Time Travel Romance Collection

by Grace Brannigan

  Almost as sparsely furnished as her own room, Hawk's room was comfortable and very masculine. The focal point, without question, was the bed. It was huge, of some dark wood, the posts carved with great detail, testimony to an opulent, bygone era. Certainly, the rest of the house gave no hint of similar luxury -- yet he was the master of the house, his room would reflect something more than the other rooms she reasoned. Realizing the bed looked familiar, Isabeau thought it might be the same one she'd seen in her room when she and Leif came to Hawk's Den. The mixing of the past and present was getting more confusing.

  Isabeau walked over to a large armoire constructed of a dark, burnished wood. She opened one door and looked through it, pushing aside the jackets, shirts and trousers that had been neatly arranged inside. Closing the door, she made her way around the room and stopped before a small bureau. She quickly opened drawers, rifling through the contents, looking for a clue, yet not knowing what she was looking for. She moved to the bedside stand, then tensed when she thought she heard a footstep.

  Silence.

  With shaking fingers, Isabeau pulled open the small drawer. Inside lay a smooth, leather-bound book, enclosed by a slim gold mesh band with a square green stone. It looked like an emerald, but rougher. Gingerly, she touched it; the stone felt warm to her touch, and for a brief second it seemed to have a bright glow.

  A door creaked open. "Can I help you find something?" Hawk asked her.

  Chapter Four

  In nervous reflex, Isabeau closed the drawer with a bang, catching her fingers.

  "Damn!" she pressed her fingers to her chest and turned to face him.

  Hawk stared at her in annoyance. Damnation, the woman had been going through his drawers. As he stepped into the room, he kept his eye on her, her eyes blinking nervously. For someone caught rifling his personal belongings, her greenish blue eyes looked incredibly innocent.

  He walked over to the small table, opened the drawer and drew out the small book she'd been looking at.

  "Were you looking for anything in particular?" he asked idly, pushing the book with its confining band into his coat pocket.

  He turned around. Seeing her cleaned up so nicely made Hawk pause. He frowned as a strange emotion wrenched at his gut, a sense of familiarity. "You certainly look different from last night." She wore a dress that nipped in at the waist and fit her to perfection, though it was slightly wrinkled at the moment. Her sun-streaked blonde hair with its riotous, waving curls framed her now clean face. Clear skin, petite features, full lips that men would dream about. Against his better judgment, Hawk acknowledged her attractiveness, felt it clear down to his boots.

  Pushing aside such thoughts, he snapped, "Is there something I can help you find?" He turned his head and looked around the room. "Although it looks like you've been pretty thorough." Moving back to the door, he closed it and braced his booted feet on the worn carpet.

  "Y- you startled me," she admitted huskily but offered no explanation or apology.

  "Getting caught will do that. You are not allowed into my rooms. Are you looking for money?"

  Indignantly, she said, "No!"

  "I prefer not to have to lock the door every time I leave. In future, I expect my chambers to be treated as private." He stared at her hard. "You look much better without the dirt." Color moved up her neck to the tips of her ears. "It was hard to tell yesterday that you are a beautiful woman."

  "Thank you." She edged toward the door. "I'm sorry I intruded. It won't happen again."

  "A moment." He moved to stand beside her. "If possible, keep from the back of the house where my aunt's rooms are located. Maize has been instructed to show you the area to which I refer. Until my aunt regains her equilibrium, I prefer not to trouble her. She seems unsettled right now."

  "I plan to be out of here as soon as possible."

  "Have you decided you were mistaken about your friend Leif's arrival here?"

  "He did arrive with me," she said stubbornly.

  "Is that what you were looking for in here, your friend Leif?" he asked dryly.

  "I'm looking for some kind of clue," she burst out. "But now I'm afraid I won't find anything that I'm looking for."

  "About how you arrived here or about who I am?"

  "Both."

  He sighed. "Is your friend from this township?"

