Page 40 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)

WYCKHAM SUMMER 1231

N icholas stood in the gallery of Wyckham and looked down into the great hall. Truly Petter had outdone himself. The arch that held up the roof was enormous and the gallery that encircled the walls one floor up was spectacular. He could hardly wait to put musicians there and hear their sweet tones floating down to please his lady’s ears.

He leaned on the railing and stared at the lady in question. She was below, running after a lad of a year who seemed determined to lead his mother on a merry chase. Jennifer caught him, swung him up in her arms, and laughed as he burrowed into her neck.

Nicholas shook his head in silent wonder. How different his life was than he had ever expected it to be. He had come to Wyckham that particular spring certain he would rot in an unstable chair before his hearth, complaining and muttering about the misery that was his life.

Now, he looked down into his great hall and smiled at the sight. Who knew how long the keep would last after his death? Jennifer had admitted to him, quite a while after they were wed, that Wyckham had not stood the test of time. He hadn’t cared. If it stood long enough for them to live and love in it, what did the Future matter? His life was full of music, beauty, and a woman who was both.

She paused, then looked up at him.

She smiled.

Nicholas was happy to be holding on to something sturdy. They had been wed two years, yet still she could fell him with a smile alone.

Though, he supposed he was not alone in that. They had passed a goodly portion of the past two years in France. It had been wonderful, and Jennifer had made it so. Everywhere they went, she made it wonderful. She put people at ease, drew music out of them, appreciated even tremendously bad lays sung to her beauty.

He supposed she wasn’t completely adverse to the lays he sang to her.

Now she stood in the midst of her hall, with his son on her shoulder, and looked up at him with an expression of love.

Nicholas was lost.

Completely, totally, irretrievably lost.

He made his way quickly down the stairs, strode across the floor, and stopped in front of her.

Baby James reared back and howled.

Jennifer looked at him and laughed in spite of herself. Nicholas could see now that her hair was escaping its braid, her dress had been gummed by a very small mouth, and she looked, as she would have said, a bit frazzled.

“I’ve tried everything,” she said, with a weary smile. “I nursed him. I rocked him. I chased him. He needs a nap but he refuses to take one.”

“Let me try,” Nicholas said. He took James in one arm, took Jennifer by the hand, and led them both to his bedchamber.

A fire was burning in the hearth. He put Jennifer into a chair before it, then began to pace. James was most definitely not satisfied, but the sheer motion seemed to be enough for him. In time, Nicholas was no longer pacing, but merely standing in one place, holding the lad against his shoulder and rocking ever so slightly. He turned to see if Jennifer was still awake.

She was watching him, smiling as if he pleased her in some way. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Aye?” he whispered.

“I love you.”

“Because James is asleep?”

“That, too.”

“Do I dare put him down?”

She held up her hands. “I can’t be responsible for what might happen then, because you know he’ll wake back up. But,” she added with a smile, “I would be up for an afternoon nap if you could manage to get him down.”

“Would you sleep?”

“Hopefully not.”

He would have laughed, but even a small snort made his son stir. He sat down in the rocker next to his lady and hoped it would encourage a deep sleep in the lad. Jennifer leaned on the arm of her chair and watched him.

“I love you,” she said with a smile.

“Do you?” he asked.

“You know I do. Oh, by the way, I’m pregnant again.”

“What?” he exclaimed.

James lifted his head, bellowed his displeasure, looked about himself sleepily, then put his head back on Nicholas’s shoulder with a thump. Nicholas stroked his back and looked at his lady who was grinning madly.

“Are you, in truth?” he whispered.

“I am.” She smiled. “You can’t be surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said, reaching out for her hand. “But I am thrilled beyond measure.”

She brought his hand up and kissed the back of it, then held it to her cheek. “It is a very great gift, my lord,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“I did nothing,” he said modestly.

“Well,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “I wouldn’t say nothing. But what I would say is that we should decide where we’ll have this one. Here? Beauvois?”

“Are you interested in another sea crossing?” he asked.

“Not particularly, but you know I love it in France. Perhaps it would be fitting for this child to be born there.”

Nicholas nodded with a shiver. Wyckham might not have stood the test of time, but Beauvois certainly had. And apparently his second son, John, would make it even more spectacular than Nicholas had managed to.

The Beauvois Guide Book said so.

He had the Beauvois Guide Book because Jennifer’s mother and grandmother had brought it with them, along with an additional supply of chocolate and some wine, when they’d come to be midwives for James’s birth.

