Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) (27 page)

Her next project dealt with castles. The channel planned a series on various ones all over England, Scotland and Wales. They wanted the Norman fortresses that suffered the bloodiest battles, to those reputed to be haunted. They'd finish with castles renown for their design or beauty. The research required lots of field work to numerous locations. She relished the opportunity to see each, to be surrounded by their history, their individual stories. For her, nothing replaced the tactile experience of being there rather than reading about them.

She hadn’t ventured inside the Ashenwyck’s grounds since moving into Badger Manor. She’d ridden around the exterior, of course. Whenever she did, mixed emotions she couldn’t explain tugged at her. Part of her was desperate to walk the grounds, touch the ruins that remained, feel the stones under her feet, close her eyes and let her imagination take her to another time. Part of her wanted desperately to run away. In the past, the latter won and she rode away.

But not today.

A rush of sensations filled her as she crossed the ditch and rode toward the old curtain wall. She reined Zulu in and stopped at the edge. Melancholy washed over her only to be overwhelmed by an undefined desire, for...what? Where had the powerful feeling come from?

Mystified, Miranda shook her head and pushed the odd sensation from her mind. She nudged Zulu past the wall into the outer bailey. A gnarled oak grew off to the side of an outbuilding's crumbled foundation. The stable. She knew it with unshakeable certainty but couldn't say why. She dismounted and tied Zulu to the tree, then walked over to the old corner stones wondering where the strong impression about their purpose came from.

Drawn towards the remains of the parapets, she climbed up the damaged stairs. She picked her way through the broken stones over to the wall. Resting her elbows on one of the crenellations, she began to relax and took in the panoramic view.

What a fortress this must have been. For five centuries, untold numbers of garrison soldiers kept watch here. She tried to create a mental picture what life was like for those who lived within the castle grounds. What did they see when they looked out? What did they talk about night after night? What did they dream? What did they hope? All her life, she'd been fascinated with the medieval world, sensitive to her affinity for the people and events.

Did the people like their liege lord? Were there many handsome knights, skilled in the joust and the bedroom? Were any dashing epitomes of chivalry in their armor riding on destriers? Or were they yellow-toothed, tubs of lard who abused the female servants? Both, she figured.

She lingered there awhile, absorbing the spirit of the place. Finally, she decided to move on and explore the rest of the ruin. She brushed crenel grit from her sleeves as she went down the steps, mentally forming a description of the castle.

In what was once the bailey, her immediate thoughts were to walk around and get a feel for the place. Then, for some unknown reason she found herself in front of the Keep instead, captivated. Faint laughter and voices came from the great hall, or so she imagined. Miranda closed her eyes and cocked her head. She strained to hear more, but the sounds were gone. The wind playing tricks on her ears, no doubt.

"The hall was originally two stories high with arched Gothic beams and massive windows."

Ian
!

She whirled around to confront him, taken aback by how near he stood. How very lord of the manor he looked, in his fawn colored riding breeches, tall black boots and dark blue hunt coat. He’d drawn his hair back into a ponytail. The breeze caught the tendrils where they came loose. She gave him the once over, his proud stance, so aristocratic, so confident and concluded the otherwise good attributes were wasted on the biggest jackass that walked the earth.

Resolute, Miranda squared her shoulders and folded her arms across her chest. Hostility or indifference, she did a fast analysis on which of the two options she’d use to make her point. She went with the handiest, hostility.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "How did you know where to find me? Where did you get the clothes and horse?" Miranda gave him another cursory and disgusted perusal, and then waved a dismissive hand in his general direction. "Don't bother to answer, I really don't care. Just leave, you're not wanted here.” With a light slap to her forehead, she added, “How silly, why limit ourselves? I think it's safe to say you're not wanted on the entire continent. Go back to America. It's a much bigger place. Gobs and gobs of people, I’m certain a good percentage are smarmy arses like yourself. You should blend in with relative ease there."

Ian presented himself as neither contrite, nor smug, but committed. He advanced a step.

She retreated a step and he stopped.

"Hugh told me where you live. I stayed in the village last night planning to straighten things out today. Since you won’t take my calls, you left me no choice but to track you down. The delivery boy said you were saddling your horse when he came by. I followed you to the castle on a hunch. The horse and clothes belong to a friend who owns Avalon Farm down the road. The boots are mine. I've had them in my car for awhile." He gave her a small smile and took a deep breath. "I believe that's the sequence of your questions."

"What a convenient place the world is for you, Mr. Cherlein." Maybe if she was unpleasant enough he'd get the message and leave. "Thanks for the information. I'll pass it on to someone who cares."

“Let me explain, please.”

She wouldn’t be dazzled a second time. He wouldn’t humiliate her again.

"There's nothing to explain. Don't bother yourself anymore with the matter. If you'll excuse me, I need get on with my business, so please go. Good day."

Ian didn’t move.

“Perhaps you misunderstand, byeee, adios, au revoir, arrivederci baby.” Four wiggling fingers accompanied the last. Ian slid his hands into his pockets and just watched her.

Miranda didn't budge. She refused to be the first to give ground. She dismissed him. He should go. “Go!”

"I can't do that. I can't leave. I have to talk to you and you have to listen." Ian moved closer, until they were less than arm’s length apart.

