Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy)

by Grace Brannigan

  Erik stared out over the horses in the fields. His and Iliana's horses had settled right in, although the destrier had his own section of fields apart from the mares. "You have made a wonderful life for you and Elise -- and the twins," he added.

  "As you shall," Darien murmured. "Have you talked to Jock?"

  "Yes, and the men have voted unanimously to stay in this time. Iliana has helped them file the proper paperwork to conduct excursions aboard the Merry Maiden. Sailing the Hudson is becoming quite a popular tourist attraction."

  "Wait until the next tall ship race. I imagine the men will clean up the prize money." They both laughed.

  Erik grew thoughtful. "Iliana and I have been talking of many things of late. We appreciate the hospitality you and Elise have shown, but it is time we thought of building our own home."

  "I will help you however I can, but you do realize building costs are not the same as back in our time. And you have only been here two months," Darien added. "I suppose all your wealth is back in time?"

  Erik grinned at him.

  Darien raised a brow. "Erik?"

  "When you left, I sold all our holdings, everything, including the acreage and house. I put everything of value into gold bars. Then, all the treasures I pulled from the sea, I turned all that into gold bars also." He laughed. "What is the value of gold these days?"

  Darien stared at his brother as if he'd gone mad. "Right now it is the highest it's been in thirty-five years. And how do you propose to gain access to your gold bars?" he demanded.

  "I will dig them up."

  "You realize of course depending upon where they are buried, it might be unobtainable. There is an abundance of state land hereabouts and you cannot dig on state land."

  "So I have heard. But do you recall the old crypt?"

  "It was caved in when we lived there -- on the steep hillside behind the property?"

  Erik nodded and Darien began to laugh.

  "I suppose it must be owned by others by now," Erik said, "but we can sneak in at night and smuggle it out. It will be just like old times."

  "No doubt the owner will shoot you."

  Erik sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. "It will not be the first time I have been shot at, as well you know."

  "Ah yes," Darien said with fond remembrance, "there were many dangerous adventures when we rode as the Hellhound."

  Erik grinned.

  "However, times have changed and there will be no shooting." Darien put his feet up on a wooden stool and leaned back. "Elise made me promise to never again do anything that I'd get shot at."

  "Then I shall take care of it on my own," Erik said. "Luckily, Iliana doesn't know about the Hellhound."

  Darien clapped his brother on the shoulder. "No worries, brother. Elise and I bought the old homestead property at tax auction just recently."

  Erik knocked his brother over, sending him sprawling to the ground. "That's for stringing me along. Let's go dig it up," he said.

  Darien started laughing. "Why the rush? You've waited two months to even think about it."

  Erik rose to his feet with a grin. "I've been occupied. But now seems like a good time."

  "Wait -- I'll come with you." Darien grabbed his brother's arm.

  "Erik." Iliana stood in the doorway of the house, then stepped outside onto the deck. William rushed out ahead of her and fell to his knees on the deck. He looked up at them and laughed, then using his mother's leg, pulled himself to his feet.

  Iliana, dressed in modern dress, her dark hair about her shoulders, took his breath away. "Are you off somewhere?" she asked.

  Erik came to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Dare and I are off to dig up buried treasure."

  Her eyes began to gleam with excitement. "Buried treasure sounds like fun. I'm coming along."

  Elise came out of the house and stood on the deck. She looked at the two brothers suspiciously. Due any day to have the twins, she nevertheless still looked fresh and bright.

  "Darien, what buried treasure?" Elise asked. "This isn't anything to do with the Hellhound, is it?"

  "No. It seems my brother buried his treasure --"

  "Ours," said Erik.

  "-- on the old property. We're going to dig it up presently."

  "Who is the Hellhound?" Iliana asked, bemused.

  Elise turned to her, a mischievous smile about her mouth. "Come and sit, Lily, and I'll tell you all about the Hellhound."

  The End

  Thank you for purchasing Treasure So Rare. Stop by my page for other titles. http://www.GraceBrannigan.com

  Preview Other Titles

  Deception

  Romantic Short by Grace Brannigan

  Chapter One

  Katharine Garner pulled the door open slowly and looked up and down the hallway, her mind shaken by doubt and fear.

