The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

  Margaret watched in astonishment as Alex's expression changed from annoyed to bloody furious. With a mighty shove, he felled the black knight, then leaped upon him with his hands about the other's throat.

  "Damn you, James MacLeod!" Alex shouted.

  James MacLeod? Alex's brother-in-law? Margaret took a brief moment to consider what this might mean, then she realized Alex was about to strangle the other man. That wouldn't do. She had questions to put to this Lord MacLeod, questions that would certainly tell the tale about Alex's sanity.

  "Cease!" she called out. "Alex, cease you with this idiocy!"

  "Damn you, Jamie," Alex was saying. "Why didn't you tell me about those damn X's?"

  "I didn't think ... you'd see the .. . map," Jamie wheezed, obviously struggling to take in air.

  "You could have put some sort of warning label on it!"

  " 'Tis still in the ... oof... experimental stage—"

  Lord MacLeod began to turn a very unwholesome shade of purple. Margaret couldn't for the life of her fathom what had her love in such a temper, but 'twas more than obvious his brother-in-law was the cause of it. No sense, though, in not rescuing the man before Alex finished him off. After all, she did have her questions to ask. She strode out onto the field.

  ''Experimental? Damn you, Jamie, how could you leave something that dangerous just lying around?" Alex demanded, wrenching his brother-in-law about by the neck. "You've been weekending in Barbados, haven't you? I wind up in rainy old medieval England, and you've been sunning yourself on the beach. You've got a damned tan still!"

  "Holidays are ... arrgh ... good for a body," Jamie managed, trying to fend Alex off.

  "Holidays—"

  Margaret grasped Alex by the back of his surcoat and pulled firmly. "Alex, let him up."

  "Don't stop me now," Alex growled. "I've been fantasizing about this moment for several weeks."

  Margaret could feel the eyes of the entire population of Tickhill upon them. Indeed, she was just certain the royal gaze was burning a hole in her back.

  "Finish him later," she suggested. "When you have less of an audience. Besides, I have a question or two for this man, and you'll not do him in before I've had a go at him."

  Alex took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He reluctantly released his victim and heaved himself to his feet. Lord MacLeod sat up with a grunt, rubbing his offended neck.

  "My thanks, mistress," he said, shooting her a brief smile. He scowled at Alex. "I should think you'd be happy to see us. By the saints, Alex, we brought munchies!"

  Alex swore with great enthusiasm. "Your timing couldn't be worse, damn it. I'm on the verge of getting married here!"

  Jamie's mouth fell open. "You are?"

  "You are?" Margaret echoed. She found her hand captured by Alex's.

  "I am," he said, giving her a look that dared her to contradict him.

  Based on that look, she decided that remaining silent would be in her best interest.

  Alex glared at Jamie. "Let's just hope you haven't ruined my reputation with the king."

  Jamie continued to gape at him.

  "Don't get up," Alex said shortly. "We'll catch up later. Come on, Meg. We don't want to keep the king waiting any longer. Let's hope he still thinks I'm knight material after this fiasco here."

  Margaret found herself being towed back toward the king's pavilion. She looked over her shoulder and found Jamie getting slowly to his feet, still staring after her and Alex with an expression of astonishment on his face. Margaret would have chided Alex for not being more hospitable to a man who had obviously come a great distance to see him, but Alex's mien warned her that chiding would not be well received.

  Alex came to an abrupt halt. "Oh," he said.

  Margaret followed his gaze and saw that Edward of Brackwald stood before the king, leaning heavily on Sir George.

  "Well," Alex said, sounding somewhat unsure, "I suppose this is good."

  "'Tis a stroke of marvelous fortune," Margaret said, taking him by the arm and pulling him this time. "He'll tell the king of Ralf's treachery."

  "Yeah, well, that may not be all."

  She spared him a brief glance. ' 'What mean you?''

  He looked very uncomfortable. "I think Edward thinks he'd be a good husband for you."

  It was her turn to come to an immediate halt. "And from whence might he have procured such a ridiculous notion? He knows I've no use for Ralf or any of his kin."

