Kohl, Candice - A Twist in Time.txt

by A Twist in Time. txt (lit)

  steal her from me while I am away!”

  Andrew snorted contemptuously. “You think I haven’t

  seduced her already?”

  Judy saw Philip flush ruddily as he turned and

  stomped in her direction, Andrew following close behind.

  “What is it?” she asked him as both men halted beside

  her.

  “My lady, tell me true,” he begged in English. “Have

  you and Andrew...been intimate?”

  What the hell has he been telling Philip? “No!” she

  responded firmly, answering his question but glaring

  at Andrew.

  “Has he courted you in my absence?”

  Judy met Philip’s gaze. “No. As a matter of fact, he

  and his brothers locked me in my room. There was a

  fire, and he didn’t even come to let me out!”

  “You cur,” Philip shouted at Andrew. Then he took

  Judy’s arm and said, “You’ll come home with me to North

  Cross, where you’ll be welcome. On the morrow, we shall

  ride out together to York and visit Sir Peter Lamb. I’m

  sure you’ll be glad to be reunited with your father and

  all your other kin.”

  Oh, hell. She didn’t need this. Living at Philip’s place

  wouldn’t be bad...he was the one who wanted to marry

  her, after all. She had to have some protection until

  she found a way back home, or, failing that, made some

  sort of life here in medieval times. But riding on

  horseback to York, wherever that was, didn’t sound like

  a hot idea. Besides, once they got there, the old man

  would tell Philip she was no relation of his. What would

  he think then? What would he do?

  “Philip,” she ventured softly, “I would like very much

  to accept your hospitality. I’d like to...meet your family.

  But as for going to York.” She paused before bluntly

  plunging ahead. “What if this knight, this old alchemist

  and inventor, isn’t my father after all? What if he doesn’t

  know me? Do we really have to go traipsing all over the

  country to try to find where I come from? Does it really

  matter that much?”

  “It matters, Judith.” He set his mouth in a tight,

  solemn line

  She wished Philip had said it didn’t matter at all.

  Even more, she wished Andrew hadn’t thrown their

  tentative friendship in her face by telling a bunch of

  lies about their relationship. Bad enough he picked lice

  from her hair in front of an audience, but to tell his

  best friend that he had slept with her? What a jerk!

  “Does it matter to you, too?” she asked him.

  Andrew shrugged. “’Twould seem that it matters to

  everyone, Judith. At least in this world.”

  He hadn’t meant anything in particular with that

  last remark, and Judy knew it. But suddenly it all

  became so clear to her, the great dichotomy between

  her world, late 20th century America, and theirs,

  medieval England. In her own time, her daily problems

  usually came down to catching a cab in the rain, while

  her pie-in-the-sky dream was to become a successful,

  maybe famous, literary agent. Here, the commonplace

  problems proved far more basic—getting rid of lice.

  Finding a man who could provide for her would prove

  her only major, long-term goal.

  Her head swam. Either she was still sick, or she’d

  made herself ill by relinquishing the very essence of

  herself to curry favor with a man who might, hopefully,

  solve all her problems. How low she had sunk in such a

  brief time, to need a man to survive, a man who wouldn’t

  even have her unless her parentage proved worthy. What

  an irony, what a joke! Back home, guys were terrified

  of women who wanted them to meet their families. Here,

  a female had no worth except as an extension of her

  parents.

  She swooned. Andrew caught her, as always, just in

  the nick of time. While he cradled her in his muscular

  arms, she heard him say, through the ringing in her

  ears, “The lady is not traveling anywhere, most

  assuredly not with you. Did you think I spoke false when

  I said she has been gravely ill? Did you think I

  exaggerated when I said she nearly died? If so, that

  intuition you claim to have has failed you, Philip, for I

  spoke true. Judith is far from fully recovered, and ’til

  she has regained her health, she is going nowhere but

  back to her bed.”

  Andrew strode off, clutching her to him. As the

  distance between them and Philip grew, she heard the

  North Cross lord call after them, “I shall return for her,

  Andrew. When she is well, Judith and I will ride to York

  and confront Sir Peter!”

  Sixteen

  Judy sat in the solar. Because it was the highest

  room in the keep and no enemy had a hope of scaling

  the walls to this height, the solar laid claim to the

  stronghold’s biggest window. She came here now

  because, after so many days lying in bed recovering,

  she yearned for a semblance of the bright outdoors.

  Basking in the warmth of the sun-washed room, she

  reflected upon the darkness of people’s lives before the

  advent of electricity. Not only did the poor souls—herself

  now among them—find themselves basically blinded

  from nightfall to sunrise, their homes, whether cottages

  or castles, remained gloomy places even in daytime, lit

  mostly by smoky fires and dim, greasy candles.

