Wish Upon a Star
By Kimberley Comeaux

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Kristy awoke with the sounds of Nan busying about her chamber. The slowly sat up stretching arms and trying to get acquainted with her surroundings. Good grief! She was waking up in a different bed every morning! At least, this one was the one she went to bed in. She quickly looked over to the empty space beside her and wondered if Darian had joined her or had he slept elsewhere?

"Good morning, milady! I have your tea ready for you all nice and hot," Nan cheerfully greeted, pushing the cup of steamy liquid into Kristy’s hands.

Kristy’s nose scrunched up as she smelled the tea and almost gave it back to her. But on a second thought she remembered how it had helped calm her nerves the day before and downed it in a few scorching gulps.

"Uh, Nan… Do you know where the Earl is, this morning?" she asked trying to sound casual.

Nan’s eyes grew round and bit down on her lower lip. "My lady… I… the Earl Greystone left for London at first light. I thought you knew!"

Kristy rolled her eyes in frustration. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was leaving. What a jerk to just leave her in this strange place! With a frustrated sigh, she raked her fingers through her hair and threw back the furs. "Yes, I knew he would be leaving this morning. I just thought that as his wife, he’d have enough courtesy to wake me and let me know he was leaving, " The grumbled to the servant.

Nan gave her mistress a look of sympathy and tried to sooth her, "Now, now, milady. ‘'Tis only a short time that ye have been wed. I would expect he will become more attentive in the future."

Kristy snorted unladylike and gave Nan a skeptic look. "I wouldn’t put all my eggs in that basket! " she retorted sarcastically.

Nan pursed her lips. "I do not understand why, milady, you insist on using that horrid accent. ‘Tis not the accent of a lady of your station."

Nan was right. She wasn’t Kristy Kendrick anymore (at least not for a while), she was Christiana Maxwell and things might go a little smoother if she started acting like it. She dearly hoped she could pull it off convincingly.

Turning to Nan and smiling she relented as medieval English as possible, "Your right, Nan, sometimes I do get carried away with my theatrics."

"I dare say that I am used to it, milady! Now let’s get you into your bath that I have prepared. The Lady Sidra has requested that you join her in the Great Hall this morn so that you may break your fast together," Nan said and led her to the huge tub filled with steaming, rose scented water.

Kristy went down into the great hall and was surprised to see Tilden sitting with Sidra. He got up and gallantly reached to kiss her hand and commented, "Good morning, my lady. I trust you slept well." His voice was pleasant and he gave her the most beautiful smile she’d had ever seen.

"Good morning, Tilden, Sidra. Yes, I did sleep well, thank you." she returned with a smile and sat down beside her sister-in-law.

"1 thought that I would show you around the grounds this morning. Tilden has been so kind as to act as our escort." Her last sentence was spoken sweetly, too sweetly. Kristy was sure that the words were meant to be sarcastic.

Tilden rose a golden eyebrow and gave her a teasing grin "’Tis not so bad to be in my company, Lady Sidra. I can be quite charming when I deem to be."

Sidra gave him a haughty look and snapped. "I have do doubt, but I do not understand the need for an escort. There is naught that could happen to us."

Tilden’s handsome face lost it’s smile and he said grimly, "Naught that could happen, my lady? ‘Tis a short memory you seem to possess."

She let out an exasperated breath. "Indeed, I have not forgotten. But that has passed. Darian is too cautious."

"Darian is concerned for your ungrateful hide!" he growled.

"Then I am surprised that he didn’t insist that you lock me in the castle!"

He looked at her humorlessly. "He did. You should be thanking me instead of fighting me, my lady. If I had not convinced him otherwise, you would indeed be a prisoner inside these walls."

She sniffed at him and his smile returned. "No? Ah! You wound my delicate heart, my Lady Sidra," he said mournfully while dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

"I doubt that any woman could do that, Sir Tilden," she threw at him acidly. They held each other’s stare for a moment and Kristy was reminded of a showdown between two desperados she had seen in an old western once. The air practically sizzled between them.

"Is this a private war or can anyone join?" she asked, breaking their stare.

