One Enchanted Evening (22 page)

Today, things were different. Cindi had decided to take a walk and had ordered Montgomery, Phillip, and as many of the garrison knights as would come to accompany her. Pippa had watched them go, then decided the time was ripe for a little snooping.

Once she’d gotten in the door and jammed a torch into a handy sconce, she wasted no time in rifling through her sister’s things. She found the bear-shaped tin her mother had been clutching in Seattle under the bed. There were exactly three crumbs left from brownies Pippa was sure hadn’t had their ingredients limited to what was in a Betty Crocker mix. She shoved the tin back where she’d found it, then continued her search.

She didn’t have to look far. Under Cindi’s pillow was a Ziploc bag with ten pills.

Valium.

Pippa held the pills in her hand and felt slightly sick to her stomach. It would of course be easier to let her sister just keep on keeping on, but there was the possibility that her sister would overdose. Then again, medieval England probably wasn’t the best place to detox. Pippa stood there and wished fervidly that she hadn’t stuck her nose where it shouldn’t have gone. She wouldn’t have been responsible that way, at least.

She realized, with an unpleasant start, that she had wished that more than once about more than one thing.

She looked at the small pills in her hand and decided that if she were wishing, she might as well do a thorough job of it and wish that she hadn’t agreed to come to England in the first place, that she hadn’t walked into Tess’s castle, and that she hadn’t met a man who, while he had spent a great deal of time treating her as he might have a sister, had indeed been the very embodiment of chivalry.

That was undoubtedly the worst part of her whole adventure. How in the world was she ever going to find that sort of guy in the twenty-first century? She was used to dating theater types who invariably asked her out, then tried to get her to pay for the date. Montgomery had been the polar opposite. Not only had he fed her and housed her, he had gone out of his way to make sure she was comfortable and safe—

A male throat cleared itself from the doorway. Pippa turned to see Montgomery himself standing there. She wondered how long he’d been there and how much of her wrestle with herself he’d seen.

He made no outward note of it; he merely walked into the bedroom, then sat down on the bed and looked up at her. Pippa had to close her eyes, just briefly, to get a hold of herself. She was sure she didn’t feel anything for him past a lukewarm sort of interest she might have entertained for someone she’d met in passing at the theater. Yes, that was it. Nothing special. Nothing important or earth-shattering.

“Pippa.”

She had to look at him then, because it would have been impolite not to. He looked slightly worried, but that was just because he was that sort of man. A lovely, chivalrous, polite sort of man who didn’t have it in him to kick puppies or small children, despite how ferociously he fought in the lists.

Or how thoroughly he defended her against his cousins.

“You should sit,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she managed.

He moved over a bit and patted the place next to him. “Sit, woman, and tell me what ails you before I must pry the tidings from you with my sword.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said with as much of a smile as she could muster. “Would you?”

“I don’t suppose it would fit in with the list of knightly virtues my father endeavored to teach me,” he said, “so perhaps not. I reserve the right, however, to wear you down with endless queries until you give in and allow me to aid you as I can.”

She had to blink fairly rapidly a time or two. She realized, with another bout of clarity that she didn’t enjoy at all, that despite her independence, she had relied on others for a great deal of things. She’d always known that if things really went south for her, she could crash on Peaches’s couch for an extended period of time. Aunt Edna, bless her crotchety soul, would have let her have her old room back, though the price would have been high indeed. She’d been successful in her work for various theaters because at least at the beginning she’d mostly been making someone else’s designs and hadn’t needed to take responsibility for anything past a good seam. Even when she’d begun designing things herself, she’d known a steady paycheck was waiting for her at the end of every couple of weeks. Branching out on her own hadn’t required anything beyond dreams that had yet to materialize.

But that had been easy stuff. Taking responsibility for someone else’s life? That was another thing entirely.

She suspected that Montgomery took responsibility for the lives of others without thinking about it. He was responsible for his nephew Phillip, his cousins, his garrison, and all the people who would come running inside his gates expecting him to protect them if France decided to overrun England any time in the near future.

She looked at him once again, then sat down next to him. She had to take several deep breaths before she thought she could even begin to broach the subject at hand.

“I think,” she began, feeling her heart beating uncomfortably all the way up in her throat, “that before I can tell you about this, I need to tell you about something else.”

He waited. She waited, too, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him anything. For all she knew, he would think she was completely crazy and toss her in his dungeon—if he had a dungeon, which she wasn’t sure he did. The cesspit might make a good substitute, but that was an even less appealing destination.

“It must be dire,” he murmured.

She sighed. “You have no idea.”

He simply waited, silent and grave. Pippa clasped her hands around Cindi’s pills and looked at her knuckles, which were almost white with the strain. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering telling him the truth. It sounded too fantastical even for her, and she had indulged in all kinds of unbelievable imaginings when she’d been young. She didn’t imagine he was going to say anything until she did, so she supposed she would have to go first.

It would have been so much easier to concentrate if he hadn’t been so perfectly handsome. She realized, now that she had a bit of afternoon light to help her out, that his eyes were gray. That had nothing at all to do with her current straits, but it was interesting to note. She suppressed the urge to reach up and brush hair out of his eyes, then clutched her hands together more securely and took a deep breath.

“I’m not sure you’ll believe any of this,” she began slowly.

“I have a strong stomach.”

She imagined he did, but she wasn’t sure that would extend to ramblings about time traveling and prescription drugs. Then again, Phillip had said Montgomery had in his youth believed in fairies, so maybe he had more imagination than she was giving him credit for. The question was, how did she begin a story that he would likely laugh at?

Well, laughing was better than drawing his sword, so she would press on and hope for the best.

“Where’s your sword?” she asked, just to be on the safe side.

He stood up, unbuckled his sword belt, then handed the sheathed blade to her.