  Though the solar provided a cheery atmosphere this

  afternoon, she sighed heavily. Before her, on the floor

  where she sat cross-legged, lay her dwindling toiletries.

  She didn’t know what she would do when she used

  everything up. And everything would be used up very,

  very soon.

  Already, she had nearly depleted all her travel-sized

  accoutrements. Her shampoo was gone, along with her

  toothpaste, and only a dab or two of hand lotion remained

  in the tube, while her alpha-hydroxy face cream had

  been reduced to a smear inside the frosted glass jar.

  She still had pain relievers, antacids and half a roll of

  breath mints. But her tampons were gone. Thank

  heavens, she had carelessly tossed a sample package

  of thin pads into her tote before she left home, so she

  would be set the next time she got her period. But what

  of the time after that? What did medieval women do for

  hygiene when they menstruated? She had no idea and

  no one she could ask. Even Bridget or Sally would think

  she was crazy to remain so ignorant at her advanced

  age.

  She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled noisily. She

  had time before desperation forced her to make inquiries

  on that particular topic. In the meanwhile...

  Eager for diversion, she looked at herself in her hand

  mirror and discovered the perfect distraction: a zit! A

  big, red bump bulging on her cheek. That’s what she

  needed—pimples!

  Like a surgeon called upon to perform an emergency

  operation, she opened her makeup bag. Dumping the


  contents on the floor with the rest of her personal care

  items, she rummaged through her limited selection of

  old cosmetics, the stash she always took on trips, until

  she found a well-worn cover stick. Speedily, she painted

  over the blemish and then opened her compact to add a

  pat of powder. It, as well as her blush, had a large, empty

  space where the metal container clearly shone through.

  The same held true for her palette of mini eye shadows.

  Judy’s two lipsticks, a neutral shade and a colorless

  gloss, were as stubby as her liner pencils. Most

  frightening, however, was the state of her mascara.

  When she plunged the wand up and down inside the

  tube, she could feel it hardening and knew, in another

  couple of weeks, she’d have nothing to thicken and

  blacken her lashes. Judy’s only ample item appeared to

  be a nearly full bottle of “Tea Rose” perfume. She spritzed

  some on, letting the cloud of fragrance drift into her

  hair and onto her shoulders, hoping the scent would

  somehow console her.

  It didn’t. Sniffing wearily, she asked herself: What

  am I going to do? I can pluck my eyebrows forever, but my

  disposable razor can’t be replaced. When it goes, I’ll get

  hairy like Sarah did, our sophomore year at college. Geez,

  when they finally took her cast off, the leg she broke didn’t

  just look withered, it looked like it belonged to a

  chimpanzee! I’m going to look like a chimpanzee! All too

  vividly, Judy imagined long, dark hairs twining around

  her limbs, and her underarms full of fuzz.

  She sat there feeling sorry for herself until a shout

  from beyond caught her attention. She climbed onto the

  window seat and looked outside. “Someone approaches!”

  she heard a guard on the wall announce again, and then

  a flurry of activity erupted in the yard below.

  She watched, fascinated by the precautions

  everyone took these days as they half-anticipated an

  attack or a siege. The dashing and scurrying, the women

  and children flying inside the keep, reminded her of

  her parents’ stories about people ducking into fallout

  shelters back in the ’50s whenever air raid sirens blared.

  The Laycock laborers also fled for no reason. Soon

  another guard confirmed that the man rode alone, and

  then the approaching visitor was identified as Philip of

  North Cross.

  Philip! Whirling away from the window, Judy’s hand

  went to her heart. He had come for her, as he said he

  would! He intended to take her to York. But she didn’t

  want to go to York. Besides it being a waste of time and

  the prelude to her being booted on her rear, she simply

  didn’t want to spend all that time with Philip. She wanted

  to stay here with—

  Andrew. The solar door swung inward and he stood

  there, filling up the portal. He breathed heavily, winded

  from running up the stairs. But though he failed to speak

  for a moment, his gaze held hers.

  “Why were you not resting in your bedchamber?” he

  demanded finally, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

  “I was bored. I wanted sunshine. I knew you wouldn’t

  let me go outside, so I came up here instead.”

  He walked toward her. “You should have asked me.”

  “Why? You’re not my lord and master, no matter how

  often you tell me you are.”

  “I might have let you go outside.”

  “Right.”

  “Wrong. I would not have. Judith, you need to rest

  ’til you’re fully recovered. You are not fully recovered.”

  “I am,” she insisted. “I don’t know what I had, but I

  don’t have it anymore. My appetite’s back; I’ve been

  eating like a pig.”

  He reached out and grabbed her upper arm. “You’re

  thin as a needle.”

  “I am not!” She pulled her arm free.

  Cocking his head to one side, Andrew peered at her

  suspiciously. “Are you only saying you are well so that I

  will let you leave with Philip?”

