The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (16 page)

"What
you mean to say is that I'm obsessed with him."

He
paused, his back to her. After a moment, he ran his fingers through his cropped
blond hair. "Yes," he whispered. "You are. I don't like what
it's doing to you. It's like... like you're turning into something I don't
recognize."

Rory
stared at the back of his head, pondering his words. She knew he was correct;
nothing was right any longer, or normal.  Ever since she had laid eyes on the
swathed bundle in the shallow grave, it was as if everything had somehow
changed.
She
had changed.

It was a
change she didn't like. Sir Kieran was out of her control, in the custody of
his family. There was nothing she could do for him any longer and it was
important that she come to terms with the situation. Any more refusal to
acknowledge the reality of events and she could very well find herself in a lot
of trouble.

She had
told Bud the truth, how she had kept it with her simply to finish transcribing
it. But on the other hand, she'd kept the journal with her since the moment of
its discovery and the thought of relinquishing it was a painful concept. She
knew Bud was having difficulty believing her and she only had herself to blame.
Since the moment they had discovered the crusader, she'd become an emotional
bundle with an obsession for a dead man and his unreachable knowledge.

It
didn't seem to matter any longer that Sir Kieran apparently knew the location
of the crown of thorns. More than the ancient diadem, Rory was consumed with
the knight and his fascinating life. But her magnificent warrior was gone, and
the reality was like an open wound in the center of her heart. Like anything
else, it would take time to heal. But she had to start somewhere.

"I'm
sorry, Bud," she murmured, the tears that had so recently fled returning
with a vengeance. "I... I've just never faced a situation like this. I
can't help myself from getting involved."

He
turned to her, feeling himself relent when he knew full well that he shouldn't.
If anyone had allowed themselves to get too involved with the situation, he was
certainly one to blame. He didn't even have the good sense to be on his guard
as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

"It
would have been pretty hard not to have become involved," he said softly.
"And I'm not really angry with you. But you've got to give the journal
back, honey. You can't keep it."

"I
know," she sniffed, looking to the aged leather volume. "Maybe my
keeping it was a subconscious attempt to seek revenge against Sir Kieran's
family; they kept the body, but I kept his thoughts and hopes and dreams."

Bud
crossed his arms, leaning against the canopy post. "So you can still have
all of that even if you return the book. We'll find a printer tomorrow and copy
the pages."

She
nodded in resigned agreement, wiping at the last of her tears and setting the
book to the end of the bed, next to Bud. Throwing her tote bag on the floor,
she fell back on the mattress with an exhausted sigh. Bud watched her snuggle
into the pillows, thoughts shifting from the journal to Rory, and wondering
what it would be like to make love to her. He was so close he could almost
taste it.

"You're
tired," he said, turning away before he jumped onto the bed next to her.
"The landlady was bringing up some tea. I'll tell her to hold off while
you sleep."

Rory
watched him move for the door, the lethargy of his movements and the fatigue in
his voice. She had caused this, she knew, wreaking havoc with her mood swings
and irrational actions. He was such a good man, always considerate of her
feelings, always looking out for her. Even though she didn't want a husband, someone
like Bud Dietrich would be the perfect mate; devoted, loving, kind. Maybe she
wasn't being fair by not giving him a chance. Now that her knight was vanished
and her dreams were quashed, maybe she needed someone like Bud to bring her
back to reality.

He was
almost to the door. "Bud?" she called softly.

He
paused, reaching for his bags. Outside, the thunder had commenced, rattling the
windows with its intensity. She met his inquisitive gaze, reaching up a hand to
turn out the brass lamp.

"I
don't want to be alone," she whispered. "Please... will you stay with
me?"

Bud
could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The door remained closed and the
luggage on the floor. "Uh... sure," he said softly, moving hesitantly
for the chair next to the bed. But Rory stopped him.

"No,
not the chair," she said, patting the mattress behind her.
"Here."

The
gushing in his ears had turned to a roaring river. Bud moved to the other side
of the bed, lowering his muscular frame down beside her and wondering if this
was an entirely wise decision on his part. He sat up against the pillows,
stiffly, feeling like a giddy teenager on the verge of loosing his innocence.

"Lay
down," Rory rolled onto her back, gazing up at him. Her swollen eyes were
half-lidded, shadowed with fatigue. "It's cold. Pull the edge of the
comforter up around us."

He was
actually shaking as he slid down on the bed, dutifully reaching over to pull up
the fluffy comforter. Covering them both, he found himself pressed up against Rory's
warm back, thinking she felt more wonderful than he had ever imagined.

Much to
his surprise and disbelief, she seemed to snuggle back against him. He kept
trying to figure out where to put his right arm, either tucked in between their
two bodies or draped over her torso, awkwardly trying to find a position that
wasn't too suggestive or intimate or just plain weird. He heard Rory laugh
softly.

"You
can put your arm around me, Bud. I don't mind."

He did, thinking
it was the most amazing feeling he’d ever experienced. But he found the need to
make one thing perfectly clear before they proceeded any further.

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"
she was nearly asleep.

"Are
you..." swallowing hard, he tried again. "Are you trying to seduce
me?"

She
laughed again, moving his arm to a comfortable position around her waist.
Pulling the comforter close, she sighed. "Not at the moment. I... I guess
I just need a little comfort, that's all."

"Oh."

"Disappointed?"

"Well...
yes."

She
chuckled softly, listening to the storm outside and feeling quite content lying
in Bud's arms. "Trust me, Bud. If I was trying to seduce you, you wouldn't
have to ask. You'd know."

