Rogue's Challenge (2 page)

Women some months past? Could I have arrived on the very night Amelia left the twenty-first century for the last time?

No, that could not be. He should have arrived on an equinox. And yet, he was supposed to arrive midday. This bore further consideration.

According to Amelia's friend, Jenny, a scientist as well as a physician, he should have stepped into the portal on the solstice in his time and out on the equinox in the twenty-first century. Then he merely needed to step into the fountain at Raghnall Castle on the next solstice to return to his own time arriving only moments after he'd left. Completing the trip, as it were.

And yet here he stood, in a time not his own, but in the cold of winter and at night. Interesting, to say the least, and a bit unnerving. Could it be that the portal was not linked to the person traveling, but to a schedule of its own? That in some way, he had completed Amelia's trip by stepping out on the solstice moments after she'd stepped in?

A distinct tapping at his arm, poking actually, drew his attention to the petite woman pressed against his chest. It could not be this simple, could it? Could his quest be completed with so little trouble? Is this slight female the very one he sought?

She poked him again with more vigor.

"I will remove my hand, mistress, if you promise not to scream. ‘Twould be most unpleasant and would draw the attention of the sentries,” he whispered. “Something I suspect neither of us wishes."

She nodded but hesitantly.

"On your honor?” he asked.

She huffed, bringing a faint grin to his lips. He slowly lifted his hand, ever ready to return it to her mouth if need be. But he had no chance to do so. With a movement far swifter than he would have suspected her capable, she elbowed him between the ribs and stomped with acute accuracy upon his large toe.

Ian lost his grip on her as he struggled for air. “I detect—the distinct—teachings—of one Amelia Tucker—in your proficiency, Mistress Maxwell,” he wheezed.

Her steps faltered as she scurried out of his reach.

Aye, there was no doubt he had found the one he was seeking. Her hesitancy to flee at the sound of her name and her raw, although effective skills were proof enough. He had seen Amelia use and teach just such a technique to the ladies of his time so they might protect themselves to some degree.

"Did you follow us here? Of course you did. It's the only logical explanation,” she said. “Well, whatever you saw, or think you saw, was merely a trick of the light. Nothing more."

"I am afraid you are mistaken,” he said, straightening.

She took several slow steps backward. Not a good sign.

"I mean you no harm. On my honor.” But his words were lost in the subtle breeze left from her dashing out of sight.

With a resigned sigh, and one very sore toe, Ian took after her. This was the best and possibly the only chance he would have to take the lady back to Amelia and Colin. He did not relish the idea of searching the globe for one lone female in a world not his own for six long months instead of the three he'd been told he would have. With luck the fountain would take them back in time this very eve.

If he could catch the little she-devil.

Dodging bushes, statues, and the occasional birdbath, he caught up with her. Unfortunately, not before she ran straight into the arms of one of the sentries.

"Oh! My glasses!"

"Quit yer squirmin'! Ye'll no’ get away again,” the guard said, and turned toward the castle.

"But my glasses,” she said, continuing her struggle with the man.

A beam of light shot from the guard's hand and scanned the ground before them. Ian sucked in a breath and slid deeper into the shadows. Amelia had explained many things before he left, but to actually see the torch she'd described was truly amazing.

He turned his mind away from the tempting miracles he could experience in this time and debated his limited options on how to rescue the lady. Although he was a man who loved adventure and the opportunity to remain was becoming more and more intriguing, he would be most selfish not to complete his quest in as short a time as possible. Amelia needed this woman, and he vowed to bring her back in time.

"I doona see any glasses,” the guard said, then flashed the light in the woman's face.

Ian had his first glimpse of the lady and frowned. This woman was a scientist? A physician? Amid the harsh light against the side of her face she appeared no more than a child. Perhaps he had the wrong female after all.

"Here, looks like Errol was right. Ye be one of them lassies from a few months back. Come tae take another midnight stroll, miss?"

