10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  The view of the mountain goats receded into the dusky distance behind tall pine trees, and Ellie turned away from the window to stare down at the book in her lap, attempting once again to focus on the latest published papers on women’s studies.

  The voices behind her seat quieted, and she sighed. She agreed with the boy and wished she were coming to visit the magnificent Rocky Mountains instead of hurtling past to attend yet another boring seminar in Seattle.

  “Women in the Pacific Northwest, Turn of the Century.”

  Ellie jumped slightly. Her elderly seatmate was a quiet gentleman who had spoken very little since she boarded the train in Chicago. His cultured voice startled her.

  “That seems like rather heavy reading for a vacation.” He favored her with a friendly smile.

  Ellie glanced down at the book in her hand again, then up to his face with a sheepish grin.

  “It isn’t holding my interest, I’m afraid.”

  She studied him from under veiled lashes. Dark corduroy slacks flattered his charcoal turtleneck sweater. A silver watch adorned his left hand, which boasted a silver-colored wedding ring...the same silver that streaked his hair. Startlingly bright emerald green eyes met hers.

  “Are you a student?”

  She gave a quick shake of her head and nodded toward the book. “The teacher, I’m ashamed to say. I’m finding the book dull going. How can anyone take a vibrant era such as the turn of the century and make it so dull?” She shook her head and chuckled. “I’m doing some advance reading for a seminar I’m attending in Seattle.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, chatty soul that she was.

  “Really? What kind of seminar?” He raised an elegant eyebrow.

  She nodded toward the book again with a grin.

  “Women’s Studies, Turn of the Century America.”

  “So you teach women’s studies?”

  “Yes, at Chicago Community College.”

  “I see. How interesting.”

  “Not really,” she demurred. “And what brings you onto the train today?” She eyed him with interest.

  “Oh, I’m heading home. I’ve just been on a visit to my daughter and grandchildren in Washington, D.C.”

  The passing vista of snow-capped peaks atop rocky mountains dotted with evergreen trees caught her eye once again. The sun had set, and the mountains turned a hazy purple in the waning light. She sighed at the beauty of the scenery before her.

  “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

  He looked past her out the window. “It is. One of the reasons I prefer to take the train.”

  She flashed him a quick grin. “Me, too. I love trains. I’d take them all the time if I could. They just don’t have enough routes anymore,” she ended on a wistful note.

  “They certainly had more when I was a boy, that’s for sure. My folks traveled everywhere by train in the thirties. My grandparents, too. They took us to Glacier National Park. But people have such busy lives today and no longer have time for the slower mode of travel.” Green eyes twinkled as he gave her a whimsical smile.

  Ellie nodded. “It’s true. Every time I travel by train, I have to take extra time from work, but I do love it.”

  “So, why women’s studies, may I ask?” He nodded toward the book in her lap.

  Warmth tinged her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always found the subject interesting. Well, I would, of course. I’m a woman.” She smiled crookedly. “I guess I’m what you would call a feminist. I don’t really like the term, but you get the idea. I like the subject of women, their importance in history, their value in the world, and I want to pass that enthusiasm on to others, so I teach.” She gave him a small self-deprecating smile. “I’m especially fascinated by women’s lives at the turn of the century, but I’m finding this book a bit dry.” She wiggled the book and wrinkled her nose.

  “May I see it?” he asked.

  She blinked and handed it to him.

  He opened the cover and perused the index, stopping occasionally to smile.

  “Corsets: Curves or Curses.” He chuckled as he read the chapter heading aloud. “Well, that certainly doesn’t sound dry.” He handed the book back to her.

  She grinned. “You should read the chapter titled “Hair: Halo or Hell on Earth.” I can’t believe women tortured their hair as much as they did in the name of fashion.” Ellie virtually spat out the last word, then reined in her unruly tongue, though not before she saw the twinkle in her companion’s eyes.

