by Kari August
Okay, he had to be more convincing and honest. “Yes, Mags can be maddingly aggravating—”
Dickie snorted an agreement.
“But she likes new adventures, is clever and intelligent, has a wry humor that I find amusing, and . . . and is independent and unpredictable in a way I find challenging. I want to spend more time with her.”
“You’ll be doing much more than that, I can assure you,” Dickie sneered at him.
Charlie surmised he wanted him to propose marriage. He found to his amazement, that he really didn’t have a problem with that—especially after the last few days of thinking he might have lost her.
Dickie continued. “You’ll also be giving the baby your name.”
“What?!” Charlie gaped as Ned uttered, “Oh, man!”
But before Charlie could say a word more, Mags spoke from behind him. “Charlie, I feel the same about you except you can be maddingly annoying.” Charlie turned around. Mags was grinning and holding Waldemar.
But Dickie was not done. “Mags, cease causing trouble. Let me assure you, Charlie, that if you do not pledge your betrothal, I will be challenging you to a joust. And I will have speed, surprise and violence of action as my strategy so you will not win—”
“Dickie! Stop acting medieval.” Mags scowled defiantly. “This is between Charlie and me, and we will decide what is best. And just why are you talking about a baby of mine?”
“Well, Mags, if you hadn’t stormed out of here like a Scottish banshee and smashed the car, causing you to be completely jumbled, I might not have been given the news, but I suppose you wanted to tell somebody while your noggin was besmackered.”
Mags pursed her lips. “Oh, I see.”
Charlie found his voice. “God, Mags—”
“Lang-uage—” she uttered singsong.
“You were in a crash? Is our baby okay?”
“Charlie . . .”
He stood. “Can we talk somewhere?”
She nodded.
Charlie started walking towards her and the adjoining corridor.
“Oh, no.”
Charlie turned around to find Dickie appearing imposing again.
“You will not be spending any more time with my sister unchaperoned until this matter is fully resolved,” he decreed.
Charlie wanted to chuckle. He had already knocked her up—and it must have happened like the first night, he thought proudly—What more could he do?
As if to his musing, Dickie stated, “Proper appearances will be maintained in the York family.”
His brothers would be having a heyday with this whole scenario. Thank God, they weren’t present. But Charlie decided to concede defeat—he didn’t want problems with his future brother-in-law already. “Can we talk outside? You can watch from the windows there.”
Dickie nodded curtly once. “But I better see you on one knee.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Charlie grabbed Mags in a tight hug as soon as they were around a corner and not yet by the windows. “Oh, I missed you.”
She broke away slowly and looked at him warmly. “And I, you.”
Her mind was spinning. She was so happy to be with Charlie again, to be held by him again. But she was also stunned. Was she actually carrying a baby? Or had she just been talking out of her mind, and Dickie had misinterpreted her ramblings as real? Oh! If only it was true!
But Charlie started patting her, bringing her out of her dazed wonderment. “Are you really okay?”
She tried chuckling reassuringly. “Yes, Charlie.” She did not want to divulge that she still felt a little “off” and unsure of what was actually going on—it would only worry him.
They strolled to the river’s edge.
He gazed at her. “I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby.”
“Charlie, any child we made would have to be considered a miracle from God.”
“Or my swimmers are just stronger than your husband’s were.” Charlie grinned.
She smiled back.
“But Mags, what were you doing driving a car? I told you about taking lessons.”
She nodded. “And I will—I know better now. But Dickie had upset me about something. I just wanted to get away for a while.”
“What could have been so bad that you would have taken a chance like that?” Charlie looked somewhat peeved.
She tried to remember everything argued about between her brother and her. How should she answer Charlie now? Then she thought to reply, “Dickie wanted me to return to . . . home. Uh . . .to England, but I want to manage the ranch. Also, he assuredly stated that the book I want to write about Margaret of Burgundy would not sell.”
“About whom? I don’t know her. In fact, I’ve never even heard of her.”
Mags explained, excitedly, “Oh, she’s this fascinating woman who lived during medieval times. I really feel I can do her story justice . . . somehow.” Even Mags was not sure why she felt so confident about her writing abilities concerning this woman.
Charlie chuckled. “And I thought you were just an actress.”
“But Charlie, guess what else?”
“You want to become a rafting guide?”
She laughed. “No. Lindsey has decided to begin a Margaret of Burgundy clothing line, and I am going to help her with that. Lindsey and I went to Belgium before I came here to get ideas.”
“So that was the trip you had to take? Why didn’t you just tell me? I wasn’t sure what you were about and it . . . well, it made me wonder what was going on between us.”
“What is going on between us?”
Charlie grinned. “I love you and you love me and we’re going to have a baby and live happily ever after.” Charlie glanced up at the window. “I better do this correctly.” He got down on his knee. “Mags, will you marry me?”
She wanted to yell, yes, yes, yes, but shook her head firmly back and forth. “Not if it’s only because of a baby.”
Charlie and Mags glimpsed back at the window again. Dickie seemed to be getting agitated.
