“Nicholas,” she said with a worried frown. “I don’t want us to have sex.”

  “Ever?” he asked with a disheartened look of his own. “Or yet?”

  “Yet,” she reassured, even as his disappointment reassured her that her wishes would be granted.

  Now! she wanted to beg.

  He nodded and began to swim away, then sank when she leaped on his back. She squealed with laughter when he rose up, lifted her in his arms, and flung her into the small waves.

  She came back up laughing and swiped back her hair. “Let’s swim to the falls.”

  He was up for it. She didn’t doubt he would be. There didn’t seem to be much that frightened him.

  When they grew near, Nicholas said something, but she couldn’t hear him over the water crashing into the basin. They swam into the frothy mist and kissed some more.

  “You are beautiful to me, Kestrel,” he whispered with his mouth pressed to her ear.

  “And you are beautiful to me, Nicholas,” she answered, but she wasn’t sure he heard. He took her hand and pulled her away.

  They swam back to the rocks and Kes heaved herself up first. Nicholas followed and disappeared behind a bush to pull on his breeches.

  She was glad for the bright sun to warm her almost naked body. She might try to get a—he reappeared, tying the laces over his abdomen and seemed to take up all the space, all the air.

  Shading her eyes with her hand, she couldn’t help but traverse his tall, strong physique from foot to crown.

  She’d known he was cut from stone when she’d touched him but seeing him was a feast for her eyes. His long chiseled torso glistened with drops of water dripping from the hair slicked away from his face. Droplets fell from his sparse beard to his hard belly, where a thin rivulet flowed beneath his breeches.

  She wanted to fan herself.

  His mouth quirked into a scandalous smile when he saw her staring at him. She felt his gaze rove over her lounging on rocks in her bra and panties. His smoky gray eyes were almost chilling as they pierced hers. She lowered her lids to break the power they had over her.

  In her century, they would have likely acted on their desire by now and been intimate. Many other guys would have tugged the barrier of her panties and tried to get inside. But not him. He’d stopped when she asked him to stop—though it wasn’t what she wanted to do. It was what she had to do.

  But, oh, to kiss those wet muscles…

  “Do you want your kirtle?” he asked, breaking his spell.

  She shook her head. “I thought I would work on my tan.”

  He chuckled lightly. “What?”

  When she sat up and explained, he looked just as perplexed.

  Her heart felt as if it had burst and flown off into all directions when he sat down next to her. She didn’t know how to get it back—or if she even wanted it back.

  “I forgot how much I missed this place,” he said, looking around.

  He said he had come here with Edward’s family. Did he want to talk about them? He brought up Henry Tudor instead.

  “So you are definitely going back to fight?”

  “Aye,” he told her softly and lay back on the rock. “I must.”

  She looked down at him strewn across the rock. She swallowed and fought the visions in her head of leaning down and kissing him. “Why must you?” she pressed instead.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her staring at him. “What have your history books told you? Do I die? Is that why you do not want me to go?”

  “I don’t know what happens to you, Nicholas. You aren’t mentioned that I can remember, but then again, I didn’t study this period in depth.”

  He looked so insulted she almost felt sorry for him. But this was serious business.

  “You would rather me tell you that you died in battle?”

  “’Tis a good way to die.”

  She let out a sigh and collapsed beside him, close beside him, like half her body was on top of his. She pressed her cheek to his chest.

  “I don’t want you to die, Nicholas,” she breathed against him. “Richard is the last of the House of York. You are fighting for him if you are fighting for York. If you no longer trust or value his authority, then you should not possibly give your life for him.”

  He was quiet while birds called out to one another around the echoing white noise of the waterfall. Then he said, “I never thought to go against the House of York. The men of my family have fought for it for centuries. How can I be the one who turns?”

  “And if he had something to do with the death of the princes?” she asked. “How can you be the one who doesn’t?”