  She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the moisture from her eyes. The hall appeared empty. Closing the door carefully behind her, she gripped the doorknob as the floor moved. No, not the floor. Dizzy.

  Katharine heard footsteps. She turned clumsily, the length of her silk and lace dress tangling around her legs.

  “Katharine!” Someone cried out.

  Katharine flattened herself against the wall, lifting a hand to guard her face.

  “Dear God, Katharine.”

  Katharine dropped her hand. She squinted her eyes. “Sacha?” She croaked.

  “He hit you...” Her new friend Sacha put an arm around her and Katharine suddenly felt safe. “I’ll get your things,” Sacha said urgently.

  “No, wait,” Katharine managed. She lifted her hands and pulled hard on the diamond solitaire encircling her finger. The ring came free. Katharine gripped the small circlet in her palm until the stone cut into her flesh.

  She opened her hand and let the ring slide off her palm. The ring made a small, hollow sound as it hit the old wood floor, then it fell between the slats and disappeared. “I’ve made a terrible mistake, Sacha,” Katharine said thickly. “Please get me out of here.”

  Without any questions, Sacha turned her around.

  Katharine leaned on Sacha, her body shaking. She felt frail. She had never felt this way in her life. She was only twenty-one.

  #

  Trey Montgomery paused on the gallery's top step, eyes narrowed upon the elegant gold lettering on the glass doors. He sighed, noting the sizeable crowd inside. Apparently Sacha Fortune, nee Katharine Garner, was in the midst of a highly successful art showing.

  He jerked at the worn collar of his denim jacket and ducked under the gallery's awning, barely registering the late spring rain as it trickled down his neck. Opening the ornate door, he walked into a marble foyer with gleaming crystal and brass lights.

  Trey removed his Stetson, noting the rain droplets which fell onto the polished floor.

  He made note of the artwork displayed on the walls, made even more dramatic by the cleverly placed lighting. He found her work breathtaking, the abstract backgrounds vividly blending colors in sharp contrast to the black trees or nature scenes in the foreground. There were about twenty murals in all, and in fascination he took time to study each one in detail. The scenes depicted were of isolation and yet raw beauty.

  He searched the crowd for her. At the end of a sea of formal black and evening attire, he found her. She stood speaking with several women in a circle, arms crossed, and it struck him as an aloof pose. In the last eight years she’d never bothered to step a dainty foot on Garner property but it was time for Katharine to stop running. Time for her to come home. Her grandfather was ill and needed her.

  She turned her head, slowly, her gleaming dark hair swinging past her cheek. Her fine arched brows were drawn together as her gaze met his, and she was as beautiful as the pictures he’d seen of her. Something hot and volatile flared in that glance, but almost immediately it was shuttered and suppressed. Wariness settled on her pale features before she turned back to her companions.

  Trey thought of the many
times Samuel had needed his granddaughter in the last months, the old man's near brushes with death. But Katharine had virtually disappeared one night eight years before. But gone was the blonde-haired cowgirl, and in her place was a sleek, dark haired woman who'd clearly come into her own power.

  From what Trey had gleaned, that young Katharine had had everything handed to her. Samuel had doted on her, but then, with her marriage barely a month old, she’d run from the mess she’d made of her life. From that point on Samuel had been on a slow downward spiral from which he would probably never recover.

  With clinical detachment Trey studied the wide eyes, heart-shaped face, the expensive fitted suit, long trim legs and spiked heels. Gone were the wavy blonde curls he’d seen in the dated picture Samuel had on his desk. Her dark hair with its rich auburn highlights had been tamed to form a cap around her head, curling slightly on her shoulders. He wondered if life had chased away the devil in eyes green and sometimes hazel. From this angle her face looked a lot slimmer than the picture he'd seen, as if she'd known some lean years.

  Katharine had turned her back on everything that was hers. In sharp contrast, Trey couldn't imagine abandoning anything that was his, and The Rambler Farm was his. He had worked his entire adult life towards making something of himself. He wouldn’t allow Katharine Garner to take what he’d earned and that's part of what this was about.