“Too much knowledge,” Jennifer murmured. “It’s dangerous.”

He smiled, feeling slightly queasy. “Aye. I would have to agree.”

“We should go to France.”

“We should.”

She looked at him with a grave smile. “Is it spooky to have read about your children before they’re bom?”

“You know it is.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll think on it more later. For now, I think I must digest these mind-blowing tidings of your pregnancy.”

She laughed softly. “I love it when you do that.”

“The Future-speak thing?”

“The Future-speak thing,” she said softly. She leaned over to kiss him. “Mind-blowing, indeed. Put the baby in the crib, Nicky, and let’s go have a nap.. I think morning sickness is going to start up again in the next week or so. We’d better take advantage of its absence.”

Nicholas obliged, in more than one request, then found himself, an hour later, sitting in the rocker with his lady in his arms, rocking gently. He wasn’t sure if she slept or not, though he imagined she did. He would have closed his eyes, too, but he couldn’t bear to.

He might have missed something otherwise.

He shook his head in wonder again at the absolute miracle that had become his life. A woman who had given up everything because she loved him. A child and another one yet to come. A trunk full of marvels that never failed to amaze and astonish him.

Both batches of Godiva--the wedding present and the additional gift on the occasion of James’s birth—were, unfortunately, gone, but they had made them last as long as possible. He’d told Jennifer, at one point, that it might be worth testing out the Xs on James MacLeod’s map for more of the stuff, but she had informed him that being a chocoholic was not necessarily a knightly characteristic he should be striving to develop.

He wasn’t sure he’d agreed.

The wine her grandmother had brought had been too strong and Jennifer had much preferred what was to be found at Beauvois, though the Kit Kats had been lovely and the Lilt surprising.

But what had continued to astonish beyond measure had been the books.

He supposed he would never accustom himself to knowing the things he now knew about the Future. -Cars, telephones, televisions, aeroplanes, rocket ships. The list was endless and staggering in its implications.

Then there was the art, the music, the plays. He found himself murmuring Shakespeare under his breath as he trained, Dante whilst he mucked out stables, Wordsworth as he walked through his garden. So many words, so many thoughts, so many images he never would have dreamed of.

Mind-blowing, indeed.

He was sorely tempted, deep within the recesses of his soul where he didn’t venture often, to take Jennifer and his son, and try one of the gates.

“No.”

He blinked. Then he looked to find Jennifer leaning her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “What?” he asked.

“No. You have things to do here.”

He felt his jaw drop. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re thinking about using the gates and I’m telling you that you have things to do here. Children to produce. A legend to create. Musicians and artists to import.”

He pursed his lips. “I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort.”

She smiled as she reached up and stroked his cheek. “You know, my lord, you mutter when you think too hard. It’s worrisome. And you’re a terrible liar.”

He kissed her softly. “A brief visit.”

“Nicholas, no,” she said with a laugh. “Really.” She put her arm around his neck and kissed him firmly. “Really.”

“Why not?” he asked with a smile.

“Because I think if you actually got behind the wheel of a car, I’d never get you back to your family,” she said. Her smile faded. “And I’m serious about that, Nicky. I think you’ve seen too much.”

“Should I burn the books?” he asked grimly.

“More than likely.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“There’s a lot to be said for peace and good earth and endless skies. And your exceptionally lovely keep on the sea.”

“Aye.”

“Burn the books, Nicholas,” she said solemnly. “And stay here with me.”

“Of course,” he said, gathering her close. “Of course.”

“The music, too.”

“Jennifer,” he said in a low voice. “You jest.”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I think we would be better off to burn it all. Well, except a few necessities my mother provided for me and that book on natural childbirth. And the needles. And the chess set.”

“And my socks,” Nicholas said. “I will not burn my socks.”

She laughed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Not the socks, my lord. A man needs his comforts.”

“You are my comfort and in truth the rest of it means nothing in comparison,” he said quietly.

And it was true. The Future with all its marvels held no allure for him when compared to the woman in his arms. She had given him love, music, beauty, a child.

And another yet to come.

He lifted her face up and kissed her softly. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I’m keeping the map.”

“I imagined you would.”

He smiled and hugged her tightly.

When I fall in love ...

It was more than he could have hoped for, more than he deserved, more than he would ever accustom himself to.

And it was all because of Jennifer.

He closed his eyes and smiled.