PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (25 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Eric’s doppelganger, Rory, had an older brother. His name was Cedric. He was one of the estate gamekeepers accompanying Neal this morning. There were three of them. All in their mid-thirties. Cedric probably looked exactly like Eric/Rory would once they reached that age. The man had shoulder-length sandy-colored hair. Neal couldn’t tell if he was balding or not. Cedric wore a large tam on his head. It didn’t really matter, but as a motorcycle enthusiast, Neal had seen thousands of men who looked like they had a full head of hair until they took their caps off. Regardless, Cedric was a nice-looking fellow. A few inches shorter than Neal, but large, well-muscled. Self-confident.

Despite the antagonism radiating off the fellow, Neal liked him on sight.

They’d met this morning, over a breakfast befitting a day of shooting on the moors. Coffee. Porridge. Fried eggs. Back bacon. Baked beans. Blood pudding. Fried tomatoes and mushrooms. Oatcakes. And fantastic-tasting scones dripping with butter and honey. Neal hadn’t been this full in years. Couldn’t remember a meal he’d enjoyed more.

Then again...he’d been famished by the time he’d arrived, dressed in another kilt, worn this time with a plain linen shirt above it. He sported a brown leather vest with myriad pockets, knee-high boots, and thick woolen socks that scratched. This outfit seemed to also require the normal amount of daggers about his waist, while
skean dhu
were tucked into either sock.

It was an incredibly perfect morning. A bit breezy, although sunlight banished most of the chill. But that wasn’t what made it so perfect. He’d opened his eyes to the sight and feel of Ainslee snuggled against his side, a soft smile on her face. He hadn’t drawn the drapes and dawn light had streamed into the chamber, bringing even more beauty to her features. If Neal hadn’t been smitten already, he damn well would have been at that awakening.

He wasn’t sure if he should leave her in his mussed bed. He didn’t think Mason would say anything, but he didn’t know her maids. And Neal didn’t want a whisper of anything to reach Ainslee’s ear. She’d already shown her shyness last night, after he’d fetched a pail of rain water for them to wash with. Neal slept in the nude. Always had. Always would. Ainslee was the opposite. She’d even asked him not to look, while a deep blush suffused her cheeks.

That had endeared her to him even more.

So, Neal had turned around, listened to her splashing, and when she said so, he swiveled to see her engulfed in one of his robes. He’d even managed not to snicker. She’d still worn it when he’d carried her through the connecting door to her room. It wasn’t a hardship. His heart had been full to bursting with each step, and felt even more so by the way she’d nuzzled her nose against his throat. She hadn’t awakened, even as he settled her into the center of her bed and tucked her in. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss on her forehead.

And then he’d sprinted for his room, retrieved her clothing so it could be in her chamber. Piled it atop the chaise. Returned to his room. Rung for Mason. Neal didn’t really need the valet to assist. But he realized he liked seeing him. And things he used to consider a time waste had changed. He hadn’t looked at why too closely. He could guess. Being in love with Ainslee altered all kinds of things. But by the time Neal had reached the small dining room and the array of breakfast items, he was thoroughly ready to put a dent in the amount of food on display.

“This here is a blunderbuss, yer grace. Yer familiar with it. Or, so ye said.”

Cedric brought Neal’s attention back to the present with a jolt. The man had a slightly caustic edge to every comment. Neal looked across to Cedric and the thirty-inch long gun he held. The man had another gun slung over his shoulder. The gamekeeper standing behind Cedric carried another one. The blunderbuss resembled a sawed-off shotgun. The end of the barrel had been flared like a trumpet. Supposedly this was to scatter shot in a wider area to make a better kill ratio. But that hadn’t been proven. There were blunderbusses in the Straithmore Collection, but Neal had rarely handled one, and never fired it. He probably could have, but he wasn’t that interested.