  "Well," Alex mumbled, "I might have given him the idea."

  "You what!"

  He shrugged helplessly. "It was when I thought I'd be going home. I didn't want you stuck with Ralf."

  "I can choose my own husband, thank you!"

  "I realize that now, and believe me I want to be first on the list—"

  "Damn," she groused. "Come along then, you blathering fool. You may as well disabuse Edward of that foolishness now."

  She dragged Alex to the pavilion, then cast herself down on her knees next to Edward. He smiled carefully at her.

  "Lady Margaret."

  She tried not to breathe too deeply of the air about him. Ralf's pit was obviously even less cared for than his hall.

  "I'll not wed with you," she whispered sharply. "Best forget the idea now."

  He blinked. "But I thought—"

  "Aye, there's always danger in that," she said. "Alex does it often and look what trouble it lands him into."

  "Ahem."

  Margaret clamped her lips shut at the clearing of the royal throat. She didn't dare look up at her king.

  "Sire," Alex began.

  "Rise, Alexander of Seattle," the king commanded.

  Alex did. Margaret stole a glance at the king, and her heart sank. His Majesty had something planned, and it could only be something foul. He wore that look.

  "We would know the name of this other knight," the king said, pointing an imperious finger back toward the lists, "and why you both chose to brawl in such a manner."

  "He is my brother-in-law, Your Majesty, Laird James MacLeod of Scotland," Alex said humbly. "It was a little family squabble. I apologize deeply for carrying it out on the field where it didn't belong."

  Richard grunted. Margaret secretly thought the king had no room to criticize. The saints only knew he'd done his share of brawling with his family members, both on and off the field. She watched him carefully for his reaction and saw the royal wheels begin to turn. He couldn't help but see the possibilities in two such tall, strapping men. She said the briefest, most heartfelt prayer of her life that Alex wouldn't find himself being invited to join Richard's company. There was no telling where he'd end up if that happened.

  Richard motioned for Margaret to rise. She jumped to her feet.

  "Aye, my liege?" she said promptly, hoping to distract him from possible thoughts of recruitment for his army.

  Richard put his hands on her sword that still rested in the floor between his knees and frowned at her. "You've disobeyed us repeatedly. You should have been wed several years past, to the man of your father's choosing."

  Was it her fault her father had been soft-hearted enough to indulge her in her refusal to marry as a child? And to be sure it wasn't her fault that her father had been dead these past ten years and quite unable to look for a suitable match for her. Neither of those, however, were details she dared share with the king. Best he not know the full extent of her disobedience.

  She felt Alex stir beside her, and she quickly elbowed him in the ribs. The last thing she needed was him blurting out some item of interest better left unsaid.

  ''And since your sire is not alive to see to it,'' Richard continued, "the task of finding you a husband falls to us."

  "I beg pardon, Sire," Margaret ventured, "but I do not think any of the men Your Grace could suggest will hold Falconberg as well as I can—"

  She gasped at Alex's elbow in her ribs.

  "What she means, Your Grace," Alex began, "is—

  "—what I mean," Margaret co
ntinued, shooting Alex a glare, "is that I am certain Your Grace places the same value on his holdings that I do. I know that Your Grace would not want my lands to fall into ruin, or be ravaged."

  Richard stroked his chin and regarded her with only thinly veiled impatience. Well, at least he hadn't gainsaid her yet. And her head was still atop her neck. Margaret was almost giddy with relief. Perhaps Edward could be questioned and Ralf could be shown to be the ravager he was.

  "A blessing it is, then," Richard continued, "that we have found a man who can hold your lands and still have enough stamina left to rule you."

  "Not Ralf—" Margaret began.

  Richard waved his hand dismissively. "We had considered him, true, but he hasn't shown well today."

  "I'm sure French soil would suit him better," Alex muttered under his breath.

  Margaret wanted to agree, but didn't dare.

  "And given what his brother has said about his actions the past few months, we can see he would be a poor choice."

  The saints be praised for that, she thought.

  Richard looked at Alex. Margaret almost flinched at the calculation there.

  "How much have you collected today?"

  Alex blinked. "I beg your pardon, Sire?"

  "How much?" Richard asked impatiently. "For your ransoms?"

  "Ah, I'm really not sure—"

  "Goods which could be ransomed for five hundred marks, Sire," Richard's herald announced. "And that doesn't count the ransom due him from Lord Brackwald."

  ''The earldom of Falconberg shall be sold for five hundred marks," Richard announced.

  Margaret blinked.

  "See to the collecting of it for the new earl of Falconberg," Richard said to the man who'd spoken before.

  "He's not even a knight," Edward blurted out from her other side.

  Richard's look should have cut him down where he knelt. Amazingly enough, Edward remained upright.

  "Do you question our decision, Sir Edward?" the king demanded, tapping the hilt of Margaret's sword meaningfully.

  "Nay, Sire, 'tis—"

  "Aye?"

  Edward swallowed audibly. "Nay, Sire. 'Tis a most wise choice."

  "Our thoughts exactly." The king turned back to Alex. "Prepare yourself this eve, for you will be knighted on the morrow and thereafter give us your fealty. The wedding will take place straightway thereafter." Richard leveled a stare at Margaret. "You will go with the countess's ladies and see yourself prepared for the morrow as well."

  Margaret could only gape at him.

  "We assure you that you wouldn't wish to face us over blades."

  That was truth indeed, especially considering the royal mood.

  She found her hand again captured by Alex's.

  "Your Grace is most kind," he said, squeezing her hand tightly, "and we are most grateful for your forbearance and longsuffering."

  "Our army could yet use soldiers," Richard said, eyeing both Alex and his brother-in-law with something akin to regret.

  "My lord Ralf seems anxious to serve," Alex offered.

  Margaret admired his cheek. Saints, that would be the place for Ralf—trudging about in one of Richard's armies.

  "So he does. But what of our newly made earl of Falconberg?"

  Alex took a deep breath. "I daresay the king could yet use gold for his wars."

  Richard pursed his lips. " 'Twill be a heavy price, for our coffers are light."

  "It will be my pleasure to see to their filling. I'm certain I could do so with more success if I remained at Falconberg."

  Richard conceded the point with a grunt. ''Tickhill, see that the lady Margaret is suitably garbed and prepared for the ceremony. Come, Mother, and let us return to the hall for sustenance." He rose and immediately there was a flurry of activity from the courtiers surrounding him as they leaped to their feet to bow and scrape before him. Richard sidestepped Margaret's sword, cast her a final pointed look, then escorted Eleanor from the field.

  Margaret didn't dare breathe until the king and the rest of the gallery had disappeared around the corner of the hall. It was only then that she found it in her to draw breath. By the saints, that had been close! To think that with a mere voicing of a few words, the king could have saddled her with Ralf for the rest of her life.

  Lord Odo pulled Margaret's sword out of its resting place in the floor, then leaped over the railing with all the exuberance of a squire. He clapped Alex heartily on the shoulders.

  "By the saints, lad, you did it! Well done!"

  Alex was laughing. Margaret looked up and was surprised at the genuine pleasure she saw on his face. Alex turned her to him, then kissed her full on the mouth. She looked at him, stunned, when he pulled away.

  "The earl of Falconberg," she whispered. "Not even my father held so lofty a title."

  His smile was almost too beautiful to see. "It doesn't matter," he said, reaching out to touch her face. "What matters is your land is still yours and it will remain yours for the rest of your life."

  She shook her head slowly. "Nay, 'tis yours."

  "No, Margaret, it's yours and you are mine." He smiled and the sight of that smile made her want to fan herself. "I have to say, though, I think I've gotten the better prize."

  He would have kissed her again, and indeed he seemed poised to do so, but Lord Odo whisked her away.

  "Come, my dear," he said, handing her the sword, "let's see what use Lydia's seamstresses can be put to. She has reams of fabric she hoards like fine wine. She'll part with the finest for your gown—I'll see to it myself!"

