by Lynn Kurland
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
“I had something in the pocket of my dress,” she said faintly.
Montgomery looked again at Cinderella to find her smirking, as if she’d done something she found vastly amusing. Pippa pushed away from the wagon and strode over to her.
“What did you do with it?” she demanded.
Cinderella flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “I’m just sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Montgomery listened to them converse—in Future English, no less—in tones that became less dulcet with every exchange.
“Cindi, where’s my flash drive!”
“You hid my pills,” Cinderella snapped, “so I hid your little backup stick.”
“I didn’t hide your pills,” Pippa said through gritted teeth,
“you swallowed them all. Now, where did you put my drive?”
“Maybe you’d better go back and look for it in the castle.”
Pippa froze. “Did you leave it there?”
“I guess you’ll just have to go check and see, won’t you?”
Montgomery watched Pippa turn and walk away. Cinderella strolled past him to sit on the end of the wagon as if she had nothing more pressing to do than be at her leisure. He left her where she was, smiling triumphantly, and hastened to catch up with Pippa.
“Wait,” he said, reaching out to take her by the arm.
She stopped, then turned to face him. “You know,” she said flatly, “I’ve always thought my sister was just not too bright, that she couldn’t help overshadowing me in everything. Now, I think she’s been doing it on purpose all these years.”
Montgomery wouldn’t doubt it. “What has she done now?”
“She took something I can’t leave behind here.”
“Something from the Future?”
“Yes.”
He very briefly entertained the thought of seeing if she cared to return to Sedgwick with him to seek out that thing, but quickly dismissed it. The journey was long and she was no doubt eager to go back to her world. “Tell me what it is and I will destroy it, Persephone,” he said quietly. “You needn’t worry.”
She laughed a little, but it was a laugh of desperation. “The problem is, my life’s work is on this thing. It’s very small, but it has pictures inside it of all my designs.” She paused. “It’s the only one I have.”
“Then you must have it,” he said, vowing to ask Nicholas later how it was that Pippa could have sheaves of drawings on something that could fit into a saddlebag. “We’ll turn for home immediately.”
She took a deep breath, then shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to go to all that trouble.”
“Well,” he said slowly, as if he pondered the enormous inconvenience it would cause him instead of furiously calculating how many more days it would mean he could have her company, “I do have things to do. Walls to patch, François’s delicacies to sample—that sort of thing. It might take a bit before I could bring you north again. Assuming this gate works as it should.”
She blinked rapidly a time or two. “I couldn’t ask it.”
“If the roles were reversed and you could help me save my life’s work, wouldn’t you?”
She nodded silently.
“Then allow me the same privilege.”
“It won’t bother your fiancée?”
“Wha—Oh, her,” he said. He knew at that moment why he’d never lied. It was a complicated business, what with all the tales he needed to keep straight. He would see Pippa home, eventually, then he would return to his habit of never telling anything but the absolute truth. It was less painful to his poor head that way.
He wasn’t quite sure why he just didn’t blurt out the truth of it right there, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It might be the only thing keeping him from yanking Pippa into his arms, professing undying love he couldn’t possibly feel for her after such a short time, and begging her to stay in his time and allow him to spend the rest of his days being as dazzled by her as Nicholas was by Jennifer.
“What about Cindi?”
He pulled himself back to the matter at hand reluctantly. “I suppose we should take her with us,” he said, though he didn’t imagine he could think of many things he would rather not have done.
“Or we could send her on by herself.”
He considered. “Would she be safe?”
“No less safe than if I went with her.”
That was all he needed to hear. He put his arm around Pippa’s shoulders and led her back to where her sister was singing rather loudly to herself and stroking her ragged locks. Once she saw Pippa, she felt her chin gingerly, then checked all her teeth.
“You hit me,” she said, her perfect brow beginning to furrow.
“You deserved it,” Pippa said shortly. “We’ll discuss it later. We’re going home now.”
“Good.” Cinderella straightened her crown and glared at Pippa. “I do not like to camp.”
“I know,” Pippa said, taking her sister by the arm, “which is why I’m going to make it so you don’t have to any longer.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to jerk away. “Tossing me in the moat? Oh, wait, that’s what I did to you.” She wrinkled her nose. “You still smell like it.”
Montgomery didn’t think anything of the sort, but he supposed now was not the time to make that clear. He also didn’t think now was the time to alert Pippa to the fact that he could understand her native tongue. He put that aside as a revelation to make if and when he ever admitted to the nonexistence of his betrothed, took Cinderella’s other arm, then looked over her head at Pippa.
“Up ahead,” he said quietly. “In that ring in the grass.”
“You’re trying to get rid of me,” Cinderella said incredulously. She looked from him to Pippa, then back. “One of you is jealous of me, but I’m not sure which one.”
Montgomery could have corrected her about that as well, but he didn’t bother. He was suddenly too busy pulling Cinderella away from her sister with a bit more enthusiasm than he probably should have used and subsequently giving her an equally enthusiastic bit of urging—accompanied by a fervent prayer she would land in the right time—right into the middle of the faery ring.
