Page 12 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)

N icholas paused at the doorway of Master Gavin’s chamber and put his hands against the door frame. That he needed such aid was unsettling indeed. He took a moment to make certain his legs were steady beneath him, then made his way with trembling limbs down the passageway to the great hall. He hoped he would arrive at a chair before he fell down.

Two more days had passed in which he hadn’t been able to even rise from his bed. Today, though, he’d been determined to dress himself and be about his business.

He steadfastly refused to think about the fact that what motivated him the most was the thought of seeing Jennifer.

If she was still there.

She hadn’t tended him after that first morn when he’d woken. Perhaps she had left to seek another way back to the Future . . .

He looked across the hall to see Jennifer sitting in front of the fire, deep in discussion with Miles. He felt an unwholesome sense of relief course through him. He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath.

He watched Jennifer catch sight of him and leap to her feet.

He would have been gratified by that had she not hastened over to him with the sort of look on her face that was better reserved for giving to toothless dotards on the verge of tumbling into their stew.

Nicholas scowled at her as she stopped in front of him. “I am well.”

“You don’t look it.”

He frowned. “And here I thought you were going to offer me your arm, or perhaps carry me across the floor.”

“I would,” she said seriously, “if I thought you’d let me.”

He grunted, but didn’t protest as she put her arm around his waist and drew his arm over her shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” she said, looking up at him with a frown. He wasn’t going to tell her that it was her touch that was undoing him at present. “I am eager to get on with my day,” he lied.

“Whatever,” she said with a smile.

Whatever? What sort of word was that? He muttered it under his breath several times as he allowed her to help him across the hall, and thought that it might be something useful to have at the right moment.

He sat in the good chair, waited patiently whilst she brought him something with which to break his fast, then did his best to eat what he was given.

He felt like hell.

But he knew the fastest way to rid his body of the rest of Ledenham’s gift was to sweat it out. He sat for quite a while, steeling himself for the task of getting up and walking out to the lists.

Of course, that steeling took more time than usual, likely because Jennifer was sitting on the stool in front of him and he thought it best to have a good look at her whilst he could.

It would have been so much easier if he’d disliked her. It would have been easy to ignore her smile, her laughter, her sparkling eyes.

He shook his head. When had it happened, that he was the one wanting but not being able to have? He began to have sympathy for a whole host of people he’d never felt sorry for before—

Then he paused. Perhaps he was being too hasty. Perhaps he might have what he wanted in the end. What if Jennifer had no choice but to remain in his time?

He would have chortled with happiness over that thought if he hadn’t been so weary.

And then he abruptly stopped mentally chortling. He realized that even if her gate hadn’t worked, that didn’t matter.

Because he knew where another one was that did work.

He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. Damnation, but knowledge was a bloody awful thing. Aye, he knew that another gate existed and he knew just exactly who would be able to tell him precisely where it could be found.

Jackson Alexander Kilchurn IV. His bloody brother-in-law.

Damn him. Nicholas had always known he had good reason to hate him.

“Nicholas?”

He heaved himself to his feet. “I must go train,” he said hoarsely.

She was on her feet instantly as well. “I’m not going to tell you what to do—”

“Don’t,” he said. He reached for her uninjured hand, squeezed it briefly, then walked away whilst he still could. “I am in perfect health.”

“Of course.”

Well, at least she wasn’t going to coddle him until he wanted to bolt like a cornered hound.

He refused to think about the fact that he might rather have enjoyed that coddling.

He walked out of his hall and made for his stables. He made his way inside, then spent an appallingly long amount of time clinging to a stall door and fighting the way his head felt as if it were spinning. Not even the lovely smell of horse manure aided him at present.

In time, he gave up and turned away. It would be the lists, apparently, that would do for him what he needed. He started to walk over there, then caught sight of Petter. Better yet, a bracing bit of discussion about the expense of seeing to his roof to stir his blood. He’d almost managed to get all the way over to Petter when he was startled by a bit of thunder.

