Timestruck (12 page)

“I know,” Dominick said gently. “Charles
wants the Lombards to associate their new king with a great
Frankish ruler.”

“First I was denied the right to succeed my
father,” Pepin said. “Then I was unjustly declared a bastard. And
now, as a final insult, my very name has been taken from me. These
are wrongs no man can forgive.”

“You would be wiser, and happier, not to
dwell on such matters,” Dominick said. “Your immediate, dangerous
problem lies with the dishonest nobles who are trying to use you
against your father. Pepin, I think you do not understand how
difficult it is to be a king beset by contentious nobles and to try
to keep peace among them.”

“I understand that Charles the Great does not
love me at all,” Pepin retorted with bitter assurance. “Are you
with me, Dominick? Are you still my friend?”

Gina heard this discussion with growing
horror, not for Pepin’s sake, but for Dominick’s. Regardless of
whether he joined Pepin’s rebellion, Dominick was involved in the
scheme merely by listening to Pepin’s offer. If the plot failed, or
if Dominick was caught, he’d be executed, probably in a very
painful way.

While Gina was trying to decide what to do,
she noticed a motion at one side of the garden. Her eyes had
adjusted to the fading light, allowing her to make out a tall
figure in a dark robe. With Dominick’s safety foremost in her mind,
she acted immediately.

“Dominick,” she called, stepping out from the
trees, “there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Gina?” Dominick’s boots crunched on the
gravel as he spun around to peer in her direction. “Have you been
spying on us?”

“Certainly not. I just came to kiss you good
night.” She caught Dominick’s neck with one hand, pulling his head
down. With her lips against his ear she whispered, “Father Guntram
is hiding in the shadows, listening to every word you say.”

“And you weren’t?” he responded, also in a
whisper.

“I’m on your side, Dominick.”

“Which side is that?” he whispered back.

“Is something wrong?” Pepin asked, his
normally pitched voice sounding loud in the darkness.

“Just a tender good night,” Dominick said,
and kissed Gina hard on her mouth before turning back to his
friend. “Pepin, it is growing late, and you will want to resume
your journey at first light. You and I should also say good
night.”

“Will you at least think about the plans I’ve
told you of?” Pepin asked, sounding tense and worried.

“My friend, I always consider your words
seriously,” Dominick responded. He put an arm around Gina’s waist,
keeping her near. “I will see you in the morning before you
leave.”

“Good night, then,” Pepin said. “I know I
don’t have to tell you not to speak to anyone else about what we’ve
discussed here.”

Pepin started for the hall, and Gina saw his
slight, twisted form silhouetted against the light spilling from
the door.

“Good night, Pepin,” she called after
him.

Dominick s right arm tightened around her
waist as if to warn her not to say anything more. His left hand
caught her chin, holding her so she couldn’t turn her face aside.
To anyone watching them, as Father Guntram surely was, they
probably looked as though they were enjoying a brief romantic
encounter.

When Dominick bent his head, it wasn’t just
fear of what might happen to him that made Gina tremble; it was
also the memory of their time in the glade beside the stream. His
mouth brushed lightly over hers.

“Now I know for certain that you are a spy,”
he murmured with his lips against hers.

“I’m not. I just happened to be in the
garden,” she protested, keeping her voice low. “I know I shouldn’t
have stayed hidden, but when I heard what you and Pepin were
saying, I was too embarrassed to reveal myself.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

He kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly,
until her knees went weak and she clung to him to keep from
falling.

“So was Father Guntram eavesdropping,” she
gasped as soon as she was able to free her mouth from his. “He
still is. You can’t deny that I warned you he was lurking
about.”

“For what purpose did you warn me?” His lips
were scorching along her throat, and his hands grasped her ribcage
on either side of her breasts. The heat of his palms made her heart
flutter like a captive bird. “Surely, dear Gina, you had a reason
for speaking up when you did.”

“I’m worried about you. Don’t get involved in
that crazy scheme of Pepin’s. In any time, in any place, they kill
traitors.”

