The More I See You (41 page)

Abigail only looked at him calmly. “She did what she
believed right. I tried to convince her to wait for you, but she wouldn’t.”

Richard gritted his teeth. “And why not?”

“She feared you would lose your lands if you disobeyed the king.”

“I am already wed! And to Jessica, no less.”

Abigail only smiled grimly. “Noble words, my lord, but I doubt the king would care overmuch for them.”

“Where did she go?” Richard demanded, ignoring her words.

Abigail took a deep breath. “Home, my lord.”

Richard blinked, then felt his heart race. “Home?”

“If she can. Who knows what is possible?”

“You can’t mean—”

“I do,” Abigail said quietly. “Back where she came from.
When
she came from.”

Richard shut his mouth and stared at the woman in front of him for several moments in silence. He’d not known Miles very well, nor had he had much discourse with Abigail either, but now he almost wished he had. He’d always thought there was something odd about the woman. Was it possible that she, too, was from the future?

“Are you . . .” he began hesitantly.

“I am.”

“Did you ever try . . .”

“Never. I don’t know if it can be done.”

Richard let out a hearty breath of relief. “I’ll stop her before she manages it.”

“And then, my lord?”

“I will face ‘then’ when I come to it,” Richard said firmly. “Jessica should have known I would do the like.”

“She did. That’s why she left. She didn’t want you to lose your land at the king’s whim.”

Richard shrugged aside her words. He had no intention of following the king’s command, nor did he intend to give up his home.

But that tangle could be unraveled later. Now he had to find Jessica before she did something even more foolish than she already had.

“Please tell Robin that I’m returning immediately to Burwyck-on-the-Sea to procure the king a gift of gratitude,” Richard said to Abigail. “My apologies that I am unable to take leave of him personally.”

“I imagine once he hears what’s gone on, he’ll understand,” Abigail said with a nod.

Richard turned away, called for his men, and sought his horse. With any luck, he would find Jessica before she was either overcome by ruffians or half-starved from having lost her way. Hamlet wouldn’t be much help with the direction they should travel. And if Hamlet valued his life, he would ride very slowly, knowing that Richard would follow.

Damn
the woman! What was she thinking?

As Jessica bumped along in the saddle, she began to wonder just what she’d been thinking. So defying the king meant Richard would lose everything. Maybe the king could have been convinced to like her. Never mind that she had nothing to her name but the dress she was wearing when she’d come to the Middle Ages. Whatever happened to marrying for love?

She began to wonder if maybe she’d spent too much time in Hamlet’s vicinity.

They’d been traveling for four days and Jessica didn’t feel as if they’d really made very good progress. Hamlet apparently had no sense of direction beyond up and down, so she was basically left to her own devices. She’d been tempted to just try to pop herself back home without any specific launching location, but she hadn’t seen any likely stars.

She ignored the fact that she just hadn’t really wanted to try.

But what she wanted just didn’t enter into it anymore. She had to leave. She had no other choice. How could she stay and ruin Richard’s chances for a good life? He’d said himself that he couldn’t go to France. He hadn’t exactly
won any popularity contests there. What were his other choices? Italy? Spain? Places where he had no roots, no round tower to retire to every night, no sea view to enjoy? No legacy to leave his children?

Besides, she was an anachronism. For all she knew, Richard had been destined to marry that little girl and she would be fouling up history if she stayed. Maybe her entire purpose in the Middle Ages had been to soften Richard up so he was good to the wife he was supposed to have.

Somehow, though, all those rationalizations hadn’t done much to motivate her toward any stargazing.

They stopped well before sundown and made camp. Jessica let Hamlet take charge and was perfectly happy to sit by the fire and mope. Maybe she was making a very big mistake . . .

“What was that lay you were beginning to teach me?” Hamlet asked as he sat down across the campfire. “‘I can’t get no satisfaction’?”

Truer words had never been spoken. Jessica sighed as Richard’s guardsman began to sing. What the hell; it was entertaining to listen to Hamlet butcher modern music. Jessica taught him all she could remember of that song, then she turned to a few selected Beatles tunes. Leaving Hamlet to ponder the significance of “She Came In Through The Bathroom Window,” she got up and walked around the perimeter of the little glade in which they’d set up camp.

