Chapter 26 #2
“We’ll go back to the gate we came through,” he said, “and aye, we could make a start in a pair of hours. And not to worry.”
She nodded. “I trust you.”
“Then let’s go set our plans, my lady, and we’ll be on our way in an hour or two.”
Two days later and after a pleasant journey south, Sam stood at the edge of the same faery ring they’d all come through almost a se’nnight earlier and looked at the company standing there.
Harriet and her parents and been joined by Connor and his own father who had come along to make certain all went according to plan.
He wasn’t one to get overly maudlin about the practice of skipping across the centuries, but he had to admit he was definitely a lad to get a bit misty-eyed about family.
What a lovely one he had.
His father embraced Harriet, thanked her for becoming his daughter-in-law, then turned to fare-welling her parents. Sam wasn’t sure Harriet’s sire would ever get over having been gifted an authentic medieval sword, but the man did have refined tastes.
“I will work on my swordplay,” Harold promised, “and come next time with more details about wireless internet mechanics and perhaps even some videos of supercars if Sam thinks it wouldn’t break the space-time-continuum.”
Sam imagined his thoughts on the matter could be set aside for James MacLeod and his infamous Claymore’s opinions on the same, then turned his attention to his brother.
He shot Connor a warning look as that same brother stepped toward Harriet which saved the man a different sort of medieval blade in his gut.
“Shake hands,” Connor said, smiling at her, “save a life.”
She laughed and hugged him briefly, then smiled. “You should come see us.”
“I think I might.”
Sam bid his brother goodbye with far less sentiment, but he’d already said his peace. Connor would do what he wanted to, and time would tell. He turned to his father last of all, embraced him, then submitted to loud kisses on both cheeks.
“I’ll see you,” Nicholas said simply.
Sam nodded, then ushered his wife and her parents into that remarkably roomy ring in the grass before he waxed rhapsodic about his sire indeed coming for a little spin in his jet-black Alfa.
He watched a final handful of snowdrops simply disappear, took a deep breath, then stepped out of the faery circle, bringing his wife and her parents along with him—
Only to run directly into Jackson Alexander Kilchurn V, which at least meant they’d at least landed in the right century. He hadn’t been worried, but he was generally not adventuring with the parents of the woman he loved.
Life was very strange.
“That didn’t take long.”
Sam looked at his cousin in surprise. “What day is it?”
“What do you mean what day is it? ‘Tis the same day you left. Admittedly, ‘tis noon and I had to go fetch something to break my fast, but I was simply being thorough and returning to make certain you hadn’t left anything behind.”
Sam looked at Harriet who shrugged, but her eyes were wide.
“Noted,” she said faintly.
Sam watched Jackson glance his way—they would be discussing the matter later—before his cousin walked over and greeted Harriet’s parents.
“How are you related to my good friend Nicholas?” Harold asked, extending his hand and shaking Jackson’s.
“I am his younger sister Amanda’s eldest son,” Jackson said with a small bow. “Jackson Kilchurn, at your service.”
Harold looked him over. “Then you’ve done this business before as well.”
“Aye, my lord,” Jackson said. “A time or two.”
“Let’s speak as we walk, then,” Harold said. “I have a few questions.”
Sam imagined he did. He caught Jackson’s look of surprise over Lord Harold’s excellent French, but shrugged and allowed his cousin to gather up Harriet’s parents’ and usher them well away from the gate, something he thought was very wise, actually.
He reached for his lady’s hand, then looked at her.
“They seem to have weathered the experience well,” he offered.
“Are you kidding?” she said uneasily. “My Dad’s already planning on return trips. I think your parents are going to have to give them a permanent room.”
“The saints preserve us,” he said, then he shot her a quick smile. “What first for us right now: a chippy run or a little nip into Marks and Spencer’s for chocolate and a change of clothes?”
“Both,” she said with feeling. “Or all three, depending on how you’re counting. How’s your phone?”
“Completely drained. I have the feeling Connor pinched it then returned it whilst I was distracted by the most beautiful faery ever to grace our poor world. Not to worry, though. I can find a food hall without anything but my good sense.”
