He shot her a look before he could stop himself. “I am not a boy.”
She smiled. “Well, yes, I’d noticed, but I’m still not going to call you.”
“Then I’ll ring you. On Wednesday.”
“Fine.”
He grasped firmly at the shreds of his good sense, nodded briskly, then turned and walked down her handful of steps. He stopped on the courtyard proper, then turned and looked back up at her.
“Unless you’re not doing anything on Friday.” He paused. “This Friday.”
“I have a reenactment group coming,” she said. “You’re welcome to come, if you like. If you’re willing to put on tights. And bring a sword.”
“Bloody hell, woman,” he said, with no small bit of alarm, “what next? Curly-toed shoes?”
“Have any?”
“I most certainly do not.”
She smiled. “Do you have my number?”
“I had it from your sister.” He would have smiled, but he was altogether too unnerved to. “I thought it prudent. And I won’t be using it until next Wednesday.”
“I thought you said this Friday.”
“Not if tights are involved.”
She only smiled faintly.
He nodded briskly, then turned and walked away while he still could.
Wednesday. He would wait to ring her until Wednesday because any sooner than that was a way in which lay madness. Besides, he had things to do. Important things. Things that made him comfortable and anonymous and nothing out of the ordinary.
He could hardly wait to get back to them.
He supposed he was very fortunate that Stephen de Piaget wasn’t there to point out to him that he was lying to himself.
He put his head down and left the castle whilst he still could.
Chapter 9
T
ess
checked her watch for the dozenth time that day, but time wasn’t moving any more quickly because of it. It was, she could say with absolute certainty, the longest Friday she’d ever spent over the course of her life. She had already trudged through most of the afternoon working with her caterers, though that had perhaps been unnecessary. They knew the drill perfectly. The decorations had been done the previous weekend, so all that had been left for her to do was stand around uselessly, wishing she had something to think about besides what she shouldn’t be.
He should have been easily forgotten, that John de Piaget. After all, he spent most of his time trying to get out of having anything to do with her. She fully expected him not to call her before Wednesday at the earliest, which meant she was safe for the next several days. She could forget about him and simply deal with the raucous crew set to arrive within the hour, and the truth was, she was going to have her hands full with them.
They had been the first large group she’d handled after she’d taken over the castle. The experience had been a bit like being thrown into the middle of a pitched battle. She’d survived the night, then spent the next day cleaning food off the walls and unearthing undergarments from behind tapestries.
When the club president had showed up that afternoon to collect things inadvertently left behind, she’d threatened never to let them through her gates again if she didn’t have an apology letter bearing all their signatures in her hands within the week. Apparently they had enjoyed themselves enough that the embarrassment of obliging her in that had been worth it. The bash she’d thrown for them during the summer had proved to be manageable enough that she’d agreed to an early Christmas party for them.
At least there would be enough controlled chaos to keep her mind focused on her work and not on someone she shouldn’t have been thinking about.
She wondered if she should have gone to the village earlier, just to pick up a few things at the market. Fortunately, she’d considered the quite likely possibility of running into John, which had seemed dangerous enough that she’d sent Peaches instead, who hadn’t returned with any reports of any John sightings.
Tess had been relieved. Obviously he was a man of his word. He had said he wouldn’t call her until the following week, and he’d obviously meant it.
She would have walked to the nearest tapestry-encrusted wall and banged her head against it to dislodge her normal good sense, but she’d just redone her hair. No sense in causing any stray curls to escape before the party started.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped a little, then put her hand over her heart as she turned around to see Peaches standing behind her, wearing a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what are you doing? You’re just standing there, holding a pencil.”
“I was checking my list,” Tess said weakly.
“You’re not holding a list.”
Tess realized that was true. She tucked her pencil behind her ear. “It’s in my head.”
Peaches reached up and pulled the pencil free. “You’re losing it.”
“You know, Peach, I think I just might be.”
Peaches looked around the great hall, then back at Tess. “It’s still empty, so why don’t we have a little rest until your guests arrive?”
Tess realized that she didn’t have any choice given that Peaches was pulling her toward her solar. First Stephen, then John, then Peaches. If she hadn’t been so overwhelmed, she would have put her foot down. Repeatedly. Which she would do the moment she managed to catch her breath.
Peaches sat her down in a chair in front of the fire in her solar, then sat down in the chair facing her. “I haven’t talked to you in almost a week. Why don’t you take this opportunity to spill your guts?”
“Do I have to?” Tess asked wearily. “Can’t you guess?”
“Probably,” Peaches said, “but I think it would do you good to verbalize it.”
“Turning to counseling, now?”
“It comes with the territory,” Peaches said dryly. “People tend to let loose while pitching things languishing in the bottom of their sock drawers.”
Tess couldn’t help but smile. She opened her mouth to comment only to find she didn’t know where to start.
It wasn’t John, but it was him—and everything else. Her life had just turned out to be so much more devastating than she’d ever imagined it would be. She had intended to simply have her little piece of paper stating to the world that she knew all about medieval life. She’d never imagined that she would draw breath every day knowing that her younger sister was living that life, or that she herself might be actually, well, non-dating a man who had grown up in that time period.
“Life is weird, huh?” Peaches said gently.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with him,” Tess blurted out before she thought better of it. “He’s not in my plans.”
