by Lynn Kurland
Margaret
Alex stared at the letter in horror. The blood thundered in his ears, and he thought he just might lose it. He had never lost it. Never. No matter what murkiness he'd found himself in, no matter what losses he'd sustained, never once had he lost control of himself. But now he thought he might be on the verge of it. He knew his mouth was open and his breath was coming in gasps and his blood was still pounding in his ears. It was the only way he knew he was still alive.
She'd left him.
"Alex!"
Alex felt a heavy hand come down hard on his shoulder and he was spun around forcibly.
He looked at Jamie and found no words to express the raging cyclone of emotion inside him.
"You were screaming," Jamie said grimly.
"Was I?" Alex rasped.
"Aye. What are the tidings?"
Alex shoved the note at his brother-in-law. He shut his mouth to avoid any other verbal indications of his terror.
"Alex, I've no idea what to say—"
Alex shook off Jamie's hand. His sanity returned with a rush. "Doesn't matter. I'll just gather up the crew and we'll head for the faery ring. I'll be there two hours behind her."
"Alex, I cannot guarantee that 'twill wor—"
"Don't," Alex said sharply. "Don't even say it." He pushed past Jamie and started to yell. "Baldric! Joel! Frances, pack up Amery and let's get going!"
Alex shoved past Jamie and dug around in his armoire for a clean pair of jeans. He shucked off his sweats with shaking hands. He jerked his clothes on, put on his boots and took a last look around his room. Joel was in charge of his sword, so that was something off his list. He would have liked to have been a bit more prepared as far as taking things with him went, but there was no time for it now. Perhaps this was for the best. He'd go back to 1194 the same way he had the first time—with only the clothes on his back.
It took him almost an hour to get everyone loaded up, and by then he was almost frantic. Elizabeth and Jamie stood on the steps, watching with matching expressions of grief. Once Alex had everyone mounted, he walked back up the steps and embraced his brother-in-law.
"Come if you can," he said hoarsely. "I'll miss you."
"Alex," Jamie said slowly, "I don't think—"
"Enough!" Alex exclaimed. He pulled away. "I will get back to her. I will and nothing you can say will stop me."
Jamie sighed, then nodded. "As you will, brother. A good journey to you."
Alex embraced his sister. She was crying and he was on the verge of it. He pulled back, kissed her soundly, then walked away without a backward glance. He mounted, then led his little group through the gates and back toward the pond and the faery ring.
He would get back. Anything else was out of the question. Margaret was his life. Without her he might as well be dead and that was something the Gatekeeper of Time had to realize.
And if he didn't realize it, Alex would take a blade to him.
Thirty - three
Elizabeth stood at the threshold of her hall with her husband by her side and stared at the gate her brother had ridden through only a few moments earlier.
"It won't work, will it?" she asked softly.
Jamie's arm came around her shoulders. "I think not, my love."
"Oh, Jamie," Elizabeth said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I feel so responsible for this. If we hadn't asked Alex to come back, they would still be together in her time."
"He's his own man, Beth. He chose to come."
"But he didn't choose for her to leave without him."
"Nay, he didn't." Jamie sighed. "He could have gone back with her if they'd gone together. I'm fairly certain of that. 'Tis her place in her time that would have drawn them back."
"What was she thinking?" Elizabeth asked, wishing she could bang Alex and Margaret's heads together and knock sense into both of them. "Doesn't she realize how much he loves her?"
"Ah, but I daresay 'tis precisely for that reason that she left."
Elizabeth looked up at her husband and frowned. "How do you figure?"
Jamie smiled, pained. " 'Tis an age of marvels we live in, Beth. Margaret said herself that she couldn't pull Alex from them."
"What kind of wimp does she think he is? He can live without the Range Rover!"
Jamie drew her into his arms and hugged her. "Och, my bonny Beth, you judge her too harshly. She knows he loves her, else she would have left while he was awake. She knew he would try to follow her. She merely wishes him to be well and happy, and she likely fears he will not be in her time."