  She knew what she was doing. Changing history. She didn’t care. Not when it came to Nicholas. She didn’t want to lose him. He was all she had.

  “Does he win or lose, Kestrel?”

  She sat up. “You said you wouldn’t ask.”

  He sat up next. “I will know if I live or die by if Richard wins or loses.”

  He gave her the slightest of smiles, but she was sure he wasn’t happy about what she was asking him to do.

  She hadn’t planned on it, well, not until Mr. Simeon had advised her that the brooch was impossible to steal and could not be transported.

  She hadn’t wanted Nicholas to return to fighting when she’d had hope of going home. Now it was worse. The two sides were about to meet at the Battle of Bosworth Field, the famous battle that ended the War of the Roses.

  “He dies,” she told him on a whisper. Would she be punished for telling? Did she just eliminate her entire family line or someone else’s?

  “I see,” he said, his voice sounding like a hollow drum. “So ’tis the end of the House of York.”

  “No, Nicholas,” she corrected gently. “There is Elizabeth.”

  “She doesn’t want to marry Henry.”

  “He will make her happy.” She might as well tell him everything.

  “And me,” he said, breaking through her thoughts. “I die then.”

  She shook her head and ran her fingertips across his jaw. “No. Maybe you don’t fight for him and that’s why he loses.”

  They sat together, silent for the most part. Kes knew what she was asking Nicholas to do was difficult, seemingly impossible, but she believed it was the only way he would stay alive. Because as he said, if Richard died, and Nicholas remained loyal to him, Nicholas would have to be dead also.

  She wouldn’t think on it. That’s what she told herself. But she couldn’t help it. Especially since he was being so quiet. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Nothing. We should be going.”

  She was sorry she’d upset him. They were leaving and soon it would be the end of another day with him home. Was that it? Would he not even talk about it with her?

  Before, he had no one who was waiting at him for him…well, not including Elia. But now he had a woman who—who what? Was in love with him?

  Had she let her feelings go so wild and rebellious over him that she hadn’t guarded herself? That was the worst thing. Not guarding against something you should have seen all along.

  She should tell him. She would. Later. She would ask him to take a walk with her and she would tell him exactly how she felt. She thought he felt the same. She hoped he did.

  “Nicholas?” she asked, peering through the tree line. “Who is that?”

  He stared at the figure approaching. He grew a bit closer and they both said the name at the same time. “Simeon.”

  “Clever to land in the trees where no one will see,” Kes remarked.

  Nicholas remained silent, watching the traveler coming closer.

  “Mr. Simeon,” Kes greeted. “You are unexpected.”

  “And unwelcome I am sure.”

  Kes smiled. He wasn’t so bad once she got to know him a little better. “Not at all.”

  “I didn’t want to take the chance of being seen appearing in the castle. I have news. I think we should—”

  “Tell it,” Nicholas demanded.

  Kes was sure the time traveler had met many fearsome men and women in the times and places he’d been, so it was surprising that he obeyed without question. “I had hoped to gain some insight on why the knights gave you the brooch.”

  Kes’ heart thundered in her chest. “It was my great-great—”

  “No, it wasn’t. That’s what they tell you to make you come get the brooch.”

  “But why me?”

  “I visited Camelot and found the knights discussing you.”

  “Camelot is real?” she breathed.

  Simeon sighed and looked around. “It’s not what you would consider real. It’s on a different realm.”

  Before she had a chance to cast him a look of confusion, he continued.

  “They didn’t simply decide to give you the brooch. It had been fashioned for Arthur to wear as a sort of beacon to help Morgan Le Fey and the others find him when he left Avalon. Seems he left with more powers than he first had, but that is another story. He didn’t want to be found so he tossed the brooch away with an enchantment of his own. He overrode the first spell under his, the brooch was to be a beacon for others to find love.”

  To find love? Kes looked at Nicholas, who was looking at her.

