Timeless Desire (19 page)

“‘Always’?”

“Well, yes. The first time when we met, I’d just discovered the, er, well, portal, I suppose, in the library where I work. Then I came through again when I decided I wasn’t going to put up with you calling me a whore.” She eyed him over her shoulder.

“It could have been worse. You were either a whore or a spy. Of the two, I chose the least offensive.”

She gave him a look.

A length of rope landed on the ground at her feet. Bridgewater must have heaved it over his shoulder. She picked it up and began to loop it around her breeks. “Then, of course, the last time, after you’d shown me the double star and we’d said good-bye. And every time I’ve landed in the chapel.”

“You returned to your own time then?”

The note of hurt in his question made her squirm, and she gave him a regretful look. “I did. I told you, there were people expecting me.”

“Steve,” he said.

Bridgewater had not forgotten. She felt a small thrill pass through her, which she reluctantly put aside. There would be thrills enough just trying to get off the castle grounds without throwing desire in the mix, too. They could explore that later—hopefully in a place far removed from Bridgewater Castle. “Yes. But I knew I’d failed you—or at least I would if I didn’t deliver the note as you’d asked. And Steve was kind enough to take me back to the library.”

“Someday I must thank him.”

“You’d like him.”

“If I am honest,” he said softly, “I don’t think I would.”

“Ready!” She turned to face him, and his eyes widened.

“Not good?” she asked, reaching for the brewer’s cap.

“Well, it depends on one’s point of view. If we want to draw the attention of every man between here and my castle, tis very good.”

She looked down and saw the pink-tinged outlines of her nipples through the white. “Oh.”

Clare stuck his head in. “Sir?”

“Out,”
Bridgewater commanded, and Clare disappeared.

He searched the space while she tucked up her hair, and found an apron, which he handed her.

She put it on and tied it behind her. “Better?”

He cleared his throat rather than answering, grabbed her gown off the floor, and led her by the elbow out the door.

Clare stood at the corner of the structure, hidden from the house, and scanned the grounds. “The horses are hidden behind the copse there,” he whispered, pointing to a thick growth of oaks toward the middle of the park. “We can head over the rise there and then ride in among the trees.”

By the time they reached the copse, two carriages were coming up the long drive. Bridgewater peered at them from the shelter of one of the oak trunks.

“That’s General Cabot’s carriage,” Bridgewater said, frowning. “What could he be doing here?” He laced his fingers to provide a foothold for Panna to mount the horse.

Panna put her foot in his hand. “General Williston is there as well.”

He lifted her up and into the saddle. “Williston? His men are in Lincoln, and Cabot’s are north of Cambridge. What would they be doing here in Cumbria?”

“Williston gave the orders for all divisions north of Oxford to come to Cumbria. They’ll be arriving in the course of the next two days.”

A look of horror passed between Bridgewater and Clare.

“Oh, no,” she added hurriedly. “Don’t worry. It’s very unlikely they’ll attack.”

Bridgewater gave a disdainful laugh. “With three divisions? Hell, they could take almost take Spain with that many men, let alone half a dozen angry clans.”

“No, what I mean is, I heard them talking, the earl and Williston. The earl was very clear that their hands are tied. The queen has said they cannot attack unprovoked. And if nothing happens by Wednesday, all the troops are to return to the south.”

“How did you hear this?”

“That’s the best thing. There’s a fireplace above where the men were meeting. I could hear their voices quite clearly.”

Bridgewater gazed at the house, considering. “Where was that?”

“I was . . .” It dawned on her she’d rather not say, and her pause prompted Bridgewater to turn.

“Where?”

“I was in Adderly’s bedchamber.”

A cool detachment came over Bridgewater’s features, as if a curtain had been dropped, and he untied the lead. “I see.”

“No, you don’t see. I was in the process of trying to sneak out. His bedroom door was ajar, and I could hear voices from the floor below coming through the hearth when I walked by. It was the earl and Williston talking. I stood there as long as I could, until Adderly discovered me.”

Bridgewater looked at Clare. “If what she heard is true—”

“It
is
what I heard. I heard it quite clearly.”

He bowed in acceptance. “If it’s true . . . good lord, by Wednesday, the crisis will have passed.”

The relief on both their faces was so evident, Panna hated to add, “But there’s more.”

“More?”

“Yes. Williston felt that having to return with no victory in hand would be highly embarrassing for the generals involved.”

“It would be,” Bridgewater said. “And rightly so.”

“Which is why he has a plan.”

“A plan? What sort of plan?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s when Adderly found me.”

Clare chewed his lip. “I wish I knew what the generals were thinking. For that matter, I wish I knew what the clans have in mind.”

Bridgewater said to Panna, “There are some borderland clan chiefs who seek to avoid more fighting. Unfortunately, that contingent has lost power in the last year. There are others who want to bring the fervor to a head no matter the cost in human lives.”

“Your grandfather?” she asked.

Bridgewater’s eyes turned automatically toward the north, as if he could still see that yellow flag flapping in the Scottish hills. “I don’t know for certain. I have never spoken to my grandfather, not in my entire life. So I only know what I’ve heard. And what I’ve heard suggests he bides his time in the middle, waiting to see which way the wind will blow. His clan is the largest around here, however, and were he to come down on one side or the other, his word would carry. Still, we have heard nothing to suggest the clans are planning an attack in the short term.”

Clare’s horse pawed the ground, and he scratched the creature’s ears. “Nor have we heard they intend to hold off.” He put a foot in the stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. “So, do we wait, and hope the clans sit on their hands long enough for this to blow over?”

Bridgewater slouched against the closest tree and stared abstractedly at his father’s castle.