"The twentieth century isn't all it's cracked up to be."
He laughed then. "And now you'll tell me that you didn't come fair to fainting with relief when you realized you'd be birthing your bairns in a hospital, not in my bed."
"Well. .."
"Or that you were happy to see my days of lifting cattle and riding the borders to be finished."
Elizabeth rested her cheek against her husband's chest and held on to him. She certainly couldn't deny she had been happy to come back home. Or how grateful she was to have him and the hospital down the road both in the same century. She was fortunate and she knew it.
By the same token, she honestly couldn't blame Margaret for her choice, because it was probably the same choice she would have made in her shoes.
" 'Twas a most unselfish thing she did, Beth," Jamie murmured.
"It was a colossally stupid thing she did," Elizabeth whispered. "He'll never survive it."
"He'll have to."
Elizabeth looked up at him. ''Does she have things still to take care of, do you think?"
"Aye, I'd imagine so."
"We could try to take Alex back with us some other time." She nodded. "Yes, that's it. Let's go back with him, Jamie."
"Beth," he said softly, lifting his hand to brush her hair back from her face, "there is no guarantee. You know that as well as I do. What if we arrive too soon and she knows him not?"
"She'll fall in love with him anyway."
''She won't let him past the door. And if we arrive much later, who's to say what will have happened? Besides, we have no more business in medieval England."
"You don't know that," she said, but even as she said it, she knew he did know. Whatever part of Jamie's soul was tied up to the land was the same part of his soul that knew where he was needed. "We could make a special trip."
"And what happened when we made that unnecessary trip to Barbados? And, aye, I freely admit that was my doing."
They'd barely escaped with their lives, but Elizabeth wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of that answer.
"And what about trying to see Jesse again?" Jamie asked softly. "Think on that, Beth, if the other fails to convince you."
That was a trip she couldn't even bear to think about, much less discuss with Jamie. She'd had a bad feeling about it, and so had he, but she'd gone with him because he had so desperately wanted to see his son again.
She sighed. "Well, we could at least go look up a few things in the library. If nothing else, we can assure him she never married again and that she had a good life."
"Aye," Jamie said gently, "we could do that much."
Elizabeth took her husband's hand and again felt a wash of gratitude that she could do as much.
Her heart broke that Alex would never have that chance again.
"My lord, I fear young Amery has needs he must take care of," Frances ventured hesitantly. "He complains most fiercely."
Alex stared at Amery and saw that was indeed the case. The kid was kicking up a major fuss. Alex found it in him to wonder why he hadn't noticed it before.
"All right," he said, staring up at the sky. "Just don't go outside the ring."
Amery's sigh of relief at the emptying of his bladder should have teased a smile from even the most hardhearted of men. Alex would have smiled if he could have, but he couldn't. He was too numb.
Alex, I don't think it will work.
Jamie had
tried to tell him. Alex hadn't wanted to believe it.
He still didn't want to believe it. He would get them home if it killed him to do it.
"Let's concentrate," he said, focusing all his mental energy on Margaret's castle. "Think about home."
"Food," Amery demanded.
"Yes, Cook's pasties," Alex agreed.
"Lucky Charms," Amery countered.
"Here, Amery," Frances said, soothingly. "Here's a Ding-Dong. Just as good, aye?"
Alex stared at the Ding-Dong with growing horror. Maybe that was what was keeping them in the twentieth century. He fell from his horse, snatched the treat from Frances, and flung it into the forest.
"Any more?" he demanded.
She was quaking in her slippers. She pointed to her saddlebag.
Alex threw an entire stash of junk food outside the faery ring to howls of protest from Amery. Alex ignored him and turned on Joel.
"What about you? Got any contraband?"
