Chapter 18 #3
She nodded, but he suspected she wasn’t convinced.
What he was sure of was that the sooner he got her into a car and away from the area, the safer she would be and the sooner he could be about executing a rescue.
He wasted no time getting them both back in his car and getting his car back on the road.
What he hadn’t expected, however, was to need a rescue so quickly himself.
He was half an hour away from the faire site and on a decent A-road when he realized that there was something very wrong with his car.
He supposed the speed limit for their current road might have been considered a bit too high by more seasoned drivers and the fact that his brakes were utterly useless at the moment left him agreeing heartily.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked in alarm.
“No brakes,” Sam said grimly. Several attempts at differing pressures on his brake pedal produced absolutely no result and attempting to use his hand-brake to accomplish the same general thing was likewise futile.
Damn it, he should have been checking his undercarriage himself. That, or he should have asked Jackson to spend less time sharpening his sword and more time sitting on the bonnet of his car to keep watch over it.
He downshifted through his gears as expeditiously as possible, but his poor little runabout protested every change.
He looked quickly for an obliging farmer’s fence or run of hedgerow to use as a place to destroy the flank of his automobile but reduce his speed, but there was nothing but sharp curbs and too many cars on the road.
Things were made much worse by the sight of a little village he could see in the distance, something he had no desire to blow through without any way to fully stop himself.
He flinched at the sight of someone doing a ridiculously unsuitable bit of overtaking and pulling into his lane directly in front of him.
He would have added a few saltier things to the curses he was already blurting out, but he realized as the lad tapped his brakes a time or two that there was a method to that madness.
He popped his car into neutral and allowed his unknown benefactor to slow them both down and lead them off the road into the first lay-by that presented itself.
They came to a graceful if not shuddering stop.
He drew his hand over his eyes, then let out the breath he realized he’d been holding. He looked at Harriet.
Her face was ashen.
“What was that?” she managed.
“Something that won’t happen again,” he said firmly. He looked out his windscreen to find Oliver getting out of the car in front of him.
“He’s handy.”
Sam couldn’t have agreed more. He unbuckled himself, grateful he was alive to do so, then unbuckled Harriet as well.
“Let’s see what’s afoot,” he said.
“Am I coming with you?”
He started to tell her absolutely not, but he realized she was only speaking of getting out of the car so he nodded. “We’re not driving this anywhere else today. Let’s see who’d be willing to ferry us back to Bradford.”
He got out of the car, shook Oliver’s hand instead of throwing his arms around him and hugging him until he squeaked, then looked at the sleek black Mercedes that had pulled up behind them.
He was somewhat surprised to see Jackson sitting in the passenger seat, but he suspected that was only the beginning of the unusual things on offer for the day.
Jackson got out of the car and went immediately to see to Harriet.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Harriet shook her head. “Just shaken up.”
“Let’s get you back to the inn, then, shall we?” Jackson said. “Rufus is an excellent driver, so you needn’t worry about the journey.”
Sam exchanged a look with his cousin that he imagined wouldn’t need any further words, then watched an older man get out of the car. That man had a quick, private conversation with Oliver, then stopped in front of him and held out his hand.
“I’m Rufus,” the man said with a smile. “You might call me the chauffeur, if you like.”
Sam looked at him sharply and had a bland look in return. He would have smiled, but he was honestly too sick at heart to.
“I believe we should meet over a pint in the future,” Sam managed.
“It would be my pleasure, Master McKinnon.”
Sam could only shake his head. The things going on around him that he’d been absolutely clueless about were legion. He watched Rufus make certain Harriet was well-situated in the back of the car, then turned to Oliver who had come to stand next to him.
“I appreciate the rescue.”
“My fault for not keeping a better eye on your car,” Oliver said seriously, “so I’ll be calling in reinforcements. That could have ended very badly.” He paused and seemed to be considering what words might be best to use. “Her parents?”
“Faery ring.”
Oliver lifted his eyebrows briefly. “I’ll see to their car then as well as yours and leave you to your business.”
“Thanks are inadequate.”
“Buy me a pint later, mate,” Oliver said easily before he simply walked away.
Sam took a deep breath, fetched Harriet’s backpack from his car, then went to pile into the back of the Mercedes next to her.
He didn’t dare look at her, but he did hold out his hand.
Her hand that she put in his was icy, but he hadn’t expected anything less.
He smiled at her briefly and decided that silence was, as it tended to be in sketchy paranormal situations, golden.
The trip back to Bradford-Next-the-Stow was accomplished in that same sort of thing save for a rather decent bit of classical music on the radio and Jackson occasionally hemming and hawing as if he tried to find something to say that wouldn’t set off a cascade of questions.
Fortunately for the state of affairs, he managed to keep his thoughts to himself and Master Rufus delivered them to the inn without fuss.
Sam thanked Rufus for the ride when appropriate, then looked at Harriet.
“I’ll come get your door.”
She nodded carefully.
He got out of the Mercedes and wasn’t unhappy to meet Jackson behind the boot of the car. The fact that his cousin didn’t have a blade in his hands only added to his joy.
“So, what next?” Jackson asked briskly.
“I’m going to convince Harriet to stay here, then go find her parents who I’m certain have stumbled into a gate behind that Elizabethan folly’s field.”
“I take it you’ve never used that particular one?”
“We try to avoid anything near medieval faires, for obvious reasons.”
Jackson smiled faintly. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it, how many unintended additions to other times there have been—actually, nay, I imagine you don’t wonder.” He shot Sam a look. “If I were you, cousin, I’d be worried that Father Time was out to repay me for interfering in his business.”
“Or James MacLeod,” Sam agreed darkly. “I understand his Claymore is almost as tall as he is.”
“You should be more afraid of his younger brother, Patrick. I hear he’s absolutely ruthless.”
“So says Stephen occasionally over supper,” Sam agreed.
Jackson shut his mouth when he apparently realized it had been hanging there, open and useless.
“Just so you understand,” he said evenly, “I will be herding you and your brother into a corner of lists somewhere and cutting answers from you about your activities if you do not surrender them willingly.”
“You might try.”
Jackson rubbed his hands together and smiled unpleasantly. “I’ll give some thought to where you’ll meet your end, but let’s settle this other business first. I’m certain Olivia would come watch over your lady if you thought it would help.”
“Your wife is too good for you.”
“So I tell her constantly,” Jackson agreed, “and yet she endures me. You should be so fortunate in your choice of mate, but because you’ll need all our aid in wooing that wee gel of yours, let me send a text missive to my lady and see if she’ll come stay.”
“Harriet’s wily.”
Jackson sent him an even look that was so reminiscent of Jackson IV that Sam had to smile. Family was, he had to admit, a very lovely thing to have nearby.
“You wouldn’t prefer that we just ferry Harriet to Wyckham?” Jackson asked suddenly. “Zachary and Maryanne would watch over her well.”
Sam considered that very briefly, then shook her head. “She has a tendency to investigate things better left alone. I wouldn’t want her wandering off there and getting lost.”
“Fair enough,” Jackson said. “Let’s see her inside, then, and I’ll arrange other things.”
Sam nodded his thanks, then fetched Harriet out of the car. He waited until they were standing inside the inn’s front door before he attempted a reassuring smile.
“Safe and sound,” he said brightly.
“Are we?” she asked, looking up at him skeptically.
He nodded and had one last, good look at her because she was going to be furious when he left her behind so he could go rescue her parents from the sort of medieval faire he was certain they wouldn’t particularly like.
He just didn’t see how he could do anything else.