“So, you’re worried about me, are you?” His
thumbs flicked across her nipples several times. Gina cried out, a
wild, aching sob that Dominick silenced with another kiss. His arms
encircled her, his large palms moving steadily down her back to
catch her hips and pull her hard against him, letting her feel his
desire until Gina forgot all about political plots and treacherous
nobles and resentful royal sons.

“I have decided what to do,” Dominick told
her some time later. He was still holding her hips firmly against
his, and Gina was quivering with an urgent need she had never known
before, but he spoke coolly and calmly, as if completely detached
from any emotion. “I must travel to Regensburg as soon as possible,
and you are far too dangerous for me to leave behind. But for now,
you are to go to your room and stay there until morning.”

When he released her, she thought she’d
faint. She wanted to scream at him that he was committing a major
mistake if he joined Pepin’s harebrained scheme. She wanted to
pound on his chest and pull his hair and say she hated him – and
then throw herself into his arms and plead with him to remain at
Feldbruck.

She knew he’d never agree to that. Pepin was
his friend, Charles was his king, and Dominick was going to step
right into the middle of their intrigues. And unless she could
discover a way to get back to the twentieth century – fast – he was
going to take her along with him.

Gina lay awake for hours that night,
worrying. Though she felt a deep sympathy for Pepin, she thought he
was foolish to allow himself to be used by the disloyal nobles. To
her way of thinking, it was not an act of friendship for him to
involve Dominick in a scheme that was probably going to end up with
both of them being killed.

“And me, too,” Gina concluded. “If the
authorities start asking questions, they’re going to learn I don’t
have a past or a family in this time. They’ll think I’m hiding
something important – and I am, but not state secrets.”

The danger to Dominick and herself was
upsetting enough. Even more terrifying was her realization that
Dominick, with his tenderness and his passion, was beginning to
destroy her personal defenses. She didn’t want to become
emotionally involved with him, for she knew from past experience
that heartbreak lay dead ahead if she allowed herself to care for a
man. Her reaction was panic and a desire to flee before her heart
could be broken again.

As the first faint glimmer of dawn lit the
sky, and the snowcapped Alpine peaks began to glow with a soft
peach tint, she made up her mind. Before Dominick dragged her off
to Regensburg, she was going to check his bedchamber from floor to
ceiling in an all-out effort to find a way back to the last day of
the twentieth century. If she found it, she would use it, because
if she remained in the eighth century much longer she was likely to
lose both her life and her heart – and she couldn’t decide which
prospect was more frightening.

Having reached her decision, she fell asleep
and did not waken until Ella knocked on her door to tell her Pepin
and Father Guntram were about to leave. Gina was in no mood for
dressing up, so she threw on her everyday shift and the well-worn
green woolen gown, splashed cold water on her face, raked her
fingers through her thick, short curls, then hurried to the
courtyard.

There, by the gatehouse, the men-at-arms were
making final preparations for their journey. Pepin was already
mounted, looking uncomfortable on his donkey. Father Guntram, also
mounted, was a frowning presence close by Pepin’s side.

“We’ll meet again in Regensburg,” Pepin said
to Gina. He held her hand a bit longer than he should have, and he
looked from her face to Dominick’s closed visage. “I know you are
going to be a good friend to me, Gina, just as Dominick has always
been.”

“Have a safe trip,” Gina said, finally
succeeding in pulling her fingers free of his grasp.

Father Guntram bade Dominick a curt farewell,
pointedly ignored Gina, and led the procession out of Feldbruck
with Pepin and six men-at-arms following.

“Are those the king’s soldiers?” Gina asked,
watching the men-at-arms.

“They belong to one of the Bavarian nobles,”
Dominick answered curtly. He began to walk away from her in the
direction of the stable.

“Is it an honor guard, or is Pepin a
prisoner?”

Dominick paused, but he didn’t turn to face
her. “Pack your belongings,” he said. “We leave for Regensburg
early tomorrow morning.”

“You will catch up with Pepin by tomorrow
night,” she remarked. “According to Ella, he can’t travel very
fast. Why didn’t you tell him to wait and leave with you? I’m sure
he’d rather have you to talk with than Father Guntram.”

