Handfasted to You: Timeswept Soulmates (Timeless Brides Book 2)

by Ginny Sterling

  Emeline pulled off the bonnet that Eve had instructed her to tie onto her head and breathed a sigh of relief at the warm heat emanating from the fireplace. She had not been able to warm up since her stint in the ocean, and she particularly felt like that was Eve’s fault. Being close to death felt so cold. Frankly, if she was honest with herself, she had actually died. Now, she felt alive, but colder than she had ever been. It was darned chilly outside and the wind seemed to cut right through the abundant materials layered in her dress.

  As the young woman removed her hat covering her head, William caught his breath. She was stunning. Her dark brown hair fell around her head in waves that reached her shoulders, in a highly unusual fashion. Women typically wore their hair upwards in some sort of chignon to keep it neat, but she seemed to glow in the shaggy style that was accentuated by the lamplight. Her lips were full, almost overpowering her face but curved in such a fashion that made him wonder what she looked like when she smiled. Right now, she looked wary, almost scared and it bothered him. He found himself feeling very protective of her. Her dark eyes looked like bottomless caverns that he found himself wanting to fall inside of. Brown, they are brown, he confirmed, shaking his head. She was definitely eye-catching to look upon… and potentially his, if he chose. I wonder why she isn’t married yet? he mused.

  “What are you staring at, buddy?” Emeline asked pointedly. She could feel her cheeks get hot at the unwanted attention. The flush of warmth was almost welcoming. She swore she could have swallowed her tongue as the dark-haired man gave a knowing smile.

  “Well that answered my question,” he said suddenly, looking like he was ready to laugh.

  “You didn’t ask one,” she retorted.

  “Emeline, shut your pie hole before you run him off,” Eve suddenly interrupted, looking irritated at the interaction between the two. “Why does it always have to be a fight up front? This is the part of the introductions I simply will never understand! It’s never ‘meet and fall in love’. Nooooooo, it has to be whine and complain. What part did you not understand, Emeline? Look at him or touch him! Let’s get the boom-shaka-laka going now!”

  “Fight against what? Complain? You drow…” Emeline asked and was abruptly cut off. She jumped when there was a loud knock on the door moments before it opened of its own accord. It was like a really bad movie come to life. Large, angry men poured into the room wearing red woolen coats and white pants. Each powdered head was covered with a black tricorn hat and each set of arms carried a gun. The rank smell from their unwashed bodies drove out the warm smell of freshly shaved woodchips and beeswax polish. The scent was overwhelmingly sour and made her want to gag.

  “Whoa,” she whispered. Not sure which was worse: the stench of body odor from the group of soldiers or the threatening cloud that suddenly hung over them. She was aghast at being surrounded by so many large men in uniform with guns. They filled the large room with their number and it was quite intimidating.

  “Hush child, or you won’t have a chance this lifetime either to be paired up with your person,” Eve snapped.

  “You aren’t making jackshi-” she tried to whisper as Eve suddenly silenced her. Her jaws moved silently as she tried to talk.

  “My apologies, good sirs,” Eve said, dipping into a curtsey and dragging Emeline awkwardly down with her. Eve’s arm pinched hers mightily through the fabric. She would have sworn that the woman had pincers instead of fingers at how painful the twist was.

  What is going on?

  You need to shut your mouth before you get yourself killed and me shot. I won’t die but it will hurt all the same. But you? You will keel over again. I’m pretty sure that the drowning hurt, right? Just think how a musket blast at close range will feel.

  I’m shutting up now.

  Finally! Now, let the men speak and listen to me carefully. American Revolution, remember? These guys are the bad guys. Redcoats. They hate colonials, which means you are now included in that group. They want to smoosh any uprising against the king. So if they ask you, play dumb, well… play dumber than you are and finish your sentence with “God Bless King George” – got it? Eve said abruptly, inside Emeline’s head, giving a syrupy smile to what appeared to be the leader.

  “How may I help you this evening, Sir?” Emeline heard the handsome, dark-haired man ask easily. “My home is yours,” he said formally with a flat tone. He doesn’t mean it, she thought, surprised.

