The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

  She looked at him solemnly. "Ramifications?"

  He smiled and pulled her into his arms. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

  She was silent, but hugged him more tightly.

  "Do you want to know what I was thinking?"

  "I'm afraid to," she said, her words muffled against his tunic.

  He pressed a gentle kiss against her hair then put his lips to her ear. "I was thinking that I could ask nothing more of life than what it's already given me."

  She lifted her head and looked at him gravely. "In truth?"

  "In truth," he said, with a smile. "But that wasn't the most important thing."

  He could have sworn she was bracing herself to hear something awful.

  "What would that be?" she asked.

  "Everything I want I have right here in my arms." He watched her digest that, then felt her relief in the relaxing of her rigid stance.

  "The saints be praised for your good sense."

  He laughed. "That's all I get for such a flowery sentiment?"

  "What else would you have, my lord?"

  "My lecherous imagination is running rampant," he said, "and I'll tell you all about it in a minute. I want to ask you something first."

  "Aye?"

  "I was wondering," he began, then he realized how very much he wanted what he was about to ask, "well, what I would really like is for you to meet my family."

  She blinked. "But I have. Jamie and Elizabeth—"

  "No," he said, "I mean the rest of my family."

  She froze. "In Seattle?"

  "We'll go to Scotland. They'll come to us."

  She stepped back and looked at him closely. "Will they?"

  "If everything goes well."

  "And we'll be stepping through the blades of grass?"

  She asked it without any inflection of disbelief and only a minor amount of lip-pursing. Alex couldn't help but smile. He could hardly wait to see her expression the first time she saw a modern invention. Jamie would have fingerprints all over his house from Margaret touching everything to make sure it was real.

  "Yes," he said, realizing she was waiting for his answer. "That's exactly what we'll be doing."

  She was considering it. Then she looked at him very carefully.

  "Can we get back home?"

  He couldn't lie. "I'm almost positive of it."

  "This means much to you."

  "I don't know that I'll ever see my family again. And I would very much like them to meet you."

  "And you believe this will happen? This traveling to the future?"

  "I know it will."

  She put her arms around him and held on tightly. ''Then I will go with you."

  "You won't regret it."

  She sighed. "I hope not."

  Alex held her and looked out over Falconberg soil—soil that was now under his care and prayed that he wasn't doing something colossally stupid. They would pop back to the twentieth century, he would say his goodbyes, then they would come home and live out the rest of their lives in happiness.

  Alex tightened his arms around his wife and began to make a list in his head of all the things he would need to bring back with him, beginning with several prescriptions of penicillin and ending with a case or two of Twinkies. Hopefully Beast would survive being used as a packhorse and the faery ring wouldn't strip him of his comfort food on the return trip.

  Margaret surveyed her gear. Sword, mail, bow and quarrels, and a handful of knives to hide on various parts of her person. Cook had been instructed to pack enough food for a brief journey. Now all that was left to do was wait for the morrow.

  She'd already given the tidings to Baldric. They hadn't been well received. He had been highly offended that he wouldn't be taken along to immortalize any possible heroic deeds in verse. She'd promised him a detailed report when she returned, but she wasn't sure if that had satisfied him or not. He'd gone into hiding almost immediately, either to sulk or to shore up his strength for hours of creative effort upon her return.

  Amery hadn't been told yet. Separation from Alex would be hard on the lad, even if they were gone only a few days. Margaret had decided the kindest thing they could do was tell him just before they departed. Even so, the boy seemed to know some mischief was afoot. He'd been raging about for a pair of days now, using his newly discovered word "nay" as many times as humanly possible.

  "I see you've finished your preparations."

  Margaret turned around to find her captain standing just outside the doorway.

  "Aye," she said, uncertain what she should tell him. "We won't be gone long."

  "Indeed."

  " 'Tis merely a trip to see a few sights," Margaret said defensively. "To show Alex a bit more of England."

