I couldn’t say.” Her words were clipped. “I don’t

  remember anything about my life before.”

  “But now...?”

  “Now, nothing.”

  Judith’s foot still bobbed. She seemed more annoyed

  than anxious. Perhaps, Andrew considered, she was not

  so keen on Philip as he had presumed or she had

  implied.

  Sitting straighter, Andrew put his shoulders back

  and inhaled deeply to expand the breadth of his chest.

  He didn’t think now was the time to try to woo Judith

  with honeyed words. But perhaps a conversation in a

  neutral vein would make her warm to him. He asked,

  “Have you sisters or brothers?” On the heels of his query,

  he realized his mistake. She had no memory.

  Yet she responded almost immediately. “Sure. I have

  a brother, Gary—“

  Abruptly, Judith broke off, turning to Andrew with

  her mouth agape.

  Andrew pounced. “You remember him? You recall

  your family?”

  “No!” Judith shook her head vehemently, and she

  stood. “I—I don’t know where that came from. Sometimes

  things just pop out of my mouth, but I don’t know what

  they mean. Really, I don’t.”

  He eyed her speculatively because, despite her

  pleas, she did not quite sound sincere. Andrew knew if

  she were lying, he should be angry with her. Yet if she

  lied, the chances were she was no lady. If not a lady,

  she could only be a peasant. Being female in the bargain,

  that meant Judith had no connections, no value. If so,

  Philip wouldn’t want her, but he, Andrew of Laycock,

  could have her for as long as she intrigued him.

  He smiled, and Judith demanded, “Why are you

  grinning? What’s so funny?”

  “Forgive me, my lady.”

  “Why do you call me that?” She backed away,

  insisting, “You don’t believe I’m a lady at all, though

  I’ve told you I was raised as one.”

  “
Nor do you consider me your lord and master, though

  you are living on my charity.”

  “Hey, I’ll work for my keep if you want me to. Or I

  could—I could leave.”

  She blinked. It seemed Judith’s suggestion

  surprised her as much as it did him. Then her lashes

  fluttered, and her eyebrows came together in a

  worrisome frown. Obviously, she did not really wish to

  leave Laycock.

  Andrew stood and grabbed her wrist gently. “There

  is no need for you to leave, Judith.”

  “Well, when word comes from—from my sire, from

  Peter Lamb, I’ll have to—”

  “That will be awhile, surely. York is not over the

  next hill.”

  Judith looked relieved. Her shoulders relaxed, and

  she nodded. Andrew seized the moment by changing

  the topic. “Please,” he asked, “will you show me what

  you have in your book?”

  Judith looked at the tome she clutched in her arms.

  Then she raised her eyes—her smoky, green eyes—to

  his. “Okay. If you want.”

  Though reluctant, she had agreed—and all because

  Andrew had spoken gently and met her glance with an

  imploring gaze. Thank the saints he had not reminded

  her of his earlier demand that she show him all her

  possessions in due time. Jesu! He had stumbled upon

  Philip’s secret. That knight impressed women, be they

  little girls or old crones or any age in between, with

  kind words and longing looks. Now, so too would he!

  Drawing Judith down to her makeshift stool, Andrew

  sat beside her again. She opened her book, but she

  pushed the pages bearing script to one side of the

  spiraled wire that bound the parchments together.

  “By the saints, that is fantastic!” he said, too

  impressed not to admit it.

  “What is?”

  “The parchment. ’Tis unlike any I’ve seen before.”

  “It isn’t parchment, just plain old paper.” With a

  casualness that shocked him, Judith ripped off a clean

  sheet and handed it to him for inspection.

  “God’s tears!” He could not help cursing her

  carelessness with something so dear. “What did you do?

  You’ve damaged it!”

  “I have not. Oh, it is kind of shredded along the edge,

  but that always happens when you rip out a page. It’s no

  big deal.”

  “No ‘big deal’?”

  “Right. It’s...not of any major consequence. There’s