Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (16 page)

Dejected, they sat on a grassy patch and chatted. Alex drew a knee up and picked a handful of pebbles from the ground around him, throwing them one by one, at the boulder.

"What are you thinking about?" Shakira playfully bumped her shoulder against his. "You're a million miles away. Tell me, you’re devising another way back to our own time."

"Sorry darling, but I haven’t a clue as to alternatives. It’s the rock or nothing," he said. "I'm mentally organizing what I need to do if we don't return home within the next few days." He tossed the remaining stones at their granite nemesis and then lay back and folded his arms behind his head.

"Like what?" She stretched out on her stomach next to him propped on her elbows.

"I have to settle a problem in Abergavenny."

"Wales?"

He nodded.

"Why?" He couldn’t take off and leave her. He couldn’t.

"It’s my responsibility. I’m the closest English baron."

More fourteenth century foolishness, she suspected. "Is this another honor thing with you or do you legitimately have to go or else?"

"I have to go."

"You know this how? You haven’t been here twenty-four hours yet."
 

"You think I’m lying?"

She shrugged. "I don’t know what to think."

"One of Fulke’s men asked me last evening what action I took to resolve the matter. Roger received a message about the trouble late last month. He assumed word reached me also and that I, meaning Guy, dealt with it already. I told him I hadn’t heard but would return and handle the situation."

"What happens if you ignore the problem? No one will know right away. The communication system here isn’t exactly advanced.”

"Fulke is as unscrupulous as he is ambitious. He acts as the king’s eyes and ears in this area and has spies everywhere. He’d know, trust me."

"Do you take orders from him?"
"No, but he loves to make himself look better at the expense of others. He’s a formidable enemy, whose attention I’d rather have focused on someone else." Alex blew out a long breath. "Look, we need to stay under the radar to stay safe,” he said in a clipped, no nonsense tone. "Which means we do things by the book as much as possible."

She still wasn’t convinced avoiding the risk of Fulke’s harsh scrutiny warranted the dangerous alternative.

"Will this business take long? Because every day you’re there, you’re not here trying to get us back to our time."

"I’m well aware of that."

"Are you? I wonder. You certainly seem to be very caught up in all these obligations that have nothing to do with us and our problem. I resent it Alex. I resent it a lot."

"Rocky, please try to understand. I have to walk a fine line here. I can’t help either of us if I’m in the king’s dungeon or worse."

"You think worse can’t happen to you while you’re gallivanting around Wales?"

"Rocky..."

Her eyes locked on his. "Don’t. It’s clear what I think is of no consequence. You’re going to do what you want to do, regardless." She turned away and laid her head on her arms too angry with Alex, the king, and their situation to listen anymore.

Chapter Nineteen

They rode out the next three mornings, only to return to Elysian Fields. Shakira wasn’t superstitious, and she doubted Alex was, but the failures were never discussed, as though giving voice to their misfortune made it permanent.

     
In the meantime, Alex prepared for his trip. He'd given specific instructions to Richard, the castle steward, to assist Shakira if she needed help. The servants were to treat her with the respect due the lady of the castle.

To her, he gave strict instructions not to leave the grounds. "I know you hate being cooped up, but it’s for your own safety."
 

"Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of wandering past the gates." How could he leave her behind with a group of strangers? "You know, if you took me along you wouldn’t have to worry at all."
 

"We discussed this. It's too dangerous. The rabble-rouser is preaching insurrection and has the local population stirred up. If things turn violent, I’ll need to snuff out the trouble before it spreads. I can’t do that and watch over you.

"Normally it’s two days there and back, but in order to catch this troublemaker, I’ll need the element of surprise. I plan to avoid the main road and travel rougher terrain, which is slower. Allowing for that delay, I should return in about three days."

"The element of surprise," she repeated, her grip on his surcoat tightened, twisting the material. Fear for herself faded as fear for Alex filled her.

"Rocky, I have no choice."

"I know." She laid her palms flat on his chest. His last sight of her would not be of a weepy, clinging woman. He’d see a durable lady. One who could tease a smile from him and give him a pleasant memory to travel on.

She ran a finger around the end of his nose where the knife he shaved with chafed the sensitive area. "Three things; don’t you dare take any unnecessary risks, hurry back, and stay away from those Welsh tavern wenches. I’ll be checking you for love bites."
 

"I look forward to your examination." He gave her a long, toe curling kiss. “You can open your eyes now,” he said, breaking it off.

“Oh, bugger. I was so enjoying myself.”

“Me too, but I have to get going.” He offered his arm and they walked down to the bailey together.
   

Simon and Stephan greeted her with a polite nod and approached Alex. She lingered in the background and eavesdropped. While Alex checked his equipment, the two knights each took a side and implored him to take one, if not both of them along. "You have your orders," he reminded.

