Burns, Cillian - The Amethyst Amulets

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He held out his hand.

"Come. We will go down and break our fast."

"First, let's see that proof you mentioned last night.” He arched a questioning eyebrow and she added, “You know. Things you think will make me believe I'm really in the thirteenth century.” Was there a chance he'd been telling the truth?

So many things about the castle appeared different from the way she'd remembered them. She'd once read about an interesting theory of Albert Einstein's saying time was a circle and it might be possible to move back and forth along the continuum. But had anybody ever proven this?

Shoving all speculation aside, she ran her fingers through her long hair, trying to untangle the snarls. Her hair—just when had it grown long enough to reach her waist? She shuddered.

Nick leaned against the bedpost watching her, an admiring expression on his face. “You look lovely, Julie. Now, remember, once we go down to the great room, you must act like my wife to the people in my keep. Since you wear Julianne's body, you must try to act as she would."


The
Amethyst Amulets
by
Cillian Burns

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The Amethyst Amulets

COPYRIGHT (C) 2009 by Priscilla P. Burns

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Rae Monet

The Wild Rose Press

PO Box 706

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Faery Rose Edition, 2009

Print ISBN 1-60154-622-X

Published in the United States of America



Dedication
To Lynn Meiseles
for helping me make it all come out right,
Cindy Oldham
for being a font of technical information,
and Jenny Stees
for being a cheering section.
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Prologue
Deep in an ancient British forest, a Druid priestess sat cross-legged on the mossy bank of a black pool. On its ebony surface, the lives of her mortal charges unfolded like pages in a book. Leaning forward, she drew a finger through the cool water and watched the ripples distort the pictures. She sighed. What a tangled mess.

One sweet innocent was dying, probably a given, although she could try to prevent it.

In one century, an evil man stood poised to ruin a good man's life, and in another time far removed from that one, a woman who longed for love would never find it. Not as things stood.

The Druid disliked intervening in the affairs of her charges. Better they solve their own problems with only an occasional nudge from her. Although, with different centuries involved, more than a gentle shove might be needed.

She would bring the good man and the lonely woman together, but they would have to earn the right to happiness. Huge obstacles would block their path, ones they could only overcome by working together. That would decide their future one way or another.

Rising, she followed a well-worn path through the thick forest, emerging at the base of a rounded knoll. On its crest, monolithic stones pointed sharp, gray fingers at the heavens. A rowan grew nearby and the priestess plucked a small branch from the sacred tree. Would that it helped her prayers succeed. Tucking it in the folds of her robe, she climbed the slope and entered the magic circle. In the center, an oblong slab of polished sandstone awaited the prayers of the faithful.

She knelt at the altar and raised her arms in supplication. “Oh, Great Mother, help thy daughter know thy will concerning these mortals,” she entreated. “I exist but to serve thee."

Within the circle, no birds chirped, no insects buzzed, no wind blew, and though the air around her seemed charged, nothing disturbed the silence. No flowers bloomed here; but suddenly, the light scent of lilac filled the air.

The priestess waited, opening herself to receive a message from the goddess.

Slowly, a thought formed in her mind. Use the amethysts.

She murmured her thanks, and then backed out of the circle. Her task would not be easy. Things seldom were these days. The magic of the Arch Druid Merlin and his followers lessened with each passing year. Soon, mankind would be on its own. But not yet. There were wrongs to be righted and happiness to be earned by the good man and woman. Would they be deserving? Mankind frequently disappointed her.

Slowly, she retraced her steps to the magical pool, pondering her course of action. Here in the forest, she appeared young and beautiful, but it would be easier to win the trust of humans with a more mature look. So, one face for the thirteenth century, another for the twenty-first. The guise of a midwife and healer for one century, the role of a jeweler for the other.

Next, she must retrieve the amethysts from the bottom of the dark pool. As their keeper, she knew the magical jewels could make many things, not otherwise possible, happen. Now her task was to use them wisely.

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Chapter 1
England, April 15, 1250

"My lord, you have a son.” Lily, the midwife held up a small squalling bundle.

Lord Nicholas de Montclair smiled as he reached for the babe. “He has a lusty set of lungs.” His heart swelled with pride as he inspected his heir.

She nodded. “He is perfect, but...” Her voice trailed away.

"But what, woman?” Nicholas snapped. A knot of alarm formed in his throat.

"Your wife, my lord. I fear she fares less well than the babe."

He strode quickly to Julianne's side. She lay motionless on the large canopied bed they had shared during this first year of their marriage. Her long golden hair fanned around her like a cloak of fine-spun gold. But her unnatural paleness told him the midwife spoke the truth.

His apprehension grew as his sister Eleanor straightened the coverlet, turning away with a barely concealed sob. Pain clenched his heart.

"I am sorry, Lord Nicholas. All was well until after the birth. It is the bleeding. I cannot staunch it and...” The midwife spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

Nicholas handed her the babe and dropped to his knees on the step beside the bed. He took Julianne's hands and enfolded them in his. The iciness of her skin and her blue-tinged lips confirmed his greatest fear. His dear wife was dying. On the far side of the bed, Father Thomas stood, head bent, muttering prayers. His black-robed presence should offer comfort. But it did not. He looked like a hunched vulture, waiting to peck away at his prey.

Lily remained beside Nicholas, rocking the crying child. He looked at her and glared. “Take him away, woman. If you cannot save my lady, at least let her slip unbedeviled from this world.” Was there a God? With all the pain and suffering he had seen in his lifetime, he was no longer sure.

"Aye, milord.” She stepped back into the shadows.

"Attend my son,” he called after her, “for those lusty cries tell me he, at least, will live.” Bowing his head once more, he murmured bitterly, “I fear my wife is beyond your help."

For the next hour, he prayed, begging God to let Julianne live. Was that selfish of him? Aye, since Heaven was supposed to be a much better place than this world, but he did not care. The babe needed a loving mother, and he wanted his beautiful wife.

As the minutes crept slowly past and the coppery odor of his wife's blood seeping steadily away filled his nostrils, he realized his prayers would not be answered.

The soft weeping of women gradually penetrated Nicholas's wall of sorrow. Julianne's ordeal was nearly over. He gently squeezed her fingers, willing her to open her eyes one last time, so he could bid her farewell.

Their marriage had begun as an agreement between his father and hers, but as soon as they were wed, she had charmed Nicholas and everyone else in the castle. Julianne and he had fallen in love, unusual for an arranged marriage. Now he was losing both her and their happy life together. He ground his teeth, his chest aching from suppressed sobs.

He rose, leaned over the bed, and skimmed his lips across her cool dry ones. Her shallow breathing told him her spirit still lingered in this world—but not for long. He wanted to howl his rage at God—a God that did not answer prayers and displayed no concern for misery caused by the death of loved ones. Heresy? Mayhap so, but he did not care. God was a myth perpetrated by priests to justify their existence.

"Julianne, I am here,” he whispered, trying to bestow the only measure of comfort he had left to give her. He gently stroked her cheek.

Her lips parted. “Nicholas.” More a sigh than a word.

He leaned closer. “Aye, sweeting?"

"Promise...you will marry again. Someone to...care for our son. He must have...a mother.” Her beautiful violet eyes beseeched him to heed her words.

"There will be no need. You will soon be well,” he lied, his hand caressing her silky hair.

Julianne's sweet, uncomplaining smile nearly broke his heart. “Nay, Nicholas. Just...honor...my last wish."

"I shall not have to,” he said softly, “since you shall be here at my side.” He slipped his arms around her limp body, pulling her against his hard one, wishing he could give her a little of his strength.

Leaning over, he touched his lips to her cheek. So cool and white, like one of the statues in his chapel.

"Cold,” she murmured, the light dimming in her eyes. The frail hand on his arm slipped down to rest unmoving on the bed.

"I will warm you, dearling.” He gathered Julianne more tightly into his arms and, frozen in grief, sat cradling her body long after her sweet spirit had departed.

"Nicholas!” Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, a voice pierced the foggy pain of his loss.

Be gone, he snarled silently, wanting to savor his anguish, to stroke it like a sore tooth, to rail at whoever or whatever was heaping this misery upon his head.

"Put Julianne down, Nicholas. She has earned her rest.” Eleanor laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come, dear brother. You have sat here for hours holding her. God has called her to Him and she is beyond earthly feelings. You, however, need to eat and sleep."

"There is no God,” he growled, as he rose and lowered Julianne's body back on the bed.

Eleanor gasped. “Do not say such a thing, Nicholas. ‘Tis your grief speaking."

"Nay. I have come to my senses after a lifetime of misguided faith. I will not worship a god who could take a sweet innocent like Julianne."

He blocked out Eleanor's shock and protests, leaning over his wife's unmoving body.

With great care, he detached the amethyst amulet from around her neck. He had given it to her as a morning gift when they were wed. Someday, he would give it to his son as something that had belonged to his mother. It was still warm from Julianne's skin. For a moment, he thought it pulsed faintly against his palm. Strange.

He nodded to the women who had been hovering in his peripheral vision for hours. They moved toward the bed and the painful task of preparing Julianne for burial. It seemed heartless to walk away, however there was nothing more he could do for her.

Realizing how much he had upset Eleanor with his ranting, he said quietly, “Forget my blasphemous words, Sister. ‘Twas my grief speaking.” Not true, but he needed to soothe her.

Eleanor nodded, unshed tears clustering like raindrops on her thick, dark lashes. “I know, Nicholas, and I am so sorry. Like everyone else, I was very fond of Julianne. She will be sorely missed."

He was glad Eleanor had come to be with Julianne. He was less pleased that her husband Miles, his former friend, had accompanied her. Earlier, Nicholas had seen the man down in the great hall swilling his best wine. Waves of fury washed over him as he realized Miles would probably be glad Julianne had died and diminished Nicholas's happiness.

Had Miles realized that now Nicholas had a son, Miles’ elder boy would be replaced as Nicholas's heir? Could that set Miles to plotting against Nicholas and his child? Lately, Miles had displayed signs of discontent with his small holding of Norville Keep, land deeded to him by Nicholas when he wed Eleanor. Miles stood to gain should both Nicholas and the babe die.

He smiled grimly to himself, and then waved the women away, except Eleanor, whom he motioned to his side. “Sister,” he murmured, “Your husband's greed may soon cause strife between us."

"Oh, nay, Nicholas, he would not dare,” she whispered, her tawny brown eyes widening.

"Aye, Eleanor, he dares. He could already be planning accidents for me and my son."

And Eleanor, too, could be in danger. If Miles secured his fortune with Nicholas's holdings, what would stop him from doing away with a wife he did not love? With Barstow Castle and its extensive lands added to Norville Keep, he could petition the king for an heiress. Miles wanted power and these moves could make him a formidable baron indeed—if the king would allow it. Henry was more greedy than generous.

None of this he said aloud. Then an idea began to form in his mind. “So,” he paused, a stern expression on his face, “for the moment, I would have you keep Julianne's death from Miles and the castle folk. You may say she is extremely weak and will need much time to regain her strength. Time enough later for the truth."

If Miles believed Julianne still lived, mayhap he would hesitate to harm the new babe. A living Julianne could produce another child as well as keep good watch over this one. The lie might gain him enough time to go to London and procure more mercenaries to expand the ranks of his small army. For Miles would come against him as surely as Tuesday followed Monday. He could feel it in his bones. The ruse was worth a try.

"But, Nicholas...” Eleanor began, looking puzzled.

He frowned. “Do as I say, Sister. I will enlighten you at another time."

She bit her lip, and nodded. “As you wish."

He bade the others approach and gave them a shortened version of his orders, then added, “Believe me when I say this is very necessary for my son's safety."

He heaved a deep sigh, and then sent them about the business of washing and preparing Julianne's body for burial, one which would be without benefit of even a private mass. Not that it mattered if the mass was said or not. However, he wondered about Father Thomas, the castle priest. He knew Julianne had died. The man's overzealous faith, his inability to bend a little when necessary, all told Nicholas, he would not agree to keep Julianne's death a secret. Even if Nicholas lied, claiming Julianne lived, although wished to remain secluded, the priest would want to say a mass at her bedside or hear her confession. Handling this man could be a problem. But Nicholas would deal with him later.

"Lock the chamber, Eleanor, and allow no one except me entry."

"Of course, Nicholas. What will we do with Julianne's body?"

"Just prepare her for burial. I will decide later."

He stumbled from the room and ghosted down the winding stone steps to the great hall. Mounting the platform at the front, he stopped. Julianne's chair sat next to his, behind the lord's table. Anger at her death gripped him. She would never sit beside him again.

He threw himself into his high-backed chair, then observed Miles staring at him with a smug little smile tilting the corners of his mouth. Nicholas glared back, and his brother-in-law dropped his gaze. Bloody hell! Nothing would please that scoundrel more than discovering that Nicholas had lost his beautiful and loving wife. Aye, he had been right to decide Julianne's death must remain a secret. That would slow Miles down a little and give Nicholas time to prepare for what he feared would come of Miles’ greed and envy.

Miles must have misinterpreted Nicholas's belligerent expression, because he drew near and asked in a mocking tone, “She delivered a girl?"

Nicholas started to deny it, but stopped. If Miles believed the child a girl, he might hesitate to harm the babe, girls being of little worth as heirs.

"Aye, a girl."

Miles nodded in blatantly false sympathy. “Mayhap a son next time."

"Aye, next time.” Nicholas had no trouble acting both angry and disappointed. Inside, he hurt far worse. Miles moved away, undoubtedly believing he had successfully rubbed salt in a raw wound.

A girl. Why had he not thought of that earlier? Quickly, he rose and returned to his bedchamber where he instructed the women to say the babe was a girl when asked. No one questioned his reason for this. They must already think him mad...or irrational with grief.

Yesterday, one of Nicholas's men had reported hearing a soldier in Miles’ employ say his master planned to hire many new mercenaries. Why would Miles need more men, unless he had something foul in mind? Something such as acquiring Nicholas's lands by force. He scowled. Never would he have rewarded Miles with the small motte and bailey keep for helping him regain his inheritance, nor with Eleanor's hand in marriage, had he suspected the other man bore him such ill will.

Before leaving, he drew his sister aside. He had hoped to spare her his assessment of her husband's deceit, but these swiftly moving events forced him to speak.

"Eleanor, I beg a favor of you. Remain here for a fortnight or so and care for the babe. Find a wet nurse and swear her to secrecy. By now, you must understand the reason for this deception. Your husband is not the man I believed him to be when I gifted him with you. He covets my demesne and will stop at nothing to see me and my son dead so your son Richard may inherit.” He paused. “Unless you stand with Miles against me?"

"Nay! Oh, never, Nicholas.” She hesitated, and then added, “You speak the truth about Miles. I...I did not wish to cause enmity between you and him."

Nicholas rested his hand on her shoulder. “I beg your forgiveness, Eleanor. I have finally realized his true nature."

"There is nothing to forgive,” Eleanor assured him. “You did what you thought best. At the time, I, too, believed he would be a good husband, but I was wrong."

He drew in a sibilant breath. “Has he beaten you? I will kill him now if such is the case."

"Nay, not beaten. Struck me, aye.” She saw his fury and quickly added, “But not hard."

"That he should lay even a finger on you in anger is despicable. I swear, Eleanor, he shall soon answer to me.” His hands clenched into hard fists.

She clutched his arm. “I bear it for the sake of my sons. Please remember, Nicholas, he still has them in his power at our keep."

Nicholas nodded, regretting he must stay his hand for now. “If you wish, you may remain with me after...when what must be done is finished."

"We shall see,” she murmured.

Nicholas addressed Gwyneth and Alda again. “You have no duties now that Lady Julianne is dead.” His heart squeezed with pain; he took a deep breath and continued. “So, you will help Lady Eleanor care for the babe.” He gave each girl a pointed stare. After a moment, he left and descended the winding stone steps to the great hall.

Back in his chair on the dais, he avoided the gaze of Miles and the other castle folk. Maude, the serving wench, brought bread, cheese and ale, but he could not eat. He pushed it away and dropped his head in his hands.

The babe's name would be Edward, after his grandfather, he decided. Julianne would have approved the choice. He fought the tears welling up in his eyes—he, a man who until today, had never let his emotions show. Refusing to allow Miles to witness his distress, he reached into the leather pouch at his waist in search of his kerchief. His fingers touched warm metal.

After a moment, he remembered removing the amulet from Julianne's neck. He had bought the necklace in Damascus two years ago when he was fighting the Saracens. The crafty old Arab kept assuring him the amulet had magic properties. Nicholas had laughed cynically, and purchased it anyway, thinking it would go well with his Julianne's violet eyes. The old crone who wrapped the amulet had given him a calculating stare, but he dismissed her as a heathen, and a woman at that, who had too much curiosity for her own good.

Absently, Nicholas rubbed his thumb back and forth over the glowing surface of the amethyst, remembering the adorable expression on Julianne's face when he had given it to her. The stone grew warm and throbbed a little.

What the...?

England, April 15, 2009

In the blink of an eye, Nicholas found himself standing in the bailey by the steps to his keep. Bewildered, he glanced around and discovered he was not alone. A woman who looked like Julianne, though she could not be, because Julianne was dead, stood opposite him, a puzzled frown on her face.

"Do you have a headache, Nick?” she asked. “You moaned like you do when one of your migraines strikes."

Her words were difficult to understand. "Qu'est-ce que tu dis?"

"We're speaking French today, are we?” She sighed and switched into that language. This time he understood perfectly.

"Who are you?” Nicholas growled. “A witch trying to steal my sanity?” Both angry and apprehensive, he clenched his fists. “Bloody hell, my wife died last night and here you stand looking like her. Is this some kind of cruel game, witch?” For that matter, how had he gotten from the great hall to the bailey?

He caught his breath as the amulet moved restlessly in his hand. He remembered the strange stories he had heard in Damascus—tales of lamps inhabited by genies and flying carpets and gems with magical powers. And what the old Arab had said. A nervous shiver raced down his spine.

The woman's mouth dropped open. “You think I'm a witch who looks like your dead wife? You don't have a wife, Nick. You must be dreaming."

"I pray this is a dream. Get you away from me, witch,” he shouted, mastering his fears for the moment. As he started up the steps, he noticed his arms, which were bare to the elbow, had turned a lighter shade of tan. He flipped his hands over and stared at the palms. No calluses. Then he noticed the strange clothes he wore. He had never seen them before nor any like them. He ran his fingers over the smooth cloth of his body-hugging shirt.

He turned to the witch. “Where did I get these clothes?"

She sighed. “You bought them at the store, as you well know.” She frowned again. “Will you stop this, Nick? We're supposed to be discussing the Medieval Society's May Day Feast and you've gone off on a tangent. I don't know why I agree to help you every year."

Uneasy that she had followed him up the steps, he commanded, “Just go away. I do not need your help with whatever it is you are blathering about."

Then he took in what she was wearing. “Bloody hell, woman, what kind of gown is that? It has lost most of its skirt. Your legs are bare!” His levels of confusion and frustration were growing.

She gave him an annoyed glance. “You know, Nick, I put up with your idiosyncrasies most of the time, but today I'm in a hurry."

He shook his head and strode inside, deciding to ignore her. Mayhap she would leave him alone if he pretended she was not there.

Julie had taken time from grading papers, time she really couldn't spare, and driven out here to discuss the upcoming May Day event with Nick, the current Earl of Barstow. He'd started out focused, then suddenly switched to role-playing his ancestor. She sighed. It must be one of the days he amused the noon tour group by dressing like his namesake, the ancient Earl Nicholas de Montclair, and pretending to be annoyed at their intrusion. They loved it and so did he. For some reason, he hadn't changed into his medieval costume.

She watched as he stopped dead in the middle of the great hall and surveyed it, his eyes wide in feigned surprise. Before she could ask him where his costume was, the morning tour group arrived. Well, he wouldn't have time to change now.

On the days he interacted with the tourists, the agency charged the tour groups more, so naturally, Nick insisted on a larger fee than on the days when he was teaching medieval history at Cambridge. The fees helped pay the bills. And this drafty old place had plenty of them. For this reason, Nick opened his home to the public to help defray the huge taxes on it.

Julie had worked at scraping together enough money for the taxes ever since the mathematically challenged Nick Montclair had hired her two years ago to keep his books. Since she was also supposed to see his bills were paid, Julie often scolded him about his impulsive spending. He collected suits of old armor from different time periods and could waste vast sums on the purchase of one that caught his eye.

Nick stopped gawking and turned to face her. “I ask again, witch, what do you here? Is it your purpose in life to bedevil me?"

"What?” Now she knew he'd slipped a cog. His little plays were usually amusing, but he seemed genuinely angry—far from his usual mellow self.

"I would have an answer,” he growled.

Nick's wavy dark hair, amber eyes and muscular build would have appealed to most women. Julie required more than good looks in a man and unfortunately, Nick's personality bordered on the bland. The tinge of anger in his voice just now, animated his handsome face to new heights of interest. She told herself to ignore this disturbing fact. “Very funny,” she said, jamming her hands on her hips and glaring. “You can stop play-acting now."

Nick stared back as if he hadn't the foggiest idea what she was talking about. He looked puzzled.

"Funny? What means that?” He glared down at her from his six foot height.

"Amusing, droll, silly, foolish, whatever,” Julie snapped back. She had to teach a class in less than an hour and they'd gotten nowhere yet with plans for the feast.

Hearing voices and footsteps, she realized the tour guide was steering his group in their direction. That was the end of any planning session. Not that they'd settled on anything yet.

The guide continued his set patter about the keep and its long dead lord. Julie smiled. Americans were always fascinated by English castles and titles.

"Who are these people?” Nick demanded, gesturing toward the gaping group. “Bards?"

Before Julie could answer, one of the women asked loudly, “Who's he?"

The tour guide flushed at her stentorian tone. “You're in luck today. That's his lordship, Lord Nicholas de Montclair, the present Earl of Barstow."

"Oh, my, he's a handsome one, isn't he, Ethel?” The plump matron, clad in rumpled cotton slacks and a flowered over-blouse designed to disguise a spreading waistline, glanced at her similarly attired, gray-haired companion. “And a real English lord. Wish we had those in the States, don't you?” The heavy combined odor of the women's perfumes swirled around Julie and Nick. He wrinkled his nose, but made no comment.

"Sure do, Margery,” the other woman replied, peering approvingly at Nick.

Nick's black eyebrow shot up. “Les etats?" he asked, obviously pretending to understand only part of the woman's comment.

Julie wanted to shake him, but she played along for the sake of the money these people brought in. “A large country across the Atlantic Ocean, my lord,” she murmured.

"You mock me. There is nothing across the Atlantic save the edge of the world,” Nick stated firmly. The tour guide translated since Nick spoke in French. The tourists tittered.

"Why's he talking French?” asked Margery.

"All the nobles spoke French at that time,” the tour guide told her.

"My, how strange.” Ethel shook her head. “Didn't they think English was good enough for them?"

"Um-m, I guess that was it."

Julie could see the tour guide wasn't going to touch that one. The show over, he moved his group to the rear of the great hall and began pointing out features of the huge fireplace. Julie observed a few of the women glancing wistfully over their shoulders at the handsome lord—a man who at the moment stood scowling fiercely at Julie.

"I would speak privately with you, woman,” he muttered. She could hear the anger and frustration in his voice. But why? He usually enjoyed acting the lord of the castle for the tour groups. Maybe he was annoyed at not having had time to change into his costume. Whatever his problem, she was sick of the whole thing.

Nick gripped her wrist firmly as they walked toward the front door, away from the American tourists. “Before we discuss unwanted visitors in my keep, I must insist you find some proper clothing. Even a witch should have some modesty. Those old men were staring at your bare limbs."

The admiring look in his eyes as he glanced at her legs took the sting out of the brusque command. Still, it wasn't like Nick to pick a quarrel, even when aping his ancestor. She decided he had to be teasing.

"Uh huh. Aren't you tired of play-acting?” Nick seemed more confused today than usual. Sometimes she wondered about his sanity.

Shaking her head, Julie disengaged her wrist. He should have gone on the stage. “We'll have to finish up another time. I've got to get back to teach my class. Don't you have a class, too? Get your clothes changed and I'll drop you off.” She gave him a light shove. He needed to hurry. Classes would begin in half an hour. He glowered back at her.

Nicholas always deemed himself intelligent and quick to grasp new situations. But drop him off? Off what? Was she bent on driving him mad?

He glanced down at his clothing, forgetting the woman's curious words. He really should change. These soft, loose leggings and form-fitting, short-sleeved tunic were more than strange. The white shoes looked like nothing he had ever seen before. And what was a class?

As he started once more to demand an explanation, another woman also clad in odd clothing came across the hall and joined them. Tight, black leggings—surely the garb of a man—covered her limbs and some kind of shirt over what appeared to be a partial shift was knotted like a shawl beneath her breasts.

She was middle-aged and tall, near his own height, and large boned. Her long brown hair was tied back with a brightly colored scarf. Something about her seemed familiar. As he searched his memory, the new arrival stopped in front of them

"Hello, you two. How are the arrangements for the feast going?” Her words sounded something like those of the people who had just left.

"Not well, Lily. Nick's been entertaining the tourists instead of helping plan the menu.” The witch also spoke in what he thought was some strange form of Anglo-Saxon.

Lily glanced at her watch. “You'd better hurry, Julie. Don't you have a class at one?"

"Yes, I was just waiting for Nick."

By now, he'd begun to pick up a little of this speech. It seemed a bit like the serfs’ Anglo-Saxon—which he also spoke.

His patience exhausted, Nicholas bellowed, “Waiting for me to do what?"

The woman who looked like Julianne switched back to French. “Oh, do give it a rest, Nick. Just go change your clothes and we'll go."

"Go where?” Why was she giving him orders?

Lily laid a hand on the witch's arm. “Today's Friday. Nick's one o'clock class is a language lab on Thursdays."

"Oh, drat, I've got my days mixed up. I'd better run then. Don't forget you're coming to dinner tonight, Nick. And bring the account books. I want to see just how much you can afford as your part of the feast. You did say the Medieval Society was footing most of it, didn't you?"

Nicholas shrugged, wondering what she was talking about. “Your words are senseless,” he said, beginning to lose all patience with these two. Why was he, a grieving husband, being subjected to this senseless prattle?

With an exasperated sigh, the witch flipped her long blond curls over her shoulder and turned away. Her lovely bare legs shot a lick of fire to Nicholas's groin. Mesmerized by her perfection, his gaze moved upward to her bottom. Julianne had always had a beautifully rounded one; a bottom that he alone had observed. For some reason, he wanted to wrap his cloak around this beautiful witch, then remembered he wasn't wearing one.

"Bloody hell, whoever-you-are, come back here!” he shouted. He started after her, but Lily caught his forearm.

"No, Lord Nicholas. Let her go. We need to talk. Without Julie."

Anger surged through him. How dare these women speak to their lord this way? And what had happened to the people who usually half-filled the great hall?

He whirled around and took a threatening step toward Lily. “Aye, we do,” he thundered, “I will have answers and I will have them now."

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Chapter 2
Nicholas glared at the woman called Lily. He wanted to shake her, except then she might refuse to answer his many questions. Patience, a virtue he had in small supply, might get him farther.

"Well?” He raised an eyebrow and gave her his lord-of-the-manor stare.

She returned it unflinchingly. “So, Lord Nicholas, you arrived safely. I meant to be here to meet you, but I was, er, detained.” The tall woman had switched from French to Anglo-Saxon. Odd she would choose the guttural speech used by the serfs and villeins. Her clothes, though strange, were of too fine a quality and her speech too refined for her to belong to that caste.

"Do I know you, woman? You seem familiar."

"Yes, my lord, you do. I am Lily, the healer in Barstow Village. You have bought potions from me several times. Also, I work in fine metals. Bracelets, chains—amulets."

Nicholas frowned. “I remember a healer named Lily at my wife's childbirth bed, but she was an old hag."

"Healers come with many faces and in a multitude of shapes and sizes. It is sometimes best not to trust what your eyes think they see.” Her words were as strange as her clothes.

"But, how came you here?” If she were the midwife who attended his son's birth, what magic had she worked to change her appearance so drastically? A chill like a frigid mountain stream raced down his spine.

"In the same manner as you, my lord."

"And that was...?"

"An abrupt passage through time."

He stared at her. It was close enough to his own experience, at least the abrupt part. But through time? Bloody hell, where am I?

He strode over to his chair and sat down, motioning Lily to stand on the opposite side of the lord's table. He badly needed to keep his authority intact.

"First, I would know, who is this witch who looks like my wife? She orders me around as though she were the Queen of England. Do not tell me I am mistaken for her words were most disrespectful. And her garb is that of a strumpet.” His modest, obedient wife would have swooned with shame to be seen in such clothes.

Lily leveled her gaze at him and ignored his question. “You rubbed the amulet, didn't you? The one Lady Julianne always wore."

Nicholas glared. Something fluttered in his hand. He glanced down and realized he still clutched the necklace in his fist. He opened his hand and stared at it. “I believe I did. What has that to do with...all of this?"

"The Arab you bought it from, didn't he tell you the amulet had magical properties?” She took the piece of jewelry from his palm and held it up. A stray sunbeam from one of the long, narrow windows caught the faceted cuts, sending twinkling sprays of color across the table.

"Aye, but how did you...?"

She interrupted. “You didn't believe it at the time. Do you now?"

He shook his head. “Nay. You are making a fool of me."

"I see you need convincing.” With a smile, Lily turned and swept her hand around. The huge chandelier hanging above them blazed with light, illuminating even the darkest corners of the great hall.

Nicholas leaped to his feet. “What magic is this, witch?” He stared at the chandelier. The lights did not look like beeswax candles.

"Not magic. Just what people today call electricity. You have come forward in time."

Nicholas glanced around. The room smelled fresh and there were no rushes mixed with herbs on the floor. No dogs rooted for scraps, no people bustled in and out. Where were Sir Edgar and Nicholas's aunt, Lady Beatrix? For that matter, would he find Eleanor and baby Edward up in his solar?

Mayhap what Lily said was so, but he would need more proof. “You lie,” he said with a scowl. Let her admit she had tricked him.

"No, my lord, I do not lie. Please be seated and I will try to explain a few things to you."

Nicholas fisted his hands on his hips. “You had best have a logical tale."

Lily smiled. “Oh, yes, I have a good, if complicated, story to tell. Do I have your permission to recount what has happened?"

"Aye,” he said wearily. “It can be no worse than what occurred last even and this morn.” He sank onto his high-backed oak chair and waited.

"It is not bad, at all, milord. You're just in a different time. The place is the same."

He nodded. “The latter is true. This is my keep."

"Yes...many hundreds of years in the future. The year is 2009 AD. The month and day are the same as those you left."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “What? How can this be?"

"You hold in your hand a magic amulet which makes all things possible."

"You say my body has traveled somehow over the centuries?"

"Well, not exactly. Your essence has traveled. Your body remained behind."

"Nay. This looks like my... “Then he remembered thinking his hands and arms seemed different somehow. He gazed down at them.

Again, Lily seemed to know his thoughts. “Exactly. You are using the body of a distant descendant of yours, the present Lord of Barstow. Coincidentally, his name is the same as yours."

Nicholas gave his head a hard shake. All this was beyond his comprehension. Pushing those thoughts aside, he decided to ask about the other witch. Lily had called her Julie. Julie could be short for Julianne.

"Who is that woman who looks like Julianne? Has my wife somehow come forward to occupy the body of a living person?” he asked hopefully. If so, he would demand Lily find a way to return them to their own time. Mayhap this future woman had given Julianne a new life. His head began to ache from the strain of sorting all this out.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lord, Julianne is truly dead. This is Julie Summers, a woman of this time, who merely resembles her. She's a friend of your descendant, Nick de Montclair. Now, please listen carefully to me, Lord Nicholas. I have to go to my shop for a little while. As I said before, this castle belongs to your descendant. Go up to his solar. It is the same one you had. Stay there till I get back.” She glanced at the dirty clothes he wore. “Nick's been polishing armor again, I see. You'll find some clean clothes to wear."

He glared. “I will do as I please in my own home,” he said stiffly. “I do not take orders from villeins."

She ignored his words. “Tonight you're going to dinner at Julie's. Don't worry about finding her house. I'll drive you there."

Her words made no sense. Drive? Did she think him a cow or sheep? Mayhap some form of fowl? He shook his head and scowled again. “Go get the witch and bring her back. I would question her.” Lily had already told him Julianne was dead, and this woman was merely someone who resembled her, but he would believe nothing until he heard it from the other woman's mouth. If necessary, he would kiss her. That would tell him much.

"Later. She's busy now and so am I. I'll explain some more when I come back. I have a customer coming in soon.” She turned and walked swiftly away from him.

"Wait! I order you!” he shouted. She ignored him, kept going, and disappeared through the front door of the keep.

He had not thought of the bards—tourists the younger witch had called them—in quite a while. He looked around. They, too, had gone. Not that he cared. He wanted no gawking fools from some place called the States filling up his great hall. He was alone and his usual confidence had deserted him like rats from a sinking ship. The two witches ignored all his demands and left. Even the bards who had laughed at him had moved on.

Nicholas sighed. The last thing he wanted was to converse with strangers or catch the eye of elderly crones. Mayhap he should do as Lily had ordered and go up to his solar, not because she had said it, but because he was curious, that was all.

He started for the stairs, when a sudden growling in his stomach stopped him. He suspected shouting for Maud, the serving wench, would not produce the desired results. She seemed to have disappeared along with everyone else.

Delicious odors wafting from somewhere made his stomach growl again, so he followed his nose. It did not lead him outside. The kitchen was no longer separate from the keep. What were these people thinking? The risk of fire made it dangerous to cook in the main building.

He paused in the doorway and glanced around in amazement. It was like no kitchen he had ever seen. The smell of roasting meat seemed to come from a box made of polished metal.

Tables fastened to the wall were covered in more metal. He started over to inspect them. Then the splashing of water caught his attention. It was running into one of two large boxes lined with more metal. What looked like the handle of a cooking pan stuck up above the water.

"Hi, Nick. Ready for lunch?” A stout, middle-aged man wearing a white apron appeared and stopped the water from overflowing.

Nicholas glared. “You will address me as Lord Nicholas. Since when have I encouraged such familiarity?"

The short bald man grinned at him. “Very funny, Nick. I see you're playing the lord of the manor today.” He switched to French. “Lunch in fifteen minutes, milord. Shepherd's pie."

Lunch? What was that? He hoped it might be a meal.

The cook hurried across the room and yanked open the door to the metal box from which the enticing smells came. Nicholas's stomach rumbled again.

After checking on the dish, the cook turned back to him. “Where do you want to eat today, Nick?” Nicholas was too hungry to remind him once more about his manner of address.

He frowned. “Why, where I always dine. At the lord's table in the great hall."

"You don't have to impress anyone. The morning tour just left. You—"

Nicholas interrupted. “I said I would eat there. Now be so dutiful as to follow orders, my good fellow.” He stomped out of the kitchen. A glance over his shoulder told him the cook stood staring gape-mouthed after him. Well, let him look as long as he produced some food. Nicholas decided he would have time to look for his solar while he waited.

Julie retrieved her bicycle from beside the castle's gate and pedaled furiously along the road to the university. She was going to be late. Nick's foolishness had taken more time than she had to spend.

What had gotten into him? Usually he was excited about the feast, more than ready to participate in the planning. Of course, when it came time to do the work involved, he usually wandered off to polish his collection of armor. She smiled. Nick wasn't really lazy, just a bit obsessed with his hobby. He viewed the thirteenth century as if it happened last year, not eight hundred years ago.

Today his play-acting had gone beyond the usual amusing reenactment of a time long past. The vehemence in his voice as he spit out commands, the expression on his face when he accused her of being a witch, his body language—all were different. She could almost believe he was his infamous ancestor.

That was silly, she told herself. Nick was just a kind, scholarly man who had once thought himself in love with her. The one time he'd kissed her, she'd felt no overwhelming passion as his lips met hers. When she gently turned him down, offering friendship and help with his accounts, he had accepted readily. Almost too readily to convince her that his heart had been in the kiss. Maybe he realized she could leave his employment to pursue her own interests, but if they married, his comfortable life would continue uninterrupted. Cynical? Yes, but more true than not. Nick's passion was reserved for his armor.

The honk of a car horn startled her. Julie glanced back to see Lily's Ford Escort coming up behind her. Her friend waved a hand as she passed and shouted, “Hurry!"

Julie laughed and called after the car, “I will."

Then her laughter stilled. Lily was another out-of-the-ordinary person. You thought you knew her. Then she'd say something deep and prophetic that almost took your breath away with its wisdom. Also, one minute the village had had no hand-crafted jewelry store. Then overnight, one had appeared, along with Lily. No one knew where she had come from and if asked, she turned the question aside. After Julie poked around one day in Lily's shop, the two had become fast friends.

Julie pumped harder and reached the university as the tower clock pealed the hour. Grabbing her gown, she ran inside and arrived at the classroom out of breath.

Before she began her lecture, a quick thought raced through her mind. Tonight she'd watch Nick closely. Maybe she'd imagined the sudden passion in his voice. But low in her belly, a tiny flame flickered, a strange awareness, a sudden attraction to a man she thought she knew. She'd have to be careful not to fall for Mr. Wrong, because he'd suddenly grown a backbone. Nick had his own charm, but she was searching for a knight in shining armor. Not literally, of course.

She arranged her notes on the podium and launched enthusiastically into her lecture. Life seemed a little more interesting than it had yesterday.

Nicholas mounted the winding stairs leading to his solar. He opened the door to his bedchamber and stepped inside. He half expected to see Julianne lying on the bed and Eleanor and the other women preparing her body for burial. Not only was the room unoccupied, it looked nothing at all like his bedchamber. A large bed, very low to the ground with no curtains to keep out the harmful night air, met his gaze. On it lay some clothes.

He went over and picked up a pair of loose leggings like the ones he wore, only cleaner. They were dark blue and made of some soft material he had never seen before. The opening was odd, metal of some kind. Curious. He dropped them and inspected the shirt. It seemed very short, had expensive pearl buttons down the front and a strange looking collar. A clean fresh odor emanated from it. On the floor were some more white shoes only cleaner than the ones he wore. On the bedpost hung a short surcoat made of multicolored wool.

He shed his dirty garments and dropped them on the floor. Will, his squire, would see to them. Or mayhap not. He found some kind of stretchy short stockings tucked in the shoes and slipped them over his feet. A few trial and error attempts and the leggings slid up over his hips. That clever closing could be dangerous to his manhood, he thought with a wry grin. He pulled on the shirt, buttoned it up to his neck, and reached for the shoes.

They did not look comfortable, but were, he admitted grudgingly. He stood and looked around again. Where was the garderobe? He had become aware of a mounting need to locate it. It used to be down the hall. However, when he searched the corridor outside his door, he could not find it. Back inside his bedchamber, he noticed another door which had not been there in the past. He yanked it open and stopped, speechless.

A large tub, made of some kind of white, marble-like material, took up one wall. It would take many buckets of hot water to fill that, he mused. A basin made of the same substance was set into a table. Tentatively, he gave one of its glass knobs a push. Hot water splashed his hand. Not a bad idea to conduct water directly into the basin. But, how to keep it hot? The answer to that defied him for the moment.

Next, he turned his attention to the strangely shaped white object squatting on the floor. His mind told him what it had to be. He pushed the handle down. Water swirled in the bowl and disappeared. He had heard of a duke who had a stream running under his garderobe. Quite obviously, someone had diverted a stream into this bowl. Ingenious. He would have to make some changes when he arrived back in his own century—if he ever did. A queasy feeling squeezed his gut as he realized he had just accepted Lily's claim of traveling through time. Best not to dwell on that right now. He would ask Lily for more explanations when she returned.

He used the facilities and once more admired the efficient disposal of waste, but these wonders began to pale in view of his need to fill his complaining stomach. Best he descend and see what the disrespectful cook had prepared for his dinner. If the food was as spectacular as the other marvels he had glimpsed, he might enjoy his stay in this century more than he had thought.

Then he remembered his one-day-old motherless son and dismissed the wonders of the future. He had a child to raise and protect from Miles. The immediate problem was how to get back and attend to his pressing affairs. When his stomach was full, he could attack the matter more logically.

He hurried down the winding stairs, anxious to partake of what the cook had prepared. Almost anything would please him right now. Problem solving could wait until later.

As he finished the last of the delicious shepherd's pie, Lily appeared again. He laid down his spoon and scowled at her. “Have you come back to answer some of my questions?” he inquired in none too pleasant a tone.

She nodded and stood respectfully before him. “There are several things you should know before you confront them yourself and are bewildered."

"Only several? If I am where you say, and mind you, I am not sure I accept your explanation, there will be hundreds of things I need to know.” He really hated to admit it. Being in charge of his life was something he had done well until the last day or so.

"That is true.” Lily stared off across the hall as if in deep thought. He waited.

After a minute, she turned her gaze on him. “Let's begin with your body."

"Nay, you may forget my body. That is one thing I do understand."

"Are you sure? Have you looked closely at it since you got here?"

Nicholas held out his hands, then remembered thinking they did not look right.

They seemed paler and less calloused than he remembered. And the scar which ran from the thumb of his left hand across the palm was missing. “I see only less darkness of skin and that a minor scar is gone."

Lily smiled. “Exactly. Check your shoulder later, the one which took the blow from the Saracen scimitar. You will find no scar there either."

Amazed, he raised his eyes to hers. “How could this be, woman? Tell me!"

"One more thing. Did you cut your hair since this morning, Lord Nicholas?"

His hand felt for his shoulder-length hair and met only empty space. “Nay. What has happened to it?"

"This is not your body,” Lily said. “We have just proved it."

"Ridiculous,” he scoffed, picking up his cup and quaffing a large swallow of ale. “Who else's could it be?"

"I told you before. It belongs to the present lord of Barstow Castle, Nick Montclair."

"You jest,” he scoffed. “I can feel my arms and legs and walk and eat."

"What has happened is a phenomenon called essence transference. Your mind, your spirit, your soul are here, but your body remains firmly entrenched in the thirteenth century.” His mouth dropped open. “I do not believe such a thing could happen."

Lily lifted an eyebrow. “Really? So how do you explain your existence here?"

"I can scarcely believe it, much less explain,” he muttered, shaking his head skeptically.

"Believe."

"So where is this Nick, my descendant?"

"Dormant. You, the stronger personality, have taken over."

"And what of my own body, the one you so carelessly left in the thirteenth century?” he demanded, shaking with rage at what Lily claimed to have done.

"Your body is suspended in the time you left. When you return, not even a minute will have passed since you transferred here."

"Well, that is a relief,” he sneered. “Considering my wife has just died and Miles is a threat to my little son. Why am I here? Am I to find a solution to my problems?"

"I believe so,” Lily replied softly. “There is an answer for you if you will but seek it."

Nicholas snorted. “And from now on, my chickens will lay golden eggs."

"I doubt it,” Lily said with a chuckle.

Although far from satisfied with the woman's explanation, he changed the subject. “Tell me more about this witch who looks like Julianne. Who walks about so immodestly clad and gives me orders?"

"I told you her name before. Julie Summers. She lives alone in a cottage in Barstow Village and teaches medieval studies and Norman French at Cambridge."

"She teaches?” Nicholas was aghast. Women knew nothing save how to do housewifely tasks and run a castle properly for their husbands. They most certainly did not teach. Why, Julianne could not even read. “What does she teach—cooking?” he said sarcastically refusing to acknowledge the subjects Lily had mentioned could be taught by a woman.

"In the twenty-first century, women are equal to men. They can do anything they wish."

"Ridiculous. I certainly would not wish to live in a time where women do not know their place.” He stomped across the hall to the entry building and gazed out across the upper bailey. It was empty. No voices shouted orders, no horses, no men-at-arms, no washerwomen, and no peddlers. No one bringing milk and eggs. Totally deserted.

He spun on his heel and marched back to face Lily. “Who are you?"

"Someone who is trying to help solve your problems.” She smiled, but Nicholas had the distinct feeling she had neatly side-stepped his question.

"Well, one of my problems is that my people are missing. Where are they?” This woman was driving him mad with her evasions.

"You have no people, Lord Nicholas. Those who work here, and there are not many, are paid wages for their service. And they live elsewhere.

He struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Bloody Hell. I do not wish to stay here. Send me back to my own time, witch, where things make sense."

"Not yet. First, you must discover the reason you are here. Then, perhaps we will talk about returning."

Nicholas clenched his fists and closed his eyes in total frustration. When he opened them a moment later, Lily had disappeared. No sound had marked her going. Nicholas shivered and reminded himself this woman was a witch. It would not do to upset her. He vowed to be more pleasant in the future, especially since she had the power to send him home.

He finished his ale, then walked slowly up the stairs to his solar. Exhaustion had set in and the bed looked very inviting. He went over and sat on the mattress. Its comfort called to him and he lay down on the coverlet, determined to think over all the marvelous and strange things he had learned today. However, his eyelids grew heavy. He had had no sleep last night and was too exhausted to solve anything now. Later...

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 3
The last student finally left. Julie heaved a sigh of relief and hurried out into the warm, late afternoon sunshine. The air was filled with the smell of green growing things. It would be a shame to miss out on such a glorious day, though she felt a bit guilty about not working on her book.

During some of her research, she'd come across a number of delightful medieval love poems. Most were in French, however she'd decided to translate them into English. With each grouping of poems, she added discussions of chivalry and courtly love, and how these particular poems related to the time in which they were written.

If the book sold, maybe she could afford to give up moonlighting as Nick's bookkeeper and devote all her energy to teaching and writing. Her position with the university was high on prestige, but low on salary. Published, she would earn a little more. Less exciting than looking for her knight in shining armor, but infinitely more attainable. However, she wouldn't look away if Sir Lancelot happened to ride by.

With a sigh, she remembered that Nick was coming to dinner. She couldn't work up any enthusiasm for this. If only he'd talk about something besides his suits of armor.

She unlocked her bicycle and pedaled off, trying not to run down any of the college students who cluttered the narrow streets of the famous old university city. A short time later as she entered Barstow Village's high street, Lily came out of her shop and waved. Julie hopped down and walked beside her friend.

"I'm going to the store for some mint jelly. We're having lamb tonight. And you?"

"Same place, different reason.” Lily was being cryptic again. But why?

They reached the store, went inside and separated. Although Julie had only one item to purchase, Lily was waiting outside when she emerged.

"Done already?"

Lily smiled. “I didn't need much. Did you say Nick was coming to dinner tonight?"

"Yes. We need to settle on the guest list and the food for the May Day Feast. And we both have to eat."

"That's true, I suppose."

Julie gave a silent sigh. Lily probably thought Julie should expand her social life and having Nick to dinner on a Friday night, when other twenty-somethings were out on dates, wouldn't make it happen. As if she had a choice. Few young men taught at Cambridge, Nick being the only one she knew. And he wasn't what she was looking for. Then she remembered the strange heat that had flared this morning in her belly when he spoke. How the passion in his voice had flowed through her body like a warm stream of water.

She sighed. This evening was not about romance, just getting the feast organized.

Lily interrupted her thoughts. “Would I be too rude if I asked to join you tonight?"

Surprised that Lily would want to spend such a dull evening, Julie quickly said, “Of course not. We'd love to have you. But be warned, Nick will probably switch the conversation from the feast to ancient armor."

Lily raised a dark eyebrow. “You'd be surprised at the extent of my interest in that.” Before Julie could question that comment, Lily asked, “What time should I come?"

"Seven would be good."

"I'll bring some wine.” Lily turned and walked quickly back toward her shop.

Odd, Julie thought. Her friend didn't appear to have bought anything. Had she been waiting for Julie for some reason? She shook her head. First, Nick started acting strangely, and now Lily. Hopefully, by tonight, they'd be back to their usual selves.

Someone was shaking him. Nicholas shot up and grabbed for his sword only to find it missing. Seeing Lily, he slumped back against the pillows and glared at her. “Do not startle me, woman, if you value your life."

Lily chuckled. “Come, Lord Nicholas. You need to get ready to go to Julie's."

She stepped back and waited.

He stretched and swung his feet to the floor. “I feel wondrously refreshed. Never have I slept on a better bed,” he declared, staring at the tall woman who stood holding several garments over her arm. “Of what is this mattress made? It cannot be straw or feathers."

"No,” Lily agreed, “it's not made of either. I'll explain another time. There are more important lessons to be learned before we leave."

"Lessons?"

"You must learn to access Nick's brain so you can speak and understand the English of today. And for that, I must have your cooperation. Now, where is Julianne's amulet?"

Annoyed, Nicholas found it on the bedside table and with a scowl handed it to Lily. This witch was too controlling, but he dared not cross her.

"Good.” Lily plucked the delicate necklace from his hand. “Please be seated, my lord. This will not take long."

Realizing he was not really in control of this situation though he hated to admit it, he sat back down on the bed. “Be quick,” he huffed, fisting his hands on his knees.

Lily nodded. She held the necklace by its clasp with the jewel hanging down in front of his face. Slowly she started it swinging back and forth, back and forth.

Nicholas stared, mesmerized. The room began to fade. Dimly, he heard Lily's soft voice chanting in some strange language. The fragrance of lilacs filled his nostrils and his eyes drifted half shut. Lilacs? He had seen none outside today.

Lily droned on. His head buzzed, like a hive of bees had arrived. The sensation grew stronger and the lilac odor overpowering. His head began to ache. Bile rose into his throat, burned, then subsided. His mind felt stuffed with knowledge, both his own and that of someone else. He grimaced. Purchasing the amulet in that eastern bazaar had not been his finest idea. Ignoring the Arab's warning had also been equally foolish.

Through the haze in his head, he heard Lily say, “When I snap my fingers you will awake with access to Nick's mind."

Snap. The haze lifted and the about-to-burst feeling in his head subsided. His stomach tried once more to rebel. He swallowed hard several times, then opened his eyes.

Lily dropped the amulet into her shirt pocket. “A little rough, eh?"

"More than a little,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

"Are my words coming easily to you?"

"Aye, but they did before."

She smiled. “Ah, but I was speaking French then. Now I'm speaking modern English. There is a huge difference, my lord.” She seemed pleased with herself.

Nicholas scowled. “How did you do that?” he asked reluctantly. To have a woman, even a witch, best him was disagreeable.

"Do you remember what the old Arab in Damascus told you about the power of the amethyst amulet?"

Startled, he nodded. How had she known of that? Only Edgar and Miles had heard what the man said that day and neither of them would have told Lily.

"Magic,” she replied, as if in answer to his unspoken question.

Ignoring his slack-jawed amazement, she handed him the clothes she'd brought. “Come, you'll want to bathe and shave before we leave,” she said.

Numbly, he followed, trying with difficulty to regain his composure. All his life, he'd kept his distance from witches. And here he was, dependent on one. Nicholas shivered.

In the garderobe, Lily pushed a knob on the wall. “This turns the lights off and on."

He nodded. “And I turn these handles to get water?"

"Yes. Adjust them to the temperature you want. One is cold, the other hot. Are you beginning to tap into Nick's knowledge?"

"Aye. I understand the workings of this...sink?"

"Yes.” On the wall was a piece of glass. She pulled and it swung outward.

"A...medicine cabinet. Am I correct?"

She smiled. “You are using Nick's mind now.” She picked up an object from the glass shelf. “This is a..."

"Razor. For shaving.” He examined it. Far different from the sharp knife he usually used, which often left his skin raw.

She continued through toothpaste and toothbrush. “And you already know how to use a comb and soap."

"I can manage, Lily,” he snarled. The quicker this woman left, the better. This whole experience was madness.

She nodded and went out, shutting the door behind her.

After the best bath he'd ever had, Nicholas toweled off and removed his bristly whiskers.

He wrapped a towel around his hips and ventured into the bedroom. Lily had disappeared, but the garments she had brought still lay on the bed where he had dropped them.

He dressed more confidently than before in dark blue trousers—a wonderful light weight wool—and a stiff-collared white shirt that buttoned down the front. He knew it should be tucked into the trousers, though that was not the way he would have worn it in his other life. He drew the belt through the loops and then regarded a long piece of cloth in a dark blue and green plaid. He'd have to ask Lily how this went on. Socks, shoes—different from the ones he'd worn earlier. These were shiny, black and less comfortable.

Draping the dark blue coat over one shoulder, he descended the winding stone stairs to the hall. He spotted Lily perched on the table, swinging her legs and looking pensive.

He arched an eyebrow and held out the piece of material. “I'm not sure how this goes."

Lily hopped off the table and took the cloth from him. “It goes around your neck.” Deftly, she placed it under his shirt collar and tied what she called a four-in-hand knot.

"It's too tight,” he grumbled, not used to the choking effect endured by modern men.

She ignored his complaint. “Come with me. We're going for a ride, but not on a horse.” Although he sensed what she might mean, he lifted a questioning eyebrow again. She added, “I thought I'd warn you so you won't come unglued on your first automobile ride."

Nicholas frowned. “Whatever that might be, I will not come unglued, as you put it."

A few minutes later, as Lily's car moved across the lower bailey and out over the drawbridge, he wasn't so sure. Fascinated and slightly apprehensive would describe it better. He gripped the seat surreptitiously and watched the scenery fly by. Did people still have horses? He searched Nick's mind and was reassured when he found that they did.

In less than five minutes, they arrived at Julie's, a distance which in the past would have taken him twice as long at a full gallop. He gazed down the high street and gasped. It bore little resemblance to the Barstow Village of his time. Gone was the muddy lane. The street was paved and the houses larger and better kept. Automobiles like Lily's stood along the roadside. What people he could see wore plain but clean clothes and well-fed children played in the dooryards. Lights on poles turned the dusk to day. Amazing!

He slid from the car and saw Julie in the doorway, smiling at them. He stopped and stared at her. This witch was certainly comely. Nevertheless, he supposed a witch could take any form that pleased her. It would be easy to fall under her spell, so he would have to be careful. His new knowledge of the language should help him avoid any snares she might set.

He followed the older witch up the walk, glancing at the stone cottage with its thatched roof. The younger witch shut the door and waved them toward a group of comfortable looking chairs clustered around a stone fireplace. A hearty blaze warmed the small room. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

"Aye, ale.” He tried not to stare at his hostess’ lovely face framed by her long golden curls, so much like Julianne's.

Julie shook her head. “Sorry, no ale, just beer and wine."

He sighed. Perhaps this future wasn't so great after all. “Beer, then,” he said, selecting a chair and sinking into its amazing softness.

This room was clean and neat, he thought, but so small. One could drop it two score and ten times into his great hall. His gaze stopped on a group of paintings hanging above the fireplace. Those must have cost a great deal. And to find them in a crofter's cottage! Amazing. This Julie must be very wealthy even though her house itself was humble. Lily had said she taught, which meant she had been educated. He wondered why those in authority would allow a woman to gain an education, much less tutor boys. And why did she live in this tiny cottage if she had wealth?

Lily handed a bottle of wine to Julie who took it and disappeared.

Lily listened for a moment, then rose and plucked an eating tool of some kind from the table. “Nick,” she whispered. “This is a fork. Don't spear your meat with your knife. Just use it to cut. Hold the fork like this.” She demonstrated. “And don't pick up your food with your fingers unless it's bread. If in doubt, watch me."

He nodded grudgingly. It displeased him greatly to be instructed in table manners by this woman. Anyway, why should he care about impressing this Julie if she were not Julianne?

Then he remembered that after this meal, they were to decide on food and entertainment for the May Day Feast. At least he knew about that—somewhat. His cook and steward had planned last year's feast and he had arranged the entertainment for his guests. For him it had been a joyous day and evening because he and Julianne had also wed on that day. At the time, he'd concentrated more on his lovely bride than the food. Still, he knew what would be normal fare for this feast. Discussing his everyday life would be easier than watching his manners.

Julie appeared with a platter of his favorite meat, roast lamb. The delicious smell started his stomach rumbling. How would she know what he liked unless she was Julianne? That was puzzling. Mayhap witches could read minds. He scowled to indicate his displeasure.

However, when Lily touched his shoulder, he took his place at the table. He eyed the dishes made of some unknown material. No pewter plates or bread trenchers for this woman. She must have much gold. Narrowing his eyes, he sipped his beer and watched Lily wield her fork. It did not look too difficult. After a moment, he picked up his fork and began to eat. Although Lily appeared relieved, Julie looked puzzled. He sensed she was not privy to Lily's secrets.

It was time to give his overcharged mind a rest and enjoy this fine meal. Afterward, he would demand answers from the two witches. He must make them send him back to his own time. The problems still awaiting him would not solve themselves. If all this was a dream, it was time to wake up.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 4
Julie saw Lily glance at her watch. Her friend designed both expensive jewelry, which she sold on consignment, and inexpensive paste imitations for a local gift shop. In the past, the start of the tourist season was her busiest time of year. Was Lily worried about finishing something she'd promised for tomorrow? If so, why invite herself to dinner?

"I'm not trying to get rid of you, Lily, but if you've got a rush order, Nick and I will understand.” Julie began gathering up the dirty dishes. “I can run him home afterward."

She wondered why Lily had picked up Nick in the first place. He could have driven himself and it was out of Lily's way. More mysteries.

"I'm never too busy to help my friends.” Lily gathered up some more dishes, and followed Julie into the kitchen.

Julie smiled. “I appreciate your offer, but surely you aren't really interested in how many kegs of beer and bottles of wine we need,” she said, still puzzled by a sense of Nick and Lily's surprising alliance. Were they that close?

"You never know, I might be.” Lily lifted the tray of Royal Dalton cups and saucers and moved back into the dining room before Julie could ask what she meant.

Julie picked up a plate of freshly baked tea biscuits and followed her. “Don't think we're not grateful for your help, but..."

Lily placed the tray on the table. “I have time. Otherwise I wouldn't have offered."

"I just thought...” Julie let the words drift away. She set the plate of biscuits next to the teapot and Nick immediately reached for one. His hand brushed Julie's and to her astonishment, an electric sizzle raced up her arm.

