Return of the Rose (7 page)

As he neared Leonie’s cottage, a simple wood structure with a chimney, he noted that the windows had been newly covered with fine linen. Dozens of candles flickered from the breeze he let inside when he opened the door, casting a flattering glow upon the woman waiting within. Leonie lay upon a large four-posted bed, her gaze fixed upon him as he set down his sword and removed his tunic.

“Did you miss me?” she asked seductively, eager for his attentions.

“I have been busy. I am afraid I have not had time to think of such pleasures.”

“‘Tis not what I heard, my lord.”

Not used to her meddling, Derek stopped unbuckling his belt. “Exactly what is it you have heard?”

She propped herself on a pillow, making certain he had a clear view of her ample bosom. “‘Twas rumored the king plans to force you into marriage. ‘Tis not true, is it?”

A frown creased his brow. He had come to Leonie in hopes of relieving the mounting tensions of late, hoping to erase Lady Amanda from his mind. It was no use.

Panic lined Leonie’s voice. “Tell me you do not plan to marry an unseasoned, virginal innocent? Just looking at you would surely put her to her death.”

His jaw hardened.

“You are too much of a man for a chaste lass such as Lady Amanda,” she said.

He arched a brow. “But what of you? I assume ‘tis safe to say I am not too much of a man for you?”

“Never,” she burst out. She edged off of the bed, trying hard to regain her composure. Her voice became a whisper. “I have a confession to make.” She removed the pins from her hair, letting the thick strands fall past her pale shoulders. Gazing into his eyes, she loosened her belt and let the thin muslin gown she wore slither to the floor around her feet. Slowly, she came toward him, her hips swaying. “I have been burning up with jealousy, my lord, and only you can put out the flames flickering within.”

Words and gestures laced with jealousy…this is not what he had in mind. A good mind-numbing romp in the sheets is what he desired. Nothing more, nothing less. Derek turned away, retrieved his tunic from the chair and pulled the soft leather jerkin over his head. He moved to the table and claimed his sword.

‘Twas like a dark cloud sweeping toward him as she rushed to his side, clinging to his leg like a woman suddenly possessed by insecurity. “Please, my lord, do not leave. Forgive my presumptuous behavior. Stay and let me satisfy your needs.”

“Get up, Leonie. Begging is unbecoming on you.”

“I will not let you go,” she cried, paying little attention to his words. She clawed at him like a wild animal being denied its supper.

“I always thought you were different.” He unclasped her fingers, snatched his mantle from the table, and headed for the door.

“You’ll regret this day if you leave me, Derek Vanguard. Come back here and satisfy me now. I demand that you do!”

He gazed back at her long enough to shake his head, wondering what he’d seen in her these past months.

“If you marry the noble bitch,” Leonie shrieked as he headed for the door, “she will seduce you first with her innocence. Then she will crush your heart in the palm of one flawless hand.” Leonie held a fist to the air. “One gentle squeeze. ‘Tis all it will take to destroy you as you are destroying me. Aye, you will see.”

Holding her gown to her bosom, Leonie followed him outside to where his horse was tied. He threw the reins over his stallion’s neck and vaulted to its back.

Still clinging to him, Leonie gazed beseechingly into his eyes, her voice calm as she said, “Unlike myself, my love, you will not survive such destruction of the heart. Your betrothed will see to that.”

Derek loosened her hold and rode off. He closed his eyes and let the strengthening wind whip across his face as the steady beat of his stallion helped soothe his weary state. Seeing Leonie had only made matters worse.

The steed quickened its pace as Derek guided the animal to the nearest inn. The scene with Leonie did not bother him nearly as much as the endless visions of his betrothed. Since that first kiss, when he assumed she was no more than a serving maid, Lady Amanda had dared to plague his mind. It was her fine instructions on saving the dead though, that had captured his full attention. He’d been stunned by his unusual reaction to her seemingly inexperienced teachings. And when his men had interrupted their short time together, he should have been grateful. Instead he had found himself aggravated by the interruption.

He took pride in his ability to remain unaffected by those around him…especially women. Women were naught more than a means in which to satisfy a need. Never once had he contemplated turning Leonie away before. The fact that he had irked him greatly.

