A Knight in Central Park(32)

She stuffed the objects one by one into her satchel, then made her way to the top of a small hill where she gazed over untilled wetlands. A movement in the distance caught her eye.

It was Sir Joe.

He appeared as a dark silhouette. She should be furious with him for attempting to leave without fulfilling his end of their pledge, but for some reason she failed to conjure up any odious feelings toward the man.

Although she had no inkling of what it might be like to actually fall in love with a man, she knew a stirring when she felt one. And a stirring was putting it mildly. Every time she gazed into Sir Joe’s eyes, she felt a swell of good cheer. Or was it lust? Whatever it might be, she had felt it the first moment she awoke in his world, in his arms, and then again in his bed.

She cringed at the thought of Sir Joe learning that they were to marry. Unfortunately, the entire town of Brookshire knew The Chosen One was to be her husband. And keeping the villagers quiet would be like trying to keep a newborn babe from crying. No reason to bother Sir Joe with such a trivial detail until it was absolutely necessary to do so. The man was going to be angry enough as it was. Of that she was certain.

Alexandra peered into the night. Sir Joe was closer now. Her pulse raced as she watched him move through the shadowed darkness, toward a patch of trees.

“Sir Joe,” she called.

He raised his head, the moonlight hitting his face just so. He did not appear to be angry. Livid would more accurately describe his expression.

Suddenly he turned back around.

Afraid he meant to leave her again, she ran toward him, shouting, “Do not go!”

He had turned fully about, but he had yet to move. Instead, he glanced upward into the branches of a fruit tree.

She hurried her pace, gasping when he stumbled forward like an oxen worked too hard. His knees gave way before he crumpled to the ground.

“Sir Joe!” she cried, catching up to him. She kneeled beside him, pleaded with him to get up, begged him to talk to her.

He was silent, but she thanked the Heavens she could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her palms. Her eyes widened at the sight of a lump on his forehead.

“Got him!” Garrett said from within the branches of the tree.

Alexandra jerked about, surprised to see her brother’s legs dangling from a thick branch. “Garrett, ’Tis you.” Relief flooded through her at seeing her little brother instead of Sir Richard’s henchman. But then she glanced at the lump on Sir Joe’s head and relief turned to anger. “What have you done?”

Garrett held out his slingshot. “You wanted him to stop, did you not?”

“How many times must I tell you it is not tolerable for you to aim your weapon at people? You could have killed him!”

Sir Joe moaned.

“Garrett Dunn,” she said, “You are in grave trouble. Hurry back to the barn and tell your sisters we must set off for the village. We will stay with the Tibbs until I figure what to do next. The hay cart has been loaded and readied. Bring it here, and make haste!”

Garrett jumped from the tree, landing square on his feet. He drew close to get another look at Sir Joe. “I still say he does not look like a warrior.”

“Well, he is. Now go, before he catches a chill.”





It hadn’t taken long to get to the village. As Alexandra had hoped, the Tibbs had generously offered to provide her family shelter.

Now, hours later, she sat on a stool watching over Sir Joe as he slept. She yawned, rubbing her arms in an attempt to stay warm. The oiled linen stretched across the bedchamber window failed to keep the chill from the room. The oak shutters had long been broken and the colored walls, painted with biblical scenes of solemn looking saints, were faded from years of rain and sun. The unsavory smell of stale and moldy rushes soured her stomach.

Sir Joe rested upon a thin mattress covered only with a sheet. Alexandra tapped a finger to her chin as she mulled over the idea of tying him down with strips of cloth. Maybe then she could get some sleep before they headed off for Sir Richard’s castle. Most of their provisions were packed and ready to go. Lydia and Jonathan Tibbs had readily agreed to look after Grandfather and the children whilst she was gone. Poor Lydia. The woman yearned for children of her own, but God seemingly had other plans for her, and so Lydia and her husband doted on Alexandra’s siblings, treating them as their own.

Alexandra gazed at Sir Joe through heavy-lidded eyes. Thanks to Lydia’s concoction of herbs, he was sleeping peacefully. To think she had to drug a man to get him to stay at her side. Her friends would never stop teasing her if they knew.