Time Travel Romances Boxed Set

by Claire Delacroix

  Again.

  “Let me guess. You are, right?”

  Aurelia nodded and watched him expectantly. Baird sighed, admitted that they weren’t getting anywhere in a hurry anyhow and scanned the square.

  Hekod was not prepared to be found, despite Baird’s earlier optimism. The cops knew nothing of him, no one had seen him in either village on the island and Baird was really beginning to worry that the old guy was dead.

  But that was nothing compared to how much he dreaded Aurelia being forced to face that. If anything, his protective instinct towards her had only gotten stronger after the incredible night they had shared.

  He didn’t want to see her hurt for the world.

  But Baird was sure she knew the truth already, at least on some level. But how would confronting it - again - affect her? Not well, Baird guessed, but wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d think better with something in his stomach.

  Baird noticed a tea shop, and turned his steps in that direction. Aurelia sniffed appreciatively as they crossed the threshold, her face lighting up at the sight of an elderly woman sipping tea in the corner.

  It was Talorc’s mother and she beamed at Aurelia in turn. Relief washed through Baird that someone recognized Aurelia. Maybe Ursilla would know what had happened to Hekod. He deliberately took the table next to hers.

  “Good morning, Ursilla.” Baird nodded at the bags clustered at the older woman’s feet. “Out doing your shopping?”

  “Gemdelovely Gemdelee! And Mr. Beauforte, as charming as can be.” The older lady nodded to Baird, whose heart had leapt at the unexpected mention of That Name again. “You’ve a sharp eye, as clear as can be, though I wonder if you see all you can see.”

  As usual, Talorc’s mother was a bit confusing to understand. Baird was not surprised that Aurelia settled in beside the dotty older woman with sparkling eyes.

  ‘Like to like’ as his twelfth foster father often said.

  Baird ordered tea and scones from the bustling matron running the teashop.

  “I do not understand why all insist on calling me Gemdelovely,” Aurelia commented with a bit of irritation.

  Ursilla smiled mysteriously and stirred her tea.

  Baird leaned forward. “Yes, Ursilla, perhaps you could help. Elizabeth said that there’s an old story about that name. Would you happen to know it?”

  “Oh, yes indeed!”

  “What is it?” Aurelia asked. “Will you tell us?”

  Ursilla looked from one to the other as she sipped her tea, her pinkie lifting ever so slightly from the bone china handle. “You do not remember the tale, as old as it might be?”

  “I never knew it,” Aurelia and Baird said simultaneously.

  They glanced to each other as Ursilla laughed aloud. “Is that the truth? Well, we shall see.”

  She cleared her throat and set her teacup aside, folding her hands primly on the tabletop. “It is said there was once, beyond the sea, a Viking lord who was fine to see. His hair was gold, he could hold his mead, he was strong with sword and brave of deed. When he earned his ship, he put to sea, and with his crew of loyal men, Hekod came to Orkney.”

  Uh-oh. Baird flashed a glance to Aurelia who sat stiffly on the edge of her seat. He wasn’t quite so sure that this was a good idea anymore, but Aurelia was listening with rapt attention.

  The tea came in that moment, cups and saucers settled on the tiny table with a clatter, followed by a teapot in a horrible frilly cozy, a creamer and sugar. The scones were steaming from the oven and smelled wonderful.

  Aurelia, tellingly enough, didn’t even notice the arrival of the food. Baird buttered a scone and poured the tea.

  Aurelia didn’t look away from Ursilla. “Go on!”

  Ursilla cleared her voice. “There was a king on the isle, known far and wide in those times. He was named Erc Destroyer and was greatly feared for his crimes. People longed to escape from the heavy hand of their king, but that had not the power before Hekod Viking.”

  “No sooner had Hekod Viking arrived, his willing men all around, then the people rallied to his side and drove Erc from their ground. The old king was angered his people did not hold him dear, but when he drowned in escaping, the whole of the isle erupted in a cheer.”

  “Hekod Viking was made king by people glad of his blade, and he, grateful for their praise, took to wife a local maid. Gemma Whitefeather was a witch and a beauty unsurpassed, she gave Hekod a son, shortly thereafter a wee lass. All was happy in their kingdom, they ruled over a prosperous age, and ’twould be long years before tragedy darkened the page.”

  Aurelia’s face, Baird noted with concern, had gone white. He urged a cup of tea towards her and a buttered scone. She smiled thinly and took a bite, but chewed mechanically as she watched Ursilla.

  This really didn’t look like it had been such a good idea.

  But Ursilla wasn’t going to stop. “As was told, Gemma was a witch greatly empowered, she held the grip of many of the world’s wonders in her power. There were many of her ilk in those days long forgotten, and the birth of the daughter meant another had been begotten. This child was not only destined to share her mother’s gifts, but she was uncommon beautiful, the merest glimpse of her brought a smile to the lips.”

  “Gemma summoned three of her cohorts to bless the new child, and they all were delighted to share the blessings they had styled. The witches had brought blessings one two three, but evil intruded uninvited, cackling with glee.”

  “She was Drustic of Sutherland, known as Drustic the Black, and she had come, she declared, to give Hekod his own back. A cousin of Erc, Drustic yearned for vengeance with a thirst, and she had come back to Dunhelm to make Hekod’s burden worse. The other witches shrank away, while Gemma sheltered her own, and Drustic gave a wicked cackle before pronouncing her doom.”

  Aurelia leaned forward, her features drawn with tension. Baird opened his mouth to suggest that Ursilla stop this tale, but no sound came out of his throat.

  What was going on?

  “Oh, you will hear all of this tale,” Ursilla told him with a stern glance. “Of that you may be sure, for it is a lesson to us all of what the past can make clear.”

  Baird figured he should have gotten used to the hair on the back of his neck standing up by now.

  Ursilla lifted a finger. “Drustic summoned the forces from the darkness she had roamed, and she bent them on the child, so innocent and alone. Drustic pronounced that the babe would prick her thumb - in the midst of the whorl - and a darkness then would come. She would die from the wound, no one’s efforts would avail, and after her demise, Hekod’s kingdom would fail. Certain she had wrought all the wickedness she could do on that day, Drustic lifted her bony arms, whistled to the wind and flew away.”

  “As you might imagine, the witches were distraught. Here was a one of their own, cursed with evil she had not wrought. They thought very busily of what help they could be, then focussed their aid on the witch making blessing number three. That witch summoned her powers and focussed her will, and she decreed that the child would not die of Drustic’s will. The babe would but sleep, if ever she pricked her thumb, and that babe would awaken when her true love did come.”

  “The witches were quite pleased with all they had done, though Gemma considered matters far from done. Though she thanked her good friends for their gifts made in joint, that night she purged Dunhelm halls of every item with a point.”

  “When Hekod protested all that Gemma had seen done, she feared he would think her a fool and make fun. She lied to her spouse and said she feared for her young, that they might stumble in the hall and great damage could be done. Hekod loved his wife clear to the bone, and though he thought her worries whimsy, he ensured her desire in Dunhelm was done.”

  “And so they passed many years in happiness and peace, until suddenly one winter, Gemma died in her sleep.”

  “All were dismayed at the passing of their queen, though none m
ore than Hekod, or his children, young and green. It was not much later that tragedy came to pass, and ’twas said it was because the lady’s spells could not last. When Gemma passed from this life, ’twas said an age came to an end, and the white-feathered eagles for which she was named were never seen again.”

  Ursilla sipped her tea and there wsn’t a sound in the shop.

  “A messenger came boldly, sent by Bard, a warrior true, declaring his lord as a man desiring Hekod’s daughter to woo. Now, Hekod remembered well that Erc had had a child name of Bard, and saw this as a chance to see settled an old scar. His son rode out willingly to meet the dead king’s spawn, but their trust was poorly served by the very next dawn.”

  “On that day, the son’s head was returned to Dunhelm - he had been murdered by Bard, though he was son of the realm.”

  Baird noted with a start that Aurelia was weeping. The tears ran silently down her cheeks as he watched with concern, but when Ursilla paused, it was Aurelia who silently urged her on.

  He reached out and took her hand, reassured by her strong grip on his fingers. Baird was determined to help Aurelia face whatever obstacles were before her.

  “Hekod was devastated by the murder of his heir, no less by Bard’s certain intent of war. The son of Erc was determined to have Dunhelm for his own, and he cared little for any cost paid to win his father’s crown.”

  “The day Bard’s ships were sighted dawned sunny and bright, and Hekod’s forces climbed the walls, armed with all of their might. The daughter of Gemma, both lovely and strong, took her crossbow to do her part against this wrong. But no sooner had the princess of Dunhelm climbed the wall, then her arrow pricked her thumb, in the midst of the whorl. She fell into that slumber, prophesied and foretold, Hekod crying with pain when his daughter he did behold.”

  “They won the battle that day, and Bard died by his own blade, though the son of Erc had a dying breath to say. He declared he would be back, that he would make the girl his own, and woe to any man who stood between him and his goal.”

  “Though the fight had been won, Hekod had paid a heavy toll. It was said he aged a decade and suddenly looked old. Hekod sent word through every kingdom of what had gone amiss, and promised great riches for the man who woke her with a kiss.”

  “This man would be her true love, Hekod knew that without fail, yet men came one after the other, time passed and the king grew frail. Hekod stayed beside his daughter, weeping as he died, and clearly ’twas his broken heart that stole Hekod from her side.”

  “When the great king died, his kingdom crumbled, and the men who had served, knew their king and lord would see his daughter’s safety preserved. They built her a chamber, a room whose place is lost, and they sealed her inside, sparing no cost. And with every stone they raised and with every hinge they cast, the time of Hekod’s happy reign slid into the past.”

  “When the chamber was done, men of valor wept without shame, and ’twas after it all Hekod’s daughter earned her new name. Spawn of Gemma, yet even more lovely than could be, she became known in Dunhelm as Gemdelovely Gemdelee. A new prophecy was made for Gemdelovely Gemdelee; should her true love kiss her, his bride she will be.”

  Baird sat up with a start when he heard the phrase from his dream again. Aurelia inhaled sharply, but Ursilla’s words continued, her cadence as rhythmic as a song.

  “It is said her true love still searches, as persistent as can be, though no one knows exactly what happened to Gemdelovely Gemdelee. And to this day in the Orkney whene’er a pretty lass is seen, folks say she must be the revived Gemdelovely Gemdelee.”

  Ursilla smiled at the pair of them and the matron running the tea shop sighed with romantic contentment. “No one can tell an old tale as well as you, Ursilla,” she murmured.

  But Aurelia was pushing to her feet.

  She stumbled over the chair and Baird reached to steady her but she evaded his grasp. Her eyes glittered wildly, and she shook her head, her color rising in her cheeks.

  “It is not true! It cannot be true!” Aurelia ran from the tea shop, tripping over the threshold on her way to the street.

  Baird lurched to his feet to give chase, but Ursilla latched on to his arm with remarkable tenacity for her age. Her eyes were bright with determination.

  “Leave her be, Mr. Beauforte, and you will see, that there is no one stronger than soft Gemdelovely Gemdelee.”

  “I can’t believe that. She’s vulnerable right now!” He shook his sleeve but the old woman’s grip was strong.

  Ursilla chuckled to herself, then wagged a playful finger at Baird. “Just because you stop believing in things does not mean they cease to be. There’s more to you than the world might see - look closely, Mr. Beauforte, and you will see.”

  Baird stared at the woman for a long moment, not sure what to make of the knowing smile that danced over her lips.

  “She’s not Gemdelovely Gemdelee,” he said finally. “Aurelia is just a confused woman who needs some help.” He shook his arm pointedly and to no avail.

  Ursilla shook her head. “The only thing of which Gemdelovely has need, is the kiss of her true love, a man loyal in deed.”

  “What she needs is to find out the truth about her father,” Baird said tightly. “And to shake herself free of a lot of old nonsense.”

  With that, Baird freed himself from Ursilla’s grip and strode to the door, hating his sense that the older woman had been ready to let him go anyway. He dropped some money into the hands of the woman who ran the tea shop, ignoring the wonder in her eyes, and dashed out into the square.

  And there, Baird’s fears were proven absolutely right.

  There was no sign of Aurelia anywhere.

  Baird shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at a kid openly surveying him, the only person on the street. “Have you seen a blonde woman? She just came out of here.”

  The boy shook his head and smiled. “Just you, mister.”

  Baird turned away in disgust. He checked the trio of streets that made up the intersection of the town, but didn’t see another living soul, let alone Aurelia.

  It was as though she had vanished into thin air.

  The sign over the Boar and Thistle creaked in the wind when Baird stalked back into the square. Garth’s cab was still beside the curb, but maybe Aurelia had gone looking for a ride back to Dunhelm. Baird shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. It couldn’t hurt to find out.

  There was nowhere else to look, after all.

  *

  Aurelia ran.

  She was out of the town in no time at all, heading for the coast at dizzying speed. All she could think was that she had to get away, away from Ursilla, away from silly stories, away from a tale that sounded far too familiar for comfort.

  Gemdelovely Gemdelee, indeed!

  Aurelia scrambled over loose stones, avoiding the black road, climbing over rocks to the shore instead. The coast was familiar, unlike all that was behind her. She did not want to look at Julian’s magic, she did not want to fight to explain great mysteries right now. Aurelia tried to make her breathing come more evenly as she kept her eyes on the sea.

  The Vikings would come.

  Her father was not dead of grief.

  She would not permit Ursilla’s poem to be true.

  *

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Boar and Thistle was busy with afternoon traffic, although some of its clients looked as though they had settled in for days, if not months, before. Some appeared to be as firmly rooted in this place as the furniture.

  Although Baird had only come in here once or twice, he was hailed by the regulars as he stood on the threshold, blinking in the dim light. He heard a murmur of conversation slide around the pub, those in the know obviously identifying him to the others.

  Baird was very aware that he was the center of attention.

  “Left the lady shopping, guv?” Garth demanded, continuing on before Baird could respond. “No place for a man while a woman spends his mone
y,” the cabbie declared with a wink and a snort of assent sounded around the bar.

  Aurelia was not here.

  And she certainly hadn’t asked Baird to leave with her. That old sense of being unwanted assailed him and fought with his concern for her welfare. Maybe he should take this opportunity to see whether he could learn anything about Hekod.

  “What can I get you, sir?”

  A quick survey revealed that everyone drank very dark brew.

  “A pint of your best stout.”

  The barkeeper raised his eyebrows appreciatively, and the men grinned. Baird had been identified as a compatriot.

  “Why don’t you sit with us, guv, and tell the boys a bit about your work at ol’ Dunhelm?”

  It was the best opening Baird was likely to get. He slid onto a stool and took a good look around. The place looked positively medieval with its heavy oak beams stained dark and the walls whitewashed in between the trusses. The ceiling was low and made of dark wood. A variety of antique etchings in cheap frames hung on the wall. They had probably been of virtually no value when they were hung - whenever that had been.

  The pub smelled of cigar smoke, with a base of spilled beer, and a top note of bacon and sausages. There was no clock and the leaded windows emitted so little light that it was impossible to say from inside what time of day it might be.

  Baird’s beer arrived, frothing over the side and onto the wooden bar. He ignored the foam and lifted the glass tankard to his companions. When he didn’t wince at the flavor of the warm, yeasty beer, their amiability increased markedly.

  Baird restrained himself from running a tongue over the film the stout left on his teeth. “I don’t suppose any of you would know anyone named Hekod?”

  “Oh, guv!” Garth inhaled sharply. “No one uses that name hereabouts!”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a name of wicked bad luck.”

  “Powerfully unlucky,” contributed another.

  “There’s not been a Hekod here since the first one, they say.”