“I’m starting a list. I’ll let you know when I’ve finished it.”
He laughed and put his hand on her shoulder. “One of your sisters—and damn me if I’m not surrounded by copies of either my sons, my uncles, or your sisters everywhere I go—one of them told me you were looking for a little history.”
“Have any locked away?”
“I can get you a key to the shop,” he offered. “I don’t let my wee ones in there, but I have been known to snoop now and again myself.” He winked at her. “I have a fondness for history.”
“I imagine you do.” She paused, then looked up at him searchingly. “Montgomery didn’t tell me anything about why you’re here in this time instead of your own. In case you’re curious.”
“Did you ask?”
“Nope.”
He smiled. “You are a discreet woman, Persephone Alexander.”
“Go get the key, my lord.”
He pulled a silver key out of his pocket. “We’ll take Stephen with us, just so the bobbies don’t come and handcuff us. Besides, that’ll give me a chance to watch him gape at me a bit longer. ’Tis vastly entertaining, truly.”
She imagined it was and she imagined she wished he would just shut up and start walking. She did manage to get him and his nephew out the door in a reasonable amount of time, with Peaches and Tess coming along for the short walk across the courtyard. Within minutes, she was standing in front of a rather long shelf of things that pertained either to the castle or its inhabitants. Kendrick took one end, Tess took the other, and she began in the middle.
It took almost an hour, but she finally found what she was looking for.
And when she did, she avoided hyperventilating only because she was afraid she would pass out right into a rack of very pricey-looking china. She shoved the book at Tess.
“Read it.”
Kendrick and Stephen stood there, still as stone, watching gravely as Tess read the paragraph to herself, then read it aloud.
Montgomery had died. Twenty-four hours before a woman who announced herself as his fiancée had arrived to save him.
Pippa turned and walked out of the shop. She continued on back into the great hall and then upstairs, ignoring questions, comments, and concerns that were gently floated her way. She was going to stop in her room, but she found herself carrying on down the passageway and up other stairs that seemed to wind forever.
It was probably already too late to even attempt a rescue.
She pushed open the door to what she assumed was a circular tower room, then flicked on the lights, intending to just have a bit of peace from prying eyes. She was surprised enough to see it occupied that she could only stare stupidly at the four men clustered there. One of them was in a chair, bound with ropes, and the other three were standing around him, dressed, respectively, in a kilt, another kilt, and Renaissance England duds.
She knew that because she was a costume designer.
She wondered if she might be heading down the road that led to Cindi’s room in the local crazy hotel, but got hold of herself before true hysteria set in. She started to back out the door, an apology on her lips, then realized she recognized the red-haired Scot. She’d seen him loitering in Tess’s castle.
Well, before he’d vanished, of course.
He made her a low bow. “Mistress Pippy,” he said with a gap-toothed smile.
“Ach, Hugh, you’ll terrify the lass unless you make a proper introduction for us,” said the other Scot, walking over and making a low bow. “I am Ambrose MacLeod, Miss Alexander. These are my partners in crime, as it were, Hugh McKinnon and Fulbert de Piaget.”
Pippa nodded to herself. She’d known it would all come down to crime. Trespassing in castles not their own, tying up innocent guys, also in castles not their own—
She realized, with a start, that she wasn’t looking at D-list actors in the midst of rehearsing a scene from a lousy cop movie; she was looking at ghosts. Somehow, given the month she’d had, she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Ambrose MacLeod smiled kindly. “We’ve tidings for you, my dear. Tidings from that miscreant there which will help you in your quest.”
Pippa spared a brief and futile wish for something out of her mother’s stash to help her deal with what she was seeing, then decided that since it might be classified as the least of the weird things that had happened to her over the past month, she could probably deal with it by normal means. She took a deep breath, nodded to her hosts, then pointed at the man sitting in the chair with the hood of his cloak pulled over his face.
“Who’s the miscreant?”
