Return of the Rose Page 4

  While he secured his horse, she took in a long deep breath of pine-scented air. They had walked far enough away from the lingering effects of the fire. She plunked down on the grass next to the lake’s edge. Birds chirped and squirrels rustled through the trees. If not for the man’s ancient breeches and soft boots with turned down cuffs, she would have thought she was back in her own time.

  From the traveling pack, the man withdrew a chunk of crusty bread. Then he untied a leather bag from the saddle and took a drink from it. After giving the animal a pat on the rump, he advanced her way. He handed her a chunk of bread before sitting beside her. The inside of the bread was chewy and had a buttery aroma. Her stomach grumbled.

  She took a gulp of the drink he offered and almost gagged as the thick, tangy wine slid down her throat. She was thirsty, though, and it wasn’t long before she acquired a taste for the stuff. For the next twenty minutes, between swigs of wine and nibbles of bread, she stole peeks at the medieval man out of the corner of her eye. Flecks of amber glinted beneath lashes that seemed too long for a man. She took note of the hard outline of his jaw and his thick, dark hair and the way it curled at his neck where a thin scar began, ending inches lower near his collar bone. Apparently he was a man of few words. She wondered what he was thinking and was glad when he spoke and she didn’t have to ask.

  “What kind of witch are you that can breathe life into the dead?”

  She laughed, a nervous, slightly tipsy laughter, stopping only after realizing he wasn’t laughing with her. She tried to look serious and that made the corners of his mouth tilt upward the slightest bit.

  “Anybody can do it,” she said, before taking another mouthful of wine. “Even you.” She poked his stone hard chest in a friendly gesture and just that small touch caused a fluttery tingle in the pit of her stomach.

  As he leaned back on the grass, using his elbows to keep himself propped upward, he watched her closely, intensely. For some ridiculous reason she reveled in the attention he gave her as he kept his gaze focused on her. “Want me to teach you?” she asked playfully.

  His brow arched.

  “Lie down and pretend you’re dead,” she told him.

  “The sun will be setting soon,” he told her. “Perhaps another time would be just as well.”

  “Oh, come on. Are you afraid of little ol’ me?” She gently pushed at his chest with both hands until his back lay firmly on the grass. She hovered over him. Gazing into those gorgeous eyes, she knew suddenly what it was like to feel complete and utter lust. She laughed at the thought.

  “I am amusing?”

  “Oh…hush. You’re supposed to be dead, remember?”

  He groaned but obeyed nonetheless. His dark eyes bore into hers, daring her to finish what she’d started. The sun’s last rays reflected off of his face, taking her breath away. Suddenly, as she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing. Those eyes, that mouth. Once again, if only for a fleeting moment, she thought she recognized him. Had they met before? No. Ridiculous. The notion had to be the result of too much wine. She shook her head and then smiled devilishly as she recalled what she was about to do.

  She was going to kiss this fine warrior and wake him from the dead. Slowly, she brought her mouth to his until she felt the firm fullness of his lips pressed against her mouth. He tasted of herbs and fruity wine. She was supposed to help him breathe, she reminded herself. But instead of giving him breath, he took hers away, deepening their kiss, hungry with passion until she was consumed by the thrilling realness of his fiery kiss. Every part of her tingled and shivered with pleasure, hoping this time the kiss would not end too soon, but he gently pulled away and said softly, “It seems I am needed once again.”

  Leaves crunched behind her.

  She turned about, gasping at the sight of two men hovering over them. One man wore chain mail and a helmet adorned with a bright red plume. The other wore brown tights and a tunic and no headgear at all. Both men wore sheepish grins as they made their apologies.

  With hands splayed against his chest, she pushed herself upward, making him grunt from the full weight of her. “Why didn’t you tell me they were here?”

  “Verily you had me pinned to the ground. How was I to know?”

  “I didn’t pin you to the ground.”

