Reed exhaled heavily and took another pull from his drink. Lifting back up the paper, he examined the writing. “This looks quite old. I am right?”
“It looks old to me as well, but I am no expert.”
Reed gave her a questioning look. “Don’t you work at the auction house?”
“Yes.” Cecily was surprised he knew that.
“Then correct me if I am wrong but shouldn’t you know if it is old or not?”
Cecily didn’t miss the stress he placed on the word you. “Well if it was my specialty, I would know yes. But I mainly deal in vintage rock memorabilia.” When he gave her a questioning look she elaborated, “Guitars, clothing, old albums, actually anything to do with music.” When he didn’t say anything she added, “You do know what rock & roll is, don’t you?” She lifted one perfectly waxed brow at him, saying without words: take that smartass.
Reed glowered at her. His lip curled upward. “Yes I am familiar with rock & roll.”
“Good. Now I won’t have to explain it to you.” She smirked right into his unsmiling face, lifted her glass, and took a big drink.
“What does my wife have to do with this?”
Cecily spluttered out her drink all over the front of her three hundred dollar Dior silk blouse, coughing loudly. “Your wife?”
“Yes, my wife.” He gave her the same look she had given him moments before, saying without words: take that smartass.
“I didn’t, I mean…” She cleared her throat. “Wh—who is your wife?” she stammered in shock.
“Come now, Cecily…like you don’t know.” He shot her a knowing look.
“I don’t know.” She lifted her hand and tried to wipe the dark splotch off her blouse.
Reed watched her. She is lying, his little voice said in his mind. “Let me rephrase. Aren’t you the one behind your employers sending her out here?”
Cecily widened her eyes, dawning slowly hitting her square in the face like a bucket of freezing water. “You’re talking about Raven?” She couldn’t hide her disbelief.
“Yes, my wife…Raven. I believe you two know each other.”
“What did you marry her for?” She railed, clearly surprised. “How in the hell?” she breathed. Her brows met, making one long line across her forehead.
Relief poured over Reed. So Raven wasn’t in on this little game Lucian and Cecily were obviously playing.
“The normal way I suppose. It was a bit of an impromptu wedding of course or else I am sure she would have invited you. You know, since you are such good friends….” He didn’t bother telling her of the real reason for their hasty nuptials. He noticed, saying out loud that Raven was his wife didn’t bother him nearly as much as he would have thought.
Cecily took another lengthy swallow of Scotch, finishing the glass off. “Whoa,” she breathed, regaining some of her lost composure. Lifting her hand, she pulled at the collar of her blouse, and adjusted the front, so it exposed her ample cleavage. “Well…I suppose, I should say congratulations…so…you know…” Not even bothering to finish her sentence she set her glass on the table, it made a dull thudding sound against the wood.
Reed smirked down into his own drink. Touché’ bitch.
Cecily stood abruptly and ran her hands languidly down her sides, smoothing her skirt. Reaching up, she fluffed her hair. “So, I guess, I will be going then.”
Reed watched her as she turned around and bent over to pick up her purse, giving him a generous view of the rounded curve of her bare ass. He wondered if she did it on purpose. Of course she did. God, his brother was missing and his girlfriend was trying to give him a red light worthy peep show. Oh Lucian, he thought—you poor bastard. He shook his head.
She lifted up her LV envelope clutch and tucked it under her arm, taking a step toward the door.
Reed noticed her purse, reminding him of his brother’s overpriced luggage. “Not so fast, Ms. Jones.”
Her back stiffened. “Aren’t we finished here?”
Giving her a curious glance, he lifted the paper back up. “What about your paper?”
“It is not mine.”
“Finders keepers….” he said, shoving the unwanted paper out to her.
She gave him a look like he was an idiot. She crossed the room, took the paper from his hand, turned it over, and put it back into his hand. “It is addressed to you…not me.”
Reed looked down at the messy writing on the back.
“Reed—
This is a clue to the legend of Ravenhurst.
