Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance (8 page)

Devlin was in mid sip so it went straight down the wrong side of his throat. He coughed, spewing a good deal of his drink on the carpet again. Turning his watering eyes towards Sebastian, he tried to catch his breath.

Sebastian didn’t mind the spill that time. He patted him on his back until his coughing fit subsided.

Devlin pulled out his handkerchief and began wiping his face, “You have got to be kidding me? I am telling you, de Winter, I had no idea you had such a sick sense of humor.”

“I am absolutely serious. She is, this very minute, upstairs… resting.” He took another sip of his drink. “Well, perhaps, resting upstairs is not the right turn of phrase.”

Renquist looked at him in disbelief. All color drained from his face.

Sebastian smirked at him. It served him right. He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. Sebastian continued, barely audible, “Unconscious is better.” He turned from the window and took a deep breath. “Yes, Renquist, she is abed, upstairs, completely and totally unconscious.” He walked over and took his drink off the mantel, then sat heavily down in one of the winged chairs flanking the fire. Crossing his legs, he took a large gulp of his drink, and closed his eyes.

Renquist followed his lead and sat just as heavily down in the neighboring chair. “Bloody hell.”

Sebastian lifted his glass in a silent salute and bade him a “Bloody hell,” as well.

<>*LB*<>

Much later that night, at Hawthorne Estate

“That bitch!” Judith Alexandra Beauchamp screeched out. She absently rubbed her forehead, as if it caused her great pain to utter the next question. “Will she never die?” she groaned while pacing the study of Hawthorne Manor, her dark blue, silk skirt, swirling around her ankles.

“Calm down, love,” Renquist said, trying to soothe Judith’s temper. Casually sipping his brandy, he watched her display of outrage while admiring her petite frame and delicate features, silently hoping her small, but well proportioned, breasts would soon escape their confines.

People on a whole were so gullible; they believed what they wanted to see, and although he and Judith shared slight similarities in their coloring, he would not have bought for a moment they were brother and sister. Isabelle, his newly acquired bride, was one of those people. Lucky for him, mayhap, not too lucky for her.

Judith stopped pacing and stared at the elegant blonde man in front of her. He was tall in stature, but on the thin side. He leaned against the mantel in a nonchalant pose, staring at her with the most penetrating black eyes.

“In all likelihood, she will not even remember what happened. You did say her back was turned. We can always spin the story to our satisfaction and say the bump on her head caused her to think things happened, which really did not.”

“I certainly hope for both our sakes that is the case, Devlin. If not, let me remind you; should she indeed remember, we will be ruined. Ruined, Devlin! Do you understand?” Judith nearly screamed out the last.

Devlin cringed. He did not take kindly to anyone yelling at him, or in his direction, for that matter. Clutching his drink a little too tightly, his ire rose. “Well, sweet, if you recall, you are the one that fouled up the attempt in the first place.”

“How was I to know she would survive? I hit her as hard as I could! There was blood pouring out of her head. At least, I think that was blood; who knows? With all that hair she always wore pulled up into some concoction her maid created.” Judith rubbed her arms for effect. “My arms still hurts just thinking how hard I hit her. It jarred me terribly.” Judith delicately shuddered as if the memory still caused her great pain. “If Magdalene de Winter’s blasted housekeeper hadn’t been yelling for her, I would have stayed to make sure my strike was true. But someone had to go in her stead, or else that meddlesome housekeeper, who I might add, oversteps her boundaries quite often, would have come into the gallery. Of course, she would have assumed the worst.”

Renquist started to chuckle; he could not help himself. “Love, as far as the housekeeper assuming the worst, let’s be honest, she certainly would have been correct in her assumption. You are the culprit in this; you did do the dastardly deed, remember?”

“Because you wouldn’t, Devlin; and if you will recall, I told you to take her riding and dump her in that ravine de Winter’s father fell into. In addition, I might add, if you could control your most basic urges, she would not have seen us together. Of course, it was her own fault, if she were not so blasted nosey, none of this would have occurred in the first place.”

“That is neither here nor there. I say, you should be thanking me, not scolding me. At least, give me credit for my acting abilities. Do you not realize how difficult it was for me to feign concern? Not to mention having to listen to de Winter persecute himself for her disappearance? I say, I should be given a lead role on Drury Lane after the performance I gave.” Turning, he inspected his reflection in the mirror behind him. Satisfied, he continued, “I must admit to being a bit unsettled with her mysterious return, and getting a blow to her head… it does sound a bit too tidy.”

Devlin paused. He crossed his arms across his chest, tapping his chin, contemplating… there was always the legend to consider. Stories were told, rumors were spread… Ravenhurst was an ominous place, to be sure.

