“What the bloody hell just happened?” Adrian righted himself in his chair. “How the bloody hell do I know? Last thing I remember is getting into bed and waiting for Diane to join me.” He supposed they’d had a rougher than usual ride through the vortex—a ride neither he nor Walker had expected. Kronos playing games again or some other Master toying with them? “Then you didn’t…bed her?” Amused by Walker’s oddly restrained phrasing, Adrian laughed. “Not that I remember. Did you?” Walker shot him an impatient look, then swore. “I see Kronos’ hand in our sudden amnesia.” Nice to have my suspicions validated, Adrian thought. “Why would he involve himself? Limit our recollection?” “Because he can,” Walker snapped, striding to the sideboard in Adrian’s ancestral office. From medieval times to the present, earls and stewards reviewed estate matters and went over accounts in this space. Nowadays the massive desk housed a computer and printer. The sideboard contained the rewards for work well done—brandy, gin and well-aged scotch.
