PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (29 page)

Ever.

Even with variables, none of that sounded disastrous.

The vicar apparently finished his recitation of the memorial service he’d provide on the Sabbath. A long span of silence was Neal’s only clue. He thanked the vicar and left. Honor Guardsmen accompanied his every step. Along the same, or similar halls. Up and down short flights of steps. They finally reached the oldest section of the castle, the one containing the dungeons. There was a plain wooden door in the main foyer. It opened to a set of narrow spiral stone steps. Walking down them felt like entering something akin to purgatory. The stone down here was rough-cut. Never smoothed. It looked more than secure. This place was impenetrable. The constable met him at the bottom of the steps. Gave him the news. They had a confession. It was exactly as they’d thought.

That should have broken through the strange aura that surrounded Neal, the one resounding with the sound of Lady Blair’s anguish.

It didn’t.

Neal didn’t linger in the dungeons. Torches may have lit the interior but it was still dark. Dank. Cold. Hopeless-feeling. There was nothing more to do. The fellow was secured. Fed. Given water. A blanket. A bucket. He could be dealt with later. After the funerals. Neal and his escort walked back up the spiral stone steps. A sense of light permeated each step upward. They reached the second floor. The door to the dungeon was shut behind them. Neal took a large breath. It tasted of freedom and life. The Honor Guardsmen accompanying him all matched with their own deep inhalations. They might have felt the same. Neal didn’t ask. They didn’t offer.

Neal and his retinue entered the double doors beneath the chieftain stairs. The guardsmen removed their tams. Held them over their hearts. Bowed their heads toward Neal. Still in complete silence.

Neal’s heart swelled. His chest warmed markedly. A knot closed off his throat. He cleared his throat and nodded in response. Six guardsmen turned about and left. Marching down the hall in cadence. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Two abreast. Their kilts swayed. Weapons jangled. It was extremely impressive.

The remaining two took up a post, one at either side of the chieftain steps. Neal climbed the right side, absorbing a silence that had a presence. Like a withheld breath.

Just waiting to exhale.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ainslee had been pacing her room when he knocked. He knew because her face lit up at the sight of him, she made as if to rush to him, but then she checked it, and a moment later resumed her steps. All highly interesting. Neal pondered her for a bit. She reached one wall of her room. Spun around. Started back. He didn’t think he’d taken that long, but he must have. Her maids had attended her. She’d probably bathed in her chamber. Had her hair re-braided into a barely contained waterfall of tresses down her back. She was definitely re-dressed.

Well.

It was all probably for the best.

A joint shower on his balcony was bound to be cold, and she’d been covered in a soaked plaid when he’d last seen her. At the front steps. He’d lowered her to the ground, watched, as did everyone else, while she said something to the big black stallion that kept him meekly following Dragonbreath, and then she’d mounted the steps into the castle.

Now, she wore a dark rose colored gown that made her skin pristine clear, her eyes strikingly noticeable, and her waist even tinier. The gown hadn’t been altered yet. The amount of material used for her skirt was an entertaining feature, since she wasn’t wearing pontoon things beneath it. With her movements, she snagged more than one scatter rug. She also appeared to be sweeping the floor at the same time.

Neal tried not to smile at the thought. She turned and caught him at it. Her chin lowered and she gave him a remonstrating look that should work wonders on their children. Neal immediately sobered and attempted to look contrite. And he couldn’t imagine why.

“Did...you meet with Lady Blair?” she finally spoke.

“Yes.”

“How did she take it?”

“Poorly.”

“Should I...offer to assist?”

“I don’t believe either of us would be welcomed, love. We might even be in the way. She’s under the care of a fellow who calls himself a physician. He’s using leeches. Uh.”  Neal couldn’t prevent the grimace before he continued, “he’s also concocting some sort of preparation for her to take. Remind me to never get ill around here.”

“’Twill be laudanum. She takes it for head pain.”

“She gets headaches? Really? I thought she only gave them.”

She straightened, lifted her chin to regard him from across the room. That remonstrating look of hers apparently held full censure. Her disciplinary tactics appeared to already be in place and functioning well. She wouldn’t have to use much more than an expression to berate a future Straith. He almost pitied them.

“Have I...done something wrong?” Neal asked.

“Of course na’.”

“Oh. I get it. You are attempting the decorous thing again, aren’t you?”

She blushed and dropped her gaze. Her voice was difficult to hear. “I am the Duchess of Straithcairn. I need to start acting like it.”

“Not around me, babe. I love you just as you are. Spontaneous. Loving. Young.”

“I...shamed the position.”

“Says who? I’ll sack them immediately.”

“No! Please. No one said anything. I have been thinking.”  She looked back up at him. “I should be a bit less...um. Spontaneous. A bit more...regal. So you will be proud of me.”  The last was whispered.

“Oh. Babe. I
am
very proud of you. Immensely. Completely. Crap. The last thing we need is protocol. Especially not when we’re alone. Everybody needs a place where they can let their hair down.”

She frowned. “My hair is usually down. I do na’ think I can get it all up unless I cut it.”

“I didn’t mean that. See? There’s an example. I continually say things you don’t understand. I need to explain why.”

“You were in the navy. You have seen a lot of the world. I have only read about it. Seen pictures in books.”

“Right. Well. I have to admit. That is a really good cover story. You have no idea. But...getting back to topic:  the phrase ‘letting your hair down’ means...um. Let’s see. Relax. Yeah. That’s it. It means to be yourself. Not worry over projecting an image. Not have to guard your tongue or thoughts every second. Everybody needs a place where they can do that. I love you, Ainslee. I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. We have a lot to go over, darling. A lot. You may think I’ve gone mad before I finish. Um. May I suggest...a change of venue?”

