Seducing Anne (28 page)

Henry had been rushing up and down the tiltyard for hours, besting opponents all day.

He had to be tired.

It was almost a laughable offense to joust with this man after being brutalized for a decent length of time.

Right as Guy shifted his weight to where it needed to be, he recalled why he was here—what had to be, even if it went against every instinct he possessed. He had almost forgotten the mission he needed to accomplish today.

This would not be the outcome he normally would’ve produced. There was no way he could thrust Henry off his horse, even though it would be an easy enough feat of skill.

The horns blasted with a blaring sound.

Guy sat sloppily in his saddle, held his lance with a loose grip and flew down the length of the list, praying to God he would not be completely slaughtered by presenting himself on a silver platter this way, in the form of a careless knight on an armored horse.

He ignored the thousands of spectators that booed at him and spat in his direction.

Sweat poured down his back, his thighs coiled as he kept his destrier blasting forward.

Sand flew up on both sides of him, and the wind whistling in his helmet was now at such a deafening noise he could no longer hear the crowd.

For my Anne, for my Anne, for my Anne . . .

He chanted this repeatedly, until—
whaaaaaack
!

Henry smacked Guy’s chest plate off center, and Guy was flipped off the back of his horse without striking the king in return.

He purposefully missed. He was purposefully in pain.

Guy tumbled in the sand until his body finally decided to skid to a stop.

The wind was knocked out of him, and his chest rattled as he wheezed and gasped for air.

He clawed at the sand and dirt, trying to flip himself over.

A woman screeched, and a few moments later Guy was being carted out of the tiltyard.

He was able to avoid the king gloating, but it also probably meant that Henry had hold of Anne and was bragging to her instead.

One of the pages tried to bend Guy’s right leg, and an agonizing scream lit up the sky and tore out of his chest. “Ahhhhhhhhh! God, no!”

Something was probably broken.

A few moments later he was carried off the tiltyard. He was tossed onto the hay in the stall for his horse, and his shrill cries filled the stable as his leg throbbed with piercing pain.

Several minutes later, in walked one of the physicians along with Carew and Anne.

The king stood behind them and held Anne by the back of the neck.

“Say goodbye,” Henry said through his teeth, his grotesque lips at her ear.

Half of Henry’s armor had already been removed.

His lower half was still fully protected. Was that because he worried Anne might try to kick him there?

She flew to Guy, dropped to her knees and pawed at his armored chest, eyes red-rimmed and lashes moist with tears.

“He says you are to die.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I will not die,” Guy whispered. He ripped his gauntlets off and tucked her beautiful hair behind her ears. “Love—this is part of the plan.”

“But I . . . I am with your child. I am pregnant, Guy,” she whispered with almost no voice at all.

His chest contracted, and a shaky moan of pain racked him.

How would she travel with him through time now?

Henry approached him and
thraaaaack
!

His boot stomped down on the side of Guy’s face.

The last thing he saw was Anne shrieking in fury, gripping Guy around the neck and refusing to let go as Henry tried to haul her off.

Chapter 14

“No, no,
no
!” Guy hollered and writhed in pain.

It was pure torture.

He was hurtling through the whiteness of time, and it had never been more unwelcome and bleak in his life.

Only—something touched him.

This had never happened before.

The blinding white flames licked at his eyelids, but he lifted them and there she was, still holding him around the neck, her eyes closed as she cried.

His arms were weak, but he pulled her in tight.

Soon . . . Very soon, love, we will land.

Fwwwwiiiiiiip, fwwwwiiiiip, fwwwwiiiiiip.

The whirling wind of space tore their clothes and adornments away. Her hair lashed at his bare chest and across his jaw.

Soon. He had to close his eyes again. The vertigo was insane.

He almost vomited, until suddenly, it was deathly still.

Craaaaaack!

They crashed onto the outer grounds of the agency—a sort of lavish park in the back.

Shit! They had to move fast.

Had to run, but his leg had been broken. Hadn’t it?

He flexed both his legs, and the pain had disappeared.

Had his body convinced him he was in absolute hideous torment so she would react that way, and they would be shot to his present?

“Anne!” He gripped her arm, dragged her across the grass to his side.

“Guy?” she whimpered.

“Yes, sweetheart—we’re in my time now. But we can’t stay here. They’ll take us under custody. We have to run. Can you do that?”

“But your leg!” Her eyes went wide, and she gasped when she looked down at his completely nude body.

Then her eyes crossed over to her own bared flesh.

“We have to go,” he repeated.

She stood on shaky legs, and a second later, she was running over to a bush and throwing up.

He had to do something to get them out of here.

But who could help them?

He pushed himself up to sitting, stood on his good leg first, then set his other down, bearing a little weight on it.

There was a twinge of pain but nothing he couldn’t work with.

It was probably just a sprain.

He limped over to her, and the moment she was done retching, he took her hand and ran her around the back of the lengthy building.

As he approached the parking lot with caution, he saw the driver that had been a fan when Guy had first agreed to accept this SHROAG 50 assignment.

He couldn’t remember his name. Had he ever asked what it was when he’d met him? Probably not. Guy was too pissed at that point and feeling like shit to bother with niceties.

