The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

  "Damn it," Alex muttered, "give me a break! Nothing's going to go wrong."

  "Alex?"

  Alex looked at his wife, who clearly had resurrected the idea that he'd lost all his marbles.

  "Just talking to myself," he offered.

  "Hmmm," she said, nodding. "I see."

  "I do it a lot when I'm stressed out."

  She smiled briefly. "I will not torment you if we travel no farther than Brackwald. You've nothing to fear from me. Well," she added, "perhaps a small bit of teasing."

  ''I feel better already.''

  "I thought you might."

  Alex couldn't help but smile. Nagging feelings be damned. He had all he needed right next to him. It was just nerves. It had been a while since he'd been on the hot seat, so to speak. He'd certainly had his share of jitters in court over the years. This was just the same thing.

  He blew out a breath in relief. That had to be it. He was taking five people into a time that wasn't their own, and it was just giving him a little performance anxiety. Who could blame him? For all he knew, Frances would have hysterics, and Baldric would unravel every bit of clothing he had and run screaming into the village pub naked. Heaven only knew what Margaret would do—probably turn her sword his direction and hack him to bits.

  By the time they had traveled a mile or so, he had himself completely under control and had stopped thinking about his nerves and started thinking about how he was going to handle the inevitable group freak-out. Amery was too young to understand what he'd see, but Frances and Joel would no doubt understand a great deal. He planned to bribe them into behaving with junk food. Baldric was pretty much an unknown quantity, but Alex suspected he could be distracted with a few throw rugs.

  It was Margaret who had him worried. She was wearing more weapons than he'd thought she'd owned. What would she do the first time she caught an eyeful of his Range Rover? Advance with blade bared?

  And then he found himself with little time to speculate anymore. They had reached the faery ring. He looked at Margaret to judge her reaction. Her face was completely impassive. Either she was winning the war against teasing him, or she was scared spitless. He imagined it was probably the latter, and it probably had everything to do with the feeling of magic in the air.

  There was no doubt in Alex's mind that they would wind up back on Jamie's land. He certainly hadn't felt this kind of tremor in the air when he'd come to the ring with just Beast and his key phrases.

  "Everybody inside," Jamie said, holding back until the rest of them were crammed inside the ring.

  Alex looked at his brother-in-law and clutched his reins tightly. "Think this will work?"

  "Of course," Jamie said with a grin. "I'm in sore need of a Jacuzzi and some brownies. I daresay the gate knows that."

  "Will you get us back to the right year?"

  "We can hope," Jamie said with another smile.

  "Great," Alex muttered. "Our illustrious tour guide isn't sure of the destination or the year. Maybe I should have brought that mail after all." At least he had the comforting weight of William of Falconberg's sword on his hip. But what did he need with protection? He was with Jamie and, no matter what Jamie had said, that would be enough to get them back to the twentieth century. It had to be enough. Alex had goodbyes to say.

  He looked at his wife. She was as white as a sheet. "Margaret?" he called softly.

  Her eyes were glued to the sky. "It begins to snow," she whispered.

  That certainly seemed to be the case. They had ridden out under blue skies. Those skies were cloudy now. And the surrounding countryside was blanketed with a good inch of snow.

  Alex looked at his sister. Her expression was one of intense relief. She smiled at him.

  "Looks like it worked," she said.

  Alex nodded and turned to meet his wife's startled eyes. "Dorothy," he said, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

  Margaret drew her sword.

  Alex sighed.

  He had the feeling it was going to be a very long afternoon.

  Thirty

  Margaret could hardly believe her eyes. One Moment she was staring up at blue sky, the next the sky had filled with clouds, all sound had ceased and snow was falling upon her upturned face. If this wasn't witchcraft, she had no idea what was. She looked at her husband and wondered if he was all a part of this, too. Should she plunge her blade through his heart and save herself before she traveled any further down this disastrous path that surely led only to evil? She drew her blade with a shaking hand.

