Through The Leaded Glass (8 page)

Read Through The Leaded Glass Online

Authors: Judi Fennell

Tags: #romance, #england, #historical, #contemporary, #fairy tale, #time travel, #medieval, #renaissance faire, #once upon a time, #pa renfaire

BOOK: Through The Leaded Glass
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Alex ran his fingers through his hair and
around the back of his neck, giving her a look that was the
medieval equivalent of
whatever
. “Have you forgotten Lady
Aubridge?”


The gossip-monger? Tell her she
was mistaken.” Kate tugged the ring. “Take your ring and no one
will be the wiser.”

Alex stopped her before she’d removed it. “No,
Kate, it’s too late for that. Your fate is not your own to
determine for word has spread by now. Isobel will not accept my
suit. You must marry me.”


Uh, hello?” She tapped his
shoulder. “Did you just hear me say I have a daughter to worry
about? Unless you’ve got a ceremony all ready to go, or can jet me
off to Vegas—not that it even exists right now—I’m guessing that a
medieval wedding can’t happen in under two weeks. And let’s not
even talk about the quickie divorce. So, sorry Alex, you’re out of
luck. Buh-bye.” She turned toward the door.


And when you cannot find your
window? What then?”

She stopped. “Then I’ll find Alicia and she
can zap me home.”


The gypsies have already left
Shelton lands.”


Convenient.” She wanted to
strangle Alicia. Her friend believed in fairy tales and happily
ever afters and now, apparently, time travel matchmaking. “Fine.
Whatever. I stowed the window away right before I showed up here.
I’m sure it’s still where I left it.”


Kate.” His words were soft, but
the smile was wise-ass enough to piss her off. “You don’t
understand our ways. For that, I’m willing to overlook your most
glaring misdeeds. But you
will
marry me. Or, at least,
you’ll pretend a betrothal.” He held up a hand when she opened her
mouth. “There’s a thief among my people, someone who wishes me ill.
With you wearing my ring, the thief will attempt something more.
Now that I’m aware of his plot, I’ll discover who it
is.”


Look here, oh lord and master, and
I use that term loosely, make no mistake. I don’t believe in
Alicia’s predictions, I doubt that anyone cares whether you marry
me or not, and the simple truth is that I don’t want to marry you.
I don’t want to marry anyone. I tried that once and it didn’t end
well. No thank you. So, again, have a good one.” She saluted him,
spun on her heel, and left the tent.


I’ll be here when you don’t find
the window, Kate. Then we’ll talk.”

 

***

 

Of all the arrogant, self-assured,
chauvinistic… Kate stomped down the path. “‘I’ll be here.’” He
could take his supercilious airs and stick them. Alicia had a lot
of nerve doing this to her.

Please, Kate,
Alicia had so tearfully
cried on the phone
, I really need you to come. It’s something I
need to do to sort out my life. It’ll help, you’ll see. Please?
Please travel back to medieval England with me.

Kate groaned. If only she’d really listened.
Alicia had asked her to travel to
medieval
England. The
Renaissance Faire was
Renaissance
England,
Elizabethan
England. The era that came
after
the
medieval time period.

She had no doubt that Alicia had somehow set
this all up. And she’d gone along, blissfully unaware.

If she knew Alicia—and she had since they’d
been four years old—she was around here somewhere, laughing her ass
off. Kate wanted to strangle her. Practical jokes had always been
Alicia’s M.O., with Kate, more often than not, on the good-natured
receiving end of them. None had been mean-spirited and this was no
exception. It was just damn inconvenient.

That was Alicia. She acted before she
thought—though this one seemed well planned. Alicia had been on her
case about being weeks away from thirty and single—never mind that
Alicia was, too. But Alicia was “looking,” whereas Kate had had her
fill of men.

Jay had been enough and the lessons learned
from him would last her a lifetime. Her heart had been broken, her
bank account depleted, and her self-esteem squashed like a bug.
She’d learned and earned her independence the hard way. But the
lesson stuck.