  “But the thing is old and worn down and has been damaged by fire. Because of this, it malfunctions. Sir Kay was quite upset to learn that you landed in the middle—”

  “—of a battle. Sir Kay?” Kestrel swallowed then smiled. Was this all a dream?

  “Yes. He’s quite the swordsmen,” Mr. Simeon said and turned to look at Nicholas. “I doubt even you could beat him if he came here.”

  Nicholas didn’t look ruffled when he asked, “Why would he come here?”

  “Because Miss Locksley has told you things about the future that you should not know.”

  “How do they know what I’ve told him?”

  “They are monitoring you,” Simeon told her. “They must. It’s their fault you are here. They’re responsible if you disrupt time. They will have to send you back or the gap they left in your time will grow”

  “Are they going to come here?” Kes asked, instinctively moving closer to Nicholas.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know it was you they were speaking of for a long time. I wasn’t listening to much of what they were saying as I thought it pertained to someone else. But it was you.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Perhaps we can speak alone?”

  “No,” Nicholas refused. “We will have no secrets between us.”

  “You my speak freely, Mr. Simeon,” Kes assured him, not having any idea what he was about to say.

  “Very well,” he gave in. “They called you Kestrel Lancaster.”

  “What?” Nicholas demanded.

  Kes’ heart felt as if it were giving out.

  “’Tis a mistake!” Nicholas boomed. “She’s no more a Lancaster than I am.”

  The dream just turned into a nightmare.

  “Sir Lucan said they checked, and double checked that they had the right person. Miss Kestrel Lancaster. They found you in New York in twenty nineteen. That is you.”

  She could feel Nicholas’ eyes on her, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

  “Kestrel?” Nicholas asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Is it true?”

  She couldn’t lie. Not anymore. Somehow, he would find out the truth and she would look worse.

  “Are you a Lancaster?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nicholas stood by the window of his solar the next afternoon and looked outside. The sun shrank away from the thick, charcoal clouds that looked like gloom come to life. Lightning lit up the sky and made the hair on his neck stand up. Thunder shook the castle walls reminding those inside how meager their lives were.

  He grabbed his sword and left the solar. He wanted to be out there, in the force of nature, feeling its power coursing through him. He felt the rage and white-hot anger of betrayal. He needed a way to release it before it overcame him.

  He headed for the doors above stairs. The doors that led to the wall and the bridge, and ultimately, the coastal village.

  He flung open the door and walked out into the rain like a storm unto himself—one even more dangerous than the one he was stepping into.

  She’d betrayed him. All this time…all this time knowing how he felt about them. His mortal enemies!

  She’d tried to speak to him. She’d even had Elia and Elizabeth try to speak to him for her, but he wasn’t interested. She’d lied to him about something so important. She was his enemy. She tried to say she was afraid to tell him the truth, but no. She didn’t tell him because she came here with a purpose—to convince him not to fight for Richard. Well, he would not only fight, he’d win for the House of York and then he would throw Kestrel Lancaster out.

  He strode to one of the practice fields, his hair dripping around his face from the pouring rain, his boots sinking into the soggy earth.

  He wanted to fight. He might ride out to battle a few days early. For now, swinging at a post would help.

  He wasted no time smashing his blade into the hard red oak post. How could he have allowed himself to fall for her? She seemed so innocent of it all. Who did she answer to? Or was it more complicated than that? Had Richard won the battle at Bosworth Field and the Lancasters from the future sent Kestrel here to change history?

  He was tired of these maddening thoughts of time travel and being able to change history. It wasn’t right. And what about King Arthur’s knights? Would Sir Gawaine come here and try to take her back to her century?

  Just thinking of it made him feel like he’d accepted the fact that he’d gone quite mad. King Arthur? Camelot? Magic? Gah! All of it was exasperating.

