He seemed ruffled. She remembered him on the battlefield. He was a warrior fighting a war. He was confident and utterly savage, his hair flying into his face as he drove his blade into a man. Yet here he was with her, awkward and uncomfortable.
She liked him. She knew the dangers of getting involved, but she liked him. And now….she took a step forward in the wet sand and almost leaned against him when she lifted her face to kiss his cheek.
She felt his warm breath change against her neck becoming shallow and short. She withdrew at the same time an upward gust of wind blew her hair into his face. She looked up and smiled. “Where should we start?”
His breath stopped, and then he blinked and stepped away. He began walking back toward the castle. She felt awful but she didn’t think anything could come of them. The one guy who might be decent and loyal had to be almost six hundred years in the wrong time. Great.
“The brooch,” he said, turning when she followed him.
“You think there might be one here?” she asked with excitement.
“Or mayhap someone who knows about it.”
“Like who?”
“I know a man in the next town who studies artifacts and, like you, history. He is the one who supplied me with most of my books.”
“When can we go talk to him?”
“We?”
He looked at her with his sensual half-smile and set her blood rushing through her veins.
“Of course I’m coming, Nicholas. Even if this man knows absolutely nothing about the brooch, he’s a historian. Do you really think I’ll miss out on meeting him and seeing his collection? I only wish I had my camera.”
“Camera?”
She told him what she knew of cameras and what they did. Nicholas was fascinated.
“Here, do this with your hand.” She took it, trying and failing miserably not to thrill in the size of his fingers, the hard, callused skin underneath. She held his hand up, his arm out, level with his gaze, then molded his fingers as if he were holding a phone. “Look at the image you want to capture and then use your thumb to take the photo.”
She hurried ahead of him then spun around with one hand on her hip. She pouted, then smiled, each time changing her pose.
He smiled with her and tapped away, capturing her in their invisible phone.
“We can take selfies, too!” She ran to him and pushed an imaginary button on the phone. “The lens is on you now—and me!”
She closed in and held her hand up toward the phone. “Smile!”
They took pictures of themselves, heads bent close. Was he turning his face to hers? Slowly, methodically, seducing her without abusing his power? She turned as his breath touched her ear. Should she kiss him? Of course not. But her heart defied her.
“My lord?”
Nicholas pulled away glaring at one of the castle soldiers.
“What is it, Barnet?”
“Forgive me, my lord,” Barnet said nervously, “your king seeks you.”
Nicholas was correct then. The king was summoning him. Should she go with him, or stay here with her life in his hands?
“I’m coming with you.”
“This king can be very much like a weasel, digging where few have gone before.”
She rubbed her hands together. “I can be a cat or a kitten. Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.”
He aimed his half-smile at her. “I do not doubt it.”
“Now, when do we leave to meet the historian?”
“Kestrel,” he said, stepping around her to resume his trek to the castle. “I do not think—”
“Please.” She remained close. “I want to go with you.”
He stopped refusing and nodded. “Very well. We will go as soon as I can get away from Richard again. Be ready.”
“I will be,” she assured him.
They covered their feet again when they reached the end of the shore. While they walked the length of the wall, she captivated his attention by telling him what it felt like to look out the window of the plane she took to Scotland. “We were in the clouds. It was quite exhilarating.”
He stared at her and shook his head. “If what you speak about is not real then the Lord gifted you with an extraordinary imagination.”
“It’s all real.”
“I have never known anyone like you, Kestrel.”
“Of course, you haven’t,” she grinned at him. “I’m not from around here.”
Just before they reached the castle doors, he stopped her again. “I’m going to tell Richard that you are…that I am…ehm…in love with you. ’Twill keep his wayward hands off you.”
In love with her? “Of course.” She could have kicked herself for that saying again.
“Will he respect that?” she asked.
“He will fear me leaving his side. It always comes back to that.”
“Aye,” she said as the doors opened, and a man stepped out with an entourage of men all around him.
King Richard. She recognized him by the golden crown he still wore and the pompous tilt of his chin.
He watched Nicholas bow and Kes follow suit with a curtsey.
“I was wondering where you had disappeared to, Commander.” He turned his sinuous smile on Kes. “Now, I understand.”
She wondered if his irises seemed almost black because of the evil he had done in his life. She knew of most of the accusations against him, and there were many. They were grievous but unproven. Still, he was an unlikable man with all his airs.
“Your Majesty, may I present Miss Kestrel Locksley of Bridlington,” Nicholas introduced her. “I discovered her near a battlefield in Bridlington. She had been injured and has lost most of her memory. I brought her back with me. Elia has been seeing to her. As have I.”
“Dear Nicky,” the king said, turning to Kes. “’Tis just like you to bring in strays.”
Kes did her best not to let the king’s insult rile her. “Sir Nicholas has been the perfect host.”
“Oh?” the king asked curiously. “That is surprising to hear. He is not always a perfect host. In fact,” he
