by Lynn Kurland
Alex looked over to the stands to find that there were indeed several souls waiting for him. Baldric stood there, looking as if he were just itching to start spouting verse— already his fingers were flexing purposefully. Frances stood there with a squirming Amery in her arms, and Joel was clutching as much of Alex's gear as he could get his arms around. Alex felt his chest tighten. What a crew it was. And to think he'd just won the right to provide for them. It made the victory all that much sweeter.
Alex made the introductions, then convinced George to take the little group back to the hall so he could debrief his family in private. It was a short trip to where Jamie and Elizabeth had left their mounts and their gear. In short order Jamie had removed his mail, they were sitting under a tree, and Alex was savoring his first Twinkie in over two months.
"This day just cannot improve," he said, licking his fingers thoroughly.
"Yeah, yeah, so now you've had your sugar hit," Elizabeth said, tossing a twig at him. "I want details. And don't think you're going to get away with that little stunt of almost strangling my husband."
"Indeed," Jamie said, rubbing his neck pointedly. "I believe I'll need the satisfaction of a lengthy wrestle to satisfy me on that score."
"The story first," Elizabeth said to Jamie. "I want him in one piece until he gets it all out."
Alex couldn't stop smiling. His family and Margaret all in the same day. It was almost too good to be true.
"Well," he said, leaning back against the tree, "it all started with Beast having a cold and sneezing all over me."
"Oh, that was an auspicious start," Elizabeth said with a laugh.
"I should have known something was up. Anyway, I went upstairs to get cleaned up, then had to answer the phone because Zach is incapable of doing anything but decimating the fridge. It was then I found the map." He looked at Jamie. ' 'I assumed you were just doodling, because I was just certain it couldn't mean what I thought it might mean."
"Your first mistake," Jamie noted.
"Fortunately it doesn't look like a mistake from where I'm standing now. Anyway, I decided a little change of scenery was in order so I thought I'd just head to Barbados—"
"Told you that's where he'd try," Elizabeth said, poking Jamie in the ribs.
"—but somehow I wound up too far north," Alex finished.
"You can't lay the blame for that at my feet," Jamie protested. "I was very clear about the location of the gates."
"How was I supposed to know you weren't making it all up!" Alex exclaimed.
Jamie pursed his lips. "Time traveling is not fodder for jests."
"Thank you. I know that now."
"Why didn't you wait for me?" Jamie asked. "I could have told you the truth of the matter."
"You weren't around. By the way, how is Barbados this time of year?''
Jamie looked at his wife and winced at the glare she was giving him. "Ah, well, perhaps not as pleasant a vacation spot as one might wish. But that's a tale fit for another day."
"Don't even think I'll feel sorry for you. At least you were looking at the sun."
Jamie made a noise or two of supreme discomfort, then waved Alex on. "You might pity me once you hear the details, but I assure you that you do not want to hear them now. Nor do I wish to relate them with your sister sitting here ready to chastise me yet again for but wishing to hoist a petard or two. Tell us instead of your adventures."
Jamie looked so desperate to distract Elizabeth, Alex couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He made himself more comfortable against the tree, then began at the beginning, starting with Margaret's boot in his side and then his kidnapping from Brackwald. Then he outlined his plan to set up Edward as Lord of Falconberg and his subsequent attempts to return to the future.
'' 'Take me home, country road'?" Elizabeth asked.
"I was desperate," Alex grumbled. "By the way, just how is it you get back and forth?"
Jamie shrugged. "We just do. Though I can't say we have much control over our arrival and departure times."
"So Air MacLeod isn't a perfected means of travel yet?" Alex asked.
"Don't get him started," Elizabeth said darkly. "Just take my word on this: It doesn't remain unperfected from a lack of trying."
Alex suspected he would be wise not to ask for the details at the moment. Jamie's expression was turning philosophical in direct proportion to the deepening of Elizabeth's frown. Better to head off that argument while he could.
