Read Online Knight's Blood by Julianne Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Julianne Lee
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Time travel, Scotland, Married People, Kidnapping, Children - Crimes against, Fighter pilots
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Alex who he was. Hector. This was Hector MacNeil, Laird of Barra. The one who owned him as half brother, though he knew Alex was a distant descendant from the future. Alex tried to sit up, and the boy stepped back. The blond kid, seven or eight years old. Gregor. Alex remembered now. Gregor MacNeil. Hector’s nephew, the son of Hector’s deceased brother, and Alex’s foster son. His page. The boy’s eyes were wide, and he looked as if he were about to cry. People around here thought it was okay for guys to cry. Alex had never been able to figure that out, but just then he didn’t give a damn whether Gregor bawled himself red in the face or laughed and danced a jig.
The room spun, and Alex groaned. A woman came to press him back onto the bed. His wife’s maid, Mary. “Lie back down, sir. Ye’re in no condition to be sitting up.”
The room was sweltering. The high fire threw light to the most distant corners. Alex shoved the bedcovers from himself, then lay back, panting. Every inch of his body ached to his bones. He wished he could slip back into the darkness from which he’d just come and stay there, even if it meant never coming back. “Somebody kill me,” he said, and he wasn’t sure whether he was speaking modern English, Middle English, or Gaelic. A hard shudder took him, then stopped, then for a moment there was respite before the shivering began anew. Mary tried to restore his blankets, but he pushed them away until she compromised with only the silk sheet.
Then he must have gone unconscious, for the next thing he knew someone was offering a spoon to his mouth. A drop of something warm touched his lips, then spread along the line between them. He licked them and tasted soup. “Here, eat,” came the female voice he assumed was Mary. But when he opened his eyes it was another maid. One he didn’t know, who was younger than Mary. The daughter of someone, he thought. Surely someone’s daughter, but he couldn’t think whose. She touched the pewter spoon to his lips again and he sipped the broth. Suddenly he was hungry, and he struggled to sit up so he could take more soup. The girl sat at the edge of his bed and patiently fed it to him. The room seemed cooler now, and his sheets were soaked with sweat. The damp, clammy silk stuck to his skin uncomfortably.
“Where’s Hector?”
“Above, in the Great Hall, sir. Shall I have him summoned?”
A wan smile came to him at the thought of anyone ordering Hector around. Alex took with his teeth a bit of meat on the spoon, and chewed. “Let him know I’ve awakened and am well enough to receive him if he would care to visit.”
“Are ye certain you’re well enough?”
“No, but if I die I’d hate to miss him.”
Alarm struck the maid’s face. “Die, sir?”
“Go get Hector, girl.” The talk was wearing him out.
She set the bowl and spoon on a nearby table, picked up her skirts, and hurried from the room.
Alex lay back and rested his eyes as he waited, and presently Hector entered. The maid hadn’t returned with him, so the Laird of Barra took the bowl of broth from the table and came to offer some more to Alex.
“Tell me what happened, brother, when you met the elfin king.”
“I won,” Alex said, and sighed.
Hector’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Your opponent must be dead, then.” The last Hector had seen of Alex was when he’d left Eilean Aonarach to confront Nemed and make him send himself and Lindsay to the twenty-first century. He’d told Hector he wouldn’t return.
“You’ve not brought Herself back with you. I fear to ask what has become of her.”
Alex’s heart clenched. “She’s gone missing. I don’t know where she is; that’s why I’m here, to find her. How long was I gone?”
“Half a year. ’Tis nearly Beltane.” A light of confusion at the question told Alex Hector was still having trouble with the truth of Alex’s origins. He’d
The room spun, and Alex groaned. A woman came to press him back onto the bed. His wife’s maid, Mary. “Lie back down, sir. Ye’re in no condition to be sitting up.”
The room was sweltering. The high fire threw light to the most distant corners. Alex shoved the bedcovers from himself, then lay back, panting. Every inch of his body ached to his bones. He wished he could slip back into the darkness from which he’d just come and stay there, even if it meant never coming back. “Somebody kill me,” he said, and he wasn’t sure whether he was speaking modern English, Middle English, or Gaelic. A hard shudder took him, then stopped, then for a moment there was respite before the shivering began anew. Mary tried to restore his blankets, but he pushed them away until she compromised with only the silk sheet.
Then he must have gone unconscious, for the next thing he knew someone was offering a spoon to his mouth. A drop of something warm touched his lips, then spread along the line between them. He licked them and tasted soup. “Here, eat,” came the female voice he assumed was Mary. But when he opened his eyes it was another maid. One he didn’t know, who was younger than Mary. The daughter of someone, he thought. Surely someone’s daughter, but he couldn’t think whose. She touched the pewter spoon to his lips again and he sipped the broth. Suddenly he was hungry, and he struggled to sit up so he could take more soup. The girl sat at the edge of his bed and patiently fed it to him. The room seemed cooler now, and his sheets were soaked with sweat. The damp, clammy silk stuck to his skin uncomfortably.
“Where’s Hector?”
“Above, in the Great Hall, sir. Shall I have him summoned?”
A wan smile came to him at the thought of anyone ordering Hector around. Alex took with his teeth a bit of meat on the spoon, and chewed. “Let him know I’ve awakened and am well enough to receive him if he would care to visit.”
“Are ye certain you’re well enough?”
“No, but if I die I’d hate to miss him.”
Alarm struck the maid’s face. “Die, sir?”
“Go get Hector, girl.” The talk was wearing him out.
She set the bowl and spoon on a nearby table, picked up her skirts, and hurried from the room.
Alex lay back and rested his eyes as he waited, and presently Hector entered. The maid hadn’t returned with him, so the Laird of Barra took the bowl of broth from the table and came to offer some more to Alex.
“Tell me what happened, brother, when you met the elfin king.”
“I won,” Alex said, and sighed.
Hector’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Your opponent must be dead, then.” The last Hector had seen of Alex was when he’d left Eilean Aonarach to confront Nemed and make him send himself and Lindsay to the twenty-first century. He’d told Hector he wouldn’t return.
“You’ve not brought Herself back with you. I fear to ask what has become of her.”
Alex’s heart clenched. “She’s gone missing. I don’t know where she is; that’s why I’m here, to find her. How long was I gone?”
“Half a year. ’Tis nearly Beltane.” A light of confusion at the question told Alex Hector was still having trouble with the truth of Alex’s origins. He’d
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