Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (4 page)

“
Well, we have to look
now,” Baird said with a smile that he hoped hid his burgeoning
anticipation.

Julian took a tentative step forward, as
though fighting his own legal instincts, and peered over Baird’s
shoulder into the shadows. “I can’t believe that you were right,”
he breathed. “It is a door.”

“
I told you to trust me.”
Baird ducked through the portal and flicked his flashlight around
the revealed chamber.

A woman, garbed precisely as the one on the
door itself, was sleeping on a slab on the opposite side of the
room.

Baird stopped so fast that Julian bumped
right into his back. The glow from the flashlight bounced off the
walls and seemed to illuminate the entire chamber.

But Baird had eyes only for the woman.

Her long golden hair spilled over her
shoulders and the stone, a garment that had once been richly
embroidered clung tenuously to her curves. Baird’s mouth went dry
and he nearly dropped the light.

“
How in the hell did she
get in here?” Julian muttered, but Baird wasn’t interested in
anything his friend had to say.

Because the jolt of recognition Baird had
felt upon seeing Dunhelm was nothing compared to this.

He found himself halting beside the stone
slab without any recollection of deciding to cross the chamber.
Baird stared down at the woman, astonished at the turmoil of
emotion let loose within him.

How did he know her?

Her heart-shaped face was delightfully
feminine, her ruby lips sweet and full. She was small and
delicately built, her hands slender and gracious.

And Baird wanted to kiss her more than
anything in the world.

Which had to be the weirdest damn thought
he’d had in quite a while, perhaps ever.

Baird couldn’t explain his conviction,
illogical as it was. It came out of nowhere, but seemed
uncontestable. Baird found himself bending closer to her as though
a will greater than his own drove him on.

He couldn’t stop.

“
Baird!” Julian exclaimed
in horror behind him. “What are you doing? Have you lost your
mind?”

But Baird was deaf to his friend’s protest.
A sweet perfume rose from the woman’s skin, a beguiling mix of
flowers mingled with her own scent that swept every objection from
his mind.

He had to taste her. Baird knew when his
lips were a finger’s breadth from hers that he should stop, that he
should step away, that this was crazy.

But he couldn’t. It was as though there was
nothing else he could do in this place at this moment. The woman
seemed to sense his intent, for her head turned slightly towards
Baird and her lips parted in mute invitation.

His gut clenched at the sight. And Baird
bent to brush his lips chastely across hers. The welcoming heat of
her lips burned against his mouth, their breath mingled, and time
stood still for a tantalizing moment.

Then the woman’s eyes flew open, their
blue-gray shade echoing the colors of the sea just beyond the
walls. She caught her breath in alarm and sat up hastily as Baird
took a guilty step back. Her hands clutched the shards of her dress
to her breasts, but not before Baird glimpsed their creamy
perfection.

Then she glared at him with undisguised
hostility.

And Baird didn’t need Julian to tell him
that he had just made a big mistake.

*

What was this?

Two strangers bursting into her chambers.
And her robe in tatters about her! Aurelia would have words for the
seamstress about this garment, that was for certain!

The tall one who led the way was oddly
dressed, his heavy blue chausses showing the lean strength of his
legs to shocking advantage. He was dark of hair and broad of
shoulder, square of jaw and proud of profile. He was a handsome
man, a warrior by his stance, his stern expression, and the
determined line of his lips.

But the bright gleam of his eyes unsettled
Aurelia so much that she had to look away. Something lurking in
those green depths gave her the sense that this man could read
one’s very thoughts.

Had he had the audacity to kiss her? Aurelia
hated that she could not be certain. Her mind was filled with
stardust and she could not manage to collect her thoughts.

But he had been dangerously close when she
awakened. And her lips were warm in a most odd way.

The second man was dressed strangely, too, a
bright length of silk knotted around his neck and the finest
leather shoes Aurelia had ever seen upon his feet. His cloak was
fabulously detailed, though the familiarity of the plaid lining was
oddly reassuring. The top of his head was bald, his fair hair left
in a thick ring from temple to temple.

