Free PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) by Jackie Ivie Page B

different!
    She wouldn’t think about it. She’d spent enough time hating her gender.
    There was nothing left to do now except wait. Pray. And hope.
     
     

 
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    Well.
    This was borderline educational, but that was about it.
    Neal stopped trying to move the conversation into his reason for being there after the fifth attempt, this time by the presentation of huge platters containing meats. He hadn’t planned on staying past sundown, but the decision was taken from him by the length of the proceedings.
    He’d been met at the gate and escorted inside, noted that the room wasn’t nearly as large or impressive as the one at Castle Straith, and then they’d moved on. He’d been led to an alcove area, something they called a chieftain room. Garrick had followed at Neal’s heels. Behind him were the clansmen denoting his Honor Guard.
    Neal hadn’t known what an Honor Guard was, or that he had one. The thought still gave him a rush of pleasure. They were a commanding sight. Imposing. They were all massive men, as tall, or taller, than either him or Garrick. They were physically fit. Identically arrayed in Straith colors. They were also all sporting full beards.
    As if it was part of the attire.
    Neal glanced about and got that answered. Aside from him, every man in the assemblage – with the exception of MacAffrey’s heir, who was too young yet – had facial hair. Perhaps Neal shouldn’t have shaved earlier. Even five o’clock shadow would have sufficed.
    Discard it, Neal.
    Not your issue.
    He was here for one reason. Circumvent Garrick’s claim. Get the betrothal portion of the will handled. Nothing in the will said he had to wed with anyone. All he had to do was get the engagement portion taken care of. After that, he could do as he liked. Wed if – and when – he so wished. Or not at all. He’d still be Duke of Straithcairn.
    For life.
    Mason had even winked at him while speaking of it.
    So. Neal had one mission tonight, arrange an engagement. It couldn’t be hard. He’d been running from one for years. And, as soon as this was accomplished, he could move onto what really mattered. All he had to do was get through what amounted to an oddball bit of protocol.
    Easy .
    He just needed to use patience. Bring out his negotiating skills. Neal snuck a hand beneath his sporran and scratched surreptitiously at his groin. He also needed to ignore the continual scrape of a woolen garment against bare skin, as well as the sensation of air. The day had turned into a storm-filled one, with a lot of accompanying wind gusts. He hadn’t even noted them until dismounting the horse. Garrick, and everyone in his Honor Guard got an eyeful then, which wasn’t all that embarrassing. Neal wasn’t a small man. But nobody else seemed to have this trouble. Then again, he had just returned from London. He wasn’t used to wearing what amounted to a knee-length skirt with attached, one-shoulder shawl. Why, he was so accustomed to wearing trousers his own valet had set them out today.
    Twice since then, Neal had smacked a hand to the back of his left thigh, certain his ass was on display. He didn’t have that problem on his right side. The claymore in its scabbard hung from the belt at his waist. That kept the plaid secured on that side. It felt like the material was continually slipping though, despite the four daggers stabbed through it from behind his belt. The two smaller knives were labeled as skean-dhu. Mason had tucked them into Neal’s socks, one per foot, where they rubbed occasionally against his ankles in case he needed a reminder of their presence. It was a lot of weaponry. The men about him looked similarly armed. Neal wondered if this was how one dressed for a ceremony at the neighbor’s, what must they take into battle?
    It was a farce. He felt like a complete fraud. This attire was more difficult to wear than any English gent’s could possibly be. But it would all be over soon. He could change back