Return to Me
Authors: Morgan O'Neill
| Return to Me |
| Roman Time Travel [3] |
| Morgan O'Neill |
| Crimson Romance (2012) |
The third novel in the Roman Time Travel series,
Return to Me
finds time traveler Gigi Perrin happily settled into twenty-first century life with her husband, the former Roman senator and military commander, Quintus Magnus. Gigi has resumed her successful musical career, playing the flute for her adoring fans, while making her first foray into Hollywood by creating the musical score for a feature film about the Roman emperor Nero.
At the film’s wrap party, Gigi is presented with a gift to commemorate her work: an ancient Roman ring depicting the goddess Victoria. Stunned, she and Magnus recognize it as the very ring that brought them together, and the one subsequently stolen from her and lost in A.D. 410. How did it make its way back to them? Magnus believes the answer is clear; Victoria sent it as a warning about their dear friend, Princess Galla Placidia. They start researching what happened to Placidia after Gigi and Magnus time-traveled from the barbarous fifth century. To their shock, they discover Placidia’s life took a series of terrible turns, culminating with the murders of her children.
Realizing they have no other choice, Gigi and Magnus prepare to embark on a perilous quest to go back in time and rescue them. But one ominous question remains – how can they save the children without altering the course of history?
Morgan O’Neill
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2012 by Cary Morgan Frates and Deborah O’Neill Cordes
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5165-0
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5165-9
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5145-6
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5145-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com, istockphoto.com/Jeff Chiasson
To my husband and children who forgave me the unswept floors, the less than imaginative meals, and the frazzled stares, understanding I was in pursuit of my dream.
Cary Morgan Frates
In loving memory of my father, who never wavered in his belief that I would get published.
Deborah O’Neill Cordes
The moon has set, and the Pleiades;
It is midnight, and time passes,
And I sleep alone.
Sappho, Fragment 94
A.D.
414, The Royal Palace, Ravenna, Italy
If he could have his way, Horace would never gaze upon another bird for the rest of his life — unless it was roasted.
The banquet was over, the guests long gone, but Emperor Honorius still lounged on his cushioned chair, amusing himself with his chickens. The birds strutted and clucked as he stroked their feathers. He selected tidbits from the luscious, half-eaten food, and then called the chickens by name, taking time to feed each one individually.
Stomach growling, Horace shifted from one foot to the other as he played his flute. His arms and shoulders ached from an endless evening of performing, and his lips trembled with fatigue. He felt on the verge of collapse. His throat was parched, his thirst made worse by ruby wine that sparkled from half-empty goblets less than an arm’s length away. Would that he could slake his thirst with it!
Horace fought to suppress a yawn. He mustn’t interrupt his music, not even for a moment.
“My little darlings,” Honorius cooed. “Shall we dance?”
The emperor got up, holding one of the damnable birds before him, and began to whirl around the room. The other chickens scattered, one taking flight and crashing into Horace.
Startled, he lost his balance and dropped his flute, then scrambled to retrieve it.
“You have ruined our royal mood!” Honorius screamed. “We will beat you, pervert Horace, if you ever interrupt our dancing again. Get out! Get out before we have you flogged!”
Terrified, Horace hurried from the palace while he had the chance. By the gods, he needed to leave this place. Forever.
He had once traveled to the home of the gods, such a wonderful paradise, filled with unimaginable treasures: flying machines and horseless carts, kind, generous people, who freely gave him coin for his music — and food, so much food. Why hadn’t he been able to get back there? Why had the gateway been closed to him every time he had tried to return to that paradise?
He headed for the Catholic baptistery, where the magical passageway was located. Ages ago, a temple dedicated to an ancient goddess stood on the same ground. Horace was convinced her power still emanated from the spot.
Please, Sacred Lady. I beg you to release me from bondage!
He smiled in hope and anticipation. He would play there again tonight, over and over, until the gateway opened once more and he was free.
Chapter 1
Present Day, Rome, Italy
It promised to be one heck of a party.
Gigi Perrin laughed at her reflection, her strawberry blond hair done up in an elaborate chignon. The hair people had gotten that right, but her costume and makeup were too simple and monochrome, all wrong for the styles she’d seen in the
real
ancient Rome.
“You look enchanting, my sweet.”
She turned. Her husband, Magnus, stood in the doorway, wearing a Roman warrior’s costume, with its breastplate abs chiseled in bronze. Impressive. It also didn’t hurt that he was tall and darkly handsome. “Oh … you look delicious!”
He shrugged, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You haven’t ever seen me dressed as a
legatus
, have you?”
