The Topaz Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 10)

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  Her head was spinning. How could he possibly flip on a dime like that? He was telling her what she wanted to hear, but he’d keep on trying to protect her. And she’d keep resenting it, which would lead to more arguments. Could she meet him halfway?

  She could if he could.

  He was the son of a cop, he spent years on the force himself, and he was also a Marine. Protecting others was so ingrained that he’d need a lobotomy to change his behavior.

  Pounding hooves on the dusty running path along the river preceded the appearance of Churchill, Robbie, and Henry as they raced by.

  “Damn, they’re cute. But I thought this yard was off-limits,” she said.

  “Yeah, so did I. When you’re racing, I guess there aren’t any restricted areas.”

  Penny watched the dust trail, thinking about her kids racing around the plantation. But if she never got pregnant, she’d never have a baby. “I’m not pregnant. Just thought I’d tell you that.”

  The look on his face was one of pure shock. “How long have you known?”

  She didn’t look away, and she didn’t drop her chin. “Since this morning.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t want you to be disappointed today. It’s a day of celebration.”

  “Touché, Penny.” He sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the reaction you wanted from me. You’ve made your point about not sharing information.”

  He walked up the steps to the porch and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m also sorry you aren’t pregnant. We were both hoping it would happen right away.”

  “If I don’t get pregnant this summer, I’ll make an appointment with a reproductive endocrinologist. I’m too old to piddle around with this.”

  A sheepish grin split his face. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just took a trip back in time? That’ll pretty much guarantee a pregnancy.”

  “Where do you want to go?” she asked.

  “Let’s go—”

  Rick was interrupted by the kids racing by again from the opposite direction. “Hi, Uncle Rick, Aunt Penny.”

  Rick laughed. “Wherever we can find a comfortable bed and room service.” He kissed her—hard and deliberate and scruffy from his whiskers. The supple slide of his tongue made her almost want to forgive him for every time he insisted on protecting her.

  “I love you, and I want to be a good husband, partner, friend, father to our children, and everything else you want from a man. I’ll fail at one job or another during our lifetime together, but I promise to do my best. And every day, I’ll love you more than I did the day before.”

  She teared up. “I want to be the same for you.”

  He kissed her again before saying, “You better take the first drink offered, or everyone will assume you’re pregnant.”

  “Why would they think that?”

  “Because the guys have been busting my balls, claiming I haven’t been working hard enough. And besides, remember what happened when Sophia refused wine at dinner.”

  “Well, crap.”

  He put his hand on her elbow and steered her along the path toward the driveway. “Let’s head on over to the big house for the parade.”

  She glanced up at him. “Are we okay?”

  He snatched his cowboy hat off the porch railing and set it on his head. “Hell, ma’am. I do believe we are.”

  She shook her head, laughing. “Life with you, O’Grady, will never be dull.”

  They unplugged the golf cart, drove up to the big house and around the circle, honking and waving to the younger kids buckled into the back of their parents’ balloon-decorated carts.

  “Is there a golf course on the plantation? Where’d all these carts come from?”

  “Golf began in fifteenth-century Scotland. With this many Scotsmen in the family, there had to be at least a three-par course here. Braham set aside thirty acres early on and finished it a few years ago.”

  “When I first arrived, he mentioned lots of activities, but not golf.”

  “He knew you didn’t play.”

  “And how the hell did he know that?”

  Rick parked their cart at the end of the line. “Braham was a secret agent for Abraham Lincoln. He’s like Elliott. He knows everything.”

  “Has anybody seen Robbie, Henry, and Churchill?” Braham asked. “They’re supposed to lead the parade.”

  “Well, he doesn’t know everything,” Penny whispered, “Let’s not tattle.”

  “If they don’t show up soon, I might have to.”

  Braham whistled, and fifteen seconds later, the boys thundered across the yard. “Sorry, Uncle Braham. We were racing,” Robbie said breathlessly. Or was it Henry?

  “Can you tell them apart?” Penny asked.

