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               "What kind of trick is this?"
               "No trick, I swear it."   Even if Roger wasn't willing to pay this man once she got safely home, she had funds of her own.   She could, and would pay, well.
               His dark brows lowered.   "This Roger, he is wealthy?"
               She nearly laughed out loud with relief.   Money.   Even in the supposed year of 1072 it all came down to that. Things hadn't changed that much in nine hundred years.  
               "Roger owns his own--"   she almost said "company".   Instead she tried to find a word that Kenric could understand.               "Keep?"   Finishing for her, again Kenric looked furious.
               Strange word, that.   "Yes."   Megan licked her lips.   "He owns his own castle, er keep."   Roger was nearly as wealthy as she was.   The huge skyscraper on Stemmons Freeway could be considered a castle of sorts.  
               "Land?"   He said it as if it were the most important thing in the world.  
               Since all of Roger's buildings sat on some very valuable, North Dallas land, she nodded.
               "All my life I have wanted my own land."   Kenric spoke quietly, almost under his breath.   "I am bastard born, with no hope of inheriting.   Even before my family was killed, I wanted my own land."
               Then Megan knew what she would have to offer him, even if she couldn't quite deliver it.   It was this land he wanted, acres and acres of rolling green pasture most likely, not some lake lot on Cedar Creek Lake, or industrial park in downtown Dallas.   Something neither she nor Roger had any way of giving him. Still, she had no choice.  
               "Perhaps," her voice broke as she gagged on the lie, "Roger may reward you with some."  
               "His surname?"
               She nearly choked.   Luckily for her Roger was of English descent, though she had no idea if his name meant anything in this time.  
               "Spencer."   She told him.   "His name is Roger Spencer."
               " Lord Roger Spencer?"
               Swallowing again, she nodded.    Roger, at least, thought he was some sort of royalty, judging from the way he expected everyone to jump to do his bidding.
               Folding his muscular arms across his massive chest, Kenric's stare still seemed suspicious.   "What proof have you?"
               Proof.   Great.   She cast her mind back to every Medieval movie she'd ever seen or book she'd ever read.   A token.   He'd need some token from her as a pledge that she was indebted to him.
               She stared at her hands, left hand, third finger, to be exact.   Her engagement ring, the gaudily sparkling, pear shaped diamond that she hated winked up at her.   In its elaborate setting of golden knots, flanked by oval sapphires, she'd always thought it a bit pretentious.   Roger had chosen it, of course.   He liked things flashy.   Now though, it looked positively medieval, perfect for what she had to do.
               Without further hesitation she slid the ring from her
    finger and held it out.   "I can give you this."
               Slowly, he took it from her, causing her to notice how long and elegant his fingers were.   Odd in such a big man.               Turning it around in his hand, he examined it with the bored expression of a man used to fine things.
               "Did he give this to you?"  
               She nodded, trying to remember the wording she should use.   Not that she completely bought into this traveling back in time thing, but better safe than sorry.  
               "By this token he will know that I am indebted to you."   Holding her breath, she prayed she'd said the right thing.
               Evidently she had,