His startled amber eyes met hers. So, he felt it, too. After all the time they'd known one another, how strange to have this happen. But it changed nothing. She would not get involved with Nick because of a sexual sizzle. He was still the same man he had been yesterday.

His gaze continued to hold hers, almost sucking the breath from her chest with its intensity. The odor of his aftershave drifted up to her nostrils. And something else—something very male.

Lily interrupted their private moment. “Shall we get started?” She gave Nick a long stare. Once again, some silent communication passed between them. Why was Lily sticking to Nick like a fly caught in honey? The two only knew each other through her. Didn't they?

"If you have work to do, Lily, I can walk home,” Nick said, then swiveled his dark gaze from the older woman back to Julie.

Julie bit back a question. Darned if she'd ask what was going on. Nick had been taking himself home without help for as long as she'd known him.

"You won't have to walk. I'm staying.” Lily sat down and pulled a yellow legal pad that Julie had placed on the table in front of her. Picking up the pen that lay beside it, she looked expectantly toward the other two. “I'll take notes."

Why didn't Lily want to leave them alone together? Although Nick offered to walk home, the minute he said it, Lily appeared to make up her mind to stay.

Julie seated herself and said briskly, “Let's discuss the meat and fowl."

To her surprise, Nick spoke up. So far, he had seemed reluctant to say much this evening.

"Suckling pig, spring lamb like we had tonight, perhaps veal or venison. As to fish..."

He trailed off. Had he run out of ideas already?

"Perhaps some fowl,” Lily suggested. “Chicken, pigeon, some stuffed doves."

"And a duck or two,” Nick added.

Julie frowned. “This is getting expensive. We could just have some mutton instead of all the birds. Chicken would be okay. They're fairly cheap."

They argued for fifteen minutes about which dishes to serve, Nick continually insisting his guests would expect the best.

"Why do you say that?” Julie asked. “If we emphasize quality, variety won't be so important. A fish, two meats and a fowl should be sufficient."

"Then we must have huge quantities of those four.” Nick was adamant.

"Huge quantities? How many people are you asking this year?"

"Why, the whole village and the household knights and retainers."

"The whole village!” Julie gasped. “Close to five thousand people live here. You can't afford that kind of party, Nick."

"Oh?” He raised an arrogant dark eyebrow. “Are you an authority on my finances, Julie?"

"Probably more than you are,” she shot back.

Nick snorted. “I would never permit a woman free access to my estate records."

"Uh, Nick...” Lily began.

He turned to her. “No, Lily, let her talk. I am curious what she knows about the earnings of my lands."

"For heaven sakes, Nick. I do your books. How could I not know?” Her tolerance of Nick's new macho attitude was wearing thin. He was wasting time playing the lord of the castle again. And what household knights and retainers? The cook, the cleaning women?

"You do my...” He stopped, his lips thinning into a straight line.

He slanted a glance at Lily, seeming to seek confirmation.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"From now on, I will keep my own records. He gave Julie a withering look.

"Fine.” She tilted her chin. “You do that.” Since he hadn't been good with numbers before, why did he think he could do better now?

"Women keeping accounts!” he muttered, shaking his head.

"Could we get back to the feast?” Julie asked icily.

"Let us speak of drink.” Nick glanced at his half full glass of beer. “Do you have ale in this misbegotten time? If so, I suggest..."

"Stop right there. I'm tired of your lord of the manor play-acting. Just lose it and get down to the matter at hand."

"To what do you refer?” he asked, his voice as cold as hers. “I am the lord of the manor, not acting like one."

She was about ready to tell him what he could do with his job till she remembered the paucity of her own bank account. Until she could test the publishing market with a finished book, she'd better play it a bit cool. It wouldn't be much longer, she assured herself.

"We're getting nowhere.” Julie folded her arms across her chest. “If you give me your guest list tomorrow, I'll start on the invitations."

They still had time to decide which foods to choose. When the acceptances came back, they'd have a better gauge for the exact amounts to order. Even with the help of the Medieval Society's treasury, the price for so large a group was astronomical and would certainly take a big bite out of Nick's meager bank account.

Lily stood and gave Nick's sleeve a gentle tug. “Come on, Nick. I do have an order to finish before bedtime. I'll drop you off—unless you really want to walk.” Her enigmatic smile made Julie think of the Mona Lisa.

Nick rose also and stared at Julie. “You are an unreasonable woman.” he said, his voice cold. However, his eyes said something entirely different. The heat in them stunned her and provoked an answering warmth low in her belly.

Regaining her equilibrium, she said, “If you'd been more cooperative, we might have a tentative menu by now."

Were these the same two people she'd known for years? Lily had never displayed an interest in the castle's affairs before and Nick had never become more than mildly annoyed at anything. Why so macho all of a sudden? And what was Lily's stake here?

He waved his hand dismissively. “I will leave that to you and the disrespectful cook. The entertainment I will undertake to provide.” He turned his back on her and started for the door, apparently expecting Lily to fall into step behind him.

"Are you sure that, too, isn't part of my duties?” she asked rather nastily.

Nick stopped and turned around. “Just what is your position, Julie? You are neither my steward nor my wife as far as I can ascertain."

Julie hesitated.

Nick glanced at Lily who again shook her head.

"I thought not,” he stated arrogantly. Under his breath, he murmured to Lily, “Her being my dead wife would have been too good to be true."

The comment hadn't been meant for her ears, but her hearing was excellent. That showed Nick still had feelings for her, although why he kept referring to her as his dead wife puzzled her.

Nick gave her one last smoldering look before turning on his heel and marching out the door. Was it anger or desire that surged like ocean waves through her body?

Lily shook her head and smiled in apology as she followed him.

Julie shut the door on their departing backs and leaned her forehead against its solid oak thickness. Just where had Nick's sudden air of command come from? He'd always loved playing his ancestor, but had never gone to the lengths she'd seen tonight. Had he slipped over the line between make-believe and reality? And if so, why did she feel so attracted to a madman? Maybe she was the one losing it.

With a sigh, she went back into the parlor. Before settling into her favorite chair, she threw another log on the fire.

Drawing a soft, blue wool afghan over her lap, she laid her head back against the leather chair. Shutting her eyes, she let a picture form in her mind. A picture of someone who would love her deeply and be willing to overcome great odds to win her. Someone with an inner strength who would not expect her to solve every problem that came along. Someone whose values she could respect. Someone who would treat her as an equal yet let her lean on him occasionally. In other words, someone vastly different from Nick. She sighed and gave her head a hard shake. She was becoming a closet romantic, dreaming of a person who didn't exist. A knight in shining armor, if you will.

Her stuffy old colleagues at the university would be shocked to learn what lay beneath her outward facade of cool competence. Dreams weren't meant to be shared, except with someone special. Much as Julie loved her work, she had met no figurative knights in shining armor. Not even one in rusty armor, she thought wryly.

With another sigh, Julie stopped day dreaming and began filling out the tentative list of food and drink for the feast that they had begun earlier. She could do it without Nick, but she believed he should help with planning his own party, especially one as important to the Medieval Society as this one.

May Day had been a huge celebration in the Middle Ages. The lean winter was over and the beautiful English spring arrived to feasting and dancing. In ancient times, the Celts had celebrated the same day which they called Beltane, a day set aside for worshipping the Earth Mother with sexual abandon. Then came the Romans, who drove out all but a few remnants of the Druids and their adherents.

She gave herself a mental shake and focused on her list. For some reason, she got no farther than wondering how many chickens they'd need. Her mind refused to concentrate on the task at hand and kept conjuring up Nick in his new, more interesting persona. And that was odd in itself, since she'd never given a thought to him outside the time they spent together working on accounts or looking at armor.

She yawned. It was bedtime. With a book as a substitute for her dream knight, she mounted the narrow oak paneled staircase to the small bedroom tucked beneath the thatched cottage's eaves. As she undressed, her mind trotted out all the things that needed to be done in the morning. Tomorrow was Saturday. She'd run out and talk to George about the food. And get the guest list from Nick. She paused. Would she find the same old Nick blathering on about his suits of armor like always? Or the man she'd seen tonight who acted more like he wore one than collected them?

She slipped a long cotton nightie over her head and slid beneath the covers. The book she opened failed to gain her interest and she soon turned out the light. As she dozed, Nick's face formed in her mind. Strange. He'd never appeared in her daydreams before. For some reason, he'd seemed sexier and uncharacteristically arrogant tonight. The last puzzled her. In all the time she'd known him, Nick had never said an unpleasant word or given her a dark look. Yet this evening, he'd demonstrated both. Had he kept his true nature hidden all this time? And why choose tonight to let Mr. Hyde appear? She definitely didn't like it.

Don't you? Isn't this what she envisioned in her knight? More assertiveness?

Well, no, not quite like that. She wanted to be courted in a chivalrous fashion, not told what to do and what not to do. She wanted her man strong without the male chauvinism of the real medieval knights.

Use your head, girl. Men were like that back then.

But this is now, not then. Confusion threatened to overwhelm her. Just who was Nick anyway? A mild mannered historian—or something quite, quite different? One thing for sure—tonight's Nick had definitely caught her attention.

Nicholas said very little to Lily on the drive home. His senses were reeling. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

As they crossed the drawbridge, he turned to the silent woman beside him. “You will come in, Lily. I have more questions."

Lily nodded. She pulled the car next to the keep's steps and they got out. Once inside, Nicholas motioned for her to stand before the lord's table. Too agitated to seat himself in his chair, he paced back and forth. Vaguely, he again noticed there were no rushes strewn about. And the place lacked the familiar smells other than a bit of mustiness. But that could wait. First, he had to find out a few things.

"Lily,” he began slowly, “tell me about the present Lord Nicholas de Montclair."

"He's a very unpretentious man. He usually drops both the ‘Lord’ and the ‘de’ and goes by just plain Nick Montclair. He's scholarly and loves the subject he teaches at Cambridge University—the medieval period of English history, specializing in the thirteen century, as does Julie. And he collects old suits of armor."

He glared at her for a moment, then changed the subject. “If there is a man with my name living here, where is he?"

Lily pursed her lips. “I told you before. I believe you both are inhabiting the same body, with you as the dominant personality."

Nicholas halted beside the trestle table and pounded his fist on it. “Bloody hell, woman. I will not have this!"

Lily jumped and the table trembled. “I can't see that you have much choice,” she replied tartly.

He scowled at her. “How so?"

"Do you know how to send yourself back in time?"

"No. Do you?"

Lily looked smug. “Certainly. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't."

Nicholas's jaw dropped open. “You brought me here? For what purpose?"

"Hopefully, for a very good purpose."

"Which is...?” he demanded, looming over her.

Lily stepped away from him. “I can't tell you why yet, but you will find out eventually.

"Woman..."

"Let it be, my lord. Suppose you get a good night's sleep and we'll talk more tomorrow.” She waved her hand and stood watching him, as though waiting for something.

Nicholas wanted to protest, but his body rebelled. Weariness washed over him when she mentioned sleep.

Reluctantly he nodded. “Until tomorrow."

With another wave of her hand, Lily again disappeared. He remembered the strange stories he'd heard in Damascus. Tales of magic lamps inhabited by genies. Could Lily be one of those? A nervous shiver raced down his spine. He'd been raised with a healthy respect for creatures with magical powers. If Lily were one, he'd just as soon not know. Shaking his head he mounted the stone stairway. He needed sleep. He'd deal with tomorrow when it got here.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 5
As Julie drove through the archway between the lower and upper baileys, she spied Nick stripped to the waist and swinging one of the castle's broadswords over his head. She stifled a gasp as his blade swooped down and just missed decapitating a harmless yellow mongrel sniffing at his shoes. The dog yelped and slunk off, his tail between his legs.

Angry that Nick would endanger the animal, Julie leaped from the car. “Stop that!” she shouted as she ran toward him.

Nick lowered his weapon and stood waiting for her, a smile on his face.

"Good morning, Julie.” He swiped an arm across his forehead to wipe away the perspiration.

Julie lurched to a stop in front of him. “What are you doing?” she cried, feeling her face flush with irritation and something else she preferred not to give a name.

"Practicing my swordsmanship. One's skills become dull if not honed.” He looked puzzled at her angry frown.

"Cut it out,” she snapped. “The audience is me, not a bunch of American tourists."

"Those people in my keep yester morn were tourists, were they not?"

Julie glared. “You know they were. Let's focus on today, Nick. I need that list of invitees to the May Day Feast.” Foolishly, she'd let this infuriating man crawl under her skin again. Calm down, she told herself. If he succeeds in upsetting you, he wins the game he's playing.

Nick looked puzzled. “List? I told you to invite the whole village. The weather is fine. We will set up tables out here so everyone..."

Julie grabbed his arm—the one without the sword—and gave it a shake. “You will not invite everyone. You can't afford five thousand guests. Last year, about sixty people came. That's a manageable number.” She pressed her lips together tightly. This was one battle she intended to win

"I have money,” he stated stiffly, as if he'd read her mind. “Why do you preach economy? My estate has always been rich."

Julie sighed and let go of his arm. He just kept ignoring the harsh facts pertaining to ancient castles moldering away in today's world. “With the Crown taking most of your income in taxes and the tourist fees barely keeping you afloat, you can't afford to entertain half the county. You know this, Nick. You just don't want to face facts."

"I see,” he said slowly.

While she watched him absorb what she'd said, her eyes slid unchecked down his bare chest. She'd never realized what a splendid body Nick had been hiding under his loose sweaters and baggy tweeds. Sweat covered his tanned skin. He had muscular arms and a washboard stomach—very nice indeed. And his jeans fit much too well for her peace of mind. No doubt about the hardness of thigh—or other parts contained by the tight pants. He must have been exercising for years with his armor and broadswords, though she'd never observed him before. And while it had done wonders for his body, it didn't really please her, merely underlined the growth of his obsession with the thirteenth century. But still, that body...

Before she could stop herself, her gaze raked over him again. He grinned, revealing a set of straight white teeth. Lifting an eyebrow, he said, “So I do interest you,” as he sheathed his sword.

"Not for a minute.” She spun on her heel and headed toward the keep.

Nicholas chuckled. Since his fourteenth year, women had flocked around him. But after his formal betrothal to Julianne, he had eyes for no other. Then his laughter stilled. His dear wife. Gone two days, and already his eyes wandered. He clenched his fists and strode after this woman who looked like his wife but was not Julianne.

He caught up with her at the steps to the keep's front door. “Where are you going?"

"To your office to find the guest list.” She didn't look at him, just climbed the stairs and started across the great hall.

Relieved not to have to locate the place himself, Nicholas followed her to a room in the east wing which had not been there before. It was small and paneled in dark oak. A large carved oak table took up the middle, a comfortable chair behind it. On the surface was a gray metal box with a lighted glass area at the front. He wondered what it was.

He soon found out. Julie tapped her fingers on some squares on the oblong flat box in front of it, and a bunch of numbers appeared. Leaning closer, he saw the estate accounts laid out in legible order.

His horror at the difference between what was owed and what was in the account was lessened only by his curiosity. “What is this thing?” He pointed at the box.

Julie glanced up at him. “Have you had a head injury I don't know about?"

Ignoring her question, he demanded, “Just answer me."

She swiveled her chair around and stared at him. “I don't know why I'm humoring you. It's a computer, as you well know."

Whatever that was. He watched as she scrolled through the accounts, then asked,

"Where are the tenants’ yearly payments?"

"What tenants? You don't have any. Please stop this, Nick. You're giving me a headache.” She pushed a button and the glass went dark. A machine like that would help him do his accounts in no time—if he knew how to use it. He'd get Julie to show him. She was supposed to be a teacher, wasn't she? It couldn't take more than a day to learn how. Then he'd buy one and take it back with him.

As for the lack of tenants, she was wrong. Somewhere there had to be a list of them and how much they paid him each year, either in kind or coin.

Julie started rummaging through the drawers of what she said was his desk and Nicholas forgot the tenants. Was nothing sacred to this woman?

"What do you think you're doing?” he roared, grabbing her arm. A jolt of heat raced through his treacherous body as his fingers felt her warmth through the wool garment she wore. He tried to ignore the unsettling sensation.

She glared back. “I'm just looking for the guest list. It must be here somewhere.” She pointed at the disorderly pile of papers strewn across the desk's surface. His descendant was definitely not given to neatness.

Before he could recover from the shock of touching her, as well as convince himself he hadn't really felt it, she pulled out of his grasp and snatched up a paper.

"Here it is. How do you ever find anything in this mess?” She shook her head and marched out of the office. Nicholas strode after her. Did the woman never stand still?

Next, she popped into the kitchen and greeted George who was chopping onions. Tears were running down his broad face.

"Have you tried cutting them under running water?” She picked up a dish towel and wiped the moisture from his cheeks.

"No, does it work?"

"Does for me."

George smiled and plunged his hands into soapy dish water. “I find this helps."

Julie nodded. “I wanted to talk about the food for the feast if you have a minute."

"Sure.” George pulled out two of the chairs at the kitchen table and he and Julie sat down. Julie produced the pad of notes from her purse and in a minute, the two had their heads together over a rapidly growing list of foodstuffs.

Arms crossed over his chest, Nicholas watched for a while, then decided he wasn't needed. As he walked through the castle which was both his castle and not his castle, he remembered he hadn't checked the armory. The broadsword he'd used earlier had been hanging on the wall of the great hall. It would be good to acquaint himself with the equipment on hand.

Not that he expected to need swords or lances any time soon. This century seemed too peaceful—at least from what he'd observed—for those weapons deemed necessary by him and other knights. During the day, the gates stood wide open and there were no guards. Old habits die hard.

He entered the dim and slightly musty place. Not finding any of the switches which turned on the miraculous lights, he moved slowly from one suit of armor to the next, examining them in the dusky light from the high window slits. Each was labeled with its year and the owner's name, if known. His mouth dropped open when he saw the heavy armor of centuries beyond his. How could a man move when weighted down by fifty or more pounds of metal? And what did fighting men wear today? He'd have to ask Lily. Definitely not Julie. She already believed him a fool, or worse. And for some reason, what she thought of him mattered.

Her violet eyes had regarded him scornfully when he announced no woman would keep his books. And how glad she'd seemed to be rid of him last even—no night. People used words differently now, so he had to take care not to attract attention. Something told him that the key to returning to his own time was contingent upon being accepted as the present Nicholas de Montclair.

This morning he had tried rubbing the amethyst again with no result. So, he would play this part and keep his eyes and ears open. If Lily refused to tell him how to make the amulet work, he would somehow learn on his own.

Then he came to the present owner's latest acquisition and froze. My own armor! He would recognize it no matter the century in which he found it. A little the worse for wear, but Nick had begun to clean it so the metal shone brightly in several places. Both of his gauntlets lay on the stone floor on a piece of paper with black writing on it. He wondered at the ability of the monks of this century. Look how perfectly all the letters were formed. And so small! Shaking his head in amazement, he returned his attention to the armor.

He sat on a stool and thought about his home—the one in his century. Lily had said when he went back, not one minute would have elapsed since he left. That meant Miles could not harm his son, at least not until his return. Which bought him time to come up with a plan—if she were right. One which would help him deal with his brother-in-law.

If Julianne had not died, would Miles consider trying to harm the babe? He didn't think so, at least not right away. What he needed was a way to keep him at arm's length, until Nicholas could strengthen his small army. He would travel to London and search for mercenary, knights and men-at-arms. That would take time. If Julianne were alive and within the keep to guard their child, he would be free to go. However, she was dead, and that meant he had to find someone to take her place, someone to guard Edward as Julianne would have done. Where would he find this someone?

A smile spread across his face.

He stood and stretched. The next step was to start acting more like the present day Nick. Maybe Julie would like him better. His male arrogance rebelled against the softness of today's men. He'd always thought himself hard and disciplined, although less harsh than many other lords. Imitating Nick Montclair shouldn't be too difficult. He'd just have to stop giving orders and fall in with Julie's plans.

With a wry smile, he quit the armory and stalked back through the great hall. His sword rested on the lord's table where he'd left it. He picked it up and went outside. His workout had been interrupted when Julie arrived. Of course, he could have ignored her and gone on with it, except he was curious about what she wanted.

The mongrel hound had returned and basked in the April sun near the steps. Nicholas leaned down and scratched him behind the ears. The dog's tail thumped in joy. One thing hadn't changed. He straightened and began swinging the broadsword once more.

After giving George an approximate budget, Julie left him to order the food they'd agreed upon. The cook knew Nick's funds were limited and would be careful to strike the best bargains possible.

She returned to Nick's office, relieved to find it empty. Seating herself, she started composing the invitation. After several false starts the wording pleased her, so she went to the computer and entered the text into the Print Shop program. From a box on the bookshelf, she took a stack of stationery engraved with Nick's name and coat-of-arms. She placed it in the printer and watched as one copy inched its way out. Not as elegant as hand-written invitations, but less time-consuming.

As she made some corrections to the page, she became aware of another presence in the room. She glanced up and saw Nick leaning in the doorway watching her. His hair was wet, so he must have finished his sword practice and showered. He wore a blue polo shirt which covered his chest but left no doubt as to the breadth of his shoulders. Strange, Nick usually favored baggy sweaters.

"Well, hello.” Was he annoyed she was doing his work?

Apparently not. His smile showed off his white teeth and made him more handsome than ever. He walked across the room and peered over her shoulder. “You are using the computer to make invitations,” he stated.

"Handwritten ones take too long, and even with the computer, I have to insert each guest's name."

"Are you nearly finished?"

"Yes. I'll be able to get them in the mail on Monday.” She handed him the list she'd been working from. “I've checked off the ones I've done so far."

He took the list and studied it. A puzzled expression flitted across his face, almost as if he either couldn't read the writing or didn't recognize the names. Or both.

Don't be silly. He's just thinking about the people he's asked. The list was very legible and most of invitees were his friends and colleagues.

Nicholas nodded and handed it back. “Fine, Julie. And thank you, I really appreciate your help.” Another broad smile. Her heart did a swift cartwheel. He must have sensed it because his honey-brown eyes answered with a flash of heat. For a moment, their gazes locked and held.

She was imagining things. It was probably just the prelude to another invitation to the armory.

He pulled over a chair and sat down next to the desk, crossing his muscular arms across that very broad chest. What is the matter with you? She'd never even noticed Nick's arms and chest before. And usually he didn't smile all that much. Too introverted for a lighter side to pop up very often. Yet all of a sudden, Nick seemed very desirable. However, it wouldn't do to let him guess at her heightened interest. She'd already devoted too much time to convincing him that friendship was all she wanted.

"Yes, well, I'm glad to help out. The feast is a big job."

He stared at her for a moment, then slowly reached for her hand. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” He pulled her to her feet.

Too amazed to resist and too shaken by the tingling of his palm against hers to pull away, she let herself be led out of the office. “What is it?"

He grinned. “You'll see."

They entered the armory and Julie sighed. No surprises here.

Nick stopped before a set of thirteenth century chain mail she'd never seen before. “This is mine,” he said softly.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 6
"Yes, of course it is.” Julie frowned. “I suppose it was expensive?"

Nicholas hesitated. His joy at being reunited with his armor had made him careless. “It was costly,” he admitted. That, at least, was the truth. He'd worn ill-matched bits and scraps of armor until he finally won a tournament. The sale of the prizes of horses and armor had brought enough to have this superior chain mail made. It had served him well for years and apparently had outlasted him by many centuries.

"Nick, you pay me to take care of your accounts, but do you listen to what I say?"

"Listen to what?” Now it was his turn to scowl. She wasn't showing proper appreciation for what had been the result of years of hard work. Her main concern seemed to be the price he'd paid for the armor.

"To my telling you to economize,” she said, then added, “and I didn't see a receipt for your newest purchase."

"Receipt?” Obviously, this was some modern thing he hadn't heard about yet. How to explain without—wait a minute! This was his armor. Why apologize for not giving this woman an accounting of some kind?

"I believe,” he said stiffly, “that it was money well spent."

"Oh, right. You had to have another one. As if you don't have twenty others.” She swept her hand around the room.

Nicholas scowled, forgetting his plan to make Julie like and trust him. “I did need it. It's mine and..."

"Of course,” Julie interrupted with an impatient glare. “Everything here is yours. The question is can you afford it?"

He'd walked into her trap. If he said he had money, she'd once more deny it, then lecture him on thrift. Obviously, the present lord of Barstow Castle was either too lazy or too stupid to go looking for tournaments to augment his meager treasury. Certainly his body was in good enough condition to challenge most other knights. How had his descendant allowed this to happen to Nicholas's thriving estate?

Julie shook her head. “You're totally hopeless when it comes to money."

Too angry to reply, he turned his back on her. Women of his time, not even his Julianne, would have spoken that way to him. He wanted to return to his own time where his coffers overflowed and the careful accounting of each penny was unnecessary. Where he no longer had to roam the continent in search of rich purses. Where his fields produced abundant crops, his villeins and serfs were hard-working and happy, he supposed. If not for Sir Miles Norville, his life would flow along like a placid river from day to day, with only praises from the lady with the amethyst eyes. But Julianne was dead and his newborn son was in mortal danger.

He heard Julie's departing footsteps across the stone floor, leaving him alone in the echoing armory. He sat thinking on a stool next to his armor. Julie was sensible and well-organized. Also, she bore a great resemblance to Julianne. He could take her back with him to help guard Edward, and if she played the part well, none would be the wiser. But would she go? He suspected just asking her, would get him nowhere.

In the first place, she wouldn't believe him. And even if he did convince her he was from the thirteenth century, why would she want to go back there with him?

No. Asking was out. And it wasn't in his nature to force a woman. So what remained?

Trickery.

But again—how? He didn't know how to transport himself, much less take someone else. Think. Rubbing the amulet had brought him here. Yet rubbing it several times since had produced no results. He hated to touch the witch-accursed thing, but it would be necessary.

Lily was the answer. Rising, he strode out of the castle and walked toward the stables. He had seen a fine horse there this morning. Not his own Archangel, of course, but a stallion worthy of a warrior. He saddled the horse, then mounted and rode out through the castle's gate.

It felt good to be on horseback again. He gave the horse its head and the two galloped down the road to Barstow Village. Not sure where Lily's shop was located, he slowed the horse to a walk and peered at both sides of the High Street. It bore little resemblance to the village of his time. The houses he passed, while not large, still seemed palatial for peasants. The various businesses had large glass windows, far beyond the purse of thirteenth century shopkeepers. Hard stone walks and roads made muddy shoes no problem. No peddlers hawked their wares in the street and several cars were parked along the roadside. He saw no other horses. People hurried in and out of shops.

He shook his head. Somewhere in this unfamiliar bustle, the witch had to be stirring up trouble. Then he spotted a sign which said, ‘Fine Jewelry by Lily.'

"That's it,” he muttered, springing from the saddle and looking for a place to tie the horse. He saw another sign which said ‘Stop’ and tethered his mount to it. Well, his horse was stopped, he reasoned.

He walked to the shop and pulled open the door. A girl with thick pieces of glass in front of her eyes stared at him.

"Hi, Nick. Looking for Lily?"

He nodded. His descendant must know this woman, but he didn't.

"She's in the workroom. Go right on back."

Nicholas pushed the curtain aside. Lily sat at a high table made of stone. In her hand, a gold necklace in a twisted Celtic pattern caught the light and gleamed.

"I need to talk to you,” he said, walking over to stare at the handsome piece of jewelry.

"You have found your armor.” It was a statement, not a question.

"How did you know?"

Lily smiled. “And now you are hatching a plot to take Julie back with you. Right?"

With a scowl, he settled on the stool next to hers. “Again, how do you always know what I am thinking?"

She shook her head, but didn't answer his question. “You could give her the amulet."

Nicholas scowled. “Listen to me, woman. Giving Julie the amulet will do nothing. It does not work for me and probably won't for her."

Lily pursed her lips and raised her dark eyebrows. “It did not work for you, because I did not wish it to."

He jumped to his feet. “I order you to make it work,” he shouted.

"Soon, it will take you back, but not just yet. The moment must be right."

That did not please him. “What must I do to hasten this moment?"

"Give Julie the amulet on the night of the feast. Now here is what else must be done.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

He nodded. “That could work. However, there is one more thing. I had a happy and peaceful marriage. There was no contention between Julianne and me. I must learn if this future Julie will fit comfortably into my life.” He stared at Lily, waiting for her suggestions.

"You could try kissing her,” Lily said dryly.

That seemed a sensible idea. If he found her compatible, that would be enough. They must get along reasonably well for his idea to work. And it would help if he enjoyed her kisses. He did wonder briefly how Julie would react to his duplicity. She would be very angry with him, and he would have a hard time explaining himself. Convincing her to go voluntarily seemed an impossible task.

He stood. “Mayhap I will kiss her. I will also give her the amulet. Women like kisses and jewelry. Gifts can soften hard words.” He grinned.

"You speak from experience?” Lily raised an eyebrow. Her lips twitched slightly.

"Naturally,” he bragged. “I am past a score and ten and have known many women."

"Um-m.” Lily seemed unimpressed. She probably knew he was exaggerating. In his youth, money had been scarce, so wenches took second place to hard work.

"I will expect the amulet to work when I rub it at the feast.” Hope rose in his chest.

"It will work,” Lily promised, rising and walking to the shop door with him.

He gave her a dark look as he left. “It had better."

The days before the feast passed swiftly, too swiftly for Julie. And Nick was no help at all. He sat for hours staring at the TV, letting her and George do all the work. And when he wasn't being a couch potato, he disappeared into the armory, probably to clean more of time's patina from that chain mail he'd just bought. This new one seemed to interest him even more than the others. She'd peeked in and seen him hard at work with the rust remover.

Annoyed, Julie lost count of the forks. Although Nick always tried to maintain the authenticity of a thirteen century feast, he didn't really expect his guests to eat with their fingers, or with just knives and spoons.

Ninety-five of the one hundred invitations—more than she'd wanted him to send—had been accepted. Sir Stephen Norville had brought his reply in person one day while she was at the castle. Even though Julie liked Stephen, a pleasant man with blond hair and blue eyes who was married to Nick's sister, Margaret, she had the distinct impression Nick didn't. His comments had been terse and just short of rude.

Stephen, however, didn't appear to notice Nick's surliness. He'd directed most of his remarks to Julie, mentioning he owned a collection of medieval love songs. When she'd asked to see them, Stephen had invited her to stop by on her way home. After she agreed, Nick had spun on his heel and stalked off without saying as much as goodbye. Just what had been eating him puzzled her. She had never seen such a strong reaction from Nick in the whole time she'd known him. Maybe he was nervous about the feast.

After lunch, Julie supervised while three hired men from the village set up rows of trestle tables in the great hall. The banners and tapestries were removed from the stone walls and aired. She wished they could afford to have them dry cleaned, but the budget could only be stretched so far. At least they looked a little less faded after being shaken.

The women she'd hired to portray serving wenches helped her hang them up again. Their colorful scenes depicting life in the eleventh and twelfth centuries lent a festive air to the hall, without which the place had all the warmth of a stone fortress. In the great fireplaces at each end of the hall, huge logs surrounded by kindling lay ready for lighting. Even on the last day of April, the evenings remained cool and the fires would help warm the air a little.

Late in the afternoon, she paid the men and women who'd assisted her and sent them home. Tomorrow they'd be back dressed in costume to wait on tables.

.Thank goodness, all was ready for the feast. Hot and tired, she leaned against the cool stone wall. Then she remembered Nick had asked her to check the armory for wayward tourists before she left. He'd gone out riding. To inspect his demesne, he'd said. Before she went to the armory, she'd check first with George about the deliveries. He was efficient, but there was only one of him. She'd hired some students from the university for tomorrow, to give him a hand with the easy stuff like chopping vegetables. But, she'd also lured the cooks from the St. George and the Dragon Inn in Cambridge for one day to help with the meat and fish dishes. Julie wished they could afford an army of servants for the event; unfortunately, this was the best she could do on the castle's meager budget.

As soon as she reached the kitchen, George greeted her with a problem. She solved it, but another half-hour passed before she remembered the armory. First, she had to lower the portcullis. Why Nick had started insisting on this all of a sudden, she had no idea.

With the tourists gone and the kitchen at the rear of the central keep, complete silence reigned in the courtyards of Barstow Castle. In the Middle Ages, Barstow Village had belonged to the de Montclair family, and the two baileys teemed with everyday life. Now the courtyards were deserted, even if Nick liked to pretend they weren't.

She walked across the lower bailey to the gate and pushed a button on the wall. The iron portcullis creaked slowly down. As she waited, Julie thought about the original owner of the castle. Had he been like Nick, handsome, kind and pleasant—if a little dull? Or, had he been a man who would have made the blood surge through her veins, a heroic man, one who would turn her bones to mush and propel her heartbeat into overdrive—one filled with fiery passion?

Dream on. She would never know the answer to that. So why waste time thinking about it? She needed to finish up here, check the armory and get on home.

As she moved through the great keep, the oldest section of the Norman castle, she remembered the story Nick had once told her about catching a Cambridge student hiding in the armory. On a dare, the boy had tried to remain overnight in the castle. For that reason, Nick always checked the areas open to tourists before closing up for the night.

The setting sun poked golden fingers through the narrow west-facing windows as she entered the armory. Dust motes danced in the gleaming light. She gazed around, making sure no uninvited guests lurked in the distant corners of the large, chilly room, a place where shadows always seemed to shift of their own volition. Julie didn't really believe there were ghosts in the old castle, but those shadows made her a little nervous.

She stopped in front of Nick's newest armorial acquisition. It hung on a stand made for just that purpose. The sun's long rays touched the armor, giving it a reddish glow, almost as if it were still bathed in ancient blood. Pushing the atavistic fear of old things away, she turned her attention to the chain mail. What had the man who had worn it looked like? Tall and dark with amber eyes?

Don't go there!

She turned her attention back to the armor. The separate pieces lay on a chair next to the stand holding the chain mail hauberk. She'd been too angry when Nick showed her his latest find to inspect the workmanship. Now, she reached out and ran her fingers over the links, admiring the skill of the artisan who had crafted it over seven centuries ago.

After a few minutes, she realized the sun had set, and those worrisome shadows were creeping in from the corners. Time to leave. She hurried out and locked the armory door behind her. Once outside, she walked across the upper bailey and left by the postern gate, locking it as well. As she crossed the fields, a gray-violet dusk slipped over the countryside and a light luminous mist rose from the still warm earth. The air smelled of grass and spring flowers. She smiled and stretched out her arms in pure joy at the return of spring.

When she reached her cottage, she found Lily sitting on the steps.

"Well, hello,” she said. “I thought you had a project to finish."

Lily rose. “I finished it. Can you spare a minute to come down to the shop? I'd like to show you something."

"Sure.” Julie fell into step with her friend. “What is it?"

"A surprise.” She laughed. “So if I told you now, it wouldn't be one, would it?"

Julie smiled. “All right. Have your fun."

They reached the shop and went in. Julie followed Lily into the back room waved Julie to one of the stools and took the other herself.

"Now, what's this surprise?” Lily must have crafted something exquisite. Her pieces always looked as if some exotic land had offered up its ancient riches.

Lily reached into a small drawer under the stone counter and drew out a piece of jewelry. Placing it in Julie's palm, she murmured, “What do you think of that?"

Julie gasped. “Oh, how beautiful, Lily. Did you just make this? It looks like an old design."

"Oh, yes, it's old. But, I didn't make it. It's something I recently...acquired."

Julie wondered about the hesitation in Lily's explanation. It was almost as if Lily didn't want to tell her about the necklace's origins. As she admired the lovely amulet, she forgot her reservations. Its massive size told her, it had once belonged to a man—a big one. A huge multi-faceted amethyst rested in the arms of some intricately worked silver filigree. She didn't even recognize the strange designs. Had it come from the Mid-East or could the design be Celtic?

"Will you sell it?” Surely it would bring a handsome price.

"No.” Lily picked up a jeweler's cloth and taking the necklace from Julie, began to polish it. “I intend to give it to you."

"To me? But why? I can't afford to pay you."

"Did I ask for payment? I believe Nick has a birthday on Sunday. Since this is a man's pendant, perhaps you'd like to give it to him."

Julie hesitated. “It's just the sort of thing he'd adore. And we are both wearing purple velvet costumes. This would be perfect on him."

Opening the little drawer again, Lily drew out a jewelry box lined in white velvet. She placed the man's amethyst amulet on its pristine bed.

"If I take it, I'm telling him it's mostly from you,” Julie insisted.

"No, Julie. I'm giving it to you. If you wish Nick to have it, then it must be from you and you alone."

"But I can't afford..."

Lily laid her fingers over Julie's lips. “Hush. I won't hear any more protests. Take it with my blessing."

"But I can't..."

Lily gave her a long enigmatic look. “I think, my dear, there may come a day when you'll be glad I gave this to you."

Startled, Julie took a step backward. “What do you mean?"

"When the present becomes the past and the past the future, you will see why you needed this."

Julie hated it when Lily did that. She knew her friend thought herself reincarnated from some distant past, but Julie didn't buy into that idea at all. She firmly believed a person had one life to live in this world and then an after life someplace else. Lily's occasional odd pronouncement to the contrary made her feel uncomfortable.

Deciding to be gracious in defeat, Julie slipped off the stool and gave her friend a big hug. “Thank you so much, Lily."

The older woman smiled. “I'm sure this gift will be just what Nick wants."

Julie gave her another hug and hurried out the door. She was already pondering how to explain to Nick just how she'd come by such an expensive and unique piece of jewelry. Hopefully, his delight in the gift would put off any questions about its origins and cost. Perhaps wearing it would even make all his dreams come true—whatever they might be.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 7
On May Day Eve, Julie stood beside Nick in the great hall, greeting his guests from the Medieval Society, people who traced their roots back to the Middle Ages, perhaps even to William the Conqueror. They came from Suffolk, Norfolk and Cambridgeshire pretending to be their ancestors without the attendant discomforts. This formed their common bond. The money they contributed toward the feast made the event possible. Certainly, Nick's modest income wouldn't begin to cover the cost. But Nick had one thing most of them didn't—a genuine castle from the revered time period. So they paid him to host the event.

As the crowd moved forward into the great hall, Julie glanced at Nick. He wore a long mauve silk tunic with gold embroidery and a surcoat of purple velvet. A fine woolen mantle lined in soft vair hugged his wide shoulders. His dark hair waved back from his tanned face and his amber eyes glowed with excitement—no—anticipation. Of what? A shiver raced down her spine. This was the same old feast they celebrated every year. What was different? What was there to anticipate?

He caught her staring at him and grinned. “Great fun, isn't it?"

Julie smiled back. “Yes. And I love your costume.” He appeared to have stepped from the pages of a book on thirteenth century wearing apparel.

"I saw Henry the Third wear this once."

And she knew how much he'd paid to rent it—too much. But money never worried Nick, not if... What did he just say? “You saw him?"

"Ah...I saw a painting of him. Pretty authentic looking, isn't it?"

Julie nodded and gave a silent sigh of relief. His mind hadn't truly retreated into the past. Tonight she wanted the man whose hot gaze had sent strange feelings racing through her body for the last two weeks, that stranger in Nick's body who made her nerves tingle and her heart thud like jungle drums.

"Shall we join our guests?” Nicholas asked, taking her arm.

They strolled along, stopping to chat with this one and that one. Julie halted before Sir Stephen Norville and his wife Margaret. The resemblance to the Norvilles of his time was unmistakable. Nicholas scowled at Stephen.

"Goodness, Nicky, what's the matter with you tonight?” Margaret peered at him, her dark eyebrows raised. Julie glanced at him, too.

Suddenly, he remembered his plan. This was not the way to make Julie like him, to trust him, to go along with rubbing the amulet and flying back through time.

He managed a smile. “Just a headache from working so hard, that's all."

Julie snorted. “Uh huh. When did you work?"

"I provided the entertainment, didn't I?"

"Oh, all right. That was something, I suppose."

Nicholas took her arm again and with a short nod to Stephen and a smile for Margaret moved off through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he inspected Julie. Her clothes were similar to one of Julianne's favorites, a dark amethyst velvet surcoat over an underdress of pale reddish violet. He had picked it out at the costume shop. Wearing the proper clothing, she would fit in when they returned to his time.

Trestle tables had been placed in five lines perpendicular to the dais where Nicholas and Julie would sit along with several other titled guests. The hired servants, dressed in garments befitting their station, hurried about setting day old bread trenchers on the fine linen tablecloths. It would have been more fitting to have had the pewter plates used in his time, but none had survived the centuries.

No electric lights burned tonight. The hall's lambent glow came from huge fires at either end of the great hall, torches on the walls and dozens of candles set in lines down the middle of the tables. Delicious odors of roasting meats came from the kitchen, making Nicholas's mouth water. He'd asked Julie to get George plenty of help. A hundred guests would tax any cook.

Julie glanced toward a corner where three men with recorder, psaltery and harp were rendering “Greensleeves."

"You found some musicians. They're good."

He shrugged. “It wasn't hard.” Only because Lily had helped him. “I understand the supply far exceeds the demand.” In this century, he'd had no idea where to look, but Lily told him the Medieval Society had lists of people almost begging for work. After some trial and error with that marvelous invention, the telephone, he found just the right threesome. But he did hope the two men knew something besides “Greensleeves."

Julie's astonishment on learning the entertainment had been arranged pleased him. Maybe his descendant was a lazy incompetent, but he wasn't. If he wanted something, he went after it. And had done so all his life.

In his sixteenth year, his father, the Baron of Barstow, had died and Nicholas had inherited the title. Because of his youth, he'd become the immediate target of his land-hungry neighbors. Responsibility had hit him hard and he'd grown up in a hurry. With Edgar of Newington and Miles Norville's help, he'd organized his father's knights and fought for his birthright. And he certainly hadn't expected any woman to help him, the way Julie took care of Nick. Not then, not ever.

He amended that last thought. Julie could help him outwit the Norville of his time.

He slipped his hand into the pouch at his waist and touched the amethyst amulet. He had decided to wait until they arrived at the feast to give it to her. Less time for questions.

"I need to speak privately with you, Julie."

She nodded toward an empty corner. “Over there."

As they walked across the room, Julie said, “This is amazingly authentic, Nick. I feel as if I've stepped right into medieval times. It's almost like it must have been then."

"Almost,” he agreed with a smile.

Julie sighed. “But I can't help wishing..."

Stopping in the secluded corner, Nicholas turned her to face him. “Be careful what you wish for, Julie.” He took her hands in his and gazed down into her lovely upturned face. Her violet eyes stared back, their hue like purple lilacs, her perfume a light scent of the same flower. For a moment, his head whirled.

"You're beginning to sound like Lily. She said some very strange things to me the other day."

"Such as?” She had his full attention. Lily wouldn't have warned her, would she?

"That there would come a day when I'd be thankful for a gift she gave me. When I asked her what she meant, she wouldn't tell me more. Don't you think that's odd?"

"Well, it sounds like Lily. I wouldn't make too much of it.” The mention of a gift gave him an opening. He reached in his pouch, drew out the amulet and handed it to her.

"For you,” he said. “To go with your gown."

Julie gave him a puzzled look. “How did you know?"

"Know what?” He circled her shoulders with his arm and drew her closer. She didn't seem to notice, just reached into her purse and brought out a box.

She handed it to him. “Happy birthday."

Feigning surprise, he opened it. Inside was an amulet, just like the one he'd given Julie only larger.

Julie laughed. “I guess great minds run on the same track.” She took it from its velvety bed and standing on tiptoe slipped the chain over his head. Then her merriment stilled. “But where did you get the one you're giving me?"

"At Lily's.” Julie's gift didn't surprise him because on his visit to Lily she'd shown it to him.

"An exact duplicate only larger.” She'd stared at it for a moment, then laid it on her worktable.

He'd bent and inspected the piece, careful not to touch the witch-accursed thing. The design was identical to the one he'd purchased for Julianne two years ago in the Orient. I'll give this one to Julie,” Lily said. “She'll want a gift for your birthday. Then you'll each be able to travel back to the thirteenth century."

"Will they work?"

She smiled enigmatically.

Although a hardened warrior, Nicholas remembered how cold shivers had chased themselves up and down his spine at her words. He would have rather faced an army of whirling dervishes brandishing scimitars than Lily's magic if he had a choice—which he hadn't.

Julie's soft touch on his arm brought him back to the present. “Do you like it, Nick?” Her finger touched the jewel resting on his chest. “I wanted to give you something special. At first, I couldn't think what it should be. Then Lily showed me this."

That conniving witch! “It's beautiful,” he said finally, when he could choke the words past the rising bile in his throat. He glanced down and saw she still held the other amulet.

"Let me,” he said, repressing a shudder as he took the necklace from the box and slid it over her head. He lifted her long golden hair in order to settle the amulet around her neck. The impulse to trail kisses down her throat, almost got the best of him. Instead, he dropped his gaze and explored the valley between her breasts where the amulet rested. “It has found the perfect place to adorn,” he murmured, his voice thick with mounting desire.

When he raised his gaze to hers, he recognized in her eyes the reflection of his own need. Time stood still and the crowd around them faded. A potent tension flowed between them, nipping at his nerve endings, urging him to wrap his arms around her.

There was only one thing left to discover. Would he and Julie be compatible? Could they spend weeks or months together in harmony? He'd had a marriage filled with peace and happiness. A total sham wouldn't suit him at all. And he didn't want Julie unhappy either.

He clasped her softly rounded shoulders, pulled her toward him, and locked his gaze with hers. If she resisted, he would stop...but she didn't. Surprise died and desire sprang to life in her violet eyes. Almost as if mesmerized, Julie swayed toward him, her lips parted slightly. Her lilac perfume dizzied his senses, and the texture of her velvet gown wooed his fingertips. As his hands slid down her arms to capture her fingers, a soft moan escaped Julie's lips.

Slowly, giving her time to pull back, he lowered his lips to hers and with hard-won restraint brushed them with a light stroke. Her mouth softened and he pressed more firmly, taking the kiss deeper. His heart raced and hot flames rushed to his groin, making him aware of just how much he desired her. He knew he shouldn't want Julie this much, but coherent thought deserted him.

He traced the honeyed seam of her lips with his tongue, begging entry. To his surprise, she opened like a morning glory in the sun. Plunging in, he stroked her tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Caught up in the magic, her desire seemed to match his. But it didn't last. Julie turned an enticing shade of pink and began to pull away.

"No, Nick, stop...” She unwound her fingers from his and placing her hands on his chest, gave a gentle shove. The Julie of this time had more doubts than his compliant wife Julianne. Even so, he wanted this woman in his life, wanted her for his son's sake as well as for his own. How could he have wondered if she would make him happy?

"I...” Julie faltered. “I shouldn't have...” She turned away.

When he touched her arm, she shook her head, refusing to look at him. “Don't, Nick. Please, just leave me alone."

Nicholas saw Lily watching him from across the room, waiting for his decision.

He nodded and Lily smiled before melting into the crowd. The amulets had been activated.

"I'm sorry, Julie.” He really wasn't. He'd kiss her again if she'd let him. But he was trying to be Nick, so grabbing her again would be out of character for his namby-pamby descendant.

"I hope you aren't angry,” he added quietly. It had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone other than his wife. Neither she nor any other woman had ever acted displeased with his kisses, and Julie had at first seemed to enjoy their kiss. Why she stopped puzzled him.

"No, Nick, I'm not angry. Just disappointed. I thought we agreed to be just friends."

He stared at her. Her kiss had not been that of a friend. Although, he remembered no such conversation, the other Nick probably did. He decided a reply wasn't necessary.

He changed the subject. “It's time to start the festivities. Shall we go seat ourselves?"

She nodded. “Yes, let's. I asked the Norvilles to sit at the lord's table with us."

Julie started across the keep, but he froze, remembering his last encounter with Stephen.

The man hadn't returned his invitation to the feast by mail. Oh, no. He'd brought it in person a week ago. Nicholas had immediately decided he didn't like this modern day version of Miles Norville any better than his thirteen century counterpart.

As the three of them had exchanged pleasantries—well, Julie said pleasant things while he ground his teeth—Stephen mentioned he owned some books of medieval love songs and offered to show them to Julie when she seemed interested. Furious, Nicholas had wanted to throw him out. Julie had glared at him, so he'd restrained himself, until she returned from her visit with Stephen and his stupid books.

"Cancel his invitation!” he'd roared.

"That would be rude and uncalled for. What's he done to you?” Julie looked at him oddly.

To explain was impossible, so he'd shrugged it off. A seven hundred and fifty year-old-feud would probably boggle her mind.

Now, he followed Julie to the head table, seated her in the chair next to his, and then took his place. He greeted Stephen with a frosty grimace, wondering if this man could be as despicable as his ancestor. Did a man's nasty streak be handed down to his descendants?

"Looks like a good crowd again this year, Nicky,” Margaret said with a smile.

Nicholas nodded, too irritated to formulate a reply.

Julie leaned around him and said, “Nice to see you, Maggie. How are the boys?"

While the women talked, Stephen asked, “Have your debts caused you to reconsider selling me the land we spoke of in December?” His pleasant tone didn't disguise the faint sneer playing around his thin lips. Even the way he clutched his goblet irritated Nicholas.

His mind raced. He had held a similar conversation about land with his brother-in-law in his own time. And he hadn't changed his mind about what to do since then.

"No."

Stephen narrowed his eyes, his pale face taking on a baneful expression. “You should rethink that decision."

"Why? Obviously, you have much to gain from my agreement.” Nicholas had discovered the modern estate was partially intact—land wise. His descendants had proven to be good caretakers—the present lord excepted. Much of the property he'd held in the past still remained. If only the current taxation system hadn't drained his coffers or bank account as Julie called it.

Stephen wasn't finished. “And you have much to lose by refusing."

Nicholas considered his options. If he agreed to sell the land to Stephan, the current owner's money worries would be solved. If he didn't...

He leaned over and murmured in Julie's shell pink ear, “What does Stephen intend to do with my land should I sell?” There had to be some huge profit in this.

"I heard rumors a land developer has been scouting around. One that wants to build rural retreat villas for city people,” she whispered back.

"That wouldn't be good, would it?” Stephen probably had some nasty money-making scheme in mind, but Nicholas still hated having to ask Julie to verify his suspicions. It hurt his pride to be advised by a woman, especially one who seemed to have set herself up as the guardian of his purse strings.

"I think if you sell him the land for the price he quoted in December, he'll turn around and offer it to the developer. For a huge profit, I'm sure."

Another Norville out to cheat someone. “Doesn't he know I'm aware of all this?"

"Until now, you haven't wanted to think about it. He's probably hoping you'll agree before you discover what he's up to. Or to get him to stop pestering you."

Nicholas scowled. This idiot of a descendant whose body he inhabited needed shaking. Did he not keep abreast of what was happening around him? If Nicholas had lived here for all of his thirty years, things would not have gotten so out of hand.

He turned back and glared at Stephen. “The answer is still no. Perhaps I will contact this land developer myself.” Not that he intended to do so. Imagine all those wealthy merchants tramping around his land, perhaps poaching, but at the very least cluttering up the countryside with cottages for commoners. Women running around in those indecent garments called shorts. He shuddered. There had to be some better solution to the money problems of the current Lord of Barstow. Not that it mattered. He would shortly return to his own time, and the weakling who lived here would probably give in to Stephen's pressure. For a minute, Nicholas regretted he was leaving.

Stephen glared back at him, his fair complexion beet red.

Julie nudged Nicholas. “It's time to welcome everyone and start the banquet."

He rose and proceeded with his usual greeting for a May Day Feast. If a few of his words about ridding the forests of poachers raised eyebrows, so be it. It would not be long until he could address his own problems, not Nick Montclair's.

Although the hour was late, some couples still danced. Julie sat on a bench next to Nick, listening to the musical group he'd hired. Her feet hurt. She looked for Lily and saw her leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, her obsidian eyes watching them. Her friend had not come near her all evening and Julie felt a bit put out.

Nick took her hand. “Are you tired, Julie?"

She sighed. “Yes, it was fun, but I'm exhausted.” She thought of the inevitable bills and shuddered.

Nick lifted the amulet she'd given him and stared down at it. “Do you believe in magic, Julie?"

She glanced down at her own necklace. “I wish I did."

"There may be magic in these amulets."

She shook her head. “Probably not, but wouldn't it be great if there were. Do you think we'd get a wish granted?"

"Maybe. These are very old. They have seen much come to pass."

"Do you believe they could give a person her heart's desire?” She looked up into his glowing amber eyes. The feeling she'd experienced during their kiss returned, spreading heat through her body. Her heart thudded wildly as he gazed down at her.

"I believe it's possible, depending on the degree of desire.” His eyes spoke volumes.

"How would one find out?” she murmured, still mesmerized by his burning gaze.

"You could try rubbing the amulet,” he said in a husky voice.

"What would happen, do you think?"

"Possibly something wonderful."

As long as she didn't have to stand, she'd try it. Her knees were too weak and her breathing too fast. For some unknown reason, Nick had become her heart's desire.

"Let's do it at the same time and make a wish.” He grasped her hand in his and held it tightly.

She smiled. “All right. I'll indulge you."

The amulet felt warm as she rubbed it between her fingers. A sudden premonition told her this might not be a wise idea. But it came too late.

"What's happening?” she cried, real terror rising in her chest.

"We're going home,” Nick answered, wrapping his arm around her. His embrace felt right. It felt protective. And at that moment, there was nothing she wanted more.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 8
Julie opened her eyes. Nick had said something about going home. How ridiculous. They had gone nowhere. She glanced around and froze. No familiar face met her gaze. But the dancing candlelight and elaborate costumes could somewhat disguise the guests, especially a little way off, couldn't they? Her gaze dropped to the floor where layers of rushes had suddenly appeared. The smell of unwashed bodies wrinkled her nose. How very strange.

Shaking off the moment of unease, she turned to Nick who was grinning. Before she could ask him what was so funny, an attractive, dark-haired woman hurried over to the corner where they stood and took Julie's hands.

"Oh, Julianne, I know you will be so happy with Nicholas. He will make you a fine husband."

To Julie's surprise, the woman spoke in French—but not quite the same French used by the Medieval Society. More like the Norman French Julie taught. And why did she call her Julianne? True, her middle name was Anne, but she never used it. Why did this woman assume Nick would make her a fine husband? In fact, who was she?

As Julie opened her mouth to ask, a man strode over to them and lifted the silver goblet he held. “Another toast to the bride and groom,” he shouted. The crowd roared its approval. Raising their cups, everyone beamed at Nick and Julie.

"B-bride and groom?” She stared at Nick.

He looked as puzzled as she. “Bride and groom?” he echoed. “Eleanor, have you mistaken the day?"

"Surely, Nicholas, you haven't forgotten wedding the Lady Julianne this morn, have you?” The woman called Eleanor stared at him as though he'd lost his mind.

A strange expression washed over Nick's face. He gave his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “Oh, aye, the wedding."

"What are they talking about, Nick?” she asked with a frown.

"Our wedding this morn on the church steps,” he murmured in her ear.

Julie gave an exasperated sigh. “Will you stop it, Nick."

Eleanor looked perplexed. “The Lady Julianne must be exhausted from an overly long and stressful day."

Julie stared to deny it. “I..."

Nick interrupted. “Mayhap we should retire. We must speak together—alone."

"What's going on?” Julie's level of confusion was rising.

Nick took her arm, his fingers squeezing gently. “Please, just come with me and I'll explain."

"You'd better have some pretty good reasons for all this.” She held back a little, but he nudged her forward.

"Nay, nay!” The crowd surged after them.

"The lady's maids must garb her for bed. ‘Tis unseemly for you to accompany her, my lord,” called a woman Julie didn't recognize. But then, except for Nick, she really didn't see anyone she knew. Where were they?

A different woman stepped forward pushing two young girls in front of her. “Gwyneth and Alda will escort you, Lady Julianne."

Nick leaned closer and whispered again in her ear, “Go with them. I will join you shortly.” His warm breath moved like stroking fingers across her already heated cheek. “They think we are wed. Humor them for the moment."

Shaken, Julie nodded and followed the girls up the stairs.

Nicholas leaned weakly against the stairwell and watched her go. He had returned to the thirteenth century. The people surrounding him were his own relatives, retainers and servants. The wedding, however, puzzled him. True, he and Julianne had married on the first day of May, but in 1249. Unless he mistook the circumstances, he and Julie had gone back to a time a year before he left. How could that be?

He shook his head wearily. Wait until he got his hands on that wretched witch, Lily. Burning at the stake would be too merciful for the way she'd disturbed his life. He glanced over the heads of the people below him on the steps but didn't see her. Was she still in the future? He doubted it. She had some plan for Julie and him, but what?

Because he had to make a show of waiting to join his bride, Nicholas descended to the great hall. He smiled at his sister and tried not to listen to Miles’ sly remarks about the pleasures awaiting him in his chamber.

"A soft and pretty bed you will lie on tonight,” his brother-in-law said with a leer.

"Aye.” Nicholas had bigger worries. He still had to explain to Julie what had happened.

"I shall not say sleep as you will do little of that.” Miles gave a coarse guffaw.

"Enough,” Nicholas growled. Although ribald comments were part of the routine bedding procedure, he didn't feel like joining in. He didn't need Miles’ snide taunts. But he did need a plausible explanation for Julie who was going to be furious. After all, he'd schemed with Lily to take Julie back to his time.

Nicholas had told the witch about his suspicion that Miles would try to harm the babe. “So,” he had finished, “I have no choice but to take Julie back with me.

Lily appeared skeptical. “No choice?"

"None. My son needs protection, and I am often from home. Even though you assure me no time has passed since I left, when I return, I must go to London and hire more mercenaries to build up my army."

"And Julie will guard Edward?"

"Aye. She is strong and intelligent, and I could trust her to cope when I am away.” He hesitated, then added, “But there is something I must know before I do this."

"And that is...?” The witch crossed her arms and leaned back against her work table. The satisfied expression on her face told him he had played right into her hands somehow. Could she have wanted him to take Julie back with him?

"First, I must know whether Julie will be able to return to the twenty-first century if she is unhappy in my time. After a reasonable period, of course."

Lily smiled. “Of course. If I activate the amulet again, she can return."

