And what wasn’t there to like about him? He was bossy, true, and irritatingly medieval in his attitudes, but he had a lovely smile, a dimple, and a deliciously dry sense of humor. He wasn’t an actor. He hadn’t asked her to check her pockets for cash so he could fill up the feed end of his horse.
Of course, the fact that he was living several centuries in the past was a big Karma-engineered relationship obstacle, but since she was making a list, there was no sense in not being positive.
“Persephone.”
She closed her eyes briefly. If he would just stop saying her name that way, she might stand a chance of being truly objective about him. She looked up at him and attempted another bright smile.
“Aye, my lord?”
He started to speak, hesitated, then shut his mouth and shook his head. He put his hand on her shoulder exactly as she’d seen him do a dozen times to his squire, then he nodded to her and walked away.
Well, obviously he wasn’t too broken up by the thought of only getting to call her sister for the rest of his life.
She clapped her hand to her forehead on the off chance it would dislodge some last vestige of common sense. There was no reason to consider any of it seriously. Cindi couldn’t marry Montgomery de Piaget because he was eight hundred years older than she was and he lived in a time without plastic surgeons and photo shoots. Her sister would be satisfied with her life for about seven seconds after she’d come down off her high and realized what she’d gotten herself into. Even if she’d managed to reconcile herself to camping for the rest of her life, she never would have been able to appreciate Montgomery’s finer chivalric qualities.
Pippa put her shoulders back. Obviously, she was going to need to take matters into her own hands. She didn’t want to be the one to be the impediment to a happily ever after, but obviously she was going to need to. All she had to do was wait for the right time during the ceremony, then come up with some sort of reasonable-sounding objection.
She was going to check her sister for sharp objects first, though given Cindi’s powerful right hook, maybe she should just check for room to duck.
François was fussing over something that actually smelled heavenly. She didn’t want to ask what sorts of unhealthy fats were loitering in it. She tasted when a taste was offered, then heaped well-deserved praise. François accepted the accolades with a modest smile and handed her something sweet.
She almost envied Montgomery his dinner table and expanding waistline.
She made herself scarce until lunch was served, then hovered at the back of the hall by the kitchen passageway not because she wasn’t hungry but because she almost couldn’t bring herself to watch what was going on. It was like a train wreck, just too horrible to look away from. Montgomery was sitting next to Cindi, looking gorgeous and charming and more wonderful than he had any right to. Cindi was flirting madly with him, but Pippa knew her sister was seeing only a gorgeous face, not the man who was kind to his squire, ruthless with his men, and generous enough to teach a greenhorn how to trot so she would be safe in a time that wasn’t at all safe for a city girl with only twenty-first-century skills.
What a waste.
As was attempting to enjoy a wooden bowl full of things that one of François’s assistants brought her. She couldn’t taste it, so she merely held on to it and felt quite thoroughly ill.
Toasting began as dinner wound down. Gunnild rose and reminded everyone she was the lady of the hall and was happy to see her cousin so happily settled. Boydin followed, telling a ribald tale or two about Montgomery that couldn’t possibly be true given that the stories were completely out of character for the man she knew. Montgomery shifted uncomfortably, as if he were considering getting up to offer a few corrections. Pippa was ready to offer a few thoughts of her own, but before she could, Gunnild had shoved a frail, sickly looking man Pippa could only assume was a priest to his feet.
“The time for the ceremony has come,” he wheezed. “Unless there are impediments to the marriage.” He looked at Gunnild. “The banns have not been read—”
“Never mind that,” Gunnild said shortly.
“We have no chapel—”
“We don’t need one,” Gunnild snarled. “Be about your work, old man.”
The man had another drink, spilling most of it down the front of his tunic, then he apparently took his courage in hand. “We’ll carry on, unless anyone has a reason to protest—”
“I do,” Pippa said loudly.
She realized only as the company was divided between looking at her and looking at Montgomery that she hadn’t been the only one to voice that sentiment. The priest looked first at her, then at Montgomery.
“Aye, my lord?” he said weakly. “Is there aught . . .”
Montgomery stood up, looking rather grim. “ ’ Tis a pleasure to enjoy such a fine meal,” he said slowly, “and such fine company. I fear, however, that I am unable to wed this exceedingly lovely queen sitting here.”
Pippa stuck one finger in her ear because that’s all she had free. She looked at Cindi to find her beginning to frown. That wasn’t a surprise. Cindi was never dumped; she always did the dumping. Pippa could hardly believe dumping was going to be a part of the afternoon’s festivities. Gunnild looked equally displeased. Maybe she had hoped to get rid of Montgomery by marrying him off to a fairy.
Stranger things had happened.
“You see,” Montgomery went on, looking supremely uncomfortable, “there is indeed an impediment to, um, to this noble venture into, ah, matrimony.”
“What impediment?” Boydin drawled. “Are you already wed in secret?”
