Time Travel Romance Collection

by Grace Brannigan

  This world is nothing like the England of history books. Danger lurks everywhere; history is twisted and in the skies are dragons. When Erik meets the Lady Iliana he instantly recognizes her as the woman he's searched for, however she wants nothing to do with a man who threatens not only her mission but the very people she is trying to save.

  Iliana's unwavering quest is to find the perfect green emerald and restore its power so the land and people will once more flourish. The sorcerer Mandrak wants the gem for himself, and his manipulations risk the safety of everyone she holds dear, including her infant son.

  But all does not fall into place, for Erik is nothing as she expected. He appears to be a man who cares about her causes and begins to endear himself to her heart. He swears he is not out to harm her, but as sorcery invades the keep, threatening the lives of everyone under her care, Iliana knows time is running out. If the green gem is not found, evil will overtake all.

  Chapter One

  ~1847 Off the Florida Coast

  Erik Marcus Remington shook the salt-crusted hair from his eyes, its overlong sun-bleached length annoying the hell out of him. Next seaport he vowed to cut it all off. He leaned on the ship's rail and drew the salty air into his lungs. The sea, like a contented wife, was calm today, her depths a translucent deep blue. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to a black-haired, blue eyed sea witch. A woman with fire and a promise in her eyes that could make even a sea captain renounce the sea. The sweet scent of her hair as he buried his nose in the dark curls, its silken length splayed across his chest. Sultry whispers as they made love, the sound of the sea lulling them to sleep. A time etched in his memory, but time had not stood still for them, and she had vanished before they'd whispered a goodbye.

  "Beautiful day, eh Captain?" His quartermaster Jock came and stood at his side. Barely reaching his shoulder, Jock winked at him. "That smile on your face tells me you're thinking grand thoughts."

  "Grand, yes."

  Jock frowned, then he too stared at the sea. "It's her you're thinking of," he said somberly.

  Erik clapped Jock on the shoulder. "Worry not. Your Captain is still heart whole."

  Jock lifted a bushy red brow, then left him to his contemplation of the sea, the skies and the memories.

  The sails overhead billowed and flapped, the sound not unfamiliar to one who had seen the sea in all her majesty and various tempests. The wind blustered around him, and it felt good to have the sun scorching once more on his skin. Better than the damp cell where he'd spent a miserable night on land. Damnation, when had riding the seas become so dangerous? Never a thief except when his government needed him to be one, he'd been abiding by the laws for many a year now, but some of the old stories from a wild youth still surfaced from time to time and the law had been waiting for him when he put into harbor. A nuisance, not so quickly taken care of, since the enforcement agent had been intent on answers as to his whereabouts three years past. Erik had not taken to the man and so little information had been exchanged. He'd been happy to let the county constable step in and he'd been released shortly thereafter.

  With a wry grimace, Erik admitted the danger he faced daily would encourage many a man to seek a simpler livelihood, yet he'd been a seaman too many years to regret the happenstance which had landed him in this life.

  The sea was where he had always belonged, his own captain, away from the avarice and greed of men tied to the land. Erik was not a man who welcomed restrictions, for certainly life was too short to be wasted on such. He was wealthy beyond most men's dreams and there was neither man nor woman to bring him to port, although he admitted without conceit that many a woman had tried. As owner and captain of the Merry Maiden, he had free license to sail where he chose. His ship was well stocked with provisions, and if need be, he could remain at sea for an additional two years without a soul to mourn his absence.

  "Aye, not a soul." A man who never settled in one place, he was truly his father's son. Erik leaned both elbows on the smooth wood rail, teeth clenched around a slim black cigar. His own thoughts mocked him. The truth of the matter was he was hard pressed to find his usual verve for adventure with his brother Darien gone this last year. He laughed aloud, knowing Darien would shake his head if he knew he'd taken back the name their philandering father had bestowed upon him. Because old history had come looking for him, his usual ports of call were becoming too dangerous and hence, Rufus LaTour, his former moniker, no longer existed.

