Chris Karlsen - Knights in Time
Page 33
hushed voice. “You don’t need to blather on about it.”
“It’s pretty odd business to ignore and not blather about. It’s not just Stephen. I got a look
at Alex Lancaster on my way to the bedroom. You said that the man standing behind the one who
is Stephen’s double looked like Lancaster. No kidding. They could be twins too.”
Stephen wasn’t sure what to do. To his relief, Esme handled her sister’s interest in the
painting.
“Let it go, El,” Esme warned again.
“I will, but you have to admit, it is freaking weird.”
“Let. It. Go.”
“Fine.” She brushed past Stephen and entered the drawing room. “Hi-hi everyone,”
Electra said and introduced herself to each.
Stephen tracked her progress as she went around the room. When she got to Roger, she
stopped and said, “I think I’ll sit here.” He’d taken the club chair, which only sat one person. To Stephen’s surprise, she must’ve managed to squeeze next to Roger since her voice came from the
same spot. “As you heard, I’m Electra but you can call me El. And who might you be?”
“I am Roger Louis Philippe Marchand.”
“Ooh, four names, very posh. Even posher than those folks with hyphenated last names.”
“Pardon?” Apparently, she’d confused Roger.
“What brings Roger Louis Philippe Marchand to our quiet shire?” Electra asked.
“A new position. I—” Electra’s giggle interrupted him. “What is this funny?”
“A Frenchman with a new position...the mind boggles,” a chipper El explained.
“I do not know what boggles is. I am to provide security on Stephen’s tours. Soon, I will
also be his driver. I must learn the skill first.”
“You’ll be hanging out here quite a bit, then. Good to know.”
Stephen’s curiosity piqued. Had Roger heard the interest in Electra’s voice as well as he
had?
Esme came out of the kitchen with the coffee and the tray of teacakes. He’d never tasted
a teacake, but they smelled sweet and he did like tarts. He snagged one as Esme went by and set it aside for when he was finished discussing a private business matter with Alex.
Shakira, Miranda, and Alex, shared the sofa. Alex sat on the end near where Stephen
stood. Stephen leaned down and said softly, “Alex, a word.” Tipping his head, he headed for the bedroom.
“What’s up?” Alex asked, joining Stephen.
“Have I earned enough funds to purchase a small cottage? Nothing fancy, a modest home
such as yours here.”
“Gloucestershire property is expensive. Right now, you haven’t enough. But when you’re
done touring this year, and with your combined music sales, then I think you will.”
Stephen hoped for better news. He wanted to ask Esme to marry him, but refused to
propose until he could offer her a proper home. The trailer was only a temporary place. He
appreciated Miranda and Ian’s generosity in loaning him the use of it but at the end of the day, it wasn’t his.
“Don’t look so discouraged. I’ve a plan you might like. No one knows yet, but we just
learned Shakira is pregnant. She and I are staying in London until after the baby is born. She
miscarried before and wants to be close to her doctor and the hospital, this time.”
Stephen gave his friend a bear of a hug. “What wonderful news.” He patted Alex on the
back then released him. “Congratulations. Perhaps it will be a son, a boy to carry on your name.”
“Son or daughter or one of each, I don’t care. I only want mother and baby to be healthy.”
“Of course. I am truly happy for you and Lady Shakira.”
“Thank you. Back to the topic of a place for you. The cottage has the music studio, which
is convenient, and anything else you need. It’s too small for our growing family. I’ll rent the cottage to you. If you find it suits you, then I’ll sell it to you and apply what you paid in rent towards the price.”
“Truly?” Hope shot through him. Finally, he had more than just himself to offer a lady. As
a child, he’d been an unwanted orphan, saved by Guy’s father. He’d been fed, clothed, and
sheltered through the kindness of the man. He’d grown to be a squire and taught the skills of a knight, skills that granted him a good life, but one in service to another, a barracks life, a
bachelor’s life. Today, with a budding career, he had the means to provide for a wife and children.
Now, he’d possess a nice place for her to live as well.
“Give us a day to get our clothes and personal things out. We’ll leave the rest, dishes,
furniture, all that stays.”
After all Alex had done for him, it was time to do what his conscience told him should’ve
been done weeks ago. “I have a confession. I owe you an apology.”
Alex laid a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you think to apologize for, don’t. We’re good
friends and that’s enough, that’s all I need to know.”
Did Alex suspect what he intended to say? How? Had his resentment been so obvious?
Embarrassment piled onto guilt and added to his determination to explain.
Stephen stepped to the side, out from under Alex’s hand and faced him. “This needs said.
From the moment I learned I was blind and until short weeks ago, bitterness snaked within me. I dwelled on what happened at Poitiers and your warning. When I saw Marchand on the battlefield,
I hesitated and was struck down. I blamed you. I told myself had I not been warned I wouldn’t
have hesitated.”
“Stephen—”
He gave a small shake of his head. “I told myself, I might’ve won. It took time for the
truth to sink finally in...if my victory was the destined outcome, you wouldn’t have needed to warn me.”
“Stephen, you don’t—”
“Allow me to finish. Esme saw my anger and told me it was misplaced when you’ve done
nothing but help me. She reminded me, if I’d been granted such knowledge, I’d have done the
same. She was right of course, but I wouldn’t admit it at the time.”
