The Golden Key Chronicles_A Time Travel Romance

by AJ Nuest

  Caedmon’s mouth parted. A groan rumbled in his chest.

  Her hair lifted and slipped over her shoulder. The warmth of his sigh washed her cheek.

  Shock nailed her place, and she stiffened as adrenaline tingled down into the soles of her feet. “I’m either having the best hallucination ever or I just felt your breath on my face.”

  He cocked a dark brow. “I fear ’twould send you scurrying from my presence to speak of what I feel at this moment.”

  Excitement did a full-on back flip through her stomach, and she grinned. So-o-o, yeah. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who was looking to explore whatever was happening between them in a more up-close-and-personal way.

  “Tits of the Nine Goddesses, boy.” Denmar cleared his throat. “You’re as doe-eyed as a newborn calf.”

  Lowering his hand, Caedmon slowly withdrew, but the wicked light didn’t fade from his eyes for a second.

  “Reason confounds me in the presence of one so exceptional.” He crossed to the windows and the large bowl sitting on top of a wooden dresser, lifted a silver pitcher and filled the level to about halfway. The stare he trailed from the base of her throat to her hips smoldered hot enough to singe her skin. “And not a man in this kingdom could blame me.”

  Scooping some water into his hands, he doused his face. Scooped a second time and rinsed off both shoulders. Water droplets trickled down his sculpted back as he slid a towel off the dresser. Tipping her head, Rowena followed the damp trails down to those delicious dimples low on his hips.

  The droplets soaked into the waistband of his leather pants, and all the moisture left her mouth for regions south.

  “’Tis the warding of the Council which begot this debacle.” Denmar balanced the tip of his sword between his feet and rested his hands on the pommel. “Insipid pompadoured fools. Daily, our enemy advances, and yet my best man remains imprisoned like a common thief, courting disaster. Female distractions undermine the most levelheaded of men, no matter how sweet the reward. If we fail in planning our defense, the Council will have no one to blame but themselves.”

  Hold on. Daily their enemy advanced? She frowned and glanced from Caedmon to Denmar and back again.

  “Guard your tongue.” Caedmon darted a sharp warning at his friend and slung the towel over his shoulder. “Apologies, my lady. Master Emsworth speaks out of turn.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. Crossing her arms, she sized up the anger riding the hard line of Denmar’s scarred jaw. In fact, if she had to guess, his turn to speak had probably come and gone two nights ago.

  The moment Caedmon had taken on the title of Rescinder, he’d told her this was coming. He’d stared her straight her face and said his country was on the brink of war. And yet, she’d gotten so caught up in him. In the mirror, his stories…hell, in trying to protect her wounded pride, she’d totally spaced he probably had a lot more important things to do than sit around, answering her stupid questions.

  “Well, I’m a big, fat jerk.” She tossed her hand in the air and it hit the bed with a lifeless thump. Whether this whole thing was real or purely some sort of elaborate hoax, they were flirting with a line that made her uncomfortable. As of last night, she and Caedmon had agreed to trust each other. And, quite frankly, if the joke was on her, then that was his problem. She was happy to be a fool for him any day of the week. “You guys must have a million things to do. You should go. Take care of your responsibilities.”

  His eyes softened at the corners and, geez. The way he studied her, it was like finding out he had every right to do his job was a miracle to rival the second coming. “I would not forsake you in such a way, my lady. My duty lies here. With you.”

  Denmar grunted and, yep. Rowena was fully on board with his reaction. Caedmon’s “duty” would be better served elsewhere but, instead, he was more worried about hurting her feelings.

  “Oh, good grief. Stop being so dramatic. You’re not forsaking anyone if we both agree you should go.” By no stretch of the imagination did she want to live up to her namesake. Let everyone think she was some evil seductress who used people for her own personal gain. “This defense planning. Is it really critical you weigh in?”

  His shoulders deflated, and he winced as if coming up with the right answer made his head pound. Prime example of how the guy had zero poker face when it came to side-stepping the truth. “Denmar assures me, my presence during the strategizing will be sorely missed.”

  “That is put lightly.” The captain spoke from the side of his mouth.

  “So, what’s the hold up?” She shrugged. “I have to head into work, anyway. Saturday’s our busiest day at the shop.”

  Turning to face her, Caedmon narrowed his gaze. “You would willingly present me leave?”

  “Um, you’re trying to defend your country. That’s a fairly high priority in my book.” Snagging her robe off the end of the bed, she shoved her arms into the sleeves. “Besides, if helping your fellow soldiers is important to you, then it’s important to me.”

  “But, our time is short. And the Council forbids either of us depart during the Gleaning.”

  Pffth. Based on what she’d seen so far, those guys didn’t have the first clue what they were doing. Who cared if their pantaloons got wedged in a knot? “Hate to break it to ya, but the Council can shove their objections up their tight, puckered asses.”

  The captain tossed his head back and laughter roared from his barreled chest.

  Sliding her hairbrush off the nightstand, Rowena chuckled along with him.

  Caedmon eyed them critically before crossing his arms. “And how do you propose I slip past the guard?”

  “Please. I thought your friend here was the Captain of the Guard.” Fluttering her lashes, she blithely flipped her brush in Denmar’s direction. “Get Denmar to run some interference. Then all you have to do is put on that horrible get-up from yesterday and I’m sure you’ll have no problem sneaking out.”

  Denmar strode across the room and clapped his hand on Caedmon’s shoulder. “I like this lass, Caedmon. I like her a lot. She’s got a diabolical mind.” He tapped his thick finger against his temple. “Much sought after in the art of war.”

  Or navigating the shallow end of the 21st Century dating pool. She sputtered and ran the bristles through her hair.

  A few yanks to work out the tangles, and she shoved to her feet, tossing her brush onto the blankets. “I’m off to hit the shower. Should we meet back here in, say, half an hour? To sort of…I don’t know…check in before we say goodbye?”

  A smirk slanted Caedmon’s full lips. His pupils dilated to devour and I’m never gonna get enough. “You surprise me at every turn, my lady. A rarity such as you should be treasured above all others. But, I’m curious. How do you recommend I remain otherwise diverted while you dress?”

  Arousal hit her so hard and fast, she got all wobbly around the knees. While she was more than ready to discuss where all this flirting was headed, she wasn’t about to let Denmar witness her first attempt at a striptease.

  Snatching a pillow off the bed, she propped it in front of the mirror. Caedmon’s protests became muffled as she patted the edges in place. “No peeking until I get back.”

  Chapter Six

  “Where are you today?”

  Jerking out of her daydreams, Rowena glanced over her shoulder at the frown lines creasing Oliver’s previously Botoxed brow.

  Great. She was never gonna hear the end of how she’d made him age five years in one afternoon. “Obviously, not here.”

  During her walk into work, she’d expected the usual hub-bub at the shop. Weekend browsers a few interior designers. Maybe a visit from one or two of those couples who belonged on Flip or Flop.

  But she’d never anticipated this steady stream of activity which seemed to go on without end.

  Overnight, her voice mail had received messages from all over the globe. The British Museum, the Tate, the Smithsonian, Christie’s, Sotheby’s, even some archbishop from the
Vatican was on her callback list.

  Somewhere along the line, Violet’s research had apparently sprung a leak. Word of the key had officially hit the streets, and yet the only thing Rowena wanted was to head back to the safety of her condo. To spend the day with Caedmon so she could learn everything about him and find out what made him tick.

  The moment the Channel Seven news team had pulled up out front, she’d thrown her hands in the air and retreated to the sanctuary of her studio.

  “The insurance underwriter just called.” Oliver tossed a sticky note onto her already overcrowded desk. “And we just received our first offer from some snooty Earl in England. He’s offering five hundred thousand if you personally deliver the key.”

