Touch Of Enchantment Part 4

Probably because it had been several centuries in the future.

What would Uncle Cop make of her disappearance? Would he call the police or would he a.s.sume the envelope he'd given her had contained some crucial information about her parents' whereabouts? He had no way of knowing she'd discovered her mother's amulet. It saddened her to realize that it might be days before anyone even noticed she was missing. She had no close friends and her coworkers at the lab were probably celebrating the absence of their perfectionist boss.

Sir Colin hadn't spoken a single word to her since their earlier confrontation. His silence only deepened the frigid chill until Tabitha could feel it sinking into her very bones along with the icy fear she could no longer ignore. If her parents hadn't arranged this bizarre encounter, then that meant they weren't safe at home, chuckling at her predicament. They were still missing, perhaps evena She shuddered away the possibility, refusing to consider what she couldn't accept.

It wasn't until Sir Colin's soft snores pierced the eerie hush that she dared to creep over and make use of the bucket, her cheeks burning the entire time.

She shuffled back to her corner to find the torch fading. No longer able to stifle her shivers, she inched closer to the knight's shadowy form. She'd felt lonely most of her life, but she'd never felt quite so alone. She couldn't blame Colin for hating her. It had taken her only a few careless minutes in this century to destroy a reputation he'd labored on for a lifetime.

The torch sputtered. She bit her lip, willing it to keep burning. With a hissed sigh, the flame collapsed, losing the battle against the darkness.

Tabitha froze. She'd survived New York blackouts before, but she'd never endured a darkness so palpable. It pressed down like a lead weight. It seemed to her that they weren't so much imprisoned as buried alive. She forgot to breathe, so paralyzed with fear she didn't even realize the rhythmic snores had also ceased.

Then it came. The dreaded skitter of claws on stone.

Forgetting courage and pride, Tabitha launched herself in the general direction of Sir Colin, coming up hard against his side. She cowered against his broad, warm body, waiting for him to yell at her or push her away or make fun of her fear.

For a long moment, he didn't move or say a word, every muscle in his body as rigid as stone. Then with labored sigh, he drew her into his arms and rested his chin on her head.

"Don't be afraid, la.s.s," he murmured. "I'm too tough for the rats to eat and you're too scrawny."

No one had ever called her scrawny before. Tabith rested her cheek against his chest, marveling at how quickly her teeth stopped chattering. His chain mail should have been cold, but the body beneath radiated heat like a furnace.

As the tension began to melt from her muscles, she wondered if Brisbane would leave them to die in the place. Would someone unearth this cell centuries from now to find their bones seemingly entwined in a lover' embrace? Somehow that seemed the unfairest cut of a since the man holding her so tenderly was nothing more than a stranger who despised her.

Sighing wistfully, she reached into her pajama shirt and closed her hand around her mother's amulet. " wisha" she whispered, just before drifting into sleep.

Chapter 7.

Tabitha's mother had warned her more than once about eating chocolate before bedtime.

She should have listened, Tabitha thought, as she snuggled deeper into her fat, fluffy pillow. Her dreams had been populated by a cast of bizarre characters, including a brimstone-snorting stallion, a fey s.a.d.i.s.t dressed like Elvis in his rhinestone-cape period, and a surly knight with bedroom eyes and a brooding smirk, who'd spent most of her dream waving an enormous sword at her. She found the latter by far the most disturbing. She'd never relished being dominated, yet who could this provocative satyr be but the Freudian embodiment of her most primal s.e.xual desires?

Groaning, she tossed back the eiderdown quilt and fumbled for the alarm, hoping to mute it before Vivaldi could blare in her ear. Her reach was thwarted by something tangled around her waist.

She glanced down, expecting to find a cotton sheet wound around her midriff. Instead, she discovered a well-muscled forearm dusted with crisp, black hairs. Tabitha stared at it in fascination, dumbfounded by the novel experience of having a warm male body nestled against her backside. He arched his back and mumbled something into her hair, molding himself even more firmly to her rump. She gasped with fresh shock. A very warm, very male body.

Since she wasn't in the habit of surfing bars for one-night stands, there could be only one conclusion.

She hadn't been dreaming. She was actually imprisoned in a medieval dungeon with a surly barbarian.

Doubly confused, she blinked at the water-pocked walls. If this was a dungeon, then why were they snuggled in an Ethan Allen cherry sleigh bed? Why was the air warm and toasty instead of chill and damp? She tried to wiggle out of Colin's embrace, but his possessive grip only tightened. He finally grunted a sleepy surrender and rolled to his back, an intriguing hint of a sulk playing around his stoic mouth.

