The Very Thought of You Page 9

  And a gent never shows his bare, ahem,

  For to do so would cause serious mayhem.

  Though his covering be sparse,

  he must cover his arse,

  Or offend those fair maids 'round about him.

  Alex laughed. He couldn't help himself. This wasn't exactly Beowulf. Maybe this explained why Margaret had been so anxious for Baldric to get it over with the first time.

  Then he shut up abruptly at the glare he received from the artiste. Alex gulped.

  "It's really good," he said quickly. "Best I've ever heard."

  "Harumph," the Bard said, lifting his nose regally. He made no further comment, but plunged in again, his voice ringing out enthusiastically into the hall.

  So our gent from Kent took up his steel,

  his great waistcoat rent for to heal.

  His thumb soon was sore

  and he cried out, ' 'No more!

  'Tis sewn enough, I must have me a meal!''

  Though pleased he'd been ever so crafty,

  Small stitch'ry had left him quite dafty—

  "Hey," some brave soul blurted out, "that ain't a proper word!"

  Baldric's fingers flexed and Alex wondered if that meant he was ready to do bodily harm to a certain mouthy onlooker.

  "Well, it ain't!" the poor sap said, turning to look at the rest of the household.

  "Of course it is," Margaret said firmly. "It's a new word, made up especially for us."

  The man shook his head. "I don't think—"

  A gloved hand was clamped over his mouth. Alex watched in astonishment as two knights lifted the man by his shoulders and feet and carried him out of the hall. Margaret looked at the rest of her household.

  "A new word," she repeated.

  They all nodded vigorously, then everyone turned back expectantly. Baldric took a moment to compose himself, then started up his last verse again.

  Though pleased he'd been ever so crafty,

  Small stitch'ry had left him quite dafty.

  The rent though reduced had left some threads still loosed,

  and the result was forever quite drafty!

  There was dead silence. Alex looked around, but everyone seemed to be waiting—for what he had no idea. Feeling as though someone ought to do something, he started to clap.

  "Sshh!" Margaret hissed, whirling on him. "He's not finished!"

  "He sounds finished to me. Hey, Baldric, are you finished?" he called.

  Baldric looked down his nose at Alex. "Of course I'm finished!"

  "That's what I thought," Alex said, clapping pointedly.

  The rest of Margaret's household clapped as well, though probably less enthusiastically than Baldric might have wished. Alex watched as Margaret helped the old man down from his stool, led him to the high table, and called for sweets from the kitchen. For a moment Alex entertained the idea that something sugary might have been hiding in an uninvestigated nook, then he caught sight of a plate full of sweetmeats and abruptly lost his appetite. There wasn't much that could do that to him, but steamed brains was definitely high on the short list. He turned away before his wimpy twentieth-century stomach betrayed him.

  Margaret was coming toward him, fastening her cloak at her throat. "Now that's seen to, we can be away."

  "Baldric has an interesting sense of meter," Alex noted.

  Margaret rolled her eyes. "It worsens with every poem he composes. But at least today he found the last rhyme. 'Tis usually that which eludes him." She looked vastly relieved. "I must admit I wasn't up to helping him search for it this morn."

  "The subject matter was riveting. Does he usually go in for ogres?''

  "That is one of his less offensive choices. Generally he gives his opinion on Brackwald and the smell of its inhabitants, or upon my finding a husband."

  Alex smiled. "You must love that."

  "As I said, ogres are always among the less offensive subjects. Now," she said briskly, "I've horses waiting for us in the courtyard. I'll introduce you to Sir Henry, then we'll be off."

  Alex bit his tongue. There was no way he could talk to Edward about wooing her if she were sitting right there. He would definitely lose appendages. He'd just break the news to her as he was leaving and deal with the inevitable eruption then.

  Sir George was standing with another young knight.

  "I don't believe we've met," Alex said, looking the kid over.

  "Henry of Blythe," the young man said, with a small bow.

