A Knight in Shining Armour by Jude Deveraux Read Free Book Online

much money here. I’ll have to call some people in London. Can you wait a few days for the money?”
    Dougless couldn’t speak for a moment. “Five thousand pounds?”
    “All right, six thousand, but not a shilling more.”
    “I . . . I . . .”
    “Do you want to sell them or not? They’re not ill-gotten are they?”
    “No, at least I don’t think so,” Dougless whispered. “But I have to talk to someone before I sell them. You’re sure they’re genuine?”
    “As a rule medieval coins aren’t so valuable, but these are rare and in mint condition. You don’t by chance have more, do you?”
    “Actually, I believe there are a few more.” Maybe a whole bag full of them, she thought.
    The man smiled at her as though she were the light of his life. “If you have a fifteen-shilling piece with a queen in a ship on it, let me see it. I can’t afford it, but I’m sure I can find a buyer.”
    Dougless started backing toward the door.
    “Or a double,” he said. “I’d like to have an Edward the Sixth double.”
    Nodding at him, Dougless left his shop. In a daze, she walked back to the church. The man wasn’t in the churchyard, so she hoped he hadn’t left. She went into the church, and there he was, on his knees before the white tomb of the earl, his hands clasped, his head bowed in prayer.
    The vicar stepped from the shadows to stand beside her. “He’s been there since you left. I tried, but I couldn’t get him to stand up. Something is deeply troubling that poor man.” He turned to her. “He’s your friend?”
    “No, actually, I just met him this morning. I thought he was from here.”
    The vicar smiled. “My parishioners seldom wear armor.” He looked at his watch. “I must go, but you’ll stay with him? For some reason, I hate to see him left alone.”
    Dougless said that she would stay by him, then the vicar left the church, and she was alone with the praying man. Quietly, she walked to stand behind him. “Who are you?” she whispered.
    He didn’t open his eyes, unclasp his hands, or even lift his head. “I am Nicholas Stafford, earl of Thornwyck.”
    It took Dougless a moment to remember where she’d heard that name before, then she looked at the marble tomb. Carved deeply in Gothic letters was the name, Nicholas Stafford, Earl of Thornwyck. And the full-length sculpture of the man on top of the tomb was wearing exactly what this man was wearing. And the face carved in the marble was this man’s face.
    The idea that this man really was from the past, really was a living, breathing ghost, was more than Dougless could comprehend. She took a deep breath. “You don’t have any identification, do you?” she asked, trying to lighten the moment.
    Lifting his head, the man opened his eyes and glared at her. “Do you doubt my word?” he asked angrily. “You, the witch who has done this to me, can doubt me? If I did not fear being accused of sorcery myself, I would denounce you and stay to watch you burn.”
    Standing there, silent, her thoughts in turmoil, Dougless watched as the man turned away and began to pray again.

TWO

    W hen at last Nicholas Stafford stood up, he stared at the young woman before him. Her manner, her dress, and her speech were so strange to him that he could hardly keep his thoughts together. She looked to be the witch he knew her to be: she was as beautiful as any woman he’d ever seen, her uncased hair flowing to her shoulders, her eyes as green as emeralds, and her skin was white, flawless. But she was wearing an indecently short skirt, as though she were daring the contempt of man and God alike.
    In spite of the fact that he felt dizzy and weak, he did not allow himself to waver from his firm stance. He returned her straightforward glare with one of his own.
    He still could not believe what had happened to him. At the lowest point in his life, when there seemed to be no hope in his life, his mother had written him that at last she had discovered something that