  He came to his feet, casually brushing grass from his breeches before he went to his horse. “Call it what you will,” he said over his shoulder. “Though it was obvious to all,” he added, reminding her that they had witnesses, “that you were in full command.”

  As he mounted his horse he called out, “Julian! See that the maid returns to Braddock safely.” He rode to where she stood and gazed upon her, his expression filled with longing. “I must go. But I fair say I shall be quick to return for another of your lessons.”

  At her obvious embarrassment, a grin tugged at his lips. Chuckling, he used his legs against his horse to accelerate to a gallop, leaving her frustrated and standing alone once again. Whether her frustration stemmed from his cocky attitude or because she hadn’t wished the kiss to end, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she care to know.

  CHAPTER 3

  Three days later, Hugo and Matti watched Lord Vanguard stride through Braddock’s keep with barely a nod and only a disturbing scowl to greet them.

  “Does he think his people are blind to the fury sprouting within him?” Matti asked her husband. “Ever since the king informed Lord Vanguard that he was to marry, he has been more irritable than usual. For days his betrothed has been at Braddock, and yet he has made it clear he has no intention of ever meeting her.”

  Hugo opened his mouth to speak, and then promptly closed it when Matti continued.

  “What is Lord Vanguard planning to do? Wait until the wedding day comes upon us, speak his vows, and be done with it? Without benefit of introductions? Not if I have any say in the matter.”

  Hugo sighed. “My dear Matti. ‘Tis not sound for you to question his lordship when he is in such foul temper.”

  “Oh, but he has gone too far this time, I fear.” Matti paced the floor. “Ignoring Lady Amanda since her arrival…his manners are downright boorish. I am going to see that an introduction is made this very day.”

  Hugo’s shoulders sagged.

  Determined strides brought Matti to Lord Vanguard’s study. She tapped her knuckles firmly on the sturdy oak door. Without waiting for a reply, she entered his den.

  Derek sat in his high-back chair hunched over his paper-cluttered desk. He didn’t bother to glance up even after Matti cleared her throat for the second time.

  “Good to see you have returned in good health,” Matti said. “You will be joining us for the morning meal?”

  “Nay.”

  “My lord, you cannot hide in here forever. Your betrothed has been quite patient in waiting to meet you. Your avoiding her will only make matters more difficult.”

  “Me avoiding her? If I recall correctly it was Lady Amanda who ran away from my men in hopes of finding her lover.”

  “So you have heard.”

  “Bloody right. If not for Hugo and Emmon tracking her down, we would not be having this discussion. It seems Lady Amanda has no more desire than I to go through with this marriage. Verily I am surprised she is still here.”

  “But she is here and you cannot put off meeting her any longer.”

  “How can you be certain she has not run off again? Have you checked her bedchamber recently?”

  Matti sighed. “Once you meet Lady Amanda you will see what a charming young woman she is. She has made quite an impression on Braddock’s people while you’ve been gone.”

  He wished to hear no more of Lady Amanda. When Hugo had first told him of Lady Amanda’s escape, Derek had thought his problems were solved. No bride, no marriage. A wife would only bring him pain.

  I will not be hurt again.

  All the prayers in the world had failed to bring his mother back. And nothing he did to please his father had
helped him gain his father’s love. His heart was now impenetrable. He preferred it that way.

  Matti’s shoulders sagged. “It is not as bad as it appears, my lord. According to her maid, Lady Amanda was injured in a fall and does not remember what happened the day she was found in the woods.”

  A deep, theatrical guffaw echoed off the dense walls. “And I suppose Lady Amanda has a stream of castle folk thinking she’s as pure as unsullied water from a new rain. Hog’s turd…all of it.” He shook his head and looked back to his papers.

  “My lord, I am only asking that you meet your betrothed. If not for me, or for the king, do it for your people. A quick introduction is all I ask.”

  “I am against marriage, Matti. A wife would bring me naught but strife.”

  Matti remained silent.