He couldn’t get to the Boar’s Head Inn soon enough. His knuckles turned white as he curled his fingers yet tighter about the reins but nothing stopped the woman from appearing in his mind’s eye. Wisps of hair framing a shadowed face along with a petite form told him that the darkly cloaked figure he was seeing was indeed a woman. As a child he had spotted the same hooded figure many times: at fairs and on market day. Once he had seen her outside Braddock’s gates, but before he could question the woman she always disappeared. He’d forgotten about the woman until now.
Who was the wench and why did she dare to plague his thoughts
?

Inwardly he cursed his luck when the vision was replaced with Lady Amanda’s visage. God’s teeth! The wench managed to void all reasoning, pummeling his mind with her enchanting smile and expressive eyes. How was he to counsel the king on important matters when he could not keep a clear head?

As soon as the thatched roof of the inn came into view, Derek flung himself from his horse and tied the animal to a wooden stake. He stalked past two women gathering water from a well, entered the tavern, and ordered the strongest drink they had. A plump man with pink skin and a patch of red hair on his head promptly brought him a full horn. A handful of people watched as he guzzled the brew in two swallows.

Bloody hell
, he thought after consuming a fair share of the drink. Even the strong ale failed to erase the image of Lady Amanda’s velvet lips descending upon his. The notion that his betrothed aroused him even after hearing her tales of being from another world made him question his own sanity. He slammed the empty horn to the scarred table, scowling at the innkeeper as the elfish man hurried to refill it.

