Joust In Time
Page 9
It was then her instincts told her to trust in him; to give the man a chance to prove who he was, and she did. Everything, right down to the jealousy in the eyes of a young Issie and the brotherhood Reynold and Thomas had with each other made incredible stories. Ones she knew he'd only know if he were truly from Heartsease.
There, I've made another choice. One I can't turn back from now.
Breathing deeply, she plugged in the coffeemaker, then quietly sat in a chair next to the table. The book was the only known publication in existence, so there would be no logical reason Reynold would have intimate knowledge of the ancient myth. Hugging the housecoat closer to her, she watched Reynold sleep peacefully in the spot next to her vacant one.
In another world ... in another time they may have meant something to each other. But here, in her time and her world, they were nothing more than two ships passing in the night.
Her gaze moved from Reynold's sleeping body back to the book—the watercolor sketch of them together. How was she going to get her vessel to stop long enough for her to board his ship? How long did she have before he disappeared as magically as he'd appeared? For her, a lifetime wouldn't be long enough.
* * * *
Reynold stirred, the rich aroma of hazelnut coffee coaxing him from sleep. He must be back in his keep; nowhere else would a smell as rich as hazelnut give him such peace. Rolling over, he opened his eyes. Courtney sat in a chair, wrapped in a robe, studying the modern print book about their lives.
Aye, I'm home. At least that's what his heart kept telling him. He'd followed his heart when forced to abide by Queen Isabel's jousting demands centuries ago. That path of deception had led him straight to this new time with people he felt he knew but whom insisted on not knowing him.
He'd followed his heart last night also. He only wanted to hold Lady Courtney, to feel her body next to his. It didn't matter whether they did a love dance or not, he just wanted his arms wrapped around her. Could he trust his heart, or would he lose it again in a game of chance?
He'd take the chance. No matter the outcome, Lady Courtney was a woman with more than mere beauty as her only asset. She stood up against her enemies, even if she didn't fully recognize them. She was a woman who dared to believe in the unbelievable. A woman who, against her better judgment, trusted him when no one else seemed too. She was a woman every man wanted and if he lay there watching her a moment longer he'd have to pull her down to him and love her like he should have done last night; fully and completed.
"Thou'll rub the color from those pages if thou continues in that manner.” Reynold pulled the blanket off, then moved to get up off the bed. It wasn't his regular bed of straw, but it was more comfortable then a few hard bales of hay would have been.
Courtney stood, toppling over the chair. “No, don't get...” she cried out, covering her eyes.
Am I that disgusting that she can't bear to look at me? Was it not her body that kept me warm during the night? Laughing, Reynold stood, pulling his britches up around his waist. “That brew smells good, may I have a cup?"
"Ah, yeah.” She pivoted twice, as if she wasn't sure what she needed or where she was. Reynold couldn't help but smile at her obvious dismay over a half-naked man in her shop. The rush of pink on her cheeks only made her more alluring and beautiful in his eyes.
She finally collected herself and poured the delicious smelling brew, setting the cup on the table in front of him. “Thou hast read more of our life together?"
Her chest rose and she let out a deep breath. He bet her heart was thumping against her breasts as well. She settled into the chair next to him, sipping from the cup she'd poured for herself. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I have been."
He took a sip of the coffee, savoring the nutty flavor and wondering if her lips carried the same taste on them. “Hast thou come to understand, then?"
"No, not completely. I have more questions than answers now.” Turning page after page, she rested her fingertips upon the only watercolor of them all she'd found in the book. “Is this Thomas and Issie?"
Her fingers glided along the page, like a feather in the wind. The simple act sent his heart into a tailspin, landing squarely in his lap.
"'Tis Sir Thomas Astley and Princess Isabel Trenowyth. It was painted a short time before her father's death,” he whispered, linking his fingers into hers, the smoothness of her skin soft against his rough and well-worked digits. He felt a sudden bolt of mysterious energy as their hands touched, and saw Courtney shiver as color flooded her cheeks. Blood rushed hotly through his veins, engorging his manhood with fiery need.
Slowly he pulled his hand from hers, taking a deep, stilling breath. Glancing into her eyes, he saw in her the same need he'd felt moments ago. As in his world, their craving for each other was strong and heated here as well. She moved in closer to him, sending waves of desire through him.
"Reynold.” His name floated lightly to his ear. Her lips brushed against his with impassioned softness.
May the gods help me. Returning the kiss, he wrapped her in his arms. Her body melted like butter against him, her night wrap opening, exposing a plentiful breast and pebbled nipple. He automatically circled the hard nub with a finger tip, deepening their kiss as he tugged the rigid flesh.
Her sweet, soft moaning encouraged him, giving him the strength to move forward. Slipping his hand further into her covering, Reynold caressed the firm breast with the ease of a man who knew her body. Tracing butterfly kisses down her neck into the shallow of her throat, he found the path leading to a pleading nipple.
* * * *
Courtney moaned against Reynold, wanting more of his kisses and caresses. His touch, gentle and sensual, gave her the courage to straddle his lap. She moaned deeper, feeling the length of his manhood against her. Wet desire burned somewhere deep inside her as he stood, supporting her body against his.
