PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (9 page)

The man was sputtering. That might have been amusing in another time or setting. Neal should probably be grateful Dughall’s voice had lost quite a few decibels. He wasn’t. He was annoyed. His head was throbbing. And his belly wasn’t thrilled with him, either.

“You do have a daughter named Ainslee? Yes?” 

“Aye. That, I do. But…
Ainslee
?”

The man’s voice reflected shock or something close.

“I’m here to betroth your daughter. I’ve asked for the hand of Ainslee. We can set a date for the wedding at a later meeting.”

“You can na’ be serious! She—! She—! Why, I do na’ believe she’s even left the schoolroom.”

“Is she of marriageable age?”

“’Tis most unexpected. I mean, surely you jest.
Ainslee
?”

Neal gritted his teeth at the man’s obstinacy. He could really use an acetaminophen. But they hadn’t been invented.
Hell.
Aspirin hadn’t even been invented yet, that he knew of. The smoke wafting about wasn’t helping. He narrowed his eyes. “I asked if Ainslee is of marriageable age.”

“She is,” the man admitted, albeit in a grudging manner.

“I fail to see the trouble then. Let us settle. Allow me to meet with her.”

The man’s eyes looked like they might pop out. When he answered, he was stammering. “M-m-meet with her? To-to-tonight?”

“Well. Yes. Perhaps you’ll grant us a bit of privacy, too? Just long enough to give her the Straith betrothal ring. If need be, I’ll accept a chaperone.” 

“You are toying with me, your grace. And it is na’ pleasant, let me assure you. Surely you mean Lileth.”

“My offer is for Ainslee. Unless, she’s affianced elsewhere?”

“But—. But—. Wait! You may wish to reconsider. Lileth has a large dowry. The woman comes with two thousand pounds! Two thousand, man! Sterling! ’Twas settled upon her by her mother, who was a member of the Sinclair Clan!”

“We’ve already wasted time, Dughall. Now, we are wasting words. I came here to betroth your daughter. Nothing in the documents state
which
daughter; just as nothing specifies my name as the reigning duke. Now, I ask again, and this is the final time, for the hand of your daughter, Ainslee. Is your answer yes. Or no?” 

MacAffrey’s face turned a mottled shade of red before he answered, amidst more stammering and sputtering. “But…your grace! We all assumed...! We thought—! Lileth is first-born. ’Tis right and proper that she be wed first.”

Neal waited several long moments as he contemplated their host. The standing members of his Honor Guard stepped forward. Those who’d been sitting shoved their chairs back and also stood. Nobody had a sword drawn, but the menace being displayed was obvious. It simply remained unspoken. Something of the tension taking place on the dais must have filtered through the crowd about them. He could hear the shuffling of feet. Whispers. Groans.

“Does this mean you’re…turning down my offer?”

Neal asked it with a loud enough voice nobody in the vicinity could fail to hear it correctly. And then he waited. The Laird of MacAffrey was frowning. They both knew if the offer was declined, the agreement would be nullified. MacAffrey would lose the Duke of Straithcairn as a son-in-law, and Neal would be free. He watched the man’s comprehension of it, and knew exactly when it happened. The fellow’s shoulders sagged visibly. And he sighed.  

“I will have Ainslee shown to the library. My man, MacGruder, will show you the way.
Ainslee?
By God in heaven, I can na’ believe it.” 

The man stood on unsteady legs and shoved at his son until the lad also stood. Neal followed suit, and then had to wait before Garrick finally rose, as well.

“Get a move on, Mitchell! You heard the man. Ainslee! Send a message to your mother! Send another to Ainslee! And somebody get me another whiskey! I am going to need it.” 

The man looked older of a sudden. Feeble. He was still shaking his head as he left the platform.

CHAPTER TEN

She’d given up hope and was well into plans for Lileth’s elopement with her Robert, when a heavy knock came. Ainslee stopped pacing, swiveled from the far wall, sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward, and crossed straight to her door. She should’ve asked who knocked first. It was her second half-brother, William, standing in the gloom of her hall. He looked pleased. That didn’t bode well.

“William.” 

It wasn’t a greeting. It was a statement of unpleasant fact. Her voice reflected it. She would have shut the door on him, but couldn’t have succeeded. He was a product of a MacHugh and MacAffrey union, and, as such, he towered over her and outweighed her by at least two stone.

He sneered. She smelled whiskey on him.

“My. My. Aren’t ye fancied-oop this eve? Almost like you were expectin’ someone.”

“What do you want?” 

“Father sent me to fetch you.”

Her heart dropped with a sickening motion. A chill ran through her. She knew the color drained from her face. She felt it. The combination was debilitating. She barely kept it from sounding in her voice.

“Father?”

“Aye. He is requiring yer presence. In the library. Right now.”

“The…library?”

Her voice warbled slightly, but he heard it, and was thoroughly entertained by it, if his grin meant anything. The younger MacAffrey lads were all tucked in for the night and Lileth had managed to portray an illness so severe the Lady of MacAffrey was in attendance at her stepdaughter’s bedside. That meant there wasn’t anyone Ainslee could call on to get out of her predicament.

