She gave him a soft smile and hurried off. He went with the young man into another room and specified what he wanted. Of course, they were out of the medieval outfits, so he moved up in years.
If Rachel had any idea how much he’d paid she would hit the roof. With a grin, he thought it was worth it just to see her expression.
The young man brought a costume, and he accepted it. “I hate these things,” Morgan muttered to the boy as he pulled on teal tights.
“Most do who come in here,” he replied. “That’s why the medieval outfits go first. Less colorful, more cloth.”
“I’m Morgan, by the way.”
“Pete. I work here spring break and summertime.”
“You enjoy your work?” Morgan donned a teal undertunic with lace at the end of the sleeves before pulling on the darker green and gold jacket. He picked up the floppy beret with a feather and plopped it on his head. “I actually prefer the medieval costumes. A shame you’re out of those,” he muttered.
“Yeah, it can be fun. I’m training to be an assistant to one of the groups here. I hope to work full-time this summer in one of the skits.”
“Good luck.” With a tug at the outrageous green vest and a straightening of the other bits and pieces that made up his costume, Morgan donned his shoes and left.
Inside the main entrance, he stopped, entranced. Rachel stood there, dressed from head to toe in red and gold. Her dress had a square-cut neck with a high waist, and the fabric fell in waves around her. The sleeves were a bit too short, as was the skirt, but no one would notice. Tiny gold butterflies decorated the material. The crown, though, was what caught and held his attention. A sheer piece of ruby red fabric caught up with a circlet of faux pearls was worked into her hair, which had been pinned up. It fell softly over her shoulders. The color against her cheeks made her glow.
Until she saw him.
Her eyes widened.
He cocked a hip, pointed his toe and flipped off his hat before elaborately bowing.
She burst into laughter. “Jade!” she said, attempting to control her laughter but gaining little control.
“I’ll have you know this is teal. It says so on the tag.”
“Oh, of course. Forgive me. Teal. Much better.”
He lifted a shin, turning it first one way and then the next. “I happen to think I look mighty fine in teal.”
“Okay, okay, you look so fine in it, I’m sure the day you marry you’ll end up wearing teal. It’s just so nice on you.”
She giggled again.
Morgan’s gaze shot to hers. “I just might,” he murmured, and smiled, wondering if she would like to see him in a teal cummerbund. Her smile faded.
He backed off, seeing the glimmer of desire in her eyes. “Shall we go?” He motioned her on.
With a nod, she started down the wide dirt path. Stores lined the street, and renaissance music played. In the distance he heard a dulcimer and King Henry and his wife wandered past.
“Where are we going?” Rachel asked.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Well, I hate to say it, but I am a bit hungry.”
He checked his watch. “They start a new meal in twenty minutes. We can go to that one if you want.”
“Start a new meal? I don’t understand.” She turned to him, and a loose strand of hair blew into her face.
He brushed it away. “Yes. They serve meals at trestle tables. Not individual seatings. So every three hours they have a meal.”
“Three hours!”
Resting his hand on the hilt of the plastic sword strapped to his side, he nodded. “They have entertainment, as well. You want to eat now or wait until the next seating, which will actually be their first suppertime serving? They have torches then in their procession. Afternoon meals only have banners.”
“I take it you’ve come here before.”
“Three or four times,” he murmured.
Looking around her, Rachel tried to decide what to do. There was so much to see, but then, she was hungry, too. She hadn’t had breakfast, too worried about Lindsay.
“Let’s eat.”
“Your wish,” he murmured and lifted her hand and kissed it—again.
Rachel shivered, thinking she could really get used to that. Such a simple act made her feel so ridiculously feminine. She liked that.
He placed his hand on her back. “This way.”
He guided her across the street and down the wooden sidewalk until they came to their destination. She knew they were there long before they reached it. She could tell by all the people standing around in groups waiting.
Some wore regular street clothes. A few of the brave ones were in shorts. But many were dressed in a rainbow of bright, cheery colors and soft flowing pastels. She saw everything from chain mail to skirts to musketeer outfits. One woman was dressed as a musketeer, but most women wore dresses like the one she wore, or garments of later styles. Some wore frilly little things around their necks. She had no idea what they were.
“Is that chain mail real?” she whispered as one man covered in tiny gray rings with a big white tunic over them strode toward a group near the back of the crowd.
“I doubt it. Real chain mail is very heavy, very very expensive and wouldn’t be comfortable to wear around. Look at what your dress is made of. Cool breathing material. So is mine. Cheap, nice looking, tending to give the look of the era, but unreal.”
“How do you know all of this? It’s not required reading for doctors.”
“I had time after I graduated from medical school. I wanted to fill my evening hours with something. So, I did reading hour at the library and spent a lot of time there simply researching on my off time. The kids loved reading time. They loved stories of knights and damsels and—”
“And that’s where you picked up the way to treat kids like that!”
“Yeah.”
Rachel heard the affirmation but saw something in his eyes, something that looked like regret. She started to answer him when two loud trumpets sounded.
