Page 1 of Promises to Keep

CHAPTER 1 - LADY MAIREAD

Agnie MacLeod was wearing a cinched brown leather jacket, over a top that had a bold print, with a floral skirt, and knee-high leather boots. Tied at her throat was a floral silk scarf.

She took a last gulp from a flask, screwed the lid back on, and passed it tae the man beside her as she stalked toward me. People stepped from her path. I could see there was a bulge on her side — a hidden gun. I thought tae myself,she ought tae ken how tae conceal a weapon without destroying the line of a designer’s outfit.

“How are ye, Mairead?”

She smiled maliciously as I eyed the two men behind her, a quick glance, peripherally, there was a man now on either side of me. I was cornered.

I raised my chin. “Agnie, ye are uninvited and ill-dressed for the event and the time.”

“What do ye mean? I wore Gucci!” There was a dangerous gleam in her eye, the gloating of someone who believed they were winning.

“The design is from the year 1970! Does Rodolfo ken ye are wearing his creation four decades afore he has created it? Ye hae unveiled it long before he has! How dare ye! He will be incensed when I tell him of it!”

She raised her brow, “Rodolfo, when he was dressing me, called me his muse.”

Heat rose up my cheeks. “Ye take that scarf off, right now, Agnie Macleod! Ye hae nae right tae take art out of it’s time — tae unveil it before it is—”

Agnie said, “This is your weakness, Mairead, ye believe art is important.”

“Tis nae a weakness, we wield great power by time travel, tis important tae keep history consistent. Ye canna take things out of time—”

She interrupted me with cruel laughter.

I finished. “...this all shows your lack of good breeding and common sense.”

“Dear God, Lady Mairead, I forgot how fun it was tae talk tae ye.”

I sipped from my cup of punch, trying tae keep my hand from shaking. “It wouldna hurt for ye tae hae a bit of preparation, some historical research, a wee bit of class.”

She said, “I want ye tae send a note tae yer son, Magnus, askin’ him tae come help ye. I would like tae speak tae him.”

She gestured tae the man beside her and a tray with a piece of notepaper, a pen, a seal and red wax, much like my own, were held in front of me.

“And what dost ye want me tae say tae His Majesty King Magnus I?”

“I daena care what ye tell him, tell him tae come here, tell him ye want him tae come rescue his mother — we have things tae discuss.”

I exhaled.

I would hae refused, tae protect him, because I kent he would be walkin’ intae a trap, but when my eyes swept around the room I had noticed something out of place, or rather, someone — Madame Hayley was here.

I had spotted her first, wearing what looked tae be one of my dresses, and then had followed her eyes tae see who I guessed was Kaitlyn, though twas difficult tae see her behind a potted palm. I could see the edge of a dress though, one of my dresses, a design by Madeleine Vionnet from 1927. At least my daughter-in-law understood the importance of historical propriety.

So it dinna bother me much tae sign a letter asking Magnus tae come, he must hae been already here.

And his presence complicated everything.

But he had promised tae lay down his life for me — it seemed as if he were going tae get his chance.

CHAPTER 2 - KAITLYN

We were in bed in the guest room of Elmwood in New York. The furnishings were luxurious. The bed had an intricately carved, mahogany canopy, the bedding and curtains were silk brocade. The colors were pale blue and green, a bright version of the colors of the Campbell clan. The ceiling was high and had a painted mural of a blue sky within a circle in the middle. The windows were tall, the lighting was low. It felt like the lush bedroom of a queen, lavish. Everything was antique, but it was all clean, fresh, and well maintained, almost as if the bedding, though clearly from a century ago, had not seen a full century of use. It was the home of a time traveler.

By the light of a small lamp, in the middle of the night, I had my head on Magnus’s chest, tucked in under his arm, where I could hear his heartbeat, and draw my fingertips in circles on his skin as we whispered over the news of the day, this time:

Lady Mairead was in trouble.

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