“To where?”

“Let’s use my room. It’s larger. And the floor could use a good dusting.”

Her eyebrows met in another frown. Neal had a hard time stifling the grin. She was just so cute!

“I do na’ understand.”

“Your skirts are doing an excellent job on the floor. I can tell where you’ve walked by the shine.”

She glanced down. Lifted her skirts to reveal a wadded rug before a slipper. Looked back over at him.

“Are you...poking fun at my attire?”

Neal chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Oh. Honey. Never. Not in a million years. And that is a fairly decent segue to what I have to say. Only it’s not a million. More like two hundred. And then some.”   

“The woman must be suffering horribly.”

Neal regarded Ainslee for several moments. Sighed heavily. Assumed a somber expression again. “Well. I can see that our early-dinner conversation is going to be a bit stilted.”

“Early...dinner?”

“The kitchen sent up stew. Scones. All sorts of meats and cheeses. Some fresh peaches from a hothouse I didn’t even know we had. The horrible stuff they call coffee. I sent them back for a pot for tea.”

“You thought...of food?”

“I didn’t order it, if that’s what you’re referring to. But it smells delicious. We should eat.”

“I do na’ feel hungry.”

“Me, either. But I could use a change. Come along. I’ll shower. Then, we can eat. Drink some tea. And I can get on to the business of explaining...uh. Lots of things.”

“My heart hurts.”

She walked slowly toward him. Her eyes were filmed with sudden tears. Neal had never seen anything so heart-rending. It affected his voice. The words came out in a deep soft grumble.

“I know, darling. Want to know something truly odd? My heart hurts, too. The old Neal would have taken a flight to some far-off place. Perhaps...Budapest. Stayed at an exclusive hotel. Turned off all internet and cell communication. Ordered the most expensive item on the menu. And then gone to bed with a clear conscience that things were right and just in the world. Which is all part and parcel of what I need to explain. You ready for your sup, yet?”

She gave him an unreadable expression. Neal took a mental stab at why.

The flight?

Budapest?

Internet and cell communication?

Hotel menu?

He was wrong on every guess.

“That is na’ odd, Neal. Your aunt lost both her sons today. Regardless of why and how, I canna’ imagine how devastating that must be.”

“I know, babe. And...like I said, the new me is quite a bit different than the old one. That guy wouldn’t have lost a moment of sleep. I was called a heartless cold bastard. It was true. But I’ve changed. I have learned how to feel. Because of you. I love you. Eternally. Whole-heartedly. It’s the most amazing feeling in the universe. Well beyond anything I thought was pleasure. Love has opened my eyes to so much!” He cast a glance at the floor, then raised his head to continue his heartfelt confession. “Including heartache. I’ve discovered...it’s not always fun and games. I heard Lady Blair’s screams. I can still hear them. But I have to temper it with the knowledge that today could have gone so much differently. That could be my body lying on cold stone.”

“Oh, Neal! I would have wanted to die, too!” 

Tears spilled from her eyes, making her even lovelier. Neal sniffed against an answering emotion. It made his voice sound more gravelly.

“That...is probably how my aunt feels right now. But I have to remind myself of the facts here. That woman is guilty of attempted murder, sweetheart.”

“You have...proof?”

“You mean beyond how her face fell when she caught sight of me walking into her apartments? Alive. Well. And talking?”

“Oh. I can na’ imagine!”

“Lachlan’s bullet was meant for me, Ainslee. He wasn’t the lone shooter, either. We’ve got a confession. They had another accomplice, the fellow posing as Garrick’s gamekeeper. His job was to make certain of my death, should Lachlan’s bullet. Fail.”

He separated the last word. She gasped. Neal continued his narrative.

“Not to worry. He’s having a nice stay in the castle dungeons. It’s not too onerous. He got a warm sup. Pallet. Blanket. I suppose I should draft up charges and hand him over to whatever legal system is in place...except I’m trying to keep this quiet. I suppose that is my contribution toward the decorous stuff.”

“This is all so...unreal. I feel strange. Expectant. Anxious. As if something else needs to happen, but I do na’ ken what.”

“Ah. Good description, babe. Entirely apt. Come with me. You need some sustenance, and I could use a double shot of whiskey. For courage.” 

He held out his hand. She placed hers in it. Neal regarded her ring-less left hand for a moment.

“I just remembered something...and it might actually fit.”

“What?”

“The reason I am standing here. Right now. Is because I bent down to retrieve something. It was in the ground. It’s a ring.”  Neal fished about in his vest pocket. “Now, that I think of it, this little ring is another good way to start the conversation we need to have. There. See? It’s my family ring. In the shape of a spiral. It’s the logo for all my companies - Straithmore Enterprises.”

She glanced at it. Back to his face. And she didn’t even ask the obvious question about his companies.

“’Tis verra pretty.”

“Might be small enough. Here. Try it on.”  Neal lifted her left hand. Slid it onto her ring finger. The spiral ring dangled. He tried it on her middle finger. It was still too large. He palmed it with a sense of defeat and stuck it back in his pocket. “I’m not giving up. You need a wedding ring. Mason tells me we have tiny rings in the Straithcairn collection. One is a sapphire that might match to your eyes. Or so, I’m told.”

“I have...the Straith emerald ring already.”

“Yeah. I know. But you need a wedding ring that fits. One you wear all the time. So the entire world knows you are taken. By me.”

She smiled. Her eyes had a patina of moisture atop them again. Neal was hooked. Rapt. His shoulder struck the doorjamb, knocking them back a half step, and breaking the spell. Ainslee giggled.

Neal shook his head, and tried not to flush. It was useless. He could feel the heat.

“Well. Glad to see that still works,” he remarked, and swept her up into his arms.