He reached out and gingerly took it, not taking his eyes off her. He tasted, because she had offered it to him. “Aye.”
She continued to chop. He didn’t want to watch her, but he couldn’t help himself. He had a score of questions he wanted to ask her, beginning and ending with who she was, where she came from, and when she was born, but he supposed it wasn’t the proper time or place to be asking those sorts of questions.
So, because he could think of nothing else to do, he drew a knife from his boot and took a few carrots to chop for himself. It was, he had to admit, a rather satisfying work. It wasn’t the first time he’d done the like. He had certainly fed himself more than once, but he had never styled himself as a kitchen lad to impress a woman as he was doing presently.
Daft. He was daft, and Robin would have made himself ill laughing over it.
“Do you have siblings?” he asked, because he had to know something about her.
“Sisters,” she said, not looking up. “Five of them.”
“What are their names?”
“Moonbeam, Cinderella, Peaches, Tess, me, and then Valerie.”
The names weren’t the sort he was accustomed to, but then again, he wasn’t from . . . well, he wasn’t from where she was from.
“Interesting names,” he managed.
“Interesting sisters.”
He reached for a turnip, then paused. “Cinderella?”
She looked up at him. “Aye.”
He considered for a moment or two, then lifted his knife and pointed upstairs with it.
She nodded.
“But she is a queen,” he said carefully.
“Or so she seems.”
Montgomery lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Very well, so he’d known that Cinderella couldn’t possibly be the Faery Queen. He’d suspected the very moment he’d clapped eyes on the pair of them that there was more to them than sparkles and faery dust. That particular tingle in the air had been suspiciously familiar, but what had he known of it in truth? Pippa was like something from a dream . . .
“Why don’t you go sit,” he said suddenly. “I’ll chop.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Why?”
“Because your . . . queen . . . is demanding.”
“Only when I have to listen to her.”
He managed a faint smile, then turned back to his chopping. He handed her a few things, then watched her arrange them onto another wooden trencher.
“I’ll try this,” she said.
“And I’ll eat it when you come back.”
She smiled, a more sincere one that time. “At least it’ll be good for you. Thank you, my lord.”
“Montgomery.”
She only looked at him briefly, nodded, then took the trencher and left the kitchen.
Montgomery watched her go, then looked around the kitchen. His grandmother’s lads were busy, Petter’s men were eating, and Joan was concentrating on her labors. Petter and Phillip, however, were watching him. Phillip quickly looked elsewhere, but Petter only lifted his eyebrows briefly before he smiled and turned back to his supper.
Montgomery scowled, because that made him feel comfortable. He had been polite, nothing more. He scowled at Petter again, then chopped himself a pair of carrots, shoved his knife in his boot, and left the kitchen. He didn’t run; he merely walked quickly and with purpose. After all, he had things to do.
But while he was doing those things, he suspected he might have to take a moment or two for thought about how he was going to get Persephone and Cinderella back to their home in the Future.
He could scarce believe he was facing the same thing others in his family had, but perhaps there were more paranormal oddities in England than anyone in that family wanted to admit. He’d just never imagined such things would become a part of his life.
Along with, the saints pity him, a woman he couldn’t have and couldn’t stop thinking about.
Chapter 10
Pippa stood in the shadows in Montgomery de Piaget’s bedroom and plotted. She wasn’t a particularly good plotter, but she had the feeling she might just give Shakespeare a run for his money with what she was currently cooking up.
She had been thinking about it for most of the night, a process made easier by the fact that her sister’s thunderous enjoyment of her own slumber had kept Pippa awake. The truth had been staring her in the face for the entire afternoon the day before, a truth she had been turning over and over in her head all night long.
She was currently living in medieval England.
It felt a little ridiculous to say it out loud, so she’d kept it to herself and just indulged in lots of thinking about it. And while she’d thought about it, she’d mulled over the inescapable conclusion that she couldn’t remain in the past even if she’d wanted to—which she most certainly didn’t. Cindi had hearts to break, and she had Manhattan fashion editors to woo. Time was a-wastin’ and she couldn’t waste any more of it.
She had come to the conclusion, as she’d stood at the window, swathed in Montgomery’s cloak, that there had to be something unusual at the end of the bridge. She was certainly no expert, but she couldn’t deny there had been some sort of portal that had led from her century to the one she was currently loitering in. All she had to do was get herself and her sister down there, walk back through the way she’d come, and bingo, she would be back at Tess’s castle where she would first raid the fridge, then take a shower, then go straight to bed and sleep for days. She had even started to fantasize about a bed that didn’t crunch when she rolled over in the night. It was pathetic, really.
“Servant,” Cindi said, waving her hand languidly. “Fetch me something to eat.”
Pippa counted to ten very slowly, then walked over to stand in front of her sister. She needed Cindi’s cooperation, so there was no point in antagonizing her unnecessarily.
“My queen,” she said, wondering not for the first time why she hadn’t been named Cinderella and Cindi hadn’t been given a more evil-stepsister-ish sort of name. Given that she was the one continually in servant mode, that would have been appropriate. “Queen Cinderella,” she said, trying again, “I have tidings.”
