PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (28 page)

“Listen to me! Everyone. This is not murder. This is a hunting accident.”

“A hunting accident? Are you daft?” Barrister Kingston asked.

“Think, men! Who among us wishes to walk into my aunt’s rooms with the news that her eldest son was just murdered by her youngest? Well? Who?”

Grumbling could be heard from the crowd. A lot of whispers. A cough. Neal went down on a knee beside Garrick. Gestured for Kingston to join him, so both barristers could hear. He bent close to Garrick’s ear.

“Garrick! Garrick!”

The man shuddered and then spoke. “Aye?”

A froth of bloody foam accompanied the word. Neal pulled the handkerchief from his sporran and wiped at Garrick’s lips.

“Was this murder?”

“I—”

More bloody foam spewed from the man’s mouth. Neal sopped at it, too.

“Do we tell your mother it was murder?” he asked in a loud voice.

The man jerked. Did it again. And finally answered.

“No.”   

“Well. There you have it. Barristers Kingston and Bon. What say you? Was this a hunting accident or not?”

“Where is Lachlan?” someone asked.

“Uh. We will need a bag or two to fetch him.”

“What? Why?”  Neal asked.

“He was in the trees, yer grace. The men are verra good shots. The smoke gave away his position...and that means there is na’ much left o’ him.”

“Oh.” 

Neal didn’t know what else to say. He placed his handkerchief beneath Garrick’s chin and rose to his feet again. Barrister Kingston followed him. Barrister Bon stayed beside Garrick. And then, they all heard the sound of Ainslee, calling his name.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Lady Iliff’s wardrobe had included more than one riding habit. Ainslee had fallen for this one the moment she’d spied it. Crafted of a sapphire blue satin with black velvet piping, it was extraordinarily luxurious for the Highlands. The satin exactly matched her eyes, according to her maids. Beth, Mira, and even Doreen had voiced the same opinion. The seamstress, Mistress Aggie had let out seams in the back and sides to give Ainslee breathing room, but the jacket was still a tight fit. The skirt had the opposite issue. Beyond voluminous, it was meant to worn with no fewer than eight petticoats and a set of ruffled drawers. Ainslee had opted out of most of that. It was a good choice. The excess width gave her the ability to ride astride without violating too much decorum.

She hadn’t slept in. She hadn’t known why. Something had awakened her earlier than usual. She’d rung the servant bell. She had a day planned of touring the first floor, checking stores and whatever else was down in the windowless bowels of the original tower. She was the chatelaine of Castle Straith now. She wasn’t looking to Lady Blair for help, nor would she accept any. Ainslee had been debating between a light-blue day-gown and the tan one, neither of which should show much dust, when Beth and Mira had arrived, alert as if it was broad daylight and not pre-dawn.

That’s when Ainslee learned of the grouse hunt. It was all her maids could speak of. The castle was abuzz with it. The duke could be in danger. Storms filled the sky – an ill omen to be sure. The weather was dire. Danger imminent. The duke didn’t realize the extent of his aunt’s hatred. Or his cousin’s jealousy. Someone needed to do something.

If the duke perished...?

Beth hadn’t finished the words. She didn’t need to. But nothing they thought came close to Ainslee’s reaction. Her maids might think they knew what would ensue, but no one could guess the pain that had stabbed nearly through Ainslee at the thought of losing Neal. Her eyes blurred with tears she rapidly blinked from existence. That’s when she’d directed Mira to this riding habit. But everything took too long!

She was the Duchess of Straithcairn. She stood at the head of a proud, Highland clan. She could no longer ride about the countryside willy-nilly. She had responsibilities. Duties. A position to uphold.

Ainslee stood in shock as she realized it.

How had she changed this much?

In two days?

She knew what had happened. She’d fallen in love. Completely. Totally. And she wanted him to be proud of her. So, she’d stood and worried, caught up in a personal purgatory of possibilities as her maids helped her don long stockings with bows at the thighs to hold them up. A set of bloomers. Two petticoats. She’d trembled while all the buttons were fastened up her back, but hadn’t betrayed her impatience or anxiety.

Exactly as a duchess should.

Ainslee had walked at a sedate pace down the chieftain’s stairs, carrying a cloak over one arm. She crossed the great hall, holding her skirts aloft. Listened to the heels of her riding boots as they clacked on the wooden floor. That seemed to take forever, too.

