Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (11 page)

Aurelia would not think about his kiss. She
would not think about how her skin tingled beneath his touch. She
would not relive the slow caress of his thumb across her
breast.

Her renegade nipple, though, tightened in
defiant recollection.

And Aurelia would not, under any
circumstance, think about Bard’s tongue, let alone its beguiling
dance. She could have melted before his amorous assault without so
much as a whimper of protest.

Curse Bard for not responding as she had
expected him to! He was supposed to be revolted by her.

Aurelia conceded that he seemed to have
recovered from that at a most inconvenient time.

Was the priest’s counsel gaining appeal in
his mind?

Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat and she
refused to even consider the prospect of wedding the cur. No, her
time would be better spent in studying her luxurious prison. There
might well be another means of escape - one that Julian had not
bewitched with ringing bells.

Aurelia let her gaze dart over the room’s
finery and noticed a small room immediately to the left of the bed.
Aurelia held the magic card tightly, for a protective talisman was
no small thing in this palace of marvels, and stepped cautiously
into the chamber’s darkness.

The floor was shockingly cold beneath her
feet. Aurelia jumped back against the wall and something dug into
her shoulder.

Light flashed overhead and she cringed in
terror at whatever she had done. She wildly waved Julian’s card
skyward in supplication, but the light stayed on.

Aurelia slowly opened her eyes, her heart
still pounding in her throat. A row of bright orbs on the far side
of the room glowed with fierce intensity. She scanned the room
suspiciously, but could find no explanation for the change she had
witnessed.

Darkness had changed magically to light when
she came into the room. Aurelia stepped back over the threshold,
but the lights remained bright. She jumped on the floor tiles, with
no effect. She waved Julian’s talisman in and out of the chamber,
but the lights burned on.

Inexplicable. Aurelia looked to see what had
dug into her back and found a little lever. She peered at it, then
touched it again.

It moved.

The light went off.

Aurelia jumped in alarm at the sudden
darkness, then looked to the lever once more. While the room was
wreathed in shadows, the lever glowed with an eerie orange
light.

A sign of its magic, most certainly. And
orange could only mean the element of fire, the source of light and
heat. Respectfully, for its size belied its power, Aurelia moved
the fire lever with gentle fingers again.

The chamber was once more flooded with
light.

This delighted Aurelia no end. There were no
spells or incantations to recite, no candles or herbs to be burned.
This magic was simple enough for a babe. She even put down the
magic card and the fire lever still worked.

Finally, Aurelia tired of the fire lever and
explored the chamber itself.

Everything was smooth and shiny within it.
There was a table wrought of stone set right into the wall, and
with a hard basin inserted into its midst. Strange golden shapes
arched over the basin, but Aurelia was fascinated by the mirror
that lined the entire wall behind the table.

She had never seen a mirror wrought so fine.
Aurelia had a mirror of her own, to be sure, - she was a
noblewoman, after all! - one that had been her mother’s, though it
was made of polished bronze. And small. Round with a handle, she
could hold it in one hand.

Never had that mirror returned an image so
faithfully as this one did. Aurelia could see the scar on the back
of her shoulder clearly for the first time. A symbol of her love of
her crossbow, it had been earned on her first, illicit lesson from
the archer.

Aurelia touched the scar and remembered. Her
mother had long forbidden such lessons, a demand that was not
surprising given that Gemma had believed in the curse laid upon
Aurelia at her naming. Aurelia, despite her skepticism of such
portents, had not had the heart to defy her.

But when Gemma died, Aurelia could resist
the crossbow’s allure no longer. This wound had been no one’s fault
but her own, although the flow of his sole daughter’s blood had
made her father bellow like a cornered bear.

After that, her lessons had been furtive no
longer.

Aurelia smiled in recollection. The wound
had been mended quickly, as had her sire’s blustery temper once he
realized the damage was slight.

Concern for Hekod’s present predicament
stole away Aurelia’s smile. Somehow she must find that old woman
again and learn whatever she knew.

On the back of the door of the little room,
Aurelia found a veritable treasure. A robe of deepest blue hung
there, its fabric thick beyond all. She liked the gold embroidery
on its front - it was stitched with great skill and precision with
the words
We Treat You ROYALLY
stitched around the
crest.

Obviously, the robe was meant for her.
Aurelia immediately wrapped herself in its welcoming softness,
rolling up the ample sleeves and knotting the belt about her waist.
It was fine, far finer than a prisoner of war like herself could
expect.

Gratitude warred with her distrust of Bard’s
intentions. The robe was lovely, but she would not be so readily
swayed by gifts.

There was a little basket reposing before
her and Aurelia emptied its contents to push such thoughts from her
mind.

Toothpaste she read on the side of a pinched
little tube. She opened it and found green gel inside. It smelled
of wild mint. Aurelia checked her teeth but found them well
secured, as usual. Obviously she did not need this frippery, though
she wondered why Bard’s household felt compelled to glue their
teeth in place.

Bath Oil declared the next bottle, much to
Aurelia’s delight. Nothing like the oil from herbs in the bath! She
sniffed the turquoise liquid within and identified both elder
flowers and meadowsweet. Aurelia set the little bottle aside with
approval, drummed her fingers and glanced around the chamber.

The very sight of the tub made Aurelia’s
skin itch. Surely, in a hall of this size, water could have been
heated by now? There could be no dearth of servants in this
place.

Where was her bath?

Aurelia stalked back into the main chamber.
Was this some kind of torture, tormenting her with the possibility
of a bath while withholding the water? Did Bard mean to let her
languish in her fine prison, ignored and unattended, despite his
pretty words?

Aurelia prowled the perimeter of the room
restlessly, examining each stick of furniture that the whore had
bought. She must be making good progress in emptying the king’s
treasury.

The tapestry on the far wall hid a massive
window that overlooked the sea. Aurelia shoved the fabric aside and
tentatively touched the clear barrier against the wind and
rain.

No stretched pig’s gut this. It was clear as
crystal and hard as rock. The rain spattered against it on the far
side, not a drop leaking through to this rich chamber though the
water coursed down its other side.

Aurelia shook her head, suddenly feeling
very tired. She could marvel no more, so overwhelmed was she by
what she had already seen this day.

The rolling waves made Aurelia think of her
father’s cousins. She scanned the horizon, unable to spy a single
great sail drawing near. How could this massive place have been
built before her relatives completed the two day journey from
Norway?

Could the priest from Rome have cast a spell
across the seas? Or had he managed to have this stone hall spring
skyward in but a single day? Either prospect was daunting to
imagine, but there could be no other explanation.

It could be that she had been drugged for
weeks, but if that were the case, where were the Vikings? Her
family would not abandon Hekod when he needed their aid, Aurelia
knew it, or have lingered in answering his call. They must be en
route, even now, even if Julian’s sorcery had delayed their
progress.

The Vikings would come. And by the time they
did, Aurelia would find her father, so he would be prepared to
assume his kingship once more. Aurelia would have to do so without
Bard guessing she had managed the deed.

It was her only hope.

*

The old groundskeeper approached Baird and
Marissa as they considered the site where the main restaurant was
being built. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still high.
Fortunately, there was a bit of a lee on this side of the
building.

All the same, Marissa had thoroughly
communicated her disapproval of the situation and suggested twice
that they retire to her room. Baird wondered what had possessed him
to let her come here.

Marissa was much easier to deal with by
facsimile.

“
Mr. Beauforte, sir, I’m
not meaning to be bothering you, but have you finished with those
hedge clippers?” Talorc turned his battered felt hat in his hands
and periodically shot a very blue glance from beneath his bushy
silver brows at Marissa.

Baird found the older man’s response
amusing. Certainly, Marissa was from a different world in
comparison to the groundskeeper. Talorc looked to have stepped out
of an age gone by, dressed in worn brown dungarees, held up with
antique suspenders that might have been his grandfather’s. The
groundskeeper worked with slow effectiveness, each twig on the
estate apparently having a story to whisper to his attentive
ears.

