PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1)

by Jackie Ivie

  “Things change. I didn’t know we had guests. Would you...handle the introductions?”

  “You ken the clan solicitor, Reagan Fells, of course?”

  “Reagan.”

  Niall nodded to the Scot gentleman. Received a bow in response.

  “And this is Barrister Kingston. From the firm of Kingston and Bon. In London.”

  “Barrister Kingston.”

  “No need to stand on such ceremony lad! We’ve met.”

  That was a surprise. “Have we now?” Niall answered.

  “Oh, come now, lad.” The man leaned forward and jostled Neal’s right arm. “We’re tipped a few pints and had some laughs. Celebrated the armistice more than once. Why...there was one particular fest—”

  “Which shall remain nameless. And unmentioned. Due to the presence of ladies,” Neal interrupted him.

  The man immediately sobered. He tilted his head back even farther so he could look a lot closer at Neal. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Begging pardon.”

  Lady Blair started walking away. “Follow me. Along here is Barrister Bon.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Neal interrupted her.

  “What?”

  “Reagan Fells? Barrister Kingston. May I have the pleasure of introducing my wife, the Duchess of Straithcairn. Ainslee Straith? Reagan Fells and Barrister Kingston.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” the Scotsman replied.

  “Charmed,” Barrister Kingston chimed in.

  The men bowed. Ainslee sketched a curtsey at Neal’s side. She was trembling. Her fingers gripped him like talons, but she didn’t exhibit anything noticeable. Pride swelled throughout his chest. It was like a warm thick electric blanket. It enveloped him with security and comfort. And a buzzing sensation that tingled and then evaporated.

  “Oh. Yes. Of course. How...impolite of me,” Lady Blair spoke. “And I’m so gratified you two could make it out of your chamber long enough to join us.”

  Ainslee’s gasp was nearly inaudible. Neal tipped his head to one side and considered his aunt for a bit. She was trying to be offensive. But she had the wrong target, and poor ammunition. Neal couldn’t see a damn thing wrong with admitting he’d been in seclusion with the beauty at his side.

  “I certainly hope you won’t mind when we return there, then,” he finally replied.

  Neal struggled against snickering at the look on his aunt’s face as he moved toward where the vicar was wiping his hands on a napkin. The other barrister was beside the vicar. He wasn’t as rotund as his partner, but looked a lot more cagey.

  Mason had been accurate. The men didn’t inspire Neal’s confidence, either. They finished the introductions. Moved on to greet Lachlan and the comptroller, and then Neal steered his aunt toward the door. And the two Honor Guardsmen standing there.

  “Oh. While we are handling introductions, allow me to present two members of my guard.”

  “This show of force is ridiculous, Niall,” Aunt Margaret hissed at his elbow.

  “I would say that depends on who and what I’m dealing with.”

  Garrick moved out of his shadow. The guardsman on that side matched the move, stepping forward to stand beside Ainslee. On the left. Neal almost puffed out his chest. He’d heard and read about that happening. He’d never believed a man would want to do it until now.

  “You sent orders to prepare the Dower House,” Aunt Margaret informed him.

  “You are correct. I did.”

  “Well. I am na’ going to the Dower House.”

  “Really? What makes you so certain?”

  “Because these gentlemen are here to contest the will.”

  “Oh. That’s...entertaining.”

  Ainslee was reacting. Neal’s arm sagged slightly as her weight pulled on it. He immediately moved his left arm from her grasp and around to her back. Did his best to bring her close and hold her against him with a nonchalant air. And then he held her there.

  “You will na’ be the one entertained, Niall Straith. I assure you.”

  “Truly? And what makes you say that?”

  “You are na’ the duke.”

  Neal chuckled. He couldn’t help it.

  “Laugh all you like. But you failed to fulfill the requirements. I have in my possession the will. It’s a bit smudged, but it does state that the new Duke of Straithcairn will only keep the title if he weds an ‘L’ MacAffrey. You failed to do so. Garrick will na’ make that error. All he has to do is wed the right woman. He will succeed to the title. Not you.”

