PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (30 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The stew was delicious. As were the scones, the oatcakes, the meats and cheese. Ainslee hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been until she finished her second bowl of stew and sat back. Replete. Warmed. And entirely relaxed in the big, upholstered chair Neal had set her in. She stifled a yawn. Looked across the table at her husband. Felt a thrill from it.

He was just so impressive. So manly.

And he was all hers.

Neal had matched her appetite, bite-for-bite. He’d finished right behind her. His bowl fell with a clatter, as if it slipped. He was acting strange...almost nervous. Edgy. And he wouldn’t meet her gaze. But, she hadn’t known him that long, and it had been a trying day.  

She waited.

Ainslee didn’t know what to say. The silence after his bowl settled was strange. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet, though. Rather, the opposite. He’d had a fire lit in the fireplace. Flames occasionally sent popping and hissing sounds into the chamber from behind her. The wall of windows was to the left of him. They hadn’t completely covered the glass panes. The day’s rainfall had turned into a raging storm. Lightning occasionally lit the space, sending strips of light into the room that matched the drapery openings.

Neal slid his chair out. It made a screeching sound against the floor. If she’d been any less comfortable, she’d have probably jumped. Ainslee craned her neck up to look up at him.

“I think...I should go get a shower. About now.”

“Shower?”

“Yeah. The rain sluicing off the roof makes a great shower. It’ll be a bit brisk, but I like showers better than baths.”

“Like...a waterfall?”

“Yeah. Exactly like that.”

“Oh. We have lots of showers. There are waterfalls all over Straith land. Gruder Loch has one. Ram Point another. Huntsman’s Wood also has a small one above the burn.”

“Have you...bathed in them?’

“Aye.”

“I hope they’re secluded.”

“I believe so. ’Twas never an issue, though.”

“You bathing naked is not an issue? You’re joking, right? I’m surprised we weren’t at war over that.”

Ainslee glanced down, toward her lap. She couldn’t help the blush. “No man ever...looked at me afore you wed with me. I was na’...the bonny MacAffrey.”

“Well. Lucky for me, everybody was blind. I think you are the loveliest thing ever born. I’m pretty sure most of the countryside agrees. If not, they haven’t met you yet.”

Ainslee’s eyes widened. Her blush deepened.

“All of which is not helping me one iota at the moment.”

“What?” 

She lifted her head. He was regarding her with a slight smile and an expression she couldn’t describe. It sent an immediate swell of heat through her. Everywhere.

“I have...things I need to tell you. I’m actually wondering what I should say. And how much. So. I’m thinking I might go stick my head under some cold water first. I’ll just take a chunk of this lye stuff with me.”

He picked up a bar of soap. Sniffed it. Ainslee smiled.

“That is na’ lye. ’Tis made with olive oil and wood ash. A bit of herbs for fragrance. Lye soaps are used for house cleaning. And laundry.”

“Right. Well. I’m not a history buff. I haven’t the vaguest idea what was used in soap right now. Which...is a good place to start, I suppose.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know what ingredients are in soap in 1803.”

“Why would you ken what soap is made of?”

“Well, you do.”

“’Tis a housekeeping function. I should ken it.”

Neal turned and started pacing. Ainslee smiled and pulled her feet up beneath her. Arranged her skirts over her legs. Leaned back into the plush embrace of the chair. Rolled her head to watch his progress to the dais his bed stood upon. Didn’t quite stifle the yawn as he swiveled and began to walk back toward her. He started speaking as he went.

“Ainslee. Sweetheart. I’m trying to find a lead-in here, and this is...truly difficult. H. G. Wells hasn’t even written his classic novel, Time Machine, yet. Crap. And then some. How about we talk about...Napoleon Bonaparte? We’ll try him. He’s around. I know a little about him. The man just got back from Egypt. He’ll publish a set of really large, incredibly beautiful volumes about Egypt. It starts the field of study called Egyptology. A complete set is worth a fortune. I know. I purchased one at auction.”

Ainslee perked up. “Oh! Is it here?”

He chuckled. “No. Sorry, love. It’s not.”

“Can you...get it?”

“Sure. We’ll put it on our wish list for when it’s published. Scratch the Napoleon idea, okay? It’s not working. And I can’t prove anything for years yet. Napoleon doesn’t mount his disastrous campaign into Russia for what? Ten years or so? He’ll eventually be defeated at a place called Waterloo and exiled to someplace called Elba. He’ll try and re-start his campaign, but...that fails, too. Then he’ll die. As do we all.”

Ainslee’s mouth dropped open. “Are you a seer?”

“Um. No. It’s actually...a bit more, uh. Mind-boggling. Far-fetched. Completely implausible. But...you do believe in paranormal stuff. Right?”

“Para...normal?”

“The world is full of weird things. Things that defy explanation. Like...your gift with horses. I was told you were fey. Do you believe that?”

“Fey?”

“Yeah. It’s akin to witchcraft.”

“Are you accusing me...of being a witch?”  Her voice dropped on the last word. A log fell as it in concert.

“Oh. No. No. No. No. No, honey. Darn it! I’m already treading water and I barely got started swimming. I forgot that witchcraft is a bad thing in this day and age.”

“It has ever been a bad thing...according to the church.”

“Well. That may be, but society will change. Nobody burns witches at the stake in the future.”

She gasped audibly. “You
are
a seer.”

“Not really. It’s more—uh. Wow. I’m trying to explain how I know what I know. This is a lot tougher than I realized.”

“But you have seen so much! Things I have only read about.”

“Good one. Let’s try that. What did you read? Exactly.”

“Lot of things! I found the best source, too! The Encyclopedia Britannica. The MacAffrey library had the third edition!”

“You read the encyclopedia? Cover-to-cover?”

“Aye.”

“I’ll bet that was fun.”

