A Knight in Central Park

chapterEleven

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.

—Albert Einstein

Alexandra tightened the saddle strap between glances toward Grandfather’s hut whilst her sister, Susan, filled her head with endless plaints. What was Grandfather saying to Sir Joe? Alexandra could only pray Sir Joe would remain agreeable to her plight after speaking with the old man for so long. She never knew what Grandfather might say or do, and it never bothered her much until now. If the old man had spoke of marriage, she would die of humiliation, for Sir Joe had made it clear he had no desire to take a wife.

Neither did she have any wish to marry, but that was different since she had no choice in the matter. Surely, her friends and neighbors would be quick to blame her for his refusal to marry. Whilst growing up, she tended to squabble with the males in the village, always challenging one boy or another, proving she could hawk better, ride better, swim better, and hunt better. By the time the boys became men, they all decided it served them well to stay clear of Alexandra Dunn.

And just as well. Anything they could do, she could do better. But how was she to have known that someday she would meet Sir Joe and thus begin to wallow in dreams of being held in his arms?

Many of the elders in the village considered her to be unladylike. Absurd. Certainly there must be other women who preferred riding a horse to weaving. Being skilled with a bow and arrow and favoring hawking over cooking did not make one unladylike. Being cooped up inside all day embroidering would simply bore her to tears.

“Do you have to leave us again?” Susan asked, cutting into her thoughts. “The Tibbs force us to do all of their chores whilst most of the young women in the village do nothing but flutter their eyes at every man who passes through Brookshire.

Alexandra took the sheepskin cloak Susan held and tied it to the saddlebag on her mount. “As always, you exaggerate.”

Susan frowned. “What of Rebecca? As soon as you leave, she’ll more than likely give me that sad look of hers, all the while following me around like a second shadow. And Garrett,” she added desperately, “what am I to do about him and his never-ending pranks? I beseech you, dear sister, to reconsider. I am much too young to care for the likes of them.”

Alexandra gazed upon her younger sister for a moment. Susan never failed to remind her of her father. She had the same golden hair and blue eyes. Alexandra and Mary were the unfortunate ones to have been born with eyes the color of dull moss and hair the same shade as pomegranate seeds. But as life reminded her every so often...life was not always fair.

“Susan,” she said. “I have no wish to leave you, but I must. Mary is counting on us.”

“Mayhap Garrett and I should come with you.”

“Who would take care of Rebecca? Besides, I promised mother I would always look out for you. I shan’t break that promise by allowing you to be put in harm’s way.”

Susan was quiet for a bit, but not for nearly long enough. “Are you going to marry him?”

It took her a moment to realize Susan spoke of Sir Joe. Alexandra stopped packing. “Of course not. How many times must I tell you I have no interest in men, especially overly coddled, spoiled men like Sir Joe.”

“But I saw the way you watched him last night, the way your eyes light up when he is about.”

“You speak foolishness,” Alexandra said. “He has no plans to stay any longer than he must.”

“Grandfather assured me your journey would end in marriage, just as any good fairytale would end,” Susan said, her voice brimming with excitement. “And Lydia Tibbs insists that every woman needs a man eventually.”

Alexandra snorted. “Rubbish. I, for one, need not a man in my life to be content.”

“Then why,” Susan said, “did I so often hear you pray to God, asking Him to keep you from a life of loneliness, and thus aid you in finding a good strong man?”

Alexandra snorted. “I was desperate. I needed help in the fields. Besides, that was a long time ago.” Before father left, and she became weighed down with responsibility. Before Jonathan Wheaton kissed her, pleading with her to give her heart to him before running off to marry another soon after. It was before Alexandra realized the knightly heroes of Grandfather’s stories were only figments of his imagination. Men like that did not exist in the real world.

“Do not fret,” Susan said. “I, too, have prayed to God, asking that He send me a strong warrior who shares my appetite for love and life. A man who—”

Alexandra clamped a hand over Susan’s mouth. “Hush, you are too young to speak of such things.”

“I am ten and six.”

“I beg of you,” Alexandra said. “Do not speak of such things until you know of that which you speak.”

“I am not a small child.” Susan’s eyes widened suddenly. “Look, here he comes now.” Susan stood on tiptoe so as to get a better view over Alexandra’s shoulder. “He is quite a prize, but I would guess your man to be unhappy about something. Mayhap you can cheer him with one of your stories.”

