PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1)

by Jackie Ivie

  “I believe she is still resting.”

  “Good. Well. Have the kitchen send up everything they can spare. I could eat a horse.”

  Mason’s brows shot up. Neal didn’t know what expression Barnes might have on his face.

  “I’m joking, guys. It’s an expression. For being famished.”

  “Oh. Verra good. Barnes? Why do na’ you go to the kitchens and see to a meal for his grace?”

  They waited until the under-valet left. Nobody said anything until the door shut.

  “I really have to learn to watch my tongue,” Neal commented.

  “You have certainly changed in the twelve years since you left.”

  “Twelve years? I was a kid.”

  “Nigh on fifteen.”

  Neal sent a glance the valet’s way. Looked away before Mason noticed. Tried not to sound sarcastic. “That old, huh?”

  “You were angry. You late uncle was the same. It was for the best.”

  “Ah. I see. I ran away. Well. That’s makes it really odd that he’d leave the dukedom to me.”

  “I believe he had his reasons.”

  “Yeah. Two clowns and their ringleader. Garrick. Lachlan. Aunt Margaret.”

  Mason grinned. “I do enjoy your quips, Neal. They are—”

  Someone knocked loudly on his chamber door. “I shall be right back.”

  Neal waved him off and tried not to bounce with suppressed energy. This was really weird. Even if he was excited and energized, the old Neal would have hidden it. A half hour felt like is passed while Mason discussed something in quiet tones at the door. And finally he shut it.

  “I have news, your grace.”

  “My meal is on its way?”

  “Oh, no. Na’ that. I have news of your paper order.”

  “Paper? Oh, yeah. The roll. You found some?”

  “Indeed. It will be here within the month.”

  Neal caught the laugh. It wasn’t easy. Mason approached a wardrobe and started eyeing the shirts hanging there. As if Neal would need them.

  “That quickly, eh?” Neal finally replied.

  “Transportation has improved so, it near takes the breath. I was unable to find anyone who knew of markers however.”

  “Oh. That. Well. It’s a writing implement for writing big things on large paper.”

  “I see. And you have seen these markers?”

  “Well. Yeah. In...uh, the Far East. But, it’s no big problem. I can always start playing around with used candle wax and soot.”

  “Candle wax and soot?”

  “I might be able to fashion large crayons. They’ll work.”

  “Crayons?”

  Neal tightened his lips before he swore. Mason had one of Neal’s linen shirts hanging over his bent arm and was regarding Neal without expression. This could get sticky real quick. He needed to get his brain into gear.

  “See? This one of the changes I refer to. You are truly different, Neal. I am na’ the lone one to note it.”

  “Well. I did suffer a head injury.”

  “I do na’ mean that. It’s more – pardon the impudence – as if you’d had a life-changing event.”

  Neal stared at his valet. He had experienced a life-changing event. It wasn’t the Bermuda Triangle time travel, either. It was—

  “I’ve fallen in love with my wife,” he said aloud.

  The valet beamed. “Exactly.”

  Neal cleared his throat. “Why are you gathering my clothing, then? I plan on attending her grace in her chamber this eve. The most I’ll need is a robe.”

  “That may na’ be a good idea, Neal.”

  The valet placed the shirt atop Neal’s bed and started looking through drawers until he found a length of plaid he liked. He placed it on the bed, too. Then he opened the top drawer and fished out cuffs.

  “Why not?”

  “Apparently, Lady Blair invited several guests for the evening. They’ve been arriving as you slept.”

  “So? Let them party. I’ll be in my wife’s room.”

  “You may na’ wish to do that.”

  “You’re joking, right? That is exactly what I wish.”

  “The guest list could be problematic.”

  “Oh. I’m sure Lady Blair can handle it. Isn’t that what she did all these years? Play hostess?”

  “The guest list includes the solicitor fellow who drew up the late duke’s will, as well as two of his colleagues. I saw them arrive. They have been in Lady Blair’s wing ever since. I need to alert you. They do na’ inspire my confidence.”