But if Talorc seemed ancient, his mother was
even more so. The two had evidently lived in a little cottage on
the property for as long as anyone could remember. It had quickly
become clear to Baird that acquiring Dunhelm had meant also
acquiring its self-appointed groundskeeper.

Fortunately, Baird liked Talorc. The old man
certainly knew a lot about both plants, not to mention the castle
itself, and he worked diligently at any task he undertook.

Even if Talorc had refused to have anything
to do with clipping back the thorns.

Marissa sighed theatrically when Baird
excused himself. “Do hurry, darling, it’s beastly cold out
here.”

Baird retrieved the clippers from the corner
where he had left them and smiled as he handed them back to the
older man. He shoved his hands into his pockets, more than glad to
take a break from Marissa. “They may need to be sharpened, Talorc.
Those thorns were pretty tough.”

“
Were they now? Well, sir,
they’ve been growing on that site for more than a thousand years as
the story goes. I’d expect they’d have grown tough roots in that
time.” Talorc grimaced and turned the clippers in his callused
hands, as though checking the state of a precious
charge.

Baird’s curiosity was piqued. “There’s a
story about the thorns?”

Talorc shrugged. “If you’re wanting the
truth of it, you’ll be needing to ask my mother.” He flicked a
glance to Baird and his tone was gruffer than usual. “She’s the one
as recalls every little bit of every tale she ever heard, and tells
it as though ‘twere her very own.” He smiled wryly. “I’m only the
one as can listen, if you know what I mean.”

Baird considered the offer for only a
moment. This story might reveal something about Aurelia and where
she had come from. “Maybe I will.”

“
Well, my mother is always
pleased to have company, Mr. Beauforte, and you know where to find
her, that much is for certain.”

The groundskeeper might have turned away,
but Baird suddenly realized he was the perfect one to ask about
Aurelia’s father. “Talorc, do you know anyone around here named
Hekod?”

“
Hekod?” Talorc’s eyes
brightened and he almost grinned. “Oh, you’ll be sounding like a
history lesson soon, sir! My mother will be taking to you like a
duck to water.”

“
I don’t understand.” Baird
frowned. “Is Hekod a common name?”

“
No, far from it, far from
it, indeed. It would be a Norse name, as with the Vikings, you
know, and very few now take those names to their own. There’s one
Hekod I know, and he would be famous around these parts, maybe even
part of the reason the name fell out of favor as it’s
told.”

A local scandal, Baird concluded, realizing
that some kind of family troubles could be at the root of Aurelia’s
predicament.

Talorc shook his head and his heavy brows
drew together. “But as I said, I’m no good with a story.”

Baird could easily imagine the kind of
gossip that would run rife in such a small community. He wondered
what this Hekod had done to earn himself such a reputation.

“
You’ll be wanting a wee
book I have at home,” Talorc continued with a frown. “I’ll drop it
by for you, if you be interested.”

Talorc didn’t seem to be the kind of man who
would endorse gossip. Probably he thought Baird should get the
story from Hekod’s own lips, which seemed reasonable enough.

It must be a phone book he was offering.

“
Thanks, Talorc. That’d be
great.”

“
Ah!” The old man pursed
his lips and nodded solemnly. “I knew ’twas only time before you
showed an interest in what you’ve got here. These old stones have
tales to tell, Mr. Beauforte, more tales than you can
imagine.”

With that enigmatic conclusion, Talorc
shuffled off, whistling through his teeth with characteristic
tunelessness.

What could Dunhelm have to do with this
Hekod?

Baird shook off the question, knowing it
wasn’t the first time he hadn’t exactly understood Talorc. The good
news was that if there weren’t many Hekods around, then this one
Talorc knew could be Aurelia’s father.

Once Baird found her father, well, maybe
he’d be able to figure out where he had met Aurelia before.