"Then I shall keep it with me. To safeguard it for her,” he added quickly at Lily's raised eyebrow. “After I have dealt with Miles, I shall ask you to send her back. I presume you are returning to my time?"

She nodded again. “I am wherever I am needed."

He had also discussed with Lily whether he and Julie would be compatible since they would be living together in the castle. Julie was a prickly little thing and obedience would not come easily to her. He suspected she liked reminding him he had overspent his money better than kisses and bed sport.

Some giggles interrupted his thoughts. He glanced up.

"Your lady awaits, my lord,” cooed Gwyneth, stifling laughter with a hand over her mouth. Alda giggled. He eyed them sternly. Alda was only fourteen and easily excited, but Gwyneth had seventeen summers and should behave better.

They curtseyed and scurried down past him to join the others in the great hall.

Nicholas slowly mounted the winding stone steps to his bedchamber, trying to decide just what to tell Julie. He had faced vast armies in a happier frame of mind.

Angry and confused, Julie paced back and forth in a room that looked nothing like any place she'd ever seen in Barstow Castle. Rushes covered the cold stone floor and a single candle wavered in the chill night air creeping in around the shutters. No electricity. She'd searched for a switch as soon as she'd shooed the girls out but found nothing. Had Nick fixed up an authentic bedroom for the tourists? No, he didn't have enough imagination. But the way he'd acted during the last few weeks made her wonder if she could be wrong. He'd been different in so many ways...

Footsteps sounded outside and someone knocked. “May I enter, Julianne?” It was Nick.

Why was he calling her Julianne? And the teenaged girls had referred to her as Lady Julianne. How peculiar. She felt like Alice down the rabbit hole.

"Yes, and you'd better have a good explanation for all of this."

The door opened and Nick filled the space. He seemed to have taken on extra height and musculature and his shoulders and chest appeared broader than she remembered. Startled, she took a step backward.

Her action brought a frown to his handsome face. “You fear me, Julianne?"

"No, I'm just confused. I need answers, Nick. Now!"

"I understand your distress. I myself am somewhat puzzled about where we are."

"You're puzzled!"

"You will not like what I have to say."

"Try me.” She folded her arms across her chest as if to protect herself from the intense look in his golden eyes. A chill surfed down her spine.

"Out of necessity, I brought you back with me and...” He paused.

Back? “Back where?"

"To my time."

She regarded him coldly. “What are you talking about?"

Nick took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “My time is 1250 AD. Yours is 2009.” His fingers gripped her shoulders and he punctuated each of his words with a light shake. “I—am—from—your—past. I was sent to your time for some reason. I know not what. Now, I have returned to my own century and brought you back with me."

She could only stare. “W-why?"

"Because I need your help.” He released her shoulders and stepped back.

"Help with what? You aren't making any sense."

"Will you at least listen?"

Julie massaged the place between her eyes where a headache was forming. “Do I have a choice?"

"Nay."

She sank down on a stool in front of the fireplace where a half-hearted blaze wavered from the drafts swirling around the floor. Nick leaned a hip against the high bed, his expression grim. He didn't look as if he were about to amuse her with some highly romantic but totally improbable story. In fact, he appeared very much in earnest.

"What I have to say will sound strange to you, Julie, but when I found myself in your time, I, too, had trouble believing. Then I saw the wonders around me and knew the impossible had happened."

"Nick..."

He raised a hand. “Hear me out."

She nodded. “All right. Go on."

"I needed someone to help protect my baby son. At least I thought I did,” he said, his black eyebrows drawn into a frown.

"You thought? Don't you know?"

"There is a problem with that. I have returned to my time, but it is a year earlier than when I left. This is the day I married Lady Julianne, daughter of Sir Hector of Northbridge. It is May 1, 1249. Edward is not yet born, much less in need of protection."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

"Assuming you're right, what do you need me for?” Although she hated to admit it, something about Nick had changed. Despite his puzzlement about the date, he seemed in charge of the situation, a man used to solving his own problems, not asking for help.

"I am not sure,” he said. “When I left here, the year was 1250, and my wife had just died giving birth to my son."

Julie found herself caught up in his story in spite of her doubts. “So, if your wife died and you had a newborn son, why did you leave?"

"It was not by choice. While I sat in the great hall mourning the loss of my dear wife, I inadvertently did something which caused me to move through time. I found myself standing in the bailey talking with you about the Medieval Society's upcoming feast. For a minute, I thought you were my wife, Julianne, because you looked so much like her. After you left, Lily told me the year and who you were."

"Why am I not surprised Lily is involved in all this.” Julie decided it would be more amazing if she weren't. This explained her friend's occasional odd statements.

She raised her eyes to Nick's. He watched her, apparently waiting for what he had said to sink in. “Go on."

He nodded. “She said my essence was using the body of the man you call Nick and that I was the stronger personality so I dominated."

Julie's disbelief wavered a little. Though highly implausible, it could explain her sudden attraction to Nick. “If you're not Nick, then who are you?"

"I am Nicholas de Montclair, Baron of Barstow, just like your friend in 2009. The difference is seven hundred and fifty odd years and I am not an earl."

Julie shook her head firmly. “Going back and forth through time isn't possible."

"I will prove who I am in the morn. Now, I think we had best sleep. My people believe we just married and I do not want them to think otherwise."

Julie shivered and moved the stool closer to the fire. Nick strode across the room and added a large log. Sparks flew as the flames ate at the bark. “It will be warmer shortly."

He propped a hand on the mantle and stared down, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at him. That great smile played around his sensuous mouth once more. But charm wouldn't work.

She rose and stretched. “Where are you sleeping? And the answer better not be here."

Nick laughed. “A bridegroom sleeping in some place other than with his wife on their wedding night? I think not."

"And I think so.” She pointed downward. “The floor is all yours."

Nick laughed again. Opening a chest he removed a quilt. “For tonight, I bow to your wishes. Tomorrow we will talk and decide how we will proceed."

He removed his surcoat and hung it on a peg. Next came his tunic. Once again, he bared his massive chest to her eyes and once again she felt an unexplainable attraction to this mysterious man. She swallowed hard.

He started to untie his leggings.

"Stop right there,” she said in a small voice. Temptation shouldn't come so attractively packaged.

Nick grinned. “I usually sleep naked."

"You don't tonight."

He chuckled, dropped to the floor and rolled up in the quilt in front of the fire. “Goodnight, Julie."

"I see nothing good about it."

Silence, followed by a soft snore, met her statement.

Let him sleep. She had some thinking to do.

Angry and frustrated by happenings beyond her control, Julie climbed up on the bed fully clothed and pulled the coverlet over her. Tired as she was, sleep eluded her. What Nick had said couldn't possibly be true. His story laid out events as he wished them, not as they were. But how could she disprove it? Well, there was one way and with him asleep, she could check it out.

Julie sat up and slid quietly off the bed. Picking up her shoes, she tiptoed across the cold stone floor and opened the door. When it swung inward with no noise, she breathed a sigh of relief. Why had she humored Nick? She'd just go home. Even walking in her dance slippers across the fields was better than lying on that bed doing what Nick ordered.

She reached the bottom of the stairs without seeing anyone. The hall lay in semi-darkness, the flames in the two huge fireplaces having been banked for the night and most of the candles gutted. Her gaze fell on many shadowy lumps stretched out on the floor and benches along the walls. People sleeping. People who didn't smell good. A dog whined in his sleep. She didn't remember seeing any dogs earlier. Rushes rustled beneath her feet. They hadn't been there earlier this evening.

She moved slowly among the sleepers, careful not to wake anyone. She decided the members of the Medieval Society had gone a bit too far to assure authenticity. Surely, they weren't enjoying the hard stone floor.

The keep's door was shut and barred. Could she lift the heavy slab of wood holding it closed? As she reached for it, a man stepped from the shadows.

"Here now, wench, what be ye trying to do?” He grabbed her arm and yanked her against him. His rancid breath nearly gagged her.

"Take your hands off me."

His clothes were rough, his armor rusty and his right hand held a battered sword.

He growled when Julie tried to pull away and increased his grip on her arm.

"Release her.” A familiar voice behind her halted the ruffian who immediately dropped her arm and stepped back.

He bowed. “Milord."

"Hands off, Emil. This wench is my lady wife."

"Forgive me, milord. I did not recognize her in the dark."

Julie stared at them both, feeling that recurring chill encase her spine. Nick moved to stand before her. He was clad only in his leggings. He jerked his head and the guard melted back into the shadows.

Nick—or was he really the ancient Nicholas—stared down at her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “Running away could be very dangerous, especially at night, my love."

Just a hint of fear tickled her mind. She'd never felt any threat from the gently-mannered Nick, not like what emanated from this man—a man who expected to be obeyed. Like a real knight from the Middle Ages. Like maybe Nicholas de Montclair, the thirteen century Baron of Barstow.

Could he have possibly been telling the truth? Had he really come to the twenty-first century and then brought her back with him to the thirteenth? Nothing around her appeared as she remembered except the great hall itself, and even that was different. She couldn't explain the guards. There had been none at the Medieval Society's feast, and while Nick and some of the guests wore swords, those were merely ceremonial.

"Nick..."

"Nicholas.” Taking her hand, he led her back across the great hall and up the steps. “This penchant of your century for shortening names is strange."

Back in their chamber, he escorted her to the bed, then walked back and barred the door. He turned to face her, his dark brows drawn together in a fierce scowl. “Did you think I slept so deeply I would not hear the door open?"

"I have a right to leave if I want to,” she insisted.

He shook his head. “There are reasons why you must not leave, Julie."

"What reasons?” She frowned and drew her mouth into a tight line.

"Can you not wait until the morrow for an explanation?"

"No, I can't. So let's have it."

Nicholas seated himself on one of the two stools before the fire and she took the other. She saw his gaze drop to the amethyst amulet resting between her breasts. Leaning forward, he pulled it over her head.

"This necklace was my wife's,” he explained when Julie glared at his action.

"Then how did Nick get it?"

"It was never Nick's. I brought it with me from my time. How, I'm not sure."

Julie shook her head. “No, Nick gave it to me. He got it from Lily and...” She stopped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Aye, Lily."

"So you didn't just give it to me because it looked well with my costume?"

"Nay, I wanted you to rub it and come back here with me."

Julie thought a minute. “And rubbing them brought us back here?"

He nodded. “I had a most urgent need to return to my time. I have an enemy who wants both me and my son dead. And when I left, that man was staying in my castle."

Julie absently stroked the velvet pile of her surcoat. Everything this man said began to sound plausible. If this wasn't Nick, then where was her employer?

"What have you done with Nick?” she demanded, suddenly afraid for her friend.

"I've done nothing with him. I merely, uh, borrowed his body while living in your time. At least Lily seemed to think so."

"And for some reason, Lily has an interest in this. I wondered why...” Julie hesitated.

"Why Lily seemed to be watching over me?” Nick chuckled. “She was worried I would betray myself with something like forgetting to use my fork. I found it a most useful tool. Mayhap I shall order some made."

Thinking furiously, Julie found an anomaly in his story. “But you said this is or was your wedding night. So on this date, your wife cannot be dead. Where is she?"

Nicholas's laughter stilled. “It is only a guess, but I believe you are Julianne."

Julie's heart began to pound. “What do you mean?"

"It seems obvious that two Juliannes and two Nicholases cannot exist at the same time,” he said slowly.

"Dear God!” Julie whispered, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

"Perchance you are living in my wife's mind as I dwelled in Nick's."

"That's insane."

"My sentiment exactly.” Nicholas gave a wry smile and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, Julie, if you would please stay in bed and not roam around the keep, mayhap we can discuss this more on the morrow. I, for one, am exhausted."

Weariness wrapped around Julie like a large fuzzy blanket. “Yes, I'm tired, too. However, if you are who you say you are, I'm very angry with you for involving me in your plans, especially without my consent. And don't think you're getting half of this bed either."

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Am I not?"

"You seemed to have no trouble with the floor earlier. That is if your snoring meant you were really asleep.” She rose and climbed onto the bed, pulling the coverlet up around her ears.

"Goodnight, Julianne,” he said softly.

"Goodnight, Nick.” That would show him she hadn't bought into his story.

"On the morrow, I will show you things which will prove what I told you.” He seemed very sure of himself.

"That remains to be seen.” She rolled over.

A soft, very male chuckle rumbled across the darkness.

Julie ground her teeth and tuned him out.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 9
Julie awoke suddenly. Darkness surrounded her. And warmth. A muscular arm held her close against a hard chest. Even breathing told her he slept.

Was it Nick—or Nicholas?

She lay very still, not wanting to wake him. If she did, she'd have to demand he get out of her bed. While he slept, she could enjoy the comfort and safety of his large body wrapped around hers. Not only was she warm, but the threat of the unknown which had plagued her throughout the night remained a hazy, half-dream. Reality would kick in before long, and then she'd have to deal with it.

All too soon, he stirred. First his warm breath, then his lips found her ear. He kissed it and whispered, “Good morning, Julianne,” before she could push away from him.

Rolling free, she turned to face him. “Why are you in my bed? I thought we agreed you'd sleep on the floor.” She kicked off the coverlet and started to slide off the mattress. But her escape was hindered by scads of hanging velvet material. Bed curtains. That explained the darkness. She shoved them open and the wan light of dawn met her gaze.

He laughed. “You agreed to that. I did not."

"Get out.” She shoved him with little result—like trying to move a stalled lorry.

"Listen to me, Julianne.” She started to protest his use of that name, but he rose up on his elbow and laid his palm over her mouth. “Aye, from now on you will always be Julianne in public.” He stared down at her, his amber eyes unsmiling. “The castle folk believe you are Julianne, so while you are here you must not confuse them.” His expression allowed her no dissent.

Julie picked up on the ‘while you are here.’ “You're saying I don't have to stay?"

"I am saying I may need your help. Then we will see."

"And who will decide that—you or Lily?"

Nick shook his head. “I do not know."

Thinking they were getting nowhere, Julie changed the subject. “And while we're at it, just why are you in my bed?"

Nick sat up and let the covers slip well below his waist. “Your ladies will be arriving soon to dress you. There must be no rumor that all is not well with us."

He reached for his knife which lay on the table beside the bed. Pricking his finger, he shook a few drops of blood on the linen sheet.

"What are you doing?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her annoyance.

"Proving your virginity and the consummation of our marriage to the household."

She raised a cynical eyebrow. “Isn't that taking all this a little too far?"

"If I thought so, I would not have done it. As I said before, we must make everyone think all is well with us.” He sat up straighter and pushed back to rest his broad shoulders against the headboard.

Julie tried not to notice the expanse of bare skin the slipping coverlet revealed. “All is not well with us. If you think..."

He interrupted. “Then we must make it appear so. Our lives may depend upon it."

"Aren't you exaggerating?"

Nick propped himself on one large hand and leaned down near her ear. “No, Julie, I fear I am not. I told you my enemy was within the keep when I left. That was a year from now. And he was also here for my wedding one year earlier.” His grim expression convinced her of the seriousness of his words. Or at least his belief in them.

"So who is this threat to your life?"

"My brother-in-law, Sir Miles Norville. You know his descendant, Sir Stephan Norville."

Julie's mouth dropped open. “Are you sure?"

"Aye, he is married to my sister, Eleanor, and he covets my demesne now just as his descendant in your time covets Nick's."

His darkly handsome face so close to hers, his warm breath laving her cheek, his soft rumbling voice, all conspired to make her heart pound in her chest like a military drum cadence.

"I know Stephen is married to your sister, Margaret. They were at the Medieval Society's feast last night.” She refused to accept that these people were not Nick or Margaret or Stephen.

"I did not wish to invite them, but you..."

Julie interrupted. “She's your sister. You couldn't ignore her."

He frowned. “As I was saying, I did not wish to invite her because I detest her husband—both in your time and mine.

Deciding to drop the whole disagreeable subject, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid to the floor. Her feet touched a woven reed mat, not a rug. She shuddered, then glanced down at her clothes. The purple velvet dress she'd worn to the Feast had suffered from being slept in. She tried to smooth out the worst wrinkles without much success.

"Where's the bathroom?” she asked, hoping to find familiar twenty-first century fixtures in a small tiled room. Anything to prove him wrong.

"I will show you.” He slid a muscular bare leg from under the coverlet.

"No! Don't get up.” Without seeing more, she knew he was naked, since she'd just spied his clothes flung over one of the stools. “I'll find it."

Amusement dancing in his eyes, the man who claimed to be Nick's ancestor sank back and folded his hands behind his head. “As you will, Julie."

At the end of the corridor, she found only a stinking garderobe. Baffled by this development but afraid to accept its connotation, Julie relieved herself, then returned to the bedchamber to find him up and dressed.

He held out his hand. “Come. We will go down and break our fast."

"First, let's see that proof you mentioned last night.” He arched a questioning eyebrow and she added, “You know. Things you think will make me believe I'm really in the thirteenth century.” Was there a chance he'd been telling the truth? So many things about the castle appeared different from the way she'd remembered them. She'd once read about an interesting theory of Albert Einstein's saying time was a circle and it might be possible to move back and forth along the continuum. But had anybody ever proven this?

Shoving all speculation aside, she ran her fingers through her long hair, trying to untangle the snarls. Her hair—just when had it grown long enough to reach her waist? She shuddered. Nick leaned against the bedpost watching her, an admiring expression on his face. “You look lovely, Julie. Now, remember, once we go down to the great room, you must act like my wife to the people in my keep. Since you wear Julianne's body, you must try to act as she would.” He pushed off the bed post and offered his arm. “My lady.” Reluctantly, she placed her hand on his forearm, not missing the hard muscles beneath his shirt.

When he opened the door, Gwyneth and Alda were standing on the other side. They stared open-mouthed at Julie. Her hair must be a real bird's nest. But they were, after all, only young girls, so she smiled and said, “Could you help me with my hair. I don't see a mirror anywhere."

Gwyneth and Alda shook their heads and frowned, as though not understanding what she had said. Julie glanced at whoever this man was—Nick or Nicholas.

"In French,” he murmured.

"Oh, of course.” She repeated her request in Norman French and this time they nodded and smiled.

"Aye, my lady,” they chorused and followed her into the room.

Nick slouched against the doorframe while the two girls fussed with her hair and laid out another underdress and surcoat they took from a trunk at the foot of the bed. If they wondered why she had donned yesterday's rumpled gown, they didn't ask.

Julie squirmed, uncomfortably aware of Nick's assessing gaze, but she was glad of fresh clothing. The cerulean blue silk fit so well, she thought it might have been made to her measurements. If she were really in Julianne's body, it probably had been.

The girls braided her hair—hair so long that it definitely wasn't Julie's—and curled the thick ropes around her head. They suggested a veil, but she shook her head. Reluctantly, she went over to Nick. Once again, he offered his arm. She laid her hand on it and together, they walked down the winding stairs.

Sunlight slanting across the floor through the high, narrow windows of the great room told her it was late. Since there were few people in the hall, she supposed most of the guests, if guests they were, had gone home.

Julie stared hungrily at the bread and cheese laid out on the high table, but more than food right now, she wanted to see what this man had to show her. He led her across the great hall. The front door stood open, letting a refreshing wind cleanse the smell of dog manure and unwashed bodies from the air.

As they walked across the bailey, unsettling sights met her gaze. Several grooms dressed in coarse clothing were mucking out the stables and two men in armor mounted horses and rode off. Hammering came from the blacksmith's forge. A laundress sloshed bed and table linens in a trough filled with water, while a company of man-at-arms carrying swords marched through the gate to the lower bailey. Carts rumbled over the rutted grass and dirt, maybe bringing supplies the kitchen staff had ordered. The delicious smell of baking pies and meats wafted across the courtyard on the brisk April breeze.

To Julie's surprise, she saw the kitchen was located outside the castle, not within. This could not have happened overnight. And worst of all, these people were not members of Nick's medieval group but lower classes, one and all. People who were not and never had been at Barstow Castle in the twenty-first century, but people who had lived over seven hundred years ago in the thirteenth century. People who had served Nick's ancestor, Lord Nicholas de Montclair.

The sun shone brightly, but Julie felt as if a choking darkness had closed in on her. Nick had told the truth. Or was it truly the ancient Nicholas?

She turned and scowled at the lord of the castle. “It's not real,” she said as firmly as she could, while fear roiled in her stomach. Fear that she was lost forever in the mists of time.

Nicholas watched her eyes widen as she stared at the ordinary sights of his world. He had convinced her, but the victory tasted like ashes in his mouth. His heart ached for her.

"Aye, it is real.” He covered the hand that still rested on his arm and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze as he led her back to the keep. She didn't resist, just moved along as though sleep-walking.

Nicholas took her to the high table and seated her next to him. “Maude,” he shouted. “Bring ale.” This time he was sure she would.

Julie sat staring off into space. Finally, she murmured, “How could all this happen?"

"We rubbed the amulets, Julianne."

Weakly, she shook her head. She looked defeated

"Aye, we did,” he insisted in a low voice. “But we will tell no one. My people are superstitious and you do not wish to be thought a witch. So for now, you must act like a thirteenth century wife."

Julie started to protest, but he shook his head. “Remember, we were newly wed but yester-morn and we love one another dearly,” he whispered into her shell pink ear. He cut off a hunk of cheese and placed it on her pewter plate, hoping any observer would think their conversation merely the love play of newly weds.

"How could that be? I thought all marriages were merely arrangements."

"And so they are. But we fell in love when we first met."

He paused, thinking how differently his life turned out from what he had expected. Why was he not mourning Julianne properly? Mayhap because in a way she is still with you. He collected his wandering thoughts and continued his warning to this twenty-first century woman.

"It will be not only wise but necessary to act the part of the submissive and loving wife. For your own safety,” he added, as her expression darkened. “Are you aware of the social and religious aspects of my time?"

"Y-yes.” Her soft stammer and pale cheeks told him she knew the penalties for heretical behavior.

"You are a teacher, though not like our teachers. Lily told me you instruct students about this time in history. So you must be aware of the severe punishment dealt out by the Church for heresy. And you will appear a heretic if you speak about moving through time and dwelling within Julianne's body."

Julie gave a long sigh. “Don't worry, Nicholas. I'll behave."

For the first time, she spoke his name instead of his descendant's. An immediate rush of warmth surged through him, the kind he had not felt since his wife died. But he couldn't let himself become too fond of Julie. He had thought it over during the night and decided that he would have her stay a year. Mayhap if he did not lie with her, Julianne's death could be prevented and his wife would live. Mayhap this was what Lily had in mind when she interfered with his life. But what about an heir? In May of 1250 when he had left, baby Edward occupied the nursery, but his wife was dead. If Julianne should live, would the child be gone? Mayhap Lily had an answer, but Nicholas was too confused to guess at it.

He turned his thoughts back to the woman at his side. It should be easy not to touch Julie since he knew she was not really his wife, but a knot of regret in his gut said his body disagreed.

Julie choked down a few mouthfuls of bread and cheese. Her foolish wish for a knight in metaphorical shining armor had somehow been granted—literally. The ‘how’ was incomprehensible, the ‘why’ equally so. She glanced at Nicholas who seemed to have no trouble stowing away a great quantity of the food set before them. She supposed he was hungry because he was happy. After all, he had returned to his time, his castle, and his people. For him, things were back to normal. Could the same ever be said about her?

As if sensing her unhappiness, Nicholas slid his hand over hers and gave a gentle squeeze. This small kindness sent pent-up tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I am sorry, Julie,” he murmured in what she sensed was for him an admission not lightly given. “Remember, I promised to return you to your own century."

"When?"

His eyes clouded. “I do not know. But it will happen sometime.” The shadow passing over his face said there was something he wasn't telling her.

"And you're saying you don't know when that will be."

He shook his head.

"But you also said you brought me here."

"Actually, the amulet brought you."

The amulet! But he had taken that away from her last night. “What did you do with it? I want it back."

"It will not work, Julianne, unless Lily wishes it to."

He'd called her by his wife's name again. She started to protest, but saw the serving girl—Maude he'd called her—approaching. The woman moved close to Nicholas, much too close. As she set a fresh pitcher of ale on the table, the girl's well-rounded hip nudged him. Nicholas paid no attention, but Julie did. It spoke of familiarity. Too much, in fact. She supposed he'd been with many women. With his looks and entitlement, it was a given. This female servant, pretty in a coarse kind of way, was probably no exception. It shouldn't bother her that Nicholas had found other women attractive. He had his needs. But for some reason, she hated the thought of this woman's work roughened hands touching his bare skin.

For goodness sakes, she chided herself. What concern was it of hers? She scarcely knew this man whom she'd finally admitted wasn't Nick. She had wanted courtly love from a real knight. But Nicholas would not necessarily turn on the love phrases of which she was so fond.

This man spoke with actions, not words. With a shiver, she remembered the swift downward thrust of his heavy broadsword that day in the bailey. The dog hadn't just been lucky. Nicholas had missed on purpose. She had a feeling that didn't happen very often.

She pushed back her chair and stood. Nicholas popped the last of the bread into his mouth and looked up. “Where are you going, Julianne?"

Maude continued to rub against him. Without so much as a glance, he gave her a shove. “Be off, wench.” Like she was a fly or some small, insignificant animal.

He rose and took Julie's arm. “Are you tired, my love? Do you wish to retire?"

Julie found her voice. “Please. I feel a little dizzy."

"I will escort you.” Nicholas led her across the great hall and up the stairs.

She feared he planned to stay, but to her relief, he helped her up on the bed, spread the coverlet over her and stepped back.

"I will wake you for dinner.” He moved away and she realized he was leaving.

"I wish to rise before nightfall,” she said.

"Dinner is in the middle of the day. What I recall you termed as lunch.” His expression grew stern. “Be careful of such irrational slips, Julianne. Your ladies will think you dimwitted."

Nicholas left Julie to grumble to herself. He had much to do. It had been a year since he had passed through this time before and he needed to talk with Sir Edgar. He should try to look a little weary and somewhat befuddled, the result of too much wedding night tupping. It shouldn't be too hard since a shroud of weariness had enveloped him since last even.

He left the keep and went to find his quiet but efficient friend, a man who had aided him in overcoming his enemies many years ago. If there was one person Nicholas trusted, it was Sir Edgar, his steward. Also, he needed to speak with his aunt, who had kept his house for many years. Julie—nay, Julianne—would have to deal with Lady Beatrix, who ruled the household servants with an iron hand. He decided that Lady would meet her match in his Julie. The taming of the fierce Lady Beatrix would be amusing to watch.

He caught sight of Sir Edgar supervising some sword practice by the household knights and strode off in that direction, anxious to witness the readiness of his small army for himself. He stripped off his tunic, grabbed a sword and joined the fray. For a moment, the fascinating woman from the future was forgotten.

The morning sun had not risen very high when Miles Norville made his appearance. Nicholas laid down his sword and wiped the perspiration from his forehead as he watched his brother-in-law approach. The man strutted across the bailey as if he owned the castle and all that surrounded it. The tunic he wore over his chain mail was covered in rich embroidery set with jewels which sparkled in the sunlight. He seemed overdressed for a twenty mile ride home on dusty roads.

Eleanor trailed Miles, clad in more suitable attire—a dark green underdress and brown woolen surcoat—with a retinue of servants in her wake. From the stables, grooms appeared leading the party's horses. Miles sprang up on his destrier, ignoring his wife.

Nicholas walked over to his sister who smiled at him. “I'm sorry you are leaving, Eleanor. I had hoped you would grace us with your presence for a few more days.” He wished he could keep her with him forever and be rid of Miles. Of course he now had a year's worth of knowledge giving him insight into his former friend's true character.

"I am so happy for you and Julianne, Nicholas, but my sons will be anxious for our swift return. They are still very little."

"They are fine boys and deserve your attention. However, that does not alter the fact that I see but little of you these days, Sister.” He was teasing and could see she knew it. Although seven years separated them, they had always had a genuine rapport and a deep love for each other.

Eleanor smiled again and patted his hand. “I think you will forget my existence now you have such a beautiful and adoring wife,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

He took her gloved hand in his. “You are never far from my thoughts.” And that was the truth. How blind he had been in wedding her to the devious Miles Norville, a man whose true character had escaped Nicholas at the time. Guilt overwhelmed him. Well, it was done and not to be undone—at least not yet. In the future, however... He left that thought unfinished.

He glanced at Miles and saw the other man regarding him with a black scowl. Best not to let him know Nicholas had discovered his deceitful soul. Eleanor and the boys might be made to suffer. Also, the blackguard could launch an attack against Barstow Castle before Nicholas had found additional knights and men-at-arms. Who knew whether this year would proceed like the one he had already lived through. So for now, he would stay silent.

He turned to his former friend. “So, Miles. I thank you for your presence at my marriage to the Lady Julianne. It was good to see you both.” Courtesy cost nothing but breath and a smile, no matter how insincere.

"Mayhap we will visit again when the newness of your marriage has worn off a bit.” That was fairly civil coming from his sister's husband.

"I will look forward to it.” Nicholas reached up and gripped wrists with Miles. He kissed Eleanor's cheek and helped her mount. She leaned down from the saddle and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Be good to Julianne, brother,” she said softly. “You have found a jewel of rare price."

He nodded. “That I know, Eleanor. I would give my life and all I possess for her."

"Come.” Miles kneed his huge destrier.

With a wave, Eleanor trotted after her husband, followed by his guards, their horses’ hooves thudding rhythmically on the hard packed earth.

Nicholas stood staring after them long after they had passed beneath the portcullis and over the drawbridge. Then he motioned to Eldred, one of his men-at-arms.

"I have a task for you,” he murmured.

"Aye, milord.” Eldred grinned. “Would it have something to do with Lord Miles?"

Nicholas clapped him on the shoulder. “It would indeed."

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 10
A gentle touch on her shoulder woke Julie. The little maid, Gwyneth, offered her hand. “Come, my lady. Dinner will be ready soon and we must dress your hair again.” Julie stepped down and Gwyneth brushed at her skirts. “Wrinkles,” she muttered.

"Sleeping in one's clothes doesn't improve their looks,” Julie said.

Gwyneth smiled. “Mayhap you will call me next time you wish to nap, my lady. We will remove all but your shift. Then the rest will stay fresh."

It was Nicholas's fault for rushing her up here and depositing her on the bed. He should have suggested she take off...She blushed. If he'd even tried it, she'd... She'd what? Even if she had resisted, his superior strength would have won out. He would have pinned her against his hard body with his strong arms and...

Gwyneth finished brushing her hair and interrupted her erotic thoughts. “Oh, my lady, some traveling musicians arrived today so we will have entertainment this even. Isn't that wonderful?"

Julie smiled at the girl's enthusiasm. “Wonderful,” she agreed, knowing entertainment was sporadic and furnished by itinerant musicians, jugglers and story tellers. Also, the lady of the castle, if gifted with a good voice, might occasionally take up a lyre and sing a pretty tune to while away the hours after supper. She hoped no one requested a song from her, since she couldn't even carry a tune. However, she was using Julianne's vocal chords so perhaps...

"It has been many months since we last had someone as good as Sigmund. He sings all the old Norse sagas, and he is so handsome.” Gwyneth pressed her hand to her heart.

"We should hurry down so I can see this paragon.” Julie smiled to herself. Gwyneth's sighing over Sigmund was no different from teenagers in the twenty-first century sighing over rock stars. Probably this Sigmund was the nearest thing to one in this age.

Gwyneth took another look at the clothes Julie wore. “You must change, my lady. That gown is too wrinkled to wear.” She went to the large chest against the far wall and opened the lid. “I think this one.” She held up a pale blue silk kirtle and a sapphire blue velvet surcoat trimmed in fox fur.

"Lovely.” Julie turned so Gwyneth could unlace her rumpled gown and drop the fresh one over her head.

Julie peered into the small polished metal hand mirror. “Did the gown muss my hair?"

Gwyneth shook her head. “Nay, my lady.” She reached out and tucked a stray lock behind Julie's ear. “It really is the most remarkable color and so thick and curly. I am sure my lord finds it pleasing."

A fishing expedition. Well, Julie wasn't biting. “I wouldn't know,” she replied, sliding her feet into a pair of satin slippers.

"Oh, my lady, surely he said..."

"That's enough, Gwyneth. Such things are between my husband and me."

The little lady-in-waiting bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes. “Aye, Lady Julianne. I am sorry. My tongue runs like a hound after a deer."

Seeing the girl's genuine regret for prying into her lady's affairs Julie put an arm around her. “It's all right, Gwyneth. I'm not angry with you. It's just some things between a man and woman are private, not to be discussed with others."

Like that kiss, just before they'd traveled back here. The shape of his mouth, the warmth of his lips still lingered in her memory. At the time, she'd thought Nick had taken advantage of the romantic setting. Instead, it had been Nicholas acting like the men of his time, taking what he wanted, when he wanted it. Well, it wouldn't happen again. He'd brought her here to help guard his son, not as his heart's choice. But Edward had not yet been born at this time, so what else might he have in mind?

She shelved her curiosity and caught Gwyneth staring at her wide-eyed. “Are you feeling unwell, my lady? You had such a strange expression on your face."

"No, dear, I'm not ill. I think it's time we went down to dinner, don't you? It wouldn't be polite to be late.” It was also time to have a talk with Nicholas. One with better explanations.

As they walked across the great hall, Julie spied the object of her thoughts sitting at the lord's table, chatting with a handsome, dark-haired knight. Gwyneth took a seat at one of the lower tables next to a teenage boy, leaving Julie to face the stares of the castle folk alone. Just then, Nicholas looked up and beckoned. As she stepped up on the dais, the other man finished saying something.

Nicholas nodded. “Then the tenants are content with their assigned days for the spring planting?"

"Aye, my lord. Of course a few are never happy, but...” Spying Julie, he broke off. Nicholas rose and extended his hand.

She took it, trying to ignore how her stomach dipped and her breathing sped up when their fingers met. Why oh why must she feel this way about a man long dead?

"Ah, Julianne, you look wondrously refreshed and as beautiful as ever.” He turned to his companion. “Isn't she radiant, Sir Edgar?"

The other knight smiled as he rose and bowed to her. “She is indeed. Good day, my lady.” He turned back to Nicholas. “After dinner, I am riding out to visit some of the tenant farmers. Would you care to accompany me, my lord?"

"Aye, I feel the need for some fresh air to clear my head.” He grinned at Edgar who with the usual male perception of any sexual inference, grinned back, then turned and began conversing with the man on his other side.

Nicholas pulled out the chair next to his and seated Julie beside him. Servants hurried around, making sure everyone had plates, spoons and drinking cups. Others brought heaping platters of meat swimming in their own juices. They shared a trencher which Nicholas piled high, then began pulling the meat apart with his fingers.

"I wish I had one of your forks,” he murmured.

"So do I. Did you wash your hands?"

Nicholas grinned. “Of course."

"It's still unsanitary."

"What is that—unsanitary?"

"It mean unhealthy. Germs,” she mumbled around a bit of bread and meat.

"Germs?"

"Oh, never mind.” Explaining germs wasn't something she wanted to start.

The food tasted good. She'd insisted they view Nicholas's proof before breakfast and the sight of an authentic thirteenth century castle at work had stolen her appetite. Then she'd escaped reality into the oblivion of sleep...and dreams.

A golden-eyed knight on a huge black charger pursued her. Although she ran as fast as she could, he caught her, swept her up into his arms and placed her before him across his thighs. She struggled to free herself, but his muscular arm just clasped her closer to his hard chain mail. Then she saw the amulet clutched in his other hand and reached for it. Pull as she might, he would not let it go. When they crossed a shallow river, the knight yanked his arm from her grasp and flung the amulet into the water. As his grip on her relaxed, she tore free, her impetus flinging her off the horse. With a splash, she hit the water and sank. Suddenly, the river became swift and deep. Although she tried to kick, her long, sodden dress kept pulling her down, and the amulet remained just beyond her grasp... She'd awakened thrashing frantically, the linen bed sheet wound around her body.

Nicholas sat watching her wolf down what must seem to him an unladylike amount of food. After a minute, he murmured, “Germs?"

She scowled. “Another time. I'm eating."

He continued to stare at her with those molten lava eyes. Then he leaned very close and whispered, “Julie, you must remember we have just wed and are in love. Some of the looks you give me are not those of a loving bride."

Julie was saved from replying by the arrival of a formidable looking woman. She swept across the keep like a sailing ship before a brisk wind. Both Nicholas and Edgar bounded up.

"Your lordship, my lady.” She dropped a deep curtsey to Nicholas, then a lesser one to Julie, who wondered who this was.

Nicholas saved her embarrassment by saying, “Julianne, you will want to confer with my aunt, Lady Beatrix, about the running of the household. I believe you met yesterday, but all was such confusion...” Keys clanked at Lady Beatrix's ample waist, proclaiming this woman the chatelaine of the keep, at least for the moment.

"Here are your keys, Lady Julianne.” The older woman reached down to unfasten them from her girdle.

Panic squeezed Julie's chest. “Oh, please, Lady Beatrix, you keep them for now.” It was one thing to research medieval households, quite another to actually run one. Also, she would need to win Lady Beatrix's friendship and trust. “I must first learn from you, ma'am."

The older woman's stern expression softened. She appeared flattered that the new lady of the castle wished to be instructed by her. Julie gave a sigh of relief at finding the right way to handle the situation. She'd need this large and commanding creature on her side in the future.

"When do you wish to begin, my lady?” Lady Beatrix seemed anxious to demonstrate her housekeeping skills as soon as possible.

"Why not after dinner? We'll have the whole afternoon.” If Julie had to stay here for a while, keeping occupied would help pass the time. She still needed to get Nicholas alone and demand he find a way to send her back to her own century. But he was occupied with Sir Edgar right now and there were too many people around to speak freely. They all thought her Lady Julianne, Nicholas's wife and a young and inexperienced girl, so for a short time she'd humor Nicholas and play her part. But not forever. She wanted to go home, the sooner the better.

She bit back the surge of anger that shook her when she thought of Nicholas's trickery. How could he have brought her back to his time without asking first? But anger was pointless now. She needed to focus on being Julianne and hope for a swift resolution of Nicholas's problems. Then hopefully, he would keep his promise and return her to the twenty-first century.

Lady Beatrix nodded, a smile tipping up the corners of her wide mouth. “Very good, my lady.” After motioning to the serving women to bring in the next course, she stepped up on the dais and took the empty seat next to Julie.

Julie finished her bread and meat. There were a few rather withered potatoes and carrots, but she skipped those. Too early for fresh vegetables, she supposed. After a long winter, most of the stores put away last fall were depleted.

Julie took a few sips of wine and thought some more about Nicholas's problems. He had mentioned his wife had died in the near future and Julie had every intention of vacating Julianne's body before that happened. But how? Lily seemed the key. She had given them the amulets. So the next step would be to talk to Lily. But where was she? Nicholas might know. Right now, he and Sir Edgar were in a deep discussion about the planting of new crops. She'd tackle him later, when they were alone.

The meal over, Julie went off with Lady Beatrix, and Nicholas decided that instead of visiting his tenants, he and Sir Edgar needed to review the demesne's accounts. His memory was good, but much had happened during the last year including his wife's death and his fantastic leap into the future.

He and Sir Edgar walked to the small room where he kept his records. Many sheets of parchment were stacked in neat piles on a sturdy oak table. How his descendant, Nick, could function with his messy office, Nicholas had no idea.

He wondered how much he should tell Julie about his enemy, Miles Norville. Just enough to win her cooperation, he decided. She had to be on her guard, yet act naturally, as if she were really his wife. That Julie had liked Stephan Norville bothered him, but he had grown up with Miles and knew he could also be charming if he wished, just like his descendant. Nicholas did not want her to be deceived and drop her guard.

After an hour of conferring over the household accounts with his steward, Nicholas leaned back in his chair and rotated his aching shoulders. How he hated paperwork.

Then Sir Edgar surprised him. “If I am not presuming too much, my lord, why did you send Eldred after Sir Miles?"

Nicholas leaned his elbows on the table, steepled his hands and stared at Sir Edgar over them. “You noticed, did you?"

Edgar grinned. “Very little escapes my attention, my lord."

That was good, but with a possible war between him and Miles a distinct possibility, he needed to free up Edgar from his duties as steward to work with the castle's small army of knights and men-at-arms. At Oxford, the masters now taught young men how to manage estates. They learned letter-writing, legal procedures, preparation of documents and accounting. Tomorrow, he would send a letter to the masters at Oxford asking them to send him a good student to help with the accounts.

Then an uneasy thought struck him. All this was different from what he had done the last time through this year. But surely having someone other than himself work on his accounts couldn't change history, could it? He didn't see how.

Convinced all was well, Nicholas set out to tour his estate with Sir Edgar.

Julie stood in the middle of the building which housed the kitchen and listened to a detailed explanation of a chatelaine's duties by Lady Beatrix. A castle, it seemed, ran on its stomach. The amount of food necessary to feed the household appeared endless.

She stared at the huge iron cauldrons suspended from a hook and chain device which could be lowered or raised to hasten or slow cooking. They were filled with something that bubbled like a witch's brew. Although it was early May, the heat in the room was stultifying. The scent, however, was mouthwatering.

Lady Beatrix gestured at the pot. “Leftover meat from dinner becomes stew for supper. “Very thrifty."

The middle-aged male cook stomped around making sure all his helpers kept busy at their tasks. One little maid, who looked no older than ten, wept as she chopped a huge mound of onions, presumably to flavor the stew. Two other children were slicing more of the withered potatoes and a few wrinkled carrots, which hopefully would be edible when disguised in the thick gravy.

"Have fresh vegetables been planted?” Julie inquired, hoping they had.

"Why certainly, my lady. As soon as the danger of frost is past, we sow the seeds.” Lady Beatrix appeared surprised she should ask such a basic question.

Julie nodded, trying to look as if she'd known that.

Next they visited the bake house where the baker was engaged in the unending task of kneading dough. Julie learned the castle folk consumed vast quantities of bread at all three meals each day, so the ovens worked unceasingly, turning out loaves from before dawn till after sunset. No wonder Nicholas and Edgar were discussing the planting of wheat at dinner.

"You were instructed by your dear mama, God rest her soul, in the running of a castle?” Lady Beatrix's angled dark eyebrows raised, giving her eyes the look of two gabled windows.

Julie would have laughed if the question hadn't stumped her. Her mama?

Apparently, Julianne's mother was dead and her father, if alive, had not attended the wedding. At least she hadn't seen anyone who looked like he might be the bride's father. Maybe he was dead or too unwell to travel. Why hadn't Nicholas filled her in on the background of the woman she was supposed to be? She'd ask him about it tonight.

"The woman who managed the household gave no thought to my education.” That sounded plausible. Or was she digging holes again? Just where was Nicholas anyway? She hadn't seen him since dinner. She supposed he might be inspecting the estate with Sir Edgar. Or maybe he'd gone to confer with his bailiff.

She tuned in Lady Beatrix again and nodded agreeably as that venerable personage conducted her to the buttery, pantry, and eventually to the stables to visit her horse. Oh, Lord!

"Before the wedding you mentioned how much you liked your mare. What is her name?” Lady Beatrix's aim today seemed to be asking unanswerable questions.

"Ah, I can't remember. It's right on the tip of my tongue,” Julie said, stroking the mare's silky brown neck. Talk about stupid. The horse bailed her out with a soft whinny and a head bob. If only she an apple or something to give it.

"Well, she seems fond of you,” Lady Beatrix commented, turning toward the stable door. “Watch where you step."

She certainly would. This whole world smelled bad. Well, not the kitchen, but the people in it all needed a bath. As did most of the others who brushed past her in the course of the afternoon. She herself would kill for a good shower. And a nice cold drink. She did not have the average Englishman's aversion to ice. Iced tea was a favorite with her. Not one she could indulge here, though. Tea had not yet arrived from the Orient.

With a sigh, she interrupted the tumultuous flood of information flowing from Lady Beatrix's mouth and pleaded a headache.

"But I wished to show you the solar and discuss the weaving of some new tapestries."

Oh, no! “Please, Lady Beatrix, could we do that tomorrow. I'm sure you're very capable of running this whole place without me. For now,” she added, at the lady's astonished stare. “If I could just work into it gradually."

The older woman smiled kindly. “I am sure the last few days have been filled with hectic events. You will need a period to adjust."

"Yes, I will.” That was for sure.

"I do not wish to criticize, but you tend to speak most strangely at times, running your words together. A sign of exhaustion, I think."

"Undoubtedly,” Julie agreed, feeling a real headache brewing. She needed Nicholas to run interference for her. Although she was still angry with him for bringing her here without asking, having his tall, broad-shouldered presence at her side in public, his strong arm around her shoulders was a definite comfort. Not that she'd ever tell him.

She left Lady Beatrix to manage the rest of the day's tasks and climbed the spiral stairs to the tower chamber she had shared with Nicholas last night.

She entered, expecting the room to be vacant. To her surprise, the sound of soft weeping greeted her.

"Who's here?” she called, but the lengthening shadows concealed the weeper. She shut the door and advanced into the room, glancing from side to side.

A small sob rose from behind the high bedstead. “It is I, Lady Julianne. Gwyneth."

"Why, Gwyneth, whatever is the matter?” Julie knelt beside the young lady-in-waiting who had buried her face in the feathered mattress of the massive bed.

"Oh, my lady, I do not wish to trouble you with my problems,” the girl said, with a soft hiccup.

Julie looked around for a handkerchief, but found only a soft linen towel someone had left lying on the bed. “Here, my dear, dry your tears and tell me about it. I'm a good listener."

"It is William.” Gwyneth stopped, as if Julie would know who she meant.

"And who is William?” She probably should know, but she couldn't think.

Gwyneth gave her a strange look. “Why, Lord Nicholas's squire. I thought you knew him. I ate dinner with William today."

Oh, that William. “Of course, I know him,” she lied, “but there could be more than one William, now couldn't there?"

Gwyneth, eyes huge, nodded.

"Is William your, ah, boyfriend?” That wasn't the right term, but Julie's word-selection center felt like a pressure cooker about to explode from too much steam.

"He is my suitor. We are in love,” Gwyneth explained, a rather foolish expression on her face. “We want to be married."

"Aren't you a bit young?” Julie was horrified. This child wanted to marry another child? Surely, William couldn't be much older than Gwyneth.

"I'm seventeen and he's eighteen. We are grown,” the girl declared proudly.

"I see.” Yes, she saw, but what advice to offer? If she suggested they wait until they were older, they might defy her by running off and ruining their lives. As Nicholas's squire, William had many duties, but taking care of a wife wasn't one of them, she suspected.

The correct response for the situation escaped her. “I will speak to my husband about this,” she said after a moment of thought.

"Oh, no!” Gwyneth cried. “He might send William away. Or me, my lady,” she added, looking woebegone. Julie, wanting to comfort her, gathered the girl into her arms for a quick hug. The girl's slight frame shook with suppressed sobs.

"I'm sure Lord Nicholas wouldn't do that. Now, dry your tears and go about your, uh, tasks.” Julie patted Gwyneth's face once again with the towel, then rose to her feet.

"My task or duty is to serve you,” Gwyneth protested, as Julie escorted her to the door. The girl stopped there, refusing to budge while she pleaded her case. “I will be scolded and perhaps punished if I do not attend to your needs.” Panic blossomed in her eyes.

"Who would do that?"

"Lady Beatrix. She said..."

Julie interrupted. “It's all right Gwyneth. Just go do some mending in the solar. You do have mending, don't you?"

Gwyneth nodded and gave a long sniff.

"That's what I'd like you to do for me. I am going to lie down and shut my eyes. I'm getting a dreadful headache."

Immediately, she realized that wasn't the thing to say.

"Oh, Lady Julianne, let me get some wet towels to put..."

Again, Julie interrupted. “I'm fine, dear. Just let me shut my eyes for a while and I'll be as right as rain on spring flowers.” She hoped this was true.

Gwyneth, looking somewhat put out, nodded again and after helping Julie remove her gown went off, leaving her in peace.

"Oh, my God, what have I gotten myself into?” she asked the chamber pot, which, of course, didn't reply. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had.

Julie didn't speak with Nicholas about Gwyneth and William, at least not right then. After resting her aching head for two hours, she dressed and slipped from the room. Finding no Gwyneth waiting anxiously to serve, Julie descended the stairs to the great hall. The closeness of her chamber had forced her to seek some fresh air.

The late afternoon sunlight and apple blossom-scented breeze lifted her spirits as she crossed the bailey. She spied a young man who must be William sitting on a stool outside the stables mending a harness. His warm, brown eyes and friendly smile made her feel he was glad of her company.

"Hello, William. Busy, I see."

"My lady,” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I but mend Archangel's harnesses. Could I be of service to you in some way?"

A horse named Archangel? “I wanted to chat with you, get to know you a little better. After all, you do work with my husband."

Will raised an eyebrow. Had she put her foot in it again?

The skepticism disappeared and he gave a courtly little bow. “I am honored, Lady Julianne."

Suppressing a smile, Julie waved William back onto the stool he'd been occupying and took another next to him. “I've been speaking with Gwyneth."

William blushed bright red and lowered his eyes. Thick, dark lashes fanned his tanned cheeks. Words appeared to fail him.

Julie smiled. “Gwyneth says you and she are friends.” To her, he was still a boy, but she supposed in this world of growing up fast and dying at the beginning of middle age, he would be considered a man. And a handsome one at that. His dark, curly hair framed a square face and a dimpled chin. His smile revealed good teeth. She could see why Gwyneth favored him.

"That is so, my lady,” he mumbled.

"She also said you wished to wed."

At that, William's eyes widened. “Please, my lady, n'er say it aloud. Gwyneth and I could be punished for our presumption. Our parents long ago selected our spouses. I have been promised to Elizabeth of Alford since birth. But I do not wish to marry her since she is only twelve and I do not love her. Next year Gwyneth will marry Gilmarth of Orr. Her father has already deferred to her wishes to wait but will be put off no longer."

"I'm so sorry, William, but I don't see what either Lord Nicholas or I can do.” His problem touched her heart. In her world, these two young people would be going to movies and the senior prom, not apprenticed to a lord and lady to train for their own entry into thirteenth century society. Children their age needed to be learning a trade and...

She stopped. Wasn't that what they were doing? In their world, they were learning how to become a knight and his lady. She had to stop trying to change things. For this day and age, their paths had been wisely chosen.

"I'll not say a word to Lord Nicholas, William. Your secret is safe with me. However, I hope you will give Gwyneth only your courtly love and do nothing to dishonor her.” She gave him a stern look.

"Never would I touch her, my lady. I love her too much."

Julie smiled. “I believe you, William.” She looked away. “Oh, here comes my husband.” Nicholas was crossing the bailey, a broad smile on his face.

"Thank you, Lady Julianne,” William whispered.

And that, she thought, was probably high praise from a teenager of this time. With another smile for the young squire, she went to meet Nicholas. They had much to discuss.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 11
After a meal consisting of stew, bread and ale, Nicholas surprised Julie by producing a lute and proceeding to entertain everyone with his pleasing baritone voice. She smiled at him and relaxed, enjoying the music and casual atmosphere. He had talent and an easy way with the castle folk. They all appeared to love and respect him, unusual in a harsh age when most barons were cruel taskmasters.

He sang several songs, before he switched to a lyrical love ballad, never shifting his gaze from Julie's face. She felt her cheeks heat from the ardor in his golden eyes and the amused scrutiny of so many onlookers. Was this a ploy to prove his love for his supposed wife in public? If so he had succeeded—at least with those who filled the hall. When he finished, they cheered and applauded loudly, calling for more.

He shook his head. “Would you have me neglect my lovely bride?” He set the lute beside his chair and rose. “We have been married one day, not one year. We must have some time alone."

Several ribald suggestions as to how to spend that time greeted his words.

He grinned and held out a hand to Julie. “Shall we go, my love?"

Julie met his grin with a frown. She hated being stared at by all these people. She hated being given commands. She hated the whole situation. “I don't think so,” she whispered, still respecting the need for secrecy, but not wanting to be told what to do.

One of Nicholas's knights leaned forward. “She seems not overeager, my lord."

Nicholas glanced at him. “She is merely shy."

Then he moved closer to Julie, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “For appearance's sake, please come with me,” he said softly. “It's of the utmost importance we continue to act as newlyweds."

The urgency in his voice checked her protests and she reluctantly assumed the role of an obedient, loving wife. “My lord.” She rose and placed her hand in his. Warmth flooded her body and an unsettling awareness of him crept over her. For just a moment, she wished herself a real thirteenth century woman married to her knight in shining armor.

On reaching their chamber, Nicholas dropped her hand and barred the door. He leaned against it, crossed his arms and regarded her steadily.

"My thanks for your compliance below.” His quiet words would not carry beyond their thick chamber door.

"I complied, as you put it, because I have questions which should be asked in private.” She started to climb up on the bed, then thought better of it, and sank down on one of the stools in front of the fireplace instead. Nervously, she stretched out her cold hands to the welcome blaze.

He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “What would you know?"

"You said you brought me back for a purpose. Have you decided what purpose? Your wife is alive. I'm merely taking refuge in her head. And there is no baby to guard."

"When I left in April a year from now, Julianne was dead. I rubbed the amulet and found myself in the future. When I saw how much you looked like my wife, I devised a plan to take you back with me. But I thought to return to the time I left, not to my wedding day in 1249. If we had arrived the day I originally left, I would have asked you to help watch over my son."

"But Julianne was dead then. There would've been no living body for me to inhabit."

"I know that now, but I didn't then. However, since she was alive at this time, mayhap that was the reason we were sent back here."

Julie was puzzled. “But if she is alive right now, why do you need me?"

He shrugged. “All I can think of is that I must live this year over and try to change the outcome. If I do not lie with Julianne and impregnate her, mayhap she will live."

Julie blushed and changed the subject. “I think we should find Lily and make her explain,” she said, trying to be glad that Nicholas had no intentions of asserting his bridegroom's rights.

Nicholas's expression hardened. “I agree."

"Is she here somewhere?"

"I do not know, but I will soon discover her direction.” He turned and lifted the door bar.

"Wait! I'm coming with you.” She rushed across the room and grabbed his arm.

Nicholas shook his head. “No, my lady. ‘Tis night and the countryside swarms with those who would rob and kill us. You will remain here."

Julie narrowed her eyes. “Now listen up, Nicholas. I'm not some shrinking violet. Get that through your thick head."

He looked puzzled. Maybe the English he'd gotten from Nick's mind didn't run to such expressions. She enlightened him. “A delicate and helpless woman. And by now, you'd better realize that's not me."

He grinned, his even white teeth gleaming in the firelight. “No, Julie, that is not you."

"And I will come with you.” Her defiant tone dared him to disagree.

"All right, you may come. But there are conditions.” His mood changed to serious as his golden eyes stared down at her.

"Whatever. Let's go.” She gave him a little push. He didn't budge.

"You must promise to do exactly as I say. Without protest,” he added grimly, as she opened her mouth to do just that. “In my world there are dangers requiring quick action."

Julie thought a minute. It would be foolish to think she knew the conditions beyond the castle walls better than he. She nodded. “All right. I'll do what you say. Let's just go find Lily."

He grasped her hand and hurried her down the winding stone steps to the great hall. The castle folk made ribald remarks as they crossed the room. One knight called, “Surely, you could ride longer than that, my lord."

Everyone laughed when another female servant called out, “You be gettin’ old, milord."

Julie blushed, but Nicholas just chuckled. “We are going for a ride to cool our ardor.” He had neatly turned the ribald remark around, but spoiled it by adding, “Or mayhap rekindle it.” More guffaws greeted his suggestive remark.

Embarrassed by the castle folk's crude humor, Julie pulled her hand from Nicholas's and slipped out the door. She ran down the stairs to the bailey, glad of the night breeze which cooled her flushed cheeks.

Nicholas followed, his long stride quickly overtaking her shorter one. Inside the stables, he opened a half door and led out the biggest stallion Julie had ever seen. The animal stomped his feet and snorted.

Nicholas laughed and stroked the smooth flanks of the huge destrier. “Archangel thinks I have been overlong in taking him for a gallop."

Julie was tempted to ask about the horse's name, but decided it apt when she pictured Nicholas and Archangel flying across a battlefield, Nicholas's broadsword raised for action and the great horse plowing his way through the foot soldiers, like Michael pursuing Satan.

When a groom appeared, Nicholas told him to saddle the horse, then gave Archangel's nose a final caress. The horse nuzzled him. “Sorry, my friend, I forgot to bring an apple."

Julie stood well back from the mount for several minutes, before she finally gathered her courage, reached out and patted the horse's velvety nose. He was a beauty, all black except for a white blaze on his forehead.

While they waited, Nicholas watched her closely. “You do ride?” He asked, apparently noticing her hesitancy at approaching the great animal.

"Not for many years,” she admitted.

He waved away the other horse a second groom had brought. “Then you will ride with me. Archangel will never notice your weight."

Julie started to insist on her own mount, but she saw the boy had already finished saddling Archangel and stood watching them. She wasn't about to feed his curiosity any further.

"As you wish, my husband.” She lowered her gaze and tried her best to appear submissive, but it went against her principles.

Nicholas chuckled. “You are turning into a most proper wife."

"Don't push your luck,” she muttered under her breath.

"So, we shall ride together and I shall protect you from this fierce beast,” he teased, the wicked gleam in his golden eyes promising more to come.

He lifted her to the saddle, then sprang up behind her. She noted he had buckled on his scabbard, and his shield was fastened where he could reach it in an instant. These actions emphasized his earlier words about the dangers outside the castle walls.

They trotted across the lower bailey through the gates, which the watch hastened to open. One of Nicholas's hard arms grasped her waist keeping her firmly anchored in front of him. As they crossed the drawbridge, he urged the horse into a cantor and then a gallop. Julie leaned back against his chest watching the shadowy landscape rush by. The April night was crisp and the fitful breeze smelled of new grasses and ploughed earth. The horse's flying hooves made a steady clopping sound on the hard packed road. Once an owl hooted.