  Neal hissed through clenched teeth. “Damn it! That manipulative bi—!”

  He bit the rest off. Mason nodded as if he’d finished it, and at this point in time it meant something other than a female dog.

  “’Twill na’ be that difficult. You and the duchess need only make an appearance. Mill about. You may na’ need to stay.”

  “Really? And why is that?”

  “’Tis perfectly obvious your marriage is a love match, Neal. Anyone seeing you two would know that. You have a glow about you. Both of you have it.”

  Neal’s heart gave a powerful thump. He looked down at the valet. Ainslee had a glow about her, too? He wondered if it was possible. Hoped like hell it was.

  “So. Would you like to wear the otter pelt sporran? Or the silver-embossed leather one tonight?”

  “Which one is hardest?” Neal asked.Mason’s brows lifted, but he didn’t say anything. He squeezed the sporrans one-at-a-time. Held out the leather one. Neal regarded him for a long moment. Made a decision.

  “You know...I was planning on taking the duchess on a trip to New York. A honeymoon, as it were.”

  “Now?”

  “Ainslee will be safe with me.”

  “There are a lot of others...about the estate...that may na’ be.”

  Neal looked over his valet. Soundlessly read the concern being demonstrated by the man’s stiff stance. Neal realized he actually cared about what might happen if he left his aunt and her offspring unsupervised. How much harm it could cause to other people. And then he dealt with the shock and surprise without showing any of it.

  “Mason. I must be getting good at reading your line of thinking. You’re right. Now is not the proper time. I can see it will be trouble. But...let me see here. I don’t really have to go. I can send an emissary.”

  “You would send an emissary on your honeymoon?”

  Neal burst out laughing. “Sorry. I’m working this out. I actually need to purchase stock over there. They’ll need funding. Say...a hundred pounds for the stock purchase. Oh. He’ll also need travel expenses.”

  The valet gasped. That gave Neal the clue he needed.

  “I know. It’s a lot. But can we raise that?”

  “You will need to speak with the comptroller, but...it may be possible.”

  “I need it like...today.”

  “I’ll have him report to you.”

  “Good. And I know just the man to choose for this assignment. Have him report to me, too.”

  “If you do na’ mind me asking...?”

  “Iain Straithmore. My Honor Guardsman.”

  “Ah. Good choice. If you’ll allow me, I’ll just go and see that these gentlemen report to you.”

  “One more thing. You did say you had a copy of the will?”

  “Oh. Aye.”

  “I’m going to need it. Oh! While you’re at it, send for the housekeeper. Tell her to start preparations on the Dower House.”

  Mason went completely out of character and grinned widely. Realized what he’d done. And then tried to act like it was nothing. Neal tried not to smile as the valet cleared his throat.

  “Would...you wish it also kept quiet?”

  “Oh, hell no. Make a huge production out of it. Shout it from the rooftops if you wish. Make sure everyone knows.”

  Mason had a jaunty step. Neal hadn’t noticed it until now. Mason opened the chamber door, and then stood aside as two menservants entered with pl
atters, bearing all sorts of savory items. Neal’s belly growled in appreciation. The rest of him was too annoyed and on edge to do anything other than scowl.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The seamstress, Mistress Aggie, continued to work miracles with Lady Iliff’s old wardrobe. Even if she said she had help, the woman was a magician with her needle. Thank goodness! Ainslee hadn’t known the workings of a large estate, nor that she’d be required to dress and attend every sup in gowns fit for a princess. She touched the gold netting that floated atop her scarlet satin skirt with nervous fingers. The scarlet material came out of hiding to form her tightly-fitted square-necked bodice, while the gold became the piping along her neckline and sleeves.

  She’d call her mirror a liar, if this was any other time. And place. Had she really been the girl who chased after horses, wishing to be male?

  It didn’t seem possible.

  Being a woman was wondrous, despite feeling like a stranger in her own skin. It was fanciful, but she wouldn’t be surprised if the wizard who had done this miracle would appear, wave his magic wand...and she’d be back to that moment when she’d hidden behind a standing stone awaiting the new duke’s morning ride. Hair tied back in a long braid, skirts hiked up so she could run.