With the tenderness of placing a baby down, he eased her onto the mattress and gentled the weight of his body on hers. “M'lady,” he whispered into her ear as he suckled the lobe, tugging her coverlet from around her body.
His hands roamed down her side and onto her now-bare thighs, exploring every inch of her until he found her moist valley. She pushed against him when his hand slipped under her panties, their bodies adding more delicious pressure between them. His head swirled like a whirlpool, and he sensed she was lost in the same delirium, wandering in a microcosm of new sensations.
"Reynold, please” she pleaded, her voice husky with what could only be a woman's overwhelming need for fulfillment. Yet he sensed a strange hesitancy in her, and realized she had little if any experience in the ways of love. He was lost in the moment, in the wonder of this beautiful woman who seemed totally consumed by her need for him—yet so innocent.
Her hand glided along his biceps and over the religious-looking scar burned into his flesh. She kissed his neck, and her tongue snaked out quickly, lapping the ‘V’ between the leather strings of the small pouch just above his pecs. Her fingers grasped the back of his britches and she tugged this way and that until they started to give up their position on his backside.
Someone coughed. “I ... ah ... hate to break the party up, but we've got to talk."
Reynold leaped to his feet. Courtney gasped, and snatched for her discarded robe.
There, in the center of her shop, stood a man she considered a friend and brother.
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Chapter 13
"Coffee?” She didn't wait for Thomas to answer, simply poured him one. Her nerves were ignited like an over-heated power cord. She bit her lower lip, hoping to calm herself down and take control of the most uncomfortable situation she'd ever been caught in.
Courtney pulled the robe tighter around her, hiding not only her body but her embarrassment at getting caught with a man between her legs. Reynold had already righted his britches and pulled on his white cotton shirt, as if being discovered between the legs of a woman was an everyday occurrence.
She couldn't help but giggle inwardly at the thought of running the bases, hoping to escape being out at home plate. Luckily for her, she never had to worry about such things in high school. She hadn't come into herself until college, and even then the boys really weren't interested in a girl who enjoyed the past more then the present. She could always be found in the library, lost amongst the pages of an old history book—if one looked hard enough for her, that is.
Anyway, the look on Thomas’ scrunched-up face was pretty comical, even if the situation was a serious one by her now defunct old-fashioned standards. The last thing she expected in the morning light was for Thomas to be standing in her shop at the crack of dawn ... or pretty darn close to it. It could have been worse ... Issie could have been the one to find her legs locked around Reynold's hips. She shivered at that dreadful thought.
"Thou hast risen early this morn.” Reynold spoke to Thomas from where he sat in the chair closest to where Courtney stood at the counter, placing himself between her and Thomas. She knew in her heart he'd be ready to defend her honor at a moment's notice should it be needed. It was something she felt without any evidence that he would. Not that she needed defending, even if that is the job of a knight in shining armor.
Courtney poured fresh hazelnut coffee into each of their cups. Setting the pot down on the table she sat in the chair nearest Reynold. The last thing she wanted was for these two to be too close to each other. At least with her sitting between them, she'd be able to run interference.
"I didn't sleep well last night and there's much that needs to be said.” Thomas put the pouch he'd been carrying in the middle of the table, then sat down at the far end. His tired eyes looked into Reynold's. “You were right about a lot of things, Reynold. My grandfather confirmed everything you've been trying to tell me. It's all right there in the satchel."
She cleared her throat, crossing her arms in front of her. “Donuts? Chocolate covered Bismarck's I hope."
"Not hardly.” Thomas pulled what looked like a book from the contents of the weathered pouch. “Something we need to talk about.” He flipped the journal open to a marked page. A faded watercolor matching the one in Courtney's new book gleamed in the rays of the morning sun, the painted figures coming to life before her eyes.
Courtney's breath hitched in her throat. No! It can't be. There's only one copy and I have it! Her body trembled throughout from the fear that everything from the night before was a big, fat lie. A myth was just that—a myth. Her knight in shinning armor no more than a normal, everyday man who'd break her heart on the first chance he had. So much for dreams coming true.
I should have known better then to trust my heart.
Reynold pulled the ancient old journal across the table. “Hast thou come to believe, m'friend?"
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she pushed her newly-arrived copy of Heartsease next to Thomas’ leather-bound journal. “I thought I had the only copy of this book."
Thomas drank from his cup, than placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You have the only ‘published’ copy. I have the original, the one that's been handed down in my family from generation to generation for centuries. If what I read last night is true, there are a lot of things that need to be done before it's all over; before more damage can be done to a lot of innocent people."
"The original? From everything I'd read in my research, the original had been destroyed. There's documented evidence stating so.” Courtney sat back in her chair. How can it be that Thomas has the perished book, over hundreds of years old, in his possession? “You expect me to believe that tattered, yellowed manuscript you have there is an original book about Heartsease? Do you take me for a fool, Thomas?"
"M'lady, thou listens yet doth not hear. Thomas speaks the truth.” Reynold leaned toward her, forcing Courtney to move quickly from the chair. His magnificent presence didn't help her right now in trying to understand what in the world was going on. For that matter, why was he taking Thomas’ side in this? He was her knight, not Thomas'.
