For The One(56)

“And why is the King of Cups significant?”

“Because in this spread and in that spot, it represents the querent. That’s the person seeking the answer. You. And the King of Cups represents a man of emotional stability, a man who lives by honor—quiet, kind and trustworthy.”

It was bizarre, really, that this card would come up in that exact spot, too. Was it Fate? Was She or He whispering something to me? “Goddess,” I murmured at the realization that maybe this reading was as much for me as it was for William. The card might represent him, but right now it was speaking to me.

I reached out to touch the card at the exact same time William did, his mouth open to ask another question. Our fingers met and that electric jolt sent a shivering thrill up my arm again. Slowly, deliberately, William moved his hand over mine, not looking at me but trapping my fingers under his large, callused ones.

I could barely force a swallow through the heartbeat thrumming in my throat. “I take my honor very seriously,” he said.

I drew in a shaky breath, unable to tear my eyes from the strong column of his throat where it extended from his period-style shirt.

“You take many things very seriously,” I rasped, thinking again of my determination last night to get William into my bed. If possible, I wanted it even more now than I did then.

I trembled like I was cold, even though we were both sitting in the sunshine. “Oh goddess…” My eyes squeezed tight.

“Do you believe in a goddess?” I opened my eyes when he asked the question. “You say that a lot.”

I cleared my throat. “If there’s a higher being, I’d prefer to think of her as a female. Mother Nature. Mother Earth. I was raised Catholic and always thought very highly of the Virgin Mary. She was someone I could relate to, so when I grew older and felt the need to pray, I prayed to her. As my beliefs strayed from the patriarchy, I kept thinking of deity as a woman. And mythology has always fascinated me. So my beliefs about a higher power kind of parallel the beliefs about the cards. Archetypes. Models and stories to look to for inspiration, courage… strength.”

His eyes narrowed. “You have your own strength.”

I blinked and sat still, thinking. I didn’t know what to say to him in response, and even if I did, the sudden emotion clutching the base of my throat wouldn’t have allowed it. By the time I was able to, I realized we were no longer alone.

“Sir William! Mistress Jenna,” Caitlyn said. She smiled before grabbing a stool from her table, where she had been taking orders for silhouettes earlier. This time she had Ann with her. “What do we have here?”

“It’s a run-of-the-mill reading,” I lied with a shrug. I was still shaking off that weird feeling that those cards were speaking to me every bit as much as they were speaking to him. But what were they saying? What was my heart trying to tell me?

“So William,” Caitlyn said, fluttering her dark blonde eyelashes at him. “How’s your sword?”

“I didn’t bring my sword. No fighting today.”

“It’s a nice, long sword though, isn’t it?” She threw a playful glance my way. “Did you notice, Jenna? That William’s sword is quite long? I bet it’s longer than Doug’s.”

I sent her a death glare, which she handily avoided by fixing her gaze on William. Ann, however, was valiantly fighting laughter behind her fist.

“I’m taller than Doug so, yes, I wield a longer sword. They are custom made for us based on our height and the length of our arm span.”

“Hmm. I bet you have a longer sword. Maybe I’ll get to see how you wield it someday.”

William looked at her like she was a Martian. “You’ve seen the sword. Both the long sword and the shorter one I use with the shield—”

“Then maybe you could explain the parts to me. There’s a shaft, right?”

“Caitlyn—” I warned.

“Yes, the shaft is part of the blade.” He nodded. “There’s also the hilt, the cross-guard, the pommel—”

“And that knobby part at the very end… the peen?”

Ann doubled over, tears streaming down her face.

“Enough, Caitlyn!” I snarled. “I’m in the middle of a reading.”

“Maybe Jenna has a sheath you can put your sword—”

I stood up and pushed her shoulder. “Go away before I have someone lock you in the stock and throw tomatoes at you.”

“Well, well…so this is where the party’s at,” a familiar voice said just behind my shoulder. “Who’d have thought Sir William would be at the center of it?”