  "Uh-oh," Alex said. "This is bad."

  Margaret felt her palms grow damp. She gripped her sword all the harder. "What wickedness is this?" she demanded. Her voice was shrill even to her own ears.

  Alex reached out to touch her. "Margaret—"

  Margaret pulled her mount back and raised her blade against her husband. "Don't touch me. I think I do not know you as you really are, my lord."

  "Margaret, I told you there was a gate—"

  "Cease!" she shouted. "I'll hear no more of your babble!"

  "Lady Margaret," Jamie said quietly, "I can understand—"

  "Nay, you cannot!" She looked about her frantically for some avenue of escape. She was being dragged to the saints only knew where by these people who had made a pact with the Devil. It was the only explanation that made sense.

  They had all turned to look at her. Even Baldric was looking at her as if she'd just lost what remained of her wits. Amery was reaching for Alex, his eyes wide with unease.

  They were all in league together. Why she hadn't seen it before, she did not know. Talk of the future had been nothing but a ploy to lure her from the keep and carry her off to their place of madness. She had to escape before it was too late for her. Obviously the rest of her company had succumbed to Alex's folly. She resheathed her sword and jerked on her reins.

  Stop and give this more thought.

  That was her common sense speaking; she recognized the coolness of the tone. She scowled and pulled until her horse was backing up out of the faery ring. Her common sense had obviously not served her thus far. 'Twas best she pay it no more heed.

  'Tis but your unease that troubles you.

  "Be silent!" she exclaimed, willing the voice away. She wheeled her horse around and set heels to his flanks. The sooner she was away from Alex and his daft family, the better.

  "Margaret, wait!"

  She spared a glance over her shoulder. At least only Alex followed her. She could take him easily.

  You forget that he bested you at Tickhill with the sword—

  "Only because I allowed it," she snapped. "And who asked you?"

  "Margaret, damn it, stop!"

  She could hear Alex gaining on her. She ducked into the forest in an effort to slow his progress. The snow was less there, which suited her well. Her mount was surefooted, but even the most surefooted mount could take a tumble. She had no intentions of being crushed under her gelding before she could escape somewhere safe and make her plans. First, though, she would have to elude Alex.

  Assuming he was still Alex. Had something foul in the faery ring possessed him while she looked away?

  Oh, by the saints, Margaret...

  "Enough!" she snarled. She would have clapped her hands over her ears, but the bloody voice was coming from inside her head. "I have two perfectly good eyes. I know what I've seen!"

  Alex continued to gain ground. Margaret pushed her mount as fast as she dared. Without warning, the forest ended and she faced an open glen, the like of which she'd never seen before. She would have stopped and gaped if she'd had the time.

  There was a large castle immediately before her. She didn't bother to consider it as a place of refuge. No doubt it was inhabited by souls as daft and wicked as Jamie and Alex. She would just have to continue on.

  She'd barely thundered past the bailey gates when she found Alex by her side. He had hold of her reins before she knew what he intended.

  "Nay!" she cried, tryi
ng to jerk them away from him.

  "Margaret, calm down!" Alex shouted. "It's okay!"

  He had control of her mount. She wouldn't travel as fast on foot, but she could escape just the same. She dismounted as gracefully as her mail would allow, then fled.

  Alex caught her by the shoulder. She clouted him a good one as he spun her around. At least clutching the side of his head forced him to release her. Margaret could hardly believe she was going to have to do this, but she saw she had no choice. The man she loved, the man she had given her body to so many times over the past few weeks, had been overcome by some foul force. Likely the kindest thing she could do was finish him before he suffered anymore.

  She drew her sword.

  "What are you doing?" Alex demanded, backing away.

  Margaret advanced. "If you'll not yield him back to me, foul demon, I'll finish you off." She waved her sword. "And I do not jest."

  "I can see that. Margaret, it's just me."

  "Ha," she said derisively. "You fool me not. Prepare to meet your Master, Spawn of Darkness."

  "Oh, hell," the demon said, with a sigh. "Have it your way, then."

  Margaret didn't waste any more time with pleasantries. She lashed out at the creature who had once been her husband, but found that her thrusting wasn't as enthusiastic as it should have been. Perhaps he was sapping her strength with some wicked magic. She gave herself a hard shake and attacked again with more vigor. That wasn't much more successful. To her surprise, she found that she had little stomach for the deed. It would have been a simpler thing if perhaps the creature facing her hadn't looked so much like Alex. Or if it hadn't fought like Alex. Or if she hadn't fancied she saw her husband looking at her from out of the those blue-green eyes.

  She pushed aside her foolish thoughts. Alex was no more and 'twas obvious to her that the only way she would return home was to slay this foul beast and free herself of his nefarious spell. She gathered strength from deep within and concentrated on her swordplay.

  They fought for what seemed to her hours. The demon did no more than defend himself. Obviously, he planned to possess her when she admitted defeat. Well, that would never happen. Perhaps when she saw Alex in heaven he would thank her for what she prepared to do.

  "Are you finished?" the demon asked politely, pausing to lean on his sword.

  "Are you dead?"

  That seemed to be answer enough for him. He lifted his sword and fended off her halfhearted attack.

  Margaret realized it was just that. She tried to muster up more enthusiasm for the task. But the plain truth was, the more she crossed blades with the creature facing her, the more her head cleared. She began to doubt her doubts.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Jamie and Elizabeth were standing nearby, holding their horses' reins. With a sudden move, Margaret caught the demon who had been her husband in the gut with her foot and sent him sprawling onto his backside. She stepped back a pace and used the opportunity to glance at Alex's family.

  Elizabeth stood there calmly with a half smile playing around her mouth. She didn't look possessed. Margaret had never seen anyone in the throes of possession, but she'd heard it entailed a great deal of frothing at the mouth and vile swearing. Elizabeth was doing neither.

  Margaret looked at Jamie. He was wearing the same amused smile his wife was, but she saw understanding in his eyes. She put her questions to him over the past weeks, and he'd seemed honest enough in his answers. He'd even told her of his own "journey" into the future and how it had startled him. She'd listened politely at the time, pitying Elizabeth for having a husband who indulged in such ridiculous imaginings.

  Now she began to wonder if she hadn't been the one to suffer from ridiculous imaginings.

  "Damn it to hell, Margaret," the demon groused as it heaved itself to its feet, "that's dirty fighting."

  Foul cursing, Margaret noted. But no frothing at the mouth. She stared closely at the man facing her and gave the whole business more thought. It certainly looked like Alex. It definitely swore like Alex. She dropped her sword point to the ground and leaned on the hilt. It seemed incredible, but she thought she just might have made an error in judgment.

  "Alex?" she asked.

  He clapped his hand to his head. "Of course!" he bellowed. "Who the hell else would it be?"

  She felt her eyes narrow of their own accord. "You've a mouth foul enough for a demon."

  "You haven't heard anything yet," he grumbled. He rubbed his head, then winced. "You whacked me!"

  "I did what I had to do."

  Jamie cleared his throat. "I think we'll head up to the keep. You children come along when you've finished with your play."

  Margaret watched them go, taking her mount and Alex's along with them. Then she turned back to her husband. She reached out and poked him in the chest.

  "Alex?" she asked again, just to make sure.

  In answer, he slipped his hand under her hair and hauled her to him. Before she could protest, he had captured her mouth in a searing kiss. She could only clutch the hilt of her sword and pray Alex would continue to hold her up as her knees were nigh onto buckling. He pulled away and Margaret felt her lips trembling. She put her hand over them so he wouldn't see. He took her hand away and kissed her again, a sweet, gentle kiss that almost brought tears to her eyes.

  "I love you," he whispered. "Thank you for not killing me."

  The sting of tears came now from embarrassment. "What have I done?" she moaned, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

  "We call it 'freaking out,' " he said, sounding almost amused. "Everyone does it at some point in their lives."

