Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (31 page)

“Wait,” Shakira said, after they rode a short distance. “I forgot my basket of flowers, they’re the last of the season.”

“Forget the flowers. Lightning has started and the storm’s headed for us,” Alex said.

“I’ll only take a minute.”

“Are you trying to get incinerated? Let’s go.”

High up, lightning flashed in rapid bursts and then suddenly stopped.
 

“It’ll be okay. There’s a break in the lightning and I’ll only be a moment.” She ignored his irritated expression and rode off before he could protest further.

“I couldn’t find the basket,” she said, cantering back over to Alex.
 

“The wind probably blew it away.”

“I searched all around.”

“No loss, let’s leave before we’re drenched,” Alex said.

***

They found the bailey a hive of activity when they returned. Now what? Alex wondered with mild irritation as strange knights in the king’s livery handed their horses off to the stable boys. In the background, kitchen staff yelled orders to servants who darted back and forth from various storage sheds.

He dismounted and handed Thor’s reins to one of the older stable boys. “What’s this?” he asked Richard who’d rushed over.

"Milord, John Holland, his sister, and a score of knights, are staying the evening. They’re bound for Chester on king’s business. Why the sister came, I’ve no idea."
 
He cocked an annoyed brow at the hustle and bustle of people. Richard considered anyone who didn't live at Elysian Fields and spent the night a nuisance. They disrupted his meticulous routine.

"Is that all?" From his steward’s pinched expression, Alex figured there was more.

 
"The Lady Blanche has asked to use your chamber. I suspect this will be troublesome for Lady Shakira." His expression said he knew troublesome was an understatement.

"You’ve the right of it there."

 
Detained by the cook, Shakira joined them at the tail end of the conversation. "What will be troublesome for me?"

Alex dismissed the stressed steward. "Blanche Holland is here with her brother and wants to use our chamber--"

"What--no, absolutely not," Shakira snapped with a determined shake of her head. "I know her type. She wants to snoop through our things. I'm sure she's peeved you didn't marry her." Shakira’s anxious tone grew heated. "Who knows how vengeful she is? She can turn a small find into a big deal."

"The chest is locked. It doesn’t matter if she snoops. John's an important personage. Protocol dictates he’s entitled to our finest chamber. A courtesy we should extend to his sister, to keep him happy."

"I hate the idea of her sleeping in our bed."

"One night," he said and walked his testy wife into the hall, "what harm can she do in a night?"
                     
           

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"This is the reason you wanted to use our chamber, the bathing tub?" Shakira raised a skeptical brow. "A tub is a tub."

"No, this one has a liner. Guy mentioned it to John when you came to court. He said he had your smithy build a liner that retained the heat and didn't leak."

"Guy said
he
had the blacksmith make this?"

"Hmmm...hmmm." Blanche eased into the tub with an almost sexual moan as she immersed herself all the way. "Oh yes, this is much better than sitting on rough wood."

Shakira excused herself and started to leave.

Blanche angled her head Shakira’s direction and looked up and down. "Forgive me if I stare. I’m perplexed. You’re not beautiful, and I’m sure you’re older than me by at least five summers. Guy gave up so much to marry you. I'm trying to understand why."

The comment stopped Shakira mid-stride. The time for extended courtesy to a guest just expired. Assessing grey eyes met sly green ones. "Let me guess. You're the 'so much' he gave up when we married?"
   

"Yes. I've many friends at court, marrying me would’ve benefited him well. Plus, I have an excellent dowry. More to the point, our union wouldn't have put him at risk."
 

"Are you suggesting our marriage is a threat to him in some way? How?"

"I can't believe you're asking that question. Of course, his safety is in jeopardy now." Blanche's scrutiny no longer held jealous snobbishness. This time it was inquisitive, searching. "You don't know, do you? Guy didn't tell you. Always the gallant, he spared you the ugly truth."

Shakira speculated how much of the statement, if any, was true, or if the Blanche was simply baiting her. The attorney in her rarely accepted such bold declarations as valid. She wanted to dismiss the comment as bluff and bluster and leave. But if Alex was in danger because of their marriage, she needed to know.

"Why don't you tell me? Clearly, you're desperate to."

Blanche lathered her arms and legs with soap she’d brought from London. With minor effort, her soap worked up a much better froth than what Shakira and Alex used. It was one more thing about Blanche that grated on Shakira’s nerves.

"If Guy married me, the king would've put him in charge of the Southern Welsh Border and the Bristol Channel. He'd remain here for the duration of the campaign. Since he insisted on marrying you, the king will give the border protection to another favorite. He’ll order Guy to accompany the army."

