The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

  Alex gave up trying to put his earlish foot down. He followed her meekly to the kitchen, stirring himself to shove Zachary a few feet away when his brother came too close to Margaret, then sat himself at the table and put his head down on the wood. He should have known from the beginning that Margaret would run roughshod over him. She'd done so from the first. How had he ever thought to hold his own against her, even in his own century?

  He smiled against the wood. What did he care? He had her back and he was never going to let her go again. He would keep her near him by whatever means necessary.

  "Chains," he said, lifting his head and looking at his assorted and collected family which was crowded into the kitchen and all babbling at once. They seemingly didn't have any interest in him.

  "A set of shackles," he announced.

  Baldric perked up a little at that, but soon turned back to the primary entertainment who was currently inhaling her dinner.

  "Bungee cords," Alex said with a satisfied smile.

  Thirty - six

  Margaret scraped the bottom of her dessert bowl and frowned. She looked at Elizabeth. "No more?"

  "Sorry," Elizabeth said with a smile.

  "What was this again?"

  "Ice cream. Häagen-Dazs. Chocolate-chocolate-chip."

  "Alex," Margaret said, waving her spoon at him, "we'll need to hie ourselves off to the village first thing on the morrow to procure more of this. 'Tis powerfully delicious over brownies."

  "Silken scarves," he replied, with a devilish glint in his eye. "Or maybe just a good old-fashioned hemp rope."

  Well, 'twas obvious her husband had taken more ice cream than was good for him. She frowned at him, then turned back to her waiting audience.

  "The fire," Jamie prompted.

  "Ah, the fire," she said with a nod. "It would appear that Ralf shut up the doors, then put a torch to the keep. I happened upon him readying himself to finish Edward off—and to be sure Edward's swordplay was mightily lacking—and buried my dagger in his heart."

  Alex began to choke. Margaret pounded him on the back and finished her tale.

  "I had speech with Sir George after the fact and told him of my wishes. He vowed to watch after Edward. I gave him a baseball and the tale was finished."

  "Baseball?" Alex asked.

  Margaret looked at him with what she hoped was a confident air. "Aye, one of yours."

  "Which one?"

  "The one in the little clear box with all the scribblings upon it. George was most pleased with the gift."

  Alex seemed to be torn between spluttering and choking, so she refrained from pounding him further on the back until he made up his mind which it would be.

  "My Mariner's signed baseball?" he demanded finally, having gone very red in the face.

  " 'Twas the only one I could find in the dark."

  He looked to be on the verge of saying something truly unpleasant, then he suddenly laughed and leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth.

  "Small price to pay," he said simply.

  She heaved a silent sigh of relief that that hurdle was successfully overcome.

  "Then you left your land to Edward of Brackwald," Jamie said, scratching his chin.

  "Aye," she said, turning to her brother-in-law. "It seemed the most logical thing to do. And I told him he was to hold it in tru—"

  She shut her mouth abruptly as she realized she was about to spill a part of the tale she had no desire for Alex to hear as yet. She looked at Elizabeth.

  "We must have speech together."

  "Okay," Elizabeth said, with a smile. "Whenever you want."

  "Now."

  Alex scowled at her. "Well, at least she isn't Jamie. You won't get any time traveling ideas from her."

  "Ideas?" Jamie said, perking up. "I'm always open to a new idea or two."

  Margaret left her husband bellowing at his brother-in-law and hastened with Elizabeth to the fire in the great hall.

  "I need to travel to Falconberg," she said without preamble. "The castle is being held in trust for Alex."

  Elizabeth didn't even blink, which raised Margaret's opinion of her to even greater heights.

  "Sounds like fun. When shall we go?"

  "I would go tonight, but I fear Alex would find that little to his liking."

  "I'd imagine so," Elizabeth said, laughing. "And my mom and dad should be here in the morning, and you'll want to meet them."

  "Within the se'nnight, then," Margaret said.

  "I'll be happy to go with you."

  Margaret nodded and set aside thoughts of her plans. She would meet Alex's parents on the morrow, and she could ill afford to make a poor impression. Waiting a few days to see Falconberg couldn't make much of a difference.

  It took a good deal longer than a few days to see everything settled. It was the beginning of August before Margaret had her husband packed up and loaded themselves into the Range Rover. Jamie had volunteered the Jaguar for the trip, but Margaret had seen the reluctance with which he prepared to part with his beloved car, so she insisted the other would suit them well enough. Besides, the Range Rover held all manner of camping gear, and they would certainly need it.

  Margaret adjusted her dark glasses against the glare of the unusually sunny August day and smiled at the sights of Scotland passing so quickly before her.

  "Is there a purpose to this little trip?" Alex asked.

  She hid her smile and put her hand on his leg. "Perhaps."

  "Would it have anything to do with your request for 300,000 pounds sterling a few months ago?"

  "It might. Then again, I might have just wanted to go shopping. Clothing is bloody expensive in your day, Alex."

  He looked pointedly at her jeans and very worn T-shirt.

  The shirt was something she had helped herself to from his armoire that very morning.

  "Since you never wear anything I haven't broken in already," he said dryly, "I have to assume you're lying."