  "I've made a fool of myself."

  "We're a great family to do it in front of. We all have very short memories. Besides, Jamie's done it a few times himself."

  She lifted her head. "And you?"

  "Never," he said with a smile. "I'm always in complete control."

  She could find nothing to say to salvage her dignity, so she merely rested her forehead against his shoulder and sighed.

  "You want to go inside now?"

  She chewed her lip for a moment. "I'm not sure."

  "I'll be right there with you."

  She considered. ''Making it that much easier for me to bury a blade in you."

  His laugh was a comforting rumble in his chest. ''If I didn't know I didn't already have enough hands to hold all of them, I'd relieve you of all your blades to avoid just that."

  She didn't move. She couldn't. The saints only knew what else awaited her in this strange, snow-covered world of his. She knew they'd changed worlds. The landscape around her was one she'd never seen before.

  Alex stroked her hair. "It's okay, Margaret. Think of it as an exciting adventure."

  She grunted. "Oh, joy."

  He laughed and pulled away to kiss her firmly on the mouth. "You'll be just fine. Why don't you put away your sword and let's go inside. I bet there'll be a fire going. Maybe some treats in the kitchen." He stepped back and held out his hand. "Will you come?"

  She took a firm grip on her sword, then slowly put her other hand in his.

  "You won't need that," he said with a gentle smile.

  "How do you know what awaits inside?" she demanded. ''The saints only know what might have overrun the keep in your absence."

  "The only thing that might attack you would be something my little brother had grown under his bed."

  "All the more reason to be prepared."

  He squeezed her hand. "Margaret, nothing is going to hurt you inside."

  "You don't sound all that sure, husband."

  He took a deep breath. "There are several things that will probably surprise you at first. Over eight hundred years have passed between the time we left this morning and the time we're in now. Man has made a few interesting inventions."

  "Such as?"

  "I'll show you as we go."

  It wasn't a good answer, but she suspected she wouldn't have a better one. She reluctantly
put up her sword and let her husband lead her up toward the keep. While they walked, she allowed herself to speculate on what she might see inside.

  Perhaps man had learned to fashion more beautiful tapestries. Likely the hearths had remained the same, but perhaps they were larger and produced better heat. As proud as she was of her own, she had to admit the only way to stay warm was to stand very close to the fire, as most of the heat found its way up into the flue. Future fare, though, was something she'd already sampled and found it to be much worse than what Cook produced, except of course, for those Godiva balls.

  Well, she could think of no other realm in which there could have been much progress made. After all, what did man need with more than a good mount, a fairly laid table, and a soft, goosefeather mattress?

  "I daresay," she began, "that things could not have changed all that... much ..."

  She froze. There, near to the door stood the most horrendous thing she'd ever seen. It was a cart, a covered cart with wheels as tall as her boots. It wore a black, shiny substance that reflected back her image as clearly as any polished mirror she'd ever seen.

  "That's the Range Rover," Alex said, sounding very satisfied. "It's like a baggage wain, only it's more comfortable."

  Margaret couldn't pull her eyes from the beast. "Where are the horses?"

  "Inside it."

  Margaret looked at her husband. He was grinning like a fool.

  "You are not amusing," she stated.

  "Aren't I?"

  "Nay, my lord. Not in the slightest."

  He pulled her toward the hall. "See what you think when we get inside."

  Margaret took a deep breath as she entered the great hall. Well, this looked a bit familiar. Tapestries lined the walls and they were seemingly well fashioned—at least what she could tell from just inside the doorway. Baldric seemed to find them to his liking for he was running his hands over one and making approving noises.

  Jamie's hearths were massive and he, too, had flues to carry the smoke away. There was a raised dais at the back of the hall with a very fine lord's table. Near the hearth sat a grouping of chairs. All in all, it looked to be a rather ordinary place. She glanced casually at the torches on the wall and then down at the stone beneath her feet.