by Jackie Ivie
He blinked more rain from his eyes, and then swiped his hand across his hair, plastering it to his skull, sticking the ends onto his shoulders. He probably should have pulled the kilt band from his back and covered his head with it. It made a rain shelter. He’d seen others doing that. It made sense.
And then Ainslee leaned into him and made everything on his body vibrate to an entirely different frequency. Warmth radiated from where she touched. Contact with the elements no longer mattered. She looked up at him, and smiled tremulously. It didn’t match her eyes. Even in a rain-soaked mid-morn, he could see her worry.
“What is it?”
She shook her head and turned forward again. The top of her plaid was just beneath his chin. Neal wrapped his right arm about her and pulled her up and over the pommel and onto his lap. And then held her there. Someone gave the signal to proceed. It wasn’t him. Neal settled into line behind Cedric. The big black stallion Ainslee had brought started walking alongside Dragonbreath. Nightfall’s head was down. Rain dripped off his mane, tail, and fetlocks. Defining musculature. That horse was like a big black shadow. Devilishly dark. With a temperament that matched. And she’d ridden it? Bareback?
He still found it difficult to believe.
“Ainslee?” he prompted.
“Forgive me.”
Her whisper was slight.
Neal stiffened with surprise. “For what?”
“I was...indecorous.”
“In-what?”
“Decorous.”
“Please say you’re joking.”
“I am...the Duchess of Straithcairn. Duchesses do na’ ride about the countryside at a gallop. And they never ride unaccompanied.”
“Oh. Honey. If that’s indecorous, please? Don’t let me stop you. Or anyone else.”
“My behavior...shocked everyone. I know. I saw their faces.”
“Oh. Babe.” He chuckled. It lifted her. “What you saw was pure amazement. There isn’t a man here who wasn’t stunned at your arrival on Blackie there. Bareback? At that pace? I thought you were going to run us over before you stopped him.”
“I did na’ stop Nightfall.”
“Right. Look. I was told you were fey. I didn’t believe it. But your ability with horses? I got to tell you. That’s pure magic, babe. Pure.”
She giggled. His heart lightened.
“I mean, come on. They call Nightfall a devil horse. And, if you’d looked around, you’d have noticed that nobody went near him. Know why? They’re afraid of him. I know the feeling. I’m afraid of him.”
“There’s naught to fear.”
“For you. And look. He’s following you like a puppy. It’s pretty unbelievable. That is what the men were stunned over. Oh. Crap.”
“What is it?”
“We’re running.”
The horse started moving at an odd pace. Neal jerked his thigh muscles tight in response. It was a subconscious move. It lifted both of them from the horse’s back. Ainslee chuckled. It wasn’t remotely funny.
“This is a trot.”
“It’s a death-defying run.”
She snorted back what was probably laughter. “You act as though you’ve never ridden afore.”
“You don’t say.”
“Aye. I do.”
Neal smiled to himself. It was déjà vu again. Back to when he’d first arrived and Rory repeated what he’d said. “Well. That’s just one of the things we will be discussing, darling. Later. After I meet with my aunt. And take a shower.”
“A...shower?”
“Rainfall means I get a shower. I’ll show you that, too. You’ll like it. I think. We should invent one...except we need to figure out how to warm the water first. I know. You haven’t got the foggiest idea what I’m talking about. I have a lot to explain. After I speak with Lady Blair. I’m not looking forward to that particular interview, in case you wondered.”
“You do na’ have to be the one to tell her.”
“I’m the laird, darling. It’s my duty. But I’m taking her solicitors with me. And Cedric.”
Dragonbreath’s motion wasn’t too difficult to follow, after all. It was like a steady jog with a hitch to it. Neal eased back down into the saddle and rolled forward and backward with the horse’s motion. He was rather pleased with himself. Ainslee gave a low whistle. Beside them, Nightfall whickered in response. Neal swiped at his forehead again and looked over at the big stallion. Dragonbreath had been the largest horse they’d taken out for the hunt. Nightfall was a good six inches or so taller. He was rain-soaked. Black as pitch. Silently trotting alongside them in perfect sync with Dragonbreath.