  “Hmmm.” Searching the murky sky through the window, she twirled the chain at her neck. Until she talked more with Caedmon, she didn’t want to decide anything. The mirror, the key, the fate of his country were all somehow connected, and unless she was one hundred percent certain how her actions would affect him, making a move without his say-so was plain dumb.

  “Hmmm?” Oliver propped his fists on his hips. “That’s all you’ve got to say is ‘hmmm’?”

  “Tell them I’m not interested.”

  He lifted his arms to the sides. “Which one?”

  “All of them.”

  Three long strides, and he flopped his lanky frame onto the couch. “Okay, talk. The Rowena I know is a savvy business woman. She would’ve jumped at this chance for notoriety. She would’ve carefully weighed out all her options and then sold that key for a boatload of cash.”

  “I am carefully weighing out all my options, Ollie.”

  Silence stretched, and she finally turned from the window to search his face.

  “Oh…my…God.” He smacked the heel of his palm to forehead. “Please tell me this hesitation has nothing to do with your handsome prince.”

  Oh, how she wished she could say just that. And yet, as her best friend and self-appointed big brother, Ollie had every right to voice his concerns. Just as much as she was obligated to give him an honest answer.

  She stopped toying with the chain and joined him on the couch, sitting with her knee bent on the seat so she faced him. “A lot has changed in the past couple of days, Ollie.”

  He studied her eyes for two beats before tossing his head in disgust. “Ugh. You’ve fallen in love with him.”

  “No.” Rowena quickly fingered a crease in her jeans. “Not love.”

  Not yet, anyway. Though she couldn’t deny it was growing harder and harder to ignore the sinking in her stomach whenever she imagined saying goodbye to Caedmon. The thought she might never see him again made her chest ache. Or like no matter what she did, she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Crossing his arms, Ollie cocked a brow. “So, you’ve already taken the test?”

  “What test?”

  He sighed. “How many times in the past twenty-four hours have you thought about your Prince Charming?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about him.”

  “Uh-huh. And how many times have you thought about yourself?”

  She shrugged. “None, why?”

  “Well, that proves it. The person we spend most of our time thinking about is the one we truly love.” He adjusted his Windsor knot, clearing his throat. “Which explains why I only think of myself.”

  She tried to hold back a chuckle and failed. “Okay, fine. I’m infatuated maybe, but not in love. A person doesn’t fall in love in one day, right? Right, Ollie?”

  Compassion filled his sky-blue eyes, and he reached up to cradle her cheek in his palm. “You know I think of you as family, doll, but you’re kidding yourself. Depending on the circumstances, one day is more than enough time to fall in love.”

  His hand fell to her leg and he squeezed her fingers, and she braced for him to repeat the same tired lines she’d been telling herself all along. “You’ve got a good heart, doll. Better than anyone I’ve ever met. But there are also times you’re incredibly naïve. After all these years, I hate the thought of you setting yourself up for another broken heart. I worry this Caedmon character is messing with your head and you’ve bought into his scam hook, line and sinker.”

  Caedmon’s face flashed before her eyes, and she shook her head, struggling to reconcile the man she believed him to be with Oliver’s completely rational warning. “There’s just something about this whole mirror business I can’t explain, Ollie. It’s so lifelike. So unbelievably real.”

  “Sounds to me like that’s your wishful thinking talking. It seems real because you want it to be real. But in the end, a lie is still a lie.” He patted the back of her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with having some fun. And, God knows, no one deserves a little sexual diversion more than you. But you also need to protect yourself, sweetie. You need to set your heart aside and consider what’s best with a level head.”

  Violet shoved the velvet curtain aside. “I really could use some help out here.” She jerked her head toward the showroom. “And that dude from Channel Seven is asking for an exclusive.”

  “Okay.” Rowena nodded and pushed up from the couch. Time to face the music. Whether she liked it or not. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

  “Oh, no you won’t. You’ll tell him we need fifteen minutes.” Oliver wagged his finger and stood. “If you’re going live, I insist on doing something about your hair.”

