Kissing Shakespeare (3 page)

I took a giant step backward and smacked right into Stephen.

“Good men, well met!” he said, ignoring me.

“There’s a dead person in that cart!” I turned toward him and barely got the words out before my stomach heaved again and I threw up all over his chest.

Stephen leaped away from me. “God’s breath, Miranda!” He pulled out a handkerchief and brushed at the clumps of vomit covering his doublet.

“You know this young woman, sir?” the older guy asked.

“Aye, ’tis my misfortune.” He fired a wicked glance my way. “She is our servant, recently arrived from the New World and with many strange ways about her—she is often quarrelsome and peevish. A good flogging will put her in her place.”

I felt my blood pressure rise. “That is absolutely—” I broke off when Stephen’s look registered. It was a “let me handle this” kind of look. I fumbled in my pocket for a tissue and wiped my mouth.

“If it please you, I shall take her off your hands,” Stephen said.

He grasped my arm, and when I tried to wrench free, he dug his fingers in. Hard.

“Ouch!”

“Good day to you, then,” the older guy said, looking perplexed. He and his friend resumed the slow journey with their gruesome cargo, walking alongside the mammoth ox and urging him on with a stick.

“Excellent stroke with the cudgel,” Stephen said. “But only a superficial wound.”

“I should have hit you harder,” I hissed. “I wish I’d killed you!”

He half dragged me off the road and down an embankment. At the bottom, a stream rippled past, and we stopped beside it. After giving me a warning glance, Stephen let go of my arm, and I plopped down on the ground. He stooped and dipped a cloth in the water. When he removed his hat, I gasped. I’d really done a job on his head. He dabbed at the wound and then rinsed out the cloth. Walking over to me, he held it out and said, “Wipe your face with this. The cool water will revive you.”

I buried my face in the cloth and wished I could wake up from this nightmare. After a minute, I found my water bottle and rinsed out my mouth. I still felt slightly sick and light-headed, topped off with a rising sense of panic.

Stephen unfastened his doublet and dunked it in the stream, letting the flow of the water get rid of the rest of the mess. Then he squatted down on the ground in front of me, again with that fluidity of movement. His knees didn’t even crack.

“You’re in Lancashire, in the north of England, in the year 1581. Accustom yourself to the idea.” His eyes held a fierce gleam, and his voice was hard. I decided not to argue. “If you have any more doubts after that little encounter, perhaps I can allay them by taking you into the village and letting the good citizens make of you what they will. Make no mistake, you would end up in a prison cell by day’s end.” He kept his harsh glare trained on me. “Now listen carefully.

“We have been invited to visit Alexander Hoghton and his wife, and you will pass yourself off as their niece. My sister. I am, you see, their nephew. They’ve just employed young Will Shakespeare as schoolmaster, player, and musician.” He spoke in short, clipped sentences, and I didn’t dare interrupt him.

“Also in residence is a Jesuit priest. He wishes to claim Shakespeare for the priesthood. For obvious reasons, we cannot allow that to happen. Not only would his work be lost to history, but his very life may also be at risk.”

He was talking so fast it was dizzying. Maybe my incredible trip through time was fogging my mind. I massaged my forehead, then cut off Stephen’s “you will obey me” speech. “Wait a minute. We know Shakespeare became the world’s greatest playwright. His work wasn’t lost, and he lived into his fifties. Freakin’ ancient. So what’s the problem?”

“You would do well to trust me on this, mistress,” came the sharp response.

“Ha! I should trust
you
, the man who kidnapped me and dragged me back to a different century? I don’t think so.”

“You do not have a choice, do you? In this time, I am your only friend and ally.”

I wanted to smack that smug look off his face. “Pardon me if I have trouble seeing you that way.”

He turned his back on me and put some distance between us. For the longest time he stood there, hands on hips, as if he was thinking something over.
Maybe I should try to run again, while he isn’t paying attention
. But I knew he was right. In this century, I could end up in a jail cell if the wrong people found me. I didn’t exactly fit in. And there was no way I could get home without him.

He had swiveled around and was talking to me again. “All you need to know at present is that events in history may not always unfold the way in which they were meant to. It is my job to see that they do. For my sins.”

He was completely serious. The intense gleam in his eyes proved it. “So you’re like a time warden or something?”

“That’s as good a way as any of describing it, I suppose.”

“I still don’t really get it.”

“It is not necessary for you to understand everything right now. As we progress, I’ll explain further.”

“Let’s say I actually believe you. Which I’m still not sure I do. What does all this have to do with me, anyway?” I flung my arms out to make sure he grasped the true level of my frustration.

“Your mission is to save Shakespeare from this foolishness. Convince him the life of a Jesuit brother is not one he wants.”

“And how would I do that?”

“You’re going to seduce him,” Stephen said with a perfectly straight face.

I
SHOT TO MY FEET
. “You’re out of your mind!” I glowered at him, because now I could see amusement barely hiding itself in Stephen’s eyes. “You got me here. Now get me back!” I lobbed the wet cloth at him, and to my extreme satisfaction, it hit him in the chest.

“I couldn’t send you back, even if I wanted to,” he said, juggling the cloth. “Certain limitations and restrictions exist. Even when conditions are ideal, it doesn’t always work. Perhaps after your mission is complete, the time will be right for your return.”

“What do you mean, ‘perhaps’? There’s a chance I could be stuck here?”

“Only a slim one.”

“Perfect.” I turned my back on him and howled with frustration. After a few seconds, I whirled around and said, “The seduction thing. That’s my mission?” I figured I’d better play along. If this wasn’t a reenactment, I had to be caught up in a joke, a dream, or a major misunderstanding. Shakespeare’s work was a done deal, as far as I was concerned.

