Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (8 page)

She didn’t say anything else for a long moment as they rode along.

"What an awful existence for a woman, being a mistress," she said at last, without acrimony.

Uncomfortable with the remark, he asked, "What makes you think it's so awful?"

"The woman is caught in this netherworld relationship. She's good enough to keep, as long as she's fun and entertaining, but not good enough for a long term commitment. Personally, I'd rather be an occasional lover than any man's mistress."

"Why?"

"I'd rather enjoy a pleasant evening once in awhile and be free of attachments than be a prisoner of false hope."

Even his resilient nature felt the sting of the analogy. He wasn't sure what to say. It was an indictment of his lifestyle, a lifestyle she didn't understand. For women like her, the fairytale theory probably applied. She presumed his mistresses had her depth of character and judged him based on her heart, her dreams. He decided to let the matter go. "We change directions here."

"That's it? You're just going to drop the subject? You've nothing more to say?"

"Yes, yes, and no. Let's move on to other, more fun things."

Shakira looked like she wanted to say more but didn’t.

The next few hours they kept a relaxed pace. They enjoyed the idyllic surroundings with no further mention of mistresses or the lawsuit. When the stable came within sight, Shakira reminded him about his promise to teach her to joust.

"No milady, I haven't forgotten. It's my desire to please you in all ways. I mean on having you here, again and again."
           
She rolled her eyes at the double entendre and spurred her horse into a trot.

Alex gave the grooms several instructions as he handed them the horses. He led her to a work area adjacent to the stables. "I'll need a tennis ball. There should be some lying around the paddock. The boarder’s dogs play with them. Meet me out back."

She found two, one nearly new and one badly chewed. "I wasn't sure what you wanted them for so I brought both."

He sawed several inches off a wooden rod, took the newer ball and a small knife from a toolbox. Without measuring, he cut a circular hole in it and attached the ball to the end of the pole.

"Clever you, thank you for keeping me extra safe."

He chuckled, testing the fit of the ball with a squeeze and a tug. "Actually, this is for my protection." He motioned with his free hand towards the grassy field. "Shall we?"

As promised, Alex ordered a Percheron brought out for her. The destrier stood a full hand higher than the thoroughbred she'd ridden. His coal black coat glistened, the thick mane and tail fluffy from recent brushing.

Shakira rubbed the back of her fingers against his muzzle letting him sniff, letting him see she wasn’t a predator. She walked around him and stroked his back and flanks, speaking soft words of reassurance to him. He remained still, his erect ears swiveled, listening, as she petted. The gelding's broad head arced and his nostrils flared, when Shakira scratched the indentation at the base of his neck.

"I've got an itch you can scratch." Alex flashed his best wicked grin.

She smiled and tipped her head, her gaze dropped to his lips. Was she considering the invitation? She turned to the horse. "He's beautiful, what's his name?" she asked, squelching Alex’s brief ray of optimism.
 

"Eclipse."

"It fits him."

"He's sensitive to leg cues but has a tough mouth. That's probably a good thing, since you're just learning the jousting basics. In the beginning, there's a tendency to pull back harder than necessary." Alex held Eclipse's reins as Shakira mounted. Once she adjusted to the different saddle, he handed her the lance.

"I've taped the handle for better grip since this is a makeshift lance. A proper one would have a vamplate to keep your hand from slipping forward." He walked to her right side and tucked the end of the pole under her arm. "Try to keep it firm against you," he instructed. "The lance should lie across your body at a thirty degree angle. Tipping it too far in either direction makes your position in the saddle too precarious. "Ready?"

She nodded and he mounted Thor.
 

"The grooms stacked hay bales the length of the field which will serve as our tilt. We'll just walk the first few times until you get the feel of everything. Remember to angle your lance and not the horse, the temptation is to turn the horse towards your opponent. Try to aim for my shield."

"Do I get a shield?" Shakira sounded a little alarmed. "I think I'm very vulnerable without one."

"Not yet. It's too much for you to concentrate on right now. Beside, I'm not using a lance today. I'm only deploying some defensive moves with my shield."

He grimaced as Shakira and Eclipse walk towards him. Eclipse wasn't bothered in the least by the equipment or the activity. On the other hand, Shakira's lance was everywhere except where it should be. It dipped down hard almost striking one of the bales as she fiddled with the reins. Somehow, she managed to keep Eclipse's head straight, only to send her pole rocketing up to bounce unsteadily for several strides.

Frustration flickered over her face. He half expected her to swear and complain about the unwieldy instrument. Instead, she stopped to organize herself. She adjusted her position and reaffixed the lance firm along her ribcage and aimed for his shield.

Not the strongest strike, but she hit her mark. The pole caught the lower edge of the kite-shaped buckler, slid off, and banged his thigh. He’d chosen the triangular shield over a small round style for greater protection. A good choice. The larger size kept his manhood safe from bruising or worse.