  “Robbie usually has a cowlick, but occasionally they mess with everyone, slick Robbie’s down, and give Henry one instead.”

  The twins and Churchill positioned their horses at the front of the line. “Tell us when to go, Uncle Braham,” Henry yelled.

  Braham walked down the drive handing out cigars. Rick took his with a big grin, unwrapped it, and ran it under his nose, sighing. Then he whipped a lighter out of his pocket, flicked it, and puffed until the red ember crawled up the paper. Satisfied, he tipped back his hat and offered her an even bigger smile.

  She stepped out of the cart and used her cell phone to snap a picture of him.

  “Charlotte hired a photographer. You don’t need to take pictures.”

  “I know, but this is a picture I want to use as my cell phone wallpaper.”

  Braham whistled again, and Churchill surprised them all by playing “Post Call” on his trumpet.

  Penny’s heart lurched. “Oh. My. God. Whose idea was that? That’s just priceless. And look. He sits his horse like he was born to ride. I’m so proud of him.”

  When Churchill finished playing, Rick said, “Kevin’s been working with him so he can compete in equestrian events with the rest of the kids.”

  “I thought they rode Western style.”

  “They all ride both.”

  “Damn. I better up my game,” Penny said. “I’ve never competed.”

  Henry—or was it Robbie?—signaled with his arm. “Move out!”

  The boys on horseback set the pace as the entourage rode and trotted around the plantation until they reached a new road that had been blocked off for weeks. Strung across it was a red, six-inch-wide, grand-opening ribbon tied to trees on both sides with enormous bows and streamers.

  Everyone stopped. Philippe helped Rhona out of their cart and escorted her slowly toward the ribbon. Kenzie’s daughter, Laurie Wallis, climbed out of the back of her parents’ golf cart, took a pair of gold ceremonial scissors from her mom, and carefully handed them, sharp point pointing to the ground, to Philippe.

  Philippe faced the clan—tears welling in his eyes, his arm around his wife—and said in a shaky voice, “When I met Rick that cloudy morning in December 1814, he told me he might be able to help my wife. I had no idea it would come to this.”

  He kissed Rhona and gestured toward the house. “You have given us so much, covering the expenses for Rhona’s treatment, and”—he raised his leg—“treating my gout, and now moving our house to this beautiful site.” He wiped his eyes. “From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you.”

  Penny’s heart tapped a joyful rhythm against her breastbone as she leaned on Rick, sniffling, and whispered to him, “I wish I could have heard that conversation with Philippe.”

  “I was as nervous as a teenager about to kiss a girl for the first time. I didn’t know what kind of reaction I’d get. Philippe told me to stop dancing around and tell him who the hell I was.”

  “I know how he felt. I was shocked to see the brooch in the drawing Soph left for me. It was hard to believe someone else from the future was in New Orleans.”

  Too many kids to count gathered in front of Philippe and Rhona, chanting, “Cut the ribbon! Cut the ribbon!”

 
Rhona, wearing a red, white, and blue scarf to cover her mostly bald head, took the scissors from Philippe and cut the ribbon neatly in half. The breeze blowing off the river caught the ends of the red satin, and they fluttered in the air. The little girls—jumping and giggling—chased after the ribbons, grabbing at the air while the satin slipped through their fingers.

  The chants continued, “Woohoo! Welcome home! Let’s go see the house.”

  Philippe helped Rhona back into the cart, and they continued driving slowly up the drive with the children running beside them.

  When the mansion came into view, Penny’s jaw nearly hit the pavement. “Holy shit. Stop! Stop! I want to gaze at the house from here.” She climbed out of the cart and stood in the drive, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Rick parked the cart on the side of the drive and came up alongside her. “It doesn’t look like the same house.”

  “Braham picked out the perfect site and nestled the mansion among the trees with the wide lawn in front and the river at its back. It looks like the house has always been here. Let’s walk. I want time to take it all in.”