All of which ran through her mind while William watched.

She didn’t need to ask what had transpired. It was obvious. The all-mighty Duke of Straithcairn hadn’t done as she’d begged this morn. The bastard had asked for Lileth. The men had then spent a large amount of time celebrating, allowing even the younger MacAffrey males to tipple a dram or so. Then someone had triggered Father’s memory about Ainslee’s transgression and the punishment he’d promised. It had probably been William.

Punishment was always meted out in the library.

There wasn’t any other reason for a summons that sent her there.

Why, oh why, hadn’t she considered this possibility? And why hadn’t she asked who was on the other side of the door before unbarring it? And why did Straith have to be an unprincipled cad, with little care for other’s troubles? Ainslee lifted her skirts with a hand that trembled, worked at conquering it, and then moved past William into the hall.

“Why didn’t he send a servant? Or, have you taken to delivering messages now?” 

“Oh. I offered,” William replied.

Ainslee started walking, ignoring him as much as possible. Her free hand skimmed along the banister as she descended the spiral stone steps. The satin slippers didn’t make much sound. She didn’t hear William, either. Actually, she couldn’t hear much over the sound of her own heartbeat as it grew louder and faster with each step. She didn’t have to hear William to place him, however. She knew he’d be right behind her. He wouldn’t miss this.

She wouldn’t demur. She wouldn’t cower. She wouldn’t sob. Or beg. And she definitely wouldn’t cry out. No matter how many times Father hit her. Or how hard. She wouldn’t make a sound. She daren’t. It might be heard. She hadn’t seen the Duke of Straithcairn or any of his retinue leave yet. For all Ainslee knew, they were still in the great hall, toasting the betrothal of Lileth, while they waited for their host to return from the library.

She’d failed.

For some strange reason, that fact was a harder thing to deal with than her fear. She didn’t want to look too closely into why, so she didn’t. She simply put one foot before the other. They reached the third floor landing. Ainslee walked from the spiral steps into the hall, her steps barely making sound on the span of wood covered with the long woven rugs, either. This hall led to the salons, the ladies solar, the study…and finally—

...the library.

She stopped at the large double doors, her nose nearly touching. They’d fashioned these doors so tall that torchlight didn’t penetrate the gloom near the top of the doorframe. Ainslee pulled in a shuddered breath, straightened her shoulders, blinked rapidly at the moisture atop her eyes, and then reached for the handle. It was solid iron. Heavy. Well-used. Cold to the touch. It turned down without a hint of delay or effort when it normally required a wrenching.

The door opened inward into a room lit by a huge chandelier, since it was too hot for a fire. The library was a two-story room, built in an octagonal shape. Book-filled shelves lined every available wall, interspersed with two long windows that looked out at the MacAffrey loch. The room also contained free-standing shelving units. They were arranged, radiating outward from the center area, like spokes in a wheel. There were lots of shadowy recesses. Ainslee moved through them without a sound. Somewhere she heard the hint of a clock ticking away at time. It actually carried over the sound of her pulse.

She was heading toward the center of the room. Father always stood there, beside a massive desk all the MacAffrey lairds must have used. But he wasn’t there. Ainslee sent a quick glance about the spot, and then back the way she’d come. The door had been pulled shut behind her. William hadn’t even followed her in.

Ainslee forced herself to scan the area again. It looked deserted. There was only that large desk, a table, two sofas, assorted chairs. And then she saw a man silhouetted against one of the long windows.

He moved.

Ainslee dropped her eyes and stood rooted in place, trembling visibly. Why, oh why, was it so hard to be brave tonight?

Why?

“Well. Well. What have we here? It was
you
this morn. I should have guessed.”

Ainslee’s head snapped up. She stared across the lit area, and then up. He’d stepped fully into the light. Flickers from the candlelit chandelier danced through the area, highlighting every bit of Straithcairn brawn.

Oh! Thank the saints! It was the duke!

Relief whooshed through her with a rush, resembling a burn running with a torrent of water. She felt light-headed. Woozy. Faint. Ainslee reached out and grabbed onto the nearest object. It became the back of a sofa, the wood hard and solid in her hand. She clamped tighter to it as little dots danced about her vision, making the duke’s image warp and then clear.

Warp.

Clear.

“Y-y-your...grace.”  The words trembled.

“Miss Ainslee MacAffrey.” 

The library acoustics gave a resonating timbre to his voice as he said her name. His voice was warm. Deep. Musical-sounding.  

“Your…grace.”  This time, she cleared her throat first.

“You should probably call me Neal.”

“Your grace.”

Her voice was stronger. Her legs felt the same. Ainslee sketched a deep curtsey before standing back up. She didn’t release the sofa.

“We need to move past the greeting portion of this, Ainslee. We’re being timed. I’ve probably got but a minute left. You must reside in the Hebrides, as long as it took to fetch you.”

“You...asked for me?”

“Of course. Wasn’t that the plan?”

“Yes…but—?”

“But, what? Never mind. Whatever it is, we’ll discuss it later. We don’t have much time. I need to give you the Straith emerald engagement ring, and if you weren’t so damned young, I might...steal a kiss.”

She gasped. He regarded her for a bit and then snickered.