Her nerves twanging like guitar strings, she shifted restlessly in his embrace. Would they find Lily? Would she answer their questions, maybe tell them what all this was about? And how did she travel so effortlessly through time? Did she have another amulet to rub? Or, because she was a witch or sorceress of some kind, perhaps she hadn't needed anything at all.

Julie shivered. The night air cut through her clothes and raised goose-bumps on her arms, but that wasn't the only reason she'd shuddered. The thought that Lily might have arranged their passage through time for some sinister purpose occurred to her. Now that was really frightening.

Nicholas misinterpreted her movement. “Are you cold, Julie?"

Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his cloak around her and pulled her tightly against his hard body. She should object to the intimacy, but it felt too good.

The moon etched spidery white patterns on the shadows beneath the tree branches and the dirt road was a silver ribbon stretching through the dense forest This wood had almost disappeared in her time from thirty or so generations of woodcutters feeding their fireplaces. She sighed, realizing this romantic setting was deceptive. Danger lurked unseen in the darkness. Could highwaymen, or whatever they called them here, possibly ply their trade so close to Nicholas's castle, his village? Glancing up, she saw his gaze swinging from left to right, on guard against an attack by the men lurking in the forests, hoping to prey on late night travelers.

She shivered again. Those things were all possible in this less civilized time.

"You are still cold.” He drew her even closer, his heat wrapping around her like a fuzzy blanket, warming places she hadn't realized were chilly.

"I'm fine, Nicholas.” Not quite the truth. Not when she might be trapped here with no clear notion how to return to her own time. And even worse, she found herself attracted to a man who could never be hers—a man who had been dead for over seven hundred years.

Her only hope was Lily, who had turned out to be something other than a friend. The word fiend crossed her mind, but that wasn't quite fair. The woman should be given a chance to explain herself. Nicholas thought her a witch, but Julie wasn't so sure. There must be more to his belief than just the power of Lily's amethyst amulets. Later, when they were not bouncing around on the back of a horse, she would ask him about it.

At last, they broke out of the trees. Barstow Village lay ahead, looking nothing like the same place in her time. It was much smaller, with only one road lined with small wattle cottages, more rustic than their twenty-first century counterparts. Heavy thatching covered their roofs and hung down over the eaves. No sidewalks edged the rutted road. And only a few heavily shuttered windows showed a candle glowing through the cracks. In this time people rose at dawn, worked hard all day and retired to their beds when darkness fell. They had no TVs, books or computers to occupy their free time. A hard existence with few pleasures.

Nicholas slowed Archangel to a walk, and they moved slowly down the road until finally, he halted at a dwelling more hut than cottage. Its low doorway would force most people to stoop.

He dismounted then reached for Julie. She slid down into his arms. When they tightened around her and he would have drawn her against him again, she shook her head and stepped out of his embrace. “No, Nicholas.” She regarded him sternly from several feet away. “I'm not your wife and there is no audience to convince."

They stared at one another. Julie was the one to break the emotion-charged moment.

She murmured the first thing that came to mind. “Do you think Julianne can hear us? Could you tell if Nick knew you were there?” It was bad enough to be engaged in this charade, but if his real wife were aware of everything she thought and said... Oh, Lord!

He arched an eyebrow. “Why?"

"It would be embarrassing, that's all.” Julie tilted her chin and asked again, “Could you tell if Nick heard you?"

"Nay, the possession seemed complete. Shall we ask Lily?"

"Yes, let's.” She moved toward the cottage and knocked on the roughly planed door.

They waited. No light or sound came from within. “Maybe she's not here."

Nicholas stepped past Julie and pounded his fist against the boards. “'Tis Lord Nicholas. Open the door, Lily.” Still no answer.

They were turning away when the door creaked and a faint gleam of candlelight spilled out on the dew-dampened weeds. A single eye squinted at them and the door started to close.

Nicholas leaped forward. His hand caught the edge of the door, forcing it open.

"Bloody hell, woman! You will open the door when your lord bids you,” he shouted, pushed open the door and stalked in. Julie followed, staring at a woman who no more resembled Lily than Julie did. This person's nose and chin pointed at one another. She had wispy, iron-gray hair and wore ragged clothing of an indeterminable color.

"That's not Lily. You've got the wrong house."

He scowled. “No, that's Lily all right, with this century's face. Tell her,” he demanded of the stooped elderly woman.

"Oh, all right.” Lily's face wavered and reformed. She straightened her back and folded her arms across her chest.

Nicholas crossed himself and Julie gasped, “Lily, is it you?"

"Who else, Julie?"

Anger surged through her and a harsh question formed on her lips. “I thought you were my friend!” she blurted out, feeling betrayed.

"And so I am."

"Humph! You have a strange way of showing it."

Lily moved to one side and Julie glimpsed the amethyst amulet she had worn lying on the table. Forgetting her anger with the older woman, she glanced at Nicholas. “I thought you had that.” She nodded toward the necklace.

"Apparently Lily is a thief as well as a witch.” He took a step forward. “How came you by what was locked in my strong box?"

"Tis a long story, my lord. Will you sit while I tell it?” She motioned toward the crude stools surrounding the table.

Nicholas seated Julie on one, then took another. “I would hear what you have to say, witch.” He leaned forward and resting his forearms on the table stared at the amulet.

"You think me a witch?” Lily's generous mouth curved upward. Her eyes twinkled.

"I know you are a witch,” Nicholas ground out between clenched teeth.

"Perhaps I am. Have you ever heard of white magic?"

Nicholas shook his head, but Julie nodded.

"White witches do good magic,” Lily said to Nicholas. “We try to help people."

"Do you call yanking me back to the thirteenth century helping?” Julie spluttered.

"Perhaps. Let me say you must help yourselves for the most part. I brought you here. It is up to you what happens now."

Julie leaned forward. “Explain, please.” Lily must have some reason behind her words.

"Nicholas needed your help, didn't he?"

"He didn't in 1249."

When Lily turned her gaze to Nicholas, Julie, seeing an opportunity, snatched at the necklace which lay in the center of the table, winking faintly in the candlelight. Lily, however, was faster. Her hand seemed to blur as it swept over the jewel, leaving only empty space where it had rested.

Nicholas leaped to his feet. “I order you to return the amulet!” he shouted, raising his hand as if to hit her. Julie flinched at his strident tone and threatening posture.

Lily pointed a finger and arrested Nicholas's arm in midair. Julie saw the sweat bead on his forehead as he strained to bring his arm down. “Release me, woman!” he commanded.

Lily shrugged and with a wave of her hand, Nicholas's arm immediately lowered to rest at his side. “I think you two should cool down. You will need me to intervene in your lives quite soon, and at the moment, I'm not feeling too charitable toward either of you."

Nicholas slammed his fists on his hips and glared. “Meaning what?"

"Threatening a descendant of the Merlin is not the way to gain my cooperation, my lord."

Julie shook her head. “You can't be serious."

But Nicholas stepped back away from Lily, a look of awe on his face. “Did you hear what she said? Her line comes down from Merlin. We must not anger her."

Julie smiled. “You don't believe all those old Arthurian legends, do you, Nicholas?” She was sure the early Britons had struggled against the Anglo Saxons, but felt the stories of the warrior king and his counselor Merlin had been greatly exaggerated.

To her surprise, Nicholas said in a serious voice, “Do I not?"

"You, Julie, are a product of an age of skepticism,” Lily said. “Not everything has to be seen to be believed."

"That's not true.” Anger surged through her, fed by the smug expression on Lily's face. But even more irritating was the fact Nicholas had taken Lily's side just now and the older woman was pleased. “Did our friendship merely fill some purpose for you?” It hurt to think she had been used.

Lily gave her a sharp look, but didn't answer. Julie frowned in disappointment.

"My lord,” Lily said, “I think you will need my services in the weeks to come. Julie will be an object of curiosity or worse, if she forgets who she's supposed to be. I will accept a small wage to keep watch over her—to protect her, of course. We wouldn't want your people to think her a witch.” Lily's lips twitched.

Nicholas regarded Lily with narrowed eyes. He hated to let her have the last word, but opposing a witch could be dangerous. She could shrivel his manhood if she wanted. He shuddered at the thought. To have her where he could watch her would be wise, if not desirable.

Reluctantly, he agreed, “You may come to the castle and act as Julie's maid. Keep your present form so people will not recognize you as the Barstow Village healer and seller of amulets and potions."

"Make her give me the amulet, Nicholas,” Julie demanded. “I need it."

"And you shall have it in due time,” Lily promised. “At the moment, I believe Nicholas wants to keep you here."

"He will not keep me where I don't want to be.” Julie's violet eyes deepened to purple with the intensity of her declaration. She stood and started for the door.

Nicholas followed her, turning in the doorway to say, “I shall expect you soon."

The witch smiled, but he didn't like her expression. “Only my imagination,” he muttered to himself, slamming the door and untying Archangel.

He hoisted Julie into the saddle and swung up behind her, holding her slender body in the crook of his arm as the horse clopped off down the street. To his surprise, tender feelings flowed through him. He had felt much hot passion toward women before his marriage. Then he had enjoyed Julianne's shy and delicate nature, exactly the way a wife should be. But to have tender feelings toward a strong, stubborn woman like Julie—never would he have believed it. All this moving back and forth through time had muddled his head, he decided, urging Archangel to a gallop. His head began to ache and his bed called him, along with the anticipated pleasure of having Julie lying next to him.

Miles Norville sat on his warhorse, a massive Percheron named Devil, and observed his lands from the vantage point of a hill covered in sweet-smelling clover. A week had passed since his return from Nicholas's wedding, but something still stuck in his craw. The thought of the beautiful Julianne in bed with his overlord Nicholas ate at Miles’ gut during all his waking hours. Because Nicholas had won several important tournaments at Westminster, he had been named the king's champion and awarded property adjacent to what he already held. Two of those demesnes had belonged to the barons who had tried to kill Nicholas in his youth.

Miles, a second son with no expectations of inheritance, had been fostered with the lord of Barstow Castle and brought up along with his son Nicholas, so Miles had at first been more than eager to help Nicholas retain his birthright. When Nicholas was given his enemies’ lands by King Henry as a reward for putting down the rebellion, Nicholas had rewarded Miles with the gift of his own small demesne by his grateful friend. He had sought Eleanor's hand and Nicholas had approved the marriage between Miles and his sister. For a second son, this was great good fortune and at the time had seemed enough. Five years later, it did not.

He turned Devil toward home. The ride had given him an opportunity to think, uninterrupted by the constant demands of his household. During the wedding, he had come to the conclusion Nicholas had too much of everything: too much money, too much land and far too lovely a bride. He himself had very little in comparison. Eleanor was pretty, but headstrong. Occasionally, he hit her to force her compliance with his wishes. It was fortunate that he could hold their sons Richard and Simon's safety over her head, because the hatred in her eyes often made him decidedly uneasy.

In comparison, Julianne seemed a gentle and pliable girl. One who would not fight and rail at him when he engaged in amusing and interesting tupping practices. One who would not blacken his eye before he knocked her unconscious to the floor.

He gave a dig with his spurs to Devil who turned and tried to bite him. The all white horse had spirit. And anything with spirit he had to break. It was part of the thrill. But not this horse, not yet. At the moment, it was a woman he sought and he had not subdued Eleanor in a very long time. She was overdue, in fact. He pointed Devil toward the small keep and raced the wind to get there.

As he entered the bailey, Miles saw a messenger wearing Nicholas's colors walk his horse to the watering trough.

"What do you want?” Miles snarled.

The man bowed and pulled his forelock. “I be bringing Lady Eleanor some bolts of fine linen from her brother, Lord Nicholas, milord."

"Well, get on with it.” Miles dismounted and disappeared into the keep, leaving Devil for a groom to stable.

Eldred just happened to be passing. He knelt down by the other man and pretended to shake a stone from his boot. No others being near enough to hear, Eldred said in a quiet voice, “The lord goes to London in three days to procure more mercenaries for his army."

The messenger grunted an acknowledgment and led his horse toward the stables.

Eldred stood and giving his foot a shake strode off to perform his next task.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 12
Several days after Nicholas and Julie's visit to Lily's hut, she arrived at Nicholas's office wearing her twenty-first century face and some cleaner thirteenth century clothes.

"I am here as I promised, my lord.” She curtsied. Her words suggested subservience, but her snapping black eyes said otherwise.

Nicholas glanced up from the estate records and laid down his quill pen. “So I see."

A noise at the door caught his attention. He glanced over Lily's shoulder and saw Robert of Arland, the accountant he had sent for from Oxford, hovering in the doorway. “Are you busy, Lord Nicholas?” Robert asked, ignoring Lily.

Nicholas found himself annoyed at Robert for the second time today. He had sent immediately to Oxford for one of the trained accountants. On their way back, Robert and the messenger had been accosted by robbers only a few miles from Barstow. Robert had remarkably survived without a scratch but the messenger had been killed. He hoped Robert's contribution to the household would offset the loss of a soldier. Since they had already conferred earlier this morning, Nicholas couldn't imagine what the accountant wanted now. With a scowl, he said, “I am busy. Come back later.” Robert nodded respectfully and walked away.

Nicholas did not wish to speak to Lily about his problems with Miles or Julie in front of Robert. The young man was as yet an unknown element in the castle's life.

He turned back to Lily. “Shut the door,” he said and waited until she did so before speaking. “I just learned Miles is going to London tomorrow to hire more mercenaries to augment his army. Mayhap you know that already."

"Yes, I do."

"My spy in Miles’ keep says the rumor is once he has more soldiers, he will attack me.” He sighed. “I had hoped to be done with warfare and bloodshed, but it seems not.” He paused.

Lily folded her arms, waiting for him to continue.

Finally he said, “I also had a message from my sister. She and her sons are coming to visit soon. She did not say why, but I suspect it is because Miles is going to London."

"His idea or hers?"

"Eleanor probably persuaded him to let them come while he is gone."

Lily grimaced. “I doubt Sir Miles allows anything without a good reason."

"Mayhap he is reminding me that he has my sister in his power. And it would be unwise to ignore that warning.” He waved his hand as though dismissing speculation. “So, if he enlarges his household army, then I must too."

She nodded in agreement. “It would be prudent."

"Do you think all this could be avoided, Lily?” He watched her face, hoping she would say his fears might come to naught.

"No, my lord. I think not. Also, much sorrow is coming, sorrow with which you will cope, though it breaks your heart.” Her sober expression convinced him of her seriousness.

Nicholas shot to his feet. “Nothing will happen to Julie, will it?'

She shrugged. “I do not know for sure."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

"No. The future must be dealt with one step at a time. And you will do this very well."

Nicholas supposed she was right. However, he would like to find out what lay in store for Julie and him over the next year.

With not much hope of an answer, he asked, “Will you tell me what purpose Julie is serving here in 1249?"

Lily smiled and shook her head.

Nicholas sighed. He had expected nothing else from her.

Rising, he walked to the door. “Come with me."

He and Lily entered the great hall. On the far side, Julie and Lady Beatrix were conferring. Julie saw him and smiled warmly. His heart leaped into his throat, missing a beat. Why did she have this effect on him? He attributed the excitement he felt when she was nearby to mere lust, his body goading him into doing that which he would later regret. Or was it something more complicated?

He walked over to the two women, trailed by Lily. “Julianne, your new maid, Lily, has arrived."

Julie's saucy little nose wrinkled when he called her by his wife's name. He tried not to grin.

"So I see. Lady Beatrix, this is Lily."

Lady Beatrix scarcely deigned to acknowledge a servant. She gave a minimal head bob and continued her lecture about when to spread new reeds on the floor. “Once a fortnight will be often enough. They smell if left too long. Full of bones and scraps, you know."

Julie sniffed. “They've already been left too long,” she muttered, but Lady Beatrix had hurried on to the next task. Julie followed more slowly in her wake.

Nicholas laughed and the corners of Lily's mouth edged up.

"She has spunk, Lord Nicholas. You two will deal well."

Oh, yes, Julie had spunk in abundance. Often, she just gave him a look and went on doing precisely what she wanted. She always seemed to enjoy testing him, seeing just how far she could go before he stopped her.

Julie had best be careful. She might not approve of what he wanted to do.

Late that night, Nicholas found himself tossing around on his side of the large bed he shared with Julie. Her even breathing told him she slept, which was more than he was doing.

As he turned on his side, her knee came up and nudged a very vulnerable part of his anatomy. He grunted and moved away. Bloody hell! Did she know what she was doing to him? Of course not. She was asleep. Or so he thought. He would wring her neck like a chicken's if he discovered she tortured him on purpose.

Her sleepy whisper surprised him. “I heard you groan. Did I hurt you?"

Before he could formulate an acceptable reply, she moved nearer, her soft hand touching his bare shoulder. “Nicholas?"

This time he did groan. Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lips. “I am warning you, Julie, there is only so much a man can take.” He pressed light kisses on her fingertips. This was not the way to relieve his problem, but still it felt too good to stop.

"I thought maybe I'd stuck my elbow in your ribs, or something."

"Not exactly my ribs,” he muttered, not wishing to admit where her knee had landed.

She leaned over, her face near his. “I didn't hear what you said."

Her light perfume and the warmth of her body so close to his teased his senses and increased his desire. “Julie,” he whispered, sliding an arm under her shoulders and pulling her against his chest.

She stiffened.

He should take his hands off her. He should move away from her. He should saddle Archangel and go for a long, calming ride in the cool night air.

He did none of these things.

Instead, he pressed her body tightly against his manhood, demonstrating just how much he wanted her. He had not meant to do more than hold her for a moment, but her warm breath caressed his cheek, and he lost what little control he had. Blindly, he found her lips and touched them with his own, gently at first, then harder and swifter, sucking on her full lower lip, begging entry to her sweet mouth. Joy surged through him when she tentatively touched her tongue to his. A forbidden pleasure, but one worth risking. His head swirled.

He and Julianne had not coupled in months. Her pregnancy had prevented her enjoyment of the marriage act, and he had refused to take if he could not give. But now, his long-deprived body had other ideas—ones not based on logic. With shaking hands, he cupped Julie's face and took one last pull at her nectared mouth before finding the strength to shove her gently away.

The fragrance of her petal soft skin filled his nostrils, nearly driving him wild. But, as much as he wished it, this woman was not really his wife. He had taken an oath in his wedding vows to be faithful to Julianne and so he would. In addition, he vowed another promise to himself. His seed would never again enter the frail body which belonged to Julianne, thus protecting her from death a year from now. Then Julie could go back to the future, and he would love Julianne from afar for the rest of his days. Not that he wanted to live like a monk, but an oath was an oath.

"Julie, I am truly sorry,” he began, “but the vows I made to my wife during the wedding ceremony..."

Her fingertips touched his lips. “I understand, Nicholas. I didn't mean to tease.” She was silent a moment, then whispered, “I'm so afraid of losing my time forever. But it was wrong to expect you to console me."

Before he could speak, she added, “However, if you sent me home, you could have your wife back and enjoy your conjugal rights.” She gave what sounded suspiciously like a suppressed sob. “And with all the enthusiasm you just demonstrated."

Willing his body to subside, Nicholas lay back against the pillows and locked his hands behind his head. He would do anything to keep Julianne safe and alive. But chastity was a hard thing to ask of a man who had never wanted to be a monk—even though moments before he had silently sworn to become just that to keep his wife safe. It was Julie's fault for tempting him, he thought crossly. But he knew that was not true. It just seemed easier to blame someone else for his weakness.

"You are a most unusual wench,” he growled. “One minute your tongue is stroking mine, and the next you are entreating me to let the amulet send you home. I am not sure whether you desire me or wish me to perdition."

"If only it were the latter,” she murmured, turning her back and pulling the coverlet up around her ears.

"What?” He sat up. “Julie?"

But Julie didn't plan to answer any more questions. Unfortunately, she'd let her thoughts be voiced aloud. She wouldn't compound that error by repeating her words. With great difficulty, she forced herself to relax and breathe evenly.

For several minutes he sat there, and she could feel those amber eyes scorching her back. She could outwait him. Think of something boring. How about armor? That less than fascinating subject should cool her blood.

Easy to say, but the overwhelming connection she'd felt while clasped in his arms with his mouth on hers creating outrageous sensations throughout her whole body had all the elements of her secret desire. She had never thought the man of her dreams would be a real knight. What irony no such man existed in her own time. What a cruel trick Lily had played on both of them. Each wanted someone else and instead, they'd been stuck with each other.

Yeah, how cruel for her to be stuck with Nicholas, the greatest man she'd ever met. If only circumstances were different, if only Nicholas didn't have his loyalty to Julianne to consider and she didn't have to return to the future. Their situation had all the elements of one of Shakespeare's poignant tragedies.

She stifled an ironic little chuckle. With all the problems she had, she didn't need his burden of guilt heaped on her shoulders.

Nicholas finally gave up and lay back down. Time passed and soon his even breathing told her he slept.

She slid down farther under the coverlet and resisted the urge to cuddle up to his strong, warm back spoon fashion. Let sleeping lions lie—and she had no doubt he could be as fierce and persistent as the largest of felines. Her only defense would be whatever walls she herself raised, walls to keep him out, because if she let him get too close, those walls would crumble.

Ah, Nicholas, if only... Regrets filled her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

Three days later, Eleanor and her sons Richard and Simon arrived escorted by a few of Miles’ soldiers. As they dismounted, Nicholas went to greet them.

Grooms took the boys’ ponies and Eleanor's mare to the stables. With an arm around his sister, Nicholas led the group into the great hall.

"My lord uncle, may we go watch the men practice?” Richard could hardly wait to become a page. At four, he displayed a remarkable maturity for one so young.

"Me too, me too,” cried Simon, always anxious to be included in his brother's activities.

Will, Nicholas's squire, stood nearby awaiting his master's orders for the day. “If you wish, my lord, I could take them down to the lower bailey."

"Fine, Will.” Nicholas heard Eleanor's faint sigh of relief. She trusted Richard, but with the added burden of tending his little brother, he might forget to take care. A bunch of large men charging up and down in armed combat could easily injure a small boy who got in their way—even if they did not mean to.

"You may go,” he told his nephews, “but stay out of the knights’ way and mind Will."

Eleanor smiled. “Methinks, brother, you will make a good father someday."

He mirrored her smile. “If God wills it."

Just then Lady Beatrix marched across the hall trailed by Julie.

Eleanor inclined her head in their direction. “How goes that?” While growing up, his sister had experienced the dominant disposition of her aunt and coped successfully. But he could see Eleanor had her doubts about Julie.

"Quite well. Julianne defers to Lady Beatrix, making the dragon happy."

His sister laughed and waved to Julie.

He had wondered how Julie would deal with the kind but strong-willed former chatelaine. His real wife had demonstrated wondrous insight into Lady Beatrix's mind. Surprisingly, the woman from the future also displayed the same talent. During the past week, the older woman had begun to praise Julie to him, claiming her a sensible girl, one willing to listen and learn. Remarkable, Julie's listening. It was more than she did to him.

"My lord. Lady Eleanor.” Beatrix curtseyed and Julie aped her successfully. At least it would have been most proper if he had not seen the amused twist of her mouth.

Eleanor took Julie's hand and pulled her down on a bench. “I am so happy we will have some time to get acquainted.” She gave Julie a hug.

Nicholas grinned. “I will leave you ladies to your housewifely tasks. I must spend the day drilling my knights and men-at-arms. Their skills need honing.” He did not elaborate on why such activity could not be deferred. Julie would know and Eleanor probably suspected.

Julie watched him stride away, his long muscular legs carrying him swiftly across the hall. Although he had not said so, she believed he was preparing for whatever action Sir Miles might take. She shook off that thought and turned to Eleanor.

"I don't think we should worry about our housewifely tasks right now.” Julie made a face and Eleanor laughed.

"Mayhap a stroll outside. After many hours of riding, I need to walk, not sit."

"I'd love that.” Julie was tired of trotting along after Lady Beatrix. Some fresh air and a leisurely walk sounded heavenly. Besides, if they went up and took a turn around the castle's parapet, she could see what Nicholas was doing. Hopefully, not decapitating dogs, she thought with a wry chuckle.

With no prompting, Eleanor led the way up the stairs in one of the wall towers. The two young women strolled along admiring the view of forest and fields. A large number of serfs were tilling the soil, maybe getting ready to plant some more much needed grain.

The day was a fair one, with a deep blue sky and marshmallow fluff clouds sailing along like ghostly galleons. The warm sun felt good on her back and her nose welcomed the fresh, outdoorsy odors. The dark green of the trees in the distance appeared cool and mysterious, as though secrets lurked beneath their boughs.

Julie remembered her ride through those same trees with Nicholas's arm holding her safely against him. A warm wave of happiness flowed through her. Then, she spotted him in the lower bailey with his men-at-arms. They had paired off and were practicing swordplay. Nicholas was the largest of the knights, the one whose heavy broadsword smote the air with lightning swift strokes, defeating all who challenged him.

Julie gasped as Sir Harald's sword nearly cut Nicholas's leg.

Eleanor laughed. “Do not fear, Julianne. Nicholas is merely toying with Sir Harald.” Nicholas parried Harald's thrust, but Julie realized he wasn't working hard at it. She knew the strength in those arms and Sir Harald wouldn't still have his head if the castle's lord wanted it badly enough. It made her feel better about the threat of Miles. Nicholas could probably handle his brother-in-law with one arm tied behind his back. Couldn't he?

"What kind of swordsman is your husband, Eleanor?” she blurted out, then blushed, thinking perhaps this question was better not asked.

The other woman's worried amber eyes, so like her brother's, met Julie's gaze. Could she fear for her brother's life?

"He is an outstanding swordsman,” she said quietly. “Years ago, he and Sir Edgar helped my brother secure this castle. In the Orient, they challenged the Saracens and killed many heathens in the name of God."

Julie shuddered, wondering whether any killing should be done in the name of God? Wisely, she kept that observation to herself.

"All three were wounded but lived to return home safely. Thank God.” Eleanor crossed herself. “I could not have born the loss of Nicholas."

How strange. She had not included Miles in that statement.

She collected her thoughts and asked, “When was this?"

"Almost a year ago. But you know that, Julianne. Your marriage to Nicholas was postponed until he returned.” Eleanor shot her a puzzled look.

"Yes, of course,” Julie murmured. Nicholas should inform her better so she didn't make such silly mistakes. He had finally explained that her mother was dead and her father ailing—the reason why he hadn't attended the wedding. “I forgot,” she added, with an apologetic smile.

Eleanor patted her hand where it rested on the parapet. “I am just happy that thoughts of my brother drive less important matters from your head, Julianne. Nicholas works hard and needs someone with whom to share his life."

Julie agreed, but as the two stood silently watching the perspiring fighters below, she wondered if that were true. Was Nicholas lonely? Did he need a loving wife to complete his life? Would Julianne be the one to do this after she, Julie, returned to her own time?

Suddenly, she felt in less of a hurry to get back to Nick and the university. Would it be wrong to tarry a while in the thirteenth century? She could learn all kinds of things about this time, things not known by almost anyone in her time. Things long buried and forgotten in the musty depths of the world's great libraries. A wealth of material to fill her book. That alone would justify staying a bit longer. A little voice told her she had no control over the length of her stay. She pretended not to hear.

Nicholas chose that moment to step back and look up. Julie's heart skipped a beat at the wide grin he tossed her.

"He loves you,” Eleanor said simply.

"Um, yes.” No, he loved the woman whose body she, Julie, inhabited. She still didn't understand why her presence was necessary. When she went back home, Julianne would once again be with Nicholas. And he would be able to act on his physical desire for her.

Eleanor clearly expected Julie to exhibit more feeling for her husband. But since Julie, herself, wasn't sure about those feelings, how could she confide in his sister or force false sentiments past her lips. If Julianne could speak, she would undoubtedly declare her love and respect for her new husband.

She glanced at Eleanor. The other woman had moved to the edge of the walk. Julie hung back, not much liking that there was no inside rail. But standing on the edge of a twenty foot drop didn't seem to bother Eleanor.

"Oh, there they are,” she said after a moment, pointing to Richard and Simon who stood near the wall watching the action in the middle of the bailey. She called their names. The boys looked up and waved.

Eleanor sighed. “They are good children. I do not mean just now, but all the time. That is really remarkable considering their father's poor example."

Julie didn't know what to say. She'd learned from Nicholas that Miles wasn't an admirable man. But in this day and age, for Eleanor to confide her lack of respect for her husband was amazing.

Her sister-in-law laid a hand on her arm. “I am sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you."

Julie smiled. “For them to be so well behaved, you must have set them a wonderful example."

Eleanor's pleased expression told Julie she had said the right thing.

"I like to think so,” Eleanor murmured and linking her arm with Julie's moved on along the wall walk. They descended in the small central tower of the wall which divided the upper bailey from the lower.

Passing through a small arch, they strolled along near the wall. They were careful to keep a safe distance between themselves and the fierce war games in the center of the bailey.

"At mass this morning, I asked God to forgive my hateful thoughts about Miles,” Eleanor confessed as they neared the chapel.

Julie stared at the church. The cold stone structure appeared less than inviting. But she also kept this thought to herself. Aloud, she said, “Nicholas has told me a little about your husband. From what he said, I think Miles deserves every one of your hateful thoughts."

Eleanor stopped in front of the chapel and faced Julie. “It is good to have someone with whom to share my feelings."

Julie nodded as she noticed Robert walking toward them. He must be on some errand for Nicholas. But headed for the church? Nicholas avoided Father Thomas saying the man was overly sanctimonious.

"Sometimes, I think I will go mad living with Miles. He is a monster. He...” Suddenly, she clutched Julie's sleeve, her eyes fixed on something beyond Julie's shoulder. Her hand flew to her mouth and the color drained from her face.

It couldn't be Robert causing her reaction. Eleanor had her back to him.

Before Julie could ask what was the matter, Eleanor murmured, “I beg you to forgive my ramblings. If Miles is oft displeased with me, I am sure it is my own fault.” She turned and half ran back the way they had come, nearly colliding with Robert. With a muttered apology, she disappeared beyond the arch.

Julie swiveled, wanting to see what had caused Eleanor's reaction. Not six feet from her, leaning against the stone wall of the church, a man wearing Miles’ colors slouched. His eyes were fixed on something behind Julie. She whirled around again, just in time to see Robert give a slight shake of his head. The accountant turned away without greeting her and walked swiftly back the same way Eleanor had gone. Had he wanted to talk privately with Miles’ henchman? And if so, why? Could they be plotting... Oh, for goodness sakes, you've seen too many movies with the same somewhat contrived situation.

Julie smiled sweetly at Miles’ guard who gave her a dark scowl, then trudged away. He was one of several men Miles had sent with his wife. Since he never was far from Eleanor, Julie suspected him to be more a spy than an escort. He probably reported everything he learned to Miles. And just now, he'd overheard Miles’ lady say her husband was a monster. No wonder she'd fled.

Julie glanced toward Nicholas, who was battling one of the younger knights. She couldn't remember his name. Sparks flew as steel met steel. Fear held her rooted to the spot. While Nicholas attacked and parried with great ease, Julie could only think how many things could go wrong. He could turn an ankle or lose his balance. Would the younger knight take advantage of such an accident?

She held her breath, but Nicholas was poetry in motion, evading all the traps the younger man set for him. Finally, with one great sweep, he came up under the other man's sword, knocking it from his hand. It flew into the air and landed with a thud on the well-packed dirt. With a grin, Nicholas stepped back.

"Ho, Leon. Fine work. You are improving daily."

The handsome young man, who looked about twenty, laughed. “The day I beat you, Lord Nicholas, I will be the best swordsman in the world."

Nicholas clapped him on the shoulder, then sheathed his sword and walked over to Julie.

"Well, my lady, came you to see the practice?"

"I was walking with Eleanor and stopped to watch,” she replied, wondering whether she should tell him about his sister and Miles’ guard. Would that be a betrayal of Eleanor's confidences? Would Nicholas rush off to Miles’ keep and confront him? With relief she recalled Miles had gone to London.

"So, where is my sister?” He glanced about. “I thought I saw her hurry away."

Julie decided to wait before recounting Eleanor's problems to him. Maybe later tonight when they were alone. “She had something to do.” Julie wasn't good at lying and regretted the necessity.

"Go along, then. I will join you shortly. And, Julianne, have a hot bath waiting."

He was taking this husband and wife thing too seriously. “I will inquire if someone will have a tub ready for you. I, myself, have things to do."

He grinned impishly. “You will be there, my love. A proper wife tends her husband in all things, including baths."

Julie leaned toward him and said softly, “Yes, perhaps a real wife does. A pretend wife, however, does not.” She started to walk away.

He caught her forearm, though not hard enough to hurt, and prevented her escape. “To my people, you are my real wife. Just remember that. You will have my bath ready and be waiting to assist me. That is what wives in this time do.” His amber eyes heated to molten gold as he spoke. They held her with their stare and once again she felt a small tremor of fear.

She tossed her head and tilted her chin to show how little his orders meant to her. “Let go."

His hand dropped away. Julie crossed her arms and gave him a frosty glare. “You would be wise to send me back and let Julianne do your bidding. She's been raised from birth to bow down to a man, to accept everything he says as law."

Nicholas moved forward until his large body was only inches from hers. “I will not send you back until I know for what purpose you are here. For now, you would be wise to act my wife with a little more conviction."

His words angered her, but she bit back a sharp reply. “For now, Nicholas, I'll comply. Just don't push me too far.” He really hadn't and she knew it. But there was only so far she would go toward being Julianne. The time had come to draw the line.

She spun on her heel and marched away. Until she passed beneath the small tower and out of sight, she felt his gaze burning her back. Of all the things she had to do in this time, keeping him at arm's length when she'd rather be in his arms was the most difficult of all.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 13
Nicholas's bath turned out to be less of a disaster than Julie had feared. Lady Beatrix had required her presence in the kitchen, so Maude scrubbed Nicholas clean. Not that Julie approved of that either, although she didn't know why she felt that way. Nicholas was only her pretend husband and whether or not someone else washed him should be none of her concern. But a little knot of jealousy formed in her chest and made her less attentive to Lady Beatrix than she should have been.

Now, she hurried into the great hall and took her place at the table next to Nicholas. Dinner was served, but Eleanor did not come down to eat. Julie kept glancing anxiously toward the stairs, but they remained empty.

"Is something the matter, Julianne?” Nicholas had noticed her restlessness.

"I'm concerned for Eleanor. I sent Gwyneth to see if she needed anything, but she said no. I really don't know her well enough to keep pushing."

He lifted a quizzical dark eyebrow. “How so?"

"She might think I was prying."

Nicholas smiled. “She would be happy you cared."

"I'm not sure about that."

He gave her a long stare. “What has happened between you two?"

"Nothing.” She wasn't ready to share with him yet. Even though she wanted to. His amber eyes searched hers and the warmth in them made her tremble. If only she could reach for his hand, tell him they needed to discuss this. But she couldn't. Not till Eleanor had given her permission to tell her brother—which might not happen.

Julie pushed back her chair and rose. “I'm going up to Eleanor."

He nodded. “Mayhap afterward you will speak freely with me.” He was too intelligent not to suspect she wasn't telling the whole story.

"We'll see."

The door to Eleanor's chamber was closed, so Julie tapped on it. At first, there was no answer, then a faint voice asked, “Who is it?"

"Ah—Julianne.” Just in time, she remembered who she was supposed to be.

"Oh.” A hesitation. Then, “Come in."

Eleanor sat by the fire stitching a small linen shirt. She wore a yellow silk gown under a brown velvet surcoat and, though she looked very beautiful, her dark eyes were sad. Julie sat down and watched the other woman's needle dip in and out of the fine cloth. After several minutes of silence, Julie said, “Eleanor, please talk to me."

With a sigh, Eleanor laid the shirt aside and raised her gaze to Julie's. “What would you have me say?"

"Begin with what happened today outside the chapel."

Eleanor shrugged, but her fingers nervously pleated the fabric of her gown. “Nothing."

Julie knew she was lying. “I think that guard frightened you."

Eleanor tried to look puzzled. “What guard?"

"The one wearing your husband's colors and leaning on the chapel wall. The one who overheard you call Miles a monster. Are you afraid he'll tell your husband what you said?"

Eleanor bit her lower lip. “I am sure Miles has ordered him to spy on me. There is no other reason for him to follow me about. However, I need no protecting in my brother's keep."

"I thought so.” Julie leaned forward and grasped Eleanor's hands in hers. “We should tell Nicholas. He'll send those men back to Norville Keep."

"Oh, no!” Eleanor gasped, her amber eyes widening. “That will make my husband and brother hate each other more than they do now. And Miles will never let me come here again if he thinks I told Nicholas about...” She faltered.

Julie thought a moment. “What if you just stayed here and didn't go back to your own keep?” That should keep both Eleanor and the boys at a safe distance from her abusive husband.

Tears welled up in Eleanor's eyes. “Then Miles would surely come against my brother. There would be war and I would be responsible."

Julie rose and laid a hand on Eleanor's shoulder. “Nonsense. Miles would be responsible, not you. Now dry your eyes and give me permission to speak to Nicholas about this."

Eleanor pulled a kerchief from her sleeve and blotted away the tears. “Oh, Julianne, I do appreciate your offer, and I know my brother would do the right thing as always. But I fear many lives might be lost over this. Especially should he learn how Miles treats..."

Eleanor's unfinished sentence set off warning bells in Julie's mind. “Is there more you're not telling me? Does Miles beat you? Does he beat the boys?"

When the other woman didn't answer, Julie seized her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Tell me. Does he?"

"A—a little."

"A little or a lot, either is too much.” Julie drew her mouth tight with disgust. How could Miles mistreat Eleanor, a lovely, sweet-natured woman? Silly question. Women were chattel in this time, regarded as possessions, existing only to serve males. If Julie were to live here permanently—God forbid—much would change. “Let me tell Nicholas about this. Then we'll decide what must be done."

Eleanor sniffed and wiped her nose. “I am sure my brother will know the right thing to do. He is never wrong."

"Ha! He is often wrong,” Julie blurted without thinking.

Shocked, Eleanor protested, “Oh, no. Men are always right."

"Is what Miles does to you always right?"

Eleanor blushed and lowered her eyes. “No, of course not. But Nicholas is different. He is a good man and knows what is best."

"We'll see about that,” Julie muttered under her breath.

She left Eleanor and went below. Nicholas was nowhere in sight, but sometimes he worked on his accounts after dinner. She found him in the small room he used for an office, bent over a scroll of parchment, adding a column of figures.

Julie went in without knocking and stopped in front of his table. He glanced up and arched an eyebrow. “You wish to speak of Eleanor, Julianne?"

She nodded. “Yes, but not here. She glanced around. Beyond the door, shadows lingered in the windowless corridor. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a movement, but when she stepped back to look, the corridor was empty.

"Then let us go to our chamber. Is that private enough?"

"Yes.” She was reluctant to be alone with him, not trusting her own emotions where he was concerned, but this conversation was not one for others to overhear.

He rose and walked around the table. Taking her hand, he led the way through the great hall and up the winding stairs to their bedchamber.

He closed the door, then moved to stand in front of her, his hands gently grasping her shoulders as he gazed downward into her eyes. “So Julie. What did Eleanor have to say?"

At first his nearness blocked rational thought from her mind. Her attraction to him had grown so strong, she had a hard time hiding it. She sensed he felt it too, but his knightly honor forbade him from acting on his desires. His lips began to lower. Or maybe not.

She forced herself to step back. “Let's sit down.” She indicated the stools by the fire. He folded himself onto one of them and Julie took the other. She still hesitated, not knowing quite how to begin this unpleasant topic.

In a quiet voice, Nicholas said, “Just tell me, Julie. I cannot help if you remain silent."

"I know.” She took several deep breaths. “You probably have figured out Eleanor has some serious problems. Are you aware Miles’ men are spying on her?"

He grimaced. “On my sister and on everything which goes on in my castle."

That rekindled her anger. “And you tolerate this...invasion of your privacy?"

"Sometimes the enemy you see is preferable to the one you cannot.” He grinned. “No surprises.” His smile disappeared quickly to be replaced by a frown. “So—what happened?"

"Today, when Eleanor and I were walking near the chapel, she realized she'd said something indiscreet about Miles, and one of his guards had overheard her."

"What did she say?"

"That Miles was a monster. And just now, she told me he'd beaten her.” She waited for his reaction.

Julie's words jarred Nicholas to the core. That Miles had done such a thing to Nicholas's sister immediately placed the man beyond mercy. Death, at least a swift one, was far too good for his brother-in-law. Nicholas began to devise appropriate tortures. “I will kill him."

Julie glared at him. “Stop it. You'll do no such thing. How would King Henry react if you killed one of his barons?"

"When he learns my reason, he will commend my action,” Nicholas growled. “You do not understand this century."

"Maybe not. You live in this time and I don't."

It was fortunate for Miles he had gone to London and would not return for another fortnight. He would live a little longer. However, it was unfortunate for Nicholas, since while Miles was there, he would hire more mercenary knights and men-at-arms for his keep's army, making him more difficult to kill.

He took a deep breath. “Go on,” he said, hoping Eleanor had some other complaint he could more easily resolve. “What else did she say?"

"She finally admitted Miles has beaten the little boys."

Suddenly, he remembered that nearly a year from now, his sister would tell him the same thing she had just confessed to Julie.

Julie nodded. “Eleanor was right. He is a monster."

"If ever I thought to show the man compassion, that alone would prevent me.” He paced back and forth across the stone floor, too agitated to stand still. “Beating little children!"

"So, what can we do?"

"We,” he growled. “We?"

"Of course we. I'll help you. I thought I was here to do that."

He shook his head. “This is not a woman's matter."

"That's where you're wrong, Nicholas.” Her violet eyes shot daggers at him.

"I realize things are different in your time, Julie, but you must try to conform to mine.” He remembered some of the programs he had seen on Nick's TV. Women kicking men in the jaw with their feet, crawling through dense forests, jumping from those marvelous flying machines. He had observed no end of wonders, so what Julie said was probably true. She could help him. But how, given the current status of females? She would blow her cover, as they had said on one police show he had watched.

Apparently she read his mind. “I will find a way, Nicholas."

He stopped pacing, took her hand and drew her up to face him. The fresh, sweet smell of her body filled his nostrils and desire hit him like a fist to the gut. As if his hands had a life of their own, they reached to cup her face as his lips sought hers. While his mind tried to remember his vows, his heart and body argued they wanted something quite different. He would be loving both women at the same time, and that would absolve him—temporarily. When Julie's soft mouth offered no resistance, he abandoned his scruples altogether and deepened the kiss.

Her arms wound around his neck while she twined her tongue with his, her body arching against him. Time screeched to a stop and his problems faded away with Julie in his arms. Holding Julie was all he desired right now. His hands slid down her back until they reached her rounded bottom, something he had been thinking about for days. He pulled her softness against that part of him that ached for her touch. Never had he experienced such a longing to make a woman his. But he had done that before, the first time he made love to Julianne. And he had vowed then to be faithful to her forever. This might be her body, but the woman he kissed just now was definitely not Julianne.

That stopped him. Julianne was already his. Julie was not. After which one did he pant like a dog in heat? The answer shamed him.

Gently disengaging her arms, he stepped back. “I am sorry, my lady. I have not the right to use you thusly.” Julie's mouth dropped open as he moved past her, yanked open the door, and strode out. With his back against the closed door, he sighed. He had averted a very real danger, he thought ruefully, as he stomped down the stairs. How long would his honor hold his desire in abeyance? Not long enough, he feared.

The sound of horses and men milling about in the lower bailey woke Julie from a sound sleep. As had been his practice during the last two weeks, Nicholas had long since departed and his side of the bed was cold and empty. She buried her face in his pillow where his head had lain, inhaling his familiar scent of leather, soap and just plain male. She wished he would stop rising before she awakened and rushing off, not to be seen again until dinner. Although it was obvious he wanted her, he hadn't touched her since the day they'd discussed Miles’ treatment of Eleanor.

It was so unfair to have finally found her knight in shining armor only to discover he wasn't really hers. She pounded the pillow with her fist. “Damn! Damn! Damn!"

Well, she wouldn't humiliate herself and beg him to make love to her. In fact, the next time he tried one of his little kiss and run bits, she'd play a lot harder to get. She'd be the one pulling back, stalking off.

The noises outside intensified. Mystified, she slid from the bed and hurried to the window. Their room was high enough in one of the castle's turrets so she could see over the wall separating the two baileys. In the lower one, grooms led horses off to the stables. Strange men-at-arms strolled slowly toward the barracks above the stables, laughing and jesting as they went. Two figures separated themselves from the others and walked through the gateway and across the upper bailey to the central keep. Nicholas and Miles were trailed by several knights Julie didn't recognize. They seemed deep in conversation with one another. As they passed from sight, Julie hurried to dress. She wouldn't miss the showdown between these two for anything.

She chose an emerald green velvet gown, knowing the color complimented her fairness. Gwyneth arrived and dressed her hair to Julie's constant admonitions to hurry.

"Have you something special to do this morning, Lady Julianne?” Gwyneth asked, piling Julie's hair high on her head and securing it with pins and a lightweight, pale green veil.

"Not exactly. But there's always so much to do around here.” And that was the truth as far as it went. Many things she'd taken for granted in her own time were either non-existent, or the result of much hard work.

With a smile, she left Gwyneth to tidy the room and ran lightly down the stairs to the great hall. Nicholas and Miles stood talking behind the lord's table. Nicholas's scowl told her the conversation was not to his liking. Eleanor hovered in the background, her anxious expression confirming Julie's suspicions.

As she arrived, Nicholas was saying, “So, all you bought in London were many wagon loads of supplies?"

Miles nodded, but his mouth twisted in a nasty smile. “As I said, I needed many things."

"And you purchased no, shall we say luxuries?” Nicholas's own lips curved grimly.

Miles looked smug. “Ah, that will be my secret for now. Your see, it is a surprise for you, my friend."

Nicholas arched an eyebrow and gave his brother-in-law an arrogant stare. “I have never been fond of surprises.” But he didn't bother asking what Miles had purchased since he already knew all too well what surprise Miles intended.

After seating Julie, Nicholas turned his attention to his sister, pretending to ignore Miles’ black scowl. “My dear Eleanor, you are looking lovely today."

Eleanor straightened her back and gave a stiff little smile. “Thank you, Nicholas."

Lady Beatrix motioned to Maude to bring the food to break their fast. Nicholas helped Eleanor with her chair, then sat in his high-backed master's chair in the center of the long table.

"Aren't you going to confront him about the way he treats Eleanor?” Julie whispered in Nicholas's ear as soon as he was seated beside her.

"Aye, but not yet. Just thinking about my plans for that blackguard makes my gut rumble in anticipation,” he murmured.

"And what is that?” Would he challenge Miles to a fight to the death? She shivered. What a ghastly thought. She would never want Nicholas to risk his life like that.

"It has to do with death, remember?” Nicholas's smile wasn't a pleasant one.

Before she could comment, Maude sidled up next to Nicholas and, as usual, rubbed her hip against his shoulder as she set down a pitcher of ale.

He gave her an impatient shove. “Be off with you, wench. Go elsewhere to peddle your wares."

Julie, who had just begun to frown at the voluptuous serving maid, turned her scowl on Nicholas. “Don't push her like that. She could fall and hurt herself."

This time Nicholas really grinned. “What think you all that padding on her backside is for?” He laughed at his own joke and poured them each cups of ale.

Julie shook her head. No matter the century, men had a juvenile sense of humor.

She took a bite of bread and cheese. She'd have to substitute something with fewer carbs and less fat before long or her own hips would take on unpleasant proportions.

Then Julie noticed the man who had frightened Eleanor whispering in his master's ear.

Eleanor shrank away as Miles turned to her and roared, “Call me a monster, will you?” He raised his hand to cuff her.

Before it reached its target, Nicholas sprang up and caught Miles’ wrist. “Learn to control your vile temper,” Nicholas snarled. “You will not strike my sister under any circumstance.” He yanked Miles’ arm down. “Or you will answer to me."

Miles wrenched his arm from Nicholas's grasp. “I think soon you will answer to me,” he muttered, rubbing his wrist. Julie watched Nicholas's eyes narrow, fists clench and unclench. Clearly, he wanted to let them fly.

"Is that a threat?” Nicholas's voice had grown so hard, Julie scarcely recognized it. This was the warrior lord, ready to defend his home and people. Although his back was to her, she saw the controlled tension ripple the muscles beneath his tunic. Under no circumstances would she want to face this man in battle. If Miles did, he was a fool.

Miles shrugged. “You may interpret it any way you wish."

"Then you are my enemy, not my friend. I want you out of my keep within the hour."

Eleanor gasped. “Nicholas, I beg you..."

"You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish, Sister. However, I will no longer extend my hospitality to your husband."

Miles grabbed Eleanor's arm and yanked her to her feet. “You will accompany me, my lady. Go and get my sons. We leave within the hour."

"Nay!” Eleanor tried to pull away, but Miles tightened his grip until she cried out, then gave her a push in the direction of the stairs.

"Do something!” Julie hissed at Nicholas as Eleanor walked across the room, head high.

His expression was implacable. “She is his. I can do nothing to stop him claiming her."

Outraged, Julie suggested, “How about planting your fist in his face?"

A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. “Would that I could take her from him. But the law states otherwise. I chastise myself for giving her to him in the first place."

"I suppose she's part of his chattel."

His brows drew together in a fierce scowl. “Aye."

Julie sprang from her chair. “Well, if you won't do something about it, I will. Before Nicholas could stop her, she yanked his sword from its scabbard and darted at Miles.

"Eleanor was right to call you monster, for so you are,” she shouted, waving the heavy sword none-too-skillfully in front of her.

Fortunately for Miles, Nicholas took two long steps and wrapped his arms around her.

"Nay, Julianne. Let me do it my way."

She strained to break his tight grasp. How she wanted to take a swing at Miles, maybe slash a disfiguring cut across that smirk.

"Your way! Everything has to be your way,” she gritted between her teeth, struggling to get loose. His way was probably best, but she wouldn't admit it. How she would have enjoyed sticking Miles like the pig he was. But that could start a war for which Nicholas was not yet ready. Fortunately, his cooler head had prevailed.

"Your wife has spirit, but no brains,” Miles sneered, backing away from Nicholas and Julie. She could see he was hesitant to turn his back on them. “If she were my wife, she would be black and blue for a month.” He turned to his guard. “Get the horses ready."

The man nodded and hurried off.

Nicholas said nothing to Miles’ insults, just kept his eyes fixed on the other man. Perhaps he agreed with his brother-in-law about the state of her brains. He certainly wasn't releasing his grip on her.

"You can let go. I won't attack him again.” For now.

He unwrapped his arms and turned her to face him. He stared down at her, his amber eyes glowing with some emotion she couldn't determine. “In the future, do not act without thought,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time.” She broke eye contact and held out his sword.

Taking it from her, he jammed it back in its scabbard. “The idea was good, the time was not.” His pragmatism struck her as a bit heavy handed, and although it didn't please her, she knew he was right. How he did love giving her orders or correcting her thinking.

"I'm going to talk to Eleanor now,” Julie said. “She should refuse to go with him or let him take the children."

His expression darkened. “The two of you are not to make any foolish plans. You will leave Miles to me."

Julie smiled sweetly. “Oh, I will. I'm sure Eleanor doesn't want him.” An idea had begun germinating in her head. But it definitely wasn't foolish.

Miles stood by the door impatiently waiting for Eleanor to join him. He watched the interplay between Nicholas and Julianne with envy and amusement. The girl had spunk. Not that he thought this a good quality, nay, the contrary. It was the kind of thing he would really enjoy beating out of her. The thought of whacking her bare backside hardened his manhood. He licked his lips. Mayhap he would indulge his fantasies, when that bastard Nicholas was out of the way. His army would put an end to Nicholas's possession of that tempting morsel of womanhood...and to his possession of Barstow Castle. Somehow, he would placate the king about the loss of one of his favorite knights, mayhap with some fanciful tale of treason. Next, he would convince Henry that he, Miles, should become the Baron of Barstow. Was not his son Richard named as Nicholas's heir?

Once he had killed Nicholas, everything would fall nicely into place, he thought smugly, as he watched Eleanor hurry across the great hall clutching the hands of Richard and Simon. Soon he would have all that Nicholas possessed, including the rebellious Julianne. He could hardly wait.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 14
Julie stood racking her brain for some way to keep Eleanor at Barstow Castle as Miles ordered her and the children out of the keep and into the upper bailey. Grooms brought their horses and stood silently holding the reins.

Nicholas swallowed his pride and asked Miles to allow his sister to stay, but Miles laughed in his face and roughly slung Eleanor into her saddle.

"I think not, milord. She belongs to me now, and you have no say in her welfare.” He slapped the reins on Eleanor's horse's flank and the animal trotted off. Then he turned to Richard and Simon. “Up, you two,” he ordered.

"Aye, Father.” Richard had learned how to avoid beatings. Miles smiled.

"Me too, me too,” echoed Simon, lifting his arms for a boost. Miles’ grin grew broader.

He seemed pleased enough with his sons—at least in public. But from what Eleanor had said, Julie suspected his patience with the boys was short-lived, and his blows were not softened by their youth. She watched sadly as the group rode away.

Back in her solar, Julie sent for Lily and all the young ladies and maids in the keep. When they arrived she checked the corridor, then shut and barred the door.

"I have something to discuss with you.” She let her gaze connect with each pair of curious eyes until she came to Lily. The ancient wisdom she saw there was awesome. If she were truthful, it frightened her too. Since learning Lily had the power to keep her here or send her back to the future, Julie felt the easy relationship they had once had, becoming more strained. Could she say or do something that would turn Lily against her? Although Julie did not believe in witches, she was developing a healthy respect for the woman Nicholas believed to be one.

"What is it?” whispered Gwyneth, the bravest of the girls.

Julie glanced at Lily who leaned against the stone wall, a half smile playing around her lips. She probably knew exactly what Julie was going to propose.

Pushing that thought aside, Julie took a deep breath and began. “You all know Lord Nicholas and Lord Miles are enemies, don't you?” The way gossip raced around the castle it would be surprising if they didn't.

They nodded, eyes wide with curiosity.

"And this latest quarrel will likely cause a war between them."

Again they nodded, but fear had replaced curiosity.

"I know a way we can help protect ourselves when the fighting begins. Are you willing to listen?” Julie remembered the guard who had tried to stop her the first night she was here. The memory of his leering mouth, his small piggy eyes and rancid breath made her shudder. What if Nicholas had not intervened? Would the guard have treated her like any kitchen maid who foolishly wandered around at night? Women in this time knew of no way to stop enemy soldiers from beating and raping them. They were powerless against the strength of men.

"Sweet Mother Mary!” Alda wrung her hands. “There is nothing we can do against soldiers but hide, my lady."

"That might not be necessary if you are willing to try my idea.” Alda was a little featherbrained, but her view reflected the current thinking.

Gwyneth spoke up. “What is your plan, my lady?"

"I want to teach you to defend yourselves."

They stared at her as if she were crazy. It probably did sound impossible to medieval women, but she could teach them what their counterparts in the twenty-first century knew about self-defense. Oh, how she wished Eleanor had been able to stay and learn to defend herself.

Julie caught Lily's eye. She nodded encouragement.

"Tomorrow, after the chores are done, you will all come to my chamber. Bring a pair of men's hose if you can. It is easier to work in those than a skirt. A shift will do for the top. No one will see you because you'll change in here and we will bar the door. Questions?"

"I have one, Lady Julianne.” Gwyneth's inquiring mind couldn't wait until tomorrow. “What will you teach us to do?"

Julie smiled. “It would take too long to explain. Tomorrow I will show you."

She swore them to secrecy, then shooed them out to pursue their daily tasks. After they had all gone except Lily, Julie collapsed on a stool. “Will I be able to teach the art of self-defense to women who have done nothing but submit to males all their lives?"

"I guess you won't know until you try."

"You're right, of course, it's just...” Just that she didn't know quite how to start.

"Would you like me to find you some wooden swords like the boys use to practice fighting? You could begin there, with something they would understand.” Lily's expression did not tell Julie if she were serious or just humoring her.

Julie's doubts grew. “Teach them to fight with swords? I don't know how myself."

"But I do.” Lily's mouth relaxed into a smile. “Of course, most real swords are too heavy for girls, but it will give them some grace of motion, help them believe they might defeat a man at something as foreign to them as swordplay. And you could teach them karate. I believe you told me you once took lessons. That would be a good beginning."

Julie nodded and started for the door.

Lily's next words halted her in her tracks. “There is one more thing we need to discuss."

Feeling like a butterfly too close to someone with a net, Julie said cautiously, “What?"

"You have not made love with Nicholas though you sleep in his bed every night."

"I don't think that's any of your business, Lily. My relationship with Nicholas is not up for discussion.” Amazing how Lily zoomed in on something Julie would rather not talk about.

"But this is very important, Julie.” A worried frown appeared between Lily's brows. “I think it's part of what you have been brought here to do."

"I'm to seduce a man whose heart belongs to the woman whose body I'm using. I think not. I have my pride.” And she'd rather that pride wasn't tested.

"Your desire is also his desire. Free your conscience. It is your fate to make love."

"I don't believe in fate. People should make choices based on facts."

"Are you sure?” Lily's earnestness was disconcerting.

"Do you have proof I'm wrong?” Julie realized how silly this question sounded but this whole topic made her jittery.

Lily's eyes blazed and Julie stepped back from the awesome power she saw burning there. “I don't need proof. I believe."

"Well, I don't. Can we leave it at that? I won't talk about Nicholas and me, but I do need your help with my women. Can I count on you? For more than the sword bit, I mean."

"Of course,” Lily murmured. “My reason for being here is to help you."

"So far, you've had a peculiar way of showing it. Why did you bring me back to this time? Nicholas is a great warrior and his men love him. Couldn't he have taken care of Miles without my being here?"

"I cannot tell you my reasons. Suffice it to say, your presence right now is crucial."

"I fail to see how.” They were getting nowhere. Every question she asked drew a blank.

"You will know, eventually."

