Chapter 22 #2
“Then go do what you were already going to do and best of luck with it.”
Sam took a deep breath, reminded himself he was a grown man with spurs on his heels and a very desirable resumé of experiences, never mind a decent bank account, then looked at his brother once more.
Connor only nodded toward the hearth. Sam nodded briskly in return, then took his courage in hand and walked over to begin by greeting the women in his family.
He hugged his mother. “Thank you for keeping her safe,” he whispered.
“She’s delightful,” Jennifer said, smiling up at him. “You two can escape to my solar for privacy whenever you need it. I’ll chaperon you, of course.”
He imagined that might come in handy, so he nodded his thanks, submitted to hugs and kisses from his sisters, then braced himself before he turned and looked at the object of his affections.
She didn’t look as if the thought of being within five paces of him was displeasing, but he hadn’t blurted out any terms of endearment yet. The situation was still developing.
Harriet held out her hand toward him, obviously intending that he take it and make her a formal courtesy. The gels in his family laughed, which didn’t surprise him at all. He scowled at his sisters, then took Harriet’s hand and made her a low, courtly bow.
“My lady,” he said politely.
“My lord,” she returned in French.
He straightened, then caught the pointed look she was sending him.
He smiled briefly, then drew her over to one side of the mighty hearth where they might have a modicum of privacy.
He made certain she was situated where she would be warm, then he turned his back on the hall and looked at her seriously.
“That wasn’t a secret,” he said, quietly enough to keep any potentially less-discreet servants from wanting to escort his modern-English-speaking self out to a hastily built pyre. “Just an inconsequential detail.”
“Some detail,” she said with a snort. “I’ll repay you for the surprise later. For now, thank you for finding my parents.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said honestly. “They were a little disoriented and unsettled, but otherwise perfectly fine.”
“Do they know where we are?” she asked. “Or when, rather?”
“They do now,” he said. “Your father was briefly unbalanced by the date, but he recovered quickly enough. Your mother was apparently unsurprised.”
“Really?” Harriet said. “I would have thought it would have been the other way around.”
“Given your sire’s background in history, I would have thought so, too,” Sam agreed, “but your mother informed me that she was well-prepared for all exigencies thanks to an extensive collection of time-travel romances.”
Harriet looked at him in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“She keeps them in a humidity-controlled section of her garden shed.” He paused. “Apparently.”
“No wonder she keeps it locked.”
“And here you thought she was growing dangerous plants.”
“I’m still not convinced she isn’t, but at least now we know what’s keeping her busy while they’re germinating—”
“Ah, Harriet love, there you are.”
Sam couldn’t bring himself to glare at his mother for interrupting what he was certain would have been a heartfelt confession of affection from him and perhaps even a mildly favorable response from the woman he had yet to convince to have anything to do with his sorry self.
He sent Harriet a look of promise that he hoped she wouldn’t misinterpret as indigestion and watched helplessly as his mother made off with her.
“You’re hopeless.”
Sam elbowed his brother in the gut without having to look to see where the blow would land. That came, he supposed, from years of wanting to do the same followed by an equal number of years of managing it after he’d become too tall for Connor to simply upend into a horse trough.
“I have everything under control,” he said confidently.
Connor nodded wisely, then took himself off to places where Harriet was not, which was the only reason he would survive the rest of the afternoon and quite possibly the following morning in the lists.
Thinking about his own generosity in regard to the same was also likely all that would keep him from moving too quickly with that delicate creature who was acting as his mother’s second without misstep.
He would bide his time and wait for a change of scene where he might catch her backstage and have a brief conversation in private.
He could only hope her response wouldn’t be a query about where his older brother might be found.
He was fairly certain the sun had set before he caught sight of Harriet walking toward one of the stairwells that led to the upper floor.
Her parents had ventured forth into the great hall for supper then retreated upstairs for the night, so he suspected his chance to have private speech with her lay somewhere between the great hall and the bedchamber she and her parents had been given.
