by Sherry Ewing
“You have been missed, Riorden,” Fletcher confessed and did not feel ill at ease admitting such to a man he had been friends with since his youth. He was grateful their friendship had not been ruined because of the affection Fletcher had held for Katherine.
“It has been a long while since we were able to train together among other things.” Riorden gave him a hearty slap on the back. ’Twould have felled a man of lesser stature.
“I am surprised you are here, at all.”
“’Tis Kat’s fault. She awoke yester morn and said we must needs make haste to Berwyck. I attempted to dissuade her, but you, of all people, know how stubborn she can be when she gets an idea in her pretty little head.” Riordan wiped at his brow again and then thrust out his tankard to be refilled. “She about drove me mad ’til I agreed to her most urgent request.”
Fletcher did not have to force the laughter that came forth. “Aye, and you love her for her determination, do you not, mon ami?
“Aye, you have that aright. ’Twas either we head to Berwyck posthaste or she threatened to walk all the way here, yet again, and ’twould not do,” Riorden replied with a furrowed brow and grim expression.
Fletcher could surmise his friend had thoughts of Katherine falling through some unknown time gate. “I can understand your plight. I am surprised to see you brought your brother Gavin, as well,” Fletcher added, watching the younger man from across the lists whilst he trained.
Riorden shrugged. “’Tis as though his wife Brianna knew you would need his council, or so he claimed when he showed up at our gates whilst we were preparing to depart.”
“Why did she not accompany him so she would at the very least have the opportunity to travel with your wife?”
“She is too far along with their next child. Gavin would not risk her coming to harm on a journey here,” Riorden added. “We will not stay long. Mayhap, we will even leave come the morn. We left James at home so we could travel quickly, but I prefer to have Katherine back at Warkworth instead of wandering around and possibly stepping where she should not dare to venture.”
“I cannot tell you how many times we have crossed the beach but never saw any kind of a portal through time,” Fletcher stated, taking a drink of his ale again. “Apparently, Time is fickle as to when ’twill become accommodating to mere mortal needs.”
“As I said…I take no chances where my Katherine is concerned, hence my haste to return home. I believe she went to have speech with your mysterious lady.”
“I cannot in good conscience say the woman is mine. I do not even know her name.”
Riorden’s grin broadened. “I think you and I both know she is here for you and will be yours, given the right circumstances.” He looked over Fletchers shoulder and waved at his wife afore he continued. “You might as well go have speech with my lady. I am sure she has words of import to share with you.”
“You do not mind?”
“Why would I? I trust you with my life, as surely as I know I can trust you with hers. Besides, I believe I owe Turquine and Taegan a good show that they have not been training as diligently under your watch as they had under mine.”
Riorden left him with his laughter at his own jest resonating in the air. Fletcher grabbed his tunic and pulled it over his head afore making his way towards the garden. Katherine sat waiting for him on the very same bench he had but recently shared with his liege lord.
“Glad tidings, my Lady Katherine,” he said, offering her a courtly bow, “’tis very good to see you looking so well.”
“Hello Fletcher,” she said whilst a rosy blush crept onto her oh, so very lovely cheeks. She patted her growing stomach afore she looked upon him again. “We’re going to name her Jocelyn, after Riorden’s mother.”
“’Tis a beautiful name,” he murmured with a grin and without hesitation in regards to her pregnancy, “as is her mother.”
“Always the handsome rogue flattering the ladies, aren’t you? Have you been taking care of yourself?”
Fletcher shrugged. “Aye, as best as I can, my lady.”
Katherine motioned for him to sit, and he did so, although he was reluctant to be so close to her when he smelled of sweat and grime from the training field.
“She will be down for dinner, I mean the evening meal,” Katherine spoke, not even waiting for him to ask if she had speech with the injured lady upstairs in the keep.
“’Tis good, then, she is learning to adjust to her surroundings, no matter how confusing they may be.” Fletcher sighed, closing his eyes to feign rest. To have Katherine sitting so near was almost unbearable, and he thought shutting out the vision of her would help distance himself from her nearness for a few moments. “And her name…”
“Jenna. Jenna Sinclair.”
“’Tis an unusual first name. Is it common in your time?”
“Not necessarily, but it’s certainly as unique as she must surely be for her to travel such a great distance to be here.”
“She has been sent here for me?” he asked, opening his eyes because he could not resist his desire to look upon her any longer. As he stared at the one woman he would have taken to wife if she had not belonged to another, he buried his feelings of longing for her deep inside his heart. She was a lady who would never be his, and ’twas long past time for him to move on.
She gave him a gentle smile and reached out to touch the side of his face. He knew he should not do so, but he took hold of her hand and brought it but briefly to his lips.
“I believe, if you search your heart, you’d already know the answer to such a question. Tell me, what do you think?”
He only took a moment afore he answered her. “Aye, I believe it. I know not why, but I know my words are true.”
“Then all will work out as it should. But tread lightly, Fletcher. She’s scared to death, like a frightened little bird. You might try wearing something a little less…umm…sinister looking. Although black certainly becomes all of Dristan’s personal guardsmen, for obvious reasons, you might look for clothing more cheerful in color.”