  George snorted. "I know exactly what you're about, Margaret. You needn't make up a tale to appease me."

  "And what is it you think you know, good sir?"

  George left his post in the passageway and came across the chamber to stand next to her. "I believe him," he said softly. "I believe he came from a year far in the future. I have had several talks with Alex and with Lord Jamie. They are honest men."

  "Daft, you mean to say."

  "Nay, I believe them to have all their wits about them. I daresay you'll see it all soon enough for yourself."

  "I'll see nothing but countryside and the embarrassed face of my lord when he realizes his tale isn't true."

  George smiled and put his hand on her shoulder briefly. "I envy you. I would give much to see what you'll see."

  Margaret felt a distinct chill go down her spine, and it was far colder than the wind that leaked through the cracks in her shutters. She had the feeling, and 'twas a dread certainty indeed, that Alex had spoken the truth and she would be stepping through a blade of grass on the morrow into a world she had never before imagined. It was to be sure the stuff of legends. Faeries and elves did such things, not humankind. Yet there she was, on the brink of doing the selfsame thing. For a moment she wished with all her might that she might take someone of her own household, someone who would understand her uncertainty. She looked at George.

  "Come, if you wish," she offered. At least I won't be alone then.

  George shook his head with a smile. "Nay, girl, my place is here. What need have I to see the future? Alex has told me tales enough to keep my poor head spinning for years." He smiled again and stepped away. "I'll keep watch here for you while you're gone." He walked to the door, then paused and turned. "There is one thing, though."

  Margaret felt affection well up in her. George had never once asked her for anything, yet how often she had relied on him to serve and guide her. Aye, she would do whatever she could for him.

  "Anything," she said.

  "I'd like a baseball."

  "A what?'' She had expected steel or delicacies, or perhaps even to have Baldric locked in the dungeon while she was gone, but this foreign-sounding object? Never.

  "A baseball. Ask Alex. He'll know all about it."

  Margaret grunted. She didn't doubt Alex could spout a great deal of nonsense about such a thing, but anything else would be something she would just have to reserve judgment on.

  "Be careful," George added, then turned and disappeared into the passageway before she could say anything else.

  She turned back to her gear and stared at it, trying to decide if it was enough to take. For all she knew, they'd end up facing a score of bandits in some forest and it would be up to her to save their lives. The likelihood of them arriving any place where they might find anything as ridiculous as a baseball was very far-fetched. She paused, considered, then made her decision.

  She turned away and went in search of another knife.

  Twenty - nine

  "Houston, we have a problem."

  Alex continued to cinch Beast's saddle. "Whatever it is, it can be fixed later."

  "Actually," Elizabeth said, "I think you'll want to take a look at this now."

  Alex sighed, gave the straps one last
tug, then turned around to see what else the morning could throw at him. He frowned. "What's this?"

  "I think it's what it looks like," Elizabeth said dryly.

  Margaret was in deep discussion with George, no doubt giving him a very long list of her last-minute instructions. That Alex didn't have a problem with. It was the group standing next to her that threatened to give him gray hairs.

  Baldric was dressed for travel. Alex recognized the gear: the long, flowing, bardly cloak and the beat-up carpetbag made from remnants of tapestries Baldric had no doubt worked his magic on previously. Obviously the bard hadn't been in hiding to pout; he'd been in hiding to pack.

  Amery was also dressed in his finest traveling apparel: sturdy leather boots and a little coat Elizabeth had put together for him. He wore his woobie swathed around his shoulders and head in a manner worthy of the most important sheik. Amery clutched his pillow with one hand and Frances's skirts with the other.

  Or, rather, Frances's cloak with the other. Alex felt his frown deepen at the sight of Amery's keeper also seemingly prepared for a formidable journey. She was blushing miserably—which had been her condition the last time she'd been talked into going along for the ride by Baldric. The old man could be very persuasive when it suited him. And then there was Joel, standing next to Baldric and clutching Alex's gear.