Montgomery shot him a look that should have shut him up, but apparently Boydin had had a little too much to drink. He only continued to speculate just why it was that Montgomery couldn’t marry the lovely and very available Queen of Faery. Montgomery glared at his cousin once more, then took a deep breath and turned back to the company.
“I would like to ask Mistress Cinderella to forgive me for not being forthcoming. I was too dazzled by her absolute perfection to remember a, um, prior commitment.”
Cindi preened.
Pippa couldn’t stop from gaping.
“I am . . . betrothed,” Montgomery said, spitting the words out as quickly as possible. “Have been for . . . for quite some time.”
Pippa heard a noise. She only realized it was her dinner landing on the stone at her feet because a kitchen helper began to clean it up.
She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved Montgomery wasn’t about to be stupid enough to marry her sister or angry he’d been so nice to her when he was engaged to someone else. She was definitely overcome with some sort of emotion. Maybe it was heartburn.
She turned around and walked back to the kitchen, because she couldn’t stand to be a witness any longer to what was going on in the great hall. She didn’t care what Montgomery did, of course, because he wasn’t for her and she wasn’t for him. Obviously, she wasn’t for him if he was already committed to someone else. She put her shoulders back and continued on. She had been distracted there briefly, but she was back to herself. And now that Cindi had just been given a bracing dose of reality—not that she would recognize it as such, or even remember it in a week—maybe she would give up the idea of . . .
Pippa slowed to a stop as something occurred to her.
What if the reason she hadn’t been able to get herself home had been because her sister had wanted to stay right where she was? It was, after all, very good to be queen. Maybe all she and Cindi had to do was stand on the end of the bridge, hold hands, and be in full possession of their wits as they clicked their heels together and wished themselves home. If it had worked for Dorothy, surely it would work for them.
She continued on her way out to the stable, not for any other reason than she thought she might need a bit of air. The place had definitely improved since she’d first seen it. It probably helped to have a professional horseman in charge of things. She greeted the stabl
e master, asked permission to go visit Steud, then did just that. The horse seemed to be pleased to see her, but that might have been because she’d poached a carrot on her way out of the kitchen. She fed it to him in stages, then simply stood there and stroked his nose.
She was also happy to list for him his very fine characteristics, such as the ability to keep her on his back under what she definitely considered duress. She was surprised by how happy she was to stand there and do nothing more than converse with a horse. No wonder Montgomery rode when he had deep thoughts to digest. It certainly took her mind off other things.
Such as the fact that Montgomery was standing at the entrance to the stables, watching her.
She didn’t jump because she’d known for the past five minutes that he was there. She supposed she could have stood in any room with her eyes closed and known the moment he walked in. Engaged man that he was.
She was really in trouble.
She took a deep breath, then turned her head to look at him. “My lord?”
He walked over to stand next to her, then reached out to stroke Steud’s nose. He had a wicker for his trouble and smiled in return. Pippa waited for him to say something, but he was apparently not in the mood to divulge secrets she supposed he really hadn’t needed to before. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d worn her heart on her sleeve, or blurted out that she thought she might have a crush on him, or gazed at him longingly from across the room.
Well, that last part she suspected she’d done at least twice, but he probably hadn’t noticed.
The bottom line was, he didn’t owe her anything. He had already done far more for her than he’d needed to. She leaned her forearms against the stall door and looked at him. He was very grave, even more than he was usually. She supposed the day hadn’t been easy for him. His lengthy retreats to the lists were likely indication enough of that. She reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear before she thought better of it. He was perfectly still, but his breath caught.
Maybe he had a headache. She was fairly sure it couldn’t be because he was affected by her.
“How are you?” she asked quietly.
He lifted an eyebrow briefly. “I’m not sure how to put it without offending you.”
“I don’t offend easily.”
He looked at her then. “I am vastly relieved not to be wedding your sister. Especially since I didn’t ask for her hand.”
“I really don’t think she’s your sort of gal,” she said, suppressing the urge to ask him just what sort of gal he liked. Obviously the sort of medieval miss he was going to marry. She attempted a smile. “I probably should go back and get her upstairs before she causes a scene.”
“Joan has done the honors.” He looked at her quickly. “Stay, if you would.”
If he was going to ask that nicely, she wasn’t going to say no.
He chewed on his words for a moment or two, then reached back over the stall to pet Steud again. “Your sister doesn’t look well.”
“She’ll run out of pills tomorrow.”
He nodded, then remained silent for several minutes before he spoke again. “Perhaps it would be safer for us all if you and I were to spirit her out of the keep,” he said slowly. He shot her a quick look. “My cousins are a suspicious lot, you know, and already have reason enough to want me dead. No sense in giving them any more.”
“And the Faery Queen having a fit in your great hall wouldn’t help?”
“I don’t think it would. My grandmother’s keep is a bit to the north. Or we could go farther still and speak to my brother. He would never admit as much, but I suspect he can lay claim to knowledge of a few—” He took a deep breath. “A few paranormal oddities.”
“Phillip says his father doesn’t believe in them.”
“My brother Robin has no imagination, something I’ll readily admit. But I was speaking of my second-eldest brother, Nicholas.”
