One Magic Moment (37 page)
He apparently got a good enough look at her that he realized she wasn’t her sister. He looked at John, then the blood drained from his face and he swayed. John reached out a hand and clamped it on his brother’s shoulder to steady him. Nicholas looked at him, looked at her, then backed away and leaned over with his hands on his thighs.
John was completely still. Tess would have worried about him, but he still had hold of her hand and he wasn’t breaking any of her fingers, so she supposed he was still hanging in there.
Nicholas simply breathed in and out for several minutes, then straightened. His color wasn’t any better, but he hadn’t passed out so she supposed he would count that as being good enough. He extended his hand to her.
“You have to be Persephone’s sister.”
“Tess,” she supplied, then she realized he was speaking in English. “Her older sister, but not by much.”
He bent over her hand with a formal sort of bow, then released it. He looked at her other hand in John’s, then back at her.
“You might want to let go of him for this next bit,” he said politely.
John’s breathing didn’t change, but she felt him stiffen. Nicholas wasn’t wearing a sword, but she didn’t imagine he needed it to do damage with. She looked at John, disentangled her fingers from his, then took a step away from him. He took a deep breath and looked at his brother.
“Hello, Nick.”
Nicholas cursed him. Then he threw his arms around him and hugged him so tightly John squeaked. And he wept. Tess felt her eyes begin to burn at the sight. Nicholas pulled back, cursed a bit more, kissed John on both cheeks, then embraced him again in a manly way that included several rounds of backslapping that no doubt left bruises. He kissed him again, then slapped him on the back of the head before he released him.
“You bloody fool,” he managed, dragging his sleeve across his eyes. “Where in the
hell
have you been? Wait, don’t answer that.” He shot John a dark look. “I can guess.”
hell
have you been? Wait, don’t answer that.” He shot John a dark look. “I can guess.”
Tess looked at John. He looked no less affected than his brother. In fact, if she were to be completely accurate, his eyes were very red and he had to clear his throat before he could speak.
“I imagine you can.”
Nicholas threw up his hands. “I’m not sure if I should embrace you again or take my sword to you. You bloody
fool
.”
fool
.”
“You’re repeating yourself,” John said with the faintest of smiles. “Old age creeping up on you, is it?”
Tess found herself the recipient of Nicholas’s look of disbelief. “How do you manage to endure him?”
“I ignore him a lot.”
Nicholas laughed. “I daresay you would have to.” He rubbed his hands over his face, blew out his breath, then took John by the shoulder and slung his arm around him. “You both look as if you’ve been running for a solid se’nnight. Before we think about anything else you need food and hot fire, then sleep. Separately, unless you have something you want to tell me.”
“We aren’t wed,” John said, lifting his eyebrows briefly, “though I’ve been attempting to woo her. If I convince her to agree to anything else, it will be in spite of what she’s been through over the last few days.”
Nicholas grunted. “Obviously you’ve been without my useful influence for too long if you haven’t gotten further than that with her. I’ll aid you as I can in that endeavor. Tess, you might want to hold on to the other side of him as we go. He looks completely undone.”
Tess had to agree, though Nicholas didn’t look any better. For herself, all she knew was that trying to follow their rapid French—no matter how good she thought hers was—was giving her a headache. Or that might have been from trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was walking through a medieval courtyard with a medieval lord and holding on to his equally noble younger brother’s hand.
Talk about hands-on research.
“I’ll have the whole tale when your lady doesn’t look as if she’ll drop where she stands. Perhaps you should be holding on to her instead of the opposite. Jennifer will find her a place to lay her head.”
“Or perhaps Jennifer would rather talk about the fact that Tess knows her sister, Megan,” John offered with an enormous yawn.
Nicholas’s mouth fell open, then he looked at John and shut it. “I refuse to make comments on paranormal oddities.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“You’ll hear enough about it from Robin when he learns you’re home. I’m assuming you’ll go to Artane.”
