The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (32 page)

All
irritation aside, Bud had no idea where he was going or what they were going to
do. Even though he was driving a stolen car, he assumed that Corbin had no
intention of reporting it to the police; were that the case, Rory could easily
press assault charges against him for breaking into her hotel room and roughing
her up. And Bud had quite a bruise on his jaw, more evidence of Corbin's
unethical brutality.

So at
least for the moment, he was certain they were reasonably safe. Driving away
from Hyde Park, Bud headed north on Edgewater Road and skirted Regent's Park,
trying to find his way out of the city. He was so involved with his right-side
driving that he hardly noticed Kieran's stiff stand. Only by accident did he
pass a glance at the man's ashen face.

"What's
the matter with you?" he asked, trying to drive and deduce Kieran's
condition at the same time.

Rory
leaned forward from the back seat, concerned, as Kieran shrugged weakly. It was
only then that she noticed his bug-eyed expression.

"This
car... the speed at which it travels is astounding," he muttered, pounding
his head on the ceiling when they hit a rut.

Rory
smiled, putting her hand on Kieran's shoulder. "I usually react to Bud's
driving the same way, Kieran. You're not alone."

Bud,
gripping the steering wheel with two hands, cast her a threatening glance.
"Instead of insulting me, you should be figuring out where we're
going."

She kept
her hand on Kieran's shoulder, leaning forward between the front seats.
"Hey, you're the one driving like you have a plan."

Bud's
ice-blue eyes were focused on the road. He swerved around a corner and Kieran
grunted as he bashed into the passenger door. After a few minutes of wild
driving and deliberation, Bud came up with an idea.

"All
right; first thing, we've got to ditch this car," he said, abruptly
pulling to the side of the road. "And look over there; the underground.
Let's get on and go as far as it'll take us. Even if Corbin finds his car and
realizes we've taken the subway, there are a dozen stations we could have
disembarked at. It'll take him days to pick up our trail."

If
Kieran thought Bud's driving had been terrifying, the underground was beyond
comprehension. Rory sat beside him, holding his hand as he sweat rivers and
tried not to become ill. She felt sorry for him, having never experienced speed
of this magnitude before, and in spite of everything he managed to maintain his
composure exceptionally well. But when they disembarked at Cockfosters station,
she half-expected him to sink to his knees and kiss the ground.

But even
if he didn't give thanks to the solid earth, it was obvious that he was pleased
to be off the terror train. As Rory congratulated him on surviving the trip,
Bud ignored the warm praise and led them away from the depot in search of
lodgings. In fact, he had fairly ignored them both since entering the subway,
pretending he hadn't witnessed the handholding or Rory's gentle murmurs of
encouragement.

As they
moved along the quieting streets of the rural subdivision, Bud seemed fixed on
finding them a place to hide. But Rory was acutely aware of what he must be
feeling in spite of his aloof appearance; how the woman he loved was showing
the affection to another man.

Cockfosters
was more provincial than urban London and Kieran seemed more comfortable in the
rural surroundings than he had in the heart of the city. The soft green of the
meadows and the smell of the air invigorated him, relaying the timeless quality
of the country he had once known. Bud found a small bed and breakfast across
the street from a playing field, checking them into two separate rooms and
paying with travelers cheques.

Rory's
room was beautiful with large French doors that opened into a lovely garden.
Kieran followed her into the room and set his black bag down, much to Bud's
dismay. Handholding was one thing, but if this guy thought he was going to stay
in the same room as Rory.... Setting his own luggage down in the large room
with two single beds, he went back to Rory's chamber just as Kieran opened the
French doors and drew in a deep breath of his beloved England.

Rory was
in the bathroom. Bud could hear the water running and he eyed Kieran, moving
toward the massive man as he inspected the lock on the French door. Kieran
caught sight of Bud, pointing to the dead-bolt.