What happened to all of those ill-gotten treasures? What blackened the noble knight’s heart? What really happened to the poor woman? Was it the house itself? Or some other dark force at play?

Bits and pieces of the legend were swirling about for years and years. Everyone told a slightly different version… some added… some took away parts. No one ever knew the truth of the legend itself; but it surrounded the ancient edifice, just like the heavy curtain of fog that never seem to fade.

Over the years, the legend took on a life of its own… like a living, breathing thing. The only time Devlin ever heard mention of the legend was in harried tones, whispered in dark taverns, or the dim corners of crowded ballrooms. They were always hushed as though someone or something was listening.

He forced his attention back to Judith, trying to shake the sudden unease that spread over him. “I do wonder where she has been all this time. I say, it is a good thing I do not give credence to magic or mystical rubbish, or else I believe we would both be in for a day of reckoning.” Despite telling Judith and reassuring himself, it did not stop him from shivering slightly.

“That is certainly something to think on at a later date. But since we have no answers in the foreseeable future, may I suggest we find something else to occupy our time?” Judith purred. She pulled down most of her bodice to expose herself to Devlin as she made her way across the room. As she leaned into him, she ran her hand down the length of his chest, to the place she so liked to frequent of late.

Devlin knew Judith was keeping something from him. He could always tell. Nevertheless, he would bide his time, and eventually, find out what she was hiding from him. In the meantime, he planned to take full advantage of the delectable treat she was offering so freely. She did so aim to please when she had secrets to keep. He smiled and took Judith’s hand, placing it through his arm. “Since my dear wife will be indisposed for an undetermined amount of time, may I suggest we continue this particular conversation upstairs?”

Judith smiled and leaned into him.

Arm in arm, they climbed the stairs to the bedroom, and a knowing smile crossed his face, for he knew what pleasures were coming in the not so distant future.

The bright sun vanquished almost all the gloom. Katherine padded barefoot across the floor, the lovely, floral carpet absorbing every step in the softness of the pile. A huge mirror was against the wall on the far end of the room, its frame ornately carved with vines and flowers. Three large, gold, skeleton keys clung atop the vines themselves, hanging. She tentatively lifted her hand to touch one; it was cold. Catching sight of her reflection, she saw how the sun penetrated through her borrowed sleeping gown making it transparent. Her dark hair hung wildly around her head. She leaned forward; her face was flushed with dark circles under her eyes. Good grief, she looked like a crazed, bedraggled hag. Damn champagne always gave her blackouts. How did she end up in this gown? Who put her in it was an even better question. Her entire body turned red just thinking about that scenario. She let out a breathy sigh; well, it was too late to worry about that now. She crossed the room to a huge wardrobe with doors that stood at least ten feet tall. Reaching out to open it, she froze.

She knew without a doubt that she was not alone; and slowly, she turned towards the bed. In the corner, where the sunlight could not reach, was a chair and in that chair was a man, his face hidden in the shadows. Katherine’s heart hammered loudly in her chest, her feet refused to move. 

Her eyes widened as he slowly stood and began to emerge from the shadows.

She belatedly remembered her transparent gown, and made a break for a shawl she saw draped over one of the large, wingback chairs. She grabbed it and tossed it over her shoulders quickly. It smelled musty, unused and scratched her skin. She wanted to drop it as quickly as she picked it up, but held onto it, loath to give a complete stranger an eyeful of her naked body. She shook all over. Dust floated up her nose and into her mouth, making her sneeze loudly. She cringed inwardly, almost dropping the smelly shawl in the process. The closer he came to her, the more the room closed in, and her body froze once more in place as he came even closer. Then he smiled. The breath she was holding whooshed from her body. He was, without a doubt, simply gorgeous. There was no other word to describe him. Well there were a few, actually; hot, fine, sweet… the list could have gone on and on. When he moved even closer, all thoughts fled from her brain, leaving it empty and her body immobile.

The carpet muted the sound of Sebastian’s brightly polished hessians as he closed the distance between them. His mind was set. After watching her, he was not able to put into words what effect she had on his body. The feeling inside him normally took some coaxing; Annabelle could attest to that. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.

He had no idea, but decided he wanted to test her innocence, to see if she was still an innocent. He stopped mere inches from her, looking down at the top of her head. Her hand clutched the shawl tightly to the front of her body, smashing her breasts under the fabric.

He saw how nervous she had become. Perhaps, she wasn’t aware of his presence after all. Such a pity, that.

He stepped closer. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said simply. “I found myself particularly concerned with your well-being after our collision in the hall earlier and wanted to ascertain you were not harmed.”

Katherine held her breath and looked up at him anxiously. He smiled down at her once more, revealing dimples on either side of his face. His voice sounded rich and dark, just like her favorite chocolate and she found it had a similar effect.