And he smiled.
John fought as if his life depended on it because, as it happened, it just might. He cast aside his honor and any pretense of fighting fairly. He slew half the men facing him with the sword, then used dirty street-fighting to render the rest of them senseless. If Roland died . . .
He shoved the last man out of his way, then sprinted across the distance that separated him from the brothers, hoping he would get there before Everard’s falling sword cleaved Roland’s skull in twain. He slew the final man standing in his way, then flung himself forward again.
He stopped Everard’s sword with his own approximately three inches from Roland’s empty head.
He shoved Everard backward by means of a foot in his belly, then put himself in front of Roland. Everard regained his balance, then stepped back, accompanied by a look of utter boredom.
“It seems unsporting to slay your brother,” John said, his chest heaving.
Everard only shrugged carelessly. In his eyes, though, there was a callousness that was chilling.
John looked over his shoulder at Roland and jerked his head toward the keep. Roland took the hint and decamped for safer environs. John watched him run bodily into Jake who seemed happy enough to take him in hand. John nodded his thanks, then turned back to the fool in front of him. He watched as Everard lifted his sunglasses up and frowned thoughtfully at the blood spattered on them.
“Buy those at Boots?” John asked pointedly, suppressing the urge to reach out and make a grab for them so he might strangle the whoreson with the strap.
“I did, actually.” He allowed his sunglasses to drop back down to his chest, then patted them affectionately. “I’m finding your adopted time to be much to my liking.”
John rested his sword against his shoulder. Roland was safe and most of Everard’s men had been rendered unable to aid their leader, so he might as well have a few answers for his trouble. “How have you managed?”
Everard shrugged. “I threw my lot in with a group of fools pretending to be knights. One of them was willing to ferry me about in his car after I told him I would share with him the hidden treasure only I knew was lying in Sedgwick’s cellar. As for anything else, ’twas simply good fortune to drive through the village near Sedgwick and see you standing outside your shop.”
“Then you’re the one who took my sword,” John said flatly.
“Of course,” Everard said pleasantly. “And I did a smashing job of laying out tea, didn’t I?”
John pursed his lips and decided that didn’t merit an answer. “Why vex me?”
The change in Everard’s mien was swift and unsettling. “Because I loathe you,” he spat. “My bloody father held you and your unholy shadow of a brother up to me every day of my bloody life as perfect examples of chivalry. I failed to strike out at Montgomery, but I had every intention of succeeding with you. And I knew just how to do it.”
John imagined he did. “Then you slit Tess’s brake lines,” he said, “and you wrote the note—nay, you couldn’t have written the note I found in my car because you can scarce sign your name.”
Everard’s look was murderous. “I had my servant do it, of course, because it was beneath me. I also left your sword in the forest and arranged it so your little wench would have to stop on a particular piece of ground to avoid running into it. And I sent you after her, because I could.”
“It seems a fair bit of trouble,” John began evenly, “to use slaying your brother as a way to strike out at me.”
”But he doesn’t want to kill Roland,” said a voice suddenly from behind him.
John whirled around to find Tess standing there, dressed, damn her to hell, in lad’s clothes. “What?” he demanded incredulously
“He doesn’t want to kill Roland,” she repeated. “He wants to kill—John, look out!”
John shoved Tess away from him, out of danger, then spun around. The only reason he hadn’t been skewered on the end of Everard’s sword was because Tess had shouted out a warning. He managed to keep himself alive after leaping aside only because he’d spent most of his life honing his skills with his father and brothers. Everard was hardly his equal, but he was apparently dredging up previously untapped reservoirs of desperation. John, had he been a lad with a weaker stomach, might have thought himself in a bit of a spot once or twice.
But since he could see out of the corner of his eye that the men of his family were watching him, their arms folded over their chests, and he could hear Tess behind him, making little sounds of distress, he collected every ounce of skill and strength he possessed and fought as if his life depended on it. Everard feinted to the left, then, to John’s absolute surprise, kicked John’s sword out of his hands. He followed that up with the heel of his hand under John’s jaw.
John went sprawling backward in the muck. He looked up through the stars spinning around his head, then rolled to avoid Everard’s sword stabbing where his own empty head should have been. He rolled again to avoid another thrust, pulling a knife free from his boot, then rolled to his knees and shoved his blade upward.
Everard gasped, then looked at the haft of John’s blade protruding from his belly. His sword fell from his hands.
“I’m dead,” he said in surprise.
John leaped to his feet and watched as Everard stumbled backward over the body of one of his men and went down hard upon his arse.
John glanced briefly over his shoulder to find Roland standing there, gaping at him. The future Earl of Sedgwick looked suddenly quite green, then turned and lost whatever he’d eaten that day. Tess clapped her hand over her mouth, presumably to keep herself from joining him.
John strode over to Tess and started to pull her behind him, then thought better of it.
“What did you mean back there?” he managed, feeling as if he were on the edge of falling into an abyss. “He wanted to kill whom?”
“You,” she said breathlessly. She was splattered with the filth of the battlefield and looked absolutely terrified. “If Everard had wanted to kill Roland, he could have done it at any time, either here or in our day. But he left his brother alive. The only reason that made sense was because he didn’t want anything Roland had—”
“I want what
you
have,” Everard gurgled. “There, in that other world. And I’ll have it yet.” He lifted his head and glared at John. “And your wench, too, if she knows what’s good for her.”
John handed Tess off to Montgomery who had taken his bloody sweet time about sauntering over to offer aid, then walked back over to where Everard was now lying back in the muck. He checked again for weapons he might not expect, then looked at him.