The tactic took her choice away. She had to leave. To stay meant the risk of capitulation. She hated herself for being so drawn to him. Compelled to look one last time, she turned to him, angry with her own weakness.

Something was wrong. It wasn't Ian she saw in the courtyard, not the Ian who had spoken with her a moment ago. She gasped. No, she thought. This isn't real.

Ian wore a knight’s armor and sword. She shook her head in disbelief. I'm hallucinating, Miranda told herself without conviction. A shiver went down her spine when the phantom remained. With trepidation, she reached out and expected the apparition to disappear.

Her arm dropped and she backed away as the vision came to life. Moonlight shined down into the courtyard and reflected off his armor. He was speaking to a woman. Their mutual caresses indicated a shared intimacy. Then, they kissed. The face of the woman stayed hidden yet there was a familiarity about her. Mesmerized, Miranda watched Ian and the woman. She knew this moment in some vague way. Déjà vu? They loved each other, she could sense it, touch it, the feeling palpable.

“Ian?”

She blinked. Ian the knight and the woman were gone. Waves of desolation and loss flooded Miranda. With a plaintive moan, she buried her face in her hands.

In the space of a heartbeat, Ian wrapped his arms around her. His lips grazed her cheek and temple, and he held her until the distress passed. Calmer, she stared up at him. A myriad of emotions, love, heartache, loneliness, and joy all rippled through her. More feelings she didn’t understand.

Rattled and confused, now she had the added embarrassment of looking like a crazy person. A problem made worse by the fear she just might truly be crazy. Why the eerie visions? And, why only with Ian?

Miranda let go of her tight hold on Ian and moved, giving herself space. "I apologize. I don't know what came over me.” She spun and tripped, then walked on. “Goodbye."

She heard him following. Miranda quickened her pace to where Zulu stood and hurried to free the reins from the branch. Ian caught up. She quickly mounted, forcing Ian to leap out of the way as she spurred Zulu into a gallop before getting fully seated.

Miranda sank into the saddle and touched her spurs to Zulu’s barrel once more. The light cue was all he needed. Like most thoroughbreds, he loved the faster gait. With each stride, his heavy rear haunches reached further under himself. Rear hooves landed in the imprint the front ones left. Under different circumstances Miranda might've relished the thrill of the gallop too.

Fairly confident she'd outmaneuvered Ian, Miranda relaxed. The respite was short lived as the sound of hoof beats rapidly approaching from behind reached her.

"Unbloody believable," she ground out through gritted teeth. She pulled up hard at the pasture gate and slid out of the saddle, tugging Zulu inside. A loose stirrup banged into her arm and would leave a nasty bruise. She didn't care.

Ian approached the far end of the pasture. Miranda rushed to bolt the gate, confident Ian wouldn’t attempt to jump her fence. Satisfied, she started for the barn with Zulu when a thud sounded. She knew the sound of a heavy horse landing a jump. Ian, the persistent, bloody, devil had leapt her fence.

Miranda kept walking. “You might think twice about dismounting. As soon as my horse is stabled, I'm calling the police."

Ian dismounted and tied his horse to a rail at the side of the barn. He tucked his riding gloves into the waistband of his breeches and followed her inside the barn. He stayed quiet with his shoulder propped against the exterior door while she untacked Zulu and led him to his stall.

She didn't spare Ian a second look as she walked to the house aware he trailed her. She grabbed the kitchen phone and made a great show of calling the police. She hit the on button and held the receiver up so he heard the dial tone and then pressed it to her ear.

"You're acting childish." Ian snatched the cordless from her hand and replaced it in the stand. "There's a very reasonable explanation for what happened last night, and you're going to listen." He clamped his hand around her elbow so she couldn't leave.

Miranda twisted away, but Ian blocked her escape. No matter which way she picked she’d have to circle around him. "It appears I have no choice." She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned on the sink counter with her hands pressed hard against the tile. If she appeared hard and unreceptive...good. Perverse as it was, a glimmer of hope deep inside her still flickered but damned if she’d let him see how he affected her.

"Mind if I sit?" Ian made himself comfortable. He glanced at the remains of her morning coffee. "You could offer me a cup of coffee." He ignored her dramatic sigh and waited.

Miranda made no attempt to do what he asked. A staring contest resulted. She finally caved. At times obstinacy is rewarded. Ian didn't gloat. He wasn't a fool. His eyes followed her every move as she got a mug from the cabinet. She banged the cupboard door and kept her back to him while microwaving the coffee.

"You're an excellent rider. I'm impressed."

"Thank you.” She appeared to relax for a split second, then stiffened again. “Not that I care if you’re impressed or not."

The momentary softening in her demeanor encouraged him.

“Did you grow up with horses?"

"No, as a matter of fact I had a morbid fear of them most of my life." Miranda popped the microwave open on the first beep. “I decided I wasn't going to let fear get the better of me. So, five years ago I started taking lessons."

His exact words to Elinor, hearing them repeated, Ian flashed back to the day her horse bolted. She’d been so ashamed because she was scared and screamed out. She needed reassurance. He told her she just had to learn not to let her fear get the better of her. His gaze shifted to Miranda. This could’ve been a perfect opportunity to talk about their history if her mood wasn’t so hostile. He had so much he wanted to say and so much he wanted to ask, like how she came to live at Badger Manor.