Remember the one we looked for as children?
You must find it!
I am in big trouble. I am sorry to put this on you but I don’t know who else to turn to. I have gotten in with some bad people and if you don’t find the treasure, they will kill me.
Please I beg of you brother…help me!
—Lucian
Reed’s hand shook. It was in his brother’s hand. He knew because he could barely make out what it said. The words blurred before his eyes. He lifted his gaze back to Cecily. Her expression was one of concern, not of the haughtiness he anticipated. “What the hell is this?”
“That is what I was trying to tell you,” she weakly defended.
“Really…don’t you think you should have showed me this part first?” He scowled at her.
“I didn’t know that wasn’t the part you read.”
He gave her a look of disbelief. “Son of a bitch!” He swiped his hand through his hair in aggravation, making it stand on end. “What the hell has Lucian gotten himself into now?”
“I have no idea,” Cecily said and then turned to walk out the door. Thank God, this is over, she thought, lifting her hand and placing it on the handle.
“Ms. Jones…”
Shit! “Yes.” Cecily stopped. She didn’t turn toward him, too afraid of what she might reveal if she looked at him now.
“Where do you think you are going?” he said in a lethal voice from across the room.
“I thought…well,” she hesitated. “I was going to leave,” she finally answered.
“Interesting,” said Reed, narrowing his eyes at her back. What game is she playing? he wondered.
When she heard the accusatory tone in his voice, she finally turned. She wasn’t stupid, so she schooled her features as best she could. “Whatever do you mean?”
“He is your lover, isn’t he?”
Clearly not expecting his question, she gaped at him. Nervously, she twisted her hands together, making her Tiffany bracelets jangle on one arm. “Yes.” She lowered her gaze to the floor, not able to keep direct eye contact with him. Truth was he was starting to scare the shit out of her and she was not a person easily scared.
“Why would you run off?” he said with a quiet menacing tone. “I mean, if you are so concerned about his well-being, which you must be of course, since you went to all this trouble to bring me this note.” He shook the paper and then dropped it like it burned his hand; it fluttered back down to his desk.
“I wasn’t going far,” she snapped defensively, maybe a little too defensively by the look on his face. Shit!
“Where were you going then?”
“Back to the ah…” Shit! What the hell was the name of the dump I passed? “That ah…little bed and breakfast down the road a piece, the dumpling place.” She readjusted her clutch under her arm. “In case you need me or you hear anything, of course.” She darted her eyes around the room becoming increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutinizing glare. She was sure he knew she was lying.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to have to do that,” he said, his deep voice full of derision. “You must stay here.”
Shifting uneasily, she said, “I couldn’t impose.” She didn’t want to stay, but at the moment, she could not think of a ready argument to not stay. Damnit!
“I insist.”
“Oh—kay, if you insist.” She twisted her ring around her finger.
“I do.” He walked over to a bell-cord in the corner
and pulled it. “I will have one of the maids prepare a room for you.”
Cecily widened her eyes and exhaled. “Perfect.”
Another chance
THE AGE OF CHIVALRY * RAVENHURST
THE ground wet the bottom of her gown, as Marguerite followed closely behind her would be savior, clinging to the walls of the keep. She kept peering over her shoulder, sure someone or something was following them but when she turned, nothing was there. “WH-ere are we going?” The warnings about releasing the hounds had set her teeth to chattering.
The girl pulled up short, widening her eyes. She stuck her filthy finger to her lips in warning. Marguerite dutifully gnashed her teeth together, trying to stay silent. It was hard though. Storm clouds hung heavily in the sky about to burst open upon them and then what would they do?
Of course, it was preferable to the alternative—being burned alive at the pyre. Therefore, she obeyed, keeping close, stumbling now and again on loose stones or an unexpected clumping of grass.
Once they made it past the barbican gates, the girl turned toward her. “Milady, we must part ways now.”
