Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance

by Lorraine Beaumont

  A sneaky little voice inside of her head whispered, it would only take a moment to try it on. Why not? Who would know?

  Katherine looked at it again, longingly, her little voice daring her to touch it. She knew it was against policy, but what could it hurt, really? Her hand inched forward, shaking.

  She was so lame. It was just a necklace, for goodness sake. Maybe it was the story the man told her; but more likely, she had went over her limit of caffeine for the day. Maybe the cup she dumped on her blouse earlier had seeped into her body from her pores, which was more believable than the necklace being the cause.

  She looked around. The coast was clear. Her little, sneaky voice whispered again. Now or never, Katherine.

  The words stuck in her mind; over and over they played, like a bad record caught on some sticky substance from a long forgotten party.

  She snatched the necklace from the desktop and fastened it around her neck in one fluid motion. She did not think about the consequences for her actions or that she knew she was breaking another one of Biddle & Bailey’s stout rules. Or, if she were caught, she would surely lose her job. None of it seemed to matter right now. The moment it hit her skin, she felt a jolt. Like she had been scuffing her feet across the rug and had built up a huge amount of static electricity.

  She held the necklace to her chest, grasping it in both hands, envisioning what the previous wearer was like. Was she beautiful? Why did the knight go to such lengths to bring her back? Where did she go?

  The stone grew warmer in her hand. Her mind flashed to a time that was not her own, to a place she had never seen before.

  Age of Chivalry-King Arthur’s Realm – the past

  Purplish hues ran through the trees, falling across the carpeted floor of a forest. The smell of pine and earth hung heavily in the air, as if it had just rained.

  Two riders appeared. The man in the lead was formidable, a force to be reckoned with, a knight. His long cloak billowed out past the flanks of his massive horse. A battle scar marred the perfect chestnut coat.

  A young man followed stealthily behind, his squire. His horse’s hooves made a soft clomping noise on the needles of pine. White steam swirled in the air, rent from the flaring nostrils of the massive beast’s hot breath.

  A ripping sound filled her ears; it was awful. She shut her eyes against the sudden pain. When the pain finally subsided, she reopened her eyes.

  A cloaked figure stood in front of the knight.

  The squire’s horse reared and danced backward as the lone figure removed the hood. Hair, black as night, tumbled down in waves.

  All color drained from the handsome knight’s face. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, his face void of all expression.

  The forest went completely still, waiting, on bated breath.

  Seconds turned to minutes as they stared at one another.

  Recognition finally flitted across the knight’s face, he stepped forward and grabbed the girl into an embrace. He threw his head back and began to laugh. It was a deep, resonating sound. It was heartfelt, full of promises kept, dreams realized.

  He pulled away for a moment, staring at her.

  Katherine could see what he let the girl see, he let her see to his very soul.

  He leaned forward, taking the girl’s face in his hands; he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her in such a way that it made Katherine’s own heart ache watching them. The love they shared with one another, was the one that everyone dreams of, the one that fills you so completely, nothing else matters.

  Katherine felt like an interloper. She clutched the amulet tighter, thinking if the love they shared was ever lost, their world would never be the same.

  As if in response to her morose imaginings, the winds blew harder, the trees swayed, and the girl began to fade away.

  The knight was yelling to whomever was causing this great pain to rip him in two. His anguished cries filled the air as the girl slipped completely from his grasp.

  Katherine watched… helplessly, spellbound, shivering to her soul.

  Ravenhurst, the ancient edifice, cast an eerie silhouette in the full moon’s light as a line of expensive cars wound their way down the curved drive. Red, glowing taillights blazed in the darkness when each car stopped in front of the massive columned stairs, depositing guests bedecked in all their evening finery.

  Katherine held tightly to the I swear, I did not steal, only borrowed, antique amulet in her hand as their car crept around the corner, revealing the enormity of Ravenhurst in the full moon’s light.

  “Ravenhurst is bloody daunting in the moonlight, is it not?” Ned asked in a crisp English accent as he adjusted his perfectly tied cravat.

  “Yeah, it’s bloody daunting,” she repeated slowly, in awe. Ned looked as dapper as any Victorian gentleman. The suit he wore accentuated his thin frame. He combed his light brown hair away from his face, making it look even narrower and more bird-like than usual.

  Katherine felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, but Ned was no Richard Gere. It didn’t matter though. She was going to a ball in a freaking castle, thanks to Ned. And what Ned lacked in striking good looks, he more than made up for in expertise, since he was by far the best in his field.

  She looked past Ned through the window of the car. Twinkling lights flickered from branches of trees clustered around the edges of the circular drive as the car moved forward a little more.

  “So Katherine, how does it feel to wear an authentic Victorian gown?” Ned asked, smiling.

  She looked down at the shimmering, red satin bodice with black velvet overlay, decorated with hand-sewn poppies. “I daresay it is positively brilliant!” she exclaimed in her best-feigned English accent. “I do have to say, my good man, putting it on was a bloody chore,” she added, laughing out loud.

  Ned chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I have to say you do it justice. It looks as though it was made specifically for you. The fit is just brilliant,” he said with sincerity.

  Katherine watched his eyes travel down from her face to the front of her gown. She lifted her gloved hand reflexively to cover her chest.

  Ned slowly brought his eyes back to her face. “I have to say, Katherine, I feel bloody terrible you had such a time putting the dress on. Had I known, I would have retrieved you much earlier, then perhaps I could have assisted you?” he commented slyly, raising one arched brow.

  Crap. Was he was hitting on her or just being nice? She pretended to ignore his comment and adjusted the skirt of the gown, her gloved fingers sliding over the sleek fabric. She had to admit he was right about the fit of the gown. The polonaise-style Victorian ball gown was a piece of art and gave her better posture than a runway model. It pushed her boobs up, while squeezing the shit out of her waist; her body never looked better.

  It was kind-of funny though; she had always thought this style of dress would be preferable to her skinny jeans, but not so much.

  The shoes were a different story altogether. Ned assured her they were called slippers; however, she dubbed them toe terrors that crushed each and every one of your toes with each step you took. They were worse than her new, super tight pair of Betsey Johnson peep-toe pumps… Slippers, my ass! she thought.

  She glanced back towards Ned, whose eyes boldly found their way back to her cleavage. She wanted to say, Gee, Ned, could you be more obvious? Then she remembered her “borrowed” necklace. Did he know she was lying about it? No, he couldn’t know that; he never saw the gentleman who brought it in. Still, she didn’t want to chance it. She quickly changed the subject. “So Ned, what is this I hear about some legend, the one with the knight?”

  He lifted his eyes slowly back to her face again. “Ah, yes, the legend,” he said brightly, warming to his subject. “Well, if I understand correctly, the original part of the home was built in Arthurian times. In the daylight, you can see the tower room and of course, the battlements. However, as time passed, each owner added something to it. As you will soon see, there is a great dea
l of Gothic influence in the architecture, very dark and foreboding.”

  “Good Lord, then it really is old as dirt.”

  Ned chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

  “I have to say, Ned, it certainly looks creepy.”

  “Well, if you think it is creepy now, just you wait until you see the inside. And as far as the infamous legend is concerned, there are so many variations; no one truly knows what to believe.” He paused a moment to look out the window, his reflection a mirror image in the glass as he picked something from his front tooth.

  He turned back around “That’s better.” He moved a bit closer, lowering his voice as if he were about to divulge a great secret. “The one most often repeated is about the first knight, the Raven Knight. Ravenhurst is… was his home. He had fought in many battles and won favor with the King. He was both feared and revered. No opposition could rival the Raven Knight and his men in battle. The very skies would turn black as he and his men would swoop in, waylaying their opponents every time. Then, just as suddenly, they disappeared and the darkness receded. Throughout time, many speculated that he had a necromancer helping him with the outcome of the battle. He never lost, you see.”

  Katherine absentmindedly rubbed her arms with her gloved hand to stop the chills that were popping up all over after hearing Ned’s story. “What is a necromancer?”

  “A necromancer is simply another word for witch, conjuror, or partaker of the dark arts,” Ned said dismissively.

  “What? That’s the legend? The knight never lost a battle and he may or may not have had help from darker influences?” Shaking her head, she was not quite able to figure out what the big deal was. The story was interesting, but seriously, that was a lot of hoopla for a lot of nothing.

  Ned leaned forward.

  She leaned in as well.

  “It’s the treasure,” Ned whispered in a hushed tone, raising his brows with widened eyes.

  “What treasure?” Katherine asked leaning in widening her own eyes.

  “Shush!” he whispered harshly, touching his finger to her lips to silence her. “The one everyone has been looking for. It is hidden somewhere within the walls of Ravenhurst. If found, it could enable the possessor to have unimaginable power.”

  Katherine froze. Her eyes darted back and forth like a crazy person until Ned finally lifted his finger.

  Oh no, he was picking his teeth with that finger. Calm down Katherine-just a finger. Just a finger that was picking food from his teeth, her little voice taunted. The more she thought about it, the more grossed-out she became. She started to cough-gag.

  “Are you all right, Katherine?” Ned asked anxiously.

  “Bug,” she lied, tearing up as she coughed louder.

  “Eww, a bug!” he said, disgusted. “You poor dear! That is so nasty.” He shuddered for effect.

  She turned away from Ned and quickly rubbed her lips… Really Ned? Bugs are nasty? she wanted to say.

  The car stopped abruptly, pitching her forward.

  “This is us,” Ned said excitedly as he turned to exit the car.

  Katherine glared at Ned’s back, throwing eye daggers at him as he got out of the car. She suddenly wished she could find the treasure of Ravenhurst, so she could turn his ass into a toad for touching her lips with his smelly, tooth-dirt finger.

  He was lucky the car stopped.

  Holding tightly to her “borrowed” amulet, Katherine and Ned were ushered through the open doorway of Ravenhurst. Gargoyles loomed above the massive entryway. She felt as though they were watching her every move, giving her chills. She gave one a sidelong glance as she passed it, making her way into the foyer. The floor was gorgeous. Black and white checkered marble tiles covered the expanse, leading up to a huge, winding staircase that led up to a second level landing. It continued further back, but she couldn’t see beyond. She leaned her head backward to take in the spectacular wrought iron and crystal, Gothic-style chandelier, suspended above.

  “Did you know white was not even considered a fashionable color for a wedding gown until Queen Victoria wore it at her wedding?” Ned questioned suddenly.

  “Is that true?” she asked, sidestepping one of the potted plants on the side of the winding staircase.

  “Yes. It is true. The color meant the bride was coming to the marriage penniless,” Ned commented.

  “Seriously?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yes, I am serious. Even the gown I lent you was meant to be a wedding gown.”

  “Why would you say that?” she asked distractedly, trying to get the crick from her neck from staring at the chandelier too long.

  “The craftsmanship gave it away. That dress took a very long time to make. I do find the color of the gown an interesting choice for the bride though. Red signified she wished herself dead, so I don’t think this was a love match, after all,” he chuckled. “Poor dear,” he shook his head sadly.

  Katherine’s mouth dropped open as a chill ran up her spine. Oh great, she wearing a gown from a girl that wanted herself dead and she had to borrow a necklace made for a knight by who knows what, to bring his lost love back. A wave of dread washed over her. She was starting to have a bad feeling about this.

  “Now the black overlay and hand-sewn floral accents were also an interesting choice for the bride, since it meant she wished herself back. Now this is a bit confusing for me. I am not sure how she can wish to be dead, and then wish herself back; but no matter, these tales are just stories, passed down through time. Who knows if they really happened or not?”

  “Well, at least it sounds like she changed her mind. Maybe she was like Juliet, trying to be with her real, true love and pretending to kick it so the other guy would leave her alone?” she reasoned hopefully, trying to make the tightness in her chest subside.

  “Perhaps,” Ned replied absently. He grabbed a puff pastry off a tray and popped it into his mouth.

  “Still, it is kind of sad and disturbing at the same time, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, Katherine, that is not even the half of it. The Victorians were an especially superstitious lot and even made poems up about certain aspects of the wedding. Take the days of the week, for instance: Marry on Monday for money, Tuesday for wealth, Wednesday the best day of all, Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, and Saturday for no luck at all.”

  “Seriously, you get no luck at all for a Saturday? Everyone gets married on Saturday in America. Well, that is just great; I guess we’re all screwed.”

  Ned chuckled. “You are quite a crack-up, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, a real crack-up,” she said despondently, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “So, Ned, where did the dress come from anyway?” she asked casually, taking a sip of champagne.

  “Oh, it came from Ravenhurst.”

  Katherine coughed so hard, the sip of champagne flew out of her mouth, making her eyes tear up. “What did you say?” she managed to force out after her coughing fit.

  “The gown is from Ravenhurst.”

  “Why am I wearing it then? Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “Oh, no worries, it isn’t like the girl who wore it is going to miss it.” He laughed loudly, the sound getting lost in the crowd.

  Katherine drained her drink in record time. She needed to take the edge off. She was trying to forget all about the origins of the necklace, as well as the girl who wore the dress.

  All she really wanted to do was explore the castle without Ned telling her another dreadful story. He was putting a serious damper on her good mood. And those stinking gargoyles’, little, beady eyes kept following her everywhere she went. It was probably guilt making her feel that way. She should have taken the necklace off, truthfully, she should have never worn it in the first place, but somehow, she couldn’t help herself.

  The necklace was awesome. Besides, she reasoned, it wasn’t her fault Ned lent her the gown and insisted she keep the necklace on. Except he didn’t know she was lying about how she got it
in the first place.

  Apples-oranges, did it really make a difference? She thought not. Ned was the culprit in all this. Not her… at least that’s what she told herself.

  Later in the evening, Katherine finished off her third glass of champagne. It did a fine job of dulling the pain in her toes, but unfortunately, not her head.

  Ned snagged another pastry from the passing waiter’s tray. He popped it into his mouth, and was still chewing as he began warming to his subject again. “The Victorians would attach strings to the deceased bodies in various places, such as the hands, head, and feet before they were buried.” Ned paused for a moment, grabbing another pastry before popping it into his mouth.

  “And to think Dr. Taberger designed the system above ground, just in case the person they buried was not really dead at all. It was bloody brilliant; the bell would alert the cemetery night watchman to dig up the body. Of course, I am not quite sure if they managed to do this in enough time…” He shrugged, licking the cream from the pastry off his fingers.

  Katherine watched him run the tip of his tongue over each one of his fingers. Frankly, she was surprised her gag reflex didn’t kick in, but she was so hungry, it just didn’t matter. The dress had her trussed up so tightly, it was hard to take a breath. She knew if she tried to eat anything, the damn thing would asphyxiate her, rendering her unconscious for the rest of the night.

  “Now where was I?” Ned questioned, tapping his chin.

  Oh good Lord, more talk about corpses. She couldn’t take it. She searched the crowd frantically, for someone to unload him on. Her eyes made contact with Amelia, who was standing in the corner, all alone, gawking at Ned, of all people. Perfect.

  Amelia was another appraiser; but she dealt mainly in antique jewelry. At least that was her specialty. She actually dabbled in a bit of everything, especially from the Victorian era. She was a petite, little thing, with a short, boyish hairstyle that looked perfect on her small frame. She dressed nice, but was more bent towards a conservative look, except for the vintage, brightly colored, enamel flower pins she liked to accessorize with. Katherine guessed she was a likeable enough person; a bit bookish at times; but really, in this business, who wasn’t? Spotting her chance for escape, she pulled Ned with more strength than she realized towards Amelia.