It was odd how accustomed she’d become to Richard’s time. She remembered vividly the first three days and how uncomfortable the trip to Burwyck-on-the-Sea had seemed. Now she was camping without a second thought. Her mother would have been amazed.

A twig cracked suddenly behind her and she spun around, her hand at her throat. She looked into the gloom.

There was nothing there.

She let out a shaky breath. Too many horror movies. She would definitely have to avoid those when she got back home.

To New York, of course. Not to Burwyck-on-the-Sea.

She tried to ignore the pang just thinking about that gave her. She would be better off in her time. Richard would be better off if she were in her time. It was the best thing to do.

She was still trying to convince herself of that when she lay down in front of the fire and tried to sleep.

•   •   •

She woke the next morning, half expecting to see Richard standing over her, hands on his hips, ready to yell at her. But all she saw was Hamlet putting out the remains of the fire and gathering their gear. She got herself ready, then returned to the clearing to find Hamlet saddling their mounts.

“Lady Jessica,” he said, and by his tone of voice she knew what was to come.

“It’s for the best, Hamlet,” Jessica said firmly.

“Not that such a sacrifice isn’t a most romantic thing to do,” Hamlet said, “but I know my lord Richard and he will be mightily displeased with your actions.”

Jessica suspected
mightily displeased
was the understatement of the year. She had visions of Vesuvius.

“Just duck,” she advised. “He’ll understand.”

“Understand?” Hamlet mused. “Aye, he might. But he will not care for it.”

“It’s for the best,” Jessica repeated, more for herself than for him. She swung up into the saddle and started south. It was the best she could do direction-wise. She recognized a few of the landmarks she’d seen on their way to Artane, so she supposed they were on the right road. They would run into someone sooner or later who could hopefully verify that.

Jessica pushed Hamlet as fast as he would go, then finally decided she could walk as swiftly as he seemed to want to ride. After four days in the saddle, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea, so she dismounted and walked alongside her horse.

It was at that point that her day took a decided turn south.

She saw the man running toward her but it didn’t register that she should really get out of his way until she realized that he was running toward
her.
She turned and put her foot up in her makeshift stirrup, then felt the wind knocked out of her. She landed flat on her face with a very heavy weight on her back.

“Off, you ruffian!” Hamlet thundered.

“I’ll slit her throat,” the man snarled. “Stay where you are.”

“Lord Hugh,” Hamlet said, aghast. “What do you?”

Jessica closed her eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of a knife against her neck. Great. The very last person she wanted to see was Hugh de Galtres. She had very vivid memories of their last encounter and of Richard’s solving of that problem for her. She suspected Hugh felt he had some payback coming.

His weight came off her, but he hauled her up with his hand in her hair. Jessica stood with her head pulled uncomfortably back, a knife at her throat, and wished that she had tried to get home just a few hours earlier. Well, she’d learned her lesson about procrastination.

“She’s a faery,” Hugh said, sounding completely deranged. “She’s bewitched my brother.”

“Now, my lord,” Hamlet began.

“She has!” Hugh shouted. “And since the boy did not kill her, it falls to me to do it. I’ve the stomach for the deed.”

So Hugh had been behind the attack. Somehow Jessica just wasn’t surprised.

“I’ve no doubt you do have the stomach, my lord,” Hamlet said, “but surely there is a proper way to go about these things.”

Jessica looked at Hamlet with as much surprise as her uncomfortable position allowed. Great, now even her allies were going crazy. Hamlet hopped down from his horse and put up his sword.

“Let us reason together, my lord,” Hamlet said with a
pleasant smile. “The slaying of a faery is not something to be taken lightly. What if you should go about it the wrong way and she come back to haunt you?”

Hugh’s fist tightened in Jessica’s hair and she winced. Hamlet was not being much help.

“Think you?” Hugh whispered. “Would she?”

Jessica found herself shaken vigorously.

“Would you?” Hugh demanded. “Would you haunt me?”

Jessica swallowed with difficulty. “I might.”

