The Geek Girl and the Scandalous Earl (2 page)

He blew out an angry breath. “Have your wits indeed gone begging? As you well know, it is the year of our Lord 1816.”

“Oh shit.”

She bent over and threw up on his extremely shiny boots.

Edgars, Micah’s valet, would have an apoplexy when he saw the state of those boots. Edgars prided himself on his abilities, spending no less than a half hour polishing each boot every morning of his employment. Micah was no dandy, but he loved these damn boots, and the wench had just ruined some very expensive Corinthian leather. Besides, since Edgars had buggered off to avoid the scandal last season, the task of cleaning the boots would fall to his poor elderly butler.

Being a gentleman, however, he couldn’t curse at her. She drew a hand across her mouth and sat back on the edge of his coverlet, her arms wrapped across her middle.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean, I just, that smell from that thing she shoved under my nose before and it’s cold in here and…you must think I’m a total bitch.”

He looked skyward, begging for patience. “Madam, I cannot speak as to your character. I cannot deny that your, ahem, ill health has just caused irreparable harm to my boots, but at the moment, I’m more concerned with getting to the truth of the matter at hand. Now, are you well?”

The wench nodded her head, setting her streaked hair to trembling.

“Excellent.” He drew the word out. “So, now, please tell me how you came to be in my home. I want the complete truth and no nonsense.”

“This is going to sound crazy, and I’m sorry, but it’s the God’s honest truth. I’m from Concord, North Carolina, and the year 2012. That stupid bureau sucked me in through one of the mirrored doors and spit me out right over there. Your dog jumped on me, and I fell and got knocked out. I know it sounds insane, but I promise you, that’s what happened.”

She looked up at him with the clearest blue-green eyes he’d ever seen. She was an odd creature, with an odder way of speaking in a flat, drawn-out voice, but he couldn’t help remembering the way her lean body had felt against him when he deposited her on his bed. “I am to believe that you came to be in my bedroom by traveling through a mirror?”

She nodded.

“And you are from nearly two hundred years in the future.”

She nodded again, twisting the robe in her hands.

“Impossible.” He crossed his arms and skewered her with his best lord-of-the-manor stare. “You are either an escaped Bedlamite or a witch. I will know which I am dealing with, if you please.”

The chit’s brows lifted in desperation. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

Micah shook his head. He’d never been susceptible to the megrims that had afflicted his mother throughout her life, but he was certain that the pounding at his temples heralded something very similar. He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths before responding.

“Madam, I have listened to your tale, and since you do not have a reasonable explanation for how you came to be lying in my bedchamber, I’m afraid I must call the watch and have them deal with you.”

“Wait, is that like the cops?” She bit her lip, and Micah felt a twinge of guilt at the worry in her expression. She must be simple—or mad. That was the only logical explanation for her oddly accented words that made no sense.

“I cannot help you.”

Micah gave her a curt bow, turned on his heel, and winced at the wet, sucking sound his boot made as it traveled through the gunk on the carpet. Mrs. Knightsbridge would also have a fit of the vapors at the state of the Aubusson carpet. In a spate of sympathy for the beautiful but daft woman in his bed, he decided to blame the carpet incident on Baron. Mrs. Knightsbridge had a fondness for his blue greyhound, and he’d not suffer under her wrath.

“Please, wait.”

At the plaintive sound, Micah turned. “Yes?”

“I can prove it.”

She stood, untying the robe at her waist. She let it fall to the bed. Micah averted his gaze, all too aware of the vision of her nearly nude form. She might be daft, but she was a beautiful female, and he was a young, healthy man with a healthier sexual appetite. Control. He must maintain control. He held out a hand to stop her.

“Madam, please remain clothed. It is not at all seemly for you to be standing there in such a state of un—What the bloody hell?”

She’d shoved a smallish, heavy thing into his hand. Bright colors danced across the front of the object and a tinny sounding music sounded in the room. Words appeared on the object. Angry Birds.

“What the devil is this?” He thrust it back at her, more than a bit unnerved. She backed away, forcing him to keep hold of the strange thing.

“It’s a phone. A smartphone. I can make phone calls, play games, and get on the Internet with it.”