What interested him was nailing a target with a thirty-thirty at a hundred yards without a scope. That gave him great satisfaction. Almost as much as hitting a bulls-eye with a
Lapua
338 sniper rifle from a distance of one mile, or a Barrett 50 Cal at two miles.

And these gamekeepers had set out ten bird decoys at about twenty feet away.  

Twenty feet
.

Neal had to turn aside before they caught his expression. Hell, if he missed at this distance, he could always throw the blunderbuss and hit something.

“Ye payin’ attention this time?”

“Uh. Yeah.”  Neal nodded.

“Good. This here is a paper patch bullet.”

Holy shit.

“Let me see that.”

Cedric handed it over. Neal tested it for weight. Looked it over. It had a waxy feel. There had been replicas in the Straithmore Collection, but despite researching antiquities markets, he’d never found an actual paper bullet from pre-Civil War era.

“What’s it loaded with?”

“A measure o’ gunpowder. Some small shot.”

“And the seal?”

“These here are lard. We like them more than the beeswax ones.”

“Pork?”

“Aye. Makes it a bit more pleasant when you bite it open.”

Neal nodded. Handed the bullet back. Cedric looked him over without expression.

“What is it?” Neal asked.

“Yer a bit different today.”

“Than...I was...before?”  Neal asked it as a leading question.

“Aye.”

“You were there?”

“You do na’ even remember?”

“I suffered a fall the other day. Hurt my head. Lost a bit of. Memory.” 

Neal lifted the hair at his temple. By now, it should be a nice purplish and green hue. And he hadn’t even thought of it for days now.
Odd.

“Well. At least this morn, yer sober.”

Neal nodded. No wonder his gamekeeper was annoyed. Firearms and alcohol were a poor mix.

“Man. Was I a twit,” he muttered.

Cedric gave him another long, measured look. Neal held the gaze. Cedric finally nodded and returned to his lecture.

“This is a hammer. It has two cocking mechanisms. Half-way is to lock it for loading. Fully back to fire. We’re taking this to half-cocked.” 

...half-cocked.

Neal fought a grin as the explanation for that expression was demonstrated for him. He didn’t dare show amusement. Not to the man who thought he handled guns while drunk.

“Got it,” he finally answered.

“Now. This here’s the firing pan.”

Neal stepped closer. The man lifted a little lid beneath the trigger.

“You bite the end of yer paper bullet open and pour a bit in the firing pan. Like so.”

Cedric bit the end of the bullet open and tapped about a half teaspoon into the pan. Neal nodded.

“Set the lid down gentle-like. Then, ye tip the gun barrel up and empty the rest of yer paper patch into it.”

“Containing the gunpowder and lead shot pellets.”

“Aye. Drop the paper down next. Then you take up the rod....like this. And ram the load into a nice solid mass.”

Cedric pulled out a metal rod that had been in brackets along the bottom of the barrel. He shoved it down the gun and started tamping the mix. He then removed the rod and slid it back into its holder. He’d glanced occasionally at what he was doing, but for the most part, kept his attention on Neal. Neal returned the favor.

“Now you are ready to shoot. You need me to demonstrate, yer grace?”

“Nah. I think I’ll just have a go at it.”

Cedric held out the gun, keeping the barrel pointing up. Neal took it, pressed it to his shoulder. Brought it to bear as he turned a half-turn to the left, and fired. It wasn’t as loud as he’d expected. Nor was there a lot of recoil. There was a bit of white smoke. But before it had dissipated, his success was clear by the others’ reaction. All ten of the decoys had fallen.

“Good shot!”  One of the other men exclaimed.

Neal looked over at Cedric. The man was giving him another level look. Pretty expressionless.

“Word is ye’ve changed.”

“God, I hope so,” Neal replied.

A ghost of a smile lifted the man’s lips. It disappeared almost instantly. The man slid the spare blunderbuss off his shoulder. “Let me ready another round fer ye.”

Neal held out the used gun. “Let me do it this time.”

“Ye certain-sure ye ken what to do?”

“Why don’t you watch? And...I think we could move my targets out a bit farther.”

