When she awoke, she felt dizzy and weak and wasn’t sure where she was. She opened her eyes to see blue sky overhead and a leafy tree nearby.
“Now what?” she whispered. Had she wandered out of the church? But the sight of the sky and the tree had calmed her. For the first time in days she didn’t feel frantic.
She closed her eyes again. She was so weak she felt like staying where she was and taking a nap. She would figure out where she was later.
As she began to doze, she was vaguely aware of a feminine giggle nearby. Kids, she thought. Children playing.
But at the sound of a male’s responding laughter, her eyes opened. “Nicholas?” Slowly, still feeling disoriented, she sat up and looked around. She was sitting on the grass under a tree in a pretty part of the English countryside. Turning about, she tried to get her bearings. When had she left the church?
Dougless stopped turning when she saw a man in a field. He was far away and difficult to distinguish, but he seemed to be wearing a sort of short brown robe and he was plowing a field with an ox. Dougless blinked her eyes, but the vision didn’t change. Rural England was indeed rural.
Behind her came the woman’s giggle again. “Sir Nicholas,” the woman said in a dreamy sort of way.
Dougless didn’t think about what she did; she merely reacted. Leaping to her feet, she went to the bushes behind her and shoved her way through them.
There on the ground, rolling about was Nicholas. Her Nicholas. His shirt was half off, and his strong arms were about a plump girl whose top half was coming out of an odd-looking dress.
“Nicholas,” Dougless said loudly, “how could you? How could you do this to me?” Tears were starting again. “I’ve been crazy with worry about you, and here you are with . . . with this . . . Oh, Nicholas, how could you?” She took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose loudly.
On the ground, Nicholas and the girl stopped moving. The girl, with frightened movements, hastily tied the front of her dress, scurried out from under Nicholas, then ran off through the hedges.
Nicholas, a scowl on his handsome face, turned over, leaned back on one elbow, and looked up at Dougless. “What mean you by this?” he demanded.
Dougless’s first reaction of anger left her. For a moment she stood staring down at him. Nicholas was here with her. Here!
She leaped on him, her arms fastening about his neck as she began kissing his face. His arms went around her as they fell back against the ground.
“Nicholas, it is you. It is. Oh, my darling, it was awful after you left. No one remembered you. Nobody remembered us together.” She kissed his neck. “You’ve grown your beard back, but that’s okay, I kinda like it.”
He was kissing her neck. His hand was on her shirt front, and her blouse easily parted as his lips moved down her throat.
“Nicholas, I have so much to tell you. I saw Lee after you left, and he told me all about Lettice and Robert Sydney . . . and . . . Oh, that’s nice, that’s very nice.”
“No!” she said abruptly, then pushed him to arm’s length. “We mustn’t do this. You remember what happened the last time, don’t you? We have to talk. I have so many things to tell you. Did you know that you were executed after all?”
Nicholas stopped trying to pull her back into his arms. “I? Executed? Pray, madam, for what?”
“For treason, of course, and for raising the army. For—Nicholas, don’t you lose your memory too. I’ve had all the amnesia I can take lately. Listen to me. I don’t know how long you’ll stay here before you go back. Your wife planned everything. I know you love her, but she only married you because you’re related to Queen Elizabeth—or is it the queen’s father? Anyway, Lettice wants you out of the picture because you won’t play along with her and put her kid on the throne. Of course she can’t have any kids, but she doesn’t know that.”
She paused. “Why are you looking at me like that? Where are you going?”
“I make for my home, away from your Colley-westonward talk.” He stood up, then began to tuck his shirt into his balloon shorts.
Dougless rose too. “‘Colley-westonward.’ That’s a new one on me. Nicholas, wait, you can’t leave.”
He turned back to face her. “If you desire to finish what you began”—he nodded toward the ground—“I will remain and I will pay you well, but I cannot abide this deboshed manner of speaking.”
Dougless stood there blinking at him, trying to understand what he was saying. “Pay me?” she whispered. “Nicholas, what’s wrong with you? You act as though you’ve never seen me before.”
“Nay, madam, I have not,” he said, then turned his back to her and left the clearing.
Dougless was too stunned to move. Never seen her before? What was he talking about? She pushed through the bushes. Nicholas was dressed in the most extraordinary clothes. His black satin jacket seemed to be decorated with . . .
“Are those diamonds?” she gasped.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes at her. “I do not deal kindly with thieves.”
“I wasn’t planning to rob you; it’s just that I’ve never seen anyone who had diamonds on his clothes before.” Stepping back, she looked at him, really looked at him, and she saw that he was different. It wasn’t just the clothes or that he was again wearing his beard and mustache, but there was a seriousness missing from his face. This was Nicholas, but he somehow seemed younger.