Time Travel Romance Collection

by Grace Brannigan

  #

  Elise opened her eyes and groaned in discomfort. Her limbs felt extraordinarily heavy. She pressed her fingers over her hot, burning eyes and her throat was parched. She felt disoriented, her though lethargic and dulled. She didn't want to move . . . she didn't know if she could.

  Nevertheless, she managed to prop herself up on one elbow, the movement causing an unexpected jolt of pain which made her fall back with a gasp. She pressed a palm to her chest, taking shallow breaths, waiting to see if the pain would subside, but it did not.

  She felt as if her insides were about to explode. She lay perfectly flat, not even moving her head. Never had she felt so dizzy. The light colored hue of her walls had taken on a strange, glowing light as the sun poured through her parted curtains in a brilliant stream across her bedcovers. The back of her head began to pound.

  She let her eyes drift closed. Perhaps if she went back to sleep, she thought groggily, she would feel better when she woke.

  "Elise." Someone shook her. Elise mumbled a protest, rolled over.

  "'Lise." She thought it was Darien, but she was unsure. His voice was gruff, quite unlike his own.

  "Is that you, Darien -- or Rufus? You change places with frequency, do you not?" she slurred, turning her head into the pillow.

  "Are you ill? You are white as milk."

  Elise rolled over and half opened her eyes, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead. She was so cold.

  "It will pass," she muttered. She hoped she was right, but she felt very strange. Hot one moment, icily cold the next. She had no pain pills to ease it this time. "I just want to sleep a bit more." She was vulnerable as the pain shafted through her, moving lower, then it subsided to a dull ache. "I'll get up in a while. What time is it?" She blinked, pushing her hair from her face, trying to concentrate enough to understand the answer.

  "It is well past the noon hour. I became concerned when you did not appear this morn."

  "I-I have an illness which affects me like this. It will pass in time."

  "What illness turns a young woman's face the color of death and makes the limbs tremble so?" His hands were on her legs and arms, kneading the flesh. His voice sounded anxious to her jumbled thinking.

  "I was a young woman twenty years ago," she mumbled.

  "You are shivering and damp Elise, you must get into dry clothes and the bedding must be changed."

  "I will do it later. Leave me alone." She drifted into sleep.

  A cool hand touched her forehead, making her start. Its roughness lingered against the dry heat of her cheek before cupping her jaw.

  "Tell me," Darien gritted, the urgency in him making her open her eyes. Dazedly, Elise thought he was the one who looked ill, his lips tight as if with pain. "What illness afflicts you so?"

  Elise could hardly keep her eyes open. "It is nothing --"

  "'Lise," he said warningly.

  "Leave. I am sick, not dying."

  "I will leave you in peace when I get an answer," he gritted.

  Exasperation surfaced from the midst of her pain. "It is my heart. I lost my medication when I came back --"

  He pulled a chair close to the bed, straddled it. Darien's large hands gripped both of hers. "Explain what you mean." He shook her gently. "Elise -- tell me what you mean." Frowning, Elise tried to latch onto a fleeting thought. There was something she had to remember --

  "You promised to leave --" she complained.

  "Tell me."

  "A condition I have --" Elise broke off as a fresh dart of pain moved lower into her abdomen. It peaked, then dropped to nothing.

  "Tell me where the pain is."

  "It is more in my stomach now, rather than my chest. I felt strange last night, but I just thought it may have been a cold coming on. I've never felt anything like this before."

  "Did you eat something that disagreed with you?" he asked, coming to his feet and towering over her.

  Groggily, Elise twisted her head to look at him. "Eaten? I haven't eaten anything -- I-I couldn't, I've been so out of sorts. I did drink a lot of water yesterday, I was so thirsty --"

  He stood, scanning the inside of the bedroom, then moved from her direct line of vision. Elise was too weary, too sapped of energy to turn her head and see what he was about.