  "You forgot your mail, my lord," he huffed, struggling to keep himself and all Alex's warrior paraphernalia upright and occupying the same space. ''I brought it, as well as other things I thought you'd be needin'."

  "But—" Alex spluttered.

  "You'll have need of me," Joel plunged on. "A great lord such as yourself shouldn't be traveling about without his squire."

  "But we aren't going all that far—"

  "One never knows how far the road will take him," Baldric announced. ''One also never knows the adventures he might have along the way. 'Tis only right that I come along to record any such occurrences." "I really don't think—"

  "You can't be leavin' us behind," Frances blurted out, then clamped her lips shut and blushed some more. She stared at the ground intently.

  Alex looked at Margaret. She shrugged, then turned back to George and started up with her list again. Alex shook his head, then looked at his sister. "This isn't going to work."

  Elizabeth smiled. "It would probably be better not to bring them. If you try, Jamie will give you his Don't Mar the Fabric of Time lecture again."

  "Holes and all."

  "He's overlooking them."

  He sighed. Maybe time was weaving a cloth none of them could understand right now. But he couldn't help but wonder just what sort of challenges his little fan club might present to the Chief Weaver.

  "We will not be left behind," Baldric repeated, in his bardliest tone. He stuck his chin out, and the stiffness of the grizzled gray beard was enough to warn Alex resistance would be futile.

  Alex looked at Elizabeth. "Well, it's not like they'd be living in the twentieth century. It'd just be a little visit."

  She shrugged. "It's your call."

  Alex smiled weakly. "It would certainly give Baldric some new material."

  "That alone would be worth it. I'll go see what's keeping Jamie." She patted him on the shoulder, then went inside the hall.

  Alex watched her go, feeling a pang of grief. He didn't want to think about missing his family. He was doing the right thing. He looked at Margaret and felt the surety wash over him again. They were meant to be together. The century didn't matter. Maybe Jamie would get back more often than he thought.

  Alex looked at Joel. "I'll take the sword, Joel. The rest you can take back upstairs."

  "But, my lord!"

  "We're just out for a little ride, kid. No need of heavy gear."

  "As you say, my lord," Joel said doubtfully. Alex watched Joel set the sword down and casually drape a tunic over it, but not until he'd done what he obviously considered a fine job of hiding most of Alex's gear under the clothing. Alex didn't feel up to arguing so he didn't say anything. Instead, he went to see what sorts of things Margaret was drumming into poor George's head.

  "—sure to see that Sir Richard does not take the night watch. Ever he falls asleep and more than once he's awoken only to find he has cut himself on his blade."

  "Margaret," George said with a smile, "trust me. I will see that things run smoothly in your absence."

  Margaret didn't look all that convinced. "I could perhaps go over the garrison list with you once more...."

  Alex smiled dryly at George's long-suffering sigh. "My love," he said, taking her by the arm and tugging gently, "George will be just fine. We'll be back in a few days, hardly long enough for anyone to notice we've been gone."

  "He's right," George said. "All will be well. You'll see."

  Margaret sighed and allowed Alex to pull her close. "He wants a baseball, Alex. Whatever that is."

  Alex smiled at George. "No problem." He looked at his wife's full battle gear. "I don't think you'll need your mail, Meg."

  She pursed her lips. "I'm the only one with enough sense to wear it. The saints only know where we'll truly wind up. At least one of us should have some protection."

  Alex could see various hiltlike lumps under her surcoat and noted the two daggers peeping out of each boot. Well, no one could ever say the woman was unprepared. He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

  "Whatever you want, Meg. I'm just happy you're coming."

  She grunted, then turned away and called out orders for horses to be rounded up for Baldric and the rest.

  Alex looked at George. "We'll be back soon."

  "I wish you good fortune with the gate."

  "Well, it always seems to work for Jamie. We shouldn't have any trouble getting home this time. I mean," he said, realizing his choice of words, "we shouldn't have any trouble getting to Jamie's home."

