Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance (13 page)

“Isabelle? Isn’t he handsome?” Victoria gushed excitedly.

Isabelle looked over at her brother, Clive. His light brown hair fell lazily to the side, and his blue eyes lit up with laughter, even though she knew something dark lay just beneath the surface. “I don’t see it,” Isabelle countered.

Victoria grabbed her hand. “How can you not? See how everyone clamors for his attention? They are hoping for a moment of his time.” She gushed excitedly, her face flushing.

“Like you?” Isabelle said rudely.

“Fine, so I might have a little crush on your brother, so what?”

Isabelle watched her best friend in the world stare longingly at her brother, her violet eyes begging him to notice her. Victoria was absolutely beautiful. Her black hair was pulled loosely back in a ribbon and tiny tendrils escaped the confines, blowing gently in the soft breeze. “Little? Don’t you mean huge?” Isabelle teased meanly. She couldn’t help herself; Clive was not a nice person. And he certainly was not good enough for the likes of Victoria.

Victoria turned hurt eyes on Isabelle.

“I am sorry,” she said, leaning forward and hugging her friend. Clive caught her eye, and without saying a word, beckoned Isabelle to send Victoria over to him. She tried to say no with her eyes, but he lifted his brow, daring her to deny him. She turned away quickly and immediately complied. “Victoria? Clive would like to see you,” Isabelle said sadly, not able to meet her friend’s gaze.

“Are you kidding me? Do I look okay?” she asked excitedly, blowing on one hand to check her breath while smoothing her hair with the other.

Isabelle couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s antics. “You look wonderful; you always do. Now go, before he gets tired of waiting for you.”

“Okay.” Victoria took a huge breath, smiling at Isabelle a moment longer. She ran over to Clive and sat down beside him.

He lifted his head and looked directly at Isabelle, a triumphant look on his face.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes and stared back at him burning with all the hatred she felt. He smiled then, and the side of his lip curved up just a bit, as he raised his brow. He was playing chicken with Isabelle. A shiver of cold fear ran up her spine and she had to turn away. He won again.

Isabelle’s head fell forward. She jerked it back, waking once more.

…Meanwhile back at Ravenhurst

A burst of warm air hit Katherine in the face when she returned to the room. A log tumbled further into the fire, hissing and crackling. Her guest from earlier was seated in one of the chairs, staring at the flames. His leg was bent, resting across his knee, and his polished boots reflected the fire like mirrors.

She walked over to the opposite chair and sat down, one hand resting on her queasy belly.

“Katherine, dear, are you feeling any better?” he questioned with concern.

“Yeah, I think. Sorry about that… umm…,”

“Milford,” he supplied helpfully.

“I’m sorry, Milford, but I am not sure why you are here. I think I am somewhere that is not, um, right,” she tried to explain.

Milford lifted his hand. “I have some rather interesting things to tell you, a story from a long time ago. I do apologize for my part in this,” he stated sincerely.

Okay, so now he was freaking her out. She mentally prepared herself to hear whatever he needed to tell her.

Milford leaned back into the chair and cast his gaze into the fire. “As a young lad, I was picked to squire for the most esteemed knight in all the land–the Raven Knight. His name was Darias; otherwise known as the Destroyer. The raven was his coat of arms. Just like the raven, he was renowned throughout the land for his strategic maneuvering in battle. He could swoop in, waylaying his opposition efficiently, quickly, and disappear without a trace. He inspired many and was feared by all. He devoted himself to the king and the land he fought to protect.

“It was a rare privilege to squire under a knight such as Darias. I took my duty very seriously. He was my master, my mentor. He was everything a lad could ever hope to be or become. The man was tireless and though few knew, he was fair and just. He only wanted a simple existence, to live in harmony with the land about him. Everything was as it should be until that fateful day. That is the day everything changed….”

A flash hit Katherine with such force, she had to close her eyes from the pain. Milford’s voice faded further away while she held onto the chair arms, her knuckles turning white from the force she squeezed. Her heart pounded so loudly, she couldn’t hear his words any longer. It didn’t matter; she knew what happened.

Tears flowed from her eyes. Her heart hurt. The knight, his anguished cries, haunted her mind. It was horrible.

Milford shook his head sadly and stood up after he finished his tale.

Katherine looked at him, her vision blurred, from her own tears, as the knight’s cries finally faded from her mind. The crushing sadness lifted from her chest and her breathing returned to normal. She let out a sad, breathy sigh, unable to speak, and shook her head back and forth.

Milford leaned forward and gently squeezed her hand reassuringly. He turned and left the room quietly. He had no idea she did not hear the most important part of the story.

Sebastian covered his eyes with his han
d
to block out the light. He was still abed, a sheet barely covering his naked body, his legs tangled in the folds. He did not sleep well. Hearing Marguerite’s confession with his own ears was more than he could take.

He laughed aloud. It was a hollow, bitter sound. He still couldn’t believe that she actually told him she thought the wastrel would return for her. It made Sebastian sick. Oh, he could envision quite clearly, what must have transpired between the two. Luckily for her, the knave returned her to a place where she might be cared for.

