He studiously avoided mentioning what he had seen come through his father’s front gates.
The thought occurred to him suddenly that perhaps Pippa’s and Cinderella’s ability to travel through time wasn’t necessarily limited to the gate in front of his hall that he’d never suspected might be there. Indeed, hadn’t he seen Pippa standing in the midst of that gate near Artane ten years earlier? He was tempted to ask her if she’d seen him as well, but that might make it sound as if he knew more about paranormal happenings than he should have.
Nay, ’twas best he not tell her that he did indeed know where there were a few more spots in the grass she might try. For all he knew, she was required to go back to her time through the gate she’d come to his, so perhaps she would just have to stay with him until her gate was willing to take her back. That might take days, or it might take weeks.
The thought wasn’t nearly as displeasing as it likely should have been.
Or it wasn’t until he realized that it wasn’t just Pippa he would have in his hall; it would be her sister as well.
“Let’s try trotting,” he said suddenly.
She blinked. “What?”
“If you ever needed to travel, you would want to know how to trot,” he said, knowing he sounded every bit as daft as he suspected he sounded. “It seems prudent.”
“Um,” she began hesitantly.
“I’ll fetch rope from the lads for a lunge line.”
“If you’re sure.”
If it meant he could spent half an hour with her riding circles around him, then aye, he was sure. He collected rope from one of his lads, turned his horse over to Phillip, then walked over to where Steud stood waiting. The horse looked at Montgomery, sighed as only a horse could sigh, and prepared to be the means of schooling a green rider. Montgomery smiled, promised the beast an extra measure of oats, then fixed the rope to Pippa’s saddle. She looked at it in alarm, then turned that same look on Montgomery.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking control.”
“Why do I suspect that’s how you’re most comfortable?”
“You might be surprised,” he said dryly. “I am by far the most tractable of my brothers.”
“Unless you’re practicing with your sword.”
“Well, I do have a reputation to maintain,” he agreed. “But I have been known to be deferential to whomever of the gentler sex might be within earshot.”
“So, you’ll let me get down right now because I’m nervous.”
He met her eyes. “Nay.”
“And if I told you I was terrified beyond reason and couldn’t face the thought of being on a horse another moment?”
He put his hand on her foot. It was a far less personal touch than he was interested in, so he supposed there was no harm in it. He looked up at her.
“I would tell you that I had perfect confidence in your ability to do difficult things, then ask you to trust me.”
“That’s a lousy answer.”
He smiled. “Trust me, Pippa. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She took a deep breath. “Are you always so kind to unexpected guests?”
“I usually run them through with my sword. I made an exception for you.”
Pippa laughed uneasily. “All right, I’ll trust you. I want it noted, however, that Lord Tractable is suddenly nowhere to be found.”
“He has disappeared in favor of Master Sensible,” Montgomery said. “The truth is, I will be more successful at keeping you safe if you can ride. Unless you’d rather me drag you off your horse and pull you behind me as we ride furiously away from the first sign of danger.”
“I’ll trot.”
“I thought you might.”
He showed her how to hold the reins properly, tried without much success to ignore how truly lovely she was when viewed by pale sunshine and not the glaring light of her sister’s unsettling perfection, then backed away and clicked at Steud. He taught her the most rudimentary of skills, then simply watched her as she practiced.
In time, he realized she’d stopped only because he heard her say his name. He looked at her, feeling as if he’d just woken.
“Aye?”
“How am I doing?”
“Brilliantly.”
“You weren’t paying attention.”
The truth was, he wasn’t paying attention to her riding, but he’d been most definitely paying attention to her.
“I think you need a nap,” she added.
“Do you think your sister has vacated my solar yet?” he asked, not daring to hope that might be the case so he could retire there with Pippa and ply her with another ballad or two.
To what purpose he couldn’t have said and didn’t care to answer. She was in his care for the foreseeable future and ’twas only chivalrous to make certain she was content.
Surely.
“We could go see if she’s gone upstairs,” Pippa said. “If you like.”
He did. He coiled the rope as he walked toward her, then unfastened the end of it. He put his hand briefly on her knee, then stepped back. “You did well.”
“You’re a good teacher.”
He didn’t particularly want to be that for her, he realized, but he couldn’t offer her anything else even if she were interested in it. He nodded, accepting the compliment, then returned the rope to his guardsman, mounted his own horse, and turned with Pippa back to the keep.
He rode into the courtyard to find something of a standoff there before the great hall. Gunnild was flanked by her children, the garrison was huddled in a clump, and a new contingent of souls was standing in the courtyard, the leader of which was looking about himself with an assessing gaze that bespoke serious business indeed.
Montgomery dismounted and shot Phillip a look. Phillip moved his mount closer to Pippa and put his hand on his sword. Montgomery walked over to the man standing in the middle of his courtyard and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Good e’en to you, sir,” Montgomery said politely. “May I be of service?”
The man looked him over, then made him a low bow adorned with a handful of flourishes. “You are, quite obviously, Lord Montgomery.”