With a cat that ate the cream smile, Blanche turned her attention to rinsing off. "My brother says the king expects fighting will be fierce and bloody."

Blanche stood and poured ewers of clean water over her hair and shoulders. A chore she didn't normally do for herself judging from the water she splashed everywhere.

Tempted to slap the smirk off the slag's face, Shakira walked over to the pile of clean linens instead. "You don't know my husband. He's not the sort to stay behind when his closest friends go into battle. It’s called honor, a quality beyond your understanding."

Gooseflesh dotted Blanche’s arms to Shakira’s delight as she toyed with the cloth, swinging it back and forth from her fingertip.
 

"You should aim lower when you marry, someone easily amused, a handsome half-wit of some kind.” Shakira balled up the towel and threw it at the incensed Blanche who was too busy caterwauling to catch it before the cloth fell into the bath water. "Oops."

"Bring me another."

"I don’t think so."

"You-you cannot treat me like this. I shall tell my brother. Now, hand me that towel."

Shakira glanced at the second towel on the chair. "Get it yourself," she said and unlatched the window, opening it wide to the fall breeze. A petty but enjoyable act.

"The evening meal will be served in one hour," Shakira said, humming as she left, drowning out Blanche's angry sputtering.

Shakira slammed the door of Madeline’s old solar, the temporary chamber she and Alex shared. The room was half the size of theirs and claustrophobic with clutter. Alex had converted it to an office for Richard after Madeline married. With John and Blanche using the bigger chambers, a bed had been hastily set up in this one leaving little space for nervous meanderings.

She paced using the ten steps allowed her in each direction. Roller-coaster emotions threatened to overrule straight analysis. Force of will alone, kept her calm.

Think.

If they returned to their own time before the yuletide, no worries, if not, either Guy or Alex would die in battle. It had to be Guy. Didn’t it? No one reported seeing Guy since Alex arrived. Alex felt they couldn’t exist together but he didn’t know for certain. She couldn’t deal with that conundrum now or her head would explode. She concentrated on escape plans. She stopped and stared at the beamed ceiling. Where? Where could they run and hide from the king? Wales was closest. They could live in the forest or a village in the mountains. Welsh was a very difficult language. The thought of how long it would take to learn briefly danced across her mind.
 

She sat on the edge of the bed and spoke aloud. Her scared self threw ideas out, bouncing them off her imaginary, logical self. "What if something goes awry and the king’s men catch us?”

Think; work the problem like a jigsaw, piece by piece.

   
“First, I need to verify if what muffin head said is true.”
If it is and I’m no longer in the picture...

Her heart sank at logic’s rational answer.

He'll be in the king's good graces again. The king might still be persuaded to let Alex stay behind and guard the border.

Hateful as the prospect was, to save Alex, she could face being lost in the wrong time and alone, but how could she face the heartbreaking possibility of losing him? "What will I do?"

A crushing solution came to her.

Whatever is necessary so he lives.

***

John Holland, his hateful sister, and their party departed the next morning. Alex left at the same time with Stephen to settle a dispute between two tenant farmers. The one man Shakira knew who’d be brutally honest with her stayed behind.

"Simon." She jogged to catch up with the knight. "Where are you going right now?"

"The stables. Did you need something milady?" His lips thinned in a painful excuse for a smile that bore no resemblance to the one he gave Alex when he mentioned Basil’s ladies.

"I need to speak to you alone."

He darted furtive glances to the right and left as if seeking rescue. They’d never engaged in private conversation.

"It concerns Guy."

She couldn’t guess what he imagined she wanted to discuss, but his relief at the mention of Guy was obvious. The flustered search for an avenue of escape faded as he considered the immediate area.

"The stable is a poor choice for conversation. I'm baffled as to a suitable location that won’t compromise your reputation."

"In full view of everyone's eyes, yes, but out of earshot. What about the steps of the chapel," she suggested.

"Good choice, it's generally avoided during the week."

It’s generally avoided on Sunday too, she thought.

Simon stopped one step below her on the church stairs. “You wished to discuss Sir Guy, milady?”

"Is it true the king would've had him remain here to guard the Bristol coast and the Welsh border if we hadn't married?"

His posture changed from casually professional—for Simon-to one of a soldier
at
attention
. “Why do you ask me this, ‘tis a question for your husband?"

From depositions, she learned a valuable lesson in evasive tactics. The tougher the question, the greater the odds the interviewee will answer with another question.

"Guy would lie to protect my feelings. You, on the other hand, have no fondness for me."

"Milady-"

"It’s acceptable not to like me, Simon. I’d rather we had no lies between us, which is why I ask you this question. You will tell me the ugly truth."