Thomas took in a deep breath, his body leaning into the animal. “She's a big girl and on her own. I'm tired of—"
"Reynold, I heard you lost today.” Issie crossed her ankles in front of her, her stare glued to the dirt floor. “A first for you, isn't it?"
A stall door opened and slammed shut. A pair of legs covered in black boots up to the knees came into her vision. Her gaze glanced up and over the muscular thighs covered snugly in black. Issie smiled. He's come to beg for my forgiveness ... another first. Better now then never. Damn, I want this man more now then ever. The centuries have been good to him; he hasn't changed in six hundred years.
"Thou heard true. I fear I have dishonored thee. For that I am truly sorry.” Reynold got down on one knee, causing a surge of superiority to well over her. He still knew his place—too bad Thomas didn't. “Thomas hast explained the rules of the carousel, which I have yet to fully understand. I shall not make the mistake a second time."
A stiff-bristled brush landed in the dirt at Reynold's feet, barely missing his bent knee. “I'm so sick of this bullshit. Get off it, Reynold. She's not your ‘Queen’ and she's got as much royal blood running through those icy veins of hers as either of us."
Reynold sprang to his feet and in one swift swoop leaped over the walls of the stall. Thomas gave him a shove, barely feeling the gloved fist landing against his jaw. Both were soon rolling in shavings and manure.
Issie's laughter brought them to a standstill. “Now boys, shall we just forget about this little argument and get on with more important things? Although I am pleased that my honor is being defended by at least one of you, I'd rather have Thomas in one piece."
Reynold and Thomas halted their tussle like two brothers caught by their mother, each scrambling to find their feet and pretend nothing had been going on.
Once on his feet, Thomas brushed the shavings from his pants. “And what is it that you think I can do for you, Issie? For that matter, why would I want to help you?"
Issie chuckled. “Because Thomas, it's in your nature to help people—and I need yours with one of the bookshelves in my shop. Some idiot decided to stand on one of the lower shelves to reach a bottle on a higher one and I think it's come loose from the wall. I'm afraid it might topple onto one of the customers tomorrow."
Thomas untied the lead line from the ring inside the stall. “Damn it! As soon as I put Smokey down for the night, I'll be up.” He removed the halter from the gray, catching it on the hook just outside the stall door.
"I'm grateful, Thomas.” Issie rose from the hay, sweeping her hand across the back of her skirt. “Reynold, you're welcome to lend a hand if you've nothing else to occupy your time. I mean, I know you've been invited to supper but that doesn't mean you won't find the need for other company should you become bored."
She knew full well that Courtney was in her home away from home, making dinner, but she wanted to make sure she didn't slight him in any way. If Reynold lived up to his reputation, he'd not turn down a meal made by a woman—especially a woman who reminded him of Catherine Astley. In any case, it was Thomas she was after this night, not Reynold.
Reynold picked up the brush lying in the dirt. “Thy invitation is tempting. As Thomas said, I will be having supper with Lady Courtney this evening."
"Well then, it's just Thomas and I.” Issie slid out of the barn and into the darkening shadows of the evening.
The smile she felt cross her face was nothing compared to the opportunity of getting Thomas alone. If she played her cards right, she'd have one her knights coming back into her fold before the stars disappeared from the sky.
* * * *
He was coming for supper, at her shop. What could be better? The man who could be her knight in shining armor would grace her small, but humble table tonight. Courtney breezed onto the small porch of her shop with the lightness of a cloud.
At this very moment life couldn't get much better. Even old sourpuss Issie Cummings couldn't spoil this night for her.
"Stacy, thanks for getting things in order.” Courtney lifted the last dress from its hook and brought it into the shop. “I owe you for this."
Stacy, her summer help for the past two years, tapped her chin with a forefinger. “Well, there is a dress I'd love to..."
Without giving a second thought, Courtney hung up the costume she'd carried in from outside. “If it's still here at the end of the season, it's yours."