“I am,” Montgomery agreed.
“I am,” the man said, putting his hand over his heart, “François.”
Montgomery felt his ears perk up. “Are you, indeed?”
“I am, indeed. I am a gift from your brother Nicholas, who keeps an excellent cellar and an enviable larder.” He lifted an eyebrow in a doubtful arch. “I don’t suppose I can hope for the same here.”
“You cannot,” Montgomery said, with genuine regret, “but dare I hope that won’t stop you from creating things to delight and astonish?”
François looked at him calculatingly. “Your brother promised me you would appreciate my efforts.”
“My brother is always right.”
“Then I will repair to the kitchens and see what is available.” He looked with distaste at the occupants of the great hall. “I will not be cooking for the garrison, will I?”
Montgomery didn’t imagine that was a question, and more important, he suspected he would do well to respond correctly.
“Nay, just for me and my guests.”
François clapped his hands together and a trio of imminently helpful-looking helpers leapt immediately to his side.
“We will investigate,” François announced. “Then we will forage. Fortunately, I brought my own supplies.”
“That was fortunate,” Montgomery agreed, feeling rather more relieved than he likely should have for the possibility of something edible on his table. He hoped he looked appropriately grateful as he watched François venture off to points unknown and no doubt unsuitable. He let out his breath slowly, then went to help Pippa down from her horse.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“A culinary gift from my second-eldest brother, Nicholas,” he said. “He has a keep in France.”
“And exquisite tas
te in truffles,” came floating back on the breeze left by François’s attendants.
Pippa smiled. “You look relieved.”
“I am,” he said, “and so are you—as in relieved from any duties you’ve taken on in the kitchen. You’ll retire to my solar and rest from your afternoon’s labors.”
“Lord Tractable, back in the saddle.”
He smiled. “Very well. You may briefly see to your sister, but you will no longer be serving her or helping in the kitchen.”
“But—”
“I am not accustomed to being gainsaid.”
Her mouth fell open. “You bully.”
He leaned closer so he could whisper in her ear. It put him much too close to her for his peace of mind, but he had already spent an afternoon doing things that were ill-advised, looking where he wasn’t allowed, wanting things he couldn’t have. Whispering in her ear didn’t seem any worse than those things.
She might have shivered.
He knew he had.
“Humor me and let me care for you properly.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said faintly.
“Allow me.”
“I can’t.”
“Aye, you can. And you will.”
She looked up at him. “Because you’re not accustomed to being gainsaid?”
“Exactly.”
“Well,” she said slowly, “maybe just this once.”
He was about to tell her she wouldn’t regret it, but he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t both regret it.
He handed Pippa’s reins to a stable lad, then offered her his arm. It seemed perfectly natural, as if he’d been doing it for years. He tilted his head toward the hall and she nodded and walked with him. He knew the peace couldn’t last, but he fully intended to enjoy it whilst it did.
He walked into the great hall with Pippa only to find it in a complete uproar, with Joan and her kitchens lads and lasses running about as if the king himself were set to arrive. That couldn’t have been caused by François’s arrival, which meant something else was afoot. Montgomery stopped one of his lesser guardsmen who had been pressed into kitchen service.
“What is it?”
“There is going to be a wedding, my lord,” the man said breathlessly. “The queen has said so.”
“Who is the bridegroom?” Montgomery asked in surprise.
The man looked at Montgomery as if he’d lost his wits. Montgomery felt something slide down his spine. It wasn’t the healthy bit of anxiousness he briefly felt at the beginning of a battle or the slight unease he occasionally enjoyed at the sight of a very formidable opponent.
This was something that made him want to turn and bolt.
“Well,” he managed, “speak up, man. Who is the bridegroom?”
“Why, my lord, ’tis you.”
Chapter 14
Pippa looked down at herself and felt as if she’d been in a dream for days, a dream that had been full of things she hadn’t expected, a dream that had ended the same way it had begun: with her walking out of her bedroom to go downstairs to a party where her sister would be, as usual, the center of attention.
Only the torches on her current walls weren’t fake, and Montgomery de Piaget hadn’t said a word when he’d been informed he was going to be getting married to the Fairy Queen.
Pippa had checked under Cindi’s pillow and found only five pills left, which meant her sister was coming to the end of her good-times road, though she was probably still firmly entrenched in the land of delusion. She could only hope Cindi didn’t pop out of her daydreams, break into some modern song, and then expect everyone to sing the chorus with her.
She walked down the stairs to the great hall, slipping by cousins who snarled at her, and the lady Gunnild, who looked at her as if she would have liked nothing better than to take the knife she wore openly in her belt and stow it in Pippa’s back. She ran for the kitchens before Cindi could notice her and before she had time to see if Montgomery was looking forward to or dreading his wedding feast.
She paused at the passageway leading to the kitchens and looked back over her shoulder. Cindi was standing in the middle of the great hall, looking upward at the ceiling that was in need of a patch here and there, and spinning around and around with her arms stretched out. Her hair was hanging in filthy strands around her face and down her back, her dress was very much worse for the wear, and her crown kept falling off her head.