“For God’s sake, Mags—”
“Lang-uage—”
“Do you have to be aggravating at this exact moment? Dickie’s going to be out here running the riot act any minute now.”
She raised her head. “I will not marry a man who only thought to do so because he thinks I am a broodmare.”
“A what?”
“Would you be asking me if you didn’t think I was carrying your child?”
He stood again. “Okay. Honestly? Not today. But Mags, I would have eventually. I just know it. I think I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you.” He smiled devilishly. “You remember. When you were exploiting poor Gert.”
She stomped. “We have already been over this. I was not doing anything of the kind to Gert—”
“Will you just marry me? I can’t live my life without you.”
And that did it for Mags. He looked so sincere, and she felt the same about him. She did not want to resist any longer.
She smiled. “Very well. Since I know you cannot live your life without annoying me.”
He picked her up in a bear hug again. “Really? That’s great. When do you want to get hitched?”
“You will do so immediately.”
Mags broke away to see that Dickie was now standing next to them and answering for her.
She did not like it when her brother acted as if he was the King of England—which he did a lot. She hesitated in her reply, frowning.
Dickie raised a brow. “Do you want me to leave or not? Because I am not going away until you are married.”
Charlie hurriedly replied, “We can get wed in Nevada. Tomorrow probably.”
At the Medieval Wedding Chapel, a couple days later, Charlie responded, “I do.” He was wearing some cheap and exceedingly outlandish outfit, comprised of “breeches”—which were weird-looking short pants—a “doublet”—some kind of tight jacket, and “stockings”—which were actually just a pair of—oh,
geez—hose. Of course, nothing that had been given to him fit correctly.
He thanked the Gods again that his brothers were not there.
But when their little group had passed by this “quickie” wedding place, Dickie had demanded they stop here. Charlie did not know if Dickie was more attracted to the bizarre surroundings—which included an armored knight guarding the entrance, who was now holding Waldemar—or if it was that their advertising sign had also stated that ceremonies could be performed in fifteen minutes.
Charlie glanced at the witnesses to his wedding. At least Dickie and Ned were dressed as inanely as he. But Mags?
She looked stunning. She had brought some extravagant gown with her that actually looked as if it was from the medieval time period. Charlie would have to inquire later what she was doing with something like that in her possession.
Mags had insisted that they all road trip their way here when she had realized that if they did not, Waldemar would have to be “kept in a cage by strangers” until they returned. So, they had all crammed into his small vehicle—Ned had returned his rental to save money—and had arrived here in only eleven hours, not including the night when Dickie made sure that Charlie had a room at the opposite end of the hotel from Mags.
But tonight, Charlie would have his wife to himself—with their dog, of course. Dickie and Ned planned on flying out this evening.
Charlie could not wait—he had found a bride that suited him to a tee at last.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Dickie had one final surprise for Ned, who was looking sad at their goodbye. Ned was flying home while Dickie would soon be in heaven. They had stopped in their newly acquired rental car along an isolated portion of the road leading to the airport.
“Well, Dickie, I guess this is it. You certainly had an eventful trip this time.”
“Indeed, Ned. You will have to watch Mags while I am gone.”
“Do you think God will be angry that she is not returning with you?”
“I can only hope not. I did my best.” Dickie shrugged casually not to worry Ned, though he was also concerned about just that issue. But surely God would realize that he had had to arrange the marriage. What? Would God prefer that Mags return an unmarried mother? Absolutely unthinkable for such a royal family as theirs. And of course, Mags should remain on Earth to raise the baby with her husband.
Ned hesitated, appearing more sorrowful. “So, do you think you will ever be visiting here again?”
Dickie grinned now. “I’m planning on returning when that Seal show starts appearing on television. I want to make sure Double R and I beat those jackasses.”
Ned looked over puzzled. “But how can you be so confident that you will be allowed to return?”
“Because, Ned, I am cleverer than most. When God requested I fetch Mags, I finagled a promise from him. Whenever in the future I want to visit here, I can.”
Ned broke into a wide smile. “That’s great! So, this isn’t really goodbye.”
“Only until later, my cousin.” Dickie got out of the car. “And with that, I will be on my way.”
Dickie clicked his heels three times and recited, “There’s no place like heaven, there’s no place like heaven, there’s no place like—”
He soared into the sky.
“Byyyeee Dickie!”
Dickie arrived at his castle and greeted his son and wife fondly. He spent a few hours with them, but then excused himself. He had business to attend to, but he assured them he would see them later that evening.
He then hurried over to the battlefield. Before he reached the actual site, Teddie found him.
“Dickie! So glad you are back. We have some issues that require resolving.”
“Has the fighting begun?”
Teddie lowered his voice. “Oh, yes. The first day was carnage everywhere.”
“Dickie! Our ruler has returned!” Leonardo strolled over amiably to where he was standing. “Have you seen the weapon I devised?” He held up a contraption that Dickie had never seen the likes of.
Leonardo began to demonstrate. “First, I want you to note that this modern superb gun has an accurate aiming mechanism, then . . .” He began pulling out side attachments. “This can be used as a blade, and this as a bludgeoning club, and this”—he extended from the interlocking bottom—“serves as a sword.” He looked up at Dickie. “What do you think?”