A burst of rancid breath engulfed her face. “What?” Instead of stepping away, Marguerite endured the smell. “No! Do not leave me.” She grabbed hold of the girl’s hand, gripping it tightly within her own. “Please,” she begged. “I do not know where to go.”
The girl jerked on her arm, trying to shake her off. “You must run in the direction opposite of me,” she explained hastily, leaning backward now, tugging against her hand.
Marguerite pulled her in the opposite direction. “Why… can… I… not… go… with… you,” she heaved out, digging her feet in.
The girl was on the robust side and held her ground. She was like a large boulder, and Marguerite decided she was not budging. “I will do anything.” She opted for begging.
The girl rolled her eyes. “No.” She shook her head.
“Why, just tell me why?”
She exhaled. “You are too loud and you move too slowly.”
Marguerite sputtered. Normally she would have pointed out the girl was larger and therefore would obviously be louder. But when she was about to break into a litany of the why’s and how’s, the girl gave her a disproving glare. Holding her tongue she switched tactics quickly, begging now, she said, “I can move faster, I promise.” She gripped her hand tighter. Her skin felt sticky.
Long strands of her filthy hair swung around her head like frayed pieces of rope as she shook her head adamantly from side to side. “Forgive me, but I cannot,” the girl said, not sounding sorry at all.
Marguerite wiped hot tears from her eyes. In desperation, she gripped her hand even tighter.
“You cannot come with me!” She pried off her fingers.
“Just tell me why?” Marguerite rubbed her sore fingers.
A frog ribbitted and the wind picked up strength, bending the tall grass on its sides. Exhaling heavily the girl pushed her hair back. “I am hoping they are more worried about seeking you out than finding me,” the girl said. “Our splitting up will most likely save my life…you on the other hand…” She made a face. “Well…” She shrugged. “This is the way it must be.”
“Are you kidding me?” she gaped. “You are using me for a Guinea Pig?” she asked. “Well, what if I follow you, what will you do? You can’t stop me.” Marguerite taunted.
“Oh yes I can.”
“Oh really, how are you going to do that?” she asked.
The girl stepped forward and pushed her away with more force than necessary. Staggering backward, she almost lost her footing but caught herself. Not ready to give up she took a step forward.
“Stop right there!” the girl warned. “Now shoo! Go on…Get!” She lifted her hands and pushed her palms outward, and then smacked her hands. “Get on outta here.” She pointed in the opposite direction.
Marguerite stood there completely stupefied. The girl was treating her the same way Mrs. Trubers treated an old mangy dog that came around to the cookhouse door on the side of the kitchen every night begging for leftover table scraps. Luckily, for the dog, Mrs. Trubers would usually relent and end up tossing him out a bone, or a few scraps. Unfortunately, it did not look as though she was going to be as fortunate as the dog. Bloody hell!
“Well,” she huffed, brushing her hands together. “You may be too stupid to move but I am not.” She gave Marguerite a curt nod and then lifted her skirts, turning in the opposite direction. At the last minute, she looked back over her shoulder. “Best of luck to you though…” She gave her an assessing look and then grabbed up the length of her tattered skirt. “You are going to need it,” she muttered and then took off running through the tall grass, the wind wiping her hair crazily around her head until the darkness finally swallowed up all traces of her departing form.
Marguerite, at first, was too stunned to react but that did not last long. She balled up her fists and pressed them against her head in frustration.
“Oh, Bloody Hell!” She stomped her foot into the dirt in aggravation. All this time she had thought the girl was on her side, since she had helped her escape the wooden contraption but as it turns the only reason she helped her was to use her as a glorified decoy for her own selfish reasons. As mad as Marguerite was at the desertion she could understand her reasoning but it did not make being left any easier. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, looking around. Sharp gusts of wind pushed against her. The castle was only a short distance away. Even in the darkness, she could make out the ominous silhouette of Ravenhurst. Inside was her one true love but he did not even remember who she was. Her chest tightened, squeezing out the last bit of hope she had garnered for her own happily ever after.