Hugh pulled the hood back with a flourish. Pippa gasped at the sight of Martin of Sedgwick sitting there, looking particularly belligerent.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in surprise.
“Spilling his cowardly guts,” Fulbert said, plucking a mug of something out of thin air and having a swig. “Of course, he wouldn’t need to if Hugh hadn’t put his oar in where it wasn’t wanted.”
“I was well within me rights to do so,” Hugh said, glaring at Fulbert. “She’s me kin, ye unimaginative Brit.”
“She is not your kin,” Fulbert said. “By the saints, man, can ye not read a pedigree chart?”
“She’s kin of someone I didn’t want to kill,” Hugh said, through gritted teeth, “a someone who just happens to be a cousin several spots removed, which makes her family.” He shot Fulbert a look of promise, then turned a smile on Pippa. “I didn’t mean to push ye into the moat, missy.” He doffed his cap and bobbed a quick bow. “I meant to acquaint you with young Stephen de Piaget, but me pushing went awry.”
Pippa blinked. He had pushed her? Somehow, she just wasn’t surprised. She would have thanked him, but he seemed suddenly quite occupied by exchanging insults with Fulbert de Piaget. She wished desperately for somewhere to sit, but since there didn’t seem to be anything handy, she leaned against the wall and watched as Ambrose MacLeod walked over to a glowering Martin and put his hand on his shoulder.
“Now, friend,” Ambrose said mildly, “give her the tidings I’ve told you to reveal.”
“Or you’ll do what?” Martin spat.
“Make the rest of your unlife hell is my guess,” Fulbert offered. “Don’t think ye’d care for it, but that’s just my opinion.”
Martin turned his glare on her. “I didn’t kill him and that’s all I’ll say. You divine the rest, since you’re so clever.”
“Does he die?” Pippa whispered.
Martin clamped his lips shut and only glared at her. Pippa looked at him for a long minute, then at the three ghosts.
“Will any of you tell me about the past?” she asked.
Ambrose shot Hugh a look, then turned to her with a gentle smile. “We can only give you a push in the right direction, lass. The rest is up to you.” He paused. “I think you know more about young Montgomery’s situation at Sedgwick than we ever could, especially considering the trustworthiness of this lad here.”
Pippa considered Martin for a moment or two, then thought about his siblings and his mother. She supposed she should put Lord Everard of Chevington into the mix as well given his blatant insults sent Montgomery’s way. The unfortunate truth was, the murderer could have been anyone.
Assuming the history books were right.
She looked at Hugh and managed a smile. “Thank you for the push.”
He twisted his cap in his hands. “Then ye don’t mind the past—”
“I certainly would,” Fulbert said, draining his cup. “Bed-bugs, winter, the French. Or, worse still, the Scots—”
Hugh spun around to glare at him. “Apologize.”
Fulbert looked at Hugh in silence for a moment or two, then flicked his mug into oblivion. “Nay.”
Swords were drawn. Pippa decided it was past time to leave ghostly antics up in towers where they belonged. She thanked Ambrose quietly, ignored Martin, then left the room with the sound of metal ringing in her ears. She paus
ed on the landing, then decided she wasn’t quite ready to face either questions or decisions quite yet. A few minutes on the roof to simply let the sea breeze blow through her overworked brain was probably what she needed the most.
She walked out onto the roof, then along the parapet until she found a likely spot to look out over the ocean. The endless roar was mesmerizing, which was handy given that she needed to be mesmerized. She wished she’d had more ghostly assistance, but when it came right down to it, no one could really help her but herself.
If she had the courage to do so.
She listened to the waves for a bit, wondering if Montgomery had ever stood in the place where she was, or if he was standing there now—
Before he rode off to Sedgwick to meet a death he likely expected, but might not see coming.
She was preparing herself to jump right into that thought when she realized she wasn’t alone on the roof. She realized with equal certainty but even more terror that she was all on her own without Montgomery’s very sharp sword to protect her. She carefully turned her head, then almost fell off the roof when she realized who had come to join her.
