Chapter 20 #3
He listened to the words come out of his mouth, realized how much more they revealed than he’d intended, then groped furiously for what was left of his few pitiful wits.
His life was chaotic; she needed stability. He was an Englishman; she was a Colonist. He was utterly mesmerized by her hair and her eyes and her delicate elfin self; she was watching him as if she intended to steal his sword and stab him.
She was also holding onto his hand with a grip that suggested she was either trying to hold onto her courage or she was somewhat fond of him, but perhaps he could decide between the two later.
“Sam?”
He took a deep breath and pulled himself back to the matter at hand. “What are the rules we went over in the car?”
“Stay behind you, especially if there are swords,” she said dutifully. “Smile, try not to speak any modern English, and definitely don’t say vulgar things in Latin if I get nervous.”
“Can you say vulgar things in Latin?”
“I’ll delight and astonish you later.” She shivered. “I should have brought some cards. I could have at least bamboozled some bad guys long enough for you to run away.”
He refused to wince. “Harriet, my task is to see us both safely there and back. Together, in case that wasn’t clear before.”
She took a deep breath, then nodded firmly. “All right.”
“Do not,” he began seriously, “do not let go of my hand. And focus your mind solely on me and my gorgeous—”
“Golden locks, I know,” she said faintly. “You know, that’s starting to sound just a little self-serving.”
He would have smiled, but he could hear the unease in her voice. He suspected that might blossom into something far more dire if he didn’t start them on their journey right away, so he squeezed her hand, shot Jackson a quick smile, then led her through the gate.
He would have said it was a dramatic event, but he had done it too many times to find anything unusual about the same.
He made certain Harriet was on his side of the doorway that swung closed, then disappeared, then retrieved her mother’s headwear.
He handed it to her, then turned and walked directly into—
His father.
Harriet squeaked. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t done the same thing.
“Father,” he said, finding it surprisingly difficult to orientate himself in the current year. “What are you doing here?”
Nicholas of Wyckham frowned. “Meeting you for our accustomed luncheon.”
“For which I’m late and Theo isn’t attending,” Sam said, then he realized he was speaking in French. He shot his father a warning look, then pulled Harriet forward to stand next to him. “If I might present my companion,” he said very quietly in his poshest English tones, “Miss Harriet Brewster.”
His father held out his hand and smiled at her. “Nicholas de Piaget,” he said. “A great pleasure to meet you, Harriet. Interesting choice of traveling clothing for you, I daresay.”
“I’m acting as Sam’s squire,” Harriet said, her voice cracking.
“A reasonable choice, my gel, but let’s see that you aren’t reduced to tromping about in the mud with him, shall we?”
Sam had listened to his father speak perfect modern English before, of course, most notably whilst quoting the Bard, but it was somehow very startling at the moment.
He sent his sire a quick look of thanks, then released Harriet’s hand and put his arm around her shoulders.
He wasn’t sure if that helped or not, but she was leaning on him rather enthusiastically so perhaps it had.
“We suspect Harriet’s parents took a wrong turn,” Sam said, continuing in English. “We’re here to collect them.”
“Not to worry, Mistress Harriet,” Nicholas said with a reassuring smile. “I’m certain they can’t have gotten far. Were they wearing, ah—”
“Garments appropriate for the day,” Sam supplied. “Hopefully.”
“And how long have they been off on their adventure?”
Sam looked at Harriet. “Twenty-four hours at the very least, wouldn’t you say?”
“It could be two days, though, couldn’t it?”
“It could be,” Sam agreed. He looked at his father. “I’m not sure they were dressed to be out in any sort of weather, but we’re fairly certain they are dressed for the year.”
He was further unsurprised to watch his father do what he usually did, which was to immediately attend to the women and children in his care.
“Mistress Harriet,” Nicholas said, turning an easy smile on her, “Samuel and I will trot off and quickly locate your parents whilst you travel to our home to wait for us.”
“By myself?” Harriet squeaked.
“Absolutely not,” Nicholas said, sounding appropriately horrified. He reached behind him and pulled someone up to stand next to him. “This is another of my sons, Connor. Connor, this is Samuel’s—”
“Squire,” Harriet said firmly.
Sam suspected it was fortunate that his elder brother had a keen sense of self-preservation or things might have ended badly for him very quickly.
Connor wisely limited himself to making Harriet a low bow. “Connor de Piaget, my lady, your servant.”
“Ships, ships, ships,” Sam muttered under his breath.
“Your journey has been startling, no doubt,” Connor said soothingly, in perfect English.
He also took Harriet’s hand and drew it into the crook of his elbow which had the unfortunate result of drawing her into his vile web.
“Let us go find a spot to sit whilst my father and brother sort their plans, then we’ll make an easy journey home where you might rest in peace and safety. ”
“But, I have to protect Sam,” she said weakly.
Sam ignored his father’s sharp look and watched his brother make off with a woman he was definitely not having serious thoughts about. He turned back to his sire.
“Go ahead,” he said grimly.
“I can see your struggle already,” Nicholas said with a quick smile. “Let’s send her home with Connor, then you and I will find her parents. How long have they been missing in truth?”
“A pair of days, possibly, but no more.”
“They can’t have gone far.”
“One can hope.” Sam looked at his father. “Connor will get her home safely, won’t he? And he’d best not try to flirt with her, though we’re just friends, of course.”
Nicholas looked at him, then laughed and walked away.
Sam gritted his teeth, decided a brisk, methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks spat at his brother at the appropriate moment couldn’t go wrong as a warning before Connor took Harriet away, then forced himself to turn and count paces from the gate to the most unusual landmark he could find.
Things changed over the centuries, of course, but he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t seen the inn there taking on different incarnations of itself over those same years—things tended to do that for some reason—so they could use it again if necessary.
“Coming, son?”
Sam set aside the warm and fuzzy thoughts of doing in his next eldest brother instead of his twin, then hurried to catch up with the woman he was most definitely just friends with before she forgot about him.