Shakira repeated the maneuver numerous times. An apt student, she improved with each pass and got better at keeping the weapon steady. Her confidence grew proportionately and Alex ended the lesson on a positive note while she was doing well.

Shakira jumped down and threw her arms around him as he dismounted. She lingered for a long moment then let go as though the feel of him burned her.

"Can we do this again tomorrow? The joust, I mean."

The joust—no mention of a ride with him. “Love to,” he said, hiding his disappointment.

Chapter Ten

On the doorstep, Shakira took a moment to study the white cob cottage. With its well-groomed thatch roof, and big, black shuttered windows, Alex’s getaway was larger than most crofter’s cottages. She thought it might’ve been a small pub once. Over the centuries as the structure settled, the lintels had shifted and dipped. The crooked timbers that framed the door and front windows added a whimsical character to the house, in her opinion.

She’d only been inside for a few minutes earlier in the morning to drop off her overnight bag and guitars. Now, Alex took time to show her the rest of his sanctuary.

Aged, dark oak beams lined the ceilings and were a stark contrast to the creamy magnolia colored textured walls. A small Victorian fireplace with a delft blue-and-white tile surround was inset on one wall of the cozy drawing room. On each side of the fireplace were bookshelves filled to capacity. An overstuffed chair by a leather topped reading table and iron floor lamp occupied one corner. A small sofa sat across from the fireplace.

An archway connected the area to the kitchen. Built in a time when men were shorter, the top of Alex’s head only cleared the entry by a couple of inches. Dishes stacked on open shelves above a farm style sink and newer looking marble countertops took one wall. A nice stainless refrigerator and very nice, cast iron Aga stove lined another wall. Suspended over the stove, pots and pans hung from hooks attached to a medieval looking metal ring. A modest pine table and two straw-bottomed pine chairs used what space remained.

“Nice Aga,” she said.

“I like to cook. It’s relaxing.”

“I always think of you as eating out.”

“I do, in London. Other than the Aga and the fridge, I live modestly when I'm here. There's no television, radio or phone. It's not barbaric. I don't deny myself the convenience of electricity or the pleasure of hot running water and indoor plumbing." A subtle change, fractionally more serious and curious, tinged Alex’s expression. "Does the lack of many amenities bother you?"

She shared his desire for tranquility and the simplicity of his little house appealed to her. Sixth sense, intuition, whatever names a person gives gut instinct, she recognized the undercurrent of something else in his question. No matter how casual his tone, if she couldn’t bear the cottage, he’d interpret it as indirect rejection of a part of him.
 

"On the contrary, I envy the serenity you have here."

A broad grin crossed his face and he led her by the hand to his bedroom. A king-sized four poster bed with a blue and green plaid counterpane took up most of the room. A plain steamer trunk sat at the footboard, while an odd, six-sided table with only a brass lamp and clock atop was next to the bed. Old world looking latched door shutters of black oak covered the inside of the window. Everything had a function. A man’s bedroom.

Shakira laughed.

Alex frowned. "What's so funny?"
 

"Your bedroom, it's so--you," the furrow between his eyes deepened, "so masculine." She pressed her fingertip to the wrinkled spot. "There isn't one bauble or knick-knack. It shouts," she lowered her voice several levels, "I'm a manly man's room," accentuating her point with a guttural grunt.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Yes."

He looked unconvinced. "I don’t give a fig about the décor. It’s always been me alone. You're the first person to visit."

"Really?"

"I never wanted to bring anyone here before." He scanned the room. "What would you change?"

"Nothing, I wouldn't change a thing. Not when it reflects the manner of man you are." Her gaze paused on his eyes and then drifted to his lips. She looked away and stepped back into the hallway. Alex promised her stay would be platonic. He was doing a fine job. Oh, he teased and tested her resistance, but within boundaries, never crossing the line. She was the one making a cake of the agreement. She shoved her hands into the waistband of her pants and turned toward a closed door, "Is this another bedroom?"

"I saved this for last. I think you’ll like what I’ve done."

Shakira entered into a small but professional music studio. "Wow." She paused to take everything in. An eight-foot mixing board with the latest digital recording equipment filled one wall. Speakers and racks of CD's filled another. "Wow," she repeated and ran her fingers over every piece of equipment. "This is incredible. What exactly do you do here?"

"Remixes of music I like. I noodle around creating different arrangements for various songs. I can’t play an instrument, but I can recreate the sound of most."

Alex moved close and slipped his arms around her as she examined the board. "It's the reason I asked you to bring a guitar. I thought we’d experiment with some tunes and see what we come up with." Against her neck, he whispered, "What do you say? Would you like to fool around with me?"

Whispering became kissing and nibbling. He found the exact spot that turned her insides to Jell-O and her legs to spaghetti. The man had better radar than a bat.

"We are still talking about music, aren't we?" Shakira managed to ask.

“If you insist."

She broke away and headed for the door before her mind and resolve changed to mush. "I'm going to change out of these riding clothes and get my guitar."