Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) (7 page)

“No. You are not going like that. I told him no,” she nodded toward Basil, “and I’m telling you no. Wear jeans and a tee shirt or something casual, really casual.”

He did as she asked.

“Oh, dear god,” Elinor said, looking him over. He’d switched to black jeans and a black tee shirt that hugged his broad chest and biceps. The tee shirt had a large red mouth with the tongue sticking out emblazoned across the front. It was the iconic Rolling Stones logo.

She picked up the last album cover Guy had handled. There, on the back, was Mick Jagger in the same shirt and jeans.
Thank God, at least it wasn’t a Kiss album.

Guy smiled and asked, “What do you think?”

“I think you two are going to be a big problem in town.”

Basil hurried to the car and sat in the front passenger seat. All the gauges intrigued him. There were quite a few more than the last time he’d ridden in a car.

“We rode with your grandmother in her vehicle, twice.” He said to Elinor as she backed out of the drive and onto the road.

“What did you think?”

“I wasn’t overly impressed. Saladin, on his worst day could gallop faster.” Elinor immediately stepped on the gas as he suspected she would. The scenery streaked by and Basil smiled to himself.

Elinor found a parking space near the High Street shops. Basil and Guy exited the car after she did.

“Oh, jeez.” Elinor furtively glanced around.

Puzzled, Basil asked, “What are you watching for?”

“I’m making sure no one saw you get out without opening the doors, apparently no one did,” she said, looking relieved.

As soon as they reached the sidewalk, she grew agitated again. “Every female who isn’t an old-age pensioner is gawking at you two.” She aimed an accusatory glare at Basil. As he was about to defend himself a pretty brunette in tight jeans stared heatedly at Guy as she passed by. Elinor’s tense gaze shifted from girl to Guy to Basil. “If she stares any harder he’s going to catch fire.” Guy returned the girl's stare with a scorching one of his own.

"Stop it!" Elinor hissed the warning under her breath. "Ooh, I'd love to jab you in the ribs right now.”

With obvious reluctance Guy faced forward and kept walking. "I was just looking."

"Your expression indicated you were thinking of doing more."

"Aye, would that I could." His eyes glittered under their long lashes.

Elinor watched Guy closely as they walked. Neither noticed Basil had lagged behind in front of the butcher's shop.

The butcher was speaking to a young mother with a baby pram. The attractive woman had the heavy breasts of a nursing mother. Each time she leaned forward and pointed, the butcher's arm brushed her bosom. He moved in concert with her so expertly the brush would be thought accidental. She continued to inspect the selection, unaware he stood so near the material on the front of his trousers touched against her skirt when she bent.

Basil edged closer to the large window. The butcher eased away from his customer and turned. His searching gaze met head-on with Basil's and he shrank back a step.

"A coward and a cur, I've killed better men than you."

The glass partition kept Basil from being heard, still the butcher retreated farther.

Basil moved up the sidewalk. When he caught up, Elinor and Guy had wandered into a bookstore. They were talking by a display showing the author of a sex therapy book. He lingered in the background as she tried to explain the difference between the conscious and subconscious mind. Guy listened as Elinor expounded on how the insecurities bred in the subconscious could affect conscious behavior. Sometimes, she told Guy, those issues resulted in sexual performance difficulties and required the aid of a therapist.

Basil slid up beside her. "This should be good," he whispered.

"What a lot of twaddle." Guy sneered at the author's photo. "He's just a modern-day gypsy." He challenged the theory of paying a stranger to chit-chat about one's tupping troubles. "Tis a fool of a man who gives away hard-earned coin and only gets blather in return. In my time, if a lad had difficulties, we sent him to Hilda. She'd sort him out properly, and not with a load of gibberish." He jabbed the air with his index finger for emphasis.

"The point of a therapy is to get help without the services of a Hilda,” Elinor said.

Guy snorted and stalked away.

Basil joined Elinor as she walked around the other displays. They stopped at a table of new releases. One caught his eye. Opening it, he grimaced as he flipped the pages.

"The Supernatural Sleuth by Margaret Mellon." Elinor read the title out loud.

Absorbed in the book, Basil didn't respond. He turned to a particular page and moved his hand so she could see the picture. "Oh, my God, I can't believe your castle is here." Elinor ran her finger down the page to the paragraph discussing Ashenwyck. She picked the book up and read aloud. “Castle Ashenwyck, long rumored to be haunted by ghostly apparitions, was a major disappointment. Although our cameras were there for several days, we saw nothing but the cold, nasty mists of the Fens. In my opinion, Ashenwyck isn't worthy of being on any serious ghost hunter's itinerary."

“Old bat,” Basil grumbled.

"So, you refused to deign Mellon with your presence." Elinor laughed softly as she closed the book and put it down.

"She's a mad old cow,” Basil said, “who irritated the hell out of Guy and me. We stayed long enough to hear her and her fellow invaders speak about us. They called us
entities
, things that should be speculated upon and examined. Ashenwyck is my home, and we are not things to be analyzed."

Remembering the experience made him furious all over again. He signaled to Guy and walked away, out of the store.