"Anyway," he continued, "after my last unsuccessful attempt in the faery ring, I found Amery running away from marauding knights, rescued Margaret from a few thugs, and decided that since I was here for good, I should make the best of things." Then he shook his head. "No, that wasn't how it was. I decided to stay." He smiled at his sister. "Margaret's what I've been looking for my whole life. I couldn't leave her."
"And yet you had to best her with the sword to convince her to marry you," Jamie observed. "She doesn't persuade very easily." "You could have tried wooing her," Jamie said. "To be sure, I have a very long list of appropriate strategies I could have given you."
"I don't think they would have worked on her." Jamie shook his head in disagreement. "You'd be surprised what a fistful of wildflowers will fetch you."
"Trust me. She was more interested in my swordplay than my romantic ideas. I'm just hoping I can get her to the altar before she bolts."
Jamie exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, but was silent. Alex watched his sister fuss with young Ian's tunic, and wondered why the sudden silence. "What's the problem?" he asked. Elizabeth shrugged. "We just assumed you'd want to come home with us."
Alex sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. "If you'd come two months ago I would have gone without hesitation. It's too late now. I've made a life here, and it's a life I wouldn't trade. Besides," he said cheerfully, "you guys can come and visit. It'll just be like I took a job in a rain forest or something. No letters, but a good care package every Christmas."
Elizabeth bit her lip and Jamie frowned. They again looked at each other, then both remained stubbornly silent. Alex rolled his eyes.
"All right, I give," he said with a sigh. "Why all the secret looks? Something I should know?"
"I don't know that we can get back here again," Jamie said. "It isn't exactly like filing a flight plan at the airport, Alex."
"Hey, how hard can it be to find medieval England?"
Jamie shook his head. "It isn't the place that presents the problem, Alex, 'tis the date."
"You found me easily enough."
"Ha," Elizabeth said. "Third time's a charm, buster. The first time we landed here in the middle of John's Magna Carta troubles and we left right away."
"And the second, we found ourselves in the company of Robin of Locksley," Jamie continued. "Though I must admit, that was a pleasant venture. I had come more fully prepared in English garb, and to be sure their style of fighting in the forest was more to my liking than this jousting business."
Alex blinked in surprise. "Then how did you find me this time?"
"We happened upon your Margaret's keep, inquired as to the date and other particulars and learned that you had departed for Tickhill to try to speak with the king." Jamie shrugged. "We were fortunate. But there is no guarantee we will be so fortunate in the future."
"All right," Alex said, sitting up and frowning, "just how much experimenting have you done?"
Elizabeth snorted. "More than he dares admit."
"And you've never once controlled the destination time?"
Jamie shook his head. "We find ourselves arriving at a time where there is a task for us to accomplish."
"And bringing me Twinkies wouldn't qualify?"
Jamie smiled grimly. "I think not."
Well, it certainly put a different light on things. Alex realized then that he'd always entertained in the back of his mind the hope that somehow Jamie and Elizabeth would show up now and then just to keep him abreast of familial happenings and current events. Th
at had just become a nonreality. This was very possibly the last time he would see his sister, his brother-in-law, and his nephew. It also meant that he would never again see any of the other members of his family. Never again would he have the dubious pleasure of walking by Zach's room and trying to identify the toxic smells coming from under the doorway.
"You love her enough to stay?" Elizabeth asked.
Alex dragged himself back from his less than cheerful thoughts and managed a smile. "You of all people shouldn't have to ask that."
And with that, his decision was remade. Though he realized there had never been any real danger of him choosing anything else. He'd decided once before, but that had been when he'd been fairly sure he had no other choice of action. Now the choice had been given to him, but he found his decision to be the same one.
"Yes, I love her very much," he said. "I think you'll like her, too."
"Don't know that I'd want to face her over lances," Jamie said seriously. "At least not without a wee bit more practice at it. She certainly took you out with no trouble." "I was distracted," Alex countered. "She was supposed to be sitting in the stands, not gallivanting around the lists."
"And who made the decision about where she should keep herself?"