She nearly landed on Morgan’s shoe after jumping two feet in the air. Grabbing her heart, she looked at him. “You could have warned me.”
“Think medieval,” he said, chuckling.
“I have never read anything medieval. The most I know is, um, Robin Hood.”
“You’re in for a treat, then.”
“If you say so.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rachel was enchanted. Not.
Looking around, she saw a tiered arena surrounded by a fence with tables all around. In the middle was a ring filled with dirt and hay. Things that reminded her of sawhorses were in the ring.
“What in the world?”
Morgan chuckled and slid his hand to her back. “Come this way. You’ll see.”
Men in uniforms and armor walked among the crowd, shouting out threats and insults at each other. It didn’t take long for Rachel to figure it out. “They’re part of the entertainment, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Note each one has the same type of uniform and armor. However, one is wearing blue, one red, one white and one green.”
“Opposing armies?” Glancing at him in question, she allowed herself to be guided to a table near the front row. There weren’t too many people here, which made it nice.
“My lady, allow me!” Rachel turned, surprised, as a man in the red armor came up to her.
She looked at Morgan, who stared at the knight.
“I, um,” she began, not sure what to say.
Going down on one knee, he said, “You wear my colors, and it would do me great honor to receive a favor from you for I am to ride into battle against the Scourge of Harlan soon.”
“A favor?”
“He’s wanting something to wear on his armor.”
The knight grinned cheekily at Morgan. “’Tis true, my lord, that I seek favor from your beloved.”
Rachel felt her cheeks heating up. As the man opened his mouth to continue, she tore off
the filmy headdress. “Here! Take this,” she commanded. Anything to get rid of him, she thought, certain she was the color of her dress by now.
“Ah, a favor!” He stood and waved it at the crowd, who cheered.
“Oh, no, they are watching us,” she moaned.
Morgan chuckled. “Do my lady justice on the field, Sir Knight,” Morgan murmured. “Or I’ll have to find you and make you pay for the embarrassment you have caused her.”
The actor playing the knight threw back his head and laughed before clapping Morgan on the shoulder and walking off. He promptly strutted over to the man in green and waved the favor in his face.
“Oh, dear,” Rachel whispered. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Here. Sit. It won’t be so bad now.”
She sat. “Why did he pick me?” Rachel asked, smiling weakly at the others who sat with them at the table. They all smiled back and wished her luck.
“As he said, my lady, it was the colors you wear.”
Morgan leaned close after saying that. Rachel leaned toward him for some privacy. The warmth from his breath caressed her cheek as he said, “It could be the dress, but I think it be far more likely ’tis the bloom in my lady’s cheek, the gentle wash of color that caresses the…”
“Morgan!” she whispered, her cheeks going up in flames.
He chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’ll allow you peace during lunch.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, though a small smile escaped her. “My cheeks, hmm?”
“Ah, here’s the food,” he replied.
Rachel’s eyes widened as she watched the huge plates of food being brought out and set before each person. “Are we supposed to eat all of this?” she asked, shoving her hair behind her ear.
On her plate was carved meat and vegetables, a huge piece of bread and a small round something in the middle. Sauce, cranberries maybe.
“Not at all. Ah, look, the entertainment is about to begin.”
Rachel glanced up. Sure enough a procession of musicians was just entering the ring. “I can’t believe this. Does this go on all the time? I’d love to bring Lindsay here sometime.”
“I bet she’d love it. I only wish…”
“What?” she asked softly, turning to him. She could see the regret in his eyes, a look of despair. A burst of laughter from those around them distracted her, and the moment was passed. Morgan lifted his fork and took a bite of meat.
“Where are you from, Morgan?” she asked, and began to eat as the entertainers sang, danced and juggled.
“The big city. I grew up there.”
Surprised, she nodded. “I worked there for years until returning here a few weeks ago. Why did you leave?”
He swallowed and took a sip of tea from his goblet. “I realized there were some things more important than the rat race. I wanted somewhere to…”
When he paused, she asked, “Recoup? Recover? Isn’t that why everyone leaves a practice or a possibility for a good practice. After all, with your specialty you could be making five times what you’re making here.”
Morgan cut another piece of meat and stabbed it. “I could be, yes. I suppose, though, God had to get me out here to teach me that there are many, many things more important than money and a career.”
“How long have you been a doctor, Morgan?” She knew she was being nosy, but just listening to his deep rumbling voice was so nice.
“Less than five years, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, well, medical school takes a bit longer than four years.”
“That’s why I’m an accountant.”
He chuckled. “Oh? How does medical school and being an accountant relate?”
She grinned before taking a bite, chewing and swallowing. She finally said, “One you spend your life in college, the other you only have to give up four years of your life.”
He did laugh then, deep, rumbling, the lines on his face easing and making him look younger than his years. “You disliked school that much?” he asked.
“No. I wanted to have children that badly.”
He sobered. “And you did,” he said softly.
“Not at first. I had my entire life planned out. I would go to school and then work for a year or so before meeting Mr. Right and marrying. Then we’d be married for a year and then have children.”
“But?” he asked, encouraging her.
