ROMANCE: Time of the Werebears (Scottish Historical Time Travel Shifter Romance) (Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance)

by Sky Winters

  “You look as though you have seen a ghost my girl,” the Duchess said as she gripped her elbow to steady her.

  “No, it just a very lovely piano you have my lady,” she answered, trying to keep her composure. The presence of the piano could not be a coincidence. It had to have something to do with her being hurdled through time. Maybe if she could figure it out, she could find her way home.

  “Oh it is not mine. It belongs to Gareth and Gareth alone. Play something my boy,” his mother said as she and Jill settled in to a nearby sofa. Gabby took a seat in the chair directly beside the piano. Cleary, the three of them often sat together in the room because each seemed to have their own position.

  “Very well mother,” he said, sitting down at the piano. He needed no further invitation. He laid his fingers on the keys and began to play some of the most beautiful music that she had ever heard. Technically, his playing was absolutely flawless, but each song he began was sadder and more mournful than the last. She watched his face as he played portray something that truly broke her heart; he played with sadness. She could feel tears welling again as she thought of how terrible it must be for him to have such a skill, and yet draw no happiness from the music that so clearly meant so much to him.

  “Music moves you, does it not girl,” his mother asked her, her eyes locked on her face as she studied Jill’s reaction to her son’s playing.

  “Yes, it does,” Jill admitted as she brushed a stray tear from her cheek.

  “Gabby, we must go and talk to cook about supper,” the Duchess said as she rose abruptly the moment her son finished the piece he was playing.

  “Do I have to?” the younger girl complained, clearly more eager to stay with her brother and Jill than to deal with such dull tasks.

  “How else will you learn to run a household. Jillian, you should go and rest,” the older woman ordered before leading her daughter from the room.

  As soon as Patrice and Gabby left the room, Jill rose to do just that. Gareth, though, had something else in mind. He moved to block her path, his eyes locked on her.

  “You clearly know music, whoever it is you are. I doubt most drifters do. An interesting skill. What do you think of my playing?” he asked, clearly thinking that she was about to gush over his playing in an attempt to ingratiate herself to him. That, though, was the last thing that she planned to do. She had been thinking hard on how best to convince him that she was not a liar. The only way, she knew, was to be absolutely truthful about everything that she could and that needed to begin in that moment.

  “You play beautifully, but there is no joy in your music or on your face when you play. It's enough to break a person's heart,” she said as she brushed past him and made her way to her room. Had she looked back, she would have seen him staring after her in disbelief. His station in life and his notorious temper kept most people from being so blunt with him. It was in that moment that he realized that this stranger, whoever she was, might not be a con artist at all. If that was the case though, who on earth was she?

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Jill arose and made her way downstairs. To her surprise, the Duchess and Gabby were nowhere to be found. It was then that it dawned on her that it was much later in the morning that she had realized when she awoke.

  As she entered the parlor, she sensed immediately that she was not alone. She turned to see Gareth studying her intently from his high back chair in the corner of the room. It was the first time that she had seen him since she left the music room the afternoon before. He had not joined them for dinner, instead meeting a business associate at his club.

  “Good morning,” he finally said, rising to greet her.

  “Hello. Where are your mother and sister?” she asked, not thrilled to be alone with him after what she had said to him the afternoon before. It had been the truth, of course, but still she was sure that he was not happy with her.

  “They had to run to the store. They were insistent that you be allowed to sleep as late as you needed,” he said, looking as though he was quite use to them finding any reason to go shopping.

  “They are very kind,” she said, grateful that they had let her rest. She was still quite worn out from the ordeal she had been through, though she did feel refreshed when she awoke.

  “Yes, they are. I will not allow you to take advantage of them,” he said. His voice lacked the anger that he had the day before, though she did not question that he meant what he said.

  “I have no intention of doing that. I just do not have anywhere else to go. The second I do, I will be gone. I assure you of that,” she said, continuing her resolve to only speak the truth to him when it was possible. The moment she had a way home, she would be gone; of that, she was certain.

  “So it was purely coincidental that you happened to be lying unconscious on one of the wealthiest streets in all of London?” he asked. His anger from the day before seemed to have been replaced with curiosity and she suspected that it could be more dangerous to her.

  “It was no doing of mine,” she replied, keeping her guard up.

  “And you still claim to have no memory of who you are?” he asked, watching her intently as he spoke.

  “My life could not be further away from me,” she said. It was not a direct answer, of course, but it was an honest one.

  “Yet you remember music?” he continued, trying to break through the wall that she had so clearly put up.

  “One does not lose music. It is a part of the soul, no matter what happens to the mind or the body,” she replied, unable to keep her passion from shining through as she spoke. She knew from the expression on his face that she had given something away in her answer.

  “You play,” he said. It was not a question. It was an observation from one musician to another.

  “Yes,” she answered. Even if she had been willing to lie to him, her soul would not allow her to deny it.

  “Well?” he asked, looking as though he doubted it was possible for a woman to play as well as he did.

  “Yes,” she said, unwilling to hide her talent from him.

  “You said I play with no joy,” he reminded her, still watching her closely.

  “There is no joy when you play. It is such a waste. You have a great talent,” she said, repeating her sentiment from the day before.

  “Play for me,” he ordered with the authority of a Duke. Clearly, he was not used to speaking to someone in a casual way, especially a woman.

  “Now?” she asked, a little surprised that he had any interest at all in her music.

  “What better time. Perhaps it will bring back your memory,” he replied, a smirk on his face as he spoke.

  “Alright then,” she said, accepting his challenge. She turned on her heals and made her way to the music room. She did not look back, but she could hear his footsteps behind her. When she reached the room, she took her seat at the piano immediately. He sat in the chair that Gabby had occupied the day before.

  His eyes were locked on her fingers as she began to play, but she did not notice at all. The second that she touched the keys, she was lost to everything around her. She made no effort to select a piece of music from his vast library of it. Her favorite thing to do when she was in an odd place emotionally was to simply play what came to her. It was the way that she usually worked through difficult times in her life, and she could not think of a time where it was more necessary than in her current predicament.

  Jill gave herself over to the music entirely. She felt every note with her whole being, allowing every emotion inside of her to flow through her fingers into the notes that rang through the air. The song began timid, yet frantic as she had felt when she awoke. Then, though, a calm and confidence rang through. Her eyes were closed and she played with her heart and her soul. When she finished, she was hesitant to open her eyes. The joy of playing was still reverberating through her, and she did not want to face his judgement.

  Slowly, though, she knew that she needed to return to reality.
When she did finally look at Gareth, his eyes were locked on her. Within them, there was a look of sheer wonder and amazement that took her breath away. She could not remember a moment in her life when a man had looked at her in such a way. There was an electricity between them that reminded her very much of the spark that she felt when she played.

  “You play very well,” he said when he finally spoke.

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile of pride. From a fellow musician, it was a high compliment. She could not help but enjoy admiration from him after the animosity he had shown in their previous encounters.

  “Where did you learn to play like that?” he asked. His voice lacked any malice or suspicion. Instead, it was the conversation of one musician glad to be speaking about his craft with another.

  “I have not a clue how to explain it,” she said, not sure how to begin to tell him of the years she had dedicated to the craft, and unable to lie to him about her love and hard work.

  “Did you write that piece of music?” he asked, leaning in as he spoke.

  “Yes, it is my own. I just played what came to me in the moment. I enjoy the feeling of music when it comes naturally,” she said, smiling again at the memory of the emotion coursing through her as she played.

  “If that is what is inside of you, you are a complex and intriguing creature,” he said, his voice full of admiration.

  “For a drifter, you mean,” she said with a playful smirk.

  “Perhaps I misjudged you,” he admitted in a tone barely above a whisper. She was not sure whether he was speaking to her or whether the words were meant for himself. His eyes were locked on hers and he seemed to be seeing her truly for the first time and it terrified her. She could not allow him to see her true self. It put her in danger, no matter how appealing it was to allow herself to give in to the connection that she felt beginning between them.

  “Perhaps you did. I hear your mother and sister. I should go and wish them good morning,” she said as she rose and left him once again staring after her. Jillian had needed to leave immediately. The moment had been to intimate. With him staring into her eyes, the temptation was too great to bare her soul to him with her words as she had with her music.

  Chapter 5

  It took all of Jill’s self-control to keep from running back to the music room. Pulling herself away from Gareth in that moment was truly one of the most difficult things she had ever done. It was made easier when she caught sight of the Duchess in the home’s entry way.

  “Jillian,” she cried with a warm smile, happy to see her up and about.

  “Good morning, Duchess,” she replied, relieved to see her. She needed a distraction to keep the feelings that she had about Gareth from her mind.

  “Please call me Patrice,” she said sternly.

  “Alright Patrice,” she conceded. It was only then that she noticed an army of servants carrying in boxes from the carriage outside. There were boxes and packages of every shape and size. Gabby, standing behind her mother, was clearly excited.

  “I hope you do not mind, but Gabby and I selected a few things for you at the store earlier. I am having the maid unpack them now. I apologize for the limited selection. We have to work within what they had on the rack. My seamstress will fit them for you if needed,” she said as casually as though she were telling her she had grabbed her a cup of coffee or a sandwich.

  “That is too much. I cannot allow you to do that for me,” she answered, horrified at herself for allowing these kind people to go so far out of her way for her while she was hiding her true self away from them.

  “Nonsense, we really have plenty of resources. Let us help you,” Gabby said, looking over joyed to have been able to spend the day shopping for Jillian as though she was a living doll.

  “I appreciate your kindness and generosity more than you will ever know, but I cannot. I will be the woman your son thinks I am if I allow you to spend such money on me,” she said, her eyes locked with the Duchess. The woman had to know that her son had his suspicions and something like this would only make him more certain that she was taking advantage of them.

  “My girl, I am an excellent judge of people. My son is not. I know that you are very alone in this world, and I know that you would not harm us for anything in this world. Let us help you,” she said, taking Jill’s hand in her own. Though she was sure that the Duchess could not know the truth of what had happened, something her eyes told Jillian that she understood more that either Jillian or Gareth did about the situation that they were all in.

  “Thank you,” she said simply. There was nothing else that she could say. She had no resources of her own and no connections at all to speak of. She had dressed herself that morning in the same dress that she had borrowed the day before, something the Duchess and Gabby were kind enough not to point out. She was skilled enough at doing her own hair for her performances that she had managed to pin it up, though it was nowhere near as fashionable a job as the Duchess’s maid had done the day before. If she was going to survive in this time until she could her way home, she was going to need their help. She could no longer deny that.

  “There, there my girl, you are safe with us,” she said as she wrapped a comforting arm around Jillian. “Rest now. We have secured a box at the theater tonight. I thought it might be just the thing to cheer you up after I saw your reaction to Gareth's playing yesterday,” she said with an encouraging smile.

  “Oh thank you so much,” she gasped, too pleased at the thought of seeing live music to hide it.

  “He plays well, does he not?” Patrice asked; a twinkle in her eye very similar to her son’s.

  “Yes he does,” Jillian admitted, thinking back to the skill with which he played.

  “It used to make him so happy but now I think it only torments him,” the Duchess continued, looking concerned as only a mother could.

  “I do not understand,” Jillian answered. She had noticed it, of course, but she had no explanation for the pain that came through in his music.

  “He used to write all of his songs for a girl he thought he loved,” she answered, shaking her head in disappointment at the memory.

  “Thought he loved?” Jillian asked, unsure how else to respond to what his mother had just told her.

  “He was too young to know what real love was. She was just a pretty girl who was too afraid of her controlling mother to do anything but flatter a future duke,” the older woman said, her voice seething with anger much in the same way her son’s had when he had the day before when he spoke to her.

  “Oh no,” she gasped, trying to imagine the sullen man that she had come to know as a young man in love.

  “Yes but it did break his heart when she ran off with the barrister she was really in love with. She used him as a distraction for her mother. He never suspected that she did not return his affection. He was too blinded by her pretty face and sweet words to see that her heart was not true,” she continued, her eyes dark with past anger.

  “That must have been terrible,” Jillian answered, though she could not imagine why his mother was telling her all of this. Clearly, it was a painful time for him if it had been a powerful enough hurt to taint his music for him. It was obviously not something that he would not want anyone, especially her, to know.

  “Yes perhaps it was but he was very young and it was for the best. Marrying some little fool with a pleasant face would have been the real tragedy. Now though, he has come in to his title and it is time for him to heal and move on with his life,” she explained, her smile a calculating one.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Jillian asked, unable to keep the words from escaping her lips.

  “Oh, just the ramblings of an old woman,” she said with an innocent look on her face. “Pay me no attention. The seamstress will be up shortly to prepare your gown for this evening.”

  “Thank you,” Jillian said, her thoughts swirling with thoughts of all that Patrice had told her.

  “I will see you soon my dear,�
�� she said as she shooed Jillian up to her room.

  When Jill returned to her room, she was shocked. There was a maid unpacking dress after dress in to the wardrobe in her room. Her vanity was covered in accessories of every kind. Hats, gloves, pins, lace, and slippers were stacked so high that she was afraid that they might fall over. She was so overwhelmed that all she could do was sink in to the closest chair. Cleary, the Duchess and Gabby had had quite the shopping trip. She racked her brain to think of a way that she could repair their kindness, but nothing came to mind that would even come close to expressing how grateful she was for them.

  Chapter 6

  Hours later, the Duchess was in the entry way, sending a footman out to bring around the carriage when Gareth entered the room.

  “Gareth, why are you not dressed for the theater?” she asked, clearly displeased that he was still wearing the same clothing that he had been earlier in the day.