“But, milady,” Toby said. “Sir Reginald is one of the top champions in the kingdom. Of course he can win. Abbot is a fool for issuing this challenge. And his eagerness in this matter leads me to believe he plans to cheat.”
Reece ran a hand over his face. This was not a good situation to be in. Not a good situation at all.
“Can we postpone the tournament for a few days?” Lara asked hopefully.
“For the sake of your reputation, milady, it would be wise to wed Sir Reginald at once,” Toby said. He flushed again. “Meaning no offense, ma’am.”
“So it seems I have no choice in the matter,” Reece said. “And this will make our engagement legitimate, Eleanor. We won’t have to run off to get married.”
“But what of my sister?”
“She doesn’t like Sir Reginald anyway,” Toby cut in. “Everyone knows she wanted to marry Lord Abbot. He does have a better title and more money.”
“Thank you for reminding me, Toby,” Reece teased.
“Meaning no offense, sir.” The young man nodded at Reece.
“Well, I suppose you should get busy polishing my armor, readying my sword, preparing my horse.”
A bright smile crossed Toby’s face. “Yes, sir!”
“And I suppose I should have a bite to eat. It might be my last meal.” He glanced at Lara. She was staring at him as if unsure what to make of their situation. Toby left the cabin to begin his duties and Reece moved to draw Lara into his arms.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.
“Reece, what do we do if something happens to you?”
He tilted her chin up. “I’d better teach you the words that activate the amulet,” he said. “I think you should be the one who wears it.”
“No,” she said emphatically, shaking her head. “I don’t want it. You will wear it, and you will recite the words, and you will refuse this ridiculous challenge.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“Of course, I’m worried about you. This isn’t some show at a medieval fair. This is a joust, with a real lance, with a real knight who wants you dead for humiliating him.”
“So you don’t think I can win?”
“Reece, this is serious. You could be killed.”
“I am more aware of that than you are, sweetheart. But we can’t mess up Reg and Eleanor’s future together. We have to go along with the chain of events as they transpire. Reg knows how to joust. I’ll just let him take control. Like when you were Helga and you milked the goat.”
“That goat kicked me through the milking shed’s wall.”
“Bad example,” he admitted. “I’ll be fine, Lara. Have faith in me.”
“I’m trying, Reece, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” She swallowed hard. “Or dead...”
He smiled. “You’re starting to care about me, rather you want to or not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“So you’d stop me if I did this?” He lowered his head and kissed her gently on the lips.
His plan to distract her didn’t work. “Reece, we could just stall for a couple of days. Then Reg could retain his honor and win his lady and you wouldn’t have to be in danger. What if you lose? And Reg and Eleanor never get married and have children? And wonder if those children are your ancestors so you’re never born?”
“Easy, Lara,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about that. What’s meant to happen will happen whether we are here or not. If I win, Reg won the first time through. If I lose, then Reg lost.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’ve been through similar situations as I leapt through time for eight months.”
“You’ve jousted?”
“That’s not what I meant. When it looks like there is no way I’ll be successful, things turn out the way they should.”
“And if you’re meant to lose?”
“Then I lose.”
“And if Reg dies?”
He hesitated. “Then I die.”
“Just until we leap, right? You’d be okay after we leap.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
She shook her head. “I won’t accept that.” She stomped her foot angrily.
He hugged her to his chest and she relaxed against him. “Everything will work out for the best. There is a feeling of confidence in me that can only mean Reg knows what he’s doing.”
“I hope you’re right, Reece. I’m not prepared to lose you. Not for Reg and Eleanor’s happiness. Not for anything.”
Chapter 11
They rode into the courtyard of a castle around midday. Lara glanced around, a feeling of dread in her chest. Eleanor did not like this place and she wasn’t happy to be returning.
“Everything will be fine,” Reece whispered in her ear, picking up on her unease.
“Are you sure we can’t run away?” she said, glancing up into his intimidating helmet.
“How would it look if we ran off and young Toby jousted in my place?”
Lara’s gaze fell on the profile of the young man riding the horse beside them. His eyes were glassy with star-struck wonder.
“Funny, I don’t think he’d be upset about it.”
Reece chuckled, the rich sound of his laughter made Lara’s heart sing. “You’re probably right about that.”
A man stepped in front of their miniscule processional. The clopping of hooves on cobblestones drew to a halt.
The man spoke, his voice authoritative and rather bored. “The challenge will commence in two hours time. Prepare yourself, Knight, for three rounds of tournament. Milady, your father would like a word with you.”
“My father is here?” she blurted.
“Since he is your guardian, he must agree to the terms of the challenge,” the man said as if annoyed by Lady Eleanor’s obvious ignorance.
“Of course,” she said.
Reece dismounted and helped Lara from the horse.
“Don’t die,” she demanded in a harsh whisper. “Actually, just win. Okay?”
He grinned. “With you as my tempting prize, how can I possibly lose?”
“I’ll try to remember that when I’m pulling a lance from your chest.”
“Such faith you have in me, woman,” he said jovially and patted her on the rear before she managed to get out of reach.
She gave him a threatening look and he winked at her. Lara headed towards the looming castle. If Reg lost the tournament, this cold-looking place would become Eleanor’s home. And that asshat A
bbot would become her husband. Lara prayed that wasn’t Eleanor’s fate.
Lara glanced back at Reece before she began to ascend the wide stairs to the castle. He was speaking with Toby, probably about the upcoming competition. She bit her lip, unable to contain her worry, and then started up the steps. The door opened in front of her and she stepped inside. It was gloomy, but she couldn’t help but gawk at her surroundings. She’d never had an opportunity to visit a real castle, but it had always been a dream of hers. The museum curator in her was in sheer heaven as her eyes darted from one artifact to another. Well, they would have been artifacts in her time. Here, they were just stuff.
“Follow me, Lady Eleanor,” said the servant who had opened the door. “They await your arrival in the gathering hall.”
“They?” she questioned.
“Lord Abbot, your father, and your sister.”
Okay, this was so not going to be fun. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Lara’s stomach.
The castle suddenly lost all appeal, but she took in the sights so she might savor them in her memory at a more suitable time. Rich tapestries hung from the walls to keep down the drafts. She thought she recognized Abbot bedecked in armor in one of the wall-hangings. She wondered if he’d commissioned a tapestry to be made in his likeness. Pretty tacky of him. The occasional piece of heavy, wooden furniture broke up the monotony of the corridor. Candles cast strange shadows on the stone floor. It all added to the doom and gloom she felt as she shuffled closer and closer to the confrontation ahead.
When they entered the gathering room, the servant announced, “Lady Eleanor Clayton.”
She swept into the room, trying not to be nervous. Trying to look confident. She was glad she was wearing a gown so they couldn’t see her knees knocking together.
The older man looking at her with disapproval could only be her father. He stood near the fire nursing an amber-colored beverage. Lord Asshat, er, Abbot was there as well, sprawled in a heavy chair with a thick steak on his right eye. And then she noticed the small, young woman sitting near the window. Pale and wane, eyes downcast, she didn’t even glance up when Eleanor entered the room. She was too well-dressed to be a servant, and her red hair, which matched Lord Clayton’s in color, led Lara to believe that this was Eleanor’s younger sister. Meek, unimposing. A terrible match for Reg.