Journey in Time (Knights in Time)

by Karlsen, Chris

  "Old Man Wickersham’s a bit of a zealot and has all his employees sign a contract guaranteeing their behavior will always be above reproach, etcetera, etcetera." He rolled his eyes and pressed distastefully close to Alex. "It seems Miss Constantine...and I emphasize the Miss...got herself knocked up with some bloke’s bastard and---"

  Flat on his ass, Tavington rubbed his jaw and groaned.

  Alex towered over him, his hand still fisted. "Say one nasty word about Shakira again and I'll break it next time. I’m the bloke, and the babe is no bastard."

  ***

  Stunned by the news of Shakira's pregnancy, Alex knocked louder, the lateness of the hour of little importance. He raised his fist to pound on the door again, when Ian opened it, looking none too pleased. Shirtless and barefoot, he stood in the doorway, hair tousled, Levis unbuttoned, with one hand wrapped around the knob, the other on his hip.

  "Am I interrupting?"

  "Yes. Go away."

  Alex breezed past Ian into the house. "Where's Shakira?" He jerked the end of his black bowtie. The silk knot came undone with ease. He shoved it into the jacket pocket of his tux and unbuttoned his shirt collar, eyeing the stairs. If Ian didn't know her whereabouts, Miranda would. If necessary, he’d invade Ian’s bedroom to find out.

  "Have you tried her house?"

  "I've driven by every night, and it’s been dark the whole week. Where is she?"

  "Why the sudden interest?" Miranda interrupted as she reached the bottom stair. "You haven't been concerned about her since your return. Why now?" She moved to Ian’s side.

  "You didn’t answer my question. Where is she?"

  "Like you care," Miranda said.

  "Before you take all your hostility out on me, please remember there are two sides to a story."

  "Right, and you listened to hers, when?"

  Miranda's direct question brought a rush of guilt, which he swiftly rejected. Shakira made her case when she left him the note and then deserted him.

  "I’ve heard her side of the story and seen the evidence."

  Baffled, Alex asked, "What evidence?"

  "Her letters to you returned and unopened."

  "I had my reasons for returning the letters."

  "So you say. After all the brass messages, how could you come back and ignore her letters?" Miranda’s hard gaze stayed locked on him.

  "Messages?"

  Miranda looked askance, clearly not trusting he didn’t know. "We were told the outcropping might be a magnetic field. Under the right conditions, it might trigger the portal to open. She wrote them down and put the information in metal tubes. We went to the rock. She scattered them as best she could all around, on the chance you’d find them."

  Ian turned to Miranda. "You and Shakira did what?"

  "We sent messages rolled up in cigar holders Shakira bought. Go ahead, tell Alex about the Gordon meeting."

  "Later. Right now, I want to you to tell me about your going to that rock."

  Miranda began to take a step backward, but Ian wrapped his hand around her wrist and stopped her. "Answer me."

  "Why are you getting angry? I only went once, as moral support. What's the big deal?"

  "What's the big deal? Do you have any idea what could've happened to the two of you? Did it ever occur to either of you that the portal might open with you both there?"

  Ian grabbed her by the upper arms. "I'd like to shake some sense into you. What would you have done if you'd been caught in a time warp?"

  "Give me some credit. I didn't get close. I stood at least twenty yards away."

  "Really? You two arbitrarily decided the radius of this magnetic field, pulled this figure out of the air and assumed it was accurate. I can't believe you did something so stupid." He did shake her, twice, and then hugged her.

  "I thought I was a safe distance. But, you're right, I didn't think it through,” Miranda mumbled against his neck.

  “If you were wrong and disappeared, I wouldn’t have any idea what happened to you. I’d be devastated.”

  "Forgive me for disturbing this tender moment, but where is Shakira?" Alex asked.

  "Home. Packing. Losing the baby convinced her to make a fresh start somewhere else."

  “I didn’t even know she was pregnant,” Ian said, frowning at Miranda. “Another secret you kept from me.”

