“What happens if I leave now?” she asked. “You’ve told me many times how you can’t influence history. How my timeline is locked. What changed? Won’t this change everything?”
“It’s been done before. A man from the present and a woman from the past, sentenced to death. He took her right before she was executed and then returned her once they’d had a life together. There are ways we can stage your execution. Once you die of natural causes, I will return you and time will go on. You will be dead like history demands, but you will have experienced happiness. You’ve lived through so much sadness, Mary. So much pain. Let me make you happy.”
She held out a hand and I took it between mine, slowly getting to my feet.
I locked eyes with her and asked the most important question of my life. “Will you let me save you?”
Chapter 7
Mary stared at my mother.
“She’s wearing breeches,” she whispered to me. “Where are her skirts? Why is she so naked?”
My mother spread her arms and smiled at us. "You must be Mary. Welcome to our home. Come on in, I've just made tea. Or would you prefer coffee?"
"Coffee?" Mary asked.
"We'll take tea," I said quickly before I had to explain what coffee was. Mary was going to have to learn a lot about our world, but I didn't want to overwhelm her right from the start.
I'd called my mum just before I'd set off into the past, telling her that a friend and I needed a place to stay for a while. Of course I hadn’t told her that Mary was the Queen of Scots and from the past. The less my mother knew, the better. I’d rent a place for ourselves soon, but I hadn’t had the time to find a flat. For now, I was sure my mother was glad to have us stay with her. My dad was at sea and I knew she was lonely quite often.
We followed her inside, towards the smell of freshly baked cake mixed with the flowery scent of Earl Grey tea. I smiled at the gesture; it was my favourite.
Mary’s eyes were wide and full of wonder as she took in everything. I tried to see it like her. The digital picture frames on the walls, filled with people moving around, waving at the camera. The gentle piano music coming from speakers above the mantlepiece. Even the lightbulbs had to be like magic for her.
She didn’t say anything though. A Queen didn’t show surprise. Well, she didn’t quite manage to keep her emotions from reflecting on her face, but I was sure other women of her time would have exclaimed in wonder, would have seen it as witchcraft maybe, or even run in fright.
Not Mary. She gracefully sat on the chair my mother had indicated, her back straight.
“I assume the two of you have been on a jump?” my mother asked while putting three large slices of carrot cake on plates. She was using the good china, the one with tacky golden flowers lining the rim. Did she think Mary was my girlfriend? Or was she just trying to impress a colleague?
“Yes, late sixteenth century,” I replied.
She put a piece of cake in front of me and it took all my willpower not to wolf it down. My mother’s carrot cake was legendary.
She looked at my white suit. “Did you forget to dress the part?”
I laughed. “No, this is brand new TA technology. The suit takes on the appearance of whatever time we’re in. Mary doesn’t have a suit yet though, so she had to dress appropriately. I don’t suppose she could borrow some of your clothes? It would save us a trip back to the Academy.”
My mum gave me a curious look but nodded and smiled at Mary. “Help yourself, Drake can show you my wardrobe. You’re a little taller than me, so I doubt you can wear my jeans, but most of my dresses should fit you.”
Mary inclined her head. “Thank you.”
We had our cake in silence, but it was obvious that my mother was tempted to quiz Mary. I hadn’t brought a girl – no, a woman – home in years. Maybe she was hopeful that there may be grandchildren in her future after all, despite me telling her the contrary for ages. I wasn’t the type to have kids. And until now, I’d never dared to hope to ever be with the woman I desired.
I looked at Mary, watching her as she ate her cake. The way she held the cake fork, how she lifted her cup to her lips, how she chewed without the slightest sound, how her back didn’t touch the lean of her chair – it all screamed royalty. I hope my mother would just think her to be posh, nothing more. I couldn’t risk getting my family involved in my crime. That’s what it was. A crime.
I was a criminal. I cringed at the thought. I’d always been good. Always followed the rules. Even as a teenager, I hadn’t been very rebellious.
Now, I’d broken the most important rule of any time traveller. Broken the oath I’d taken upon my graduation from the Academy.
And I didn’t regret it in the slightest.
When Mary put down her fork, my mother seemed to see that as the sign that she could start her interrogation.
“So you’re a colleague of Drake’s?”
Mary smiled politely. “A friend.”
My mum raised her eyebrows. “A friend?”
“Mum! Don’t you know it’s rude to make your guests uncomfortable?”
She grinned at me, all innocence. “And don’t you know it’s rude not to introduce your friends properly to your mother?”
I groaned. This had been a bad idea. I should have predicted her being a little too curious.
“You’re right,” Mary suddenly said. “Your son is more than just a friend. He saved my life.”
My mother’s eyes went wide as she looked at the two of us. “You did?”
I shrugged. “It was nothing. But that’s why we’re taking some time off. The headmistress has granted me two months leave. I’ll look for a place to rent tonight, so we won’t be in your hair for long.”
