Chapter 31
Z
achary held Mary not nearly as long as he would have liked, though likely far longer than her brother wanted him to. He looked over her head to find Kendrick standing ten feet away, patting his sword meaningfully.
“Mary?”
“Hmmm?”
“I think your brother has plans.”
“You should have some, too,” she advised, “and they should include killing him quickly to rid us of the annoyance of his presence. Please.”
He laughed briefly. “I think you would miss him, so I’ll forbear. I also imagine we could escape not only him, but this entire collection of in-laws and future in-laws if we tried hard enough. Let me finish up here, satisfy your brother briefly, then we’ll attempt it.”
She released him as reluctantly as he could have wished for, then handed his sword to Gideon and helped him gather up the rest of the guidebooks. He carried them all back into the ticket booth and stacked them for Mrs. Gladstone.
She of the voracious till was sitting in her padded chair busily picking up dropped stitches. She glanced up at him. “That bloke fair ruined me Fair Isle work and I will not forget the insult.”
“I’m sure Lord Gideon will see him appropriately chastised,” Zachary offered.
Mrs. Gladstone pursed her lips. “I certainly hope so.” She glanced out her window. “I see the Earl of Seakirk has a sword. And so do ye, apparently. Going to use them soon?”
Zachary laughed a little uneasily. “Mrs. Gladstone, why would you think that?”
“Lad, you live in the north long enough and you see it all.” She looked over her bifocals at him. “I’d charge ye the normal entrance, but I note ye’ve no pockets.”
“I’ll pay double the next time.”
“See that ye do.” She pulled a teal blue metal four-millimeter out of her bun and pointed it at him. “Ye don’t want to meet this in the dark, I daresay.”
Zachary nodded gravely, left Mrs. Gladstone to her Fair Isle, then walked up the way with Mary, collecting a following as he did so. It felt slightly surreal to find himself in the company of medieval men and one very lovely woman who were all dressed in jeans while he was the only one dressed in medieval gear and possessing a birthdate that fell within the past hundred years.
So much for no more paranormal activities.
He paused at the edge of what had once been Artane’s lists and was now a wide swath of green grass and looked first at Jamie and Cameron.
“Why are you here?”
“We came this morning,” Jamie said with a bored look, “just to see what Lord Gideon had on the fire.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Cameron said dryly. “He was actually worried enough about you that he forced me to fly him down before breakfast.”
“How did you know anything at all?” Zachary asked in surprise.
“Gideon called him last night,” Cameron said. “Apparently he thought you’d gone off rashly.”
“Can you blame me?” Zachary asked. “Leave it to Franbury to find what he shouldn’t.”
Jamie laughed briefly. “Zach, what does that lad have against you?”
“Zinnias,” Zachary said distinctly, “but don’t make me give you the details now. I’m not sure how far Franbury’s been digging. I think he got lucky with the guidebook, but now he has nothing more to go on.”
“Just vague impressions of memories that were there yesterday but are there no longer,” Jamie said in satisfaction. “I’m going to go home and make further study of this phenomenon.” He paused. “It might require quite a bit of research to do properly.”
Zachary winced. His poor sister.
“But for now, let us leave the fool to his speculations,” Jamie said. “He won’t find anything here and we’ll make certain he finds nothing anywhere else. Now we have a morning of fine sport to look forward to. Lady Mary, shall we go find ourselves a seat where we might be comfortable whilst watching the spectacle? I taught Zachary everything he knows about swords, you know. Anything underhanded he knows he learned from my brother, who is not the purist I am.”
“Tell me more,” Mary asked, walking off with Jamie and looking more interested than she should have. “My father was a swordsman, you know.”
“I’ve heard tell of his prowess. One of my sincerest regrets is that I have not encountered him.”
Zachary watched Jamie and Mary walk off, then he looked at Cameron. “Yet.”
Cameron shook his head and smiled. “No century is safe, no lists are sacred.”
“Heaven help Robin of Artane.”
“I imagine he’ll agree, in time.” Cameron studied him. “You look exhausted. Sleep any last night?”
Zachary shook his head. “I was too busy hobnobbing with medieval legends. I’ll sleep later.”
“If Seakirk leaves anything of you.”
“Are you helping?”
Cameron laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Likely not, though I will thank you for putting Franbury off the scent. I wouldn’t worry about anything else. As for myself, I’m going to go find somewhere to sit as well. Just looking at you is making me weary.”
Zachary sighed deeply and watched his brother-in-law walk off. He turned and followed Kendrick out into what was apparently going to serve for the lists that morning.