  She lost the baby. How? Alex couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact. Shakira was the most robust woman he knew. She never suffered so much as a sniffle. And, she was strong. She fought off Dankworth.

  Fingers snapped in his face. “Did you hear a word I said?” Miranda asked.

  “Is Shakira all right?"

  "No, she's not all right. Wickersham sacked her, then blackballed her, and she miscarried. Would you be all right?"

  Alex raced out of the house.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Bent over a box, a whoosh of cool air blew across the fine hairs Shakira's neck, followed by the bang of the front door against the wall. Startled, she turned as Alex barged into the room.

  "Alex."

  Two months ago, his appearance would've made her the happiest woman in the world. One month ago, before she lost the baby, she'd have been ecstatic. But that was when she still held onto a degree of faith in love. She froze in a rush of yearning. The power of the emotion swept over her with dizzying effect. With brutal swiftness, she smothered the flame.

  "Bloody hell." Jack immediately stepped to her side. "What the devil do you want?"

  "It’s private matter," Alex said in a flinty tone and folded his arms.

  Jack didn’t budge. "You’ve a hell of a nerve, Lancaster. You’ve been the invisible man for the last two months. Now you charge in here like you own the place, because of what--some fleeting bit of history you and she shared?"

  "You have no idea how much history she and I share."

  "State your business and go."

  "I've come to claim my wife."

  Shakira's jaw dropped.

  "Is it true?” Jack asked.

  She turned to see his confused expression. Unsure what to say, how to explain, she looked away.

  "Tell him." Alex's order broke through her evasion.

  Sick at heart, she faced Jack, knowing she was going to hurt him. She suspected Miranda had been right about his feelings for her.

  Alex once described how it felt to receive a mortal wound. "There’s a span of three heartbeats or so." He counted for her, the measures no longer than a standard second. "At one the body is shocked numb. This is where your physical being refuses the agony about to descend. At two, the mind goes into denial. But at the third heartbeat, the agony comes to both body and mind, and all you know is pain."

  The same shock and denial registered in Jack’s eyes as fast as Alex described.

  "Is it true?" Jack repeated.

  "Yes and no. I'm not sure of the legality of our marriage. I-"

  "Not sure?" Alex interjected. "We exchanged vows before a priest with a chapel full of witnesses and duly recorded in the family bible. What part do you doubt as legal?"

  Technically valid, were this the fourteenth century. She’d like to see him sell it to a modern judge. She swallowed the snippy retort concerned more with his intention. What did he hope to accomplish with this ridiculous claim?

  "We’ll talk later," Jack whispered and then told Alex, "You need to go. Can't you see she doesn't want you here?"

  "The lady is my wife, not yours. I'm not leaving until I speak with her, in private."

  Patience exhausted, a perverse streak tempted her to let nature takes its course. Let them fight. Leave them to their scent marking, while she escaped to a solitary corner of the world.

  "Shakira, say the word," Jack jerked his head in Alex's direction, "Does he stay or does he go?"

  "And if she says I go, who's going to make me? You?" His mouth curved into an artificial smile. "I'll sell tickets to that."

  "Enough." Shakira raised a hand, signaling for peace. Whatever Alex pla
nned, she'd hear him out. "He stays."

  “And me? You want me to leave?”

  “I think it’s best.”

  "Are you sure?" Jack took her hands in his. "I'm not convinced you'll be safe."

  Alex lowered his arms to his sides. "What did you say?"

  "I'll be fine," she said.

  Jack bent so only she would hear. “You have a good future in Duck Bay.”

  "He’s my husband. And, there is much history, good and bad between us. Please try to understand."

  Jack seemed to weigh her words against something he wanted to say. A sad resignation came into his eyes and dulled their vibrant blue. He released her hands. "I'll go then," he said with great dignity, considering the blow she'd inflicted.

  Jack was a good man. He deserved better. Shakira watched him walk out the door hoping he'd glance back and she'd see forgiveness there. He didn’t.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  "Why are you here, Alex?"