  She took Rick’s hand, and they strolled up the drive. The first time she walked through the wrought-iron gate, in what sometimes felt like a former life, she noticed the weeds and the unkempt flower beds, heard the kids playing down the street, dogs barking, the clang of streetcars. The only sounds now, other than the buzz of family noises as they mounted the stairs and entered the house, were chirping birds and the lapping river.

  Newly planted oak trees lined the drive, and the gardeners had planted flowers in the beds in front of the porch and also in large pots on both sides of the door.

  As Penny neared the porch, she broke out in a cold sweat. “It all started in this house. My entire life changed when I walked through that door. I’m not sure I can go back inside.”

  “There’s a bench over there. You want to sit for a while?”

  Penny glanced across the lawn and spotted a stone bench nestled beneath a live oak. “Tempting, but I need to face my fears.” She approached the steps and mounted the bottom one, smiling. “It’s fixed!”

  Rick stepped up next to her and did an experimental bounce on the balls of his feet. When Penny blinked at him, eyebrows raised, he said, “I noticed the give on the bottom step and thought the caretaker was slacking off.”

  She climbed the steps to the porch. “I noticed it too and couldn’t believe a house selling for $4.5 million had a broken step.”

  She paused at the screen door. The last person who entered had left the front door ajar, and she couldn’t resist ringing the doorbell, echoing the way her first visit began. The same chimes resounded down the long hallway. Rick opened the screen door, and they entered the mansion. It smelled of fresh paint, new carpet, and bouquets of red carnations, yellow daisies, and lavender chrysanthemums.

  They walked into the guts of the mansion, passing the same cabinets laden with dishes and knickknacks and walls of leather-bound books rising to a coffered ceiling, just like it was before. And then the sounds of a string quartet playing Bach’s “Air on a G String” from the Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major drew her to the first room to the left where waiters passed champagne and spicy hors d’oeuvres.

  “This is how I imagined a party here, right down to the music. Somebody read my mind.”

  “It’s a beautiful home, and so suited to Philippe and Rhona. It had to have been incredibly hard to leave this and find themselves stranded in the city they loved, but two hundred years in the past. And with no way to return.”

  Penny glanced around, looking for Rhona, and spotted her sitting in a wingback chair near the fireplace in the middle of the forty-foot-long room. And when she saw Penny, Rhona beckoned her over.

  “Philippe told me you returned the china you bought at the estate sale, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was my grandmother’s china and very special to me. I didn’t know what items people purchased during the sale, but I looked for the china dishes immediately, and Philippe told me what you did. My heart is so full of gratitude.”

  Penny was so choked up she could barely speak. “I was drawn to the pattern when I first saw the dishes. Then when Elliott was making plans to relocate the house and contents to this site, I knew I wanted to return the china to you.”

  “You’re so thoughtful and generous.”

  “As soon as you finish your treatments and feel up to it, I’d love to plan an event here and serve dinner on the china to celebrate all the wonderful things that have happened to us.”

  Rhona squeezed Penny’s hand. “Why don’t you and Rick get married here, and we can use the china for dinner?”

  “Oh, no. That’s too much,” Penny said.

  “Oh, yes.” Rhona smiled. “I’ll be better by Christmas. It’s my favorite time of the year, and I always spend weeks decorating and preparing for it. When we lived in New Orleans, friends often told me they thought our home was one of the most beautifully decorated in the city.”

  If Penny hadn’t spent the majority of her life loving so many older women, she wouldn’t know how to react now. But she had, and she did, and there was only one thing for her to do.

  She smiled at Rick. “It’s my fiancé’s favorite time of the year, too.”

  He picked up on her unspoken agreement and hugged her. “Sounds like we have a date and venue.” He raised his champagne glass. “To our Christmas wedding.”

  74

  Gothenburg, Sweden—Penny

  The Montgomery Winery jet landed at Göteborg Landvetter Airport on Sunday evening, July 14, and was met by two armored black Mercedes SUVs with a half dozen beefed up, tatted bodyguards wearing black T-shirts and camo pants, their tactical gear discreetly tucked away in deference to Swedish laws. The SUVs would transport the pared-down entourage to Thorskogs Castle outside of Gothenburg and all football, aka soccer, venues during their stay in Sweden.