He yawned and rubbed his hand over his face before he could stop himself. He wasn’t unused to going without sleep to meet a deadline, but he was the first to admit it had been a pretty unusual month. Even the last week had been tough. He’d driven from Scotland to Artane three times, been more worried about how a certain medieval woman might feel about him than he wanted to admit, and he’d just spent the past sixteen hours hopping over eight centuries and back to fix something he should have seen coming in the first place.
And now his future comfort at Seakirk’s dinner table rested on how he fared against Robin of Artane’s son, a son who he had the feeling had been just as driven in his day as Robin had been.
Kendrick threw away the sheath to his sword, then stood there facing him with his sword bared and a look of challenge on his face.
Zachary yawned again, because he couldn’t help it.
Jamie laughed.
Zachary shot his brother-in-law a look of warning, then unsheathed his sword. Unfortunately he had to yawn again before he could use it.
“Oh, by the saints,” Kendrick said in disgust, “are you going to sleep through this entire exercise?”
“I might.”
Kendrick’s look darkened. “I don’t suppose you spoke to my father about any of this, did you?”
Zachary would have preferred to satisfy Kendrick on his own merits, but he supposed Robin hadn’t given him that particular piece of paper just to have him keep it in his boot. He resheathed his sword, then pulled the letter out and handed it to Kendrick.
Kendrick read, then pursed his lips. “Very well, my father has spoken and I won’t gainsay him. You may have her freely, but it will be at a time of my choosing.”
“It will not,” Mary said loudly. She walked out into the lists. “I can decide for myself when I’ll wed him. I do not need your aid in this endeavor. And let me see that missive.”
Kendrick handed it to her with a grunt. Zachary watched Mary read it, then turn to him.
“Did you tell him that I loved you?”
Zachary shook his head with a smile. “I told him that I loved you, which he already knew. I told him that I hoped for the rest.”
“Well, then?”
He walked over to her, handed her suddenly spluttering brother his sword, then pulled her into his arms. “Let me ask you when we have some privacy,” he whispered in her ear. “A walk along the beach in a bit?”
She tightened her arms around him briefly. “Aye. But I need to go tend my horses first.”
He laughed. “Of course you do. I’ll go beg a crust of bread from Lord Edward’s cook, then come find you.”
She nodded, leaned up to kiss him quickly, then turned and ran toward the stables. Zachary watched her go, then realized he’d been joined in that effort by her brother. He looked at Kendrick.
“My lord?”
Kendrick handed him back his sword. “Sadly enough, I don’t dare gainsay my father, though I will meet you in the lists before you wed her. In six months or so.”
Zachary felt his mouth fall open.
Kendrick laughed at him, clapped him on the shoulder, then walked away. “Gideon, lad, where’s breakfast? I don’t know about any of you, but it’s been a very taxing morning for me so far and I need something strengthening before we go searching for that idiot Franbury. I wonder what he’s gotten into this time that Zachary will need to go rectify in a different century?”
Zachary didn’t want to find out, but he followed after the others readily enough because food was involved.
And then he fully intended to go look for the woman who was grooming her father’s wedding presents to her so he could finally have some privacy with her.
He picked up a guidebook that some distracted soul had left lying on the front steps leading up to the great hall, flipped through the pages, and looked again at the changed drawings. The trip hadn’t been without its dangers, especially the end of it. If he hadn’t been hauled to his feet and shoved through the gate, heaven only knew where he would have landed.
He wondered what had happened to whoever had pushed him.
It was tempting to speculate, but he resisted. He would investigate later, when he could see straight. He walked over to the lord’s table, set his sword down, and wondered if it would be impolite to simply stretch out and have a nap right there. He might have, but he was suddenly distracted by the howls of pure terror coming from the direction of the kitchens. Someone had obviously been busy.
He leaned against the table and watched as Franbury and his camera guy came tearing out of the passageway. They were screaming as if they’d looked into the very pit of hell and seen something there that they really hadn’t wanted to. Franbury was absolutely white as a sheet and his cameraman looked no less terrified. Gideon did the second man the favor of reaching out and plucking the camera from his hands as he bolted by. Cameron held open the front door to apparently save Franbury and his friend the trouble.
Their screeches faded into the distance.
Zachary could hardly wait to see what had inspired such an abrupt departure.
Ambrose, Hugh, and Fulbert came strolling out of the passageway without haste, chatting amicably. Well, perhaps amicably wasn’t the right word to use. On closer inspection, Zachary saw that Fulbert and Hugh were arguing about something. Maybe there were niceties that had been failed to be observed in the haunting just perpetrated. Zachary wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details.