Tabitha sat up on her knees on the plush mattress, her eyes widening as she surveyed the transformed cell. Wall-to-wall Berber carpet covered the mottled flagstones. A ceramic heater roosted in the corner, merrily radiating heat although its cord was plugged into thin air. A Tiffany lamp cast a burnished glow over the knight's slumbering form.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her initial wonder eclipsed by an all-too-familiar dread. "Oh, h.e.l.l," she whispered. "What have I done now?"

Her nose twitched in an involuntary response to the enticing aromas drifting up from the satin-draped table at the foot of the bed. A table laden with all of her favorite foods from the restaurants where she so frequently lunched, brunched, and dined. There were Hungarian tortes drizzled with strawberries from the Cafe Des Artistes, browned sea scallops in a creamy risotto from 44, juicy fried chicken from Sylvia's in Harlem, creme brulee from Le Cirque, blinis from the Russian Tea Room, and an entire pyramid of her guilty little lunch secret a" steaming Big Macs. Tabitha moaned as her empty stomach contracted.

She buried her face in her hands, trying to figure out how she could have auth.o.r.ed such a disaster. She remembered drifting toward sleep in Colin's arms, succ.u.mbing to her vague and dreamy longings for warmth and light and food. Closing her hand around her mother's amuleta Before she could pursue that thought, Colin stirred in his sleep. She looked frantically around the tiny cell, seeking somewhere to hide the result of her fantasies. She even leaned over and peered under the bed, as if she might actually be able to stuff everything under it and distract him from noticing the bed itself.

When Tabitha righted herself, she found Colin propped up on the pillows, eyeing her rump appraisingly.

She glanced down, suddenly afraid she'd wished herself into a skimpy Victoria's Secret teddy. She was relieved to find she was still wearing her frumpy flannel pajamas, though they didn't stop Colin's drowsy scrutiny. His heavy-lidded gaze drifted lazily downward, then up again, finally coming to rest on her puzzled face.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a sheepish curl and Tabitha thought for a moment he might actually smile at her.

But his attention was caught by the scents wafting up from the table at the foot of the bed. As he surveyed the feast, his habitual scowl reappeared, only to be slowly replaced by an expression of terror.

He scrambled out of the bed in a blind panic, jerking the flowered sheet around his waist as if he were naked instead of fully clothed and partially armored.

"What manner of trickery is this?" he demanded, backing away from her until his shoulders struck the cell wall.

Forced to improvise, Tabitha shrugged. "I don't know. It was all here when I woke up. Maybe you have an ally in Brisbane's court who wanted to make your captivity more comfortable."

She inched toward the table, prodded by her empty stomach. Now that the jig was up, she didn't see any point in depriving herself.

She chose a plump chicken breast. But before she could bring it to her lips, Colin crossed the cell and smacked it out of her hand. It landed on the carpet with a juicy plop.

She dolefully looked at the fallen morsel. "Do you think it might be poisoned?"

"Worse," he said, signing a cross on his breast. "Enchanted."

Tabitha managed to smile weakly. "Enchanted?"

"Aye." The husky timbre of his voice sent a strange shiver through her. "I've heard many a tale of bold and true knights who partook of enchanted food only to fall under the spell of the enchanter for all eternity."

She wasn't hypocrite enough to chide him for being superst.i.tious. "Well, since we're probably going to be spending eternity right here in this dungeona" She s.n.a.t.c.hed a Big Mac and bounded off the opposite side of the bed, cramming a bite into her mouth before he could stop her. A moan of sheer delight escaped her. Processed cheese had never tasted so delicious.

Colin watched her devour the steaming hunk of beef, hunger obvious in his eyes. She held out the remainder of the burger. "Go on. I think it's safe. I don't feel the least bit beguiled."

After a moment of hesitation, he reached across the bed to accept her offer. He peeked under the sesame-seed bun and scowled at the pickles, then tore into the burger. Tabitha admired the flash of his delighted grin, thinking he didn't have bad teeth himself for a man with no access to a Long Island orthodontist or twice a year cleanings.

While she settled cross-legged on the bed to feast on fried chicken, Hungarian tortes, and a stack of crisp, succulent blinis, Colin polished off that Big Mac and two more. His wound no longer seemed to be troubling him and she was beginning to think his collapse the day before was due to dehydration and lack of food rather than blood loss.

She hadn't considered the consequences of introducing a medieval knight to American junk food. Suppose Colin gave up slaying dragons to open the world's first fast-food restaurant chain? What if she had changed the course of history by hardening the arteries of her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather?