Ian shook his head. That answered that question. Well, who was he to decide these things in this time? If a woman-child could be a physician, it was none of his business. All that mattered to him was Amelia's need of the lady. He would not break his vow to his friends.

Jenny blinked in the bright light. She'd known this would happen. Every coherent word had slipped away from her in the glare of the flashlight.

Think, Jenny! You have to get out of this. You're father will be livid if word of this gets into the press, not to mention your reputation as a scientist!
“I—I—uh—"

"Aye, ye can tell it tae the constable,” the portly man said and turned.

"Dearest, I do hope you have not had a change of heart,” a man said, stepping from the shadows. “And after all the trouble I went through to locate this ... costume."

Jenny recognized the stranger's voice, how could she not when it glided over the syllables so beautifully, but what in the world was he talking about? What costume? And
dearest
?

"Hold on now, who are ye? What do ye mean by trespassin’ here?” the guard holding her arm shouted.

"Apologies, my good man, but the lady is a bit of a romantic, and wanting to please her ... well, you understand."

Confusion, a very uncomfortable state of being for Jenny, clouded her mind. The man was either insane or trying to charm his way out of this mess, but to what end and what role did she play in his odd game?

The other guard appeared and snagged the stranger's arm. “You ain't goin’ nowhere, boyo."

"I have no intention of leaving. Not without the lady."

He could be an accomplice to the kidnapper who tried to grab her last summer in this very garden, she reasoned. But if so, why wait until now to make another attempt?

Well, Tuck was a rather formidable guard. He could've been following them for some time waiting for the moment when Jenny would be alone. But Tuck would've known he was there. She had an uncanny knack for subterfuge in all forms. And then again, her friend had been rather consumed with her need to get back to Colin in the sixteenth century.

Numerous hypotheses filtered through Jenny's thoughts and were properly cataloged, but none of them held as much appeal as the stranger.

Appeal? Good grief.
This incident had affected her cognitive abilities. The fact that the man was wonderfully fit—a fact she'd deduced as he'd held her—and possessed a delicious English accent laced with seduction, had managed to blur her judgment. She was, as he so eloquently stated, a romantic. Tuck teased her on many occasions about being a Cinderella-wannabe in a world where there were no Prince Charmings.

She sighed. Well, at least she couldn't see the man without her glasses. If he looked like he sounded and felt, she would be in major trouble. Swooning over a would-be kidnapper was not the wisest of things to add to her list of accomplishments. And dwelling on the man and her array of hypotheses was not going to get her out of this mess. What she needed was a friend. One with fighting skills and a quick mind. The only person who could get her out of anything.

"Tuck, I could really use your help right now,” she murmured, but knew her friend was long gone.

"Tuck, is it? Well, Tuck, ye and the misses are about tae have a chat with the constable,” the guard said.

"I am afraid you are mistaken. My name is not Tuck.” With a courtly bow, the stranger said, “Ian Southernland, at your service."

Jenny gasped then squinted hard in a vain attempt to see him. It wasn't possible. This couldn't be Tuck's friend from the past. This wasn't one of her hypotheses. Ian Southernland wasn't even in the blasted equation!

"Hooo, fancy mon, fancy clothes,” the guard beside him said. “Are ye supposed tae be some sort of lord?” he asked with a chuckle.

"My rank is of no consequence. However, to set the matter straight, I am a fourth son of a baron. Not a lord."

"Another loonie,” the other guard grumbled.

"Nay, my good man. Not a loonie, nor a nutball, but a man in love."

Both guards laughed, while Jenny could do nothing but blink.
Love?
He had to be insane. And as to claiming he was Ian Southernland, she and Tuck must have said something out loud. It was the only reasonable explanation.

The stranger stepped forward and took her hand, easing her from the guard's grasp, and placed a kiss against the back. The warmth of his breath slid beneath the cuff of her coat and traveled up her arm then enveloped her entire body.