Courtney laughed at the squeal of delight the sixteen-year-old gave. She liked Stacy. The girl worked hard and had a flare for the period like Courtney'd had at her age. It was easy to give her something that brought her such pleasure.
"Thank you! You're the best.” Stacy literally danced around the shop, the world her stage. “There's a package from Samuel on the back table for you,” she called out as she floated across the porch, still very light on her feet.
"Oh, to be young again.” Courtney watched the young lady skip up the hill. She knew which dress she'd wanted and had already planned on putting it aside for her. It wasn't one of her most expensive creations, and it suited the teenager to a tee.
Closing the shop doors, Courtney pulled the tray from the cash register, went to her back office and pushed aside the package. Even though she had an idea what it contained, she had more pressing things on her mind—like how to come up with a dinner to satisfy the likes of a knight. Only the thought of the Black Knight's presence in her shop kept her from ripping open the sacred parcel.
Once the receipts of the day were accounted for, she rummaged through her kitchen shelves to see what she could find to make. Nothing too elaborate; after all she wasn't Julia Child. No, she thought—she was more like Rachael Ray in the cooking department. Quick, easy, hopefully tasty and whatever was in the fridge at the time.
Cream of mushroom soup. Instant potatoes. Courtney pulled the items from the shelf, then walked over to the small refrigerator, pulling open the tiny freezer door. Yes! Hamburger. Milk. It may not be fancy dancy, but should be hearty enough.
She popped the ground beef into the microwave to defrost, then found her one and only can opener. Blowing off the dust, she opened the cream of mushroom soup. Grabbing a large bowl, she combined the soup, some spices, the potatoes and some milk until the mixture held the consistency of a hearty broth. Once the hamburger thawed, she'd cook it up quick, add it to the bowl and placed the whole thing back in the microwave to thicken and for the flavors to blend.
With the night's menial meal cooking away, Courtney slipped out of her faire costume and into a pair of jeans and a lacy tank top. Sitting down at the small wooden table, she took the package from the faire's bookstore in her hands.
As she pulled at the twine wrapped around the brown paper, she knew what was inside had to be the out of print book about Heartsease. She'd asked Samuel to track down the only copy known to exist. He wasn't sure if he could. It was said to have been written nearly three hundred years ago and Samuel had told her if it was found, she'd be coughing up some big dollars in order to obtain it.
Oh God, please let it be the right book. Sliding the twine off, she ripped open the package. “Heartsease: Life and Times,” she whispered, tracing the tarnished gold letters. It's now or never.
Taking a deep breath, Courtney opened the book to the cover page, careful not to tear the fragile, yellowed paper. She scanned the page until the copyright year came into her vision.
The copyright was 1912.
This 1825 chronicle is as told by the Astley family through the centuries and may not be current as of this publication.
Tears mingled with the excitement flowing through her body. This book was the antique of antiques as far as she was concerned. It was the one written piece believed to tell the true stories of Heartsease. And it was worth almost draining her savings account for.
Randomly opening the book, Courtney turned to a page housing the sketches of two people. “Reynold,” she whispered, tracing the face she'd come familiar with the past few d
ays. This book was the only piece to have a picture of the Black Knight's face—and there was no mistake, it was Reynold's eyes staring back at her.
Courtney read the caption to no one but herself. ‘Sir Reynold Loddington, the Black Knight of Heartsease, and his beloved Lady Astley.’ Switching her gaze from one page to the other, Courtney's breath caught in her throat and her heart raced in her chest. There, on the opposite page, was a sketch of a woman who could be her. A woman the caption indicated to be the Black Knight's beloved. The name Reynold called her the first few hours he'd been at the faire.
Catherine.
* * * *
Becoming one with shadows of the night was only one of Issie's specialties—weaving a web of black magic was her best. She'd found out at an early age, well before the death of her father, how to work the herbs and chants to get what she wanted. Until the death of her father, King David, she'd believed she had Reynold bound to her, only to discover he loved another. Well, she wasn't about to make the same mistake in this century. Issie made off to spy on the woman she loathed...
Courtney buzzed around her back room like a drone bee in a hive full of honey, mixing this and that until, satisfied, she put a bowl in her microwave. She had no idea Issie stood at the back window, spying on Courtney so quietly even a cat wouldn't have known she was there.
As Courtney ran her fingertips over the book cover, Issie watched the power the book possessed awaken. Before long, Courtney Parker would realize she was the reincarnation of the Lady Catherine Astley written about on the pages. If Issie's plan didn't work, everything would backfire and she'd be lost for forever. Trying to protect herself, her family name and capture Reynold had to be her priority. If the black arts failed her, she was doomed.
Damn it! Issie had been told by one of her followers that a certain antique book had arrived. A book her present-day family members in England couldn't track down, even with all their wealth and connections. For centuries, to this day, the Trenowyths had been reduced to dukes and duchesses rather than their birthright as kings and queens. It was even rumored a few had been found wallowing in the gutters of London.
But how to get the book without her eternal enemy even remembering it existed?
The book! Issie eyed it avidly.
A book holding all the secrets of Heartsease and the Trenowyth family. A book revealing her wickedness as well as her weaknesses, and those of her family who followed her footsteps. A book of betrayal originally penned by one of her knights, a boy she'd kept close to her growing up, but never desired.
She'd ignored the warning the stones predicted when she'd ruled the land. She'd become over-confident in her young ability to keep Thomas, Reynold and Catherine under control. She'd found she had little control over true love. In this century things were different. She'd listened—and found true love was something very few people believed in. And Courtney Parker being one of them.
Issie knew Courtney Parker was in love with a man she believed to be a myth. At least until she'd opened and started reading the damn thing in her hands. Now, the sooner Issie got the rare book, the less time it would have to work its magic on Courtney and Reynold.
Issie cast her gaze down, falling into a spasm of introspection. Catherine reincarnated in this century must have very powerful friends to obtain that book. She turned away from the window, her mind drawing a blank on what options she had. Now she's seen the truth, will she believe it? What will she do with the knowledge?
The evil queen walked slowly off. Controlling Thomas became more of an urgency now. But, to her advantage, unlike the 15th Century, few people in this century believed in the power of magic and the black arts.
Issie made her way through shadows to her shop.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 10
Reynold reached out, grabbing Thomas by the sleeve. “Thomas, I beg of thee. I need to understand.” His fingers slipped from the cotton fabric when Thomas forcefully pulled his arm away.
Thomas turned, anger flooding his eyes. “You need to understand? You seem to have all the answers Reynold—answers as farfetched as the story of Heartsease being real. Why don't you figure it out for yourself; I'm tired of trying to do it for you."
Ever since Isabel had come into the stable, weaving her black web of deceit, they'd been on guard with each other. Reynold recognized the signs of her magic, even if Thomas could not. Thomas no longer held knowledge of what Isabel was very capable of doing to their minds.
For the first time in his life, Reynold felt like he didn't know Thomas. “I doth not ask thee to ‘figure it out’ as thou say. I need to find my way back to where things are as they should be."
"And just where is that, Reynold?” Thomas stood with his legs apart, his arms across his chest. Since Isabel's visit, he'd been a man ready for a fight. “Since you showed up, nothing's the same around here. It's like, shit. I don't know what you want of me, Reynold."
They'd been walking together by a small group of shade trees near the shore of Lake Farnham. Sitting down on a wooden bench, Reynold considered his words. “Tell me of thy family, Thomas. Mayhap I will understand thee better, and this world. There are many things we can teach each other."
Reynold folded his hands across his knees. What more could he do to make Thomas understand him? Things looked hopelessly lost. Thomas believed him to be daft, and maybe he was.
Thomas sighed, joining Reynold. “Remember when you said I'd remember?"
"Aye.” Reynold nodded, careful not to discourage Thomas from telling his story.
"Jeez, this is harder than I thought. I must be off my rocker for even wanting to tell you this.” Thomas sat forward, knees on his elbows. “I remember a tattered, old leather-bound book hidden in the attic—my grandfather showed me it several years ago. I passed it off as fiction and I'd forgotten about it until you showed up.” Sighing inwardly, he shook his head. “The first few hundred pages were written by a Thomas Astley in 1490. An ancestor, I'm told, although records to prove so are nearly untraceable. It tells of him being a knight of service, but I didn't read much more than that. I do recall it's handwritten on parchment—hundreds and hundreds of pages, and has been handed down to the family historian from generation to generation."
How can it be possible? The book would be centuries old and worn beyond the ability to read the script clearly. Yet Reynold nodded, knowing the book Thomas continued to speak of.
He was well aware Sir Thomas Astley had spent many hours recording his family history and his proud climb to knighthood. They'd laughed, and cried, as their friendship and lives were recorded for their future sons and daughters. Only now Reynold wouldn't have any children because of Isabel's wickedness and jealousy.
Mayhap my friend hast found the path to the truth, yet hast not the courage to walk down the road before him. “Thou must read this book, Thomas. Thy grandfather has entrusted thee with the knowledge of its existence. It is a privilege thou must not turn from. Thou must protect it as long as thou lives. There are many secrets to be told on those pages the royal family would kill for."
Thomas rose to his feet, laughing out loud. “Only you would believe in such fiction. Why am I not surprised?"
Reynold stood next to his friend as he always had and always would. They were bound by more than mere friendship; they were blood brothers and time couldn't change that.
"In thy heart, thou knows I speak of things which art true. Thou will find thy way to the truth, Thomas.” Reynold turned, heading across the meadow toward the dressmaker's shop. He'd had enough talk about the past. “Come, I am in need of a hearty meal and the company of the woman who prepares it."
* * * *
Reynold parted ways with Thomas and headed for Courtney's dress shop. Thomas’ words about the journal sat heavily in the back of his mind. It couldn't possibly be the same book. Everything about them from their childhood until the day before the joust was in there—the death of his parents. Isabel becoming queen. The day Thomas was k
nighted by King David. The night Reynold proclaimed his love to Catherine. Their lives were as exposed as if they'd been stripped of their clothing. All the good and the not so good of the Astley family and those connected to them ... including Reynold and Queen Isabel, were recorded in the journal.
Reynold shook his head, pushing the sacred knowledge aside. Stepping up on the porch, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He just had to keep telling his heart the woman he loved was gone from him forever; he'd never hold Catherine again.
In this new land he'd found himself in, Lady Courtney Parker was the woman who kindled his desire now, unlike any woman before her, including Catherine.
While the thought of a hot meal fueled his appetite, it was the aspect of being alone with Lady Courtney which burned deep in his gut. There was something sultry and yet innocent about the maiden. She moved like a woman experienced in the ways of love, yet he didn't believe it was as deep as she led on. He didn't know much of this new land he was in. He was eager to learn—would Lady Courtney willingly be his teacher?
"Reynold?” Courtney stood in front of him, the door partially opened. “I thought I'd heard footsteps, but when I didn't hear a knock..."
"M'lady.” Reynold bowed, keeping his eyes on her tiny bare feet. Her toe nails were painted a pale color and one toe was home to a small silver ring. She wears the symbol of Heartsease on her toe. The Gods have given me a sign to follow. Relief flooded him as he stood to meet her sparkling brown eyes, which were watching him closely. She wore what appeared to be undergarments. Her legs, bare and shapely, invited his touch. Her arms were lean and muscular, her bosom nearly exposed to him. “I was detained by my own thoughts, m'lady."
"Are they still detaining you, Reynold?” She laughed, opening the door to welcome him inside.
"More than m'lady knows. Thou hast saved me from m'self.” Reynold walked through the doorway into the warm glow of the light and the smell of hot food. “Thou hast saved m'body from starvation as well."
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