  He could have been gone hours or merely minutes, Elise had no inkling of time. Suddenly he was there again, gently nudging her.

  "Come, Elise, take a drink of water."

  "My throat is burning up." Fretfully, she turned her head away.

  She was lifted into a sitting position, a tin cup placed to her lips. Liquid dribbled down her chin, over her neck.

  "Drink, 'Lise, you are burning up with fever. Drink."

  Incredibly thirsty, she gulped the liquid. It ran in an icy trickle down the heated rawness of her throat. Elise wanted more, she was so parched, but the cup was gone, and she fell asleep once more, barely aware of the hands which smoothed her covers.

  #

  "How is Elise feeling?"

  Darien looked up as Rufus entered the bedroom. He put aside the volume he had been reading, stood up to stretch.

  "Improved. The fever has broken at least. The doctor was again this morn. He feels she is through the worst of it." Darien's voice changed and he drew Rufus to the other side of the room. "The symptoms are similar to the illness which afflicted you last week, although you seemed less stricken than Elise."

  Rufus narrowed his eyes, then bared his teeth in a smile. "If you are accusing me of something," he said softly, "then speak more plainly."

  Darien stared at his brother hard, then shook his head, running a hand through the length of his hair as he had done many times in the last few days.

  "No. I am tired, and not myself. Forgive me." He put his hand out. Without hesitation, Rufus gripped it, pulled him near.

  "It will work out as it is meant to."

  Darien emitted a short laugh. "Yes, I will agree with that."

  "What are you two doing in my room?" Elise sat up feeling a little weak and drained. The two brothers turned to her.

  "Welcome back," drawled Rufus, throwing her a devil-may-care smile.

  "'Lise, you look much better," said Darien, his eyes sharp.

  Uncomfortably, Elise sank back against the pillow, murmured, "Well, thanks . . . I think." She pleated the fine linen covers, smoothed her fingernails over the handmade quilt. Looking up, Elise studied both men. He appeared particularly rough. He hadn't shaved, and his clothes were uncharacteristically rumpled and creased.

  "I am glad you are well," Rufus said, his voice deep and with a hint of humor.

  "Rufus," she said, a question in her voice.

  He slapped Darien on the back. "Darien, I will leave you to the explanations. I have business on the other side of the mountain." Rufus closed the door and Elise turned back to Darien.

  "What's going on, Darien?"

  "You have been ill."

  She waited.

  "Someone had to care for you."

  "You did that?" He nodded. "Thank you."

  Darien walked across the room and closed the door, then turned to her, his mouth a grim line.

  "Tell me of this sickness you have with your heart. And while you are about an explanation, explain the scar across the flesh of your belly."

  Elise stared at him. "I believe we need explanations all around. Why does Rufus pretend to be mute, and which one of you is the Hellhound -- and if you say Rufus, I swear I shall blacken both his eyes." She looked down at herself and gave a shudder. "Leave my room, please. This can wait until I freshen up and get changed. I will meet you in the back garden in an hour."

  Darien nodded, then left the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Elise sat on the small stool beside the vegetable patch she had taken to weeding when she needed to ease the questions running crazily through her head. Darien paced the path beside her, and she was sad to note they watched each other like adversaries.

  Should she tell h
im that scar was due to a Caesarian? She had to tell him about moving through time first, not blurt that he had a daughter. And then there was the fact that he and Rufus had deceived her.

  These deceptions were out of hand, spinning further and further from her control.

  Quickly, she said, "I sometimes suffer with a peculiar heart condition. I-I think -- that is -- the doctor who treated me felt it was due to a strain or illness of some kind in my childhood. They, er, operated on me so they could correct the problem."

  He moved to stand over her.

  "It sounds like a dangerous procedure. You had this operation performed in a large city?"

  "Yes."

  "And the other scar?"

  "I'm sorry, Darien," she said firmly, "but I can't tell you right now. When the time is right, I promise I will tell you." She firmed her mouth. "Tell me about the Hellhound."

