Stardust of Yesterday

  Genevieve handed him two metal fondue forks and the bag of marshmallows. Then she leaned back on her hands and watched him as he stripped off his sweater and shirt, shoes and socks and set to work. She suppressed the urge to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. How often did wishes come true? Not often enough but they certainly had for her.

  She hugged her knees to her chest as she watched him and marveled over his finely honed body. She smiled when he looked over his shoulder at her and winked. Then she grinned when he began fishing for compliments again. Her joy was almost enough to make her glad he’d gone through seven centuries of hell. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. How had she ever survived without him?

  She leaned up and put her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Tell me again.”

  She leaned over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I love you. And I’m glad you waited for me. You’ve made me enormously happy.”

  “And you me.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his, smiling at the sandpapery feeling, then kissed her way back to his ear.

  “Genevieve—”

  “Hush. Pay attention to your marshmallow.”

  She took his earlobe between her teeth and nibbled. He shivered. Finding that reaction to her liking, she gently traced his ear with her tongue. His breath caught. Genevieve trailed her fingers over his chest, grinning to herself at the way his muscles jumped. Seducing Kendrick was just so darned rewarding. The man was patently unable to hide his reactions. He would have made a terrible poker player.

  “Kendrick,” she breathed into his ear.

  “Aye?” His voice had taken on a decidedly hoarse quality.

  “Your snack is on fire.”

  “Damn.”

  He blew out the flames, then set the skewers down on the hearth. Then he folded his hands primly in his lap and remained where he was.

  “I regret the interruption,” he said solemnly.

  “I’ll bet you do, buster,” she grinned. She pulled him back, then pushed him down on the comforter. His eyes were twinkling as she sat on his stomach and leaned down to kiss him. “You look rather smug.”

  “Smug? Nay, merely content. I like it when you seduce me.”

  “There’s no seduction implied here, my lord. I’m flat out having my way with you.”

  “Then, by all means, have away.”

  That was another thing about seducing Kendrick. He was always so willing to pitch in and help. He was more than happy to help her off with her pajamas and very cooperative about taking off his own remaining clothes. And Genevieve never thought to wonder how he received her caresses, for he was certainly disposed to telling her how wonderful she made him feel. If anything, he made her blush with his praise.

  Genevieve was fairly pleased with herself too, as she held onto her love while he was caught up in the throes of passion. She had bedded her husband properly and damn, it was a fine accomplishment.

  She started to pull away, but Kendrick wrapped his arms around her.

  “Not yet.”

  “You want me to stay?”

  “That’s why I’m holding you in an inescapable embrace. You aren’t uncomfortable anywhere, are you?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Then stay yet awhile,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss her softly. “Put your head on my shoulder and let me relish the feel of you in my arms. Have I ever told you just how deeply I love you? Or that I would cheerfully wait another seven hundred years to have you if I had to?”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to test it.”

  She ducked her head and pressed her lips against his neck. It didn’t matter if he was teasing her; that he’d found her bungling touch pleasing was enough. Of course, he’d flinched good and hard when she’d smacked his you-know-what with her knee, but he’d seemed to have forgotten the pain quickly enough. With practice, she might even be able to not hurt him before she made love to him.

  Twenty minutes later, she had recaptured her 49ers nightshirt and was scratching her husband’s broad back as he worked on their snack. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten roped into servitude, but she was sure it had been an underhanded maneuver on Kendrick’s part. Not that she minded all that much. His skin was smooth and his groans were music to her ears. His back was free of all but the most minor of scars, except for the Infidel’s bite over his kidney and a long, thin mark over his shoulder blade.

  “Where did you get this one?” she asked as she traced it with her finger.

  “I don’t think you want to know all the sordid details.”

  “Something wicked to confess, Sir Kendrick?”

  “Would it help to know she’s dead?”

  Genevieve laughed. “Go on. I can take it.”

  “In truth,” he said, turning to face her, “there’s little to take. I was at court, a few years after the Crusade, a year or two before my murder, when I met a woman. Not a beautiful woman, not even a woman who stirred my blood. Indeed, I came to her room at her invitation but could not bed her for I could muster up nothing more than a sisterly affection for her. She was the king’s ward, a homely thing whose parents had been slain while traveling from Wales. We came to an agreement, she and I, that we would keep each other company and laugh together at the intrigues of court life. And for a fortnight, we did just that.”

  “You were very sweet.”

  “Does this mean you won’t sentence me to a life of celebacy?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “So, you befriended this homely orphan and then what happened?”

  “Well, one evening the king held a feast, over and above the feasts that were held each night for his pleasure. And it was during this feast that my newly acquired friend, Lianna, was insulted. I, being the fool I was, challenged the knave and found myself contemplating a morning in the lists.”

  “To defend her honor?”

  “Aye.”

  Genevieve smiled lovingly. “You were so gallant.”

  “I was an idiot.”

  “It was a very chivalrous thing to do. So then you had to meet this guy in the lists. Did you know him?”

  “Aye,” Kendrick sighed, “he was my cousin, William of Sedgwick.”

