It's WiP Wednesday, Buttercups!
This is from chapter 2 of Sailor.
Enjoy!
...
Virgil’s fingers curled so hard around the handle of the soldering iron, his knuckles cracked. Not that he was paying attention to that. No, his full focus was locked on the screen of his laptop, which had been playing track six of I Giorni. Or at least it had until the watcher program had popped up an alert about Gordon Tracy.
Virgil had paid a great deal of money for a one-off deep dive ‘net search program, so he could keep a distant eye on his brothers. It was usually small things, mostly mentions on various sites; John making news because of an award or redefining how the universe worked, Gordon’s tour schedules, and very rarely, something about Alan.
But this was different. This was a video of a sandy-haired man in a WASP dress uniform being swarmed by reporters at Heathrow. Jeff’s demise had been very public and with most of the royals out of the city, the barracuda pack that was London journalists had jumped on the chance to question one of the rarely seen Tracy brothers. Especially about the event of his father’s death.
Virgil watched as Gordon was shepherded through the reporters by a TI PR rep, ignoring all the questions and demands for comment until he got to a waiting car and was whisked away.
Virgil swallowed hard and set the iron down so he could sit on his work stool, his knees weak. Gordon was here. He was in London. Virgil could - he buried his face in his hands. He was stuck in Scotland for the foreseeable future. His first chance to speak to one of his brothers and he was over six hundred miles away. Sometimes he really hated his life.
Sorry buttercups, this isn't any more of Tinker. I thought I'd share the soundtrack for the book, though. Yes, the soundtrack. I listen to other things when I'm writing. But this was useful for the tone and feel of the story.
I hope you enjoy it.
Spotify:
Hidy Buttercups!
For my North American peeps, Happy Turkey-Day! For the rest of the Planet, Happy Tuesday/Wednesday!
Make sure to read the note at the end of the post.
Ao3 link here
Tinker
Chapter 9
...
Pine, damp earth, and salt. Water that was payne blue under a wash of cadet gray. Virgil took another deep breath and ignored how his ribs bitched. The sights and smells told him he was home. Maybe not at the lighthouse, but it was close enough. The picnic table shifted slightly as Peri settled herself more comfortably on the bench next to him.
Virgil desperately wished he could remember more. Other than food and laughter, though, that was a good sign. A sign of what, he wasn’t sure. She was the Artificer for the Firm. Her devices had sent Ladies to the hospital, kept them from completing missions, and had occasionally driven Virgil up the wall as he tried to reverse-engineer the pieces brought back to him.
“Is that where we're going?” She asked in a quiet tone.
“No. That’s Ornsay. Eilean Sionnach is on the other side of it.” In the days between the idea being floated to actually getting here, they had spent most of them together. The Dowager and Dragomiloff had decided that it would be a good idea for the two groups to get to know each other, and since the House had plenty of room, they had moved in for the duration. Any time not spent asleep or having his injuries checked had been spent talking with Peri.
It had been the most refined and elegant of tortures for Virgil.
He could, and had, sat for hours just listening to her talk. Gorgeous eyes that were bright with enthusiasm as she got caught up on a subject she was passionate about. A mind so brilliant it cast its own shadows. Throw in gentle curves and a fashion sense that wouldn't quit, and he was doomed. She was at least interested in him if her body language was anything to go by. Light touches on his arm when she got excited about what they were discussing. How she always turned to face him, no matter how they were sitting. Virgil was just as interested, he just couldn’t remember the start. It didn’t help matters that he’d been living like a cloistered monk for the past - God - thirteen years. That the women he worked around were so far out of his league that they weren’t even playing the same game. Not that it was even something he’d ever considered, they were the Ladies! There was a ‘but’, however, a very large one.
The fact that Peri worked for the Firm. The Society’s sworn opposition.
Falling in love with Peri would be a spectacularly bad idea for that reason. Virgil was pretty sure that his heart hadn’t gotten that memo though. When this time was over, and Peri returned to her workshop and her mantle of the Artificer - well, there was going to be a lot of scotch in his future.“I’m looking forward to seeing it.” Peri’s alto blended perfectly with the susurration of the trees and lapping of the loch.
“I can only hope that it lives up to the lady’s expectations.” Virgil cringed a little at that comment. Where the hell did that come from? Scott would rise out of his grave and smack the back of Virgil’s head for being that bad at flirting.
Oh God, he was flirting, or at least trying to. God, there was going to be so much scotch.
He shifted a little and his ribs voiced their displeasure with the movement. It had barely been two weeks since he and Peri had been kidnapped, and his body was still very unhappy with him. The only reason it had taken this long to get up here was because Declan, Virgil’s leasing agent, had needed to cancel the future bookings of the cottage. Virgil owed his agent a rather large bonus; he had no idea the cottage was popular. The booking fees paid for the taxes, upkeep, and supplies. Anything else went into a fund if some act of nature happened. Which was all Virgil really cared about. That and that people left him alone when he was home. Declan had informed him, in slightly horrified tones, that the cottage was booked out for the next six months, and did the Laird really mean for him to cancel all those and any future bookings until further notice?!
Virgil was pretty sure that Declan had needed a lie-down and a stiff drink after that phone call.
Peri placed her hand on his shoulder and Virgil would have sworn he could feel the warmth of it. “Is that who we’ve been waiting for?” Her hand pointed to a well-used cabin boat heading toward the harbor.