“But why here?” John asked. “Why not slay me in the Future?”
“No body,” Everard gasped, “no proof. I leave you here . . . and escape to there. Don’t you watch . . . telly? Some snooping bobby . . . would . . . have . . . caught me up . . .”
John watched as Everard’s eyes closed and he breathed his last. He sighed deeply, then bent and pulled his knife free of Everard’s lifeless body. He found his sword and resheathed it, turning over in his mind what he’d just learned. He supposed Everard’s plan made sense. Why not lure him back to medieval England, slay him, then return back to Future and take over all his affairs? It wasn’t as though he had any close associates, no one who would have known the difference between him and someone pretending to be him. Everard could have gathered up all John’s assets and disappeared into any number of luxurious locales.
He wasn’t sure how Everard had thought to win Tess over, but perhaps he simply hadn’t thought that far. Tess would not have gone quietly, John could say that much with certainty.
He scanned the battlefield quickly, but the skirmish was ended. His father, his brothers, and their men were simply milling about, making certain the threat had been eliminated. John took a deep breath, then looked behind him. Roland was now standing ten paces away, watching silently. John pursed his lips.
“And why are you here?” he demanded.
“I wanted to see what my brother was combining,” Roland said with a shrug. “And to give you a few answers I thought you might want.”
“Well, ’tis for damned sure you didn’t come to save my life,” John muttered. “I assume you’ve been doing a little traveling?”
Roland shrugged, but apparently couldn’t help a smile. “Everard couldn’t read the note you left him, and he was too stupid to imagine I might poke through his things whilst he was otherwise occupied. So, aye, I’ve been using your gate, when I’ve had the urge to roam. I stumbled by accident upon the one that lurks in my father’s forest, though I’m afraid Everard saw me at it. I began to suspect over the past pair of months that Everard might understand its use, so I’ve nipped back home now and then to keep tabs on him.”
John realized Roland was speaking English. “Interesting way to pass your time.”
“It is,” Roland agreed. “I’ve tried several centuries. Can’t quite decide on what suits me the most, but I can name a couple I didn’t particularly fancy.”
John turned slightly to look at Tess, who was leaning heavily against his brother’s shoulder. John reached over and caught her hand, then pulled her over to stand next to him. “I should introduce you to my lady wife. Tess Alexander, this is Roland of Chevington.”
“I know,” Tess said faintly. “Or I will know, I should say.”
Roland frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
John took a perverse pleasure in enlightening the man. “You, it would seem, have a few things to do that you haven’t thought of yet. I would simply suggest that you do them properly.”
Roland frowned. “How does that work?”
“Don’t ask,” Tess said, a little breathlessly. “And, John, don’t torment him. We owe him quite a bit.”
Roland shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll go have a think about that, shall I? Unless you’ve any hints to give me before I do.”
“I don’t think I should,” John said seriously. “I don’t want the Future changing because of something I blurted out. Just carry on. You seem to have done a smashing job all on your own.” He paused. “I suppose we’ll let you get back to your jet-setting ways, unless you’d care to come inside for supper.”
Roland tilted his head and looked at him. “I assume you’re preparing to be lord of the manor.”
“How did you know that?”
“The lady Joanna told me she wished she could leave the place to you but since she had no idea of your whereabouts, she would be forced to find someone else suitable. That someone would not, she assured me, ever be anyone from Chevington. After making certain I understood that, she instructed me quite politely to go to hell and take my brother with me.” He laughed a little. “I’m not sure she wants me in her gates again, though I must declare that my motives were pure.” He looked at Tess. “A pleasure, my lady. I hope we’ll meet again.”
“I do, too,” Tess said gravely.
Roland made them both a small bow. “Well, I’ll see to cleaning up what’s left out here and perhaps beg a meal in the garrison hall. Then I think I’m for France.” He laced his fingers together and stretched his hands over his head. “Post-revolution France, though. I’ve had enough of bloodshed for the day.”
John watched him walk away, then sighed deeply, wondering why he was so unsettled. It wasn’t that Roland might not manage to do what he was supposed to have already done—from a certain perspective, of course. He frowned, looked about the battlefield, then his gaze fell upon just what it was that had left him feeling as if things weren’t as they should have been.
“And just what in the hell,” he asked the miscreant politely, “were you thinking?”
Well, he might have been a little less than polite, but he was covered in blood, so he thought he might be permitted an enthusiastic question or two.
Tess put her hands on her hips. “Don’t yell at me.”
“Tess, this is a damned battlefield!” he exclaimed. “Of
course
I’m going to yell at you. You’re bloody lucky I don’t take my sword to you!”
She ducked behind his brother, but Montgomery only laughed and moved out of the way.
“I’m not about to get between you two,” he said frankly. “I’ve trained my lady to stay at home with the doors bolted. Obviously, John, you have some work still to do.”
Tess glared at her brother-in-law, then walked forward until she was standing toe-to-toe with him. “Your sister Amanda found the clothes for me,” she said, sticking her chin out.
“A messenger would have sufficed,” he said with a scowl.
“Are you having your first row?” Montgomery called back over his shoulder.
“We already had that,” John said shortly. “This is the second, I daresay. Perhaps the third.”
“She helped save your life, you fool,” Robin said as he walked by, covered with muck and other substances John didn’t care to identify. “If I were you, I would take her inside and indulge in a little wooing. She’s liable to bolt her door against you otherwise. Not that I ever give my lady any reason for that, but I am, as many have noted, a perfectly chivalrous knight.”
“Yeah,” Tess said, nodding. “What he said.”