“Are you to be my savior then, Tessa?” The words came out with a bitterness he did not intend and she jerked her hands away as if burned.
“It’s not like that!” She stepped back but he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes.
“If you will not tell me of my fate, tell me this then: what becomes of my king and my country?”
“I can’t—”
He shook her sharply. “Tell me! If it is as you say and Arthur’s destiny cannot be changed by finding the Grail, ’twill make no difference to know. What does the future hold, Tessa? How does history speak of them? Of all of us? Are the deeds of Arthur and Lancelot remembered by man or is all lost in the mists of time that stretch betwixt your world and mine?”
“Stop it!” She wrenched out of his grasp. Her chest heaved with angry breaths and the moonlight reflected sparks of anguish in her eyes. “Why do you want to know? What difference does it make?”
“It makes a great deal of difference. To know my life and the lives of my king and my father have not been for naught. To know history has remembered us. To know my accomplishments and those of others I hold dear are not forgotten!”
“You’re not forgotten.” She shot the words at him like an arrow, unerring and straight for the target. “Everyone knows the story of Arthur and Guinevere and Lancelot and Galahad and all the other Knights of the Round Table. Everyone knows all about Merlin and Camelot. There are vast libraries filled with books about nothing but your exploits. You’re a damned legend!”
“A legend?”
“A myth! A fairy tale! But you’re not history! History is real life and you and Arthur and all of it aren’t included!”
Her words slammed into him with the force of an unseen blow, knocking his breath away, chilling his soul. Shock coursed through him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” She pushed her hair away from her face in a weary gesture. “In my time, nobody believes that you were real. That you ever existed.” She hugged her arms to her chest and refused to meet his eyes. “You’re a story in a children’s book.”
“How can this be?” he whispered.
“Merlin didn’t want your time spoiled by the scrutiny of history, so he made the world believe none of it was real.” Regret touched her voice and her gaze meshed with his. “I’m so sorry.”
He stared at her. ’Twas no doubt as to her words: the truth was revealed in her eyes. “’Tis no wonder you have questioned the reality of the world around you since our first meeting.”
“I didn’t want to tell you.”
He laughed softly. “As you have said, I am a stubborn man. I would not let the question pass unanswered.”
He leaned his back against the tree and stared at the water. ’Twas a great deal to think about, this revelation of Tessa’s. “You have called me arrogant, as well.” An ache tore at his insides. “I have not thought of myself as such. Only as who I am for good or ill, yet I must be.”
He bent down and pulled a tuft of grass from the earth, crushing the blades in his hand. “’Tis an odd notion to learn you will live and die with naught to mark your passage on the earth save tales told in the night around a fire.” He opened his fist and sifted a few blades through his fingers. “Only an arrogant man would find such a fate distasteful.”
“You and Arthur and everything all of you did is remembered.” There was a desperate note in her voice.
“Aye, but not as real men.” He shook his head. “’Tis a difference.”
“Why?”
“’Tis better to be known for the fact, no matter how feeble, than the falsehood.” His hand dropped to his side and the last pieces of grass drifted to the ground.
“Do you hate me for telling you?” Fear shadowed her voice.
“Hate you?” He stared at her in the moonlight. I could not hate you, Tessa. You may well be my soul. “Did Merlin not say I could not find the Grail without you?” She nodded. “Then I was right.” He spoke more to himself than to her. “You are my savior.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to talk or something?”
“I think not, but thank you.” He smiled wryly. “I do not find the same pleasure in speech as you do.” Even in the pale light, he could see the worry on her face. “Go to sleep, Tessa. It has been a long day. ’Twill be fine in the morning.”
She stared at him in the dark. “Promise?”
“You have my word.”
She nodded and walked back to the fire. He watched her for a moment or an eternity. He was right when he’d thought himself bewitched by her. Even now, stunned by the prospect of his fate, he could not help but wonder if her presence was worth any price. She did not believe in magic, yet did she believe in love? Surely not. She believed in only those things she could see and feel. ’Twas odd that he should wonder such a thing now. Still, wasn’t Tessa and the quest, the future and the past all entwined together like a vine climbing toward the sun?
He settled his back against the tree and stared at the sky. The moonlight had faded and the first wink of the stars appeared. Would it be so bad to have his life remembered as more than it was? The deeds of mortal men were never as good as the stories woven around them. He should not mind. He would not be around to witness it.
Would Tessa?
Would she return to her world when their quest was done? Would he lose her forever to a land so far away he could not truly imagine it? No. Resolve clenched his jaw. By the heavens he would not.
And he would not cease his quest for the Grail. Regardless of what may have happened in another time, another life, he would persevere. He would fulfill his destiny with the woman he loved by his side. And in the process, find a way to keep her beside him where she belonged.
He laughed bitterly to himself.
What else could a legend do?
What was he thinking?
Tessa pulled the blanket tighter around her and rolled over in a futile attempt to find comfort. Was the ground harder in the Middle Ages or was her twenty-first-century body just not used to sleeping on dirt and grass? Probably both.