Stephen’s lips quivered. “Yes.”

Anger, outrage, even bashing him on the head hadn’t worked. Maybe I needed a change of tactics. “Please, Stephen.” I reached for his hand. “I’m scared. I want to go home.”

“Your life in Boston seems to be on hold.”

I dropped his hand. “What do you know about my life?” My temper flared again when I realized that he was changing tactics too.
Jerk
.

“I know how things stand between you and your mother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And that you’re thinking about giving up acting. A serious mistake, in my opinion.”

“It’s none of your business. You don’t even know me! We barely had a conversation before last night.”

Scowling, he said, “God save me from your prattle. You talk too much, mistress. I’ll explain the rest later. Right now, we need to get on with it.”

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the nearest tree to think things over. Stephen, cursing under his breath, walked away and kicked a pile of leaves before circling back. Unbelievable as it seemed, I had to admit that my instincts, as well as all my senses, were screaming the truth of my situation. I’d been transported to William Shakespeare’s time. How could this have happened to me? Gradually it dawned on me that I had a bargaining chip.

Stephen was holding the cloth against his wound, watching me.

“All right. I’ll do the seduction thing, although there’s no guarantee it will work. But only if you show me how to get back.”

“That’s out of the question,” he protested. “ ’Tis done by a powerful magic which you do not possess.”

“And you
do
, I suppose.”

“Aye, and I cannot bestow it upon you. Trust me; you wouldn’t want it.”

For a moment he looked exhausted, like maybe this powerful magic was wearing him down. And there was an indefinable sadness in his eyes, along with something else. Vulnerability. But I couldn’t allow it to sway me, because this was my life we were talking about.

“Fine. You can’t force me to seduce someone. I’ll make myself so undesirable, Shakespeare won’t come near me. In fact, I’ll encourage him by telling him I’m thinking of becoming a nun.”

“I was right,” Stephen said. “You are peevish and quarrelsome, much like Katherine. And we don’t have nuns in England anymore.” He turned his back to me, muttered to himself, and then spun around and said, “What if I promise to get you home safely when this is done? Swear to you?”

“How do I know you won’t change your mind? And I’m nothing like Katherine, by the way.”

He smirked. “I swear by our Lord to do everything in my power to get you back unharmed. That is a binding oath, the best I can offer.”

“That’s not good enough. What if I got stranded here in this plague-infested time, when the king—”

“Queen.”

“Right, queen. When she can chop off your head or throw you in the tower for no reason? And there’re plenty of other diseases besides plague to worry about, like smallpox and typhoid and leprosy, and no cures for anything. You can’t even get a flu shot, for God’s sake!”

Stephen snorted. “Calm yourself, Miranda. There’s no leprosy in England anymore. And you have immunity to most diseases, do you not? Because of vaccines?”

“I guess so,” I grudgingly admitted.

“Do you not feel a duty to ensure that Shakespeare will make his way to London and compose his sonnets and plays? That the greatest writer in history will triumph?” He stepped forward, as though he might grab me by the shoulders. Apparently he decided not to, although he was close enough for me to see the pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m telling you he
does
triumph! You know it as well as I do. So what’s the big deal?”

His voice was shot with intensity. “The threat is real. It may not seem so to you yet, but mark this well: If the priest has his way, the course of history may be irreparably broken.”

Put in those terms, the whole situation sounded scary … and more believable. “I guess I have no choice but to accept your explanation. But why me?”

“You act in his plays. Your parents have made Shakespeare their life’s work. It is in your blood.”

“What about my family and friends? Do they think I was kidnapped, or simply disappeared with no explanation? My grandparents will be frantic! Will the police be out looking for me?”

“Nay. It does not happen that way,” he said.

“Well, how does it happen, then?”

“ ’Tis as if time stops. It was roughly the same day and time when I returned to this century as when I left.”

“But—”

“Do not ask me to explain, for I understand it no better than you.”

“So, when I go home to Boston, I’ll be dropped backstage, where I was when you found me? And it will still be Friday? March twenty-first?”

“Close enough. It may be sometime the following day. And it is more likely you will end up on the roof, where we found the portal.” He sighed, sounding irritated. “We are wasting time, Miranda. My aunt and uncle are expecting us.”

“There’s one other little problem,” I said.

He waited.

“I … uh, well, that is, I haven’t, when it comes right down to it, ever seduced anybody before.”

He had the good grace to look down, even though I could see his shoulders shaking and hear little gasps of laughter spurting out.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not doing this. Why should I give up my … virtue … to William Shakespeare? And this is absolutely not funny. You kidnapped me, but you can’t make me do anything.”

“Pray forgive me, Miranda. You are all innocence, eh?”

I didn’t answer. He was laughing at some bizarre joke only he understood.

“You are a well-favored young lady, and I have no doubts about Master Will Shakespeare becoming smitten with you. There is much dancing, walking, riding, and eating together. Ample time for seduction.”

He still didn’t get it. Flirting, I could handle. It was more the actual physical aspect I wasn’t well acquainted with. Which didn’t really matter, since I wasn’t about to have sex with William Shakespeare anyway. There had to be something else, some other way of keeping him away from the church. But I was too exhausted to argue any more, at least for now. I’d simply pretend to go along with whatever Stephen wanted if it would get me closer to going home.

“I expect you to keep your word—your oath. If you give me any reason not to trust you—”

“That will not happen. I swear it.” He looked right at me, his gaze unflinching. I believed him, even if I didn’t quite trust him.

I released a huge breath. “All right, then. So what do we do now?”

“Remember, I am the Hoghtons’ nephew, and you will be masquerading as their niece. Their actual niece, my poor sister, has become rather conveniently ill. Temporarily. The two of us will arrive at Hoghton Tower right on schedule.”