Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance) (31 page)

Samantha glanced up, having seen the exchange. “Hmm. A friend of yours?”

Ian’s lips curved at the hint of jealousy in her voice. “A nuisance, rather. One I hope to avoid.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Ian’s smile widened at the sour note. They followed Alexander and his entourage to the jousting field, where the king took a seat on the dais among the gentry, both English and Scottish. He and Samantha stood beside the stand. Alexander, well aware of his presence, made him wait for an invitation, playing his games as ever.

Samantha tilted her head. “The king seems so young. Sort of bratty too,” she whispered the last.

“Shh.” He glanced around. “Everyone knows ’tis true, but no one speaks truth too loudly in the presence of a king.”

“Ian, or rather,
Laird
MacGregor,” the king finally called him over, reminding him again from whence his good fortune sprang. “You will like this. The next combatants are English knights. One fights before his monarch to clear his good name and to reclaim his lands.” He nodded his head in a gesture toward King Henry. “The other, to prove once and for all that he is innocent of the accusations of slander levied against him. Based on their visages alone, ’tis easy enough to see who the villain is in truth.”

Ian, uninterested in the gossip, dutifully turned his attention to the field. A fair knight with golden hair threw a kiss toward his opponent, then placed a helmet upon his head, while a large, dark knight shot the slighter man radiated pure rage. He saw why Alexander was so interested. ’Twas as if an angel and demon took to the field at the same time. He found himself unwillingly intrigued.

Within minutes the men lined up, the signal was given, and mounts and men charged one another. Out of nowhere, a girl appeared in the arena directly in the path of the dark knight. The stunningly beautiful brunette wore a king’s ransom around her neck, and was about to be very dead.

Shocked gasps from the crowd turned to shouts of fear as the girl stood in very grave danger of being trampled. Ian tensed, aware nothing could be done.

At the last second, the dark knight dropped his pole, and in an astounding move, reined in his destrier, pulling the war horse onto hind legs, holding it in place as the girl backed away, tripping, falling, pulling herself erect, the slashing hooves barely missing her face.

Ian drew in a breath, amazement and respect for the man’s skill startling him.

“Oh, ho!” King Alexander, mouth agape, was visibly impressed. “Where did she come from? A fine trick, indeed.”

His voice seemed to release the spell the crowd was under. A loud cheer rose from the stands, and King Alexander, a huge grin on his face, turned to look at everyone, his gaze landing on Ian. “Did you see? Did you see the girl appear? Did you see his strength in controlling his mount?”

“King Henry!”
The dark knight, his voice loud, deep, and angry, commanded his King’s attention. “I demand a rematch!”

King Henry stood.
“Demand?”

Ian, having been in King Henry’s court on more than one occasion, knew that tone of voice. King Henry, no doubt already in a foul mood from losing a bet with King Alexander, would be in no temperament to hear that tone directed at himself.

“Aye,” the man’s voice vibrated with anger. “The girl,” he pointed at the female wilting against the wooden barrier, “planted directly in my path, was no doubt sent by my opponent. I demand that the coward is forced to fight me true.”

“You desire the girl to fight you?” King Henry voiced in a drawl.

Laughter exploded, the crowd well entertained by the King’s response.

The big man started forward, “I demand that you—”

“Stop.” When King Henry’s jaw clenched, Ian almost felt sorry for the knight.
Almost
. There was no excuse for idiocy. “I deny your request. And if you suspect the girl so fully, take her with you to question at your leisure, but do so away from me.
Guards!”
King Henry waved his hand. “Escort this man off the field. The lady, as well.”

“This is not over.” For a moment. Ian thought the knight would attack the guards, and mayhap even King Henry himself. Did the man have a death wish? Once King Henry had spoken, he would not back down. But the knight, seeming to get hold of himself, grabbed the war horse's reins and stormed off the field. The lady, weeping, fighting against the guards, was escorted after him.

King Alexander, smiling, turned to Ian once again. “Too entertaining. Now, then, what is it you wished for?”

“We need privacy for a conversation of utmost importance.”