Smiling, she pushed the last of her food away. “It didn’t work that way. I got my degree and fell in love with one of the people who was there on a job search. He was scoping out possible people to work for him.”
“Jim?” he asked, and Rachel nodded, thinking Morgan probably knew what was coming. It was so typical.
“Yes. He saw me, wined me and dined me. I got a job but within six months we were married. Soon after he suggested I stay home to help him with the parties he’d need to throw. At first, I thought it sounded okay. But I was bored quickly. That’s when I found out he had no intention of letting me work at the company. He said he had a policy against family working there. The policy was really his secretary, though I didn’t know it yet. I was disappointed, but then I found out I was pregnant.”
Rachel saw knights coming out on the field. “Look.” She pointed.
Morgan’s hand touched hers and squeezed. She didn’t ask him to remove it but curved her own around his. “I’m sorry,” Morgan said.
“Don’t be. When Jim found out I was pregnant he hit the roof. He was furious because he didn’t want children. They’d interfere with my ability to take care of him.”
“Stingy, wasn’t he?” Morgan murmured. He released her hand, and she heard him move his chair. Then he was next to her seated and taking her hand between his two warm ones.
“I guess I was, too. He wanted me to have an abortion, but I refused. Nor would I give the baby up for adoption. But this was my baby. My marriage was a farce and I thought, with this child, maybe things would get better, at least I’d have someone to love.”
“What about God, Rachel?”
Rachel shook her head. “I—well, Jim didn’t go to church. Oh, he did at first, but after we were married… Anyway, I have decided that possibly God just doesn’t care for us on a day-to-day basis. Why would He allow my child to be born like this, the ultimate thing that broke up our marriage? Why would he allow Lindsay to be fatherless?” she whispered.
“The bible says that God’s ways aren’t always our ways, Rachel. Perhaps He wants everything to turn out even better for you and Lindsay.”
Rachel squeezed his hand, hoping that was true but just unable to believe. What would it take for her to simply believe again?
Faith. Simple faith.
Maybe, God, you might care. Maybe, but I’m just not sure. Help me to believe.
“Oh, look. The red knight just defeated his opponent.”
Rachel looked, and sure enough, the other man was on the ground. The red knight walked his horse around the ring, grinning, until he got to where she and Morgan sat. Then the knight stopped. He turned and raised a hand. “My lady’s favor brought me success this day.”
A young girl walked out with a floral wreath that had ribbons and bells hanging down, decorated in reds and blues and pinks and purples. She handed it to the knight. “Fair lady, this is for you, crowned the fairest at the ceremony today.” He held it out, acting like the dancing of the horse as he leaned sideways wasn’t affecting him in the least.
Before she could rise and get it, Morgan stood and lifted a brow. “I’ll place it on my lady’s head.”
The red knight laughed loud. “Keep this one, my lady. He’s a good man.”
He mounted and then signaled his horse, which jumped to obey its master and they raced off together toward the exit.
Rachel groaned. “I don’t believe it.”
She smiled as Morgan slipped the floral wreath upon her head.
“Embarrassed again?”
“I’m beginning to think I would not have made a very g
ood lady if I had to listen to people like him all the time.”
Morgan chuckled. Music started up. He reached for her hand and urged her to stand. “Come with me,” he murmured.
His eyes bade her, and she followed, glad to be off the subject of her past, of his past, and back in the now, with him looking at her with such tenderness and such ardor. What was it about him? Why did he seem to have such a hold on her life? It was only a few weeks ago she met him, but for some reason, she felt as if she’d known him her entire life.
“Wait a minute.” Looking around, she realized he led her onto the grounds where they had just watched the jousting. “What are we doing out here?”
He grinned that boyish grin that melted her right down to her toes. “We’re going to dance.”
“But…but I can’t dance.”
“This is easy. It’s an old medieval dance the host is calling us to. It won’t take you any time at all to pick up the steps.”
He was right. It didn’t. In just a few short minutes, she was moving with him and about a dozen others in a way she had only seen on TV. It was new, it was fun, but most of all, it was so romantic that Rachel wished the dance would never end.
Holding hands and curtsying, then walking and turning and twirling as, one by one, the line moved, Rachel found she still didn’t lose sight of Morgan across from her. His gaze was on her, warm and tender, and she couldn’t help but return it.
She had come to Fairweather expecting heartache and loneliness as she attempted to eke out a living. Instead, she’d tumbled with a bang right into Morgan Talbot’s arms.
The music had them turning. Then she and Morgan came face to face. She remembered the feel of him that day, much like now, as he held her hands and they made their way down the line. This was so much more, though. This wasn’t just a good-looking stranger that she’d run into but a handsome, caring man who had captured her mother’s nurturing spirit, her daughter’s endless joy and her…
The music ended. Morgan pulled her forward. “You’re beautiful when you dance, Rachel,” he murmured and then slipped his arms around her, lowered his head and kissed her.
She felt joy surge through her to every end of every hair on her head. She wouldn’t be surprised if her hair was standing straight up, the kiss affected her so.
What The Doctor Ordered Page 11