  Boy. I’ve blown it. “No. No, of course not.”

  “Then you do not wish to go with him to York?”

  Again they locked gazes, only now the floor of the

  large solar no longer separated them. She could almost

  see her reflection mirrored in Andrew’s dark eyes. She

  had an urge to step closer to him in order to see more

  detail. But if she stepped closer, she’d feel him, his bulk,

  his strength. And she’d end up telling him the truth.

  She couldn’t do that. Andrew had been a real jerk, letting

  Philip think something had been going on between

  them. Because there hadn’t been. Not a thing. Nothing

  at all.

  “I didn’t say that,” she snipped. “Why wouldn’t I want

  to go to York? You’re sure my family lives there. If they

  do and I see them, the truth will come out. Then you’ll

  all know for a fact I’m a lady, and you’ll regret how badly

  you’ve treated me.”

  “How badly—I’ve treated—you?” Andrew ground out

  the words as his eyes widened, in surprise or outrage,

  she couldn’t be sure which.

  She took a step backward, reminding him, “You

  locked me in my room!”

  “On Robin’s orders.”

  “You didn’t let me out when the place caught fire.”

  “I wasn’t even home! I knew naught about the fire

  ’til much later. Besides, you set it. Elfred was right. You

  set it yourself in a ploy to get free.”

  “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” She crossed her arms

  over her chest and tapped her foot. “The point is, I am

  free now. Free to go to York with Philip.”

  “Then you do wish to accompany him.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? He hopes to reunite me with my

  family because he wants to marry me. I need a husband,

  Andrew. I’m sure I don’t have one, so I guess I’d better

  get on the stick and find one. You know as well as I do,

  a woman alone is a woman under suspicion. Besides,

  Philip would make a great husband. And once he meets

  this Peter Lamb person, whom you and everyone else

  believes is my father, then we can get married.”

  Judy listened to herself, hardly believing what she

  heard. She had to be losing touch with reality; she

  sounded too convincing, as though she actually believed

  what she said. But she knew none of it was true. Her

  father was Tony Lambini, and he lived not in York but

  in New York. Nor was she a lady with a capital L, like

  Fergie, Duchess of York. And Philip of North Cross would

  never marry her, not only because she lacked the right

  lineage but because she, Judy Lambini, wouldn’t marry

  him even if he asked.

  Until that very second, she hadn’t realized she had

  no intention of marrying Philip for convenience or any

  other reason. But Andrew didn’t know what she knew,

  and he could just rot, damn him!

  “Very well. He’s here,” Andrew informed her. “By now,

  he’s seated below in the great hall, awaitin
g you. Go!

  Ride off with Philip. Wed him, share his bed, and bear

  his children.”

  “Fine,” she snapped, “I will. Just for you.”

  “What do you mean, for me?” His heavy eyebrows

  met above his nose in a scowl.

  “It’s not as though you want me here. You know you

  don’t.” She pushed past Andrew, so distressed she didn’t

  even think about collecting her tote, let alone picking

  up the debris she’d left scattered on the floor. Tears filled

  her eyes—hot, hurting tears that nearly prevented her

  from seeing the door.

  Yet before she had taken more than a few, quick

  steps, she felt a hand clutch her own. Then she flew

  backward, whirling into Andrew’s arms. She gasped as

  he clutched her close, and she moaned when he kissed

  her hard.

  She kissed him back. Wrapping her arms around

  Andrew’s neck, she kissed him as though they had never

  kissed before and might never kiss again.

  “Damnation, Judith,” he muttered when he released

  her lips to rain kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her

  cheeks, her jaw. “I have always wanted you. ’Tis why I

  brought you to the keep.”

  “But...you only wanted to sleep with me.”

  “Oh, aye. I wanted to lie with you. But I wanted more

  of you, Judith. You make my heart glad.”

  You make my heart glad. Her heart soared as though

  it had wings when Andrew’s lips reclaimed her mouth

  and his tongue sought hers. While his hands roamed

  her back and her backside, she felt a strong yearning

  to wrap her legs around his waist. She wanted him to

  take her there and then.

  But they couldn’t make love at that moment. Both

  of them knew it, and both of them reluctantly pulled

  away. “What about...Philip?” she asked softly.

  “You may be blunt with him, or you may be kind.

  Which do you prefer?”

  “Well, kindness, certainly. I may not want to marry

  Philip, but I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “Then, come. Back to bed with you. Until he leaves,

  you’ll be ailing.”

  “Wait!” She pulled her hand free from Andrew’s and

  began to pick up her toiletries, stuffing them into her

  tote. He assisted her until she had all her belongings

  secure. Then they hurried down the stairs.

  ***

  “Lord Andrew.” A servant accosted him just as Judy