She took two steps inside it.
And then she disappeared without fanfare.
He gasped. Or perhaps that might have been Pippa. He wasn’t certain whose expression of astonishment had been louder. Even with all the tales he had fully believed in his youth and all the speculating he had done about things of a paranormal nature, he had never actually been a participant in those things. To be one now was profoundly unnerving.
He reached out and pulled Pippa close to him. “She’s gone,” he breathed.
“It’s spooky.”
“Aye,” he agreed.
Pippa shivered. “I know I should feel bad about sending her off, but she’s probably safer wherever she is. If she’d stayed here any longer, I would have killed her.”
Montgomery managed a smile. “Truly you have the patience of a saint.”
“Moral high ground,” she said with a faint smile. She paused, then pulled away and turned to face him. “I really could just follow her now—”
“Nay,” he said, likely with more enthusiasm than he should have. “Nay, you’ll come back to Sedgwick and find your flash drive. I’ll bring you back here afterward.”
She looked up at him for a moment or two in silence. “You know,” she said finally, “I think that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
He shifted uncomfortably, mostly because he wasn’t one to accept praise for something he hadn’t done. And he most certainly hadn’t offered to keep Pippa in his time for any altruistic reasons.
The saints pity him for it.
He clasped his hands behind his back before he did something foolish with them, such as use them to pull her into his arms. “Perhaps we should spend a day or two at Wyckham,” he s
uggested. “In the event that perhaps she wanders back into my time and needs aid.”
“Will your brother mind?”
“He would only be irritated if we traveled so close to his hall and didn’t make an appearance at his supper table.”
She glanced at the patch of grass there beyond the wagon. “Did he know about this gate?”
Montgomery shifted—truly it was becoming an alarming habit. “ ’ Tis on his land,” he said carefully, “and he’s very particular about knowing what passes on his land. I imagine he listened to rumor. Fortunate for us that he did, isn’t it?”
“Very,” she agreed.
He wondered if she was wondering things she shouldn’t have been, but since she had reason, he couldn’t fault her for it. He quite happily left that unassuming patch of grass behind him, then offered Pippa his arm before he walked with her back to where his lads were waiting. He made up what he hoped was a believable tale about relatives fetching bedraggled queens and wagons being left for someone less fortunate, then distracted his men with thoughts of Nicholas’s kitchens. He helped Pippa mount Steud, then looked up at her as he handed her the reins.
“Thank you for learning to ride.”
“Thank you for taking the time to teach me,” she said with a smile. “Master Sensible was very wise.”
Montgomery smiled, then went to swing up onto his own horse. He wasn’t sure he would have called himself wise—he was, after all, encouraging a woman he most assuredly couldn’t have to remain with him long past when she should have gone back home—but perhaps he could take a day or two and forget that his life was full of duty and responsibility and a castle fair to falling down.
Would that it could have been full of Persephone Alexander.
Chapter 16
Pippa woke to sun streaming in the window. For a split second, she wondered if she’d dreamed the past two weeks, but no, that was definitely a carved canopy above her head. It was too handmade-looking to be the right-out-of-the-shrink-wrap sort of thing found in Tess’s castle, but somehow too intricate to be a mass-produced reproduction.
It was the real thing, which meant she was still hanging around in 1241.
The upside was, she was in a castle that had looked the night before to be capable of withstanding the whole of the English army. It had probably been midnight before their company had ridden through the gates, and she had listened to the comforting sound of the portcullis slamming home behind her. Stable lads had taken their horses and servants had come to see them settled. Pippa hadn’t remembered much past the impression of a spectacular castle, a warm piece of bread, and a rapid trip to a bed so soft, she’d wondered if she’d died and gone to heaven.
If she’d still had a crappy futon mattress to return to in the future, she wouldn’t have ever complained about it again.
She supposed it would be rude to just hang out in bed all day, so she forced herself to get up, wash, then put on a dress apparently left for her. It was made of such lovely fabric she couldn’t help but linger and fondle just a bit. She continued to study the weave as she left her room and walked down the passageway. It wasn’t linen, she didn’t think, nor was it cotton—
Pippa paused at the sound of humming. She watched who she could only assume was Jennifer, the lady of Wyckham, walking down the hallway in front of her toward the stairs. Jennifer blew her hair out of her eyes, adjusted the baby she was carrying, then held down her hand for what looked to be a two-year-old boy.
“Allons-y, Thomas,” she said. “Let’s find you some supper.”
And then the humming, which Pippa realized was coming from Jennifer herself began again. It was something she half recognized, but she couldn’t lay her finger on the name of the tune. She frowned. Had she been in the Middle Ages too long? Admittedly, it had been a little unnerving not to be able to immediately identify the composition of the cloth she was wearing, but surely that was no indication of the arrival of a complete mental breakdown. She briefly ran through the collection of things her parents had hummed for her—which included but hadn’t been limited to Grateful Dead tunes and Beatles standards—but came up empty-handed. Maybe she would try again after she’d had something to eat.