"Oh, great. I can hardly wait. Listen, about Julianne. Because she died, Nicholas brought me here to help keep his son safe from Miles. But we arrived in the wrong year.” Because she needed Lily's help, she refrained from accusing her of being the one who had made the mistake. “Now, there's no son to care for, and Julianne is alive, at least, I think she is. Even if you send me back, Nicholas can still defeat Miles. Then he and Julianne can safely have their baby. Probably this time things will go better than before.” She wasn't really sure they would, but if one got a second chance, it had to be for a good reason, didn't it?

"You think so, do you?” Lily's expression gave Julie pause for thought.

"They will, won't they?"

Lily's rueful smile alarmed Julie.

"What aren't you telling me? Besides just about everything."

"There is much I cannot tell you right now. Just remember, Julie, that history usually cannot be changed. Rearranged a little, but the outcome must always be the same."

"Nicholas and Miles didn't fight the last time, so...” She paused. This was dreadfully confusing. “You aren't saying Julianne will have to die again, are you?"

Lily shrugged. “We shall have to wait and see."

Julie felt alarm rise like bile in her throat. “You can't control the outcome?"

"I'm afraid not. Guide it a little, perhaps, but essentially I'm almost as much in the dark as you are."

"But you do know some of what will happen?” Julie hoped so. From fearing to be with Lily, she had gone to fearing to be without her. Lily controlled the amulets and thus, Julie's lifeline back to the future.

"It's pointless to speculate further. We'll have to wait and see."

Julie snorted. “Typical of you, Lily. Platitudes, but no answers."

Lily just stared silently at her, and Julie realized she would say no more.

"I had a talk with Lily today.” Julie laid her gown carefully over the trunk where her clothes were kept. She really needed to do something about fashioning hangers and a rod to hold them. Storing them in the trunk made the room neater, but only added to wrinkles and odor retention.

"Oh?” Nicholas pulled off a boot and dropped it next to his side of the bed.

How normal we seem, she thought. Husband and wife undressing, sharing events of the day with one another. In their case, appearances were deceiving, as Lily was so fond of pointing out.

"I tried to pin her down about the future, but she says she knows only a little more than we do. Can we believe her?"

Nicholas yanked off the other boot and dropped it beside the first with a thud. A thoughtful look on his face, he yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

He didn't answer her question, just said, “I have a pain in my neck tonight.” He glanced at Julie.

She glared at him. “Are you referring to me?"

"Nay. Sir Edgar whacked me across the shoulders with his sword during practice today. I thought you might like to rub it.” He grinned.

"You thought wrong.” If she touched him, she'd be in trouble. And she had humiliated herself enough the last time.

"I surmised as much. All right, we will discuss Lily. I told you, she is a witch and can not always be trusted.” He pulled his linen tunic over his head and dropped it next to her gown on the dark oak chest.

Julie sighed. “So far, she's caused a lot of trouble.” Her gaze strayed to the garment he'd discarded. Only a few good tunics remained in the chest. Undoubtedly, she was expected to produce some new ones. But to his credit, he'd not brought that up. Good thing she liked to sew and had in the past made herself a number of dresses. If she took an old tunic and removed the stitching, she could probably use it as a pattern.

Good grief. She'd begun to think like a wife already and she couldn't afford to do so. When she returned to her own time, he'd be lost to her forever. To fall in love with Nicholas would only result in tears and heartbreak.

"Speaking of Lily, she offered to help me...” What was she doing? Lulled into a sense of false security by their easy exchange, she'd almost told him about her plan. How could she explain about teaching the women of the castle to defend themselves from male aggressors? He'd just order her to cease such foolishness immediately. That would be his view of her idea—foolishness. In his world, women hid. In hers, they fought alongside men.

"Help you do what?” He dropped his leggings on top of his tunic and stood there naked. She gulped. His body was as beautiful as his face. Every muscle defined his strength and made her think of a Greek statue, only darker. Much of his skin had been exposed to the sun during swordplay, not to mention the lance, and bow and arrow. And he was master of them all. She'd watched him from the wall walk, her body growing warm and moist with desire for what she could not have.

"Put out the candle and cover yourself,” she said sharply, not answering his question. She slid under the coverlet and turned her back on him. She had to hide the admiration and desire in her eyes.

The room went dark and the bed sagged with his weight. Before she could grab the edge of the mattress, her body rolled downhill and came up against Nicholas's. His arm closed around her and she was trapped.

"Julie.” His voice was hoarse, full of need.

"What, Nicholas?” she whispered back.

He didn't answer, but the hand lying across her stomach moved and found her wrist. His fingers began to trace small circles on the sensitive skin.

After a moment, he said in a ragged voice, “Do not tell me this is unwise. I know it."

"Why should I bother? You'll kiss me, then run away."

She felt him stiffen. He added softly, “Nay, dearling, not this time."

His lips, which looked so hard most of the time, were soft as they moved kiss by tiny kiss across her shoulder, up her neck, behind her ear. His powerful hands turned her gently toward him so he could caress her eyelids and the tip of her nose before reaching the place they both desired. His lips opened and his tongue lightly stroked the seam of her lips. She wondered what had changed his mind about all this, but didn't ask for fear he'd stop.

His mouth teased hers and while his tongue learned her mouth, his thumbs explored the planes of her cheeks, her eyelids, the curves of her ears. Everything about him was exactly as she had once imagined her knight would be. Only more so. She felt cherished.

Her hand lay over his heart, and she could feel it beating as fast as hers. His muscular thigh captured her legs, keeping her firmly in place. And each stroke of his tongue and thumbs vibrated her nerve endings all the way to her toes. If only this moment could last forever.

Finally, he pulled away, took a deep breath and whispered, “You are beautiful, sweeting. You are soft in all the places I am not. Every inch of you is perfect. You are a miracle."

She hugged him. No one had ever called her that before. His deep voice sent shivers along her nerves. Feeling a need to protest, she stammered, “Not really, but..."

He hushed her again with his mouth, holding the kiss so long they both came up gasping. He stared down at her, although she could have been nothing but a shadow beside him. Awareness of his gaze sent prickles down to a hot and very moist part of her body.

"Julie, I..."

She must have tightened her grasp on his shoulders, because he chuckled. “Nay, I am not leaving. I want you, but I have never taken an unwilling woman. You must choose what I will do next."

It was her turn to stare at him. She had wanted courtly love. Now her knight was asking her permission to make physical love to her. So wonderful she was probably dreaming.

She placed her hands over his where they rested on each side of her face. The strength they possessed had been replaced with an unbelievable gentleness. With a sigh, she moved her hand to lie against his faintly stubbled jaw. “I want what you want, Nicholas."

She'd bared her heart to him. Not something she'd planned to do. Not something she ought to do. Keeping her distance would be safer.

"This is what I want, Julie, not what I should do, but what I cannot keep from doing.” How strange, he'd practically echoed her own thoughts. They were in tune both physically and emotionally.

He gathered her in his arms, closer than she'd thought possible. He was hard everywhere, including the part of him she ached to have touch her, join with her. There was so much of him she felt dwarfed beneath his body as he pressed harder against her chest and belly. Involuntarily, she arched into him. He groaned and slid a hand down to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple. She dipped her tongue in his ear and he groaned again. Encouraged that she pleased him, she licked her way around until her mouth found his again. It felt so right, so amazingly wonderful to have his lips against hers.

Suddenly, he stopped. She murmured her displeasure and he laughed. “Nay, little sweeting. Once again, I assure you I am not leaving. I told you I would not. But there are far too many clothes between us and our desires."

In total agreement, Julie reached for the bottom of her shift at the same moment Nicholas did. Their noses bumped. They both laughed softly and tried again.

Nicholas won the tussle and heaved the garment to the floor. He wanted her hot moist skin gloving him. Then their bodies met and heavenly pleasure rushed down to his groin. All thought of his vows to Julianne evaporated like snow in sunlight.

He pulled her so she lay on top of him. Then his hands slid up to her hair and touched the soft, thick braid. He wanted it loose, streaming over his shoulders and chest, like a silken curtain enclosing them. He gave a tug and felt the ribbon holding the braid let go. He combed his fingers through her hair and her golden locks tumbled across his chest, releasing their lilac fragrance. He buried his face in it, scooping up handfuls and rubbing it between his fingers.

"Your hair smells like a waterfall of perfume."

"Flatterer."

"I am quite sincere, Julie."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Believe.” How could she doubt his sincerity? Although he had vowed in his prayers not to lie with this woman with the body of his wife and the soul of another, he had broken his promises to God and damned himself to Hell. To his shame, he knew he could have resisted Julianne, but he could not resist this exciting woman from the future. A woman who had knocked down all his defenses with every intelligent and unusual word she spoke. He had never known a woman like the one inhabiting his wife's body.

It was not just the allure of her beauty, but the quiet self-esteem she wore like a banner proclaiming her freedom. And he admired her absolute refusal to conform to his commands unless it was also her own wish. So he must have her...even if his soul spent eternity in the fires of the netherworld.

"Enough talk.” He told himself to be patient even though it had been months since he had bedded a woman. And this woman deserved his finest effort, not a quick animalistic coupling. Truthfully, Julianne had never done more than lie there while he made love to her. Julie did not just lie, she joined in. But then, he would not expect someone with her spirit to be passive. It was not in her nature.

"Come, dearling,” he whispered. “Lie with me and be my love."

Talk had cooled their ardor and he set about rekindling it.

Pulling her to him once again, he let his roaming lips speak any other thoughts he might have. If this be sin, there was much pleasure in it.

Julie heard his words with amazement. Few twenty-first century men would take time to murmur courtly phrases during love-making. Perhaps he was much more than a product of his times. Could Lily have decided he needed someone quite different from a thirteenth century woman? Could she also have thought Julie needed someone far different from the average man of her time? Perhaps Lily had just put them together and was waiting to see what would happen.

His mouth interrupted her thoughts. When he kissed his way down to her breast and began exploring the tender tip, she bucked and grabbed his head. “Don't stop!” she cried, sensing his slight hesitation.

His warm breath tightened her nipple. “Never fear. I will not stop."

"You just did,” she complained.

"Only for a moment.” He continued his attention to first one breast and then the other, his hand stroking the one his mouth was not pleasuring.

Julie ran her hands frantically over his broad shoulders, learning the contours and trying not to scream at the sensations his hands and his mouth produced.

"Please!” she cried, after his ministrations became even more ardent. “I need you to touch me, Nicholas.” She shoved at him, pushing his hands lower.

He groaned. “I will get there, my love, never fear."

But it wasn't fast enough to suit her. “Now,” she insisted.

His knee nudged her thighs apart and he rested between them, letting one hand run up and down her inner thigh. Exquisite agony.

"Let me touch you,” she pleaded.

"Not yet, dearling. I would embarrass us both. It has been too long and you are such sweet torture."

His fingers found her aching nub and rubbed it until her wave of pleasure crested. The intensity amazed her. During the brief affair she'd had in college nothing like this had ever happened.

Nicholas didn't need further urging. He plunged into her, filling her fully. A pain ripped through her at the same moment. She gasped. It had almost felt as though her virginity was intact. Which it wasn't. But in this body belonging to Julianne, it seemed she had become a virgin once again.

"Did I hurt you, my love?"

"Not really. It's just you're so large and solid."

"And you are so small and tight. You will drive me mad."

"I hope so.” She hugged him and rubbed her breasts against the light furring on his chest. Rough, but not painful. More stimulating than anything.

He had been lying above her, breathing heavily while he waited for her to adjust to him. Now he began slowly pulling out and plunging in. Warmth suffused her body as she answered his thrusts until they moved together in the ancient rhythm, each urging the other to higher places. When she cried out, he spent his seed, collapsing onto his elbows so his weight would not crush her. After a minute, he rolled over beside her, cradling her head on his shoulder.

They lay in each other's arms for a long time, neither saying a word, just savoring the wonder of being together. She had wanted to go home. This had changed her mind. Perhaps from now on, she would count each day as a gift from Lily instead of railing at her.

Nicholas stirred beside her. “Are you awake?"

"Oh, yes.” She slid her hand over his chest. So large and solid and warm.

"Have you regrets, Julie?"

"No.” Well, one regret. No condom. Did it matter? Probably not.

"Good.” His hand stroked her shoulder and arm, then continued down to her breast. She smoothed her hand down over his stomach and found that part of him which had given her such pleasure a little while ago. It surged to life again.

"I wouldn't have thought that you..."

"Always ready is more than the motto on my coat of arms,” he replied with a chuckle and proceeded to demonstrate.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 15
Nicholas awoke shivering in the pre-dawn grayness. The bed curtains gaped open and the coverlet had slipped down to his waist. No wonder he was cold. After his fantastic night with Julie, he was surprised he still knew his own name, much less remembered that he needed to get up and do his routine chores.

Always an early riser, he slid quietly from the bed, not wanting to wake her. She was probably exhausted. He was not proud of himself for giving in to temptation, but it had been an enthralling experience—one with a price. Guilt flooded his mind. Although he had railed at God when Julianne died, he was now less sure of his blasphemy. He seemed to have been given a second chance of sorts with her. Although he had sinned, he would not wish it away. Now he must atone for his moral lapse. He threw on his clothes and went down to the great room.

The place was filled with people breaking their fast. Not hungry, he walked out the door and headed for the lower bailey. The air was already heavy with the promise of rain later. July's hot days with attendant showers meant an abundant harvest. If all continued well, the storerooms would soon bulge with grain to ease his people through the lean winter months.

Several men stood around the horse trough dunking their wine-muddled heads. He nodded to them and kept walking briskly until he reached the chapel. He entered, crossed himself and moved down the aisle to the altar. Sinking to his knees on the cold stone floor, he bowed his head and began to pray.

Heavenly Father, I have committed a most grievous sin. If You cannot forgive me, and I must lose my place in Your heaven, please grant me the strength and courage to accept responsibility for what I have done and live my life the best I can.

I know it is wrong to bargain with you, Lord, but Eleanor needs my help. If You will but give me a chance to save her and my nephews and let me defeat her odious husband, Miles Norville, I will never touch Julie again. When Julianne returns, I will confess my sin to her and try to be a better husband.

An hour later, convinced he had restored some peace to his soul—though it probably was no longer his—Nicholas emerged from the chapel. A group of his men-at-arms challenged one another to bouts of one-on-one swordplay in the lower bailey. Happy to find something to lighten his black mood, Nicholas sprinted over and grabbed a sword from the communal heap.

"Ho, Jerald,” he said to a burly soldier, “I challenge you."

The big man grinned and came forward, his sword and buckler at the ready.

"Wait. Let me shed my tunic.” Nicholas yanked it off, then selected an unused sword and shield and charged at the larger man. After an hour on his knees in the chapel, he needed some action. Their swords came together in a mighty clash that nearly numbed his arm to the shoulder, but sent Jerald staggering back.

"Ha! Good one, milord!” shouted one of his men.

Another man turned to the first. “But Jerald is bigger. My money is on him."

A brief spate of wagering followed, while Nicholas and Jerald drove each other back and forth, first one attacking and then the other. Several minutes passed with each giving as good as he got. Just as Nicholas started to cut up under Jerald's shield and deal a monster blow, the image of Julie as she had looked last night during their love-making rose in his mind. Startled at the intensity of feeling washing over him, his concentration slipped. The big man took advantage of the momentary lapse, slashing up under Nicholas's shield and catching Nicholas's sword blade near the hilt. The weapon flew from his hand. Too embarrassed to admit a distraction had caused his failure to defend, Nicholas laughed and clapped Jerald on the back.

"Well met, Jerald. Another day I will catch you napping."

He conferred a moment with Sir Edgar about what other areas of warfare should be practiced this day, then walked across the two baileys and into the keep. Lady Beatrix stopped him, wanting to discuss the purchase of items that could not be grown or crafted by Nicholas's people. Soon, he must go to London for both supplies and mercenaries.

They went to his accounting room where he made neat lists while she told him what would be required to keep the large number of castle folk fed and clothed. He thought they had finished when Lady Beatrix spoke up.

"I must tell you, Lord Nicholas, how helpful Lady Julianne has been. Why, she has made a number of labor saving suggestions about the way we do things here. Just yesterday..."

Nicholas interrupted her. “Aye, she is clever.” Julie should be more careful, or she would give away just how far advanced her ideas were. He would go and have a word with her. Since seeing Julie was exactly what he wanted right now, he was glad of an excuse.

He found her in the solar, having a spinning lesson from Gwyneth.

As he entered, he heard Gwyneth say, “I think it odd, my lady that your mother did not teach you this necessary skill."

Julie's back was toward him, so he could not signal her to watch her words.

"She believed me to have an allerg—ah, that I developed a rash when I worked with raw wool. She taught me to sew garments instead."

Nicholas smiled. Why had he worried? Julie's sharp mind found plausible reasons for her lack of thirteenth century skills. Just then, Gwyneth glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway. She bounced to her feet and curtsied.

"Oh, Lord Nicholas. Lady Julianne has learned to spin so quickly. Just look what a fine thread she has made.” She held up the spindle for his inspection.

He moved closer and admired it. “Very good."

"I have been gainfully employed all morning.” Julie stood and watched his gaze sweep over the roll of thread. Without thinking, he raised his eyes and stared into her violet ones. And was lost. Again. No amount of praying would overcome his damning attraction to her. Well, if the afterlife must be spent in Hell, he might as well enjoy the here and now, even though he would not lie with Julie again. Nay, he must forego that. But he could look, since the face was that of Julianne.

"I see. Very well done, dearling. Now, if you are near finished, I would have a private word with you.” He offered his arm.

Julie laid her hand on his muscular arm as they walked from the room. When she awoke this morning to find him gone after such a wonderful night, she'd been disappointed. Could they not have lain in one another's arms for a little while, perhaps shared a few pleasant morning after words? Or even talked of what they would do today? Perhaps he had realized his oversight and wanted to make amends. Still, it was odd that he had gone off much earlier than usual and had not returned for several hours from wherever he went.

"Have you had some food?” she asked, as they descended the stairs and entered what she called his office.

He shook his head. “Nay, I am not hungry now."

"Well, then, I will order dinner served a little early.” She sat on a stool across the table from him. His frown told her he was displeased at her suggestion. Could be he thought she was coddling him. She clamped her lips together and waited.

"That will not be necessary. I will eat at the usual time."

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “You left early this morning."

"Aye, I had something to do.” But his gaze wouldn't meet hers.

Julie pushed a little harder. “In my time, a couple would want to spend some quiet moments together before rising. In fact, Nicholas, we have never had a honeymoon, at least to my knowledge."

He arched an eyebrow. “What is a honeymoon?"

"A week or two newlyweds spend alone somewhere."

"Ah, I see. Much time to...” He grinned.

"Precisely."

Then his face darkened. “I must spend every moment of the day preparing for whatever Miles has planned. I am nearly satisfied with the readiness of my present army, but not the size. I need more mercenaries, both knights and men-at-arms. In a few days, I will go to London and hire them. I have learned Miles has near one hundred men, more than twice my army's number."

"Yes, I realize that and I was thinking—"

He cut her off. “I have no time for this honeymoon of which you spoke. In fact, I think it is best we return to sharing a bed, but nothing more."

"Nothing more...” Was he dismissing her, like some serving wench summoned to warm a lord's bed for a night? Well, she wouldn't let him see he'd wounded her. Not in a million years.

"Then perhaps it would be better if we didn't even share a room.” She hoped he wouldn't agree. If they couldn't be lovers, at least she could feel the warmth from his body and occasionally, while he slept, touch him softly. She choked back tears and stood.

"We are wed, Julie, so we must share the room, but I—"

She lifted her chin. “No, Nicholas. Say no more. I agree. I must return to my own time and it's better that we not become attached to one another. The fewer complications, the better."

She left his office and climbed up to her chamber. Before she reached it, she could hear many young voices all talking at once. Heavens, she'd forgotten that self-defense lessons started today. Keeping busy would help her forget Nicholas's hurtful words. When she opened the door, Lily was showing Gwyneth how to hold a wooden sword.

"It is not heavy. I always thought swords weighed a great deal.” Gwyneth swung it up and around her head. Everyone, including Lily, jumped back.

"Stop that, Gwyneth.” Lily grabbed her arm and pulled it down. “It is light because it is wood. However, you could still hurt someone by swinging it in the air like that."

"I am sorry.” Gwyneth dropped the sword to the floor and shrank back. “I did not mean...” Her face turned pink with embarrassment.

Lily smiled at her frightened pupil. “You must learn the proper manner of handling a sword. When you have mastered that, mayhap I will teach you to use a real one. The purpose of this swordplay is only to build up your strength and endurance. Few women could best a man whose reach and stamina exceeds theirs.

Julie nodded encouragement to Gwyneth, then turned and barred the door. “The rest of you can begin by changing into your practice clothes. Did you all bring something?"

The women chorused, “Aye, milady,” and began shedding their gowns. Then Lily gave them all wooden swords and began showing both Julie and the others some basic swings. Soon the girls stopped giggling and started taking their instruction seriously. And for a little while, Julie lost herself in swordplay, forgetting Nicholas's hurtful words.

After the first day, Julie taught the women karate kicks and the art of throwing a large man to the ground. At first they were skeptical, but after a few successes at tossing one another, their confidence began to build.

Gwyneth ruined it all. “It is all very well to throw each other, my lady, but how could we deal with someone the size of Lord Nicholas?"

They all clamored their doubts.

Julie felt somewhat discouraged herself. Just thinking about trying to lift Nicholas that way made her wonder if it could be done. But then she perked up. If the moves were drilled into the women until they became second nature, then her plan could succeed. They would act instinctively and not take time to think of their opponent's size. With that in mind, Julie hushed the babbling group and got them started again.

Two hours later, she was convinced that, given time, the women would be really good at self-defense. They were tired, but she could see a glow of self-confidence in their eyes.

As she stood catching her breath, Lily spoke up. “I have a suggestion."

"What is it?” She wiped her forehead with the kerchief she'd tied around her neck.

"We should try archery next."

Julie frowned. “Are they ready for that?"

"Perhaps.” Julie shot Lily a quick glance. Could the woman be going to use a little magic of her own to help things along? She hoped not. A person gained confidence by doing something well, something she had worked hard to learn.

"Well, we'll give it a try.” Julie feared it was a skill one learned over a long span of time, years not weeks, but there was no harm in letting the girls shoot a few arrows.

The next day, Julie took her women to a meadow out of sight of the castle. She summoned Will, Nicholas's squire, to escort them and swore him to secrecy. Nicholas had ridden into Barstow Village to settle a dispute between the reeve and the blacksmith, so he wasn't likely to miss his squire until he returned.

Will found a hand cart to haul the targets, set up several painted straw bulls-eyes, then paced off the distance Lily suggested would be right for women archers. Next, he took the bows and quivers of arrows from the cart and laid them out. His tasks finished, Will sat down on a thick clump of grass and watched. Several times, Julie caught him grinning broadly and shook her finger—which only made him laugh.

After the women had changed their clothes in the nearby wood, Lily gave out the bows. Most were meant for older boys whose strength hadn't grown equal to a man's yet. Lily handed Julie and Gwyneth bows with a thirty pound pull. The younger girls had the twenty pound ones.

"Like this?” Julie drew back her bowstring and let an arrow fly. It hit the outside ring of the target.

"Not bad. Try again.” Lily offered another arrow. This time Julie missed completely.

"Again,” said Lily, her face inscrutable. Julie labored until she hit some spot on the target four out of five times.

Then Gwyneth tried several shots with the same degree of success.

"It takes practice.” Lily started the other girls shooting at a different target.

After an hour, Julie looked up at the sun. Because it was nearly time for dinner, she decided to quit for the day. “Nicholas will be back soon,” she whispered to Lily. “I do not want him to find us doing this."

"You think he'd object?” Lily tossed the quivers in the cart while the younger women scurried out to the targets to gather up the arrows. There were a great many lying in the grass and very few in the straw bales themselves.

Julie sighed. “I'm sure he would, even after watching the telly in my time and seeing women surpassing men in many ways. I don't think it was real to him. He believed it was merely entertainment. With actors, you know."

Lily gave a faint smile. “Well, let's not prod the sleeping beast."

"Agreed. Do you think there's any hope for this project?"

"Definitely. Give them a few more days and you'll be surprised."

The girls trooped up, their arms filled with arrows. Lily shoved them into the quivers, then motioned for Will to collect the targets.

With everything stowed away, they set out for the castle.

Will pulled the cart. As he moved off, he slanted a glance in Gwyneth's direction.

"Would you like to walk back with Will?” Julie suspected her lady-in-waiting would jump at the chance.

"Oh yes, please, my lady.” Gwyneth curtsied, then like the long-legged teenager she was, dashed ahead to stroll casually beside Will.

Julie smiled. “Were we ever that young, Lily?"

"I wasn't,” her friend muttered and Julie laughed nervously. Sometimes, she forgot about Lily's otherworldliness.

Julie glanced up at the sky. The sun had gone behind a gray cloud and darker thunderheads were building in the south. “We'd better hurry. It's going to rain soon."

Julie awakened before Nicholas the next day. She lay there listening to his even breathing, wishing she could roll over into his arms. The bed curtains were closed so she could not see his face. But she knew it well enough. Still, she wanted to reach out and trace his strong profile with her fingers, feel his warm skin, the roughness of his morning beard. But that would rouse him, and he'd leave her as he did each day upon awakening. At night, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. It appeared he planned to spend no waking moment in her bed.

His actions didn't surprise her. It was clear he wanted no temptation in his path, that he thought he'd besmirched his honor by giving in to desire and lying with her. Now he was trying to atone. She inched over and lightly touched his silky hair. Why was she torturing herself like this?

If only there was a convincing way to show him she was no threat to his marriage. She would go back to her own time, and Julianne would reappear from wherever she was. Julie was now quite sure, Julianne knew nothing of what was happening between her husband and Julie. At first, she'd feared Julianne would listen to all that was said—or felt. But after Nicholas told her about his life inside Nick, she felt better.

While she was thinking, Nicholas began to stir. She'd hoped he would sleep a little longer, let her enjoy his warmth, the scent of leather and outdoor life which surrounded him, the sound of his breathing. He yawned and stretched, not yet aware of her closeness. The exact moment he noticed, she felt him stiffen.

"Good morning,” she said softly. “Did you sleep well?"

"As always.” He rolled away from her and sat up. Pulling the curtains aside, he left the bed. She listened to him dress although she could see nothing. He moved as swiftly as if the Devil were one step behind him. And maybe he was.

The door shut, and she heard the distant thud of his boots on the stone steps. She didn't move. If she followed him down, he would forego his breakfast and disappear, not to be seen again until dinnertime when he addressed his only comments to Sir Edgar. If she spoke, he answered politely, then turned away again. And so each day had gone for over a month.

She dozed for a while. Then as the room grew lighter, she started to rise. As her feet hit the floor, an unpleasant roiling in her stomach made her gasp. It grew stronger until the incipient nausea forced her to quickly locate the chamber pot. For several minutes, she retched. Just when her stomach seemed about to turn inside out, the feeling subsided, leaving her weak and drained.

She changed her mind about rising, lay back and shut her eyes. What had she eaten last night to cause such a reaction? Nothing Nicholas hadn't eaten, since they shared a trencher. A disagreeable thought began to form in her mind. At first, she pushed it away. It couldn't be happening to her. Not now. Not in a time with no hospitals and no knowledgeable doctors.

Oh, God! She was pregnant. Only that one night—yet they'd made love a number of times, each one increasing the odds of conception. She didn't regret carrying Nicholas's baby, but the timing was horrible.

She lay still for a long time, taking deep breaths and trying to find the strength to get up and wash out her mouth. Then a light tap sounded on the door.

Oh, no. Gwyneth had come to dress her and do her hair. She could think of no reason to refuse entry to her lady-in-waiting.

"Come in,” she called, trying to sound more robust than she felt.

Gwyneth opened the door and came toward the bed, a worried expression on her face.

"Are you all right, my lady?” She peered down at Julie, then wrinkled her nose as she smelled the chamber pot.

"I'm fine.” What a fib. She hadn't felt this wretched since a stomach bug had laid her low a few years ago.

"Are you ready to rise?” Gwyneth still looked anxious.

"No, I'm really tired today.” She should eat something, but what? The thought of food almost made her stomach rebel again. Tea and soda crackers. Yeah, right. “I'd like a little bread, please, Gwyneth. And some water."

The girl scurried away and returned with a cup and a hunk of bread. “This is not very much to fill your stomach until dinner,” she said, helping Julie to a sitting position.

Julie shuddered. The very thought of rich meats and sauces gagged her.

"Oh, my lady, I think you are sick after all. I will summon Lord Nicholas."

"No, you won't, dear. He's busy, and I don't want to bother him. I must have eaten something which disagreed with me, but I'm all right now."

Gwyneth didn't look reassured. “Mayhap I should find Lily."

"Yes, do find Lily. I need to speak with her.” This was not part of what Nicholas required of her. At least he hadn't said so.

Gwyneth hurried off, and Julie let her mind wander. Julianne had become pregnant and had had a baby son whom Nicholas wanted to protect. But Julianne had died in childbirth. Much as Julie had come to love Nicholas, she didn't want to die. But would events repeat themselves? In this strange world anything seemed possible. She would need some reassurance from Lily that her fate would be different from the unlucky Julianne.

In a few minutes, Lily arrived. She walked over to the bed and stared down at Julie. “You and Nicholas finally made love.” A statement, not a question.

Julie forgot her unsettled tummy. “That isn't all we made, and the proof of it should be here in about seven and a half months."

Lily nodded. “So, the baby is a given. I wonder what else we cannot avoid."

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 16
The next day as Nicholas was getting ready to exercise Archangel, three horsemen came trotting through the gates, one carrying the king's banner.

"I wonder what Henry wants?” Nicholas murmured. The appearance of the king's messengers seldom boded well.

The riders dismounted. One approached Nicholas and bowed. “My Lord of Barstow, the king sends greetings and says he requires your presence at court forthwith."

Nicholas's heart sank. Without a doubt, Henry wanted him at Westminster for some tame jousting or worse—standing around kissing ladies’ hands. But on second thought, this might work in with his plans. He could probably slip away and recruit new mercenaries for his army. Then he would send them back to Barstow to begin training with Sir Edgar.

But that presented another problem. How long would Henry demand he stay? Nothing bored Nicholas more than the insipid damsels of Queen Eleanor's retinue. And like the rest of London, he disliked the queen who had wrapped Henry around her little finger and made him give wealthy appointments to her foreign relatives instead of worthy Englishmen.

Then another thought struck him like a lightning bolt and almost as deadly. Julie. How could he leave her here alone with only Lily to watch over her? The idea of his wife improving everything in sight or mayhap letting slip something about her origins, made him decidedly uncomfortable.

Shaking off his unease, he glanced up. The messenger stood waiting for an answer. “Do you know why Henry has sent for me?"

The man shook his head. “I know not, my lord. Only that we are to escort you to him."

Nicholas nodded. “You will find food in the kitchen."

A groom took the men's horses, and Nicholas walked slowly across the bailey, wondering what to tell Julie, and how she would react when she learned of his imminent departure. He could easily imagine her demanding to accompany him. She would love a first hand look at the king and his court. All grist for that book she was writing. He shook his head. A woman writing a book! A man could seldom fathom the mystery of a woman's mind.

In their chamber, a surprise awaited him. Julie was still asleep, although someone had propped some pillows behind her head. She must have been awake earlier. Her breasts rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing. He found himself staring, wanting to cup his hands around those soft mounds and wake her with a kiss. He did neither, despite the temptation. Strange that the noise from his boots on the stone floor had not awakened her...mayhap she was unwell.

Some bread lay on the table beside the bed. Had she broken her fast in bed?

He touched her shoulder. “Julie?"

A soft sigh escaped her pink lips. Her violet eyes blinked open and met his.

"Oh, Nicholas.” Julie struggled to rise. She looked disconcerted, though why, he did not know. Mayhap she believed he would think her lazy.

"Lie back, Julie. Are you unwell?” He hoped not. Her time had miraculous cures for many illnesses with which his time coped poorly. Should she sicken, he would, of course, make Lily send her back. He did not want her death on his conscience, too. But he would miss her in so many ways. Although he could not lie with her, having Julie in his life pleased him greatly.

"No, I'm fine. Just a bit tired this morning, that's all.” But her gaze dropped.

Was she lying? Oh, God, not this morning. He had mercenaries to procure, a king to please, and now, mayhap, Julie was sick. “If you are so fine, why have you not risen?” He scowled as once more she glanced away.

"I must have fallen asleep again.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She wore only her shift, so her bare legs caught his instant attention.

He gulped. She was such a perfect little creature. He could never get his fill of staring at her and all her delightful parts. Even if this was Julianne's familiar body, having Julie within her made everything seem different.

"I need to speak with you,” he said, sounding more gruff than he meant to. Trying to cover his male reaction to her loveliness, he settled on a stool and draped his arms across his thighs.

"All right.” She reached for a linen cloth and began washing.

"A messenger from the king just arrived. Henry commands my presence at court immediately.” He was gratified to see her swing around and give him a wide-eyed stare. So, she was not happy to have him leave. That pleased him.

Her expression turned a bit fearful. “You're leaving me here alone?"

"For now. At least, until I discover what the king has in mind. I will send word if I wish you to join me. Besides, you would have to ride a horse for many miles.” He grinned, remembering her timid approach to Archangel the night they rode together to Barstow Village.

"That's true. But I could do it if I had to.” Her chin tilted in that defiant gesture which both amused and endeared her to him.

"I must have your promise you will not do something about the—what did you call it?—ah, I have it—the plumbing. I know it is not to your liking, but I have had little time to decide how to make changes, much less do them."

"It's all right, Nicholas. I won't be here long enough to need running water."

Disappointment surged through him. He wanted his life with Julianne back, yet he found Julie far more stimulating—both to his mind and his unruly male part. And, that was his true sin. He clenched his fists, telling himself he must do better, knowing well enough he would not.

"Also, you must be constantly aware that what you say, may be misconstrued,” he continued. “Please, do not try to change things while I am gone."

Julie frowned. “Of course, I won't. Believe it or not, I've managed to take care of myself for many years. Successfully."

"That was in your time."

"So?” Julie pulled her gown over her head. The back gaped open, and after trying several times to do up the ties, she backed up to Nicholas.

He stood and picked up the laces. The familiar scent of lilacs assaulted his senses. Glad her back was to him, he began tightening the laces. He purposely took his time, reveling in the sweet scent of her and the softness of her golden hair as it lay across her shoulders. “Just remember to be very careful,” he managed, swallowing hard. He gained control of himself and gave a final yank to the ties.

"All right, I will."

Julie turned to face him. She would not tell him about the baby. It was too soon to be sure anyway. And if she had this baby, he might never allow her to go home. Would he see the child as hers, not Julianne's and make her stay to nurture the baby? She felt the blood drain from her head and put a hand on his arm to steady herself.

"Are you sure you're all right?” A note of anxiety edged his question.

The dizzy feeling passed. “Yes, Nicholas. I'm fine. Now, was there something more? I have a lot to do today. Lady Beatrix is making beeswax candles and wants me to help."

He stood gazing down at her for a moment, his amber eyes glowing with desire. Then, he shook his head. “No, nothing more. I will need to take some of my better clothing as Henry fancies his court well-dressed. Will you lay them out?"

"Certainly.” A surge of pride swept through her, pride that Nicholas would trust her to select his court clothes, pride that he would treat her as his wife in a homey thing like packing. He could be irritating, but he had definitely become her knight in shining armor.

She went to the window and looked down. Nicholas's squire, Will, was hightailing it across the bailey, a cloth fluttering in his hand. Maybe he was off to polish his master's armor. Thinking she knew more about chain mail than court clothes, she opened the chest and began laying out garments which seemed appropriate to wear in a king's presence.

Nicholas clattered down the stairs and strode into his accounting room. He slammed the door and dropped down on a chair. No matter how many vows he made to God, his body demanded something far removed from celibacy. When Julie was elsewhere, he believed in abstinence—no problem. But put him in the same room with her and his senses reeled, his good resolutions forgotten.

He struck his forehead with his palm. “Dolt! How can you keep this demesne together when your prick rules your head,” he muttered. Mayhap Henry's summons had come just in time to prevent any more foolish mistakes. And London would put many miles between them.

With a sigh, he pulled the estate records to him. He began making entries of the latest purchases and totaling up the amount of grain harvested the day before. For a while, he worked at a furious pace, wanting to drive all thought of Julie from his head.

A knock at the door broke his concentration. “Come."

Leonard, the soldier who took things to Eleanor and retrieved messages from Eldred, entered. “My lord."

"Have you news?"

The man nodded. “Lord Miles’ new mercenaries are green lads according to Eldred. It is taking more time than the lord thought to train them properly. Eldred believes you will have time to get your own soldiers. He hopes you find some more skilled than Sir Miles’ men."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. Mayhap Miles’ coffers might be growing light. Would he attack Barstow Castle with untrained troops, or was Eldred right? Nicholas rose and placed the records on a shelf. No more time remained to work on them.

"Send Will to me, Leonard.” His squire could deal with the boxes and chests they would need to take to court. Also, Will could confer with Julie about clothes. Nicholas would not allow himself to be distracted by her again today. Tomorrow at sunrise, he, Will and Leonard would leave for London, three days journey from Barstow. Away from Julie, his mind would settle into its usual rational pursuits—at least he hoped it would. The promise of restored order in his life should have pleased him greatly, but somehow it did not.

The dawn had just brushed the sky with strokes of rose and gold when Nicholas mounted Archangel. Julie stood silently by, watching Will supervise loading of the baggage on the backs of several pack horses. She glanced at Nicholas, but he was watching Will and the men.

"If you do not hurry, Will, the sun will set before we are ready."

"Aye, my lord.” His squire shouted at the servants to move their asses, eliciting a smile from Nicholas.

As the boy leaped onto his horse, Nicholas dropped his gaze to Julie. “You will remember what we discussed last even?"

She nodded. “I'll remember.” Remembering wasn't a promise to obey. The women needed more practice with both their karate and the bows and arrows—occupations, both of which Nicholas would disapprove, if he knew of them. He'd mentioned plumbing. What she knew about that would fit in a thimble.

Sir Edgar stepped between them. “My lord, it is important you procure seasoned warriors.” His voice held a note of warning.

"I will do my best."

Edgar smiled. “Your best is more than good enough."

"Let us hope so. Keep a good watch."

"Do not fear. The castle will be held in a state of readiness, night and day. If Sir Miles comes, we will be prepared."

Nicholas leaned down and clapped Edgar on the shoulder. “I put my faith in you, old friend, and always have. No one else could protect my demesne as well as you."

"I will do my best. Godspeed, my lord."

Once again, Nicholas swung his gaze to Julie. “Fare thee well, wife. Keep out of trouble during my absence.” His tone brooked no disobedience.

"I will. And Nicholas...” She stood on tiptoe and lowered her voice. “All is not well with Henry. The actions of Simon de Montfort, the Earl of Leicester, have him in a great rage."

Nicholas's dark eyebrow shot up. “How do you know this?"

"I'm a thirteenth century expert, remember?” She touched his hand where it rested on his mailed thigh. “As seneschal of Gascony, Simon is having much success putting down the rebellion within that area. Henry is jealous and he hates Simon. I fear your strong arm and level head will be sent to keep Simon in line."

"You, too, have a good head on your shoulders, Julie,” he murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear. “And you are lovely beyond words."

"Finally a compliment instead of a complaint,” she retorted, but softened it with a smile.

He grinned. “Also, a worthy adversary from time to time."

"Just be careful.” How she wanted him to pull her up in front of him and rain kisses on her lips until her head spun. Maybe not with so many watching... In fact, he might never touch her again, spectators or not. His iron will kept his desire in check and his expression gave away nothing. Until she gazed into his eyes. Another story altogether, there. Amber flames smoldered in their depths. With great pleasure, she realized his control came at a price.

"Farewell, wife.” Nicholas nudged Archangel. He, Will, the two soldiers and the king's men passed through the portcullis over the drawbridge and were soon out of sight.

Julie stared after them, already feeling the loss of her knight. Because she knew so well what could happen to him, fear clutched at her heart. She told herself to get to work. The busier she was, the faster the time would pass until his return. Since the work in this place never ended, finding something to do would be easy. She should go look for Lady Beatrix and get started.

Instead, she hurried up on the wall walk. In the distance, the little group of riders passed into the woods and disappeared. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could dampen her cheeks. Nicholas was counting on her to keep things inside the castle running smoothly. She would not let him down.

Nicholas rode in silence as the miles dropped away. Will seemed to sense his dark mood and refrained from his usual cheerful babbling. Leonard and the other soldier trailing behind them with the pack horses were quiet, too. Bright sunshine, an achingly beautiful blue sky and cheerful birdsong surrounded them.

Normally, Nicholas enjoyed the freedom of riding his horse through the countryside on such a lovely day. But today he did not. He scarcely saw the landscape or the serfs working the fields along the way. His mind divided itself between Julie and Miles—both worrisome subjects. That Miles might attack while he was gone, concerned him. What Julie might do if this happened troubled him even more. The day wore on, but no solution, short of returning home to keep Julie on a tight rein or ignoring King Henry's summons, came to him. Neither was viable.

The group stayed in an inn that night and resumed their travel at daybreak the following morn. Nicholas maintained a steady pace that ate up the miles. As evening neared on the second day, he selected another inn and halted the journey not far outside London. He knew even if they rode at a gallop, the gates would be closed. The room he shared with Will lacked any amenities but a bed and a chamber pot. His squire dropped quickly into a deep sleep, snoring loudly, as Nicholas lay there thinking of Julie. He missed her already and wished he could turn back. Damn Henry!

He hoped Julie was wrong about the king's reason for summoning him. Going to Gascony was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He hoped he could make his obeisance to Henry, find some mercenaries, do whatever was needed, as swiftly as possible, and hurry home. In that order. Henry's intrusion into Nicholas's affairs made him grind his teeth. No need to speculate further. Tomorrow would be soon enough to learn of Henry's wishes.

Shoving the king to the back of his mind, he turned his thoughts to Julie. He saw her as she had looked yester morn, her amethyst eyes wide with concern, staring up at him and bidding caution. She had not taken time to do up her hair and it curled around her face and down her back in a profusion of golden waves. He had used every ounce of self control to keep from leaping off Archangel, with no thought to their audience, and plunging his fingers through the spun gold of her silky hair. The tip of her nose had begged to be kissed and... His body hardened and he groaned. He could only take so much of this. How unwise to think such thoughts while trying to fall asleep.

Will snorted and turned over, pulling the coverlet off Nicholas. He should have told Will to sleep on the floor. The knight who had made Nicholas his squire at age ten believed only men belonged in a bed, so Nicholas had spent many nights trying to find a comfortable position on cold stone and earthen floors. Then he pictured Julie, warm and sweet, sleeping in a soft bed under the coverlet they shared. Oh, God! Torture. With a great sigh, he forced his mind to contemplate the best place to find some mercenaries—a large number of them—and what price he should pay for a knight, a man-at-arms. Gradually, his eyes closed and sleep found him.

Julie awakened early and listened for the sound of Nicholas's breathing. Then she remembered. He had gone to London. Sighing, she snuggled down in the center of the bed. Burying her nose in Nicholas's pillow, she inhaled, smelling his distinctive male scent.

She wondered if she were right about why the king had sent for Nicholas. When Henry wanted something, the needs of his nobility were unimportant. He would not be denied. And at the moment, Gascony had his attention. Much as she wished it, the king was unlikely to excuse a knight of Nicholas's caliber if his services were required. She hoped Nicholas would not be sent into the fighting in France. True, he was big and strong, a great warrior, but he was also human and could be hurt or killed like anyone else. She shivered and burrowed deeper into Nicholas's pillow, before pulling the coverlet up around her ears.

Gwyneth tapped on the door and entered.

"Are you ready to rise, my lady?"

"I suppose.” Until now, she could look forward to seeing Nicholas at meals and often in the bailey practicing warfare with his men, but today loomed before her long and empty.

"Will we practice archery this afternoon?” Gwyneth whispered, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone could hear.

"We will have to enlist someone else to help us, since Will has gone to London with Lord Nicholas.” Although they had tried to hide their self-defense practices, the castle folk had quickly become aware of it.

Perhaps Robert could be persuaded to help, even though Julie had an uneasy feeling about him. That day when Eleanor had been frightened by Miles’ man, Robert had acted most peculiarly. No, she would not ask Robert the accountant. Instead, right after breakfast, she'd ask Sir Harald, the youngest of the household knights.

Julie levered herself up on one elbow and reached for the hunk of dry bread she kept on the bedside table. She'd found nibbling a bit of this before rising, as well as not jumping up too fast, relieved her morning nausea.

"I think, Lady Julianne, we can set up the targets ourselves.” The girl looked hopeful of Julie's approval.

Julie smiled. “I believe you're right, Gwyneth. It may take two of us to do a task Will did alone, but we can all pitch in."

Gwyneth returned her smile. “Lady Beatrix says many hands make light work. Of course, she would think that, since she wants all of us to keep busy."

"When Lord Miles is taken care of, I'll relieve her of much responsibility.” If I'm still here.

Gwyneth hesitated, then blurted out, “She wonders what you are doing, my lady. She asked me directly yester morn."

"And what did you say?"

"That you were gathering herbs for medicine. It was all that came to mind."

"How clever of you.” Feeling almost normal, Julie slipped down from the bed and waited to see if the nausea returned. It didn't. “I don't think Lady Beatrix would approve of our lessons any more than Nicholas would. So, if the castle gossip doesn't answer her questions, let's keep this our secret, Gwyneth."

"Aye, my lady. I will say nothing to her about the archery and kick fighting."

"Good.” Julie slipped into her gown, and Gwyneth fastened the ties. Her surcoat came next. After Gwyneth braided her hair and wrapped it around her head, Julie led the way downstairs for breakfast. She was famished and needed energy if she were to spend the day shooting arrows as well as instructing the young ladies and maids in kicking and throwing men.

Nicholas entered the audience chamber and made his bow to Henry. The king, seated on his throne, glanced up from what he was reading and scowled.

"You have been overlong in obeying our command, Nicholas.” He dropped the letter on the floor and stared down his nose at his favorite knight.

"I came directly after being informed of your wishes, sire.” The only way he could have arrived any quicker was with one of those flying machines he'd seen in the future.

"Do not try me as does Simon de Montfort.” Henry rose and stood on the dais, looking down on Nicholas, a petulant expression on his face.

"What has the earl done now, sire?"

"He is sorely harassing the Gascons, Nicholas. His measures are harsh, too harsh. Even though the rebels deserve hanging, he seems to dispatch whole hordes of them each time. At this rate, there will be no people left to tax."

Puzzled, Nicholas asked, “Does he not confiscate their belongings for the crown?"

Henry waved his hand in dismissal of that idea. “Who knows? He is acting as though he were a law unto himself."

Nicholas realized Henry was jealous of de Montfort's success at putting down the rebels, so he merely nodded and murmured, “Aye, sire."

Henry stopped complaining about de Montfort and leveled his gaze at Nicholas. “What I want you to do is go to Gascony and see if you can talk some sense into Simon. You have always had a level head on your shoulders."

Nicholas was aghast. “I, your majesty? You want me to tell an earl how to comport himself?"

"Not exactly. You will bear my messages. Simon has always liked you. Mayhap if you both discuss what measures should be taken against the rebels, you can subtly convince him to...” Henry waved his hands again, probably not really certain just what he thought Nicholas should say to change the mind of the stubborn de Montfort.

Nicholas sighed to himself, but said, “I understand now, sire. You wish me to be your envoy."

Henry nodded. “If you can accomplish this, there is an earldom awaiting you."

"Your majesty is too gracious.” He noticed the king was frowning.

"Nay, I cannot bestow your title after you talk to de Montfort,” Henry said, pursing his lips into a tight little circle. “You will need the title to negotiate on an equal basis with him. So, you will receive it now. In return, you must promise me to succeed in your errand."

"I will do my utmost to follow your wishes, your majesty.” It wasn't so much the title itself—he had never sought or expected such an honor—but the promise of extra revenue lured him. Overflowing coffers would allow him to purchase more of the experienced mercenaries he needed in the coming fight with Miles. This, however, he would not mention to Henry. The king disliked his barons fighting among themselves—unless it kept them from conspiring against him.

"I will order the proper paperwork done,” the king said, looking him straight in the eye. “You will be known hereafter as the Earl of Barstow. There are also some properties involved including the demesne and a castle at Stanford. And a little extra revenue—after my share, of course.” Suddenly, he scowled, stepped down from the dais and began to pace up and down.

"I am not sure...” He halted in front of Nicholas and glared. “You will swear on your hope of heaven you will not conspire against me with de Montfort."

Although he had little hope of heaven after the way he had treated Julie, Nicholas said quickly, “I do so swear, your majesty.” Jesu! Sometimes this man acted as though birds flew around in his brain.

Henry's scowl turned suddenly into a smile. “My boy, I called your father friend. He was a fine man who raised an outstanding son. Because of him, I asked you to join my royal service after you were knighted. In the years since then, you have more than equaled my expectations. Do not fail me in this.” Nicholas read the threat between the lines of this speech.

"I thank you, sire, for the honor you are bestowing on me today. I will try to be worthy of your great trust in me. When do I leave?"

"You will wish to settle your affairs before taking ship. Day after tomorrow will be soon enough."

Bloody Hell! If he defied the king, he could be imprisoned or worse. He had no choice. He must go to Gascony. That would give him little time to find the soldiers he sought, but he let nothing of his dismay show on his face. Thanking the king once more, Nicholas backed out of the audience chamber and grabbed Will who was lounging against the wall outside the door.

"Come. We have much to do.” He towed the boy along in his wake. Every minute would count from now until Thursday. Since he would not have time to return home, he must write to Julie and explain. Detailed directions should be sent to Sir Edgar. He must pay and instruct the men he hired and send them with Leonard to Barstow. Being the object of the king's attention turned one's life upside down.

He sprang onto Archangel and headed for an inn that mercenaries were said to frequent. Even Henry's problems could not come before his. He wished he could take these men to Barstow himself, but he would have to trust Leonard to get them there, and Sir Edgar to defend his castle from Miles Norville.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 17
Julie awoke to a clamor beneath her window. Reluctant to leave the comfort of her bed, but curious to know what was going on, she got up and hurried to the window. Dawn had not yet broken, but many torches burned in the bailey which was filled with men-at-arms. Archers lined the walls, crossbows in hand and Sir Edgar, attended by the rest of the household knights, stood in the center of the bailey giving orders to the guards. Could Miles and his men have arrived already? He must have heard Nicholas had been summoned by the king, and decided to take advantage of his absence.

Julie leaned farther out the window for a better view. She saw Sir Edgar conferring with his knights. Would he send Barstow's small but well-trained army out to fight Miles’ superior but green forces? She hoped not. Barstow's army was half the size of Miles Norville's according to Nicholas's spy. The odds would not favor them.

She called for Gwyneth, who arrived rubbing her eyes, but eager to find out what was happening. She helped Julie dress in the leggings and tunic she wore for karate practice. Although she owned no chain mail, she had acquired a boy's padded gambeson to protect her chest and back. Oh, how she wished Nicholas were here. She had great respect for Sir Edgar, the warrior steward who had impressed her every time she watched him practice with the knights. But unfortunately, most of the other knights, including Sir Harald, who had been Nicholas's squire before he was knighted, were younger than and not as experienced as Edgar and Nicholas. If a battle were to be fought, Nicholas's superior knowledge and fighting ability would be needed.

Her dressing completed, Julie ran down the stairs and out the front door. In the upper bailey, women and children from Barstow Village clustered in little groups near the stairs. Some were stricken by a trembling silence, while others wailed the loss of home and family members. Julie stopped and spoke to a young woman who sold eggs to the castle.

"What happened, Dora?"

The girl stared at Julie's clothes, but didn't comment. “We were attacked by the lord of Norville Keep, milady."

"Sir Miles?"

The woman nodded.

"You must have had some warning, since so many of you arrived here before him.” How dare Miles persecute these poor people? Anger rose like bile in Julie's throat.

"One of Sir Miles’ men-at-arms brought us word the army was headed our way. Why I do not know. He looked familiar. Mayhap, I have seen him before."

"Oh, surely not.” Nicholas had told her he had a spy among Miles’ men-at-arms. But he wouldn't want anyone else to know this.

The woman looked doubtful. “He could just have resembled someone else."

Julie changed the subject. “Where are your men? This seems to be only old people, women and children.” She feared she knew the answer.

"When they heard Sir Miles meant to attack the village, the men sent us here. They stayed to protect our homes.” The woman dropped her gaze and a tear trickled down her cheek.

"Methinks many are dead or wounded."

Julie silently agreed. What could villeins do against knights on horseback and heavily armed foot soldiers? She could offer these people little hope of rescue since the castle's forces had no way to reach the village men.

Lady Beatrix appeared, trailed by several servants carrying large trays of food and drink. She stared at Julie, her eyebrows flying high in shock. “My lady! Where did you get those clothes?"

"I, uh, thought maybe I could help and a gown would be in the way.” Lady Beatrix would be shocked to learn Julie planned to help by fighting—if only with a bow and arrows from the wall. She would probably swoon. Before Beatrix could question her further, Julie moved away, thinking the woman would have to be content with serving bread and ale to the refugees.

Since the folks from the village were being cared for, Julie turned her attention to what might be happening outside the walls. Where was Sir Edgar?

Spying him speaking with a group of archers on the other side of the bailey, Julie hurried to join them. Edgar finished his instructions and more archers swarmed up the inside stairs by the gatehouse onto the curtain wall, quarrels mounted on their crossbows, ready to fire on command. They were relieving those whose guard duty just ended.

Sir Edgar turned and spotted her. “My lady,” he said sternly, “you must go back inside the keep. Lord Nicholas would never forgive me if aught happened to you.” He eyed her garments but said nothing. However, his expression revealed his disapproval.

"Miles and his army are out there, aren't they?” Julie wanted more information.

Edgar nodded. “He must have heard Lord Nicholas has gone to London. Mayhap he thinks to defeat our small army easily without our lord in attendance.” Julie's exact thoughts.

"Can't we send a message to Nicholas? Surely the king would allow him to come home to defend his castle. If he's hired the mercenaries and brings them back, all will be well."

Sir Edgar shook his head. “Even should a messenger be able to steal through the army surrounding us, the king is not known for putting the needs of his nobility before his own,” he murmured.

"You won't try to confront Sir Miles, will you?” Without Nicholas and the mercenaries, that could only result in disaster.

"Nay, my lady. Although I would dearly love to separate Miles’ head from his shoulders, joining battle when vastly outnumbered would be foolish. For now, we are safe within these walls. We can only hope Nicholas and the men he has hired arrive in time. Now, please, Lady Julianne, return to the keep.” His expression said he wasn't fooling, and she had overstepped the boundaries of appropriate behavior for a medieval wife.

Disappointment swept through her. After all her work, Sir Edgar wasn't going to let her help in any way. All she could say was, “I'm sure Nicholas will be back soon."

Sir Edgar nodded. “We will hope so."

Sir Harald and Robert, the accountant, joined them and Edgar looked relieved. Harald raised an eyebrow at her odd clothing, but Robert just laughed rudely. Neither asked why she was dressed like that, but their expressions revealed their curiosity.

Sir Edgar frowned at Robert—probably thinking laughter inappropriate no matter what the lady of the castle wore. “Lady Julianne thinks we should send a messenger to alert Lord Nicholas. What think you?” he said to those surrounding him. When Robert continued to stand with the knights, Julie wondered what part he played in this discussion. He was supposed to be a scholar, an expert in estate matters, not a warrior.

Sir Harald started to speak, but Robert interrupted him. “If someone goes, it should be me. If I am captured, I will not be missed in any fight. Also, I know the way to the king's palace at Westminster having traveled there many times over the years."

Edgar stared at Robert with narrowed eyes. “'Tis true, I can not spare a warrior. A scriber will have to do."

A frown creased Robert's forehead when Edgar called him a scriber. Julie wondered why that bothered him. Could Robert aspire to the knighted class?

"If I slipped out the postern gate in the dark of night, I could quickly be on the road to London with no one the wiser. Mayhap, I will be able to steal a horse."

Edgar nodded. “The plan has merit."

Julie saw Robert's frown ease into a self-satisfied half smile. Why was that? For being able to assert his will on Sir Edgar?

"Seek Lord Nicholas first at Westminster. If he is not there, inquire as to his direction. And you, my lady, must go inside where you will be safe.” Sir Edgar turned away as one of the archers on the wall called down to him.

Robert and his smug expression disappeared into the keep. Julie watched him leave. Something about Robert rubbed her the wrong way. There was the time when he appeared to be trying to communicate with the guard who had frightened Eleanor. Also, she had once found him listening outside Nicholas's office when Nicholas was conferring with Sir Edgar. And his occasional lascivious stare in her direction annoyed her. She was glad he was leaving.

Ignoring Edgar's insistence that she go inside the keep, she moved quietly to where he and the other knights were discussing their plans. She'd forgotten her ‘place’ or rather the place assigned to women in this time. Even though there were far too few archers, Julie realized now that Edgar and the others would scorn the offer of help from the girls she'd trained.

"Macho men, bah!” she muttered as she edged slowly into a position where she could overhear Sir Edgar and his knights making plans. As far as Julie could see, they were just rehashing the only options open to them. Their greatest hope was that Robert would reach Nicholas, who would then appear at the rear of Miles’ army with the new mercenaries. Then Sir Edgar could send his men outside. Miles would be caught between two armies.

With a sigh, Julie walked across the bailey toward the stairs to the battlements. If nothing else, she could satisfy her curiosity about the strength of the opposing force.

Sir Edgar quickly appeared at her side. “Where are you going, my lady?"

"Up on the wall. I want to see this army for myself."

"That is not wise, Lady Julianne...” Edgar began.

Julie tossed her head. She couldn't shoot with the archers, but she could go look. “I will keep my head down, Sir Edgar. I wish to keep it as much as you wish to protect it.” Probably more so.