“Very well. We’ll forego any kissing.”

He stepped toward her, gaining illumination along his straight nose, full lips, strong chin... Her heart gave a start at his nearness. Ainslee’s eyes widened as she felt it. She’d known he was handsome, but it hadn’t meant much until right then.

“You truly…asked for me?”

He sighed heavily. “Give me your hand. Or…? You don’t want a bended-knee proposal, do you?”

“What? Why?”

“Why would you want a man on his knees? Or why am I here asking for you? Because, if you’re questioning the latter, quite frankly,
I’m
not even sure. I believe it has something to do with lesser evils. Add in a large, unbelievable dose of quantum physics, along with a heretofore undiscovered altruistic nature I apparently possessed, but have kept hidden, even from myself. All possibilities. There could even be something in the whiskey I wasn’t informed about. Your call.”

He’d walked around the desk while he’d spoken and stood before her, looking down. She didn’t know how to answer. His words were strange. Bewildering. And being this close to him had an odd effect on her throat. As if a knot had lodged there. She hadn’t known he was this large. He hadn’t looked it when lying on the ground this morn. The man was enormous. Ainslee was dwarfed. Even if she’d worn her riding boots with heels, regardless of how out of place they’d look, it wouldn’t have helped. She glanced up at him, and then back to the ruffles at his shirt front at her eye level.

“Your hand, my dear?”

He put his out, palm upward. Ainslee regarded it for a moment before craning her neck to look back up at him.

“Look. I don’t bite. All right? Not recently, anyway.”

“Bite?”

“I’m joking. Trying to alleviate your fears.”

“I’m...na’ frightened.”

“Left hand please? You looked ready to keel over when you first saw me. Don’t bother denying it. I didn’t just parachute in here, you know. Oh. Wait. Maybe I did.”

He stopped and chuckled. “Sorry. Private joke. I need your hand, dear. For the ring. I mean, you are accepting me, aren’t you?”

Ainslee nodded and placed her hand in his, and experienced a jolt of something completely unrelated to fear. She’d have jerked her hand back if he hadn’t already held it. She watched him slide the ring on first her ring finger, then her index finger, and then her middle finger where it dangled. It was useless. Her fingers were too small. He settled with crooking her fingers into a fist to hold the ring in place.

“There. Should work for the time being. As long as you don’t go around hitting anyone. Pulling weeds. Doing dishes. You know. Stuff like that.”

“Your grace?”

She glanced up. He was smiling. Her heart stuttered. She moved her gaze to his mouth and chin before anything else happened.

“You really need to call me Neal. All right? We are affianced, after all. I’m pretty sure you can stop the ‘your grace’ stuff, especially when we’re alone.” 

The breath she eased out trembled. She hoped he didn’t notice. His voice was unsettling. His touch even more so. Her entire body felt tingly all over, aware and alert, as if she’d just risen from the waves of the loch after a clandestine swim. Before the sun rose and the mists cleared. On the coldest of morns. Except this sensation didn’t make her feel remotely cold.

Anywhere.

“Hmm. If I’d known the color of your eyes, I’d have been tempted to ignore the custom, and bring a sapphire ring. I’d have made certain it was smaller, too,” he remarked. “By the way, we need to set a wedding date. You can figure that out, can’t you?”

“I can be ready tomorrow.”

He grinned at her. He had a beautiful smile. Very white teeth. Perfectly straight. Her heart stuttered again. Ainslee’s eyes widened. She swiftly moved her gaze back to the ruffles at his shirt front. Pulled on her hand. He released it.

“Oh. I think you’ll need at least a week. Maybe two. If this dress is an example of your wardrobe, I’m in severe danger of being accused of cradle-robbing. I was told you were somewhere in the age range of nineteen. But, you look about twelve in this get-up. You’re going to need some new clothing. Something age-appropriate. Tell your sire to send me the bill. And there isn’t a woman I know of that would turn that offer down.”  

Her heart gave another stumble. That was beyond worrisome. She wasn’t supposed to react to the duke. Or any man. And she didn’t dare feel anything! She set about squashing the reactions. Now. Right now.

“Verra well, your grace. Two weeks.”

She took a step back to make it easier. Glanced back up. Couldn’t move her gaze.

Again.

“Oh. No rush. I was just making conversation. Tell you what? Why don’t we meet up in two weeks...to discuss possible dates? And please. It’s Neal.” 

He folded his arms, and tilted his head to one side, giving the impression of looking her over as he might a horse or similar acquisition. Ainslee couldn’t shake the sensation. Her back straightened, and that just put every bit of her breasts against the tight bodice of the gown, defining portions of her anatomy no one ever saw. She watched him glance there and then he looked at something over her head. She watched a nerve twitch in his jaw. For the longest moment, neither of them moved. Nobody even breathed.

“Ainslee?”

Her eldest half-brother stuck his head in, his voice accompanying the door opening. Ainslee immediately stepped toward the duke. The move was instantaneous and instinctive. Self-preserving. And completely foreign.

It also blocked her from view.

“Oh…g-good eve, uh…your…grace. Have you seen my…uh…my sister, Ainslee, by chance?”