  "Like I said, to talk."

  He closed the gap between them, invading her personal space. The masculine aroma of cigar, and scotch, and Paco Rabanne, with its orangey hint of bergamot and rosewood assaulted her senses. The intoxicating mix transported her to the night they met. The night they danced to Unchained Melody. One song, one dance, one man, turned her world inside out. Sadly, even now, the nearness of him still did.

  He touched a finger to her lips and trailed it down to the soft skin under her jaw then raised her chin until her eyes met his. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

  "The day I returned from Wales I galloped from the river all the way home. I had so much to say, starting with how much I loved you. I took the stairs two at a time sure you'd be in our chamber. I found your note instead, a few lines, 'I'm leaving for someplace safe. Don't try to look for me.' I figured you suffered some hysterical episode and had gone off to the abbey. Which peeved me, but I knew I'd bring you back. I didn't grasp the true meaning until Simon and Stephen told me about your disappearance and described the circumstances." His thumb brushed the seam of her lips, the rough pad tickling as it went. Then, he dropped his hand.

  "I demanded they show me the exact place they saw you last. I had to see for myself. I didn't want to believe you'd found a way to return and kept it secret."

  Shakira relived the experience with him, every excruciating second she saw through his eyes. As he spoke, he described his despair and the ache he felt. The pain of his loss became hers, his perception of the events so damning.

  "You left me behind. Why?"

  "I didn't. I--"

  "You didn't? Simon and Stephen saw you take the hidden path to the rock, where you lingered until the way out opened for you."

  "I was enroute to Hailes. I stopped to—"

  "The way to the abbey is straight, yet you made a deliberate stop...to the outcropping." With one step, he opened the distance between them, but his accusatory eyes never left her.

  The words registered in the part of her brain that hears and dissects language. Her response hung unspoken, while the rest of her mind busied itself scrutinizing Alex's elegant appearance. He’d cut his hair and wore it combed back from his face. The style suited him. Add the perfectly tailored tux and he could’ve stepped off the pages of GQ. How dare he look so good when she looked like a wrung out dish cloth by comparison?

  As though he read her thoughts, his anger dissolved into a warm gaze that caressed her as it traveled from her mouth to her eyes back to her mouth. Encouraged, she edged forward, closing the space that separated them. She pressed against him ever so slightly. Maybe the contact would help renew, if not the love, the bond, the trust they once shared.

  With a low groan, he pushed her away. Palpable and ugly, like a wound that had festered, the bitterness in his eyes returned. The heat in his expression was replaced by a chilly stoicism that choked off any explanation she could make.

  "You broke my heart, Rocky," he said matter-of-factly.

  "It isn't what you think. I arranged to join the convent. I-"

  "Why would you do something so crazy?"

  "To save your life. They said if you married Blanche the king would keep you behind in England. I knew then I had to do something. My leaving bought you freedom to wed the king’s choice if Guy didn’t return or at least escape fast.

  "They? Who they??"

  "Blanche and Simon."

  "Blanche and Simon,” he repeated, frowning. "You took the word of a twit like Blanche and one of my knights?" he asked. "You believed Edward, who wanted to kick French ass more than anything else would let me, a battle experienced knight, stay behind. I find that hard to believe. You aren’t stupid."

  "I swear to God, I'm going to scream. First Ian, now you. How many times must I admit to gross stupidity? I made a bloody mistake, all right? Sorry, I didn't read that chapter of the bloody, medieval manual before I acted. I misjudged the situation, as you both have been quick to point out. I thought—" Shakira whipped the air with her hand. "Well, it doesn't matter what I thought."

  "Evidently, you thought I'd just standby and let you join the holy sisters. You thought I’d consent to an annulment. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Why didn't you ask me about these rumors? Was your faith in me so poor?"

  "I had every faith in you. That's the problem. I was afraid if I asked you, you'd lie to protect me from the truth. You'd sacrifice your own safety and I knew it."