Joel's eyes were big as saucers. With a shaking hand, he drew forth a dagger that Jamie had obviously given him. Well, it wasn't a Swiss Army knife so Alex let it pass. He turned to Baldric. The clicking of knitting needles was like machine-gun fire in the stillness of the glade. Alex held out his hand.
"Hand them over."
Baldric looked down his nose at him from atop his horse. "Nay."
It had been Elizabeth's idea to teach Baldric to knit, damn her. It kept him away from her chenille throws, but it was also probably keeping them all away from the twelfth century.
"We have to leave them behind," Alex announced.
Baldric clicked more furiously. "I think not, my lord."
"Baldric," Alex warned.
Without warning, Baldric stuffed the needles down the front of his tunic. "Nay," he said petulantly. "They were a gift from the lady Elizabeth to me personally."
"The yarn, then."
Baldric clutched the ball of pale pink angora to his chest and looked at Alex in horror. "By the very saints of heaven, you've lost your wits!" he exclaimed.
"You're right!" Alex shouted back. "I've lost every last one of them, and they're all in a pile around me here in this damned faery ring! And you're not helping!"
Baldric huffed at him, thoroughly offended. "My poor string has nothing to do with this. 'Twas a gift made especially to me by the lady Elizabeth."
Which was seemingly tantamount to a gift from the queen herself, if the frequency of his repeating it was any indication.
"Hell," Alex growled. •
Baldric pulled his needles back out and set back to work on what looked like it might turn into a scarf. "I don't know why we don't return to Lady Elizabeth's keep and wait there for our Margaret. She'll come when she's ready."
"She won't," Alex said, wishing that weren't the case.
"Of course she will," Baldric said firmly. "How will she get along without my verses? Surely she didn't leave me behind apurpose."
Oh, the logic of a bard with steel in his hands. Alex turned in time to see Amery roaming well outside the faery ring, gathering up all the junk food he could with his two chubby little hands and carrying it back to Frances's horse. Frances tried to stop him, but his protests were almost deafening. She gave up and bowed her head in shame.
Alex felt his irritation leave as quickly as it had come. These sweet souls weren't responsible for any of this. He looked up at his squire and managed a faint smile.
"It's okay, Joel. Sorry I yelled."
Joel nodded, his eyes still huge in his pale little face. Alex walked over to Frances and put his arms around her.
"I'm sorry, honey," he said, brushing his hand over her hair. "I'm not angry with you."
"I never meant to do wrong," she whispered, starting to cry.
"Oh, Frances," Alex said, patting her back, "you didn't do wrong. You're more than welcome to take whatever you want home with you. I guess maybe we should pack it in for the day. We'll try again tomorrow."
Frances looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Think you she returned to Falconberg, my lord?"
Well, that's what he'd thought at first. For the briefest of moments he wondered if she'd just tried and not succeeded. Maybe she was back at the keep wondering what was keeping him so long outside.
But as quickly as that thought came, it left. Margaret never did anything by halves. If she intended to return home, then return home she would.
"I think she did," he answered finally. "And we'll follow her just as soon as we can."
"Tomorrow?" Joel asked hopefully from behind him.
Alex looked up at the sky. It was very late in the afternoon. They'd been in the ring since midmorning and nothing had happened. It wasn't going to do any good to stay any longer. He could feel it. He had the same feeling of emptiness he'd had when he'd tried to get back to the twentieth century. But at least then he hadn't really had anything to get home to.
Unlike now.
"Yes, tomorrow," Alex said.
He helped Amery gather up all of Frances's snacks, saw everyone mounted and settled, then turned back to the keep. Maybe it would work tomorrow. Maybe he would have to go alone. Maybe he would hop on a passing Pegasus and just fly there.
Unfortunately, all three sounded equally improbable.
He saw to the horses himself after sending the rest of his little ragtag family back up to the keep. It was well past dark when he finally allowed himself to go inside. The smell of dinner hit him square in the nose, and he had a brief flash of regret that he wouldn't enjoy twentieth-century cooking again.