  He smashed his blade into the hard wood post from the right, the left, from above and below. He struck hard and fast, swinging, jabbing, ramming. He fought with savage desperation. He imagined Gawaine or Lucan in front of him, trying to take her. He cut deep into the oak, his blade slicing through. It took him some effort to yank his sword out of the wood, but he did so with a deep grunt.

  She was a Lancaster. They killed his family. And now he had fallen in love with one.

  He shook his head and water flew outward. He couldn’t see from the rain falling constantly into his eyes, but he hit the post with every strike.

  He fought against the hard wood for another hour and finally collapsed against it.

  Her plan had almost worked. He’d considered abandoning Richard when Henry arrived.

  He wanted to hate her. She’d lied. She’d let him fall for her, his enemy. Did she laugh behind his back at what a simpleton he was? At how easily he’d succumbed to her coy smiles, and hooded glances.

  He wanted to hate her. But he couldn’t, for he loved her with all his heart. He doubted he would ever love anyone as much as he loved her. That’s why her betrayal pierced so deeply.

  What kind of twisted fate would bring his true love into his arms only to discover she was from the House of Lancaster?

  “Nicholas?”

  He heard her voice and closed his eyes as the rain pelted him.

  “What are you doing here, Kestrel?” he demanded in a loud voice when she came closer. “Go back inside before you catch a fever.”

  “What about you?” she called out, still approaching. “Come inside with me.”

  “No.”

  “Nicholas, look.” She knelt by him in the rain against the post. “I’m getting tired of this. Come inside and talk to me or I’ll stop trying and put you out of my thoughts and my sight for good.”

  “You threaten me?”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. If you want to argue about it, let’s do it inside.”

  “I will go nowhere with you, Lancaster,” he let her know.

  “Fine then!” she shouted, straightened, and pounded away. “Have it your way, you pigheaded fool!”

  He swiped the rain from his eyes and rose to his feet as she ran off. He held the hilt of his sword in both hands and swung it one last time into the post, as hard as he could. The blade cut through the wood and stuck.

  He left the sword there and stormed away after her. He entered the castle a short while after her, dripping wet and ready to battle.

  “You are correct about one thing, Lancaster,” he told her as she removed her soaked, muddy slippers. “I’m a fool. A fool for falling for you.”

  She froze but her eyes burned with blue-green fire. “And I, knowing that you hate Lancasters am an even bigger fool for falling for you, so don’t feel so bad.”

  She padded off in her bare feet, hurrying away before he had a chance to reply.

  He kicked off his boots and without drying off, pounded up the stairs behind her.

  “There!” he argued. “You said it yourself. You knew how I felt about Lancasters—” he lowered is voice and looked around to make certain Richard wasn’t anywhere in earshot. The king wouldn’t take kindly to having a Lancaster in the castle. “—and you kept it from me.”

  She spun on her heel on the last step and stared at him. “I kept it from you because I didn’t want to be here alone, and I knew you’d never keep me with you if you knew.”

  “You are correct,” he said, his gaze level with hers. “So you kept it from me and tried to convince me to betray Richard.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward and turned around to leave. “Forget it.”

  He blinked. Forget it? Discussing this on the stairway wasn’t wise for many reasons.

  He cut off her path in two strides and pulled her toward the solar. “You want to talk. Let’s go talk.”

  Why? Why was he speaking to her? He’d promised himself he wouldn’t. Staying away from her was safest, but here he was, telling her how he felt, asking for explanations. What did it matter? In the end, she was his enemy.

  “I don’t know what else to say, Nicholas,” she told him when they entered the solar and he closed the door behind them. “None of this was my of my doing.”

  “Save for deceiving me, you mean.”

  “Nicholas,” she said, refusing to sit down. “One instant, I was in an office building in New York City and then I was here, over five hundred years in the past, in the middle of a battle. You saved me. I will never forget it, no matter how far into the future I go. I quickly grasped what I was in the middle of. Historians call it the War of the Roses. You were from the House of York, and I, I was your enemy because of my name alone. I was too afraid to tell you.”