The king's expression lightened. As always, he liked the idea of an intrigue— the young king did love his secrets—but he didn’t move, only cocked his head. “Whisper in my ear.” The king also liked those around him to see he owned secrets.

Ian obligingly leaned down. “I have brought the crown. ’Tis in danger of being discovered. You need to reclaim it before such occurs.”

The king reared back, expression accusing. “Did I hear correctly?” He whispered fiercely. “You wish
me
to take possession? Are you
mad
? There’s no way ’twould make the journey to Edinburgh without thieves intercepting.” He glanced around to see if anyone overheard. “Nay. You will take it and hide it, as commanded. Why do you tire me with this topic ? ’Tis your trouble, not mine.” The king abruptly turned away and joined his giggling mistress.

Ian’s shoulders slowly straightened. The king’s reaction was...unexpected. “As you wish, Your Highness,” he muttered to himself. Leaving the dais, he took Samantha by the hand and dragged her away to weave through the crowds.

“Did you see that girl appear out of nowhere?” Samantha asked from behind him. “Did you see the way that scary-looking guy saved her? Talk about high drama. That was awesome.”

“Hmm.”

Still clinging to his hand she sidled up beside him to look at his face. “No go with the king?”

Ian didn’t answer, but continued striding toward their camp. He’d no inclination to tell her his mission had failed. When Ian foiled a plot to steal the blasted thing before he'd left the kings service, Alexander had ordered him to take it with him. Now Ian was more worried about it on his end. And the cause of that concern was bright-eyed and breathless beside him.

“Okay. We’ll talk about this later.”

At Samantha’s cheerful tone, Ian frowned. The king had never been easy. Why should he have expected otherwise this time? Samantha, on the other hand, was impossible—and too sharp for her own good.

He instructed his men to pack, and they jumped to follow his command.

Brecken hurried over. “I’ve already packed. I’ll round up the dawdlers and catch up to you later.”

Ian glanced at his cousin, but he was already walking away. There’d been something in his voice, but Ian didn’t have the time or the inclination to figure it out. At his age ’Twas either a girl or a game. Either way, it was naught to him.

Chapter Eighteen

Hearing hoof-beats, Samantha turned to see Dugald ride past the men trailing them. When he reached Ian, now riding side by side with her at the front of the procession, he slowed and made a place directly behind them, forcing the others to adjust. “I doubled back, but dinna see any sign that we’re followed.”

Ian nodded. “The Campbells know where we’re going. Mayhap they’re simply not in a hurry to catch up.”

Dugald nodded. “Or mayhap they didn’t see us leave and are lazing at Stirling.”

“That’s quite possible.” Samantha added her two cents. “We packed and took off so fast that Laird Campbell could be taking an afternoon nap or enjoying the entertainment or something, completely unaware of our absence.”

Ian nodded. “Mayhap.” In the hours they’d traveled, Ian had been quiet and introspective. He looked back every once in a while, no doubt worried about his young cousin who’d stayed behind and promised to catch up.

Dugald slowed, creating a distance between them.

The sun beat down, and when a fly buzzed Samantha’s ear, she waved it off with a hand. She was getting tired of the silence, the feeling that they were waiting for something to happen. “So, what are you going to do with the crown now?”

Ian snorted. “You tell me. I thought you claimed to ken all there was to know about me? So what is my next stratagem?”

Amused, she lifted a shoulder. “It turns out you’re a surprise, even to me.”

He finally glanced at her, one brow rising, “How so?”

“Your fight with Lord Marshall. He had you fair and square. I don’t know what you said to him, but I’m positive it was sneaky and underhanded.”

“You sound admiring.”

“Oh, believe me, I am.”

He grinned.

“So, spill. What did you say?”

“I yelled that you were to take Gillian wi’ you to your place in the future.”

Samantha’s mouth dropped, then she laughed. “We couldn’t hear you. We could only see his reaction. Talk about devious. You don’t even believe me and you used my story against him.”

“Aye.” He shrugged. “No one was more surprised than I when it rattled the man. He seemed to believe the tale. Tell me again where you’re from?”

“Oh, so now you want to hear all about it.”

“Lass.” The word held a warning.

She slitted her eyes at him. “New York. Across the ocean to the west. Over 700 years in the future.”

