Chapter Five
Kes lay awake in her new, more comfortable bed. She was thinking of the dream she’d had earlier in the servants’ quarters. Sir Nicholas was somewhere—in another lifetime, watching her. In her dream, she had felt his gaze warming on her. The power and carefully leashed emotion exuding from him washed over her and woke her from her sleep.
She’d gone to look for him and found him walking away in a hall close by. Before she’d called to him, she took in the sight of him, his strong thighs and hard ass beneath his forest green doublet. When she’d caught up with him, it was no better. He hadn’t shaved, but his hair and beard were clean. His hair was almost black. It was combed back and tied at his nape, accentuating the hard curve of his jaw and eyes like diamonds that cut deep into her, where her wounded heart was. He had a scar down the side of his left temple and a small scar across his jaw. He’d been cut in the battle and would have a scar from that as well. Despite it all, he was utterly, breathtakingly handsome, but he was tired. The dark circles under his eyes attested to it. The slice along his cheekbone, below his eye, had a few crude stitches in it.
They had spent a few hours together. He saw that she was fed and brought her to a good-sized chamber on the second floor. The bed wasn’t bad for a medieval bed. It was made of wood, of course, with carved swirls traveling up its four posters and hangings draped from a frame suspended from the ceiling beams.
There were chests and two tables. One was larger than the other with a basin and an empty jug set atop it.
He’d promised to have her necessities brought in in the morning.
It had all felt too permanent.
She’d spent another hour, thinking about ways to find that brooch in the middle ages. She couldn’t look it up on the internet. She had absolutely no idea where to even begin or how to get anywhere.
She cried as hopelessness of ever going home covered her. What would everyone think? Most likely that she’d been kidnapped by a sex trafficking ring. Did Mr. Green and Luke know about this time traveling thing? Of course they knew. They wouldn’t sit around waiting for the cops. They were gone for sure.
No one would find her. She was stuck here.
Sir Nicholas de Marre barged into her thoughts. She tried not thinking of him, but everything else was so bad. He was the only good thing in all this.
Of course, he was a male so she couldn’t trust him. She wondered if men were different in this century. She wasn’t expecting Sir Galahad. Wait. What?
Her eyes opened wider. Pendragon!
She sat up in bed. The name on the brooch was Pendragon! How could she forget? She knew the legends of King Arthur Pendragon. But the name had completely eluded her.
Should she speak it? Should she say goodbye to Sir Nicholas first?
Why did she think of him before she left?
“Pendragon,” she whispered, heart pounding. Nothing happened. She said it a little louder. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment when she remained in her bed.
She finally slept sometime later with the name Pendragon on her lips. All too soon, morning came and Elia appeared over her bed with three other women, who looked at least two decades younger.
“Good morning, lady. Am I correct in assuming that you had no knowledge that Lord Scarborough was planning to give you this room without telling me?”
“You are correct in that assumption,” Kes told her. “But if this is an inconvenience for you, I don’t mind moving again. This is, after all, temporary.”
Elia’s large, hazel eyes warmed on her. “I would not think of asking you to move again. I just wish he would keep me apprised of things. I went to the servants’ quarters and you weren’t there. No one had seen you. I was afraid you had run off alone. Nicholas told me that he found you on the battlefield, poor girl, and you didn’t remember things too clearly. It would have been quite dangerous for you.”
“I wouldn’t just leave,” Kes assured her gently. Was Elia so concerned for her already? They were strangers. But people were different here. She watched the three younger women scurry around the chamber, tidying up and filling the water basin and jug.
Elia issued a series of orders to the women, who were called Agnes, Caitlyn and Hilde and they left only to return with fresh linens, kirtles and overgowns, hair clips, and more. They then proceeded to brush her hair away from her forehead and secured a crespine toward the back of her head. They paid no attention to Kes’ meager protests. When they were finished with her hair, they dressed her in a linen chemise, a kirtle of deep blue that fit her perfectly, and a wool dress with full skirts of lighter blue. The neckline of the dress was low, but the kirtle covered up what cleavage she had.
She had to stop the girls from pulling her laces too tight across her chest and stomach. It was hard to breathe. How did the women work and get anything done in these clothes?
“My, but you look enchanting!” Elia cried out when she hurried back into the chamber a few minutes later. “Mayhap seeing you will make Lord Scarborough feel better. He is in a foul mood.”
Why would Elia think that seeing Kes would make the earl feel better? “Why is he in a foul mood?”
“He did not say,” Elia told her. “But he has many reasons. You will find that he is most often quiet.”
Kes was surprised at what she was hearing. He spoke easily enough to her last night.
“Since King Edward perished, God rest his soul, Nicholas has changed.”
“Changed how?” Kes asked while Caitlyn slipped
