One Magic Moment(36)
Author: Lynn Kurland

 

“Where did you get your clothes?” Peaches asked with another yawn. “Costume shop?”

 

“Yes,” he said simply.

 

“It’s surprising how many there are here in the area, isn’t it?”

 

“Very,” he agreed.

 

She looked at him, then laughed a little. “Get talked out already tonight?”

 

He opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t even manage a single syllable before Peaches was popping up energetically to her feet.

 

“I’m teasing,” she said with another smile. “Thanks for coming.”

 

He could only nod and watch as she walked away, presumably to find her sister. He turned in his chair to have a better view of them as they met at the back of the hall. It was a little startling to see them standing there, mirrors of each other yet so unalike. No wonder he and Montgomery had received so many of the same sort of looks, never mind that those looks had usually been accompanied by some gesture to ward off evil.

 

Times had changed.

 

He rose when he realized Tess was coming toward him. She waved him back down into his seat and took the one across from him. He realized that he didn’t much care for that, but he thought that moving his chair next to hers might have been a bit much.

 

She looked impossibly tired, which led him to believe the evening had been a bigger drain on her than he’d suspected.

 

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

 

“I can’t remember.”

 

He glanced at the front door to find it locked, then rose and reached out to pull her to her feet. He kept her hand in his and led her toward the kitchens.

 

And he tried to ignore that he felt as if he’d done the like countless times before.

 

He saw her seated at the worktable, then put a kettle on for tea. He rummaged about in an enormous refrigerator, but the best he could do was eggs. A traditional English breakfast it would be, then.

 

He cooked, then looked over his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep on him. She hadn’t. She was watching him with what a duller man might have suspected was tolerance.

 

Affection was, he supposed, something to hope for as time wore on.

 

“I could do that,” she said.

 

“I imagine you could,” he said, “but I’ll do it instead.”

 

“Bossy even in the kitchen.”

 

He prepared two plates, then carried them over and set one down in front of her. “I like to be consistent.”

 

She smiled, then looked at what was in front of her. “I think I’m too tired to eat this, but it looks wonderful.”

 

“Force yourself.”

 

“Pass the chilled toast, then.”

 

He smiled and did so, then badgered and bullied her until she’d finished what he’d made for her. He washed up, put the Aga to bed for the night, then fetched his coat off the hook by the door and Tess from off her chair. He took her by the hand, then stopped in front of the fire in her great hall.

 

He handed her his coat. “I’ll check the doors.”

 

“They’re fine—” She shut her mouth. “Don’t say it.”

 

He shot her a look. “I will check the doors of the keep, Tess, to make certain you’re safe.”

 

“You said it.”

 

“You seem to need the reminder.”

 

She only watched him, silent and grave.

 

He did a more thorough job of it than usual, only because he didn’t trust any of the blighters who’d been lingering in her great hall. Apart from one tower door being propped open by a loose stone—something he found himself rather alarmed by—the rest of the hall seemed not to have suffered overmuch from the assault. He went so far as to look under what he assumed was Tess’s bed, reminded himself that offering to sleep on the floor in front of her fire would be a very odd thing to do, then jogged down the stairs and out into the great hall.

 

Tess was asleep in the chair in front of the fire.

 

He stood in the middle of that great hall for far longer than he should have, allowing himself to entertain thoughts he shouldn’t have for far longer than was wise. He never would have imagined during the last time he’d stood in the middle of Sedgwick’s great hall with a sword at his side and his only method of transportation being his mount that he might one day be standing there in far different garb, admiring a woman who loved what he’d grown to manhood surrounded by but had no idea how well acquainted he was with the same.

 

Life was very strange.

 

He walked over to the fire and squatted down in front of her. He put his hand over hers, trying not to startle her. She opened her eyes, blinked, then looked at him.

 

She smiled.

 

He closed his eyes briefly, then attempted a smile in return. “All the doors are locked.”

 

“Thank you,” she said sleepily.

 

“Can you get yourself to bed?”

 

“That I think I can manage on my own.”

 

“Just trying to be chivalrous.”

 

She pursed her lips and held out his coat. “I wouldn’t want you to use it all up.”

 

He rose, then held out his hand for hers. She looked at his hand, then up at him, then hesitated again before she put her hand in his.

 

He understood why. It was rather earth-shattering.

 

But not so terrible that he couldn’t bring himself to keep her hand in his as he walked across the great hall with her. It was madness, even thinking to start up any sort of relationship with her, but he was afraid he might have already crossed the line into lunacy.

 

He paused at the door, then looked down at her. “I suppose it would be unwise to suggest we see each other sooner than Wednesday.”

 

“I suppose it would be,” she agreed. “Though I appreciate the rescue tonight.”

 

He leaned against the doorframe. “Another party tomorrow night?”

 

“A small one,” she said. “Just supper for twenty.”

 

He smiled. “After tonight, I can see why that seems small.”

 

“And they’re all very well behaved,” she said. “Londoners entertaining out-of-town clients. I’ll just welcome everyone at the front door, then spend the rest of the time in the kitchen, making sure the white sauce doesn’t burn.”