She shook her head. “I wasn’t particularly nice to you, either.”
“You slandered my German ruthlessly.”
“Your German sucks, buddy.”
He laughed and squeezed her shoulders. “I’m afraid it does. I’ll choose French next time I’m trying out a pickup line on you in a moldy old castle.” He looked at her. “What do you think of this?”
“It’s glorious.”
“It’s remote.”
“That’s part of its charm. Is there shopping nearby?”
He looked at her carefully. “Not much.”
“Then it sounds perfect. Why don’t you have any furniture?”
He sighed. “No time and I hate to look for that sort of rubbish.”
She was going to suggest he unbend far enough for at least a stove and a couple of chairs, but his phone chirped at him. He looked at the text, then frowned.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said absently. He dialed, listened, then frowned. “Say that again, sorry?”
Samantha could hear only snatches of the other end of the conversation and Derrick didn’t really have all that much to say. She shifted a little so she could watch him, though she couldn’t help but notice that while he didn’t have his arm around her, he still had his hand on her back.
Honestly, she really needed to date more. The man was going to make her absolutely crazy and she had no experience to counteract it.
“That’s interesting,” Derrick said. “Hold on.” He looked at Samantha. “Richard Drummond is your father’s great-grandfather however many—how many, Oliver?—aye, thirteen generations removed.”
“That’s interesting.”
“He died in the Tower.”
“Terrible.”
“Before he managed to marry and have children.”
Fascinating was almost out of her mouth before she realized what he’d said. She looked at him in surprise. “Then how can he be my ancestor?”
“That’s a very good question.”
She jumped up, then started to pat herself. “Am I fading?”
“That only happens in movies.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t sit there and look so calm. This is my ancestor we’re talking about! How did he get in the Tower in the first place?”
He looked up at her seriously. “He was accused of stealing jewels. Unset gems. Four dozen of them.”
She swayed. She realized she wasn’t feeling all that great when the world stopped spinning and she found herself sitting on Derrick’s lap. He was still talking around her into his phone, which she found slightly annoying, though at least she could hear the other end of the conversation. That might have been because Derrick was holding on to her and talking on speaker.
“Interesting that we have four dozens gems right here, isn’t it?” Oliver was saying.
“I think it’s worse than that,” Derrick said with a sigh. “I think it’s time for an employee meeting.”
“Oooh, did I win something?”
“Aye, Annoying Git of the Month,” Derrick said sourly. “How’s Peter?”
“Snoring.”
“Rufus?”
“Safely in London. Cameron did us the very great favor of sending a couple of his boys off to tail our Ambleside lads. We’ll see what that turns up. Ewan says you’re all clear where you are. Coming home?”
“I need to buy a round down at the pub, but we’ll be there shortly afterward.” He paused. “Based on what you’ve told me, we may have a new twist here to the case.”
“I can hardly wait to hear it.”
“I imagine you won’t be surprised.”
“Should I start looking for alternatives to modern communications?”
Derrick sighed. “Definitely.”
“Finally,” Oliver said, sounding pleased. “Been waiting to try out some new gear.”
“One could hope. We’ll be home soon.”
Samantha felt him put his phone into his jacket pocket. She considered moving from where she was sitting with her head on his shoulder, then reconsidered. It was cold, but the sunshine was lovely and the sound of the sea soothing.
“Do you think,” she said finally, “that those are the same stones only in two different time periods?”
“I’m not sure there’s another answer,” he said.
“They make me queasy to look at them.” She lifted her head then to look at him. “The second set.”
“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have to wonder, though, why someone would find you in a crowd and plant them on you. Don’t you?”
“Dumb luck?”
He sighed.
“All right, not dumb luck. What are we going to do about it?”
He seemed to consider his words carefully. “I’m not sure we are going to do anything—”
She sat up and looked at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
He looked up at her seriously. “What I’m talking about is your staying safely behind in the twenty-first century whilst I—”
“Go to hell,” she said crisply.
He blinked. “You mean to Elizabethan England?”
“No, hell.” She stood up and glared down at him. “As