“You can stay as long as you like. You know there’s enough space in this house, especially with your dad away. He sends his love, by the way. He said you’ve not called him in ages. I wish you’d get in touch with your old parents more often.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know how busy I am. My students keep me on my toes. They sometimes come to me with questions in the evening when I should have time to myself.”
“Which is why you should have moved out of the Academy ages ago. Mary, I bet you call your parents all the time.”
“My parents are dead,” she replied, not unkindly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear, I shouldn’t have presumed.” My mother got up, clearly uncomfortable. “Would you like some more tea?”
“No, I think I’m going to show Mary her room.” I got to my feet as well. This conversation had gone on long enough.
“Are you two not going to stay in your room together?”
“We’re friends, mum.” My exasperation was increasing with every sentence my mother uttered. “Mary will want her own room and bed.”
My mother sighed. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying. I’ve made up the guest room. Mary, let me know if you need anything.”
Mary smiled at her. I envied her patience. “Thank you, madam. That’s very kind of you.”
I led her upstairs, away from my nosy mother.
“Sorry about that,” I muttered as soon as we were out of my mum’s earshot. “I forgot how annoying she can be.”
The lights went on as soon as we entered the guest room, making Mary gasp.
“How?” she asked, staring at the lamp above us.
“There’s a sensor that…ehm…the light senses when we enter the room and turns on.”
She stared at me. “The light is sentient?”
“No, it’s…complicated.” I cleared my throat. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”
“My dress is very comfortable, but I have to admit, I would quite like to try your mother’s breeches. I’m very intrigued by how they’d feel against my skin.”
“Didn’t you say she looked naked in them?” I teased.
Mary smiled at me, mirth sparkling in her eyes. “I did indeed. But I never said that you wouldn’t see me wearing the
m.”
Damn. I had to say, I would love to see her in more form-fitting clothes. Yes, I had seen her naked in my dreams, but that was very different from seeing her in the nude in this reality. Not that I’d see her naked…unless I was very, very lucky.
Thank the Gods for online shopping. It had quickly become apparent that Mary wasn’t a fan of crowds, having forced to be surrounded by swarms of people all her life. She was content with her own company, or mine, so I didn’t want to put her through the harrowing experience that was visiting clothes shops.
“These.” Mary pointed at the screen.
One thing was for sure, she had an expensive taste. Not that she knew; she had no idea about how much our modern pounds were worth. I didn’t mind though. I only spent a fraction of my salary each month, since I got free food and accommodation at the Academy. Most of my money was in a savings account, ready to be spent.
I checked the measurements I’d taken earlier to determine Mary’s size. She was fascinated by the concept of clothes that weren’t custom made. She was used to seamstresses creating her dresses to her taste.
“And this.”
She’d chosen a dark green tunic with flared long sleeves.
“It will go well with your hair,” I replied. In truth, I had no idea, but it seemed like the right thing to say. I added it to the basket, where an assortment of clothes was already waiting. I’d have them sent right to our new home, saving us from having to take them with us during the move.
We’d found a furnished little cottage on the West coast of Scotland. There had been no doubt in Mary’s mind that we’d move to Scotland. France would have been her second choice, but my French was basic at best, so Scotland it was.
Strangely enough, I’d never been to modern Scotland. With my dad in the navy, we often flew out to wherever his ship docked, which meant that I’d seen many different countries as a child, but not much of the British Isles.
I smiled when I remembered the conversation I'd had about Britain with Mary last night. I'd mentioned that Scotland had only recently got its independence and she'd been shocked at the thought of Scotland having been part of the UK for centuries.
"How could they have stood that?" she'd asked, her face an expression of horror. "Did nobody fight against the English rule?"
"They tried several times," I'd replied. "But it was kind of your son's fault. He united the countries without bloodshed, simply by being Elizabeth's heir. When she died, he became King of both nations."
"Outrageous," she'd gasped. "I'm glad they've finally come to their senses. Scotland has stood on its own successfully in the past. We don't need the English."
There was no doubt that she was the Queen of Scotland.
"Why are you smiling?" she asked me, looking up from the computer screen.
"Just thinking of Scotland."
She gave me a quizzical look, but then nodded and went back to looking at shoes. She'd accepted the computer as a useful tool almost immediately. It was astonishing how quickly she was getting used to modern technology. I guessed that in the absence of servants, she had to find other ways to acquire what she needed.
“Why would anyone wear this”?
I looked at the boots she was pointing at; black leather with silver studs and things that looked like belt buckles all over.
“I have no idea. Fashion, I guess. I don’t know much about what’s fashionable or not. At the Academy, the students wear uniforms and a lot of the time, so do us teachers.”
Mary gave me a wistful smile. “It would be easy, not having to worry about clothes every day. As a Queen, I have to show power, even if that’s through dresses that most women could never afford. Every single one of my garments is…was designed to convey a message. It is strange indeed to be able to choose between such simple clothes.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Just take whatever you like. Don’t stress yourself. You will look magnificent in whatever you get.”