Standing near the back door, she wiped away another tear slipping down her cheek as she stared at Reynold. “You knew about this all along? What did you two do, hatch up a plan of deception to see if I'd believe you or not? Well ... I DON'T!"
* * * *
Reynold's heart went out to her, slamming the door to his chest in its wake. Courtney grabbed her precious book off the table, hugging it to her bosom. As Thomas had said, hers was the only publication in existence; Thomas had the original hand-written family chronicles of life in Heartsease that extended further than the professionally bound book she held.
She eyed Thomas balefully. “I hope you can prove it, Thomas. It's a story sounding more like fantasy than reality.” Courtney edged closer to the back door until she could go no further. Her face and eyes darkened, revealing suspicion Reynold had never seen in her expression before. His heart plummeted at the thought of her not trusting him.
He trod lightly as he took Courtney by the elbow. “M'lady, come and sit with us a while. There is much to be said in so little time.” He brought her quietly to the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit on. Gently, he took the book from her and placed it on top of the table.
"Thomas, may I?” Reynold extended his hand out for the ancient manuscript.
Thomas placed the pages in his hand, nodding his acknowledgement of what Reynold was going to attempt to do. “If it'll help, by all means. I'm too tired to explain it all to her right now."
Reynold placed the old leather-bound chronicle next to Courtney's modern day version. “Look m'lady, for thyself.” He flipped open the cover of the hardcover book to the page where Catherine's name appeared on the family tree. “'As told through the years by the family of Lady Catherine A. Astley.’ That's Sir Thomas Astley's cousin. She was betrothed to me by Thomas. If thou will only look at the pages of Thomas’ family journal, no such name appears; no record of the family names."
Thump, thump!
Reynold bounded to his feet, his heart racing a pace that would challenge Abraxas at a full gallop. Someone desperately wanted entrance into the shop and they weren't about to be polite about it. Automatically reaching for his dagger and finding it not present, he gathered all his inner strength to face the enemy in hand combat, if necessary.
"Thomas Astley, I know you're in there.” The words screeched through the walls like a knife cutting through bone, gripping and horrific. “Open the damn door, Courtney, before I have the entire faire breaking it down!"
"Issie!” Courtney whispered. Closing both the books, she threw a towel over them before going to answer the pounding on the back door. “What do you want, Issie?"
Reynold took his place next to Thomas, just steps from Courtney, whispering a warning. “We must take care from henceforth.” He wasn't sure what awaited them once the door flew open, just that it wouldn't be a pleasant social call. If Isabel came through the door in a flying rage and harmed Courtney, he'd cut her down without hesitation. She had a temper hotter than a blacksmith's fire and not as easily put out.
Courtney began to open the door, and Issie pushed her way past it and Courtney, coming face to face with Reynold. “Just as I thought! You've been hatching a plan to turn everyone against me, I knew it. I had no idea you played with the black arts, Sir Reynold. It appears you've learned much on your journey through time.” She swung in a circle, pointing at each of them in turn before coming to halt again in front of Reynold. A surge of blackness reached out toward him, the amulet stirring under his shirt.
Reynold drew in the white light of protection, shutting out Issie's blackness. It was true—he dabbled in magic—white magic. Nothing as dark as Isabel's soul. “Take care of whom thou makes threats against, Isabel. Thy black magic is not as powerful in this time
as it was in the castle."
"You speak nonsense, Sir Black Knight! I will have you, one way or another.” She spun toward Courtney, pointing a long finger at her. “You'll not have what rightfully belongs to me!” she hissed, then spun around and departed from the room on the tornado she rode in on.
* * * *
"M'lady?"
Courtney drew in a deep breath, stilling the quake that had tilted her body off its axis. “What the hell was that all about?” She looked from Reynold to Thomas, her words as shaky as her insides. Never in her life had she seen such malicious intent in a person's eyes as she had in Issie's.
"Sit and the truth shall be told.” Reynold waited as she sat down. Courtney wasn't sure just what Thomas believed, or didn't believe. Would it be enough to convince her of the truth behind their lives at Heartsease? Or would it be more fables told to a silly woman wanting more than anything for the tales to be true? Wanting to believe that knights in shining armor always rescued the damsel?
So far, her fairy-tale story wasn't Cinderella finding her Prince Charming; it was more like ‘Bride of Chucky'.
Reluctantly, she sat as calmly as possible. “Okay, I'm listening.” Leaning forward, she folded her hands in front of her on the table. If prayer would help her, she'd do it without hesitation. There's no defense against fables and stories, only what is believable in a person's imagination, if only for a moment. That defense was as flawed as believing in dreams coming true ... it just didn't happen.
Reynold turned to the first of the hundreds of handwritten pages. “'Tis begun when Thomas and I were boys, playing in the courtyard of the castle grounds. We were ‘bout ten at the time when I drew blood from Thomas’ arm in a game of joust.” Reynold smiled, as if the memory were a fond and warm one. “Thomas laughed, than slashed my arm just as quickly in return. It was then we became blood brothers, mixing our souls and lives with one another..."