PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) Read Free

A massive shockwave penetrated the air, sending a blinding arc of multi-hued light with it. A boom of what had to be thunder happened. The force slammed her onto her back and then it locked her there.
    Ainslee was stunned. Shocked. Absolutely and completely terrified.
    She didn’t move for a very long time. The thunderous noise faded away. A gust of wind reached her, rustling meadow grass and thistle stalks. Another gust followed. Several more moments passed. Her heart slowed to normal. Her quaking calmed. She’d experienced lightning strikes, but never that closely. Strands of her hair were actually lifted from her head. She brushed them down with hands that shook.
    And then, she heard a groan.
    Ainslee sat, swiveled, and watched the duke roll over awkwardly. Onto his back. And then he lifted a leg, bending it.
    Oh heavens!
    Ainslee was on her feet and racing toward him a second later, tripping in her rush. She slid down the last bit of slope, landing in a mess of saturated skirts and petticoats directly beside Straith. Sod had been disrupted in the ground all about him, adding muck to her appearance. She didn’t care. It was a small thing next to the fact he wasn’t dead. He was breathing . He didn’t even look that injured.
    Except for a nasty cut at his hairline.
    Ainslee pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and pressed the fabric to his wound. He grunted and swatted at her hand, and when he missed, he just let his arm fall limply back at his side.
    Well.
    That answered some things. Gossip was that he’d gone soft. Effeminate. She hadn’t believed it, but the tales appeared to have some substance. His hands didn’t look like they did much work, if any. Then again, she’d been told his hands didn’t do more than lift a lady’s fingertips to his lips.
    To kiss them.
    “Your grace! Straith? Can you hear me?”
    She left off ministering to the cut. It didn’t look fatal and she mustn’t forget the reason for her appearance this morning. Her reaction to him didn’t matter. Nor did his appearance. Conduct. Or anything other than her mission. She hadn’t had much time to start with. Now, she had less.
    If Father knew where she was. And what she was doing. And who she spoke with...!
    Ainslee trembled. She couldn’t continue the thought. She didn’t dare. She shook the duke before she lost her nerve completely. “Your grace! Wake up! Please? You must wake up! Come along, your grace. Please?”
    He definitely did more than kiss a lady’s hand. She didn’t imagine the strength that seized her wrist and yanked her almost atop him. The only thing preventing it was her other arm as it stopped the fall. Her hand hit the ground on his far side, propping her up. He wasn’t touching anything except her wrist, but near-contact sent heat through her. It penetrated the wet skirts. Warming. Steadying. Bolstering.
    “We’ve little time. You hear?” 
    Her lips were near his ear, framed by strands of hair that had escaped a queue. And that meant he hadn’t cut his hair. He’d tied it back and tucked the length beneath his collar. Ainslee tried to discount it. She pursed her lips. Cleared her throat. Moved her eyes. She’d believed the rumor that he’d dispensed with his hair. She’d listened and secretly mourned it. Straith lairds claimed the most glorious, thick hair. The new duke was no exception. It had been striking when he was young. It was said to be even more so now that it had darkened to the color of roasted chestnuts. He was also said to possess such handsomeness he set all the lasses in his vicinity to sighing. Ainslee looked him over. The last hadn’t been a lie. Ainslee’s heart stuttered. She almost sighed before catching it.
    “What? The hell?”
    Oh. My .
    She hadn’t known his voice had changed. Not this much. He had a strange accent, but he’d been away, visiting foreign ports. And in London-town. That might explain it. But nothing explained the depth of it. Nor her reaction. Bass tones rumbled