The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (comprehension books .TXT) 📗

“I don’t have to see the picture. I remember hanging on, but I was determined to beat Henry to the ball. His reach is twice mine, but what he had in height advantage, I had in speed. Mercury is a perfect polo pony—fearless and fast, with a heart for the game.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got interested in polo. It doesn’t seem to fit with a North Dakota rancher’s daughter.”

“Well, aren’t you the snob? I’ll have you know, Harvard’s had a polo team since the early 1880s. During my freshman year, I made the trek from Cambridge’s loud urbanity to the quiet suburbs of South Hamilton four times a week. Then I fell and broke my wrist again and didn’t go back. I even sold my horse so the sport wouldn’t tempt me.”

“You went to Harvard. I went to an SEC school. So who’s the snob?”

“You know you shouldn’t talk to me like that.” She patted the side of her leg. “I’m strapped!”

“Yep, and so am I. But we’re not talking guns right now. We’re talking about you participating in a high-risk sport.”

“Let’s see”—she stopped the cart and held up her hands like she was weighing something in each one—“In one hand I have a polo game, and in the other, I have an attack on a twelfth-century Viking community. Which one has the highest risk?”

Austin frowned and shook his head. “This uniform is only to make a statement that we’re there for business. We don’t intend to hurt anyone. A polo game with Robbie and Henry is far more dangerous. You were galloping across the field, hanging half out of your saddle. Powwowing with some Vikings isn’t the same, and you know it.”

She sped up again and made a sharper turn onto the road to the barn than she should have made, and Austin grabbed the canopy frame with both hands.

“In my defense,” she said, “I didn’t know they were going to play at a pro-level. I thought it was just a friendly game to whack the ball through the goalposts. But your cousins are vicious.”

“We all play rough, regardless of the game. Don’t expect a break because you’re female. To us, you’re a competitor, fully capable of kicking our asses. We understand the difference between chivalry and deference but opt for courtesy and respect. We have the whole gender thing figured out. We’ll beat your butt in a game if we can, but we’ll be the first ones at your side or covering your back in times of trouble.”

Ensley parked the cart outside the barn and hopped out. “That must be the second-gens’ mantra—we’ll kick your ass if we can but will always have your back.”

“I guess it is.”

They were the last to arrive at the staging area the rescue party had used during their training sessions. The same tables they used for seating during lectures now held rucksacks packed with emergency supplies, handheld radios, and stacks of fly tartans. The team captains—Remy, David, Connor, and Pete—stood in corners with a hand in the air, trying to collect their team members.

Sophia, Churchill, Jack, and Patrick were on Pete’s team. Elliott, Kevin, Austin, and Ensley were on Remy’s team. Kenzie, Robbie, Henry, and Cullen were on David’s team. And Daniel, Noah, Braham, and Lincoln were on Connor’s team.

It was a strange attack force, a mix of young and old, vets of wars both foreign and domestic, and a few semi-invalids, all with a single-minded purpose—rescue Tavis.

“The fly tartans are spread out on the tables and separated by clans,” David announced. “Ye’ll find tartans for the Digbys, Frasers, Grants, MacKlennas, McCabes, McBains, MacAndrews, and Montgomerys. Austin, there is a MacAndrew and a MacKlenna tartan for ye. Ye can decide which one ye want to wear.”

“MacAndrew,” he said, walking over to the designated table.

“I hope somebody’s going to show us how to wear this,” Ensley said.

“Ye got instructions in yer packet. Did ye read it?” David asked.

“I missed that page,” she said.

“Okay. Pay attention,” David said, holding a corner of a tartan. “Remove the clan brooch then take the gathered corner of yer tartan and thread it over yer left shoulder”—he demonstrated—“and through the loop on yer jacket, put there just for this purpose. Now pull it down to yer breast and pin it to yer jacket with yer clan brooch.” He pinned his tartan then turned his back to them. “See where mine falls? Yers should fall to the back of yer knee.”

“If we get into a fight, this could get in the way,” Austin said.

“It could, or you could swing it over your opponent and trap him,” Pete said.

Austin gathered the side of the tartan and swung it out until it covered Ensley, and he pulled her to him. “Now we’re talkin’!”

She flung out her turtle arms. “Let me out.”

Austin untangled her. “If I see you in danger, I might do that to you.”

“Great. I’ll be so discombobulated. I’ll probably get myself killed.”

“There you go again, using your ten-dollar words.” Austin shivered. “And damn, it makes me hot!”

Ensley swung her tartan, but he sidestepped, and she missed him completely. She blew him the raspberry, but he snagged her tongue with his teeth and kissed her.

Kenzie laughed and took their picture with her phone. “You two look like mating turtles.”

“Braham, do ye have the brooches?” David asked.

Braham opened one of the two boxes. “David, ye take the diamond. Connor, ye take the amber. Pete, ye take the pearl, and Elliott, take the topaz”—Braham opened a flat box and removed the torc—“and this, but I wouldn’t advise putting them together unless we need a distraction.”

Elliott put the torc around his neck and slipped the topaz into his shirt pocket. “I’ll take yer advice. I don’t want to see the sparks unless it’s necessary.”

“Are we traveling in our groups or all together?” Ensley asked.

“We’ll link arms just as we always do,” Elliott said.

“Put the weakest between the strongest,” David said. “Henry, ye