Hopelessly she stood in the middle of the field, not sure what to do. The clouds seemed to press in further, their fat bellies growing in size. A heavy droplet of rain splattered on her face spurring her to move. “Bloody hell!” Lifting her skirts into her hands, she took off running as fast as her legs would carry her until the darkness of night swallowed up her departing form as well.
What about a redo
PRESENTDAY RAVENHURST
THE ancient bed groaned under her weight when Raven sat down on the edge. What was she going to do? Everything, her wedding, the man she married, was a dream come true. Fine, a farfetched one, but it was still a really good one. But that was the problem with dreams…sometimes they took a turn for the worse and abruptly turned into nightmares. She hiccupped and lifted her flowers up off her bed. The heavy perfume of periwinkle and rose permeated the air and if she tried really hard, she could smell Reed’s cologne as well.
Letting out a wistful sigh, she stood up, carried the flowers over to an empty vase, and plunked them inside. The necklace, with the supposed magical powers, still hung heavily around her neck. She had to wonder—did it actually send Marguerite hurtling back through time to her knight? She guessed she would never know for sure. It had obviously sent her somewhere but where? Lifting her hands, she reached behind her neck and released the clasp. She held the stone in her hand for a few minutes staring into the blood red orb. Finally, letting out a windy sigh, she set it on the table by the mirror and reached up to rub the crick out of her neck.
At least Milford seemed pleased. She wanted to question him about the whole legend, Marguerite thing, but then Cecily had showed up and surprisingly, the whereabouts of Marguerite didn’t seem as important any longer. Now that she was alone, her thoughts returned swiftly back to the girl. Did they actually send her to the right place, with him, her Raven Knight? She certainly hoped so. And if they did how exactly was that even possible? She shook her head.
And what of Cecily? What in the hell was she doing here and why did she drape her incredible body all over Reed, crying about his brother Lucian. How did she even know who Lucian was? That was just another unanswered question in a long list of questions she began mentally making in her mind.
When Cecily had cried for the second time
Lucian was missing, Reed’s face changed from surprise to something… different. In two strides, he was across the room, taking Cecily by the elbow and guiding her into the library. Raven tried to follow but he shut the door before she made it across the foyer. So Raven did the only thing she could do, she eavesdropped or tried to…within moments the door slid open and she fell forward into Milford, her face sliding down his chest.
“My gown’s ah…stuck,” she lied, trying to explain off her eavesdropping as he steadied her back on her feet.
He gave her a look that said, “I don’t believe you” then slid the door shut before she could see inside the room. “Reed err, Mr. Scott wants you to ah…go back to your room until he can sort out this ah…situation with Ms. Cecily…your friend.” He straightened his jacket.
“Oh.” She felt like she had just gotten kicked in her gut. She rushed over to the stairs, barely able to keep her tears at bay.
“You were a lovely bride,” he called out behind her.
She swallowed back the rush of tears that threatened to come spilling out, and gripped the smooth wood of the banister. “Thanks.” She looked over her shoulder at him.
“Would you like me to escort you back to your room?” he asked, looking pale.
“No I’m good,” she dumped out another lie, and then lifted her beautiful sparkly gown and climbed the gloomy staircase up to her room…alone.
Her mind drifted back to the here and now. She let out a self-deprecating laugh and raked her fingers through her curls untangling them. The sparkles on her gown shimmered in the dim light. Walking over to the mirror, she looked at her reflection. “Some bride you are.” She made a face. “What have you done?” she asked and then turned promptly from the mirror, never noticing the stone of the necklace glowing on the table.
REED
Much later Reed walked back to his room. The ancient clock down in the foyer groaned out one sickly sounding chime. Opening the door to his bedroom, he stepped inside and slammed it shut. A large oriental vase wobbled briefly on top of a spindled legged table against the wall. “Damn you Lucian!” Frustrated, he ran his hands over his face. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
Now and Forever:: A NEW ADULT TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE NOVEL (RAVENHURST SERIES Book 5) Page 4