  Margaret managed one last look over her shoulder as she sheathed her sword. Edward was shaking Alex's hand, looking disappointed, but alive. Alex was still grinning madly. James MacLeod had joined the group and was still wearing that expression of astonishment. At least his face had returned to a healthy color. Margaret was itching to question him, but Lord Odo had a grip on her she had the feeling she'd never break, and she didn't have the heart to turn her blade on him. With any luck, Alex would leave enough of his brother-in-law for her to interrogate at her leisure.

  Then she came to an abrupt halt.

  One of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen had just come running through the gallery. She shoved a young child into James MacLeod's arms and then threw herself at Alex, clutching him as if she feared she'd never see him again. Alex laughed and returned her embrace.

  "Come, my dear," Lord Odo said, tugging gently. "You've a wedding to prepare for."

  Margaret was stunned enough to allow him to continue pulling her toward the hall. A wedding? With what she'd just witnessed, she wondered if there would be one.

  Merciful saints above, who was that woman?

  Twenty - one

  Alex felt giddy with relief. There was no other way to describe it. It was better than passing the bar. It was better than any corporate takeover. It was, without a doubt, the best he had ever felt in his life. He hugged the sister he hadn't seen in weeks, then swung her around, laughing.

  "Can you believe this?" he asked her. "We did it! We saved her land!"

  "So I hear," Elizabeth said, putting her hand to her head and smiling weakly. "I take it congratulations are in order."

  "If you only knew," he said, with feeling.

  He had no idea where to begin in telling Jamie and Elizabeth everything that had gone on over the past few weeks. And that didn't begin to address sorting out his feelings about their arrival. Of all the times to have shown up!

  Though he had to admit that, now that he'd gotten his desire to strangle Jamie out of his system, he was actually very glad to see them both.

  At least he thought he was glad.

  He shook aside thoughts that were better left for a less jubilatory time. He would think about just what his family's arrival meant to him and his future after his honeymoon. He didn't dare think about it now.

  A very foul smell wafted past him. He blinked and noticed that Edward had come to stand next to him.

  "Congra
tulations," Edward said, smiling gamely. "On both your title and your bride."

  "Sorry about that," Alex said, not feeling sorry in the least.

  Edward waved away the apology. "'Tis obvious she fancies you. And I daresay you'll hold Falconberg very well for her."

  "With any luck, you'll be in charge at Brackwald and then our border troubles will be over."

  "Aye, with any luck," Edward agreed. "I'm to meet with the king after supper. Apparently, he knew nothing of Ralf's deeds."

  "Well, you're living proof your brother isn't a sterling citizen. Glad to see you out and about again."

  "I have Sir George to thank for that," Edward said. He nodded at Margaret's captain, then stepped back. "I should perhaps seek out cleaner clothes. I doubt His Majesty will be eager to smell me in my current condition."

  Alex couldn't help but agree, but he refrained from doing so out loud. He waited until Edward had walked away before he turned to George.

  "Well," he asked with a grin, "what do you think?"

  George smiled just as widely. "I couldn't be more pleased."

  "Neither could I." Alex laughed again for the sheer pleasure of it. "I can hardly believe it."

  George elbowed him surreptitiously. "An introduction, my lord."

  Well, George was obviously frothing at the mouth for a few more future details. He was staring at Jamie and Elizabeth with the same kind of awe someone else might have a full-fledged alien. Alex wasted no time in introducing Margaret's captain to his family.

  "A pleasure," George said, his eyes quite a bit wider than normal.

  "George knows everything," Alex explained. "And he believes me. Unlike Margaret, who thinks I've lost my marbles. And it wasn't like I sprang it on her first thing.

  Good grief, she'd known me almost a month before I told her!"

  "Okay," Elizabeth said, taking her son back into her arms, "it's time for the whole story. From the beginning."

  "I heard you brought munchies?" Alex asked hopefully.

  "Part of the time-travel survival kit," Elizabeth said with a dry smile. "Let's find somewhere private, and we'll break out the stash. Maybe after you take care of your fan club," she added, nodding her head toward the stands.