  Her maids, Beth and Doreen, continued to work wonders with her hair, when all it used to be was a braided mass tucked out of the way beneath a collar. Tonight, they’d pulled the hair at her temples back and braided it, entwining gold ribbons throughout. The rest of her hair was free. She looked so different. And entirely ladylike.

  She sincerely hoped Niall thought so. He’d sent a message to meet up with him on the landing of the chieftain steps. He’d made it sound as if he’d be there momentarily. Ainslee pushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder and sighed resignedly.

  Lady Iliff had possessed slightly smaller feet, however. Or the fashion had been for a tight fit. Ainslee’s toes were pinched in these particular slippers. That was the lone reason she wasn’t pacing back and forth, too nervous to stand still. Too excited to keep a train of thought. She moved to the stair rail and looked out at the great hall before her. They’d lit all the torches in the brackets along the walls. The room was alive with light and shadow. Flames reflected the weapons displayed on both walls, as well as the array of shields at the far one. It was a magnificent room. Worthy of a strong, powerful clan.

  Completely worthy of her husband.

  The thought brought a pleasant tingle. A feathery sensation to her belly. A weak feeling to the backs of her legs. All mysterious. All exciting. A cadence of steps resounded from beneath her vantage point. Ainslee bent her neck to watch two Honor Guardsmen emerge from the shadowed area beneath the staircase and walk into the great hall. They looked massive. Impressive. And intent.

  The duke had guards patrolling the great hall? She wondered if that was a normal event, or one just put in place. And that thought sent a tremor of unease through what had been all kinds of building excitement.

  “I see punctuality is another of your virtues, wife.”

  Ainslee spun at the duke’s greeting. He was walking toward her, looming from the dark maw of hall. She raised her glance. Caught a gasp at his magnificence. Quickly looked back down as heat flooded her cheeks. No matter how many times she saw him, especially wearing the Straithcairn chieftain regalia, this happened.

  It was disconcerting. Exhilarating. And exciting.

  “Your grace.”

  Ainslee dipped into a curtsey. He was before her within moments. She watched as the tassels of his socks settled. He held out his hand for hers. Ainslee glanced at it. Up to the approximate area of his chin. Back at his hand.

  “You have no idea how difficult this eve is for me.”

  Was that due to her?

  Ainslee swallowed. Stammered two words that hurt her throat. “It...is?”

  He gazed into her eyes, sending a look that pierced her heart and soul. Ainslee was enraptured. Completely still.

  “Oh, yes. Because all I really wish. Is to be in our chambers. With you.”

  Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my!

  It was a hesitant gesture, but she placed her hand within his. And lightning struck the great hall behind her. It sent every piece of artillery to firing and bounced off the wall of shields before returning with a whoosh that took her breath. Lit her soul. Snatched her heart. And sent it winging.

  He bent forward and lifted her hand to his lips. Kissed the tops of her knuckles. The slight scruff of whiskers on his chin brushed against her skin. He hadn’t shaved. Her eyes widened as she realized it, and then he looked toward her. Small lines spliced his forehead as he looked at her. His eyes resembled candle-lit silver. He turned her hand over, and placed his lips against her inner wrist.

  Ainslee’s knees almost dropped her. She stumbled. He stood and pulled her toward him, making a bulwark of strength. Power. Vitality. And something she didn’t know enough about to name. All she knew was her belly had daggers of thrills shooting through it, and her thighs felt the consistency of black pudding. She clung to his arm as he started down the steps. Thrilled to every moment of contact. Worried about what he must think. She knew he’d been in London with all kinds of ladies. The gossips spoke of their beauty. Availability. Rumor had it he’d been extremely well-liked. He’d enjoyed a lot of feminine company. They were probably witty companions, their conversation filled with double entendres.

  In comparison, she felt awkward. Almost childish. She wished she could think of something clever to say.

  “Evening, your graces.”

  They reached the bottom of the steps. The two Honor Guardsmen were at the base of the steps, one on either side. The nearest one greeted them. The other one nodded.

  “Gentlemen. Thirty paces.”

  Niall didn’t act surprised at their presence. And he gave them instructions. It must be a normal event. He and Ainslee waited while one of them opened the door to the foyer for them. They proceeded through.

  “I assume you’ll help me find the dining room again?” he asked.

  Ainslee nodded. Sent a glance upward toward him. Quickly looked back down before he completely tied her tongue.

  “I...understand you are opening the Dower House.”

  “You heard that, did you?”

  “Um. Aye. The servants spoke of it. Oh. I suppose I should na’ say that. You mustn’t think I gossip with servants.”

  “Ainslee. You are perfection itself. You can speak with whomever you like. I spoke as I did because I’m gratified to hear word of the Dower House is getting out. I wonder if it’s gotten far enough yet.”

  “Far enough?”

  “Lady Blair’s wing is a fair distance off.”

  “Has she...upset you?”

  “And then some. But, that’s all right. I’m not allowing her to do it again. Trust me.”

  “She will be livid.”

  “Really?”

  “She has been...in control of the estate for many years.”

  “No wonder I left.”

  “She may...retaliate.”

  “Well. I can but hope.”

  Ainslee’s footsteps faltered as she realized he was serious. “Are you certain-sure you wish that?”

  “By the way, darling. In case I haven’t mentioned it. You look gorgeous. And in the event that word isn’t around, let me just explain it. It means beautiful. Fabulous. Stunning. Superb. I don’t know who is behind your wardrobe, but I have to say. They’re good. They have my utmost appreciation and approval.”

  Ainslee’s smile nearly split the side of her mouth. She beamed. He leaned closer to her.

  “Ah. We’re almost there, love. Whatever happens...stay at my side.”

  Love.

  At the endearment, she almost looked down to check that her slippers were still on the floor. She felt she might be floating. And he was being silly. He wanted her to stay close? He asked it as if it might be a hardship. Ainslee squeezed his arm. He tipped his head toward her and smiled.
<
br />   “May I infer that you’re all right with that?” he asked.

  “Oh. Aye! Perfectly.”

  He winked. Her knees quivered. He pulled her even closer as if he knew it. And then he looked up and nodded to Rory, who stood at the portal to the salon and announced them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Neal sent a quick glance about the room. Did his best to relegate Ainslee to the back of his mind. Garrick was on his left. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He stood in the shadows, nursing a snifter half-full of brandy. Wore full weaponry. His mother, Lady Blair, appeared to be holding court at the back of the room. She wore another disastrously diaphanous gown. Neal moved his glance before he had an unfortunate physical reaction. At her elbow stood a portly gentleman in English attire. Long trousers. Jacket. A large cloth was folded about his throat, forcing his head up. The white cravat didn’t hide the man’s multiple chins. And it contrasted sharply with his ruddy skin tone. Beside him was a fit, mature gent in Scot attire. Neal assumed that was the Scot solicitor who had drafted and overseen the will. He had Mason to thank for that information. Another English fellow was on Neal’s right. He was talking with the vicar.

  Well. Neal hadn’t expected the vicar to miss a meal.

  Lachlan was on the right, beside the comptroller. Neal gave his cousin a half-hearted smile. Lachlan lifted his almost-empty brandy snifter in salute.

  Behind him, he heard his Honor Guardsman enter the room and assume a post, one on either side of the door. Exactly as he’d instructed. He didn’t check. He didn’t need to. He watched his aunt’s expression as she saw them. That was extremely pleasant.

  “Ah. Niall. There you are. And looking so...”

  Lady Blair dragged the English gent and the Scot fellow with her as she approached. Neal waited for their arrival. He averted his eye as Lady Blair curtseyed, sending her bosom to the edge of disaster as she did so. Caught a movement as Garrick put his drink goblet on a side table. Placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword.

  That was interesting...

  “Good evening, Lady Blair.”

  “Oh, Niall! You wretched lad. You can call me Aunt Margaret. Always did afore.”