Time Travel Romance Collection

by Grace Brannigan

  "He seems to not remember their courtship. She came when he was first struck down. She stayed beside him for two weeks, but even the most devoted heart can waver in the face of absolute amnesia. He asked her to give him time. She has been patient."

  "Is she a good match for Hawk?"

  "Yes, they are well matched. When my nephew regains his memory, he will remember his love and marry Amelia."

  "Tell me about her."

  Belva lifted her head and stared at her a moment. "Amelia is kind, yet strong, caring and very beautiful. She is the perfect mate for a man of Hawk's character."

  Isabeau smiled. "She sounds someone who will make him happy, bear his children. They can have a good life together."

  "Yes, it was only a few months before his accident that Amelia accepted his marriage proposal."

  "And she is a woman from his time."

  "And so it is," Belva said gently.

  Isabeau nodded in agreement. Feeling a prick, she dropped the thorny stem on the bench, watching the scarlet blood well on her finger.

  When Isabeau looked up, Belva was no longer there.

  Chapter Eight

  Alone now in the maze, Isabeau shivered as clouds chased the sun, stealing all warmth. Suddenly, the greenery around her seemed full of strange, moving shadows.

  Isabeau was determined to remain by Hawk's side until the murderer could be exposed, then her usefulness would be at an end. Belva did not say those words, but Isabeau knew that was her intent.

  She made her way from the maze, rounding the last hedge corner and coming up against a hard body. Unyielding arms encircled and then quickly released her.

  Isabeau stared at the man she had been thinking about. "Hawk."

  He smiled, lifting a hand to free a strand of her hair caught against the hedge. The action was unexpected and tantalizing and more than she could bear at the moment. She jerked her head back, although part of her wanted to lean into him, feel his warmth and strength.

  "It's almost dark. Were you lost in the maze?"

  "I spoke with your aunt in there."

  "Was she upset?" he asked in concern. "Sometimes she sits in the gazebo to quiet herself."

  "I didn't upset her, if that's what you're wondering." She hunched a shoulder to evade the hand he put out to her. Hard fingers caught her shoulder nonetheless.

  "We must have a discussion regarding your future plans. At the end of the week I go away, but when I return we must decide what is best for your interests."

  She experienced a blend of fear and anger. She had been prepared to help and now it sounded as if he were anxious for her to be gone. They walked from the maze, entering the garden as dusk fell around them, the air heavily scented as dew began to form on the abundant flowers.

  Breathing hard, she walked up the back veranda steps and reached forward to open the kitchen door. "I'll save you the trouble," she muttered, her voice thick. "I'll leave."

  #

  Not making any move to follow her into the house, Hawk reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cheroot. Why the hell did he feel so tied up in knots? Maybe it was better this way, letting her go off on her own, even though it did not sit well with him.

  "What's the problem, Cap'n, the girl getting too comfortable with the living here?" Malry walked out of the darkness and up onto the porch.

  Hawk shrugged. "Her name is Isabeau."

  "You're not of the mind to be letting her stay about, are you?"

  "I don't know," Hawk muttered, a frown creasing his forehead. "She has been of great help to me."

  Malry nodded slowly, then turned to spit tobacco juice into a thorny growth. Fleetingly, a grin split the seaman's face.

  "Aye, Cap'n, I can understand your dilemma. She's saved your hide a time or two, much as I hate to admit it. Or is that the problem? It rankles that a young lady --"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Hawk growled.

  "Then why think about sending her away right now?" Malry asked, one brow raised. "If she's involved, we might better keep an eye on her whereabouts." Malry rubbed his chin. "And, indications being what they are, I may have had a change of heart."

  Hawk threw him a surprised look. "Last we talked, you thought I should get rid of her post haste. What's changed your mind?"

  "Now Cap'n, you know sometimes I run off at the mouth -- not, mind you, that I'd admit that to anyone else," he added quickly. Moving closer, Malry continued in a low voice, "I know no more of Isabeau than you do. How she came to be on that ship, not a notion enters my head. You know what the security was. I checked everything." He scratched a whiskered cheek. "You should have seen her face when I found her." He emitted a short laugh. "She was scared white."

