by Kit Morgan
Dallan took a seat. “She’s good at that.” He glanced at the table. “Ah, tea.”
Duncan sat and nodded at Emsworth, who hurried to serve.
Dallan reached for a sandwich. “I’m surprised ye have any of this left.”
“I saved some,” Duncan explained. “I lock it up with the wine.”
Lany licked his lips, took a sandwich and smiled. “My kids love these.”
“All children do,” Shona commented. “Emsworth, would you like to try one?”
The butler eyed the little sandwiches. “May I?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Certainly. None of the other servants are watching,” Duncan said. “Go ahead.”
Emsworth picked one up, sniffed it, then took a careful bite. “Most intriguing.”
“Next time I’ll bring natural peanut butter,” Shona said. “It has a different flavor and texture.”
Emsworth looked like he’d died and gone to Heaven as he chewed and swallowed. “Very tasty. Might I inquire as to …” He glanced around and lowered his voice, “… when this will come about?”
Shona cocked her head. “In another twenty years or so. Though I don’t think it will arrive in England until much later.”
The butler nodded and finished his sandwich. “Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”
“No, you may go,” Duncan said. “Close the doors. And for goodness’ sake, make sure there are no listening ears outside.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Emsworth said. “I am ever vigilant.”
“Also, let the duchess know the MacDonalds have arrived.”
“She already knows and will be with you shortly, Your Grace.” Emsworth bowed and left the room.
“How long has he known?” Lany asked warily.
“About ten years,” Duncan said. “We needed help keeping everything secret. It’s hard enough living here, with all that entails, without having to worry about the MacDonalds’ comings and goings. I’ve already gone through a full set of servants and am working through a second. Toss in visits from our relations in London and, well …”
“Ye need all the help ye can get,” Dallan finished. “Speaking of which, Shona and I need some from ye. Are ye up to the task?”
Duncan eyed him a moment. He’d recently helped the MacDonalds with one of their assignments, which involved his nephew. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Jefferson and his new bride, does it?”
“No. And mind ye no make mention of them to yer butler just yet. I ken he’s privy to things, but it will be a while before Jefferson and Lorelei come to live here. Let them enjoy life in Clear Creek for a time as normal folk.”
Duncan sighed in relief. “Fine, I’ll do that. Poor Emsworth has a hard enough time when the relatives are here.” He wiped his palms on his trousers. Amon Cotter came from Clear Creek from time to time to help with the estate. He and his wife Nettie stayed in Duncan’s townhouse in London with Nettie’s brother Newton and his wife Arya. “How much like Cozette, Shona and the others is Lorelei again?”
“She has some Muiraran blood, so not quite like the others,” Dallan confirmed. “Keep it to yerself, as usual.”
Duncan glanced nervously at Shona, who was a full-blooded Muiraran. “So not like Amon or Arya? Or you?”
“No,” Shona said. “Lorelei carries Muiraran genes, yes, but not like mine, or even Amon and Arya’s.”
“How does one tell such a thing?” Duncan asked. All the talk of genes, chromosomes, DNA, RNA and sequencing just confused him – he’d never been good at sciences, and sciences from the future were very complex indeed.
“Well, with the particular set of genes we’re currently interested in, the kind Miss Phelps has, the subject almost always has gray eyes.”
“Like Lorelei,” Duncan said with a nod.
“Yes.” Shona picked up her cup and took a sip. “Cozette’s is a different set, which is why her eyes aren’t the same color, and why she excels at ballistics.”
“She never misses what she aims at,” Duncan whispered to himself.
“Exactly,” Shona said. “Lorelei hasn’t enough Muiraran blood to appear as one. She’ll always look human, yet still possesses certain Muiraran qualities such as needing a compatible mate by the age of joining, or suffering the consequences.”
Duncan wiped his hands on his trousers again. He was always nervous talking about Shona’s people. Shona looked human most of the time, but when she “fluxed” she looked more like an elfin warrior queen. Dallan’s wife was the most powerful of her kind. To look at the delicately built, auburn haired beauty who was no more than a few inches over five feet, one would never guess.
