The Gift of Time

by Tora Williams

  His mother spoke up. “You must join me in the solar, my dear.” She turned to Ralph. “Will you come?”

  “I have other duties.” He strode into the snow without a backward glance. If Katherine was to spend the morning in the solar, he would go to the great hall. It was high time he met with his knights to get an account of his manors. That way he’d be too busy to think about Katherine.

  He remained true to his resolution all morning, but when the servants arrived to set up the trestles for the St. Stephen’s Day feast, he knew his respite was at an end. As tempting as it was to make his escape, he wouldn’t shirk his responsibilities. As Lord of Whitwell, he was expected to preside over the feasting.

  But when his mother arrived, it was without Katherine.

  “She feels rather unwell. Said she’d prefer to stay in the solar,” she said in response to his question when they sat down to eat.

  “She didn’t look unwell this morning.” The stab of disappointment shocked him. He should be relieved she’d made it easier for him.

  “As I recall, she went rather pale when I happened to mention your plans to marry Lord Hywel’s daughter.”

  “What business was that of yours?” It was one thing putting distance between them, quite another shoving the knowledge of his upcoming betrothal in her face. He hoped Katherine hadn’t been too upset.

  But why did he care?

  He did his best to silence the thought and summoned a servant. “Take some food up to the Lady Katherine in the solar.”

  His mother placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the importance of this alliance. Your father—”

  “Yes, I know. Father made Whitwell a great and prosperous place. I must do everything to keep it that way.”

  His mother pursed her lips. “There’s no need to take that tone with me. I’m trying to help you. I’ve heard tongues wagging that you’re besotted with this girl.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t try and deny it. I may be getting old, but my wits aren’t wandering. I saw how you looked at her during Mass. If word should reach Lord Hywel, it would undo all the progress you’ve made with him. If Katherine was connected to a powerful family, it would be another matter, but you can’t risk getting entangled with a woman who would bring nothing to the marriage.”

  Ralph raked his fingers through his hair. He could hardly berate his mother for voicing the very same thoughts he’d had. He took his mother’s hands in his own. “You have my word I’ll do nothing to endanger Whitwell. I want to preserve Father’s legacy as much as you do. But I’m Lord of Whitwell now. You must trust me to do the right thing.”

  ****

  Ralph usually enjoyed feasts and dancing, but today the food had lost its savor and the candles burned less brightly. God’s teeth, would the dancing never end?

  After what seemed like an age, the final chords of the last dance faded into silence, and Ralph was free to leave. He took the stairs to the solar two at a time and burst into the chamber.

  Katherine sat beside the fire, inspecting the pieces of the merels board, a frown furrowing her brow.

  “Are you well?” He took the seat opposite.

  She gave him a bright smile that looked strained around the edges. “I’m fine. I thought it best we stay apart considering…”

  “My mother said she told you of my planned betrothal. I’m sorry. I should have—”

  Katherine addressed her reply to the board. “I’m the one who should apologize. You didn’t ask me to fling myself at you.”

  Maybe not, but he hadn’t exactly pushed her away.

  “Besides. I’m leaving as soon as I can work—” She faltered and bit her lip, but after a moment she rallied. “I mean, as soon as the snow clears. I was foolish. Overcome by the wine. I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

  As soon as she could what? Work it out? She’d definitely meant to say something else. Nothing to do with the snow.

  He remembered the strange replies she’d given to his questions yesterday. Even asking the year. It was high time he found out the truth.

  Only so he could return her to her home, of course. And he would do his best to ignore the odd twist in his gut accompanying every thought of her return home.

  “You haven’t caused any trouble. If you’re prepared to forgive my part in yesterday’s error of judgment, we can forget about it. You have my word it won’t happen again.” As much as he burned for another taste of those lips. But if she could act as though it meant nothing to her, so could he.

  He gestured at the merels board. “As soon as the snow clears, I’ll do what I can to get you home. In the meantime, would you like a game?” If he could lower her guard, perhaps he could find out more about her origins. And get to spend more time alone with this beguiling woman.

  “If you explain the rules. I’ve never played.”

  Another mystery. Who didn’t know how to play merels?

  He set up the board, placing it close to the fire; the comforting crackle of the flames counteracted the howling wind that rattled the shutters. He had just sorted out the ivory and jet discs into separate piles when the door opened, bringing a sudden chill and his mother, attended by her ladies. She gave Ralph a shrewd glance, but his earlier speech must have made an impression, because she retired to the far side of the solar and bent over her embroidery, her ladies gathered around her. One of them picked up a citole and started to pluck a Christmas song, the soft notes creating a soothing atmosphere. All the better for him to concentrate.

  Before long they were seated at opposite sides of the table, the board, with its jet and ivory discs, between them. Katherine picked up each piece and studied it, together with the lines and holes marked on the board. Struggling to ignore the enticing way her lips pursed as she examined them, he explained the rules, demonstrating how lining up three pieces would form a merel, or mill.

  “It seems simple enough. Shall we play?” There was a note of challenge in her voice that set his pulse racing.