It was his turn to put a hand on a friend’s shoulder. “Because of you, I live. Because I
live, I have Esme. Thank you.”
Someone opened the door. “Hey, what are you two in here gabbing away about? Come on
and join the rest of us,” Shakira said.
The three of them came back into the drawing room. “Esme?” Stephen wasn’t sure
where she sat.
“Yes,” she said from the other club chair.
Stephen went to where she sat, clasped her hands and tugged her up. “Esme—” He
brought her hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers, then squared his shoulders and said, “I couldn’t ask you sooner, not until I had something to give other than myself. Alex and I have talked. He assures me that I have a good future and I’ve no need to rely on Ian and
Miranda’s charity for a place to live. He’s also offered to rent me the cottage and perhaps in the months ahead even sell it to me. But, I don’t want it to be just for me.” He dropped to one knee.
“I would be honored to have you share my life and make it our home.”
To his left Electra squealed. To his right, Miranda and Shakira both said, “Aw,” in unison.
“Oh my. I...I...I don’t want to misunderstand. Are you asking me to live with you or
more?”
“Forgive my clumsiness. I’ve never asked a lady for her hand in marriage before. I love
you. Were you to accept this humble man, you’d make me the happiest man in the land.”
She locked
her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said quickly, running the yes’s
together, and tightened her embrace.
He looped his arms around her waist and uncaring of those watching, kissed her
thoroughly. When he finished, they broke apart to welcome the well wishes of their friends who
gathered around them.
“I’m going to grab a couple of bottles of champagne from the cottage. I’ll be right back,”
Alex said.
“Speaking of the cottage, Esme, can I have your flat?” El asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but it’s too late. I promised it to Roger. I had no idea Stephen planned to
buy the cottage, but he recently mentioned moving someplace else.” She wrapped her arm around
his waist and gave him a little squeeze. “Since I’ve been staying here a lot, I told Roger if I moved in with Stephen, he could have my place.”
“Damn.”
“There’s nothing special about it. You have your own flat. Why did you want to take mine
over?”
“For the kitchen. My flat has that itsy-bitsy one. Yours is twice the size, and I need a
bigger one. I’m starting chef’s school.”
“El, that’s wonderful,” Esme said. “You’ve talked about going to chef’s school for a long
time.”
Roger, who’d been standing next to Stephen joined in and offered, “If I may interrupt.
Milady Electra, I have no need for a big kitchen. It would be my pleasure to find another place.”
“Oh, my God. You called me ‘milady,’ how cool is that? My place is very close to here.
You’d like it. But you have to let me compensate you in some way for giving up the better flat.”
“It would be dishonorable for me to accept money from you, milady. I will take no
compensation.”
“I’m not offering money Roger Louis Philippe, I meant an exchange of services.”
Esme choked and loudly cleared her throat, while Stephen patted her on the back. “Shall I
fetch you some water?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Services? What sort of services?” The lusty interest in Roger’s upbeat tone crystal clear.
“I’ll teach you to drive. And...as I learn to prepare different dishes, I’ll have you over and
practice making them for you.”
Stephen grinned in Marchand’s direction. “Still wish you could go back, Roger?”
“No. The merits of being where I am grow daily. Sweet, Electra—,”
“Call me El, everyone does.”
“I prefer to call you Electra. Sweet Electra, I accept. Allow me to seal our bargain.”
Electra gave a tiny chirp. “Oh my god, you kissed my hand. Wow. What are you doing for
dinner tomorrow, R.L.P.?”
“Bold creature, R.L.P. it is now? Well milady, I shall be enjoying a bottle of fine wine,
French, of course, with you in your tiny kitchen.”
“Interesting turn of events,” Stephen whispered to Esme.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
“I wish Roger as much fortune in love as I have.” He kissed Esme’s temple.
“I would share that wish for El.”
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Stephen pulled her into an embrace.
“It’s been at least five minutes. You’re overdue.”
“If French is the language of love, then let me say, je t’aime. I prefer to speak in the language of my heart. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
End
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Table of Contents
Copyright
4
Other Stories by Chris Karlsen
4
Acknowledgement
4
Dedication
4
Chapter One
143
Chapter Two
143
Chapter Three
143
Chapter Four
143
Chapter Five
143
Chapter Six
143
Chapter Seven
143
Chapter Eight
143
Chapter Nine
143
Chapter Ten
143
Chapter Eleven
143
Chapter Twelve
143
Chapter Thirteen
143
Chapter Fourteen
143
Chapter Fifteen
143
Chapter Sixteen
143
Chapter Seventeen
143
Chapter Eighteen
143
Chapter Nineteen
143
Chapter Twenty
143
Chapter Twenty-One
143
Chapter Twenty-Two
143
Chapter Twenty-Three
143
Chapter Twenty-Four
143
Chapter Twenty-Five
143
Chapter Twenty-Six
143
Chapter Twenty-Seven
143
Chapter Twenty-Eight
143
Chapter Twenty-Nine
143
Chapter Thirty
143
Chapter Thirty-One
143
Chapter Thirty-Two
143
Chapter Thirty-Three
143
Chapter Thirty-Four
143
Chapter Thirty-Five
143
Chapter Thirty-Six
143
Chapter Thirty-Six
143
Document Outline
Copyright
Other Stories by Chris Karlsen
Acknowledgement
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cha
pter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter One