In the Time of the Caveman

by Samantha Leal

  Immediately deciding that his unexpected guest had been most literally knocked silly by her jolting fall, the man who introduced himself as Lord Nathaniel Barrett encouraged the woman—who introduced herself as Jasmin Lawrence—to make herself comfortable in his dining room; pouring her a cup of tea as he encouraged her to share her story.

  “How is it that you think you got here, Miss?” he asked her, eyebrows arched in a show of keen curiosity as he took a seat beside her at the table.

  Jasmin shrugged.

  “The last thing I knew I was just minding my own bidness, pouring tea and serving scones right here at Chez Victoria, the premiere—well okay, the only—tearoom in Clearview, Florida,” she informed him, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “The grouchy old guy in the Hawaiian shirt, who is always asking for raspberry jam, was in fine form, demanding more of that ever precious, seemingly irreplaceable condiment. Then he decided he could wait no more and invaded my aisle; basically tripping up my food cart and myself in the process. I hit the cart hard and felt myself blacking out, slowly but surely.” She paused here, making a broad gesture around her. “And apparently, during the time that I was ‘out’, so to speak, management got rid of all the customers and elected to remodel.”

  Nathaniel looked at her for a long moment, his azure eyes narrowing in a show of confusion as he considered her words.

  “Yes, well, I have no earthly wish to contradict a lady,” he said finally, adding with a shrug, “I must point out, however, that this is my home—not a house that belongs to a lady named Victoria. Who is she, anyway? And while your adorable accent and turn of phrase would indicate that you are indeed from the States, you and I happen to be having this conversation in London—not Florida.”

  Jasmin had heard enough.

  “I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous,” she insisted, setting aside her tea cup and jumping to her feet as she raced, headfirst, for the expansive bay window that fronted the dining room. “Be prepared to see a whole passel of palm trees, Dude, because your jig is up.”

  With these words, she ripped open the gold jacquard curtains that lined and covered the expansive bay window, gasping outright as she revealed a vast emerald green meadow lined with towering stately oak trees that stood tall and proud above luxurious growths of scarlet red roses and lavender lilies; florals that both succored and confused her addled senses.

  The greyish hue of the overhead sky cast the overall scene in something of a somber prism; one that did not seem indicative of the lush, glamorous Florida landscape to which Jasmin felt well accustomed. “Where is the parking lot and the oversized, overly ornate sign that reads ‘Chez Victoria?’” she gaped, more to herself than to her watching host. “And while we’re at it, where is the flippin’ sun?”

  Nathaniel chuckled.

  “Well sadly, Love, we see the sun in London about as often as you see the snow,” he informed her.

  Jasmin nodded.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” she decided finally, declaring with a firm nod and in a matter of fact tone, “I just went off like the crazy gal I am and travelled through time.”

  Lord Nathaniel Barrett stood as a man of great intellect and certainty. And on this day, he knew one fact to be absolutely true, without as much as a shadow of a doubt.

  The woman before him was completely and totally insane. Madder than the proverbial mad hatter, as a matter of fact.

  And never had he ever met anyone so out and out adorable.

  Although not a classic beauty, the robust lady before him sported a winning smile and a fine flowing mane of dark curly hair; not to mention, sparkling blue eyes that peeked up at him through the prism of clear glass spectacles.

  Far more important, in his mind, was the laughter and animation that she brought to his home; a house left quiet and sterile in the wake of what he feared would be an irreplaceable loss.

  Two years ago, his dear wife Eugenia had been claimed by the fever; ripped from the arms of her grieving young husband, who, in the wake of her death, had closed himself off in the lonesome confines of the house he’d once called a home.

  Deeming himself inconsolable, he had spent many days and nights here behind locked doors; trying to lose himself in the memories of a love that had filled and defined his earthly existence.

  “My house felt more like a mausoleum—a beautiful place devoid of life,” he mused now, adding as he aimed a warm beam in the direction of the loveable madwoman, “And then along came Jasmin.”

  Aloud he told her, “It seems, Ms. Lawrence, that you have come a very long way to see me today. So now that you have arrived, why not stay a while?”

  Chapter Four

  Okay, so maybe she wasn’t dead after all. Yet, Jasmin Lawrence was most definitely dreaming.

  Riding astride a sleek ivory-coated charger through the vast expanse of an emerald leaved meadow, Jasmin threw her head back as her lovely mount trotted fast and free; making her feel as though she was flying, that somehow, and in some way, she could kiss the sky.

  Riding by her side was a handsome companion who rode tall and proud in the polished English saddle of a glorious black stallion; moving as a single radiant constant with the distinguished gentleman who rode tall in the saddle.

  “I haven’t been riding in ages,” she released on a bright laugh, letting loose with an uncharacteristic giggle as she bounced up and down in the depths of her smooth polish ebony saddle.

  Nathaniel grinned. “I haven’t either. As a matter of fact, it’s been far too long since I did anything remotely enjoyable, and your spirit—it’s just infectious,” he admitted, gracing her with a dazzling smile. “I am so pleased that you’re feeling better. I wonder though, darling. Since we’ve been riding the estate for more than an hour now, would you care to stop for a bite to eat?”

  Soon, the couple found themselves sitting at the side of a sparkling pond that sported the presence of pure ivory swans flowing free across its crystalline surface; one that formed the glittery centerpiece of his 100-acre estate.

  “Nice place here,” she praised him, seated at the edge of a velvety red blanket as she feasted on the scones, pastries, biscuits and finger sandwiches that made up the menu of their picnic lunch. “I feel like a princess of the palace here.”

  Her companion smiled, grabbing hold of a fresh buttered scone and slipping it teasingly between her parted lips.

  “You well deserve to be treated like a princess,” he praised her, striking a low courtly bow before her on the blanket. “Consider me your loyal servant, Miss. I am at your disposal.”

  Chomping down hearty on the well buttered treat, Jasmin grinned, giddy at this appealing prospect.

  “I do believe that I could get used to this idea of being a princess with a way hawt man servant,” she admitted, adding as she raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Do I get to do a royal wave and everything?”

  Nathaniel guffawed outright.

  “Go ahead and try love,” he encouraged her. “Give me your very best Victoria.”

  Jasmin shrugged.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Victoria was a tough chicksta—you gotta love her,” she acknowledged, adding with a grin, “Yet, in perfecting my own personal royal wave, I tend to aim more for the style of Elizabeth I, or—of course—Diana.”

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “Ah, Elizabeth was indeed a remarkable woman. I see a lot of her in you; her strength, her spirit,” he paused here, adding with a confused frown, “Yet, who, may I ask, is Diana?”

  Jasmin chuckled.

  “Sorry, I keep forgetting about the whole travelling through time thingy,” she apologized, adding with a warm smile, “Diana was a princess of England who lived, all too briefly, during my time. She was a truly amazing, accomplished woman—and if I can wave only half as gracefully as she did, well, then I’ll be a happy camper.”

  Then, without further ado, she lifted her hand and wagged it back and forth in the most pretentious manner feasible.

  “So how’
s that?” she asked afterward, piercing her host with an adorable smirk.

  In lieu of a verbal response, the man before her clutched his chest and rolled his blue eyes heavenward, collapsing on his back as he graced her with a dreamlike smile.

  “You, Madame, are both regal and adorable,” he praised her, sitting upright and taking the hand that had delivered this downright disabling wave. “You completely and totally slay me.”

  Jasmin grinned, feeling her cheeks flush bright red as she considered these words.

  “How is it that a handsome sweetheart such as yourself lives here alone?” she asked him, eyebrows arched in a show of keen curiosity.

  Nathaniel sighed.

  “Well, at one point, Miss, I shared my estate with my wife, a wonderful woman named Eugenia who I nothing short of adored,” he admitted, his deeply accented voice softening and darkening as he added, “She fell ill two years ago, leaving me a lonesome widow here.”

  Jasmin gaped.

  “Oh no,” she gasped, grasping Nathaniel’s hand across the blanket as she considered these daunting words. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry, Nathaniel.”

  She took in her breath as her handsome companion lifted her hand to his full soft lips and graced her skin with a tender kiss.

  “It was indeed awful, Miss. Yet, while I always shall love and remember my dear wife, I feel that I must go on as well,” he revealed, adding as he inclined his head sharp in her direction, “So what about you, Miss? Why does such a bright, funny, totally charming woman remain unmarried?”

  Jasmin shrugged.

  “Women of my time don’t get married off the instant they clear puberty, and/or the moment that any willing and breathing gent pays their ransom, that is, dowry,” she informed him through gritted teeth. “For now, I want to focus on finding meaningful work in the profession I studied and prepared for in college.” She paused here, adding as she released a frustrated breath, “I love, more than anything, to read and write—so now I’d very much like to add my own classics to the literary canon. Or, at the very least, some stories that people will pay me to tell, so I can finally get down to the business of doing work that I have a passion for—that I know I could do so well, if someone would only give me the chance. I just want to write.”

  She fell silent here as she saw his azure eyes come alight with a warm, inspired glow; squeezing his fingers between hers as that charming smile returned in full force.

  “So you’re an authoress,” he affirmed, voice barely above a whisper. “A woman of letters. That is so fascinating.” He paused here, leaning forward to close all distance between them. “I will have you know, Miss, that I am a great fan of Miss Austen. And I am constantly seeking out fresh feminine voices at my own publishing house and printing press, Four Gables Press.”

  Jasmin started.

  “Wait, wut?” she inquired, thinking too late that her last words sounded highly awkward and decidedly less than literary. “You own a publishing company?”

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “Yes, among others,” he told her, adding with a ludicrous attempt at a casual shrug, “My family owns a number of companies of various sorts—with my favorite being the place that manufactures dreams and prints them on parchment. I love books, dear Jasmin, and I would love to read yours. What, in particular, do you like to write?”

  Jasmin grinned, feeling her cheeks flush as she considered this question.

  “Well, truth be told, I’m rather embarrassed to tell you,” she revealed, averting her gaze to the picnic blanket beneath her. “I like to write Victorian romance.”

  She took in her breath as his strong sturdy fingertips lifted her rounded chin; raising her head until their gazes locked between them.

  “Romance, hey?” he asked her on a whisper, his tone soft and alluring. “Well, you know Miss, before you venture to write about any subject, should you not research it first?” He paused here, adding on a sinful purr, “Thoroughly?”

  With these words, he surged inward to seize her lips in a hot, passionate kiss; his full moist lips massaging hers as she herself purred with contentment.

  Angling his sculpted head over hers to intensify the kiss, Nathaniel plied her lips with the sweetest affection as their tongues entangled between them.

  Jasmin wrapped her arms around his muscled shoulders and leaned full and hard into his kiss; her breasts crushing the surface of his hard massive chest as the feel of crisp afternoon winds and the song of nightingales overhead seemed to christen their newfound romance.

  Finally, Nathaniel broke their kiss, pulling back to stare deep into her eyes as he reached forth to stroke the whisper soft strands of her luxurious dark hair.

  “So love,” he released on a whisper, “did this experience educate you on the finer points of Victorian romance?”

  Jasmin thought a moment, then nodded.

  “Absolutely,” she affirmed, adding as she bit her fresh kissed lip, “Somehow, though, I do believe that I need to do far more research on this particular topic.” She paused here, gracing him with a sly grin. “Care to be my research buddy?”

  Nathaniel chuckled.

  “I have no earthly idea as to what that is,” he admitted, crossing his eyes at her modern vernacular. “But if it happens to involve you, milady, then it should be quite a lot of fun.”

  Chapter Five

  Somehow extricating herself from the ever desirable company of her sinfully handsome host, Jasmin retired to a master suite designated as her guest room. This proved to be an ebullient sleeping place, distinguished by a lace canopied bed doused in ivory silk comforters, polished brass-trimmed cherry wood bureaus, plush white carpeting, and a candle-lined brass chandelier that hung low from an ivory corniced ceiling.