As did the walk to the stables.

One of Neal’s Honor Guardsmen met her at the front stoop. He nodded in greeting as she covered up with her cloak. The guardsman shadowed her all the way to the stables. His presence warmed Ainslee considerably. He stayed five paces behind her as she walked from stall to stall, greeting horses. MacCreary joined her at the second stall. They discussed a potential mount for a morning ride. A groom. The best place for a run. As if she had nothing better to do this morning.

They’d reached Nightfall’s stall. He’d been brushed and groomed, and accepted her presence with a head toss in her direction. He ignored MacCreary and the guardsman. Just as he ignored the stable hands milling about. She talked over Nightfall’s recovery and how well he looked. Opened the stall to what sounded like a combined inhaled breath from those watching. Greeted the stallion with a rub along his blaze. He whickered in response.  

And then, her façade fell apart.

Shouts sounded at the stable opening. The sound of thudding hooves came next as a rider arrived. Ainslee stood, listening intently, and that’s when she heard the words that sent her heart to the pit of her belly. The messenger had ridden hard. He spoke through gasps for breath.

“There’s been...a hunting accident! Send...a litter! Huntsman’s Dale!”

“A hunting accident?”

“Hunting accident?”

Hunting accident.
The words kept repeating, accompanying each heartbeat. Ainslee didn’t think. She acted. She grabbed a handful of Nightfall’s mane, pulled him around, and launched off his water trough, straddling the stallion. He was wider than she’d expected. The skirts rode up her ankles with her move. He shook his head, loosening her grip, so she grabbed higher up his head with both hands. Scooted up to whisper toward his ear. He trembled but didn’t otherwise react. It’s all she had to go by.

“It’s the duke! You must get me to him, my big handsome
gaol.
You must!”

Nightfall started moving. Muscles rippled everywhere she touched as he trotted through the stables. Groomsmen jumped out of her way. Ainslee ducked to clear a beam. Another one. She heard MacCreary shouting orders behind her. Assumed he’d get someone up on horseback to accompany her. But Ainslee didn’t care a fig about a groom, or decorum at the moment. All she cared about was reaching Neal.

The stallion broke into a canter when they cleared the portcullis. Ainslee lost the cloak as a spike grabbed her hood, yanking the cloak from her, as well as loosening some of her braids. She bent closer to Nightfall’s neck, matching to him, so that when the walls opened up she was securely attached. Even as he bucked twice before breaking into a ground-eating gallop.

Nightfall was amazing. Ainslee had never been so high. Nor moved so swiftly. He also seemed to know where she needed to go. He turned, leapt a section of the wall, and went through high meadow grass as if it were nothing.    

Wind lifted her hair into a veil. Ruffled her skirts along Nightfall’s sides. Lightning crashed in the distance. The rolling boom of thunder accompanied it. The horse surged forward with each one, but didn’t falter otherwise. They leapt a burn, running high with water. Started up a hill, covered in shale. Ainslee clung in place, tightening her thighs as he crested the hill and started sliding the other side, slipping occasionally on loose rock. Raindrops splashed her face, wetting her dress. They cooled. Raised goose bumps. But hampered her vision even more.

Ainslee narrowed her eyes.

The standing stones came into view.

Moments later, Nightfall reached the arrangements of monolithic stones. Passed between them. Crested the next hill. Groups of men were standing in the bottom of the valley. Several more were near the trees. Some were walking between them. And she couldn’t see Neal.    

“Dear God! Not Neal. Please, God. Not Neal. Please? Please?”

The litany didn’t stop. She kept repeating the prayer in time with Nightfall’s strides.

“Please, God? Not Neal! Please?”

Someone saw her. Shouted. Pointed. Nightfall bore down on them at full speed. Hooves thudding. Chunks of turf flying. She clung to him. Her hair was a loose mass that streamed behind her. It blended with Nightfall, and gave the horse the appearance of wings. The skirts of her dark habit rippled in waves along the stallion’s sides. She looked like a banshee.

And none of that mattered.

She started calling for him.

“Neal! Neal!”