Had she not heard that the priests from Rome
shaved their pates in such unusual fashion?

Aurelia tried to sit up straight and hold
the shards of cloth over her nakedness with a measure of decorum.
She would need all the grace drilled into her to meet the measured
gaze of the tall one once more.

But what were foreigners doing in her
father’s home, so free with their ways that they could burst into
her chambers? Her mind felt as fogged as the bay on an autumn
morning, but Aurelia fought to collect her wits.

And this place smelled like a cellar! With a
start, she realized that she was not in her chambers at all.

“
Who are you?” she demanded
regally. “What gives you the right to invade my privacy
unannounced? And where is my father?”

The men exchanged a glance, though their
features did not show any sign of comprehension. Where had they
come from that they did not understand the Pictish tongue?

Aurelia repeated her questions in the Gaelic
of the Scots and that of the Irish, then in the Briton of the
south, finally in the Norse tongue of her father. All to no avail.
Even the Latin of the cursed priests earned no response.

“
What the hell is she
saying?” the man with the bald pate asked.

The tall man shrugged, his perceptive gaze
unwavering from Aurelia’s own. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s
cold.”

A twinkle danced within Aurelia’s mind and
she felt the power of the first gift granted at her naming surge to
life. For years, she had trained and honed this ability, and now
the dividends were her own. She silently thanked the great
priestess who had paid her homage with this gift.

For Aurelia had been granted, as a babe, the
gift of tongues.

It was fitting for the daughter of a great
sorceress to be endowed with such a magical gift and useful, as
well. Aurelia habitually translated messages from afar at her
father’s court, for she had only to hear a language to not only
have an understanding of it, but to be able to converse in it.

That did not mean she understood all of the
words within that language, particularly when parallel words did
not exist within her own mother tongue. The second man’s next
speech made that tellingly clear.

He scratched his forehead. “She must be a
vagrant - just look at her clothes! - who somehow has gotten into
this place to sleep. We can’t afford to have this kind of PR
liability connected with the resort before we even open.” He rolled
his eyes and shuddered. “I can’t believe you touched her without
having any idea where she’s been! What were you thinking?”

The tall man’s expression turned grim, but
he did not respond. Even Aurelia could see that he did not intend
to defend his actions.

He was obviously the leader, this priest his
advisor. Her father had often said not to trust a man who put too
much faith in the soothsaying of priests of any faith and she
admired that this one questioned his counsel.

But precisely how had he touched her?
Aurelia licked her lips nervously and found a taste upon them that
was not her own.

What manner of man kissed a sleeping
stranger?

The priest sighed. “Look, let’s take her
into town and…”

“
And what?” the tall man
demanded impatiently. “Toss her out in the street? How is that good
PR?”

He waved off whatever the priest would have
said, his green gaze fixing on Aurelia once more. “Have we met?” he
asked in a far more gentle tone than he had used with his
priest.

“
No.”

Something flickered in the depths of those
eyes, as though he did not quite believe her. “Are you lost? Do you
live near here?”

“
I live here!” Aurelia
almost laughed at the foolishness of his question, but a shadow
crossed the warrior’s eyes.

Why was he troubled by that claim? It was
perfectly true. Aurelia frowned, sensing there was something
critical she should remember, but the memory shimmered elusively
just beyond her grasp.

The priest sighed, a sure sign that his
course of action was getting short shrift to his mind. “Look,
Baird, I don’t know what’s going on here, but sentimentality has no
place…”

Bard! Aurelia straightened with a shock she
could not hide.

This was Bard, son of Erc!

Aurelia had never met the cursed dog, but
certainly had not imagined he would be so handsome. There was an
air about him that tempted one to trust him, a characteristic all
the more foul given what Aurelia knew of his deceitfulness.

Memories tumbled into her mind like a river
unleashed from a dam. Bard’s ships had arrived at Dunhelm this very
morning! And Aurelia had killed the first of Bard’s own men.

And now Bard, son of Erc, stood boldly
before her, his progress unobstructed. Her father would never have
allowed this.

If Hekod had had a choice.

A trickle of dread slithered down Aurelia’s
spine. She thought frantically, but she could not remember anything
beyond pricking her thumb.

And being surrounded by a dizzying shimmer.
Clearly, she had fainted from the shock of her wound and the battle
had raged on without her.

Suddenly, Aurelia recognized the room. They
were in the bowels of the old ritual well, though that made little
sense. How did she get from the ramparts to the well while battle
for her home raged?

She must have been taken prisoner.

Aurelia’s mouth went dry. Bard had singled
her out, no doubt to pay for her early assault upon his forces.

Bard suddenly cast aside his unusual green
cloak. He shrugged out of his heavy cream-colored knit tunic and
Aurelia inched backward in sudden understanding the price she would
pay.

He would rape her!

“
You must be cold,” he said
smoothly. Ha! Aurelia would never give him the chance to warm her
flesh with his own!

Bard stepped closer, his emerald gaze fixed
upon her as though he would lull her into complacency. Aurelia
stared back at him with feigned innocence and secretly felt for the
blade she always carried.

The sheath hanging from her belt was empty.
The treacherous dog had seen her disarmed, while she lay in a
stupor!

But Aurelia was not without defenses. Bard
took another step and Aurelia coiled herself tightly, waiting for
the moment he came near enough for her kick to be disabling.

But Bard halted two steps away. He held out
his garment at arm’s length and Aurelia’s breath caught in her
throat.

Had he guessed her intent?

“
Take it.” Bard gave his
sweater a little shake when Aurelia did not move. “You’ll catch
cold otherwise.”

Aurelia did not want to take any garment
that had graced Bard’s sorry hide. All the same, she did not want
to sit virtually nude before that perceptive gaze.

It left her at a disadvantage, to say the
least.

Certain that there must be a trick, Aurelia
snatched hastily at the tunic. She moved quickly, but not quickly
enough to avoid the heat of Bard’s fingers brushing against her
own. The contact sent a shiver running along her flesh, and
surprise made her stare into his eyes for a dangerously long
moment.

He arched an ebony brow, as though surprised
by her reticence to touch him. Aurelia’s heart stopped, before it
lurched forward again.

Oh, he had a charm, that much was certain,
but Aurelia knew the darkness that filled his heart! She hauled the
knit tunic hastily over her head and closed her eyes against the
seductively masculine scent that rose from the garment.

She felt suddenly much, much warmer, though
she fought hard against her instinctive attraction to this man.
Aurelia had no doubt Bard cultivated this calm manner, perhaps
practicing the seductive low pitch of his voice, as it would serve
his ends well. All the better to disarm those he would destroy.

Had her own brother not been seduced by
Bard’s deceitful talk?

“
I thank you,” Aurelia
managed to say with some decorum. The tunic covered her hips and
would likely fall halfway to her knees when she stood.

Her suspicion must have shown, but Bard’s
gaze did not waver. Aurelia folded her arms across her chest and
glared at her captor, determined to know the truth. “What have you
done with my father?”

The men seemed surprised by this question
and exchanged a glance before Bard’s dark brows drew together in a
frown.

“
Who?”

“
My father, King Hekod the
Fifth, King of Dunhelm and Lord of Fyordskar across the
sea.”

Bard’s lips tugged in an unwilling smile
that transformed his features. An unexpected twinkle gleamed in his
eyes, like sunlight dancing on the sea. Bard was no longer the
stern warrior, but an indulgent lover.

Lover? What had summoned such a foolish
thought? Clearly he smiled because he was pleased to have her
parentage confirmed.

“
King Hekod?”

“
The Fifth,” Aurelia
corrected haughtily. “I would see him now, if you please, and
ensure his welfare.”