“I’m pretty sure that's the Maeve.” He stepped free of the table and held out his hand to help her. “S - Stewart, it looks like our ride is here.’ Surrey had taken the picnic table behind them and had faced the road. Virgil was sure anyone looking at the books, hand-held sighting scope, binoculars, and waterproof notebook went ‘birder’ and had proceeded to ignore Surrey’s existence. Surrey had also thrown Virgil for a loop when they’d been first introduced. Virgil had been sure it was Scott standing in front of him until Surrey had spoken and the cut-glass accent shattered the illusion.
Peri’s fingers were soft and warm to his touch as she got up. He tucked that hand around his arm and let himself enjoy the sensation. He also felt her stiffen as Surrey came up next to them as they headed toward the jetty. Virgil worked to keep his grin to himself, Peri was annoyed at Surrey and wasn't afraid to show it. The Ladies had taken Norfolk into the small gallery to look at the handicrafts, which left Surrey outside on guard duty. Not that it was really necessary, this was Skye for God’s sake! The most dangerous thing here was the drivers.
The man on the Maeve waved and Virgil waved back. Much to Surrey’s annoyance. “Are you sure you know who that is?”
“Well, since it looks like the Maeve, and the person on her looks like Martin, I’d say yes.” Virgil escorted Peri to Ornsay’s small dock.
Martin Hendry was what most people pictured when they thought of ‘highlander’. Dark blonde instead of red, but with a neat beard, blue eyes, and a build for tossing a caber. Which he did, he was the current local champion. The red flannel, jeans, and boots completed the picture.
He turned from tying the boat to the jetty. “Laird Taylor, we - bloody hell man, what happened?!”
The grin made Virgil’s face ache. “Car wreck.” Which was the cover story for his and Peri’s injuries. He grasped the held-out hand. “Good to see you, Martin. Sorry about the short notice.”
“No worry about the notice.” Martin’s grip was gentle.“Damn good to see you, Laird.” Knowing eyes tracked over the hand still tucked around Virgil’s arm.
“Martin Hendry, my friends Persephone Atherton and Stewart Tate. The rest are in the gallery.”
There was a snort. “Then they’ll be there for a bit yet. Nora just got a new load of weaving from the Croft.” He nodded to Peri. “Miss Atherton.” Then he turned to Surrey. “Come along Tate, we can get everything loaded before the others get free from Nora.” Martin turned back to Virgil. “No sneakin aboard either. You can wait until we’re properly loaded.” He turned to Peri. “I’m counting on you to make sure he behaves.”
“Hey! I’m right here.” Virgil protested.
“I’ll do my very best, Mr. Hendry.”
“I know you’re right there Laird, and you’re going to stay right there. Last time I let you on Maeve by yourself, you tinkered with her engine. Took me a bloody week to get her back to normal.” Martin glowered.
“Really, Virgil? You tinkered with another man’s engine?” Blue eyes were full of humor. ‘How rude! I thought you were a gentleman.”
Virgil felt his cheeks heat. “It sounded off.”
“She’s not off, you daft burke, that’s how she’s supposed to sound.” Martin thumped a hard finger into Virgil’s chest. “You stay right here.” He headed for the car park. “Come along Tate, there’s luggage to shift.”
Okay, Peri’s giggle and the put-upon look on Surrey were worth the embarrassment. He turned to head back to the picnic tables.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” Peri tugged lightly on his arm.
“To go sit down and stay out of the way like a good Laird.”
“Well then, I better go with you to make sure you behave.” She snuggled up to his side.
Okay, this was going to be some truly exquisite torture, but it was far better than not having her there at all. They settled on the bench facing out so they could watch. Virgil slipped his arm free, ignored his ribs, and curled it around Peri. She responded by tucking in closer. Yes, this was going to be some very exquisite torture.
“Why did he call you Laird? That means Lord.”
“It started when I bought the island.” He cleared his throat. “I just thought I was just getting Sionnach but I was buying Ornsay as well. Which makes me the largest landowner in the area. So, I became the American Laird.”
“How much do you own?”
“A bit under a hundred acres.”
“I see.” She played with a button on her cardigan. “What are you going to do with it?”
“What I'm already doing with it: rent the cottage and have my home in the lighthouse. They're both B-listed, so I can’t and don’t want to change them. Ornsay is a nature preserve and will stay that way as long as I have anything to say about it.”
-o-o-o-o-
Martin had been charmed by ‘Mary’ and ‘Cathy’, not that Virgil expected anything less, they were Ladies after all. ‘Norris’ had gotten a reasonable warm welcome since he’d pitched in to help load the boat, and as for ‘Stewart’ - well, Virgil heard Martin muttering about the ‘naff southerner’.
Virgil’s breath caught as they rounded Ornsay. The lighthouse was the first thing anyone saw; tall and white, with its brave ring of safety orange dulled to an atomic tangerine paint below the light. Then the saddle with its protected path leading to the cottage in slate gray and seasalt white. A corner of his mind noted that grasses were high and Faith needed to bring her sheep over; the rest was cataloging colors. The sky was a mix of medium sapphire and RAF blue. The land was a mix of spring and hunter green, which was overlaying french gray tempered with van dyke brown. One of the many reasons he had fallen in love with Eilean Sionnach was the colors. Blink and they would change, which made painting a pain sometimes. But he could also just sit and watch them change for hours on end.
“What are those?”
Virgil pulled his gaze off the lighthouse and to where Lady M was pointing. There were four animals about the size of a Border Collie standing in the grass. They had light-colored faces with dark brown bodies. It looked like Faith had already brought them over.
“Oh, those are sheep.” That got him some looks.
“Since when are sheep tiny and brown?” Norris asked.
“Since they came from St. Kilda,” Martin said. “Tis the sheep that all others are bred from.” He raised bushy eyebrows at the looks. “Ella has Faith and Nora over for dinner at least once a week. I’ve had to learn about the wee beasties in self-defense.”
Virgil chuckled and turned back to watching the sheep. “How are they doing?” He’d mostly okayed the importation of the sheep to keep the grasses down.
“They’re doing well. Faith roo’d a kilo a few weeks back and she was thrilled. Though once they know you’re here, stand ready to be assaulted.”
Virgil raised his eyebrows and ignored how Lady M and Surrey had come to attention at the word ‘assaulted’. “Excuse me?”Martian laughed. “They wanna expand since these have done so well.” Martin eased Maeve toward the bit of concrete that served as the dock.
“I didn’t think I could support more than four sheep?”
Martin guided Maeve to the small dock. “You can’t. But they want to expand and move them over to Ornsay. I think the plan is to ask you to use your land there and keep the pregnant ones here.”
Virgil closed his eyes and kept from rubbing his face, it would hurt. “I really don’t want to be the American sheep baron.” The confused silence told Virgil he’d run into yet another American-British translation error. They were far fewer than when he’d first come to Britain, but they still showed up every once in a while.
“Laird,” Martin’s tone was kind. “I dinnae think a barony comes with keeping sheep.”
Virgil was sure his face was flaming nicely, which would just make his bruises stand out all the more. “It’s an American colloquialism: someone who had a lot of land and ran a lot of livestock. Which gave them a lot of power in the 19th century.”
“V, I’ve said before, and I say it again; your home country is rather bizarre.” Cathy’s voice was full of laughter.
“Why do you think I left? I had to save my life and sanity somehow.” Which wasn’t even a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.
-o-o-o-o-
Again, Peri hadn’t been sure what to expect from the cottage. Other than that Virgil loved it very much and had put a great deal of thought and effort into it.
The outside was pleasant enough, but the inside - well; it smelled like wood smoke, pine, and heather. Not overpowering, but enough to feel cozy and safe. The colors were all muted browns, blues, grays, and whites, with the occasional pop of deep reds and sunny yellows. This was a place that would protect you from the world outside.
Virgil had shown her to the keeper’s room, with its fireplace, ensuite, and benched window.
“Um, I’ve been told it’s great for watching storms roll in.”
Oh Lord, he was adorably awkward! Without thinking about it, she stood up on her toes, placed a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him down enough to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
A blush raced over his face and made the bruises stand out again. “Uh, you’re welcome. I - I need to take my things over to the lighthouse.” He’d fled from the room.
Mar watched as V retreated from the field in bad order. She shook her head, she’d never thought to live to see the day when he wasn’t completely in control of himself. Then again, she’d never thought he’d have a private island off the coast of Scotland either. Their V was just full of surprises. She and Cas might need to have some words with Peri if things continued in this vein, but for right now, Mar was more amused than anything else, it was rather adorable. She shook her head and went back to unpacking, she’d set the perimeter alerts after dinner.
Virgil found S - Stewart by the backdoor of the cottage with Virgil’s luggage. “I can carry my own bags, thank you.”
“And have the Ladies stick my head on a pike because you’ve injured yourself? I value my hide more than that.” The luggage was picked up and Surrey headed over the path to the lighthouse.
The phrasing made clear it was Surrey who was talking and not the more amiable Stewart. Who Virgil rather wished was the person who was with him. Virgil shook his head and followed, it wasn’t worth fighting over. He was home.
Surrey was looking the door over, it was a thing of heavy, black iron. More than a match for the capricious whims of the loch. “Let me have the key and I’ll give it a once over.”
“Why?”
The look Surrey gave him was one that a small child would be given. “I need to make sure it’s secure and that it’s safe.”
Virgil stepped back. “The hell you do. This is my home! You can’t expect to find a commando team under the bed.”
“I would be beyond remiss if I didn’t check. Just because there might be a commando team under the bed. I’m still not thrilled by the fact that you’re going to be sleeping over here.” Surrey took a deep breath. “Please, Virgil. I know this seems like an invasion of your privacy, and it is. But I can also promise you, that anything I see in there will not leave my lips. Not even at the Chairman’s order.” There was a sudden grin. “Though, if Peri comes at me with an arc welder, all bets are off.”
Virgil had to chuckle at that. “She’s a firecracker and a half.” But he also made a fist around the keys in his pocket. This was his home, his sanctuary, and once it’d had been restored, he had been the only person inside it. Surrey only wanted to protect him. It would be no different if it had been one of the Ladies. He took a deep breath and pulled the keys out. “The silver one opens the keypad.” He pointed to what looked like an all-weather outlet cover on the leeside of the protective wall. “If you try to open the door without entering it, the door will be electrified.”
Surrey raised an eyebrow, he hadn’t expected that. “To what level?” He bent to open the small box.
“Twenty amps. The code 040430.”
Surrey spun to look at him. “Twenty amps? You don’t play around do you?”
“No, this is my home.”
Surrey inclined his head and went back to entering the code. The light above the door flashed once. “Now what?” Surrey was going to take no chances. Lord alone knew what other surprises the weaponmaster of the Ladies Aid Society had in place.
“The door key turns to the right to unlock it.”Surrey eyed the lock. “And if I turn it to the left by mistake?”“Twenty amps.”
Bloody hell, V took his privacy very seriously. Still wouldn’t stop Surrey from checking, he was very much a belt and bracers man. But he’d be more at ease knowing V had protections in place. “Right. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Virgil grinned, “we still need to bring my box of supplies over. I’m the only person with code or the keys, so Martin couldn’t stock the lighthouse up.”
Surrey very carefully made sure to turn the key the right way to unlock and felt the bolt draw back. “I think I can handle that.” He pushed the door open. There was a brush of slightly stale air past them, then they stepped inside. Virgil flicked the light switch.
The ground floor was a combination of workshop and kitchen, more trending toward workshop, with a stone floor that seemed to be part of the islet itself, smoothed and gray. Other than a light pall of dust, everything was as it had been left, the months ago he’d last made it up here. Every tool in its place, the few machines he had up here still draped to keep the dust out of tolerances. The kitchen was small; a counter, refrigerator, convection oven, coffee maker, and a single burner. Other than the electrics there was no other lightning. There was a hall tree by the door that looked like it was original to the lighthouse, in a dark wood. Curving up from there was a flight of narrow stairs going upward.
“What’s above?”
“The next floor is my bedroom and bath, above that is my studio, and beyond that, the light and its mechanisms.” Virgil moved to turn the heat on. Even in the depths of summer, the lighthouse with all its stone was cold.Surrey nodded. “How often does the Lighthouse Authority come by?” He left the suitcase by the door and headed up the stairs.
“They don’t. I maintain the light and mechanisms. Part of my agreement with them when I bought it.” Virgil started up after Surrey.
“How the hell did you manage that?”
Virgil shrugged. “They don’t have to pay anything to take care of the structure or the light, I do. It’s money they can spend elsewhere.”
“Clever.” Surrey was impressed, it wasn’t often one got the better of one of the Authorities.
The second floor was rather like the man behind Surrey; comfortable. Wooden wainscotting in a pale gold warmed the light. As did the assortment of colorful rugs on the floor. One wall held a wardrobe. A sleigh style queen bed, also in a warm brown, filled most of the rest of the space, with a chest at its foot that held linens. With an obviously added wall and door that led to the bathroom and water closet. Surrey checked everywhere someone could possibly hide but with a nod to the fact he was trying not to invade too much of Virgil’s personal space.
Above that was the studio. The only natural light in the whole of the place, a pair of tall, clearstory windows. Far too narrow for anyone but a contortionist to get through. The easel stood empty with a stool next to it. Curving along the wall were cupboards. Flat drawers with blank canvas, tubes of oil and acrylic paints. Others held sketch books, pencils, and other tools of the painter’s trade.
Surrey eyed the iron trapdoor that closed off the stairs. “The light?”
“Yes, and I’d rather not get into that right now. It’s running just fine.”
“Could anyone get in that way?” He had to be through.
Virgil chuckled. “Only if they’re a bird. There’s a door that opens onto the walk but it’s locked from the inside. They’d have to break through two inches of glass, then get past the lens and its light, then the trapdoor.”
“I’m going to assume it’s protected as well?”“Yes.”“You are slightly terrifying.”
“I work for the Dowager, I have to be.”
-o-o-o-o-
No one had felt like cooking that night, so Martin had waited to take them back to the pub for dinner, the Skull and Wheel. No one knew why it had such a worrisome name, other than it always had. Cian and Ayad Harris kept it a happy place, though. Wooden wainscotting covered the lower interior walls, above that was a limewashed cream. Comfortable chairs and tables, in the same chestnut brown as the wainscotting filled the space. There were no stools at the bar itself, you took your drink back to the table like a civilized person. The beer selection was small but varied, and Ayad made the best cottage pie east of the mainland.
Virgil was quietly pleased to note that one of his landscapes still hung in pride of place over the fireplace. He settled in to enjoying his stout while the others at the table argued about the current cricket test. Eight years in Britain and he was no closer to understanding the game than the day he arrived. He stuck with rugby and was a happier man for it.
“Well, that’s that then.” Mar raised her glass to the television by the bar. “Good job, Ri.”
“What’s what?” Norfolk asked.“Something one of the other Ladies was doing.” Cas’s eyebrows were thunderous.
The cottage pie turned heavy and the beer sour in Virgil’s stomach as the implication set in. Lady R only had one mission currently. He looked at the screen, where a chyron was running under the sportscasters talking:
Fire in the west end claims five lives, and six still missing. / Billionaire Jeff Tracy dead of an apparent heart attack in London. / Birth of new spotted dog pups at London Zoo. First in a decade.
Oh, God… He had known this was coming but - he’d forgotten about it at the same time. He was pretty sure the concussion was to blame for that.
“Virgil?” Peri’s hand was warm on his.
Nobody knew. Nobody could know. The smile he gave her was weak. “Just my head being cranky.”
“We don’t have to stay.” She searched his face. “I’m sure that Martin wouldn’t mind taking us back over early.” She pointed with her chin to Martin was enjoying dinner with his wife.
He twisted his hand so he was holding hers. “And have you miss out on Ayad’s clootie? Absolutely not.” He put some effort into his smile. “I’ll be alright. Maybe you can try explaining how runs work for me?”
Virgil managed to make it through the rest of the evening, mostly by being quiet and pleading tiredness when questioned. He could hold it together until he got back home. This was not any different than what would be happening if the events at the Tower had never happened. He would still be here when the news hit and he’d still have to hide his reaction. Just not from such perceptive people. Once they returned to the island, he only escaped by promising to let Norfolk give him a once over if he was still feeling off in the morning.
He made sure the door was fully bolted behind him, before staggering his way upstairs to his bedroom. Virgil sank down onto the edge of the bed, he had no clue what to feel. Jeff - his father - was dead. For the past eleven years his entire life had been centered around just one fact - if Jeff had known where Virgil was, Virgil’s life would have been forfeit.
He was free.
Free of the sword that had hung over him for years.
He buried his face in his hands. He could see his brothers. Not in carefully hoarded photos, or curated internet searches.
But in person.
Even if they didn’t forgive him for running. Even if they hated him. None of that was important. They would be free to do so.
That was all that really mattered.
. . .
To Be Continued in Sailor - coming January 2023
Suprise Buttercups!
Bet you thought this was dead. It's not, though with no help from a certain MC. Who's spent the last several months sulking.
With some luck, I should be back to a more regular posting schedule. Thank you for your patience.
Ao3 link here
Chapter 8
...
Surrey closed the folder and tried his new identity on for size. Stewart Tate was a reasonably successful businessman on holiday with his wife and four of their dearest friends. Well, at least it was a holiday for him, Mary, Norris, and Cathy. For Virgil (Virgil - Surrey had been certain the V had stood for Victor or Vincent) and Peri, it was more of a rest cure. They’d been in a rather nasty accident and both needed some time away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
He rolled the identity around his head. It wasn’t a bad fit, he’d had far worse. Young Norfolk would need a bit of watching, and being partnered up with two members of the Ladies Aid Society made it even more interesting. It also helped that the mission was one that was dear to him: protecting the Artificer and by extension, V. All and all he was reasonably pleased with the assignment.
What did not please him was the location: Scotland. Not just any part of Scotland, mind you. Not Edinburgh, with its history, museums, and restaurants, nor Glasgow with its theater, music, and general culture. No, they were getting sent to Skye. Not even Portree with its views and architecture. No, they were going to the southern, the back end of bloody beyond part of Skye. Which as near as Surrey could tell had a hotel and maybe some fishing. Camus Croise was small for even a hamlet!
He’d almost relish the idea of the Bastard behind this finding them so he’d have a chance at some action. Not that he’d kill the Bastard. No, that joy was reserved for the Chairman and the Dowager. Surrey had already been impressed by the Ladies of the Society, but the Dowager? She scared the hell out of him. He’d never seen anyone match verbal barbs with the Chairman before and come out ahead.
He watched the coastline change and thought some more. He’d been partnered with Lady M - Mary - for this mission. A fact he was rather glad about. Lady P had most definitely piqued his interest and having her along would have been a distraction. At least for him, he was fairly certain that the Lady in question would have no such issues with him, which made her all the more intriguing.
He snapped out of his reverie as the jet banked to line up for a landing. Which gave him his first sight of what they were landing on.
“Are you fucking kidding me? It’s a bloody field!”
Buckinghamshire just laughed at him. “It’s Skye. What you were expecting?”
“An actual damn airport, Bucks! That’s what I was expecting.” He stared at the empty field in disbelief. Not that it was completely empty, there were some direction flags and a pair of cars parked off to the side. But other than that, empty as an MP's promise.
Bucks just laughed at him again and brought the jet down with his usual light touch.
Surrey had just freed himself from the safety harness when “Oh, bloody hell, it’s Double and Trouble,” floated forward. Surrey growled rude things to himself, Bucks just chuckled and kept doing his post-flight checks.
“Norfolk!” Surrey snapped as he moved into the cabin. “They are senior members of the Firm. You will give them the respect they deserve.” Norfolk needed to learn how to keep his tongue behind his teeth.
The younger man stood. “I do respect them, sir. They also creep me the hell out.” He moved to get his medical case.
Having been on the receiving end of more than one stare-down with Essex and Sussex and their synchronized movements, Surrey could empathize. But forms still needed observing. He peered through the porthole in the door. “I can understand that. But I won’t save you if you call them that where they can hear you.”
"Understood, sir." Norfolk went to collect his medical case.
“All stop and all clear,” was rumbled in Bucks' deep bass.
“They are both lovely men.”
Surrey looked down to see the Artificer glaring up at him. They’d been crossing swords all week over her safety. She understood it, but dear Lord, she did not like it. “I have to check the area.”
That got him an eyebrow. “You don’t think that Essex and Sussex would be standing out in the open if there was any chance of danger?”
“No. But I still need to do my job.”
“We nearly lost you once, Artificer,” Bucks rumbled behind them. “You can hardly blame us for being overcautious.”
“Humph!”
Surrey had sat through trade discussions with less subtext than that sound carried. Still, he did his job. Opening the door and standing there like a lemon waiting to see if someone shot at him.
Thankfully, no one did. He went down the few steps and held a hand out to help the Art… no, Peri. Which she ignored, exited the jet, and headed over to the waiting men.
Warm fingers curled around his still outstretched hand, and his faux wife smiled at him. He did what came naturally, which was to bring her hand up for a gentle kiss on the knuckles. That got him a wide smile and a mischievous glint in dark brown eyes.
“So, we have that sort of marriage, then.”
“It would seem so. Unless that doesn’t suit?” Surrey was annoyed at himself. They hadn’t talked about the covers at all, and here he was making assumptions and taking liberties. Get your damn head back into the game.
“As long it’s only for show, not in the slightest,” she said tucking her arm through his.
“Completely for show.” He started over to where Peri was talking to Essex and Sussex. “So after -”
“Fifteen years?” She supplied.
He nodded. “Of marriage, we’re still slightly besotted with each other. Not excessively so, but with small gestures?”
“Sounds delightful. Any habits I should know about?”
Surrey chuckled, “I whistle when I snore.”
“Oh, and I haven’t murdered you yet. I must love you very much.” M teased gently.
“A fact I am deeply grateful for and still amazed by.” He smiled at her. This was going to improve being stuck on Skye immensely. Stewart Tate was a damn lucky man and he knew it.
But Stewart was going to have to wait a few more minutes. Surrey had business to tend to. “Any problems?” Not that he expected any, this was Essex and Sussex after all.
“Not a single one, Surrey.” Essex rasped out.
“Excellent.” Surrey was sure it was Essex, he was the slightly taller of the pair.
“There is a two-month hire on the cars,” Sussex growled out. “We told them we were on a repairing lease.” There was a flash of white as he grinned.
“I hope to God this doesn’t last two months.” Surrey looked around at the empty landscape. “I may go mad otherwise.”
The pair chuckled at him. “Really, Surrey -”
“It’s not that bad.”
“The fishing is - “
“Quite good.”
M shifted next to Surrey. ‘Oh, that’s right, she hasn’t met them.’ “Please excuse my lack of manners. Lady M, may I present Essex and Sussex?”
“Gentlemen.” She inclined her head. “Will you be joining us?”
“As much as - “
“We would like that - “
“Our skills are needed elsewhere.” They said the last words together, then turned, went to each car, and pulled out a suitcase.
“Good heavens, are they like that all the time?” M asked in a low voice.
“Yes.” Surrey gave himself a small shake and assumed Stewart Tate’s persona. He kissed Mary lightly on the cheek.”If you can get the keys from the boys, I’ll go help Norris with the luggage.”
Translation: watch Peri.
-o-o-o-o-
Peri sat in the back of the sedan and sulked. Yes, it was stupid, yes it was petty, and yes she was an adult and sulking was unbecoming, but she was still sulking. Even a stunning landscape of all the shades of green, next to an inlet of slate blue water framed by grey-shaded granite hills couldn’t lift her mood.
She was ignoring the quiet conversation in the front seat. She was also being quite unfair to Surrey. This wasn’t his fault, nor was it truly the Chairman’s fault either. If she could get her hands on this Mister X (yes, she was assuming their foe was male), she’d show him just how creative she could be with a workshop full of tools.
She didn’t want to be here! She wanted, no, needed to be back in her workshop. There were missions upcoming! The boys depended on her to keep them alive. She couldn’t do that hiding out on an isle. Not even one as lovely as Skye was showing itself to be. The moor they were currently driving through was all greens and purples, framed by more granite grey and black. A liquid blue sky proved how the isle had gotten its name.
She peered between the couple in the front seat and at the car ahead of them. They had separated Virgil and herself, as they quite rightly should. Two protectees in the same vehicle, with easier accessibility than a jet? That was simply begging for trouble. But that was her other problem.
Virgil.
It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember their dinner. Or the easy conversation between them. Or the spark of interest on both sides. Peri mourned the loss of that tentative beginning. Not that it could have been ever more than a beginning. They worked for each other's competition. A friendly rivalry between them and a deadly one for the Firm and the Society. It could have never been, but - even if it was something from the boring books her mother liked to shove on her. Books with air-headed twits that couldn’t rescue themselves or had three working brain cells. But a partner? Someone who liked her, for her? That was worth mourning over.
The road had started to climb. Not much, but enough for the landscape to change from moor to low forest. Then it crested out of the forest to the most incredible view of slate blue water. She could see all the way across the bay to Loch Hourn and just glimpse Ladhar Bheinn in the far distance. She could easily see why Virgil loved this place so much.
-o-o-o-o-
Surrey used the drive to Camus Croise to hash out the covers with Lady M. The generalities of the covers were already laid out for them. Stewart worked for Riverstone in asset recovery. Mary worked for Lloyds proper, as a failure analyst. They lived in a stylish ground-floor apartment in Westminster and were a typical London couple.
The details were up to them. So, married fifteen years, happy, no children - Stewart will look sad, Mary angry - which should spike the guns of most busybodies and make them think twice about asking strangers personal questions.
“Any hobbies? Mary can’t boil water, but she’s got every takeaway in a five-kilometer radius on speed dial.”
“Bird watching.” Surrey eased over the crest and looked down on Loch Hourn. It was a stunning view.
“Birder or twitcher?” Lady M sounded amused.
“A bit of both, actually.” Surrey brought his chin up. He could feel the weight of Lady M’s gaze on him. “It’s an excellent cover,” he said defensively. “I can’t tell you how many places I’ve gotten in and out of by being a twit of an Englishman looking for birds.”
“So what is Stewart hoping to see?”
“If he’s lucky, Golden and White-tailed Eagles, Red and Black-throated Divers, and if he’s damn lucky - a bloody bonxie. Any two of those will push my list over five hundred.”
“Your list or his?” Lady M shifted to look at him.
“Both.” Surrey focused on the road, it twisted here. Bird watching had started as just a cover, but he’d found he liked it. He could just be Julian the birder. He could talk to other birders and get excited with them about actually seeing a Nightjar. It was nice just to have something for himself. “What are Mary’s hobbies? Other than collecting takeaway menus.”
“She knits. There’s some specialty wool at the Camus Croft she’s hoping to get her hands on.”
Surrey slowed down to take the turn to Camus Croise (it didn’t even have a name, just some signs) and glanced over at his ‘wife’. The crossed arms and the slightly aggressive staring out the window were dead giveaways. “Mary’s hoping, or you are?”
She shot him a glare that dared him to make fun of her. “I am.”
Surrey chuckled. “So he bird watches and she knits. We’re horribly English, aren’t we?”
The glare shifted to amusement. “Terribly so.”
“Good. Typical and slightly boring. That makes for a change of pace.” He looked around at the scattering of homes. “Even if I may go mad.”
Lady M laughed. “You may, but I’m sure Stewart is thrilled at the idea of hitting five hundred.”
“Five hundred what?” Came from the back seat.
Surrey looked in the rearview for a moment. Peri was sitting as far forward as her seatbelt would let her.
“Stewart’s birding life list. We’re firming up the details on our covers.” M turned in her seat a little. “I didn’t see your cover, what is it?”
“Prototype engineer.”
“Anything else?” M probed for details.
“Just that I’m Peri Atherton, I live in London, and I’m a prototype engineer.”
“The Chairman thought we should keep it simple for the Artificer and V. The less they had to remember, the better.” Surrey pulled into the small car park near the grandly named Isle Ornsay Harbour. “Mary and Stewart know Peri through work. She was an outside specialist brought in on a problem, and we hit it off like a house on fire.”
“Excellent plan; the simpler, the better. The best lies are the ones that are built on truth.” M looked over at Surrey. “Am I a lady, or not?”
“A lady, always a lady,” he replied. He popped out of the car and came to her and Peri’s side to open the doors for both women and helped them out.
“What’s Virgil’s cover?” Peri asked.
Surrey wanted to facepalm, but he had to look around to see if anyone could have possibly overheard.
“We don’t talk about it in public, Peri. But he’s a design engineer. Which is why we thought you two would like each other.” M’s voice was gentle.
“Oh.” Peri’s cheeks turned pink. “Sorry.”
M drew Peri to her side. “That’s perfectly alright, you’re not used to this. Just remember I’m Mary,” she pointed with her chin to Surrey, “he’s Stewart, and the others are Cathy and Norris, and you will be just fine. We’ll take care of everything else.”
Surrey took in the lay of the land, such as it was, while waiting for the other car to pull up. Some picnic tables overlooking the loch, the minuscule dock - most of the boats were at anchorage on the lee side of Ornsay. There were several buildings, including one named the Croft Shoppe, the old spelling no doubt for the tourists. He was also sure that Mary would make a beeline for it since she was looking for that yarn of hers. Stewart would set up shop at one of the tables and check his Collins and RSBP for any local birds that might not be on his list.
Surrey narrowed his eyes as the other car pulled up, Virgil was talking on his phone. Which was a breach of protocol as far as Surrey was concerned and there were going to be words. Mostly to Norfolk, but to Virgil as well. He knew better than to attempt to reprimand Lady C; if he tried it, Mary would become a widow in short order.
He left Peri in M’s capable hands and strode over to the other car. Cathy was looking indulgently at Virgil as he perched halfway out of the backseat while he talked on the phone. “ - great! We’ll see you soon. Bye.” Virgil tucked the phone back away under his windcheater.
“Everything alright?” Surrey kept his voice even so as not to draw attention.
Virgil stood up. “All good. I was just calling Martin to let him know we were here so he can bring the boat around.”
Surrey counted to ten in his head. “Who’s Martin?” Critical information that had not been included in the briefing material.
“Martin Hendry. He takes people across to the cottage. He’s also the one that stocked it up for us.” A small half smile played on Virgil's battered face. “At least stocked up for the first week or so, after that, we’re on our own for supplies.”
Surrey reined in his temper. Amateurs! “Can we trust him? Is there anyone else that knows we're here? That you own the island?”
“Before I was forced to tell Dragomiloff? The Dowager, and Lady J. Then there’s my leasing agent and the people who live here. All of them think I’m just an American ex-pat who lives in London, which they are completely right about. If you mean after that, then Dragomiloff, Peri, M and C, Norfolk, and you! If we can’t trust those people, then Peri and I might as well find this guy and go work for him now.”
Surrey’s jaw tightened. “Fair enough. But if you get kidnapped - “
“If I get kidnapped from here, I’ll turn myself over to Lady R and whatever torments of training she thinks I need.”
“You’re assuming you’ll be rescued.”
“You’re assuming, 1. that Mar and I would let that happen, and 2. that we won’t burn down the world to get him and Peri back.” Lady C shot back.
Surrey retreated half a step from Lady C’s vehemence. Devon had pointed out that during the rescue Lady C had garrotted three of the guards, all without breaking her stride. Surrey needed to remember that the Ladies were just as intent on keeping their V safe as he and Norfolk were the Artificer. He inclined his head. “Quite true, my apologies for even suggesting otherwise.”
The look she gave him was not encouraging. “I’ll think about it.” She turned to Virgil. “What are you going to do now?” Her tone had shifted from cool to gentle in the space of a breath.
“I thought I’d sit and watch the water. If that’s alright?” Virgil tilted his head to the side in query.
Seeing a chance to mend fences, Surrey said, “I’m planning on sitting over there to go over some of my kit. You’re more than welcome to join me.”
Translation: I will keep an eye on him.
The look Lady C gave Surrey promised dire things if any harm befell V. Then she turned and bussed Virgil on the cheek. “You and Stewart have a nice time. Mary must be champing at the bit to get into the shop. Norris and I will try to keep her and Peri out of trouble.”
“Just remind her that last quarter’s bonus will only stretch so far.” Stewart's smile was rueful.
Cathy laughed. “Like that will stop Mary.” Then she bustled off, sweeping Norris and Mary in her wake. Peri, on the other hand, headed their way. Which made Virgil brighten considerably. Both Stewart and Surrey looked the pair over and did their sums. Steward was pleased and Surrey just groaned. They’re sweet on each other! Please, god no!
From Tinker - chapter 8
As one of my beta readers said: they are LARPing as normal people.
...
Surrey used the drive to Camus Croise to hash out the covers with Lady M. The generalities of the covers were already laid out for them. Stewart worked for Riverstone in asset recovery. Mary worked for Lloyds proper, as a failure analyst. They lived in a stylish ground-floor apartment in Westminster and were a typical London couple.
The details were up to them. So, married fifteen years, happy, no children - Steward will look sad, Mary angry - which should spike the guns of most busybodies and make them think twice about asking strangers personal questions.
“Any hobbies? Mary can’t boil water, but she’s got every takeaway in a five-kilometer radius on speed dial.”
“Bird watching.” Surrey eased over the crest and looked down on Loch Hourn. It was a stunning view.
“Birder or twitcher?” Lady M sounded amused.
“A bit of both, actually.” Surrey brought his chin up. He could feel the weight of Lady M’s gaze on him. “It’s an excellent cover,” he said defensively. “I can’t tell you how many places I’ve gotten in and out of by being a twit of an Englishman looking for birds.”
“So what is Stewart hoping to see?”
“If he’s lucky, Golden and White-tailed Eagles, Red and Black-throated Divers, and if he’s damn lucky; a bloody bonxie. Any two of those will push my list over five hundred.”
“Your list or his?” Lady M shifted to look at him.
“Both.” Surrey focused on the road, it twisted here. Bird watching had started as just a cover, but he’d found he liked it. He could just be Julian the birder. He could talk to other birders and get excited with them about actually seeing a Nightjar. It was nice just to have something for himself. “What are Mary’s hobbies? Other than collecting takeaway menus.”
“She knits. There’s some specialty wool at the Camus Croft she’s hoping to get her hands on.”
Surrey slowed down to take the turn to Camus Croise (it didn’t even have a name, just some signs) and glanced over at his ‘wife’. The crossed arms and the slightly aggressive staring out the window were dead giveaways. “Mary’s hoping, or you are?”
She shot him a glare that dared him to make fun of her. “I am.”
Surrey chuckled. “So he bird watches and she knits. We’re horribly English, aren’t we?”
The glare shifted to amusement. “Terribly so.”
“Good. Typical and slightly boring. That makes for a change of pace.” He looked around at the scattering of homes. “Even if I may go mad.”
Tinker. Where did the inspiration come from? Was there a scene that slapped you around the head and demanded to be written or did a character kidnap you and demand something be written?
Laughs
Of course, that would be the one you’d ask about. Because of da boi.
Sighs
Okay, the TL:DR is; The Virgil Birthday Challenge and the fact that my brain likes to seek out obscure patterns.
The long version is this;
It really did start with the Birthday Challenge. There was the AU option, and I will forever take the road less traveled.
My first go on that will NEVER see the light of day since it put me to sleep while I was trying to write it. Good concept, Virg’s life as an art conservator - but exciting in the written medium it is not - so yeah, no.
So that gets shoved to the side and I start to fret. I really wanted to do the challenge. It would be my first one in this fandom, and I wanted it to be good. But I was also writing Tensile at the time, so you have an idea where my brain was.
I love a good thriller/spy/mystery story. As seen by looking at my books and DVD collections.
So, I was deep into Tensile - chapter 10 if I recall correctly - and I needed a brain reset. So I threw on one of my comfort movies “The Assassination Bureau.” ( and if you want to meet the Chairman’s grandfather or great grandfather, not sure which, watch that).
I have no clue what triggered it, but the nursery rhyme came to the front of my brain while watching that. You know the one:
Tinker, Tailor, Sailor, Soldier, Rich man, Poor man, Beggar man, Thief.
‘Huh, Virgil likes to tinker, I bet he would make a great Q.’
Which led to scene in the former music room of Granard House popping into my head. Which has led to *looks up* a three thousand word outline, more research than I ever expected, a diatribe about Richard the Third of England, and over thirty thousand words written. Yes, I know only eighteen thousand or so have been posted. Trust me, I know!
The table shifted slightly as someone sat down next to him. He didn’t need to look to know it was Peri. She didn’t wear perfume per se, but that combination of air just after a rain storm, that so remind him of Kansas in the summer, it was almost painful, and welding flux could belong to only her. His hands gripped his forearms to keep from taking the hand that appeared on the table.
“Is that where we are going?” The hand pointed to the forested island across the water.
“No. That’s Ornsay. Eilean Sionnach is on the other side of it.” God, he wanted to hold that hand. In the days between the idea being floated to actually getting here, they had spent most of them together. The Dowager and Dragomiloff had decided that it would be a good idea for the two groups to get to know each other, and since the House had plenty of room, they had moved in for the duration. Any time not spent asleep or having his injuries checked had been spent talking with Peri. He could, and had, sat for hours just listening to her talk. He was reasonably smart, but she was brilliant. She was also a kind person with a truly wicked sense of humor.
Hidy buttercups!
Yes, I'm ebil. But if you've been keeping track of time in Tinker, you know what this means.
...
Free.
Virgil sank down onto the edge of the bed at the magnitude of that word.
He was free.
Free of the sword that had hung over him for years.
He buried his face in his hands. He could see his brothers. Not in carefully hoarded photos, or curated internet searches.
But in person.
Even if they didn’t forgive him for running. Even if they hated him. None of that was important. They would be free to do so.
That was all that really mattered.