“I will see what I can find in my wardrobe that may please the lady,” Fletcher murmured.
“And don’t be too overbearing, else you scare her away before she gets to know you. Sometimes, these things take time,” Katherine continued with a toss of her hair.
He watched the length of her tawny tresses fall back into place, down past her shoulders in a riot of curls. “Overbearing? Me? Surely, you must be thinking of some other knight. I am the personification of all knightly virtues and chivalry,” he declared mockingly, trying to keep a serious face for her amusement. Her bubbly laughter burst forth, sending a sense of unabashed joy racing through Fletcher’s heart that he should be the cause to delight her so. He shared her merriment with a laugh of his own.
“Oh, she is just going to be blown away by you.” Katherine laughed, yet again with sparkling aquamarine eyes full of mischief.
Concern abruptly etched his features. “Is that a good thing, my lady, to be blown away?”
“Trust me. It’s a very good thing. You’re just too damn charming for your own good. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t fall hopelessly in love with…you…?” Her words quietly trailed away in a soft breathy whisper ’til she turned her head in the direction of the lists. ’Twas obvious she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so openly.”
“We have always been honest with one another. There is no reason to halt now. Are you happy, Katherine?” Unsure where his question came from, or why he, of a sudden, had the notion and need to ask, he already knew what her response would be.
She raised her eyes to him, and he saw for himself her reply, although she spoke no words. The answer to his query shone like the brightest star, lighting her entire countenance. ’Twas all he ever wanted for her, even though he knew he would not be the reason behind such an emotion.
“Remember everything in our lives happens with a purpose in mind, Fletcher. You just need to foll
ow your heart, my dearest friend. It will never lead you astray and will bring you so much happiness if you just grasp hold of its promptings. My heart breaks with thoughts you will spend your life alone. Promise me, Fletcher, you will try to find love.”
He stared down at her and, with his thumb, brushed away a single tear that escaped down her cheek. “I promise, I will try, Katherine.”
She nodded and was seemingly content with his answer. “I just want you to be happy, too.”
Fletcher took her hand, raising it again to his lips. “You know, I wish the same for you, Katherine. Your very happiness is my great desire. ’Tis obvious you are most content with Riorden, and I am glad for you both.”
“Thank you, Fletcher,” she replied but blushed again when she met his eyes. “I know, I shouldn’t say this, but I want you to know, you shall always have a small piece of my heart. I would have gladly accepted your proposal, if I had not already fallen completely head over heels in love with Riorden.”
He was unsure how to respond to her confession. Instead, he gave her a slight nod in acknowledgement for her heartfelt words that surely tugged at his own emotions. They stood as one, and afore he knew what Katherine was about, she came to him then pulled on his tunic to stand on the tips of her toes ’til he leaned down at her unspoken request.
Hastily, she hugged him close around his neck, almost causing him to lose his breath as he inhaled the flowery scent of her hair. His own arms wrapped around her but briefly, afore she tore herself away. Gazing into her eyes, swimming with unshed tears, he momentarily felt the strong attachment they had shared long ago, but he broke the connection to look upon her countenance and saw Katherine once more give him one of her brilliant smiles. Then, she placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek and whispered a soft goodbye. She quickly turned and fled from the lists, running as fast as her pregnancy would allow, but, he observed, she never once looked back.
His hand automatically went to where he could still feel her lips upon his cheek. There was no need to follow her. No further words must needs be said between them. Katherine was where, and with whom, she belonged. With her final farewell, he now possessed the strength he had stood in need of for him to at last move on with his own life. Little did Fletcher know, whilst he watched the woman who had unknowingly stolen his heart vanish from his sight,’twould be the last private conversation he would have with her for many years to come.
Chapter 11
Jenna took one last look at the dress she wore before following the servant out of her bedroom, or chamber as she might as well get used to calling such a room. Before they had left, she had wished she had the full length mirror in her own apartment, just so she could have gotten the full visual effect of what she was wearing. Her hair had been swept up into what she assumed was pleasing to look at, given the smile she had received from the young girl who had performed the difficult labor of trying to tame her locks. At least the bruise she could feel on her head didn’t show, although it was still tender to the touch.
Lifting the hem of her gown with one hand so she didn’t trip on the stairs, she placed the other on the wall of stones as she carefully put one foot down in front of the other. The dress was made of heavy linen, or so she guessed, and it kept her warm from the chill found in the turret. She had never been too up-to-date on materials and such for sewing, and she could only imagine how many hours it had taken someone to create something like this from scratch.
The deep blue skirt of the gown reached to the floor, and the sleeves were tight fitted to the elbow where they then flared out, allowing the white sleeves of her under tunic to be seen. The edges were delicately woven in an intricate display of embroidered ivory lace with the same detailed work found at the scooped collar and hem. A belt that hung low on her hips with tassels falling well past her knees completed her outfit. Her costume was beautiful and made her feel the same. She would like to find out who had sewn such a marvelous piece of work and thank her for her efforts.
“’Tis just a mite farther, milady.” The girl gave her an encouraging smile. “Watch yer step, now. Yer almost there.”