Not that even a bed would make a difference right now. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have told him anything about his future, let alone that her world didn’t think he ever existed? She groaned to herself. His reaction was a classic case of shooting the messenger and she couldn’t blame him. She’d shoot herself if she had the chance.
Still, she’d managed to keep her mouth shut about his quest. She didn’t tell him he failed in reality but succeeded as a legend. Oh, he’d love to hear that.
She sighed and gazed up at the heavens. Weird to think these were the same stars she’d stared at all her life. Everything would change through the centuries but aside from a minor alteration here and there, the night sky would remain the same. She rolled to her side, wrapped her arms around the leather saddlebag she used as a pillow, closed her eyes and wished for sleep. Everything would be fine in the morning. Galahad had given his word and, just like the stars, that she could count on.
Minutes or hours passed and she felt him settle beside her. She opened her eyes and glanced at him. He lay on his back with his arms folded under his head, gazing upward. She ached to cuddle up next to him and offer what little comfort she could but what could she say? It’s all right, Big Guy. Better a legend than nothing at all. No. He’d let her know when he needed her. If he needed her.
“Tessa?”
“Yes?”
“Is it a good children’s story?”
She smiled. He was all right. “It’s a great story.”
“Does it tell of honor and courage?”
“And loyalty and love.”
“And magic, Tessa? In this world of yours that does not know magic, does the tale tell of that?”
“Yes, and so much more.”
“’Tis not so bad then,” he said softly, “to be part of such a saga, real or not.”
“Not at all.” She swallowed th
e lump in her throat.
He paused as if pulling together his thoughts. “Tessa, was this the truth revealed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He blew a long breath. “’Tis not the first truth revealed between us.”
“No,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”
“Tessa?”
“Hmmm?”
“Tell me of the stars.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close and she told him everything she’d ever learned about the stars, from Greek legend to science. And when sleep finally claimed her, she noted vaguely how, even when all its secrets were known, the night sky still held a touch of magic.
And so did his arms.
Chapter Seventeen
“Tessa!” Galahad’s hard tone jerked her from a restless sleep.
“What is it this time?” She snapped her eyes open. “I’m getting really tired of waking up this way.” She sat up and glared at Galahad towering over her. “Don’t you ever think about sleeping in? What is it today? Another dragon?”
“’Twould be preferable, I think.” His voice was even.
“Preferable?” She followed the direction of his gaze. Six or seven men, all armed with swords, stared back at them. Three stood, the rest were on horseback. She scrambled to her feet. “Oh, this looks good. Who in the hell are they?”
“Mordred’s men,” Galahad said softly. “This does not bode well.”
“I figured that much,” she said under her breath. Give these guys Harleys and they’d look exactly like the motorcycle gang from a bad movie she’d watched late at night a few months ago. Hell’s Angels on horseback. “How did they sneak up on us? Weren’t you supposed to be keeping guard or something?”
He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I am but a man, Tessa, not a legend.”
“Swell,” she muttered. “Never a legend around when you need one.”
The tallest of those standing stepped forward, obviously the leader of the pack, the head minion. Dark and grubby and dangerous. A chill shivered up her spine and she stepped closer to Galahad. The biker swept a curt bow. “My Lord Galahad. I bring you greetings from Prince Mordred. He requests the honor of your presence and extends the hospitality of his home to you and your lady.”
“Send Mordred my thanks and my regrets,” Galahad said, his voice cool. “But we must decline his gracious invitation.”
A nasty smile curled the lips of the prince’s biker henchman. “Perhaps I did not make my meaning clear. The Prince insists on the pleasure of your company. My orders are to escort you. You may accompany us in the manner of a knight of your rank, as an honored guest, or…”
“Or?” Galahad’s eyes darkened.
“Or I fear we shall have to take measures to insure your cooperation.” His gaze slid to Tessa and slithered over her like a lustful snake. “And that of your lady.”
Galahad tensed at her side.
“What does that mean?” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “Insure our cooperation?”
“You do not wish to know,” he murmured. He nodded to the gang’s leader. “Then by all means, we shall be delighted to accompany you.”
“Sounds like fun. Do we have to leave right now or can I have a few minutes to freshen up?”
The minion’s eyes squinted as if he didn’t understand her question. Or possibly English.
“You know? Wash my face? Brush my teeth?” She smiled sweetly. “Pee in the woods?”
Galahad snorted. Even the biker had the grace to look embarrassed. “Very well,” he snapped. “But not alone. I shall go with you.”
He moved toward her. Galahad took a step in front of her to block him. “The lady deserves a semblance of privacy. I shall accompany her.”
The minion studied him for a moment then nodded. “As you wish. She may go but you must stay where I can see you. Forgive me, my lady, but should you attempt to escape our company—”
“Escape?” Galahad raised a brow. “’Tis an odd word to use for such a cordial gathering.”