“You need to know what the generals are planning,” Panna said. “Any move you make without that knowledge could make things worse.”

“There may be a way to find out,” Bridgewater said. “I know a captain in one of Cabot’s regiments. If he arrives tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow may be too late,” Clare said.

“I don’t see that we have much of a choice.”

“You do,” Panna said. “Me.”

“Pardon?”

“Me. I can go back. I’ll say I took a walk. I can find out what they talk about after dinner. The earl told Williston that that’s when they’d pick up the conversation.”

“You are kind to offer,” Bridgewater said, “but they’re hardly going to invite a woman into their confidence.”

“She doesn’t mean joining their conversation, Jamie. She means listening from Adderly’s room.”

A flush of anger lit Bridgewater’s cheeks.
“No.”

The horse fidgeted at the sharpness of Bridgewater’s tone, and Panna clutched the edge of the saddle. “No?”

“No,” he repeated. “I told you I don’t trust Adderly.”

“I don’t, either. But I know I can get back into his room again.”

Bridgewater’s flush grew brighter.

“I don’t mean like that.” The thought of it sent a chill through her. She hoped Adderly would join in the generals’ conversation. That seemed the only way to be sure he wouldn’t corner her again.

“Let me try it, at least,” she said. “If I don’t succeed, I can always steal away, just as I did now.”

“Absolutely not. Why do you suppose I came after you? And Clare found me? Adderly has a damned ugly streak of brutality. Is my face not evidence enough of that?”

“Look,” she said, “I accept that Adderly is a danger. Nonetheless, your father will be there. Do you honestly think your father would let anything happen to a woman in his own home? I haven’t heard you say anything about your father that would make me believe you wouldn’t trust him with me.” She almost said “your life,” but then, a man who’d had his paternity denied might argue his life
had
been taken from him.

Bridgewater bridled. She could see the strong distaste in those eyes. He turned to Clare, looking for his reaction.

Clare shrugged. “Tis two more hours at most. We’d be here the whole time.”

Bridgewater turned back to her. “You would be in his
bedchamber
.”

She wanted to say that she knew how to handle herself in a man’s bedchamber, but she dared not—not with the cold fire in his eyes. “I will be careful, I swear. And he’ll join the other men after dinner, will he not?”

After a long moment, Bridgewater held out his hand to help her from the horse. “I don’t like it.”

“I know. I appreciate your willingness to let me try.”

He made a dubious noise, as if he were already regretting his decision, and handed her the gown. “There’s a sizable copper beech over there. Let us hope none of the generals have chosen this hour for a walk about the park.”

Dining Hall, Bridgewater Castle, Carlisle, Cumbria

Adderly filled his goblet, then topped off Panna’s. “You’ve hardly drunk anything. This is Alsatian, you know. Dry, floral, with a dash of spice. Not unlike you, milady.”

She smiled despite feeling a jolt of revulsion. He had drunk more than enough for both of them and a few generals combined, but other than a slight pinkness around the edges of his eyes and a taste for overblown similes, he had shown few signs of inebriation, which surprised her.

“You are too kind.”

Adderly leaned closer. “My servant said you forwent your bath. I hope you were not unwell.”

Panna felt a sudden, more dangerous vibe. Was he wondering where she’d been? She searched his face, but there appeared to be no accusation in his words, just the solicitousness of a tongue loosened by alcohol.

“As I said, the day looked so beautiful I decided to walk in the park instead. I owe your servant an apology. I know setting up a bath is not an easy matter. I am sorry I missed it.”

Adderly waved away her concern.

The dinner, which had consisted of fish soup, the ham she had smelled, a large roast beef, geese stuffed with quail and eel pie, was coming slowly to an end. The men at the table were arguing the pros and cons of Marlborough’s latest strategy with the French.

The earl had appeared behind them, goblet in hand. “Adderly, might I have the honor of a few moments with our guest? You have been keeping her to yourself this whole night, and ladies are at a premium.”

Only three women were seated at the table, and the other two were Adderly’s seventeen-year-old cousin and her elderly traveling companion.

Adderly stood and bowed, giving Panna a good-natured wink before strolling to his father’s seat.

“Did you like the park, Mrs. Carnegie? I am told Adderly took you on a tour.”

He looked like a white-haired version of Sean Connery, with his neatly trimmed beard, piercing green eyes, of course, that slightly bent nose. But despite his conviviality, Panna’s defenses rose.

“Aye. Tis lovely.”

“We do not spend much time here, no more than a month or two each year, though this year, of course, the unpleasantness with the Scots has extended our stay considerably.”

Panna could only imagine the expense of keeping an estate of this size to use a fraction of the year.

“What about the gardens? Did Adderly take you there as well?”

“He did. I have never seen anything quite so skillfully laid out. He says the mermaids on the fountain spin and spray water from their shells when the water is running.”

“My wife designed it.”

Panna wondered about the woman who had taken Sorcha’s place in the earl’s heart. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to meet her. I take it she is elsewhere this evening?”

“Did my son not tell you? His mother passed away four years ago.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I can see a lot of you in Adderly. Does he also take after your wife?”

The earl looked at her carefully. “Aye. They share the same fine sense of taste and love of art. I am entirely lacking in what the world would call that sort of refinement.”

“I do not think that can be true, sir. Your house is beautiful.”

“Thank you. It has been in the Bridgewater family for nearly a century.”

She paused, considering. “Bridgewater is, I think, a common name in these parts, is it not?”

“Not particularly. Why?”

“I was introduced to another officer named Bridgewater this morning, a captain. He is in one of your regiments, I think.” She watched the earl’s face for a sign, but he kept his expression even.