“Come to organize me?” Pippa asked her sister faintly.
Peaches walked over to her, then leaned against a wall that looked sturdy enough to hold up to that kind of thing. “I think you’re conflicted.”
Pippa shook her head sharply. “No, I’m terrified.”
“That you’ll lose him, or that you’ll manage to get back to save him?”
“Peaches, that’s too blunt.”
“You need blunt,” Peaches said in a normal voice. It wasn’t even her soothing organizer voice. It was just her everyday voice, as if she just had something to get off her chest and didn’t really care how it was received. “Sometimes, sister dear, you just can’t have it all.”
“Can’t I?” Pippa asked, stalling.
“No,” Peaches said, “you can’t. No one can. You can’t have a full-time life as a clothing designer in New York and a happy marriage back in the Middle Ages. I can’t spend all my time traveling the world while at the same time organizing peoples’ sock drawers. Tess can’t be a full-time academic, and a full-time party planner, and a full-time mystery writer with a dozen kids running around the castle poking each other with fake swords.”
Pippa managed a smile. “Does she want all that?”
“I don’t thinks she knows what she wants,” Peaches said frankly, “but I think you know what you want.”
“I don’t—”
“Pip, why do you design things with a medieval flavor to them?”
“Because I love medieval things.”
“Why?”
Pippa shrugged helplessly. “Because I like dropped waists and sheer fabric draping from conical headgear. I like the romance—the very unrealistic romance, I might add—of men and women dancing by candlelight in a stone-walled great hall.”
“That isn’t it,” Peaches said relentlessly. “When women put on your dropped-waisted, open-chain-belted, silk-and-velvet gowns, how do you want them to feel? Itchy? Uncomfortable?”
Pippa laughed a bit, then suddenly found it not quite so funny. She clutched the rock under her fingers. “I want them to feel like princesses.”
“Why?” Peaches asked gently.
Pippa felt tears spring to her eyes. “Because that will mean they’ve found their handsome princes and they’ll go off to live in their castles full of music and love and the laughter of children.”
Peaches stepped forward and hugged Pippa tightly. “I suspected as much.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. Let’s go. I think you have your answer and I think you need to pack. The earl’s invited us to stay as long as we like and he is seemingly resigned to all sorts of very strange goings-on in his castle. We’ll all fit right in.”
Pippa stopped her before she walked away. “I’ll miss you.”
Peaches blinked rapidly. “I didn’t come up here to talk about that. We’ll deal with that later. You have a few phone calls to make to sisters and sundry. Lord Edward’s giving you free rein in the gift shop so you can take a few things back for your future husband, and Mary’s offered to give you a riding lesson in the morning.”
“Who’s Mary?”
“Zachary Smith’s wife.” Peaches looked at her. “She’s Robin de Piaget’s daughter. You know, Kendrick’s younger sister.” She paused. “That would make her, I believe, Montgomery’s niece.”
“I have a headache.”
Peaches laughed and linked arms with her. “You need dinner.”
Pippa suspected she might need something a little more bracing than dinner, but maybe that wasn’t such a good idea considering she needed a clear head.
She walked with Peaches along corridors and down stairs, considering what they’d discussed earlier. The truth was, it wasn’t so much that she loved the fabric she sewed with, or the designs, or all the vintage trim, it was that she loved what it represented: a connection with the past, beautiful women standing on battlements waiting for their knights to come riding home, ladies who had their lords watch them from across a noble-filled court with love in their eyes. Her clothes represented the fairy tale and the fairy tale boiled down to a man and a woman falling in love, having children, and living happily ever after.
She wasn’t as dewy-eyed as she’d been in her youth. She knew that didn’t work out for everyone.
But she wanted it to work out for her.
And she could either keep on with fabric and sequins and dreaming of her knight in shining armor, or she could turn the fairy tale on its head, take a chance, and go off to rescue him before one of his bloody cousins managed to kill him.
No matter what the history books had said about her timing.
She looked at her sister. “Thank you.”
Peaches only hugged her briefly. “Not yet, Pippa. I’m not ready to talk about that yet.” She dragged her sleeve across her eyes and cleared her throat. “But you’re welcome.”
Pippa smiled in spite of herself and continued on down the hallway.
Chapter 29
Montgomery woke, realizing only then that he’d been unconscious. He sat up and looked around him, then leapt to his feet. Artane was there behind him.
Only it was missing several modern additions he’d noticed over the past pair of days.
He spun around and froze. There in front of him was the time gate. He knew it, because it was the same gate he’d ventured near scores of times in his youth. He leapt forward only to find himself jerked backward. He whirled around, his hand on his sword, only to realize he didn’t have his sword. It was inside Artane, true, but that Artane found itself several centuries in the future.
And that Artane was, he knew with a sinking heart, several centuries from where he now stood.
He shook off the hand of his brother-in-law Jackson, who stood in front of him, watching him gravely.
“Don’t,” Jake said calmly.
“Are you mad?” Montgomery demanded. “I must—”
Jake took hold of him again in a grip that wasn’t so easily brushed off that time. “Listen to me, Montgomery. Look at what you’re stepping into before you do something stupid that I can’t fix.”
Montgomery cursed, but the tone of his brother-in-law’s voice checked his impulse to rush ahead and consider the advisability of it later. He supposed it wouldn’t cost him too much to at least look. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but he knew what he didn’t see and that was any sign of Pippa.
Instead, he saw warriors of different vintages, scenes of bloodshed, the ghosts of women and children fleeing. Or at least he did for a moment or two. The scene then changed to men and women in other dress, men with weapons he didn’t recognize, ground that didn’t look as it should have. The scene shifted again and again, more times than he could count. Unfortunately, none of the scenes was the one he wanted to see. He took a deep breath and looked at his brother-in-law.
“
What are you telling me?” he asked, weary beyond belief.
“I’m telling you that if you step into that spot, you won’t wind up where you want to be.”
Montgomery considered. “How did you know to be here at this particular time?”
“I felt a great disturbance in the Force,” Jake said dryly. “No, I’m kidding. I just had a hunch I might see something interesting this morning.”
Montgomery rubbed his hands over his face. “I have to get back.”
“Not today, you don’t.” Jake looked him over from head to toe. “And just so we’re clear, if you do go back to the future, I want those jeans before you leave.”
Montgomery pulled out Stephen’s keys. “Want the Mercedes, too?”
“Damn you,” Jake said with a laugh. “Don’t tell me someone let you drive.”
“Not as much as I would have liked.”
“No doubt,” Jake said. “Whose car was it?”
“Stephen, son of the current—or future—lord of Artane, Edward.” He slid Jake a sideways glance. “Know either of them?”
“Our twenty-first-century lord Edward? Aye. Stephen? Never met him. I’m surprised, though, that he let you drive his very expensive beast.”
“He let my future wife drive. I only convinced her to give me a turn.”
Jake looked at him with a smile. “Your future wife? That sounds promising.”
“It would be, if I could get myself back to her. And to answer what you haven’t managed to ask yet, I followed her to the Future so I could ask her to wed me.” He shoved the keys back into his pocket. “And now I need to follow her again because I got separated from her before I could spew the question out.” He looked up at the sky. “It was evening when I felt myself falling, but it’s now morning here.” He dragged his hands through his hair and cursed. “She must think I’m dead.”
“Which you very well may be if you try the gate right now.” Jake’s expression was very grave. “Please, Montgomery, trust me on this.”
“How do you know so much about this?” Montgomery asked, pained.
“I’ll tell you later,” Jake said, then he nodded toward the keep. “Let’s go inside and regroup. I’m sure we’ll find answers in a bottle of your father’s finest.”