“He is not my man,” Alexandra said, exasperated. Even so, she turned to look. “And even if he were, I would not whittle away the hours pondering ways to make him content.”

Alexandra’s face heated at the sight of him. Until now, she had failed to notice the snugness of his clothes. She had been certain Lydia’s husband, Ari, was of the same proportions. But her eyesight was surely failing for the leather breeches were unyielding upon Sir Joe’s form, revealing a lean and narrowed waist and muscled thighs that threatened to break the seams. Even the tunic was taut against his chest. His sleeves were rolled upward and the sight of his broad form dressed in such a way made her heart beat a little faster.

Alexandra forced a smile. Nudging Susan’s arm, she said, “Fetch my satchel, would you?”

Reluctantly, Susan headed off.

“’Tis good to see that Grandfather finally set you free,” Alexandra said to Sir Joe, doing her best to appear unaffected by his presence. “I was afraid he would ramble on for most of the day, telling you things you had no care to hear.”

“He was fine.”

“So, what did he say exactly?”

Sir Joe seemed to ponder her question. Verily he was trying to annoy her, and doing a fine job of it when he merely shrugged and said, “Not much.”

“He said not one word about me?”

Sir Joe scratched his chin, recalling the conversation as if it were a fortnight ago instead of only moments before. “No,” he said with a shake of his head, “he didn’t have anything to say about you.”

Although a part of her was relieved, another part felt insulted. “Not one word?”

“Not one word. Now about these clothes,” he said before she could question him further. “They’re too small. They won’t do.”

Alexandra turned back to tightening the saddle that needed no adjusting. “’Tis only a matter of getting used to.”

“Look at me,” he said, plunking his hands on his hips. “I can hardly walk.”

Alexandra shifted about once more, her gaze lowering before quickly shooting upward, away from the swell of his manhood straining against the taut fabric. Hastily she turned back to face the horse and adjust a stirrup. Her cheeks heated. “I fail to see the source of your distress.”

He leaned low to her ear. “I don’t believe you. I think you see exactly the source of my distress.”

Chills crawled up her back.

“I want my clothes back,” he whispered. “Where are they?”

Alexandra shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her neck. “I told Ari he could have them.”

“You what?”

She turned about so quickly she forgot he was so close and so very tall. Her nose brushed against his chest. He smelled of fresh pine and—and flowers? She smiled. “Did you use my soap when you bathed?”

“Yes, I did,” he said. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Oh no, I do not. ’Tis only that I have never smelled lavender and rosewater on a man before.”

He put his bare forearm to his nose and breathed in. “Ahh, great. Now I smell like a woman.”

“But you still look like a man.” She smiled, struggling to keep her gaze from dipping too low again.

“Which brings us back to the matter at hand.” His voice deepened, his nearness making it all the more difficult for her to breathe. She felt his chin hovering above her head. “Is that lavender, too, that I smell in your hair?”

“Aye,” she said, her voice low. Her cheek so close to his chest she could almost hear the soft beat of his heart.

How she ached to reach her arms up around his strong neck and feel his lips upon hers once more.

“And who might this Ari be,” he asked, “who has my clothes?”

For a moment, she forgot who Ari was. She closed her eyes, didn’t dare meet his gaze, afraid to let him see that she had lost all ability to concentrate. “Ari Tibbs aspires to be a garment maker,” she finally managed. “He was intrigued by your breeches, so I gave them to him. I owe Ari and Lydia much for agreeing to care for Grandfather and the children while we are gone. It is the least I could do.”

“Hmmm,” was all he said, his eyes dark and smoldering.

Something about the way he was looking at her told her Sir Joe felt something, too. There was something thick and palpable happening between them. If she failed to walk away, she might do something she would regret. Like kiss him. And to do so would be a mistake. If he wanted to kiss her, he would have done so already. Abruptly, she turned away from their near-embrace and yanked the reins from the post.

She was not cross with Sir Joe. She was angry with herself for desiring a man she could never have. For years she held no interest in marriage or men, then suddenly Sir Joe comes into her life and it is as if she is transformed over night, acting like a foolish simpleton every time he is around. God’s teeth, she could hardly find her tongue when he was about, her heart racing after nary a glance.

She climbed onto her horse and with a click of her tongue to get the horse moving, she set off, leaving Sir Joe to follow.





