She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Thank you.” She turned and gazed out over the torchlit wall to the village. “Care to walk with me?”
She was odd and bold, and he liked it. Very much. But could she lead him to his demise so easily?
What demise? Must he always think like a warrior? Mayhap God sent her.
When he nodded, she continued on and left the inner bailey and then the outer. Nicholas followed her.
He wasn’t worried about Reds on his land. There was only one way they could get in and that was through the village. He had guards stationed everywhere.
It was a quiet night.
“Why do you not tell me a little about yourself?” If she kept her story going, she would eventually create holes. The more he let her talk, the faster she would fall through a hole and he could pull back his good senses and get on with his life.
“Do you want the truth?”
“Aye,” he said and helped her leap over a thin ravine. She laughed when she almost lost her footing.
He stared at her. He liked the sound of her. More and more, he found himself hoping she wasn’t mad. But if she wasn’t mad—
“I was born in New York in nineteen ninety-four to Charles and Cynthia…Locksley.”
His hope was dashed to pieces.
“Why do you call York, New York?” he asked, going along with her while they walked toward the shoreline, beyond the village.
“New York isn’t in the U.K. I mean in England. It’s a place in a far-off land some will soon call the colonies, but I call America. It hasn’t yet been discovered. Many English settled there and named land after their families. There is even a place called New England.”
America. Not yet discovered. Her story couldn’t be more farfetched. But if only it were true. What an honor to the House of York to hold a place in the future, in a distant land.
“I live in a loft on the Lower East Side with four of my good friends,” she continued. “My mother died when I was a kid. My father never remarried. He’s an archeologist. He’s going to mourn me deeply, as I will mourn him.”
He looked away, close to believing all of this with her. “You have my deepest sympathy.”
When she touched his arm, he returned his gaze to hers. “Thank you.” She offered him a slight smile.
“Where was I? Oh, yes. I love my work. I’m a historian, so I know about this period in time.”
“Oh? What do you know?” He turned to her and watched her hair snap across her face like warpaint in the moonlight.
She thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think I should say too much more. If I change the past in any way, it will affect the future.”
“Hmm, I suppose it would.” Nicholas didn’t care if she told him anything that would affect the future. He was humoring her tonight. He thought about asking her if she left a husband behind, or a man she loved, but if she had, he didn’t want to bring up the pain of losing anyone else.
He almost laughed at himself. Was her madness spreading to him? Or was he there long before she arrived? There were plenty who thought so. Even Reg and his family were afraid of him. His foul moods were usually accompanied by ghoulish sneers, and most prone to escalate when the king or his cousin were near.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she said breathlessly and walked ahead to get to the shore faster. She pulled off her flexible shoes and rolled up her blue trews—hose? He didn’t know what they were. There was nothing like them here. He would have Elia burn them tomorrow. He stopped caring about her clothing when she looked up at him from her ankles and smiled.
“Get your toes wet, Sir knight!”
His toes? Without asking what she meant, he pulled off his boots and his knitted socks and tossed them aside. Then he stepped into the water. He realized too late that he’d forgotten to roll up his hose. No matter, wet or dry, he followed her direction.
“Haven’t you ever wet your toes?” she asked, looking down at her feet. The tide pulled back out and she almost lost her footing. Her hand reached for him.
Now, she held his wrist with a clamp-like grip. She didn’t let go, nor did she pay any attention to their touch.
“I usually keep to the sand,” he told her, trying not to pay attention either. “This is why.” Walking against the tide made his head spin a little. He reached out for her when he almost lost his footing next.
“We will go down together,” she declared with a slight giggle.
“Nonsense,” he challenged. “We will not be taken down by one foot of water.”
“The trick is not to keep your gaze pointed downward.”
“Where shall I keep it then?” He knew where he wanted to keep it.
“On me,” she said after a pensive moment. “I will keep you on your feet.”
“I do not doubt it.”
Her gaze on him made him feel drunk on wine. Her promise, coupled with the slightest, bold tilt of her chin, convinced him that there was more to her than sewing and learning how to look like a decorative bird the way all the other delicate ladies did to find a husband. She looked like the kind of woman who might come from the future.
“What about you?”
He was already looking at her, so he raised his brows not understanding what she wanted him to tell her.
“How did you come to be King’s Richard’s knight?”
Nicholas turned his eyes toward the distant waves. He never shared his life. Oh, Elia knew of it because she was there for much of it. Edward had known him well. No one else. He didn’t fancy talking about himself. But she wanted to know. She was waiting to listen and, for some reason, he wanted to