“Just so.” He chuckled. “Lord Marshall certainly seemed to believe such.”

“Did he? Was that why he wanted me away from his wife? He acted like I was going to contaminate her.”

“He merely believed you were poised to steal her away.”

“Hmm. So, now you’re wondering how he can believe something which you refuse to give credence to.”

“Aye. Lord Marshall doesna seem a man easily duped.”

“Yet you duped him today.”

“Did I? Or did I tell him true? Could you have taken Lady Marshall across time wi’ you?”

She glanced at the bag hanging from the saddle behind him. “With the crown? Probably.”

“So, no doubt you’re pleased wi’ today’s outcome?” He tilted his head toward the bag. “That we take this wi’ us?”

“Mostly relieved.” She thought about what Gillian told her, about the blood and holy ground. If she hadn’t met her, she might have had a devil of a time getting home again, even if she could obtain the crown. A coincidence? Fate playing with her? Whatever, it was strange. And were there really two crowns? Either way, she wouldn’t say anything to Ian. He might dig up the second one,
if
it was there, and conceal it too.

“So, where are you going to hide it now that everyone at Inverdeem knows about it?”

His lips twisted. “No doubt they will believe I left it with the king.”

“That’s true. You could hide it under the altar again. I won’t look, I swear.”

He shot her a sour look. “I won’t hide it there, and I’m sure you will look.”

She laughed. “So, hide it in the pantry.”

He snorted.

“Under the table?”

He shook his head and sighed.

“You could hide it in my dig site.”

“With the refuse? The boys might dig it up whilst searching for moldering bones.”

“The hole in your bedroom floor?”

He made a sound of disgust.

“No? What about visiting another castle nearby. I know of several hiding places in some of them. You could take it to Campbell Keep. They have a priest hole under the main fireplace.”

His eyes gleamed with amusement.

She shot him a look under her lashes. “It must be difficult to have so much responsibility placed on your shoulders at such a young age. A burden shared is a burden halved.”

He laughed. “Young? Do you try and imply I’m immature or foolish? I assure you I’m neither.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?” Her lower lip jutted into a pout.

“Nae likely.”

She smiled at him—flirting—and for the first time in her life, it came easily. That certainly had never happened before, and it was fun. A bird whistled and caught his attention and she remembered him telling her about his mother. “You said your mother could charm birds from the trees?”

“Yes. She could mimic them.”

“She sounds delightful.”

“She was. Years later I still canna believe the clan who knew her, knew of her relationship wi’ their laird, let her tend to their wounds, could have treated thus.”

“Your father couldn’t save her?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Wouldna, couldna, I dinna know why he allowed such to happen. I suppose he dinna wish to go against a priest, his wife, or the villagers. ’Tis a dance keeping a clan together and loyal. I’ve yet to master it.”

Her heart clenched. “I think you’re doing a great job.” How sad that years later this big, strong, tough warrior was still confused and heartbroken over his mother’s untimely demise. Her
murder
. For the first time in her life she wished she’d taken a few classes in psychology so she’d know what to say to ease his pain. “What do you want from your clan?”

“I wish for their trust and loyalty. I want them to cease their fear of me. It may never happen.”

Samantha had already realized he’d saved her at great expense to himself. If he’d let her burn, it would have been better for him. It might have bonded him closer to the clan instead of creating another him-versus-them scenario. But he wasn’t like that. He was a complicated man: steadfast, determined, stubborn, funny, tricky, handsome, clever, heartbroken.

She suddenly ached to wrap her arms around him and her heart felt like it swelled in her chest.

She was falling in love with him! Real love.
Not mere infatuation.

Her mouth parted and she dropped one rein.

He gathered it up and handed it back to her. “What is it?”

Taking a breath, she seized the rein and lowered her gaze. In love with Ian? Falling in love was a foreign concept to her. Sure, she knew plenty of people it had happened to—Gillian for one—but love had certainly never struck her before. When she’d never experienced the giddy sensation spoken about in love songs, books, movies, and every other week with some of her college roommates, she’d worried she didn’t have it in her to experience such a binding emotion.