  "Great. You know where this place is we're to meet Edward?"

  "Aye, my lord, I do."

  "You'll come with me, then." Alex looked at Margaret. "I'll need something for a bribe in case I run into one of Ralf's loyalists. Silence can be bought, I assume?"

  "I'll bring coin along," she said.

  Alex smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. ''Thank you for trusting me. Now, trust me some more and stay home."

  She blinked. "I cannot."

  "Yes, you can." He held out his hand. "Bribery?"

  The volcano began to smolder. "I said I will bring it along. Besides, you have not yet told me what it is you plan. You may discuss it with me as we ride."

  Alex smiled at George and Sir Henry. "Excuse us." He took Margaret's hand and tugged. He was faintly surprised to find that she allowed it. He stopped at the back of the hall, took one look at her frown, and decided more privacy was called for. She might have trusted him, but she obviously had no intentions of staying behind. Her free hand was on her sword hilt. Alex smiled. Did she realize it?

  "You are laughing at me again," she said stiffly.

  He shook his head. "Not the way you think. You're very cute."

  "Cute?"

  "Cute," he confirmed. "Charming. Intoxicating."

  She stared at him, uncomprehending. Alex wanted to check his forehead. Was he feverish? Since when did a woman go from cute to intoxicating in such short order?

  But that's what she was. He pulled her toward the stairs. He had to get out, quickly, before he became so intoxicated he did something stupid. He didn't want to speculate on what that might be, but he had the feeling it would include Margaret's lips under his repeatedly.

  He pulled her up the stairs behind him, then kept her hand in his down the hallway to his room. He brought her inside and shut the door.

  "You can't come," he said, turning to look at her. Her hand moved again to her sword. "I mean it."

  "I will come," she stated. "And I mean it, too."

  "It's going to be very boring. Edward and I are just going to discuss his slimeball brother."

  "I won't be left behind," she insisted. "'Tis my fate you speak of."

  She had a point. Alex had known she would want to come, and he'd prepared himself with all sorts of excuses why she couldn't. He was reminded sharply of all the times his sister Elizabeth had wanted to tag along after her brothers. He'd had a whole list of tried-and-true "this is why you can't" lines he'd used on her for years. Somehow, he had the feeling they weren't going to fly with the woman in front of him. Not that they'd flown much better with Elizabeth. Alex shook his head. He was doomed to be surrounded by strong-minded, stubborn women.

  But what a way to go.

  He put his hands on Margaret's shoulders. She moved away. He closed the distance with one large step and put his hands again on her mail-covered shoulders.

  "Don't," he said, anticipating her next try at moving back from him. She stood still and frowned up at him. Her mail was cold under his fingers, even through the cloth. He had the most insane desire to pull it off her. A long shoulder rub would do her good.

  "Margaret," he said, hauling himself back to reality, "I'm going to be gone less than a day. Edward needs to hear what Ralf's done from someone who isn't involved. Someone on the outside who has nothing to gain by reporting it." He smiled down at her. "See what I mean?"

  She frowned at him. "And if you forget all the things I told you yestereve?"

  "I won't forget."

  "Ho
w do you know?"

  "I never forget important details. I'll tell Edward everything you told me. Trust me."

  She sighed. "I suppose this is the best way."

  "It is."

  "I am not happy about it."

  He smoothed a few wisps of hair back from her face. "I didn't think you would be."

  "I don't like being left behind."

  He smiled, pained. "I know, Margaret. And I'm sorry."

  She fumbled in the bag at her belt and pulled forth several coins. "This should serve you well enough. Ralf's men are greedy."

  Alex took the coins she held out, feeling the chill of her hands as he did so. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth to blow on it. That was all he meant to do. Honestly. How his lips found their way to her palm in kissing formation, he couldn't have said. He looked at Margaret to find she was staring at him with her mouth open.

  "What do you?" she breathed.

  "Warm up to this," he said, slipping his hand under her hair to the back of her neck.