"You're no relation to the McDonalds, are you?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

"I should say not," he replied through a mouthful of burger. "My great-grandfather fought against Clan MacDonald when they tried to steal Malcolm's crown."

"Good." She celebrated by downing an egg cream from Rumpelmayer's ice cream parlor.

Still chewing, Colin resumed his suspicious examination of the cell. "No man could have done such mischief as this while I was sleeping. An Egyptian in Mansourah tried to slit my throat once when I was napping in the sun and I had his heart in my hand before it had even ceased beating."

Tabitha licked away her egg cream mustache, her appet.i.te deserting her. "I'm sure whoever's responsible didn't mean you any harm."

"Harm or no, that doesn't explain how they lifted me from the floor to the bed without arousing me."

She averted her eyes, trying not to remember precisely how aroused he'd been when she'd awakened. "I know how they could have done it," she said with what she hoped was conviction. "They probably drugged us. We did both drink the ale, you know."

Her attempt to divert Colin's suspicions failed miserably. He turned his narrowed gaze on her. "Aye, but you refused the pottage, didn't you? You insisted I eat your portion as well as my own."

"I wasn't very hungry," Tabitha lied, realizing too late that he'd just watched her polish off half a chicken.

He took a step toward the bed, pointing an accusing finger at her. " 'Tis past time you told me what you were doing in that meadow. Did Brisbane use you to bait his trap?" To her relief, he swung away from her to pace around the bed, dragging a hand through his unruly hair. "He'd rather toy with me than kill me, wouldn't he? Perhaps he even allowed me to escape from the dungeon the first time. That would explain the ease with which I retrieved my armor and sword. He knew I'd never break under torture, so he set a woman in my path, thinking to prey on my weakness."

Tabitha might have laughed at being cast in the role of temptress, but her amus.e.m.e.nt fled when he knelt on the bed next to her.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, gazing deep into her eyes. "Is that what Brisbane believed? That I wouldn't have the strength to resist your big gray eyes? That I'd be swayed by the freshness of your scent?" He ran his thumb across her lips, its callused tip parting them to evoke a primal shiver. "The softness of your lips?"

Tabitha's mouth went dry. She couldn't manage even a squeak of protest.

Colin's hand slid around to her nape, tightening even as his voice softened. "If I find out you're one of Brisbane's wh.o.r.esa"

At that moment the door crashed open, and Colin jumped to his feet.

A squat guard stood well back from the cell, as if fearing an ambush from the man within. His disembodied voice grated like iron on stone. "Follow me, Ravenshaw. My lord demands your presence in the bailey. And bring the wh.o.r.e," he added as if in afterthought.

"I am not a wh.o.r.e," Tabitha snapped for both of their benefits as she scrambled out of the bed and followed Colin from the cell. "I'm a Ph.D."

A second guard was gripping a haggard old man by the elbow. While his companion clapped a pair of iron manacles on Colin's wrists, he thrust the toothless fellow into their abandoned cell and slammed the door.

As the crossbar fell, Tabitha heard the old man exclaim, "Praise be to G.o.d! I've died and gone to paradise!"

The guard shook his grizzled head. "Batty old fool. He'll be dead soon enough with nothin' but gruel and rats to eat."

Tabitha smiled a small, secret smile, hoping the old man liked fried chicken and creme brulee. But her smile faded when she realized Colin was still eyeing her with suspicion.

"Maybe this Brisbane fellow is going to free us," Tabitha hissed as she and Colin marched through the dank maze of tunnels beneath the castle.

"Or execute us."

Tabitha nervously touched her throat as they trotted up a steep incline at the prodding of the guards. "I've always considered myself something of a cynic, Mr. Ravenshaw, but you really should examine your own att.i.tude. A positive outlook on life has been known to ward off illness and extend the life span by a number of years."

"Death!" boomed a jovial male voice. "Death to the Scot and his strumpet!"

As they emerged from the gloom into blinding sunshine to the catcalls and hisses of an enthusiastic mob, Tabitha feared it might take more than just a positive att.i.tude to extend their life span. She shaded her eyes against the sun, feeling exposed with her rumpled pajamas and tousled hair. Even her chipmunk slippers seemed to be losing their irrepressible joie de vivre.

"Ravenshaw's a boor! Defended by a wh.o.r.e!"

Tabitha cringed, expecting Colin to shoot her a reproachful look, but he stood tall and straight, wearing his manacles as if they were twin Rolexes. A thrill of pride caught her off guard.

