A Knight in Central Park(34)

For what seemed like an eternity, he stared intently at her open palm. Then his mouth tightened into a thin line. “That isn’t the stone, is it?”

How could he know?

With every step she took back, he took one forward, until she was backed against the wall. A predatory expression covered his face.

“You were going to let me take that rock and walk over that hillside again, weren’t you?” he asked. “And then I bet you and your brother would have watched me sit there until...until what? Or should I say when? Ah,” he said, his jaw as hard as plated armor, “you weren’t going to tell me at all, were you? You were going to let me figure it out all by myself.”

“I-I was going to tell you.”

A small indignant laugh escaped him. “Where is the real stone, Alexandra?”

“I-I can explain...”

Even now, angry and defiant, his close proximity made her ache with some strange inner longing she didn’t understand. His masculine scent filled her senses, making it hard to think. Before she could tell him she had no idea where the stone was, although she had given it to Grandfather to hide, he wedged his hand down the top of her tunic and began fishing for it.

His prying fingers touched an intensely sensitive spot...and then another. “It is not there, I swear,” she cried between fits of laughter. “Stop. That tickles!” Swatting feebly at his arm, she slunk to the ground in an attempt to get away from him.

Upon gaining control of her wits, she looked up into dark, foreboding eyes. As he extracted his hand from her tunic, naught seemed humorous as his fingers grazed over a taut nipple. Shivers ran up her spine, and her cheeks grew warm. She averted her gaze, hoping he failed to notice her body’s palpable reaction to his touch.

“This isn’t amusing,” he said. “Where is it?”

“The stone?”

He sighed. “Yes, Alexandra, the stone.” His voice sounded weary. Faint lines shadowed his eyes.

“I shan’t tell you. Not until we have returned from Sir Richard’s castle with my sister.”

“I won’t do it. I won’t let you ruin my life.”

He refused to look at her, even as he bent low and helped her to her feet. Her gaze followed a small jagged scar behind his ear and along his hairline. Why had she not seen it before? Where would a man like Sir Joe get such a scar? He refused to fight. He was against violence. He owned no weapons other than the ones she had forced upon him. She resisted the temptation to ask him. Now was not the time.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed. With elbows propped on his knees, he let his face fall despairingly into his open hands.

“Even if you had the stone,” she said, hating to see him in such low spirits, “it would do you little good. Nine and twenty days must pass before the moon is full once more.”

“None of this makes sense,” he said, sounding defeated. “There are lots of things people can count on in this world: Taxes, death, gravity. What goes up, must come down. No matter what line you get into, it’s going to be the longest one...”

Alexandra watched him as he spoke, the slight crinkling of his eyes, the tilt of his lips, the expressive brows. Clearly he was trying, in his own feeble way, to make sense of what had happened to him.

“There are other things too,” he said, “like traffic or waiting more than thirty minutes to see a doctor. That’s life. But traveling from Central Park to—what century is this?”

“The Year of the Lord 1499.”

He snorted. “Traveling five hundred years back in time. That’s not part of the deal. It just doesn’t happen.”

“It is not so bad.” She sat beside him. “Mayhap you will enjoy living here. People are friendly. Wait until you have a chance to talk to Grandfather. You will adore him. And almond cakes! They taste like—”

“Alexandra,” he interrupted. “In twenty-nine days I’m out of here. Do you understand?”

“Aye. But perhaps whilst you are here you can think of your stay as an adventure instead of a curse.” An idea came to her and she moved closer, gently placing her hand on his forearm. “Perhaps your life is not ruined after all. What if it happened that upon your return you found things exactly as they were before you left?”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying time will hold still until I return?”

She nodded. “Verily it may. And something else,” she quickly added. “Whilst I visited with Shelly, she told me of your father’s quest to discover the identity of the Black Knight. I do believe Shelly stated that this very year is the same year the Black Knight was said to have swept across the midlands.”