Return of the Rose (8 page)

She passed by endless stone walls, massive towers surrounded by lush greenery, and well-manicured gardens. The clanking of iron against rock could be heard in the distance, not to mention the squawks of chickens as they ran underfoot.

As she neared the outer gates, a guard leaned over the tower and shouted, “You there, state your name!”

“Lady Amanda,” she called back.

“Lord Vanguard’s betrothed?”

Before she could answer another guard shouted, “Who do we have there, Jacob?”

“‘Tis the lady who ran off to be with her lover,” the first guard answered.

Morgan rolled her eyes. “It’s just a rumor. I never ran off and I don’t have a lover.”

The second guard stepped into the bright daylight, elbowing his partner in the gut. “Of course not, my lady. Many apologies for Jacob’s insolence. Go on. You may pass.”

As she walked off she could hear them arguing.

“Why did you let her go? I promised Hugo I would not let her through the gates unescorted,” Jacob said.

“His lordship ordered that she be allowed to roam free at all times,” the other man argued. “Let her go.”

“She will not be safe.”

“‘Tis not our concern.”

Lord Vanguard had told her straight out to stay put. Why then, Morgan wondered, had he told the guard to let her pass? When she was far enough away, she gazed back at Braddock. The castle wasn’t crumbling and faded like castles she’d seen in the history books. Nor was the castle as colorful and illuminating as depicted in modern films. Braddock was bold and dynamic, bespeaking power, like its master.

As she continued her walk, her thoughts turned to her conversation with Matti. She thought of Derek as a boy, frightened and alone, wanting nothing more than to be held in his mother’s arms. Maybe Lord Vanguard was just a lonely soul like herself. He sure wasn’t as ferocious as everybody liked to think. His kisses were proof of that. Or maybe she was just making too much out of a few kisses.

Somberly she wondered what her mother was doing now. She missed their morning talks over coffee and even her mother’s constant meddling. At the age of eighteen, she had moved to an apartment of her own, but her mother had been lonely and had begged her to move back home and save her money instead. As a dark shadow of a hawk swept across the path overhead, she glanced upward in time to see a man lunging from the higher branches of a tree.

She screamed, but the man clamped a hand over her mouth. She bit down as hard as she could.

“Bloody hell, woman!” He jerked his hand back and peered disbelieving at the teeth marks embedded in his palm. “‘Tis me, Robert!”

Her eyes widened at the mention of his name. She took a good look at the young man, noting his scarlet cape and green tights. He must be Amanda’s lover, the man Odelia had mentioned on more than one occasion.

“I’m sorry,” she said gesturing toward his wounded hand, “but you scared me. I thought you were Robin Hood!”

“‘Twould seem my enthusiasm at seeing you has caused me to act foolishly. I should have warned you first of my presence.” His apologetic expression turned to a look of perplexity. “Pray tell, who is Robin Hood?”

“A legendary English man in tights who steals from the rich and gives to the poor.”

“I have not heard of him.”

“It’s not important,” she said, “but I think he dates back to the 1300s. Does the ‘Sheriff of Nottingham’ ring any bells?”

“Why is it that you can no longer speak properly?” he asked.

“Because I’m not who you think. I’m not Amanda.”

He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “You are lovely even when you are babbling nonsensical rubbish. Being away from you this past year has only served to make my love for you grow stronger. I have missed you.” Swiftly and without notice, he drew her snug against his chest and held her tight.

Who did the men in this century think they were? And why couldn’t Amanda’s lover see that she wasn’t Amanda at all? More discouraged than ever, she pushed away from him. The hurt she saw in his eyes almost made her feel sorry for him.

“Amanda, what has happened? What has that depraved man done to you? I need to know.”

“You must listen to me, Robert. I’m not who you think I am. I’ve heard about the love you and Amanda have for each other. That’s why you need to find her. She’s probably out there somewhere waiting for you.”

He hardly flinched at the sincerity of her words. She was beginning to see the hopelessness of convincing him or anyone else of her cataclysmic experience. “My name is Morgan Hayes,” she said wearily, “and I’m from another time…the year 2011.”