“He’s more open-minded, then?”
“A bit.” He looked at her seriously. “I would wait your gate out here and brave your sister’s unruliness, but I fear that my cousins won’t stop at spewing their venom my way. They’ll look for other targets soon enough.”
It took her a moment to figure out what he was saying. She looked at him in astonishment. “You mean me?”
“I fear so. They want to kill me, of course, but I have given them cause just by drawing breath. You, however, have done nothing to them.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Pippa said faintly. “I called Boydin an ass a time or two.”
He smiled. “I’m sure it wasn’t undeserved. Still, I think you would be safer if we left for a bit. Besides, we might find aid in unexpected places.”
“What about your betrothed?” Pippa asked, because she apparently just couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Won’t she expect to see you soon?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “She, ah, understands my present straits.”
“Patient girl.”
“The most patient,” he agreed.
Pippa thought it was probably unhealthy to loathe someone she’d never met before, but if ever she’d had reason, this was it. She watched him turn back to stroking a soft horsey nose and took the opportunity to try to get a hold of herself.
She should have developed more self-control during her incarceration at Aunt Edna’s. Her aunt had told her it would come in handy, but had she listened? Of course not. She’d been too busy plotting how to get a scholarship and get out of the house early so she wouldn’t have to have self-control.
“What do you do?” he asked suddenly. “In the Future?” She was surprised by the question, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been. She smiled up at him. “I design clothes. I usually do them for plays, but I want to design them just for women who want to feel beautiful.”
“Did you make Cinderella’s gown?”
She shook her head. “I made her something else, but she didn’t wear it. She was trying to impress . . .” She paused. “Well, she was trying to impress the son of an earl who was supposed to be overwhelmed by what I had designed, not what Cindi was wearing.”
“Do you have lords in your day?” he asked, looking at her in surprise.
“We do. And sons of earls that need to be impressed by ball gowns.”
Montgomery smiled. “Did this son who was no doubt more enamored of your gowns than your sister’s have a name?”
“Stephen.” She couldn’t help herself from adding what she probably shouldn’t have. “Stephen de Piaget. His father is Edward, the current earl of Artane.”
Montgomery’s knees buckled. Pippa caught him and staggered as he threw his arms around her. Then she realized that he was far less unsteady that he pretended to be.
“Faker.”
He smiled and hugged her very briefly before he stepped away. “I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I can guess.” He leaned heavily against the stall door. “Are you in earnest about the other?”
She nodded. “He couldn’t look much more like you if you’d been related. Which I suppose you are.”
“No wonder Robin shuns all things he can’t best with a sword,” he said with a shiver. “I’m beginning to see the wisdom of it.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Come back to the hall, my lady, and we’ll ask François to see us prepared for at least some of our journey.”
She didn’t want to enjoy that feeling of his arm around her, but she did, just a bit. It was a particularly platonic, brotherly sort of arm around the shoulders, but she supposed she couldn’t—and shouldn’t—ask for more.
She stopped him just outside the kitchen. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She attempted a smile, but she wasn’t sure she’d been all that successful. “For helping me, that is. I know you have other things to be doing.”
“It is not only my duty,” he said just as quietly, “but my pleasure to aid you how I can. If there is aught else—”
“There is.”
He tilted his head slightly. “What would th
at be?”
“Sing another song for me tonight?”
“Now, woman, you go too far.”
She smiled and turned away. “You’ll survive.”
“I doubt that,” he muttered under his breath, but he caught up with her and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “One song.”
“Three.”
“None, then,” he grumbled.
“I believe I’ll have four.”
He scowled at her again, then pursed his lips as if he strove not to smile. He said nothing else, so she supposed he wouldn’t refuse her request. She also supposed she wasn’t a complete idiot to enjoy his company for one more night.
She might actually get home in the next few days. She was vastly relieved and very excited to get back to her real life. It had been an interesting foray into times and places not her own, but that interlude was coming to an end and she couldn’t have been happier about it.
And she supposed if she continued to repeat that, she might actually believe it.
Eventually.
Chapter 15
Montgomery had never once, during the course of his score-and-seven years, come close to even considering entertaining the thought of taking his sword and clouting a woman on top of the head with it. That he was seriously contemplating the potentially fatal blow it would deal to his knightly reputation said much about the past handful of days.
Cinderella had run out of pills three days earlier.
Gone was the woman who, whilst daft, had at least been somewhat manageable. The woman who had taken her place was so full of ill humors, Montgomery wondered if they would manage to keep her from killing them all.
They had been traveling for four days in a haphazard fashion that made him uncomfortable, but he had been severely limited by the fact that Cinderella could not ride. If he’d been a different sort of man, he might have just strapped her to the back of a horse and carried on, but he was who he was, so he had provided her with the comfort of a small, decrepit wagon he’d been forced to purchase from a shrewd and subsequently very content farmer. He supposed it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d had one of the king’s luxurious carriages, Cinderella wouldn’t have been happy.