He looked up.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

It took him a moment to realize that the thunder he heard was coming from his own great hall and that it wasn’t thunder at all.

It was his roof collapsing.

He stood stock-still for a moment or two, staring at the hall in horror before he managed to make himself move. He flung himself into a stumbling run toward the front door.

“Wait!” Petter exclaimed, leaping toward him. He caught him by the arm. “You can’t go inside!”

Nicholas flinched. It was his stitched arm. The pain made it all the more difficult to pull it away.

His brothers were inside.

So was Jennifer.

“I must find them,” Nicholas snarled.

“Nicholas, Miles is right here,” Petter said, turning him toward the lists. “Look!”

Indeed, Miles was running toward him. Nicholas closed his eyes briefly in thanks. He heard Montgomery and John shouting. He bowed his head and blew out his breath. The saints be praised, they were all were accounted for—

Jennifer.

The knowledge caught him like a score of fists in his gut. He gasped, then jerked away from Petter. He stumbled across the rest of the courtyard, choking on the dust that was pouring out of the hall from the falling timbers that had spanned his roof and the stone that had held them in place along the edges. He tried to wave away the dust, to see inside the hall, to see how he might get himself inside. One half of the door was still intact. Perhaps that was a way in. He drew his sword and raised it over his head to use as an ax—

“Nicholas?”

Nicholas heard her voice, but thought perhaps that she was now an angel and had come to comfort him.

“Nicholas, what happened!” she exclaimed.

He heard his sword clang against the stone of the stairs as he dropped it. He himself went down to his knees there on the top step. He hadn’t meant to. He knew that he would look like an old woman to his brothers and his men, but he was just too overcome to do anything else. He knelt there, panting, and could see nothing past the darkness that had clouded his vision.

“Miles, take his sword,” Jennifer said quietly.

Nicholas felt her hand on his shoulder. “Nicholas, come away from the door,” she said, sounding very concerned. “Please. I don’t think it’s safe.”

He heaved himself back up to his feet by sheer willpower alone. He turned. He didn’t think, he merely pulled her into his arms and clutched her to him.

“You’re shaking,” she said, her voice muffled against his tunic.

“’Tis the fever,” he managed.

She patted his back. “Please come away from here,” she said, pulling back to look up at him. “Please.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then released her. “Forgive me. I was overcome.”

“It was torture, really,” she said with a grave smile. She took him by the arm and pulled him down the stairs with her. “Miles, is everyone accounted for?”

“I’ll see,” Miles said.

Nicholas managed to focus on her. “Where were you?”

“Grubbing in the garden,” she said with a smile that wasn’t any more steady than his knees. She sat down next to him. “Lucky for me, I suppose.”

He bowed his head and blew out his breath. By the saints, he could not stand this. He didn’t know the wench, didn’t want the wench, didn’t even like the wench. Surely, he shouldn’t be this undone by the thought of losing her.

He had to get her home. It was the only thing that would save his sanity.

He sat there, shaking far longer than he should have, and waited for Miles to return. He couldn’t bring himself to touch Jennifer again, though he was acutely aware of her sitting next to him on the step. He lifted his head when he heard Miles returning.

“We can’t be sure,” Miles began slowly, “but we think one of Petter’s lads was inside. I’ll go through the kitchens and see what of the roof is left—”

“You will not,” Nicholas said immediately. “I will.”

“I will go,” Petter said, coming to stand next to Miles. “He is my lad, after all, and my responsibility. Besides, I’ll know if what’s left is stable.”

“Perhaps he wasn’t in the great hall,” Nicholas offered. “The bedchambers and the solar are still intact, aren’t they? And the kitchens?”

Petter shook his head. “Impossible to tell. I’ll see, then return and tell you what’s left.”

Nicholas nodded. Perhaps it was unmanly to allow his head mason to investigate whilst he waited, but Petter had it aright. He would be the one who knew what of the remaining roof was stable and what was not.

“Can I get you something?” Jennifer asked softly. “Is there some way I can help you?”