“It was! There is so much to learn! And ’twas printed by Scotsmen, you ken! In Edinburgh!”

“Oh. Right. I forgot that part. Scotland is actually a goldmine of inventors, love. But...that’s another thing I know that I can’t prove I know. Nor, can I prove
how
I know it. So. Let’s go with what we have. Was there anything in encyclopedia about...oh. I don’t know. I’ll just throw out a term. Watch your reaction. Was anything written about...time travel?”

The last two words were rushed.

Time travel?

Ainslee regarded him for long moments while the lightning flashed, the fireplace crackled and popped, the candle flames flickered. He’d stopped his pacing and stood on the other side of the table watching her.   

“Well? Was time travel covered in the encyclopedia? Have you ever even heard that term? Ever?”

Ainslee didn’t know how to answer. Something was familiar about the phrase, but she couldn’t quite place it. She had to think...

“I’m blowing it, aren’t I?”

“Blowing it?”

“You are giving me
the look
again.”

Ainslee tried to blank her expression. “What look?”

“Whenever I say something that sounds – uh. Well. Let’s go with ‘not entirely sane’, shall we? Whenever I say something that sounds not entirely sane, you give me a quizzical look. It’s really quite cute.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m trying to explain here without getting more looks because I sound like a complete knot-head. That’s probably another new term. Means...idiot.”

She remembered! She’d discovered a book in the library back home. She’d found it last season, dusted it off, and tried to read it, but grown bored. She clapped her hands. “Oh! I ken what you speak of! You are referring to the ‘Memoirs of the Twentieth Century’, are na’ you?”

“The memoirs of what?”

“There is a book in the library. ’Twas written by an Irishman, a Samuel Madden, I think. ’Tis a verra rare book. Verra old.”

“There is a book about time travel in the library? Here? Right now?”

“I am na’ certain of the ducal library. It may have it. The one I speak of ’twas at my father’s house. Printed in seventeen-thirty-three, I think.”

“Somebody wrote about time travel in the eighteenth century? Seriously? That’s wild. So, tell me. What did it have to say?”

“But you had to have read it. Why else would you ask?”

“Uh...”

“I’m afraid I did na’ finish it. I am na’ fond of epistolary novels.”

“Epistolary?”

“’Twas written in correspondence form. I find that style of writing...boring.”

“You’re an amazing woman, Ainslee. I really hope you know that. If not, I’ll just continually tell you. Beautiful. Intelligent. Self-educated. Extremely loving.”  He cleared his throat. “So. Where were we? Oh yeah. The book about time travel. How far did you get with it?”

“The letters are from a man who had been to the year nineteen-ninety-six. Or perhaps it was nineteen-ninety seven.”

“Nice. What did he have to say?”

“The Jesuits are in control.”

“Religion? That’s what the book features?”

“Aye.”

“That figures. Some things never seem to change. Sounds like we are back to square one, sweetheart.”  Neal took a deep breath. “I’m going to try something different. Let’s go back to the beginning of all this.”

“The beginning?”

“My...accident. Do you remember that?”

“Your accident?”  Ainslee didn’t feign the confusion.

“The one where my horse bucked me off and I hit my head. That accident.” 

He lifted the hair from his forehead. There was a purplish-hued bruise at his temple. It was faded about the edges but still looked nasty. She’d forgotten all about it.

“Oh. That accident.”

“You were there just before it happened? Right? You said something about Thundercloud. I remember that.”

Ainslee gulped. Looked away for a moment before looking back at him. Now, she’d have to confess. Her voice wavered. “’Twas actually...my fault,” she whispered.

“How do you figure?”

“How...do I figure?” she asked.

He sighed heavily. The sound was accentuated by a log falling in the fireplace behind her. Ainslee’s pulse leapt. Nothing on her body betrayed it. She was proud of that.

“That means I’m waiting for an explanation to something I find unbelievable. I’ll rephrase it. What makes you say it’s your fault?”

“I needed to speak with you so I hid behind a standing stone. My appearance is what startled Thundercloud into bolting. I...am so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, babe. Truly. But...did you see me fall?”

She shook her head.

“Did you see anything that would make you suspect he – uh. I mean
I
– had perhaps...perished?

Ainslee frowned. Thought back. And then remembered. “Oh. Aye. I did see you just before the lightning struck. You were lying in a bad position. Your neck was...rather skewed. I thought for a moment, you’d broken it.”

“Ah! Broken neck. Would have been instantaneous. Poor fellow. So...after you saw him, there was a lightning strike?”

“It hit the meadow. ’Twas so bright, it blinded me for a moment. And the thunder knocked me off my feet. And...then I heard you groan. I was so relieved.”

“I see. That explains...quite a bit of this.” 

He blew another sigh. There was a knock at the chamber door, the one leading to the hall. Ainslee craned her neck to watch as Neal passed her. She would have leaned over the chair’s arm to observe, but that might seem too unmannerly. So she waited. Listened as he exchanged words with another male. A lot of words. Something was said about Lady Blair. The poor woman. Ainslee should ask.

And she would...if she wasn’t so tired.

“They’ve come for the supper dishes, love. And look. They brought us a pot of tea. And more buttered scones. With honey. Hmm. Good thinking.”

Ainslee shook herself aware and watched the servants clear off the table. A silver tea service was placed in the center of it. An oil lamp was set beside it. She watched the flames glance off the silvered surface of the tea set. That was interesting. Mesmeric. The door shut. She barely heard it. Neal caught her yawning this time.

“It’s been a really long day. Full of all kinds of...stuff.” 

He poured a cup of tea. Looked at it for a moment, and then moved his gaze to hers. Ainslee had a hard time focusing. Her eyelids felt leaden. She didn’t know what was the matter with her. He was so thrilling to be with, and yet...