“We both know you are an atrocious liar.” A smile tugged at his lips and his hands fell to her shoulders. “You listen to me now. Your father’s people are forgiving and their love for you is deep. If you leave with me, they will understand.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know why you are doing this,” he said. “‘Twill only serve to destroy us both, can you not see that? I beseech you to come with me now before it is too late.”

“I can’t,” Morgan said. “But for Amanda’s sake and mine, you must find her. She’ll have the answers you’re looking for.”

“You are a stubborn woman, my love. Surely you know I will not give up until you are out of that man’s ruddy clutches.”

“Whose ruddy clutches?”

“Vanguard’s, of course; who else?” He studied her critically. “Could it be that you have not been held prisoner these past days as I feared?” This time when he stepped close he took her firmly about the waist.

She was beginning to feel like a rag doll the way he kept pulling her into his arms as if she had no say in his handling of her. His well-trimmed goatee scratched her cheek. Robin Hood was getting on her nerves.

“Do my eyes dare deceive me?” he went on. “Can it be that you plan to go through with this marriage? Tell me ‘tis not so.”

She had a headache and her eyelid began to twitch again. Here she was in another time, with yet another good-looking man who thought she was Amanda. “Never a dull moment,” she said before digging her heel into his foot.

“Saint Dunstan’s Tongs!” he said, wincing in pain and hopping on one foot. “‘Tis him, is it not? I will kill him; I will.”

Morgan plunked her hands on her hips. “I’m tired of all this talk. Why won’t anyone listen to what I’m trying to say? Men. Overbearing control freaks, all of you. Medieval, modern…it doesn’t seem to matter.”

“You are coming with me,” he demanded, ignoring her completely.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you. I’m not Amanda. I am Morgan Hayes. Read my lips.” She stepped closer with each word until he was forced to take a few steps back to avoid a gouged eye or worse. “Nobody’s going to tell me what to do or when to do it. Not the men I meet back home; not the conceited, cocky gladiator at Braddock; and certainly not you, Robin Hood.” She gave him her best don’t-hassle-me-buster look and then walked off.

“You are not yourself, that much is certain,” he called after her. “But my love for you is stronger than all of England’s love for their king. My life is nothing without you, Amanda, and I vow unto you this day that I will not give up until you are in my arms where you belong!”

CHAPTER 5

“What do you mean you’re not sure where Lady Amanda is?” Hugo asked.

Her ladyship’s maid, Odelia, looked from Hugo to Lord Vanguard, her face haggard from worry. “‘Twould seem Lady Amanda has taken a walk, my lord. Methinks she will return shortly.”

Lord Vanguard sat askew within his chair, his elbow propped precariously upon the table in front of him, expressly confident and cocksure that neither Odelia nor Hugo could bring forth Lady Amanda. “It seems to me,” he drawled, his speech the tiniest bit slurred, “that your lady of such lofty virtues has chosen to run away once more…”

“She’s here, she’s here!” an excited maid said as she entered the room, interrupting Lord Vanguard in her excitement.

Derek studied the messenger. “Who is here?”

“Lady Amanda, my lord. The guards at the outer gate swore ‘twas her ladyship who entered just before sunset.”

Derek glanced at Hugo in disbelief.

Hugo responded with his own self-satisfied look.

Odelia wiped her perspiring brow and quickly headed for the door, dragging the other maid out with her.

Derek stood and waited for the room to stop spinning, wishing he hadn’t spent quite so much time at the Boars Head Inn. He needed proof that the wench had returned. Women never followed orders and for that reason alone he was sure he had seen the last of his betrothed.

“Mayhap it would be preferable,” Hugo told him, “if you got some rest and visited your betrothed when you are…shall we say…more yourself?”