“Lads? Take them another ten feet!”

“Oh. Come on, Cedric. Give me something difficult. Let’s try twenty more.”

“Twenty feet?”

“What’s the range of these guns?”

“With accuracy?”

“I don’t shoot if I’m not going to hit a target,” Neal replied.

“Forty. Forty-two feet.”

“All right. Let’s do forty.”

“Take the decoys out another twenty feet, lads!” 

Neal exchanged guns with Cedric. Waited for the man to hand him a paper patch bullet from his bag. Neal put it between his teeth and tore. Wasn’t bad tasting. Had a bit of bacon flavor to it. He pulled the trigger to half-cocked until it locked. Lifted the lid of the firing pan. Tapped out a bit of gunpowder. Lowered the lid. Turned the gun, stock down, and finished loading. He pulled the rod out and tamped his load. Replaced the rod. Other than a couple of glances he didn’t look at what he was doing. He kept his gaze on Cedric. The man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment.

“We ready?”  Neal asked.

“Aye!”

One of the other men answered. Neal put the gun to his shoulder, turned, and immediately lifted the barrel back up as a stag shot through the high grass just beyond the decoys. Beside him he heard Cedric’s whistle. And that was a very satisfying feeling. He waited for the deer to disappear. Lowered the barrel and fired.

All ten decoys fell over.

The other two men cheered. Cedric nodded.

“Yer aim...has definitely improved, yer grace.”

“Yeah. I know. Came along with that change everyone is talking about. Take them out to forty-five feet.”

“Forty-five?”

“You heard me.”

“Lads! Another five feet.”

The other two men ran for the duck decoys. Neal waited while Cedric reloaded the first gun he’d used. Neither of them spoke. He had a slight breeze coming from his right. There wouldn’t be a lot of momentum behind the shots, if he could even get them out that far. He’d have to angle the gun to the right and up about ten degrees.

“We ready?” he asked.

“Lads?”

“Ready!”

Neal turned and fired. He didn’t have to wait for the cloud to clear to know the results. The whoops from the other two gave him the answer. He lowered the gun, and looked over at Cedric.

“Too bad my cousin Garrick isn’t here again,” Neal remarked.

“Again?”

“You mean, he wasn’t here when we went shooting...before?”

“Nae.”

“Where was he?”

“I do na’ ken. It was na’ my turn to watch him.”

Whoa.

Neal sent a sharp glance toward the man. One thing was instantly apparent. He didn’t radiate disgust anymore. Neal’s brain clicked with thought processes. He could almost feel it. Cedric’s reply meant one of two things. Either he wasn’t the type to speak of others and he was giving Neal notice of that, or some of them did watch for Garrick and it truly hadn’t been his turn.

“Were you three accompanying me?”

“Aye.”

“Then which one of you has the big mouth?”

Neal narrowed his eyes, looked down at the man, and waited. It was his turn to be antagonistic. Height was a definite advantage in situations like this. He’d used it more than once. Cedric didn’t shift his gaze, however.

“I do na’ catch yer meaning.”

“Well. Garrick has the same opinion of my shooting as you had. He thinks I’m a piss-poor shot. He got that from somewhere.”

“Probably his brother.”

“Who?”

“Lachlan.”

“Lachlan?”

“That’s who was out here with you last time, yer grace.”

“Oh. Hell. I forgot about him.”

“Ye forgot yer own cousin?”

“It’s not hard. I mean...you’ve met my aunt, Lady Blair, haven’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Well. It’s bad enough knowing her husband had sex with her once. That would be Garrick. But. Damn. Lord Blair must have been blind. Deaf. And mute.”

“Yer grace?”

“Think about it, Cedric. The man had sex with my aunt more than once. That thought alone is enough to ruin sup.”

Cedric regarded him for an instant, and then the man put his head back, and roared with laughter. That’s when Neal decided it wasn’t just a good morning. It was one of the best one he could ever remember.