  “We heard that there were traitors afoot and heard the commotion outside,” a soldier with a massive powdered wig announced as he stepped forward. The man had a coldness to his expression that looked like he couldn’t care less if they lived or died. It was unnerving to be looked at like they had just all been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. As far as she knew, nothing was afoot unless she and Eve had interrupted something.

  Hush yourself and don’t say a word aloud, Eve cut in silently. Try not to look guilty, either! Your face looks like you are hiding something. Try to look meek, if you can.

  I don’t plan on getting myself “offed” again today, thank you. Once is enough for me! FYI? It hurt like the dickens! Emeline snapped silently.

  Good girl, you are watching your mouth. I like that you are a quick learner, Eve said happily. Remember, you can use butter beans, too. Dickens is nice, but it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

  You are weird.

  Unique.

  Weird, Emeline repeated bluntly.

  Tomato, tomato. Just because it’s strange doesn’t mean it’s wrong or weird. You should be a bit more flexible, little titmouse.

  “I was preparing to have a drink with my friend when my intended appeared at the doorway unexpectedly. I was pleasantly surprised to say the least,” she heard him say smoothly towards the captain.

  Intended? This guy? Emeline asked silently as she kept her head bowed down. Her legs were cramping painfully as they held their curtseys while the men made small talk. She didn’t want to move first and was following Eve’s motions.

  Yes. The carpenter’s dream, remember? He is your guy, Eve said happily inside Emeline’s head. She could practically hear the glee internally and had a mental picture flashing with fireworks.

  I thought you were making another boob joke.

  Well, I was but I was also serious, too. He is a well-known carpenter in Boston. His name is William Spencer.

  I thought we were following the other guy? Emeline asked confused, trying to get a better look at her intended from the corner of her eye.

  We were, but that was only to get us here.

  So, who’s he? He looks angry!

  Both of them are! William is just hiding it a bit better than he is. The other guy is Samuel Adams.

  Like the beer?

  No, like one of the revolutionary leaders… and yes, the beer. You aren’t an alcoholic, are you? Cause I sure didn’t pick that up when I read your mind.

  Wow. Mind reading, too? You are one busy freakazoid, you know that, Eve? Okay, big history lesson in the making. I got it. Emeline teased lightly. She was growing accustomed to them being able to chat silently between themselves. It was like having a big sister with you. Unfortunately, she was a deadly big sister with a homicidal mean streak combined with some freaky special effects.

  They are awesome to behold, too! Eve chimed in silently. Now, I will let you speak because the big, mean-looking soldier is fixing to ask you a few questions. Don’t screw this up, Titmouse. Remember? God Bless King George.

  “Mistress,” the largest soldier near Emeline suddenly addressed her. “Why are you out so late? Are this man’s words true?”

  “I was travelling to him,” Emeline said nervously. “God Bless King George!”

  “God Bless the king!” the Redcoats quickly chanted and Emeline saw that her words were not received too kindly by Samuel Adams and William Spencer. They looked at each other and repeated it carefully in the presence of the soldiers. She could see the barely veiled hostility in Samuel’s eyes directed to
wards her.

  “I was delivering my niece to her intended, Mr. Spencer. My horse went lame and we had to walk the rest of the distance. Our guide remained with the horse just outside of town,” Eve said smoothly, cutting off anything else that Emeline might have said.

  “We appreciate your compliance. Let us know if you see or hear anything in the area,” the large soldier said before bowing towards Emeline and Eve. They quickly filed out of the house into the darkness of the street.

  Emeline watched as William closed the door behind them and set the bar across the expanse of wood. Turning, he put his finger on his lips indicating that they should be quiet still. Walking towards Sam, he announced loudly. “Welcome! Come share a drink with us, friend. We were just about to toast the king. God save the king!” he said loudly and picked up two empty tankards on the table and clanked them together loudly. Emeline heard Sam quickly repeat, “God save the king,” and both she and Eve joined in.