And she wondered why the men had been open-mouth and stunned at her arrival?
“What will you tell her?”
Ainslee brought his attention back to her with the question.
“Who?”
“Lady Blair.”
“Oh. Her.”
“You can na’ tell her the truth.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, Neal. She’ll be devastated.”
“So? It’s her fault. She meddled with destiny. If I hadn’t bent down at that exact moment, it would be me draped over a horse back there. Not Garrick. And my aunt would be celebrating. Forgive me if I do not feel empathy. She tried to orchestrate events. Now she gets to reap the consequences. You can’t manipulate the future, darling. There are too many variables. Human nature is just one of them. Unseen events another. That’s why—”
Neal’s voice stopped. His heart felt like it did the same thing. His ability to breathe got affected next. His brain wasn’t frozen. It raced ahead. What in the hell had he just said? Verbally figured out? Done?
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit.
“Fu—!” Neal caught the expletive. But not the growl that emanated from deep in his chest somewhere.
“Neal?”
“I could really use cell technology about now!” He muttered it from between clenched teeth.
“Cell tech...nology?”
“A way to get a message out. And received. Instantaneously. I need to recall a messenger. Ah!”
Neal lifted his chin and sent the cry into the air. Murmurs sounded from about him as the men heard and assigned a supposed reason. He didn’t notice much, and cared less. Rain splashed his face. It chilled. Carried dread. The afternoon wasn’t just filled with gloom anymore. It carried a large helping of foreboding as well.
“Neal?”
Ainslee was shaking. Her voice reflected it. Neal pulled her closer to him as if to provide shelter. He bent his head toward her.
“Forgive me, darling. I...have to work things out. And—crap. I wish I had that paper roll. And stinkin’ markers!”
“Markers?”
“I need to get this down. I work better if I can draw visuals. Large ones. Interconnected. Random and continuous. So I can step back and look at it. Ponder. Evaluate. You know. Brainstorm.”
“Brainstorm?”
“Oh, Ainslee. We have a lot to discuss. Trust me. An awful lot. We may have to pull an all-nighter. We’ll need tea. Pots and pots of it.”
She tipped her head to give him a puzzled look.
“I’m not fond of the coffee around here. It’s barely drinkable. That’s one thing I might be able to solve. Without incurring future world consequences, that is.”
The black rock wall of the castle entrance came into sight as a dark smudge against a lighter sky. It loomed closer. The horses slowed. The entrance to the corridor swallowed them. There were puddles about the ground. Neal could hear the splashing of hooves. Heavy breathing of their mounts. But not much else.
He was using the time to prepare mentally. Steel himself for the upcoming meeting.
~ ~ ~
Lady Blair’s screams followed Neal down the hall. Through the arched entrance to the east wing where she still resided. And farther. They even seemed to leach through solid wooden doors that shut behind him.
Her expression had changed the moment sh
e’d caught sight of Neal amidst his Honor Guard. That was unfortunate. He’d hoped she’d been given a recounting of the hunting accident already, and wouldn’t be expecting her sons. Her lack of the correct information was instantly apparent. Lady Blair had gone from an expectant and pleased countenance to one that was tight-lipped and ashen-colored. And that was just from hearing of Garrick’s demise.
She’d crumpled when told of Lachlan’s death.
Neal hadn’t stayed. To commiserate or observe. Despite how his heart had twinged with her soul-wracking sobs. He didn’t know what to say. Or do. So, he’d turned about and walked away, leaving her in the company of Barristers Kingston and Bon. He had no affinity toward them. They’d come to discredit him. At Lady Blair’s invitation. They could earn their stay.
Neal hadn’t just been accompanied by Cedric, either. Eight members of his Honor Guard had been at his back. Neal had ordered the physician sent for. Given instructions. He didn’t couch it in what would be futuristic terms, but Lady Blair was on suicide watch.
He fully expected her to do so.
