“I don’t…I—”
“Walt,” Nicholas said on a low warning breath. But the old man held up his palm to quiet the earl.
“My lord,” he said softly with a reassuring smile. “Mayhap I can help her.”
Nicholas allowed him to continue.
He bowed his head and turned his kind smile on Kes. “When are you from, Child?”
Kes looked nervously at Nicholas. Walt knew? How should she reply? She’d looked to Nicholas because this was his time. But it was her life.
“I don’t understand your question, good sir.” Walt knew things. What if he knew she was a threat to history? He could have her stopped. “I was born in Bridlington twenty-five years ago. Delivered by my Aunt Lori and two maids.”
“Very well,” Walt said, his smile faded, letting her have her way. “You may look but I’m sure I do not have the brooch you are looking for.”
He led them down a short hall to another room, this one larger than the first. There was some furniture in it but nothing extraordinary. But he wasn’t done.
He rolled away a large rug then lifted a small door hidden beneath it. He stepped down onto a stairway leading to a cavernous basement. His guests followed.
Kes had to be dreaming. Carved into the walls were small shelves, and on each shelf was an artifact. There were chalices, jewelry, weapons, and a variety of other things.
Both men stopped upon hearing her gasp. She did it again at least four more times until they stopped a fifth time and waited while she examined an old gold cross. It was plain in design, about a foot high, a half-foot across and looked to be made of solid gold.
“From the Lindisfarne Priory.”
Kes looked at Walt. Lindisfarne. The Vikings. “Did you retrieve it, Walt?”
He smiled but looked down behind his spectacles. “No, Child. ’Twas a trade.”
She chuckled. “What did you give up?”
“The pearl necklace that fell from Anne Boleyn’s neck at her execution.”
Kes touched her fingers to her neck. “A good trade.”
“I’m glad you approve,” said the old merchant and led them to curtained off corner.
Here were all his watches, brooches, medicine boxes, spectacles, and other small items. “You may look through it.”
They looked among everything, but there was no brooch that matched hers among his pieces.
“All hope is not lost. I may know a man who can get it.”
“A one of a kind piece?” Kes said incredulously. “From King Arthur’s knight? Even if this man could get his hands on it, he would charge more than I have.”
“Tell him to get it if he can,” Nicholas told Walter. “He will be well compensated.”
“Nicholas, no!” she refused. “I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“I want you to have it in case charges come against you,” he said, drawing her aside.
“If charges come up, you’ll be considered my accomplice. You’ll get into trouble, too.”
“I’m not worried over that. I will die one day. I would rather it be saving you.”
She wanted to kiss him. She wondered if Walter would mind.
“Very well, I will contact him in the morning,” Walter told them. “If there is nothing else, I have a room if you would like it for the night.” He smiled.
“No,” Nicholas told him. “The lady and I are not wed. We will be leaving now.”
“Oh, couldn’t we stay just a little longer?” Kes asked.
“We will return,” he promised. “’Tis late and Walt is weary from the day.”
“Oh, of course! Forgive me!” She set down a small terracotta vase she was checking out. It appeared authentic, Greek, maybe.
“We shall return tomorrow.” Nicholas told him and then made a path for her to take the stairs.
“Do you think he’s a time traveler?” she asked Nicholas the moment they were back on the horse. “He seems to know much.”
“Aye. He could be,” he answered quietly. “Elia has suspected him for some time.
“Do you believe it all now?”
“It seems likely but still difficult to comprehend,” he answered.
“You realize you’re going to pay a guy to rob Sir Gawaine of all people.”
“Aye, the guy will more likely swindle me.”
“Imagine if he gets it,” she said, leaning against his hard chest. “There’s no guarantee it would work again or that it would send me back home.”
“Aye, you are correct.”
“I wish I could talk to Gawaine again.” She laughed. “That sounds so insane.”
“Do you wish to return that badly?”
“Yes,” she told him softly. “Of course.”
But she wasn’t sure anymore.
Chapter Thirteen
Seated at his table beside Reg and his wife, Nicholas remembered why he preferred battle over being home. Richard’s return made a bad situation worse.
Nicholas growled in his seat when Reg slurped his oats and cream.
He looked at Margaret. She rolled her eyes at Reg and smiled at Nicholas. She didn’t glare at Reg the way she had glared at him when he’d pulled out his chair the other night.
He turned away from her and looked toward the door. He wanted to be here when Kestrel arrived so she didn’t have to be with Richard on her own, but Richard wasn’t here either.
He tapped his boot under the table. Should he go to her room and get her? He wondered if he was beginning to care for Miss Locksley, or did he just enjoy her company more than anyone else’s? He didn’t want to care. If she had truly appeared here, she could just as easily disappear. If she was mad, could he still love her with her quirks? Could he stop himself from loving her either way?
Was it all true? He didn’t want to say a resounding yes too soon. Mayhap they were all mad. It wasn’t as strange as time travel.
What else did Old Walter know about Arthur Pendragon’s knights and this brooch? He hadn’t known that they were reading about King Arthur the night before. Nicholas would question him some more today. All this talk of time travel had Nicholas thinking if Kestrel truly came back more than five hundred years. If so, she knew if Richard defeated Henry Tudor when they faced off