  “And you knew him previously?”

  “Aye, we had met a time or two. Even had I not known him, I knew his reputation, and it was a poor one. His treatment of Lianna should have warned me further of his true character, but I thought that on the king’s field he would at least behave honorably.”

  Her eyes widened. “He gave you that scar.”

  “Aye, he did. We battled with lances first and I bested him fairly, though it was an effort as he was a fine warrior. By the time I dismounted in front of the king’s pavilion and knelt to my leige lord, the blood was thundering in my ears so badly I could barely hear the cheers of the crowd. I didn’t notice that their cheers had turned to cries of warning until Lianna tumbled over the railing in her haste to save me. I ducked and William’s blade only glanced off my shoulder, instead of plunging through my heart as had been his intent. I turned and fought him until he was bleeding from every bit of exposed skin and had no more energy to come at me. The king banished him for his treachery. William vowed revenge, but I never saw him again. ‘Tis a safe bet he went to his grave despising me, though he should have rather despised himself for his lack of honor. A man fairly bested does not strike the victor once his back is turned.”

  “Wow,” she whispered. “You were very lucky. I hope you rewarded Lianna properly.”

  “Actually, the king tried to reward me by giving her to me to wife. My younger brother Jason, who always did have a discerning soul, offered himself in my stead. Of course, it hardly hurt his feelings any that Lianna’s dowry consisted of more fiefs than Jason could count.”

  “Greedy little guy.”

  Kendrick smiled. “Actually, he couldn’t have cared less. He sired himself a dozen chi
ldren and gave away fiefs as fast as the wee ones could come of age and claim them. Then he and Lianna sequestered themselves in their favorite keep and lived out the rest of their lives in bliss.”

  “Then I suppose it was a good thing for me that marriage was just a bit too confining for your taste, as you put it.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Actually, I was saving myself for you. You were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

  She went willingly into his embrace. “You know I was. I couldn’t have asked for a braver, more chivalrous knight.”

  “Nor I for a more beautiful, bewitching lady.” He put his s’more down on the hearth and drew her onto his lap. “I’ll keep you safe, my Gen. I vow it with my life.”

  Genevieve closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. The possibility of Kendrick losing his life terrified her. How had Anne borne having Kendrick’s father leave to go to war?

  Genevieve sighed deeply as Kendrick’s hand skimming over her back began to relax her. It wouldn’t come to that. The Inspector would find Bryan and put him in jail, then she and Kendrick would get down to living a normal, everyday, wonderfully uneventful existence.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Genevieve frowned. The button to the drop-drawer of her green feety pajamas was nowhere to be found. She’d looked in her drawers, under the bed, in the trunk where Kendrick had hidden a good portion of her clothes, and in the bathroom, which was the last place she’d worn her green ones before Kendrick had pulled them off her with all due haste. But even in the bathroom she’d felt a draft up her back; surely the button had been long gone before that.

  She thought back over the places she’d been in the past two weeks, wondering just which room would contain her missing lime-green button. Other than one evening last week, she hadn’t worn her pajamas since the day…the day Kendrick had come back to life. She shivered at the memory of him carrying her down to the basement and tying her to the post. Thank heavens he’d regained his memory before he’d done something she would have regretted.

  She left her bedroom and made her way down through the great hall and to the cellar. She was half tempted to make Kendrick come with her, but he was outside playing with Royce and she didn’t want to disturb him. His captain had called earlier and invited him to a few hours in the lists. Kendrick had made a production of not wanting to go, but Genevieve knew better. She’d sent him off with a smile, glad to have the chance to retrieve all her clothes while he was out.

  A blast of icy wind startled her as she opened the cellar door and she almost closed it again and headed for higher ground. But no, that was stupid. There was nothing down there but a few spiders. That and probably a few stray ghosts. Those she could handle. Kendrick’s entourage seemed to grow by the day. The men didn’t come inside the hall as far as she knew, but she had certainly caught herself walking through a few of them outside. Just yesterday she’d bumped into Sir Stephen, who had blushed clear to the roots of his ghostly hair, babbled an incoherent apology, then turned and fled.

  She turned on the light and descended the steps, ignoring the chills that went down her spine. It wasn’t as though she were descending into a roomful of coffins. She smiled confidently as she put her foot on the cement floor. Piece of cake. She walked over to the stone pillar and looked around it. She even went so far as to get down on her hands and knees and search.

  “Success.” She picked up the button and started to rise, then something light colored caught her eye. She knelt again and reached around the post. It was a piece of paper, so old it almost crumbled to dust in her hands. She carefully picked it up and climbed back up the stairs.

  She laid the piece of parchment out on the kitchen table and looked at it. The wax seal was broken and badly chipped but she still saw the ornate shape of what could have been a dragon. A dragon? She shook her head in wonder and carefully unfolded the note.

  She squinted and struggled to make out the letters. Now, if it had been in English, she might have been able to understand it. But she made out the word je and knew it was French. Why that surprised her, she didn’t know. Searching carefully through the characters revealed the names William de Sedgwick and Richard de York.

