A Knight in Central Park (13 page)

“Alexandra tells me you seek lost treasure.”

Joe nodded. “That’s right. As long as I’m here I might as well take a look around, keep my eyes open.” The prospect of learning the identity of the Black Knight along with the possibility of finding an ancient artifact or two filled him with a sudden eagerness to set off for the hills. He could almost see the pride on his father’s face when the Academy verified the authenticity of his findings. Maybe there was some truth to what the old man said about destiny after all.

“My instincts tell me you will not leave this world until you have found what you are seeking.”

“Well, thanks,” Joe said. As he pushed open the linen cloth, a welcome breeze swept over him. “I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

The old man lifted a frail hand. “Be careful that you leave no rock unturned. A tragedy it would be if you were to leave behind that which you cherished most.”

Joe peered into the old man’s eyes for a few seconds longer than he intended before deciding the old man had way too much time on his hands. “I’ll be careful. But don’t blame me,” he said, laying splayed fingers to his own chest, “if I don’t come back with Alexandra’s sister. I’m not Zorro and I’m certainly nobody’s hero.”

The old man smiled as if he understood.

As Joe walked off, he found himself shaking his head at the idea of everyone thinking he was some sort of champion sent here to save the day. Hero, husband, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the man for the job.

A
lexandra tightened the saddle strap between glances toward Grandfather’s hut whilst her sister, Susan, filled her head with endless plaints. What was Grandfather saying to Sir Joe? Alexandra could only pray Sir Joe would remain agreeable to her plight after speaking with the old man for so long. She never knew what Grandfather might say or do, and it never bothered her much until now. If the old man had spoke of marriage, she would die of humiliation, for Sir Joe had made it clear he had no desire to take a wife.

Neither did she have any wish to marry, but that was different since she had no choice in the matter. Surely, her friends and neighbors would be quick to blame her for his refusal to marry. Whilst growing up, she tended to squabble with the males in the village, always challenging one boy or another, proving she could hawk better, ride better, swim better, and hunt better. By the time the boys became men, they all decided it served them well to stay clear of Alexandra Dunn.

And just as well. Anything they could do, she could do better. But how was she to have known that someday she would meet Sir Joe and thus begin to wallow in dreams of being held in his arms?

Many of the elders in the village considered her to be unladylike. Absurd. Certainly there must be other women who preferred riding a horse to weaving. Being skilled with a bow and arrow and favoring hawking over cooking did not make one unladylike. Being cooped up inside all day embroidering would simply bore her to tears.

“Do you have to leave us again?” Susan asked, cutting into her thoughts. “The Tibbs force us to do all of their chores whilst most of the young women in the village do nothing but flutter their eyes at every man who passes through Brookshire.

Alexandra took the sheepskin cloak Susan held and tied it to the saddlebag on her mount. “As always, you exaggerate.”

Susan frowned. “What of Rebecca? As soon as you leave, she’ll more than likely give me that sad look of hers, all the while following me around like a second shadow. And Garrett,” she added desperately, “what am I to do about him and his never-ending pranks? I beseech you, dear sister, to reconsider. I am much too young to care for the likes of them.”

Alexandra gazed upon her younger sister for a moment. Susan never failed to remind her of her father. She had the same golden hair and blue eyes. Alexandra and Mary were the unfortunate ones to have been born with eyes the color of dull moss and hair the same shade as pomegranate seeds. But as life reminded her every so often...life was not always fair.

“Susan,” she said. “I have no wish to leave you, but I must. Mary is counting on us.”

“Mayhap Garrett and I should come with you.”

“Who would take care of Rebecca? Besides, I promised mother I would always look out for you. I shan’t break that promise by allowing you to be put in harm’s way.”

Susan was quiet for a bit, but not for nearly long enough. “Are you going to marry him?”

It took her a moment to realize Susan spoke of Sir Joe. Alexandra stopped packing. “Of course not. How many times must I tell you I have no interest in men, especially overly coddled, spoiled men like Sir Joe.”

“But I saw the way you watched him last night, the way your eyes light up when he is about.”

“You speak foolishness,” Alexandra said. “He has no plans to stay any longer than he must.”

