Chapter 30

Phillip decided that of all the Future inventions he had encountered thus far, traffic was the one he liked the least.

Escaping Edinburgh’s environs had never been pleasant, not even in his time, but it was made far worse currently by the addition of too many automobiles. He had gotten caught on some sort of damned ring road, made the trip about the city one more time than he’d intended to, then finally managed to get himself on the road that led south. He supposed it would have helped if he’d recognized anything, but he didn’t. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that things had changed a bit over the centuries, but he was.

It occurred to him after a pair of hours on the road that he had been concentrating so hard on not getting them killed that he hadn’t even looked to see if Imogen was still breathing. He glanced at her to find her watching him.

“Do you want to drive?” he asked.

“This thing?” she asked in astonishment. She paused. “Well, maybe later if we can find a deserted road. I don’t want to wreck it.” She shivered. “Heather would kill me.”

“And you think she won’t kill me?”

“You have a sword. Besides, I’ll have plenty of chances to drive in the future.”

He nodded and continued on, though he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to ignore her last statement. Obviously he had come to the Future to... well, at the moment, he supposed saying that he’d come merely for his sword was untrue.

He wanted Imogen Maxwell.

The oddest thing about the situation was his own reticence. He wasn’t accustomed to standing back and having to consider more than once his next move. He generally had a strategy planned out well in advance and things marched along just as he’d intended them to. He should have realized the first time he’d seen Haemesburgh covered in cesspit leavings that anything to do with the damned place wasn’t going to go according to plan.

“Are you all right?”

Ah, concern. That was a promising start. He decided he would think about that instead of what was left to overcome in order to win her because thinking about that sort of thing felt too hopeless at the moment. The truth was, now that he’d seen even part of what the Future had to offer a body, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to ask Imogen if she might be willing to leave it for a life in the past with him.

He was beginning to wonder if the whole thing hadn’t been a terrible idea. She had her life, her work to do, apparently a betrothed to wed. Who was he to think she might want to have anything to do with him?

Well, that was part of why he wanted to show her Artane, wasn’t it?

“Phillip?”

He smiled when he would have preferred to growl, because his mother had taught him good manners. “I am well.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nay,” he said honestly. He wasn’t sure if he could even begin to tell her what he was thinking, so he settled for an untruth. “I think too much traffic has given me pains in my head.”

“What can I do?”

“Hold me?”

She blinked, then she smiled. “Smooth.”

“I am known for my chivalry even under the most dire of circumstances.” He shot her a quick look. “You could reward me for that, if you liked, but I would likely have to pull over for those accolades to be heaped upon my head. That looks to be a likely spot up ahead.”

“That looks to be a likely castle up ahead.”

“And so it does.”

“Recognize it?”

“I might.” He took a deep breath. “Can we drive all the way there, do you suppose? Up to the gates, I mean.”

“Ask my phone.”

“I don’t think it speaks Norman French.” He shook his head. “My father would have soiled himself by now.”

“That’s why you’re here, I imagine.”

He smiled. “One reason, perhaps. I’m sure there are others.” And with any luck, he would have the chance to list them for her.

He listened to her ask her phone where they should go, spared a moment to marvel that such a thing was possible, then left thinking behind whilst he pitted himself against the task of getting them not only to the village but through it.

It helped that he recognized the landscape, if not the structures.

He passed a very fine car that was almost distracting enough to leave him not heeding where he was going, then he pushed on the brakes too hard. He supposed it was simply good fortune that he didn’t land them in someone’s front garden.

“What’s wrong?” Imogen gasped.

Phillip pulled over and parked the car. He looked at her. “Wait for me, if you will.”

She didn’t seem opposed to it, but perhaps he sounded as gobsmacked as he felt. He crawled out of the car and looked behind him to see if the other car had decided to stop as well. He watched it turn about and come his way, pulling in behind Heather’s Porsche and coming to an abrupt stop. He waited, hardly daring to indulge in any thinking lest he find that he was indeed imagining things.

A man flung open the door and leaped out.