Neal told himself Lady Blair had earned everything she now suffered. Her grief didn’t bother him. He knew it for a lie the moment the thought occurred. Her agonized cries raised goose bumps all along his skin as he walked. Up sets of stairs. Back down others. Beneath arched entries. Down tapestry-lined halls. His Honor Guard accompanied him, one man leading. Neal hadn’t been in the chapel before, nor seen the vicar in muted attire. The place exuded an aura of sanctity. Reverence. Things he’d never suspected existed before. They discussed interment. The castle had a crypt beneath the chapel, but it hadn’t been used in decades. There was the cemetery outside. On land sheltered by castle walls. That would do.
For both men.
The entire time, Neal swore he could hear Lady Blair’s agony. It was like a shroud he couldn’t shed. It added to unease that had started up when he realized he’d done basically the same thing. He’d tampered with fate. Tried to align destiny. Put things in motion toward a certain outcome. But he shouldn’t reap a like penalty. He hadn’t done it for personal gain.
Well...not wholly.
Oh, man.
The vicar was a long-winded speaker. Neal’s mind wasn’t paying much attention. He had a lot to mull. He reassured himself that he wasn’t splitting hairs here. He hadn’t done what Lady Blair had. She, and her cohorts, had planned murder. Neal was different. He was planning on saving humanity.
That was altruistic.
Not selfish.
He hadn’t looked at all the pitfalls, because he hadn’t taken the time nor drawn it up, but his plan couldn’t go far wrong. And if he could solve the global warming issues due to carbon footprint problems before they even started, shouldn’t he?
If everything went according to plan...
And nothing untoward happened...
Ah!
There were so many unpredictable events! So many years to account for! He’d sent Iain with clear instructions, but those could be misinterpreted. He hadn’t written them down. They were to be given to a broker, but what if the man wasn’t trustworthy? What if Iain Straithmore misinterpreted them? Neal wanted stock in iron first. As steel became available on the market, sell iron and buy steel. By the late nineteenth century, that stock needed to be sold so they could buy into electricity...and back pretty much anything Nikolai Tesla was working on. Make certain to buy a major share of Ford Motor Company stock. Enough to assure the design engineers put electrical engines in the Model T and not gasoline combustion ones. But whatever happens, do not buy petroleum stock.
Ever.
Even with variables, none of that sounded disastrous.
The vicar apparently finished his recitation of the memorial service he’d provide on the Sabbath. A long span of silence was Neal’s only clue. He thanked the vicar and left. Honor Guardsmen accompanied his every step. Along the same, or similar halls. Up and down short flights of steps. They finally reached the oldest section of the castle, the one containing the dungeons. There was a plain wooden door in the main foyer. It opened to a set of narrow spiral stone steps. Walking down them felt like entering something akin to purgatory. The stone down here was rough-cut. Never smoothed. It looked more than secure. This place was impenetrable. The constable met him at the bottom of the steps. Gave him the news. They had a confession. It was exactly as they’d thought.
That should have broken through the strange aura that surrounded Neal, the one resounding with the sound of Lady Blair’s anguish.
It didn’t.
Neal didn’t linger in the dungeons. Torches may have lit the interior but it was still dark. Dank. Cold. Hopeless-feeling. There was nothing more to do. The fellow was secured. Fed. Given water. A blanket. A bucket. He could be dealt with later. After the funerals. Neal and his escort walked back up the spiral stone steps. A sense of light permeated each step upward. They reached the second floor. The door to the dungeon was shut behind them. Neal took a large breath. It tasted of freedom and life. The Honor Guardsmen accompanying him all matched with their own deep inhalations. They might have felt the same. Neal didn’t ask. They didn’t offer.
Neal and his retinue entered the double doors beneath the chieftain stairs. The guardsmen removed their tams. Held them over their hearts. Bowed their heads toward Neal. Still in complete silence.
Neal’s heart swelled. His chest warmed markedly. A knot closed off his throat. He cleared his throat and nodded in response. Six guardsmen turned about and left. Marching down the hall in cadence. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Two abreast. Their kilts swayed. Weapons jangled. It was extremely impressive.
