PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (21 page)

He held the hose toward her. She’d seen his eyes in all kinds of lighting and conditions. Right now, they looked like molten silver. And just as warm.

“Am I doing it wrong?” he asked in a low tone.

Nightfall’s trembling slowed. It wasn’t visible to the others, but Ainslee felt it. She shook her head.

“Then...what?”

“Nightfall allowed you in here.”

He glanced to the horse. Back to her. “Oh. I think he’s just tolerating me. He doesn’t like it at all.”

“How...can you tell?”

He whispered the answer.

“He knows you’re here to help. I don’t know how. This is way out of my line of expertise. But I think he’s only accepting me...because he’s in pain. Every creature eventually reaches a point where they just want the pain gone. No matter what they need to go through. And don’t ask me how I know that. Because I’m winging it here. I actually have no idea.”

“Niall?”

“Do your thing, sweetheart. We’ll discuss it later. We’ll discuss a lot of things later. When big boy here is better. Okay?”

“O...kay?”

“It’s a term for asking if you are in agreement. It’s from...another place. And time.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. It will be part of what we’ll discuss. You ready, then?”

She nodded, and took the hose from him.  

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dawn was peeking through clouds still swollen and dark, but doing little more than spitting raindrops, before things at the stable changed. Throughout the night Ainslee had worked the hose into, and then out of, the stallion’s mouth. Neal held the bag above the horse’s head and squeezed. Toward morn, he applied a lot less pressure than the first few times, when he’d sprayed the horse, Ainslee, and himself with drench mixture. The reason he’d eased up on the pressure wasn’t just due to the mess, but because his arms and shoulders and back were tired. And sore. And telling him about it with every continued move. Lower the empty bag. Walk to the stall door. Swap the bag with a full one handed over the rail. MacCreary was overseeing that portion. Most of the stable-hands had gone for some rest. Neal would have envied them if he wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be.

Ainslee needed him. And that was a very good feeling. So. He’d take a deep breath. Pull the bag close, uncaring if it leaked or not, he was already sticky and damp. There was a clear trail in the straw from his trek back and forth across the floor. He’d reach Ainslee. Hold the bag while she reattached the hose. Shuffle it into his hands, and then lift it above his head again.

Squeeze.

After hours of it, Neal’s arms visibly trembled. Ainslee didn’t look affected at all. She wasn’t paying the least attention to her husband, or much else. As if in a trance, she crooned, clicked her tongue, and whispered exclusively to the horse, communicating all kinds of messages Neal couldn’t understand.

But the horse sure did.

Neal still didn’t believe in magic, but he could see why everyone else did. It was just as Mason had tried to explain what felt like a month ago. Ainslee possessed a fantastic gift. The horse was clearly enthralled. Neal considered it. The Clydesdale might as well be. Everyone else had that issue with her.

The stall was getting all kind of unsavory smells and muck as Nightfall’s condition finally improved. Neal ignored it and took an empty bag from her. Ainslee blinked several times, in rapid progression. And then she smiled.

At him.

Neal’s heart jumped into his throat and nearly choked him.

“It worked. Oh, sweet heaven, Niall! It’s worked.”

Her whisper was heard outside the stall, as well. MacCreary broke into a loud whoop. Several men applauded. Nightfall gave a noxious-smelling ovation. Ainslee wavered as she tried to take a step toward him. Neal had her in his arms before she even remotely looked like she’d fall.

And then he cradled her close. Against his chest. Any bit of tiredness evaporated. Along with any sore muscles. Nightfall nuzzled Ainslee’s head and then nodded, as if giving his approval. That was fanciful. Neal shook himself mentally and started for the stall door. Somebody opened it for him. Neal smiled. The lad grinned back and doffed his hat.

“Her grace is dead on her feet. I need a plaid,” he requested.

“And we’ve got one ready.”

MacCreary fluffed a length of material out while Neal set Ainslee down. He had her bundled in it and back in his arms before she had a chance to gainsay anything.

The grounds about the stables and out into the yard were churned up and muck-filled. Neal skirted them, holding Ainslee as tightly as he dared without hurting her. Dawn glow touched the area he walked, lighting it. The area around his heart warmed markedly. That might be so there was space for the sensation of his heart enlarging. Neal had never felt anything so wondrous. Never had a day been filled with so much promise.

No wonder everyone spoke of love in such awe-stricken tones.

He probably smelled like a sewer and looked twice as grim. Neal didn’t consider it. He didn’t care. He might just as well have been floating. Ainslee’s breathing grew heavier, and more constant. She was asleep before he’d climbed the steps to the front door. And that felt even more phenomenal. He walked into the great hall, nodding to anyone he passed. Crossed the huge span of floor without awareness of one step. Took the right side of the staircase leading to the chieftain’s rooms. And hers.

A trio of servant woman started trailing him. Neal ignored them, bypassed his chamber door and approached the one to the duchess’s suite. He lifted Ainslee slightly so she wouldn’t feel him kicking at her door. It didn’t budge.

“Here, your grace.”

One of the maids hustled to his side, fussed with a large set of keys. Unlocked the door. Neal didn’t wait for her to push it open. He shouldered it easily.