  Emeline wasn’t stupid. They were faking it. It was all an attempt to try to discourage the soldiers from lingering around or investigating. She’d seen things like this on television repeatedly and knew that someone would be hanging around a lot longer if they were under suspicion.

  Greeeeeaaaaat.

  She saw Sam take a seat at the table and was surprised to see William come towards her, pulling forward a delicately-carved chair. Politely, he gave a quick bow and held out his hand, indicating that she should have a seat. That was a nice touch, she thought. Emeline hadn’t had a man pull out a seat for her in years and it caught her by surprise.

  Nodding silently, she sat in the chair expecting it to be a little rickety but was surprised at how sturdy the chair actually was. Several canes comprised the back and sides. Each cane had been carved with ivy and flowers. It was a work of art that should be in a museum but, instead, she was having the chance to sit in it brand spanking new!

  Taking a hint, she saw Eve was given another chair. Not as pretty, she thought suddenly and then silenced her thoughts as she saw Eve glance at her with a knowing grin. They all sat silently as William filled the four tankards with what looked to be beer or ale.

  Medieval Times, eat your heart out! Emeline thought quietly, as she was handed the large pewter mug. The frothy ale smelled bitter and she prayed it was palatable. Taking a sip, she almost cooed at how smooth the fermented brew was. While it smelled bitter, it was surprisingly light with barely any aftertaste. The hops smell made her recall a taproom back home that she had frequented for its amazing take-out pizza. No pizza would ever be found here, but the brew was nice and reminded her of home.

  Revolutionary War, remember? Does nothing stick with you, Titmouse? Eve admonished with a long, drawn out groan.

  Quit calling me that. And yes, it does stick. Sheesh! Medieval Times is a restaurant. Don’t you get out? Emeline quipped silently, a bit surprised that she hadn’t heard of the infamous place. Jousts, horses, swords, eating food with your fingers? It’s not ringing any bells?

  Not really. I stay pretty busy with my pet projects, Eve sent with a knowing smirk over the top of her mug. It’s like herding kittens, figuring out how to keep you on the straight and narrow.

  You should get out more, Emeline chastised. How else do you plan on talking to your “pet projects” if you can’t relate to us?

  I’m busy.

  Funny that you should say that. I have found that if you are too busy to relax, then you have a mental breakdown. End up taking a vacation that results in you getting killed by some psycho voodoo priestess. Anything sounding familiar?

  Now, that’s some funny stuff right there… voodoo priestess? Nah! Eve grinned. But I know one, want to meet her?

  No, Emeline denied. I’m good. So, what are you?

  Are we back to that?

  Kinda. I’m curious.

  You need to be curious about him, not me. I am leaving you shortly.

  WHAT? Emeline practically yelled mentally as she choked on her ale. Covering her mouth delicately, she coughed and caught her breath. What do you mean you are leaving? You can’t leave me here with this guy! I don’t even know him. For that matter, I don’t know anyone here at all!

  You don’t need me hanging around playing matchmaker. You need to get to know him and it will be easy. He is already interested in you.

  He is?

  You got the pretty chair, didn’t you? Eve said smugly, throwing her own words back at her. And lookie there, he is staring at you now.

  Emeline looked away from Eve and found William’s dark eyes watching her.

  He looks angry. Is he angry at me? You said you had paired me up with some fuddy-duddy fop. I was joking about the chair, by the way. He is too darned pretty to be a manly kinda guy.

  No, he’s not angry at you in the slightest. He is frustrated that he really can’t ask what he wants to right now because of Adams, myself and the Redcoats. He is a very private man and there is too much company in the room right now.

  “Think they are gone?” Samuel finally whispered, breaking the silence. He took a sip of his drink.

  “I’m not sure but we shall have to meet again soon. Not tonight, Sam,” William told him firmly with a direct look.

  “Another night then,” he agreed.

  It might as well be like we aren’t here, Emeline thought.

  Different time period. Plus, they don’t know if they can trust you. By the way, I may have fibbed a bit.

  What do you mean?