John took a deep breath. “I hadn’t thought that far, though I would like to see Father and Mother, aye.”
“You’d have to go to France for that,” Nicholas said. He looked at Tess briefly. “You won’t regret that journey, I daresay. Montgomery and Persephone are there with them now, waiting for Sedgwick to be restored. That’s one reason I was so surprised to see you—or, rather, who I thought you were—here.”
Tess would have commented, but she found she could hardly keep her eyes open. She didn’t protest when John put his arm around her. She realized he’d picked her up only because she found she wasn’t walking any longer. She knew he didn’t have any more energy than she did, but it wasn’t as if she could carry him. She closed her eyes and put her arms around his neck.
“I didn’t bring any money to go to France,” she murmured.
“By the saints, John,” Nicholas said in astonishment, “how have you been treating this poor gel? Forcing her to see to
you
?”
you
?”
“I haven’t,” John said with an exasperated snort. “She just has these unpalatable ideas about independence and getting her own way.”
“If you think you have troubles with her now, just wait until after she’s spoken with Jennifer and become acquainted with all the subversive tactics she uses on me.”
“The saints pity you,” John muttered.
“A small price to pay, believe me.”
Tess held on tightly so she wouldn’t fall, then supposed that wasn’t necessary. John wasn’t going to let her fall. After all, he’d taken care of her for almost five days in very trying circumstances. He would have taken care of her for all the days before then if she had let him . . .
She promised herself a good think later, when she could open her eyes again.
“John?” she managed.
“Aye, love?”
“I don’t think I can stay awake any longer.”
“Don’t try, Tess. You can sleep in peace here.”
She hadn’t realized before just what a luxury that was. She sighed deeply, then cast herself into the welcoming arms of insensibility. She could only hope she would awake in the same century as John.
She thought she just might be finished with anything else.
Chapter 20
J
ohn
woke at dawn, shivering. It took a moment for his head to clear enough that he realized he was in one of his brother’s guest chambers and not in his own cottage, but memory flooding back helped him with that soon enough. He stared up at the wooden canopy above his head, contemplating the absolute improbability of his current locale. He had never thought to return to his own time—which felt less like home and more like a tourist destination than he’d suspected it might—much less see any of his family again. It was difficult to remember he was no longer a green lad of nineteen winters, but a man of almost twenty-eight years who had seen things that would have turned his father gray overnight.
ohn
woke at dawn, shivering. It took a moment for his head to clear enough that he realized he was in one of his brother’s guest chambers and not in his own cottage, but memory flooding back helped him with that soon enough. He stared up at the wooden canopy above his head, contemplating the absolute improbability of his current locale. He had never thought to return to his own time—which felt less like home and more like a tourist destination than he’d suspected it might—much less see any of his family again. It was difficult to remember he was no longer a green lad of nineteen winters, but a man of almost twenty-eight years who had seen things that would have turned his father gray overnight.
He rubbed his hands over his face, then threw back the covers and forced himself out of bed, cursing to keep himself warm. It was day, though he honestly had no idea what time it was. He pushed himself to his feet, then walked over to the hearth and kicked up the embers into something warm enough to serve him briefly. Morning, perhaps, since the fire had burned down to almost nothing. He yawned, grateful for the sleep and wishing he had the energy to have a bit more. But that would leave Tess possibly fending for herself and that he couldn’t do, not even in Nick’s hall.
He turned to look for water to wash with and found it on a table next to the hearth. That he had to break through a layer of ice to get to it was unsurprising but an unsettling reminder of just where he was.
He raised his eyebrows briefly in appreciation of the luxury of his brother’s home—at least he hadn’t had to brave a winter stream to wash or forgo washing altogether—then set to his morning’s ablutions as if he’d never spent a day away from his usual routine in medieval England. He had his wash, shaved with a knife, then put on clean clothes and serviceable boots provided so thoughtfully by his brother. He reached for his sword and belted it around his hips, then stuck a pair of daggers down his boots, though he wondered why he bothered. It wasn’t as if he would have to kill anyone to gain the breakfast table.