Derek strode past the burly man-at-arms without so much as a glance. Not even the strong drink had eased the turmoil Lady Amanda caused him. If indeed the wench had returned, she would surely regret that decision.

~~~~

Morgan stepped into the round wooden tub filled with warm water, hoping to wash away the frustrations of the day. Maybe she really had hit her head in the forest. Or maybe she was indeed Amanda and her other life in the future was a crazy dream. Why else wouldn’t anyone else see that she was not Amanda Forrester?

Since the tub wasn’t long enough for her to extend her legs fully, she sat with her legs crossed in front of her. She grabbed one of the scented soaps she’d found in Amanda’s trunk and used it to bathe.

When she was done washing she let her legs dangle over the edge of the tub and lay her head back on a folded pelt. The room crackled with relaxing warmth. She closed her eyes, but not for long, because suddenly the door swung open. The iron hinges nearly unbuckled beneath the weight of the door. The thick planks hit the stone wall with an ear-piercing bang.

Lord Vanguard stood beneath the heavy-timbered frame, his breathing ragged, and his eyes blazing.

Morgan grabbed the fur pelt and held it in front of her. “Are you insane?”

He appeared to have little regard for her question as he stalked toward her. His intense scrutiny heated her skin as his gaze roamed carelessly, freely, as though the flames of the fire itself coursed over her. He towered over her, his expression hard and unreadable. Then she got a whiff of what smelled like a brewery. “You’re drunk!”

He lowered himself on bended knee, placing one of his large hands on her shoulder to keep his balance. He swayed a little to the left, and then to the right. She followed his gaze to where his fingers touched her skin.

She gently removed his hand, but he raised that same hand and used it to graze his knuckles over her cheek. For a man of his size, his touch was gentle. He leaned close to her ear as if to tell her a secret, and she leaned forward to listen, absurdly intoxicated by his nearness. The richness of his voice when he spoke was as warm and soothing as the fire that burned within the hearth.

“You came back,” he stated more than asked, sending shivers up her spine.

His lips trailed over her ear. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back slightly. The feathered touch of his fingertips upon her arm sent waves of pulsating vibrations through her body. She stifled a groan.

~~~~

Although her body told him everything he needed to know, Derek had an overwhelming desire to see if her eyes exhibited the same invitation. He pulled back, just enough so that he could see her face. With the ball of his thumb he gently lifted her chin. Who was this woman who dared to bewitch him, this woman who succeeded in intruding upon his every thought since he first laid eyes on her?

He brushed his lips across her cheek, her lips, and then moved back to nibble on her ear where he whispered, “What kind of magical hex has befallen me?”

Although she had no answer for him, her face flushed.

The woman drenched his senses with jasmine scented skin and tantalized him with her rosebud lips. He could not torment himself any longer. He kissed her, thoroughly this time.

The useless pelt fell to the ground as he lifted her from the tub. He carried her across the room, pressing her down into the furs that lay before the hearth.

His preferences had always been for the more experienced women, exactly what he assumed her to be: a seasoned wench who could appreciate one of life’s pleasures. Although her startled gestures were those of an innocent, he was sure it was a practiced trait of hers that made her even more desirable.

~~~~

Pulling her lips from his, she said, “We can’t do this…” His mouth traveled down her neck. “Too many…unanswered quest—oh, that feels good. Don’t stop.”

His lips returned to seize the flow of words, words she’d instantly regretted anyhow. Not only were bells ringing, a whole cacophony of trumpets and chimes exploded inside of her. Nothing in her life had ever felt more right than this. Of all the wonderful sights she’d seen in this century so far, things that would turn to faded memories when she returned to the future, she wanted only the memory of Derek Vanguard to linger forever.

His hand curved around her breast, making her quiver as his inspiring mouth easily coerced her lips into parting for him. His tongue scorched her own, teasing, exploring the taste of her. The kiss was demanding and erotic. She reached both of her arms about the thick broadness of his neck and shoulders. When he lifted his head slightly she opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her. She hardly knew the man but she wanted him. Nothing made sense any longer. This place. This man. Regardless, she smiled at him and his reaction was instantaneous. His muscles constricted beneath her fingertips. His scorching look of desire dissolved, leaving in its wake a haunted expression, dark with pain, lined with anger as he loosened her arms from about his neck.

Confused, she kept her eyes locked on his as he raised himself from the floor. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I refuse to be taken in so easily when we both know ‘tis another who floats about in that head of yours.”

“What are you talking about?”