So she was going to get her window and get
back to her life and the daughter she’d been dreaming about since
her wedding day eight years ago. And this little jaunt into the
past wasn’t going to stop her.

And she’d consider that thought and all its
ramifications
after
she found the window, because, yes, it
wasn’t a rational reaction. But then, what in this situation
was
rational?

Kate strode to the tree where she’d stashed
the window and, shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun,
reached into the crevice of the rocks.

Empty.

No. No way. Not possible.

What about this entire situation makes you
think it
would
be possible?

Ignoring the smart-ass tone of her conscience,
Kate swept the niche again.

No window.

She shoved herself out of the hole,
repositioned the sleeves of her dress, brushed the hair out of her
eyes, and looked around. This had to be the place. There weren’t
any other rocks near a tree. Hell, there weren’t even any other
piles of rocks big enough to hide the window.

She turned around and plunked her butt on the
stone. It was gone. Just like Alex had said. And like “Madame
Alicia” had foretold.

Kate scanned the area again. “Okay, Leese,
come out, come out, wherever you are. This has been fun, but fun
time’s over. I need to go home.”

A horse whinnied nearby. A bird
chirped.

Alicia didn’t say a word.


Alicia? Please?”

Nothing.

Now what the hell was she supposed to
do?

Kate shuffled her running shoes in the dirt.
Crow was not her favorite meal, but it looked like it was on the
menu.

 

***

 


It’s gone.” Alex leaned on one of
the casks. It wasn’t a question.

Kate let the tent flap hit her as it closed.
“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”


Shelton, Kate. Not
Sherlock.”

Right. “Looks like you and Alicia are plotting
together to keep me here, or your thief has struck again.” She
rubbed her temples and sat on the bench. “Now what?”


Now you’ll marry me.”

Her head shot up. “Uh… no. I told you, I’m not
getting married again. But—”she held up her hand when he opened his
mouth— “it looks like I will have to
pretend
to be marrying
you. But just until I can find my window.”


And if it’s never
found?”

Not something she wanted to consider. Besides,
Alicia had found a way to do this; surely she’d show up at some
point to take Kate back with her. She wouldn’t just leave her here.
“It’s not like it vanished into thin air. I’ll offer a reward or
something.”

Alex sat next to her again, his thigh brushing
hers, and, for a brief moment, she time traveled back a few minutes
to that kiss they’d shared.

Then she laughed at herself. Stuck in medieval
England, no way of fending for herself, yet her traitorous hormones
zeroed in on him like radar and her libido switched into party
mode.


You have something of value for
this reward, Kate? I fear your plastic will not entice many
people.”


Good point.” And good timing. The
last thing she needed to be noticing was the samba her nerve
endings were doing when she was near him.


As your betrothed, I’ll offer the
reward. You’ll need to provide me with a drawing of the window.” He
picked up her hand and brushed his thumb over the
emerald.

Subtle he was not. But then, he probably
didn’t have reason to be. For all intents and purposes, he was the
law around here. And it
was
nice of him to help her out. He
could have her beheaded, or hung, or drawn and quartered, or
whatever they did with people who didn’t go along with their agenda
these days.


Thanks. That’s very generous of
you.” She glanced at him. With that grin and how he looked in
armor, being engaged to him could have its benefits. Then again,
she was done with guys, remember? Especially autocratic,
commanding,
medieval
ones.

She pulled her hand back. It was a pretend
betrothal and she’d better remember that. “So, it looks like I’m
going to be marrying some earl in the fifteenth century.” She shook
her head and exhaled. “That’s one I never thought I’d
say.”


I’m not ‘some earl,’ Kate.” Alex’s
grin faded, his peerage bridling in umbrage. “And until you are
able to return to your time, you could do far worse than become my
countess. Marriage to me does have its advantages.” His gaze swept
over her, the lingering glance somewhere below her collarbone a
dead giveaway. She squirmed and he smiled knowingly.

