Page 15 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)

N icholas walked his horse across the meadow toward Miles’s camp, cursing. Damnation, when were his troubles with abbeys going to end? He’d found Jennifer at an abbey. He’d found himself recently gouged far beyond what a normal set of prayers for a man’s soul should have cost at an abbey. He was going to have to endure Ledenham’s presence near Wyckham because of an abbey. Perhaps he would do well to avoid them in the future.

At least his recent business at Seakirk had been something of a distraction. He had followed the abbot’s directions to the proper village and discovered for himself that Mark did indeed have aged parents, as well as a sister. The family had taken the news of their son’s death very hard. Perhaps at another time Nicholas might have been less affected by it, but the entire time he had looked at those poor people, he’d thought about Jennifer’s parents, also no doubt grieving for their missing child.

Sobering, indeed.

Nicholas had given them wergeld to compensate them for the loss of their son and offered them a portion to farm at Wyckham as freemen if they so desired. Past that, there had been nothing to do to ease their suffering. Masonry was not without its perils, which Mark had known. Still, the expression on the mother’s face had been difficult to look at.

Did Jennifer’s mother in the Future wear that look?

Perhaps not, now. He was sure Jennifer had found her time gate, had found that it worked to her satisfaction, and she was now sitting happily before her fire in the Future, enjoying luxuries he couldn’t begin to imagine.

He cursed for quite some time.

It did no good to think on it. She was gone and he would be better off without her. He was fairly sure that he would begin to believe that immediately after his heart didn’t feel as though it had been ripped from his chest by bare hands.

Some of that pain could be laid at Miles’s feet. If Miles hadn’t provoked him, he might at least have been able to say good-bye to her properly.

He spent several satisfying moments imagining up all the ways he could kill his brother, then an equal number of less satisfying moments thinking on all the reasons why he shouldn’t.

He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. Perhaps he should have been grateful to Miles. Uncanny was the only way to describe his brother’s ability to cut to the heart of any matter and wrench it to his own purposes. What his purpose had been in the bit of business at the abbey Nicholas couldn’t have said. Perhaps it had been to force him to face what truly grieved him. Much of his current discontent did indeed spring from the issue of his parentage, something he had passed most of his adult life being unconcerned about.

In his own family, it never came up unless Robin was feeling particularly vile, but since Robin was actually a bastard himself, Nicholas had gleefully thrown the term back at his brother as often as Robin had tossed it his way.

As far as the law was concerned, he was the adopted and therefore legal son of Rhys de Piaget. At court, that had been enough. If anyone spoke of it, they didn’t dare do so to his face. He hardly cared what anyone said behind his back. He had never lacked for company of the highest quality either at supper or in his bed. But somehow that had changed once his grandmère had begun to seek him a wife. Perhaps it was one thing to take Rhys de Piaget’s natural son to your bed; ’twas another thing entirely to take him to the priest.

At first he had been surprised that such a thing would matter to anyone. After a time, he’d been irritated by it, then amused, then simply weary. Was there no wench in England who wouldn’t look at him and think him less than he was for something he couldn’t change?

He wondered what Jennifer had thought. He didn’t want to think about how much her opinion had come to matter to him. Not that it made any difference now, now that she was gone.

He pushed aside the thought and continued on his way. He’d tracked Miles the day before to a camp near a meadow, then realized that his brothers had turned for the coast. Perhaps Miles was planning to return to Artane. Nicholas would have made the same decision in his place. Given that he had no hall to return to at the moment, he had willingly taken up their trail and followed it as it made its way east. At least at Artane he might have a decent meal or two.

The only thing that had disturbed him had been the other trail he’d seen whilst he’d been following his brothers. It had occurred to him at one point that someone had been trailing after Miles in the same way he had, but then those tracks had eventually veered off to the north. It was unsettling just the same. It had made him realize just how foolish it had been to leave Jennifer in the care of three children, even for a short time.

Nicholas snorted. Children, indeed. Miles would have disagreed strongly with that term.

He sighed deeply and continued on his way to the fire. He stopped outside the circle of firelight, took the saddle and bridle off his horse, then sent his horse off to roam freely in search of supper. The beast would return. He, at least, seemed to find Nicholas tolerable company.

Nicholas walked over to the fire, set his gear down, then stopped short. Miles was sitting there, warming his hands against the blaze. Montgomery and John were stretched out nearby, senseless and drooling.

Jennifer was sleeping on the far side of the fire, dressed in her Future clothes.

He could scarce believe his eyes.

“Something to eat?”

Nicholas wrenched his gaze away from her and looked at his brother. “She was unsuccessful?”

Miles patted the ground next to him. “I’ll tell you of it quietly. Eat something first.”

Nicholas sat down mostly because he wasn’t equal to standing anymore.