Edgar's dark blue eyes stared down at her and his mouth thinned into a stubborn line. “I am sure Lord Nicholas would not thank me if a stray arrow killed or injured you."

"Then I shall be extra cautious. Please, Sir Edgar.” She laid her hand on his hard arm. I'm not the delicate lady I appear."

Finally, he gave a reluctant nod. “Be very careful, Lady Julianne."

"I will,” she promised. Tilting her chin, she climbed to the top of the wall. She selected a crenellation not being used by an archer and crouched down. Cautiously, she peered out at the enemy camp. The sight was far from reassuring. At least one hundred men, both knights and men-at-arms, filled the meadows just far enough away to avoid being picked off by Barstow's archers. She spied only one siege machine, a trebuchet, but perhaps others were on the way. She realized the vast difference between what had been only pictures in books and movies, and the reality before her. Her heart began to pound, so she ducked down and took several deep breaths to calm herself.

As her gaze swept along the battlements then down into the bailey, she could see how few men Barstow had to pit against the enemy. They were outnumbered more than two to one. If Miles should attack, the archers could never keep up with the onslaught of arrows from their opponents.

An idea formed in her mind. Should an attack begin, she would gather her women and join the fighting no matter what Sir Edgar said. He'd be too busy to notice. Excited that they might be able to help, Julie hurried off to alert Gwyneth and Lily.

She found them in the great hall, helping pile food onto the large trays the servants were taking outside to feed the villagers. “I think we may be needed after all,” she said with a grin.

"Now, here's my plan."

The other two listened, then began to smile and nod their heads.

His squire and two men-at-arms close behind him, Nicholas entered the inn he'd selected, a hand on the hilt of his dagger. Danger frequently lurked in a place such as this.

The smoke from a poorly ventilated fire hung just below the blackened ceiling beams and the place smelled of unwashed bodies and stale beer. A few candles did little to dispel the gloom. Toward the rear of the room, he found a cluster of men with broad shoulders, muscular arms and swords buckled at their belts seated at a crude wooden table. They glanced up, their hard eyes taking in every detail of him and his men. He had found what he sought—experienced mercenaries.

"Are there any here wishing gainful employment?” he asked, his hand still resting on his dagger. It was prudent to take care in such a place as this.

A tall, powerfully built man with a broken nose stood and faced Nicholas. “What be ye offering, milord?"

"A good wage for good work. I need men to augment my small army."

A chubby man with a head covered in yellow curls stared up at Nicholas from two bright blue eyes. “So, who be ye?"

"Lord Nicholas de Montclair, Baron of Barstow."

"Near Cambridge?” The tall man spoke this time.

"Aye. I need skilled fighters. Could I interest anyone?"

"For a goodly pay,” muttered a different speaker. A murmur ran around the room and in a moment, other men crowded close behind the first group.

"For a goodly pay,” Nicholas agreed. He named a price and was pleased by the response. Nearly every man in the tavern signed on, making his mark after the name Nicholas penned for him with a lump of charcoal on a piece of parchment.

Looking up, he said, “I am also in need of several more knights."

The big man, who said his name was Rannulf, spoke up again. “Ye may find them at the Hound and Fox, milord."

"I will go there next.” Nicholas stood and rolled the parchment with care so as not to smudge the names. As he turned to leave, a buxom girl flung an arm around his neck.

"Need ye a maid to warm yer bed, milord?” She had red hair and plump breasts trying to escape her gown's low neckline. At one time, Nicholas might have been tempted. But not now. Not since Julianne, or did he really mean not since Julie? Shamed flooded through him.

"Maid, is it?” scoffed Yellow Curls. “Ye've not been a maiden for half a score."

The girl heaved a wet wiping cloth at him. He caught it and laughed.

Nicholas smiled. “Not this even, lass. I have much work to do."

Rannulf gave her a shove. “Off with ye, Bessie. Milord wants none of the likes of ye."

She glared at him. “Ye've got no manners, ye mangy goat, not like the pretty lord.” She flounced off muttering to herself.

Nicholas turned his gaze to Leonard. “Make arrangements to meet these men here at dawn, then take them to Barstow.” He handed Leonard the parchment roll with the men's name. “Give this to Sir Edgar."

He turned back to Rannulf. “You strike me as a leader,” he said in a low voice. “You will be the sergeant in charge of these men. I will pay you more for doing so, but make no mistake. I will have value for my money."

Rannulf grinned, displaying stained and blackened teeth, as well as some empty holes. “Ye'll not regret your trust, milord. I have led men before."

Nicholas smiled back. “I thought the air of command hung about you.” He reached inside his pouch and produced a small bag of coins. “Distribute these fairly among those who have made their mark for me. Sir Edgar of Newington, who commands the Barstow men in my absence, will recompense you all in the future."

Rannulf hefted the leather bag, doubtless assessing its content by weight. “Thank ye, milord. Yer a generous man. I sensed it the first sight I had of ye."

"Be ready to fight,” Nicholas warned him. “My demesne is threatened by a would-be usurper who covets all I own."

"I be your man, milord."

Nicholas nodded and left the tavern, relief flooding his mind. He had located a large number of soldiers and a good man to lead them. Now, for a few more skilled horsemen.

The hour was late and Julie's head ached. She'd spent the day tending to the needs of the village's women and children. Finally, everyone had eaten and found a place to bed down for the night. All the castle's linens and blankets had been distributed. Exhaustion had overcome the crowd and quiet reigned at last.

Julie stood at her window, gazing at the fields this side of the forest. Fires burned and an occasional shadowy figure moved about. The single trebuchet loomed like a pointing finger at the night sky. Would Miles’ men begin hurling huge stones or fiery missiles at the castle walls tomorrow? Strangely they had done nothing today. What was Miles waiting for?

Julie closed the shutters. Autumn was here and the night air held a chill. But it wasn't the air that caused the shiver that shimmied down her spine. Not too strange, considering what lay outside the castle walls.

"Gwyneth, I'll wear my longer shift to bed tonight.” Usually she slept in a short one, but the uneasy feeling of a moment ago gripped her again like a recurring bad dream.

"Are you unwell, my lady?” Gwyneth looked anxious.

"No, I just want a little additional warmth.” She did not add that Nicholas would not lie beside her tonight, his heat keeping her comfortable and somewhat contented. He would not be happy if he knew she coveted his warmth, not when he tried so hard to separate himself from her.

The girl nodded and helped slide the garment over Julie's head. Then Gwyneth turned back the coverlet and brought a goblet of watered wine. Of course, she should avoid alcohol while carrying the baby, but in this time the water, unless boiled, was often unfit to drink. Also, to get more calcium, Julie had taken to adding some boiled goat's milk to her diet, incurring puzzled looks from the people around her.

After taking a few sips of the wine, she handed the cup to Gwyneth and pulled the fur coverlet up around her shoulders. The weather worsened by the day and soon the snow would come. She wasn't looking forward to winter in this drafty castle, not with the cold seeping under and around the shutters. Never had she appreciated good glass windows like she did now.

"Do you want anything else, my lady?” Gwyneth inquired, setting the goblet within reach on the bedside table.

Just Nicholas’ love. But she couldn't say that to Gwyneth. The girl was already too curious about their relationship.

As Gwyneth turned to leave, there was a tap on the door.

Julie frowned. “See who's wandering around this late.” Her long day had caught up with her and she stifled a yawn.

Gwyneth pulled the door open a crack and peered out. “It's Lily,” she flung over her shoulder. “My lady is abed,” she announced to the older woman.

Lily didn't bother to argue, just pushed past Gwyneth. “I need to speak with you alone, Lady Julianne.” She glanced at the lady-in-waiting who still hovered in the doorway.

Gwyneth sniffed. “Oh, do not be putting on such mysterious airs. I know when I am not wanted. Besides, I have no wish to hear your news, whatever it might be."

Julie stifled a giggle. Gwyneth was dying to know. Julie had never met anyone more curious than she was. “Goodnight, Gwyneth,” she said gently, then slid down farther until the fur coverlet covered her nose.

Gwyneth sniffed again, then left, closing the door none too gently.

"What can't wait until tomorrow, Lily?"

"I have something to tell you, Julie. I cannot explain it, so you will have to trust that I have my reasons for what I'm about to say."

Julie lifted her eyebrows. “More dire predictions?"

"If you choose to view them that way.” Lily's serious expression caught Julie's attention.

"All right. I'm listening."

Her friend leaned over the bed. In a soft voice she said, “Something bad will happen soon and I want you prepared."

Julie shot up, only avoiding bumping Lily's head by an inch. “What are you talking about?"

"I am giving you the amulet. You will need it."

Julie reached for and squeezed her friend's hand. “Will it take me home?"

"No, but it will help you in another way. You must accept my words for what they are—a warning. Be very, very careful."

"A warning?” Julie whispered, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Strange events occurred when Lily was involved.

Lily squeezed her hand, then turned and left the room without another word.

"Well, I never!” Gwyneth exclaimed, bursting through the door Lily had just closed. “That woman has her nerve, frightening you."

"You heard?"

Gwyneth nodded, her cheeks an embarrassed pink.

Julie sighed and lay back down. “It's all right, Gwyneth. Just ignore Lily. She's always been a bit strange."

"Humph.” Gwyneth straightened the coverlet, fussed around for a minute, and then finally left Julie alone, a single candle to keep her company.

Shutting her eyes, Julie tried to snuggle deeper into the featherbed, to think only of Nicholas, to forget Lily's odd words. But so many strange things had happened in the last few months, and Lily had been involved in them all. It was a long time before she slept.

Something awakened Julie from a deep and dreamless sleep. The bed had just dipped beside her. Nicholas was back!

Before she could call out his name, a hand covered her mouth while the other one pressed her firmly against the mattress. What the...? Nicholas did not indulge in this kind of play.

Her eyes opened wider, and she stared up at the shadow straddling her. “Mump?"

"Keep quiet,” he hissed, “or I will knock you out."

She blinked. It was Robert's voice!

He sat heavily on her stomach and began winding a scarf around her head, shifting his hand when he reached her mouth. She reached up and tried to pull the material loose, but he caught both her hands in one of his and held them above her head. Her tugging did no good. He used another piece of cloth to bind her wrists.

Julie recovered from her first moments of panic. Whatever his intentions, she'd fight him until the end. She dug her heels into the mattress and tried to buck him off.

He cuffed her. “Lie still, damn it!"

Stars wheeled in front of her eyes. “Mmmf!"

Her legs dropped limply. After a moment, the weakness passed and she renewed her attack. But he was stronger than she. He fisted the side of her head again, and this time a darkness without stars enveloped her for a moment. She was falling, falling. While she fought against a total blackout, she was lifted, slung over Robert's shoulder and jostled as he walked out of her room and down the stairs. Thank God she had worn her long shift. Imagine the embarrassment of being carried off half naked.

At the bottom of the stairs he turned, probably into the corridor which ran to the back of the castle and an outside door. Her guess was confirmed when she heard a latch rattle, and the chilly night air hit her legs and backside.

Now, he proceeded more slowly, apparently ducking from shadow to shadow. She tried to kick and was cuffed again. Damn Julianne's frailness! She could have done much better with her own, well-conditioned body.

Another door opened and closed. The postern gate, she decided. He had successfully stolen through the castle and across the yard with no one the wiser. He closed the gate and went down the outside stairs. The dark shadows below the walls would provide the perfect cover. No casual observer would see them. But why was he doing this? Did he think to rape her, then leave her somewhere and go on to do...what?

Julie fought the dizziness that partially numbed her mind as she dangled upside down. If she could just manage to kick him in the one spot that would make him drop her, perhaps the sound would call the wall guards’ attention to her plight.

But her legs had no range of motion. Robert had them clasped tightly against his chest and her bound hands rested between her chest and his back.

Frustrated, she had no choice but to relax. If she bided her time, an opportunity to escape might present itself. She would just have to pick the right moment.

The blood pounded in her upside-down head, which ached from the hard blows Robert had delivered. The tight cloth ropes chaffed her wrists as she struggled to free them. All circulation to her limbs had been cut off. Another fear gripped her, and the last thought she had, before the darkness claimed her, was for her unborn child. Oh, dear God, please don't let him hurt my baby!

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Chapter 18
Julie awoke slowly. Pins and needles jabbed her bound hands when she moved and a gag covered her mouth. Then she remembered. Robert had abducted her. It took little thought to determine where she was. If Robert did not work for Nicholas, then he was Miles’ man. But Robert was only an accountant. Or was he? Hadn't he seemed a little too old for one of the very young men trained at Oxford? And a little too eager to carry the news to Nicholas. Then where was the accountant Nicholas had sent for? With a sinking heart, she feared he was dead along with his escort, both probably killed by the man who had taken his place—Robert. That made her captor very, very dangerous.

She struggled and yanked at her bindings. They would not give an inch, and her wrists already felt like raw meat from her struggles. Panting from exertion, she pushed herself to a sitting position and glanced around.

She seemed to be in a tent. A folded back flap framed a pre-dawn grayness. Twisting around, she saw she was alone. She'd have to wait for her captors to show themselves. That Miles held her captive was a given. The why didn't seem as clear as the who. Was he holding her for ransom? Or was his plan to force Nicholas to keep Miles’ older son as his heir?

She knew Nicholas would never choose Miles to inherit his lands. And should he select his nephew Richard, Nicholas would appoint a strong, loyal protector, a man like Sir Edgar, who could keep the boy safe from his father's influence.

How she wished she could spirit Nicholas to this tent right now to help her escape. If only she had not left the amulet beneath her pillow, it might have been possible.

With a sigh, she slumped back on the cot. True, she could try to escape from the middle of the enemy camp with her hands tied, but the outcome seemed a foregone conclusion. Perhaps a better opportunity would present itself if she bided her time.

The sound of voices outside the tent flap caught her attention. A man stepped inside, a black silhouette against the pale gray sky. Although she could not see him clearly, she had heard him speak. It was Robert, undoubtedly coming to gloat.

He moved to stand in front of her and the dawn light flooded in around him. A smug little smile twisted his mouth. If her hands were free, she'd claw his face. Tilting her chin defiantly, she glared. Robert jerked off the gag and laughed. Not a nice laugh, just arrogant amusement at her expense.

"Well, Lady Julianne. I finally have the pleasure of your company, and alone, I might add.” His eyes gleamed with wolfish hunger as they swept over her.

She swallowed a few times to moisten her mouth. His expression explained the lewd glances he'd sent her way over the past weeks.

"Untie me!” she demanded, hoping sheer bravado would accomplish what all her tugging had not.

"It would behoove you to be more compliant, wench."

"I'll show you compliant.” Julie swung her legs sideward, connecting with Robert's thigh.

"Ouch! You vixen.” He grasped her upper arms and yanked her to her feet. With a snarl, he shook her. “Any more of that, and I will thrash you soundly,” he growled, flinging her back down on the cot. With a grunt, he yanked up her shift and flung himself on top of her, his cruel fingers gripping her breast, while his other hand reached between them and loosened his leggings.

Once again, Julie bucked, trying to unseat him. With her bound hands crushed between them and fast losing sensation she was nearly helpless. “Get off you big oaf!"

"I think not, milad—” Robert suddenly stopped pinching her breast and a surprised look spread across his face. “I...” He dropped with a grunt on her chest and lay still.

As she stared, a trickle of blood ran from his nose onto her shift.

Julie twisted her head and saw Miles standing beside them. He grabbed a handful of Robert's tunic and yanked him to the floor. She rolled on her side and stared down. A dagger protruded from Robert's back and blood stained his tunic.

"Oh my God,” she breathed, sitting up and swinging her legs to the floor.

Miles smiled grimly. “That is what happens to those who try to take what is mine."

Julie gathered her wits and stared up at him. “Since when was I yours? Not that I don't appreciate your stopping Robert from raping me."

"So, you can thank me for saving you from my knight by behaving. Otherwise, I might have to...” He sliced the air with his hand.

He was right. The better she behaved, the more likely he was to trust her. Even though hand-wringing and tears weren't her thing, for now, she would try to act like Nicholas’ real wife.

And, in truth, she had to be careful. She could do nothing that would harm her baby.

She attempted to look cowed. “I'm sorry, Miles. Please, don't hurt me.” The words stuck in her throat. She dropped her eyes to her bound wrists. “You will untie me, won't you?” The degree of subservience in her voice made her want to vomit.

"It all depends upon you. I will need your promise not to try to escape my care."

"You have my promise,” she lied. “But why did you abduct me from my home? And why did you bring your army here?” These sounded like questions Julianne might have asked.

"Do not worry your pretty head about it, Lady Julianne. I had heard rumors that Barstow Castle might be attacked by the Baron of Wickenham. Naturally, I came to Nicholas’ aid, especially after I heard he was away."

Julie wanted to rake her nails across his arrogant face, but she restrained herself. “Oh, I see. Thank you for your concern, Miles.” She held up her wrists. “But I'm still tied."

He seemed to want her to believe he'd brought her to the middle of his army to protect her for Nicholas.

With an unctuous smile, he undid her bindings, then sat beside her on the cot. Taking her hands in his, he rubbed them, ostensibly to start the blood circulating, but more likely because he wanted to touch her. It took considerable discipline on her part not to pull away.

Finally, he let go of her hands and stood, a regretful expression on his face. “Shortly, I will escort you to my castle where you will be safe. I would never forgive myself if you were captured by the wicked baron."

He was probably making this up as he went along. Julie had heard Nicholas mention Wickenham a few times, but always favorably. In these times, however, a friend could often turn into a foe if it were advantageous. She would reserve judgment on the man, considering the source of the information.

She bowed her head and murmured, “As you wish, my lord.” What she really wanted was a sword to run him through. Recalling Sir Robert's unpleasant actions during the abduction, she asked, “Was it really necessary for Sir Robert to treat me so harshly?” She was curious as to how he would explain this.

"I am sorry, dear lady, but he feared you would cry out and alert the guards. They would not have allowed him to bring you to safety."

Slippery bastard, wasn't he, with an answer for everything. She let none of her thoughts reach her face. Smiling, she said, “Oh, I see.” She saw all right. He wanted no one aware she was being spirited away by Robert, one of the supposed good guys. That didn't fit Miles’ plans. He wanted her in his power, because that would give him a bargaining chip with Nicholas. It all sounded like a very bad movie, circa 1920.

"I must leave you now, Lady Julianne, but I will send food for you to break your fast. I will return in an hour and we will leave for Norville Keep.” Miles kissed her hand, rose and disappeared.

Julie grimaced and scrubbed the back of her hand with her shift. So far, no one had given her clothes to wear, so she wrapped the blanket from the cot tightly around herself. It was full daylight now, and she wondered what was outside the tent. She tiptoed to the opening and peered out. As she feared—guards, two of them, stood on either side of the opening. Miles didn't really trust her one bit. That was wiser of him than he knew. The real Julianne would probably not have attempted to escape. Julie, on the other hand, would look for an opportunity, albeit one which would not threaten her baby's life.

What she needed was a plan. Her feet were cold, so while she thought, she curled up on the cot with them beneath her. Miles might believe himself clever, but he was no match for a twenty-first century woman.

At least she hoped not.

The guards came in just then and dragged Robert's dead body away. She didn't plan to tell Miles about the babe. For now, it was better he didn't know. Since she suspected part of his wicked actions stemmed from a desire to have his son Richard remain Nicholas’ heir, she might be in more danger if she revealed her pregnancy.

After a while, Miles returned and handed her a gown and a cloak.

"Get dressed, my lady. We are leaving in a few minutes."

The clothes looked too big, but whether they fit or not, she would at least have something to cover her body and keep her warm. Why the rush? Was he afraid if she remained so near the castle, she'd try to escape, or that her people would try to rescue her?

Or had he heard Nicholas was on his way home? Miles enlightened her no further, just stood waiting, his mouth drawn into a grim line.

"Might I have some privacy to dress?” It was hard work keeping the sarcasm from her voice.

He nodded and stepped outside, lowering the tent flap behind him. She wasted no time dropping the rather shapeless brown wool gown over her head and tying the cloak tightly around her shoulders. Having clothes again felt good, but her feet were still cold. “Lord Miles,” she called. “Have you brought nothing to put on my feet?"

He didn't answer. Then she heard him mutter something to the guard and the sound of retreating footsteps. Ten minutes later, Miles entered the tent with a pair of shoes. “These are as small as I could find.” He handed them to her and again stood waiting, the toe of his boot tapping impatiently.

"Patience is a virtue,” she said sweetly, hoping to annoy him. She shoved her feet in the well-worn leather shoes. They were too large, but would help keep her feet warm.

He snorted, then grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Come along. Do not dawdle. We must hurry if we're to reach Norville Keep before dark."

His long strides forced her to almost run to keep up, but she pressed her lips together and refused to complain. He'd enjoy that too much.

They mounted and set out at a brisk clip, accompanied by four armed guards. By now, she felt more comfortable on horseback, having had no other way to get around since she arrived in this time. Nonetheless, she didn't enjoy the pace Miles set. Her horse was tethered to his and the little mare trotted timidly along beside the huge, ill-tempered destrier Miles rode.

After an hour or so, the sky darkened and a light rain began to fall. Miles cursed under his breath and quickened the pace. Soon Julie's cloak and gown grew soggy, adding to her misery. She kept quiet, however, refusing to ask that they seek shelter. If their escort minded being soaked, they didn't show it.

But the expression on Miles’ face darkened with the day, and the perpetual scowl on his handsome face deepened.

The rain turned the road to mud, which the horses’ hooves splattered all over everyone. The men rode along silently, probably too miserable or too surly to engage in conversation.

"Is it much farther?” she finally asked Miles.

He glanced over at her, water dripping from his helm onto his shoulders. “Nay, just a few minutes more."

She nodded. She had hoped to find a way to escape during the journey, but even if her horse was not tethered to Miles', she doubted the little mare could outrun the huge stallions the men rode. And jumping from her mount and running was an even more ludicrous idea.

With a sigh, she put a temporary halt to plotting. Time enough when they arrived at Norville Keep. Eleanor was there and Eleanor was her friend. Perhaps together they could come up with a scheme. Julie was certain Eleanor would not view Julie's captivity with favor. But would she agree to defy her husband and help Julie get away? Only time would tell.

When at last they plodded wearily into Norville Keep's single bailey, Julie's backside was sore and her head ached. She slid off her horse and waited, not knowing what was expected of her. Eleanor decided for her, running down the steps and across the yard to where Julie stood.

"Oh, Julianne. What a pleasant surprise. I am so glad you have come."

"Your husband brought me.” She glanced up at Miles from beneath her lashes. Let him explain all this to Eleanor, she thought, throwing back the hood to her mantle and running chilled fingers through her matted damp hair.

"Nicholas is away, so I brought her to visit you.” So, Eleanor was not to have the real story. At least not from Miles.

Eleanor looked bewildered. “But why is Nicholas away? And where is Julianne's maid?"

"You will provide her with a maid. And Nicholas has gone to London to answer the king's summons."

Miles seemed to think it unnecessary to explain further. When Eleanor still appeared puzzled, he added, “I thought you might like the lady's company."

"Well, of course I do, but where is your army? Is it at Barstow?"

"Enough questions,” Miles thundered.

Eleanor frowned. “You must think me a lack-wit, husband, to give me such a foolish tale. You are besieging Barstow, are you not?” she asked Miles’ departing back. She glanced at Julie.

Julie nodded. “Yes, the army's camped outside the gates."

"But, how did he get you?"

Weariness swept over Julie. “It's a long tale. Couldn't we go inside and—"

"Oh, forgive me, Julianne. My manners have deserted me. Come in, come in. You must be famished and exhausted.” Eleanor took Julie's hand in hers and led the way into the keep.

Nicholas would deal harshly with Miles when he returned, Julie thought as she walked along beside Eleanor.

If only she were still alive to see him.

Night crept along behind them, the shadows lengthening and the birds calling good night to one another. The sun had set and a rosy pink sunset marked its departure. She needed some dry clothes, food and sleep in that order. Tomorrow she would spin her tale to Eleanor and see whether the other woman would help.

It seemed so long since Nicholas had departed. What could the king want of him? Had her guess been correct?

If he'd been sent to help Simon de Montfort, it would take him weeks to go to Gascony and back. Would he return in time to straighten out this mess? It seemed unlikely. Even if he hurried, it might be too late.

She straightened her backbone. Between her and Eleanor, a solution would be found.

And if Eleanor refused to help, well, then she would cope alone.

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Chapter 19
Nicholas stood in the courtyard of Simon's house. The others had gone inside, but he had lingered to enjoy the fragrant night air. At last, the earl had seen reason, and with Nicholas had traveled to Navarre. Their talks with the king had gone better than expected. Concessions were made by both sides, and Nicholas’ mission in Gascony had been accomplished.

He planned to leave on the morrow. On the way home, he would report to the king, and Henry would be pleased—for now. Next month, some other woe might beset him, but if Nicholas was lucky, the king would turn to someone else.

He gazed up at the moon, hanging like a great silver plate in the night sky. The same moon looked down on Julie. Would she see it and think of him? Mayhap, or mayhap not. She acted like she enjoyed his company, but she also wanted to go home. And if she went...he knew instinctively he could not go with her. After the year was up, Lily would send her back, and he would stay here, most likely with neither Julie nor Julianne, with only the long empty years stretching before him. Then he would die, and seven hundred and fifty some odd years later, she would be born. Or had that already happened? Lily might know, but she kept her secrets well.

He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder.

"You seem distracted this even, my friend.” Simon moved to stand beside him and glanced up at the full moon. “Did you not say you married this year?"

"Aye, to Julianne, daughter of Hector of Alder."

"I believe I met her when last I attended the king's court. Was she not one of Queen Eleanor's ladies? As I remember, an extremely lovely woman."

"Aye, she is beautiful and a good chatelaine, also."

Simon's grinned. “I will wager you were not thinking of how well she runs your household."

Nicholas laughed. “A bet you would win."

Simon's face suddenly hardened. “You will report to Henry how you manipulated me?"

"Nay, milord. The decision was yours. I will say you thought arbitration a good idea."

"Ever the diplomat."

"Actually, I am no diplomat. I know not why Henry chose me."

"I do. In your calm, non-assertive way, you have forced me to comply with the king's wishes and like it, wishes I might add, diametrically opposed to my own. Is that not the definition of a diplomat?” Although Simon was frowning, Nicholas sensed he was not all that displeased.

"I suppose so, my lord."

Simon's frown disappeared, and he once again slapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “Come, my friend. ‘Tis time you were abed should you wish to depart at dawn tomorrow.

Nicholas nodded and the two strolled in companionable silence back to the house. He hoped the night passed swiftly. The eagerness he felt to be headed north once more, almost gave wings to his feet.

Julie awoke to birdsong outside her window. A robe lay across the foot of the bed. She donned it, then went and tried the door. It was locked and there was no key. Next, she tried the window and discovered her room was located on the topmost floor of the keep. Probably to make sure no one tried to rescue her. They'd never suspect a frail woman capable of escape on her own. And frankly, she wasn't too keen about trying to climb down four stories.

A tap at the door interrupted her musings.

"Come in.” Was it Eleanor, or had Miles returned?

She heard the key turn in the lock and a serving girl peeked in. Behind her, an armed guard peered over her shoulder. “I brung food to break yer fast, milady."

Surprised, Julie asked, “I'm not to go downstairs?"

The girl hung her head. “I'd not know that, milady. I was told to take this to yer chamber."

Apparently, Julie was truly a prisoner. Well, she'd see about that. “Thank you. Just put the tray on the bed.” The servant gave an awkward curtsey and left.

As Julie began to eat, someone else knocked and Eleanor rushed in, boiling with indignation.

"I just learned you were brought here as a captive, to be held for ransom,” she spluttered, sparks shooting from her expressive amber eyes. “How could my husband do that?"

Julie raised an eyebrow. “I thought you understood the extent of his dislike of Nicholas."

Eleanor sighed and flung herself down on a stool. “Oh, I do, Julianne. I just wish I did not know him so well."

Julie nodded. “I suppose it's hard when someone you once loved betrays you."

"I am not sure I ever loved him. Desired him, aye, but love, love is different, you know."

"Yes, I know.” Nicholas’ image rose in Julie's mind.

"It did not take me long to find out what kind of man Miles really is.” A tear trickled down her cheek. She caught Julie watching her and glanced away. “I am so sorry about all this, Julianne. I will try to find a way to free you."

"It's not your fault, Eleanor.” Julie laid a hand on the other woman's arm. How amazing. Eleanor was worrying about Julie, when it was Miles’ wrath she should be thinking of. What would Miles do to his wife if he found out she planned to help Julie? Something unpleasant and painful, she was sure. She shuddered.

Eleanor turned to face Julie. “Mayhap not, but I think there must be something about me which invites his anger. He must consider me a great fool."

Julie shook her head. “Some people get an unnatural thrill out of hurting others. And that makes you a victim, not a fool."

Eleanor sighed and walked to the window. “'Tis little I can do about it, although I thank you, Julianne, for your kind words.” The early sun touched her black hair with shiny blue highlights, hair so much like her brother's that Julie's heart skipped a beat. He was so far away.

Julie cut off a piece of cheese and wrapped a hunk of bread around it. As she nibbled it, she wondered how long she'd be imprisoned here, like some fairy tale princess in a stone tower.

But she shouldn't depend entirely on Nicholas to rescue her. There must be some way out of this mess and she hoped to find it—somehow.

Eleanor interrupted her thoughts. “And what of you, Julianne? Where is my brother that he lets you be taken by one of his own men?"

"Miles told the truth. The king sent for him. He hasn't returned, so I guess whatever Henry desired him of him is taking a while.” She hoped he'd found the men he wanted. To drive Miles from the gates of Barstow Castle, he would need them. Having seen Nicholas’ awesome skill with a sword, she had no doubt who would win a contest between Miles and him. But what if he had been sent on to help de Montfort deal with Navarre? Historically, she knew what was happening in the world and feared his involvement would lead to a long separation.

Eleanor nodded. “I suppose he had to go. No one gainsays the king—and lives."

"Yes, that's what Nicholas said. But he was going to hire some more mercen...” Julie stopped abruptly. What if Eleanor had been forced to spy on her by the despicable Miles? But wait. Robert the traitor knew where Nicholas had gone and what for. Miles had probably learned all about Nicholas’ plans from Robert before he died. But could she be sure?

A smile curved Eleanor's full lips. “You need not fear I will betray you, Julianne. I am sure my husband's spies have told him everything. Even if they have not, Miles would never hear it from me."

"I know that, Eleanor. I don't know why I doubted you."

"These days, doubting is wise,” the other woman said cynically. “Everyone seems to have dark secrets."

That reminded Julie of her own secret. How would Eleanor react if Julie told her she came from the future? She would probably just smile and say, “You would make a good storyteller, Julianne."

She swallowed back her desire to confide in Eleanor. She had promised Nicholas not to talk about her time, so she wouldn't, even though the temptation to unburden herself was great.

Eleanor walked to the door. “I must go. Miles will be impatient to tell me what to do today, and my sons need instruction on the gentler side of life. Heaven knows,” she added with a sigh, “they see far too much of the harsh realities."

Julie nodded. “Come back when you can. I enjoy your company."

"Aye.” Eleanor rapped on the door and the guard unlocked it from the outside. She glared at him. “This is totally uncalled for."

"It does no good to berate him, Eleanor. He's only following your husband's orders.

Dear God. If only Nicholas would soon come home.
Archangel, sensing fresh hay and a warm stall, thundered down the road to Barstow Castle. Seeing the castle's towers rising above the trees, Nicholas urged him to an even faster pace. Man and horse, almost one entity after many years of soldiering together, flew down the rutted path only to pull up short as they exited the woods. The fields ahead of them were trampled and muddied by feet and hooves, as though many men had camped there.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the castle itself. Although all looked peaceful, something was wrong.

"What is it, Lord Nicholas?” Will looked anxious.

"I know not, but all is not well.” As they drew closer, Nicholas saw the drawbridge was raised. “Strange,” he muttered. While the portcullis might be lowered to prevent uninvited entry, the drawbridge was only raised at night. Lifting his gaze, he observed the guard had been doubled on the wall.

He reined in Archangel and called up to the strange face peering at him, “Lower the drawbridge. Your lord would enter."

Almost immediately, the face was replaced with the familiar one of Sir Edgar. “My lord, welcome back,” he called down. “You have been sorely missed."

The cacophony of creaking chains as the drawbridge was lowered prevented Nicholas from asking questions. But uneasiness tugged at his gut. What had caused this abnormal precaution? Then he remembered the churned ground of the fields. Had an army besieged the castle in his absence? Had the men he sent been in time to help defeat them?

The bridge settled into place with a thud and he galloped across it, intent on finding some answers. As he pulled Archangel to a stop in the lower bailey, he heard the drawbridge ascending again. And this time the portcullis dropped into place while several men-at-arms pushed the huge wooden gates closed and barred them.

"Report,” Nicholas snapped as Sir Edgar hurried up, letting his displeasure show in a fierce frown. “Are we expecting a siege? From the looks of yon fields, an army has already been here and departed.” This last was delivered a bit sarcastically as he could see no reason at the moment for such drastic measures.

"Nay, Lord Nicholas. We are hoping the army that was here, will not return and are exercising caution."

"Miles?"

"None other."

Nicholas should have known. The lily-livered blackguard had besieged his castle while he was from home. As far as tactics went, however, Miles’ sneak attack was flawless.

"What of the soldiers and knights I sent?"

"They arrived too late, my lord,” Sir Edgar said quietly. “Even with you away, we thought it strange he would besiege us when our gates are strong, the army due to be reinforced at any moment and the harvest safely within. But then, we learned his true purpose."

"Which was?” Nicholas glanced around, wondering where Julie was. Would she not come to greet him after his long absence?

When Edgar said nothing, merely looked grim, Nicholas barked, “Speak up!” His heart plunged into his boots. He was not simple. Miles’ arrival and retreat added to Julie's absence told him the answer to his question.

"Lord Miles abducted the Lady Julianne,” Sir Edgar murmured, an abashed expression on his face.

"What?” Nicholas slid from his horse

"It was Sir Robert who took her.” Edgar's mouth drew down in disgust. “We sent him to you with news of the siege. He was to leave late at night, so no one thought it strange he had gone. We did not realize until morn that the Lady Julianne was missing. There was no way your lady could have left except with him, since no one would challenge his passing."

"But the question is—did she go willingly?” he ground out between his teeth, hating that he doubted Julie for even a minute.

"I do not know, but it is my fault, my lord. I was in charge. I should have put a guard on the lady, but all the men were needed on the walls. That is not an excuse. Just an explanation."

Anger raced through Nicholas’ body like wildfire. He pinned Sir Edgar with a malevolent gaze. “Aye, you were in charge, and you should have protected my wife at all costs. We will discuss that later. First, we must rescue Julianne.” His hands shook as he lifted his helm from his head and handed it to Will.

"What is your plan, Lord Nicholas?” Edgar asked quietly.

"I have not yet decided.” Nicholas let his eyes sweep around the bailey. Many unfamiliar faces met his gaze. “Have the new troops worked well with the old?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Tell me what happened to Miles and his army?"

"We thought it strange when they first appeared that they did nothing. Since your mercenaries had not yet arrived, we closed the gates and waited. Then the lady was taken, and his army broke camp and headed for Norville Keep. Scouts followed them to make sure they would not double back and take us unawares again."

Nicholas nodded. “Good.” He thought a moment, then asked, “What of Robert? Where is he? With Miles?"

"We believe so. I sent a few of our veterans, as well as several of the men you recruited, to watch Norville Keep. They will send word if Sir Miles’ army ventures forth again. The mercenaries’ leader is the new man called Rannulf."

"Aye. A big man, experienced. I told him to take charge of the other men I recruited."

"He seems very competent.” Sir Edgar was obviously relieved not to have Nicholas’ wrath vented on him—at least for now.

Nicholas strode to the center of the bailey and raised his voice. “At first light tomorrow, we leave for Norville Keep. Everyone will go except those assigned to guard duty. We can spare only a few, so the castle will be sealed tightly when we leave and not opened again until our return."

"So, we will besiege them as they did us?” Sir Edgar smiled, apparently glad to turn the tables on their enemy.

"Mayhap not.” A plan was forming in Nicholas’ mind. He would think on it, though, before imparting the particulars to the others. Robert would pay dearly for laying hands on Julie, but Miles was the true prize he meant to take.

Two days later, Julie once again heard a commotion in the bailey below her window. Curious, she rose from the stool, where she had been mending her torn shift, and went to see what was happening. To her surprise, what appeared to be Miles’ whole army was assembling. Some men carrying crossbows and quivers of arrows were racing up the stairs to join those already in place on the wall. Every notch in the wall held at least two bowmen. The scene appeared so similar to the one she'd witnessed at Barstow Castle, she blinked to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

No, this was all too real. She spied Miles himself, standing in the midst of things, giving orders.

A shout from the wall caught his attention. “An army approaches, milord."

Julie watched Miles bound up the stairs and stand looking out over the road beyond his narrow moat. “It is de Montclair,” he shouted down to the men below. “That huge horse of his would give him away even if his banner did not."

High above the men, Julie leaned farther out the window and gasped, “Nicholas!” Her heart raced. He had come, just as she'd hoped.

Several other knights joined Miles on the wall—to see for themselves, Julie supposed. Their loud voices drifted up to her window.

"He has added to his army, just as we heard,” one of them said.

"I count ten knights. De Montclair, Sir Edgar, Sir Harald and the six new ones he has acquired.” Sir Selwick, Miles’ seneschal, pointed. “There are over a hundred men. A force equal to ours."

Miles motioned his knights to join him below, and Julie could hear nothing more of what he said. From her vantage point, she took in the welcome sight of the man she loved riding that mountain of a horse, followed by what she would have called a few men. Her idea of an army, made Nicholas’ force look small indeed.

Remember the time period, she told herself. Wars were fought by far fewer warriors in this century than in later years.

Nicholas halted his soldiers at a safe distance, then rode Archangel up to the moat.

"Show yourself, Norville,” he shouted, his voice so sweet to Julie's ears she almost called back to him. However, she'd no more disturb his concentration than she would jump out the window.

Several minutes passed, before Miles appeared on the wall. He seemed less arrogant than he had during his short siege of Barstow, probably because Nicholas was the one confronting him now.

"Ah, there you are.” Nicholas gave a mock bow. “I believe you have my wife in your keep. Although I can see why you might be reluctant to give her back, I fear I must insist."

"Go to hell, de Montfort. She stays here."

Nicholas’ lazy disdain changed instantly to deadly menace. “Then I challenge you to single combat, winner to take Lady Julianne and the other's lands. The loser will take a place in the winner's dungeon, if he survives.” He grinned wolfishly. “Agreed?"

Julie felt the blood drain from her face. Dizzy, she sank down on the window ledge. Nicholas would win, wouldn't he? Miles couldn't kill him, could he? Was it possible she might truly belong to Sir Miles in the very near future? How could Nicholas be so reckless? There must be some better way of settling this.

Miles hesitated. Finally, he said, “I accept your challenge and terms.” Julie didn't think he sounded too happy about it.

"One more condition.” Nicholas’ ringing tones could be heard even by the army assembled within the walls. They all fell silent, waiting to see what Miles would say.

"Name it."

"Lady Julianne. I wish her brought here, so I may take her with me when I leave.” Julie clenched her hands until her nails bit into the palms. Such arrogant confidence! Nicholas seemed to have no doubt he would triumph over Miles. If only she could be as sure.

"Agreed. And I will take her back when I win.” Miles turned and stomped down from the battlements.

Julie dressed quickly.

A few minutes later, a heavy knock rattled her door. “Sir Miles wants you,” a guard growled, entering without waiting for permission. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. Julie pulled away from him and marched out of the room, swerving as the man reached once more for her arm. “Don't touch me,” she hissed and walked down the stairs.

Outside, the guard, ignoring her protests, captured her arm again and led her to Miles.

He smiled nastily. “So, as you hoped, your husband has come to claim you. But you will not be leaving."

Julie tilted her chin. “You didn't look like you relished fighting him."

"Lady, I am as good as he is, if not better. After today, both Barstow and you will be mine, so resign yourself to that.” The braggart had returned. His doubts of besting Nicholas had left him. Fear clutched her heart. Could Miles defeat Nicholas? She had not thought it possible having seen Nicholas’ expertise with a sword. But Eleanor had once said Miles was very good.

"Open the gates, lower the portcullis and the drawbridge,” Miles shouted to his guards. He led the way to the meadow beyond the keep, his forces close behind him. The guard towed Julie along in Miles’ wake.

Then the crowd parted, and she saw her love standing beside his horse, only a few yards away. Her heart nearly burst at the sight of him, dressed for war in armor and helm, his bright red tunic sporting his coat-of-arms, his sword belted over it. His visor was up, so she could see a little of his face through the opening.

Their eyes met. He started forward, but Sir Edgar gripped his shoulder. “Not until afterward, my lord. You must focus on the task at hand.” Nicholas nodded reluctantly.

Julie wanted her knight in shining armor more than ever. But first he must win the fight.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 20
Miles stopped twenty feet away from Nicholas

"Bring Lady Julianne to me,” Miles ordered Sir Selwick.

Miles’ captain pulled her away from the guard, his cruel grip biting into her arm. It hurt, but she didn't protest. Miles enjoyed inflicting pain on people so she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Miles spoke softly to Sir Selwick. “Should I be killed or captured during the fight, you will kill Lady Julianne. Nicholas may win my holdings and lose his wife, or die and have her life spared. But he shall not have both her and my holdings."

Julie gasped. She opened her mouth to shout a warning to Nicholas, but Sir Selwick clamped his hand over it. “Be quiet,” he commanded.

Miles spun on his heel and stalked to where Nicholas stood. “Are you prepared to die, my lord?” he asked. With a raised eyebrow he added, “An honorable death, of course."

Nicholas said nothing, merely waited, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Julie knew Nicholas would fight honorably, expecting Miles to do likewise. Or would he? He probably knew Miles’ nature better than she did. Wouldn't he at least be suspicious of his former friend's too generous offer. Don't take him at his word, she begged silently. Otherwise, Miles had just made certain, no matter the outcome, that Nicholas would lose something precious.

Julie yanked at her captor's rough fingers, but couldn't loosen their grip. She had to warn Nicholas. She tried to catch his eye, but his full attention was centered on Miles.

"Stop struggling.” Selwick grabbed a handful of gown and gave her a hard shake.

Anger surged through her body. He could hurt her baby. She kicked him hard in the shin with her heel.

"Merde!” He stopped shaking her body, but didn't release the hold on her mouth. She tried to bite him, but his hand held her lips tightly against her teeth.

"Mmmph!” she mumbled as loudly as she could, tugging hard, hoping to attract Nicholas’ attention. He must have heard, because he turned and started toward her. But two of Miles’ men stepped into his path, their swords unsheathed. He started to pull his own weapon, but Miles’ held up his hand.

Smiling thinly, he said, “Women are so distressed by fighting. My man will prevent her from crying out and distracting us."

Nicholas let his sword slide back in its sheath. “I think she is more distressed by being held prisoner than our fighting,” he returned angrily. His mind was racing. He stared first at the guard, then at Miles. His brother-in-law had to be hatching some scheme, one he believed would give him the advantage. But what?

His gaze returned to Julie who blinked furiously, stomping her feet. Something other than the man's grip seemed to be bothering her. Was she trying to warn him that Miles meant to fight unfairly? Well, he knew that.

"All is well, Julianne. Do not worry,” he called, hoping she realized he would not underestimate Miles’ probable lack of fair play. He turned back to Miles, his hand once again resting on the hilt of his sword. “I insist your man take his hands off my wife."

"He but restrains her from diverting your attention,” Miles replied smoothly. “You would not thank me if she called out and distracted you."

"You must think me a green lad to lose my concentration so easily."

Nicholas glanced over his shoulder and spied Rannulf. He jerked his head. The tall sergeant Nicholas had hired in London hurried to his side.

"You will watch the Lady Julianne while I am fighting. If she shows any distress, you are to use your men to lessen it. Am I understood?"

The big man nodded. “Aye, milord."

Nicholas swung his gaze again to Miles. “And do you understand as well?"

Miles stared at him for a minute, then called to the guard, “Loosen your grip a little, but do not let her speak.” He swung his gaze back at Nicholas. “I will not be distracted."

Reluctantly, Nicholas nodded his agreement. “But, if he hurts her..."

"He will not,” Miles assured him, a bit too smoothly.

Nicholas took one last glance around. He had hoped the two armies would not have to fight. No reason to kill innocent men for his personal quarrel. But if Julie were hurt, he would order his men to obliterate the other force.

Sir Edgar assured him the army was ready and eager to do battle. They stood behind him, a solid wall of fighting men, just waiting for his command to attack. The knights sat their horses in front, the archers to the rear of them. Up on the keep's curtain wall, Miles’ archers awaited an order to let fly their arrows. It could quickly turn into a bloodbath. Responsibility rested heavily on Nicholas’ shoulders, but nothing would prevent his doing what needed to be done.

Miles interrupted his thoughts. “If we are to fight, let us be about it. Lady Julianne shall stand quietly and await the outcome as befits a woman of her station. Otherwise, she will be returned to the keep. Your men do not need to watch her.” The smug expression on Miles’ face made Nicholas even more uneasy. The other man had something very unpleasant in mind.

He swung his gaze to Julie. “Julianne, sweeting, do as he says.” He lowered his visor. Sweat beaded on his forehead. As long as it stayed out of his eyes he could ignore it. More worrisome was what his gut kept telling him, an instinct which had served him well in the past. Something was wrong. What did this bastard have in mind?

Like a flash of summer lightning, it came to him. Sir Selwick would kill Julie if Nicholas won. Rannulf would need to move quickly indeed to prevent that. With a snarl, Nicholas drew his sword and faced Miles, hatred burning like hellfire in his heart.

As he raised his sword, Miles came at him with a two-handed slash.

He took the blow on the flat of his sword and countered with an overhand swing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Selwick pull his dagger and hold it to Julie's breast. Would he really kill her when his own death was insured by doing so? Was he such a fanatic? The chance was one he could not take.

Grinding his teeth, Nicholas parried another blow, then stepped away so that Miles’ next swing fell short.

For several minutes, he allowed Miles to push him back toward his army. Content to let Miles exhaust his strength right now, Nicholas conserved his for later.

The warriors at his back kept shouting encouragement. They could see that so far, he only defended, not attacked, and they wanted him to close in for the kill.

"Have at him, milord!"

"Kill the blackguard!"

Another step back and Nicholas’ tripped on a half-buried rock. He nearly lost his balance along with his head as Miles tried to cut between his coif and body chain mail. Nicholas swung up his shield, letting it take the blow while he recovered his footing. He danced to the side and Miles’ next downward cut missed entirely. The tip of his sword slammed into the ground and stuck fast.

Nicholas waited for the other man to pull it free.

Miles gave a nasty laugh. “Stupid move, Brother,” he said sarcastically, as he whipped his weapon up with both hands and brought it down in one long smooth move. Such was the force of the blow, that although Nicholas caught it on the flat of his sword, the impact numbed his right arm for a moment.

"Enough foolishness,” he muttered to himself, stepping inside Miles’ guard and whacking the other man's head with the side of his sword.

As Miles retreated shaking his head, Nicholas sneaked a quick look at Julie. She seemed safe enough for the moment, if one called having a dagger tip touching vulnerable flesh safe. He hoped Rannulf was ready to act if the need arose, because Nicholas was too far away to get there in time. If Julie were harmed, both Miles and Selwick were instant dead men.

Back and forth the two knights staggered. Once again, Nicholas allowed Miles to force him to retreat, defending himself, not taking the offensive.

Then, a particularly hard blow to his helm rocked him.

That's it. Nicholas took a deep breath. He had humored this dog long enough. In a whirl of blows, both overhand and underhand, he drove Miles back, step by step. His men cheered.

Miles parried the swings, but Nicholas could tell he was tiring from the amount of time he took to raise his sword after each hit. For just that reason, Nicholas had fought slowly at the beginning, conserving his strength for when it was most needed.

Miles’ men offered no encouragement to him. They just opened their ranks as Nicholas pushed the other man farther and farther into them. His anger fueled his arm, moving it faster and harder than before. Nicholas put all his own weight behind a vicious blow to Miles’ helm.

Miles staggered. Seeing an opening, Nicholas drove beneath Miles’ guard and with a swift uppercut, sent the other man's sword flying. It landed in a mud puddle. Miles lost his balance attempting to jump away from Nicholas and landed on his bottom in the same puddle. Nicholas stood over him, his sword at the base of the other's throat.

"Do you admit defeat?"

Miles’ reply had nothing to do with admitting defeat. “Selwick,” he yelled. “Do it.” Raising his visor he laughed at Nicholas.

"Admit defeat? Never!"

Nicholas turned just in time to see Julie's captor pull back his dagger. “Nay!” he shouted, the blood draining from his head and a dizzying despair gripping him.

Julie heard both Miles and Nicholas yell as she tried to free herself. Her captor tensed as he pulled his dagger back and upward to stab her. Nicholas’ men ran toward her, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Just as the dagger started its downward stab, Julie felt something metallic drop into her hand as simultaneously Lily's voice said in her ear, “Rub the amulet."

She swiped her thumb across the warm stone. Instantly, her captor's hand was torn from her mouth, and his dagger ripped only her dress. She was no longer in the fields before Norville Keep, but lying on a bed. Stunned, she lay there for a moment, then sat up and glanced around.

This was her own bedchamber at Barstow Castle. She dashed to the window to check the bailey. Had she returned to her own time? No, Nicholas’ people were blithely going about their daily tasks. No tourist groups murmured or pointed. In one way, she was disappointed and in another, vastly relieved. Nicholas lived in this time, and he had become too important to her happiness to have him wrenched from her without at least a goodbye. Or a kiss?

She sank down on a stool and contemplated the fight. Had Nicholas killed the evil Miles or merely defeated him. Would he imprison Miles in the dungeon if he still lived? Her hand tickled. She looked down and saw the amulet had disappeared.

Then she remembered hearing Lily's voice. Had her friend really been there? Julie hadn't seen her, but the woman could probably make herself invisible if she wanted. Weeks ago, Lily had told Julie to call if she needed help. Julie didn't remember calling, but she surely had needed help. Another second, and that man would have plunged the dagger into her chest. She shuddered at the thought. She wanted to question Lily, but she needed sleep more than answers. She climbed onto the bed and closed her heavy eyes. Exhaustion wrapped around her like a blanket. So tired...

"Where is she?” Nicholas strode over to the man who seconds before had held Julie. Now he stood alone, guarded by Rannulf and his men-at-arms. The dagger rested on the ground at his feet, but Julie was nowhere to be seen. Nicholas snatched up the dagger and held it to Selwick's throat. “Where is she?” he repeated.

The man stood his ground. “I do not know. One moment I had my hand across her mouth and the next she just melted away."

"Melted away?” Nicholas scoffed. “Have you lost your mi...?” He hesitated. Much as he hated to admit it, ‘twas possible the rogue knight was not responsible for Julie's sudden disappearance. He had almost forgotten the witch Lily and the amethyst amulet, which could send people forward or back in time, and probably, from place to place. Could Lily somehow have given the amulet to Julie? And if so, why did her captor have no idea what happened?

Nicholas turned to Rannulf. “You watched my wife while I fought. What did you see?"

Rannulf scratched his head. “One minute she was there, milord, and the next she was not."

"I see.” And he did. He would have hugged Lily if the witch had chosen this moment to appear. Now he had to make sure Julie was safe. He would leave for home immediately.

Several of Nicholas’ men marched Miles over to him.

"Damn you, Selwick, what did you do with Lady Julianne?” Miles shouted.

"I...nothing, my lord. She just vanished."

"Vanished?” Miles scoffed.

"Mayhap she disappeared in the crowd of soldiers at my back.” But the man did not look convinced of that solution.

Miles’ scowl would have boded ill for his seneschal had either man been free. “I thought you had her captive."

"I did,” mumbled Sir Selwick. “I know not where she went. Or how."

"Enough!” Nicholas roared. “Take these two and bind them securely.” Rannulf and Yellow Curls took their weapons, bound their hands and led them away.

When Sir Edgar joined them, Nicholas said, “I would have you take charge of my sister's holdings.” He spied Eleanor coming toward them and beckoned.

"I will do so with great pleasure,” Edgar replied, his blue eyes flickering to Eleanor.

"Nicholas, I thank God you are all right.” His sister looked around, then asked, “But where is Julianne?"

"I am not sure.” He was, but the truth would be incomprehensible to the others.

"She disappeared, my lady,” Edgar said with a rare smile before Nicholas could reply.

Was there more warmth between them than the occasion demanded? Nicholas wondered.

Was that a blush on Eleanor's cheek as she offered the tall, dark knight her hand to kiss? Had Nicholas been missing something right beneath his nose?

While the two gazed at one another, Will came to take Nicholas’ helm and gloves.

"Sir Harald is with Lord Miles’ men. He is ordering them to serve Lady Eleanor and her new seneschal, Sir Edgar,” Will said, glancing at Eleanor and Edgar who were still staring into one another's eyes. “My lord, what is this ab—?"

Nicholas interrupted by clearing his throat. “They are pleased to see one another, Will. That is all.” And a great deal more, he suddenly realized. He had done his sister more than one disservice. Perhaps the man she could love and the one who could love her had been beneath their noses all this time. He would think more on this, then have a talk with Edgar.

He could not address their problems now. Julie must be found.

He motioned to Rannulf. The two stepped aside where they could speak privately.

"I am returning to Barstow without delay,” Nicholas said. “You and your men will accompany me. Be ready to leave in ten minutes. Sir Edgar and some of the others will tend to all the problems here."

"Do we bring Lord Miles with us? The men have got him trussed up like a chicken on a spit.” Rannulf's grin split his face from ear to ear. Obviously, he relished this duty.

"Aye. He will be imprisoned for his treachery."

Nicholas touched Edgar's arm. “My friend, send the army home as soon as you feel all is under control here. You will remain as seneschal. I am taking Miles and Selwick with me back to Barstow."

"But your lady wife?” Sir Edgar appeared puzzled.

"Somehow, I think she will have arrived there before me.” He hoped desperately this was true. There was only one way to find out.

"To me!” he shouted to the men who would accompany him. Two of the new knights joined Nicholas, leading horses for Selwick and Miles. The two prisoners, with their hands bound securely behind their backs, looked surly though resigned. Rannulf and his men brought up the rear.

The journey back to Barstow seemed interminable. After a few hours, Nicholas grew impatient. The foot soldiers could hardly keep up with the pace he set. He called Rannulf to him.

"I am going on ahead. Select two men to accompany me."

Rannulf pointed at Yellow Curls and another man who looked familiar to Nicholas, but whose name he couldn't recall. “Escort our lord,” he yelled.

Yellow Curls nodded. “Right y'are.” He yanked Miles and Selwick from their horses. and despite their protests at walking, the two men-at-arms mounted and fell in behind Archangel as Nicholas spurred the great horse down the dusty road.

"I am coming, Julie,” he murmured, “and you better be where I think you are."

Julie sent Gwyneth to fetch Lily. The lady-in-waiting had been shocked to find her back home and kept insisting she be told what had happened. Finally, Julie persuaded her to go along to Lily with the promise of telling her the whole story later. Right now, she needed a long talk with her friend Lily who could do some very odd things—such as speak in her ear, yet not be seen. This time, her body had been transported, not just her mind. Could that really be done? Apparently it had.

Lily entered and shut the door behind her. “So, you arrived safely."

"Yes, and thank you, Lily. You showed up just in time."

"I was afraid I'd cut it a little close.” Her friend crossed the stone floor and laid her hand on Julie's shoulder. “At first, I was afraid Nicholas was going to let Miles kill him in order to protect you."

"Oh, no!” Julie cried. “He wouldn't do that.” She hesitated. “Would he?"

"He nearly did. He slipped once and almost let Miles take him. I had to intervene."

Nicholas had nearly died to keep her safe. Was he sacrificing himself for her or for the real Julianne? He hadn't touched Julie since the night they'd made love, and she'd become pregnant. Had they made love only to provide the seed to make all this happen again? Had he gritted his teeth and pretended his arms were around Julianne instead of her? When he thrust into Julie, had he dreamed of the much younger girl he'd married, wished her back and Julie into the future?

Lily smiled slyly at her. “It's like that, is it?"

"Like what?” Damned if she'd admit her feelings for Nicholas to the one who'd gotten them into this muddle. Of course, she really couldn't fool Lily—the all-knowing.

Lily laughed. “He'll be here soon. Looking for you."

"Does he know about the amulet?"

"Probably surmised it. He's not stupid.” She walked to the window. “I see a cloud of dust on the horizon. He's coming."

Julie slid off the bed and joined her. “I don't see anything. Where?"

Lily pointed. “There."

"You have better eyes than I do.” Julie squinted, but saw nothing.

"You'd best wash and dress before he comes."

Julie's heart tripped over itself. She almost wished he'd stayed with Eleanor for a time. Would he think she'd somehow been responsible for the whole abduction thing? And worse still, when he learned she was pregnant would he make Lily send her home and try to change history with Julianne? She could bear his anger better than his disappearance from her life.

Admit it, you love him. He's everything you ever wanted in a man, even if having him seems impossible.

With a sigh, she looked at Lily. “You know what I'm thinking, don't you?"

"Yes. But what seems impossible right now, may not be at another time."

Julie walked to the window and stared at the growing dust cloud on the horizon. “And that means...?"

"Just what I said."

"Lily, I swear your cryptic comments will be the death of me,” Julie spluttered.

"When the time arrives, you will understand.” Lily came up behind Julie and put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. “Do not be afraid, Julie. Just follow your heart."

Someone knocked on the door. As Julie admitted Gwyneth, she turned to discover Lily was gone. How does she do that?

The little lady-in-waiting entered, followed by three boys carrying a large wooden tub and several pails of hot water. They set everything down in front of the fire.