Alex frowned at his brother-in-law. "I did. It wasn't where she wanted to be, but I put my foot down. You know, the 'begin as you mean to go on' kind of thing."
Jamie shook his head with a laugh. "Oh, brother, you've much to learn about women."
"I know plenty about them, believe me," Alex grumbled. "And considering how much I know about this particular woman, I think I would be wise to go check on her. She'll be stuck up in that solar with all those women, and heaven only knows what she'll do."
"Cabin fever?" Elizabeth asked.
"An intense aversion to Lord Odo's wife, actually. She's probably up there debating about whether or not she should hack them to bits and then escape." He deposited his Twinkie wrapper back in Elizabeth's saddlebag and rose. "I'd better go rescue her before she does something drastic." He looked at Elizabeth. "Want to tag along?"
"I wouldn't miss it," she said. She gave her son a hug and a kiss and passed him over to his father. "You'll watch Ian?"
"Aye," Jamie said, taking Ian and settling him comfortably on the ground. "We'll practice our swordplay, or some other such manly pursuit."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet. "Jamie, he's not even walking yet. Why don't you concentrate on keeping him from eating the native flora and fauna and leave the swordplay for later."
" 'Tis never too soon to begin—"
Alex found himself being pulled away by his sister. ' 'I don't want to hear any more," she whispered. "Hurry, before I get another lecture on why it's a good thing that Ian has more wooden swords than stuffed bears."
"Come, Ian," Jamie said from behind him, "let us search in Papa's saddlebag and see what sort of weaponry he has brought for you. Och, but 'tis a fine day for lessons in parrying!"
Alex took one last look behind him to see Jamie rooting in his bag for the goods, then turned himself back around so his sister didn't give him whiplash from how hard she was pulling him away.
"I've told him no steel until Ian's at least six," Elizabeth said grimly, "but you can just imagine what he says to that."
Alex put his arm around her shoulders. "Oh, Beth, I've missed you guys."
"What you've missed is watching me never get my way with that man. Didn't I put my foot down about time traveling? Didn't I?" she demanded.
"Repeatedly," Alex agreed.
"Did it do me any good? Well, did it?"
"Oh, Beth," he said with a laugh, "you knew you'd never get your way on that from the start. And you can't tell me you don't enjoy it just a little bit."
She pursed her lips. "Everyone always wants him, Alex. The men want him for their armies, and the women want him—well, they just plain want him. I'm beating them off with a stick."
"You could think of it as great first-hand research."
"What I'd really like to be researching is the effects of a weekend in that overstuffed floral-print chair I just bought for Jamie's study, accompanied by a batch of Joshua's brownies and a good book."
"Don't look for sympathy here, sister," Alex said, shaking his head. "You've still got a tan. I'm starting to mold between my toes."
She looked up at him. "You can't tell me you haven't been having a good time, either. You don't look too miserable."
Alex smiled. "It's been wonderful. Now, if I only had the Range Rover to travel with, things would be perfect. Not that there's probably anything left of it," he said. "Can I hope Zach hasn't decided to do the noble thing and drive it every day so it doesn't die from lack of use?"
"I hid the keys," Elizabeth said. "He was starting to drool over it pretty heavily."
"I'm touched by his concern for my welfare."
"That's Zach," she agreed.
Alex fell silent as they approached the hall door, then took a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing. I hope she hasn't changed her mind."
Elizabeth slugged him in the arm. "Of course she hasn't changed her mind. Doesn't she realize the catch she's getting? Hundreds of twentieth-century women will go into mourning when they hear about you getting married."
"Margaret's a tough sell."
"Look, she's probably sitting up there right now, staring off into the distance, daydreaming about you even as we speak."
Plotting the demise of Lydia of Tickhill and her ladies was probably more accurate, but Alex didn't try to convince his sister of it. He was too busy with his own plotting of how he would get her to the altar.
He sincerely hoped it wouldn't be at the point of his sword.