Harriet bumped him affectionately with her shoulder. “You’re funny and I’m starting to understand your relationship to modern food. I think I left money in Rufus’s car—”
Sam only shook his head and sighed. Obviously he had work still to do there. He smiled at his wife just the same, then pulled her with him to follow after her parents who were tumbling over each other to describe to Jackson the charms of their recent sojourn—all in French, of course.
He watched his in-laws be carefully put into Rufus’s Mercedes, with Lord Harold in the front and his lady wife in the back. Harriet seated herself in the middle next to her mother, which happily left him a spot next to her. He paused before he crawled into the back seat and looked at his cousin.
“You have a way back to Bradford?”
“I’ll beg a ride from Oliver,” Jackson said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t want to force you to walk.”
Sam rolled his eyes, but put off brawling with his cousin for the moment. “Text Theo for me, would you?” he asked, giving Jackson his brother’s mobile number. “I want to make certain he’s still breathing.”
“So you can relieve him of the same ability at your leisure?”
Sam pursed his lips. “Aye, and I want at him first. You may have what’s left.”
“We’ll discuss that later,” Jackson said, typing something into his phone. “Are you planning on doing him in soon?”
“Actually, I’m preparing to go on my honeymoon first,” Sam said before he thought better of it.
Jackson looked at him in surprise, then calculation, then with a pleasant smile that wasn’t at all convincing.
“What an interesting turn of events,” he said smoothly. “Any destinations in mind?”
“None that you’ll know about,” Sam said with a snort, “and I spent my wedding night in a guard tower given that my great-grandmother had already made herself comfortable in my wedding bed and thereafter confiscated my bride—don’t laugh!”
Obviously, ‘twas too late for that. His only hope was that Jackson would wheeze so hard he might choke and rid them all of his annoying self. Sam glared at him on principle, then put himself in the back of the car and nodded politely to Rufus.
“Thank you, Master Chauffeur,” he said politely.
“Back to Bradford-Next-the-Stow, Master McKinnon?” Rufus asked with equal politeness.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Sam reached for Harriet’s hand, smiled at her, and made himself a mental note about the gate they’d just used. He hadn’t felt anything particularly unusual, but he could also count and they’d been in 1268 for almost a week.
Heaven only knew what had been going on in the Future whilst they’d been away.
By the time the sun had well and truly set, he’d stopped caring what had potentially gone on in the Future and settled for wishing time would, as they said in the Colonies, get a move on.
The afternoon hadn’t been without its pleasures, admittedly.
He’d waited his turn for an endless shower, then dressed himself in clothing borrowed from his cousin before he made off with his lady for a quick run to the shops for other things to wear and some delicious, fried, vinegar-soaked takeaway that he’d only restrained himself from eating on the way home because he’d been driving his repaired car—he would need to talk to Oliver about that at some point—and needed to shift gears.
It had been a lovely evening, though, and he’d thoroughly enjoyed supper and some decent conversation with Harriet and her parents.
But the sun had set and he was starting to think that perhaps sleeping arrangements needed to be made.
He’d taken up his usual spot in front of the fire in the wee great room after Lord and Lady Brewster had bidden them goodnight and made their way upstairs.
He reminded himself that he was a knight of the realm, he had managed to wed the woman sitting on the couch six paces away the day before, and she had, once or twice, seemed receptive to his kisses.
“Erm,” he said, wondering just how he might start things off on the right foot.
Fortunately for him, a rescue was in the offing.
He was slightly alarmed to find it was Harriet’s father and mother both coming down the stairs, but perhaps they had some last-minute advice on how to proceed that they could discreetly offer if Harriet decided to decamp for the other room to do whatever gels did to make ready for sleep.
He was less alarmed and more gobsmacked to watch his father-in-law walk into great room carrying blankets and a pillow. Harold plunked everything down on the coffee table and smiled pleasantly. Sam considered those, then looked at the lady Petunia whose eyes were watering madly.
Damnation, but did he have a sign plastered to his forehead that alerted all in the area that he was a man to be endlessly teased?
“You’re welcome to the sofa, son,” Lord Harold said with a smile. “Harriet, your room is upstairs, as usual.”
Sam had a handshake from his love’s father, a hug and a kiss on the cheek from her mother, then he found himself alone with his wife in the gathering chamber. Well, alone save that stack of bedding that was obviously meant for him to use in the living room.
By himself.