“Trickery and deceit,” he roared. “Take this device away.” He shoved it at her again as the tune tinkled, birds still angrily flying across the screen.

The wench crossed her arms and stepped back again. “Don’t be stupid. It’s not magical, and I’m not lying. Look at it.”

“I will do nothing of the sort.” His jaw worked as he glared at her, and he held the phone as far away from his body as he could get it. He would throw it at the wench if she did not take it back soon.

She blew a breath upward. “Fine.” She snatched it back from him. “Then watch over my shoulder.”

She backed up against him, pressing her bottom against his thighs. He’d have to have been a monk or a eunuch not to enjoy the soft feel of her body as she pressed it so carelessly against him. Micah was neither, so to distract his lustful thoughts, he stared at the device in her hand. It was so vivid! Funny looking birds with cross faces flew across the words, the lively music playing all the while. She shifted slightly, brushing against the front of his trousers. He ceased to breathe and screwed his eyes shut.

“Okay, so these pigs stole the birds’ eggs, right? That’s why the birds are angry. So we’re going to launch them from this slingshot…”

The chit stopped speaking. Micah fisted his hands at his sides. “I shall never harm a female, but you try my patience, madam. Please move away.”

“For chrissakes, just try it. Please?”

He opened one eye. She held the object out to him.

“I should not be moved by your pleas. I should call the watch immediately.” He realized that talking to himself aloud made him sound daft, so he quieted as he gingerly accepted the small box from her hand.

“Okay, so touch the bird in the slingshot. Keep your finger on it; don’t let go. Good. Now slide it back, and you can kind of aim it.” She maneuvered his finger on the glass, helping him aim, then lifted it straight upward.

A little gasp blew from him as the red bird went sailing through the air and crashed into the pig’s wooden and glass tower.

“See? Here. Now you have to shoot the rest of the birds to get the pig.”

The next few moments were incredible. Might she be telling the truth?

***

Jamie smiled. The earl was completely transfixed by the little animated birds as they flew across the screen. It was almost funny how excited he looked, as if he were a kid with a brand-new toy on Christmas. She remembered her first video game system, and it sort of tickled her to see similar feelings flit across his face. He stared at the brightly lit object in his hand, dark eyes bright with interest as he played through the rest of the level.

“Here, go on to the next one.” She reached out and took his hand in her own and used his fingers to touch the little white arrow.

They spent several moments laughing together while the green pigs exploded. Some of her tension eased at Mike’s delight. He clearly enjoyed the game, laughing and smiling easily. He’d even seemed to forget that she’d yakked on his boots.
Bully
for
me
.

While he tried to explode the pigs with helmets, she put the robe back on. Even with the roaring fire in the room, it was still chillier than she was used to. She looked at that damn bureau again. Why the hell had it sucked her in? And why had it dumped her here of all places? She knew approximately bupkes about this place and time, but she did know she was going to need help and a lot of it.

When the earl grew frustrated at the pigs laughing at another failed attempt, he handed the phone back to Jamie.

“That was quite diverting.”

“So, you believe me? There are lots of things like this back where I come from.”

He straightened his waistcoat and assumed a thoughtful face. Her guts twisted nervously. What if he kicked her out? That stupid piece of furniture was the only way back home, as far as she knew. She had to stay close to it, to figure out how to return.

“I am not prepared to toss logic to the winds quite yet. That object was certainly different, but how am I to know that it is not some sort of trickery on your part? You did appear in my bedchamber unexplained and uninvited.”

“Look, I want to leave even more than you want me to leave, but I don’t have anywhere to go at the moment. Can I stay for a little while? I’m sure that stupid bureau is the key to getting back, but I need some time to figure out how it works. Let me stay, and I promise I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” She looked up at him, desperate and disgusted with the way she was begging. He wouldn’t kick her out, would he? God, she sounded so pathetic.

“Out of my hair?” Mike looked at her, clearly confused, before he sighed and shook his head. “Even if your tale is true, it would be difficult to conceal your presence. Servants talk, and the gossip would spread—”

“You would kick me into the streets because of gossip? I didn’t figure you for an ass.”

He set his jaw then, and his eyes bored a hole in her. She gulped. She’d forgotten to be intimidated by him. Not a smart move.

