Chapter 35 Rhys #2
She hesitated but then nodded, her eyes darting all over the room, between the bed, the water basin, and the screen. “Thank you. But maybe I should go outside first and let you get ready?”
“There’s no way you’re ever standing outside this door.”
“Rhys, I’m sure you’d like a private moment—”
“I don’t need a moment. I need you not getting accosted in 1165.” He crossed his arms, feeling his irritation rise again. Did she have no thought for her safety?
“Please, we’re at an inn—”
“In medieval times! With drunk knights downstairs with swords that have recently been used!” he sputtered. “I’ll be right outside. Bolt the door and let me know when you’re finished.”
He stomped outside into the hallway and waited for the sound of the door being bolted again.
The last thing he needed was someone pummeling him in the hallway and then forcing his way in and attacking her.
He tried not to let his imagination run wild, but it was hard not to do when everyone was walking around with sharpened blades.
Not only swords and spears, but he’d seen axes, whips, and an actual mace downstairs at the bar.
Maybe he should buy armor tomorrow or at least a shield.
He stood in the hallway. Fortunately, no one paid him any mind. An older couple was staying across from their room, and a rowdy family of six was down the hall. He began to relax somewhat as he leaned against the wall to wait, then Magellan’s knock came. She unbolted the door and opened it.
She was in her chemise, her dress hanging on the back of the chair. He averted his eyes as he entered and bolted the door again. She was busy laying out her petticoats over the mattress and offered, “I thought we could sleep on this. It’ll be cleaner.”
The thought of sleeping with Magellan on top of her skirts was another kind of torture. He went and sat down at the table, unable to watch. “I’ll take the chair, and you’ll have the bed.”
She turned to him. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t sleep in a chair.”
“There’s barely room for one person on the bed, let alone two.”
“We’ll make room. You need your sleep too. Stop being so Victorian.”
What on earth did that mean? It didn’t sound like a compliment. He crossed his arms. “Forgive me, madam, for being too Victorian for you. Whatever that descriptor means.”
“For Queen Victoria.”
“We don’t have a Queen Victoria. We have King George.”
“Well, you will have a Queen Victoria soon and for quite some time.”
“Then I’m not ‘Victorian’ yet.”
She gave a half moan, half laugh. “Rhys, can we please stop arguing? I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“How backward you must think me.” He shared his thought out loud.
She came from the future, hundreds of years from his time.
He’d read plenty of outlandish fiction growing up.
Gulliver’s Travels was one of his favorite books as a child, and his father had a signed first edition of Louis Sébastien-Mercier’s The Year 2440 where a man falls asleep and wakes up in Paris in 2440.
Now he had fallen for a time traveler who might be Merlin’s twin sister reborn.
Gwynedd had written about the compass of the soul. What was his compass? Because right now he had never felt more lost sitting in an inn in 1165.
He took time straightening the table and repacking the food for the night so the rats wouldn’t come out. He’d spied one earlier downstairs.
Magellan lay down on the bed, curling up on her side.
She had taken his coat and rolled it up to use as a pillow.
He disappeared behind the screen to use the chamber pot, in disbelief he was being so intimate in front of anyone, let alone her.
When he came back out, he found her eyes were closed and she had dozed off.
He rinsed his hands in the water basin and wiped his face with the towel she had set out.
Then he settled down in the chair to sleep.
He stretched out his legs, leaning his head back against the wall.
The chair was hard and unforgiving, but at the moment he was too tired to care.
The oil lantern had dimmed to a soft glow, casting the room in warm shadows.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. He opened his eyes to find Magellan sitting up, glowering at him. “You’re not sleeping there. This bed is big enough for both of us.”
He refrained from commenting.
“I know you’re still upset with me—”
“I’m not upset with you,” he sighed. Of course he was still upset.
“Then come to bed,” she challenged him. “You need rest just as much as I do. Who knows what we’ll be facing tomorrow.”
He remained silent.
“Rhys Sherwood, if you don’t get in bed right now, then I’m going to sleep on the other chair. I swear I’ll do it.”
He found he was too exhausted to argue and went around to the other side.
He took off his boots with blessed relief, luxuriating in the feel of his feet finally being free.
Slowly, he lay back on the lumpy mattress and stared up at the ceiling.
He tried to ignore the sensation of Magellan being only inches away from him and he closed his eyes, willing his body to relax.
He was trying his hardest not to let any imaginings of her in his arms fill his head.
He must have fallen sound asleep, for the next thing he knew it was pitch black and the middle of the night.
Magellan let out a startled yelp and climbed on him, startling him awake.
She was lying fully on top of him, her body covering his like a blanket, a very soft feminine blanket.
She whispered, “Are you awake?”
His chest started to rumble with laughter, unable to help himself. She couldn’t be serious. “Of course I’m awake. You’re lying on top of me.”
“I heard something under the bed,” she hissed. “I think it’s a rat.” She was trying to make herself as small as possible, staying splayed across his chest and using him as a new mattress. His arms came around her to anchor her to him.
“There might be one,” he teased, not in a hurry to ease her fears. Magellan lying on top of him was pure bliss. Every one of her curves molded perfectly to his body, as if God had made them to match.
“Are you serious?” She lifted her chin off his chest to stare at him, her eyes two luminous moons in the dark.
“You’re the one who heard it.” He couldn’t resist teasing her again. “Or did you simply need a reason to climb on top of me and have your wicked way?” His eyes gleamed, his whole body waking up.
They stared at each other for a long moment, too many unspoken words between them.
Then she kissed him, her lips soft and full of tenderness.
The kiss was the balm he needed, and he deepened it, his passion igniting.
He twisted, flipping her over so he could be on top and kissed her neck, his body now covering hers.
“Rhys . . .” Her hands trailed up his back as her legs wrapped around him. Their clothes were the only barrier between them. His body was on fire, his head full of windmills. He couldn’t think.
“We can’t,” he whispered between ravishing her with his mouth and pressing closer.
“We can’t?” she asked breathlessly, returning kiss for wonderful kiss.
“I refuse to make love in a rat-infested room.”
“So you agree there is a rat?” she said between kisses.
He laughed at her sauciness and raised himself up on his elbows to look down at her.
This woman. She smiled up at him and his breath caught.
“Magellan . . .” He needed to say this. There would never be a better time.
These four walls had become their temporary sanctuary, with the world waiting for them outside an unknown.
Who knew what dangers tomorrow would bring?
What must it had been like when she had arrived in his time? How terrified she must have been. How courageous.
He whispered in the dark, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Please don’t regret I’m here.”
“I don’t regret you’re here.”
“But I can see it in your eyes. I wanted to come with you. I had to come with you. There was no choice. Do you understand? I don’t have any choice when it comes to you.” He willed her to believe him.
She blinked up at him, her eyes growing suspiciously bright, her mouth quivering, and she hugged him tight. “I won’t be able to say goodbye again.”
“Then don’t.” He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in as he listened to the soft rise and fall of her chest. “We go on together,” he said. “Where you go, I go.”
She smoothed his hair away from his brow and repeated his words back. “Where you go, I go.”
The kiss that followed was their promise. A most tender kiss. Then he turned on his side and tuck her close to him. They drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, their limbs entwined in the very picture of devotion. He tried not to worry about what tomorrow would bring.
Waldeinsamkeit was the German word for the sublime spiritual feeling one had being alone in the forest. He and Magellan were deep in the forest, in the labyrinth, alone in time, and the feeling was sublime.
He took a long, steady breath full of resolution.
The world was depending on the woman in his arms, and he would do everything in his power to help her.