“Food?”

Nicholas blinked and looked at his brother. “What?”

“You need to eat,” Miles said with a faint smile. “We’ll talk after you do.”

Nicholas nodded, ate a quick supper only because Miles shoved it into his hands, then drained his cup gratefully. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. For the food as well.”

Nicholas pursed his lips. “I will be long in thanking you for the other. Be grateful I’ve had time since then to convince myself your death wouldn’t serve me.”

“I am,” Miles said. “Truly.”

Nicholas snorted. “I daresay you aren’t, but we’ll leave that for now. Tell me instead of your journey.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Miles said with a shrug. “We went to a field half a day’s ride from here. Jennifer walked around it for an hour, growing increasingly frantic.” He looked at Nicholas. “Nothing happened, but you likely could have divined that on your own.”

“I should have come sooner,” Nicholas said, rubbing his hands over his face. “I should have been there.”

“To what end?” Miles asked. “You couldn’t have aided her. By the way, why did you take so long? Were you having yourself a goodly pout?”

“Nay,” Nicholas said, reaching out to slap his brother sharply on the back of the head. “I was off making peace with Mark’s family.”

“Then he had one after all.”

“Aye. Parents and a sister. I saw to them.”

“Of course you did,” Miles said quietly. “I’m sorry, then. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Nicholas nodded but said nothing more. He couldn’t, considering that Jennifer was still with them and her mother no doubt grieved for her centuries in the Future.

A double-edged sword, indeed.

“Of course, you were likely delayed as well by time spent contemplating how best to do me in.”

“Aye, that, too.”

“I did provoke you terribly,” Miles said easily. “Of course, when I am provoked, I don’t stomp off like an overindulged brat.”

Nicholas started to curse him, then couldn’t help a brief laugh instead. “By the saints, you are a disrespectful chit of a girl. No one dares talk to me that way.”

“Perhaps someone should have long before now.”

“Aye, likely so,” Nicholas agreed. He looked out into the dark for several moments before he turned back to his brother. “Have I truly been so foul?”

“You know you have.”

Nicholas sighed. “When you are a score and eight and have no woman to call your own, nor children to love, then you will understand.”

“I have no intention of being a score and eight and unwed.”

“And you think I did?” Nicholas demanded. “By the saints, Miles, I despair of ever finding a woman who doesn’t look at me and think bastard.”

“It disturbs you so deeply?”

“You have no idea. You have no flaw that makes women think twice before they consent to kneel with you before a priest.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miles said, stretching lazily. “Perfection does present its problems as well.”

Nicholas threw his cup at his brother. “Why do I talk to you?”

“I’m not sure,” Miles admitted with a laugh. He set Nicholas’s cup aside. “As for the other, I cannot believe you haven’t met your share of women who would have had you no matter that fatal flaw.”

“Not a one,” Nicholas said. “Not a single, bloody one of them.”

“Perhaps you should look further afield. Perhaps you should consider a woman from very far away.”

Nicholas looked at Jennifer before he could stop himself. She was sleeping near the fire, still lovely, still bewitching, still not of his time.

“Nay,” he rasped. “I couldn’t.”

“But what if she is the one for you? What if that is what Fate has decreed?”

“Then Fate has a very vile sense of humor, which I already knew. Nay,” he said, shaking his head, “she will go and that will be that. Now, why don’t you go and leave me in peace. I think I’ve had enough speech tonight.”

“As you will,” Miles said. He rose and went to make himself a place on the other side of the fire. “Don’t nap whilst you should be standing guard.”

“I don’t think I could.”

How could he, when there was such loveliness so unexpectedly still there for his enjoyment?

He fed the fire occasionally and spent the rest of the night watching Jennifer McKinnon sleep.

Poor fool that he was.

She woke when the stars were wheeling toward morning. Nicholas wished suddenly, and quite desperately, that he’d had more time to steel himself against the feelings he knew he shouldn’t have for her. She would return home. She had no choice, damn it.

She sat up, saw him, then smiled.

He closed his eyes briefly, then looked at her and surrendered. What else could he do?

“You found us,” she said, sounding pleased.

“I did,” he managed.

“Miles said you would. He said you are a very good tracker.”

“My misspent youth,” he said with a negligent shrug.

She smiled and drew the blanket around her shoulders. “Is that so?”

Nicholas searched for something else to talk about, but found nothing useful. Was he to apologize for his tantrum? Was he to explain to her things that couldn’t possibly interest her? Was he to again spew out all his secrets and expect absolution?

Or should he just hand her his sword and invite her to inflict a fatal wound so he might escape his own foolish thoughts?

“Nicholas?”

He blinked and found that she was looking at him. “Aye?” he said.

“You were cursing.”

“Did Miles figure prominently in my slander?”