She crossed her arms. “Typical man. That
hasn’t changed in five hundred years.”


Good to know.” H stood up and
smiled, again offering her his hand. “So, we are agreed? I’ll offer
a reward for the return of your window, help you discover whatever
it is the gypsy feels is missing from your life and, in return,
you’ll continue as my betrothed. Will that do?”

Do? Do what? She completely forgot the
conversation with that potent, charming and altogether too-sexy
smile of his. A smile to charm, to dazzle, to bewitch. And it
worked. Lord, did it work. All of a sudden, everything that made
her female started humming. She wanted to reach out and caress
those lips with her fingertips, slip her hand through his hair,
press her body—

Chill, Kate
. Vacation flings were not
exactly advisable when the guy was a chauvinistic lord from another
century.


Agreed?” Too bad he had the
requisite sexy voice that did delicious things to her nerve endings
and reminded her just how long it’d been since she’d felt
desired.

Great. One more thing to pile on the lack of
options she now had.

Resigned, Kate stuck out her hand.
“Agreed.”

His fingers closed over hers and he tugged.
Just a bit, but it was enough. “Then we should act the
part.”

He kissed her. Hard. Demanding. His tongue
swept her lips, their seam, then inside. Her breath caught and she
wrapped her free hand around his neck. He shuddered when she flexed
her fingers, as affected by her as she was by him.

She kissed him back, intertwining her tongue
with his. Any thoughts about slowing down flew out the tent flap as
he swept his arms around her, crushing her to the hard steel of his
armor.

She gasped as Alex rubbed his cheek with its
hint of five o’clock shadow against hers. His tongue flicked out,
sending shivers up her spine as he licked along her jaw to the
sensitive hollow beneath her ear, his hot breath warming her damp
skin. It’d been so long since she’d felt like this, desired
and
desiring.

His hand stole to her chest and she couldn’t
breathe as her breast filled his palm, fireworks exploding from
every stroke of his fingers. His thumb slid to her nipple, back and
forth, the friction causing the hollow in her stomach to fill with
a cyclone of butterflies. Her legs threatened to give out, as every
sensation spiraled to the very center of her. She squeezed her legs
together, trying to ease the ache, and ended up pushing her hips at
him, clutching his well-defined backside, and dragging him up
against her.

That damn armor prevented them from getting
closer. She tugged at his collar. “Alex—”

Alex covered her mouth with his again, and his
hands explored her back, then her backside, pulling her gown up her
legs.
So much for not having a fling
. She trembled with the
sensations running through her. She’d never felt like this so
quickly before, as if her nerve endings were dirty dancing under
her skin.

It scared the hell out of her.

She broke away. Alex, damn him, his mouth
twisted to a mocking smile, held on to her dress.


Do you mind?” She yanked the
fabric.


I do,” Alex said, pulling just as
hard and bringing her back against him. “You have a child, have had
a husband. You can’t claim maidenly virtue.”

She couldn’t help the anticipatory shiver that
raced up her spine when his breath fluttered over her ear. Damn him
for being right. But she mustered her self-esteem and shoved him
away. “Look, I agreed to the engagement. Sex doesn’t come into the
bargain—got it? We are not doing…” She waved her hands between
them. “This.”

Alex dropped her gown. “Pity.
This
would be pleasant.” He stepped back. “But, unfortunately, I don’t
have the time to pursue it. We must devise an explanation for your
sudden appearance.” He walked toward the table, too damn composed
for her liking. “You are widowed—”


Divorced.”

He turned. His eyebrow arched. “Widowed. From
a nunnery.”


A nunnery? Aren’t nuns supposed to
be shy and quiet? And pious? I’m about as pious as your broadsword.
And as for shy and quiet, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not
about to go ‘my lord’ing you all over the place. There’s no
way—”

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