  I said that Samuel Adams approved of you. Meh, a little white lie, Eve admitted with a shrug. Emeline’s jaw dropped as she realized that she was not only being left here alone but in the middle of a blatant lie that she was bound to get caught in.

  I suggest you play it off as some other Samuel Adams. I’m sure he isn’t the only one. How many Samuels, Georges, Benjamins and other names are there now? It’s not like modern times where everything is spelled differently. They name children after heroes, family or biblical names.

  Gotcha, get to know this guy but lie to him. That sounds like a fantastic start to a marriage with a stranger! Gee, thanks!

  No, you misunderstood what I said. Get to know him, yes. I lied to him, not you.

  Gotcha. Eve, the paranormal liar and lady killer. That is one heck of a title, Ma’am, Emeline quipped sarcastically. She couldn’t decide if she should be upset that she was stuck knee-deep in a lie, relieved that she wasn’t dead or thankful that her intended (if she was stuck marrying him) was gorgeous to look at.

  Are you trying to piss me off? I should be mad, but that does have a nice ring to it though. I could get some business cards made and put that on there, Eve said with an approving smile.

  He is mighty purdy, Emeline. I picked a good one for you.

  Nope. Thought we were becoming friends and I could be myself, she said with a silent salute, holding her cup aloft as she stole a glance at William again. She found his gaze kept landing on her as he spoke quietly to the other man.

  If that is your personality, you might put a sock in it, Titmouse. You will get farther with honey than vinegar.

  Yes, Ma’am.

  That’s much better.

  They drank silently as they waited. Emeline could tell Samuel was ready to head out at the first opportunity and she wondered how Eve planned on making her exit. That would leave her alone with a man she didn’t know. That was freaking scary and she hoped that the bitter drink would alleviate some of her anxiety.

  She had no other viable options anymore. Her choices had been taken away. While she should be mad, she found herself increasingly optimistic about the entire situation. She had wanted a fresh start before, why not start now? What were arranged marriages like in 1770? Would she get to know the fellow before they married in a church or what? Could she get out of it if she needed to?

  Give it a week, Titmouse, and see what you think of him before you decide.

  What if we don’t suit? You said I have a purpose here. What happens if I decide that I don’t wanna
be purposeful and I want to go home? Is that even an option?

  If you return, it will be to the ocean. If you don’t play your part then history will be changed. The future will be changed.

  So, this is big?

  For you and Mr. Spencer? Absolutely.

  I’m a little nervous, she admitted trying to play down the hysteria she felt bubbling up inside of her. She was about to get abandoned. And now the future depended on her staying? Taking a big drink of the beer, she prayed that her nerves would let up quickly.

  You’re scared, little titmouse. Don’t be. He is a good man and perfect for you. I promise.

  You’ll understand if I have trust issues with the person who drowned me, right? Emeline watched as Eve began to choke suddenly as she muffled a laugh. Emeline patted Eve on the back, surprised she actually made contact and her hand didn’t disappear. How does it feel to have some fluid in your little mysterious lungs this time around?

  You’ve got a mouth on you, Titmouse. If he isn’t what you want, say the word and I will take you back. You’ve my word.

  Trust issues, remember? Take me back to the sharks? Emeline repeated with an upraised eyebrow that made Eve grin.

  You’ll have to trust me. Now, it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off, my girl! Eve retorted simply and stood. “Mr. Spencer, I appreciate the generous drink you have kindly shared, but I think it’s time for me to take my leave this evening.”

  “Milady, I’m not certain that the soldiers have left yet,” William said politely. He surged to his feet, as propriety dictated that he escort his guest to the door or stand when a woman stood. She was quick though, as Eve darted towards the door. She raised the crossbar like it was weightless and set it aside.

  “Samuel, prepare yourself to disembark. I’m counting on the soldier waiting nearby,” Eve said firmly as she swung open the heavy wooden door. Sure enough, a Redcoat soldier stood beside the door waiting. “My good man! Would you be a dear and walk me to the Green Dragon Tavern? I have rooms waiting for me nearby.”