Chapter 28 #2
“Your mother is full of brilliant suggestions,” Sam said, stroking his chin. He realized what he was doing and froze, then considered. There was something a bit comforting about it, so he carried on. “Let’s go home and see where our skipping feet take us from there.”
She smiled hesitantly. “I’m coming with you?”
He shot her a look. “What is our first rule?”
“Get behind you if there’s danger.”
He smiled. “Very well, what is our second rule?”
“I get to decide?”
He nodded, then he hesitated. “Please don’t break my heart.”
“Is that number three?”
“Part of number two.” He looked at her seriously. “I asked you to wed with me, Harriet, because I looked at you from across my father’s hall and realized that I loved you and didn’t want to collect all the lovely moments left in my life without you collecting them with me. But you decide.”
“I said you aye,” she said with a grave smile, “because I looked at you in the same place and thought the same thing. I’ll come with you.”
He kissed her softly. “Then let’s go eat, grab what gear we have in the pub, then head home for a few days. You can decide what you want to do once we’re there, aye?”
“Do I get to have a title on my passport now?”
He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders.
“I think that’s a must,” he said as he led them away from the Stratford things that had sorted themselves quite nicely and over to his little runabout that had seemingly acquired a barnacle in the person of Derrick Cameron who was leaning casually against the driver’s door.
Derrick made Harriet a slight bow. “My lady.”
She laughed a little. “How did you know?”
“Magic.”
Sam snorted in spite of himself, tucked Harriet into the car, then looked at the man who had so capably gotten him and his brother on the road to a reasonable life in the present day.
“Thugs?”
“Not with me sitting on your bonnet,” Derrick said solemnly. “Heard you sent a thug tumbling under a bit of outdoor stage, though.”
“Who told?”
“Oliver. He loves to text.”
“So does Jackson.”
“I know,” Derrick agreed with a faint smile. “Any thoughts on the lad you sent off into the ether? And what did you tell the cast?”
“That it was a display of magic,” Sam said, “which they’ll either believe or they won’t.
There was a grand reshuffling of the entire company, though, so I imagine no one will have much time for thinking on it further.
As for the lad, I don’t think he’ll come back through whatever gate he tumbled into. ”
“Not after Oliver and Peter shove a stone over it, he won’t,” Derrick agreed.
“I’ll help—”
“Are ye daft, man?” Derrick asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Go off on your honeymoon and leave that to us. You’ll repay it down the road, I’m sure.”
Sam hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you. And by the way, Jack’s setting up a parley at Wyckham.”
“Will it be different from the one we attended where he alerted us to his plans of treating you and your brother to a fair bit of grievous bodily harm?”
Sam pursed his lips. “Did I say I would help you? I didn’t mean it.”
Derrick laughed and walked away. “Off with you, laddie, and enjoy. We’ll catch up later.”
Sam smiled, crawled into his car, and looked at his wife. He’d never expected to have one, actually, never mind a glorious faery who looked at him as if she might be just a bit fond of him.
“Home?”
She nodded happily.
He smiled, then got them on the well-trodden road back to London.
Several hours later, he stood with his lady wife just outside the doorway to his London flat. He glanced at her, had a firm nod in response, and cast caution to the wind.
He silently fitted the key into the door, put his ear to the wood, then eased the door open. When that was met with silence instead of ghostly boos and giggles, he opened the door and ushered his lady inside.
“Are we alone?” she whispered.
“The saints preserve us, I hope so,” he said, with feeling.
He flipped on the lights, but that revealed no one nefarious at least in the vestibule. He brought their groceries and gear inside, locked the door behind them, then took her hand. “Stay behind me.”
“You know I will.”
He smiled at her briefly, then made his way through the entire flat, looking for miscreants, ancestors, and open laptops. Finding none of the above, he stood where they’d begun, let out the breath he’d been holding, and looked at his love.
“I think we’re alone.”