John Drummond, laird of the clan Drummond during some as-yet-undetermined century—Hugh could have told him, no doubt—came striding out behind the trio. He was covered in blood, maggots, and other gruesome substances. He was also scratching his head. With a hand that wasn’t attached to the other arm.
“I say,” Gideon managed faintly. “That is a bit much, don’t you think?”
The Drummond put himself back together, cleaned up with a snap of his fingers, then sauntered over to the table. He looked at Zachary archly until Zachary made him a low bow.
“My laird,” Zachary said deferentially. “I can tell I have you to thank for that very fine rescue.”
“You do,” the Drummond said without hesitation. “My bit’s done, but I will come back for the wedding.”
“Where are you off to now?” Jamie asked politely.
The Drummond turned to him. “I’m off to haunt a few of my brother’s descendants. They’ve been living quite richly on my gold all these years and I’ve been itching for an excuse to point out the error of their ways.”
“All descendants of noble ancestors aren’t necessarily guilty of nefarious deeds,” Kendrick offered.
The Drummond looked at him. “I’ve heard about you.”
“I imagine you have,” Kendrick said mildly.
The Drummond grunted, then looked at Zachary. “I suppose I can’t leave without giving you a bit of a thank-you as well.”
“Me?” Zachary asked in surprise. “Why?”
John Drummond pursed his lips, considered, then looked at Jamie briefly before he turned back to Zachary. “I didn’t tell you before, but I wanted to thank you for your efforts to save that little American lass.” He paused. “You know the one.”
Zachary was quite happy to be leaning against the table. He knew exactly who the Drummond was talking about. He could only nod, mute.
“She was one of my descendants,” Laird Drummond said gruffly. “I could do nothing for her, of course, save watch and fret.” He cleared his throat. “I aided you today because you’re my kin. But I want you to know I’m also grateful for what you tried to do for a gel you didn’t know.” He shot Kendrick a look. “Keep that in mind when you’re vexing my grandson here. I’m not afeared of those pantywaists you have guarding your keep. I will come haunt you with a vengeance if you treat him ill.”
Kendrick didn’t look particularly intimidated, but he did make the Drummond a small bow. “I will do no more than a brother would do.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Zachary watched the Drummond stride across the hall to join his other undead cohorts. He nodded to the collection of medieval and not-so-medieval nobility gathered at the lord’s table before he changed his mind about breakfast and instead took his own path across the hall. He was happy to leave the others to the dissecting of not only the morning’s events but Franbury’s camcorder.
He loped down the stairs and walked to the stables. Perhaps the location wasn’t exactly the same, but the building more than made up for it in its sheer splendor. Gideon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said his father was keen on horses.
He walked down the aisle until he found Rex. He leaned against the stall door and watched Mary groom her horse. She was just as careful and thorough as she had been almost eight hundred years earlier. Some things didn’t change.
She finished, allowed him to open the door for her, then went to put away her brushes. He shut the stall door, then leaned against it and waited for her to return.
“Will he adjust, do you think?” he asked as she stopped next to him.
“Rex?” she asked. “Aye, easily. Good feed and a little brushing do wonders, apparently.”
He turned her to him and looped his arms around her waist. “And you? How are you?”
“Zachary, the century doesn’t matter as long as I have you.”
“Mary, you’re about to convince me that you love me.”
“I do.” She hugged him briefly. “But I don’t think you’re going to be awake much longer to contemplate that. Let’s go nap in the hayloft.”
“And wake up with your brother’s pitchfork in my gut?” he asked with a laugh. “Not a chance. We’ll take the Range Rover to the beach and nap there where he can’t find us.”
She smiled at him. “Happily. But I have to show you something first.”
He soon found himself sitting on a bale of hay, watching her go inside the stall next to Bella. He shouldn’t have been so happy to be off his feet, but he found he was. It had been a very, very long night and day.
He enjoyed his rest for about thirty seconds until he saw Mary struggling to carry four saddlebags of a medieval make. He set them down on the floor, then sat down next to her and frowned in surprise.
“Did your father send along rocks?”
“Didn’t you look?”
He shook his head. “I was too preoccupied with getting back to the right year.”
She heaved one of the bags up and dropped it on his lap. “Then look now.”
He opened it gingerly and found it full of a collection of rough drawstring bags. Mary took one and spilled part of its contents into her hand.
The gold sparkled dimly in the light from the windows.
“What’s this?” he asked in astonishment.
“My dowry.”
“How do you know?”
She pulled a slip of parchment from the back pocket of her jeans. “My father said as much. Three are mine, one is yours.”
He wouldn’t have been any more surprised if Robin had appeared at the door and said as much. “But why?”
“Because my father said you deserved it,” she said softly. “You were willing to shovel manure for me.”