“She would,” Hamlet confirmed. “Especially if you slay her so near to a road, for then her spirit will continue to travel. ’Tis best that we move over to that field.”

Hugh seemed to consider this, then he gave Jessica another shake. “You came from the grass. Perhaps ’tis best you return to the grass.”

“Works for me,” she muttered, looking up and wishing she could see a star. Maybe it didn’t matter the time of day. Maybe it didn’t even matter the location. If she was lucky, she could send herself home by just the wishing.

If she wasn’t lucky, she would die.

The ground trembled as she was pushed off the road and she wondered if an earthquake would accompany her return trip. And then she heard a bellow that set her hair on end.

“Hugh!”

Jessica closed her eyes in relief at the familiar sound of that voice. The cavalry had come.

“Nay, brother,” Hugh said, dragging Jessica along with him. “’Tis for you I do this!”

Jessica soon found herself in the middle of the field with Hugh clutching her from behind and Richard glaring down at her from atop his horse. If she hadn’t known she was in such dire straits, she might have smiled at the ridiculousness of the scene they must have made.

“I wish,” Richard said curtly, “that everyone about me would cease to do things they think are best for me.” He glared at Jessica. “If you had not left, you would not find yourself here. And you,” he said, lifting his gaze to
Hugh. “I hardly know where to begin with you. What is it you do here?”

“I came to release you from her spell,” Hugh said, pressing the knife against Jessica’s neck. “She’s a faery.”

“She is
not
a faery!” Richard exclaimed.

“Brother,” Hugh said patiently, “she has put you under a spell. You are hardly the one to judge such matters.”

And you are?
Jessica wanted desperately to ask. Hugh continued to outline her supposed crimes but Jessica found it easier and easier to tune him out. All she could do was stare up at the man she loved more than life itself and wish that somehow, some way, things had been different. She gave him the most loving look she had in her.

He, however, did not return it. He looked like he wanted to kill her.

Nothing could have reassured her more that he loved her still.

Richard dismounted and Jessica wished immediately that he hadn’t. Hugh’s knife bit into her skin. Not deeply, but enough that Richard froze in place.

“Brother,” Richard said sternly, “put away your blade.”

Hugh spat over Jessica’s shoulder and it landed at Richard’s feet.

“I’ll need to purify you as well,” Hugh said, nodding so vigorously Jessica feared he would slit her throat in the process. “You’re very much under her spell.”

“You have that aright,” Richard muttered, then he held out his hands quickly. “I didn’t mean that, Hugh. Here, brother, let us speak together, just you and I. Release Jessica and come to me.”

Hugh shook his head again. “I need your aid, Richard. I’ve no gold and my peasants are in revolt. But you’ll not aid me until I’ve rid your hall of this pestilence.”

Jessica lifted one eyebrow. Pestilence? She’d been called many things, but that was possibly the most insulting.

“Hugh,” Richard said, taking a single step closer. He
motioned for his men to surround Hugh, but Hugh shook his head.

“Keep them where I can see them,” Hugh said, drawing a bit more blood. “And you, brother, come no closer. ’Tis for your own safety. I’ve said my charms this morn and Fate has smiled upon me. It delivered this faery into my arms and gave me the skill to slay it. Now stand back and let me be about my business.”

“Hugh . . .”

Jessica had the feeling that there was only one way out of this and it wasn’t into Richard’s arms. She looked at Richard.

“I have to go.”

He shook his head. “Nay . . .”

“Richard,” she said, swallowing with difficulty, “even if I get out of this, where does it leave me? You have to do what the king wants. You don’t have a choice.”

“I always have a choice.”

“Not if you intend to keep your home.”

“I don’t need my hall—”

“Yes, you do. I’m not going to be the cause of your losing it.”

He hesitated, and in that hesitation, she had her complete answer. She’d hit upon the truth of the matter and there was no denying it.

Richard shook his head. “It doesn’t matter—”

“Bespelled,” Hugh said fervently. “See you, brother? She has bespelled you! You’ve no thought for anything but her!”

Jessica closed her eyes and wished with all her might.

I want to go home.