The horse’s tail swished, slapping Joe across the face and bringing him out of what he considered to be a strange medieval trance. To think he’d almost kissed the irritating woman before she’d jerked about, leaving him standing there looking like one of his foolish lovesick college students.

Just because her hair smelled like flowers and her lips beckoned him like honey beckons a bee, he’d nearly fallen into her trap. According to her grandfather, she wanted a husband and she meant to get one.

He shook his head. One moment he was going to lecture her for giving away his clothes, and the next he was about to kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

She was purposely seducing him, dammit, and she was good at it. She wanted a husband, maybe even kids, definitely something permanent. The same thing most women wanted. It was written all over Alexandra’s face.

He hadn’t intended to lead her on and give her false hope. He needed to fulfill his promise and then get the hell out of here. As he followed behind, he thought of his assistant, Shelly, and how she might find his situation humorous, or at the very least, remarkable. But there was nothing remarkable about wearing clothes that left nothing to the imagination, nothing funny about smelling like a garden. Next time he found himself falling for one of her seductive ploys, he was going to lay down the law, tell it to her straight, let her know there could never be anything more than a simple friendship between them.

Within the shaded area of the stables, he tried to adjust himself within the snug breeches. It was no use. Five hundred years in the past, an amazing phenomenon, and all he could think about was how he was going to get through the next four weeks without his boxer briefs.

As he came around the stables, it seemed the entire village had gathered to see them off, including Alexandra’s siblings. As he walked along, a dozen young women pointed and giggled. His pants might be a little snug, but he failed to see the humor in his suffering.

Ari, the garment-maker wannabe, was the first to introduce himself, providing Joe with a smile along with a friendly slap on the back. “Glad to see that my clothes fit so well,” he said cheerfully. “Verily Alexandra was accurate when she guessed us to be of the same size.”

Joe grimaced. “I appreciate your generosity, but you wouldn’t happen to have anything a little less confining, would you?”

Ari waved a hand through the air, dismissing Joe’s request. “The finest you have on. Only the best for a knight such as yourself.”

With a silent groan, Joe followed the man to his mount, a fair-sized horse with white mane and tail. While Ari checked the animal over, Joe touched the leather pouch at his side, making sure the stone was where it should be; his ticket out of this nightmare. Until the time came for him to leave, he needed only to concentrate on staying alive. Maybe he’d even luck out and find an interesting artifact to bring home. If he played his cards right, everything might turn out just fine.

As Ari brushed dry mud from the horse’s flanks, Joe crinkled his nose as the pungent odor of sour milk and rotten eggs wafted by, drawing his gaze to a group of women a few yards away. They were in the process of emptying chamber pots and buckets filled with unimaginable stench. Too bad they didn’t think to take the pots a little further downwind.

While Ari bent low to check the horse’s hooves for stones, Joe looked about and saw Alexandra’s siblings staring at him. The girls regarded him with curiosity while Garrett glared at him with open hostility. The boy’s eyes had become steely narrowed slits; the same evil look that had caused Harig to put a blindfold on the kid.

The idea of setting off for the open road was looking more and more appealing. He certainly didn’t want to hang around a bunch of kids. Nor did he have any desire to stay and listen to grandpa sing praises of his beloved granddaughter for the next twenty-nine days. And that wasn’t to say he didn’t like Alexandra. Quite the opposite. He liked her a lot. She was smart, fairly amusing, and she was pretty.

On the other hand, she was opinionated, stubborn and sneaky...very sneaky. Only a sly woman such as Alexandra could manage to get under his skin so quickly. Somehow she’d worked her magic on him, making him yearn to catch a glimpse of her, making him want to kiss her every time he so much as talked to her.

How could he even think about falling for a woman like Alexandra? Never mind that she was from another time. She was a slob for God’s sake. She threw chicken bones on the floor, wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She even snorted when she laughed. It wasn’t really a snort, he mused, but more like a cute little pig noise. He smiled at the thought of it. Damn. He liked her all right. She made him smile. He enjoyed talking to Alexandra when she stayed at his home. More than once she’d managed to make him forget about his work. More than once, she’d made him wonder if life had more to offer.

Joe exhaled as his thoughts turned to her grandfather. The old man presumed to know everything about him, cocksure that Joe McFarland was the man who was going to right all wrongs and save the day, confident that destiny would have Joe married off to his granddaughter when all was well and done.