“Will her grace...be all right?”

Neal turned about. Faced the trio of maids, all exhibiting the same expression of concern on their faces, although only one was rubbing her hands together.

“She’s exhausted. She needs a warm bath. Real warm. And food. Followed by a lot of sleep.”

“Aye, your grace. ’Twill be seen to.”

“Immediate-like. And make certain the water’s extra warm!”

Two of them answered, bobbed him a curtsey, and rushed out the door. The other maid hastened past where he stood to the chaise lounge. Neal would have followed her except Ainslee spoke.

“Niall?”

Breath from her whisper touched his neck. Neal’s heart stuttered again. It was such a remarkable sensation. It happened often, and only with her. He was already fond of it. He cleared his throat, but the answer seemed to have the same stutter.

“Y-Y-Yeah?”

“What...about our...talk?”

“Oh. We have time for that, sweetheart. Later. Right now, we could both use the rest, and I. Really need. To find my way into some soap and water.”

She smiled slightly. Yawned. And Neal found out what people used to be talking about when they said a heart could be filled to bursting. It wasn’t physically possible, but it sure felt it.

Exactly.

They reached the chaise, and he set her down gently. Reverently. Reluctantly released his arms from about her. Stood. And then Mason grabbed everyone’s attention from the doorway to the connecting room.

“There you are,  oh thank God! You are well! And the duchess—!”

“Mason?”

“I thought all manner of ills might have befallen you. I was about to ring for your Honor Guard!”

“Really? What on earth for? I could have been in my wife’s chamber.”

“I’m na’ prone to hysterics, Neal, but the tracks from your balcony—”

“Whoa.” 

Neal interrupted him with the word and a hand up in his direction. Mason instantly stopped speaking.

“Niall?” 

Neal bent back to his wife. Tried to project a reassurance he was far from experiencing.

“What, sweetheart?”

“You...fell from the balcony?”

“Ainslee. It’s nothing. I’m certain my valet’s mistaken. But I’ll go and see what all this fuss is about. Okay? Ah, look. Just in time.” 

Her chamber door opened. It was one of her maids returning, bearing a breakfast platter. The aroma of bacon, fried meats, and toasted scones followed her as she bore the tray to a table. Behind her came two men lugging a large barrel tub. And on their heels was a manservant with a pail of water.

“I’ll leave you now, love. Eat. Rest.”

“You need to eat, too.”

“Oh. Don’t worry. I’ll get Mason right on it. Until this eve, my love.”

Neal lifted her hand to his lips, but thought better of kissing her fingers. He slid his thumb along her knuckles instead. Ainslee trembled. One of the maids sighed behind him. And then he was moving away. He reached the door. Hustled Mason through the salon and back into the Chieftain bedchamber. He waited until both doors were shut before speaking.

“All right. What’s this about tracks?”

“Well. Look. I thought sure you’d taken a tumble or something equally drastic.”

Mason pointed to what looked like a scuff mark on the floor. Neal squatted and looked it over. Mason wasn’t mistaken. It did look like a partial boot print. There were more. He scanned the floor and saw another one, and another one beyond it. A fourth was just inside the door to his balcony. Neal stood and followed them all the way to the edge of his balustrade and then he looked over it.

He’d underestimated his foe, again. This balcony wasn’t just a method for possible escape. Looked like somebody knew it was point of entrance, as well. Neal turned around, folded his arms, and leaned nonchalantly back until his butt hit the stone. There was a really good print right beside his boot. And it was the same size.

“Looks like a size twelve,” he commented.

“Your grace?”

Oh. That’s right. They didn’t have shoe sizes yet
. Neal looked up as Mason approached.

“I was in the stable all night, Mason. Assisting her grace with a horse. A big Clydesdale. These are not my prints.”

The man straightened. His eyes might have gone wider, but they immediately narrowed as he looked down at Neal’s boot beside the drying mud of an imprint. And if the rain hadn’t let up, there wouldn’t have been anything to see.

“I thought it was you, Neal.”

“Nope. You know what that means?”

“I’m a-feared to put it into words.”

“It means if we hadn’t been at the stable last night, I might not be here talking to you right now.”

The man gasped. “And Ainslee?”

Emotion hit Neal like a brick wall. And then it turned to fire. Red. Hot. Enraged. Neal sucked in a breath and held it. Listened as his heart pounded furiously. Exhaled. He’d never felt murderous hatred until that moment. It took several moments to speak. Even then, his voice was harsh. Guttural.

“Do we know where that path leads?”

“Aye.”

“I will need Honor Guardsman posted there. It needs to be done quietly. No need to alert anyone.”

“Your grace?”

“Oh. I meant...there’s no need to alert anyone...
yet
.”

“I’ll see to it myself, Neal.” 

“And see to finding me something to shoot with.”

“A pistol?”

“No. I was thinking more along the line of something you use to go grouse hunting.”

“Grouse hunting?”

“I have an invitation to do so. With my cousin. I’ll need to do some target practice first. Figure out fire power. Range. Accuracy. Artillery. Things like that. You see. I may have been a dismal shot before my accident, but trust me. I’m an ace now.”