  Many a fine adventure he and Darien had found on land and by sea. And then Elise, Darien's long lost love, had risked everything to time travel to find his brother. In the end Elise had returned to the future and rather than lose her, his brother had gone with her. Erik had wished them God speed, and hoped they now had a new life. In his world travels he'd witnessed many an unexplained phenomena, so he knew almost anything was possible.

  Erik narrowed his eyes on the empty horizon. The Sargasso Sea lay south east, thought by some to be a death knell to ships that ventured too close. It was there the woman appeared. His ship had been vulnerable after an attack and he'd deliberately sailed into the Sargasso to evade two ships intent on taking the Merry Maiden. He had counted on the superstitious captains not following. They had drifted for seven days in the calm waters, allowing his crew to make repairs as best they could until they made their way back to the warm islands along the coast.

  Seven nights they had explored each other; the laughter, the gentle and fierce kisses, and when she'd vanished, he'd felt as if his soul had gone with her. Since then he had often thought of that last night, and her claim to have come from another time.

  He had thought they had time, but then she vanished.

  There were moments he still felt her, still imagined he tasted the sweet rose scent of her skin as they'd made love again and again. And she a woman with no name. Erik blinked to clear the vision that even after three years still played in his head, knowing full well there was no chance in hell of meeting that one again. He had to wonder if she had been but a mind trick of the Sargasso.

  The ship listed to starboard side and the sun disappeared, the sharp drop in temperature settling a chill mist on his bare shoulders.

  "Captain, look-ee off the starboard bow!"

  Erik saw what lay ahead as the excited shout came from the main masthead. A wide funnel of water shot up toward the sky.

  He tossed his cigar into the suddenly gusting wind, the expensive cylinder sucked into wildly churning water. "Jock!" he called out. "Man, do you see what lies ahead?"

  "Aye, Cap'n." Jock's full reddish whiskers bristled with agitation, his blue eyes focused on the murky fog swirling ahead, a sphere-shaped phenomenon funneling into the water. It reached from the sea to the heavens. Even as they watched, a second spout of water leapt upwards.

  Erik strode across the deck to the binnacle. With narrowed eyes on the compasses, he saw the needles twirling in their cards to the right and then the left. The ship seemed on a direct course for the swirling water, the sea a sudden tremendous downward flow rushing them toward the mouth of an ever-widening hole.

  Erik jerked his head around to his chief mate. "Swing away from it, man!" he barked, then took a flying leap and slid over the bulwarks toward the man. Erik grabbed his arm and flung him backwards.

  "Are you deaf man? Steer clear." Erik gripped the ship's steering oar in his hand.

  The chief mate turned an ashen face toward his Captain and stuttered, "I-I cannot, Cap'n. The ship -- it's as if she has a course of her own. The sea, she will entangle us, surely we will all go mad." Indeed, they were being sucked voraciously toward swirling mists, pulled into the whirlpool's center. The wind bit at them ruthlessly. A great roaring fury of sound rose and the lash of water leapt hundreds of feet, striking the stunned crew and whipping across salt-bleached decks.

  His hands fell away from the stiffness of the steering oar. Erik stood fast, his mind working furiously. "Men, lash everything. The wind rises and she is no fair wind." The crew scrambled to
shorten sail, hanging precariously as the wind tore at them in the rigging. Something was determined to have them. The ship lurched, the erupting winds like breath from Lucifer himself. They pitched helplessly from side to side, mesmerized by the maelstrom they were surely about to be drawn into.

  "Mother of God! Surely this is a freak of nature," Erik muttered. "Be brave, lads." Howling winds pulled his words away. Salt spray flailed them, burning eyes as they entered the heart of the funnel and were surrounded by a gray void, entombed within the storm's eye, the likes of which they had never before witnessed. Each man held fast to whatever would hold him as the bawling fury raged and screamed. Erik squinted his eyes against the sea's wrath, and of a sudden, all was deafeningly quiet. He shouted to the first mate, but could not hear his voice. Jock stood as if turned to stone, his eyes blank. Each of the crew seemed equally mesmerized, as if forever frozen to blocks of stone.