  Trey squared his shoulders. It was time to introduce himself to Katharine, Samuel Garner's heir.

  Once Upon a Remembrance Time travel

  Chapter One

  Hawks Den, Virginia

  In the half light before dawn, Pierce Morgan drove toward Hawk’s Den. He had driven all night to get here, hardly understanding the urgency that gripped him. Pierce stopped his truck and stared at the once majestic plantation house Hawk’s Den. Forlornly, the old home he grew up in sat before him, paint faded and worn. The house was shuttered and still as light began to break, the wrap-around veranda partially concealed by a tangle of brilliant-hued azaleas.

  He strode across the stone-lined path to the house, taking the shallow porch steps three at a time. The ornate entry door lay at a drunken angle and he shoved it aside as if it weighed little. Stepping inside, he paused as the stench of stale air bore down upon him.

  Arrows of light peered through the closed shutters, but Pierce knew where to find the staircase to the second floor. Quickly, he climbed the stairs, his flashlight beam bouncing across the walls.

  On the second floor numerous doors lined a wide, oak-beamed hallway. He walked to the last doorway and entered the chamber. Water-stained wainscoting and pieces of tin ceiling littered the floor. Furniture had been stacked willy-nilly in a corner, once prized oak and cherry pieces, now likewise stained by weather and neglect.

  Shoved against the far wall was an enormous oak bed. Pierce walked through strewn feather ticking, then knelt beside a small bedside table. His fingertips tingled as he turned the table upside down. Immediately, he saw the book lodged in the drawer track. Feeling almost lightheaded, he pried it loose and slowly sank down against the wall.

  The book’s leather cover was frayed and worn, held together by a gold mesh strap and clasp. Pierce undid the clasp and very carefully opened the journal.

  He flipped the pages to the first handwritten entry, the tightness in his chest almost unbearable. 1878, April 2, I fear I shall never live to see land again . . ..

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. The journal confirmed that three months lost had not been a wild dream. He had loved a woman back in time, 1894, and somehow he had to find her again.

  Isabeau.

  Hawks Den Plantation, Five Years Later

  Isabeau Remington stared in awe at the tall oak trees lining either side of the narrow dirt road to Hawk’s Den, as she drove under their extended branches. The dark skies had followed her all the way from New York, the heavens erupting from time to time with thunder and incredible flashes of lightning.

  She shifted restlessly in her small compact car, her legs feeling cramped after the long drive. The serpentine drive took one last curve and finally a house came into view just as raindrops began to fall. Her friend and boss Leif Ericsson’s van pulled up beside her as she parked. Fascinated, she stared at the beautiful two-story house. She had read about some of the restored plantations near the James River, but she had never imagined the reality would be so breathtaking. The house had been painted a soft gray and the wrap-around verandah made her think of lazy summer nights spent drinking tea and eating pecan pie, the scent of azaleas a delicious extra to any evening. Even from inside her car, Isabeau swore she could smell their scent.

  A tap at her window made her jump. Leif’s blue eyes peered in at her. Rain was already starting to drip through his long blond hair and onto his grey T-shirt. Quickly, she let the window down a crack and immediately the rain spattered inside.

  "I’m going in," he said. "Hurry up."

  "I'm coming. The house is just gorgeous, isn’t it?"

  Isabeau closed the window and exited her car, quickly opening the hatchback to retrieve her pull along case. She hurried across the stone walk to the house. The rain pelted them in earnest. She had a brief glimpse of wisteria climbing along one side of the house, further adding to the old-world charm. White painted balconies on the second floor graced tall, multi-paned windows with indigo blue shutters fastened on either side.

  Flower gardens ran alongside the house, sculpted hedges and rows of tulips now bowing under the pressure of the rain. Time seemed suspended here, giving rise to a fanciful notion she’d stepped into an earlier time.

  She felt almost breathless with anticipation. The house seemed at once unknown and yet somehow, dearly familiar -- how intriguing!

  Leif lifted the polished brass knocker on the massive, ornately carved door, the sound echoing as they huddled together under the small overhang. He shivered in his lightweight T-shirt, pulling her a bit closer as he tried to shelter her from the rain.