She laughed a little. “Are we going to continue to be alone, do you suppose, or …”
Sam rubbed his hand over his face and shivered. “I certainly hope so. We can only hope our ancestors know where to draw the line with visits to newlyweds.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Shall we put things away, then see where we are?”
She nodded and helped him carry makings for a pair of decent meals if they became desperate plus a new supply of chocolate that he fully intended to hide from his brother right off.
“Any word from your parents?” he asked as he closed up the final cabinet.
“Nothing beyond what they sent me earlier, but that also included a promise not to go straying off any paths.” She glanced at him. “If you know what I mean.”
He smiled. “I daresay I do.”
“Anything from Theo?”
“Not a damned thing, the ungrateful git.”
“He’s probably all wrapped up in his writing business,” Harriet offered.
“Aye, lazing uselessly about in his tweed coat, sipping tea, and doing nothing more taxing than looking for rogue gerunds and having spicy debates about the Oxford comma,” Sam said with a snort.
“Most likely,” she agreed.
He leaned back against the counter and looked at her carefully. “You know, Harriet, I’m sure he would happily include you in his retreat if you cared to go.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready for any retreats any time soon.”
“Not interested in penning any mysteries at the moment?” he asked with a smile.
“Actually, I was thinking about a different genre.”
“If you tell me you’re going to write medieval romances now, I will …” He blew his fringe out of his eyes, then laughed a little at the look on her face. He held up his hands. “I surrender.”
She walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, then leaned up and kissed him. “I do have the perfect model for at least one hero.”
“Well,” he said modestly, “if your need is dire, I suppose you could make do with me.”
She smiled, but her smile faded more quickly than he was happy with. He suspected he might know why, but he quite liked the way she assessed any battlefield so he simply watched her and waited for her to decide her own course of action.
“I need a purpose,” she said. She put her hands on his chest, then looked at him. “And to make a living.”
He nodded. “I understand.” He had no intention of leaving things so she needed to, but he imagined that didn’t need to be said.
“I could go be a player at a medieval faire, I suppose.”
He blinked, then smiled at the twinkle in her beautiful eyes. “The saints preserve us both.”
“The French your sister taught me likely wouldn’t get me very far, but I could go audition for a play.”
“You could,” he agreed, making himself a mental note to ask about just what Joanna had been translating for her. “I think I also might know of a battlefield that needs a proper general to manage it, though.”
She frowned. “You do?”
“There might be matchmaking involved.”
“I see,” she said, nodding. “Will I get to order the ghosts around?”
“I’ll introduce you, then you can come to an understanding with them as it suits you.”
“I can accompany them if I buy a piano.”
“I will find you a piano,” he promised, “and I will see to our needs as a proper medieval knight should.”
“Lord’s son,” she corrected, then she smiled. “I’m absolutely going to using your title if they get out of hand.”
“Unfortunately they all have heavy titles themselves,” he said with a shiver, “save that Puritan lad, but I suspect he might be either a grandfather or a cousin of yours.” He pulled her back into his arms and smiled at her. “But, my lady Harriet, you are absolutely entitled to all honors due you.”
“Thank you, Sam,” she said seriously. “For giving me the choice.”
“Thank you, Harriet, for choosing me as part of it.”
She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Is the entire house ghost-free, do you think?”
“Let’s go see,” he said. “Bring your father’s pajamas.”
She laughed. “If you start bellowing about saving me from dragons, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her from the kitchens. “I’ll find you proper nightclothes at some point and we’ll give those back to your father so we don’t have to think about it any longer.”
“Sam?”
He clicked off the light in the kitchens, then looked at her. “Aye?”
She took a deep breath. “I love you.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her very softly. “I love you, too.”
He wrapped his arms more securely around her and closed his eyes.
So many things he hadn’t expected, so many lovely, simple things he’d been so fortunate to find as the days and hours and moments had passed recently, and all of them passed in the company of a fluttery, tender, lovely faery whose curiosity rivaled his own and who looked at him as if he might indeed be her true knight in shining armor.
It was a love story worthy of their pinboard, to be sure.