"Since my lord approaches, I thought you would like a bath.” Gwyneth motioned to the boys. “Be quick. Pour the water in the tub. Then go and get some more,” she ordered.

Julie smiled to herself. Her maid had much to learn about honey, vinegar and flies.

"Thank you, Gwyneth. I need to wash the smell of prison from my body."

When the boys finished filling the tub with warm water and departed, Julie stripped off her clothes and sank into relaxing water. Gwyneth handed her a sliver of lilac perfumed soap to scrub her body and, with the maid's help, to wash her hair.

While Julie finished bathing, Gwyneth laid out a silk gown in a delicate shade of violet. Gwyneth wrapped a linen towel around her as she stepped from her bath. When Julie was dry, the little maid helped her to don a fresh shift and laced up the gown, followed by an amethyst velvet surcoat, its wide sleeves edged in white fox fur.

The late fall air, blowing in the open window, promised an early winter. With a shiver, Julie went to sit on a stool before the fire so Gwyneth could towel dry her long hair, then comb out the snarls.

"I do so wish I had such silky golden locks as you, my lady."

"I'm very fortunate."

"No, I think it is my lord who is fortunate to gaze daily on such as these.” She held up several curls. Julie smiled, but refrained from scolding the girl again for prying.

When Gwyneth finished her job, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

At that moment, shouts and the pounding of horses’ hooves brought Julie to her feet.

She rushed to the window and peered out. In the bailey below, Nicholas dismounted, took two steps, then stopped and gazed up at her window. She waved.

"Stay right there, my lady,” he called. “I will join you shortly."

Julie drew back, a nervous tremor running down her spine. He'd smiled and didn't appear angry with her. Good. Not that she couldn't stand up to him, but she hated arguments and accusations. She'd done nothing for which to beg forgiveness. However, his viewpoint and hers might be a tad different, because he probably didn't know the whole story or understand, precisely, what had happened to her.

She heard his boots on the stairs, and then the door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. Lifting her chin, she stared straight into his golden eyes as he halted in front of her.

"Julie,” he said hoarsely. “You are safe, dearling. I thought, mayhap, you might have been stabbed before you...flew away."

He had been worried about her, not thought she had somehow caused the whole mess. His sober stare was all concern.

"As you can see, I'm perfectly all right.” She took a backward step. The intensity of his gaze made her uneasy.

He placed a hand on her forearm, halting her retreat. “Do not be afraid, love. I am not angry except with Miles and his henchman.” He paused. “There is nothing to be upset about, is there? You have not done some foolish thing, have you?"

Julie remembered her women's self defense classes. Would that come under the heading of foolish? Maybe. But since she had not engaged Sir Miles in hand to hand fighting, she decided to omit mention of karate and archery practice—while wearing men's clothes.

"Of course not,” she replied tartly, hoping he wouldn't get wind of her little enterprise. Not that she feared him, not really. But he was a thirteenth century man whose views about women were less than enlightened.

She switched the subject. “How did you make out with Earl Simon? I assume that's where you've been?"

He laughed. “Aye, and if by ‘make out’ you mean ‘deal with him,’ all went well. Navarre is satisfied and de Montfort was made to give a little.” He yawned. “I have been on the road a prodigious long time, wife, and when I arrive home tired, I find you missing. Then I have to go save you from Miles, exhausting me further,” he teased.

"Poor man,” she murmured, trying to keep a straight face.

"Not to mention that my shirt and leggings are soaked with sweat. Help me out of this chain mail and I will make use of your bath."

When she scowled at his demands, he grinned again. “Be warned, you will not enjoy having me near, since your nose is so easily offended by body odors.” He referred to a comment she had once made about ordering the castle folk to bathe more frequently.

A knock on the door interrupted Julie's retort. Will had come to undo Nicholas’ armor, freeing Julie from the task. Apparently, Will anticipated his master's desire to wash, because the same boys who had brought her bath earlier trudged behind him, lugging more buckets of hot water. They bailed out her dirty bathwater using the empty pails they brought, then filled the tub again for Nicholas.

She saw him eye the procedure, then shake his head slightly. Could he be remembering the modern bathroom in her time?

The boys finished and departed, followed by Will who shut the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone.

Nicholas stripped off his leggings and stood by the tub his gaze on her, a hot, needful one.

"Will you bathe me, Julie. A good wife helps her husband remove the day's soil."

"I'm not a good wife. I'm not a wife at all.” She had to force herself to swallow and stop, taking short, panting breaths. Her eyes were drawn to his broad chest with its matting of curly black hair, and a quick downward glance told her how much he wanted her.

Finally finding her tongue, she replied, “If you wish,” in a tone which sounded much calmer than she felt. She raised her gaze to his and knew he'd observed her examination of his manhood.

His lips quirked upward. “Come here, Julie.” He held out his hand. Slowly, she moved forward and laid her palm against his. His fingers rotated and closed over her hand. He moved it down his chest, over his stomach and placed it on his erection. “Feel how much I missed you,” he murmured, his eyes burning into hers.

"Um, yes, I, er, see.” She pulled her hand away and stepped back.

"Do I frighten you?” he asked, reaching for her once more.

"No, Nicholas, but we have to talk."

"Talk? Right now, woman, talk is not what I want.” But he stepped into the tub and settled down in the warm water. “Ah, that feels good. Let me soak a minute and then I will tell you of my needs.” His eyes drifted shut.

"First, I really must tell you of my needs."

His eyes flew open. “Are they different?"

"Well, yes. Please listen, Nicholas.” She had to tell him about the baby. Then they had to discuss how this would affect their lives.

"All right, dearling. What must you tell me that cannot wait until later?"

Grabbing up a towel, she coaxed him from the tub. She wrapped the towel around his waist and led him across the room. “Please, Nicholas, sit here beside me.” She sat on the bed and patted the coverlet beside her.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then did as she asked.

"Is something distressing you?” His arm wrapped quickly around her shoulders and drew her against him. “Did Miles...?"

"No, nothing like that,” she assured him, enjoying the heat emanating from his chest. She would love more than that, but not yet.

"Tell me, Julie. I will make it right.” His grave expression told her he'd finally sensed her seriousness.

"I wish it were that easy,” she said with a sigh. “But it's not. Nicholas, we are expecting a baby, and there's no way you can make that right."

To her surprise, he smiled and wrapping his other arm around her, drew her tightly against him. “What good news. My son will be born after all."

"Our son,” she corrected him.

Nicholas’ lips tilted upward at her correction. “When are we expecting him?"

"In the middle of April."

He hesitated, then said quietly, “The same as before."

"Yes."

"Things will not happen the same way,” he declared, but he didn't sound totally convinced.

"No, of course not."

They sat in silence for several minutes, each drawing on the other's strength. Then Julie said, “I'm healthier than Julianne was and that should make a dif—” She stopped, horror-stricken. “But I'm using her body, not mine.” Though she'd tried her best to build it up, she could see and feel little change.

They stared at one another as the truth sank in.

Nicholas slid off the bed. Shedding the wet towel, he stepped back into the tub while fear and hope battled each other in his heart. He could not lose both Julianne and Julie. Somehow, he would keep it from happening again.

He lathered his arms while ideas chased around in his mind. Mayhap he could force Lily to use the magic she had not used with Julianne. He could feel his fingers tightening around her neck. Witch or no, he would kill her if she let Julie die too.

Without a word, Julie came to his side, took the cloth from his hand and washed his back. Her little hands felt so good as they slid over his skin and tired muscles. Then she stepped in front of him and moved the soapy cloth around his chest. His eyes appreciated the full curve of her breasts, then wandered to her stomach. The gown she wore molded a roundness which had not been there before he left for London. His child was growing apace and he was caught between heaven and hell.

Would he lose her again? Many events had been different this time through 1249. Could Julie's strong will pull her through despite the frail body of Julianne? From previous experience he knew Lily would tell them nothing. At least she had intervened in time to save Julie when he himself could not prevent Selwick from killing her.

He looked up into her eyes. Their violet depths were misty, tears forming silently and running down her peach-tinged cheeks. “Do not cry, sweeting. I will make it come right, I swear."

"I hope so,” she whispered, and he could see her teeth had sunk into her full lower lip, as though she was trying to hold back sobs.

"Julie.” He stepped from the tub and picked her up in his arms despite the wetness of his body. “Come, dearling, you are exhausted from all you have been through. You need rest."

Striding over to the bed, he held her with one arm and snatched back the fur coverlet with his other hand. He helped her out of her clothes, then laid her on the soft feather mattress and pulled the coverlet up to her chin.

"But you have needs,” she said in a soft voice.

"They can wait, love. Sleep now.” He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. Fire shot through him. Truly, he did need Julie, but not at the expense of her health. “You will do much resting and eating. We will build you up, make you tougher. Together."

Then she did cry, and he held her to his damp chest, thinking he would slay many dragons and monsters to keep this one, small woman alive and at his side.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 21
When Julie awoke, fingers of sunlight slanted across their bed and Nicholas lay beside her snoring softly, his arm holding her tightly against his side.

His dark lashes resting on tanned cheeks quivered ever so slightly. Was he dreaming? Or was he watching her through the thick veil of those same lashes? He was so perfect. That straight nose, that firm black-stubbled chin, those lips which could be full when aroused and thin when angry. She sighed.

His looks were only a small part of her fascination with him. He could be gentle as he had been last evening, when he held her tenderly in his arms while she cried, and fierce, as she'd seen, when he fought Miles. The men respected him and carried out his toughest orders without grumbling. He administered his demesne fairly, and the people worked all that much harder for not being whipped or forced to pay unfairly-large taxes. He could be funny at times, that mobile eyebrow shooting into the air as his eyes twinkled with laughter.

Oh, dear God. How could such a cruel joke be played on her? To have found the perfect man but to have him live over seven hundred years in the past, remote and untouchable, was horribly ironic. Especially when she would have to return to her own time without him.

Gradually, she became aware Nicholas was watching her.

"Good morn, dearling. Did you rest well?” he murmured, his index finger tracing the line of her jaw. A smile curved his generous mouth.

Julie smiled back. “Yes, I did. And from the snoring, I think you did, too.” Her teasing brought an even broader grin to his face.

"As I told you last even, my trip to Gascony was fatiguing. Then, when I arrive home looking forward to a soft bed and an even softer wife, I find my greatest enemy has imprisoned her in his keep and I must fight to get her back. Julie, sweeting, your escapade kept me from my lands, my bed and...other delightful prospects.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

She felt a blush wash across her cheeks. “Nicholas, I thought you meant to remain faithful to the wife whose body I'm in.” Not what she wanted to say, but fairness demanded it.

"Is my sin any greater for repeating it?” he asked softly, rising up on his elbow and gazing down into her eyes.

"Probably,” she murmured, wanting him to think only of her and knowing it was wrong.

"Then gladly will I fall on my knees and repent each time we make love.” His eyes burned with amber fire as he lowered his lips to hers.

Could he maybe be falling in love with her, just a little? Without thought of consequences, Julie opened to him, letting the heat and the softness of his mouth blot out the memories of her treatment by Miles, as well as the possible deadly outcome of childbirth. Her arms crept around his neck as he rolled over her, his naked body pressed hard against her own needful one. He was her soul mate and she desired to become one with him, to no longer be alone but a part of this miracle which had bridged the chasm of time.

Nicholas murmured her name over and over, calling her Julie, never mistaking to whom he was making love. He had seen her face in the heavens on a moonlit night in Gascony. He had held her in his heart as he pounded the dusty roads. He had found Julianne pleasing and sweet. But Julie was all fire. His tender feelings for Julianne had been replaced by stronger ones for Julie. The girl who had been his wife was gone, and in her place stood this woman of intelligence, courage and passion. One he loved more than life itself. If it was wrong, so be it. While he held Julie in his arms, his heart thumped with the steady beat of the love he felt for her, and he would do anything in his power to keep Lily from sending her back to the future. He would prostrate himself before the Druid witch, kiss the hem of her none-too-clean gown, whatever it took.

Julie's soft breasts pressed against his bare chest. He groaned and cupped her face for another kiss. Her mouth fit his like a dream, and her tongue danced the ancient rhythm with his.

When they pulled away from one another, panting for air, he found a spot behind her ear to tickle with light kisses. Julie shuddered and clasped him tighter to her.

She wore only her fine linen shift. Nicholas pushed it slowly upward. Leaning down he kissed and laved every inch of her smooth inner thighs, glancing up at her face as he moved ever closer to his goal.

"Oh, Nicholas,” Julie gasped as his tongue touched her secret place. She gripped his shoulders and arched her body against his mouth. “Oh, oh."

He wanted to give her pleasure. From her soft moans and the way her head thrashed back and forth on the goose down pillow, he knew he had. When she thrust against his mouth with a final “Ohhhh!” he moved upward and entered her tight sheath. His own “Ohhhh, God!” as he settled himself within her, brought a smile to her face. He rocked slowly back and forth, reveling in the wonderful sensations. He laced his hands with hers, found the sweetness of her mouth, and began a slow, achingly pleasurable rhythm.

Again, she reached her climax, but he held back, using every ounce of willpower to let her go first. He caught her cry in his mouth. As she clasped her legs tighter around his hips, he gave several powerful thrusts and found his own release. Spent, he collapsed beside her, pulling her around so they remained joined. It was the closest he had ever felt to another person in all his life.

"My love.” He tightened his arms, trying to truly make them one being.

Julie's violet eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, Nicholas, that was so amazing. So, so beautiful.” Was great sex enough? Would he want her to stay on after the baby was born? She had overheard the servants discussing the love of their lord for his lady. Did they mean Julianne or her? Because Nicholas had experienced them both in different realities. Even if he seemed happy with Julie, wouldn't he jump at a chance to get his first, much younger wife back? Julie was ten years that girl's senior. An older woman by the measurements of this time. Julie's more mature mind dwelt in Julianne's younger body. What a confused mess.

His hand skimmed her back, tracing patterns over her sensitive skin. Was it her or Julianne he caressed?

He took a gentle bite of her earlobe. “It was never better for me."

"Really?” A tiny thrill ran through her.

"Really, sweeting. I would have you in my bed forever."

In his bed, not his heart. “But that won't happen, will it?"

"I know not, and if Lily knows, she is guarding her secret well."

"Lily seems to be the answer to all our questions."

Nicholas lay back, pulling the coverlet over them. “How did you meet Lily? She seems an unlikely choice for a companion."

"Let me think,” Julie said slowly, trying to remember just when she had first made the woman's acquaintance. It seemed like a long time ago, but was it?

"I first went into Lily's shop two years ago to buy a present for my mother's birthday. A beautiful gold chain and locket. While we talked, I was intrigued by Lily's story about how she'd acquired that particular piece."

"Aye, but how was it you came to be friends?” Nicholas asked rubbing his hand slowly the length of her arm.

"She was interesting to talk to. I kept finding excuses to drop in and chat some more. Then, one day, I met her leaving her shop. She was headed for the local tearoom and asked me to join her. She was so warm and friendly I couldn't resist accepting.

"After that, we met regularly for afternoon tea and to talk about all kinds of things. Finally, I told her about the book I wanted to write, one about medieval love songs and poetry. I told her so much material had been lost. She said the best way to find new material would be to go back to that time. At the time I thought nothing of it.

"I laughed, Nicholas. I laughed because I thought she was teasing. Then I said, ‘Too bad it's impossible.’ But she just looked pensive and said, ‘Yes, it's a shame.’”

"Do you think that gave her the idea?” Nicholas asked when Julie hesitated.

"I'm not sure. I do know I hadn't planned to buy that jewelry for Mum, but as I walked past Lily's shop that first time, I felt a compulsion to go in."

"Aha,” Nicholas exclaimed triumphantly. “The witch must have ensorcelled you to win your friendship."

Julie hated being manipulated. If Lily had done that to her, the woman was more foe than friend. “At the time, I had no hint of her powers."

"Do you not see,” Nicholas retorted, rising up on his elbow, staring down at her, anger turning his amber eyes to molten gold. “She was looking for someone to substitute for Julianne."

"And that was bad?"

"Nay, but she did not prevent Julianne's death when my son was born."

"Perhaps her powers don't let her do that,” Julie suggested, thinking if Lily had saved Julianne, Julie would never have met her knight. She was instantly ashamed of such selfishness.

"Nonsense,” Nicholas scoffed. “She's a witch, a descendant of Merlin."

"Maybe. Let me ask you a question. Where did you find the amulet—the first one?” The thought of that awesome jewel made Julie shiver. Was it only the chilly air filtering in around the shutters, the precursor of winter? Or was it something about the supernatural events they had both witnessed?

"In an eastern bazaar, when I fought the Saracens."

In the mysterious Orient. “Tell me what happened, Nicholas."

He frowned. “Let me think. I was looking for a bride gift for Julianne. We would be returning soon to England, and I wanted to give her something to show my love."

A wave of envy washed over her. He had been engaged to Julianne, bought her an expensive present, thought of her constantly while in the East. He had found a perfect jewel for his perfect woman. No one had ever done that for her.

She jerked her mind back to the present as he continued.

"I entered the shop of this old Arab. He had fine jewelry for sale and I spotted the amethyst amulet. It matched her eyes.” He smiled at Julie. “Yours, too."

"What did he say about the necklace?” She held her breath. There might be a clue here as to how the amulet could cause such awesome happenings.

"That it was a magic amulet. I laughed cynically, but I think he had the last laugh.” He shook his head. “I did not believe in magical amulets. Since then, I have changed my mind."

She thought a minute, then asked, “Did you see any women in the shop?"

He grinned. “Jealous, sweeting?"

She gave him a hard shove. “Of course not. But did you?"

Nicholas shut his eyes. What had he seen in that shop? He seemed to remember another person had been present. Man or woman? He squeezed his eyes harder, tried to dredge up a picture of the place in his mind. A shadowy shape in the background, veiled. A female.

She poked him. “What did you see?"

"A woman was there, clothed in long robes and many veils."

"Can you remember if she was young or old?"

"Not young, but not hunched over or slow moving like an old woman."

"Middle-aged then?"

"Mayhap,” he agreed, as more detail began to form in his mind. “She wrapped the package in a piece of silk and gave it to me. Her hands were not smooth like a maiden, nor as wrinkled and veined as an old crone."

"When next we see Lily,” Julie said, her voice excited, “look at her hands. See if they could be the ones you saw."

"I will try, my love.” Nicholas reached over and pulled her against him. Enough of this talk of witches and magic. It made him decidedly uneasy.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the tip of his nose.

"I think,” said Nicholas sagely, “that the magic we make together is..."

She stifled his remark with a kiss, and he forgot what he was saying.

"Good morning, my lady."

Julie looked up from a shirt of Nicholas’ she was mending. The work was her own fault. She had yanked it from his body the night before, ripping the seam. A wave of heat washed over her, remembering what had happened next.

"Hello, Lily. Is all well with the servants?” She had given her friend the task of supervising the maids, not wanting Lady Beatrix to have so much to do.

Lily nodded. “Yes. All is well here, at least for the moment, and I have duties to perform elsewhere."

Startled, Julie pricked her finger with the needle. “You're leaving?” she asked, sucking away the blood which welled up on her skin.

Lily stared at Julie's injured finger. “That does not bode well,” she muttered.

"What? A needle prick is some kind of bad omen?"

"It can be. But perhaps I'm reading too much into this."

"Why don't you sit down and tell me about it."

Lily took the other stool in front of the hearth. The fire took some of the chill from the room, but the late November winds still crept in around the window, chilling fingers and toes. Julie shivered and pulled her fur-lined wool surcoat closer.

"There is little to tell. In certain circumstances, a pricked finger can portend evil things to come.” Lily laced her long fingers together and stared solemnly at Julie.

"That's too silly for words.” Julie sounded surer than she felt. So far, Lily had been right about many things.

"Yes, it does sound foolish.” With a nod of her head, Lily dismissed the subject. “I came to speak with you about something,” she continued, taking the mending from Julie's hands and placing it on the small table between them. “This can wait."

"All right. Is something the matter?” Mending things was never a favorite pastime with Julie, so she wasn't all that sorry to put it off.

"Nothing's wrong. It is just that I'm leaving for a while."

Julie stifled a gasp. “Why now? The baby will be here in a few months and Nicholas will want to send me back to my own time. He'll be angry when he hears you and the amulet have disappeared.” Not that she'd mind. Staying with Nicholas was all she wanted now.

Lily's expression didn't change. “I must do what I must do."

"Where are you going?” Julie cried, feeling panicky tears welling up and threatening to overflow. She might be annoyed with Lily's occasional high-handed ways, but Lily was her only link to a time in which she no longer lived.

In a surprisingly maternal gesture, Lily reached over and took her hands. “Fear not, Julie. I shall return for your baby's birth. I promise. As to where I am going, it is time I renewed myself through worship of the Earth Mother in the western forests. I have been away a very long time and there are duties I must perform."

"Oh.” Julie could think of nothing else to say, not without sounding rather whiny. Although she felt somewhat abandoned by Lily, she could understand about duties, having once performed many obligations of her own. Doing Nick's books was the one she worried about the most. How was he managing without her?

Shaking off the uneasy feeling Nick might be sailing into bankruptcy without her firm hand on the rudder, Julie rose and lit two more candles. “It grows dark so early these days. The year is nearly gone.” She found candles a rather poor substitute for electric light bulbs, but they did make for a romantic setting when Nicholas and she made love.

Nicholas. Her love. Her heart flipped over. Time didn't stand still; the hours kept ticking away. Soon the new year would be upon them, and there were only three and a half months until her child's birth. Her child. He had gradually become more hers than Julianne's. She carried him beneath her heart and already the love she felt for him was overwhelming. If the last time through the year ahead could be believed, the baby was a boy, masquerading as a girl to fool the malevolent Miles. But Miles was in the dungeon, securely under lock and key, guarded at all times by Nicholas’ most trusted retainers. At least for now, he could cause no trouble. Would things stay the same when they reached the moment of Julianne's death?

Julie shook her head to clear it. Every time she tried to think through the parallel events, her head began to ache.

"It's hard to comprehend, isn't it?” Lily said sympathetically.

Julie nodded. “Beastly."

She picked up her mending once more.

"Don't worry about Nick. No time has passed since you left your century."

Julie frowned, puzzled by Lily's comment. “How could that be?"

Lily rose and shook out her skirts. “It just is. And remember, Julie, you are a strong woman who can cope quite nicely. You have done a good job so far. Have faith in your own ability."

"I'll try.” To Julie's surprise, Lily placed a hand on her head and murmured a few incomprehensible words. Before she could ask what the other woman had said, Lily whisked out of the room. Julie began once more to stitch up the tear in Nicholas’ shirt. But busy hands didn't prevent her from mulling over what Lily had said.

Just as she finished fixing the torn seam, Nicholas entered.

"'Tis near time for supper, my love,” he said, walking over to her and plucking his shirt from her lap. “Put this aside. I have needs greater than a mended shirt.” He grinned.

"And what would those be?” She should tell him about Lily.

"Mayhap I could show you,” he murmured, drawing her close and skimming his large hands down her back, cupped her buttocks and pulled her against his burgeoning desire.

She laid her head against his chest, wishing she could mold herself to him forever. The comfort of his arms holding her tightly gave her more pleasure than anything in her previous life.

Then his lips found hers and, for the time being, she forgot about Lily.

When they finished the meal and retired to their chamber, Julie remembered Lily's disturbing visit. Nicholas sat down on one of the stools, pulling her onto his lap. When he started to kiss her, she shook her head.

"Stop, Nicholas. I have something to tell you."

"Cannot it wait?” he queried, heat sizzling in his gorgeous eyes.

"No. Occasionally, we must talk,” she teased. “Not make love."

He laughed. “I can think of no occasion when words should come before kisses."

Julie bit her bottom lip. “This is one of them. Please, listen."

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “All right, but hurry. I have other plans for the next hour."

Julie ignored him. “Lily is leaving. Since I have not seen her this evening, I think she might already be gone."

"I do not view that as a hardship,” he said, but she could see she had his attention.

"She said she was going to the West Country to renew herself with the Earth Mother. I am afraid she will forget to return in time for...” She hesitated, hating to remind him their time together was coming to an end.

Nicholas arched an eyebrow. “She did not say when she would return?” Once again his hands began doing all those little things which drove her wild.

"She said she'd be back for the baby's birth, but what if something detains her?"

His expression grew serious and his hands stilled. “She will be here if she said she would. A descendant of Merlin's promises should be believed."

"I suppose you're right. I'm worrying about something that may never happen."

"She will bring the amulet to us when we need it.” He smiled and swept her up in his arms. Kissing the tip of her nose, he walked to the bed and laid her on it.

Julie didn't smile back. He had mentioned the amulet. Could he be cruel enough to send her away once she had survived childbirth, giving him both a living wife and son? If he noticed her distress, he didn't say so. They spent the next hour in each other's arms, forgetting all their problems.

When they'd finished lovemaking, Nicholas rolled over and fell instantly asleep. However, Julie took many more hours to join him in slumber.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 22
December brought an early snowfall and Christmas. One morning after mass, Nicholas and Julie entered the great hall together, his arm circling her waist. After everyone had eaten, Nicholas rose and announced to his wife, “I have a surprise for you, Julianne.” He motioned to Sir Harald who left the table and went to the door.

"Have the men bring it in,” Harald called to someone outside.

Several burly soldiers staggered across the floor, moving slowly under the weight of a huge tree trunk. They placed it on the massive andirons in the large fireplace near the dais where it filled the walk-in space from side to side.

Julie clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, how nice. A Yule log."

Nicholas rested his hand on her shoulder. “It would not be Christ's Mass without it."

Julie watched as the men produced kindling and other small branches to get it started. After a minute, the flames caught and with many loud crackles began sending red and gold sparks dancing up the chimney. She picked up a shirt she was stitching as a Christmas present for Nicholas, and spent the next hour enjoying the fire, while trying to make straight rows of tiny stitches. Nicholas sat next to her in companionable silence, inspecting the links in his chain mail and tagging breaks for the blacksmith to fix.

An hour later, a crowd of laughing young people including Gwyneth, Will, Harald and Alda burst into the hall, their arms filled with holly. A light dusting of snow covered their hooded cloaks.

Julie rose and joined the group at the hearth. “I love to decorate,” she said, reaching for a piece. Soon, large branches of holly complete with festive red berries adorned the long stone mantle.

"We could put some of the evergreen boughs behind the wall shields,” Gwyneth suggested.

"Great idea.” Harald grabbed Gwyneth's hand with one of his and some boughs with the other. They started on one side of the room. Julie felt sorry for Will, whose frown said he didn't enjoy being outmaneuvered by Harald.

Alda dragged another armful of boughs over to the other wall and stopped. Her short stature prevented her from decking this part of the hall.

"Allow me.” Nicholas took the greenery from her and tucked it around the burnished shields of past and present warriors which hung on the keep's walls. Being tall, he could easily reach.

"Something's missing,” Julie said, looking up from arranging pine boughs and cones on the lord's table. “We need ribbons, lots of red ribbons."

Gwyneth and Alda abandoned the holly and dashed upstairs to look. When they returned, a number of scarlet ribbons draped over their arms, Julie began making festive bows. Several young men, both knights and their squires, tied them to the branches of holly and evergreen. Finally, they all stepped back and admired their work.

"It looks so beautiful,” said Gwyneth with a sigh. “What think you, my lady?"

Julie pondered. Something was still missing.

"Would you like a different kind of decoration to go with what we already have?” The chorus of ayes made her smile. She hoped her introduction of a Christmas symbol, not used at this time, wouldn't change history by becoming popular with anyone other than these particular people.

"Everyone get your cloaks.” Julie started for her chamber, but Nicholas stopped her, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

"You should not unduly tax yourself, my love. I will go."

"Walking is good for pregnant women, Nicholas,” she called after his retreating form.

He returned in a few minutes with a warm woolen cloak lined with fox fur. He draped it around her shoulders, then tied the string, claiming a kiss as a reward.

"Now, we need an axe,” she told Rannulf, who had been one of the men helping to bring in the Yule log.

He looked puzzled. “Will we be a-chopping wood, milady?"

"Just a little,” she replied, a merry twinkle in her eye.

When everyone was ready, Julie led the trek to the forest, Nicholas beside her gripping her elbow.

"Be careful, love.” He seemed worried she might fall over a root or slip in the drifted snow. They had been happy since his return from France, but she felt the shadow of what would happen with the birth of the baby hovering over them. Well, that wouldn't occur today, so she'd best put it out of her mind.

She twirled around, her eyes searching the wood. She wanted to find the perfect tree to help her forget her worries.

Finally, she spotted it. “That one, Rannulf.” She pointed.

"Ye wants me to cut down that tree, milady?” He looked even more puzzled than before.

"Yes, if you please. Then we'll put it in the great hall and do wonderful things to it."

"Tell us what,” pleaded Gwyneth and Alda in chorus.

"Mayhap, Lady Julianne has an idea how to decorate it,” suggested Sir Harald, Nicholas's youngest knight. He had spent the whole day at Gwyneth's side, much to Will's annoyance.

Julie laughed, adding mysteriously, “Wait and see.” She handed a cloth sack to Sir Harald, suggesting he and the others gather as many large pine cones as would fit. Grinning, he once again grabbed Gwyneth's hand and pulled her away to help him.

Rannulf heaved the axe several times, toppling the twelve foot tree to the ground. “There ye be, milady,” he said, grabbing it up and slinging it over his shoulder.

Julie stared. The man was amazingly strong. Remembering her manners, she thanked Rannulf and led the procession out of the forest, then across the snow-covered fields.

Nicholas still held her close against his side. It felt good to be cherished.

Caught up in the Christmas spirit, she taught them to sing the carol, ‘Oh, Christmas Tree.’ After only one time through, Nicholas's rich baritone joined her soprano voice.

"A merry song indeed, Julianne.” His hand squeezed her shoulder. “What will you put on this tree of Christmas?"

She debated. More red ribbons and gilded pine cones. Could they chance a few lighted candles? Perhaps, with supervision. What else? Paper was scarce, so chains were out. She had several dresses with gold tassels. Clipped off and hung on the tree they would sparkle in the candlelight. Maybe she'd think of something else later.

"Did you have a tree like this each year?” Nicholas whispered.

"Oh, yes. I always loved when the colored lights reflected in the glass ornaments and the garlands of tinsel...” She stopped. Nicholas wore an astonished look.

"You mean you put those electric lights on the tree?"

The two of them had fallen behind the others and were still speaking softly so they couldn't be overheard.

"Yes. You remember the outlets in the walls? If you plug anything electrical into them it either lights up or runs—like the dishwasher."

"Ah, the dishwasher. A marvelous invention. I wish I could have brought one back, but unfortunately, we have no electricity."

"Just think how many people in your kitchen would be out of a job,” she teased.

His jaw line hardened. “I often think of how your wonderful century's inventions could improve my world,” he said, gripping her shoulder a little tighter in his intensity.

"No, Nicholas, we cannot change history...” With a gasp, Julie clamped her gloved hand over her mouth.

Nicholas froze in his tracks and stared at her. “Which is what we are trying to do, Julie, give Julianne back her life."

"I know.” For the first time, Julie felt a tremor of fear. Her hand touched her belly and the roundness of the baby within her womb. “Do you think the baby will live?"

Nicholas nodded. “He did before. I am more worried about you."

"I'll be all right,” Julie muttered, her hand still rubbing her stomach.

Although he continued to look worried, Nicholas said nothing else, just took her arm again and began walking toward the castle.

The mood in the great hall was light and festive that evening. The young women sat at a trestle table gilding the large pine cones Harald and Gwyneth had gathered, while the men made a base for the tree and placed it at one end of the dais. Julie sent Gwyneth to find some brightly colored pieces of cloth. When she returned with a basketful of scraps, Julie suggested they bind them tightly around small bundles of sticks, then hang them on the tree. She herself anchored some small candle stubs in hot wax on small tin plates. Nicholas positioned the ones Julie couldn't reach, while she fixed the lower ones.

When all was finished, she took a piece of kindling and lit it. Then, with Nicholas's help, she touched it carefully to each candle until the tree glowed with light. The gilding on the pine cones sparkled and the air movement in the hall kept the tassels and brightly colored ‘balls’ swaying.

"You have created a miracle, sweeting,” Nicholas murmured, taking the opportunity to drop a light kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, my lady,” cried Gwyneth, “it is so beautiful. How clever you are."

Julie smiled ruefully. “If I were truly clever, Gwyneth, I would be able to solve all of my problems.” She glanced at Nicholas.

Pain flashed in his eyes, but she suspected he would not admit to the cause—his fear his wife would die again. Having Julie in Julianne's body would change nothing.

With Lily gone, she had no one to question. Not that Lily would have told her anything, but it would be reassuring to have her near.

Julie put aside her sadness. Not wanting to dampen the festivities, she donned a bright smile. “Now, what shall we do for presents?"

Little Alda clapped her hands. “Presents? Oh, I like that idea.” Alda was still a child at heart and the idea of a gift delighted her.

Julie smiled at her. “Yes, we must have presents. You know, like the Three Wise Men from the East gave to the baby Jesus."

"Surely, we will not be expected to find gold, frankincense and myrrh?” Gwyneth looked worried. “We have no such costly things here."

Julie laughed. “No, Gwyneth, just some small remembrance for a person you like. Go and find such a thing, wrap it in scraps of cloth and put it under the tree. Tomorrow, we will exchange gifts."

A lot of improvising, but lately, she'd looked forward to anything to break the monotony of sitting huddled near a fireplace the better part of every day. Of course, first thing tomorrow there would be mass, since celebrating the birth of Jesus was the most important part of Christmas.

Will my baby be all right? All her thoughts seemed to circle back to the birth of her own child, a son, if the events were to repeat. If one part repeated would the rest follow suit? Would the baby's mother die again? Would giving Nicholas a living son at the expense of losing her own life be enough? She didn't think so.

A burst of laughter from the crowd of young people brought her back to the present. For the moment, loving Nicholas in silence and enjoying him for whatever time she had left would have to do.

The next day, Eleanor and the boys, escorted by Sir Edgar and a few soldiers, arrived to attend the Christmas feast. Much to the disappointment of Gwyneth and Alda, Julie decided opening the gifts should wait until after dinner. First, the giving of annual bonuses to the people who farmed Nicholas's large demesne were dispensed. The bonuses consisted of food, clothing, drink and firewood, things which were their traditional Christmas due. Everyone joined in caroling, and the entertainment, arranged earlier by Nicholas, kept the crowd in a good humor.

Julie absorbed it all, delighted with the wealth of material she was gleaning for the book of thirteenth century songs and courtly love she still hoped to write someday. Recently, she'd decided to expand the subject to document festivals and various forms of medieval entertainment. If she survived childbirth and was then unlucky enough to be sent back to her own time, she would start work on the book. Perhaps keeping busy would help fill the empty days. Although she doubted anything could replace the loss of Nicholas and their baby, if given the opportunity, she would see her book to a successful conclusion, since that had always been her goal.

Eleanor, seated beside Julie at the lord's table, leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Julianne, I am happier now than in all the years I spent with Miles. Thank goodness my brother defeated him. Speaking of my husband, is he still a captive in the dungeon? Nicholas has not ordered him beheaded, has he?"

Julie shook her head. “No. I believe Miles is sitting none too happily in our dungeon, guarded around the clock. Will told me he heaps all kinds of curses on Nicholas's head—and yours. Somehow, Miles got the idea you helped me get word to your brother to come home immediately."

Eleanor laughed. “I surely would have, if I could. Although Miles let me visit you several times, I could do nothing secretive. His men watched me like a hawk does his prey."

"Will says the guards no longer speak to Miles. Just let him rave. I suppose he will become a lunatic, that is if you don't think he's one already."

"I am glad he is well-guarded. I tremble to think of the consequences should he escape."

"Oh, there's no way he could get out.” Julie smiled, thinking that Nicholas's men would never allow that to happen.

Eleanor glanced down at Julie's stomach where the child had begun to make his presence both seen and felt. “How does your babe?"

In a protective gesture, Julie stroked the mound of her belly. “He's growing bigger daily. His hands and feet must trouble him because he's into hitting and kicking."

Eleanor chuckled. “It will be worse before it gets better. I swear boys know they are destined to become warriors. They practice their swordplay before they even make an appearance.

"That's what it feels like,” Julie murmured.

"When is he due?"

"The middle of April.” Three and a half months to go, a little over a hundred days before she'd know how the rest of her life would be spent, or even if she'd live.

Eleanor referred to the baby as a boy, a warrior. Could she remember helping with Julianne's delivery the last time around or was it just wishful thinking for Nicholas's sake? Would history repeat itself until the participants got it right? Whenever she tried to figure out what was expected of them, she ended up frustrated.

A man began to sing and accompany himself on a lyre, so Julie fell silent. Music was supposed to have a calming effect. She hoped it worked.

Nicholas laid his hand over hers where it rested on the table. He had been speaking to Edgar on his other side while she conversed with Eleanor. Now, he turned his attention back to her.

"Edgar likes your tree, dearling.” She heard the love and admiration in his voice and saw it in his eyes.

"I'm glad. It was fun decorating it."

Eleanor heard and chimed in. “How did you get such a unique idea, Julianne? Did they have a tree in your keep when you were a girl?"

Well, a half-truth was better than a lie, so Julie said, “Yes, we had a tree every year. It became quite a ritual, the cutting and the decorating."

Before she left home to teach at Cambridge, she and her parents would go to a friend's wood each year in the middle of December where she chose an evergreen for her dad to chop down. They tied the tree on top of the car and when they got home, they'd shake off the snow and drag it inside. Her dad set it up and strung lights, while she and her mum hung the balls and gold tinsel.

She watched as the young folks began to exchange gifts. Just thinking about her family's Christmas tradition brought tears to her eyes. Eleanor didn't notice. But Nicholas did.

"Are you sad, love?” He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. Heat surged through her. Each time he touched her, she felt wrapped in a warm cocoon of need, desire and caring. “One should be happy in this joyful season,” he added. Suddenly, he tensed. “Do you feel all right? Is the baby kicking?"

His tender concern swept away her nostalgia, made her forget her fears and sadness, made her want only him for the rest of her life, no matter what happened.

"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking about my family.” One she might never see again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She averted her gaze to the merrymakers roaming the great hall, to prevent Nicholas from seeing her sorrow.

Gwyneth teased Will by continually snatching the gift she had made him out of his reach. Each time he tried to take it from her, she giggled, skipping away. Harald watched with a scowl on his face this time.

Nicholas followed her gaze and grinned. “Methinks young Will has his hands full with Lady Gwyneth."

Relieved to change the subject, Julie nodded. “They seem fond of one another. Perhaps they would make a good match.” Having once promised Gwyneth to help them, Julie thought this a good opportunity.

He frowned. “I would see Gwyneth wed to someone older, not a squire who has yet to be knighted."

Julie shifted her weight in the chair, easing the pressure of the baby. “Perhaps they are right for each other, despite Will's youth."

"When he has fought some battles, been wounded, seen something of the world, has some kind of prospects, ‘twill be time enough to think of marriage.” He reached over and patted her hand in a patronizing way.

"Aren't you full of yourself,” Julie exclaimed, irritated by his know-it-all attitude.

He glared at her. “Sometimes you surpass even Lily in strange expressions."

She snorted and looked away. Several long minutes passed.

Finally, Nicholas said rather gruffly, “I am sorry, Julianne. Your words are just different, not strange. In no way are you like Lily.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Unable to maintain her huff, Julie laughed. “Well, I should hope not."

"Methinks you should have a rest. This day has been hard on you."

She started to protest until his heated gaze stopped her. He had something other than rest for her on his mind. Stifling a laugh, she rose, excusing herself. “I think I will lie down for a while. I tire so easily these days."

"A good idea,” agreed Eleanor. Her amused expression told Julie she knew exactly why Nicholas had suggested a nap for his wife.

Nicholas stood, offering his arm. His intent was so obvious, she nearly giggled. Hopefully, none of the others could read him like they did.

"I think you mean to lie down, my lord, but you do not intend to rest,” she whispered.

The slow curve of his mouth told her the answer.

Miles strode the length, then the breadth of his cubicle. Three paces one way, two the other. Nine by six. The guard stood at the top of the stairs, his back to Miles, watching the revels through the half open door. The faint sounds of distant laughter wafted down to Miles’ cold, stinking cell. Not that he lacked the basic amenities. There were blankets, a pot to relieve himself and a basin of water in which to wash. He hated Nicholas all the more for this generosity not always granted a prisoner.

Suddenly, voices closer than the great hall drew his attention once again to the top of the stairs. After a moment, his guard descended and approached the metal bars which formed the front of his cell.

"Yer got a visitor, my high and mighty lord,” the man sneered.

Miles nodded, biting his tongue to keep from roaring at the guard's disrespectful tone. He was curious about who stood on the landing above. If he vented his rage the way he wanted to, the guard might refuse to allow whoever it was to speak to him.

"I will see him."

"Right ye be, but for five minutes only.” The guard looked up the stairs and motioned to the visitor, who started down. The guard stomped back up to his post, probably anxious to be where he could at least hear some of what he was missing in the Twelfth Night revels.

Only one fitful torch burned in the wall socket opposite Miles’ cell. In its flickering light, he saw a man he had long ago placed within Nicholas's keep as a servant. He had not actually forgotten about the man, but as time passed and the servant did not contact him, Miles had begun to think the man had either died or moved on to more gainful employment.

"Well, Cuthbert, I had begun to despair of ever seeing you,” Miles said sarcastically, barely refraining from rebuking the man for his lack of initiative. He had learned long ago, when to incite fear and when to feign praise. For now, he chose a middle ground.

He waved his hand as though sweeping away any recriminations. “But you are here now. What news do you bring me?"

"Not much news, milord. Sir Edgar runs yer keep and the soldiers obey him gladly. ‘Tis said he is fair. ‘Tis also said he has a fondness for your lady."

"What?” Miles bellowed, then lowered his voice. He did not want the guard to come running to see what was wrong. “Does she return his attention?"

"Not to my knowledge, if ye mean is he tupping her. They eat together and seem to find pleasure in one another's company, according to my source at yer keep."

"He touches Eleanor and he is a dead man,” snarled Miles, momentarily forgetting he had no means of carrying out this threat. He balled his hands into fists. After a moment, he contained his rage and asked, “How fare my sons?"

"They go well, milord. I hear Sir Edgar continues their instructions in the art of war."

Miles ground his teeth. “I must get out of here, Cuthbert. Have you learned anything which might facilitate my release?” He thrust his hands through the bars and grabbed the front of the other man's tunic.

Cuthbert tried to step back, but Miles held him tightly against the bars. His face close to the servant's, he growled, “I want you to go to the healer in the village and obtain a sleeping draught. Then we—"

Cuthbert interrupted. “Milord, the healer is gone."

Miles vented his frustration by shaking the man. Would nothing go right for him? “As soon as she returns, you are to purchase a sleeping potion from her. Enough for all the midnight guards’ ale."

Cuthbert nodded. “I sees where yer going, milord. When she comes back, I will purchase the potion. However,” the man hesitated, his little piggy eyes gleamed avariciously, “I have no coin..."

Miles reached in his pouch. Some money remained wrapped in a piece of cloth as dark as the inside of the pouch. Only weapons had been taken from him, a surprise to a man who always stripped his prisoners to the skin, seizing all their belongings.

He thrust the coins into Cuthbert's hand. “Here. See that you use these only for the purchase of poppy juice. There will be more when I have left this damned place."

"You down there. Yer time is over. Get up here,” the guard shouted.

Miles watched Cuthbert scurry up the stone steps and disappear through the door at the top. The guard came down once more and regarded Miles through the bars.

"He give ye anything?” The man's eyes swept the small room with naught to see but the chamber pot, the basin and a pile of straw with a blanket spread over it, another in a heap on top of it.

"Nothing,” Miles said truthfully.

Placated, the guard went back upstairs and this time shut the door. All sound ceased.

Miles sank down on his pallet. He would have to exercise vigorously to keep his muscles in shape until the time came when he would need them.

Earlier, he had been bored, now he had to bide his time until Cuthbert returned. Miles had never waited well. This time was no exception, but he would use the time to study the guards, learn who would take bribes and who would not.

In Nicholas's squeaky clean keep, Miles suspected the former would be hard to find. For some strange reason, these people adored his brother-in-law. The why of this escaped Miles.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 23
The winter passed too quickly for Julie. Each day shortened her time with Nicholas. She found herself wishing Lily would return, so she could beg her not to send her back to a time that promised her nothing but agonizing heart break.

In the early hours of a night in April, Julie climbed the stairs to her chamber knowing Nicholas still slept. If he had awakened, he would have found her gone, and searched for her. Because sleeping comfortably was impossible now, she often slipped downstairs for a walk in the courtyard to ease her aching back.

The well oiled bedchamber door made no sound as she pushed it open. With his first exhausted sleep past, Nicholas stirred the moment she stepped inside.

Throwing back the coverlet, he rose and went to her. “Where have you been, love? Were you not able to sleep?” His arms pulled her against his warm, naked skin. His lips brushed hers lightly, then settled into a deeper kiss.

Julie fought the deep feelings Nicholas's touch engendered whenever they were intimate. His love-making now was gentle and she enjoyed it almost as much as the fierce coupling they indulged in before the baby grew so large. Often she wondered to whom he made love—her or Julianne. Doubt overwhelmed her. Reluctantly, she pushed him away.

"I was restless and did not wish to disturb you, Nicholas.” She tugged off her gown and climbed up on the bed. “I'm going to try to sleep now."

Nicholas stared at her but said nothing. No words were needed since the misery in his eyes spoke volumes. Lifting the coverlet, he climbed in beside her. When he reached for her once again, she slid away.

"I love you, dearling,” he said softly.

Yes, but which one of us do you love?

Miles paced back and forth in his cell. Damn that idiot of a meddling priest for visiting him and holding up his escape. He had bided his time until that old witch of a healer came back from whatever hell she visited. Now that his man had the drug, Miles was anxious to implement his plan.

He peered up the stairs, trying to see if the guard was still upright. Cuthbert's grating voice blathered on, filtering down through the dark shadows on the staircase. Though Miles could not make out the exact words, his man must be persuading the guard to drink the opium-laced wine.

If Cuthbert succeeded, Miles would soon be free again, free to devise an appropriate death for Nicholas. One that would demonstrate to everyone that their high and mighty lord's phenomenal luck had run out.

With an impatient snarl, Miles dropped down on the hard pallet to bide his time, until Cuthbert came with the key.

Julie lay on her side, watching the moon slip from sight. She regretted denying herself Nicholas's arms. But lately, her ungainly bulk made her uncomfortable in every position. She needed to be free to toss at leisure.

Nicholas's even breathing told her he slept deeply again—at least for now. Could she risk rising without disturbing him? Worth a try. The dull pain in her back didn't lessen with any change of position. She wanted a drink, but the pitcher beside her bed was empty. She wouldn't bother Gwyneth. It would do her good to walk. In fact, she felt an overwhelming compulsion to move about.

Carefully sliding from the bed, she tiptoed to the chair where she'd left her robe. As she dressed again, her back gave another twinge and she stifled a groan. Nicholas hadn't moved, so she slipped from their room, carrying the empty pitcher to the well in the upper bailey.

She avoided the sleeping bodies in the great hall. Strangely, the guards at the entry seemed a little lax. Both leaned against the wall, with their eyes half shut. Nicholas expected his men to be alert and they knew it. Could they have been drinking?

"Good even,” she said to them, as she walked through the door.

Each mumbled something like ‘milady,’ without the usual sharp courtesy. She frowned. Perhaps she would speak to Nicholas in the morning. These two would not like the consequences of their actions when he learned of them.

It was warm in the castle for the beginning of April, too warm, she thought. She walked across the bailey, her way lit by low rays of the waning moon. At the well, she pulled up the bucket and filled the pitcher. The outside air felt fresh and cool. She poured a little water into the communal drinking cup and took a sip, wetting her dry mouth. The gentle breeze dried the sweat on her forehead, and she opened her gown a little to cool her breasts. She seated herself on the edge of the well, thinking to lull the kicking baby to sleep and relieve her aching back.

"My lord,” Cuthbert whispered.

Miles had dozed off during his long wait, but at the sound of his henchman's voice just outside his cell, he bounded to his feet. “Are they drugged?"

Cuthbert grinned. “Aye, Lord Miles, and down on their asses snoring."

"About time. If not for that stupid priest, we could have had another hour of darkness. Miles glanced at his servant's hand. “Have you the key?"

The man nodded and inserted it in the lock. “The guards on the gate and walls have also succumbed."

"Then let us be off.” He shoved open the cell door. “I have spent too long in this dungeon already."

A loud whisper from a cell at the end of the dark corridor made him hesitate.

"My lord. Take me with you. I have served you faithfully in all your commissions."

"Nay, Selwick, you must stay here and try to mislead Nicholas as to where I went.” Sir Selwick was a fool and Miles did not suffer fools lightly. Therefore, he would give him a fool's errand.

"But, my lord, he will know...” Miles ignored Selwick's pleas.

The two crept up the stairs and through the passageway to the great hall. They peered about. All the house serfs and knights slept soundly. The men-at-arms not on duty were quartered in the barracks above the stables in the lower bailey. They, too, would be asleep.

Miles and Cuthbert edged along the walls, keeping to the deep shadows. The door to the bailey stood open, and the men on watch lay slumped on either side, deep in slumber.

Cuthbert leaned over to check on them only to have Miles grab his sleeve and order, “Slit their throats. I already took care of the dungeon guard. Dead men tell no tales."

The servant did as Miles bade, then hurried down the stairs after him.

Crossing the upper bailey, Miles suddenly halted and grabbed Cuthbert's arm. “You fool. I thought you said the bailey was deserted.” He pointed to a figure seated on the well coming, its back to them.

"Him were not there before, Master,” the man whined.

"Take your knife and kill him,” Miles commanded. “Another death is naught."

Cuthbert moved forward stealthily and clapped his hand over the person's mouth. He took one look, then called softly, “'Tis the Lady Julianne, milord. Surely, ye do not wish her throat slashed."

Miles cursed. “Nay, but I know not what to do with her.” He thought a moment.

Julie struggled against Cuthbert's grip both over her mouth and around her chest. Clearly she was no match for the big muscular servant.

Julie tried to bite him, but he held her lips shut with the pressure of his hand. He gave a nasty laugh, then shook her like a dog with bone.

"Do the horses await without the main gate?” Not expecting any answer but an affirmative one, Miles added, “Bring her.” He strode off, leaving Cuthbert to follow, dragging Julie.

"Aye.” Cuthbert caught up with his master. Julie and her extra bulk seemed no problem for him. Sir Robert had dragged her from this castle the last time, except he had knocked her unconscious. And these two were even more ruthless than Robert. A blow to the head would be a mild reaction for them—and perhaps merciful.

The guards at the gatehouse lay unconscious, prey to whatever Miles’ servant had used to drug them. Miles swiped his dagger across their throats as he passed, then raised the portcullis enough for them to slide beneath before he lowered the drawbridge.

Julie hoped the guards on the wall would raise the alarm, since both the portcullis and drawbridge's mechanism creaked and groaned. But all was silent. No one challenged their passing. They must be drugged, too. At least those men would live, she thought, blinking back tears for the slain guards.

Once across the moat, they hurried to the horses hobbled in the deep shadows cast by the castle's wall. Miles produced a piece of rope from his saddle bags and tied Julie. Then Cuthbert gagged her with a foul smelling scarf. The stale odor of sweat, as well as the fear from being in Miles’ power again, made her feel faint.

Miles hoisted her up on his horse and mounted behind her as Cuthbert sprang into the saddle of the other animal. They galloped off, a cloud of dust rising behind them in the last pale rays of the moon.

Miles’ clamped her tightly against him. Though his presence disgusted her, his grip stood between her and a hurtful fall. Julie might have chanced leaping from the horse and trying to escape, but she could not endanger the baby. Therefore, she endured her position and the terrible jouncing as the horses ate up the miles to Norville Keep.

"Has Sir Marcus dealt with the men who refused to switch their allegiance back to me? The ones who remained loyal to Nicholas?” Miles shouted at Cuthbert over the pounding of the horses’ hooves.

"Aye. They be secured in the dungeon, milord. The rest stand ready to obey your orders."

Julie gasped. Sir Marcus, the next experienced knight after Selwick, had sworn loyalty to Nicholas. Apparently, his oath meant nothing. And what of Sir Edgar? Miles would scarcely go easy on the man whom Nicholas had charged with Eleanor's safety. And Eleanor? Miles would not have missed the expression on her face when she and Edgar stood together after Nicholas defeated Miles. Their feelings for one another had been plain to Nicholas and he had told Julie. Lord, but this is an unsafe world, she thought. The sooner she returned to her own time the better. If only that didn't also include leaving Nicholas.

She squirmed in frustration and Miles glared down at her. “Sit still,” he ordered, banding his arm even tighter beneath her breasts.

Since she couldn't answer, Julie turned her head and sent him a steely glare. For her baby's safety, she would bide her time for an opportunity to escape.

Oh, Nicholas, she prayed silently, please come and rescue us. In her heart, she held fast to the image of Nicholas on Archangel thundering down the road to Norville Keep once again followed by his army. Come soon, my love, and take our child and me home.

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 24
Nicholas awoke with the premonition something was wrong. Julie's side of the bed was empty. Mayhap she still could not sleep and had risen early. He dressed and hastened to the great hall.

The castle folk were stirring about as it was nearly time for mass. Perchance Julie had already gone to the church, but she always went with him—always. Before he could inquire as to her whereabouts, somebody near the door cried out, “My lord, the guards are slain."

Nicholas strode quickly to where the two men lay sprawled in their own blood, great gaping wounds in their throats. He glanced around. Everyone seemed as astounded by this as he was. They clustered behind him, whispering. A few women began wailing.

"Did no one see or hear anything?” His gaze raked the crowd again. People looked at one another, many shaking their heads.

Lady Beatrix arrived, her hand flying to her mouth at the grim scene. However, she recovered quickly and began giving orders.

"These men must be removed and the floor cleaned,” she said in her take-charge voice. She pointed at two husky men. “You there, and you. Carry these men to the chapel.” The servants lifted the dead guards and hauled them away.

A commotion in the upper bailey caught Nicholas's attention. Now what? He hastened down the steps and saw a grim-faced Sir Harald running toward him. “The guards on the gate are dead, their throats cut, my lord. And the men relieving the night wall guards report they are all sprawled unconscious at their posts. But, they are alive."

Nicholas nodded. “Ah, that is partly good news. At least, we have not lost one-third of the garrison. Once more, he glanced around, then asked, “Have you seen my lady this morn? It is not usual for her to rise so early."

Sir Harald shook his head. “Nay, Lord Nicholas. I have seen naught of her since last even. Think you she is in trouble?"

"I know not, but after these murders, I confess to a great unease as to her whereabouts."

He followed Sir Harald to the lower bailey and inspected the newest victims. “These are the same as those inside. Ask the first wall guard who wakes what he ate or drank last even and who brought it to him."

Nicholas organized some of the soldiers to conduct a thorough search. When no sign of Julie was found, he paused to think. Who would have done such a treacherous deed? And how? The dead men were adept fighters. No single adversary could have killed them all so swiftly and so silently. He scratched his head. The drawbridge was down and the portcullis partly open. Someone had not come in, but gone out. Besides Julie, who else was missing?

He set his knights to checking the barracks, accounting for every man who should be present except one servant named Cuthbert. Again Sir Harald came toward Nicholas shouting, “My lord, the dungeon guard is dead. He, too, has had his throat slashed."

"Come with me,” Nicholas said grimly. He found the guard lying on the steps, his throat slashed just as Harald had reported. The truth dawned on him. “Miles! Bloody hell! He dashed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to stare. Miles’ cell was empty, the door ajar. “Miles, I am going to kill you with my bare hands,” he swore under his breath. Turning, he strode down the corridor to Sir Selwick's cell.

"Selwick,” he shouted, “where is your vile master?"

Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Selwick unfolded himself from his pallet and approached the bars. “I assume from your question, he is not in his cell."

"Oh, you assume, do you? Just what do you know, you bastard?” Ice water circulated in Nicholas's veins. His love had once again been taken from him by the man least likely to honor her person.

"Nothing,” Selwick replied in a surly tone.

"Did you hear me say a moment ago, I would kill Miles with my bare hands? Since he is not here, you could make a satisfying substitute.” He flexed his fists.

Sir Selwick stepped back from the bars, reluctant to have Nicholas's fury at Miles vented upon him. “I know nothing about the time Miles left, but I think his henchman, Cuthbert, who is a servant here, freed him."

"They did not take you. Why? Does that not rankle?” Nicholas decided to rub in the fact that Miles had left Selwick behind to face Nicholas's wrath alone.

"Aye, that it does."

"And you accept this without protest?” Nicholas's sarcastic tone covered his growing impatience. “You might somewhat atone for your wrong doing by telling me what you know."

Selwick saw the way to save his own skin and took it. “Cuthbert came once before to visit Sir Miles. I overheard them talking about an opiate which Cuthbert planned to obtain from the witch, Lily."

"Lily is not here.” Nicholas's fingers begin to twitch as he eyed Selwick's neck.

"Aye, Cuthbert told Miles she had gone away, and they would have to wait until she returned."

Nicholas nodded. “Lily must have returned and sold them the opiate, or mayhap they found it elsewhere. I will deal with the supplier later. Right now, Miles has Julianne, and I must free her,” he added softly, almost to himself.

Selwick shook his head in disbelief. “He must be mad to take your lady again. You spared his life the last time. I think he will not be so lucky this time."

"Five of my guards died at his hand. Miles is already a dead man,” Nicholas swore, his jaw clenched. “But a quick death would be too compassionate. It will be slow and very painful. For your information, Selwick, I will let you go unpunished, but not just yet."

Before Selwick could protest having to wait for his reward, Nicholas vanished into the night.

Julie thought the jolting ride would never end. but as dawn broke, Norville Keep came into sight. The drawbridge lowered and the portcullis lifted when Miles’ hailed the guards. They thundered across the wooden bridge over the moat, and into the bailey. Miles halted his horse and after setting Julie on her feet dismounted. A knight Julie did not know, came to greet them.