  A fleeting softness touched his face and he moved toward her, then it faded. "Sounds like a nice excuse. Too bad it doesn’t explain how you wound up conveniently returned to this century."

  “Faith cuts both ways. Where’s yours in me?”

  “Disappeared. With you.”

  Inches from her, his breath disturbed the wisps of hair at her temples. "I give up. Believe what you want," she said.

  "Damn it! You were...are my wife, even if it is a news flash for your special friend, Jack-"

  "You think we were married in the truest sense?"

  "We were husband and wife in every way."

  "Were we?" Shakira retreated a few steps, stopping when her calves touched against the cardboard box. "Why would I think that?"

  "Why wouldn't you?"

  "Well, funny you should ask. Let me try and get the quote right," she challenged back, remembering the hurt she felt. "On the day you proposed, romantic event that it was, you told me you'd be better able to protect me if I was your wife." She shot an acid half smile at him, "Then you added, ‘after all it's not like we're really married.’ When did that change, Alex? When did I become the wife you wanted and loved?"

  There was a flicker of shame before he countered, "I also said, I couldn’t think of another I would want as a wife."

  "Forgive me for not taking consolation in your acknowledgment that if you must marry, you were glad it was me, which is very different than I love you."

  She hung her head emotionally drained by the confrontation, drained from feeling the pain again. "It took you months to realize you loved me. A part of me wants to know why, but then, I think I can guess why." Looking up, she said, "You got used to me. I've loved you so much Alex and hoped you would fall in love with me too. Me," she stressed, "for the woman I am, not the convenient habit I became." Her voice broke. She tapped into a tiny reserve of new strength and composed herself.

  "I loved you, all along,” Alex said. “We didn't need to marry for you to have my protection. It was the excuse I told you, told the world, and told myself. When you asked if I loved you, I couldn’t admit my feelings but a deeper part of me feared you’d decline my proposal, so I added the caveat about not being really married. I never wanted to fall in love or worse, marry. I--” he paused, “I was afraid."

  "Afraid of what?"

  "Time and loss are cruel partners, the one enabling the other to increase exponentially. Over the centuries, I suffered under the two. The possibility fate might force that existence on me a second time has haunted me for five years.” His eyes darken
ed with the admission, flattened with remembered pain. The same pain she saw in them when he told her of the murdered mother and child. “The idea of losing a wife...I didn’t think I could bear it.”

  “I can imagine.”

  His eyes locked on her. “No, you can’t.”

  She ventured to hug him. The muscles of his shoulders bunched beneath her touch and he pulled her arms from his neck.

  “It simply took me awhile to discover I’d rather take my chances with you, than without you. I returned to find my nightmare had come true. You were lost to me—by choice. Your choice.”

  He wasn't going to forgive her. She retreated to her previous spot.

  "As misguided as my actions might’ve been, I didn’t choose to return without you. You can't imagine how distraught I was afterward. I sent messages back explaining what happened, explaining about the magnetic field."

  "The metal cylinders."

  "Yes. Why would I do that if I didn’t love you? Did you think all those notes were just lies? Did you?" she asked again when he didn’t answer.

  "I didn’t read them."

  "You must’ve seen my initials on the wax seal, how-"

  "Whether you sent a hundred explanations or none isn’t the point. You didn’t trust me to take care of you, to take care of us. You ran away. I’d never have gone to the portal without you, under any circumstances."

  The tough wall she worked so hard to build to get through the day began to crack. "You're not going to make me cry Alex. I cried an ocean of tears over you. Then, when I thought I had no tears left, I cried another ocean for our baby. I'm done crying.

  "I stopped to see if the gauntlet was gone and for your sake, hoped it was. Fortunately or unfortunately, thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, like the day we were transported, and poof I found myself here. Not quite as heinous and premeditated as you think."

  "Did you know you were pregnant?"

  "No. I didn't find out until I returned. I thought stress made my period late."

  "Why didn't you tell me about the miscarriage?"

  "Why would I? You didn't want to know about the baby."