  “Perhaps not all women in those days had your lovely brown hair.” His appreciative glance brought a blush to her cheeks, and she tossed her head as if to shake off embarrassment.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, completely thrown off her feminist seat for a moment. She gave him a sideways glance. He appeared to be in his mid-eighties, but his full head of silver hair and bright green eyes left no doubt he’d once been a very handsome man—and still was, for that matter.

  His eyes...

  The twinkle continued, and for a moment, she had the craziest notion she’d seen those eyes before.

  “Have we met? Have you been to Chicago? This may sound strange, but you seem familiar to me in some way.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never gotten off the train in Chicago.” He drew his brows together in a puzzled expression. “You know, I have to say you look familiar, as well. I wonder where we could have met.”

  Ellie shook her head slowly, searching his face for a clue. “I don’t know. It’s odd, isn’t it?” She reached out a hand. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. Ellie Standish.” She grinned.

  “Edward Richardson. It’s nice to meet you.” He gripped her hand in a surprisingly firm, warm clasp.

  “And you,” she murmured, reluctantly pulling her hand from his grasp, aware of an inexplicable desire to let it linger there a while.

  Though handsome for a man his age, he had to be nearly fifty years her senior, and she found her blossoming attraction to him somewhat uncomfortable. Kyle would laugh, she thought, arrogantly unable to see that his fiancée might find other men attractive—even older men in their eighties. She dropped her eyes to the book in her lap, feeling slightly foolish and hoping she hadn’t developed some sort of father fixation on her seat companion.

  “Are you from Chicago?” Edward cocked his head to the side in a charming inquiry, eyes attentive with apparent interest.

  “No, I’ve lived in many different places. I moved to Chicago to take the job at the college after I graduated from university.”

  “How do you like Chicago?”

  “It’s a big city,” she sighed. “Fast paced. Probably too fast for me. It seems all I have time to do is go to work and come home, go to work and come home.” She raised her eyes to his sympathetic face.

  “I know what you mean. Washington, D.C. is hectic, as well. Although Seattle is a big town, I do find it a bit more relaxing. It has grown tremendously since I was a boy.”

  “Have you always lived in Seattle?”

  “All my life, since 1921.”

  “I can’t imagine living in one place that long,” Ellie sighed wistfully, “but I often wonder what it would be like.” She turned to look out the window as statuesque dark evergreens guarded the darkening hills above the moving train.

  “Do you move a lot, Ellie?”

  The intimate sound of her name on his gentle voice startled her. The question embarrassed her. It always did. She had no Romanian blood, as far she knew, but her gypsy soul would not sit quietly still...much to her regret.

  “I do. I can’t seem to stay in one place for long. I’ve been in Chicago for three years now, and I’ve got itchy feet. These little breaks to travel to seminars help ease the pain of trying to stay put.” She gave the older man a quirky grin. “My fiancé, Kyle, is the only thing keeping me from dashing off in search of a new life, a new adventure.”

  “Your fiancé?” Edward’s expressive eyebrows rose. “Congratulations. When are you pl
anning to marry?”

  Ellie’s eyes flickered away from his before she replied airily. “Oh, we haven’t set a date yet. I’m busy and so is he. He’s an investment banker.”

  “How did you meet?”

  She colored. “At a bar, of all places. I was out drinking with a few friends. He was there with friends.” She shrugged carelessly. “What about you, Edward? Are you married?” Her eyes traveled to the gleaming silver band on his left hand.

  His eyes followed hers. With his right hand, he gently caressed the band, the gesture suggesting love.

  “I was. I feel like I still am.” Green eyes met hers. “She passed away last year.”

  “Oh, Edward. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. It’s been difficult.” With a brief smile in her direction, Edward turned away to gaze out the window on the other side of the train.

  Ellie surreptitiously studied his profile, open and friendly only a moment ago, now closed and somber. She didn’t take his withdrawal personally. The working of his jaw revealed emotions he struggled to control. She still couldn’t shake the familiar feeling she’d seen him before.