“Grandfather assured me your journey would end in marriage, just as any good fairytale would end,” Susan said, her voice brimming with excitement. “And Lydia Tibbs insists that every woman needs a man eventually.”

Alexandra snorted. “Rubbish. I, for one, need not a man in my life to be content.”

“Then why,” Susan said, “did I so often hear you pray to God, asking Him to keep you from a life of loneliness, and thus aid you in finding a good strong man?”

Alexandra snorted. “I was desperate. I needed help in the fields. Besides, that was a long time ago.” Before father left, and she became weighed down with responsibility. Before Jonathan Wheaton kissed her, pleading with her to give her heart to him before running off to marry another soon after. It was before Alexandra realized the knightly heroes of Grandfather’s stories were only figments of his imagination. Men like that did not exist in the real world.

“Do not fret,” Susan said. “I, too, have prayed to God, asking that He send me a strong warrior who shares my appetite for love and life. A man who—”

Alexandra clamped a hand over Susan’s mouth. “Hush, you are too young to speak of such things.”

“I am ten and six.”

“I beg of you,” Alexandra said. “Do not speak of such things until you know of that which you speak.”

“I am not a small child.” Susan’s eyes widened suddenly. “Look, here he comes now.” Susan stood on tiptoe so as to get a better view over Alexandra’s shoulder. “He is quite a prize, but I would guess your man to be unhappy about something. Mayhap you can cheer him with one of your stories.”

“He is not my man,” Alexandra said, exasperated. Even so, she turned to look. “And even if he were, I would not whittle away the hours pondering ways to make him content.”

Alexandra’s face heated at the sight of him. Until now, she had failed to notice the snugness of his clothes. She had been certain Lydia’s husband, Ari, was of the same proportions. But her eyesight was surely failing for the leather breeches were unyielding upon Sir Joe’s form, revealing a lean and narrowed waist and muscled thighs that threatened to break the seams. Even the tunic was taut against his chest. His sleeves were rolled upward and the sight of his broad form dressed in such a way made her heart beat a little faster.

Alexandra forced a smile. Nudging Susan’s arm, she said, “Fetch my satchel, would you?”

Reluctantly, Susan headed off.

“’Tis good to see that Grandfather finally set you free,” Alexandra said to Sir Joe, doing her best to appear unaffected by his presence. “I was afraid he would ramble on for most of the day, telling you things you had no care to hear.”

“He was fine.”

“So, what did he say exactly?”

Sir Joe seemed to ponder her question. Verily he was trying to annoy her, and doing a fine job of it when he merely shrugged and said, “Not much.”

“He said not one word about me?”

Sir Joe scratched his chin, recalling the conversation as if it were a fortnight ago instead of only moments before. “No,” he said with a shake of his head, “he didn’t have anything to say about you.”

Although a part of her was relieved, another part felt insulted. “Not one word?”

“Not one word. Now about these clothes,” he said before she could question him further. “They’re too small. They won’t do.”

Alexandra turned back to tightening the saddle that needed no adjusting. “’Tis only a matter of getting used to.”

“Look at me,” he said, plunking his hands on his hips. “I can hardly walk.”

Alexandra shifted about once more, her gaze lowering before quickly shooting upward, away from the swell of his manhood straining against the taut fabric. Hastily she turned back to face the horse and adjust a stirrup. Her cheeks heated. “I fail to see the source of your distress.”

He leaned low to her ear. “I don’t believe you. I think you see exactly the source of my distress.”

Chills crawled up her back.

“I want my clothes back,” he whispered. “Where are they?”

Alexandra shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her neck. “I told Ari he could have them.”

“You what?”

She turned about so quickly she forgot he was so close and so very tall. Her nose brushed against his chest. He smelled of fresh pine and—and flowers? She smiled. “Did you use my soap when you bathed?”

“Yes, I did,” he said. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Oh no, I do not. ’Tis only that I have never smelled lavender and rosewater on a man before.”

He put his bare forearm to his nose and breathed in. “Ahh, great. Now I smell like a woman.”