It was his father.

He gaped at the apparition that hastened toward him. He could hardly believe ’twas Robin, but what else was he to think? The man could not have looked any more like his sire—

Nay, not Robin.

Kendrick.

His younger brother looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost, then stepped forward and threw his arms around him in an embrace that robbed Phillip of breath. That was likely just as well, for it saved him from unmanning himself by squeaking in surprise.

Kendrick slapped him on the back a time or two, then pulled back and took him by the shoulders. “Phillip,” he said with a laugh. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

The medieval French coming out of his brother’s mouth was equal parts comforting and unsettling. Phillip looked around him to make certain he was still in the Future, then looked at his brother.

“Ah,” he began.

“And where did you get that car?” Kendrick asked with another laugh. “By the saints, brother, do you have any idea how much they cost?”

Phillip wondered if he would manage decent speech at any time. All he could do was stand there and stare stupidly at his younger brother. First, why was Kendrick in the Future? Second, why was he so old? He had to have been at least a score and five. Third, why was there never a chair about when a man had the greatest need for one?

“And who do you have with you?” Kendrick asked, abandoning him without hesitation to go open the passenger side of the car.

Phillip watched him do it, then watched his brother go very still. Well, that was something. He honestly wasn’t sure he wanted to know what his brother knew or what he was thinking or what he was speculating about. He elbowed his brother out of the way, then held down his hand to help Imogen out of the car. He looked at Kendrick.

“This is Imogen Maxwell,” he said. “Imogen, this is my brother, Kendrick.”

She looked as surprised as he felt. “Your brother?” she repeated faintly.

“I know, ’tis hard to believe something as ugly as Phillip could be related to me,” Kendrick said promptly, “but there you have it. Quirk of nature, obviously. I’m Kendrick, the handsome and brilliant one.”

Imogen smiled. Phillip thought he might have to sit down for other reasons. He leaned against Heather’s car because he supposed she might deserve it if he scratched the beast, but he didn’t lean too hard.

“I’m assuming he’s told you all about me,” Kendrick went on. “’Tis difficult not to bring me into all our adventures. I am the one, of course, who always wins the lady’s hand and collects the most spoils.”

“Please, let’s not discuss your spoils or ladies won,” Phillip said with a snort. “Imogen, don’t listen to him. He’s a terrible braggart.”

Kendrick only smiled that sunny smile he’d used to get his way from the time he’d first understood its effect on those around him. Phillip wasn’t entirely immune himself.

“There is a tale here,” Kendrick said, “and one I want to hear at length, but perhaps the details can wait. Where are you headed?”

Phillip pointed back over his shoulder. “Thought I would pop by the old pile of stones and see what’s left of it.”

“It’s in remarkably fine shape,” Kendrick said with as much seriousness as he mustered, ever. “Introduce yourself to the current lord, Stephen. I imagine he’ll even feed you luncheon, if you kiss his arse well enough.”

“I’ll do my best,” Phillip said dryly.

“Then come to Seakirk. I might let you sleep on my floor.”

Phillip felt his jaw go slack. “Seakirk? What in the hell are you doing at Seakirk? And now that I’ve found my tongue, I’ll ask the rest of what troubles me. Why are you so old? What the hell happened to you?”

Kendrick looked at Imogen and winked. “He’s vexed. He’s rude when he’s vexed. Keep that in mind if you intend to carry on with him for any length of time. The way to force him to stop is to remind him that he’s being rude.” Kendrick looked at him. “You’re being rude.”

“I’m being gobsmacked.”

Kendrick pursed his lips. “I can see you’ve picked up a useful word or two recently. Go have your visit at home, then come to my hall. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. And I’ll provide your lady at least with a decent place to rest her head.” He held open Imogen’s door for her. “Here, allow me to tuck you back into this fine vehicle.”

Phillip watched his brother ply his abundant chivalry on a woman he wished he could find a way to woo himself, then waited until the door was shut before he spoke.

“I’m very curious.”