  Derek leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. “Do not distress yourself for I have every intention of going through with this bloody wedding…providing she is still around. But I must warn you,” he added carefully, “cease in your endeavor to convince me of her endless endowments, or I may change my mind and bow out altogether.”

  After a moment, he glanced up to see Matti still standing there…waiting. Derek sighed. The woman had raised him, after all; he supposed it would not pain him overly much to give into her request…just this once. “Send her to me, but make it quick. I have much business to oversee before nightfall.”

  Noticing dark shadows beneath Matti’s eyes, his voice softened. “Someday, Matti, you will see that I am right. If I know women, and I can well assure you I do, she has other intentions altogether. Perhaps she has not run off because she and her lover hope to get their clutches on Braddock itself. Marriage to the lord of Braddock would be the swiftest way to accomplish that.”

  Matti stiffened. “Do not speak of such things. King Henry would never have forced a woman such as that upon you.”

  “The matter will be out of our hands soon enough,” he said with a ponderous sigh. “Nothing good can come of this union, Matti. Nothing at all.”

  ~~~~

  Morgan raked her fingers through her tangled hair since there was not a hairbrush in sight. She then brushed her teeth using water and a rag. It had taken her over an hour to figure out all the laces and doohickeys on the medieval dress Odelia had left out for her. The long-sleeved chemise, as Odelia referred to it, trailed to the ground. The outer kirtle was velvet and about the same length. She tied a belt of cloth at the waistline, bringing the garment high enough from the ground so that she wouldn’t trip.

  She was ready to head downstairs when the door flew open. Odelia rushed in. “He has returned-and he wants-to see you,” she said between ragged breaths.

  “Who?”

  “His lordship. And we have little time.” Odelia paused suddenly, her brows drawing together as she scrutinized Morgan’s dress. “Was it that new lass, Maren, who helped you dress, my lady?” Odelia’s eyes twinkled with sudden amusement.

  Morgan failed to see the humor. Maybe people back home would laugh at her outfit but Odelia actually lived in this century. She wore this stuff every day. “I dressed myself, thank you very much.”

  Odelia smiled. “I am sorry, my lady, but you have put your kirtle on backwards. ‘Twould seem your garb is going in one direction whilst her ladyship is going in another.”

  Hastily, as if she’d just that second remembered why she’d come, Odelia began unlacing Morgan’s gown. “We must hurry. I’ve been told that Lord Vanguard does not like to be kept waiting.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t like to be disobeyed; he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. The man sounds a little controlling and uptight.”

  Odelia sighed. “It will do no good for you to be showing your true colors so soon. If you behave, I am certain Lord Vanguard will take a liking to you.”

  “Take a liking to me? I could care less if the ugly beast likes me or not. In fact,” Morgan said, a sly smile curving her lips, “it would be to my advantage if he wanted nothing to do with me.” She swished Odelia away. Using both hands, she mussed her hair in defiance. “There,” she said, “show me the way. We wouldn’t want his lord and master to be kept waiting.”

  Odelia made tsking noises as she followed her out the door, doing her best to retie a few laces as they moved along. “Naught but sympathy I have for this Lord of Braddock Hall, whom I have yet to meet.”

  “Did you say something?” Morgan asked.

  “Nay, my lady.”

  Moments later, Odelia and Morgan stood outside the very same room Morgan had entered on her first day at Braddock. The room with the wonderful books, journals, and…and that man. “Are you sure this is Lord Vanguard’s study?”

  “Aye, my lady. I am certain.” Odelia knocked on the door.

  An impatient voice snapped, “Come in.”

  Odelia wished Morgan luck before she hurried off.

  A chill raced up Morgan’s spine. Within the time it had taken her to get to his lordship’s den, she’d gone from feeling like a determined, gutsy woman to a cowardly, spineless one. Her stomach turned and her hands trembled as she pushed the door open.

  Inside, the heavy curtains were pulled shut. Except for the meager light produced by a fire in the hearth, the room was dark. Flames flickered here and there, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Her eyes took a few minutes to adjust.

  Then she spotted him.

  Her fiancé sat at his desk near the fire. Thankfully his back was to her because suddenly the idea of seeing his hideously repulsive face made her cringe.

  Without bothering to turn about, he raised a hand and idly waved her forward. How rude, she thought, that he couldn’t bother to acknowledge his betrothed with a nod or a simple “hello.”

  He was bent over his desk, seemingly absorbed in a pile of disorderly papers. She wondered if he’d thanked his accountant for his help the other day. The high-backed chair he sat in made it impossible for her to see the extent of his disfigurement. He was definitely large because his shoulders stuck out on either side of the wide chair.

  As she took a seat on a simple wood bench nearby, burning logs crackled in the fireplace. “I see you are busy, sir—my lord…” She winced, having no clue as to the proper way to address him. “So I will try to make this quick.”

  She wrung her hands in her lap as she searched for the right words. To hell with it. She would tell him the truth and be done with it. “I’m not the woman you think I am,” she blurted. “My name is not Amanda Forrester. It’s Morgan Hayes and I’m from another time. The year 2011 to be exact. A century you might view as technological chaos with its fast-moving cars and planes, buses, and trains. I grew up there…in the future. But last week, the strangest thing happened. I was in my mother’s antique store when suddenly I was suddenly swept through time…to this century. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. When I first arrived I thought it was a dream.”

  A bit of nervous laughter escaped her before she went on, “A nightmare really. But now I know, as impossible as it sounds, it really happened. Somehow I was transported back in time and I have no idea why or how. The worst part is that I don’t know what to do about it. Obviously I have no relatives to go to. I tried closing my eyes and tapping my heels while chanting, ‘there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,’ but that didn’t work.”

  Silence. Her smile faded as she tried to explain herself. “You see there was this movie where a girl named Dorothy ends up in a strange place called Oz, and she—oh, never mind, it’s kind of hard to explain. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know this must be hard for you to believe when I hardly believe it myself. But the simple truth is that I am not who you think I am. And I thought you should know.”

  A strong urge to see what he looked like swept over her and she stood and took a step closer. Her heart suddenly went out to this “elephant man” who hid himself during the day. And what of night? Did he come out of hiding then? She practiced making a straight face since sh
e did not want to give away the pity she might feel when she finally saw his deformities up close.

  “This must be quite a shock to you,” she said, only inches between them now. “Once this Amanda woman comes to her senses, I’m sure she’ll come to Braddock to seek you out. It’s obvious you take good care of your people and your castle. Just because you look the way you do…” Grimacing, she added, “I mean…it’s the inside that counts.”