Nicholas looked out over the courtyard, wrestled with his common sense for a moment, then surrendered. She would leave; he knew that.

But not that afternoon.

He held out his hand. “Your company is enough,” he said quietly.

She put her hand into his.

It was her injured hand, so he held it very carefully. It would be, he decided, very easy to become accustomed to such a thing.

He held her hand, but he didn’t dare look at her.

He couldn’t.

It wasn’t long before Petter had returned. Nicholas took a deep breath.

“Aye?”

“Mark was in the great hall,” Petter said grimly. “He is the only one.”

Nicholas sighed deeply. “Poor lad. Had he a wife or children?”

“Not that I know of,” Petter said. “Perhaps just aged parents. That doesn’t lessen the sorrow, but it doesn’t increase it, either.”

Nicholas nodded. “Of course.” He paused. “Was it just the great hall?”

“It was,” Petter said. “The roof should have been repaired a year ago.”

“It was to have been repaired a year ago,” Nicholas said grimly. “Damn that Gavin of Louth. If I find him again, he’ll feel my displeasure. Well, I suppose this gives you reason enough to build that gallery.”

“An unfortunate reason,” Petter conceded, “but reason enough.”

Nicholas nodded, then looked at his brothers. “We’ll dig the poor man out, bury him here, then go to Seakirk Abbey and buy him prayers for his soul, as is right. But we’ll need a priest here to bless the burying. Miles, will you ride to Seakirk and fetch us one?”

“Of course,” Miles said. “Anything else whilst I’m away?”

“Tell the abbot we will be there before the se’nnight is finished. He’ll be happy to see me for my gold, at least.”

Miles smiled. “If you want to believe that, do.”

Nicholas scowled. “I am not so unwelcome at Seakirk.”

Miles only lifted one eyebrow, then turned to look at Jennifer. “Don’t let him overdo.”

“Can I stop him?” she asked.

“Use your feminine wiles,” Miles suggested. “I’ll be back in a pair of days, then we’ll lay the man to rest.”

Nicholas nodded and watched him walk off, then looked at Jennifer. He was just so damned grateful that she was there next to him, not buried under piles of rubble and wood, that he hardly knew what to say. He stroked her hand gently, then finally sighed and released her.

“I need to train.”

“I’ll see what’s in the kitchen.”

“Nay,” he said quickly, then took a deep breath. “Please do not go inside. Allow me to aid you there later.”

“You couldn’t have kept the roof from falling, Nicholas, any more than I can keep you out of the lists.”

“You underestimate me,” he said seriously. He heaved himself to his feet. “I beg you find some shade and have yourself a rest. I’ll fetch you later.”

She looked up at him. “You’ll be all right?”

That day? Or a month from then? He didn’t dare ask what she meant, but he was quite sure he wouldn’t have a good answer either way.

“I’ll be fine,” he said with more enthusiasm than he felt. “I was the one sleeping for the past five days, remember? You need to catch me up.”

She smiled briefly. “All right. I’ll go.”

He held out his hand and pulled her gently to her feet. “Thank you.”

“I won’t tell you to rest.”

“Thank you for that as well.”

She looked at him searchingly for another moment or two, then smiled briefly and walked away. Nicholas realized then that she had put Montgomery’s clothes back on. He wasn’t sure how he should take that. Was she resigned? Was she trying to blend in?

Had the fever rendered him completely witless?

He turned toward the lists and hoped he would find sanity there.

He didn’t hold out much hope.

T he afternoon waned and Nicholas waned right along with it. He had to admit there was something unwholesomely welcome about ceasing crossing swords with John to find Jennifer standing at the edge of the lists, waiting for him. He resheathed his sword, walked across the field, and accepted the bottle she handed him. He drank, then dragged his sleeve across his sweating forehead.

“Better?” she asked.

“Exhausted,” he admitted. “But, aye, better. And you?”

She smiled. “I had a very long nap. I feel wonderful.”

And you look spectacular. He nodded toward the hall. “We should see what’s left of the kitchens. We couldn’t be so fortunate as to have anything left to eat.”