The remaining two took up a post, one at either side of the chieftain steps. Neal climbed the right side, absorbing a silence that had a presence. Like a withheld breath.
Just waiting to exhale.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ainslee had been pacing her room when he knocked. He knew because her face lit up at the sight of him, she made as if to rush to him, but then she checked it, and a moment later resumed her steps. All highly interesting. Neal pondered her for a bit. She reached one wall of her room. Spun around. Started back. He didn’t think he’d taken that long, but he must have. Her maids had attended her. She’d probably bathed in her chamber. Had her hair re-braided into a barely contained waterfall of tresses down her back. She was definitely re-dressed.
Well.
It was all probably for the best.
A joint shower on his balcony was bound to be cold, and she’d been covered in a soaked plaid when he’d last seen her. At the front steps. He’d lowered her to the ground, watched, as did everyone else, while she said something to the big black stallion that kept him meekly following Dragonbreath, and then she’d mounted the steps into the castle.
Now, she wore a dark rose colored gown that made her skin pristine clear, her eyes strikingly noticeable, and her waist even tinier. The gown hadn’t been altered yet. The amount of material used for her skirt was an entertaining feature, since she wasn’t wearing pontoon things beneath it. With her movements, she snagged more than one scatter rug. She also appeared to be sweeping the floor at the same time.
Neal tried not to smile at the thought. She turned and caught him at it. Her chin lowered and she gave him a remonstrating look that should work wonders on their children. Neal immediately sobered and attempted to look contrite. And he couldn’t imagine why.
“Did...you meet with Lady Blair?” she finally spoke.
“Yes.”
“How did she take it?”
“Poorly.”
“Should I...offer to assist?”
“I don’t believe either of us would be welcomed, love. We might even be in the way. She’s under the care of a fellow who calls himself a physician. He’s using leeches. Uh.” Neal couldn’t prevent the grimace before he continued, “he’s also concocting some sort of preparation for her to take. Remind me to never get ill around here.”
“’Twill be laudanum. She
takes it for head pain.”
“She gets headaches? Really? I thought she only gave them.”
She straightened, lifted her chin to regard him from across the room. That remonstrating look of hers apparently held full censure. Her disciplinary tactics appeared to already be in place and functioning well. She wouldn’t have to use much more than an expression to berate a future Straith. He almost pitied them.
“Have I...done something wrong?” Neal asked.
“Of course na’.”
“Oh. I get it. You are attempting the decorous thing again, aren’t you?”
She blushed and dropped her gaze. Her voice was difficult to hear. “I am the Duchess of Straithcairn. I need to start acting like it.”
“Not around me, babe. I love you just as you are. Spontaneous. Loving. Young.”
“I...shamed the position.”
“Says who? I’ll sack them immediately.”
“No! Please. No one said anything. I have been thinking.” She looked back up at him. “I should be a bit less...um. Spontaneous. A bit more...regal. So you will be proud of me.” The last was whispered.
“Oh. Babe. I am very proud of you. Immensely. Completely. Crap. The last thing we need is protocol. Especially not when we’re alone. Everybody needs a place where they can let their hair down.”
She frowned. “My hair is usually down. I do na’ think I can get it all up unless I cut it.”
“I didn’t mean that. See? There’s an example. I continually say things you don’t understand. I need to explain why.”
“You were in the navy. You have seen a lot of the world. I have only read about it. Seen pictures in books.”
“Right. Well. I have to admit. That is a really good cover story. You have no idea. But...getting back to topic: the phrase ‘letting your hair down’ means...um. Let’s see. Relax. Yeah. That’s it. It means to be yourself. Not worry over projecting an image. Not have to guard your tongue or thoughts every second. Everybody needs a place where they can do that. I love you, Ainslee. I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. We have a lot to go over, darling. A lot. You may think I’ve gone mad before I finish. Um. May I suggest...a change of venue?”