Pursuit (Through Time 1)

A young serving maid in a black skirt, white blouse, and a white apron appeared. She was not unattractive, and when she looked at Chance her stern expression changed. Royce thought that the tenor of her voice was invitingly husky as she asked, “Yes … may I help ye?”

“Here to see his lordship,” said Chance, smiling softly at her.

The woman appeared as though she was ready to melt into Chance’s arms, which supremely irritated Royce. However, there was nothing she could do. She folded her arms across her midriff and said, “It is pouring rain out here—do you think you could invite us in and out of the weather?”

“Oh … oh … yes, of course,” said the maid, who stood aside and allowed the three to enter.

“Now …” Chance murmured to the maid, “could you announce us to his lordship?”

“Is he expecting ye?”

“No, he isn’t, but he will be glad to see me all the same,” Chance answered confidently.

“Well, then—of course.” She spoke only to Chance, glanced warmly at Trevor, and acted as though Royce didn’t exist. “Who shall I say …?”

However, the lord of the manor was already taking long, hard strides towards them, his arms opened wide. He barked a hearty laugh, clasped Chance around his chest, and shook him as best as he was able.

“Ye ole dog—why dinna ye tell me ye were cooming?”

“Dinna know.” Chance turned to his companions and only introduced them by their given names. However, after a moment he said, “Aye then, I see ye know just what my companions be.”

His lordship studied Royce for only a moment, time enough for her to return his scrutiny with one of her own. He was elderly, but he was still a mountain of a Scotsman and obviously fit. He had a ruddy, manly face, not quite handsome and yet attractive. His hair was white, and he wore it slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. She guessed he was in human years nearing sixty.

His hazel eyes glittered appreciatively when he walked towards Royce. He smiled sweetly and said, “May I?” as he pointed at the gold torque at her neck.

She nodded, and he touched it thoughtfully before he remarked, “Well now, Chance, what have ye brought me—not only a beauty, but a Seelie princess.”

Even though the maid had left them earlier, Chance frowned and said, “Best be talked about in private.”

“Yes, yes … where are m’manners … coom …” He led them down the corridor to a set of double doors that he opened wide. Inside a fire blazed and a large manuscript lay open on his desk.

Royce had already blinked herself dry, but the fire was inviting, and she went right to it and spread out her hands.

Lord MacBathe glanced from her to Chance. Then he looked at Trevor, who had gone to take a stand beside Royce.

“I have not entertained a Seelie Fae in my home for some years. And now—a prince and a princess … from different Houses.” He nodded towards Trevor and added, “He isn’t comfortable in the company of humans, but she … quite a different story, eh?”

Chance sighed. “Aye, she is that and more than ye have time to hear.”

“Right then,” said his lordship, moving over to a cupboard and producing glasses. “What would ye be drinking, wee Princess?”

Royce turned to him and smiled. “Do you have blackberry brandy? I am partial to it.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said softly. “Your queen is partial to it as well.”

She left the fire and walked right over to him, surprise filling her mind. “My queen visits with you?”

“From time to time,” he said, and his bushy eyebrows drew together as he looked away. He poured her libation and handed it to her. He glanced towards Trevor. “And you, young Prince?”

It was clear Trevor was sincerely out of his comfort zone. He did not deal with humans in general, and Royce suspected he was confused—as was she—at MacBathe knowing they were Fae. He put up his hands and said, “I’ll have whatever Chance is having.”

“Aye … so shall I,” MacBathe answered. Without asking Chance what it was he wanted, he took out a bottle out and poured.

Chance raised his glass and said w

ith a grin, “To ye, Doug MacBathe. Nothing gets by ye, does it?”

“Not much, but tell me, do … what brought you to me now?”