He lurched back to stand upright, eyes widening for a fraction of an instant. “Ye….ye didnae do it yerself?”
“Of course not!” she fired back. “How could I do it myself when I have no idea what happened?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh,” he said, his back straightening.
He strode to the door and almost walked out of the room before Vic’s voice yanked him back. “Hey! What’s going on? What are you talking about? What makes you think I did it on purpose?”
He turned halfway and shrugged. “That’s me own mistake. Dinnae bother about that.” He set off walking away again.
Hustling to keep up with his long strides, Vic asked, “What the dickens is going on around here?”
He trotted up a curving staircase to a wide landing on the second floor, marched down the corridor, and threw open one of several dozen doors on either side. Stepping aside, he pointed and said, “This is yer room. I’ll send the maids up with the bath and some clothes.”
Before she could say anything, he’d walked away just as fast.
Chapter 4
Malcolm made his way to the back of the Guild House where he let himself into a small office. He closed the sliding door as silently as he could and turned around to find Boyd standing in front of the fireplace.
Malcolm barged up to him. “Are ye out of yer mind bringing her here? Did ye no’ see the state of her? Great Christ, what in the world is she that she prances around in that getup with her face painted like a whore on Sunday? Do ye ken what she’ll bring down on our heads?”
Boyd glanced over his shoulder at his cousin. “Never ye mind about that. We have a much bigger matter on our hands. Someone sent her back here on the time portal spell. I’m convinced of it. She says she was walking down a path in a park, in 2018, in some place called San Francisco in America. She walked between two trees and the next instant, she appeared here, on the main street of Stromness, within spitting distance of the Guild House.”
Malcolm stiffened. “What are ye saying, man?”
“I’m saying someone sent her back here on purpose. She didnae just happen to pass through the time portal. Someone set a net for her, and here she is.”
“But why?” Malcolm whispered. “Who could have done such a thing, and why would they send us…that?” He made a sour face as he said “that.”
Boyd bit back a grin. “I imagine ye’ll find she’s a pretty little lass once she gets all that muck scraped off her face and a decent dress on her bones. She’s a smart one, and sweet underneath it all.”
Malcolm’s jaw dropped. “Dinnae tell me ye’re fancying that devil spawn.”
Boyd turned all the way around and laid both hands on Malcolm’s shoulders. “Ye must learn to look beneath the surface, me lad.”
Malcolm snorted. “That’s a fine bit of a joke. I’m near yer rank, and when yer father returns from Aberdeen, ye’ll no’ be Guild Master any longer. We’ll be equals.”
Boyd turned his back on Malcolm again. “Dinnae let yer position run to yer head, laddie. Ye’ve had some success rousting the Lewises out of Scotland, but that doesnae make ye Guild Master.”
“I dinnae wish to be Guild Master.” Malcolm strode over to the bookshelf, took down a book, and pretended to read it. He had to play this moment casually so as not to alarm anybody. He’d never felt the precarious nature of his position more than right now. “I intend to tell yer father when he returns, so I might as well tell ye now. I plan to quit Scotland and go to America. I hear the Guild needs Heads in the Colonies.”
Boyd whipped around. “Ye’re leaving? Why?”
Malcolm grimaced. “This old country…well, it’s so old. I’ve been here too long, and I want something new.”
“What do ye want to go to America for?” Boyd asked. “The Lewises’ll no’ be over there in force yet. They’re all still here.”
“If they’re no’ in America now, they will be soon enough,” Malcolm replied. “If they’re no’ in force, that’ll make them all the more difficult to find. The sooner the Guild gets Chapter Heads in place over there, the better our position for hunting them down before they get established.”
Boyd wandered over to the window and gazed out at the streets. “It’s timely ye bringing this up now, brother.”
“How do ye reckon?” Malcolm eyed him sidelong, not liking where this was heading.
“Ye’re responsible for the interception teams in this country,” Boyd told him. “Ye ken as much as any of us about the Lewises’ movements—probably more. Ye can prep yer teams for a new mission.”