One of the men waved. Another. Nightfall sped past anyone walking, bore down on the group. The stallion stopped just shy of blasting through the gathering. Without one hint of instruction from her. He stood there, sides heaving, breath fogging the air before his nose. Ainslee slid from his side. Stumbled.

But she couldn’t see him!

Ainslee scanned faces with rising anxiety. Most of the men were wide-eyed and slack-jawed with astonishment at her arrival. She didn’t care. She couldn’t spot Neal.

“Ne-al!” 

She tried to shout it, but the name came out sobbed. Broken with fear. The gathering started moving back, parting for her. And in the midst of them she saw him.

Alive.

“Neal!”

Her cry carried relief. Absolute joy. He stood with his mouth also open at her appearance. Nothing had ever looked so wondrous. Ainslee didn’t know how she got there, but a moment later she was in his arms. Wrapped within them, and then lifted off the ground.

And that’s when she burst into tears.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The day fulfilled its promise. The storm broke as the cart arrived. Everyone carried extra plaids in their packs. Ainslee sat atop Dragonbreath wrapped in one. She was completely covered. Impossible to verify identity.

Her presence still affected him.

Neal caught himself glancing more than once up to the lone figure sitting atop the large stallion. Dragonbreath was an impressive horse. He was eclipsed by the dark stallion that stood beside him. It was unbelievable that she’d ridden Nightfall. Even more so, since she’d done it without a saddle, reins, or even the bit thing in its mouth. Nightfall still hovered next to Ainslee as if she held an invisible rope connecting them. Neal hadn’t been the only one stunned as the big horse had borne down on them, and stopped dead. He’d been so amazed his voice hadn’t worked to answer her.

He shook his head, spraying droplets. Swiped at his brow. There was no longer any rush to their movements, although they’d all be glad to reach shelter. There was nothing anyone could do. Garrick had breathed his last. The men were all solemn as Garrick’s body was draped across his saddle. The gamekeeper he’d had with him was trussed up and draped across another horse. He’d probably still be proclaiming innocence except for the gag Cedric had used on him. What remained of Lachlan rested in the cart, covered with at least two plaids.

Neal approached Dragonbreath and eyed him for a moment. Ainslee caught his glance before shifting closer to the horse’s neck, giving Neal room. Nobody appeared to be looking. He’d just have to mount by himself. Neal gathered the reins in his left hand before holding to the pommel, stuck his left foot in the stirrup, and heaved up and into the saddle. He was fairly pleased with himself, too, except for the puddle of plaid material between his legs. That took a moment or two to adjust before he was situated.

He blinked more rain from his eyes, and then swiped his hand across his hair, plastering it to his skull, sticking the ends onto his shoulders. He probably should have pulled the kilt band from his back and covered his head with it. It made a rain shelter. He’d seen others doing that. It made sense.

And then Ainslee leaned into him and made everything on his body vibrate to an entirely different frequency. Warmth radiated from where she touched. Contact with the elements no longer mattered. She looked up at him, and smiled tremulously. It didn’t match her eyes. Even in a rain-soaked mid-morn, he could see her worry.

“What is it?”

She shook her head and turned forward again. The top of her plaid was just beneath his chin. Neal wrapped his right arm about her and pulled her up and over the pommel and onto his lap. And then held her there. Someone gave the signal to proceed. It wasn’t him. Neal settled into line behind Cedric. The big black stallion Ainslee had brought started walking alongside Dragonbreath. Nightfall’s head was down. Rain dripped off his mane, tail, and fetlocks. Defining musculature. That horse was like a big black shadow. Devilishly dark. With a temperament that matched. And she’d ridden it? Bareback?

He still found it difficult to believe.

“Ainslee?” he prompted.

“Forgive me.”

Her whisper was slight.

Neal stiffened with surprise. “For what?”

“I was...indecorous.”

“In-what?”

“Decorous.”

“Please say you’re joking.”

“I am...the Duchess of Straithcairn. Duchesses do na’ ride about the countryside at a gallop. And they never ride unaccompanied.”

“Oh. Honey. If that’s indecorous, please? Don’t let me stop you. Or anyone else.”

“My behavior...shocked everyone. I know. I saw their faces.”

“Oh. Babe.”  He chuckled. It lifted her. “What you saw was pure amazement. There isn’t a man here who wasn’t stunned at your arrival on Blackie there. Bareback? At that pace? I thought you were going to run us over before you stopped him.”