“I have no desire to travel with Pepin,” he
said. “We will not catch up with him along the way. We are taking a
different route.”

“Dominick, will you kindly turn around and
look at me? I don’t like talking to your back.”

He spun on his heel, and Gina saw how closed
and hard his expression was.

“You’re still angry about last night,” she
began.

“I am angry about many things,” he said. “Do
not think to send a message about my plans, not to Pepin or to
anyone else. No one leaves Feldbruck until we ride out
tomorrow.”

“Why would I want to send a message? I don’t
really know what’s behind all the plotting, and, furthermore, I
don’t care.” That was far from true, but she was so worried about
Dominick’s safety that she couldn’t stop herself from snapping out
an insult. “If you want to risk your neck in a stupid scheme to
take over the kingdom, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“It will be your problem, and your neck, if
you are involved,” he said. “After last night’s eavesdropping
episode, I cannot trust you.”

“Gee, that’s too bad. I was just beginning to
trust you,” she snarled the words at him, because she could see the
doubt and the pain in his eyes when he looked at her, and seeing it
made her heart ache. She didn’t want to feel the way Dominick made
her feel, all soft and tender inside, trusting and foolish, ready
to be hurt again. The conflict between what she felt for Dominick
and her need to keep herself safe from emotional pain was driving
her crazy.

“I will be occupied for most of the day,
making arrangements for Feldbruck during my absence,” he said.
“I’ll speak to you this evening about what I expect of you during
the journey and at Regensburg.”

He gave her a hard look and stalked off,
leaving Gina angry and exasperated – and longing to throw herself
into his arms and explain everything to him. She was afraid to do
it, afraid he wouldn’t believe her. He didn’t trust her, so he’d
never accept her story about traveling through time. She had to
protect herself from caring about him. The only way to do that was
by leaving Feldbruck the same way she had come.

Dominick had said he’d be busy all day. That
meant he wouldn’t be in his bedroom. Keeping a safe distance from
the kitchen, where Hedwiga was assigning morning chores to the
servants, Gina hurried up the stairs to the second level of the
house.

Dominick’s bed was still unmade, the quilt
tossed back as he had left it upon rising. One of his books lay
open on the wooden chest. When Gina glanced at it she noticed the
page was the one containing the painting of the angel with
multicolored wings and a real gold halo. She lightly brushed a
finger over the angel, feeling the texture of the paint and the
smoothness of the parchment.

“I wish you could help me,” Gina said with a
sigh. “I wish you could help Dominick, too. As it is, he’ll be
better off without me to worry about, and I know my heart will be
safer if I can get far away from him.”

Ignoring the whisper in her mind that said
she didn’t want to leave Dominick and never see him again, she
kicked off her soft shoes and climbed onto his bed, balancing
herself with one hand against the wall. On the day of her arrival
in Francia she had fallen straight down through the roof tiles and
ceiling directly above the bed. There had to be some sign of her
passage.

By standing on tiptoe and stretching her free
arm, she was just able to reach the ceiling. It was definitely
solid. She felt the plaster, pressing as hard as she could and
jumping up to knock on it. Then she moved along the mattress,
keeping herself steady with a hand on the wall, continuing to test
the ceiling as she worked her way from the head of the bed to its
foot.

“How did I get through the roof? Did the
molecules of my body somehow pass through the molecules of tile and
plaster, like a special-effects gimmick in a science-fiction movie?
But this isn’t science fiction. It’s real. It happened.”

She caught her breath when she heard
footsteps in the corridor. If one of the servants was coming to
straighten the room, she’d lose her chance to explore it. And with
Dominick determined to take her with him to Regensburg, she was
unlikely to have another opportunity.

In a frantic final attempt to find the
opening, she flung both arms high and jumped.

Her left hand disappeared into the ceiling.
There was no shattering of plaster, no chalky flakes sifting onto
her head. Her hand simply vanished up to her wrist. At the same
time, she felt a definite sucking action on her arm.