  "And so she should have been."

  Hawk preceded Malry into the house. "It runs through my head there's more to this. I keep getting flashes of memory, but not enough to put a picture together."

  Entering the quiet house, Hawk motioned Malry into his office. Closing the heavy paneled door, he said softly, "On to other matters -- I get the accounts tonight. I'll offer the distraction, the rest is up to you, old friend. Do you think you can get into Treat's study and get the books?"

  Grinning in anticipation, Malry rubbed his hands together, an unholy glee upon him. "Leave it to me," he said, turning to leave.

  Hawk forestalled him. "I'll make a decision about Isabeau when I return from New York."

  "It matters not a whit to me, Cap'n, but I'm thinking you'll be the one rueful if you let her slip away. Mayhaps she appeared too conveniently, but could be she is here merely to help you."

  Hawk snorted. "The day I need a keeper is past."

  "Aye," Malry agreed, "but mayhaps you're a bit too close to the situation."

  "Have you forgotten Amelia?" Hawk asked stiffly. In all truth, he felt guilty that he could not remember the feelings that had prompted him to request Amelia's hand in marriage. The woman had been patient with him thus far, but how long could that last?

  "Nay, not that," Malry said softly. "Miss Amelia would be understanding, being the person she is. She would want you to be safe also."

  #

  Isabeau woke Friday morning, dread heavy in her heart. Hawk had not tried to hurry her away from Hawk's Den and in truth she had nowhere else to go. Today was the day he sailed for New York.

  She had to find a way to sail with him. He had refused her request to accompany him only the day before. If she managed to get aboard and sail with him, this time around she would definitely be a stowaway.

  She had seen Hawk only fleetingly this morning, and he'd not been in the best of moods. When she heard him barking orders, she wondered if his and Malry's outing the night before had anything to do with his foul mood. His aunt had dared to question him, but he'd deftly evaded answering, merely saying she was not to worry.

  Unwittingly or not, Malry ended up an accomplice to her half-formed stowaway plan.

  As preparations were made for Hawk's departure, Isabeau indicated the steamer trunk beside the front door. "You're in charge of Hawk's belongings?" she asked.

  "Aye. Cap'n wants his belongings on board right away. He'll be ready to set sail within the hour."

  Indicating the valise Maize had packed for him, Isabeau said, "Everything's ready."

  "Does the Cap'n want the trunk too?" Malry stared at her.

  She let her gaze fall to the chest. Hawk had ordered the old trunk taken to the back fields to be burned in the fire pit. It was in sorry shape, and the men had not yet arrived to pick it up. Nodding slowly, she said, "Yes, that also must go onboard."

  Malry stared at her a moment. "I'll be back for it," he said.

  Without thought of consequences, Isabeau opened the trunk lid, hardly believing she was thinking about climbing into that dark, cramped space. Once in the trunk, she grabbed the dangling strap and jerked the lid closed.

  She had barely enough room to lie on her side with her knees bent. Isabeau stared at the air holes near her head, wondering at Provide
nce providing this opportunity. She hoped to God she would not be in this trunk for long. Just long enough for them to get out to sea where he wouldn't turn back. How long would that be? She didn't have a clue. She only knew her destiny seemed to be tied to his for now. If she succeeded in keeping him safe, she could return home. That had to remain her sole focus.

  After a few minutes footsteps approached and paused beside the trunk. Breathing shallowly, Isabeau waited.

  "Here." Malry. "The trunk and valise." There was a thump as he dropped the valise on top, then the trunk was hefted. She slid down until her head rested against the end of the trunk. She couldn't move her arms, but lay scrunched at an angle as they carried the trunk outside and down the front steps.

  Isabeau couldn't hear much, but then she felt a rough bump, and the trunk slid across a surface. Perhaps the back of a wagon. She assumed it was a wagon, because then she felt a jerk and heard horse's feet strike the ground in regular rhythm.

  Despite the holes by her head, the air in the trunk became heavy, making her breathing labored. On the long ride to the harbor, one jarring bump after another, Isabeau felt as if she couldn't draw a sufficient breath.

  Thankfully, the wagon stopped before she passed out. Isabeau heard muffled words, something about the trunk going to the Captain's quarters.

  The trunk was once more lifted and carried, this time at an alarming angle, and once again she slid downward.

  Carefully, she tried to inch back to where she had been, but found it impossible. She rubbed a cramp that had started in her leg because her foot was twisted.

  As the trunk began to level out, one end tilted again and hit the ground hard. Someone swore, then they picked up the trunk again.

  One of the men related in a bragging tone a bawdy tale of his amorous adventures of the night previous. Isabeau's ears were burning by the tale's end. She wasn't sure the exploits bragged about were even humanly possible.

  "'Ere," a voice said, "put that along the wall. If the Cap'n wants it moved, I'll see to it." The trunk thumped down. A door closed.

  Drawing a shaky breath, Isabeau waited a few minutes, then cautiously pushed the lid open a fraction. She gulped in fresh air and stared at her surroundings. She guessed she was in Hawk's quarters.

  Footsteps.

  In a panic, Isabeau dropped down, letting the lid fall, hearing, vaguely, a metallic click. Her heart beat fast and loud. She put a hand over her mouth, hoping she didn't make a sound. If Hawk found her now, before they set sail, he'd put her ashore.

  The booted steps drew nearer. With bated breath, she waiting, hearing a door creak open, then close. Straining her ears for sound, Isabeau knew she was not alone.

  "What the devil!" She heard Hawk's voice. Pressing clammy palms to her mouth, Isabeau stared into the darkness.

  The enormity of what she had done was suddenly, frighteningly brought home to her. She hoped he didn't kill her when he found out.

  Before long, the ship began to sway and creak. She recalled that noise from when she had first woken in this time. It was not hard to figure out they were finally underway.

  To be caught stowing away a second time! Had she been thinking at all? What choice did she have?

  Perhaps she should make a clean breast of it and show herself before her limbs were permanently twisted.

  With trembling hands, Isabeau pushed against the trunk lid. It didn't move.

  She heard the creak of the door as it opened and closed.

  Frantically, feeling like she was really in a prison, she managed to squirm around and push her knees up against the lid.

  Nothing. It was securely fastened.

  Damn! What had she done?

  Why did she have to get herself into such a predicament over a man who cared nothing about her, whose intent was to get her out of his hair at the first opportunity? And now maybe she would suffocate in this damned trunk.

  Footsteps . . . the door opened. Isabeau held her breath.

  "Why is this trunk here?" Hawk.

  "Those was my orders," a gruff voice replied. She recognized it as the man who'd told the bawdy tale. "Mr. Malry said to put it in your quarters. Do you want it moved -- maybe over there by the --"

  "I don't want it on board at all."

  "We loaded it with the rest of the cargo. Mr. Malry threatened our hides if we forgot it."

  There was a scraping noise, then the lid was lifted slightly before being promptly dropped back in place.

  "It's an old trunk," Isabeau heard Hawk say. "Throw the thing overboard, I've no use for it."

  She couldn't believe her ears.

  "Now, Cap'n?" the other voice said doubtfully.

  "See to your duties, I'll do it myself. All right, you may go." The door closed again and she heard booted feet retreating.

  A chair leg scraped.

  Gasping, Isabeau drew air into her lungs. Damn her impetuosity! She'd end up getting drowned for her trouble.

  Cautiously, she pushed her fingertips against the lid, opening it the merest crack. Lamps were lit in the cabin, allowing a shaft of light to steal into her dark tomb.

  Hawk sat with his back to her, several scrolls of paper on the desk at his elbow.

  "Well, Isabeau, you may as well come out. We're well on our way out to sea -- I presume that was your plan in this second stowaway attempt?"

  Gritting her teeth, she threw the lid open. Elbows on either side of the opening, she cautiously shifted her legs and waited a moment for cramped muscles to relax. Groaning, she could do nothing as pins and needles jabbed at her legs. Rubbing them, she glared at Hawk's broad back.

