He was tired of these maddening thoughts of time travel and being able to change history. It wasn’t right. And what about King Arthur’s knights? Would Sir Gawaine come here and try to take her back to her century?
Just thinking of it made him feel like he’d accepted the fact that he’d gone quite mad. King Arthur? Camelot? Magic? Gah! All of it was exasperating.
He smashed his blade into the hard wood post from the right, the left, from above and below. He struck hard and fast, swinging, jabbing, ramming. He fought with savage desperation. He imagined Gawaine or Lucan in front of him, trying to take her. He cut deep into the oak, his blade slicing through. It took him some effort to yank his sword out of the wood, but he did so with a deep grunt.
She was a Lancaster. They killed his family. And now he had fallen in love with one.
He shook his head and water flew outward. He couldn’t see from the rain falling constantly into his eyes, but he hit the post with every strike.
He fought against the hard wood for another hour and finally collapsed against it.
Her plan had almost worked. He’d considered abandoning Richard when Henry arrived.
He wanted to hate her. She’d lied. She’d let him fall for her, his enemy. Did she laugh behind his back at what a simpleton he was? At how easily he’d succumbed to her coy smiles, and hooded glances.
He wanted to hate her. But he couldn’t, for he loved her with all his heart. He doubted he would ever love anyone as much as he loved her. That’s why her betrayal pierced so deeply.
What kind of twisted fate would bring his true love into his arms only to discover she was from the House of Lancaster?
“Nicholas?”
He heard her voice and closed his eyes as the rain pelted him.
“What are you doing here, Kestrel?” he demanded in a loud voice when she came closer. “Go back inside before you catch a fever.”
“What about you?” she called out, still approaching. “Come inside with me.”
“No.”
“Nicholas, look.” She knelt by him in the rain against the post. “I’m getting tired of this. Come inside and talk to me or I’ll stop trying and put you out of my thoughts and my sight for good.”
“You threaten me?”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. If you want to argue about it, let’s do it inside.”
“I will go nowhere with you, Lancaster,” he let her know.
“Fine then!” she shouted, straightened, and pounded away. “Have it your way, you pigheaded fool!”
He swiped the rain from his eyes and rose to his feet as she ran off. He held the hilt of his sword in both hands and swung it one last time into the post, as hard as he could. The blade cut through the wood and stuck.
He left the sword there and stormed away after her. He entered the castle a short while after her, dripping wet and ready to battle.
“You are correct about one thing, Lancaster,” he told her as she removed her soaked, muddy slippers. “I’m a fool. A fool for falling for you.”
She froze but her eyes burned with blue-green fire. “And I, knowing that you hate Lancasters am an even bigger fool for falling for you, so don’t feel so bad.”
She padded off in her bare feet, hurrying away before he had a chance to reply.
He kicked off his boots and without drying off, pounded up the stairs behind her.
“There!” he argued. “You said it yourself. You knew how I felt about Lancasters—” he lowered is voice and looked around to make certain Richard wasn’t anywhere in earshot. The king wouldn’t take kindly to having a Lancaster in the castle. “—and you kept it from me.”
She spun on her heel on the last step and stared at him. “I kept it from you because I didn’t want to be here alone, and I knew you’d never keep me with you if you knew.”
“You are correct,” he said, his gaze level with hers. “So you kept it from me and tried to convince me to betray Richard.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward and turned around to leave. “Forget it.”
He blinked. Forget it? Discussing this on the stairway wasn’t wise for many reasons.
He cut off her path in two strides and pulled her toward the solar. “You want to talk. Let’s go talk.”
Why? Why was he speaking to her? He’d promised himself he wouldn’t. Staying away from her was safest, but here he was, telling her how he felt, asking for explanations. What did it matter? In the end, she was his enemy.
“I don’t know what else to say, Nicholas,” she told him when they entered the solar and he closed the door behind them. “None of this was my of my doing.”
“Save for deceiving me, you mean.”
“Nicholas,” she said, refusing to sit down. “One instant, I was in an office building in New York City and then I was here, over five hundred years in the past, in the middle of a battle. You saved me. I will never forget it, no matter how far into the future I go. I quickly grasped what I was in the middle of. Historians call it the War of the Roses. You were from the House of York, and I, I was your enemy because of my name alone. I was too afraid to tell you.”
“Were you ever going to tell me? Or did you think your secret was safe? How could anyone here know your true identity, aye?”
“Yes, but…I would have told you if things between us had grown more serious.”
Her words stung a little. “More serious than love?”
Her expression softened on him. “I didn’t realize it was love. I…” She paused and seemed to try to keep herself together. “I have never really