  "No, nor is he from your household. He came with me. We drove from New York."

  "Oh yes, when you arrived earlier." Hawk had to wonder what game she played. "You know none of this makes sense."

  "I know. And yet your aunt seems to think she bought me here by conjuring me. Why is that?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  She clenched her jaw. "You heard what she said last night."

  "She was not herself."

  She sighed heavily. "I know no one understands what I'm talking about. I might as well leave. Thanks for the room for the night."

  Hawk stopped her with a light hand on her arm when she would have slipped past him. "You cannot leave. You are protected here."

  "I don't belong here. I can certainly take care of myself."

  "What if your friend comes looking for you? How will he find you?"

  "I don't think I have to worry about that. Ask your aunt."

  "I think you should remain as my guest." He couldn't have her leaving and not knowing where she might go. It did not sit right with him. "To satisfy propriety, Maize has suggested that you will be known as a cousin visiting from the North."

  She gave him an incredulous look. "You've got to be kidding. You don't even trust me."

  Brushing that aside, he said, "If you leave, where will you go?" Not waiting for her reply, Hawk added, "You are welcome to stay for now, if that is what you choose. Perhaps we can help you find what you are looking for."

  Hawk felt the clarity and depth of her stormy greenish eyes all the way down to his toes. Who was this woman? He felt as if he should know her. Damn his lack of memory!

  "You would let me stay here, knowing I've snooped through your things?"

  "I expect you to never do that again."

  He noted the rise of color in her face.

  "You have my word," she said in a tight voice.

  He sensed her embarrassment and perhaps her indecision. "I feel you have nowhere else to go."

  Her shoulders slumped.

  "You're right," she admitted. "I'm kind of at a loss right now."

  "Then stay."

  He read the doubt on her face, but slowly she nodded. "I'm sorry about snooping. It's not something I've ever done before."

  He felt his stomach muscles slowly unclench. He'd been expecting her to refuse his offer and he wasn't sure why that would have disappointed him. With a final nod, she quickly left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Hawk would have to keep a very close eye on her. He sensed she was hiding something. For once, Malry might be onto something.

  #

  Isabeau leaned against the wall outside his room. What was the matter with her! Here she was, palms sweaty, the material of her dress clinging damply to the nape of her neck, acting as if she'd never conversed with an attractive man before. Certainly not a man as attractive as Hawk -- an ordinary, everyday, old-fashioned man from a century before her time -- someone to be found only in a dream, a taunting voice mocked.

  Isabeau made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She ate only sparingly of the eggs, bacon and ham the cook placed on the table before her and earned herself a disgruntled look.

  Maize walked into the kitchen and ushered her away on the pretext of showing her around the large house. "Come with me while I polish Hawk's boots."

  From the kitchen they walked down a narrow flight of twisting stairs to a cellar.

  "Hawk's previous valet was with him a very long time and took great pride in tending to his master's boots."

  "Did he leave?"

  "He retired many years ago." Maize opened a door, indicating the small, closet-like room inside. "I
took over the duties of Hawk's boots."

  "I'm sure it's a big responsibility keeping his expensive boots dry on a rainy day."

  Maize leveled her a stern glance. "Of course you are right. I mix Burgundy pitch with beeswax and turpentine to keep his boots dry."

  "Maize, with all due respect, I need information other than keeping Hawk's boots dry."

  "Then walk with me outside," The older woman abandoned the boots and led the way out to the back of the house. As they walked toward the garden path she had seen Hawk and his aunt take earlier, a young black boy of about ten approached them. His dark hair was close cropped and he wore a big smile on his face. In his arms he carried kindling and small twigs.

  "Isabeau, this is James. He goes daily to the village mercantile for household errands and purchases. Send for him if there is anything you might need. Hawk pays him to run errands and such. He's a big help."

  "Hello, James," Isabeau greeted him. "I think I need some kindling and wood in my room. It was quite cold this morning. Is that part of your duties?"

  "Yes, it is. I will see that you have wood and kindling." He smiled a beatific smile.

  "Thank you so much."

  James walked toward the house. Moments later he returned and went around the side of the house, returning with some small split pieces of firewood and kindling.

  "If you need anything from town, it will go on the house account," Maize assured her.

  Isabeau sighed. "This is getting more and more complicated. I have no money. I'm going to need more clothes."

  Maize indicated a low stone seat beside the garden. "Please be patient with me and remain here a moment while I go tend to Belva."

  "Please thank her for the use of her clothing."

  "I will pass that along. Please wait for me."

  Although she was impatient to talk with the older woman, Isabeau had no choice but to wait. "All right."

  "Miss Isabeau?" James returned several moments later. "When you need more wood for the fire, just let me know." He plopped down on the grass beside her. "Do you want some hard candy?"

  "Thank you, James, but I just ate breakfast." She watched in amusement as he wrestled a small candy sack almost bursting its seams from his back pants pocket.

  Looking at the bulging bag in his hand, Isabeau shook her head. "Too much of that will rot your teeth," she warned, laughing, watching his enjoyment as he placed a hard candy between his teeth.

  He paused a moment, then shrugged, biting into the candy. "My teeth are strong."

  "But sugar will rot them."

  "Who told you that?" He clearly disbelieved her.

  "Believe me, it's a well-known fact where I come from."

  "Well," James replied dismissively, "they're not all for me; some are for my sister."

  "Is your sister younger or older?"

  "Younger. She's just a baby." James puffed out his chest. "I'm eleven, Felicity's six."

  "How do you come to work at Hawk's Den?"

  "Mr. Hawk set my pa to work building ships last spring. Mr. Hawk says they're the best team working together. Not everybody wants colored, you know." Isabeau looked at the boy, the adult expression. "Mr. Hawk gives me coin to run errands and help out in the kitchen. He even teaches me so I can read. He says if I stay out of the factories, he'll pay me. Maybe I'll build his ships some day, too."

  "Hawk taught you to read?"

  James nodded. "Teacher comes during the week. Me and Felicity, we learn to read at the little schoolhouse."

  "Are there any others learning to read?" Isabeau was intrigued.

  "Uh huh." James looked up at her and grinned. "There's lots of kids that come and go. Mr. Hawk finds foster --" he frowned, "foster homes for the kids." He looked up at the sky, then turned his liquid brown eyes on her. "I have to go now. It's time to go fishing. Sometimes," he boasted, "I bring home dinner." James winked at her. "I know all the best fishing holes."

  "Well good luck fishing, James. I'd like to chat again when you're not busy."

  "Bye, Miss Isabeau."

  James ran down the path and out of sight, leaving Isabeau to ponder the information he'd given her. Hawk was a philanthropist.

  "Well, what're you about on this fine day?" demanded a gruff voice.

  Isabeau turned on the stone seat. "Malry! Why are you sneaking up on me?"

  "If I had a mind to sneak up on you, lass, you wouldn't know I was here." He smirked. "What have you been about?"

  Isabeau looked at him over her shoulder. "I've been talking with Hawk and Maize. I just met James, if you think you should know everything I've done. See, no trouble to report."

  "Well, then, see that you don't find any," Malry said sharply. "'Tis my task to discharge lack wits."

  Instead of taking offense, Isabeau laughed out loud. "I've been called many things," she mused, "but lack wit is not one of them."

  His surprised expression deepened her amusement. Not for the first time, she suspected Malry might be more bluster than real threat.

  "Well, just know that I'm watching you," he said, clearly annoyed. "The Cap'n hasn't a fear of anything. He'll bring the enemy to his door and invite him to sup. Me, I have no such trusting heart. You do the Cap'n wrong, you'll answer to me."

  Isabeau stared at his retreating back. Did she really appear that threatening?