“Hey!” Guy rushed the dude. “We need a ride back to my place—quick! I’ll pay you whatever you want, just get us there right away. She’s not doing well.”

The kid jumped and scrambled over to his sleek black car.

Anne went stiff and resisted a little as Guy dragged her over. He pulled her to his side and whispered in her ear, “This is our version of a horse. It’s how we travel. No harm will come to you. In fact—I’ll hold you the entire drive over to my place.”

She gulped, her face paled, but he was able to coax her into the backseat with him. He figured she also realized it would be a way to cover up her nudity as well, rather than being exposed out in the open, so she swallowed down her fears of the unknown.

The driver’s eyes kept drifting over to Guy, not Anne.

Guy ignored the feeling of being admired and watched by another man while he sat in the buff inside this car. He tried his best to keep Anne as covered as possible, worrying less about his own exposure.

“Was your trip successful, sir?” the driver asked as he pulled up to Guy’s large house.

“It was. Thank you,” Guy said. “Give me your business card, and I’ll send you the money directly. How much do you want?”

“Oh, no, sir. It’s free. It’s a privilege to take you anywhere you need to go.” He turned around and gave Anne a look of distaste.

She was cowering, tucked in Guy’s lap anyway, wrapped up in his arms, so she probably didn’t notice.

Guy was still reeling that the transmitters in their microchips worked.

“Thank you! You’re a good man,” Guy said, smacking the guy on the arm.

They shook hands, and then Guy was struggling out of the back of the car with a weakened Anne.

He mustered the necessary strength to get her inside his home.

Shit! Shit! Shit! He didn’t have any female clothing for her here.

What was she going to wear?

And how was he even going to transport her somewhere else when she was all floppy and half-dead at this point?

He set her on his bed, and though she was groggy, her eyes were darting around and she was shaking like a caged wild animal would be after being traumatized and caught.

“Lavender, look my way.”

She twisted her head with a sharp, snapping movement, and she flinched.

“You’re safe for now, but we have to leave here soon. I’m going to have to put you in some of my clothes, but maybe that’s for the best. If we disguise you as a man, it’ll be easier to leave. They’ll be looking for you.”

She continued to tremble, and now her arms were twisted around her torso as she rocked herself forward and backward.

“Do you understand what I have said to you?” he asked with a tight tone, sounding angrier than he’d intended.

Fuck! She was falling apart, but he had to get them away from here.

“Okay, lie down, sweetheart. I’ll get dressed first, pack up as fast as I can and then we’ll go.”

She shivered and then leaned back on his bed.

Her body jerked on contact as if she was being stabbed.

She keened, curled up in the fetal position on his bed as he raced around his home like a maniac.

It was doubtful she’d fall asleep, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to comfort her. If he was too slow, they could both be taken and killed.

He gathered money he’d set aside and some false IDs he kept for emergencies, along with clothing and some food.

Once he had his bags set by the door, he hobbled back to his bedroom to help her, but when he got there, she was missing from the bed.

He yelled for her, and heard a pitiful mewing sound.

She was on the ground, over by the wall, almost tucked up against his nightstand.

He picked her up, carried her over to his closet and dressed her with her arms tucked up like springs against her body.

Her floppiness from earlier had been replaced by circling bands without much bend or give to them.

He kissed her repeatedly, spoke in soothing tones and apologized to her for the shock she was experiencing.

This was his fault. It would have been less jarring if he’d given her some warning of what to expect, but how could he really prepare her for time travel and for being placed almost five hundred years into the future?

He was an expert on time travel, yet it constantly rattled him.

When she was wrapped up in a pair of the tightest jeans he owned, a white tee shirt, gray hooded sweater, some slippers and a ball cap, he picked her up and carried her to the front door.

“We’re leaving now. You can sleep in the car if you want to. It’ll be a long drive,” he told her, his voice a scratchy whisper.

“Must we travel?” Her dark, frightened eyes begged him to spare her.

“Yes, darling. I am so sorry, but we have no choice. If we are to leave, this place has to be abandoned.” He went back to the Tudor accent and cadence she was familiar with.

She immediately relaxed in his hold.

It seemed he was going to have to use it for the foreseeable future whenever he was alone with her. At least, until she could adjust.

“I have to carry these bags. Can you walk on your own since I cannot carry you in this moment?” he asked.

She nodded and bit her inner lower lip like she did when she was nervous.

He grinned, leaned in and kissed her. “My queen. She loves to torture me by arousing my manhood when she looks this innocent, sweet and trusting.” He hugged her tight and nibbled at her lower lip.

Her cheeks colored.

Better. Much better.

Her walk was one of a regal woman, used to being refined in all instances—that was until the car came into sight.

She shied away, shielding herself behind him.

“I will have to drive this machine. It is called a car. It does only what I tell it to do, so no harm will come to you,” he said, dropping the bags behind it.

He turned to her and stroked her arms.

She was so hunched over, her neck was invisible with her shoulders wrapped up to her temples as if she was trying to disappear entirely.

He smiled and kissed her.

After he was able to get her into the passenger’s side of the car, he tucked the bags into the trunk but made sure he had plenty of cash on him.

He reached over and took her hand, then kissed it.

“Ready?”

“No.” Her eyes moved over the gear shift.