No matter how much Alexandra made him think and yearn and covet, forming any sort of long-lasting relationship with her was out of the question. He had his future all planned out. Nothing would stop him from accomplishing his goals.

Joe reached out to pat the horse’s neck. Its ears flattened back against its head right before massive, ugly teeth came after him. He yanked his hand back.

“Watch your fingers,” Ari warned without turning about from the hoof he was working on.

Joe checked to make sure he still had all ten fingers. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

Ari straightened. “It’s my wife’s horse. She calls the animal Precious.” He lowered his voice. “But you can call the stubborn beast anything you want once you ride out of here. Temperamental mount, but also strong and sturdy. Just like my wife.” Ari guffawed, then slapped Joe’s back.

Joe managed a half-smile in return.

The animal pushed Ari with his nose, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Stop that!” Ari complained, raising a hand.

“Don’t shout at my baby,” Lydia scolded as she came to the horse’s aid. She smoothed a meaty hand over the horse’s muzzle without losing one finger. Then she reached into her pocket and gave Precious a lump of sugar. “Treat her right,” she told Joe, “and she will do the same by you. You have only to earn her trust.”

Joe was listening to the couple’s helpful hints when Alexandra approached, telling Joe that it was time to set off. She looked tired, much too fragile to be going off to rescue her sister from a fortress known as Radmore’s Keep. Joe glanced about. “Where’s everybody else? Your grandfather said we would have help.”

Alexandra sighed. “Grandfather has a tendency to say that which people wish to hear. He means well.”

Joe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We can’t save your sister alone. What about those men over there?” He pointed to a dozen men working the fields, using oxen to till the land next to the fields of wheat, readying it for seed.

“They are needed here, but there is a chance we will receive aid before we reach Levonshire, the city bordering Radmore’s Keep. Grandfather assured me he would send message to his good friend, Sir Charles, in hopes that he can gather a small army of men to aid us.”

“Maybe we should wait here until we hear back from Sir Charles.”

“Nay. Sir Charles and his men, if they come, will wait for us near the borders of Levonshire and Trent.” With that said, Alexandra pulled on the reins and headed off to say goodbye to her siblings.

With each passing moment, Joe saw their little adventure turning sour. But what choice did he have? Little kids and grandpa or dangerous mission with one small woman at his side? One glance at Garrett made him quickly opt for the unsafe route through the woods. As their departure neared, the villagers became restless, speaking to one another in excited whispers. More than likely, they were taking bets on how long he would survive.

“They’ve been waiting a long while for this day to come,” Ari said, as if he could read Joe’s mind.

“Why? What’s so special about today?”

“The people of Brookshire have been living in fear for too long, heavily burdened with excessive taxes, never knowing how long the crops will keep them fed.”

“Has anyone spoken to the king about this?”

Ari shook his head. “’Twas King Henry’s own bidding that common folk be heavily taxed. Unlike the middle class, we can ill afford to pay the king in return for peace and good government.”

“But why all the excitement?”

Ari smiled. “Because you, Sir Joe, have finally come. The people of Brookshire rejoice the arrival of The Black Knight.”

Joe choked on air. “The Black Knight?”

“Aye.”

Joe assumed Alexandra had mentioned the Black Knight. “They think I’m The Black Knight?”

“Nay. They don’t think you are the Black Knight; they know you are him.” Ari winked. “Just as you do.”

Joe remained silent. If Ari knew what he really thought, the man would be highly offended.

“’Tis hope you see in their eyes,” Ari went on, “for we have been praying for you to come and right the wrongs unjustly set upon us. It is a miracle of God that you are here.”

Joe looked again at the people surrounding him, dressed in rags, most without shoes or boots. What had he gotten himself into? He was no savior. No hero. But here he was, in another world, with dozens, maybe hundreds, of people counting on him. Not only was he expected to save Alexandra’s sister, he was supposed to save an entire village. He peered back into Ari’s weathered face, felt his pulse roar in his ears. “You’ve got to tell these people that I am no miracle. I can’t help them.”

Ari did not look convinced.

Joe didn’t want to be the one to disappoint all of these people. It was too much pressure, too much responsibility for one man. He had to make Ari see that he wasn’t their savior. “I’ve been to church maybe two times in my entire life. God would never have picked me to do anything so grand, so noble, so honorable.”

Ari laid a gentle hand on Joe’s shoulder.