  "All I want to do is get back to where I belong, yet everyone here would think I'm nuts if I told them the truth. This is real," she said out loud, her voice giving the words validity. "Hawk Morgan is as real as I am. I'm here in 1894." Isabeau stood and turned toward the house, then stepped back in surprise as Belva approached her from the path that led to the river.

  "There, now, no need to be frightened," the older woman said, her voice soothing, quite a contrast from their last meeting. "'Tis a hard truth to accept, but one you were bound to learn in time."

  "Maize just left to find you." Isabeau looked for Maize but did not see her. "You know what's going on, don't you? What you said the other night was true."

  "Your secret is safe with me," Belva assured her quietly.

  "My secret?"

  "Your identity."

  "You know who I am?" Isabeau asked warily.

  "You are not from this time."

  For a moment it felt like a big relief to hear someone else say that. "Tell me what you know," Isabeau insisted, admitting nothing.

  "I know nothing beyond the fact that you are here. I asked for help and here you are."

  "But how did it happen?" Isabeau asked sharply. "How do I get back to where I belong?"

  "You were chosen for a special purpose and I must aid you."

  "You?" Isabeau said warily. "You don't like me."

  Belva bowed her head. "I admit I did not make a very good first impression and for that I apologize. Sometimes I have very bad moments." She held out her hand, the gesture almost commanding for someone so frail-looking. "Come with me."

  Isabeau walked beside Belva. The older woman had changed once again from when Isabeau had seen her earlier this morning. She looked quite fashionable in her black day dress trimmed with short black fringe and a white bodice trimmed with a thin strip of black velvet.

  "Thank you for allowing me to borrow this dress," Isabeau said as they followed the small path that led through the flower gardens. She had a difficult time reconciling this soft-spoken with the woman who'd been so distressed the first time she'd seen her. "I do not belong here," she added.

  "For the time being, staying here at Hawk's Den will keep you from harm's way. However, you must be careful in this time. Lives can be altered."

  "Surely just by virtue of my being here, lives have changed already."

  "In a manner of speaking," Belva agreed, nodding quickly. "You saved a life that day at the shipyard. You saved my nephew."

  "The steel beam." Isabeau couldn't help the shiver that raced across her neck.

  "I have no doubt it was another deliberate attempt on my nephew's life. You have a special gift, Isab
eau."

  "This is crazy," Isabeau muttered. "I feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Why would I be involved in life here? I don't know any of you. I don't know Hawk."

  "Sometimes the thread of our lives weave inexplicably with others. The path is not always clear until the threads are untangled."

  "But it's not a natural course. By your own admission, I was brought here by you."

  "I asked for help. I did not know you would be pulled from another time. Indeed, I did not know the nature of the help that would arrive."

  Isabeau's first inclination was to rage at this small, wizened creature. How could anyone displace another human being? She bit her lip, afraid that if she angered her she would tell her nothing. She couldn't afford to alienate the one person who knew the truth of her situation.

  "You must tell me everything," she said instead.

  "Have you noticed anything unusual in your physical senses?"

  Isabeau thought of the loud buzzing in her ears she'd heard just before the steel beam fell. She had always had the gift for premonition. Her mother said it was gifted to her upon birth.

  "My hearing has always been acute."

  "Perhaps now it is even more so. Hawk is all that is left of my family," Belva added softly. "He is the last in the Morgan line. Someone wants him dead. I will do everything in my limited power to keep him alive. I feel you are here for that reason." For the first time, the older woman looked upset. "It is such a tangle -- I have created a hardship for you by invoking the spirits. I can only hope you will forgive me and help my nephew so we can quickly send you back."

  "Last night you said there were two of us."

  Belva looked puzzled. "I don't remember that."

  "I just want to go back home, and I hope you are right, that I can go back." She could not help but think of her mother again. "The more information you share, the easier it might be to figure this out. How do you know that I can help? Maybe yesterday was a fluke." Such a responsibility weighed heavily on Isabeau.

  "Why else would you be here? Desperate circumstances warranted it."