“I did na’ stop Nightfall.”

“Right. Look. I was told you were fey. I didn’t believe it. But your ability with horses? I got to tell you. That’s pure magic, babe. Pure.”

She giggled. His heart lightened.

“I mean, come on. They call Nightfall a devil horse. And, if you’d looked around, you’d have noticed that nobody went near him. Know why? They’re afraid of him. I know the feeling. I’m afraid of him.”

“There’s naught to fear.”

“For you. And look. He’s following you like a puppy. It’s pretty unbelievable.
That
is what the men were stunned over. Oh. Crap.”

“What is it?”

“We’re running.”

The horse started moving at an odd pace. Neal jerked his thigh muscles tight in response. It was a subconscious move. It lifted both of them from the horse’s back. Ainslee chuckled. It wasn’t remotely funny.

“This is a trot.”

“It’s a death-defying run.”

She snorted back what was probably laughter. “You act as though you’ve never ridden afore.”

“You don’t say.”

“Aye. I do.”

Neal smiled to himself. It was déjà vu again. Back to when he’d first arrived and Rory repeated what he’d said. “Well. That’s just one of the things we will be discussing, darling. Later. After I meet with my aunt. And take a shower.”

“A...shower?”

“Rainfall means I get a shower. I’ll show you that, too. You’ll like it. I think. We should invent one...except we need to figure out how to warm the water first. I know. You haven’t got the foggiest idea what I’m talking about. I have a lot to explain. After I speak with Lady Blair. I’m not looking forward to that particular interview, in case you wondered.”

“You do na’ have to be the one to tell her.”

“I’m the laird, darling. It’s my duty. But I’m taking her solicitors with me. And Cedric.”

Dragonbreath’s motion wasn’t too difficult to follow, after all. It was like a steady jog with a hitch to it. Neal eased back down into the saddle and rolled forward and backward with the horse’s motion. He was rather pleased with himself. Ainslee gave a low whistle. Beside them, Nightfall whickered in response. Neal swiped at his forehead again and looked over at the big stallion. Dragonbreath had been the largest horse they’d taken out for the hunt. Nightfall was a good six inches or so taller. He was rain-soaked. Black as pitch. Silently trotting alongside them in perfect sync with Dragonbreath.

And she wondered why the men had been open-mouth and stunned at her arrival?

“What will you tell her?”

Ainslee brought his attention back to her with the question.

“Who?”

“Lady Blair.”

“Oh. Her.”

“You can na’ tell her the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, Neal. She’ll be devastated.”

“So? It’s her fault. She meddled with destiny. If I hadn’t bent down at that exact moment, it would be me draped over a horse back there. Not Garrick. And my aunt would be celebrating. Forgive me if I do not feel empathy. She tried to orchestrate events. Now she gets to reap the consequences. You can’t manipulate the future, darling. There are too many variables. Human nature is just one of them. Unseen events another. That’s why—”

Neal’s voice stopped. His heart felt like it did the same thing. His ability to breathe got affected next. His brain wasn’t frozen. It raced ahead. What in the hell had he just said? Verbally figured out?
Done?

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

“Fu—!”  Neal caught the expletive. But not the growl that emanated from deep in his chest somewhere.

“Neal?”

“I could really use cell technology about now!”  He muttered it from between clenched teeth.

“Cell tech...nology?”

“A way to get a message out. And received. Instantaneously. I need to recall a messenger. Ah!”

Neal lifted his chin and sent the cry into the air. Murmurs sounded from about him as the men heard and assigned a supposed reason. He didn’t notice much, and cared less. Rain splashed his face. It chilled. Carried dread. The afternoon wasn’t just filled with gloom anymore. It carried a large helping of foreboding as well.

“Neal?”

Ainslee was shaking. Her voice reflected it. Neal pulled her closer to him as if to provide shelter. He bent his head toward her.

“Forgive me, darling. I...have to work things out. And—crap. I wish I had that paper roll. And stinkin’ markers!”

“Markers?”

“I need to get this down. I work better if I can draw visuals. Large ones. Interconnected. Random and continuous. So I can step back and look at it. Ponder. Evaluate. You know. Brainstorm.”