Sidra blushed a bit and quickly apologized, "I’m...I’m sorry Kristy. I...you do want me to call you Kristy do you not?"

"Oh, yes. Please do."

"I’m sure that you are completely confused to what we are talking about. You might not have realized that when you married in to this family, you walked right into the middle of our family problems," she said, regretfully and continued.

"When I was born, my father signed a betrothal agreement, binding me to Lord Worthingham’s son, Fredrick. Their land borders ours and our families were once close. However, when I reached the age of eighteen, the age I was to marry, my father abruptly called the wedding off, at Darian and Aron’s insistence. Fredrick, who was by now Lord of Worthingham, was outraged at the breech of promise. He vowed that he would avenge himself because we had dishonored him."

She stopped and fingered the linen napkin she held in her hands, nervously. "Darian has reason to believe that it was Worthington who murdered my father and brother. He… he thinks that Fredrick will come after me next." She held up her chin and a determined look hardened her features, much like that of Darian’s, Kristy thought.

"I do not believe he will come. Surely such an action would be highly foolish for him to do. I am safe and I cannot understand why Darian or you, Tilden refusal to accept it!"

"It is your reasoning that is foolish, Sidra. Worthingham wants revenge and I would not want to find out how he plans to get his revenge once he gets his hands on you!" Tilden exclaimed in a forceful tone. He was angry, it was apparent.

Immediately, Sidra turned from his gaze and put her attention to Kristy. "Well, enough of that unpleasantness! Let me tell you of where I’ve just come from. My aunt’s manor is positively lovely." And Sidra chattered on about her trip and her family. Kristy was disappointed that she didn’t get to ask what Darian and his brother had found out, but it would have to wait. She could tell that the subject affected Sidra more than she let on, so she went along with the lady.

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Rude awakenings happen to everyone, ever once in a great while. It’s to be expected. Two in one day, however, could prove to be real nuisance.

And so it was to Kristy when she learned two important things. Number one: Life in the twelfth century was no picnic. Number two; being a countess in this century did not mean you lay around the castle all day eating bon bons, served from a silver platter.

Apparently Christiana had been taught her whole life of the runnings of a castle and it’s estate. She would have been prepared when told the castle looms were not functioning properly, or when asked about the menu for the week and possibly even when a young thief was caught among the serfs and was brought before her.

Thank God, Sidra had been there. It wouldn’t have looked too good to appear totally ignorant of the things they were asking of her. After all she was a countess... and should know countess things.

Sidra was now fully convinced that only a foreigner from another time and place would he this unlearned of such duties that were a mere way of life to everyone else,

Then there, of course, was the twelfth century lifestyle. A life that included no electricity, no running water, and for Heaven’s sake, no disposable razors! She seriously considered talking the razor that Warrick used to shave Darian’s face and risking it on her legs. And panties. The problem about that simple feminine garment was that there were none. They didn’t wear them. Hadn’t been invented. But itchy stockings had, unfortunately.

And Kristy really missed her toothbrush and her Close-up toothpaste. Not to mention her mouthwash, and the ever essential make-up! She remembered complaining to her sister about having to wear make-up once. Her sister had told her that if there was no such thing as make-up, no one would think you looked ghastly without it. That theory was now being put to the test. As for the toothbrush, she made do using a soft linen towel, water, and a mint leaf for good breath. It wasn’t the same, but would have to do.

It all would have to do, until Jubal came and told her she could leave. Then she would resume her career. That is if this Christiana girl hadn’t already ruined it by then, and live among all the twentieth century comfort that she had once taken for granted and live happily ever after. It wouldn’t be a difficult decision to make. That was what she started the day with thinking, that is.

By the end of the day, and as the next day turned into the next, she wasn’t so sure, anymore.

I was still hard and she didn’t know how many times she had entered a room and tried to flip on the light switch, but this place was beginning to grow on her. She liked it, even.

Greystone was certainly not without it’s charms. And it was hard to stay unattached to a place where the people looked at you as if you were their queen. And in a way she was. She found that she like going into the village and visiting with them, taking interest of the work that they did for the estate. At first they had been surprised at her interest and even a little standoffish. But soon they warmed to her, getting used to her familiarity with them, pleased when she could remember their names.