She followed Jennifer—which seemed to be an odd name for a medieval woman to have, but what did she know of the time period?—down the circular stairs, then paused at the edge of the great hall.
It was no wonder Montgomery sighed a lot when he looked at his hall.
There was an arch that spanned the hall from one side to the other, with an enormous fireplace set in one wall and a dozen gorgeous tapestries lining the rest of the stone. There was even a second-floor gallery with light coming in from windows set back too far for her to see. The entire effect was one of elegance and refinement.
It was spectacular.
She lingered there in the shadows for a moment or two and wondered about Montgomery and his family. His brother was obviously rich as Croesus with the castle to prove it. She wasn’t sure why Montgomery had gotten stuck with Sedgwick, but maybe there was more to medieval inheritances than she knew. He seemed to have the money to pay his stone masons to fix his walls, which she supposed he would need to have done if he ever managed to kick his cousins out. No sense in having a way for them to come back inside and kill him.
She shook her head over the thought. She had obviously been in the Middle Ages too long. Murder and mayhem were starting to seem like standard—
Murder and mayhem. She frowned. Hadn’t Peaches said something about Tess’s castle having more than its share of that going for it?
She shook her head. That surely had nothing to do with Montgomery. He would drop her off at the time gate, go pick up his future bride, and his life would go on without incident.
And without her.
She shook aside her unproductive thoughts and wondered if she might possibly get something decent to eat. She looked for Montgomery, didn’t see him, then decided the best thing to do was follow Jennifer to the kitchens—assuming that’s where she’d gone.
She stopped at the edge of the kitchen as she had the edge of the hall to have a look at the lay of the land. The kitchen actually looked a lot like Tess’s with happy staff, ample workspace, and what apparently passed for a medieval rack with pots hanging on it. The lady of the hall was in mid-discussion of something with her cook when she apparently realized she wasn’t alone. She turned to Pippa, then smiled.
“Persephone,” she said, walking over with her boys in her arms. “Welcome to Wyckham. I apologize for not greeting you last night.”
Pippa thought a little curtsey couldn’t go wrong, so she offered it and had a laugh in return.
“Take a baby instead of bowing,” Jennifer said, handing over a boy who had pale blond hair and enormous blue eyes. “Let’s go find something to eat. Montgomery and Nicholas ate hours ago and are now out in the lists, though that probably doesn’t surprise you.”
Pippa shook her head, then enjoyed the happy distraction of a little lad who regarded her with serious eyes, as if he saw things in her he really shouldn’t have been able to. She followed Jennifer out to the great hall, surrendered the baby to his mother, then sat down to what was definitely the best meal she’d had so far on her involuntary vacation. She wasn’t sure what passed for polite small talk in medieval England, but she supposed she couldn’t go wrong with confining her remarks to the weather and the lady of Wyckham’s health, which she did.
Half an hour later, Jennifer held a very sleepy baby in her arms and a fractious toddler by the hand.
“I think the lads have had enough,” she said easily, “so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get them upstairs.” She smiled. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding the lists, if that’s where you’d like to go. The garden is also lovely, but perhaps a bit chilly today.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Pippa said, getting up and pulling out Jennifer’s chair for her. She had another laugh in return, then stood back and watched the lady of th
e hall lure her older son up the stairs.
Howls soon ensued when the lad apparently realized just what sort of activity his afternoon was going to include. Pippa smiled to herself, then left the great hall and walked out into an unseasonably comfortable fall afternoon. She followed the sounds of swords and soon found herself on the edge of what apparently served as Lord Nicholas’s training field.
She was quite happy to find a bench there, ready to accept her swooning self.
All right, so she had no business looking where she couldn’t have, but since she was stuck in the Middle Ages for at least another few days without really much to do she supposed she had to keep herself occupied somehow. And if that keeping included appreciating a medieval knight in all his glory, how could she be faulted for it?
She was accustomed to dating—generally just once—academics. She’d dated PhDs, MSes, BSes, and even the occasional dean. They had been, without exception, acquaintances of Peaches’s, and they had, without exception, never asked her for a second date. She had occasionally wondered if she unnerved them by staring a bit too long at the weave of their shirts. Now, she suspected she’d just never had the good fortune to run into a real man.
One like the man on his knees in the lists, fighting off the ferocious advances of a seven-year-old wielding an obviously well-used wooden sword.
Pippa couldn’t help but smile. Montgomery’s sword was made of wood as well and looked to have been designed for his opponent’s stature. The contest didn’t go on for much longer, though she supposed by the groan Montgomery made when he got up off his knees that he had been at it for quite a bit already. He made his vanquisher—Nicholas’s son, by the look of him—a very low bow, then handed over his sword. The boy threw his arms around Montgomery and hugged him tightly, then collected his brother, who had been training with his father, and walked over with a swagger to a bench set against a far wall. Montgomery said something to Nicholas that made him laugh, then glanced her way.