  It was a bad idea. He knew it. Kissing her was one of the stupidest things he'd ever planned to do. It would confuse the issue. He was there to trot out his chivalry skills for a brief moment, do good, then hightail it back home and convince Fiona MacAllister that he was good husband material. The very last thing he needed to be doing was kissing a woman he was certain had never been kissed in her entire life.

  Don't do it, Smith, an inner voice warned.

  He tilted her face up with his thumb under her jaw. She was staring at him in complete confusion, mingled with trust and what could have been mistaken for the beginnings of a crush.

  Alex understood completely.

  He pressed his lips against hers.

  He groaned in spite of himself. He kissed her again, just as lightly, just as innocently. It was an effort, especially since what he wanted to be doing was plundering her mouth with all the ruthlessness of a seasoned pirate. And once she was overcome enough to forget she was wearing a sword and knew how to use it, he wanted to strip everything off her, including her blades, carry her to the bed, and lose himself in her.

  Intoxicating? The woman was more than intoxicating— she was life-threatening!

  He tore his mouth away. "Wow," he gasped.

  "Aye," she agreed, looking as stunned as he felt.

  He kissed her again, a hard, brief kiss. "I'll be back. Stay here. Okay?"

  "Okay," she repeated. She reached up and touched her mouth. "No one has ever dared the like," she whispered.

  "Yeah, well, no one else had better dare the like or they'll be answering to me," he said with a growl. "Ggrrrr," he repeated, just on principle. The surge of proprietariness that rushed through him almost brought him to his knees.

  Damn. As if he could do anything about it!

  "I've got to go." He kissed her again and strode from the room, hoping she wouldn't follow.

  He thumped down the steps, collected Henry from the hearth, and practically sprinted for the door.

  "I'll be back," he threw over his shoulder at George.

  "Godspeed, lad," George called.

  Alex nodded and slammed the hall door shut behind him. The horses were ready, and it took hardly any time at all to be out of the gates. Alex didn't dare look behind him. Either he would see Margaret changing her mind and coming down the hall steps, or he would see her standing at the door, looking as overcome as he felt. He couldn't bear the thought of either.

  What a mess!

  Alex spent the rest of the afternoon pacing in the small clearing Henry had chosen for the meeting site. He thought moving would help him forget the feel of Margaret's lips under his.

  Somehow, it only made it worse.

  By the time the sun went down, Alex was beginning to wonder if something had happened to Edward. Had Ralf somehow gotten wind of the plans? Had he been a complete fool to trust Edward?

  By the middle of the night he was ready to pack it in and go home. He had just risen to put out the fire when Edward walked into the clearing.

  "Forgive me," he said, breathing hard. He cast himself down by the fire. "Saints, I thought Ralf would never slip into his cups! I half feared I wouldn't reach you until the sun was up."

  Alex smiled grimly. "Your brother is not a convenient man."

  "There's truth in that," Edward agreed. He smiled at Alex. "You're looking well. I was certain Margaret would have tucked you away safely in the compost heap by now."

  "Long story," Alex said, trying to smile but feeling it had come out very strained. He looked at the small man who was standing at the edge of the clearing. "Your scribe?''

  "Aye. Charming, isn't he?"

  The man bore a strong resemblance to a ferret. Alex frowned.

  "He can be trusted?"

  "He's one of my own men."

  "If you say so. Since he's here, why don't we get started?"

  Henry kept watch while Alex sat across the fire from Edward and outlined in detail everything he knew personally about Ralf's harassment. He looked at the scribe's notes, just to be sure. Alex had been accused in the past of being too suspicious, but the instinct hadn't failed him yet. Satisfied that the man was recording the details correctly, as satisfied as he could be while trying to read script that was practically illegible, he then turned to the facts surrounding what Ralf had done to Margaret according to her and George. Edward only shook his head, his expression of disgust deepening with the telling of each incident.

  "And the last was the burning of one of her west fields, just shortly before I came," Alex finished.