Cindi seemed to have problems focusing on her, but that could have been because her eyes were crossed. “Give them to me immediately.”
“Your people have been calling for you, my queen,” Pippa said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. If Cindi didn’t go along with her plan, she was doomed.
Cindi frowned. “What people?”
“Your people, Your Majesty. The fairies that wait for you outside the gates. We must go home to them.”
“Don’t wanna,” Cindi said with a formidable pout. “I like it here, because I am queen and it’s good to be queen. Plus I like having a servant.” Her pout turned into a dark frown. “You look more like a servant today and less like a boy. That’s better.”
Pippa had put on her marginally clean underclothes and dress only because she was convinced she would be taking them off again very soon within arm’s reach of Tess’s trash can.
“I wish the bathroom here had a mirror, though,” Cindi said, sounding slightly displeased.
And a flush toilet, a sink with running water, and a shower with an unlimited amount of hot water flowing through it, Pippa finished silently. She would have been happier with better bathroom facilities, too, but at least Cindi had gotten to just hang out upstairs and avoid the drudgery in the kitchen. She didn’t have a lot of extra sympathy for her sister.
“I have made the sacrifice, though,” Cindi said, reaching over her shoulder to pat herself on the back, “because I am the Fairy Queen and the queen must sacrifice for her people.”
“That’s right,” Pippa agreed. “And since you are so giving, you of course realize that you have to make the sacrifice to go back across the drawbridge and go through the gate. If you don’t, all the fairies will perish from the lack of your marvelous self to worship.”
Cindi considered. “My people will die?
”
“Absolutely.”
She considered a bit longer. “And when we leave this medieval-ish wasteland of lousy food, I’ll get to return to my court?”
“Definitely. The food will be great and you’ll have people waiting on you hand and foot.” And she would, never mind that they would be dressed in white and probably carrying a straightjacket. Cindi would have all kinds of attention. In fact, Pippa wasn’t sure her sister wouldn’t find fame and fortune by winding up in some sort of medical journal somewhere.
Cindi rose abruptly. “I’ll come.”
“Not yet. We have to wait for twilight. It’s the magical hour of the day.”
“I knew that,” Cindi said, sitting down with a plop. “Fetch me a snack.”
“What would you like?”
“Something salty.”
“No problem. I’ll go as soon as I’ve polished your wings.”
She gathered up two sets of wings, made sure there was nothing left of their stay in Montgomery’s bedroom, then dawdled a bit longer until her sister was snoring happily in her chair. It was odd that Cindi slept so much, but Pippa suspected she didn’t really want the answer to why that was.
She went back to her vigil at the window and waited for the afternoon to wane.
She managed to get Cindi out of the castle with only a minimum of fuss during the changing of the guard. Montgomery was talking to someone she assumed was a stonemason and didn’t seem to notice her. She left him to it, waved briefly to Phillip, then kept on going before Cindi changed her mind and kicked up a fuss. Even the gate guards seemed to somehow agree that she was on an important mission because they didn’t mess with her or try to dump her into what served as a moat.
She thought Karma just might be on her side for a change.
She hustled Cindi across the bridge and waited for that magical hour of twilight. She didn’t see anything special, but that wasn’t discouraging. She would just give the portal no choice. She was ready to go home; Karma would just have to sit up and take note of it.
Dusk fell, twilight glimmered, but no door opened. She had to use harsh language on her sister a time or two to get her to stay where she was, but on the whole Cindi was remarkably cooperative.
And then Pippa saw a glimmer.
Of bare steel.
Before she realized whom that knife belonged to, Cindi had jerked away from her. She looked at Montgomery, batted her eyes—visible even in the semi-dark—then spun around and looked at Pippa with a serious lack of sisterly affection.
“I see what you’re doing here.”
“What?” Pippa asked, looking surreptitiously behind her sister for the damned gate that should have been there.
“You,” she said in English, lifting her arm and pointing accusingly, “are trying to keep me away from this delicious studmuffin.”
Pippa shook her head quickly. “I’m not,” she said in French, hoping Montgomery wouldn’t mistake her for a modern-English-speaking witch and toss her in the moat to see if she would float. “I’m trying to get you back to your people, my queen—”
Pippa watched events proceed as if in slow motion. Cindi caught her foot on something in front of her and tripped, which sent her stumbling forward, which sent Pippa stumbling backward into a place she hadn’t wanted to go.
She resurfaced, choking and spitting out liquid she knew from experience wasn’t all water.
Cindi seemed not to notice. “Come with me, my beautiful prince, and we’ll dance.”
“After I rescue your handmaid,” Montgomery said firmly. “If you’ll excuse me, er, Your Majesty, ’tis my knightly—er, my princely duty, of course, to see to that sort of thing.”
“Oh, did something happen to my servant?”
Pippa wasn’t sure what Montgomery’s reaction to that had been and she wasn’t sure she cared. She took hold of Montgomery’s hand and was happy he was strong enough to pull her out of the muck and to her feet. He released her hand without hesitation, which she couldn’t blame him for in the slightest. She could, however, blame her sister for immediately monopolizing the conversation, yet again.