Dickie was not sure how to respond. Not only were there all the combined weapons, but each had either a snarling dragon or another monstrous figurine or an evil old man’s head protruding from its side. “Uh . . . it’s impressive. I wonder if it could be a bit too intricate to use in the heat of battle.”
He smiled. “Apparently not! Now, listen, Dickie, I have already begun a weapon design for the next set of mock battles. With your permission, I will make an archetype.”
“Sure. Just keep me informed as to your progress.” Dickie watched him a moment, sauntering happily away in his pink outfit.
“Speaking of the next set of battles, Dickie,” Teddie caught his attention again, “Genghis and his Mongols are already insisting that he be allowed to participate.”
“Teddie, I want to know first, who is winning the current melee?”
“Oooh, that’s what we should definitely discuss. It’s become kind of complicated.”
Just then pudgy Herman came scurrying over, his apron flapping over his belly folds. “Richard, God wants to speak to you.”
Dickie was exasperated at first by the interruption, but then became scared, realizing the moment had come. “Uh, can’t it wait? I have important matters to attend to with my club.”
Herman shook his head. “Best not delay.” He whispered, conspiratorially, “He’s been moody again over that Waleena Earnesteena.”
Dickie trudged over to the swirl of fog surrounding the throne of God.
“I see you’ve come back, Richard,” God intoned, “but didn’t see fit to see me first.”
Dickie gazed through the mist guiltily. “Well, see . . . uh, Mags did not return with me.”
“I know.”
“She, uh . . . got married.”
“I know.”
Dickie sheepishly smiled. “She’s having a baby.”
“I KNOW, RICHARD. I’m God.”
Dickie tried explaining. “I did my best, but Mags is—”
“—a very clever woman.”
Dickie straightened. “Well, not as clever as I, surely—”
“Really? Is Mags here?” God mocked. “Maaags? Oh, Maaags? Where are you?”
He answered himself. “SHE’S NOT HERE!” He began to rant. “I can only hope that I can find among the new arrivals a woman as intriguing as your sister to discuss the wonders of the world. She is a one of a kind. A novelty. You do realize, Richard, what kind of a treasure you have allowed to slip by you?”
“Yes,” Dickie replied feebly. “But I’m sure she’ll return sometime.”
“This is getting tiresome. I KNOW!” God shouted, then uttered, “I’ve had enough of this. You’re dismissed.”
Dickie began to walk away. He wondered what would happen when Mags did eventually return to heaven. Would all her memory be restored about her past life? Only God knew, and Dickie sure did not want to inquire now.
“Richard, wait. One more thing.”
He turned around.
“The Viking women will be participating in your next mock battles. Make sure to convince the other men of their value.”
Dickie gaped. “What?! The Viking women? Women in my warrior club?” Dickie was thoroughly glad that Mags was currently not there to learn of her triumph.
God chuckled. “You didn’t really think that your inability to bring Mags back would go totally unpunished—at least by your standards—did you? But you’ll see. I predict those women will be highly appreciated soon enough. Now you can leave.”
As Dickie walked back to the battlefield, he wondered how much Genghis was going to like commanding a grou
p of women.
He snorted. Or him being led by them.
Chapter Thirty
Dickie found Teddie pacing at the edge of the battlefield. “I’m back. Now where were we . . .”
Dickie then noticed the lack of activity on the grounds. “Did I miss all the action?”
Teddie walked over to him. “Well, no. It wasn’t a complete slaughter.”
“So, who remains?”
“There are still a few with Crazy Horse and Grant for the Americans. And the British have a scattering with Richard the Lion and Saladin. But the French only have a trifling led by the Marquis de Lafayette.”
“Yes!” Dickie still resented the French for reclaiming the land that once belonged to England. “So, why isn’t everyone taking advantage of the weak French.”
“That’s where it gets complicated. The Americans like Lafayette.”
Dickie scowled. “Whatever for?”
“He fought in the American Revolution for the Americans.”
Dickie looked at him blankly.
Teddie explained, “When America was trying to break from England?”
“Oh, yes. I had heard about that unfortunate turn of events.” Dickie smirked.
But Teddie started getting scholarly as only he could do. “Lafayette is quite the good fellow. Did you know that he also tried to convince some of our ignorant founding fathers to free their slaves?”
“No, I did not—”
“He even bought a plantation in the Caribbean and released the slaves to show that the place could run profitably with tenant farming.”
“Teddie—”
“Unfortunately, he was imprisoned for about five years at the time of the French Revolution. He was not trusted as an aristocrat. His money, his power, his prestige all vanished.”
“Teddie—”
“He was truly a lost opportunity for France and their governing affairs.” Teddie finally halted and gazed at Dickie. “Like you were truly a lost opportunity for England, just even considering what you could have accomplished with more judicial reforms.”
Dickie stared a moment and thought about his kind words. “Why, thank you.” Dickie was so much more than his failure to retain the crown and his stumble in battle.