  The scribe looked up. ' 'And what of her kidnapping of you, sir knight? Does that not say something about her character?''

  Edward shot the man a cold look. "I think your task is done here, Haslett. The keep is only a few hours' ride. If you set out now, you'll be there in good time to break your fast. I can see myself home."

  The scribe didn't need to hear that twice. He prepared to depart, reluctantly leaving Edward with his notes. Alex watched him go.

  "You're certain about him?"

  "He's that way with everyone. What he doesn't know is that I can read as well as he can." Edward smiled. "I just keep him around because I'm lazy."

  Alex leaned back against a felled log and smiled. "I'll take your word for it. How much longer are you going to be at Brackwald?"

  "Longer than I'd like. I need coin to travel back to France, and Ralf is loth to part with any of his."

  Alex tossed him Margaret's contribution. "Will that help?"

  Edward smiled grimly. "It all helps, but I'll need more than this. I thank you for it just the same. Unfortunately, I'll need to prostrate myself a time or two more before Ralf's feet and vow eternal loyalty. He'll part with his gold in his own time."

  "I'm sorry it can't be sooner."

  "So am I."

  "It will have to be soon, though, if Richard is to be told about what Ralf's up to." Alex looked at Edward. "I was thinking he probably wouldn't be too eager to marry Margaret off to Ralf when he finds out what kind of damage Ralf's been doing to her land."

  ''There is truth in that, my friend. Her land is very productive." He looked at Alex closely. "You seemed to have survived your stay well enough. No bruises from her having tossed you about."

  Alex smiled. "No bruises."

  Edward waited. "What? No more tale than that?" He laughed. ' 'Come, Alex, and regale me with stories of your stay in the lioness' den."

  Well, this was the opening he'd been waiting for. Now was the time to bait the hook and drop it into the stream.

  So, why did he find himself all of a sudden very reluctant to say anything?

  "She's not at all what you'd expect," Alex said unwillingly. "Not at all."

  Edward looked at him expectantly.

  "She's beautiful," Alex snarled. "All right? She's beautiful and intelligent and desirable and a man would be a fool not to want her."

  Edward's look of polite curiosity turned into something else entirely. />
  "Indeed," he said, sounding much too interested. "Tell me more."

  Alex knew he had to do it. Hell, it was probably exactly what he had to do to get back home. He had no choice but to paint Margaret in the most appealing light possible, endow her with every virtue in existence, make her so irresistible that Edward would be frothing at the mouth to have her.

  Damn it, anyway.

  ''Where should I start?'' Alex growled. All right, so he would do it. But he would make Edward beg for every scrap of information.

  "Start at her head and work your way down," Edward said, with a grin. "And travel slowly, my friend. Wouldn't want to miss any important landmarks."

  Alex had the overwhelming urge to smash his fist into Edward's face.

  "You'll have to uncover those landmarks yourself," Alex said curtly.

  "Is she indeed beautiful?"

  "Very."

  "Not angry looking?"

  "Oh, she can be angry looking," Alex said, "but that's just her fire. It's a fire that would warm the right man," he said pointedly, "long into his old age."

  Edward lifted one eyebrow. "I'm not opposed to getting scorched now and then. Now, what lies underneath that mail?"

  "I wouldn't know."

  "Hmmm," Edward said, stroking his chin. "Even better, my friend. Perhaps I will be the one to tell you, once I've managed to remove it."

  Alex took a deep breath. This was getting out of hand. Margaret wasn't his. She needed a man from her own time, someone who could help her hold her land, help her plant, help her do all those medieval things Alex was sure a summa cum laude in jurisprudence couldn't possibly figure out.

  "You'll have to be careful," Alex said, trying to keep all emotion out of his voice. "She's used to being at the head of the garrison, you might say. If you can respect that, you'll make a good impression."

  "I have a healthy respect for her skills with the lance," Edward said, still grinning stupidly.

  "She doesn't seem to know much about the birds and the bees."