She had been dutifully informed, by her sister-in-law, that noble persons did not consort with those that were her lessor. That she should always show that she was their countess, carry herself with dignity. And she did, but not to the point of snobbery. She found the servants as well as the villagers did much better work when they were complimented on the skill or their task or spoken a kind word to. It had been the same method her father had used on their farm in Indiana. And as far back as she could remember he never had any trouble with those he employed.

The children, Kristy soon discovered were uneducated, unruly at times and made to work like adults. Whatever trade their parents had, they worked right along with them, their help often times essential to their welfare. Though their was nothing she could do to change this, there was something she could do to lighten it the load

In the mornings, she started gathering the children around her and told them fairytales, sang them songs or showed them how to count. After the first day, not one child missed the rest of the week. Even some of the adults would pause a few minutes to listen to her weave an enchanting story of love, dreams and wishes. They’d often smile to themselves, remembering their own childhood dreams and hopes.

The meals at the castle were surpassingly good. Lamb, venison and sometimes fish were the main courses. They also served a strange bird meat, that, frankly, Kristy was just to afraid to ask it origins!

Their cook was one of the best in England. The king himself had once tried to hire her away. Her combinations of herbs and made food culinary works of art that melted in your mouth.

Th afternoons were spent with Sidra and sometimes Tilden who watched over her sister-in-law like a hawk. Kristy had thought he was more protective of her than was called for, and wondered about his feelings for her. You surely couldn’t tell there was an attraction between them on any other score, they quarreled like children over the littlest things.

At night she‘ and Sidra would sit by the fire in her chamber and she’d tell her of life in the twentieth century. By now Sidra believed her story but sometimes found it difficult to believe some of the things Kristy told her about such things as the airplane and the light bulb.

A big help on learning of the twelfth century, however, had been Christiana‘s journals. In them she found in precise detail, everything from weaving, to candle making, to the mixing of herbs for medicinal purposes. It seemed a little overwhelming, when she thought of all that she had to learn, but then again she thought just how difficult it was going to be for Christiana to adjust to the American life.

Most of Christiana’s passages in her journals were witty and delightful to read. It wasn’t until she read of her misgivings about her upcoming marriage that Kristy felt a pang of nervousness.

So far her life her at Greystone has been satisfyingly content. But would it be that way once Darian return? Would he forever be the hard unfeeling man that kept his heart carefully bound and hidden? Or would he learn to open up and enjoy life again? Would he start to…love her?

Part of her didn’t want him to come back, but a greater, deeper part of her missed him. He was due back any day now and she found herself glancing ever so often, towards Greystone’s gates, looking for the exquisite gray stallion and the handsome knight that it would carry.

Kristy walked out into the cold crisp air and bound her cloak tighter around her. The young knight, Baldwin was at her side, acting as her escort this morning. Sidra has decided to sleep in and Tilden had business to tend to, so she went without them,

It was midmorning and Kristy perched herself on an old stump and the children gathered around her. There was anxious anticipation of the magic she would shower around them as she told them a fairy tale.

As she began her tale, she was so absorbed in her story that she didn’t notice the tall dark man standing back behind the crowd.

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When Darian arrived at the castle, he had been surprised to find out that his wife was in the village. Although, he had been met at the castle gate by a guard who spoke, high praises of his new bride and it hadn’t stopped there. It seemed everyone had a glowing report or opinion of Christiana, to whom they referred as ‘Lady Kristy’. He had been real surprised after Tilden had told of her whereabouts, and that he had the actual nerve to warn him to be understanding with her when he saw what she was about.

Just what was she about? he wanted to know. And just what did Tilden think that he would do to his own wife? My God, did everyone think him a monster?

As he stood behind the throng of peasants, watching his countess sit among those lesser than she, telling them a story of some sort, he still wondered, what the devil WAS she doing?

He shook his head in amazement as he saw the children fall under her spell, not one peep sounding from them. These were the dirty little noisy urchins that were normally screaming and running like wild little things all over Greystone?

Darian turned his eyes back to the one that everyone now called Lady Kristy. God help him if those delicate, refined features didn’t fill his dreams at night and plague his mind in the daylight. Her rich dark hair was plaited in a single braid and hung over her shoulder. Wisp of curls had come a loose and framed her face. Her tunic was simple and unadorned in a pale shade blue, a darker blue cloak rested upon her shoulders. The simplicity of her garments only brought out her natural beauty and the blue colors making her eyes shine with exuberance.

He had been a fool to think that he could leave for a week and not give her a thought. He would have accomplished that if he had not held her in his arms. But now the memory of her sweet smell, the taste of her lips, were forever etched like engraved stone in his mind. The once vivid memory of Isabelle, his late wife, had even began to blur, not coming up very often, unclear when it did.

He’d turned down the wench that Prince John gave given him for the night. It wasn’t another woman he wanted, needed, it was Christiana...only Christiana. He’d sent the wench away without so much as a look at what she offered. And that made him feel uneasy. He shouldn’t let her make him feel this way. Christiana would no doubt crow like a rooster if she knew that he was staying faithful to her.

But it wasn’t because he was failing in love with her, nay! He realized it for what it was. He just had to get her out of his system. She was like a mystery to him, a wild, untamed challenge. He would conquer her and tame her to be a quite docile wife. One who know her place and would stay out of his. And after awhile he would grow bored with her. Aye, that would be the way of it.

He saw her gesture with her hands as she spoke. Her voice was like silken thread that seemed to penetrate him to his very soul as she told the story of a beautiful maiden who was kept by a great beauty. How the girl called Beauty had fallen in love with the beast despite his mean countenance and gruffness. Despite the fact that he was frightening to look upon. And how that love had been strong enough to break the spell that bound him and transformed him into a handsome prince....

Love. The kind of love that she spoke of did not exist in real life. Did she think it did? Was this story really about them, she being the one who would break through his hard heart and change him into a new man? If so, then she was a fool and would do well to not even try it.

His bitter thoughts dissipated, however, the moment she lifted her head and met his eyes. For a moment she did nothing but stare, as if she were seeing an ghost. But slowly a smile spread across her face and she stood up and walked over to him.

When the villagers noticed their lord had returned and stood within there midst they quickly went back to their work, acting as if they’d never stopped, the children stood back and stared at him a little frightened. All of which did not go unnoticed by Darian nor Kristy.

"You’re back," came her obvious reply as she came, with hands at her sides, looking up at him. She missed him, she realized at that moment. Impossible to comprehend, but she missed this stranger who was her husband.

He looked back at her with an unfathomable gaze and answered,

"Yes."

There was an electrifying silence that hung between them as they stared at one another.

She spoke first, "I’m glad you arrived safely."

"Why?"

"Why? Are you serious?"

He looked at her wide eyes and almost could believe she was sincere. "You could be a very rich women if something were to happen to me."

"You don’t get it do you, Darian. 0r is it you just don’t want to?" She shook her head at him, with a dry laugh. "I’ve been rich. Money doesn’t make happiness, Darian, and it doesn’t take the place of people." She turned away from him and started walking away from him.

For an instant he let her go. Then with a few long strides he was at her side and had a hand on her elbow.

"Tilden has told me you go down to the village everyday. What do you do down there besides tell them stories?" he asked evenly, leaving Kristy to wonder whether he was asking sincerely or not.

She shrugged her shoulders gracefully and answered, "I just visit with them, take an interest in what they are doing. I thought since they do work for us I should at least let them know that I am aware of it and that I am here to help if I can." She was surprised at his next words.

"You have done well." His words were few but she could hear that he was pleased.

She stopped and stared at him, mouth agog in mock astonishment. "What? Did you just give me a compliment?"

He looked at her coolly and shrugged, "It was a mere observation."

She began to walk again and he continued beside her. "Of course it was. We wouldn’t want it to get out that you were being nice, would we?" she teased and heard him snort in reply.

She kept on smiling despite his coolness. She could feel ho wanted to laugh. There had been just a split second when that ridged mouth has twitch slightly, but she had seen it.

She allowed her gaze to discretely glide over his body as they walked. He was dressed in a dark gray tunic. The laces untied and slightly open at the neck. Underneath he wore a lighter gray under tunic, and his golden mantle flowed from his shoulder, it’s edges trim with ermine. Her eyes trailed down and took in his bulging legs covered with the tight hose in the same dark gray as the tunic, his feet and calves clad with black leather boots. The beautiful golden sword swung from his waist, ready for action if the occasion arose.

It was true that if she had seen a man dress as he was, walking down Park Avenue in New York, she would definitely laugh at the sight. But here, in his mode of dress, in this savage century, he fit. And looked darn good, too! She tried to image him in a Armani suit, sipping champagne while mingling at a society party. At that she did laughed! It was way too tame a setting for him!

He glanced at her when he heard the sound of her laugh. "What is it that you have suddenly found so amusing. Christiana?"

"I was trying to picture you in a suit and tie."

He looked at her as if she’d gone mad and she just laughed some more. "You had to he there, I guess!" She spotted Sidra waving at her from the castle door and ran on ahead of Darian to greet her.

Darian watched as she ran to his sister, her dress and cloak billowing out from behind her. Sunshine. The woman was like a ray of sunshine. Laughing at silly things, teasing him, trying to make him smile, playing with children...the list went on and on. He even liked her odd little accent. And it all made him extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t want to think of her at all! But he did. God help him, he did.

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The day progressed and except for meals spent in the hall, they did not see one another. Darian was please to see that Christiana and his sister had become friends. They seemed to spend much of their time together while seeing over the household duties.

He sat looking into the depths of the ale he held in his hands, Tilden, Vachel and three of his most trusted guards sat around him. The problem of Worthingham weighed heavily on his thoughts, as it had the entire week he had been away. He was immediately relieved to find that Sidra was still safe, that Worthingham had not yet made his move. But he would. And this time Darian would bloody well, be ready.

Tilden spoke, "There is no way to be sure when Worthingham will attack - or if indeed he will attack. Mayhaps he will not risk it. Mayhaps his revenge has been met." He knew that he was hoping against the wind, but they had to consider all angles.

"He will attack," Darian declared with grave certainty. "I’ve always know the man to be a little mad, irrational at times.... He will not stop until he gets what was promised to him. He will come for Sidra!" He banged his hand on the table, driving home his point, leaving no opening to refute it.

"Then we must plan. He was too clever the last time. The guards never saw him coming. How will we be able to get out the warning soon enough? We cannot keep an army in a constant state of waiting, in the chance that he will attack. He may choose to wait months, maybe even years, as he did before." Vachel reasoned. The usually quiet spoken knight always came alive at the hint of battle. He had a brilliant mind for strategy, and his knowledge and instinct had saved Darian’s hide as - well as his men, more than once. Darian trusted him without with his life. If there was a way, Vachel would think of it.

"You have, a plan." Darian knew the look that was in his knight’s eyes. He also knew from that look that it involved danger.

Vachel hesitated. "Yes, but I fear that this is one plan you may not heed to… It is dangerous and it is odds are high that something could go awry.

"Stop giving me excuses and tell me the bloody plan!" Darian growled impatiently at the guard.

His eyes never wavered from his lord’s eyes and his voice spoke in even tones. "It would involve Sidra acting as our bait…"

"NO!" Darian thundered, coming to his feet. "Have you gone mad! You cannot think that I would risk her life!"

Vachel stood up and confronted him and reasoned, "Her life is already at risk, my lord. There is no other way..."

"There must be another!"

"Aye, there is the plan where we wait. Wait like sitting ducks, not knowing when he will strike. Hoping, praying that we will be ready when he does." He stopped and looked pointedly at Sidra, where she sat in the corner, laughing at something her sister -in- law had told her. "The choice is, of course, yours, my lord." Then he sat down, resigned.

Darian continued to look over to his sister. She looked up, saw him staring at her and smiled at him before turning away. He swore under his breath. What would he do? What was the right choice to make? But, in his heart, he knew.

Sitting back down he looked at Vachel and ordered grimly, "Tell me."

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