  ~~~~

  Derek stiffened. He did not need to turn around to see that the woman babbling on was the same woman who had shared his wine and kissed him as if there was no tomorrow. The same woman, he thought resentfully, whom he had envisioned in his mind much too often these past days.

  Her strange dialect could not be mistaken for anyone but her. The wench could definitely babble on and if she continued for too much longer he would run away himself.

  “I do have one favor to ask of you,” she said, making him further ponder his unusually bad luck. King Henry, it seemed, had bound him with a madwoman for certain.

  “It’s about Odelia, Amanda’s maid,” she went on. “She’s innocent in all of this. She hardly knew Amanda before she was asked to accompany the lady to your castle. And I don’t think Odelia can see very well either…it looks to me as if she has cataracts. Maybe there’s a doctor around here who could take a look at her eyes. Anyhow, Odelia honestly thinks I’m Lady Amanda, so if you wouldn’t mind letting her stay on until her boss or master, the Earl of Forrester, can be informed, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  A maddening tick set within Derek’s jaw as he lifted himself to his feet and turned around.

  Morgan gawked in disbelief. “You can’t be—”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because Lord Vanguard is so ugly he kills men, women, and children with his looks alone.”

  Derek found her surprise to be amusing, not to mention her hair, which stood out in all directions like a bird’s nest after a storm. That, coupled with the fact that her outer garment was in reverse, made him chuckle.