Many other women found themselves in similar circumstances, awash in promises of love and marriage until the wastrel took the prize. Marguerite was fortunate. Most ruined women ended up on the streets, selling their bodies for a living.

Angrily, he tossed the covers off and climbed from the bed. He wasn’t sure why he felt so angry. Did it truly matter? He looked out the window at the early morning sun. His mind was set; he did not intend to bed her, ever.

He closed his eyes against the sun, allowing the heat to warm his skin. An image flashed in his mind of Marguerite, revealing her beauty to him in much the same way, with the sun shining through her prim, little gown.

His body reacted, betraying him once again. He turned purposefully away from the window, fully intending to douse his ardor in an icy, cold bath. “Bloody hell!”

<>*LB*<>

The sound of birds squawking outside the windows woke Katherine from her slumber. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, spilling over her, warming her body. She had to admit, she was a little sad to be awake. Now, she would never know how her awesome dream ended. Maybe, she hoped, she would dream about it tonight as well. Opening her eyes, she screamed. Those damn, beady, little eyes were staring down at her, tauntingly. She rose up, ignoring the pain in her head, and untied the curtain to cover their faces.

“Nasty, little buggers,” she mumbled, falling back onto the pillows. Well, that answered that. She wasn’t dreaming. She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the absurdity of everything.

So… Milford was the man with the necklace from work, and also what? A butler from the past? She laughed out loud. It began as a small little sound, and then came out harder ‘til her eyes began to tear up. She rolled back and forth on the bed like an imbecile. This was good. She was living in an alternate reality that rivaled some of the best movies she had ever seen.

What were the odds? She finally composed herself somewhat, her hysteria dying down to a slight giggle. She climbed from the bed, deciding to embrace her insanity. She may as well
act the part, like one of her favorite heroines in movies.

Take her lumps and make the best of it.

She tried to focus on what Milford told her about the legend, which didn’t really even seem like a legend to her, more of a sad love story, really.

Did she miss something? She must have. Where were these ill-begotten treasures? Why was everyone after them? Well, besides the obvious reasons. What did this Marguerite girl have to do with it? What about the necklace? Seriously, she must have missed the gargantuan part of the story, because there was so much she did not understand.

She was about to jump back into the bed and cover her head until she re-awoke in her own world. Half way there she paused. And what if she did? Would she remember any of this? Would she wish she were here instead of in her own bed? She shook her head; obviously, it was a no-win situation.

Suddenly, she remembered the necklace. Maybe it had some kind of mystical properties. She knew her reasoning was far-fetched, but really, she was in freaking Victorian England, betrothed to some hot earl. So her brilliant deduction really couldn’t be that far-fetched. She ran over to the bureau with claw feet and pulled a few of the drawers open. One had all gloves inside, every color and length. Another had fancy ribbons, stockings actually made from silk, undergarments, and a small, blue, leather-embossed novel, which was tucked behind one of the drawers. She pulled it out, Vanity Fair II by W.M. Thackeray. She remembered the movie, at least the remake of Vanity Fair with Reese Witherspoon. Katherine wondered if this book was a continuation of the movie she saw.

Oh well, it seems Marguerite had a taste for books about women who knew how to get what they wanted, at all costs. Mental note to self:
read novel and find out how to get what I want.

Katherine found the necklace, finally, in the bottom drawer of the bureau, buried under several shawls. Who would have gone to such trouble to hide it? She wondered, as she pulled it out and lifted it up. The necklace sparkled, beckoning her with its beauty once more. She was about to put it around her neck and wish herself back home. Instead, she froze.

What would happen if she did put it back on? Her heart began to sink. What if she simply poofed back to the future? If she put the necklace back on, would she wake up back at work, listening to Janice talk about her latest conquest? Or Ned’s latest acquisition? Or worse? What if she ended up back in her apartment? And none of this ever happened? What if she never saw him again? If she left now, she would never find out how he kissed. Or feel her heartbeat racing when he was near. What if her knees never wobbled? Or her heart? Would it ever fall…
in love
? If she did not give herself the chance to know him, how would she ever know? The list was simply too long.

With shaking hands, she carefully, but deliberately, put the necklace back where she found it. She covered it with a shawl and firmly closed the drawer.

No, she was not ready to let this… dream? Delusion? disappear… not just yet. Maybe she would feel differently later, in a few more days.

She smiled, no; she wasn’t ready to give up on her delusion, just yet. She had things to do in this moment in time. She needed to lay a legend to rest. First, she had to figure out what the riddle meant, and how it tied everyone together.

She pulled out the piece of paper Milford gave her earlier when they spoke; more proof she was not imagining everything. That is, of course, unless she imagined the paper as well. Glancing at the welt on her arm, she decided to embrace her insanity without inflicting anymore pain on herself. She unrolled the parchment, the writing inside barely legibly scrawled across its length.

Until the key is found, you will be bound

locked within for all time, never allowed peace of mind…

Katherine dropped the paper.

It floated down to the floor. She did not know what to make of the mysterious words. She thought the knight loved the girl. Those words sounded more like a curse. Why? She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the words would mean to someone desperate enough to do anything to get back a girl they loved and lost.