  Forcing herself to turn away, she picked up her book again with a renewed earnest determination to make some headway in her reading. She stared at the words on the pages, each one blending into the next, unable to concentrate on the task at hand.

  A glance from under her lashes to the left revealed Edward’s eyes were closed. He appeared intent on sleep. She sighed and turned toward the window. Her pale face, softly highlighted by the overhead lights, reflected in the glass. The passing scenery faded into darkness with only an occasional twinkling light visible in the distance. She leaned her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

  Drowsily, she wondered if Kyle were sleeping. For the last year, he’d adopted the habit of going to bed promptly at 10 p.m. and leaving the apartment by 7 a.m. to catch the El. Since she barely got home from class by 9 at night, she hardly saw him. Her absence to attend the seminar in Seattle would hardly be noticed in his busy world. It didn’t matter. The first flush of love had long gone, leaving the makings of a long and boring marriage in its wake. But she was determined to follow through with the wedding, if and when she ever set a date. She was tired of moving, tired of being alone, tired of staring at an unknown future and ready to settle down—or ready to settle, at least.

  Chapter Two

  An unfamiliar jolt of the train awakened Ellie. Her eyes flew open. For the most part, the train ride had been smooth, the huge silver giant effortlessly gliding along the tracks with few sounds other than an occasional whistle and no untoward movements.

  Blearily, she looked out the window. Darkness had given way to dawn, and a soft rosy glow peeped through the tall evergreens which continued to grace the landscape. Softly misted mountains appeared in the distance. She glanced at her watch. Four more hours to Seattle.

  With a crick in her neck, Ellie straightened and raised her arms above her head. She turned to ask Edward how he’d slept, but his seat was empty. In fact, something seemed to be wrong with his seat. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stared at it again. Something was definitely wrong. Where was the armrest she’d leaned on the night before? She ran a hand along the seat cushion, her eyes widening at the rich look and feel of the red velvet along the bench.

  Bench? Had she wandered into another car in the night? Where was she?

  A buzz of female voices from the rear penetrated her consciousness, and she craned her neck to see over the back of her seat, or rather, her bench. Six or seven young women lounged about on plush antique rattan furniture in various poses—some perched on the edge of their seats, prim and proper with clasped hands; others balanced teacups above saucers, while another young lady leaned over a pink velvet sofa and whispered to a blonde woman. An occasional tinkling laugh behind a discreet hand broke the steady hum of chatter.

  Ellie blinked and stared at their clothing. Huge hats, festooned with feathers and flowers, towered above small heads supported by long delicate necks. As a group, the young women wore a similar style of clothing, with high-collared white lacy blouses. Some wore tailored dark jackets. Ellie’s startled eyes traveled the length of their skirts—long, flowing garments in varying shades of dark colors that covered all but the tips of their shoes. The woman who stood had an impossibly tiny waist.

  With a pounding heart and a dry mouth, Ellie slid down out of sight. What was going on? She backed into the corner of the bench with her face pressed against the velvet of the upholstered bench back. She strained to make out words but could hear only the lilting rhythm of the women’s voices, broken by the timbre of an occasional male voice. She hadn’t seen any men on first glance. Ellie rubbed her sweating palms on her denim skirt and dragged in an uneven breath. The rumbling of the train along the tracks proved she was still onboard, albeit the carriage rocked and swayed more than it had the night before. An unusual odor permeated the air—the pleasant smell of cooked food combined with...was it...coal?

  Ellie chewed a corner of her lower lip nervously and pressed even more tightly into the corner of her seat, hoping to make herself invisible. She studied the carriage door just in front of her bench as it rattled with the motion of the train. Constructed of a large pane of antique leaded glass framed by dark varnished wood, the elegant door allowed as much light to stream in as possible, given the narrow confined space between cars. Lovely as it was, she hoped fervently the door wouldn’t open to expose her presence to a newcomer entering the room. Fairly sure she’d unwittingly trespassed onto a first-class lounge, she wondered how on earth she’d managed to sleepwalk her way into a luxurious car that smacked of turn-of-the-century style.

