A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 3)

by Diane Darcy

  She scooted over and patted the bench beside her. “No, to all of that. We simply traveled centuries into the future, to the time I come from, and I need to figure out what to do.”

  Rupert slowly sank beside her, and his head bent forward. “My father is dead?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “I shoved him in front of a beast.”

  “That wasn’t your fault. You thought he’d fall on grass and dirt.”

  He took a breath and turned to look at her, his gaze falling to her chest. “You’re bleeding.”

  She lifted a hand to touch her neck and was unsurprised when she pulled away a streak of blood. Looking down, she could see it had dried on her chest and she rubbed at it. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Do you wish to explain this to me?” Rupert asked.

  Her own heart rate was just barely coming down so, she supposed, he must be totally freaking out.

  She looked up into his face and could see from his pale face and rigid jaw that he was trying to keep it together.

  A man walked down the sidewalk toward them, his dog on a leash.

  Rupert glanced at the man coming toward them. “You’re not to worry. I can protect you.”

  His voice sounded stronger, confident, as he was given a challenge he knew he could meet.

  “It’s fine.”

  Rupert kept his gaze on the intruder, but moved his sword out of the way and leaned back, though he didn’t take his hand off the hilt.

  When the man was almost upon them, he turned onto a pathway and nodded at them both. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening,” Cara responded.

  He took his dog off the leash, and the dog promptly ran around, sniffing at the trees and bushes, and then squatted and did his business about ten feet away from them.

  The man whipped out a bag, cleaned up after his dog, and promptly disposed of it in a nearby container set up for that purpose.

  Cara glanced at Rupert to see an utter look of revulsion.

  “What?” she asked.

  He tore his gaze from the other man. “Did you note his action?”

  “Yes?” and the moment she said it, she chuckled. “It’s sort of the law in most places. If you want to have a dog, you have to clean up after it.”

  Rupert shook his head, watching as the other man leashed his dog and left.

  Rupert didn’t look at her when he asked, “What of the babe?”

  For a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about, and then remembered his freak out at the altar when he found out she was pregnant.

  “Oh, no, there is no babe. There’s no way there could be one. It’s just that, you know, your father is, or rather …”

  She glanced at Rupert, “Anyway, I told you I was in love with Wallace.”

  He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I could have wed you, after all? You’d be my wife, and there would be naught Wolfsbane could do about it.”

  “I was working my way up to saying no.”

  Rupert looked at her. “The lady says yes at the beginning of the ceremony, which you did, the man at the end. If I’d have accepted you, we’d have been wed now, bound for all time.”

  Cara gulped. She definitely hadn’t known that. “You didn’t really want that, did you?”

  He looked pensive for a moment. “I have not been asked what I wished for in a long while.”

  Her heart hurt. The guy wasn’t whining, just stating a fact. Live or die, he’d done whatever his father wished, a pawn in his games.

  “Maybe it’s time to change that?”

  He looked around at their new surroundings, and slowly nodded.

  “Cara!”

  She tensed as she heard her name roared in the distance. “Cara!” There was no mistaking Wallace’s voice.

  She jumped up. “I’m sorry, I’d hoped to explain things, but we have to go find Wallace.”

  She hurried back in the direction they’d taken, and she heard her name roared once again.

  She was breathing hard when she arrived back at the church, only to see Wallace was holding off several policemen with his sword.

  “Rupert, I need you to wait here.”

  “I could be of assistance to you.”

  “Not in this case. I mean it, stay here. You’ll have to trust me on this.”

  “As you wish.”

  Really? The Princess Bride quotes when she couldn’t get a good laugh out of it?

  She quickly made her way toward Wallace, who was also soaking wet, just as a policeman shot a long-distance stun gun at him, the prongs sticking out of his chest, making him shudder and shake as he fell to his knees.

  “Wallace!” she yelled, and he looked up, shocked, panicked.

  When he saw her, relief flooded his expression, even as he was tackled to the ground by four police officers.

  Cara sat next to a man on a bench again, but this time she was handcuffed to it, as was he.

  Wallace took up most of the space beside her, and held her free hand tightly like it was a life-line.

  At least their clothes were slowing drying.

  The hard-eyed policeman sitting across from her, who’d identified himself as Constable Ridley, had his fingers poised over a keyboard. He shot her a skeptical look. “What happened next?”

  Cara shrugged. “He jumped out into traffic. It was awful. When he was hit by the SUV, it scared me so badly, I just ran.”

  Cara started to think she’d missed her calling. Perhaps, instead of becoming a makeup artist, she should’ve been a screenwriter.

  The strike of a folder hitting a nearby desk made her flinch.

  The noise of the police station, phones ringing, people talking, even occasional yelling from the back, was still louder than she was used to, but better than when she’d arrived back in this century.

  Constable Ridley, a stocky, middle-aged gentleman with thick, mostly white hair, and very few wrinkles, had set aside his peaked cap, and wore a long-sleeved white shirt and tie, and a vest with pouches. He studied the computer screen. “Your name is Lissa Stuart?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard him call you Cara.”

  Her mind blanked for a moment, and Wallace said, “Ti amo mia cara.”

  “What?” Wallace’s English accent was devastating enough. “Was that French?”

  “Italian. It means, my darling, I love you.” He raised her hand and kissed it as she drew in a breath.

  The officer snorted. “Lissa, you’re from California?”

  She straightened. “Yes.”

  She hoped her friend would forgive her for using her maiden name. It was the first one that came to mind.

  With the stolen necklace in full view, she was afraid to give her own.

  She was perfectly willing to give the necklace back, but getting arrested wasn’t the way she wanted to do it.

  Besides, they might still need the necklace for … something. Her mind was a mess at the moment, and she didn’t want to make any decisions that would have a lasting effect.

  Wallace let her do the talking, and for the most part, he was too still, too quiet, probably on the verge of a freak-out.

  Her hand was getting numb from how tightly he held it.

  The constable continued to tap on the keyboard. “So, you were just minding your own business, and a nearby stranger jumped into traffic?”

  She nodded. “It was crazy. Absolutely insane. I mean, who would have thought he’d do that?”

  “And this man here,” he looked at Wallace, “is Wallace Wolfsbane?”

  “Yes, he’s my boyfriend. He was inside the church when it happened and missed the whole thing. He was freaking out because I’d disappeared, and there was an accident, and he couldn’t find me.”

  “And you’re dressed this way because,” he read from his notes again, “You wanted to party in England like it was 1299?”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “And you have nowhere to stay? And were robbed of your m
oney and identification?”

  “Exactly. We’re going to get my parents to wire us money and we’re thinking about picking up some backpacks, and traveling across Europe.”

  Constable Ridley rubbed his forehead like he had a headache.

  “Are you going to let us go, or what?”

  “Not until everything checks out.”

  “In that case, I’ll need to call my lawyer.”

  He let out a heavy sigh, “Americans.” The constable stood and walked away.

  Cara turned to Wallace. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye, lass, I am fine.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “My mother gave me her bracelet.”

  The constable came back with a phone, and set it next to Cara. “Do you have a lawyer in mind? Or do you need a directory?”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Of course, you do.” He sat back in his chair, crossed muscular arms, and watched as she dialed.

  It picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

  She had no idea hearing her mother’s voice on the phone would cause her to burst into tears, but that was exactly what happened.

  “Cara? Is that you? Are you all right? Where are you?”

  Mom fired the questions in a no-nonsense tone, the same way she always did, and it only made Cara sob all the harder.

  “You need to stop crying and start making some sense.”

  “Is that Cara?” She heard her father’s voice in the background, Mom’s affirmative response, and it gave her the time she needed to collect herself.

  “It’s Lissa. I’m in Durham, England. I’m in a police station and they have me handcuffed. This is their phone, so they’re probably listening.”

  “Of course, they are,” Mom said. “Lissa, don’t say a word, nothing at all. We’re in Scotland, and will come to you. Hand the phone to an officer, and I’ll get the exact address.”

  Her mom immediately understood the name change. She loved her mother so much.

  She handed the phone to the constable, and he gave directions, and hung up.

  “It looks like you’ve been through this before?”

  Cara shrugged and didn’t say a word. The fact that her parents were so close didn’t even surprise her.

  She knew when she’d disappeared, they’d have come looking.

  He asked a few more questions of both her and Wallace, but Wallace followed her lead, and stayed silent as a stone.

  When they got out of this, somehow, someway, she was keeping him.

  Hands cuffed behind their backs, they were escorted to the dungeon.

  Though there were no stairs to descend and ’twas on the same level they’d been questioned, the iron bars left Wallace in no doubt of their destination.

  They stopped at one cell and the constable wished to place Cara inside with a couple of other ladies.

  “Oooh, nice costumes!” one woman called out. “Where’s the renaissance fair?”

  Based upon their slovenly hair, multiple piercings, and tattoos, they were of questionable moral character. “She will stay with me,” Wallace said.

  “Ladies in this one, gentlemen over there,” the man pointed further down the hallway with a set of keys.

  The ladies in the cell jeered half-heartedly.

  Wallace shook his head. “We’ll not be separated.”

  “Please, don’t you have a cell you could put us in together?” Cara asked. “He’s already been shocked twice, once with my disappearance, and again with a stun gun. We haven’t done anything wrong. My lawyer will arrive soon, and we don’t want an incident, do we?”

  Constable Ridley looked like he’d protest for a moment, and then he sighed. “What does it matter?”

  He led them past a cell with several roguish-looking men inside, one who hooted and said something obscene.

  “Knock it off!” the constable hit the bars with a fist.

  Wallace noted the maggot’s face, even as he used his own body to block Cara from view. If he’d the opportunity, he’d discipline the wretch later.

  They arrived at an empty cell at the end of the hall, opened the door, and waited while they both went inside before closing and locking it.

  “Turn around, and I’ll remove your handcuffs.”

  They both did so, and in a brief moment Wallace was tempted to overpower the man, take his keys, and escape with Cara.

  She must have seen something in his gaze because she gave a slight shake of her head.

  He subsided, ceding to her wishes. Until he found his bearings he’d follow her lead.

  Once their hands were free, and they were alone, and relatively safe, he walked a couple of paces away and rubbed the back of his neck.

  There was much to ponder, to see, even in this uncommonly clean cell, with its unfathomable light, painted bench, and walls made of a type of brick he’d never seen.

  Even the bars were rounded and painted in a uniform manner. And this was simply a small portion of the wonders witnessed.

  The transport conveying them to this new location …unbelievable.

  He’d marked only the church as a distinguishable, fixed location.

  He faced her. “Lord Dinsdale is dead?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “When Rupert threw him off me, he was hit by a car when we arrived,” she said in a low undertone. “He was killed instantly.”

  Wallace nodded, understanding she did not wish to be overheard, to say aught that would contradict the story she’d told the authorities.

  But to be denied his enemy.

  His fists clenched and unclenched and he turned his back on Cara, not wishing her to see violence in his visage.

  When Dinsdale had taken Cara, when he’d tried to murder her before him, everything noble, decent, or merciful inside him had been overtaken by the violent need to hack, maim, break bones, and kill his enemy.

  To tear him apart with his bare hands.

  To protect his woman.

  Her arms came around him from behind, hugged him tight, and after a long moment, caught off guard by a pang of tenderness, his violent urges started to subside.

  He brought up his hand to hold her arms in place. “I should take you to task for leaving me.”

  “I was kidnapped!”

  The muscles of his stomach tensed as he waged an inner battle for fairness. He finally drew in a breath. “You will stop all such conduct. I am most displeased with your propensity for disappearing when I’m unable to see you. You will not do so again.”

  “All right,” she said softly, and pressed her face to his back, tightening her grip.

  Though he knew he was unreasonable, her agreement, and the feel of her, soothed him regardless.

  He turned around so he could see her face, but when she released him and stepped back, a sense of loss enveloped him.

  “You are not from my time?”

  Her gaze was arrested, watchful, as if he was a wild animal. He did not care for it.

  “I’m not.”

  Something fierce and hard clenched in his chest. This was her place, her time, the reason for her doubts, yet he could not see himself without her.

  Yet honor and duty forbade him from staying.

  He had to go, swiftly, and claim his property, his people, and secure his place for the sake of all, especially his mother, and sisters.

  He wished to hold her close, promise to stay at her side, but could not take his happiness at the expense of others.

  Or would he? He was ashamed to realize that, in that moment, if the opportunity arose, he’d simply take her home, with or without her consent.

  As he paced back and forth across the dungeon, emotions roiled within him, battering him, and he clasped one of the bars, his hand whitening with pressure.

  Nay, he would not do that. How could he insist she return if she did not wish to?

  His guts hollowed, weakening him.

  How could he live without her? Barren years filled with honor and duty, devoid of
joy stretched before him.

  A swell of dread, almost too much to bear, engulfed him, and when he could take no more, words burst from him. “Please, lass, come home with me. I will beg, get down on my knees, if it would but make a difference.”

  So saying, he dropped to both knees and held his hands out, steeling himself for rejection.

  With a cry, she threw herself forward, hugged him close, clinging to his neck.

  Because she was leaving him?

  Because she was not?

  His arms full, he was frozen with hope, fear, anticipation, apprehension, even as his breathing escalated harshly.

  He wanted her, needed her, craved her with an intensity he could not contain. “Lass? I love you.” His heart squeezed, and his voice shook. “I will love you, only you, forever, I swear it,” he choked out.

  She pulled back and grasped his face with both hands, eyes fierce, even as tears filled them. “Crazy man, I love you, too. Wildly, desperately, and with my whole heart.”

  His own heart felt too big for his chest, as if it cracked open and filled with Cara. He lowered his head and kissed her, devouring, seducing, claiming, even as the pain and uncertainty slowly receded.

  He gentled, finally pulling back, kissing her cheek, down her neck, until she burrowed against him.

  “You are to go with me?”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” her lips moved against the skin of his neck, causing him to shiver. “Of course, I’m going with you. But I have to talk to my parents first. Also, Rupert is here somewhere, and we can’t just leave him.”

  Wallace’s arms tightened and when Cara squeaked, he eased up, pressing his cheek to hers.

  He cared not one whit about Sir Rupert. But since he’d somehow saved Cara from his demented father, he supposed they could keep an eye out for him.

  She let him go and, laughing, tugged him to his feet, and gave him a quick kiss as he straightened. He pulled her close again, tight against his body, deepening the kiss as she clung to his shoulders, wishing her to know how he felt for her.

  Somewhere in the chaos of his mind he found the strength to pull back, and her eyes glittered up a him, her face flushed. Though he’d give anything to continue, to seal her to him, mark her as his, this was not the place.