She shook her head at the absolute nonsense racing through her brain. A combination of too much fantasy, the cold night air, the disquieting situation of being caught trespassing on private property, seeing her friend disappear through a time portal, and a flux in her pheromone level, was causing her body temperature to rise and her cheeks to flush. Yes, that was it. Completely logical. It had nothing to do with the man in front of her. Nothing at all.

That conundrum solved, left the question of this man's true identity and purpose. Up close and squinting, she could see some of his costume, sort of, and noted its authenticity in the dim light, but he couldn't be Ian Southernland. Her theory of time travel through this particular portal—having not ruled out the possible existence of others—should have placed him in the twenty-first century on an equinox, not a solstice, ergo he could not be Ian Southernland. He had to have been watching her and Tuck for some time, listening to their conversations without them knowing.

"Ye mean tae tell me, ye dressed up like that, stole onto private property in the middle of the night, a blasted freezin’ one at that, and all tae please a woman?” The guard let out a hearty chuckle. “And ye doona think that's daft?"

Ian slipped his arm around Jenny's waist. She tried to refrain from any reactionary display, but her body trembled in response to the contact. A man hadn't touched her like this in years. Her own fault really, her work took up most if not all of her time, it was all she had. It was the only thing that granted her some attention from her father.

Her chin dropped at the thought. She hadn't realized how pathetic she'd become over the years, doing anything to gain his attention. More importantly why would such a revelation come to her now? This was not the time to dwell on such things.

She jerked her wandering mind back to the problem at hand. A lunatic had a firm hold of her waist, and she found she was not inclined to move away. Maybe she was the one insane.

"A classic tale, my friend. A man in love is oft’ misunderstood,” the stranger said, then gently stroked her cheek. “Yet, how can you not understand when the lady is so lovely?"

Lovely?
Oh, Jenny wished the guard would shine the light on him so she could see at least something instead of a shadowy, blurry silhouette.

You silly, juvenile, ridiculous—it doesn't matter that Tuck described him as Prince Charming, or that you dreamed he was
your
Prince Charming. He is just a man, who doesn't want you, regardless of what he's saying now. It's all for—for, why is he saying these ridiculous things? Who is he really?

"Gentleman, let us take this discussion inside where we might warm ourselves, and I will be happy to tell you the entire tale while we await the constable,” the stranger said, easing them all toward the castle.

With a chuckle the guards flanked them and walked alongside.

"You can't be Ian. It isn't possible,” she whispered, determined to get some of the puzzle sorted out, hoping to bring this person to his senses. Before she lost hers.

"Aye, but it is possible, mistress. Amelia sent me to fetch you."

"She only just left. The fountain doesn't—” She bit off her words. Telling this man or anyone else about the time portal would be a monumental mistake. Even though she suspected he already knew too much.

"I have a theory about this unusual form of travel you have discovered,” he said lowly.

She swallowed hard. “I don't know what you're talking about."

Ian chuckled. “You are a sad liar, little one. You know of what I speak."

Jenny attempted to wriggle out of his grasp without drawing the guards’ attention, but had little luck. He merely tightened his hold, and blast her fickle body, she liked it!

"Even if I did, I'm not about to discuss theories of any sort with a person lying about his identity,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “Besides, the complexities of temporal mechanics or the possible existence of a time anomaly along with the massive implications would be beyond your comprehension."

He stopped in mid-stride, releasing her. “I know more than you might think having experienced the
anomaly
first hand,” he said, clearly annoyed.

She returned his steady gaze, although for her he was but a dark, indistinct figure. Still, a debate was at hand, not a very challenging one considering the man was, after all, claiming to be a sixteenth century Englishman, but it was a debate nonetheless.

"You hold but a few seemingly interesting facts that you gained from eavesdropping, and something you
think
you witnessed,” she said, deducing that he had to have seen Tuck disappear. “Along with some recent study of my background and Tuck's as well. But you cannot possibly have any real information that would bring you to a logical conclusion pertaining to the current situation.” She reached to straighten her glasses, and cursed softly at their absence. A bad habit of hers, she knew, but more annoying with their disappearance.