“Maybe he has been waiting for you.”
Elia actually blushed. Kes looked at Nicholas and smiled. He didn’t smile back.
That night, when Elia went to her own room, he lay awake holding Kes in his arms while he told her stories of his childhood with Elia. They made love slowly, quietly, lost in the comfort of each other’s embrace.
Morning came too soon, though Kes had to smile at Elia’s contagious happiness. Even Nicholas found himself smiling.
Sir Gawaine waited alone outside the inn. When he saw them, he pulled something from a fold in his cloak. “What is it going to be, Ms. Lancaster?”
“Elia is going,” Kes told him. “And you better get her to the right place. Preferably, my father’s apartment.”
After a long, teary farewell, and a few grumbles from Sir Gawaine, the knight handed Elia the brooch and told her what to do. She took it, waved goodbye, and opened her mouth. “Pendragon.”
The air shimmered for an instant and then Elia was gone. The brooch fell to the ground.
“Hell.” Kes heard Nicholas mutter and watched him walk away.
Sir Gawaine reached down and plucked the brooch into his hand then he disappeared.
Would Elia find her father? If she did, would her father believe her?
Kes had every intention of sending Mr. Simeon to find out, and she thought about sending a letter with him. Surely letters were allowed. If everything worked out well, she and her father or she and Elia could correspond.
She hurried to catch up to her husband and slipped herself under his arm. He kissed the top of her head. “You refused to go back.”
“As long as I’m with you, I’m happy,” she told him. “I wasn’t about to go back to the future without you.”
“I know what you gave up for me, my love.”
“And I know what you gave up for me, Nicholas. Now come, let’s go back to Scarborough and lock ourselves away for a week.”
“I like that idea,” he said softly and leaned down to kiss her.
She would never grow tired of the taste of him, the feel of him against her, in her arms.
When he withdrew, she lifted her hand in front of them and tilted her head to his shoulder.
“Smile!” she said and posed for a picture only their eyes could see.
Epilogue
One month later…
Kes stood with King Henry in her dress, previously owned by Queen Berengaria, and looked around at the great hall. It had been decorated for a celebration of her and Nicholas’ marriage by Claire and the rest of her friends. They were told they could go as lavishly as they wished. And they did. White lilies sprinkled with bluebells were hung everywhere and were set in vases at all the tables. There were musicians hired all the way from Wales, servers and bakers hired from the best English houses, wine from the orchards of Sicily. Before long, tongues began to wag throughout the castle about how much the earl loved his lady.
He stood beside her now in dark blue, snug fitting trousers, boots, and a short coat over his shirt. He made all her dreams come true.
He’d done everything that she asked, including providing better seeds for the farmers. The scullery maids had gloves for scrubbing and the laundresses got them, too, since their hands were frequently in lye soap. Everyone had days of rest and whatever was left over in the castle kitchen each night was given to the servants.
Kes wasn’t sure it would be possible but she was happy. She worked with authentic artifacts her father would die for. Four days a week, Nicholas rode her to Walter’s on his horse and picked her up six hours later. It gave them time to miss each other and it gave her time to spend with Walter, one of her dearest friends.
On the other days she had exercise classes with the girls, along with embroidery and archery. She wanted to do more, but she’d been terribly sick and could barely get out of bed…in the morning.
If the first month of her pregnancy was any indication of how things were going to be, she was in very big trouble. The worst part of it all was that Nicholas was ecstatic while she was miserable. Thankfully, just when it began to get on her nerves, the sickness subsided.
Kes was too busy being swept away by her friends to notice Mr. Simeon pop into the crowd. He found Nicholas first and then her and pulled them both away.
“They found Elia,” he told them. “After more tweaks to the brooch, Sir Gawaine was finally able to find her and get her to Manhattan, twenty nineteen.”
Kes threw her hands to her mouth and rested against Nicholas when he put his arm around her. “What good news! After losing her for so long, it’s quite a relief!”
“Have you spoken to her?” Nicholas asked. “Is she well?”
“Yes. I spoke with her,” Mr. Simeon told him. “She is as well as can be expected after surviving in ten eighty-seven for the last month.”
Nicholas groaned. Kes gasped. “Ten eighty-seven!” Kes couldn’t imagine the shock of going from the eleventh century to the twenty-first. “Oh, poor Elia.” Kes cried.
“She’s a strong woman,” Mr. Simeon reminded them both. “She told me she met an ancestor of hers called Matilda of Normandy.” His eyes danced with awe. “Ever hear of her?”
Kes’ mouth fell open. “William’s wife?”
He nodded and then threw up his hands. “I don’t think the brooch is that broken after all. Where it takes people is no coincidence.”
Nicholas only cared that Elia was well and being taken care of. “Sell anything you must to get her coin.”
Mr. Simeon nodded. “She needs clothes—”
“Whatever she needs.”
“You will give her our letter?” Kes asked, putting her hand on his arm.
“Yes, my dear, I will take her your letter. Now remember, there is no guarantee it will be allowed through. I will only know once I get