She smiled. “He didn’t, but he probably should have.”

Nicholas reached for a cup and poured her wine. He held it out to her. “Do I have any secrets left, or did that babbling fool spew them all out?”

She rose and came to sit down next to him. She took the cup, then seemed to consider her words for quite some time. Nicholas wondered what she was thinking, then found himself distracted by her nearness. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch that flaming hair of hers that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. It took even more self-control not to stroke the porcelain perfection of her cheek.

He decided that thinking on kissing her was extraordinarily stupid, so he forbore.

“Nicholas?”

He blinked. “Aye?”

She smiled. “You were very far away.”

“Ah, I’m distracted,” he managed. “What were we speaking of?”

“Secrets,” she said with a grave smile. “Yours, actually, and no, Miles didn’t tell me more of yours than you did yourself. And those secrets of yours didn’t seem all that startling.”

“But I have a murky past,” he managed.

“Do you,” she said with a smile. “What horrible thing did you do that makes your past so murky?”

He took a deep breath. “As I told you before, I was born a bastard.”

She waited. “And?”

He frowned. “Isn’t that enough?”

“For what? To force women to run screaming the other way? Of course not. What difference does it make?”

“What difference does it make,” he echoed weakly. “It makes a great deal of difference to some.”

“Then they are idiots. I mean, look at you. What’s not to like?”

He wanted desperately to stop and catch his breath. She had shrugged off his darkest secret as if it were nothing.

He could scarce believe it.

“You’re doing it again,” she said pleasantly.

He dragged himself back to the present, though it was not easily done. “Forgive me,” he managed. “I daresay I think too much at times.”

“Don’t we all,” she said dryly.

“I will be more attentive,” he vowed. He paused. “You know, I can actually be chivalrous.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said, looking at him with one eyebrow raised, “but I have yet to see it.”

“I did rescue you, if you remember. Twice.”

“You complained the entire time.”

He found himself smiling. “I didn’t.”

“You did. My ears are still burning. I suppose that’s my fault for trying to understand what you were saying.”

He refilled her cup and helped himself to it. “I’ll try to refrain from it in the future, especially since you took the trouble to learn my tongue when you could have limited yourself to conversing with my brother in Gaelic.”

“Miles says you speak several languages,” she said, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her cheek against her forearm. “I don’t suppose Gaelic is one of them, is it?”

“I don’t suppose it is—” Nicholas stopped short. He realized that she was speaking in Gaelic. More frightening still, he wasn’t sure how long she’d been doing it. He looked at her and came very close to blushing. “Um—”

“Your misspent youth?”

“Nay, the past year and a half with Montgomery at my heels and Petter at my side.”

“You could have told me,” she chided. “Did you just want to see if I’d say anything nasty about you?”

“Aye, something like that.”

“And what other languages do you speak, just so I’ll know?”

“Latin, Spanish, a Germanic language or two, and a little Hebrew,” he admitted. “And, well, Gaelic.”

“You could have told me and saved me weeks of trying to learn French.”

“Miles would have missed conversing with you,” he said. “Consider it a favor for him.”

“I will,” she said. She continued to look at him as if what she saw was not unpleasing. “By the way, did you find Mark’s family?”

He nodded, grateful for something else to think on besides the sorry state of affairs in his heart. “Aye. I offered them a place at Wyckham and paid them the price for their son’s life.” He paused. “The mother was grieved.”

“No doubt,” Jennifer said quietly.

Nicholas wanted to ask her what she thought her mother was thinking, but he didn’t dare. He was horribly torn. On one hand, he was profoundly grateful that her other gate had not worked, on the other he was well aware of what her mother must be feeling.

He steadfastly refused to think about Jake Kilchurn and anything he might or might not know about traveling through time.

He chewed on his next words for quite a while, then sighed. He would have to ask eventually. ’Twas best he had it over with. “You didn’t find your kin, I assume,” he said quietly.

She took a deep breath, then shook her head. “I didn’t,” she said, looking at the fire.

“Is there anywhere else?” he asked, though he supposed he knew the answer already. She had said she had two locations to try.

Two damned gates through time.

He supposed there weren’t curses enough for all of them.

“Yes,” she said. She paused. “One more place that I know about.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll take you there.”

She looked at him with a grave expression. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You probably want to be back home.”

“Actually, Wyckham is a rather depressing place right now,” he admitted, “save the garden, which you made beautiful. I am perfectly content to see you delivered safely to your kin.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, but he didn’t deserve her thanks given that he couldn’t say he meant what he’d just said and he would likely spend the next few hours cursing and wishing he’d never rescued her that first time. It was Fate that had brought him there at the right time.

Fate.

A terrible old woman with no heart.

He would have to have a word with her after he’d put the shattered pieces of his own back together.