  The sound of a man’s cheerful laughter caught her ear. Against her better judgment and free will, she slid up on one knee and peeked over the back of the seat to survey the scene behind her again. Her widened eyes homed in on the author of the husky laugh as he leaned against the leaded glass door at the back of the carriage. She gasped against the velvet upholstery of the seat back, mild hysteria robbing her of breath.

  A dark head of well-groomed, thick, wavy chestnut hair crowned a handsome angular face. He smiled broadly at a woman seated in a chair nearby. The generous smile should have held her attention, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his attire. A dark blue jacket hung carelessly open to reveal a gray vest over a white high-collared shirt. Matching dark blue trousers revealed long, lean legs that began at a slender waist and seemed to travel forever until they ended at the tips of highly polished black boots.

  Mr. Debonair pulled a watch on a chain from a pocket in his vest and consulted it. With a charming smile which lit up his face, he leaned down to the young beauty at his side and spoke in a low voice. Ellie’s ears perked at the woman’s tinkling laugh. It seemed restrained, lacking gusto and spontaneity. She couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly in the back of the car.

  Ellie lowered herself back into her seat, willing herself to miniaturize. She turned a speculative eye on the stylish door in front, presumably leading to the next car. The door looked as though it opened outward instead of sliding open as did the rest of the train’s compartments. A brass handlebar preserved the glass from unruly fingerprints.

  Ellie gathered her courage as she imagined a scene where she bolted through the door and escaped into the next carriage. If she acted quickly enough, the oddly dressed passengers would never see or hear anything except the sound of the door closing behind her. If the next car turned out to be first class, she would feign ignorance—which was true—and ask to be directed back to her seat in coach.

  She lowered her feet to the carpeted floor and slid to the edge of her seat, no easy task on velvet. Just as she prepared to spring for the door, it opened wide, and she fell back against her seat. A strong smell of coal assaulted her nose before the door shut quietly behind the newcomer. A white-coated waiter of African descent precariously balanced china on a round silver serving tray with the palm of
one hand while securing the door behind his back with the other.

  Ellie scooted back into her corner, but the motion caught the waiter’s eye as he took a step forward. He stared down at her, dark eyes widening at the sight of the stowaway.

  “Ah, tea is here,” a querulous female voice rung out. “Come, come, young man, bring it here. We’ve been waiting for quite some time for refreshment, and I must say I am quite parched.”

  Ellie hunched her head into her shoulders like a turtle and gave the startled young man an uneasy grin. With a plea in her eyes, she raised a finger to her lips and shook her head.

  He hesitated and blinked at her, obviously debating what to do. Ellie mouthed the word “please” as she continued to shake her head.

  “Young man.” The impatient elderly female voice forced a decision on him. He furrowed his brow, gave a slight shake of his head and moved past the bench toward the open seating area of the car.

  Ellie held her breath, wondering if anyone was going to come around the corner and demand her instant removal. She would be very happy to comply, she thought, as she eyed the door once again. She considered the wiser plan would be to exit in the waiter’s wake. It seemed likely no one would follow the young man’s progress out of the carriage.

  “Ahh, there you are.” The older woman seemed temporarily appeased by the arrival of her tea. Ellie didn’t remember seeing any senior citizens on her quick survey of the passengers. “Yes, that’s it. Two sugars will do. Thank you.”

  Ellie strained to hear the handsome man’s voice, but the tinkle of teacups on saucers and the hum of muted voices drowned him out. She kept an eye on the aisle, preparing for a quick exit in the waiter’s shadow.

  Within moments, he returned to peer around the edge of her seat. She peeked up at him. His white cotton, brass-buttoned tunic jacket gleamed over a clean, ankle-length white apron which covered dark trousers. He gripped the now-empty tray tightly in both hands.

  “Miss, what are you doing in here?” he hissed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, are you?” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder.