“I could make you a list of cars, if that would help,” Robert volunteered.
“Make them very dear.”
Patricia jumped up. “I’ll choose the color!”
“I’ll look for very expensive after-market accessories,” Ian said, pushing away from the range. “Mum, we’ll need your computer.”
Elizabeth started to speak, but he put his arm around her shoulders and smiled.
“I’ll supervise the young ones,” he promised, “and be careful myself.”
Oliver watched Elizabeth’s eldest gather up his younger siblings and usher them out of the kitchen, then looked at the lady of the hall.
“Apparently I’ve been sent on an extended holiday.”
“Hard to take them,” she conceded.
“Do you?”
“Three kids and deadlines,” she said dryly, “so, no, not often.”
He hardly dared ask, but couldn’t keep himself from it. “Does your husband?”
She seemed to be considering what to say.
“That was too personal,” he added quickly.
She shook her head. “It isn’t that at all.”
“Then the Cameron/MacLeod feud…”
She laughed. “Well, you did pledge your fealty to the dastardly laird up the hill.”
Oliver refused to shiver at the memory. He had indeed done so, which had eventually led—in an admittedly roundabout way—to finding himself in medieval Scotland with Jamie, just for a mug of ale and a sword fight he absolutely hadn’t been prepared for.
“Then again, you are a Phillips,” Elizabeth continued, “which means you’re related back in the mists of time not only Sunny, but Madelyn as well who happens to be married to my brother-in-law. That makes you family, so I’ll give you the family answers. Jamie is driven, as you know, in the same way Lord Robert is and for the same reasons.”
“My lady, your husband is an entirely new level of driven.”
She laughed uneasily. “I’ll admit he is, but even he puts his feet up occasionally. And he does sleep.”
“I sleep,” Oliver muttered.
“In a bed?”
He blew his hair out of his eyes, smiled in spite of himself at her laugh, then pushed himself to his feet to offer help with getting supper on the table.
The afternoon had well and truly waned when he found himself standing in the middle of the great hall without quite knowing how he’d gotten there. He was certain he’d eaten and made polite conversation with Jamie and his family, but he had little memory of it. He rubbed his hands over his face, then looked around himself to see what he’d missed.
The lord of the hall was sitting in front of his fire, no doubt thinking deep thoughts about possible flaws in the fabric oftime. Oliver realized Jamie was waving him over, so he took the invitation whilst it was still good, then accepted a heavy pewter mug of what he was certain would be a most excellent ale.
“I understand my wee Patricia gave you your letter earlier.”
Oliver nodded. “She did, my lord.”
Jamie smiled slightly. “And of course you didn’t growl at her.”
“I was far too busy marveling with your daughter and her brothers at the delights that await me.”