“Miss, choose your words carefully. I shall have to think upon this matter, but if you wish to intrude upon my hospitality…”

“You’re going to let me stay? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I won’t be any trouble, and I’ll figure out how to go home and everything will be fine. You’re the best, Mike.” In an excess of relief, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
Whaddaya
know,
she thought as she pressed close to him.
That
fancy-pants costume covers some pretty nice muscles.

He stood rigid, arms at his sides. After a moment, she began to get the idea that maybe she’d committed a giant faux pas. She stepped back, cheeks burning.

“Thanks,” she mumbled again, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t normally so impulsive.

He bowed to her sharply and left the room without another word. Baron the dog, who’d apparently been waiting outside the bedroom for his master, wagged his tail, thumping it against the door as Mike shut it behind him. His voice came muffled through the door as he talked softly to the hound and they walked away.

Jamie flopped backward onto the bed and stared at the beamed ceiling. This was incredible. This was impossible. This was
not
how she’d planned to spend her day. What the heck did she do to deserve it? How was she going to fix such a godforsaken mess?

First things first. Before Mike decided he really should kick her out, she should see how the hell that mirror had gotten her here in the first place. Then she’d find a rag and a bucket to try to fix the poor, abused rug. She got off the bed and went over to the giant bureau in the corner. Starting with the left door, she tapped and touched each part of the glass, searching for the hidden trigger that would suck her back into her own time.

“It does not work that way, you know. Good heavens, I must have Muriel clean this frightful mess on the carpet.”

Jamie whirled around at the sound of the voice behind her. It was Mrs. Knightsbridge with a tray full of stuff. She set the tray on a side table and briskly pulled a velvet rope that hung by the bed.

“Sorry about the rug,” Jamie said awkwardly. The tips of her ears burned with embarrassment.

“Do not fret about that, dear. All will soon be set to rights. Here. You must be famished.”

The housekeeper gestured to an ornately carved wooden chair beside the table. The smell of the pastries on the tray suddenly hit Jamie’s nostrils, and she realized Mrs. Knightsbridge was right. Her stomach felt completely normal again, the rumbling sounds of hunger confirming it. The table was situated close to the fire, and Jamie was grateful for the warmth as she sank onto the cushioned chair’s seat.

Mrs. Knightsbridge poured Jamie a steaming cup of…tea?

“How do you take it?”

“Cold and sweet, preferably.” Jamie eyed the cup. She was a Southern girl. She’d never had tea above fifty degrees before.

Mrs. Knightsbridge laughed. “The warmth will do you good.” She spooned some sugar into the cup and gave it a brisk stir. “There. Drink up, and we shall have a little coze.”

“What’s a coze?” Jamie warily picked up the teacup and gave it a sniff.

“A conversation.” Mrs. Knightsbridge settled into the chair across the table and smiled kindly. Jamie was really beginning to like this lady, vile-smelling medicine notwithstanding.
She’d done that to help anyway
, Jamie thought.

“What did you mean when you came in and said it doesn’t work that way?” Jamie took a sip of the tea. The warmth was extremely disconcerting, but the taste was pretty good.

“The portal. It was spelled one way.”

Jamie’s jaw hit the floor and she stared at the smiling woman. “What the hell?”

Mrs. Knightsbridge’s pleasant expression slipped. “Language, miss. Ladies do not use that sort of coarse talk.”

“Ladies? What are you talking about? I’m not a lady. I’m a regular woman. Female. You know what I mean. All liberated and stuff.”

The housekeeper sighed and smoothed her skirts before reaching onto the tray. “Scone?”

Jamie took the golden-brown crumbly goodness from the outstretched hand and munched, all the while looking across the table distrustfully.

“My sister, Wilhelmina, is an expert in the Old Ways.” Mrs. Knightsbridge whispered the last words, as if afraid someone would hear. “She agreed to help me search for the perfect match for his lordship.”

“Mike?” Jamie nearly sprayed scone crumbs across the table, but she clapped a hand to her mouth just in time. Mrs. Knightsbridge looked at Jamie like her first grade teacher used to. Like she’d screamed out the F-word in church.