Free Anne Barbour by Lady Hilarys Halloween

is absolutely absurd. Do you honestly believe an old Druid, muttering in his beard, could send you hurtling eighteen centuries ahead of yourself?”
    Rufus bent a look of outrage upon his host, but his reply was interrupted by Hilary, who said witheringly to James in English, “Well, of course he does! This is a man who probably believes one can tell the future by staring into sheeps’ insides.” To Rufus, she said placatingly, “Never mind him, he speaks without thinking sometimes. The thing is, you must have somewhere to stay while we sort all this out. We’d like to help you figure out how to get back, if you will let us.”
    James knew an urge to grasp Rufus by his shoulder plates to keep him in the house, but he knew such a move would be foolish. Time traveler or not, he couldn’t keep the fellow chained up in the basement. Although, that was at present very much his inclination. No, he could only hope that Minimus Rufus would accept his hospitality. He held his breath as Rufus considered, and then at last allowed Hilary to shepherd him back toward his chair.
    “Ah.” James exhaled. “Now, then, let us get you up in your own chamber. I’ll show you about, and at dinner we can discuss what is to be done next.”
    Rubbing his hands briskly, he ushered Rufus into the corridor, only to be told by a footman that Lady Hilary’s maid had arrived and awaited her instructions in the hall.
    “Oh!” Hilary, who had followed the gentlemen into the corridor, started guiltily. “I suppose—that is, I must get home.” She glanced down at her gown, drying into a wrinkled, misshapen mess.
    “Yes,” agreed James promptly. Hilary flushed. “Unless you’d care to stay for dinner,” he added in a more courteous tone.
    “No. That is, no thank you,” she replied coldly.
    James knew a twinge of shame. She was so very earnest and she could not, of course, be faulted for trying to take advantage of the situation. Having parlayed a nice little display of antiquarian knowledgeability into what she must now see as a winning proposition, she would be foolish to abandon the scene.
    “I should prefer,” continued Hilary in a voice that could have chipped diamonds, “to keep our—our arrangements on a businesslike basis, Mr. Wincanon. To be perfectly frank, I have no desire to spend any more time in your company than necessary. Perhaps we can work out a schedule, alternating the time we spend with Rufus. We can both ponder on the problem of getting him back to his own time.”
    James, startled by the depth of her anger, could find nothing to say in response. They had by now reached the hall, and Hilary gestured to the maid awaiting her. To Rufus, she added in her halting Latin, “I hope to see you again, soon. Minimus Rufus. Perhaps tomorrow, if Mr. Wincanon can spare you, you will do me the favor of some conversation.”
    Rufus nodded benignly and with a regal nod to her host Hilary swept from the house. The dignity of her exit was somewhat marred as Jasper greeted her with all the enthusiasm of a dog forcibly restrained in chains to keep him from his beloved mistress. Accepting a footman’s assistance, she climbed aboard her gig, bundling the dog into the vehicle with her. Assuring Jasper of her continued well-being, she slapped the reins smartly and clattered briskly away.
    Whew! James watched her out of sight. He grinned despite himself. It was hard to believe so much spirit could be contained in one small female. What, he wondered the next moment, had been her purpose in speaking of him so? It was not the first time he’d had his hair combed, of course, but often he’d discovered that such a show of antipathy was merely meant to pique his interest.
    Lord, he sounded like an insufferable coxcomb, but in truth he spoke only from experience. He sighed inwardly. It grew wearying, this necessity to view every damsel who crossed his path as a threat to his well-being. There were times when he wished to consign his wealth and