could imagine living only on love.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked, and she realized that he had been awake for some time. “Have you remembered something?”
The sun was lower in the sky now and cast golden light over the landscape and the distant water of the canal. Still smiling, trying to hold on to the charming image in her mind, she shook her head.
“Not precisely. But my life since I came to you feels so—so familiar, somehow. It is as if we lived it before.”
“Perhaps we did,” he said, smiling, “in some distant time and place.”
“A distant time, yes,” she said, taking up his fancy, “but not a distant place. Perhaps we lived on this very spot in medieval times.”
“Why not before the Conquest?”
“Oh, no, then we would have been painting our faces blue or some such silliness. I refuse to think I ever had anything to do with people who did that.”
“But you feel a kinship to some medieval Miranda?”
“Yes, I think so. I lived in a castle nearby—in ruins now, of course—with my mama, who was a queen, and my brothers, all gallant knights.” Sabina began to enjoy embroidering her tale. “My father was a tyrant, yet loving to his children. He gave me everything I wanted but insisted on choosing a husband for me. You were my knight in armor—and when I would not marry the wicked lord from across the border, you fought him.”
She stopped when she saw a slight frown cross his forehead. She was about to ask what was wrong when, seemingly with a conscious effort, he cleared the frown and smiled instead.
“Wrong regiment,” he said. “I might have been a knight errant, I suppose, and carried you away from all that. I can see myself traveling about seeking adventure and rescuing fair maidens.”
He plucked a nearby daisy and presented to her. She took it and, holding it to her breast, struck a dramatic pose.
“You rescued me, but I shall be your last maiden. No more errantry for you, sir.”
“Ah, Miranda, you take all the romance out of knighthood.”
“Do you mean you would prefer riding out in all weathers, and never having a proper bed to call your own, to cosy domesticity with me?”
“With all those brothers and sisters hovering about, we would have to find a castle of our own in order to live happily ever after.” He was gazing at her with that intent look again, but she chose to disregard it. She did not care for anything but enjoying this moment while it lasted.
“You would fight a dragon for me,” she said dreamily, “one who guarded a golden castle, with diamonds in the turret windows, and we would move into it after you slew him.”
“Then I would lock you up in it to be sure you never went off with some other knight.”
She began to tire of the game and leaned over him and took his hand.
“You would not have to lock me up. I would stay for you—always.”
He attempted to pull his hand away, but she held it fast and raised it to her face. She looked into his eyes as, boldly, she rubbed his hand gently across her face, feeling its roughness against her cheek, its warmth against her mouth. She pressed her lips to his palm.
He did pull away from her then, and sat up abruptly, almost upsetting her balance. Sabina, although surprised at her own temerity, could not back down now.
“James, please—”
He stood up, and she rose too, without his help.
“I cannot take such advantage of you!” he exclaimed, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. “You must regain your memory before we can think of… Anything else would be villainy on my part and foolishness—at best—on your own.”
“Oh, no.” She took his hand again and held it to her breast. “It is not events or history or dates that matter, my dear, but feelings. I know—I feel—that it is right for us to love each other.”
She looked appealingly up into his blue eyes, and he could not resist her look. Drawing her a little closer, he bent to kiss her mouth gently, as if he were a
“Why are you smiling?” he asked, and she realized that he had been awake for some time. “Have you remembered something?”
The sun was lower in the sky now and cast golden light over the landscape and the distant water of the canal. Still smiling, trying to hold on to the charming image in her mind, she shook her head.
“Not precisely. But my life since I came to you feels so—so familiar, somehow. It is as if we lived it before.”
“Perhaps we did,” he said, smiling, “in some distant time and place.”
“A distant time, yes,” she said, taking up his fancy, “but not a distant place. Perhaps we lived on this very spot in medieval times.”
“Why not before the Conquest?”
“Oh, no, then we would have been painting our faces blue or some such silliness. I refuse to think I ever had anything to do with people who did that.”
“But you feel a kinship to some medieval Miranda?”
“Yes, I think so. I lived in a castle nearby—in ruins now, of course—with my mama, who was a queen, and my brothers, all gallant knights.” Sabina began to enjoy embroidering her tale. “My father was a tyrant, yet loving to his children. He gave me everything I wanted but insisted on choosing a husband for me. You were my knight in armor—and when I would not marry the wicked lord from across the border, you fought him.”
She stopped when she saw a slight frown cross his forehead. She was about to ask what was wrong when, seemingly with a conscious effort, he cleared the frown and smiled instead.
“Wrong regiment,” he said. “I might have been a knight errant, I suppose, and carried you away from all that. I can see myself traveling about seeking adventure and rescuing fair maidens.”
He plucked a nearby daisy and presented to her. She took it and, holding it to her breast, struck a dramatic pose.
“You rescued me, but I shall be your last maiden. No more errantry for you, sir.”
“Ah, Miranda, you take all the romance out of knighthood.”
“Do you mean you would prefer riding out in all weathers, and never having a proper bed to call your own, to cosy domesticity with me?”
“With all those brothers and sisters hovering about, we would have to find a castle of our own in order to live happily ever after.” He was gazing at her with that intent look again, but she chose to disregard it. She did not care for anything but enjoying this moment while it lasted.
“You would fight a dragon for me,” she said dreamily, “one who guarded a golden castle, with diamonds in the turret windows, and we would move into it after you slew him.”
“Then I would lock you up in it to be sure you never went off with some other knight.”
She began to tire of the game and leaned over him and took his hand.
“You would not have to lock me up. I would stay for you—always.”
He attempted to pull his hand away, but she held it fast and raised it to her face. She looked into his eyes as, boldly, she rubbed his hand gently across her face, feeling its roughness against her cheek, its warmth against her mouth. She pressed her lips to his palm.
He did pull away from her then, and sat up abruptly, almost upsetting her balance. Sabina, although surprised at her own temerity, could not back down now.
“James, please—”
He stood up, and she rose too, without his help.
“I cannot take such advantage of you!” he exclaimed, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. “You must regain your memory before we can think of… Anything else would be villainy on my part and foolishness—at best—on your own.”
“Oh, no.” She took his hand again and held it to her breast. “It is not events or history or dates that matter, my dear, but feelings. I know—I feel—that it is right for us to love each other.”
She looked appealingly up into his blue eyes, and he could not resist her look. Drawing her a little closer, he bent to kiss her mouth gently, as if he were a
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