As the sun's glare abated, Tabitha realized they were standing at the foot of a broad ribbon of straw-sprinsand. The ribbon unfurled between a wooden platform and a colorful flock of tents topped with scarlet, green, and b.u.t.tercup-yellow flags that rippled and snapped in the warm summer breeze. It was as if they'd stumbled into a remake of Prince Valiant.

She might have been charmed by the pageantry if the invisible director hadn't borrowed his cast from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. A mob of peasants dressed in the grunge equivalent of medieval garb swelled against the fence surrounding the sandy belt, their grimy faces distorted by toothless sneers and feral snarls. As the guards shoved Tabitha toward the platform, Colin nudged her sideways to keep her from being spit on. A rotten onion sailed past his own ear.

The occupants of the platform looked somewhat neater, if not much cleaner. While the peasants had been dressed in dull shades of brown and rust, their n.o.ble counterparts wore rich reds, dazzling purples, and apple-greens and yellows.

Tabitha blinked, overwhelmed by their brilliance. She'd somehow expected the past to be etched in grainy black and white or washed in sepia. The vibrancy of the scene made their predicament feel even more immediate.

The mocking chants subsided as a man lounging on a ma.s.sive throne used the advantage of the platform's height to sneer down his nose at them. Sunlight glinted off his golden hair, but Tabitha saw only the tarnish of corruption.

Brisbane had traded his hose and tunic for a brocade bathrobe similar to the one she'd bought for Arian last Mother's Day. Its forest-green hue had probably been carefully chosen to match the shade of his eyes. Tabitha felt a flare of rage when she realized his milk-white hands were stroking Lucy's smoky fur. He had fastened a ruby-encrusted collar around the kitten's tiny throat, making her look more like a prisoner than a pampered pet.

Tabitha didn't realize she had bared her teeth at him until he drawled, "If it's not the lady with the comely teeth and her bold champion."

Several of the veiled and wimpled women seated on benches behind him giggled. From the plainest to the prettiest, their smiles revealed startling gaps where teeth should have been.

"I'll have you know these teeth cost my father a pretty penny," Tabitha retorted. "If you'd like, I can give you my orthodontist's number. Maybe he could whittle down your fangs."

Brisbane didn't have to understand all of her words to know he was being mocked. "Comely teeth and a sharp tongue. Perhaps I should pull the one and cut out the other."

Tabitha didn't remember inching closer to Colin, but suddenly he was there, his presence at her shoulder a palpable comfort. "Your quarrel is with me, Roger. Not with her."

Brisbane handed Lucy off to one of his ladies and glided down the platform stairs. When he reached the ground, Tabitha realized that she towered over him by almost two inches. He hastily retreated to the last step, but not before an amused smirk had touched Colin's lips.

"Where did you find such a treasure, Colin?" Sarcasm dripped from Brisbane's beautifully modulated voice. "In the brothels of Egypt?"

"Look at her shoes!" shouted a bell-capped fool. "Mayhaps she was traveling with a band of mummers!" He topped off his joke with a jingling somersault.

When the laughter had died down, Brisbane snorted. "A band of camp followers more likely."

"Perhaps 'tis your tongue that needs the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g," Colin said, his eyes hinting at the fury smoldering just beneath his implacable facade.

"Do forgive me," Brisbane murmured without a trace of remorse. "Have I offended you by impugning the honor of your lady?"

Tabitha waited for Colin to say, "She's not my lady," or some other, more insulting variation of "She's no lady! She's my wife."

But he simply stared Brisbane down until the man's thin lips curled in a petulant sneer. Brisbane gestured toward the platform, his gem-encrusted fingers glinting in the sunlight. "My guests and I are in dire need of amus.e.m.e.nt so I've decided to give you one last chance to defend your lady's honor and your own."

"I thought your taste in amus.e.m.e.nt ran to defiling children and baiting bears," Colin said.

"Ah, but baiting you, my friend, is so much more gratifying."

The peculiar mixture of contempt and familiarity simmering beneath their banter caught Tabitha off guard. She had a.s.sumed they were simply rival barons battling over land.

His cold grin undaunted, Brisbane borrowed a leather glove from a nearby knight and whipped it across Colin's face, leaving an angry welt. Tabitha flinched. Colin did not. "Do you accept my challenge, sir?"

"With pleasure," Colin replied.

"Very well. If you win the joust, you and your lady may go free. If you losea" Brisbane paced up the steps, then down again, tapping his pursed lips as if deep in thought. "I suppose I could ransom you to your family, but oh, I forgota they're all dead."