She laughed. “Such flattery. You would have made a good courtier.”
“And look at you every day without ever able to touch you? I don’t think so.” I gently started massaging her shoulders. “Your station would have prevented you from ever spending time with me alone.”
“I could have given you a position at court. Maybe my private secretary…although, perhaps not.”
She tensed for a moment and I knew what she was thinking about. One of her secretaries, David Rizzio, had been murdered in front of her eyes while she was heavily pregnant. Darnley, her second husband, had suspected them of having an affair. No, I didn’t fancy being Mary’s private secretary; it didn’t seem the safest of jobs.
She got up and turned around, facing me.
“I would make you my King,” she whispered, before wrapping her slender arms around my waist and pulling me close. Her lips met mine in a passionate kiss. She was leading, the one in charge, and I realised she was claiming me.
I was hers.
And I didn’t mind in the slightest.
Chapter 8
Ten months later
Waking up curled around her is the best feeling in the world. Her body was moulded perfectly against mine, like she was made for me. Or I for her.
I kept my eyes closed, just enjoying the moment. I’d have to get up soon, but I didn’t want to wake her. We’d been up late, enjoying each other’s bodies. At first, Mary had been unaware of how pleasant sex could be. I supposed that wasn’t something they taught women in the 16th century. Sex wasn’t just a way to produce babies. Now that she’d realised that, Mary had become something of a connoisseur, relishing the nights we spent together, trying new things, experimenting. She was shaking off her conservative medieval upbringing and was starting to embrace the freedom of modern women.
The bracer around my wrist vibrated in a silent alarm. If I wanted to take a shower before leaving for work, I had to get up now. The weekend couldn’t come soon enough. On Saturday, we were planning to go to Linlithgow Palace. It had become an obsession of Mary’s to visit the places she’d lived in and see how they’d changed over time. Linlithgow was where she’d been born, so going there on her birthday seemed like the perfect thing to do.
It was strange to think that Mary was turning forty-five already. She was twelve years older than me, not that it mattered. Narrowly escaping death had given her a new look on life. And being transplanted in time, obviously.
She yawned softly. My signal to get up. I gently kissed her shoulder, then left the bed as quietly as I could. She wouldn’t have to go to work for another two hours. Lucky her. If she was going at all. The last few mornings, she’d been feeling sick, so she’d stayed at home. That had been a hard lesson for her to learn. Taking time off when she needed it. She was used to being Queen all day, every day, with no breaks even if she was ill.
Hopefully, this bout of sickness was going to be over soon, or I’d have to make her visit a doctor. She didn’t trust them, no matter how often I told her that medicine had changed a lot since the fifteen hundreds. She’d got used to modern life quickly, but there were some habits that she found hard to break.
I looked down at her and smiled. She was gorgeous when she was sleeping. Well, she was always beautiful, but with her face smooth and relaxed, her inner beauty was even more intense.
I got ready as quickly as I could before porting to the Academy, arriving in the entrance hall together with other teachers who didn’t live in the building.
“Drake!”
Seamus came running towards me, waving wildly.
I straightened my suit and ran a hand over my beard, making sure it was still in shape. Mary loved it, although she did tease me that I was vainer than her. Which wasn’t true. I didn’t care how my hair looked or how my suit could have done with some ironing. My beard was different. It was sacrosanct.
“What’s up?” I asked when he came to a stop in front of me.
“Laura’s pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
I stared at
him. “What?”
“Baby. Me. Father.” He laughed joyously. “Can you believe it? I’m going to be a dad.”
My mouth opened and closed but I couldn’t form words.
“That’s the moment you say ‘congratulations’,” Seamus quipped.
“Congratulations,” I muttered, before raising my wrist and typing into my bracer, putting in new coordinates.
“What are you doing? You only just got here. Lessons start in ten minutes.”
I didn’t look up. “I have to go. I need to check something.”
“What the-“
I pressed the porting button before he could finish his sentence and was whisked away into bright light.
Mary was no longer in bed when I returned clutching a bag from the pharmacy. Her retching sounds led me to the bathroom. She was hunched over the toilet, naked, holding her hair back with one hand while steadying herself with the other.
I rushed to her side and held her in my arms while she emptied her stomach. I hated how powerless I felt. She was suffering but there was nothing I could do but comfort her.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she groaned in between retches. In response, I stroked her hair, hoping it would soothe her.
When it was finally over, I gently wiped her face with a wet cloth and carried her to bed. Usually, she would have protested, but she didn’t, filling me with even more worry. I handed her a glass of water. As soon as she’d drank it, she lay back down, her expression heavy with exhaustion.
I sat by her side and pulled out the small box I’d bought at the pharmacy.
“Hold out your hand,” I whispered. “It’s just a small prick.”
She let me take a drop of her blood, curiously looking at the black device. I waited with bated breath while the little machine did its work. A countdown appeared on its screen and the closer it got to zero, the faster my heart was beating.
Queen's Academy Page 4