“There are many who have competed for my hand,” she announced, “but I’ve decided I like you best.”
“Ah,” Montgomery began.
“There will be a contest,” Cindi announced. “Between you . . . and you!”
Pippa could have sworn Montgomery flinched.
“A beauty pageant,” Cindi continued, taking Montgomery by the arm. “I’ll plan it all. Come along, my prince, and I’ll describe your duties.”
Pippa imagined she would. She took a deep breath, regretted it, then trudged along behind them, squelching in her shoes and grossing herself out with her smell. She didn’t throw up, but that was from sheer willpower alone.
Cindi looked back at her. “Don’t you dare come anywhere near my bedroom. I want to be alone.”
Pippa wanted her to be alone, so she was happy to comply. Maybe she would just pull up a patch of floor near the fire in the kitchen until she was the one covered in soot and cinders. It would inspire her to get back to real life as soon as possible. She had things to do, bestselling clothing lines to create, Vogue pages to grace. Playing a part in a fairy tale—especially a fairy tale in which she wasn’t the one wearing the tiara—was just not for her any longer.
No, the sooner she got herself and her sister back to the future, the better. Her timing had just been off that evening. She was momentarily tempted to be completely devastated, but she staved off that urge. She knew things happened in their own good time. Obviously, that gate from Montgomery’s century to hers had a mind—and a timetable—of its own. She would just wait it out.
She watched Cindi pause in front of the great hall and hold out her hand regally. Montgomery sighed, then offered her his arm and escorted her into the great hall. Pippa considered, then decided that perhaps a trip around the side of the hall to the kitchen would be better for everyone involved. She was tempted to take a dive into the horse trough, but that might have made the horses turn up their noses. She would just have to settle for some water from the well.
She made her way to the well, finding that everyone she met gave her a wide berth. She would have happily avoided herself, but she couldn’t. She slopped her way over to the well and considered. One inadvertent trip into the sewer was one thing, two was another thing entirely. It was almost as if Cindi had tripped on purpose and, well, pushed her in.
To get rid of her.
She stood there for quite some time, considering the ramifications of that. She’d always thought Cindi was slightly ditzy, but she never would have credited her with maliciousness. But now? Now she could credit her sister with quite a few things, up to and including an intense bout of craziness. And the more she thought about it, the more she decided that the trips into Montgomery’s moat—both of them—had been intentional.
It was an unpleasant conclusion to come to.
She started to reach for the crank to the well only to find a hand in her way. She jumped a little in surprise, then realized it was only Montgomery standing next to her.
Only Montgomery. She shook her head. She was looking at a man who was a lord’s son and a lord in his own right, a medieval lord who was good at all sorts of things, beginning and ending with waving his sword around as if he knew what to do with it, and she was treating him like he was just another stagehand down at the theater.
She supposed that sword should have been her first clue that he was more than that. His sword, or his knives stuck down his boots. Or the way he was always referred to as my lord whenever anyone approached him. Or that she’d seen the tiniest of smiles the day before when he’d been standing next to her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with a knife she was almost positive wasn’t sterile. It had been for Cindi’s lunch, though, so she hadn’t cared.
“I’m having Joan prepare a bath for you.”
She dragged herself back to the present. She would have pushed her hair out
of her eyes, but she just couldn’t bear to touch any part of herself.
“Thank you,” she managed, “but I don’t think I want to get in the tub with myself. I’ll just rinse off here.”
“The well water is freezing,” he said. “You’ll catch your death.”
“I’m willing to chance it.”
He sighed. “I don’t like it, but I can’t say I don’t agree with you.” He pulled up a bucketful of water. “Hold your breath.”
She did, but she gasped just the same. The water was bitterly cold, but she was so desperate to get most of the disgusting stuff off herself before she got into a tub with herself that she didn’t care. The bucket had made a good start on her hair, but she suspected there might still be things down the front of her gown, so she pulled the wet fabric away from her skin as best she could.
“Again, please.”
He obliged her, then dumped a third bucket over her head to finish getting the gunk out of her hair. She couldn’t say that the soap she knew she had to look forward to would be much better than straight water, but when desperate in Rome . . .
“I’ll clear the kitchen.” He stepped back a pace. “Perhaps if you bathe by the fire, you won’t be so chilled.”
Pippa pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at him by the light of a faint moon. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“ ’Tis nothing,” he said dismissively, then his expression lightened just the smallest bit. “ ’Tis unfortunate that you’ve become so acquainted with my poor excuse for a moat.”
“Accidents happen.”
“Hmmm,” was all he said, though it wasn’t a terribly convincing hmmm.
Pippa couldn’t have agreed more. She followed him through the back door of the kitchen. A wooden tub that looked a bit like half a wine barrel sat near the roaring fire, already halfway full of water.
Montgomery shooed everyone from the kitchen, then looked at her briefly. “I’ll stand guard.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Montgomery.”
“Thanks to him, too.”
He smiled faintly, then turned and walked up the passageway toward the great hall. Pippa looked at Joan, who was putting another bucket of water to heat over the fire.