  She only smiled pleasantly. ''A woman is entitled to her secrets. It's part of our mystique."

  "You watch too much TV."

  "I read it in a book."

  "Then you read too much." He scowled at her. "You were much easier to control eight centuries ago."

  She snorted. "As if you ever controlled me."

  He pursed his lips, but she could see it was in an effort to hide his smile. "Allow me my fantasies, okay?"

  "Why indulge in fantasy, when reality is so marvelous?"

  "Stop that, or I'll have to pull over and ravish you."

  Yet another good reason to have brought the Range Rover. Fold-down backseats. Ah, but the future was a marvelous place.

  "Later," she promised. "I'm anxious to reach our destination."

  "No hints?"

  "Keep traveling south, Alex. That's all you'll get from me."

  "We're booked at hotels for the next two nights on our way south. Why did we bring camping stuff?"

  She took off her sunglasses to better look at her husband. He drove with one hand on the wheel, one hand covering hers on his leg. He wore a dry smile, which he always did when he knew she was up to something. She had to admit to herself that he wore that smile quite often.

  "You ask too many questions," she said lightly.

  "And if I demand answers?"

  "You won't have them until I'm ready for you to have them."

  He sighed. "Henpecked. Abused. Trampled. Just put that on my headstone."

  She snorted. "You are none of the above."

  ''And be sure to decorate it with pansies, my flower of choice."

  She laughed. "Oh, Alex, I do love you."

  "That's what you keep telling me. Now, why won't you just do the domestic goddess thing and cater to my every whim?"

  "Because I am a countess and we do not cater to whims."

  ''Not even if I asked nicely?''

  She shook her head. "How unhappy you would be if you found yourself pampered at every turn."

  "I'm willing to r
isk it."

  She smiled to herself. How pampered he was, and he knew it well. Though she would be the first to admit it ran both ways. She also knew he enjoyed the constant fight for control. He lorded over her and she countessed over him and their lives were perfectly blissful. The only thing which had troubled her at all was the nagging ache she felt for Falconberg. Jamie's keep was a marvel with all its modern inventions, and she had passed many happy hours there with Alex's family and their own. The Highlands were beautiful, and rugged, and wandering through them the past few months had been bliss.

  But she missed her land.

  That was taken care of now, though, and soon they would bring their own family back down and start up their own lives again. Falconberg was close enough that journeying to Scotland wouldn't be a problem. They'd made quick work of adopting Frances, Joel, and Amery. The children would surely wish to see their cousin Ian regularly. Jamie and Elizabeth could visit often, when they weren't wandering off through the centuries unwreaking havoc.

  Assuming Alex was amenable to it.

  But what if Alex cared not for her idea?

  It was something she had refused to consider. Of course he would like it. He often spoke of his disappointment that the crown no longer recognized his title, which made it all the more difficult to lord it over her. He would be pleased with the way she'd spent such a staggering sum of his money.

  Or so she hoped.

  If not, she'd just made the largest mistake of her life.

  Two days later Alex was wishing they'd hired a plane and wishing even more sincerely that Margaret would tell him where they were going. He'd tried to get a peek at her map, but she'd shoved it inside her shirt instantly. As if that would have stopped him. Fear of ruining her surprise was all that had kept him from it.

  And if her jumpiness was any indication, it promised to be a whopper of a surprise.

  He could have told that just from the price tag alone. It had taken a single phone call and a small shifting of minor assets to have the check cut for her, but he'd wondered what she'd found that was worth all that dough.

  "Left," she said, interrupting his musings. "This is the road we must take."

  Things were starting to look familiar. Then again, he'd felt for miles like he was near Falconberg. The lush, rolling hills and little hamlets had made him feel as if he'd gone back hundreds of years. What was strange, though, was the fact that he was seeing the countryside from the comfort of a car. It certainly hadn't given him much time to savor the view. Maybe there was something to be said for traveling on horseback.

  He suddenly found that his foot had come off the gas and his jaw had gone slack.

  Falconberg.

  He could see it in the distance.

  He looked at Margaret in shock. "Is that what I think it is?"

  She was as pale as a ghost. She nodded with a jerk of her head.

  Alex took hold of himself and continued up a road he'd certainly never ridden over before. The closer he came to the castle, the more he realized what was wrong with the picture.

  "It's fixed," he said, blinking in surprise. He looked at his wife. "Did you do this?"

  She shook her head. "Edward did. It was part of the promise George exacted from him."

  Alex smiled. "That was well done. And what did you use as blackmail?"

  "He was told my ghost would haunt him 'til the day he died if he failed in the task."

  "And those Brackwalds always were a superstitious bunch."

  "Aye, that they were."

  Alex laughed and squeezed her hand. "You're something else."

  "Aye, well..." she trailed off. "Don't make up your mind quite yet."

  Alex pulled up short at the moat. The drawbridge was up. "I guess we could swim ..."

  The drawbridge was coming down.

  Alex watched in surprise as it lowered itself completely, then he gaped at the sight of the portcullis being raised. He looked at Margaret.

  "The current owner expecting us?"

  "In a manner of speaking."