  He concealed a piece in one fist and held both fists out towards her. “Choose.”

  She pointed to his right hand, and he opened it to reveal a piece of jet that gleamed in the flickering light. “You start,” he said.

  She took the piece and tapped it against her lips whilst she studied the board. Ralph swallowed. Her lips were plump and red. He remembered exactly how it felt to take her lower lip between his teeth and…

  “Your move.”

  Hellfire! This would never do. He dragged his focus to the board and saw her jet piece winking up at him from the center of a line. He placed one of his men and awaited her next move.

  Katherine put down her next piece and glanced up at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “If you’ll answer one of my own in return.” He set another piece of ivory in a position that not only blocked her from forming a mill but threatened to make one of his own.

  She wrinkled her nose and made her move. “I was thinking of your marriage. What’s she like, your intended bride?”

  “She has a rich dowry, and her father is one of the most powerful Welsh lords in these parts. His lands border mine, so an alliance with him would put an end to the Welsh raids that are crippling Whitwell.” He placed an ivory disc on the board. “Your move.”

  When she didn’t respond, he glanced up to see her gazing at him with an expression of utter confusion.

  “But what is she like? Do you love her?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met her.” Her look of incredulity made him smile. “Is love so important to you, then? Did you love your husband?”

  “Of course. I would never have married him if I didn’t. Our parents were against it because we were so young, but as soon as we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, we—” Her face convulsed; she pressed her lips tightly together and turned away.

  Hellfire! Ralph hesitated. What was one supposed to do with a weeping woman? He glanced at his m
other, but her head was bowed over her embroidery and hadn’t noticed. Besides, it was his mention of Katherine’s husband that had started it, so he should take responsibility for the consequences. Feeling as though he’d rather be fighting off a horde of outlaws with nothing but his bare hands, Ralph crossed to the table and returned with a cup of wine, which he pressed into her hands. “Drink this. Forgive me for stirring painful memories.” Her fingers brushed his, and he felt a jolt as powerful as a lightning strike. He dropped into his chair, willing his wayward body to behave. God’s blood, what was wrong with him? He was no stranger to women, but none of them had affected him as strongly as Katherine.

  Katherine took a gulp of wine then shook her head. “You didn’t. I mean…the memories are always there. They just strike sharper sometimes.”

  “We can talk about something else if you prefer.” Quite aside from his discomfort at seeing a woman close to tears, he felt an ugly twist in his gut at the thought of Katherine with another man.

  “Actually, I’d like to talk about him.”

  Sweet Jesu, spare him from a litany of her husband’s many perfections.

  “I haven’t talked about him to anyone…couldn’t bear to for a long time. But now…I think it would help.”

  He sighed inwardly. Only a churl would deny a grieving widow the chance to unburden her heart. “Then tell me what he was like. Convince me love has a place in marriage.”

  Her lips curved in a soft smile. “We were friends first, then lovers.”

  He wouldn’t think of her in another man’s bed. With a great effort he managed to arrange his face in an expression of interest, rather than snarling jealousy. He needed to concentrate. Maybe she would reveal something that gave a clue to her home.

  “We married when we were just eighteen, when we went away to uni—when we left home. We didn’t care that we had no money, had to share a tiny room. It was wonderful to come home at the end of every day and know that no matter how difficult the day had been, we could curl up together and talk about it, and everything was well again.”

  What about passion? He couldn’t imagine curling up beside Katherine without wanting to do a lot more than talk. Then again, this conversation was the first he’d had with any woman apart from his mother that hadn’t involved a seduction. He had to admit he enjoyed it more than he’d thought. Katherine wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. All too bluntly at times, but it was refreshing. He tried to imagine himself with Lord Hywel’s daughter, but he’d only had a vague description of raven hair and blue eyes. For some reason he found himself picturing a fireside scene with a woman with light brown hair, curves he ached to fill his hands with and a habit of speaking before thinking.

  Katherine turned her gaze to the merels board. Her face lit up, and she placed another disc. “Ha! Say goodbye to this piece.” She removed an ivory man that blocked one of hers, falling into the trap he’d laid.

  Ralph hesitated to make his move. Let her enjoy her small triumph a moment longer. Her face was alight with happiness, hiding nothing. Suddenly seeing her happy was far more important than winning.

  He leaned forward and studied her face. “Would you marry again?”

  “No. Never.” As usual, Kat answered without thinking, but in this case there was genuinely nothing to consider.

  Ralph set his piece down, forming a mill and removing one of her men. “Never? How can you be sure?”

  She slid a jet disc to the right, taking the time to line it up exactly with the one on the line below. If she looked up, she would have to meet Ralph’s gaze, and she couldn’t cope with that right now. But the pain had been building up, closer and closer to the surface for a long time, and Ralph’s presence provided the vent. Now the words gushed forth.

  “When Rob died…” She’d never spoken of Rob’s death before, but suddenly she wanted to. Needed to. For some reason she could talk to Ralph. Perhaps because he was outside her time, meaning when she returned home she would never see him again. Whatever the reason, she had an overwhelming urge to release the pain that had remained undiminished over the years. And she would ignore the sudden stab prompted by the thought of never seeing Ralph again.

  “It was a terrible accident. We were out walking in the mountains, enjoying a day out after a hard week’s work. Then a freak gust of wind funneled up the valley, and he lost his balance.” She swallowed, remembering yet again the few brief seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity when Rob had scrabbled for balance, arms outflung, eyes wide, fixed upon hers. “One moment we were happy, making plans for the future, the next he was gone. Over a cliff. Not even time to say goodbye.”

  At some point, Ralph had shifted from his seat to kneel on the rush matting in front of her. Her hand was firmly enclosed between both of his. When had that happened? Instead of the electric sparks of yesterday, this time his touch was like a comforting blanket.

  “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” Ralph’s voice was deep, soothing. She should probably remove her hand. But she hadn’t felt like this for so long: warm, safe, comfortable. Well, maybe not so comfortable. Not now Ralph’s thumb traced lazy circles on her palm. He probably meant to soothe, but the electricity was back at a super-high voltage. She should say something, move away, only she was pinned to her seat.

  Ralph spoke again. “Forgive me, but losing your husband, even so suddenly, is no reason not to remarry. Why are you so certain you’ll remain a widow?”

  With a super-human effort, she withdrew her hand. “When Rob died…it ripped the heart out of me. I spent the longest time in a black tunnel. It was over two years before I could see past the pain.”

  “But you did come out.” Ralph returned to his seat. “It’s what happens when we lose someone. We need time to grieve, but eventually we’re ready to join the world again.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t want to rejoin the world. I do. That’s why I…” She touched the coin. “Why I threw the coin into the mere. To symbolize putting the past behind me.” She moved one of her discs a place to the left. She didn’t think too hard about where to place it; she’d lost track of the game now.

  “You mean you want to return to the world, but don’t dare to enjoy it.”

  “Of course not. I can take enjoyment from life. But I can’t risk going through that kind of pain again. I don’t have the strength.”

  Ralph frowned. “Everything in life is a risk. It’s unavoidable. Unless you mean to retreat to a convent.” He moved one of his ivory discs. “Even there, I imagine the nuns experience joys and sorrows just like everyone else.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to shut myself away, but fall in love and remarry…?” She shook her head. “I won’t pin all my happiness on one man again.”

  “That’s no reason not to marry, just not to fall in love. Unless your inheritance provides enough income to support you indefinitely, your only other option would be to retire to a nunnery.”

  “I…have enough to support myself.” Thanks to the Whitwell spring. “I’m lucky,” she said, making her move. “I’ve never been threatened with poverty or thought what I might have to do to avoid it. But still…to marry a man I couldn’t love… I don’t think I could do it.”

  “Interesting,” said Ralph. “You have very strange opinions. Unique.” He gave a wolfish smile that made her stomach flip. “You are also caught very nicely in my trap.”

  He returned the piece he had moved last time to reform the mill it had been taken from and removed a jet disc from the board.

  “You—” she managed just in time to choke back the word “bastard.” She doubted twelfth-century noblewomen would use such words. “You distracted me.” She didn’t know how she’d missed the trap. Ralph could simply move the same piece back and forth, creating a mill and removing one of Kat’s men each time.

  Trapped. The blood roared in her ears and a cold, sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She doubled over in her chair, hugging her arms to her stomach.

  Ralph was
instantly by her side. “What’s wrong?”

  She tried to laugh it off. “Nothing. I’m just a bad loser.”

  Ralph said nothing but raised an eyebrow and waited.

  “Oh, spare me the eyebrow treatment. Anything but that.” She picked up her wine cup and took a gulp. She would have to be careful. If she stayed here much longer, she was in danger of developing a drinking problem.

  “You’re as white as the snow. It’s plain something’s wrong. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

  Her heart performed an odd flip. Ralph was the first person to see through her armor. That was what she needed: someone with the persistence and resilience not to be put off by her brusque manner or flippancy.

  What she needed. The coin suddenly seemed to be a dead weight around her neck. That was what the legend of the mere said: make an offering and the mere would send the giver what they needed.

  Well, she was in big trouble if what she needed was a man eight centuries in the past. But she’d tried hiding, tried brushing away offers of help, until all her friends had given up and drifted away. She mustn’t waste this last chance of a friend.

  She gave Ralph a weak smile. “I realized I’m not only trapped in the game. I’ve been saying I don’t need marriage or the security of a nunnery. Thinking I had everything I needed. But if I can’t find a way home, then I have nothing. What’s going to happen to me if I can’t find a way back?”

  “I would never turn y—any woman away. You’re my guest.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “You might regret saying that. What if I never find my way home?”

  Ralph threw out his hands. “Impossible. Who is your overlord? I’ll escort you to him personally once the roads are clear.”

  Part of her wanted to tell him. Trust him. But the truth was so crazy, she only believed it because of the coin. Ralph’s gift had satisfied her own mind, but it wasn’t enough evidence to convince another.