“But you still look like a man.” She smiled, struggling to keep her gaze from dipping too low again.

“Which brings us back to the matter at hand.” His voice deepened, his nearness making it all the more difficult for her to breathe. She felt his chin hovering above her head. “Is that lavender, too, that I smell in your hair?”

“Aye,” she said, her voice low. Her cheek so close to his chest she could almost hear the soft beat of his heart.

How she ached to reach her arms up around his strong neck and feel his lips upon hers once more.

“And who might this Ari be,” he asked, “who has my clothes?”

For a moment, she forgot who Ari was. She closed her eyes, didn’t dare meet his gaze, afraid to let him see that she had lost all ability to concentrate. “Ari Tibbs aspires to be a garment maker,” she finally managed. “He was intrigued by your breeches, so I gave them to him. I owe Ari and Lydia much for agreeing to care for Grandfather and the children while we are gone. It is the least I could do.”

“Hmmm,” was all he said, his eyes dark and smoldering.

Something about the way he was looking at her told her Sir Joe felt something, too. There was something thick and palpable happening between them. If she failed to walk away, she might do something she would regret. Like kiss him. And to do so would be a mistake. If he wanted to kiss her, he would have done so already. Abruptly, she turned away from their near-embrace and yanked the reins from the post.

She was not cross with Sir Joe. She was angry with herself for desiring a man she could never have. For years she held no interest in marriage or men, then suddenly Sir Joe comes into her life and it is as if she is transformed over night, acting like a foolish simpleton every time he is around. God’s teeth, she could hardly find her tongue when he was about, her heart racing after nary a glance.

She climbed onto her horse and with a click of her tongue to get the horse moving, she set off, leaving Sir Joe to follow.

The horse’s tail swished, slapping Joe across the face and bringing him out of what he considered to be a strange medieval trance. To think he’d almost kissed the irritating woman before she’d jerked about, leaving him standing there looking like one of his foolish lovesick college students.

Just because her hair smelled like flowers and her lips beckoned him like honey beckons a bee, he’d nearly fallen into her trap. According to her grandfather, she wanted a husband and she meant to get one.

He shook his head. One moment he was going to lecture her for giving away his clothes, and the next he was about to kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

She was purposely seducing him, dammit, and she was good at it. She wanted a husband, maybe even kids, definitely something permanent. The same thing most women wanted. It was written all over Alexandra’s face.

He hadn’t intended to lead her on and give her false hope. He needed to fulfill his promise and then get the hell out of here. As he followed behind, he thought of his assistant, Shelly, and how she might find his situation humorous, or at the very least, remarkable. But there was nothing remarkable about wearing clothes that left nothing to the imagination, nothing funny about smelling like a garden. Next time he found himself falling for one of her seductive ploys, he was going to lay down the law, tell it to her straight, let her know there could never be anything more than a simple friendship between them.

Within the shaded area of the stables, he tried to adjust himself within the snug breeches. It was no use. Five hundred years in the past, an amazing phenomenon, and all he could think about was how he was going to get through the next four weeks without his boxer briefs.

As he came around the stables, it seemed the entire village had gathered to see them off, including Alexandra’s siblings. As he walked along, a dozen young women pointed and giggled. His pants might be a little snug, but he failed to see the humor in his suffering.

Ari, the garment-maker wannabe, was the first to introduce himself, providing Joe with a smile along with a friendly slap on the back. “Glad to see that my clothes fit so well,” he said cheerfully. “Verily Alexandra was accurate when she guessed us to be of the same size.”

Joe grimaced. “I appreciate your generosity, but you wouldn’t happen to have anything a little less confining, would you?”

Ari waved a hand through the air, dismissing Joe’s request. “The finest you have on. Only the best for a knight such as yourself.”

With a silent groan, Joe followed the man to his mount, a fair-sized horse with white mane and tail. While Ari checked the animal over, Joe touched the leather pouch at his side, making sure the stone was where it should be; his ticket out of this nightmare. Until the time came for him to leave, he needed only to concentrate on staying alive. Maybe he’d even luck out and find an interesting artifact to bring home. If he played his cards right, everything might turn out just fine.