Neal was already fond of Mason. Trusted him implicitly. The man was worth double whatever salary they paid him. The look they exchanged only sealed the deal.

“So. How about you go in and order me up a breakfast while I make use of the rain barrel. I think I’ve sullied the house enough with stable muck.”

“I’ll fetch a towel.”

“You need a raise, Mason.’

“I am already compensated.”

“We’re gonna have to talk, buddy. When you get a raise offer, always take it. It’s like a breath mint.”

“Breath mint?”

“We don’t have those either?”

“I can order them.”

Neal hid the smile. It wasn’t easy. And then he lifted a foot and yanked off a boot.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Neal had never slept better. Nor with as much abandon. He woke at almost three in the afternoon, on his back, without a stitch on, and with a magnificent hard-on.

Wow.

This was rare. And he wasn’t thinking about the erection. The twenty-first-century Neal Straithmore was a poor sleeper. Rarely had two hours of restful sleep. He’d thought it came with the territory. If you attempt global domination of new energy markets and have a finger in world financial markets, you can expect some side effects. V.I.P. treatment at hotels and airports. Sporting events. Banks. Suspicion at stock holder meetings of companies he had his eye on. Instant adherence to his orders. Immediate gratification of just about every whim.

But dreamless, restful sleep was one thing you learned to go without.

Hmm.

Neal stretched, sat up, and looked around. He wondered if Ainslee had slept as well. Or if she was still resting. Neal’s entire body relaxed slightly and then warmed. He already knew he loved her. This was just another sign. He had to have the most beautiful wife in existence. One with a soul that matched. She was the epitome of womanhood...

Oh
.

That was stupid.

Neal looked down in defeat as his dick got the message, as well. This couldn’t continue. And it wasn’t going to. The duke and duchess needed to talk. He needed to tell her who she was really wed to. But...not yet. Tonight, they were going to alter this marriage. His groin throbbed as if in agreement. Neal snickered, scooted to the side of his jumbo-king mattress, supported his erection with a hand, and slid off the bed.

Hmm
. That was another thing the world needed. Athletic cups. Maybe he’d see to their invention. But first, he’d need to figure out elastic. But, that was going onto another back burner in importance. As far as he knew, they didn’t even have zippers yet. If memory served him right, the inventor was a Japanese chap. He’d specialized in zippers and nothing else. Made a fortune in the billions. Over a little clothing device.

Neal proceeded to do stretches, not only to limber up, but make sure parts of his anatomy weren’t going to be an issue. He moved from the stretches into push-ups, stopping at a hundred, went right into accomplishing an equal amount of sit-ups, finished up with over two hundred jumping-jacks. Following that, he jogged onto the balcony so he could dump a bucket of water from the rain barrel over his head.

He almost broke into song.

Neal stood there, dripping, listening to his pulse sing. His heart beat. His lungs expand and contract. He’d spent hours at gyms throughout the world. Paid premier prices for the best personal trainers. Ate all kinds of healthy foods.

He’d never felt this good.

Then again, he was away from Electro-Magnetic waves. No invisible electrons shot through his body as millions of people used their wireless communication technology and he happened to be in the way. That could be it.

All of which meant he really needed to get back to his goal. He needed to do something about the world pollution, global carbon emissions, polluted water, and renewable energy situation two hundred plus years from now. He was here for a reason. He had to get to New York. Put his destiny into play. It was in his hands.

And—

Wait a minute
.

He could always travel as the duke. Take Ainslee with him. Along with however many other people would need to accompany them. They’d probably go by ship – and while he’d been willing to go as a crewman in the bowels of a cargo vessel – if he had Ainslee with him, they’d travel in style. Ainslee could get her new wardrobe. But she wasn’t wearing the gossamer fashions Lady Blair said were in fashion. Perish the thought. Ainslee could set her own fashion. Set the world on its ear.

And he’d be at her side.

Shivers accompanied the mental image.  

What the hell?

Neal blinked the ocean view back into focus. Scattered clouds were on the horizon. Nothing hinted at the amount of rain they’d experienced. And he’d air-dried while he stood here, oblivious to the surroundings. That was so unlike him. Neal Straithmore was never lost in thought. He utilized every available second of every day. Time was his enemy. And it was always ticking by. Just as it was now. He needed to get this new plan underway.

Neal hurried back into his chamber, slipped into a robe that Mason had left lying across the foot of his bed, crossed to the servant bell, and pulled on it. Mason may have been hovering just outside. The guy arrived in moments.

“Good afternoon, your grace.”  The man greeted him with the title. It was probably due to the fact that Barnes was behind him. The door shut behind them.

“Hi, guys. And it’s better than good. I have to tell you, it’s great.”

Barnes approached the bed and started pulling covers back into place. Smoothed out any creases. Mason was the one who replied.

“Ah. I see you have recuperated from your veterinary foray into the stables.”

“Yeah. You could call it that. And I’m starving. Order up a really nice-sized luncheon. Unless her grace is having another tea or something.”

“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 platters, 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.