A Knight in Central Park(92)

She could not fault Grandfather, for she too, wanted naught more than to have Sir Joe stay with her forever. But unless ’twas his own choice, she could not trick him again. They had both made promises to one another.

Sir Joe had kept his promise. She could do no less.

She would not fret over it now, she thought as she watched with great pride as King Henry took the heavy sword from Sir Joe’s hands and tapped its blade to Sir Joe’s good shoulder.

“I hereby dub you Knight,” the king said. “The Black Knight of Levonshire.”

Afterward, the king rambled on, telling all to enjoy the festivities planned by their gracious hosts, Sir Richard and his lovely wife, Lady Mary.

After congratulations were given, Alexandra caught sight of Sir Joe coming her way. She wished to avoid him for as long as it took to figure out how to tell him he had not the true stone. But the time was to be now. She could only pray he would take his recent oaths seriously. Surely he would not do anything rash in full view of His Majesty? She nibbled at her lip and turned toward the long tables of food, pretending not to see him.

He took hold of her arm and then touched her chin, bringing it upward so she had no choice but to look at him. “Have you been crying?”

“Nay, of course not,” she said. “I-I do believe Sir Richard’s cook is overly fond of onions.”

“Alexandra...”

“Am I stuttering?”

He nodded.

“Is it the ceremony that has you tearful, or is it the fact that I refused to wear those tights you’re so fond of?”

She smiled, all the while wishing she did not have to look at him each time as if it were to be her last. “I will miss you when you are gone,” she blurted.

“We’re not going to talk about my leaving, remember? We’re going to eat and drink and be merry and then we’ll dance the night away.” He tilted her chin upward once again. “Alexandra, what’s wrong? You’re acting strange. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“How is it that you read me so well?”

“You’re an open book Alexandra Dunn. When you look deep into my eyes and lean close, I know you want to be kissed.”

She looked to her feet.

“And when you cross your arms and tap your feet, you are angry with me,” he said. “And when you avoid me and can hardly glance my way, I know you’re hiding something. So tell me. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“’Tis about the stone,” she divulged, handing his satchel to him.

“It’s here,” he assured her. “I can feel it.”

She shook her head. “Nay, I am afraid Grandfather has played a trick on you.”

His muscles tensed. He plucked the stone from its hiding place and held it to the light. His face paled. “Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Your grandfather had been reluctant to hand it over...why would he have an ordinary rock stuffed away in his mattress...unless,” he said, his expression turning grim, “unless he knew I might ask for it. He’s a smart man, that grandfather of yours...sneaky, but very clever all the same.”

Clearly, Sir Joe was doing his best to rein in his frustrations, Alexandra realized. From the satchel he retrieved a folded parchment and a writing utensil. He counted the lines and then added two more. “Twenty nights have passed,” he said finally. “That leaves me with nine days to get back to your village.” He took a firm hold of her shoulders. “Can we get back in that amount of time?”

She nodded. “If we make haste.”





Although Mary was disappointed by their need for a hasty departure, she and Sir Richard were more than helpful in seeing them off. Provisions were many and Sir Joe and Alexandra were given a mule to carry the load. With no time to waste, they said their good-byes, two sisters promising to set eyes on one another soon. Garrett, Sebastiano, and Joe were already mounted. They waited patiently for the women to hug and cry and hug again.

“Women,” Garrett said, “they set my teeth to grinding. If Mary dares to supply us with one more bolt of frieze, or one more pound of sugar, our mounts will fall over dead from the weight.”

Joe laughed and so did Sebastiano when Garrett failed to hide the faint smile playing at his mouth. They were a sorry lot, the three men with their various injuries: Garrett’s waist was tightly bound with clean linen and Joe’s arm was bandaged and propped in a sling. Sebastiano had scratches across one cheek and on his throat from his scuffle with the king’s men.