Page 16 of All The Time You Need (Magic of Time #1)
“Peter’s here?” Annie could hardly believe the words she’d just heard come out of her friend’s mouth. “Peter Gordon. You’re sure?”
Lissa nodded, her eyes rounded in concern. “Aye. Finn had come to escort you down to the hall, where yer Peter awaits his bride-to-be.”
Annie couldn’t imagine how this could be possible. First off, the Peter she was engaged to wouldn’t even be born for more than seven hundred years. And secondly, even if he knew how to find her, she couldn’t imagine him actually taking the time to go do it. Not that he was a bad person. He was a nice guy. It was just that his idea of how to spend a really fun day was negotiating terms on a new tract of land for her father’s company to drill dry. No, the Peter Gordon she knew might hire someone to come after her, but he certainly wouldn’t do it himself. Whoever was waiting downstairs wasn’t her Peter.
Annie shook her head. “There has to be some mistake. We all know that’s not possible.”
“Possible or not, Alex has summoned us to join him in the great hall,” Lissa said, with a quick glance over her shoulder to where Finn stood, as if she wanted confirmation of what she said.
His solemn nod was apparently the confirmation she’d wanted.
“But I already told you where Peter is. When Peter is,” Annie corrected. “Coming after me—anywhere, anywhen—that’s just not Peter’s style.”
Coming after her would interfere with business. And, as she had learned early in life, nothing was ever allowed to interfere with business in the world inhabited by Peter and her father.
“Be that as it may,” Finn said, shrugging as he opened the door, “there is a man in the great hall who claims he is Peter, son of Malcolm, of the House of Gordon. And, at this very moment, he is waiting to collect his bride. Now, if you’ll kindly accompany me down, you can see for yerself.”
The beginnings of a new terror plucked at Annie’s chest.
“George is Peter’s father. Not Malcolm. I don’t know who the man downstairs is, but it sure as heck isn’t the Peter I’m engaged to marry. You guys aren’t going to let some stranger waltz in here and carry me off, are you? Just because he claims to be the man I’m supposed to marry?”
This couldn’t happen. She couldn’t allow this to happen. If she were taken from here, farther away from the arbor than she already was, there was no telling how she’d ever manage to get home to her own time again.
“Try not to fret yerself over this, my friend,” Lissa said, crossing to her side and catching up her hand. “We’ll go down there together and face whatever is to come. Together. Have faith in my brother, Annie. He won’t allow anything bad to happen to you. He’s too responsible to allow it.”
“You believe that?”
Because Annie herself wasn’t so sure. She’d thought there’d been a moment between the two of them the night Alex had taken her up on the wall-walk. When he’d kissed her, her whole body had felt alive in a way she’d never felt before. She’d been so sure that he must have felt something, too, but obviously she’d been wrong. He hadn’t even spoken to her for the two whole days since that had happened.
“I believe it with all my heart,” Lissa replied, tugging her out the door and down the hallway to the stairs.
“Okay,” Annie said, stopping just outside the door to the great hall. “But promise me this: don’t do anything that would let this man know which of us is which. If I don’t know who he is, he certainly can’t know who I am. And if he doesn’t know which of us is which, then that proves that I’m telling the truth. Agreed?”
She looked from Lissa to Finn and back again, hoping they’d see the reason in her request.
“Agreed,” Lissa said, squeezing her hand as they entered the big room.
There was little doubt as to which of the men in the room was supposed to be Peter. Every eye was cast in his direction as she entered.
He turned toward her and rose to his feet, dropping the food he had only moments before been shoveling into his mouth.
No, he was definitely not the Peter Gordon she knew. Her Peter was tall, blond and quite handsome in a clean, slicked-back, Wall Street kind of way.
This man might be considered handsome if he weren’t such an obvious dirtball. From his unshaven face to his stringy, filthy hair, right down to the grease he wiped from his face before speaking, this particular Peter was about as far from being the Peter in her time as was humanly possible.
“Analise!” he called, as if he knew her well enough to use her given name, before sticking out a grubby hand that Annie was certain hadn’t seen soap and water in months. “Come, my love, let me see for myself how you fare after yer harrowing adventure.”
The very idea of touching the man turned Annie’s stomach. She squeezed Lissa’s hand, her heart pounding as she prayed her friend remembered their agreement.
Lissa didn’t let her down.
“Peter,” she said, her tone a perfect mixture of statement and question.
What an actress. That particular skill was one that Annie intended to remember, just in case she ever needed to use it herself.
“Have they treated you well, my sweet?” Peter asked, holding his arms out as he headed straight for Lissa.
If that didn’t prove to everyone in the room what an impostor he really was, she couldn’t imagine what would.
Alex strode from the front of the room, Jamesy at his side, to lay a hand on Lissa’s shoulder.
“Ladies, this is Peter, second son of Malcolm, House of Gordon.” He turned toward Peter as the man all but skidded to a stop. “May I present to you my sister, Alissaundre, only daughter of Alexander, House of MacKillican.”
“It is my pleasure,” Peter said, his momentary confusion disappearing as quickly as it had appeared on his face.
“ This, ” Alex said as he held out a hand in Annie’s direction. “This is Analise Shaw. I must admit, I’m somewhat surprised that you didn’t seem to recognize yer intended. Has it been so long since you’ve seen her?”
Relief flooded Annie’s chest with the knowledge that the little scene that had just played out hadn’t been lost on Alex. Maybe she still had a chance to get out of this, after all.
Peter chuckled, a humor that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not so surprising, really. Our marriage was arranged by our fathers. Though I’ve known of her, and thought of her as my future bride for many years, this is the first time we’ve had the opportunity to meet face to face.”
The hope that had bloomed only moments before fled from Annie. She hadn’t suspected he’d go that route. But, of course, it made the most sense. Any getting out of this was going to fall squarely on her shoulders.
“I don’t know who you are,” she said, taking a step back from the two men as she raised her hand in front of her. “But you are not the man who gave me this ring. You are not the Peter Gordon I am engaged to marry.”
“Nonsense,” Peter said dismissively, turning his back on her to face Alex. “The wedding will go on as planned. My father, laird of the Western Gordons, is on his way here even now to negotiate the dowry that will seal the agreement and the peace between our clans.”
“Negotiate the dowry?” Alex echoed, his head tilting to one side like a bird investigating a handful of seed. “Is Analise’s father on his way as well?”
Peter shrugged. “As to that, I canna say. Though I suspect he will come.”
“If he doesn’t, who exactly do you expect this negotiating to be done by?”
“You, of course,” Peter said, and a brilliant smile lifted his lips. “The Shaws are yer relations and everyone knows they’ve neither the silver nor the land to buy the peace between our clans. They’ve offered up a daughter. Now it falls to you, as laird of the MacKillican, to add yer own offering toward the cause of peace. The responsibility to provide a dowry suitable to seal the marriage, and to avoid a war between our peoples, will fall to you.”