He dragged his hands through his hair and sighed deeply. Killing ruffians to keep Tess safe had been necessary but very unpleasant. He’d forgotten, living his soft life in the Future as he had, just how brutal medieval England could be. He wouldn’t be unhappy to leave it behind. Assuming he could leave it behind.
He decided abruptly that
that
was something he could certainly think about later.
that
was something he could certainly think about later.
He walked out into the passageway, had to think for a moment or two about where he was in Nicholas’s keep, then headed toward Tess’s bedchamber. He supposed he could have found it easily enough by the sight of the guardsman standing just outside it. He paused and waited for the man to acknowledge him.
“Lord John,” the man said, inclining his head immediately. “Sir Ranulf, at your service. And your lady’s.”
John almost smiled at the title, but supposed there was no reason in giving Nicholas’s guardsmen more reason than they already had to speculate about him. He nodded toward the door. “Is Lady Tess still inside, then?”
“She hasn’t left the chamber, my lord, and I’ve been here since the second watch.”
“ ’Twas a difficult journey here,” John conceded, “and I’m sure she’s very weary. I appreciate your attending her. I’ll happily relieve you now.”
Sir Ranulf hesitated. “As you will, of course, my lord, but my lord Wyckham thought you might prefer to break your fast with him below and perhaps seek the lists. I’ve assigned a rotation of lads to keep watch here and escort your lady to you when she wakes.”
John thought about balking, then relented. The truth was Tess needed a fortnight’s sleep, which she wouldn’t have if he poked his nose inside her door every quarter hour. She would be safe enough with his brother’s guardsmen watching over her.
He nodded to Sir Ranulf, then thanked him again for his service before he continued down the passageway. He would have felt better if he’d known Tess’s door was locked from the inside, but he knew it wasn’t because he’d been the one to put her to bed the morning before—under the watchful eye of his brother, who was far too impressed with his own levels of propriety. He’d hardly been able to take off Tess’s shoes without Nicholas harrumphing importantly. He’d had to leave Jennifer to help his very groggy love into a nightgown and tuck her into bed.
He jogged down the circular stairs, shaking his head a little as he did so. It was hard to believe any time had passed at all from his youth to his present, though he couldn’t deny it had. The last time he’d been at Wyckham, he’d been a brash lad of eighteen, his spurs newly won and his ego colossal. He’d held his own against Nicholas in the lists—a feat he seriously doubted he would be repeating anytime soon—and strode across the world’s stage sure in his ability to conquer anything that dared face him.
He sighed to himself as he walked across the floor and followed his nose to the kitchens. Obviously, he’d arisen too late to manage anything at the lord’s table, but that didn’t bother him. He was perfectly happy to attract as little attention as possible.
He walked into the kitchens and found Nicholas sitting at the worktable there, surrounded by his four sons. The boys looked up at him with varying degrees of astonishment, even though he’d been privileged to meet all his nephews the day before. Nicholas was only watching him, a faint smile on his face. John set his sword aside and pulled up his chair next to Nicholas’s eldest, James.
“Well met, nephew,” he said politely. “Again.”
“Bloody hell,” James blurted out. “You look just like Montgomery. Still.”
“James,” Nicholas said sternly, “we don’t swear at table.”
“But, Papa, this is just the worktable,” said second son John, “not the
proper
table.”
proper
table.”
John was fairly certain the boy, who looked to be about seven, had been named after Jennifer’s father, but he was happy to flatter himself that he could claim a bit of the boy for himself. The boy couldn’t have looked any more like Nicholas. ’Twas obvious he had his father’s ability to argue.
“Aye, it is, son,” Nicholas said with a long-suffering sigh, “but we still don’t swear at table.”
“Well,” John the younger said philosophically, “I suppose we should be for the lists then.” He looked up at John. “We can say what we please there.”
“I’m certain you can,” John said, suppressing a smile.
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