The
landlady came with a tray of tea and biscuits five minutes later. Dead tired
and fast asleep, Rory and Bud never heard her.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

     Rory
awoke to the soft colors of sunset on the wall above the bed. The storm had
vanished, leaving the sky scattered with puffy clouds. Stretching her muscles
with a groan, she noticed that Bud had vanished. A groggy glance around the
room told her she was completely alone.

Yawning,
she sat up, the jackhammer in her head reminding her of the emotional upheaval
she had suffered earlier and the fact that she had always been prone to jetlag.
Stomach churning, she forgot all about Bud's absence and staggered into the
bathroom. Turning on the shower, she went back into the bedroom to gather a few
things while the water heated up.

She lost
track of time in the shower, washing her hair and shaving her legs and trying
not to think of Sir Kieran. She knew that if she allowed herself to linger on
him, it would only serve to upset her all over again and, at the moment, she
was doing fairly well staying calm. Even with the pounding headache.

Taking
time to put her makeup on, she directed her attention away from thoughts of her
crusader by focusing on what had become of Bud. She had fallen asleep in his
arms and she imagined that someday she might even grow to like it. But the fact
remained that as much as she thought, perhaps, that Bud Dietrich was what she
needed in a stable relationship, he simply didn't set her on fire. He was the
sweetest guy in the world but beyond that, there wasn't much of a spark. There
never really had been.

She put
on three coats of mascara pondering the dilemma of Dr. Dietrich. Odd that she
seemed so dependent on a man she wasn't in love with. It certainly hadn't been
fair to encourage him into her bed, but she was hurt and confused and needed
the warmth of a human touch. Without even asking her mother, she knew what the
woman would say;
stop chasing dreams, Rory. Get your head out of the clouds
and focus on what's real in this life.

Maybe by
her willingness to explore her feelings for Bud, she was somehow proving that
she was sensible. And how better to prove it than a relationship with a sensible
guy? Maybe people wouldn't think she was so outlandish when they saw who she
was married to;
ah, yes, I know Bud Dietrich. A nice, level-headed guy. But
his wife is a little eccentric; chasing after biblical relics as if they
actually exist. Good thing Bud's around to keep her feet on the ground.

Rory put
down the mascara tube before she put on another coat. Flipping her head
upside-down, she blow-dried her hair until it was scorching, still thinking on
the chaotic situation around her. Too much was happening, her thoughts drifting
in several different directions.  Her crown, the knight, Bud... she simply
didn't know what she was thinking any more.

By the
time Rory finished her hair and pulled her last shoe on, there was a knock at
the door. Bud was standing in the doorway, dressed in a nice, if not slightly
wrinkled, pair of pants and a linen shirt. She could even smell aftershave. He
smiled weakly and held out a fistful of yellow and pink flowers.

"Hi,"
he said.

She had
to smile at him. He looked really nervous. "Hi," she said, accepting
the flowers. "Wow, Bud, flowers? I'm touched."

He
shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. He always had his hands in his
pockets, as if he couldn't think of anything else to do with them. "The
landlady had them and... well, I just thought you could use them."

She was
genuinely warmed by the gesture. "Thank you very much, Dr. Dietrich."
She went to the bathroom and put them in the sink, stopping up the drain and
running some water to keep them fresh. "So where have you been, other than
out buying me flowers?"

He was
standing in the middle of the room, watching her as she came out of the
bathroom drying her hands. "Unpacking. And looking around a little. I have
a view of Hyde Park from my window."

"You
do?" She had a view of buildings and a garden from hers. "I've never
been to London. I think I'd like to see a little bit before we leave."

He
nodded. "I was talking to the landlady and she was telling me about some
tours that run through the city. Maybe if there's time tomorrow, we can look
around."

The idea
of sightseeing perked Rory's mood. But not entirely; thoughts of perusing the
city only made her think of the London hospital where Sir Kieran was being held
and once again she found herself struggling against depression. She knew for a
fact that if the tour bus drove past Middlesex Hospital, Bud would have a hell
of a time keeping her from jumping out the window.

But she
agreed with him anyway, trying to hide the fact that her mood wasn't much
better than it had been when they arrived from Heathrow.

 "Maybe,"
she said softly, busying herself with her tote bag and purse. "So you're
all dressed up for the evening. Where are we going for dinner?"

His gaze
lingered on her as she moved things from her tote bag and into a small purse;
she was dressed in black from head to toe; slim jeans, a body-skimming shirt
and a black sweater left unbuttoned. On her feet were black flats, making her
appear shorter than her five feet four, but her demure height did nothing to
detract from her magnificent figure. She was, without a doubt, the most
beautiful woman Bud had ever seen and his stomach began twisting giddily as he
watched her secure her purse.

"The
landlady told me about a restaurant not too far from here," he said.
"They play jazz and have patio dining. I thought you might enjoy it."

She
slung her purse over her shoulder, smiling. "A definite change from dining
in a canvas tent on lentils and lamb. I hope I don't die from the shock of
decent food."

He
grinned. "If that's the case, then I'm sure we'll go together. Christ, do
you realize we haven't eaten in a restaurant in over a year?"

She
laughed as he opened the door, feeling her mood lighten just the slightest.
"Welcome back to the land of the living."

***

The
Patio Wine Bar and Restaurant was a lovely establishment not far from Hyde
Park. The weather was surprisingly pleasant as they made the mile and a half
walk to the restaurant, skirting the park and talking of small things. It was
good to get back into civilization again, the smell of wet pavement and the
roar of car engines. Rory took it all in, feeling her spirits perk.