One Magic Moment (18 page)
“You,” he said distinctly, “are a very beautiful woman.”
“And you,” she said, just as distinctly, “are going to be without the use of your testicles if you don’t take your hands off me immediately.”
He grinned. “I like my women feisty.”
“And I like my men chivalrous,” she said shortly, “and you don’t qualify.”
“Give me a chance,” he said, bending his head toward hers.
Tess tried to knee him in the groin, but he was, unfortunately, as practiced in the art of groping unwilling women as he was stupid.
Briefly.
She found him picked off her like a repugnant tick and held in the middle of the passageway by a fist grasping the back of his tunic.
“I say,” a voice said with the utmost politeness, “I believe the lady said she wasn’t interested.”
Her would-be attacker squirmed and swore until he got a good look at who was holding him. Then he stopped, probably because the expression on John de Piaget’s face was not nearly as friendly as his words had been. Tess felt a little faint, and she was the one being rescued.
“Just a friendly little embrace,” the blond reenactment member squeaked.
“Well then, friend,” John said coolly, “let me help you understand something that I’m sure will be of great benefit to you in your future
embraces.
When the lady in question threatens to geld you, it means she isn’t interested. At that point, a gentleman apologizes, withdraws, and looks inward to discover what it is about himself that women find so repugnant. You, I believe, have many hours of such reflection to look forward to.”
embraces.
When the lady in question threatens to geld you, it means she isn’t interested. At that point, a gentleman apologizes, withdraws, and looks inward to discover what it is about himself that women find so repugnant. You, I believe, have many hours of such reflection to look forward to.”
“Now, wait a minute—”
John released him and merely folded his arms over his chest, obviously content to wait for his opponent to make the first move.
Blondie blustered a bit, apparently thought twice, then quickly slunk off back to the great hall. Tess let out a shuddering breath.
“Thank you.”
John turned a frown on her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “A little rumpled, but otherwise unharmed.” She took a deep breath and looked at him. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
He pursed his lips. “Wednesday was too far away.”
“And yet you don’t sound particularly happy to see me.”
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It isn’t that. I’m simply wrestling with my desire to go beat the bloody hell out of that lad for manhandling you.”
“I would suggest a refreshing glass of punch, but I think it’s the problem.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I would say your friend had already sampled more of it than was polite, but I don’t think he’d been drinking.”
“Too much time in tights.”
“I didn’t want to say as much, but you might have it aright.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then dropped his arm quickly, as if he’d just realized what he was doing and regretted it. “Perhaps we should go police the punch bowl. Unless you’d rather dance.”
“Can you dance?”
“It comes along as part of the lute playing.” He nodded toward the hall. “Let’s see if it will serve as a decent distraction for the both of us and save your would-be suitor my fist in his gut.”
She didn’t protest when he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, just as she’d seen Montgomery do a dozen times with her sister.
A devastating realization, actually.
She tried to concentrate on other things. She stole a look at John from out of the corner of her eye, grateful somehow that he wasn’t wearing a sword or she might have mistaken him for someone else of a medieval vintage. She would have closed her eyes in self-defense, but she might have missed the view and that would have been a darned shame.
He was probably six foot three, maybe a bit taller, and somehow that height added to those broad shoulders added to long legs added to protectiveness he just couldn’t seem to get past all combined to make her feet absolutely delicate when she was anywhere near him. She didn’t consider herself particularly fragile, but she had to admit that there was something rather lovely about standing next to a man who made her feel that way.
“Oh, Miss Alexander!”
Tess sighed and turned to look at one of the catering staff who was running after her. “Yes, Karen?”
“You’re needed,” the girl said, looking at John with undisguised admiration. “Briefly.”
John put his hand over hers. “I’ll go guard the punch bowl.”
She nodded and forced herself not to watch him walk away. She followed Karen back to the kitchen, solved a problem that didn’t need her approval, then walked back up the way to the hall, hoping she wouldn’t emerge to find it in a shambles.
Fortunately, it was simply full of dancers. She didn’t see John immediately, which sent a little thrill of unease through her. She realized, however, that he was still there as she walked out into the middle of her hall, then turned to look at one of the hearths.
He was waiting for her, visible now and again when the sea of dancers parted.
She could hardly catch her breath. She’d watched her sister Pippa find herself facing Montgomery in exactly the same way, in the midst of a party of medieval reenactment aficionados—and watched the look on her sister’s face.
The thought of it about did her in.
“Tess? Shall we dance?”
She took a deep breath, nodded, then put her hand in his and walked with him into the fray. She would have asked him, after a few minutes, what he thought of not only the music but the steps, but she was too distracted by the calluses on his right hand. Maybe they came from working on cars. Maybe they came from working with a sword.
She thought about that while she did her best to remember where to put her feet. She also thought about the fact that even though John was wearing the simplest garb there, he was the one who looked like a lord’s son.
For some reason, that thought caught her heart and wrenched it, hard.
She lasted through three dances, three very formal, non-touchy, medieval dances before she looked over and saw Peaches watching her from a spot near the punch bowl. She looked away only to have her eyes full of John who looked so much like Montgomery that it left her with the unwholesome feeling that the future was again colliding with the past—and not just the past of two months ago when Montgomery and Pippa had danced in her hall, but the
past
past where Pippa and Montgomery had no doubt spent innumerable evenings dancing with each other just as she was dancing with John.
past
past where Pippa and Montgomery had no doubt spent innumerable evenings dancing with each other just as she was dancing with John.