"This
is a remarkable device," he commented, turning the key to expose the bolt.
"Much more pleasing to the eye without the hindrance of ungainly external
bolts. But these doors," he thumped them and the panels shuddered.
"Too weak. A gaggle of children could break them to pieces."

Bud
watched him, not unaware of the fact that this was the first time he had been
alone with the imposter. As Rory remained behind the bathroom door, Bud found
his irritation with the man returning.

"Look,
pal," he said quietly. "Rory and I are in a load of trouble and we
don't need to continue this stupid charade of yours. Maybe you can convince my
colleague that you're her knight in shining armor, but I'm not as gullible as
she is and I'm finished playing games. Now, just who in the hell are you
really?"

Kieran
looked up from the door, his expression customarily calm. "'Tis no
charade, I assure you. I am Sir Kieran Hage."

Bud
pursed his lips with frustration. "Bull. You're the best actor I've seen
and you really should be in movies, but don't give me any more of your crap. I
just want to know who you are."

Kieran
removed his hands from the brass deadbolt, fixing Bud in the eye. "My
lord, I am not a performer. I am a knight. Present me with a sword and I shall
prove my point. And I shall prove it on your liver if you continue to accuse me
of lies."

Before
Bud could challenge Kieran's declaration, the bathroom door opened and Rory
emerged, shoeless and without her sweater. Ignoring the two men, she went to
her luggage and began rummaging through the case.

"Do
I have time to take a shower, Bud?" she asked. "I promise I won't
take long, but I'm really filthy."

The two
men watched her as she drew forth clothing and other personal items. "Yes,
you've got time," Bud said, crossing his arms and lingering on his
frustration. "No hurry, honey. It'll give your friend and me a chance
to... talk."

She
looked up from her suitcase, eyeing Bud's stiff stance and Kieran's calm
expression. As she continued to watch the two men, a thought suddenly occurred
to her; clearly, Bud still didn't believe Kieran was who he said he was. Maybe
if he were to spend some time with Kieran, alone, he might come to see the
truth. Or maybe he would end up dead. There was only one way to find out.

"Kieran
needs to take a shower, too," she said, rummaging through her overnight
bag again. Drawing forth a wrapped bar of soap and a sample-size bottle of
shampoo, she extended them to Bud. "He knows how a shower works, but we've
never really discussed shampoo and soap and shaving cream. Can you please help
him, Bud?"

Bud
stared at her. "Christ, Rory…."

He was
unwilling to take the offered items and Rory moved to him, shoving them into
his palm. "You'll need to demonstrate how a razor works, too. And don't
let him scald himself with the hot water."

Bud
looked to the products in his hand, shaking his head after a moment.
"Look, I think I've been a pretty good sport up until now. But I refuse
to...."

"Fine,"
Rory extended her hand to Kieran. "Then I'll take him in the shower with
me."

With a
smirk on his face, Kieran was already unbuttoning his shirt.
"Gladly," he murmured seductively.

"Wait
a minute!" Bud put up his hands. Glaring at the big man, who merely
continued to grin, he shook his head in a gesture of defeat. "All right,
you win. Go take your shower and I'll... baby sit him."

Rory
smiled, patting Bud on the cheek. "Thanks, Bud," casting a lingering
glance at Kieran, who openly returned her gaze, she disappeared into the
bathroom and closed the door.

Bud was
lingering on her, too, but for a different reason. No matter how resistant he
was to her foolish story and the presence of the man with the heavy accent, it
would seem that he was nonetheless willing to accept the unacceptable. He still
didn't believe their tale and knew he never would, but somehow, that didn't
prevent him from doing as she had asked. He was an idiot.

"Come
on," he growled to Kieran.

The
knight followed without another word.

***

Maybe it
was a good thing that Bud saw Kieran in the shower. Maybe it was a good thing
that he saw the multitude of scars, the heavily muscled legs, the callouses on
the inside of his knees from hours and hours in the saddle. Furthermore, Kieran
didn't have any inoculation scars and he hadn't been circumcised. The healed
wound across his left forearm was a truly impressive sight. Certainly, seeing
the man nude had been an enlightening, if not odd, experience.