“I have greens.” “Aye, I was afraid of that,” he said, with feeling.

She laughed. “They’re good for you.”

“So you say, but I can’t say my belly agrees. But if you insist, I’ll try to bear up manfully and eat them.”

“You won’t regret it.”

Perhaps not, but he suspected he would regret quite a few other things, beginning with the decision to come to Wyckham. He should rather have gone to France. He could have been there now, enjoying fine food and fine wine with his feet up on a very fine table.

Without Jennifer. “Nicholas?”

He looked at her quickly. “Aye?”

“You groaned.”

“Too much swordplay,” he lied. By the saints, he wasn’t equal to deciding if having her in his life was torment or bliss.

He pushed all thoughts of her possibly being out of his life aside and walked with her around the keep and through the garden. The kitchen was unharmed and Petter had assured him the roof was indeed sound. Nicholas hadn’t argued with him. After all, Petter had told him almost a month ago he was unsure the great hall roof could be saved.

He should have listened.

“Nicholas?”

He looked up from his contemplation of food on the work table. “Aye?”

“I hesitate to ask this, but I would like to go with you to the abbey.” She paused. “Actually, I need to go past the abbey and I’m not certain I can get there on my own.”

“Go past the abbey ...” It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. “Oh,” he said. “Of course.”

Of course, indeed. She likely had another gate or two to try. How was it that these time travelers seemed to have so many opportunities to traipse through the centuries? He was certain he’d never met another one.

He frowned. Then again, how would he have known whether he’d met one or not? He’d encountered many forward-thinking souls over the course of his travels. Who was to say they hadn’t been not only forward thinking, but from a forward time?

He would have pondered that a bit more, but it made the space between his eyes begin to pound. He rubbed it absently and looked at her.

“Of course,” he repeated. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

She looked pathetically grateful. “Thank you.”

“Will you find your kin there?” Nicholas asked.

She shifted. Well, whatever else she might have been, she was not a very good liar. He watched as she put her shoulders back, giving herself courage apparently, and looked him full in the face.

“I expected to be able to find my kin at Ledenham’s abbey, but I think the digging there disturbed them.”

“They sound like faeries,” Montgomery said from behind her.

Nicholas sent him scurrying off with his fiercest frown. He turned back to Jennifer and made an effort to lighten his expression. “Think you?”

“I think so,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I can think of two more places where I might find them.”

“Two more?” he asked. “Two more meeting places?”

“One that I’m fairly sure of. The other, I’ve only heard tell of.”

Nicholas wanted to sit down, but he realized his youngest brothers were hovering at the garden door, watching him, and he couldn’t appear weak in front of them.

“Where?” he asked quietly. “Where must you go?”

“I’ll know it when I see it. It is north of Seakirk Abbey.”

He grimaced, hardly able to believe that he was in the midst of such madness. He’d shunned everything to do with it when his sister had fallen in love with a man who was ... who was not of their time.

By the saints, even thinking the thought made him want to sit down.

Jennifer looked at him gravely. “You know, on second thought, I think I will be all right on my own, if I can just go with you to the abbey.”

Nicholas blinked. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t aid you.”

“You were swearing.”

“Was I?”

She smiled suddenly, an understanding smile that he surely didn’t deserve. “You’ve had a hard day.”

“Aye, but it could have been worse.”

“Your brothers could have been inside,” she said softly.

Or you, he thought to himself. “Aye,” he said aloud.

“Why don’t you sit, and I’ll make supper.”

“Thank you,” he said, with feeling. He sat down and watched as she prepared a hearty meal for them.

It was a good thing that she was going back home. He nodded to himself. Having her in his life was entirely too troublesome. Her beauty distracted him, her laugh mesmerized him, her hair made him want to bury his hands in it. The thought of something happening to her made him feel a terror he’d never in his life felt before.

Aye, he would accompany her and be glad to see the last of her.

He supposed if he told himself that enough times, he might someday begin to believe it.