It was heavier than she’d figured it would be, especially since she only had one hand to hold it with. She propped it up against the bed on her left side where it might be slightly harder for him to reach.

“My knives, too?” he asked, sitting back down.

She smiled in spite of herself. “I’m counting on your being too lazy to bend down and reach them.”

“Well, I am naturally lazy,” he drawled, “so you’re probably safe.”

She almost laughed at his dry tone. He was just more charming than any man had a right to be. She just hoped he wouldn’t lose that charm during the next ten minutes.

“I’m not sure where to start,” she admitted.

“Why don’t you start with what you’re clutching in your hand? It seems to trouble you.”

She took a deep breath, then opened her hand. Ten pills lay there, looking extremely innocent.

“Pebbles?”

“Pills,” she corrected. “Drugs.” She had more trouble than she’d expected looking for the right word in French. “Things that make you act in ways you wouldn’t normally. As if you’d had too much strong drink, only these are a dozen times more powerful.”

He looked at them, but he didn’t touch them. “Your sister’s?”

“Yes.”

“Where did she get them, do you think?”

“Probably out of my mother’s underwear drawer,” she said with a snort. She shook her head. “My parents are . . . interesting. Anyway, that’s beside the point.” She glanced at him. “It’s the next part that’s going to sound absolutely crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re daft, Persephone.”

She smiled in spite of herself. She had never liked her name until he’d said it. It was as if he thought it pretty.

She knew she should stop taking so many deep breaths. She was going to start hyperventilating soon. But maybe just a few more, to really give herself a chance to get through what she had to.

“Here’s the thing,” she said, getting up because she couldn’t sit still any longer. She walked over and set the pills down on a little table near the window. “Several days ago—I think it’s probably been more than a week, but I haven’t done a very good job of keeping up with the days.” She took another deep breath. “Anyway, I was helping out at a party for a little girl’s birthday, a party that my sister was throwing at her castle.”

“Your sister owns a castle?” Montgomery asked in surprise.

Pippa turned around and leaned back against the wall. The stone was bone-chillingly cold, but she didn’t think anything of it. “Yes. One day an old man walked up to her, invited her to come see his castle, then gave her the key to it and disappeared.” She had to pause again. “Her castle looks at lot like your castle.” Well, it wasn’t missing so many critical things, like walls and indoor plumbing, but perhaps he didn’t need to know that. “Cinderella was pretending to be the Fairy Queen.”

“And you her loyal servant?”

She nodded. “My first mistake. We walked out of the castle and across the bridge, only something strange happened.” She paused. “I’m not sure how to say this without sounding completely crazy, but it was as if I walked off my sister’s bridge and . . . well, onto your land.”

He only continued to watch her steadily. His hands weren’t twitching toward his sword, which she took to be a very good sign. He only lifted one eyebrow, but said nothing.

“This is the part that’s
really
crazy,” she said, trying to laugh a little. It would have worked, too, if it hadn’t sounded so little like a laugh. “My sister’s castle is—” She had to take another deep breath. She supposed she had one more to spare before she completely lost it. “Well, it’s your castle. Only it’s in a different year. A different century, really.”

He tilted his head. “How does it look?”

“How does what look?”

“The castle?”

She frowned. “Do you believe me?”

“Depends on how the castle looks.”

She had to force herself not to gape. “I just told you something that should make your head spin and you’re worried about how your castle looks?” she demanded incredulously.

“I’m curious by nature.”

“Curious and lazy?” she said shortly.

He turned slightly and leaned back against the footpost of the bed. “ ’ Tis a potent combination, isn’t it?”

“You’re impossible.”

He smiled. “My worst fault.” He drew his foot up onto the bed and wrapped his hands around his knee. “Satisfy my curiosity and tell me how my castle looks in your century.”

“Well, it looks perfect, that’s how it looks.” She could hardly believe he was taking it all so well. “It’s one of the most beautiful castles left in England. People come from all over the world to look at it and imagine what it was like to live in the Middle Ages.”

“The Middle Ages?”

“Those middle years after William came conquering from France and before Henry the Eighth and then Elizabeth launched that whole era of wide dresses and even wider ruffs around their necks. After the Renaissance comes the Regency period with those empire waists that were so comfortable, then that whole stretch where Victoria was queen and corsets were all the rage, then the Industrial Revolution where London got really smoggy. I won’t go into the slew of wars and uprisings and all sorts of geopolitical messes that came afterward.” She paused. “But that’s when your castle finds itself with my sister holding the key. In the twenty-first century.”

He only looked at her steadily. “I see.”

She wasn’t sure he did, but she wasn’t going to give him any more details than he absolutely had to have. “I’m really not sure how it happened, but somehow I walked from my time back to your time. I need to get home, but I’m not sure how. I’ve gone back and looked at the bridge a few times, but nothing feels like it did that night.” She began to pace again, because she was too restless to stand still. “Worse still, now I know about these pills Cindi’s taking. If I take them away, she might completely lose her mind, but if I put them back where I found them, she might take too many and die.” She stopped and looked at him. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not asking for advice, because this is my responsibility, but I’m a little out of my depth.”

He looked down at his hands clasped together for several very long moments, then looked up at her. “Can you ride?”

“What?” she asked, nonplussed.

“Can you ride?” he asked again. “A horse, I mean.”

“I’ve been on a horse,” she conceded uneasily. “Briefly.”

He glanced at the window behind her. “The day is relatively young. I’ll teach you to ride, more than briefly.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked in surprise.

“Aye.”

“And so in answer, you’re going to give me a horseback-riding lesson?”

He stood and reached for his sword. “When my father has deep thoughts to think, he walks along the roof of his keep. My eldest brother runs about the lists, then he runs through his garrison. I ride.” He shot her a look. “It clears my head.”