Bud
could have attributed the scars to Rugby or another sport, but they were too
cleanly done, and the thick callouses on his knees were void of hair, defying
any other logical explanation than what Bud knew to be the only possibility.
Even if the mystery man was an avid horse rider, Bud could hardly see him
astride a long-legged gelding riding the hounds; he was far too large, too
rugged, and just plain raw. He simply didn't fit the mold.

But he
fit the mold of a man destined to spend his life on the back of a charger. Bud
tried to distance himself from that idea as he watched Kieran fumble with the
shampoo, getting it in his eyes. He had no idea what a washcloth was, soaping
his bare skin and commenting on the smell and texture of the soap before
rinsing himself and splashing water all over the floor.

Bud
continued to observe, feeling like a voyeur when in fact he continued to stare
at Kieran in an attempt to convince himself that the man was not who he said he
was.  For the first time since meeting the mysterious stranger, a true seed of
credence had been implanted in Bud's mind and he struggled to keep it from
growing out of control.

A seed,
however, that would not be quashed as Kieran emerged from the shower and
proceeded to shave. His fingers were so big that he had difficulty manuevering
Bud's razor, and the awkward event became a complete disaster when he squirted
shaving cream all over the sink. Bud merely shrugged, wiped it up, and
dispensed the cream into Kieran's hand himself. When Kieran struggled to apply
it, Bud took pity on the man and smeared it on his face. Lifting the razor, he
demonstrated its use.

It went
slowly, but Kieran managed to come through his modern shaving experienced
without a cut. He had no idea what a comb was for, having only had experience
with heavy brushes, and ran his finger though his dark blond hair to dry it.
When Bud proposed he brush his teeth with a spare toothbrush, Kieran raised an
eyebrow and did as he was told as Bud talked him through it. He nearly choked
on the strong-tasting toothpaste, but somehow managed to emerge unscathed.

Back in
his new Levis and a mustard-color mock turtleneck that emphasized his
magnificent chest, he put his boots on carefully and tied the strangest knot
Bud had ever seen. The more time he spent with the man, observing his natural
manner and genuine behavior, the more Bud found himself leaning toward the
concept of believing his story. And the more real confusion he experienced.

Dead
men don't awaken!

Rory
pounded on the door as Bud was changing his shirt. Kieran opened the door for
her, a bit too eagerly for Bud's taste, and she swept in to the room in the
dress she had purchased at Fortnum and Mason. Kieran's eyes glittered as he
drank in the sight of her beautiful naked legs, outrageously smooth, and the
way the dress seemed to cling in all the right places. Her long chestnut hair
was perfect, her make-up flawless, and she ate up the attention as Kieran put
her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"Don't
you think it's a little cold to be wearing that dress?" Bud's voice was
stern as he finished with the last button.

Rory
shrugged faintly. "I've got a sweater," pulling her hand from
Kieran's grip when she noted Bud's expression, she moved to the window
overlooking the street below. "Did you see the pub across the street?
Maybe we can go there for dinner."

Bud had
been looking at Kieran as she spoke, the way the man's gaze seemed to fairly
reek with lust. More than his own spurned feelings for Rory, the urge to
protect her against the mystery man was a powerful thing indeed. Christ, he
thought he might truly go mad were he to allow himself to linger on the fact
that Rory was deeply taken with the guy, but he fought the pain, the anger, and
the deep-seated anguish.

"Yes,"
he responded belatedly to her question, glancing at his watch. "We'll grab
a bite and go to bed early."

Rory
smiled happily; after fourteen months on the sands of Nahariya, she was ready
for a bit of nightlife. Stopping by her room to pick up her sweater and purse,
she preceded Bud and Kieran down the stairs and across the street. The pub was
brightly lit, full of smoke and music. An Irish band played loudly in one
corner of the establishment as the laughter and the liquor flowed freely.