  The door opened almost immediately. A woman, somewhere in her sixties, greeted them with a pleasant smile and urged them in with a sweep of her arm. Wearing a knee-length pale linen dress, her greying blonde hair was short and fashionably styled. Isabeau noticed her eyes, so dark they appeared almost black.

  "Hello," Leif said, "you must be Mrs. Cummins. Leif Ericsson. We spoke on the phone last week. This is my assistant Isabeau Remington."

  The woman nodded and smiled, quickly closing the door behind them. "Yes, hello Mr. Ericsson -- Ms. Remington. How lovely to meet both of you. My, what a miserable day you’ve arrived on." Mrs. Cummins stepped back further as they entered the cool, marble-floored foyer. "My husband John will see to your bags so please leave them here in the hall."

  Isabeau shook the damp hair out of her face and positioned her case behind her. "Thank you."

  Together, they moved into the entryway. Isabeau looked around the hallway's high decorative ceilings and deeply embossed wallpaper. A beautifully refinished grandfather clock chimed out the hour three times. "The house is beautiful. The restoration must have taken some time."

  "Almost three years, Miss and it’s nearly the same as it was a century ago. Pierce is very proud of it. He did most of it himself."

  "We appreciate him allowing us to photograph the house and grounds," Leif said. "I know it's a wonderful honor that he's chosen our company."

  "Yes, and we’re anxious to meet him," Isabeau said. "The renovation of this house has fascinated both of us," she added. "I saw the before pictures."

  Mrs. Cummins closed the door and turned toward them with a smile. "Yes, this is the first time he’s allowed anyone to photograph it. Now if you’ll come with me, I can show you to your rooms." From the large entryway with its decoratively carved and fixed columns, Mrs. Cummins led the way up a curved staircase with a gleaming wood rail to the second floor and down a wide, carpeted hallway. "Mr. Pierce said you were to have free rein of the house while you’re here."

  Although Isabeau kne
w she included both of them in the invitation, the older woman's gaze rested on her.

  "Great." Leif looked well-satisfied. "When he sees the article we’re doing on him, he won’t be sorry."

  Isabeau again experienced a surprising familiarity with her surroundings. "Déjà vu."

  Mrs. Cummins gave her a curious glance.

  "Don’t mind me," Isabeau said, "I’m feeling a bit silly and tired from the drive. We appreciate the extra work involved in having guests, so we’ll be as unobtrusive as possible."

  Mrs. Cummins laughed softly, kindly. "No trouble at all. We always have rooms ready for guests. Pierce enjoys entertaining," she added, pushing open a tall wooden door to their right. "And he set aside some wonderful historic memorabilia for you to reference and work with if you choose. They're in the library in the roll top desk."

  "Really?" Leif inquired. "I’m intrigued."

  "Yes, he's put out some family albums and historical papers in the library for you also to peruse at your leisure. I expect you'll also find the old shipping records and there are various shipping paraphernalia stored in the sheds out back. I expect him back sometime tonight or tomorrow."

  Mrs. Cummins stood back from the doorway. "Isabeau, Pierce said this was to be your room."

  Isabeau stepped into the room, her feet sinking into the plush pale grey carpet. Her gaze roamed curiously over rich wood floors, antique furnishings and the bedroom’s subtle blending of blue, rose and vintage white. Lightly varnished wainscoting ran halfway up the walls, and a faint swirling pattern of cream-colored flowers ran rampant on the walls to the ceiling. "It takes my breath away -- it’s very beautiful."

  And familiar, but she didn’t say that. They were going to think she was off her rocker if she told them everything looked like memories from an old dream. She was even starting to creep herself out a bit.

  The bed was huge, old, upraised on a matching oak dais, a centerpiece for the entire room.

  "If you’d like to get out of those damp clothes and take a hot bath, the bathroom with small dressing room is through that door." Mrs. Cummins indicated a second door. "There is a warming rack and a thermostat control on the wall and you will find towels, soaps and toiletries in the closet. Pierce had a nice selection of vegan soaps brought in, specifically lemongrass and lavender."