It was tempting to say that served her right, but Pippa couldn’t. She couldn’t even bring herself to continue on to the kitchen. It certainly wasn’t anything she particularly wanted to do, but she found herself turning and walking back out into the great hall. She caught her sister by the arm, then made her an elegant curtsey worthy of the finest of Shakespearean actors.
“My queen,” Pippa said deferentially.
Cindi scowled at her. “What do you want?”
Words she hadn’t intended came out of her mouth. “I came to prepare you for the wedding feast, Your Majesty.” She reached up and touched Cindi’s crown. “A beauty queen must always look her best.”
Cindi’s own mantra must have penetrated her fogged brain because she nodded slowly. Pippa looked for a likely spot, but there really wasn’t anywhere private besides Montgomery’s solar. She supposed that would have to do. She took Cindi by the arm and walked her across the hall. She knocked and smiled at Fitzpiers when he opened the door.
“Don’t you ever stop working?” she asked.
“I’m making up for years of something approaching neglect,” he said with an answering smile. “Lord Montgomery inspires that sort of labor, doesn’t he?”
Lord Montgomery inspired a great many things, but she supposed she shouldn’t list them. She nodded, because that was the safest thing to do.
“Are you looking for a bit of quiet?” he asked.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
He shut the door for her, then went back to his work. Pippa sat Cindi down in a chair in front of the fire, fetched a cup of wine for her sister, then started from the bottom and worked her way up.
By the time she was finished trying to resurrect Cindi’s appearance, she was fetching wine for herself as well. It was a good thing she’d had so much practice in getting Cindi ready for pageants when Cindi’s assistant had flaked out yet again or she might have been less sure of her results. She had done the best she could with what she had. She certainly hadn’t had the time to sew on all the crystals she was keeping in her pockets, but she doubted Cindi would miss them. At least Cindi had kept herself in Montgomery’s room most of the time so her contact with the local soil had been kept to a minimum.
Pippa stood back and admired her work. Cindi looked up.
“Well?”
“Stunning.”
“Of course,” Cindi said, but she didn’t sound as majestic as she usually did.
Pippa didn’t want to push her. She was nervous enough about the dwindling supply of drugs in her sister’s possession. She was definitely not one to advocate mind-altering substances—she had seen what they had done to her parents—but she also didn’t want her sister have a full-blown freak-out in the middle of dinner.
After dinner, maybe, when Montgomery would be taking her upstairs and making her his wife. Cindi could lose it completely then. Maybe Montgomery would put his foot down then. She couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t before. After he’d received the news of his impending nuptials, he’d simply deposited her in his solar, then retreated to the lists. She’d almost wished she’d known how to use a sword. She would have gone with him.
She hadn’t seen him at all that morning, though she suspected by the looks of the men straggling back into the hall that he’d continued his workouts.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to speculate why.
She sighed deeply. The fairy tale had turned into a nightmare and she was still the one covered in soot. There was a comforting familiarity about that, though, so she didn’t fight it. Especially since she had oth
er things to do besides be a part of any fairy tale. Manhattan called and she fully intended to answer. Her sort-of-woven plans to get back home were getting a little threadbare, but she hadn’t given up. Sooner or later Cindi would find herself back in reality—married or not—and then they would have to make a decision.
And Pippa’s would be to get the hell out of Dodge.
“I’m certain lunch is ready,” Cindi said, lifting her chin. “Pave the way, serving girl.”
Pippa opened the door, but that was as far as she got before Cindi shoved her aside and swept into the great hall, looking for all the world as if she really had been the Queen of Fairy come to gaze upon her loyal subjects. Pippa could almost wrap her mind around the thought of a man, namely Montgomery, being willing to marry her sister. She was nothing short of stunning.
She left Cindi to twirling again in the middle of the hall, rather tidier than she had been an hour before, and walked off to check on the goings-on in the kitchen. There were two sets of cooks at the fire—difficult even on a good day and made all the more difficult by the temperament of François. Joan had done her best to stay out of his way since last night, but that was difficult when she was cooking for fifty and he was cooking for less than ten.
She backed into Montgomery before she realized he was behind her. She turned in time to have him catch her by the arms to steady her. He looked down at her gravely.
“How do you fare, lady?”
“Better than you, I imagine,” she said brightly. She knew she sounded less bright than brittle, but since she had no reason for it, she pressed on. “Bridegroom jitters and all.”
“Hmmm,” was all he said.
“Cindi’s waiting for you in the great hall,” Pippa continued, because if she’d stopped talking, she might have allowed herself to realize just how much her life sucked.
Wasn’t it enough that she was semi- stuck, hundreds of years out of her time, without a serger? Or electricity to run that serger? Or even some decent bolts of fabric and a needle and thread? Now she had to be perky and cheerful when her sister was poised to marry a guy she had started to like?