Jenna nodded and did indeed put her foot carefully down on the uneven step that was far slimmer than the others she had stepped down upon. She could hear the sound of voices growing louder as she neared the bottom of the turret. As she caught a glimpse of the hall, she chanced a look upwards. But she quickly came to realize that was a mistake, for the spiraling stones seemed to almost spin above her. She immediately returned her gaze to the stone floor and reached out for the wall to steady herself when, instead of touching the smooth granite, her hand was taken in a firm grip. Before she could come to her senses, Jenna was carefully maneuvered down the last of the stairway. Her fingers began to tingle at the contact. A heady warmth rushed through her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, raising her eyes to her rescuer only to choke back a startled gasp at the man who had come to her aid. He was the last person she expected to see.
“You are most welcome, my lady,” Fletcher answered, taking her elbow to support her further when she began to sway slightly on her feet. “Let me escort you to the table.”
Unable to speak, she felt as though someone had surely stolen her tongue. The knight took her hand and placed it on top of his own, his arm raised high. A jolt of electricity went racing up her arm, much like the feeling she’d get from a shock when she skidded in socks on carpet and then touched something metal. She dared a peek at him, not realizing just how far she needed to lean her head back. Good Grief…the man must be over six feet tall.
He began to move, and the scene reminded her of her beloved Errol Flynn movies. She followed him mutely across a floor filled with straw or rushes. Everywhere her gaze landed, there was some new wonder for her to behold, including the man who gently ushered her through the hall. She noticed his tunic for the first time. Was it her vivid imagination running a tad wild, or were they dressed in a similar color? His clothing was a far cry from the black getup he had worn when she first saw him on the beach where he had scared her nearly to death.
Fletcher must have known her thoughts, since she had clearly been ogling him. When he gazed down at her from his towering height, he gave her a lopsided, cocky grin that almost caused her to trip over her own two feet. He took hold of her around her waist to steady her but just as abruptly let go, mumbling an apology for her to forgive him for being so bold. Bold? By touching her waist? Did it suddenly get overly hot in here?
He halted in front of the main table that was sitting up on some kind of a platform. Jenna assumed that the man sitting next to Amiria was her husband and she attempted to hide a gulp of fear looking at the knight staring down at her with eyes the color of cold hard steel. Fetcher gave a very formal bow and seemed disturbed when Jenna did nothing but wave her hand in a sign of saying hello. She smiled when Katherine returned the gesture with a laugh.
“My liege lord and lady, may I present Lady Jenna of…” Fletcher’s gaze fell on her while he silently urged her to fill in the rest of his unfinished sentence.
“San Francisco.” Jenna heard her own voice sounding rushed and soft, and the hall fell silent. Suddenly, she felt conspicuously foreign.
“…of Sanfran Cisco,” Fletcher replied as Dristan made a motion with his hand for them to join him at his table. “Did I say your township aright?” he asked, for her ears alone.
“Close enough.” She gave him half a smile, still conscious of everyone staring at her as if she had grown another head popping out from her shoulders.
Fletcher very kindly held her chair out for her. It wasn’t something that hadn’t been done for her before at any high class restaurant, but, somehow, the gesture seemed more significant sitting here in a place of honor at the same table as the lord and lady of the hall. Once she was seated, the conversations in the room resumed to full volume. Fletcher sat down beside her, and Jenna felt dwarfed sandwiched between him and the gentleman next to her. She surmised this was the very same Riord
en that Katherine had told her about, since she was placed to his left. He nodded to her when she took her seat, and Jenna almost swooned when she saw how handsome he was. Were all the men in this castle graced with such stunning good looks?
The food began to arrive on huge platters, sometimes carried by two servants, to feed the multitude of people who filled every table in the hall. There were so many individuals here, she likened it to a great big huge party where everyone was celebrating some special occasion. As the bounty began to fill the space in front of her, she began to wonder if the table would hold the weight of so much food.
“Would you care for wine, Lady Jenna,” Fletcher inquired, holding out a chalice toward her.
“You know my name,” she said in surprise as he filled the cup.
“Lady Katherine told me.”
“You are friends with her and her husband?”
Riorden leaned forward upon hearing their conversation. “Fletcher may not admit as much, but he has been living in my shadow for many a year. I am most surprised Dristan thought him fit and capable enough to replace me as captain,” he guffawed.
Jenna was unsure how to answer, since she was a little unclear if she should laugh or feel insulted for the man to her left.
Katherine playfully slapped at her husband. “Leave him be, Riorden, and let them get acquainted.”
Jenna gave her a small smile and watched in dismay as Katherine and Riorden turned their attention to their meal. A trencher was set between her and Fletcher but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with it. She put her trembling hands beneath the table to hide them and began twisting the fabric of her dress.
“May I?” Fletcher asked, holding out a large two pronged fork.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Jenna whispered.
“Is there anything you do not care for?” he inquired while he kindly anticipated her answer.
Jenna looked at the assortment of various meats and fishes in front of her. The fish dishes were no brainers, along with some of the chicken or other kinds of bird entrées. But the red meats, some of which were swimming heavily in brown gravy, were a complete mystery as to their four legged origins.