“What mission is that?”
Boyd rounded on him with a level stare. “I want ye to prepare two teams of three each. They’ll transport forward in time on the spell to 2018. They’ll track down Vic Doyle’s friends and family and find out who sent her here.”
Malcolm froze. “Ye cannae be serious. Ye want to send two teams three hundred years into the future for what?”
“Someone sent her here. They sent her straight to our front doorstep, and ye ken as well as I do no one in the Guild would have done that. No one in the Guild would have used that spell without authorization from the Guild Master.”
“How do ye ken they didnae have it?” Malcolm asked. “How do ye ken the Guild Master in 2018 didnae have some good reason to send her here?”
Boyd shook his head. “I dinnae believe it. If the Guild Master in 2018 had any good reason to send someone back here to us, he would have sent someone who kenned the situation. He wouldnae have sent someone picked at random off the street who kenned naught about our Guild and our mission.”
“Are ye sure she’s no’ that? How can ye be sure she’s no’ hiding something?”
Boyd laughed. “For a man who just called her devil spawn, ye put a large stock in her intelligence. Think on it, lad. If the Guild Master three hundred years from now wanted to send someone here to hide something, he would have dressed her in contemporary clothing. He would have given her a cover story to match so no one kenned who or what she was. She would have a perfectly constructed disguise so she wouldnae attract any undue attention, but look at her. She couldnae attract more attention if she wore a sign. She’s ignorant. She kens naught about us or the Lewises or anything else. She walked into a net, and here she is.”
“Who could have cast a net like that?” Malcolm asked. “Is it possible she fell into a net intended for someone else?”
“It doesnae matter if the net was intended for her or someone else. The question remains who cast it. It must have been someone outside the Guild. It seems ye’ve no’ done yer job as Chapter Head in America, lad. The Lewis scourge is there as well as everywhere else in a paltry three hundred years.”
Malcolm turned away with a shake of his head. “I dinnae believe this. It cannae be the Lewises sent her back. It’s much more likely someone within the Guild saw fit to do it. This is all a big fuss over naught.”
“That’s why ye’re no’ Guild Master, brother,” Boyd replied. “Prep yer teams and send me word when they’re ready to travel.”
“And who’ll cast the spell to send them forward?” Malcolm returned.
Boyd’s eyes sparkled. “Ye will.”
Malcolm’s blood ran cold. This discussion had turned about as far south as he could imagine. He hated to ask his next question but couldn’t live with not knowing. “Are ye sending me forward as well?”
“No, lad.” Boyd dropped into the chair behind his desk. “Ye’ll no’ go forward. I need ye here, but ye’ll prep the teams and give them their orders. Ye’ll give them all the information they need to find Vic Doyle and search her associates until they discover who sent her back.”
Malcolm did his best not to collapse in relief. Boyd couldn’t know the disaster Malcolm would be courting if he traveled forward to 2018. He might encounter himself, which would be catastrophic.
“How can I give them the information when I dinnae have it meself?” he asked. “I dinnae ken aught about the las
s.” All at once, his eyes popped open and he waved his hand in front of him. “No, no, no, no. Ye cannae think I’ll do that. Dinnae ask me to. I’ll no’ stoop to that level, no’ even for me own Guild.”
Boyd cocked his head. “What do ye mean, lad? Ye’ll no’ do what?”
Malcolm threw up both hands and spun away toward the door. “I’ll no’ do it, so dinnae ask me to. Ye want me to charm her to get the information out of her. Well, I’ll do no such thing. Ye may banish me to Siberia if ye wish before I’ll put on an act of making love to that.”
Boyd leaned back in his chair and laughed to the skies. “Why, Malcolm Gunn, as I live and breathe! Ye dinnae wish to charm a lady out of her secrets—ye! Dinnae let that news abroad, or it’ll ruin yer reputation as a rake and an enchanter of womenfolk.”
Malcolm stopped with his hand on the door latch and cast a fierce glare over his shoulder at his friend. “Are ye playing me, lad?”