  Despite the complete absence of all sound, the wind continued to flay them, flinging wave after wave as they were hurled forward. Looking up, Erik could see the sails flapping wildly and in that instant the main sail ripped apart and flew toward them like a great winged creature, surged upwards, only to dive again and be sucked into the hole opening up in the sea. Surely, Erik thought, they too would be torn asunder, flung aside like so much sea debris. Holding fast to anything nailed down, Erik was amazed to see blue skies behind them, the sea an emerald greenish blue from whence they had come -- then it was gone, as if a curtain were dropped, and their vessel was totally engulfed, drawn into the gray void where sky and seas were one. It was difficult to tell which was up and which was down as the dizzying apparition of reality twirled them like a top.

  In the next instant the ship stopped pitching, the sea calmed beneath them with the same suddenness the tempest had come upon them. Gently, the ship rocked like a baby's cradle, and Erik could hear once more as her boards creaked and they glided forward, as if an invisible crew charted a known course. The sky became blue, and an unfamiliar land mass lay directly north, dead ahead. He was a seaman well seasoned in his years at sea, but his reasoning told him there should have only been open sea around them for the next several days.

  "I have heard tales," Jock muttered, "wild ones, of holes a ship could fall into, never to be heard from again." Cautiously, he lowered his voice, "'Tis the Devil's Sea of which I speak."

  "Aye," Erik admitted. "I gave the stories no credence, until now." He pivoted on his heel, jerked his head toward the land mass. "Do you recognize where we are?"

  Jock brusquely ordered the crew to man their stations. After the men were dispatched, he looked at Erik, eyes slitted with worry. "Needs be the charts must be consulted, for I dinna know what course we sail."

  Erik nodded grimly. "Come to my quarters." They went below stairs and once inside his quarters, Erik reached for several rolled charts.

  Anxiously, Jock perused the same. After the briefest moment, he looked askance at his captain. Looking upwards, Erik stared at the needle of the tell-tale as it swung from a beam in the ceiling. Flatly, he said, "We sail east-sou-east."

  "The devil we do!" There was a sudden pounding on the cabin door. "That can't be right."

  "Captain!" Erik yanked open the door. Larkin, their youngest seaman, stood there, his face a-fright. "Come aboveboard, sir. The ship has set her own course. We're bound for shore."

  Erik and Jock bolted back up on deck.

  Erik peered through his eyeglass then wordlessly, held it out to Jock.

  "Holy Mother," Jock muttered, lowering the glass. "What place have we landed in?"

  Erik stared at the castle set majestically against the heavens, its turrets visible beyond jagged cliffs. "Are we off shore of England?" Erik gripped the smoothly turned deck rail. "Men, brace yourselves, we're to run aground!" he shouted.

  The Merry Maiden continued forward another ten feet into a sand bar. Slowly, she listed to the side.

  Erik looked over the side. "We're well and truly wedged." He looked at the boats approaching. "And we're to be boarded."

  Chapter Two

  Date: A.D. 1228, The British Coast

  "Iliana, a messenger has brought dire news." The warning in Sorenta's voice caused a shiver to race up Iliana's back. "There is a rebellion underway in the queen's court and an army arrives to enforce new law upon Dutton's Keep."

  Iliana turned quickly to face the old woman. Sorenta, a trusted servant, had proven these years past that her word could be taken as truth. "Why have I not heard news of this rebellion?" Iliana asked. "We are isolated, but surely it would have reached our ears?" She frowned, staring at Sorenta. "The missive bears the queen's seal?"

  "Yes." Iliana took the parchment from Sorenta and ran her finger over the seal.

  "The messenger spoke of many skirmishes about the countryside as groups fight for control. The queen is in hiding with her closest men to protect her."

  Iliana shook her head in amazement. "I would speak with this messenger," she said decisively, walking toward her chamber door.

  "He is gone Mistress, never even partook of food nor drink."

  "What is known of this man that comes?" Distracted, Iliana moved to her fire pit, arranged the gemstones upon the stone mantle. First by size, then by shape and then by color.

  "His name was not given but he arrives any day now."

  Iliana's insides tightened with dread. She gripped a clear sapphire gem, feeling it cut into her palm. "This news makes me very unsettled. There was no forewarning of trouble, but in truth now I understand the dread which has dogged my steps this week past."

  "Aye, and I have cast the runes and see that trouble brews. This army comes to claim the keep and the lands."

  "And my trade in gems?"

  "In truth I do not know if that is part of the prize."

  Iliana clenched her fists.

  "Terrible things have befallen this place," Sorenta muttered. "Perhaps it is best to leave."

  Iliana turned to her. "Even if we were allowed to leave, where would we go? Would I live in the forest with my little William?"

  Sorenta clucked her tongue. "It was a sad day when Sir Robert fell in battle."

  "Sorenta, do you think this is traced to his death?"

  "It's all about control and power, my lady. Many know of course there is no lord overseeing these lands."

  Never had Iliana felt so alone in this godforsaken life. Moving to the room's window embrasure, she allowed her shoulders to slump. With eyes hot and dry, she stared at the valley below. Her land, her holdings, her people -- a deception to be sure, a role she played until the play was finished.

  After all this time, was she destined to lose all? She took in the flat, endless expanse of barren ground which tried in vain to sprout new green grass. This land had turned desolate, but who could save it and the people? It had fallen to her, but Iliana felt as if her hands were tied. She had been searching for the green gem to no avail. Only the gem could restore life and vitality to this land.

  How could she have been chosen for this quest and failed so miserably? Even the menacing sorcerer Mandrak seemed to pale in comparison to the threat of an army encamped within the keep.

  The previous winter months had been an especially hard time. In his greedy desire for the gem, it was said Mandrak poisoned the soil and caused even the birds to fall out of the sky.

  Iliana longed to escape the turmoil ... yet knew her quest was not yet at an end. Her fears could not take precedence over her mission. She must continue her search for the gem, and once she found it, then and only then would there be freedom for herself and freedom for the people of this realm. Many times she had longed to give up, having been on this quest for three summers. And still it appeared she was no closer to finding the gem than when she first began.

  "Sorenta, I need you to consult the runes again. Where else shall I look for the gem? Within the sacred circle I have traveled far through time, but to no avail. I searched the correspondence left behind by Sir Robert, but sti
ll nothing leads me to the gem. I begin to doubt my mission is a true one."

  "Patience, my lady, you are the last in the blood line so only you can secure the gem."

  "If I was truly passed the treasure's lineage when Sir Robert died, then why have I not found it?"

  If only Sir Robert had survived the battle which had taken his life then she would not have been passed this responsibility. Iliana squared her shoulders. She did not understand this traveling through worlds but it was up to her to continue the search, at almost any cost to herself. She was bound by a solemn oath she had given when agreeing to this quest.

  A gust of wind surged through the open window, shaking a wall tapestry loose from its wooden pegs.

  Her life tapestry. Quickly, Iliana retrieved the crumpled tapestry from the stone floor. Her fingers gently traced the magically woven threads. She had long ago given up questioning how a tapestry wove each new day in her life. Now, she stared at its deeply brilliant colors, saw herself with hands and feet bound and tethered as she stood in the midst of an open, barren field, exposed.

  But she would not be helpless. She fastened the tapestry back on its pegs, then moved over to the cradle in the corner of her room, gently touched her son's deep brown curls. Even as her heart grew heavy with fear for tomorrow, a deep, radiant warmth filled her. Her child, William, her miracle. Although he was only eight months old, little William already had his own life tapestry. It would remain a beautiful though blank tapestry until he reached the age of one year, but Iliana knew this mission to find the green gem was now focused in part for her son. Whereas before her success had been for the people and then herself, now it was all for little William.

  She pulled the woolen covering over his little shoulders as he slept, and over her came a sense of calm purpose.