“Brainstorm?”

“Oh, Ainslee. We have a lot to discuss. Trust me. An awful lot. We may have to pull an all-nighter. We’ll need tea. Pots and pots of it.”

She tipped her head to give him a puzzled look.

“I’m not fond of the coffee around here. It’s barely drinkable. That’s one thing I might be able to solve. Without incurring future world consequences, that is.”

The black rock wall of the castle entrance came into sight as a dark smudge against a lighter sky. It loomed closer. The horses slowed. The entrance to the corridor swallowed them. There were puddles about the ground. Neal could hear the splashing of hooves. Heavy breathing of their mounts. But not much else.

He was using the time to prepare mentally. Steel himself for the upcoming meeting.

~ ~ ~

Lady Blair’s screams followed Neal down the hall. Through the arched entrance to the east wing where she still resided. And farther. They even seemed to leach through solid wooden doors that shut behind him.

Her expression had changed the moment she’d caught sight of Neal amidst his Honor Guard. That was unfortunate. He’d hoped she’d been given a recounting of the hunting accident already, and wouldn’t be expecting her sons. Her lack of the correct information was instantly apparent. Lady Blair had gone from an expectant and pleased countenance to one that was tight-lipped and ashen-colored. And that was just from hearing of Garrick’s demise.

She’d crumpled when told of Lachlan’s death.

Neal hadn’t stayed. To commiserate or observe. Despite how his heart had twinged with her soul-wracking sobs. He didn’t know what to say. Or do. So, he’d turned about and walked away, leaving her in the company of Barristers Kingston and Bon. He had no affinity toward them. They’d come to discredit him. At Lady Blair’s invitation. They could earn their stay.

Neal hadn’t just been accompanied by Cedric, either. Eight members of his Honor Guard had been at his back. Neal had ordered the physician sent for. Given instructions. He didn’t couch it in what would be futuristic terms, but Lady Blair was on suicide watch.

He fully expected her to do so.

Neal told himself Lady Blair had earned everything she now suffered. Her grief didn’t bother him. He knew it for a lie the moment the thought occurred. Her agonized cries raised goose bumps all along his skin as he walked. Up sets of stairs. Back down others. Beneath arched entries. Down tapestry-lined halls. His Honor Guard accompanied him, one man leading. Neal hadn’t been in the chapel before, nor seen the vicar in muted attire. The place exuded an aura of sanctity. Reverence. Things he’d never suspected existed before. They discussed interment. The castle had a crypt beneath the chapel, but it hadn’t been used in decades. There was the cemetery outside. On land sheltered by castle walls. That would do.

For both men.

The entire time, Neal swore he could hear Lady Blair’s agony. It was like a shroud he couldn’t shed. It added to unease that had started up when he realized he’d done basically the same thing. He’d tampered with fate. Tried to align destiny. Put things in motion toward a certain outcome. But he shouldn’t reap a like penalty. He hadn’t done it for personal gain.

Well...not wholly.

Oh, man
.

The vicar was a long-winded speaker. Neal’s mind wasn’t paying much attention. He had a lot to mull. He reassured himself that he wasn’t splitting hairs here. He hadn’t done what Lady Blair had. She, and her cohorts, had planned murder. Neal was different. He was planning on saving humanity.

That was altruistic.

Not selfish.

He hadn’t looked at all the pitfalls, because he hadn’t taken the time nor drawn it up, but his plan couldn’t go far wrong. And if he could solve the global warming issues due to carbon footprint problems before they even started, shouldn’t he?

If everything went according to plan...

And nothing untoward happened...

Ah!

There were so many unpredictable events! So many years to account for! He’d sent Iain with clear instructions, but those could be misinterpreted. He hadn’t written them down. They were to be given to a broker, but what if the man wasn’t trustworthy? What if Iain Straithmore misinterpreted them? Neal wanted stock in iron first. As steel became available on the market, sell iron and buy steel. By the late nineteenth century, that stock needed to be sold so they could buy into electricity...and back pretty much anything Nikolai Tesla was working on. Make certain to buy a major share of Ford Motor Company stock. Enough to assure the design engineers put electrical engines in the Model T and not gasoline combustion ones. But whatever happens, do not buy petroleum stock.