  “How...distressing,” Neal replied.

  Ainslee went stiff. Neal tightened his hold on her. “How is the salmon, Vicar?” Neal asked it over Lady Blair’s shoulder. The man nodded, lifted a cracker in his direction, and then shoved it into his mouth. Neal turned his attention to the Scotsman.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Reagan Fells...but didn’t you draw up this will?”

  The man nodded.

  “And you are willing to verify my aunt’s contention?”

  “Well. Lad. I—”

  “Before you do so, I would like to ask some questions. Were there any copies made at the time? And were they perchance...also signed? And perhaps they were...verified by another party?”

  “Well. I—”

  “And was one of these copies handed to a witness for protection? In the event of a fiasco. Such as this?”

  Reagan Fells started turning red. Neal didn’t move his gaze.

  “Now. Could it be that one of the witnesses at the signing was a man named Mason Millbourne?”

  “That...was the name of the late duke’s valet.”

  “And he was there. Am I right?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well. By some strange coincidence, Mason Millbourne just happens to be my valet, too. Strange how that works, isn’t it?”

  The solicitor lost the extra color. The Honor Guardsman on Neal’s right stepped forward to flank him on that side. This had to be one of the most gratifying experiences of Neal’s life. Easily outstripping a forced company takeover. Neal was having a hard time keeping his voice from reflecting it.

  He waited. Reagan Fells wouldn’t meet his eye. The man finally mumbled the answer.

  “Aye. I believe he was given a copy.”

  “Oh. I know he was. I’ve seen the copy he had. He doesn’t have it anymore. Everyone want to know why? Because I sent it to Edinburgh. So it can be legally filed. And away from any...tampering that might occur. Or, didn’t anyone notice that I sent Iain Straithmore on a mission this afternoon?” Iain had been headed to New York. It was a bluff, but they wouldn’t know that.

  Aunt Margaret looked like she might explode. She was turning a purplish hue that spread beneath her clothing darkening the fabric’s hue. Neal had never seen skin that color. And he really did try not to look.

  “Everyone. Please. Enjoy your meal. The duchess and I will be leaving you now. We won’t be available until sometime tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Oh. And Lady Blair?”

  She opened her mouth and shut it. It was a continual motion. She looked like a fish out of water. Dressed in shimmery scales. Ready for a butcher’s blow on the chipping block. Neal regarded her for a long moment before he finished.

  “Start packing.”

  Neal scooped Ainslee into his arms and brought her close. He felt her every breath. Warming. Bracing. Electrifying. He turned about and walked out the door. As if he’d ordered it, his two guardsmen immediately filled the portal behind him, creating a barrier. Rory was standing outside with his mouth open and his eyes bulging.

  That was another bit of luck. News of this should be about the castle before Neal and Ainslee reached their chambers. Neal nodded to Rory. Pulled Ainslee even closer. And then he started jogging.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ainslee had never been inside the chieftain’s chamber. She’d peeked once, and then never again. It was sacrosanct space. She knew the room was very large, with high ceilings, even higher than the duchess’s suit
e. The furnishings were constructed of heavy wood. It was very dark. Solemn. The chamber exuded power. Might. Majesty.

  She wouldn’t have entered it even though no one would have ever known.

  Niall’s steps had slowed as he’d reached the great hall, and then climbed one side of the staircase. He was breathing heavily, each breath lifted strands of hair at her forehead. His heart was pounding with mighty thumps, too. She felt every beat right against the side of her breast where it was smashed against him. They reached his chamber door. He moved her slightly to access the handle, and then shouldered the door open. The door sucked shut behind them. Niall set her on her feet.

  “You’re...not going to faint, are you?” He peered down at her to ask it.

  “Um. N-no.” She stammered the answer.

  “Want me to order up a repast?”

  “Sup...per?”

  “I did just haul you away from one, Ainslee. Are you hungry?”

  “Are you?”

  Niall looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his gaze bore into her. She almost backed a step.

  “Oh, yes. Very. But. Not. For. Food,” he replied, breaking the words up as was his wont.

  Ainslee gasped.

  “So? Back to my original question. I’m going to leave you for a bit. Set a few things up. Are you going to be all right?”

  “I am a Highlander,” she replied with the slightest trace of indignity.

  “Hold that thought.”

  He winked and spun before she could react. His kilt swayed with the quickness of his motions as he slammed the bolt down on the chamber door. The sound reverberated through the room, as if in accompaniment to Niall’s steps. He reached the door that connected their rooms, pulled the bolt down to bar it. He did the same to a large wooden door that must lead outside. Then he moved along that same wall, raised an arm, and pulled drapes aside, revealing a vista of sea and sky lit with sunset hues of orange and red.

  Ainslee slapped her hands to her breast and watched awestruck, as he opened the other side of the drape. His action put a warm hue of light on the entire room, lighting up all kinds of items. She glanced about with a slight niggling of nervousness.

  Where the duchess’s chamber had been altered over the centuries with wainscoting and fabric and all manner of elegant refinement, the chieftain chamber retained the original dark gray stone walls. The stone might have been smoothed, but it still looked rough-cut. Impenetrable. There was an immense fireplace opposite the window, the black pit looking massive and regal from behind a screen of Straith plaid with a stitched rendition of a roaring flame on it.

  Long, narrow tapestries hung from close to the ceiling. Despite craning her neck Ainslee couldn’t spot where they began. They covered a good amount of the stone walls. Not enough to mute the chill. Just enough to add a regal presence to an already majestic chamber. They were mostly worked in dark threads. Blood-colored reds. Dark gold. Deep blues. Teals. Grays and blacks. Here and there were touches of metallic threads that sparkled. The tapestries depicted scenes of battle, green, fertile dales, mature stags at hunting season, storm-whipped seas. They were all bordered with Straith plaid. Shields covered some of the space between tapestries. They were works of beauty and grandeur, especially visual when highlighted and caressed by the flame-colored radiance coming from beyond the span of glass Niall had revealed.

  The sunset also touched on furniture. Armoires. Bureaus. A couch. A large round table with high-backed chairs. Here and there the light hit brass knobs, lamps and torch brackets, gilt edges. When that happened, the surface glinted. But the main piece of furniture was an enormous bed set atop a large platform. Ainslee’s heart took a sudden dive. It felt extremely real. Her belly started pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat. The sensation wasn’t remotely painful. It carried a lot of thrill. Excitement. Anticipation.

  Niall’s bed was immense, made more so by its position atop a foot-high dais. Ainslee swallowed nervously as she scanned upward. The footboard was a masterwork of wood, carved with thistles and Celtic knots and other images she couldn’t quite make out. It probably stood above her head. The headboard was fashioned of the same wood, carved throughout to match. It was so high the top disappeared into the ceiling’s shadow. Despite craning her neck, she couldn’t see it.

  And then Niall cleared his throat.

  Ainslee dropped her gaze. He’d moved from the wall of window, but stopped in front of his footboard. She’d been off a bit. The footboard was way above her head even if she stood on the platform. It was twice Niall’s height. But she should factor in that the pedestal started somewhere in the range of Niall’s calf. Ainslee gasped and quickly looked back up to his face. Niall was just standing there, his arms folded, his chin lowered. He regarded her without expression. But she sensed something. A tenseness. Near anger. Something that was almost auditory. It raised the temperature. And her heart-rate.

  “Have you ever been so close to losing control, that you had...but one choice?”

  She blinked at the surprise. “What?”

  He started undressing. Her eyes widened as he unfastened his scabbard and set the sword on the platform beside him. His next move was to pull daggers from beneath his belt. He placed them beside the sword. He did it without looking. He didn’t take his gaze from her.

  “It’s akin to lock-down.”

  “A...what?”

  “Lock-down. Of emotion. And motion. Because anything else...might prove disastrous.”

  “Disastrous?”

  “If I scare you, you’ll let me know?”

  “You do na’ scare me.”

  “Thus far.”

  He lifted a leg. Pulled off his boot. Slid a skean dhu from his sock. Tossed it atop the other daggers. Did the same with his other leg.

  “I am going to make love to you, Ainslee. I will be gentle – to the best of my ability. But it is not. Going to be easy.”

  A loud gasp escaped in one breath. He regarded her for several moments, when all she could hear was her continued quick breaths and her rapidly increasing pulse.

  “You make me afraid, my love.”

  My love.

  Her heart stuttered. Her voice matched. “Y-you? Afraid?”

  “Oh, babe. You have no idea. So. Let’s just skirt that little issue for the moment. You ready to finish your thought?”

  “What...thought?” she asked.

  “The Highlander remark. Explain it.”

  Ainslee lifted her chin and stared at him. “How?”

  “It means you’re fearless. Strong. Brave. No matter what the odds. Am I close?”

  “You are a Highlander too, Niall.”

  “You’re mispronouncing it. The name is Neal. Rhymes with meal. And tonight. When you cry my name out. I want to hear Neal. Okay?”

  Something shot through her. It electrified. Blazed. Instantly dissipated. Leaving her shocked and stunned. Ainslee trembled for a moment and then stilled.

  “I...do na’ understand,” she relied.

  “Oh. You will. All of which is a waste of time. You ready to answer? Or are you frightened?”

  “Nae.”

  “Good. Because I think you’re going to have to come here, babe. To me. Now.”

  “What?” Ainslee didn’t have to feign surprise.

  “I need you to come over to me. Trust me. It’s not a good idea if I fetch you.”

  Ainslee’s head went back slightly at his tone. Deep. Full of something close to menace.

  “You want me to say it nicer?” he asked.

  “Uh...”

  “Forget I offered. I’m not certain I can. Come here, Ainslee.”

  “Niall.”

  “Close, babe. But it’s Neal.”

  “Neal,” she parroted.

  “Exactly. Now. Are you going to come over here? Or am I going to have to come. Fetch you?”

  “You are...scaring me.”

  “Well. Great. That is exactly what I’m trying not to do. It’s bad enough one of us is already terrifi
ed.”

  “You?” Her feet started moving toward him. She hadn’t even sent the order to do so.

  “Oh. Yeah. Me. Terror has been my constant companion since meeting you, I think.”

  “It has?”

  Ainslee stopped an arms-length from him. Looked up. He nodded.

  “Yep. It’s real. And it is always there. Abject. Complete. Are you wearing a sexy little corset tonight?”

  Her eyes went wide. He groaned. Answered it himself.

  “Of course you are. Turn about.” He put a finger out and spun it.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I asked you to.”

  “You are acting...”

  “Yes?”

  “Verra different.”

  “Oh, darling. If I acted the way I want to, things would get real ugly. Real fast.”

  She gasped. “They would?”

  “You’re...untouched. Yes?”

  She nodded.

  He licked his lips. Shuddered. “Translation of that – totally ugly. Now, turn around. Please.”

  She did. Every hair on her body whispered to attention as shivers flowed all over her skin. They raised goosebumps. Launched her heart into palpitations. Sent all kinds of sparks throughout her belly. And then the sensation went lower. Her private-most area experienced a series of quivers that shocked. Stimulated. And rapidly excited. Her nipples even hardened.

  She felt his fingers along her spine.

  “I had you turn around so I can slide every one of these little buttons out of their little buttonholes. It’s the best I can manage. The alternative is to rip them off. Oh, God.”

  His voice got lower. More intense. Her thighs started quivering.

  “You’re wearing a red one.”

  The back of her dress ripped as he tugged at it. Little buttons bounced on the wood at their feet.

  “Give my apologies to your seamstress. I didn’t...uh. Mean to do that.”

  And then what had to be his lips touched the juncture between her throat and shoulders!

  Ainslee jerked at the contact, gasped, and then felt something completely different. And truly unbelievable. A melting sensation went through her entire body as he kissed her skin. It thrilled. Enticed. And scared. Somewhere in the juncture of her thighs things sizzled and swelled. Her legs wavered. His arms snaked about her, his hands cupping her breasts as he yanked her back against him. She might have fallen if he hadn’t.