“Pardon me, my lord, a slip of the tongue. Perhaps I should have said depart. Regardless…” He directed his gaze to Tessa. “I shall be forced to take whatever measures necessary to subdue both you and your knight.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of measures?”
“My lord prefers his guests still breathing.” Their captor grinned, a scraggly, yellow, gap-toothed parody. “But ’tis not always possible.”
“Thanks for clearing that up. Now,” she tilted her head at the stream, “can I go?”
He nodded. Tessa and Galahad turned and walked quickly toward the brook.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
“’Tis naught we can do, for the moment.” Concern creased his forehead.
“These are really bad guys, Galahad.” She glanced over her shoulder. The pack leader and two of his sidekicks watched them intently like wolves sizing up lambs. Were they hoping she and the Big Guy would make a break for it? Her stomach churned. Probably. “Really, really nasty.”
“Is Mordred, too, spoken of in your legends?”
“Oh yeah.”
“And?”
“And there are a lot of differences between the myth and real life. But from what you’ve told me, Mordred’s character is not one of them. Real or fairy tale, he’s a definite villain.”
They reached the stream and she bent down and splashed water on her face. “I hope you’re coming up with some kind of plan.”
“’Twould be nice,” he murmured.
“’Twould be, ’twouldn’t it?” Fear sharpened her words.
“Get on with it.” The biker’s voice cut through the morning like a sword. She shuddered. Bad metaphor.
“Chill out,” she yelled. “I’ll be done in a minute. I really do have to pee,” she muttered. “I’ll go over there, behind that tree. You just keep those goons away, especially the big one. I don’t like the way he looked at me.”
“Nor did I. I shall keep all the goons at bay.” He stifled a smile then sobered. “Do not worry, fair Tessa. I will not let any harm befall you.”
She gazed into his eyes. “I’m counting on that. And I’ll do my best to watch your back. I’ve already figured out one thing.”
“That is?”
She headed for the tree. “These guys are real.”
Maybe Mordred wasn’t that bad after all.
Tessa closed her eyes and sank back in the tepid water of the wooden tub in her room. They’d ridden all day and well into the night before reaching Mordred’s castle. Castle Le Fay. Nice fairy-tale name but she hadn’t gotten a good feel for it in the dark. She’d expected to be tossed in a dungeon as soon as they’d arrived. Instead, she’d been taken to a chamber similar to her quarters back in Camelot. Best of all, there was a bed. A real bed. She’d collapsed exhausted and slept a dreamless sleep. When she woke up, it was evening and a steaming tub was waiting for her. She had no idea how long she’d soaked and didn’t care but she’d never again take for granted the simple pleasures of life. A hot bath and a real bed.
A sharp knock sounded. Before she could say come in, the door swung open and a vaguely familiar figure, nearly as tall as Galahad with dark blond hair and a rather nicely built body, strolled into the room as if he owned the place.
“Hey!” She scanned the room for a towel and curled up in the tub, trying to cover all her most exposed parts with her hands. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Ah, the fair Lady Tessa.” The blond’s gaze raked over her and he smiled in appreciation. He really was awfully good-looking in a too-smooth, too-slick, time-share-salesman kind of way. “I was warned you were quite lovely but your reputation does not do you justice.”
“I don’t have a reputation,” she snapped. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He shrugged. “A lady’s reputation is of no real consequence to a man unless he is considering marriage. Which I am not.” He smiled wickedly. “Unless you would c
are to change my mind?”
She groaned. “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant do you mind—I’m naked here.”
He shook his head. “I do not mind that either.”
“Would you just hand me that”—she waved at something laid across a chair that looked more like a sheet than a towel—“that cloth over there.”
He plucked the sheet from the chair and started toward her.
“Wait. Stop. Don’t come any closer.”
“If you wish this.” He dangled the linen from two fingers. “I either have to bring it to you or you must fetch it from me.”
“Great.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Bring it here.” He stepped to the tub and held out the sheet. “Can you turn around? Or at least close your eyes?”
“I could, I suppose, but ’twould not be as much fun.”
“Fine.” She pulled herself to her feet and snatched the sheet from his hands, wrapping it around herself and climbing out of the tub. He smiled with obvious enjoyment.
“You’re Mordred, aren’t you?”
“Indeed I am.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. She was right—he did own the place. “I am honored to have you here.”
“It’s not like we had a choice.” She withdrew her hand and resisted the immediate impulse to wipe it on the sheet.
“No?” He drew his brows together. “Was not Oscar courteous and respectful in issuing my invitation?”
“Oscar?” An image of the chief biker flashed in her mind. “The leader of the pack’s name is Oscar?”
“Oscar is the captain of my guard. Does his name displease you?”
“I kind of thought he’d be more one of those single syllable guys. You know, something simple and basic like ‘Ugh’ or ‘Grunt.’”
He chuckled. “I was warned your speech was unusual but your meaning is apparent. Oscar is perhaps not as cultured as he could be.”
“Cultured? Try civilized. It must have been the leer that gave him away.”
Believe Page 23