  Since no one wanted to put too many family members at risk, only David, Kenzie, the twins, Pete, Churchill, Elliott, Remy, Rick, and Penny were cleared to go. Soph and Meredith weren’t happy about staying behind, but they understood why it was necessary.

  One of the men from Northbridge Worldwide Group shook hands with Elliott, first off the plane, and introduced himself. “I’m Tavis Stuart,” he said, “Team One leader. We have two ten-member teams, as you requested. Nat is Team Two leader. You’ll meet him at the castle. As soon as we go through passport control, I’ll explain how this is going to go down. That work for you?”

  “Are those yer guys behind the wheels?” Elliott asked.

  “Case and Mac are our experts in evasive driving,” Tavis said.

  Tavis and the other guys were younger versions of David, Pete, and Rick—more tatted and bulkier—but just as fierce-looking. “Do you have any women on your teams?” Penny asked.

  “Two,” Tavis said as they walked toward the terminal to proceed through passport control. “Raine has eyes on us from above, and Cat is riding shotgun in the second vehicle.”

  Penny did a broad sweep of the area as they entered the building.

  Tavis had arranged for an airport representative to meet the group and usher them through the process, so it went smoothly, and they were quickly back outside, ready to leave.

  “Won’t you and your team look out of place in the city, geared up the way you are?” Penny asked.

  “When we go in for the matches or any touring you want to do, we’ll dress casually,” Tavis said.

  “Even dressed casually, you’ll fit in as well as our guys do,” Penny said. “Which means not at all. You’re too beefed up, tensed, and tatted to fit in with the regular population. Your stance alone screams that you and the rest are packing concealed heat.”

  After the clan’s gear was loaded, Tavis said, “Let’s ride. We’ll talk on the way about schedules and assignments.”

  David, Kenzie, Rick, Penny, and the boys climbed into the first SUV while Elliott, Pete, Remy, and t
he rest of their bodyguards buckled into the second one.

  Tavis, who rode in the passenger seat of the first SUV, turned toward David. “According to the bios you sent, Major McBain, you’re with the Royal Regiment of Scotland.”

  “Retired,” David said.

  “Right, and you, Lieutenant O’Grady, along with Lieutenant Parrino, are Marines,” Tavis said.

  “Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Rick responded.

  “And Captain McBain, you’re retired Army, as are you, Captain Malone. Both of you are graduates of West Point.”

  “Correct,” Kenzie said.

  “And Sergeant Benoit is a retired Army medic.”

  “Correct,” David said.

  Tavis studied his notes. “And you all served in Afghanistan. With that much experience, I’m not sure why you need us.”

  “We’re here to watch my sons play soccer—or football, as it’s called here,” Kenzie said, “and we don’t want to spend every minute at the games looking over our shoulders. That’s what we’ve hired you to do.”

  “Copy that, ma’am.”

  David opened a computer bag, withdrew a file folder, and flipped through several pages. “This will explain why we need ye.” He handed a sheet of paper to Tavis. “Whoever tortured this man is coming after us. We don’t know who they are, how many there are, or when they’ll strike, but they’re coming. We’re willing to restrict our movements, remain together, or whatever ye need us to do, but we want the boys to enjoy this trip to the Gothia Cup. Since this is a single-elimination tournament, if the boys’ team loses, we’ll go home and not stick around for the final matches on Saturday.”

  David gave the boys a thumbs-up. “Of course, we intend to win our age division, don’t we, lads?”

  “Ye bet,” Robbie said, sounding like his dad.

  Tavis returned the photograph. “We’ll do our job.” He flipped through pages in his binder. “We’ve assigned code names to all of you. Major McBain, your code name is Papa Bear. Captain McBain is Momma Bear. Lieutenant O’Grady is Irish. Captain Malone is Ranger. Sergeant Benoit is Cajun. Lieutenant Parrino is Boot. Dr. Fraser is The Scot, and Churchill is PM—”