Boyd wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “How could I play ye? Ye’ve no’ looked sideways at a woman in all the years I’ve kenned ye. Dinnae bother yer head about it, for I’ll no’ ask ye to charm this lady out of her secrets, much as I ken ye’d do the better job of it. No woman alive can resist ye when ye set yer mind to winning her heart. I plan to do the job meself. I’m dining with her in a few hours. I’ll find out all I can, and ye can pass the information to yer teams.”
“How do ye plan to get the information out of her?” Malcolm asked.
Boyd’s eyes danced with laughter. “Dinnae bother yerself about me business. I’ll do naught to sully the lassie’s reputation. I’m no’ such a beast as that. I’m sure she’ll tell me anything I care to ken as long as she thinks it will help her get back home.”
Malcolm narrowed his eyes on the man. “Ye’d play on her hopes, only to dash them.”
“No, lad,” Boyd murmured. “I have every intention of sending her home to her own time and her own people, just as soon as I find out who sent her here and why.”
Chapter 5
Vic wandered into the enormous bedroom Malcolm showed her and sat down on an ornate armchair. She looked around. Wood-paneled walls with odd portraits of a scenic landscape, castle, or unfamiliar face of some noble-looking type surrounded her. To her right, brocade curtains draped around the mountain of a four-poster bed. Her gaze fell on the fireplace and the lavish carvings surrounding it. Fresh ash sat in the hearth. She stared at it in bemusement. Gauze curtains diffused the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window.
Her shoulders slumped in despair. 1740! How in the name of Almighty God did I wind up here? She was out on the edge of nowhere in a time of violence and upheaval. She wasn’t even in England or any civilized country. She didn’t even know for sure where the Orkney Islands were. How could she get back to her own world?
As she contemplated Boyd’s promise to help her find out what this was all about, a light tap sounded on the door and startled Vic out of her reverie. “Come in.”
A young maid tiptoed into the room. She curtsied to Vic but didn’t raise her eyes from the floor. “Begging ye permission, Miss. I’m to be yer maid, Maisie. The Master ordered fresh clothes and bathwater sent up.”
“Of course,” Vic replied. “By all means, bring them in.”
The maid retreated into the hall and came back with three equally young and docile girls, all dressed as maids. One of them laid out a set of clothes from a huge wardrobe across the room while the other two set up a large wooden tub in the center of the room. After that, they fluttered in and out, filling the tub with pitchers of steaming hot water.
When everyone else had finished their work and disappeared, the first maid bobbed another curtsey. “When ye’re finished, Miss, just ring that bell beside the bed and I’ll come back to help ye dress.” With yet another curtsey, the girl left Vic alone in the quiet.
With nothing left to do but get cleaned up and change her clothes, Vic crossed to the mirror over the washstand first. She took the dish of soap and scrubbed all the makeup off her face. She rubbed so hard her cheeks turned bright red, but at least she looked presentable for the times.
She hated to look at her own face without her makeup on, but she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. She had to do what the locals did. She could go back to wearing makeup when she got home, and no one would ever know she’d fallen so far.
She peeled off her suit and folded it neatly, laid her handbag on top of the stack, and shoved the whole pile under the bed. Then she stepped into her first bath in over twenty years. Usually in a hurry to get to work or ready for a date, she’d always taken showers because they were faster. She reclined back in the tub and rested her head on the edge. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the blessed heat. She’d never really understood the appeal of baths before, but as the delicious warmth seeped into her bones, it softened every hard corner as never before. Maybe there was something to this after all.
She wasn’t an executive of a chemical company anymore. She wasn’t a chemist or even a businesswoman. In a way, she was on a glorified vacation. She’d barely missed a day of work in all the years she’d been involved with Primary. Even though she’d threatened to walk out on the company, she hadn’t yet actually gone that far. She hoped Ree and the others didn’t mistake her absence for her abandoning them without warning. She’d never do that to anyone, let alone lifelong friends and business partners.