****

They were back at the car within the hour. The plants and jardinières loaded in the trunk. Coming around to the driver's side, Elinor remembered she wanted to pick up a couple of steaks. "I'll be back in five minutes. I have to run a quick errand up the street. Wait here." She darted off as the knights stayed with the vehicle.

The overhead bell on the door jingled.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Elinor immediately wished she'd worn more make-up. The butcher wasn’t like any butcher her mother went to. Dark blonde hair well trimmed, bright blue eyes, handsome. He directed a totally disarming smile at her. Only men on billboards could smile like that, or so she thought until now. Elinor gave him her order, and tried to act cool.

He wrapped the meat and walked to another counter, his hand brushing against her as he passed. "Would you be interested in a roast for you and your husband? They're on sale this week."

"I'm not married, so a roast would go to waste."

He flashed that smile again, revealing a tiny dimple. "Have you just moved to the village?"

"Yes, into the manor down the road, near the old castle." She took as long as possible digging for money in her purse.

He took her money. “I'm Jeremy Barnes, by the way," he said, wiping his hands on his apron before he made change.

Elinor self-consciously touched a fingertip to the mole by her upper lip. “Thank you, I'm Elinor Hawthorne." She managed to smile in what she hoped was a flirty way. "My friends call me Nora."

"Nice meeting you, Nora."

Elinor approached the car lost in thought, wondering if Jeremy would ask her out. Wouldn't it be too perfect if a hunk from the village turned out to be Mr. Right?

"You were gone a long time, longer than you said you'd be." The accusatory tone shook her out of her musings. The look he trained on her could freeze a lava flow. For a split second she felt a twinge of guilt as though she'd cheated on him. The reaction was too ridiculous to give any credence, so she didn't.

"Sorry for the wait. The butcher and I were chatting.”

Basil stared at the packages she hugged to her chest. "The butcher? Is there nowhere else you can purchase meat?"

"Probably, but why should I? I like this little shop." Elinor canted her head and studied Basil. He looked fierce and grim, and rather scary. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, everything's fine.”

He was lying. However, happy to let the topic go, she casually agreed, “If you say so,” and got into the car.

Elinor trailered Guardian over the day after workmen finished the split rail fence. He'd been stabled at a nice farm, but the facilities were shared with other boarders. Here, the pasture was lush, green, and all his. It took two weeks for delivery but finally, today, installation of the modular barn began.

The entire operation proceeded under the scrutiny of the knights, the framework established amidst much clucking and critical comments. Out of the crew’s view, they strutted from corner to corner, their whispers followed by an occasional hand or arm gesture. Fed up with their antics Elinor went back into the house.

She sat at the kitchen table paying bills while keeping track of the progress. The toes of black boots appeared by the table and into her line of sight as she moved an invoice aside. Elinor took a moment to prepare before looking up. Call it woman’s intuition, but she had a feeling he wasn’t there to compliment the carpenters. Basil stepped closer, hands going to his hips. His normally well shaped mouth tightened into a harsh thin line. No intuition needed. He was in a snit, undoubtedly about the barn.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, sweet as pie.

"Elinor, think you those puny pieces of wood and paltry bits of metal are fit to hold a powerful beast?” he asked, casting a menacing glance at the workmen. “For surely, they are not. I understand there'll be no stone, but where is the oak? Where is the proper framework?"

She shifted in her chair to face him straight on. "Basil, I've seen many stables of similar material. This company puts these structures up all the time. They're more solid than they look, trust me."

He dropped to one knee, in front of her. His head tipped down just enough so his eyelashes looked like dark caterpillars against his cheek. His inky, blue-black hair fell forward, framing his face. Tempted, her fingers poised, wishing to touch its silkiness. Kneeling, with his head bowed, she imagined this was the position he'd take if he were about to propose. For one moment she lived the fantasy.
Rise, Sir Knight, I accept your
suit and would be most pleased to marry you.

Basil's expression softened as he raised his eyes to hers. "What do you think?"

The question brought her back to the present and the rude intrusion of reality. The fantasy of pretending Basil was proposing was marvelous fun while it lasted. It was also daft.

He stared at her quizzically. Had Basil guessed? Horrified he might’ve read her thoughts, she tried to sound unruffled. "What do I think about what?"

He moved his hands up as though to enclose hers, were it possible, and a slight tingle passed over her skin as he did.

"Elinor, it's our belief these men or their superior have played you false. We'd be most willing to advise them we're fully aware of their perfidy and put the situation to rights."

The sweetness of the gesture overwhelmed her. She’d love to throw her arms around him and hug him. Here was this splendid, charming man offering to defend and protect her interests. It was so chivalrous and gallant.

"Basil, trust me when I tell you those lengths of metal and board will do just fine. I don't need oak." She tilted her head coquettishly, a smile meant only for him on her lips. "Truly, Guardian will be okay. Please remember, this building doesn’t have to withstand a siege."

He stiffened, his proud features taut, but he made no rebuttal. Elinor was afraid he mistook her explanation as a rebuff of his advice, of his experience.