"No, that was a flash of joy," he corrected himself. Thank heavens he would only have to put up with twentieth-century cooking for one more night. He could slurp his way through one more of Jamie's breakfasts and then he'd be on his way home. He toyed with ideas of what he would do to his wife first. Making love was definitely high on the list, though equally appealing was the thought of spanking her until she couldn't sit. Barbaric, yes, but he was a medieval earl and he had a reputation to live up to. At least making a list of possibilities would give him something constructive to do with his time at the moment. By the time he got to Falconberg, he would have quite a selection to choose from and could take great pleasure in deciding where to start.
The kitchen was unusually quiet. Not even Amery and Ian were throwing food at each other. Frances and Joel looked up at him as one, their expressions troubled. Alex could feel the tension in the air and sensed that they were wanting him to say something comforting.
Alex sat down next to his brother. "Fiona stand you up, buddy?"
"How'd you know?" Zachary asked crossly.
"Dumb luck. And my unfailing belief that there is justice in the world." He helped himself to stew. "Smells good. Who cooked?"
"My own humble self," Jamie's brother said, smiling faintly. "Enjoy it while you can. You'll probably not taste anything so fine for the rest of your life."
"Well, Patrick, I can hope," Alex returned, then applied himself to his meal. There was very little small talk going on, but he chalked it up to his family not knowing what to say about the events of the day. Alex finished three helpings of stew, downed several rolls, and looked around for dessert. He still wasn't hearing much chatter, so he threw everyone a grim smile. "I'm okay. We're going to try again tomorrow."
Well, that comment dropped straight onto the table with a thud. Alex looked around at his family.
"Really. It's okay."
"Alex," Jamie said, rising, "why don't you come upstairs for a minute. I think there's something you should read."
Alex waved him away. "I think I need dessert first."
Jamie sat back down slowly. "As you will, brother."
Joshua had made Boston cream pie. Alex helped himself to three pieces. Once he felt his blood sugar level was firmly in the black, he turned to Jamie.
"All right, lay it on me. Some piece of trivia to carry back to Margaret? English history I missed in college?"
Jamie wouldn't meet his eyes
. "I daresay you wouldn't have been looking for this, brother."
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, without his permission.
"What?" he demanded. "What did you find?"
Jamie rose without a word. Alex followed him from the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hallway to Jamie's study. Jamie gestured to a chair, but Alex shook his head.
"Just give it to me straight."
Jamie handed him a book. "We found this this afternoon."
Alex looked at the cover of the book. Medieval English History. The very sight of it sent a wave of chills down his spine.
"Page ninety-six," Jamie offered.
Alex felt for a chair and lowered himself into it. He didn't like Jamie's tone of voice. It was so carefully neutral that Alex knew this had to be something bad.
In May of 1194 Margaret of Falconberg perished in an act of arson most historians consider perpetrated by Ralf of Brackwald. As King Richard had already departed for his French campaign, Lord Brackwald merely sent tidings of the misfortune to the king, along with a substantial deposit to the king's coffers and the offer to see to Falconberg lands. Apparently Richard had too many other things on his mind to worry about little fires at home. He granted Brackwald the charter. It is a testament to Brackwald's poor management that the lands were rendered almost uninhabitable within half a decade.
It is also interesting to note that though Margaret's husband, Alexander, is considered to have perished with her in the fire, no conclusive evidence was found to support that theory.
Alex shook his head. "This doesn't mean anything. I'll just get back in time to stop it."
"Alex," Jamie said quietly, "you cannot. It's already happened."
"Then I'll go back earlier! I'll get her out of there before Ralf can do this. Surely that much time hasn't passed since she left here."
"You cannot go back," Jamie insisted. "I tried to tell you before."
"You said we'd get back because Margaret's life was there!" Alex exclaimed.
"Exactly," Jamie said. "Her life."
"My life is with her."
Jamie took the book carefully from Alex's shaking hands. "Brother, I fear that may not be the case."