He put his hand to the back of her head, then leaned over and kissed her softly. “You were reward enough.”
She smiled, hugged him briefly, then pulled away. “How much is it worth in your day? Our day, I should say.”
Zachary shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea.”
She fingered the coins in her hand for a moment. “Could I buy Moraig’s house with this?”
“A thousand times over and still have enough left to splurge on a few hot showers,” he said with a smile. “But you don’t want to live in Scotland, do you?”
She shrugged, though she didn’t look particularly casual. “I just want to live with you. The location doesn’t matter.”
But it mattered to him. Visions of Wyckham floated in front of him. In the summer surrounded by rolling hills and flower-strewn meadows, in the winter surrounded by snow-covered hills and winding country lanes, at sunset, when the plastered walls turned to gold, or pink, or purple.
Mary put the gold back in the pouch, then put it back in the saddlebag.
“You know, this is all yours now,” she said, looking at him with a grave smile.
“Of course it isn’t,” he said without hesitation.
“Of course, it is. That’s what a dowry is for, after all. So a man can keep his knights and horses fed and make certain his roof doesn’t leak. I think my father sent along extra so my horses wouldn’t beggar you.”
Zachary shook his head. “Mary, I can’t take this.”
She brushed the bangs out of his eyes, then leaned forward and kissed him. “Don’t force me to drag you out to the lists and best you there.”
“I think you just might today,” he said. He put his arms around her and held her close for a moment or two in silence, then pulled away. “Let’s talk about it later. All I want now is to escape with you before your brother decides we need a chaperon.”
“I’ll distract him whilst you find a place for this.”
He was happy to let her try. He hauled into the keep saddlebags that were heavy enough that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed them earlier, and then asked Gideon for a room that actually had a lock on it.
One thing was for certain: he was not putting them in Anne’s solar.
Several hours later, he was pulling into Wyckham’s suggestion of a car park. He shut off the engine, then leaned back against the seat and looked at what was left of the castle.
Then it occurred to him that Mary hadn’t seen it in its current state.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t think.”
She looked at him, but her expression was full of understanding and not a little pity. “No wonder you couldn’t stop looking at the place.”
“Well, I was actually trying to distract myself from looking at you, if you want the entire truth,” he admitted, “but yes, I was a little overwhelmed.”
“Might we go inside?”
“It’s your brother’s,” he said with a faint smile. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”
“Kendrick owns Wyckham now?” she asked in surprise.
Zachary nodded. “I’m not sure when he bought it, but it’s definitely his now. The cottage I’ve been working on is right next to it. We can look at both, if you like.”
“Aye, I would.”
He opened her door for her, then locked the car and shoved the keys in his pocket. He walked around the courtyard with her, mourning the loss of things he knew had been there in the past. The garden was overrun, the lists empty, the stables but a fond memory. He walked inside the keep with her, but it was just a shell of its former self. He’d already known that, of course, but seeing it all again through Mary’s eyes was more difficult than he’d imagined it would be.
“Let’s go look at the cottage,” he suggested. “At least it has a roof.”
She nodded, then walked with him out the gates and around the corner of a wall to the little cottage that butted up against the stone.
It had been a charming place to begin with, true, but he had to admit that the improvements had been good ones. There was a large hearth in the great room, with a pair of bedrooms and a bathroom opening off that main room. The kitchen was in the back, dominated by a bright blue Aga sitting in one corner. It was definitely larger than Moraig’s house, but had much of the same charm, only this had been run through a British filter. Every time Zachary walked across the threshold, he felt as if he’d walked back in time fifty years.
Figuratively, of course.
He leaned against a wall and watched Mary wander through the place. She touched wood and stone, ran her fingers over overstuffed furniture and along windowsills, then wandered in and out of the kitchen. She came to a stop in a different doorway.
“What was it like when you first saw it?”
“Bare.”
She smiled. “’Tis lovely. Kendrick must be pleased.”
“I wish he would be slightly less pleased so he would sell it to me.”
“Won’t he?”
He shook his head, but smiled just the same. “We’ll find something, Mary, and I’ll redo it to suit you.”
She looked at him seriously. “I would have lived with the swine and the chickens, Zachary.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
And he did know it. He was also rather relieved that it wouldn’t be necessary. He would have been happy to have had the chance to turn Wyckham into the same bit of magnificence Nicholas de Piaget had created for his love, but perhaps there were things in this life that were simply beyond reach.
He was profoundly grateful that Maryanne de Piaget wasn’t one of them.
He walked over to her, took her into his arms, then held her close for a moment or two before he looked around for a decent place to kneel.