  After receiving a romantic kiss good night that would fuel her dreams, Jasmin retreated to her private haven and slept the night away; waking only once in the very early morning, when she heard the door to her bedroom open, then close again, mysteriously, moments later.

  “The dude just can’t get enough of me—even has to watch me sleeping, ala Edward in Twilight,” she pondered, finally sitting up in bed and hopping to her feet.

  She gasped outright as she found the tall wooden bureau that bordered her room, beautifully transformed, filled with a luxurious plethora of dresses and formal gowns just awaiting her perusal.

  Throwing herself headfirst into a luxurious mass of silk, satin, brocade and jacquard, she laughed outright as she realized that every one of these glamorous dresses was custom made to fit her size and body type, unlike the mummifying costumes she was required to wear for the purpose of work.

  Lining the bottom of the bureau, she noted further, was an impressive array of corsets, pantaloons, chemises, gloves and slippers; luxurious accents that would serve to complete her glamorous new wardrobe.

  After selecting and donning a lush, floor-length royal blue day dress with a shining satin and lace overdress, a flowing satiny skirt, lines of ruffled lace surrounding the prim neckline and lining the wide sleeves, and a fitted bodice that came complete with a black lace overlay that adorned the front panel, she finally took leave of her private paradise and headed down a winding brass-railed staircase to the grand dining room where she’d agreed to meet Nathaniel for a proper English breakfast.

  Nathaniel praised her profusely on her choice of gown and accepted her gracious thanks for her luxurious wardrobe, which as it turned out, he had ordered direct from a London seamstress and delivered to her room early this morning. Then her doting host served her eggs, pastries, cinnamon tea, as well as biscuits topped with fresh churned butter and strawberry jam.

  “I opted not to set out the raspberry jam this morn,” he told her with a wink, taking her hand across the table as he continued, “I had no earthly wish to bring back bad memories for you.”

  Jasmin chuckled.

  “Good move,” she praised him, adding as she inclined her head sharp in his direction, “So I take it that you finally buy my prepo
sterous story about travelling through time to meet you?”

  Nathaniel shook his head.

  “Well, frankly Darling, I truly do not see as to how it’s possible,” he admitted, adding quickly, “I do not, however, accuse you of lying to me. I am passing sure that you hit your head and are suffering the after effects.”

  It was Jasmin’s turn to shake her head as she reached into the pocket of her day dress, withdrawing a thin slip of crème white paper as well as a round shiny coin.

  “As I undressed last night, I discovered some items that I brought with me when I crossed underneath the immortal limbo pole that separates the centuries, so to speak,” she told him, passing them into the hands of her curious looking host. “If you check the dates on this coin and this gas receipt, you will see that both hail from the year 2016. Plus, I am passing certain that nothing in Victorian England cost nearly as much as gas does in the 21st century.” She paused here, adding with a firm, sharp nod, “It is more than obvious that both of these little doo hickies came straight from 2016. And so, for that matter, do I.”

  Inspecting the items presented with no small degree of interest, Nathaniel’s eyes flew wide as he seemed to focus on the dates indicated.

  “So what do you think?” Jasmin pressed him, watching closely for his reaction as he took a second look at the coin and the receipt.

  She took in her breath as her doting host surged across the table; searing her lips with a passionate kiss as the evidence of her origins went clattering unceremonious to the table beneath them.

  Swallowing her startled breath, Nathaniel plied her lips with the sweetest kisses as his long, wet tongue entangled, tight and sweet, with hers; laving the roof of her mouth as his sumptuous lips romanced her with soothing, massaging strokes.

  Fully and finally breaking their kiss, Nathaniel stared deep into her eyes and whispered, “I think, love, that you are a very special gift, sent to me through time. A beautiful wind and breath of life that has flown into my house and changed everything—brightened everything.”