There seemed to be no cure for his ailment.
Damnation to all women. Particularly Amanda or Morgan…or whatever her name be this day
, he thought bitterly. He planned to erase all memories of the noble wench before returning to Braddock, for he was sure she would be gone when he returned. She had run away before and there was naught to keep her from doing so again. A knot formed in his gut as he realized that the thought of never seeing her again was what troubled him most.

~~~~

By the time Morgan awoke, shafts of sunlight had broken through the clouds. She dressed quickly in a kirtle of pale yellow. Over that she put something called a surcoat, a light golden brown fabric with gold embroidered trimmings. She was a quick learner. And Odelia, believing she suffered from memory loss due to her head injury, was an admirable teacher.

As she descended the narrow staircase, Morgan realized this was the first time she’d left her room without Odelia at her side. She could’ve waited for the maid but she was anxious to get outside. It was a beautiful day. And besides, she had no idea how long she’d be staying in this century. The hardest thing about living here, she decided, was having no sense of time. Too bad she hadn’t been wearing a watch when her t-shirt had become snagged in the Earl of Kensington’s armor. No watch, no makeup, no convenient items to prove her allegations.

She stopped in her tracks and her eyes widened.

I was not wearing a watch when I was stuck to the earl’s armor
.

Her mouth dropped opened. Why hadn’t she thought of him before?
The Earl of Kensington. He could very well be the answer to her problem
.

If she recalled correctly, he’d lived during the fifteenth century. Emmon had said the year was 1444. The same year the Earl of Kensington had supposedly been killed in an ambush.

That’s why she was here
! For the first time since she’d been swept through time, it all sort of made sense. Time travel, of course, was a crazy unthinkable notion, but here she was, in a strange time with no inkling as to why. Until now. She needed to find the Earl of Kensington and warn him of the ambush before it was too late. Her heart soared at the possibility that she’d been sent to this century to save the earl’s life. She took the stairs two at a time as she envisioned seeing her very own metal man, a familiar sight in an unfamiliar world. She would find him!

“Good day, my lady,” Matti said, pulling Morgan from her thoughts as she was greeted by the older woman on the landing.

They had met once before, Morgan realized. Matti was Hugo’s wife. “Please, call me Mor…I mean Amanda. And that goes for all of you,” Morgan said to the castle folk within earshot. Her cheeks heated at the thought that all these people knew what had transpired between her and Lord Vanguard. Did they think she was crazy? Were they angry with her for supposedly defying their lord by running off in the forest?

Matti took hold of her forearm and gently pulled her aside. A note of kindness touched her voice. “You have no need to fret, my lady. ‘Tis only a loyal few who know the extent of your conversation with Lord Vanguard.”

Morgan smiled weakly, surprised by the woman’s perceptiveness.

“Is it true you believe you are not Lady Amanda, or is it as his lordship says?”

Morgan’s palms began to sweat. “What does he say exactly?”

“That you play childish games and wish only to be with your lover.”

Matti didn’t beat around the bush. Morgan chewed on her bottom lip, wondering what she should say. If she told Matti the truth, that she was Morgan Hayes from the future, Matti would think she was either a liar or a nutcase. If, on the other hand, she told Matti she was Lady Amanda, she would be a liar, and a contemptible person for dishonoring their lord by running away in the first place.

Matti raised a hand before she could answer. “I apologize. I should not have asked. Verily I only wished to talk with you for a moment.”

Thankful for the reprieve, Morgan followed Matti across the keep, away from curious eyes and ears.

“As you are most likely aware,” Matti said softly, “Lord Vanguard is highly respected and greatly loved here at Braddock. To an outsider he might seem a bit gruff, but to the people that know him best, he is…” Matti chuckled lightly. “I must say, now that I think on it, he is extremely gruff, even to those of us who love him most.” She placed a hand on Morgan’s arm again. “But he is also devoted and unselfish with those he cares about.”

Obviously the woman wanted Morgan to like their lord. “I saw him rescue those children in the village,” Morgan said. “I’m sure he’s a good man, but—”

“You must understand ‘tis not an easy life he’s had,” Matti interrupted.

He has a wonderful castle, Morgan thought, people respected him, and he was gorgeous…what could be the problem?

“Lord Vanguard was once a happy child,” Matti continued determinedly. “His laughter used to fill these castle walls, at least until he realized he would never have what he yearned for most…his mother.”

“What happened to her?”

“She left when he was but eight years of age, for reasons only God can judge.”

“What about his father?”

“Simon Vanguard had never been a doting father, but once Lady Vanguard left, it was Lord Vanguard who received the blunt end of the stick. Simon did unspeakable things to the boy, even went so far as to lock him in an old trunk for more than a day after Lord Vanguard asked about his mother. Never did Simon look the lad in the eye when speaking to him, nor did he ever tell his son he loved him. Verily it gives me gooseflesh to think of it.”

Tears welled in Matti’s eyes as she shook her head. “By the time Simon passed away, Lord Vanguard had become hardened by life’s cruelties. Some say our Lord is void of heart, but Hugo and I know otherwise.”

Morgan had never thought of parents in this light before. The mother abandoning her child…she could relate with that aspect of Lord Vanguard’s story. But to think Derek grew up with a true biological parent who physically and verbally abused him. No wonder he seemed so cold…so distant. It would have been better to have no parents at all.

Morgan could see that it pained Matti to remember such horrible times. She took Matti’s hand in hers. “Thank you for telling me. It must be hard. Caring for someone that way and yet not always being able to help.”

~~~~

Matti nodded and after Lady Amanda excused herself, she watched her ladyship walk off. A tap on her shoulder caused Matti to look behind her.

“How did it go?” Hugo asked.

“She seemed genuinely concerned. I do believe we have our work cut out for us though.” She watched Lady Amanda stop to chat with a small child before disappearing through the castle’s main entrance.

“Emmon will be watching her,” Hugo said.

Matti sighed. “Emmon still holds a grudge and might fail to watch her properly. Our plans to see Lord Vanguard and Lady Amanda married would be for naught.”

Hugo rubbed a callused thumb over Matti’s cheek. “I had a long talk with Emmon and thus give you my solemn vow that our youthful friend will see Lady Amanda home safely.”

Matti turned to her husband and regarded him fondly. “No one in his right mind would fail to honor thy husband’s request. Is that not so?”

Hugo’s chest puffed. “‘Tis so indeed and good to know that my wife has finally seen the moon in its full light.”

“Good indeed,” Matti said with a smile.

~~~~

Morgan stepped outside and breathed in the light fragrance of dogwood violets and trilliums. She followed the beaten path, deciding to go to the village and look for the little boy she’d helped save. She would ask the villagers if they’d seen a woman resembling herself or maybe someone could tell her where she might find the Earl of Kensington.