  He sat down in the chair beside the bed. His eyes met her, intense green. Elise felt her insides melting, but she pushed back any thoughts of desire.

  "I am the Hellhound."

  She relaxed. At least she knew who she had kissed.

  "-- and Rufus," he added, again throwing her off kilter.

  "Both of you?" She frowned. "Why?"

  "Are you sure you want to hear this? It is about Rogier."

  She nodded.

  "We had to intercede. His men steal from the people who have little or nothing. They raid during the night dressed in their masks."

  "You have proof my father is behind it?"

  He shrugged. "No, but all signs seem to lead to him."

  Carefully, Elise said, "So you switch places?"

  He nodded. "You realize, of course, the danger if this became known?"

  "Of course I do. You both play a dangerous game. That first night when I was kidnapped, the Hellhound helped me and escorted me through the night. Was that you?"

  "Rufus."

  "Mandine told me there were two that night but I only saw one."

  His mouth tightened and now he stood up. "Yes, there were two of us. I rode into that clearing with my brother on my heels. They attacked, we fought back. Two of them managed to escape."

  "Why didn't I see you?"

  "I had pressing business and I left. I did not know anyone else was there until I met up with Rufus later."

  'Then I saw both of you on the road."

  "We have several outposts where we keep supplies. Rufus changed clothing and saddled a fresh horse and we met by prior planning. When he told me what happened, I insisted on going with him. He had it in his head to escort you -- as himself, of course."

  "Why?"

  He snapped his head around and their eyes met. Elise actually felt herself blush. She lifted her chin. "And why were you there?"

  "Curiosity," he admitted. "I had not seen my brother show interest in another woman in three years. I wanted to make sure --"

  "You were looking out for him."

  He nodded.

  "Why does Rufus not speak?"

  Darien sighed. "Elise, these are dangerous times in these mountains. It is sometimes thought that because someone cannot speak, their brain is affected." He shrugged. "Perhaps people think I put my own interpretation on his hand and finger movements. I do not know. But it keeps suspicion from falling on him in regard to the Hellhound."

  "And with that scar on his neck, it is not hard to accept."

  "When he sustained that injury, he could not speak for almost eight months. The doctors did not think he would ever speak. I insisted he go to the school in Connecticut and when he finally left there, I had him teach me. I felt it was important I communicate with him. Rufus recovers his sense of humor in many situations, but after that injury, I feared for him."

  "So it started out real and then you improvised. That first night I heard his voice as the Hellhound, it was deep and gruff."

  Darien actually smiled. "Rufus was the first one to ride as the Hellhound."

  "And you decided to join him?"

  "We keep each other's backs safe." He paused. "I have seen you sign to Rufus, Elise."

  "I learned sign language many years ago due to a -- a good friend's injury. There is one more question," she said before he could interrupt. "That night the Hellhound took me to the barn, was that you or Rufus?"

  He smiled. "I could keep that a secret."

  She too smiled. "Not if you value the possibility of a future relationship between us," she said smartly.

  "You have grown very independent, Elise."

  "Yes, I have Darien. I'm no longer ruled by what society or my father might think. I will make my own decisions based on what I feel, based on what I want." She sighed. "I'm not sure I could make it in society in these times."

  "I admire your courage."

  "It was hard won, but it's all mine."

  "I was the Hellhound that night." He shook his head. "That kiss -- I admit I gave in to temptation."

  She felt a faint shivery sensation up the back of her neck. Temptation. She too had given in to it. "Why didn't I recognize your voice?" she asked.

  "I can see you want all the secrets at once," he said, his smile now holding a bit of teasing. For a moment, she saw the Darien she once knew.

  "I discovered a knack for voices many years ago. As Rufus silences his voice, I play with many voices."

  "A ventriloquist of sorts. That makes sense." She gave him a sharp look. "So how much longer do you and Rufus intend to continue as the Hellhound?"