“Look at my hands,” Joe rambled on, holding his hands outward, palms up. “Not a callus in sight. I’ve never touched a sword in my life. I gave up using my fists about the same time I gave up waiting for my father to show up when I was small. I’m just a regular Joe who was this close,” he said, pinching two fingers together, “to having a nice, respectable life. And then Alexandra showed up and BAM, shot it all to—”

“I knew it!” Garrett cried out, startling both men. “I told you he was not the Black Knight!”

“Not now, Garrett,” Ari said, before turning his attention back to Joe. “Alexandra said you saved her grandfather and her brother. Sir Richard’s henchman mentioned to an innkeeper yester eve that you snapped your fingers and caused flames to dance at your fingertips. But it wasn’t until Harig saw the medallion that he realized who you were.”

Ari gestured toward the medallion hanging about Joe’s neck. “That’s when he knew the Black Knight had arrived. The people of Brookshire have prayed for this day.” Ari clapped him on the shoulder again. “If anyone can help us, ’Tis you.”

Joe watched Ari walk away. Crazy talk. He turned toward the horse, made sure the animal was tied securely to the post before he began to search through the saddlebags, slowly at first, and then faster, tossing out a woolen blanket and some dried fruit in order to find what he was looking for.

There it was. His briefcase. He smoothed his hand over the leather case. The familiar object calmed him, told him he was sane after all. He glanced at the people lining the path. Hope filled their eyes. Ignoring the rot and the stench, he gazed at the tiny huts they called home. He thought about his work, about all of the endless years of research. In all those years, not once had he fathomed putting himself in the shoes of the people he studied. Never had he stopped to consider what it must have been like to live in this time-truly live in this time—without electricity, soft mattresses, and all the other modern conveniences he’d taken for granted. His thoughts had always been on the lost treasures and of being reunited with his father. Nothing else had mattered.

“Every hero I ever heard of carries a sword,” Garrett said, jerking Joe back to the bowels of reality.

“Never said I was a hero, kid.”

The boy crossed his arms. “There must be something you can do.”

Joe set about repacking the saddlebag. When he finished, he was disgruntled to see Garrett still standing there, straight and stiff, hands on hips, waiting for a reply.

“Okay, kid, want to see some magic?” Joe pulled a coin from the leather bag at his side and placed it flat on the center of his palm.

Garrett looked bored.

Joe waved his other hand in the air, swirling slowly at first, then swiftly over his palm, making the coin disappear.

Garrett frowned. “’Tis all you can do? Can you make me disappear?”

“Not that lucky kid.”

Garrett snorted. “What kind of warrior carries no weapons, can hardly climb from a tree, and considers himself magical because of one disappearing coin?”

“A simple man from another world who never asked for any of this, that’s who.”

“Alexandra said you plan to leave us upon your return from Radmore’s Keep.”

“That’s right.”

The boy kicked at a pebble with the tip of his worn boot. “Destiny brought you here and destiny is going to make you stay.”

“You’re wrong there, little buddy, because I have the stone. And that means I’m calling the shots.”

“Who gave it to you? Where is it?”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Joe said with a wry grin. “I don’t trust you any further than I could throw you.”

“You dare throw me and I-I will make your life miserable.”

“Now that, I believe.” Joe turned toward the horse, untied the reins, holding the leather straps a foot from the animal’s mouth so the beast would not be able to bite him. “Listen kid,” Joe said over his shoulder while at the same time trying to figure out how he was going to get on the animal. “Destiny or not, in twenty-nine days I’m out of here. Now be a nice kid and give me a lift.”

Garrett grunted his refusal to help.

Joe looked to Susan for help, but she grabbed her little sister’s hand and quickly scampered off. Alexandra was busy talking to Lydia. After two failed attempts to mount the beast, and a couple of nips on his arm, Joe led Precious to an old decaying tree trunk. He stepped onto the log, and then helplessly sank lower and lower into the rotted wood.

A chorus of laughter rang out around him.

Ari waved the children to silence as he came to Joe’s aid. He weaved his fingers together to make a stirrup for Joe to step into and lift himself onto the saddle.

Moments later, he and Alexandra made their way past the villagers. They had all stopped what they were doing so they could wave goodbye and cheer them on. “Good luck,” the villagers shouted, reminding Joe that they were going to need it.

Just before rounding the first curve in the unpaved road, Joe looked over his shoulder, relieved to see that Alexandra’s siblings had all disappeared. Just like magic, he thought with a smile.