“Of course you are,” Kendrick said with a smirk. “Where’s your gate?”

The conversation had taken such a radical turn away from where he could have reasonably expected it to go, he found it rather easy, all things considered, to just discuss things that at another time he would have considered to be completely daft. He looked at his brother closely. “What do you know? Or, rather, what did you know in the past?”

“More than you’d care to hear,” Kendrick said, “but I used my time ferreting out secrets whilst you were in the lists. I’m not surprised that you’re utterly oblivious. What did your gate look like?”

“The gaping maw of hell and it languishes behind the lord’s chair in Haemesburgh.”

Kendrick blinked, then laughed. “Why am I not surprised? At least it will be fairly easy to get to again, then.”

“In this century or that one?”

“This one,” Kendrick said.

“I need my sword.”

Kendrick looked around him. “I don’t see it.”

“That’s because Heather of Haemesburgh has it, you fool.”

Kendrick lifted an eyebrow. “Did you want my aid?”

“Money for petrol, more like.”

His brother laughed. “Ah, how the tables are turned. You, needing me for a change.”

“Brother, I’ve never not needed you,” Phillip said seriously. “I’ve spent more time looking over my shoulder in the past month than I have in my entire life.”

“You used to look over your shoulder to make sure I was there and hadn’t gone missing,” Kendrick said with a snort. “I know, because Mother asked you to do the same endlessly.”

“And then you stopped cutting yourself on your sword and I thought you might be equal to guarding my back.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I need a drink.”

“If only you indulged, and perhaps I should remind you that this is a conversation we’ve been having the whole of our lives.” Kendrick smiled. “Trot off home for a visit, then come stay with me. I’ll go have a nap so I’m well rested for the telling of tales.”

Phillip found himself surprisingly loath to watch his brother walk away. Kendrick looked at him, then stepped forward and embraced him again, strongly enough that Phillip lost his breath.

“Come see me at Seakirk,” Kendrick said, slapping Phillip on the back. “I’ll be there.”

“I’m honestly not sure I can find it,” Phillip said. “The roads are so different.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Aye.”

“Then pull yourself into the twenty-first century and bloody use it,” Kendrick said with a grin. “Here, give me your phone and I’ll program my number in. Ring me when you’re on your way and I’ll be sure to have the gates open. How long are you staying?”

“I have no idea,” Phillip said honestly.

“You may have three days before I put you to cleaning the stables,” Kendrick said absently, fiddling with Phillip’s phone. He handed it back, clapped him on the shoulder, then walked back over to his car. “Ring me.”

Phillip found that he could do nothing but gape as his brother got back into his car, waved, then whipped around and drove off in the direction he’d been going at first. He watched his brother go and tried not to think about the absolute oddness of what he’d just experienced.

He watched the road until he could no longer see Kendrick’s car, then turned and looked at his father’s hall, sitting as it had apparently for centuries up on that bluff, overlooking the sea and village both. It was a spectacular place, he was the first to admit. He had loved it with all his heart from the moment he’d known he belonged to it. Even going off to squire for as brief a time as he’d done so had been something of an agony. If he left the past behind, he would never in the Future be anything more there than a guest.

He put his hand on Heather’s car and considered. He had to go back and Haemesburgh was the price he would pay to secure Artane for himself and his heirs. To have even that, he would need—

He looked out over the countryside and realized that in all his discussions about wooing a certain woman and finding a certain sword, he was missing the most obvious thing of all.

He needed to find out who wanted him dead before they managed to accomplish the deed.

He couldn’t help but think Heather’s brother had something to do with the whole tangle, but that was also something he wouldn’t know until he’d gone off to do what he needed to do. The one thing he did know for certain was that he couldn’t ask Imogen to be a part of any of that. In truth, he wasn’t sure he could ask her to be a part of anything.

He took a deep breath and made the deliberate decision to put all that behind him. He was on the verge of seeing his home in a way that neither his father nor his grandfather could have imagined. He could at least give Imogen some relief from her stifling family for a day or two.

That would have to be enough.