Having said that, the bath did feel kinda nice…
She even enjoyed cupping hot water onto her face. It washed her clean and made her feel fresh and alive. She couldn’t remember feeling this good in a long time. What had she been missing?
Maybe she was always just too busy to notice how tense and rushed she was. She never took a day off work. None of the five friends did. They’d all been equally driven since high school when they first joined forces to build this company from the ground up.
Lying there in the tub gave her the first opportunity to really assess the situation back home. Ree had come up with the original idea to start Primary Industries, and she and Ellen became the driving force behind the company. Not one of the five friends slacked off an inch, and Ree and Ellen became obsessed with the company’s success after Ree’s accident. Everybody knew why, but no one ever talked about it. Ree lost her leg, and Ellen lost the love of her life when Ree’s brother Gavin died. The unspoken tension between the two of them ignited a mania for work that no one could match. It kept up for years—right up until the day Ned Lewis walked into the boardroom.
First Ree, and now Ellen too—they’d changed. They’d exploded out of their cocoons of grief. They’d come alive for the first time in years, and all the driving energy that had kept them going collapsed.
It didn’t collapse, though, did it? It changed too. It morphed into some strange and unexplained fixation with the Prometheus formula. Nothing else mattered—at least, nothing else mattered so much.
Where in all this could Vic find fault in their abilities to run the company? When she took the situation apart piece by piece, she couldn’t find anything noticeably wrong. Ree and Ellen still attended to the company’s other business, kept the other contracts on schedule. Their passion for the rest of the company couldn’t be worse, though. Underneath it all, they cared about the Prometheus project and nothing else. Anybody could see the way their eyes lit up when they talked about it. Anybody who knew them as well as Vic did would understand this change spelled disaster for everything the friends had worked to achieve.
And now this. Spontaneous time travel. Around the world. Scotland. 1740. How was this possible? Should have paid better attention in Geography or History classes in school… She didn’t believe in coincidence. Her scientific mind didn’t allow it. There had to be some connection between whatever was going on with Ree and Ellen and her current situation.
Vic stayed in the tub until her skin tingled all over with intoxicating warmth, then stepped out onto the carpet and dried herself with the towel. Moving over to the bed, she
turned her attention to the clothes. A beautiful wine-colored dress lay spread out on the bed next to a bunch of white things she didn’t recognize. She wrapped the towel around her body and rang the bell.
The little maid must have been waiting outside the door because she appeared almost instantly. She went to work in a flurry of activity. She took the towel away and left Vic standing naked. Maisie kept her gaze focused on the clothing item as she picked up what looked like a white cotton nightgown and slipped it over Vic’s head.
What happened next sort of blurred into a dizzy whirlwind of garments. Vic lost track of what Maisie did with what and what went where, not wanting to bother memorizing how to put these clothes on. She didn’t plan to stay long enough to need to dress herself.
When Maisie gave the corset strings their first vicious yank, Vic cried out, “Aaargh! What are you doing to me?”
Maisie kept pulling them tighter and tighter as she shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Ye’ve let yer figure go, Miss. Hold on to the bedpost, and I’ll try to pull ye in tighter.”
Vic’s heart sank as she gripped the bedpost and Maisie went at it harder than ever. The little maid cinched the corset so tight Vic couldn’t breathe or move, then it slipped loose enough for short breaths as the girl tied it off. Vic hoped it would loosen a bit more as she finished dressing.
At long last, Maisie draped that magnificent dress over Vic’s head and laced up the front, making it conform to her now-slender waist. Vic followed Maisie to the dressing table and sat so the little maid could fix her hair. As Vic looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself.
She looked exactly like she belonged in this time. It was her face shining out of the glass, and her mountain of hair dangling curly red ringlets that bounced around her cheeks as Maisie worked, and her white chest sloping smooth and pearly to her lacy bodice. But Vic had never dreamed she could look like this. That beautiful lady she saw in the mirror had lived underneath her skin all these years, and Vic never knew it. She never would have believed she could be this person.
Spies of the Angui - Cipher's Kiss Book 3 Page 3