She studied his warrior’s skirt, and thought about running her hands beneath the leather strips. “Are you going commando? Can I check?”
“What is commando?”
“You know … haven’t you heard about what’s beneath a Scotsman’s kilt?”
“I still don’t understand.”
Smiling, hand outstretched, Gigi started toward him.
He grinned. “If you touch me, you will bring me to my knees like no foe has ever done before.”
She kissed him, her hand sliding under the leather.
Commando
.
Magnus groaned. “We’re going to be late.”
“You lift your skirt. I’ll lift mine. We don’t have to be that late.”
She pushed him to the wall, his armor hard against her chest, her arms encircling his neck.
He lifted her onto his hips, pulled aside her thong, and entered her with a thrust. “Never has … a warrior met such a … challenging … demanding … ”
He got quiet as he pumped and Gigi moaned. Her body seethed with heat, tingling, tightening on him, until the need to prolong the moment fell away. “Magnus, I’m coming!”
Her body exploded with pleasure and she was only vaguely aware of his answering cry, “O, ye gods!”
She collapsed against his bronze armor, weak with satisfaction, her body soft on hard metal, yet underneath she knew his chest also heaved with the aftermath of their spectacular quickie. “We’re so bad. At least you didn’t mess up my hair.”
“You are ever the perfect sheath to my sword,” Magnus said.
She grinned as he let her down, watching him as he straightened his skirt.
“I gather you liked my … commando,” he said with a smile.
She laughed. “Yes, but you’re going to wear boxers for the party. And it was definitely better than a kilt. I prefer leather to plaid any day.”
• • •
The night sky blazed with the lights from Rome’s Coliseum, decorated in celebration of the newly completed epic film,
Nero
. Hand in hand, Gigi and Magnus stood in the shadows of an arch, waiting for her cue. Her husband was in his full glory portraying a Roman general, his
legatus
costume complete with a rich crimson cloak and a helmet decorated with long, black ostrich plumes.
Wow
.
Only the film’s stars were dressed more flamboyantly, including the second lead, who stood nearby. Women had swooned over him since the first day of filming. Outfitted as a gladiator, his bare chest bronzed, waxed and oiled, he smiled and winked at Gigi, flashing his absurdly white teeth.
Magnus leaned in and whispered, “Are you hot for him, my sweet?”
Gigi grinned. “I prefer my
real
Roman,” she whispered back.
The lead actor, decked out in a toga of purple silk and a golden laurel leaf crown, stopped by, shook Magnus’s hand, and gave Gigi a quick peck on the cheek. He was the nicest guy, but her thoughts veered to a darker past, because he looked so much like Emperor Honorius. She reminded herself it didn’t matter; that bastard was long dead, and she and Magnus were safe from his evil.
A waiter came by with a tray of glasses. Champagne. She grabbed two, gave one to her husband, clinked glasses with him, and downed hers in one gulp. He laughed and sipped his own.
Gigi would miss working on the film, not only because of the excitement of being part of a major Hollywood production, but also because the cast and crew had become quite close, like an extended family. Although she’d done most of her work in a sound studio, she had been invited to Italy to watch the final weeks of location filming. It had been emotionally difficult, with endless rounds of group hugging and many tearful moments, but now everybody was ready to celebrate, certain that
Nero
would be next summer’s blockbuster. Dressed in wonderful period costumes, they filled the Coliseum for the gala wrap party.
Was there ever a more gorgeous setting? Nobody cared that it hadn’t been built until after Emperor Nero had died. The movie’s director, Parker Q. Knowles, felt it was the only location worthy of the festivities, and he was right. It had taken a lot of influence to get permission to hold the party here, but Parker was used to getting his way.
A round of applause brought Gigi back. The hair and makeup people were leaving the stage, smiling and holding little blue boxes. Suddenly, the orchestra started playing the film’s overture, “Ode to Rome,” and Parker called into the microphone, “Geneviève Perrin, musical score!”
Gigi squeezed her husband’s hand, gave him her glass, and hurried onstage, grinning and waving. Another roar of applause filled the air. She was proud to have been asked to do the score, prouder still she’d used the tune she had originally written 1,600 years earlier, along with the exotic songs she’d learned from Roman and Visigoth musicians.
Gift time!
Gigi felt a surge of anticipation, because the others had gotten really nice presents. Would it be emerald earrings to match her eyes? A diamond tennis bracelet?
Smiling broadly, Parker put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, just a little too chummy. She glanced at Magnus and noted his strained smile. Good thing he hadn’t brought his sword, but he needn’t worry anyway; Parker’s looks were too Hollywood for Gigi’s tastes — coifed blond hair and tanned to within an inch of his life.