She shivered. The whole evening had become full of things she didn’t want to think about. If she hadn’t taken the castle, Pippa wouldn’t have come to England, then Pippa wouldn’t have fallen into the moat and into Montgomery de Piaget’s arms, Pippa wouldn’t be trapped in the Middle Ages, and she herself wouldn’t be looking at her medieval extended relation who was loitering in the wrong century, but she was finding that she increasingly didn’t want him to be anywhere else.
“I need a breath of air,” she said, gulping down unwholesome amounts of the same. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
He only frowned.
She shot Peaches a look she knew Peaches understood completely, then walked through the kitchens and out into the stables. She flicked on the lights, then paused in front of an empty box. She wasn’t one to weep, but she was fast coming to the realization that she might not manage to avoid it.
She felt John come to a stop next to her. She wanted to offer a litany of excuses as to why she was so close to losing it, but she supposed that wasn’t necessary. She took another gulp of damp, chilly December air, then gestured to the empty stall.
“Lord Roland kept horses,” she managed. “I imagine all the lords of Sedgwick kept horses.” She looked at him. “Do you like horses?”
“Love them,” he said, then he bit his tongue. He was silent for a moment or two, then sighed. “I had one in my youth. I don’t have room for any now, of course.”
“I do, but I wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she said. “They’re awfully big. And they bite.”
He leaned against the stall and looked at her gravely. “Only if they’re mistreated. Or you get your fingers in their mouths.”
She nodded and attempted a smile. Unfortunately, and to her horror, she found that her eyes were filling with tears. She would have tried to brush them away as they fell, but she didn’t want to draw attention to them. She looked at him and took a deep breath. “I don’t cry very often.”
“I was late in my rescue.”
She shook her head and managed a small laugh. “It wasn’t that, and it wasn’t you—it
isn’t
you.” Well, it was him, but it wasn’t as if she could tell him that. She looked up at the ceiling until she had control over herself. “I’m fine.”
isn’t
you.” Well, it was him, but it wasn’t as if she could tell him that. She looked up at the ceiling until she had control over herself. “I’m fine.”
“So I see,” he said. “What’s bothering you, then, if it isn’t my tardy rescue?”
“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets yet have none of yours in return?” she asked with an attempt at levity.
His expression was grave. “I don’t have any secrets.”
She would beg to differ later, when she wasn’t still reeling from dancing with him inside. She also wasn’t about to tell him anything he wanted to know. It was one thing to talk to Peaches, who had so generously put off her own descent into grief so Tess could go first; it was another to describe her broken heart to the man who was so unwittingly mixed up in it all.
She wondered how his parents and siblings had managed to lose him to a different time, never knowing if he were alive or dead, never having even so much as a clue as to his happiness or lack thereof.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, ignoring the way her eyes were still leaking. It was the remnants of hay in the barn, she was sure of that. Obviously she was allergic to horses and hadn’t realized it over the years.
He reached up and moved a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Does Peaches know what ails you?”
She nodded. “She lived it with me.”
“Lived what, Tess?” he asked, his expression even more serious than before. “What befell you?”
It was such a formal, old-fashioned way to put it, she almost smiled.
Or she would have, if she hadn’t been so close to breaking down. She didn’t know him, was sure she shouldn’t get close to him, knew her heart wouldn’t survive whatever path they walked together, but she couldn’t seem to keep herself from blurting out the truth.
“I lost my younger sister.”
He flinched. It was the last thing she saw him do before he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“Is she dead?” he asked quietly.
That was the exact thing she just couldn’t bring herself to think about. She wasn’t even sure how to answer it. She knew that eight centuries in the past Pippa was still alive, but only if they were living in a sort of parallel universe, which she wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t the case. But if she was to look at things on a time line, then yes, Pippa was most certainly . . .
She let out a shuddering breath and nodded.
“Ach, you poor gel,” he said, rubbing his hand over her back. “I’m so sorry.”
She clutched the back of his tunic, which seemed altogether too nice for a cheesy reproduction thing, and forced herself to get hold of herself. She wasn’t a weeper, as a rule, preferring to look at things in a logical, rational manner and deal with them just as logically, but it had been a rather trying autumn. And she had held it together—poorly—when she likely should have wept with Peaches and gotten it out of her system. Which she would do, when she’d gotten over stifling her current batch of bitter tears.
That Montgomery de Piaget better have made her sister unbelievably happy, or she was going to go back in time, march up to his castle’s front gates, and punch him in the nose.
John held her for several very long minutes in silence without a single complaint as she fought to keep herself from completely losing it. Maybe it would have been better if she had bawled her eyes out. Unfortunately, all she could do was stand there and shake.
“You know,” he said finally, continuing to stoke her back, “you might weep fully, if you cared to.”
She shook her head and pulled away—with a great deal of regret, but she didn’t think she should accustom herself to being in his arms. It was hard to tell when he would want to run the other way again. Better that she at least put a little distance between them while she still could.
“I’m okay,” she gulped. “Really.”
He frowned. “There are times when it is understandable to shed a tear or two. I wouldn’t think less of you.”
She shook her head and put on a happy smile. Well, she attempted to put on a happy smile. She imagined it looked more like a grimace, but John was apparently too polite to say anything.
“Don’t need to,” she said firmly. “This sort of thing happens all the time and people get over it. Which I will do. And speaking of things I should do, I should probably go work on my face.”
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