Twenty - two
Margaret fingered the hilt of her sword and wondered how Lord Odo would feel if she slaughtered all his lady wife's women. Of course Lady Lydia wasn't in attendance. She'd made it clear she had no desire to be in the same solar with a woman in chain mail. Margaret had no idea where the queen mother was, and it was probably just as well. The saints only knew what Eleanor would have to say about the entire affair with Ralf and Alex, though Margaret tended to think the former queen of England would have agreed with her tactics.
Margaret straightened and looked over the heads of the women circling her like vultures. She would ignore them. No matter that they looked her over as if she were a leg of mutton to be dressed for a meal. Or perhaps they considered her an entire sheep—a very large sheep. She felt twice as tall and twice as wide as any of the women in the same chamber.
It was excruciating.
Of course, she had no desire to be dressed as they were, what with all their finely made gowns, their velvets and silks. She had no wish to have her head covered by those ridiculous wimples. Dainty slippers made for a very uncomfortable crossing of the lists. One healthy step in horse dung and a girl's feet would smell for the rest of the day. Besides, a sword would look passing foolish belted around such gowns as the ones she saw before her.
And how would she ride astride her mount with those skirts to contend with? How would she fight if she were forever tripping over hems and such? Was she to trade in her weapons for a handful of keys? Perhaps the women before her considered such keys to be a symbol of power, but Margaret knew better. Power was cold steel in the hand and the skill to use it.
All in all, she thought she just might have chosen the better part.
But that didn't aid her in ignoring the looks of disdain and the blatantly spoken insults.
She again fingered the hilt of her sword. It gave her no relief, so she walked to the alcove and stared out the window. That was somewhat better. At least she didn't have to watch the harpies behind her as they discussed her flaws. "Is she a maid?" one asked politely. "Impossible to say," another said with a laugh. "One could tell by lifting her skirts, but what man would brave her sword to do so?'' another cackled.
"If she had skirts to lift!" another exclaimed, laughing heartily.
"For all we know, she isn't a woman at all!"
Margaret tried desperately not to listen, but the chamber was far too small for that. She stared out the window with renewed determination. They could say what they wanted. Let them try to do the things she did each day. Why, if a man came at them with a sword drawn, they'd likely swoon at his feet.
"I say he flees, despite the king's command." "I would, were I he," another said. "With his comely aspect and strong arm, he could have his pick of brides." "Aye, what a face he has! Saints, just the sight of it is enough to have me on my back."
In a swoon, Margaret thought glumly. Aye, Alex's visage was enough to weaken any woman's knees. And she was to be his.
The thought should have had her delirious with joy. Instead, she thought she would never again have the stomach for eating anything. No matter that he'd said he wanted her for himself before they'd even come to Tickhill. For a moment she wished she'd been nothing more than a peasant girl and he a mason's bastard. At least then she would have been sure that he wed with her out of love.
She wrapped her arms around herself. She realized as she did so that it had become a gesture she made with frightening regularity. It also didn't escape her why she felt the need to do so.
To protect her heart.
"Oh, oh!" one of the witless wenches squeaked. "He comes! Listen, can you not hear him arguing from here? What a melodious voice he has!"
"And such a fascinating accent he has! So foreign."
Margaret scowled. She'd heard Alex's accent far too much to find it fascinating. Annoying was more to her thinking. She turned to face the doorway and fixed a scowl firmly to her face. What cared she that he had come? Perhaps he only came to see what selection of ladies Odo could provide, now that he was soon to have a title and could likely have his pick of the lot. Margaret was half tempted to tell them he was naught but a healer's son. It would serve the wretch right if she did so and ruined his chances to further himself with these spiteful cats.
"Don't tell me no!" Alex was bellowing. "If I want to see Margaret of Falconberg, then I'll see her!"
Well, Alex had certainly taken on the tone of an outraged nobleman. Margaret was almost on the verge of feeling a bit of pleasure that he was demanding to see her, then she caught sight of the looks of disbelief on the wenches' faces.