  "Can we drive across?"

  "Aye, I'm told the bridge will bear the weight of the car."

  He took her word for it, drove across the bridge and through the barbican. He pulled to a stop in the bailey and just stared at the sight that greeted his eyes. So maybe the outbuildings needed some work. The chapel was intact, but now several headstones surrounded it. Alex was very tempted to go see whose they were, but that would have to wait. The owners probably wouldn't be too pleased to find him poking around their ancestors.

  The lists were in great shape, though the road now divided what they once had been from land some diligent soul had turned into a garden. And what a garden it was.

  "Bet they hire someone to deadhead those roses," he said with a nod at the vast field of colorful plant life.

  "I imagine so," Margaret agreed with a nod. She got out of the car and waited for him.

  Alex followed her, then took her hand. "Weil, shall we go knock and see if anyone's home?"

  She nodded. Her hands were as cold as ice.

  "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "This must be hard to see someone else in your home."

  It must have been especially hard because she didn't say anything, only quickened her pace. By the time they came to a teetering halt at the front door, they were almost running. Alex gave Margaret's hand a quick squeeze and smiled.

  "Here goes nothing," he said, and knocked on the door.

  No one answered.

  He knocked again. Maybe they were an older couple and not all that spry. Or maybe the owner had been manning the drawbridge. He looked behind him but saw no one on top of the barbican. He turned back to the door and frowned.

  "I don't think we're going to get in."

  "You could try the key."

  Alex watched as she pulled a key out of her pocket and held it up. He stared at it for several moments, trying to understand just what that meant. He looked at his wife. She wore the most neutral expression he had ever seen on her face.

  Well, except for the absolute uncertainty shining in her eyes.

  "Key?" he managed.

  She nodded hesitantly.

  "Key," he repeated, realization dawning on him. He felt himself beginning to smile. "You didn't."

  She winced. "I did."

  He laughed. He couldn't help himself. "You bought the castle?"

  "And our titles, too," she admitted.

  He could hardly believe it. "They were for sale?"

  "Oh, not originally," she said, modestly, "you'd be surprised what all those years of dealing with Brackwalds can do for a woman."

  Alex snatched her to him and hugged her so hard, he heard things popping.

  "You wonderful woman," he said, kissing her hard on the mouth. "I can't believe you did this!"

  "You're pleased?" she wheezed.

  "Oh, Margaret," he said, shaking his head in wonder, "I'm thrilled. I've missed home."

  "Have you?"

  She looked as if he'd just given her a dump truck full of Damascus steel.

  "How could I not?" he asked, smiling down at her. "I fell in love with you here. I jousted to keep this place for you. I thought I would spend the rest of my life tramping over this very soil with you. How could I not have missed it?"

  She handed him the key. "Then welcome home, my lord."

  He took it, fitted it to the lock, then put her hand over his.

  "Let's open it together," he said with a smile.

  They turned the lock and Alex pushed in the door. He strode into his home—straight into three inches of muck.

  "The roof still leaks," she said, from behind him.

  He laughed in spite of himself. "Hence the camping gear?"

  "I thought it best."

  Alex looked around and started calculating just how much money it would take to make the place livable. It should have made him queasy, but it didn't. He was too overwhelmed by what he was standing in and the fact that it was his.

&nb
sp; Theirs.

  He turned and faced his wife.

  "Thank you," he said softly.

  She smiled, a shy smile that made him itch to carry her off somewhere and give that smile a closer look.

  "I'm happy you're pleased."

  "I'm very pleased."

  She pointed to the mantel over the hearth. There was a small box with a glass front.

  "My knife," she said with a satisfied smile. "A Brackwald family heirloom they were most reluctant to part with."

  "What did you do to them?" he asked hesitantly, half afraid to hear the answer.

  She shrugged. "Money talks."

  He laughed. "You're as bad as I am." He looked around the hall and felt as if he'd finally come home. It had been one hell of a journey to get there, but it was worth it. He smiled at his wife. "Is our bedroom still intact?"

  She shook her head. "The keep is soundly built, but it's been uninhabited for quite some time. And the furnishings haven't survived very well. I'm certain George would have seen to it if he could have, but there was only so much he could do."

  "He did a great job."

  "There are headstones with our names out there," she continued. "I daresay he buried a few things we'll want to unearth."

  Alex shuddered. "What a friend."

  "You might find your baseball there. If he didn't take it to his own grave."

  That would be an interesting sight. Alex contemplated finding a shovel, then decided maybe it was best left for another time. There were several more interesting things he could think of to do with his time at present and most of them included the shedding of clothes.

  ''How about a nap in the Range Rover?'' he suggested.

  "Why don't we spend an hour or so in the lists first?" she countered. "To get the feel of the place."

  "I'd rather get the feel of—"

  "Oh, by the saints," she said, with a laugh. "You've but one thing on your mind, my lord."

  "You're right," he said, reaching for her.

  "An hour," she said, backing away. "Unless His Lordship's old bones are too frail for such an activity."

  He frowned at her. "Don't you want to nap?"

  "I want to work up an appetite. Unless you fear the deed," she said, with a regretful sigh.