  William of Sedgwick?

  Genevieve pulled away from the paper as if it had suddenly come alive. A letter from Richard to William? No, William’s signature was at the bottom. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. It defied logic, but she had the distinct feeling this might explain what had happened all those centuries ago.

  She ran from the kitchen. Kendrick could interrupt his training for this. “Kendrick!”

  Kendrick stopped in mid-stroke and looked up to see Genevieve running across the grass. He leaned on his sword and stared at her, unable to fight his smile. Would he ever become accustomed to the fact that this adorable creature was his? He wiped his face on his shirt, then resheathed his sword. He wanted two free hands to capture his woman with. The moment she was within reach, he grabbed her. She squirmed out of his arms.

  “Not now. I found something downstairs you have to come look at right away.”

  “A new place to make love?” he inquired politely with a wink thrown Royce’s way.

  Genevieve made a sound of impatience before she took his hand and started to drag him back to the house. “This is serious.”

  “So is making love.”

  “Kendrick!”

  Royce laughed as he clapped a hand on Kendrick’s shoulder. “Marriage has left you with nothing but one thought in your head, my lord. I vow you were never so concerned with the fairer sex when last we were alive.”

  “ ’Tis my sweet Genevieve who distracts me so.”

  “I can see why.”

  Kendrick scowled at his captain and considered halting and giving Royce a few bruises in warning, but Genevieve was single-minded in her desire to see him back inside the house. He threw Royce a dark look as he jogged to keep up with his love.

  She pulled him all the way to the kitchen table, then pointed at the piece of parchment laying there.

  “Read this.”

  Kendrick started to pick up the epistle, then saw the condition of the paper. Much too frail for handling. He bent over and quickly read the missive.

  First the blood drained from his face, then he felt it all pool in his ears. The thundering deafened him.

  Royce gasped from over his shoulder. “The bloody whoreson!”

  Kendrick swayed and instantly felt Genevieve’s hands helping him down into a chair.

  “Kendrick, what does it say?”

  Kendrick shook his head. Words were beyond him. He read the letter again.

  I, William of Sedgwick, send greetings to you, Richard of York, and by this writing seal with blood our bargain. Once I receive word that Kendrick of Artane is en route to Seakirk, I will arrive with the promised sum of ten thousand marks of silver. Once he has been slain and I have seen for myself that your lady Matilda has worked her dark magic on him, the silver shall be yours. Once the deed is accomplished, I will escort your lady to her coven and pay her another five thousand marks of silver for setting in motion the spell which will give me power over death. These things I promise and bargain for, setting my hand to this epistle in blood, in the Year of Our Lord, 1260.

  “Oh, merciful saints,” he whispered hoarsely. He looked up at Royce. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What does it say?” Genevieve asked, frantically. “Damn it, will one of you translate it for me?”

  Kendrick shook his head. “Ask Royce. I’m not equal to the task.”

  Royce translated it dutifully. Kendrick barely had the presence of mind to catch his lady when her knees buckled.

  “William? The one who came at you in the lists?”

  “The very same,” Kendrick said, drawing her down onto his lap. “I never thought he would go this far.”

  “How far did he go?”

  “He sold his soul to a coven of witches in return for power
over death, just as he said in the letter.”

  “But what does that mean? He didn’t die? Or is he a ghost? Or is it that he merely wanted you to be bound to Seakirk?”

  Kendrick shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. It could mean anything.”

  “Merciful saints above,” Royce said hoarsely. “Then Sedgwick could still be roaming about the island. The saints preserve us if he is! Who knows what kind of mischief he’s wrought.”

  “Indeed,” Kendrick nodded. The thought was truly mind-boggling. Perhaps some of the ghostly lads would know more. Sir Stephen, come to me, he called, pleased his mental powers still worked with his ghostly garrison. He drummed his fingers on the table and waited for his newly acquired vassal to come to him. It had felt odd the day before to have Stephen kneel and pledge him fealty. Kendrick had his suspicions that part of the reason the man had done it was that he was infatuated with Genevieve, but so be it. The more men Kendrick had looking after his lady, the better he’d like it.

  He kept Genevieve on his lap as Stephen appeared and made him a bow. The lad studiously avoided looking at Genevieve, and Kendrick suppressed his smile. He’d never met anyone quite as shy as the man before him.

  “Sir Stephen, I’ve a task for you. You remember William of Sedgwick, do you not?”

  “Aye, my lord. A dishonorable whoreson if ever there were one.” He looked quickly at Genevieve and blushed hotly. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

  “I agree completely,” Genevieve said, tightening her arm around Kendrick’s shoulders.

  Kendrick looked at his man. “I’ve reason to believe that he somehow escaped death by selling his soul. Do you remember his visage?”

  “Aye. A blue eye and a brown, my lord. Most disturbing.”

  “That is our man. What I require is that you question the lads, discreetly of course, to learn if they have seen anyone resembling him. If any feel the need to roam, send them roaming. You I will require to remain here. I’ll not have my lady unprotected.”