  "As long as it takes to stop Rogier terrorizing people."

  "And you think it's my father?"

  "Are you surprised?"

  "That he may be involved? Unfortunately, no."

  #

  Darien clenched his fists behind his back, held strong against the urge to close the distance and pull Elise forcefully into his arms. She still looked a bit pale from her illness, but the fine bones of her face were all he had wanted to see for years and years. He wanted her slim, soft body against his own, to bury himself in her naked warmth, forget all the years in between. It would be so easy to forgo pride, kneel at her feet. One step, two, and it would be done. They could go back to the other night when it felt as if time had rolled back. He shook himself. Ridiculous, of course; time does not roll back, it marches forward.

  Was there a way for trust to begin anew? How he wanted to trust her, give her everything he had . . . but there was still that part of him that spoke warningly against just such an action. Caution had been instilled in him over the years . . . it had been a lesson learned the hard way.

  Darien frowned with great deliberateness, straightening his lips and then on sudden inspiration, he said, "Come, Elise. Let us take a carriage ride." He smiled. "If you would like to go."

  "Well . . . yes, yes, I will."

  "I will bring the wagon around."

  Elise watched him walk away. He whistled, his step almost jaunty, as if he had not a care in the world. Elise went into the house to find a hat to shield her from the hot sun. Cautiously, she wondered if this could be the beginning of finding their way.

  #

  The housemaid Merina came to find Elise to tell her Darien awaited her out front.

  Elise thanked her, but did not hurry right out. She wondered what the other help thought of her going out with their employer. She knew both girls were captivated by Rufus and Darien, and who could blame them? They were eligible, marriageable men.

  Elise shrugged. She supposed it didn't really matter what the others thought. She could find herself in a difficult situation, the master of the house taking the housekeeper out for a drive and picnic. Actually, when Elise really thought about it, she knew it would be downright frowned upon.

  At times, Elise found it difficult to recall she used to be bound by the restrictive rules of etiquette of the times. After having lived most of her life in a more modern time, she was constantly reminding herself of the way life had to be conducted in this time.

  Women were rarely consulted on certain issu
es, and when they were asked an opinion, it usually concerned household matters. Elise may have been used to such ways once, but she no longer fit the mold. In truth, she liked having a say in her own life, making her own decisions. She would never go back to the thinking of this time.

  Elise stopped in front of a hallway mirror, checking that her hair was still in its neat knot on top of her head. She had taken to wearing it in such a manner. As housekeeper, she felt it would hardly be fitting if she worked around the house with her hair down her back.

  Elise walked down the front path and stared at the black conveyance in which Darien waited. It was an updated version of the ones she remembered as a young girl. The black seats were plush and cushioned, otherwise it was a simple carriage with enough room for two people. The dark gray horse pulling the carriage drew her admiring gaze.

  As Elise drew closer, he wound the reins around an iron hook and jumped down to assist her.

  "Your horse is beautiful," Elise said with admiration.

  "Rufus and I raise quality horses. We've been expanding due to increased demand."

  "I can see what a beauty he is."

  Darien urged her up and into the gig, then sat beside her and picked up the reins. He seemed eager for the outing and Elise felt the same way.

  With barely a cluck from Darien, the horse moved off into a brisk trot, his sleek black coat shining as if he'd just been washed and vigorously brushed.

  Darien wore a pleased smile. "He is our finest stallion. Alons is only four, yet he shows promise as a champion racer."

  "You race horses?"

  "No. Roof and I raise them for speed and endurance. Once our work is completed, and we are satisfied with the results, there are plenty of buyers to be found. Several of our stock have been exported to England."

  "Is that what you and Rufus do -- breed horses and trap?"

  As they drove out of town, Darien threw her a speculative glance. "We trap in the winter and sell the furs in the spring. We have developed a market for maple syrup and we ship it upriver to the fancy hotels and guest houses."