"Good work, Sir Marcus,” Miles muttered as he glanced around. The wall and gate guards seemed alert. They did not turn and stare, but continued to march back and forth, their gaze focused on the surrounding countryside. “I see you have overcome the enemy within."

The man nodded. “As you commanded, my lord."

Julie stared at the ranks of soldiers practicing their warrior's arts in the bailey. One man looked familiar. What was his name? Oh, yes, Eldred. She'd not have thought him a traitor to Nicholas, but here he was practicing swordplay with another man in Miles’ employ. She sighed. Could no one be trusted?

Miles hauled her roughly off the horse and dragged her up the stairs to his keep. She stumbled along, trying desperately to keep her balance.

"Stop lagging!” Miles snarled and yanked her arm.

Inside the great hall, considerably smaller than the one at Barstow Castle, she saw only servants, no Eleanor and no Edgar. Their fate worried her greatly.

"Where is Eleanor?” she demanded of Miles, trying to pull away from his grip.

"Locked in her room.” He seemed very certain. Obviously, Miles had sent orders to Marcus from his prison cell. Someone within her home was also a traitor.

"Is Sir Edgar also locked in his room?” she asked, afraid he'd been killed when Nicholas's soldiers were overpowered.

Miles smiled, a nasty gleam in his eye. “Nay, he lies rotting in the dungeon. Where he will stay, until I am ready to dispose of him and your husband."

Julie ignored his threat. “And...my husband's men?"

"They are...” Suddenly, he realized how much information he was sharing with her.

"Never mind the others. You have your own fate to think upon."

Not just her own, but that of her unborn son. Would she deliver this child in a filthy dungeon cell? The thought nearly unnerved her. Had Nicholas found both her and Miles gone and set out for Norville Keep yet?

Miles’ fingers bit cruelly into her arm as he pulled her across the great hall and down a long corridor. At the top of some descending stairs which probably led to the dungeon, he came to a halt. “I am furious enough to push you down these steps and watch as you abort that swine's brat,” he snarled. “But it might also kill you, and I have other plans for you, my fine lady."

Julie lifted her chin. She was scared to death of this madman, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it. “And what plans would those be?” With knowledge came power.

"I would lay the whip on your lily white back till it bled, then pound my prick between your thighs till you lie well-tamed beneath me.” A wild light gleamed in his blue eyes.

With more courage than sense, she cried, “Never! You'll never break me to your will, not even if you kill me."

"We will see.” Miles’ smile sent shivers down her spine. She clamped her lips together to prevent their trembling. At least for the moment, he wouldn't harm her. She should be thankful he didn't rip the baby from her womb, then violate her as she lay dying. He must have some long term purpose—just what her mind refused to picture. Perhaps it was better not to know.

He turned to the guard standing beside them. “Take her down and lock her in a cell. See to her needs—food, water, and a bucket to relieve herself."

Practicality made her say, “I would also like a cloak or some blankets. I'm cold.” She'd been abducted wearing only a dress and slippers and been shivering all the way from Barstow.

He nodded, suddenly compliant. The mad light in his eyes dimmed, and he appeared sane, at least outwardly.

"I will send a woman to you.” He spun on his heel and stalked off, perhaps to find Eleanor.

Oh, Nicholas, Julie prayed, come soon. Both your sister and I need you.

The guard gave her a small shove. “Getcha down there."

"Don't push.” At least Miles had gone, a small thing to be thankful for. She descended the steps and entered an empty cell. Her jailer locked the door behind her and hung the key on a hook across the aisle. Her bravado gone, she sank down on the pallet and wept.

Nicholas mobilized his army. Mounted knights, archers and foot soldiers departed the castle just before noon. Supplies would slowly follow in wagons and carts.

They streamed across the drawbridge and took the road to Norville Keep. Their pace was faster than usual, for all felt the haste driving their lord. One of the mercenary knights had been left in charge of the garrison at Barstow Castle.

Nicholas indicated Sir Harald should ride beside him. Lost in thought, Nicholas said little to the younger knight. His stomach roiled at the thought of Julie in the hands of that devil Miles. Had he harmed her? If so, Nicholas would invent the cruelest and most lingering death ever dealt a traitor. He tried to block the worry from his mind with little success.

Even though his men moved swiftly, it felt like a crawl to Nicholas. He began riding up and down the line of marching men, encouraging them to move faster. From time to time, he sent a fervent prayer to God, asking He keep Julie safe. If he found her unharmed, he would believe there was a God who answered prayers. Although he had lost his faith when Julianne died, he had gone through the daily rituals. But now, he was truly scared. What if this was God's punishment for his backsliding?

They arrived at Norville Keep toward evening. Nicholas rode up to the curtain wall and hailed a guard.

"You up there,” he shouted at a face that peered down at him. “Summon your vile master. I would speak with him."

An hour passed. No response. Nicholas rode back and forth fuming. Miles was taunting him, trying to make him frantic. Unfortunately, Miles was succeeding. A fist of anxiety clutched at his heart. As time passed and Miles still had not shown himself, the tightness increased until he could scarcely breathe.

When at last Miles deigned to appear, Nicholas muttered, “About time,” to Harald who gave a sympathetic nod.

"You desire to converse, Brother?” That self-satisfied look on Miles’ face would disappear when Nicholas ran him through.

"Will you agree to single combat as before?” Miles would probably refuse, fearing to risk his life and lands again.

"Nay, I am not that great a fool. We are well supplied here with food and water. Any siege you begin will be lengthy. My archers will pick off your men one by one, and your lady will never be returned to you.” Miles laughed unpleasantly.

"My lord,” Harald murmured, “would there be some way of gaining secret entrance to the keep? Know you of such?"

Nicholas shook his head. “Not to my knowledge."

Miles disappeared, and Nicholas ordered his army to make camp while he tried to think of a way around this stalemate. He could have trebuchets made, but that would take time, something he had little of. Julie was due to have her babe in a week or two. Both he and Lily, along with the amethyst amulet needed to be with her when she birthed the child. The more frantic to find a solution he became, the less his brain functioned. He lay on the cot in his tent trying to sleep, achieving nothing more than a fitful doze before morning.

Julie heard footsteps on the stairs. In a moment, Miles appeared outside her cell. “Your husband is here, lady, but do not start to hope. He will sit for months before my gates while my archers kill his men one by one."

"You beast,” Julie cried. “Let me go. What have I done to you? And what have you done with your own wife? Is Eleanor all right? And Sir Edgar?"

"None of your business, my lady.” His smile made her shiver.

"If you have harmed Eleanor, Nicholas will kill..."

Miles chuckle cut into her threat. “First, he must catch me, which will not happen. And as much as he loves his sister, I believe you rank a little higher with him than she.” He started to turn away, but halted and tossed over his shoulder, “I thought you would like to know your husband is totally powerless.” Laughing, he sauntered up the stairs.

Julie stared after him. She feared he was right. How could Nicholas gain entry? Then she remembered seeing Eldred and her heart slowed its fearful thudding. Could Eldred be the means for Nicholas to rescue her? Could she have misinterpreted what she saw when they arrived? Perhaps Nicholas had placed the man here for such a time as he needed help. She clutched this possibility to her heart, hoping beyond hope she was right.

Suddenly, she realized someone was calling her name, someone whose voice was familiar. It was Edgar. He sounded weak and full of pain.

"My lady, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir Edgar,” she whispered, glancing toward the stairs. No one was in sight. “Are you all right?"

"Aye, Lady Julianne. I'm fine.” She knew he lied. He didn't sound fine.

"And you,” he continued after a long pause, “did he hurt you?"

"No, not yet. What did they do to you?"

There was an even longer pause. “Nothing that, God willing, I cannot recover from. Have you seen the Lady Eleanor? Is all well with her?"

Poor man, she thought, having seen the love in his eyes for Nicholas's sister. “No, Sir Edgar, I didn't see her, but I heard Marcus say she was locked in her room."

"If only that is the worst he has done to her,” the dark knight murmured.

Julie thought of his handsome face, and wondered if it still was. Had they tortured him, beaten him, done unspeakable, medieval things to him?

"Nicholas will find a way to rescue us,” she told Edgar with more conviction in her voice than in her mind.

"We can but hope, my lady,” he replied and fell silent, probably exhausted from talking.

One of the torches on the wall spluttered and went out, throwing her cell into darkness. She should rest. The baby needed her strength. Sinking onto the filthy pallet, she tugged the cloak she'd been given around her body. Exhausted, she quickly drifted off into a restless sleep.

Nicholas sat in his tent, a cup of ale in his hand. Absently, he took a long drink and forced his weary brain to concentrate. There had to be a way. Harald's question earlier had started a new line of thought. Aye, Eldred was within, accepted as one of Miles’ men. But they needed to talk and the means seemed unattainable. He knew of no secret way into the keep. If Eldred did, his information was useless unless they could speak together.

A commotion outside his tent caught his attention. “What is happening?” he called to the guard, who instantly pulled aside the tent flap and stuck in his head.

"Milord, a man wishes to talk to you. He is unarmed and says you will know him. Should I allow him in here?"

With a nod, Nicholas rose, hope rising with him. Could Eldred...? A young man of average height and looks entered the tent. He bowed and Nicholas saw in the lamplight that it was indeed his spy in Miles’ keep. “Eldred!” Nicholas clasped him by the shoulders. “I was just thinking of you, wishing we had some means to communicate. How did you find a way to leave unobserved?"

The other man smiled. “I have kept my mouth shut and my ears and eyes open. Thusly, one can learn much."

"Then there is a secret way in and out?” He almost tasted victory.

"Aye, just inside the forest's edge, a tunnel comes out. It begins in the wine cellars. One night I heard the steward boasting that anyone could leave the keep without being detected. Of course, he was drunk or he never would have chanced incurring Sir Miles’ wrath with such outspoken words.” Eldred grinned. “I explored it myself when none were around. It was there."

"Good man!” Nicholas clapped him on the back. “Will you be missed tonight?"

"Nay, I am not on duty now."

Nicholas motioned him to a stool, then sat back down on his cot. “Let us speak of how we can bring about this rescue. I presume you know Miles forcibly abducted my lady once again from Barstow Castle.

"Aye, I heard and was not surprised to learn you were hard on his heels."

Nicholas shook his head. “I slept while he stole her away. If aught happens to her, I will blame myself forever."

"We will free her, milord, never fear."

"Aye, we will. Now, how do we...” The two of them put their heads together and in low voices planned Julie's rescue.

The night was at its darkest when Nicholas, Eldred and Harald reached the forest by a roundabout route. After a short search, Eldred found the bush disguising the trapdoor. He felt around in the loose soil until his fingers encountered an iron ring, then lifted the damp and rotting trapdoor. Below, total darkness.

"The tunnel is low. We will have to stoop,” Eldred warned.

"If I had to crawl on my belly for a mile, I would do it,” Nicholas rejoined fiercely.

In silence, the three men dropped down into the tunnel. The sides and floor were wet, the air musty and humid. They bent their backs and walked for a quarter of an hour. Their armor slowed them and their breath came in gasps from the strain of moving in such an unnatural position. Nicholas called a halt to rest for a few minutes before setting out again. Earlier, Eldred had moved the wine barrel which disguised the trapdoor to one side so it lifted easily. They emerged cautiously into the darkness of the keep's wine cellar. Eldred led the way up the steps, pausing at the top to listen.

"The hinges?” Nicholas murmured.

"Oiled.” Eldred nudged the door open, inch by inch. The corridor was empty, a single torch providing a small puddle of light. The three crept along the hallway, hugging the shadows next to the wall. A moment later, they found themselves in the great hall.

Drawing their cloaks around them, they picked their way among the sleeping bodies. Eldred motioned to their left. Another hallway disappeared into the gloom. At the end, a single torch burned.

"How many?” whispered Nicholas, wedging his cloak tighter between his sword and his chain mail.

"One."

This man would not be drugged as his own had been. They would have to tread lightly to keep him from raising a cry.

Eldred held up his hand and spoke softly in Nicholas's ear. “Let me go first. I know him."

"Go. We will follow.” The light from the torch burning above the guard's head allowed Nicholas and Harald to watch from a distance.

Eldred walked openly down the corridor, halting beside the man. He appeared to be asking him a question, while he pointed down the stairs. As the guard turned to look where Eldred indicated, Nicholas and Harald stole up and quickly overpowered him. A blow with the hilt of Nicholas's sword effectively ensured the man's silence.

Nicholas left Harald to tie and gag the guard with some rope they had brought. He sprinted down the stairs followed by Eldred. “Julie,” he called. “Where are you, dearling?"

Two small hands reached for him through the bars of a cell. He grasped them. “The key. Where is it, love?"

"There.” She pointed to a hook on the opposite wall.

He retrieved it and opened the door, catching her in his arms for a quick kiss. “We must be swift, Julie,” he whispered, reluctant though he was to pull his lips from hers and forgetting to call her by his wife's name. “Someone may discover us here."

"Oh, Nicholas! Thank God! I prayed you'd come."

He smiled at her. “And I prayed to find you safe. It seems prayers are answered sometimes."

Julie squeezed his arm. “First, we must let Edgar out of his cell. I fear he might be hurt."

Nicholas dropped her arm and strode down the corridor.

"I am here, my lord.” A man's hand stretched through the bars of the last cell.

Nicholas peered at him as he unlocked the door. “Bloody hell, Edgar. What have they done to you?"

"Nothing permanent.” Edgar stepped out into the corridor. The faint torchlight revealed a bruised and bloody face, but his crooked smile was encouraging.

"Can you walk?” Nicholas looked doubtful.

"I can walk. I can also fight. Just give me a sword,” Edgar announced grimly.

"Good man!” Nicholas gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Even so, Edgar winced.

They returned to the stairs to find Harald and Eldred waiting, anxious to be off.

"I saw you this morning and hoped you'd help my husband,” Julie told Eldred who grinned.

"We had best hurry.” Harald glanced nervously around. “When is this guard relieved?"

"In another hour,” Eldred said. “But you are right. We must go."

"Back through the tunnel?” Harald looked at Julie's swollen body.

Nicholas scowled. Julie could see he had not thought of this.

After a moment's hesitation, he said, “My lady cannot creep through the tunnel in her condition.” He paused as if further assessing the situation, and added, “We must pass through the front gate somehow."

Eldred shook his head. “That will be difficult, milord."

"Well, then it will be difficult, but we will find a way.” Nicholas took Julie's hand and motioned to Eldred to scout ahead while Edgar and Harald brought up the rear.

Edgar reached down and scooped up the guard's sword. “Better in my hands than his,” he growled.

They had reached the end of the corridor, when Julie gasped and bent over.

Nicholas placed his ear next to her lips. “What is it, dearling?"

"My water has broken,” she said faintly. “The baby is coming."

[Back to Table of Contents]



Chapter 25
"Are you sure?” Nicholas stared anxiously into her eyes.

"Oh, yes. One doesn't need previous experience to know,” she said, a bit ruefully.

Harald moved up beside them. “Do you wish me to carry her, my lord? If we have to fight, surely you would slay more enemies than I."

"No,” Julie said softly. “Let's go through the tunnel. I can do it.” If it would save their lives, she'd suffer in silence. The baby wouldn't come right away, anyway. There was time.

Harald looked dubious and Nicholas shook his head. “Nay, sweeting, you could not.” Eldred returned and regarded them quizzically.

"My lady is in labor,” Nicholas whispered. “She cannot use the tunnel."

Eldred nodded. “I have already disabled the guard on the keep door, Lord Nicholas. Let us be on our way.” In the flaring torchlight, his face looked as grim as Julie felt.

"Using the gate is too dangerous. Take the tunnel. I'll manage,” she insisted again, trying to bolster up her courage. Then the first contraction gripped her. “Oh,” she moaned, trying to stifle the sound with a hand over her mouth.

"No tunnel.” Nicholas caught her up in his arms and strode across the hall, stepping carefully over sleeping retainers and servants.

It was fortunate these people were used to people walking over them, Julie thought, else someone would surely have given the alarm.

Clutching his shoulders, she breathed in his ear, “Oh, Nicholas. I'm so sorry."

"It cannot be helped, sweeting. Nature will have its way."

Julie bit her lip. “Please, Nicholas. Don't endanger everyone. Use the tunnel."

"Julie, you must trust me to do the right thing. The only way you can leave is through the front gate. Therefore, that is the path we must take."

Hearing the unrelenting tone of his voice, she ceased to protest. Perhaps this was what fate—or Lily—had decreed for them.

Norville Keep had only one bailey since the holding was small in comparison to Barstow Castle. Still, it seemed to take forever to cross it. As they neared the gatehouse, she could see Eldred, who had gone ahead, speaking to the guards. He waved a hand, directing their attention outward, perhaps saying he had seen or heard something outside the keep.

Nicholas placed Julie in Harald's arms. “Guard her well,” he whispered.

"With my life."

Julie heard the earnestness in the young man's voice. Perhaps Harald would be a good choice for Gwyneth. Then another contraction struck hard and she groaned.

Gwyneth. If only she were at home with her sweet little lady-in-waiting, not being held by a man she scarcely knew in an enemy's keep. And with a baby coming, fast. Julie blinked back the tears and stifled another moan.

Harald looked anxiously down at her. “My lady, are you well?"

"No, Harald, I'm not well. This babe is two weeks early, and I'm scared to death.” The truth spilled out. “Nicholas is going to fight our way out of here, maybe get himself killed, and Miles may catch us before we reach Barstow's army. No, I have been much better."

"I am so sorry, my lady,” Harald said, “but you know I will give my life to keep you safe."

Her throat too constricted to thank him, she squeezed his shoulder.

They moved slowly toward the guardhouse, staying in the shadows as much as possible. “We must be ready to go as soon as they overpower the guards and raise the portcullis.” He halted where the shadows ended and waited.

A drop of water hit Julie on the nose, followed by several more. “And to add to everything else, it's raining,” she murmured.

"We will reach the army before you are soaked, Lady Julianne.” Harald pulled her dark cloak across the rounded hill of her stomach.

Nicholas had joined Eldred and stood beside him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

One of the guards who had climbed the gate tower to check out the dark fields surrounding the keep arrived back. “I see nothing out there, dolt."

Nicholas saw four guards, not three, altering the odds in favor of Miles’ men.

"Who are you,” one of them snarled at Nicholas. Fortunately the shadow of the wall fell across his face, effectively disguising him.

"Your executioner.” Nicholas yanked out his sword and lunged at the surprised guard.

"I am sorry, my lady.” Harald let her slide down to her feet. “Stand over there, please.” He motioned to a place against the shadowy wall. “I fear I am needed elsewhere."

'Yes, go help them.” She moved where he indicated. She wished she could do something, but her condition made it impossible. She could only watch and pray while Harald sprinted to the aid of Edgar, Nicholas and Eldred. Julie leaned against the wall her hand pressed to her stomach. Another sharp pain struck and she stifled a scream.

Through the mist of tears, she saw Nicholas battling one of the guards, while Edgar, Eldred and Harald engaged the other three. Nicholas dispatched his guard quickly and took on Harald's man, telling him to raise the portcullis and lower the drawbridge. Eldred and Edgar finished off their opponents and ran to help Harald. The metallic clank of the portcullis rising was accompanied by the squeal of the creaking drawbridge, an unholy racket. Other guards would surely come now.

She glanced upward and called out a warning to Nicholas as she spied several wall guards racing toward the stairs.

"Right,” Nicholas shouted and made a swift end of the last man. He ran to her, his sword dripping blood.

"Come, Julie. We must hurry."

"I can't.” Julie had tried to ignore the pressure and the pain. Now, in her moment of greatest need, her body deserted her. She felt her knees buckling.

With lightning speed, Nicholas swept her up and dashed for the portcullis. They passed beneath it, the other three bringing up the rear guard. The pungent smell of stagnant water rising from the moat made Julie feel worse than she already did.

"Aargh!"

Julie heard Harald's exclamation and peeked over Nicholas's shoulder. “Oh, God! Harald is down. There's an arrow sticking out of his back,” she cried.

Wasting no words, Nicholas thrust her into Eldred's arms and ran back. He picked up Harald and threw him over his shoulder.

Harald was protesting as Nicholas caught up with the others. “Leave me, milord. Save Lady Julianne and yourself.” His youthful face was contorted with pain as he gasped for breath. At least no blood poured from his mouth. Julie hoped it had not hit a lung.

Nicholas ignored him, running as fast as he could across the field. But their luck ran out. Julie looked over Nicholas's shoulder and what she beheld filled her with fear. Hard on their heels and brandishing his sword came Miles on his great destrier, Devil. As he crossed the drawbridge, Julie shrieked a warning. Nicholas set Harald down as gently as he could and whirled, drawing his sword.

As he parried Miles’ blow he shouted, “A de Montclair.” She turned her head and saw the Barstow army moving swiftly toward them.

Eldred set her down and turned back to help Nicholas, with Edgar staggering along beside him. To make matters worse, the rain began coming down in sheets, soaking Julie's hair and cloak.

Suddenly, she realized Miles had circumvented Nicholas and his men and was charging right at her. She managed to step aside, evading the madman. But she stepped on a stone and her ankle turned. Losing her balance she went face down in the mud. Her scream tore the air. She rolled and clasped her stomach, fearing the baby had been hurt in the fall.

Hands gripped her shoulders, trying to raise her.

"No, no,” she screamed, fearing it was Miles.

"Shh, Julie. It's me."

"Lily!” Julie had never been happier to see her friend than now. “The baby's coming."

"I know.” Lily sank to her knees next to Julie. “This is not the moment I would have chosen, but we must deal with it."

She wrapped Julie's cloak more tightly around her body. “It will be a little while, but soon,” she assured Julie, clasping her hands.

"Nicholas. Is he okay?” In her terror she reverted to a vernacular she'd tried to suppress during her stay in the thirteen century.

"He's still fighting.” A moment later, Lily said, “Well, will you look at this."

Julie raised her head. “What?"

"Nicholas's horse Archangel has come to help him."

"Your doing, of course."

Lily smiled but didn't answer.

Julie saw Nicholas vault onto his horse's back. The great destrier lowered his head and ran at Devil, as Miles whirled about to meet Nicholas's charge.

They came together in a crash of steel on steel, horseflesh against horseflesh. Nicholas's sword struck Miles’ with such force that the other man was unhorsed. Devil staggered and Archangel smote him a blow with his powerful shoulder, then stepped back and pawed the ground. Devil backed up a step and eyed the other horse nervously.

Nicholas leaped to the ground and waited for Miles to rise.

Julie tried to watch, but the pains were coming too fast now to ignore, and on top of that, the storm increased in strength, drenching everyone to the skin. The battlefield turned into a quagmire threatening the footing of the combatants. A slip at the wrong time could be fatal.

She dug her fingers into the muddy grass, thrashing her head from side to side as each contraction wrenched at her insides. Lily lifted Julie's head and held a cup of water to her parched lips. Heaven knows where that came from, Julie thought, but Lily was a sorceress. Then her friend slipped a stick between her teeth. Its sudden appearance was also a puzzle since no trees dotted the empty plain.

"Bite down on this when the pain comes. It will help.” Julie nodded and clenched the stick on her teeth.

After a few minutes, Lily lifted Julie's gown and checked her dilation. Then she rearranged Julie's cloak, using half for a blanket beneath her, and the other part to cover her front. “Before long,” she said.

"It can't happen soon enough.” The pain enveloped her entirely now. She battled it as Nicholas fought Miles, each for mastery of something unbearable.

She could spare no glance at Nicholas now. He had defeated Miles before and, God willing, he would again.

Lily gripped her hand. “Bear down."

Julie bore down. The pain bore down, too. She couldn't bear it. She spit out the stick. “Make it go away,” she cried to Lily.

"All in good time, dear."

"That's what you always say,” Julie moaned. “I'm going to remember...Oh, God!” she screamed as a violent contraction threatened to split her in half.

"It's time to push,” Lily said, ignoring Julie's comments.

"I am pushing."

"Harder.” Lily pulled Julie's knees apart, then lifted her shift. “You're fully dilated. It won't be long now."

"Make it now!” She screamed again.

"I can see the head.” Lily pressed Julie's hand harder. “Hold on, my dear. You're doing fine. Not much longer.” Suddenly, she let go of Julie's hand and reached down.

Julie saw stars before her eyes, as the pain escalated until it encompassed her completely in the wan light of a dismal gray dawn.

"One more push."

She gritted her teeth and pushed. For a moment, darkness enveloped her, but the blackout was fleeting and she revived to hear Lily say, “The baby is here. A boy.” But there was a tenseness in her voice Julie didn't like.

"Let me have him.” She stretched out her arms.

"No, dear. It would be better if you didn't."

Julie struggled up on her elbows and peered at Lily, who quickly turned her back. “What's wrong? Tell me!"

"The baby is not breathing.” Lily worked over the tiny body but to no avail.

"Oh, no!” Julie fell back onto the wet earth and began sobbing.

Lily produced some cloth from out of nowhere and wrapped the tiny body. “This time it is even worse,” she murmured.

"Oh, my God, I've lost Nicholas's child,” Julie moaned, thrashing her head from side to side. “Nicholas!” she gasped, horrified that she had forgotten him for a while. “Is he winning?"

"He's doing fine.” Lily wiped some of the rainwater from Julie's eyes. Another clean cloth. This woman amazed her.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of warm liquid between her legs. Anxiously, she looked at Lily. “The afterbirth?” Please, let it be only that.

"Yes.” Her friend checked, then glanced up, her mouth drawn in a thin line.

Julie clutched her hand. “Tell me that's all it is."

"I wish I could, Julie. But I'm afraid it's more than that. You're hemorrhaging."

"Like before?"

Lily nodded. “Like before."

"We aren't going to change things for the better, are we?"

"It doesn't look that way. We'll just have to wait and see."

Conflicting emotions surged through Julie's mind. Fear, despair, and a small modicum of hope. Although the baby had died, she wasn't dead yet. I will overcome this. I will overcome this. If she said it often enough would it come true? All she wanted was to be with Nicholas. Was that so much to ask? They could have another baby. Finally, she forced herself to relax and give Nature a chance.

Nicholas held his broadsword with both hands to increase the effectiveness of each blow he rained on Miles. The other man appeared to be tiring, but not enough for Nicholas to finish him off. He could hardly believe the friend of his youth, the warrior Nicholas had given his sister to, had turned into his worst enemy. This man had stolen his wife, not once, but twice. There would be no third chance, no reprieve for Miles at the end of this fight which Nicholas believed he could win. This man needed to be cut out of his life—forever.

However, he needed to wear Miles down before he himself tired. Into his mind came something he had heard on that picture box called a television. “Have I got your goat, yet?” he yelled.

"What?” Miles hesitated. Nicholas whacked him on the side of the head with the flat of his sword. Perhaps using twenty-first century language could help him defeat a man very evenly matched with himself.

"Hands up, hombre.” He whirled his sword before him and charged the other knight. The point caught Miles in the shoulder, penetrating between the links of his chain mail. A thin line of blood trickled down his mailed arm as he staggered back.

Miles recovered a bit slowly and Nicholas's weapon slid under his shield. Miles swiveled, just enough for Nicholas's sword to skid harmlessly along his side.

"Whatever spells you are conjuring do not work,” Miles shouted, sounding desperate.

Nicholas chuckled. “Throw down your gun and get your hands in the air.” Those late night westerns he had watched were coming in handy. Miles might try to discount the effect of Nicholas's strange language, but he could see a subtle change in Miles’ fighting style, momentary hesitations after each of Nicholas's comments.

"Draw, partner,” he said.

"A draw? Certainly not.” He heard Miles spluttering. While he could not see Miles’ face behind his visor, Nicholas envisioned it to be beet red with both frustration and confusion.

Nicholas laughed. “Lousy varmint.” He easily parried Miles’ wild swing.

As from a great distance, he heard encouraging shouts from his troops. He hoped they would not become careless and forget the enemy archers on the keep's wall. But he knew they were ready for him to order them into battle against Miles’ men who had thronged across the drawbridge and stood watching the fight.

Infuriated by Nicholas's taunts and insouciant manner, Miles charged, swinging his sword in a series of rapid overhand slashes. Nicholas parried the blows, giving ground bit by bit. Thinking he had the advantage, Miles pressed forward, pushing Nicholas back with each stroke.

Nicholas wished he had his shield to deflect some of the blows. His arm was growing numb from the flurry of bone-crushing blows he had to stop with his broadsword, each nearly paralyzing his right arm. He dropped back farther, trying to give his muscles a chance to recover.

Nicholas preferred offense to defense, but at the moment this was difficult. Just as he began to think that he might not win this fight, Rannulf came running to his side and tossed him a shield. Thank God! It could make the difference between winning and losing.

He deflected Miles’ next blow with his shield letting his left arm take the numbing hit. His right arm began to regain strength, the tingling numbness lessening. Again and again, he used his shield, resting his right arm. Then he danced forward in a series of ground-gaining leaps and strokes. Cheers greeted his attack.

Now it was Miles’ turn to retreat. Nicholas rained blow after blow on his opponent.

"Abduct my wife, will you?"

"Aye, and I will do it again, if I can,” snarled his brother-in-law.

"Over my dead body."

"I can arrange that."

"Nay, you cannot and will not."

Nicholas said no more. He reserved his breath for fighting, knowing he would need all his strength to deliver the coup de grace. He hoped Julie and Harald were all right, but could spare no glances and only a fleeting thought for either in his battle to the death.

And whose death? He had little doubt now. God and right were on his side. With that thought came a quiet assurance and a resolve to make every blow count. To drive back this fiend until he fell into the moat, if necessary. Then, the weight of his chain mail would pull him down, and he would drown. Nay. Nicholas wanted the personal satisfaction of driving his blade straight through the blackguard's heart. He hoped both armies would continue to hold back, and let him be the one to decide the outcome of this battle. If by defeating Miles in single combat once more he could avert bloodshed, he would be eternally grateful.

Miles stopped retreating and stood still for a moment.

"Got a mile wide yellow streak running down your back?” Nicholas taunted.

Miles swung his sword about his head. With an outraged scream lunged full tilt at Nicholas, who jumped to the side, but continued forward, leaving his sword pointed at the other man's chest. Miles ran himself onto Nicholas's sword, the force of his charge so great the tip penetrated his chain mail. He stopped and looked down, as though in amazement.

Miles flung off his helm and his eyes stared blankly at Nicholas. He staggered forward, both hands trying to pull Nicholas's weapon from his chest. “I am finished, you cur, but I will meet you again in Hell,” he whispered. Even dying, Miles spouted bravado, and threw degrading words at the man who had killed him.

"You are probably right,” Nicholas agreed, as Miles crumpled into a lifeless heap at his feet. He had done things in his life which might keep him from attaining a place in heaven. Lying with Julie was just one of many.

He flung down his sword and bent over, hands on knees, drawing in great gulps of air. With his heart still pounding, he stared at Miles’ lifeless face. Conflicting emotions rose in his heart. This was the companion of his youth, the man who had fought alongside him in his struggle to retain Barstow Castle. The man who had guarded his back while fighting the Saracens.

But the man Miles had become had threatened Edward's safety when first Julianne bore him. He had abducted Julie twice, mistreated his own wife and children, and besieged Barstow Castle. He was a man whose greed consumed any moral convictions he might have held. Though Nicholas had not wanted to slay him, Miles’ pernicious deeds demanded nothing short of death. Surely, God would not hold the death of such a base knight against him.

He rose and placing a foot on the dead man's chest, tugged his blade from the great wound it had made. The speed with which they had come together had produced a force far greater than he could have done alone. One which had rent an excellent quality of chain mail and run clear through the man and out his back.

Sir Edgar limped to his side. “Orders, my lord."

"Aye.” The whole process of settling this mess lay ahead. With Miles dead, Norville's forces would be foolish to oppose his authority. However, he had given these men a chance before. This time he would not be so forgiving.

He looked up on the wall and, in the first rays of the rising sun saw Sir Marcus standing there among the archers. “You, there."

"Sir Marcus, my lord."

"Aye, I remember you from before. Come down here.” His voice rasped from the dryness of his mouth. He swallowed and addressed the wall archers. “Lay down your weapons, men. Some decisions about all of you will be made shortly."

Finally, Sir Marcus appeared, although he obviously did not relish confronting Nicholas.

"You swore allegiance to me last time, unfaithful knight. You broke your word and men are dead because of it. This time there will be punishment."

Marcus blanched. Whirling, he lifted his arm to summon his army.

Nicholas raised his voice even more swiftly, shouting, “You, up there. Lift your bows against us and my army will annihilate you. Stand down, accept my authority and you will be more likely to receive clemency."

A cheer erupted from the wall, as well as from those who had crossed the drawbridge to stand at Miles’ back. No one even looked at the dead lord. How little he had been loved by his own men.

The garrison began to move back into the keep's bailey, followed closely by Nicholas's army, their weapons in hand just in case. Edgar, though he doubtless hurt everywhere from the rough treatment he had received, moved among the men, assigning duties and billeting.

Nicholas left his army in Edgar's capable hands and looked around anxiously. What had happened to Julie? Finally, he spotted her lying on the wet grass, Lily kneeling beside her. He started toward her, but Eldred approached him.

"Harald is badly wounded,” the spy told him.

"Will he live?” Nicholas hoped so. The boy had proved himself a brave knight today.

"A man called Rannulf is carrying him inside,” Eldred added. “Whether he will live or not, is for God to determine."

Nicholas nodded. He had not been wrong in his assessment of Rannulf. “Go help Edgar cope with these people. I'm sure he knows who can be trusted.” Eldred saluted and dashed off.

Then, several of his new mercenary knights appeared to him, asking direction for the men-at-arms. He gave them orders, anxious to set all in motion and be free to attend his wife.

The pouring rain seeped beneath his armor, soaking his gambeson. But all was not so well that he could discard it. A stray arrow from some discontented archer could dispatch him more easily than Miles had.

Then he remembered Eleanor. He told one of the new knights to have Edgar locate her and make sure she was all right. He fervently hoped Miles had not killed her in his frenzied madness.

Finally, he was free to go to Julie. Lily met him halfway.

"My lord, Lady Julianne has delivered her babe."

He hesitated, prolonging the moment of not knowing. At the same time he became aware of the rank smell of his own sweat and the green odor of the trampled wet grass. Grass on which Julie lay. If she died again, it would have been a kindness for Miles to have killed him.

Finally, he gathered his courage. “Julie? Is she living?"

"Yes, Lord Nicholas. The babe, I'm sorry to report, was stillborn."

"A son?” Was it to be the other way around this time, the son dead and the mother alive?

He had dearly wanted the boy, but if Julianne's body lived, they could have another child. Then he noticed the unhappy expression on Lily's face. Why was that? Something was wrong besides the death of the babe.

Forgetting Lily, Nicholas hurried to Julie's side.

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Chapter 26
Nicholas dropped to his knees beside Julie and took her hand.

"How fare you, dearling?” But the answer was apparent. Her thick lashes lay against her pale cheeks and she lay unnaturally still. Just so had Julianne looked after Edward's birth nearly a year ago. And that frightened the hell out of him.

"Do something, Lily,” he commanded, hoping to force her into saving Julie.

The witch shook her head. “I can do no more, Lord Nicholas. It is the bleeding as before."

Nicholas gritted his teeth. “Bloody hell!” The empty void Julie had filled for the last year crept back into his chest. He wanted to howl his rage at whoever was taking her.

He slipped one arm under her head and raised it from the muck. His lovely Julie, birthing their child in the pouring rain, her golden curls encrusted with dirt. It was not to be endured. At least, when Julianne had labored, she had had the dignity of a soft bed in a warm room.

Nicholas settled down in the mud and pulled Julie onto his lap. Laying her head on his shoulder, he held her tightly against him. Every few seconds, she shivered. If only he could give her some of his warmth, some of his blood, some of his life.

He kissed her cold cheek. “It is all right, dearling, you will be fine. I will care for you all the rest of my life. Such as this will never happen again."

She appeared to be asleep, but her breathing was shallow and irregular. His belief, that if he simply loved her enough she would live, began to crumble. Fear reared up like a mighty wave, ready to drown him in its fierce onslaught.

"Julie, open your eyes!” He gave her a gentle shake. Awake, she had a chance. If she slept, death could easily steal her from him.

Images of her laughing face, her fierce rejection of what she called her shrinking violet role in his century, her tactful handling of Lady Beatrix and all the servants, her joy in the wondrous Christmas tree, all rolled through his mind. This procession of memories would be all he would have to comfort him over the years.

He smiled sadly. He had always thought he wanted a woman he could order around, a meek soul who would see to his creature comforts, a woman who would lie placidly beneath him in bed, and bear his children. He had been wrong. He wanted this exciting twenty-first century woman more than life itself.

Lily gripped his shoulder. “It's too late, Lord Nicholas. Nothing has changed and Julianne's body is dying as before. Preventing death is almost impossible, even for a...witch. Which I am not, though you would have it so. Now, we must deal with things as they are. Put Julie down, my lord."

Reluctantly, Nicholas complied, laying Julie back on the wet grass, which had begun to steam from the warmth of the rising sun. Lily pulled back her sleeve, and glanced at something Nicholas had seen in the future, a kind of clock strapped to the wrist.

"Quarter before the hour, so we must hurry,” she murmured, more to herself than him.

"What for?” he snarled angrily. “Cannot she die fast enough for you?” It was cruel of him, but the ugly words spewed from his lips before he could call them back.

"For more reasons than you could imagine,” she snapped back, surprising him with her vehemence. Before he could remind her of her place, she added softly, “Julianne died at six in the morning. It is now but fifteen minutes till six."

Nicholas felt his anger melt, to be replaced with an intense grief, so strong he could hardly breathe.

"Is naught to be done, Lily?” He still clung to the hope she would once again pull a winning card from her bag of tricks.

Lily shook her head. “We must send Julie to the future or she will die, still encased in Julianne's body."

"Do not send me away.” Julie's weak voice drew their instant attention.

"Sweeting, did you hear what Lily said?"

"Is that true?” Julie's eyes flickered to her friend who nodded.

Nicholas leaned down and grasped her hand. “When you are safe, my love, Lily can bring you back. You can do that, cannot you?” Nicholas glanced up at Lily. To his dismay, her expression was not encouraging.

"I'm sorry, my lord. With Julianne's body dead, Julie would have no place here."

Julie began to sob. Nicholas dropped back to his knees and cradled Julie's head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Remember, dearling, I will love you always.” He smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. He felt like his heart was being torn from his body.

Julie continued to sob as if her heart were also breaking. Nicholas had never felt so powerless.

Lily glanced at her watch again. “There's no more time. You must go.” She placed the larger of the two amulets on Julie's muddy palm. “Rub it, Julie. Do it now!"

"I won't go, I won't, I won't,” Julie screamed and tried to heave the amulet into the nearest puddle.

In a movement almost too swift for Nicholas to follow, Lily grabbed Julie's raised hand and drew Julie's index finger across the stone. “Take her back to the future,” she commanded in a voice Nicholas had never heard her use before. A shiver spiraled up his spine.

As he watched in horror, Julianne's body convulsed once, then lay still. He snatched up his wife's body, cradling it against his chest. The staring eyes told him that life had fled.

"Julie, my dearest love,” he murmured over and over, trying to accept she was gone but failing. He stopped just short of snatching his dagger from his belt and plunging it into his chest. That was no answer. He had his people and lands to care for, all his responsibilities. As he mourned, Lily pressed something into his hand, something warm and quivery.

Shaken, he raised his eyes and saw he no longer stood on the muddy field before Norville Keep, his dead wife in his arms. But he knew beyond a doubt where he was—in his own bedchamber on April 15, 1250, just at dawn. And there was Lily, in her old form as the village healer, holding Edward and standing to one side, her attitude subservient. Behind her, Eleanor, Gwyneth and Alda hovered weeping. And in his hand was the smaller of the amethyst amulets.

Julianne lay on the bed, her eyes closed in death, and Julie, whom he had grown to love and need with all his being, had been whisked to the future with no hope of return. And this time, he was truly alone—forever. He bowed his head and wept.

She was no longer lying in the mud. Shaking her head, Julie tried to clear the cobwebs.

Suddenly, two large hands grabbed her shoulders. “Are you okay? You look like you'd seen a ghost."

"Wh...what?” She opened her eyes. She was standing with Nicholas in a corner of the great hall, holding the larger of the two amethyst amulets.

"You started trembling and turned so white I thought you were going to faint."

"I...I'm all right.” At least physically this was true. Her own body felt different from Julianne's. Not weakened from childbirth, in fact quite whole and healthy. Her hands were slightly different, the fingers longer and slimmer. She could feel the taut muscles she'd been missing for a year. And her breasts were fuller, her hips a little wider. This body was truly hers.

Then she looked up at the man standing next to her and gasped. This couldn't be Nicholas. These amber eyes were soft, his manner laid back, not sizzling and self-assured like the man she loved.

She peered at him. “Nick?"

"Who else?” he grinned, then dropped his gaze to what she was holding. “I say, is that amulet for me? You remembered my birthday, Julie. How smashing of you.” He took the amulet from her shaking hand and dropped it over his head.

"Yes, it's for you. Happy birthday,” she said mechanically, trying to absorb the enormity of what had just happened.

She had returned to the exact moment she had departed the twenty-first century as Lily had promised. Well, almost. Nick wasn't suggesting they both rub their amulets and wish for their heart's desires. And anyway, that was Nicholas in Nick's body. Oh, how confusing.

Glancing around, she saw people who did not exist in Nicholas's time. Members of the Medieval Society. How out of place they all looked. This was a pale imitation of the room where she had lived for the past year. The artificiality and bareness of it all struck her. It did not appear to be the home of a large group of people, just a costume ball for a bunch of pretenders. She spotted Lily across the room, standing near but just apart from a group of chattering ladies. Lily smiled sadly, but made no move to join Nick and her. A moment later, Lily turned and melted into the crowd.

A feathery tickling between her breasts distracted her from further thought. She raised her hand and touched a warm stone. The smaller amethyst amulet now lay against her lavender velvet gown. Furtively, she rubbed it. Nothing happened. Not that she'd really expected instant transportation to the time she'd just left, but just in case...Nick interrupted her thoughts.

"Terrific gift, Julie. It looks good with my tunic. Thanks, dear.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

No bells or whistles. Definitely Nick, not Nicholas.

"I'm glad you like it.” She wondered when she could get away from this castle and its hurtful memories. She could hardly wait to return to her own cottage. With the door locked and the covers pulled up around her neck, she could lick her wounds. Then she would emerge like one of Hemingway's characters, stronger in the broken places.

And do what? Well, for starters, she knew a lot about the thirteenth century now, more than any other living person. The book she'd planned to write would include some unknown details about everyday life in the Middle Ages...and each word she penned would bring a painful memory of Nicholas and the year they'd spent together.

After dinner a lute and a recorder began to play some thin, reedy music.

"Come on, Julie. Let's dance.” Nick captured her hand and led her to the center of the great hall. The trestle tables had been removed and the benches now lined the walls. Other couples joined them. Too heartsick to resist, she let Nick guide her through the intricate steps of a medieval dance.

As her feet moved with the music and her head started to pound, cold reality hit her—she had lost Nicholas forever! She wanted to burst into tears.

The music finally stopped and they returned to their seats on the dais. “Nick,” she murmured, feeling incapable of sustained conversation. “I'm exhausted. I need to go home."

"That's my fault, Julie. I've worked you too hard. Is your car here? Let me see if George is through in the kitchen. He can run you to the village, and I'll come pick you up tomorrow. I'd take you myself, but I have to play the host.” He grimaced, but it was pretension. He truly loved all the pomp associated with hosting the Medieval Society's May Day Feast.

"Thank you,” Julie murmured.

She hoped George came soon. She needed to go home, be alone to mourn the loss of Nicholas and their baby. She couldn't stay here pretending to enjoy herself when her heart ached so badly. Tomorrow she'd go to Lily and sell her soul if necessary to go back to her true love. Tomorrow everything would be all right.

Eleanor's voice brought Nicholas out of his fog of grief.

"Come, dear brother.” She laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “Julianne has earned her rest. You need to..."

"Aye,” he interrupted, too filled with hurt and anger to give a chivalrous response. “I know what you will say.” The amulet had disappeared from his hand. He looked at Julianne's neck, but it was not there. He checked his pouch. Not there either. Filled with rage, he rose. Bloody hell! Lily must have it. The stone had just been used and as usual had immediately sought out its true owner—Lily.

He collected himself and faced his sister. “You know what to do, my dear. Prepare Julianne for burial."

After a year of bloody battles, he had learned just how much Miles coveted his holdings. And the danger he posed to both himself and his heir.

"And Eleanor, I want my son guarded day and night. Your husband is a danger to him."

He narrowed his eyes at Lily. Now was not the time to discuss matters, but later they would have a long talk. He could see she got his message. Hopefully, she had thought of some way to right matters.

As before, he stalked out of the chamber and descended the stairs to the great hall. Could Lily somehow have returned the amulet to his pouch since last he looked? He checked, but the jewel was still not there. Not that he was surprised. By now, he expected nothing less than the unexpected from Lily and her magical necklaces.

He sank down in his chair, a grim expression on his face. Everyone in the keep either disappeared or moved away. Maude brought bread, cheese and ale, but for once omitted her seductive ploys.

He pushed the food away and laid his head on his folded arms. The table was hard, but he was too tired to care. He would close his eyes for just a minute or two, just...a...min...

Julie stripped off her ball costume and slipped into a warm flannel gown and robe. It might be the beginning of May, but the night air was still chilly.

She walked to the window and pulled open the curtains. The moon was just setting in the West. Could Nicholas see the same moon? Absently, her hand strayed to her stomach. Her heart ached to have her baby back in the safety of her womb. No, Julianne's womb. And not so safe after all.

Tears formed in her eyes and slowly ran unchecked down her cheeks. It was almost more than she could bear.

Nicholas awoke and dragged himself up to his chamber. The room had been cleaned and fresh sheets placed on the bed. A single candle burned on the table.

He walked across the stone floor and stood at the window. The moon was setting and he watched it sink below the black outline of the western forest.

Julie. Was it the same day and time in the future? Could she see the same full moon he did? Was she asleep or awake mourning the babe's loss?

Exhausted, he turned away from the window, climbed into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

Julie peered through the glass door of Lily's shop. A light was on in the back so she must be there, even though it was before sunrise. Julie rapped on the door.

A moment later, Lily opened it. “Come in,” she said with a faint smile. “I've been expecting you."

"I'm sure you have.” Julie had trouble sounding civil when anger bubbled in her like lava in a volcano. “And I want some real answers, not the vague nothings you usually tell me, such as ‘all in good time.’”

"My, aren't we feisty today,” Lily murmured, moving through the shop and into the work room. “Tea?” A cosied teapot sat on the counter along with two mugs.

"You knew exactly when I was coming? Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

Lily nodded, as she poured tea into the mugs.

Julie laid her hand on the older woman's arm. “Please, no more evasions. Let's sit down and discuss what's happened."

Lily settled on one of the work stools and Julie took the other one. “I realize recent events have left you shaken, but you need to have a little faith in me."

Julie sighed. “How can I with the way things have gone? My life's in tatters, my love lives hundreds of years in the past and my future's bleak.” Pain from the fist squeezing her heart made breathing difficult.

Lily leaned over and took her hand. “I am so sorry, dear."

"I can't go back. Julianne is dead and there's no body for me to inhabit. Nicholas is gone forever.” Julie's courage finally deserted her and she burst into tears.

Lily slid off her stool and put an arm around Julie's shoulders. “Don't cry, dear."

Julie located a tissue in her pocket and wiped her eyes.

Lily patted her back. “Julie, please believe me when I say your best interests are also mine."

"I'm trying, Lily, but oh, I miss him so much. I'd do anything to be with him."

"Anything is a big promise, Julie. Are you sure about that?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Lily changed the subject. “You have not asked about Nicholas, how he is faring without you. Do you want to know?"

"Of course, I do,” Julie cried. “Tell me!"

"He is very lonely and misses you greatly."

"Can you bring him here? He could use Nick's body and...” She paused. That had been selfish of her. Would she deny Nick a life so she could be with her love? And then there were Nicholas's people. They needed his strong arm to defend them, his quick mind to solve their problems. No, he could not come to her. That was not the answer. She nearly wept again in frustration.

"Already, you know why that is impossible."

Julie sighed and hung her head. “I do."

When Lily spoke again, the subject had again changed. “Have you ever thought why you and Nick don't connect, Julie?"

Surprised, she glanced up. “Not really."

"Could it be you wanted someone to look up to, not someone who looked up to you?"

Julie thought it over, then nodded. “I think you're right. Nicholas and Nick are similar on the outside, but worlds apart within."

"That was what you needed to learn. And I gave you a year to face adversity together, to grow close, to discover what each of you wanted out of life, to decide what you each would give up in order to be with the other."

Julie's mouth fell open. “I thought the reason I went back was to help Nicholas guard his son."

"That was Nicholas's reason, not mine. His need was convenient for me. Tell me. How did you feel about Nicholas's deception?"

"I was angry. I demanded he send me home."

"And if I had allowed him to do so?"

Tears welled up again in Julie's eyes. “I would have lost my chance to find true love. What good was finding it, since I've lost it anyway,” she added with a sniff.

"Perhaps.” Lily was back to being cryptic. She was silent for a minute. “If you had stayed with Nicholas, what of your life here in the twenty-first century? Your book? Your work for Nick?"

"I'd be replaced at the university. The book I wanted to write was a substitute for a real life and Nick could hire an accountant to do my job."

"So you would choose to be with Nicholas over your life here?"

Julie jumped off the stool and grabbed Lily's hands. “I would give up what little I had here a thousand times over to be with him."

Lily smiled. “Think carefully, Julie. This time would be forever. There could be no returning to this life."

"I would never regret choosing Nicholas over a life without him,” Julie vowed.

Thunder rumbled outside the shop. Lightning flashed through the room and the smell of ozone grew overpowering. Julie dropped Lily's hands and stepped back open-mouthed as Lily's form began to change. In a moment, a tall, beautiful woman wearing a shimmering golden gown stood before her. She appeared young, but Julie knew better. This was not the old healer in Barstow Village, nor a twenty-first century designer of exquisite jewelry, but a priestess as old as time and even more powerful than the greatest of wizards. Bewildered, Julie dropped to her knees.

A shiver of fear trickled down her spine, but she forced herself to say, “Oh, Lily, I suspected you were some kind of a sorceress, but never one so grand."

Lily gave a dismissive wave of her hand and sat down on a stool. “Appearances are sometimes deceiving.” She reached over and placed her hand on Julie's arm. “I asked the Earth Mother for permission to send you back to Nicholas's time in your own body, and she agreed. Just remember to think carefully before deciding."

"I don't have to think about it. My family is dead, so there's nothing at all here for me. Everything I want is in Nicholas's time, even if I should die young as people did then, a week, a month, a year with him is better than sixty years here alone. Answer this one question. Will Nicholas want me as Julie? Before, his whole purpose in taking me back was to fill in for his wife. Maybe he would prefer to marry someone else.” Julie swallowed a sob.

"Should I ask him?"

"Yes, but I'll simply die if he says no."

Nicholas stared at the parchment sheets where he had been tallying the castle's remaining foodstuffs. He was relieved it was spring. Soon, fresh grains would fill the bins and make the cooks, as well as the castle folk, happy. It had been seven days since he buried Julianne. His son was doing well, guarded day and night. Eleanor and his nephews would have to be spirited out of Norville Keep, and Miles would still have to be dealt with even though he'd already defeated him twice. But that had been in another reality.

"May I come in, my lord?"

He glanced up. Lily stood in the doorway. Although he knew she had been helping with Edward's care, he had not seen her since the burial.

"Aye, come in and shut the door."

She closed the heavy, metal-banded oak door and came to stand across from him.

"How fares my son?"

"He does well, my lord, but he needs a mother."

"What?” Nicholas leaped to his feet. He glared at Lily. Every time this witch arrived, something bad happened, and he had no reason to believe today would be any different. “You do not wish me to espouse myself to someone else, do you?” he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Please, my lord, calm yourself. I was referring to Julie."

"You speak in riddles,” he muttered, circling the table.

"However,” she continued as though he had not spoken, “Julie is far in the future."

"I am well aware of that, woman,” he snapped, irritated by her composure.

She paused, then said, “I have some news you might like to hear."

His heart began to hammer. Julie? Did the witch know how she fared? He stared at her almost afraid to ask for fear her words would not be what he wanted to hear.

Finally, he prodded, “Which is...?"

"Julie is well, but..."

Nicholas dropped to his knees in front of Lily and clasped her hands in his. That he was humbling himself before what appeared to be a serf, no longer bothered him. He had begun to realize her true station soared far above his. “But what?"

"Do you miss her?"

"Every moment of every day. If only..."

Lily interrupted. “Did you truly love her?"

"I still do, with every measure of my being.” Why was she twisting a knife in the wound of Julie's loss?

"And what of Julianne?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you love them both equally?

His first wife's essence had been missing for so long he scarce remembered much except her sweetness and bidability. “Did I love her? Aye, but with a chivalrous love. I mourned her death, but in Julie I found a deeper, more mature love. I miss everything about her."

"She is also lonely."

A sliver of hope crept into his heart. “So you will bring her back to me?"

"There is no body for her to occupy."

The hope crashed to the bottom of his chest to be replaced by the familiar ache. “Then, what can I do?"

She smiled, more broadly this time. “Would you go forward, Nicholas?"

Eyes cast down, he shook his head regretfully. “I wish I could, great Druid priestess, but my life is not my own. My purpose here is to care for my people and raise my son and heir to someday do the same.” But sorrow nearly overwhelmed him.

Suddenly, the smell of the air after a summer storm filled Nicholas's nostrils. A gust of wind sent the papers on his table flying even though the window was closed.

Startled, he looked up and nearly fainted. For a moment, black spots danced before his eyes. The woman staring down at him was tall, dressed in golden garments and lovely beyond description. He would have thought her young, but he knew better. She obviously wished him to see that she was not the old crone of the miserable hut in Barstow Village, or even Julie's friend in the future, but a priestess as old as time and even more powerful than a God-appointed monarch. He did not rise, but remained on his knees, humbled before her splendor.

Although his mouth had gone dry, he finally managed to mumble, “Please, wise woman, forgive my unkind words in the past. They were spoken in ignorance."

"Perhaps you should keep in mind, Nicholas, that appearances can be deceiving."

"I promise to do so in the future, my lady,” he said respectfully, thankful she had not cast a thunderbolt in his direction.

"Now, Nicholas, how much do you wish Julie to return?"

"With all my heart."

"You desire her for her wisdom or for her beauty?

"For both."

"You will gain no wealth or political connections from her hand in marriage."

"I have enough wealth and connections now.” He smiled sadly.

"Ah, my son, you have acquired wisdom this last year.” Lily's radiance grew until he could hardly bear to look upon her countenance. “You have exceeded my expectations."

Nicholas felt the wild joy of true happiness building in his chest. “Then you will send Julie to me soon?"

"She may not choose to leave her life, her home, her time."

"I will say many prayers for your success,” he vowed, bowing his head. When he raised his eyes, the priestess had vanished.

Shaken, Nicholas decided prayers were best said in the chapel. Though he had renounced God after Julianne's death, with the dawn of hope came the rebirth of his faith. Could God have been answering his prayers of a year ago through Lily? It seemed a distinct possibility now. He was ashamed at having failed the test of his faith. He had been a fair weather Christian. It was time to make his peace with God.

Grimly, he strode across the upper bailey, passing beneath the archway to the lower bailey. Ahead on his left, the chapel seemed to beckon him. Lily might be a powerful sorceress, but Nicholas's God was more powerful yet. It was to Him he should bend his knee in supplication.

He entered the little church and had to blink until his eyes became accustomed to the cool dimness. As he walked down the center aisle, he noticed he was not alone. A woman knelt near the front, her head bowed in prayer.

He paused before the altar, crossed himself and knelt. His murmured prayer was the same each time: “Oh, God, forgive my fall from grace, and please grant that Julie chooses to live with me, in my time. I promise to love, cherish and take care of her for the rest of my life."

He was on about the twentieth repetition of his oath, when something alerted him to a movement behind him. Mayhap the woman had finished her prayers and was leaving.

A soft footfall to his left said she had not left. Surely, she would not interrupt his prayers. A hand touched his shoulder, and the woman sank to her knees beside him.

A soft voice whispered in his ear, “Nicholas, it is me."

Turning, he looked into Julie's violet eyes. Her hand sought his.

"Dearling?” Please, God, let her be here to stay.

"Of course, my love."

With a half-hearted apology to God for interrupting his prayers, Nicholas turned and gathered her into his arms.

"You gave up the wonderful future for me?” He could hardly believe it.

"Nothing is wonderful without you.” Julie's lips found his.

Nicholas returned the kiss, then pulled back. “You will not regret this?"

"Never. I'm where I belong.” Julie found his lips again and Nicholas's arms wrapped her in the warm cocoon of his love.

The amethyst amulets lay winking on the floor where Julie had dropped them. Then gradually their outlines blurred until they vanished, returning to the dark pool in the ancient forest where they belonged.

Their work was done.

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A word from the author...
I can't remember a time when I couldn't read, and I've been writing nearly as long. For years, I just did it for fun. Then I got serious. But I had to fit writing in with teaching high school English and selling real estate. I used to write during the summers off from school but I'd just gotten started when it was time to go back to students’ papers.

Eventually, I stopped working, for pay that is, and concentrated on getting my first book finished. The Selkie and the Siren was my fourth novel. I have written three others since then, all medieval romances.

I'm originally from upstate New York, but find Florida's winters more to my liking. I live with my husband and mother just outside Orlando—no animals, just a pool.

Our son and daughter are grown and gone, though our son lives nearby and we see a lot of him. My daughter is the author of a long string of Regency novels, so you see I take after her. :)

Visit Cillian at www.cillianburns.com
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