  George ignored his slip. "I cannot lie and say I do not envy you a bit."

  "You could come. The rest of the castle seems hell-bent on it."

  George shook his head. "I have yet work here in my time, Alex. I will stay and see it finished."

  "Geez, George, we'll be home before you know it."

  "I hope so." George embraced him briefly. "A safe journey to you then, my friend."

  Alex nodded, then turned away before he embarrassed himself by blubbering. Jamie and Elizabeth were standing by their horses. Jamie was frowning at Alex's entourage, and Alex quickly looked elsewhere to avoid the inevitable lecture. Margaret was, unfortunately, nowhere to be seen.

  "She's gone back inside," Baldric announced. "Best find her so we can be on our way. I've a need of new fodder for my verses!"

  Heaven help us all, Alex thought to himself as he went inside the hall. Margaret wasn't in the kitchen, wasn't in her solar, and wasn't in their bedchamber. Alex headed toward the roof. It was her favorite place to go and brood. This wasn't a good sign.

  She was standing where he suspected she'd be standing, looking out over Falconberg soil. Alex came to a halt beside her and leaned his elbows on the wall.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  She shook her head.

  "Scared?" he asked softly.

  She met his gaze. "Aye," she admitted reluctantly. "Nigh onto weeping." She looked back over her land. "I fear I'll never see it again. Assuming," she said with a dark look thrown his way, "that your tale is true and I find myself in some other century."

  Alex smiled. "Seeing is believing, my love."

  She snorted in a most unladylike manner.

  Alex laughed in spite of himself. "Oh, Margaret, you are priceless. What would I do without you?"

  "You'd have no one to torment with your foolishness."

  Alex put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close in spite of her mail and the hilts of her daggers that dug into his side.

  "Everything will be all right, Meg. You'll see."

  She relaxed against him, but her gaze was fixed on her land. "Alex," she said softly.

  "Yes
, my love."

  "I fear I'll never stand in this place again." She shivered. "That I'll never again feel this rock under my fingers." She looked at him, then. "Don't you feel it?"

  Alex shoved aside his own unease. There was no reason they couldn't get back home. He and Jamie had done it when they'd gone back to fifteenth-century Scotland to take care of business. They'd come home just as easily as if they'd been out for a little stroll in the woods. There was no reason he and Margaret couldn't return to the same place in time. This was their home. That was enough.

  "We'll be back," he said. "I think a person's always nervous before a long trip. You imagine up in your head all sorts of terrible outcomes. It's perfectly normal."

  She didn't look convinced, but she nodded just the same. "Then let us be off. I'm anxious to see for myself finally that you are not a bit off in the head." She turned him toward the door. "At least you are wearing your sword. I compliment you on that show of good sense."

  Alex knew he wouldn't get more out of her than that. He preceded her down to the great hall, then took her hand. Cook and her staff stood at the edge of the hallway leading to the kitchens. Alex waved.

  "We'll be back soon," he said firmly.

  And they would. He would say his goodbyes, gather up what gear he thought he might need over the course of his life, and then they would come home. This was where he belonged. He smiled at the sight of the little balls of thread lining the walls. At least Baldric wouldn't do any damage over the next few days. He tightened his hand around Margaret's. She looked at him.

  "Just a friendly hello," he managed.

  She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

  The company was mounted in the courtyard. Alex gave George a smart salute.

  "See you in a few days."

  "Godspeed, my lord."

  Alex caught Jamie's frown as he took Beast's reins from one of the stableboys.

  ''What?'' he asked defensively.

  " 'Tis something of a large group," Jamie noted.

  "It's a visit, Jamie. Everyone will survive, including the fabric of time."

  Jamie didn't look all that convinced, but he said no more.

  Alex mounted and rode with Margaret through the gates. The portcullis slammed home behind the group with an air of finality.