  He ignored her.

  Well, she didn't have to wait around meekly. Stepping from the trunk, Isabeau let the lid slam, then heard the click of the heavy hasp. Now she knew how she had unwittingly locked herself in earlier.

  Hawk continued to ignore her.

  She twisted her fingers, wishing he would rant or yell or at least acknowledge she was alive. "So that was your twisted idea of a joke, threatening to throw the trunk overboard? You knew I would hear you."

  Isabeau walked to the cabin door and grasped the glass knob.

  "Sit down." His quiet voice caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. She tightened her jaw.

  "I'm leaving -- " she began in a surly tone, then closed her mouth when he stood to face her. She'd never seen such anger, such a dark look on his face.

  "Sit down." The low, rasping voice was sandpaper on velvet.

  She released the knob, watching it spin back as her hand dropped limply to her side.

  Well, she definitely had his attention.

  Isabeau walked back to the trunk and sat with a thump on the closed lid.

  "It was dangerous to stow away the first time, but to try it again? I almost decided at the last moment to stay in Virginia, with one matter or another needing attention at this moment. You could have been locked in there the entire journey and probably died. Have you any idea what could have happened?"

  If he noticed her face grew white, Hawk said nothing. The fierceness of his scowl deepened and his eyes were cold, unforgiving. "Why do this again?"

  "How did you know I was in the trunk?"

  "I have a suspicious nature. There was no reason for it to be brought aboard. I wonder -- does Malry have a hand in this?"

  "No one knew, it was on the spur of the moment," she admitted, chin up in defiance. "I saw the opportunity so I took it."

  "Why?"

  "Whether you believe it or not, I can help keep you safe."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I can't leave this time until I carry out what I was brought here to do. So you are stuck with me. Once this mess is unraveled, I will leave. You will never see me again."

  "This again," he said in resignation.

  "It's the truth."

  "So based on this story, you excuse yourself for acting once more as a stowaway?"

  She nodded uncertainly.

  "I have a notion to toss you ov
erboard," he snarled, coming closer. "I'm not one to blithely allow anyone to disobey my orders -- especially when circumstances could have turned out so very dangerously."

  In the face of his wrath, she called on every ounce of courage she possessed. "I have to do what is right."

  "Why sneak in like a thief?" He looked disgusted. "It's apparent you need some type of discipline." He made the threat too quietly for her peace of mind. "Obviously, you have difficulty accepting authority."

  "You just won't listen to me," she muttered, taking an uncertain step back. Would he really hit her? "You're afraid to hear the truth."

  He pulled her closer. "If you were a man --" a peculiar intensity darkened his eyes and a slow burn of color moved along his cheekbones. "You can't win, Isabeau," he asserted quietly as she pulled back. "I know all the tricks, and to tell you the truth we're not matched for size."

  His hold on her did not hurt, but she attempted to jerk her wrists free. She managed to come up against him, her elbow jerking upward and under his jaw. She felt the impact of her elbow with his chin.

  She instantly regretted the result of her struggle. "I'm sorry --" she blurted.

  Hawk cursed.

  Suddenly, she was released. Isabeau scrambled to the other side of the room, stopping at the side of the bed. Turning to glare at him, she felt a hot film of tears burn her eyes. "Dammit, why can't you accept all I want to do is help you? This is not of my choosing. I cannot leave until all this is over."

  Hawk stood where she had left him, feet braced, face darkly brooding as he crossed his arms. His jaw was tight, brows drawn together. It was his eyes that were truly frightening. They looked black, their intensity boring into her.

  Nervously, she jerked when he moved, pacing the floor, pushing a hand through his hair. "You could have died in that trunk."

  Isabeau swallowed, now able to read the concern on his face. "Hawk, I'm sorry to have caused you concern. Everything -- my life in this time feels out of control. Events feel as if they are escalating, offering no relief, just an increasing measure of fear."

  He stopped in front of her and she met his gaze unflinchingly.