Shakira felt Simon’s eyes on her as Stephen continued to argue his case. When she glanced Simon’s way, he averted his bitter glare but not fast enough to go unnoticed.

Finished, Alex winked at her as he put his helm on and mounted and then waved the party forward.

She ran to the top of the curtain wall indifferent to the filth the hem of her gown attracted on the rampart frequented only by men. She fitted herself into a corner crenel and stayed there until he rode out of sight.

What a terrible void his absence left.
 

"Please God, if you won't help us to return in time, at least bring
him back to me."

***

Stony blue eyes followed Shakira’s descent from the wall and toward the Keep.

“You don’t like her," Stephen said.

Simon’s scrutiny continued as she hurried past. "She's an odd one, and no, I don't much care for her. Her strange English and mysterious origins trouble me." He tracked his charge’s every move. "The woman is beneath Guy’s station. I mislike this assignment to keep watch over the comings and goings of the harlot."

"That’s a bit harsh, considering you’ve warmed your hands between the thighs of a number of harlots," Stephen said as they trailed behind her at a discreet distance.

Simon glared at his friend. "I have a man's needs, yes, but I don't dress bawds in the finery of a noblewoman." His attention returned to the subject of his enmity. "Nor do I bring them to my holding and ensconce them there like highborn ladies."

"A moot point, since you don't own a holding.”

“Still, I’ll be glad to hand this duty to you at midday.”

“Besides, your hostility is wasted. It’s rumored at court the king wants to see Guy wed to Blanche Holland." Stephen slapped Simon on the shoulder, the sound muffled by the older knight’s padded tunic.

Stephen went on cheerfully, "The king plans on gathering his noblemen to court for a final strategy session before the campaign. Guy will take the Lady Shakira to Westminster with him. Once there, she is comely enough to provide a temporary diversion for the king while he works on a match between Guy and Blanche. Edward might even plant a Plantagenet bastard in her belly."

"If the prince doesn't do it first," Simon said with a short, cynical laugh.

"And," Stephen continued, "I’ve been given to understand it won't be long until the king calls the nobles to court."

Simon cocked a quizzical brow. "When?"

"My sister heard Michaelmas. The prince and his advisors plan to leave for France with a small contingent after the feast day."

     
"That soon?"

     
Stephen nodded.

Chapter Twenty

Shakira returned to the chamber and made a list of improvements. When troubled, she kept her mind occupied with busy work. Under the circumstances, the bigger the distraction, the better, and chose the most difficult task.
 

The smithy agreed to assist her with a project, which entailed him doing all the labor and her overseeing the job, offering suggestions.

“Milady, if you wish me to finish in a timely manner, ‘tis best if I work alone,” he said after an hour.

“Right—well, I’ll leave you to it then.” She moved onto the next item on her list and headed for the kitchens. She hadn’t forgotten the gritty bread issue and asked what she thought were pertinent questions. Shortly after her arrival the cook disappeared, only to reappear with Richard by her side. He was pleasant and diplomatic as he escorted Shakira from the room.

She got the not so subtle drift and retreated to the chamber where she spent hours each day noodling on a borrowed lute. At least once daily, she visited the stables and talked to the horses or played with the hounds in the kennel. Like a sentinel, she sat for long stretches of time by the window, her attention glued to the wooded hills.

"Where are you?" she asked, more than once.

Early attempts to interrogate Simon and Stephen, who always lingered near, proved futile. Her questions about the dangers Alex might encounter were met with evasive answers by Stephen. Extracting information from the sullen Simon was impossible.

“Ass with ears,” she muttered to his departing back the last time he blew her off. But to his credit, the man's loyalty to Alex seemed above reproach.

The third day, she remained in their chamber all morning, fretting, her nerves raw and frayed. The day wore on and fretting became dread. Why hadn’t he returned? What if he’d been set upon by cutthroats and left bleeding and dying on a back road somewhere?

The morning of the fourth day, Margaret, one of the maids, left a basket of sewing supplies and suggested Shakira might pass the time embroidering.

“Embroidery,” she said over a sigh and poked through the contents with her finger. She’d never sewn anything in her life
.
She wouldn’t know an embroidery needle from Cleopatra’s Needle. Out of desperation, she finally sat with the cloth, stymied as to how to begin. Clamor from the bailey offered a welcome excuse to drop the bundle and rush to the window. She saw the cloud of dust first, then Alex and Thor, followed by his party of men.
 

Without a care for the disgraceful display of ankles and calves, she lifted her skirts and raced down the corridor. Alex met her at the bottom of the staircase. Covered in mud with three days of scruffy beard and hair that stuck to his scalp from sweat, he looked like Adonis.