“I think you’re in his,” Peaches said mildly, “as casually as he might be going about it.”
Tess jumped up and began to pace. “
You
go date him.”
“He’s not my type,” Peaches said airily. “Too organized and bossy. I want a bearded guru who eats only raw food and has a potting shed that needs my expertise. Messy sock drawer is optional.”
“No, what you want is a knight in shining armor to come sweep you off your feet,” Tess said grimly, sitting back down, “which is absolutely what you deserve for your life of goodness and the miserable past week of putting up with me.”
“Well,” Peaches admitted, “that might do. But since I don’t want
your
medieval lord down the street, you can date him freely and know that he looks on me like a sister. Which, as it happens, I am.”
“And just what am
I
supposed to do with him?” Tess asked, throwing up her hands in despair. “Tell him what I know and watch him run? If he finds out our little sister is married to his little brother eight centuries in the past, he’ll go and never look back. What do I do then?”
Peaches shook her head slowly. “I don’t have a life plan for this kind of thing.”
“Tell me she’s happy,” Tess managed.
“Pippa?” Peaches asked in surprise. “Of course she’s happy.”
“But she doesn’t have us,” Tess protested.
Peaches reached out and held her hands, hard. “Tess, she wouldn’t have had us forever anyway. You’ll get married; I’ll get married. We’ll start families of our own and make our own lives. I don’t imagine we would have all been living here together in your gloriously restored castle forever.”
“But we could have had reunions,” Tess said, blinking back tears she hadn’t realized she’d been close to shedding. “Girls’ weekends on the beach. Shopping in Paris.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you’re dealing so well with this. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief—”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Peaches said gently. “I’m fine and you will be, too.”
Tess took a deep breath. “Some days I think so. Other days, like today, I’m just not sure I will be. And every time I look at that man, I remember it all over again.”
Peaches leaned back in her seat. “Tess, just take it as it comes. Date that gorgeous John de Piaget and wait for the time to come when you can talk to him. He’s without his siblings, too, as you would remember if you could think clearly. He might feel better about his own life if he knew you were going through the same thing.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know he could go back,” Tess whispered.
Peaches looked at her steadily. “Do you want to be the one to tell him?”
Tess shook her head. “I’m a coward.”
“We could just make sure he was hanging around when we send Pippa another care package. I’m sure he’d enjoy watching us send it off into thin air.”
Tess didn’t like to think about that. She and Peaches had pushed a trunk through the time gate at the end of Sedgwick’s bridge before Tess had sent Peaches back to the States. She’d been so shocked by the sight, she’d almost followed it into the . . . well,
void
was the only word she’d been able to come up with. She’d put up a historical marker over the spot the next day. Not a permanent one. Just one big enough to discourage too close a look unless one really wanted a quick trip to the past in which case the marker could be easily dislodged from its base.
And to think she’d assumed living with her parents would be the weirdest thing she would ever have to put up with.
“Just get through the evening,” Peaches advised. “I can hold down the fort for you next week if you want to just get in your car and drive. Unless John is planning on monopolizing your time.”
“He doesn’t want to see me for a week. I don’t think he wants this thing getting out ahead of him.”
“Thing,” Peaches echoed. “Is that what he calls it?”
“I think that was stretching his powers of commitment as it was.”
Peaches laughed a little. “You can hardly blame him. The man is harboring appalling secrets and probably thinks you’d look at him as if he’d lost his mind if he dared share them.” She looked at Tess calculatingly. “We could go on a double date. I could dig up some nice guy from the village.”
“Or Stephen de Piaget.”
Peaches pursed her lips. “When hell freezes over.”
Tess blinked in surprise. “What happened? I thought you two—”
“No,” Peaches said briskly. “And I don’t want to talk about it.” She rose and walked toward the door. “I have a couple of phone calls to make. You really should check your mail. Never know what’s piling up.”
As long as it wasn’t long, rambling letters from Cinderella Alexander, beauty queen extraordinaire, wanting to come back and play Queen of the Fairies in her castle, Tess was happy to deal with it. Later, after the evening had been successfully navigated.
She watched her sister thoughtfully as she disappeared out the solar door, then set her questions aside for when she could wring the answers out of her more comfortably.
She took a deep breath, then walked out into the hall to find that the outriders for the evening’s marauders had already arrived.
It was going to be a very long evening.
T
wo
hours later, she realized she had grossly underestimated just how long an evening it would turn out to be. She’d reminded the president of the group that they were still on probation—their sedate solstice celebration aside—which seemed to have made an impression on most of them. The only trouble brewing seemed to be the well-dressed faux lords who were lingering just a bit too long near the punch bowl, which led her to believe that someone had spiked it already.
There were just some people who had known each other too long and dressed in tights once too often.
She supposed she might save all the ladies in the hall the necessity of keeping a few randy lads at bay if she saw to the refilling of that punch bowl. She pushed away from the tapestry she’d been gingerly leaning against and walked into the passageway leading to the kitchen only to feel someone take her hand and spin her around.
Her first thought was that it was John, but he wouldn’t have manhandled her that way. She found herself abruptly backed up against the wall by a too-buff, sword-bearing blond man who had, unfortunately, not had too much to drink. He pinned her to the wall with his hands against her shoulders.