Cozette’s features sometimes changed too, though not to the same extent. There were days he looked at his wife, still unable to fathom the creature she was. But her features rarely fluxed to the exotic look of her kind. Shona called it a camouflage instinct, their features resembling a human’s when surrounded by them, like how a chameleon blended into its background. But when amidst their own kind, the instinct relaxed and their natural features appeared: the pointed ears, the upward slant of the eyes. And when they were threatened …
“We have another match to make,” Dallan said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Oh, yes, of course. Whatever you need.” Duncan paused. “Uh, what exactly do you require of me?”
Shona, Dallan and Lany looked at each other. Finally Lany spoke. “Your neighbor.”
Chapter Two
“My what?” Duncan said in shock.
Cozette had joined them and – after greetings, hugs and handshakes – sat next to him and took his hand. “Which neighbor?”
Dallan leaned his elbows on his knees. “Sir Aldrich Barrow.”
“Barrow? He’s hardly a neighbor, he lives in the next county. What the devil do you need him for?”
“A match,” Shona said.
“Aldrich?” Cozette said in surprise.
“We’ve been observing him for some time,” Lany said. “Tested his DNA.”
“Remind me again what that is,” Duncan sighed.
“It helps us know if he has the right set of compatible genes,” Lany explained, then paused, remembering Duncan’s limited scientific grasp. “If he comes from the right family line.”
“I don’t even want to know how you managed that,” Duncan said. “Especially without Aldrich knowing.”
Lany shrugged. “We have ways.”
Duncan glanced nervously at Cozette, who also shrugged. She didn’t understand how it worked any better than he did. They did know that Muirarans had to marry by a certain age or they died, very painfully. Just bonding to a future mate was painful enough. Dallan and Shona had it the worst, as he understood it, since she was from the most powerful family, and the stronger the Muiraran the more painful the bonding and separation were. If Dallan and Shona were apart so much as a week or so at most, it would kill them. A terrifying thought.
He cleared his throat. “Dinner?”
“Och aye,” Dallan said with a smile. “D’ye mind?”
“Of course not,” Cozette said. “I’ll let Mrs. Dryden …” She paused, trying to form her next words, “… know we’ll have a few extra for tonight. But I must warn you, we have other guests coming.”
The visitors stared at her a moment. Cozette, once mute, still occasionally stammered, but she’d come a long way.
Lany finally glanced at Dallan and back. “We could join you another time.”
“Nonsense,” Duncan said. “You know you’re always welcome. But you will have to dress, for our guests’ sake. We wouldn’t want them to think everyone is as lax in decorum as we are.”
Shona smiled. “We don’t mind.”
“Yer neighbor Sir Aldrich – he wouldn’t happen to be on the guest list, would he?” Dallan asked.
“I’m afraid not. These guests are …”
“Some of our tenants,” Cozette cut in, smiling.
Shona smiled back. “You enjoy taking care of
them, don’t you?”
“She does,” Duncan said. “Though the other aristocracy look down upon her for it. If they ever caught wind that we occasionally have them up here to dine, well … only our station keeps us from public ridicule.”
“And to answer … your question,” Cozette said, “No, Sir Aldrich … won’t be here tonight.”
“He’s knighted, true,” Duncan said, “but considered beneath the usual viscounts, marquesses, earls and their wives. Besides that, he’s not here.”
“He’s not?” Dallan said with interest.
“He’s fishing.”
“Fishing?” Lany said. “Where?”
“South of here are a few lakes he likes,” Duncan said. “He’ll return in a couple of days.”
“Does he camp?” Shona asked.
“Camp?” Duncan shook his head. “I believe he stays at a nearby inn.”
“So he likes fishing.” Dallan rubbed his chin. “That might come in handy.”
Duncan’s eyebrows lifted. “Tell me, but is this match going to involve what the last one did?”
“If you mean spray cheese, thankfully, no,” Shona said with a smile.
Duncan sighed. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Maybe someday.”
He closed his eyes and squeezed Cozette’s hand. “What do you want us to do?”
Dallan smiled. “Bring Sir Aldrich Barrow and Miss Victoria Phelps together.”
Duncan stood. “What?”
“Sit down,” Cozette urged softly.
He sat. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“We’ll make all the arrangements,” Shona said. “And bring Miss Phelps to you. You won’t even have to leave your estate.”
“Wha … you want to bring her here?” Duncan squeaked.
“Well, Sir Aldrich is your neighbor,” Shona pointed out. “What better place for them to meet?”
“He is a … distant neighbor,” Cozette put in.
“Only a day’s ride away – close enough,” Lany said. “So will you do it?”
Duncan ran his hand through his hair. “Yes, if Aldrich is, as you say, compatible. I’d like nothing more than to see him wed – it’s time he settled. But this woman … where exactly are you fetching her from? And when?”
“Stockton, California,” Shona said. “Early twenty-first century.”
Duncan rubbed his face. “Like Lorelei?”
“Close, yes.”
Duncan whistled. “Aldrich with a twenty-first century woman.” He shuddered.
“What’s the matter?” Lany asked.
“You don’t know Aldrich.”
“We know him well enough,” Lany said. “He should bond well.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He’s not the one we’re worried about,” Shona said.
Duncan stared at her a moment. “The woman? She’s Muiraran?”
Shona exchanged a glance with Lany. “One-quarter. Barely enough to qualify her as such.” She smiled. “But so is Sir Aldrich.”
Cozette’s jaw dropped. “I knew it!”
Duncan put his arm around her. “That explains a lot.”
Lany nodded. “We’re pretty sure that if we get the two of them together, their children will have the attributes we’re looking for.”
Duncan blinked a few times. “So you want these two to meet, fall in love and have children?”
“Exactly.”
“Then what?”
Lany frowned. “Er …”
“Mr. Mosgofian?”
He held up his hand. “Suffice to say, we can’t disclose certain things at this time. Just know that we must see them married.”
Cozette studied him. “You make it sound as if … they would be in danger if they do not. If they have so little … Muiraran blood in them, they would suffer no danger of … dying if they do not join. Yes?”
Lany glanced at Dallan, who sighed. “There are other things that could threaten them.”
“We’ll explain more later,” Lany said as Duncan stiffened. “Right now, we need to prepare the two of you for Miss Phelps’ visit.”
Duncan sighed in resignation. “When will you bring her?”
“That depends,” Lany said.
“On what?”
Lany glanced at Dallan again. “On how well our Time Master’s plan to get her here works.”
“I don’t have to help with that, do I?” Duncan asked with alarm.
Dallan smiled. “No. But I will need yer wife to practice her stammer.”
“But I have not … actually stammered in years,” she said in protest.
“Aye, but we’ll need it to pull this off.”
“Just what exactly are you planning?” Duncan asked and reached for his teacup. “And will this woman fall for it?”
Dallan smiled. “Och, aye. Things are already in motion. If my guess is right, she’ll jump at the chance.”
Duncan and Cozette exchanged the same look of curiosity. “What makes you so sure?”
The big Scot smiled again. “Desperation is a hard master.”
Stockton, California, present day …
Victoria Lynn Phelps signed on the dotted line with a grimace, then covered her mouth and pretended to cough so the motel manager wouldn’t see it. Then again, would it be so bad if he did? What a sorry excuse for an employee agreement …
“How soon can you start?” the greasy manager asked with a leer. He was middle-aged, balding, with a wiry build and a roving eye. Right now it was roving the front of her blouse.
Victoria – Tory to her friends – wanted to cringe and run. She settled for just cringing. Desperate times called for desperate measures. It was either a housekeeping job in this sleazy hourly-rate motel on Wilson Way or use one of the establishment’s rooms for what many of its patrons did. She’d hit bottom, that was for sure, but she wasn’t about to start digging. Her mind, however, liked to latch onto worst-case scenarios. “Tomorrow?”
“Fine,” he said creepily, looking her up and down. “Follow me. I’ll show you where everything is.” He stood and walked around the shabby desk.
Tory got up from her chair and followed Mr. Smith (was that even his real name?) outside, down the sidewalk and into a breezeway between the motel’s two buildings.
He stopped in front of a door, pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked it. “Mops, buckets, brooms – all the cleaning stuff’s here.” He waved at the room’s contents, then opened the door next to it. “Linens,” he said, sans the wave. “Bedding, towels and all that.” He pointed to a wall of shelves loaded with supplies. At least the motel was well-stocked. “Soap, shampoos. Stuff people like to take.” He turned to her with a smirk. “A set of keys hangs in my office. Check in with me and get them before you start work.”
A chill went up her spine. “Skeevy” didn’t begin to describe Mr. Smith, and she wondered what “checking in” with him might entail. Maybe she should flip burgers for a living instead. But this job paid more than minimum wage and she’d much rather have one job with higher pay than two (or more) part-time ones. “Fine. What time?”
“Be here at seven a.m., doll.”
Doll? Ew, what century did he live in? “Do guests check out that early?” The place didn’t seem the type.
“No, but the previous day’s laundry needs to be started.” He pulled a toothpick out of his shirt pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Washing machines and dryers are through that door there.” He nodded at a door just down the breezeway.
“Laundry? You mean you don’t have a service?”
“What do I want a service for when I can hire chicks like you to do it cheaper?”
The words “do it” and “chicks” stuck in her brain. She was sure a lot of “it” was currently being done by certain “chicks” on the premises. It was after 1 p.m. and the little parking lot was full. Wasn’t checkout at eleven? Had anyone left from the night before? Or had all of them arrived since eleve
n?
“Any questions?” Mr. Smith asked. “As you can see, I’m a busy man.”
Tory forced a smile. If busy meant he was sweating, then yeah, she could see that. But it was over 100 out and she needed some water before she started dehydrating. Her new employer’s sweat was a timely reminder. “Tomorrow, seven. Got it.”
“Good girl,” he said as his eyes roamed her once more. “See you then.” He shut and locked both doors, then brushed past her, his shoulder touching hers. Thankfully it was just his shoulder.
Nonetheless, she shivered in revulsion after he went back to the office. “Blecch!” she muttered. “What am I doing?”
A rhythmic thud-thud-thud from the wall opposite her didn’t help. That was no washing machine. She heard muffled moans, fled the breezeway and hurried back to her car. Why couldn’t she have gotten a job at one of the other nearby motels, one that catered to migrant workers? Then all she’d have to worry about was being yelled at in Spanish …
When she reached the street she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, unlocked the driver’s side door and quickly pulled it open. “Ow, ow, hot!” She watched the heat waves pour out of the vehicle for a moment before climbing in. The little white VW Beetle had been her mother’s and was all she had left of her. All she had left of anything, really, except the house. After quitting her last restaurant job due to the harassment, she’d had to sell a lot of her stuff and downsize. “Harassment,” she scoffed. “Like you won’t get harassed at this dump!”
She started the car, put it into gear and was off. The sooner she got home, the better. If she was lucky, Benny had found work too, but she wouldn’t hold her breath. Her no-good brother hadn’t worked in months. And every time he did find a job, he lost it in record time. Good jobs were scarce and without a college education Tory was turned down more times than she could count. Benny had a degree, but …
“Please be gone, please be gone,” she whispered as she pulled up in front of her ramshackle bungalow. She didn’t see Benny’s car anywhere and breathed a sigh of relief. Once he knew she’d found work, he’d lessen his own meager efforts. She didn’t have the energy to deal with that right now. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Mom, I don’t know what I can do to bring Benny around.”