  * * * * *

  Following her nightmare of a press conference, Rowena stole through the back door of her studio, leaving Oliver and Violet to deal with the last of the questions before closing up shop. A quick detour at the corner deli for a fortifying bottle of Merlot, and she navigated the rain-soaked streets of Chicago back to her condo.

  Head spinning. The weight of her next move squatting on her chest heavier than the gray clouds scudding across the sky.

  For the time being, she’d done her best to keep everyone hanging, stating no decision would be forthcoming until every offer for the key had been carefully reviewed.

  But in her heart, she still had no idea what to do. Of the short list of folks she truly trusted, Oliver was the one person who took the top spot. He’d never once steered her wrong. She’d be dumb not to listen to his advice. And at the same time, she couldn’t help the needling suspicion she was missing something. A critical piece of the puzzle she hadn’t yet put into place.

  Caedmon’s smile swam into focus. The way he looked at her like no one else. The sadness in his eyes when she’d talked about her mother and the intense connection she experienced whenever she met his hand on the glass.

  In those few fleeting moments, the distance between them disappeared. The years separating their worlds melted away. And the conviction in his voice told her he would never betray her, even at the risk of causing himself harm.

  How could she not believe him when every fiber of her being screamed he was telling her the truth?

  Filling her lungs, she shrugged her purse back onto her shoulder and expelled a frustrated breath. One thing was for sure. He’d seemed just as shocked to discover his armoire was sitting in her bedroom. Her same surprise had crossed his face when she’d told him she’d found the key hidden inside the small compartment above the top-left—

  She stumbled to a stop. Snapped her head up to find the concrete stoop leading to her building in the middle of the block.

  If today’s media coverage proved anything, pretty much everyone in the world knew she had the key. People had shown up in droves hoping to get in touch with her. A quick internet search for her business listing, and they’d been lined up down the street.

  She located the row of windows to her second-story condo. Inside her bedroom, soft, yellow light flickered against the ceiling.

  If Caedmon had the kind of resources it took to create an authentic portrayal of another time and place, why hadn’t he done the same thing? Why hadn’t he just hopped a flight to the States so he could meet her in person and, just like
everyone else, toss his bid into the ring?

  Her pulse spiked, and she slapped her palm to her chest. The ground pitched and she doubled over as the sidewalk see-sawed under her feet.

  He couldn’t, that was why. He was stuck, he was stuck. On his side of the mirror. In his time. Just like she was stuck in hers.

  Dear God, he’d been telling her the truth. This entire time, he was exactly who he said he was. Caedmon was her prince. Her prince who’d been trying to convince her that magic was real. It was real and existed and somehow, someway, it was trying to open a doorway between them.

  “Whoo hoo!” Tossing her fists in the air, she raced down the street. Yes, yes, yes! This was the proof she needed. The missing piece she’d been searching for since the beginning.

  Clasping the wide cement railing, she pounded up the steps, yanked on the handle and circled the stairwell two risers at a time to her floor. A laugh warmed her throat as she tossed her coat to the couch and hurried down the hall toward her bedroom. Only a few more seconds, and they would be together. She could listen to the story of his day.

  Hopefully, their plan had gone off without a hitch. God, she couldn’t wait to find out.

  Flicking on the bedroom light, she strode to where she’d returned the mirror to the armoire, just in case Ollie decided to check out it for himself and got a bunch of screwy ideas about finding it on her bed.

  She swung the door wide and—

  Froze.

  Something was wrong.

  Stepping forward, she squinted at the dim movements on the other side of the glass. But the angle was off. Like the mirror had been moved to an adjacent wall. And the scene was so murky it was almost as if someone had draped a sheer black curtain over the frame.

  She leaned in for a better view and her stomach seized. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she choked and then gagged.

  Caedmon. With a woman. Her bare backside balanced on the end of his bed.

  Naked legs wrapped around his waist. Leather pants riding low on his thighs. His ass clenched and the thrust of his hips driving into her harder and faster with each pump.