He certainly couldn’t in good conscience allow her to wander through the passageways alone, so he leapt to his feet, trotted along the perimeter of the great hall, and caught her just as she put her foot to the first of the very lovely circular steps he had scampered up and down for the whole of his life.
“I’ll see you safely to your chamber,” he offered.
She glanced over her shoulder, smiled at him gravely, then began to climb.
He made it almost all the way to the upper floor before he simply couldn’t go any farther.
He caught her hand and hoped he wasn’t making a colossal fool of himself or pushing her into something she might not want.
There were perhaps more romantic places to query her about what she thought of him, but the torchlight was lovely and she was within reach so perhaps it would do.
She stopped, then turned on her step and looked at him.
And he saw in her eyes what was in his heart.
He closed his eyes and put his arms around her at the same time she threw her arms around his neck so fiercely, she almost sent them both pitching back down the stairs. He laughed a little as he caught himself with his hand against the stone, then steadied them both.
“Sorry,” she gasped.
“Nay, don’t apologize,” he said, keeping her close. “And don’t let go of me.”
“I’ll try not to smother you,” she managed. “I’d like you alive for a while.”
“How long?” he said, because he apparently couldn’t heed his own advice about keeping his mouth shut.
She pulled back only far enough to look at him. “How long would be good, do you think?”
He decided that since he was a man of action and not words, he would show her.
He slipped his free hand under her hair to cradle her head and spare her neck any undue stress, had one more quick look at her expression to make certain she wouldn’t clout him on the nose for taking liberties, then smiled and leaned forward to kiss—
He froze at the sound of paternal harrumphing coming from directly behind him.
He was relieved to note that the warning wasn’t coming from Harriet’s father, but somewhat less than thrilled to find it was coming from his own.
He looked at his lady, considered, then kissed her briefly on the forehead.
“I’ll kill him in the morning in the lists,” he whispered.
“Will you?”
He pursed his lips. “Probably not. He is terrifying with a sword so it would be a gory business to do him in.’
“That, and your mother might not like it.”
“She wouldn’t, so I’ll find a peaceful way to send him off to do other things so we might speak in private.” He released her carefully. “After you, my lady.”
She nodded and turned away, but she wasn’t bolting up the stairs to get away from him which he found promising.
He followed her out into the upper passageway, made certain she was well away from the edge so she wouldn’t go tumbling down the stairs if a fit of revulsion overtook her, then looked at his father who had so inconveniently arrived to interrupt him at the beginning of his wooing.
“My lord,” he said with a slight bow, “I appreciate your company to this point, but my lady Harriet and I have things to discuss.”
Nicholas of Wyckham stroked his chin in a way that was so reminiscent of his elder brother that Sam almost choked.
“I sense,” Nicholas said, clearing his throat importantly, “that there is something going on here.”
“Aye,” Sam agreed. “I’m about to tell her how fond I am of her and see if she might like to go on a date tomorrow.”
“Oh, that is moving much too quickly,” his father said with a frown. “There must be permissions given and plans made. One does not simply walk up to a woman of quality and spring these sorts of things on her.”
Sam was halfway to telling his father that he’d already asked Harriet out for supper and she’d accepted, but he paused.
She might have agreed to that out of pity and not fondness.
It was also true that his sire adored his mother and his mother was besotted with her husband, so perhaps a suggestion or two from the man wouldn’t go awry.
Unfortunately, his hesitation seemed to be encouragement enough for his sire who pushed him out of the way and smiled at Harriet.
“A good e’en to you, my gel,” he said kindly. “How do you fare?”
“Very well, my lord,” she said. “Thank you again for finding my parents.”
Nicholas waved aside her words. “Your cheeky champion here is the one who tracked them so capably. My part in it was limited to thoroughly delightful conversations with your sire about medieval mores and your mother about useful herbs and flowers to be found in the forests, so the pleasure was mine. Now, as for this development here that your sire will most assuredly wish to have a say in, let’s see where we are, shall we? ”
“If you like, my lord,” Harriet said, looking slightly amused.
“I do. Samuel, close your eyes lest you see something you don’t care for.”