PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (22 page)

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.

“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.”

“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.