Timeless Whisper (Timeless Hearts Series Book 1)

by Sandra E Sinclair

  It grew hot and muggy. She pulled off her hoodie and rested it next to her on the couch. She needed a drink, something strong, although she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since the last time she was in this room.

  Why had she listened to that damn silly voice telling her to come in here in the first place when she knew it was the last place she wanted to be? Okay, well, not the last, but a close second, the church where Lance was saying his “I dos” was the last.

  She was so glad she’d had the foresight to visit her mother’s grave on arrival and asked that her father be placed alongside her. She could be happy in the knowledge she had done her duty as a daughter, and said as heartfelt a good-bye as any to her mother, given the circumstances.

  At least those blasted wedding bells had stopped ringing. Maybe that was why she couldn’t move…paralyzed from grief and disappointment. When was it going to be her time to shine? The room stopped spinning, or the feeling of it spinning seemed to have died down.

  It looked a little different somehow. She moved her legs to test her theory. Her legs kicked out in front of her and she wiggled them, then stood. Right, she was out of here. She’d told Emily she wasn’t going anywhere—well, that was a lie, she had money now. She was going to get the next available flight to anywhere out of the United States. She just needed to get a passport first.

  Then she’d go to France, maybe study some of those new pastry techniques she’d heard of.

  The door opened. Raven took a step back and stared in disbelief at the woman who walked back into the room. Why would she change into fancy dress?

  “I don’t know what your game is, or why you’d think you playing dress up would help me get over the man I love.” Raven scratched her head. “I’m beginning to wonder why I came back to this crazy town.”

  “Charlotte Springfield?” the woman said and hugged her. Raven pushed her off.

  “I don’t know who this Charlotte Springfield is. But I do know I told you my name was Raven not two minutes ago. What do you have, Alzheimer’s?” Raven shook her head and made to walk around the woman whose eyes lit up as if she’d had some kind of epiphany. Well whoopee-dee-do for her. Raven was still waiting for hers and she wouldn’t find it here.

  “Well thank you for whatever this was. I have to leave.”

  The woman’s hand gripped in a vice-like hold. “Did Moira send you?”

  “No one sent me anywhere. I stopped by for coffee. Big mistake that was. If you’d just let me go, I’ll make myself scarce.”

  “You can’t go out there dressed like that. Let me explain things to you or at least let me find you something appropriate to put on. What was Moira thinking?”

  “You want to know what you can do for me? Stop referring to yourself in the third person and take your hand off me.”

  Raven yanked herself free and ran from the room. When she went out the front, she paused, blinked her eyes and spun in place, taking in everything around her—including all the people who sat staring at her as if she was an alien.

  How the hell did this Moira woman make the room look so different and so fast? Everyone was dressed up in period costumes. “Okay, folks, get back to your meal. Nothing to see here.” She waved her hand at the openmouthed onlookers.

  Some of the women had their hands over their partner’s eyes, while glaring at her like she was something they’d stepped in. She puffed out her chest and made her way to the door, only to be stopped once more by the crazy lady and the biggest crackpot of the lot.

  “Please, you can’t leave, Raven. You’re not in your time period anymore, let me help your transition. My name is Cissie. I can help you. Moira never should have sent you so unprepared,” the woman whispered close to her ear, and tried to pull her away toward the back room.

  Raven freed herself. “Look, lady, the only one of us who needs help is you. I’m out of here.” She pushed Cissie out of the way, opened the front door, and was out on the sidewalk when she stepped into something solid that jolted her backward.

  “I’m sorry…” Raven looked up and rage surged throughout her being. She began to tremble. “You!”

  “Don’t you, you me. You,” he said, seemingly lost for words, as he tethered his horse to a pole.

  She grinned, Raven bet she was the last woman he wanted to see on his wedding day. “Aren’t you supposed be getting married?”

  “Yes. I was. Two months ago, to you.”

  Raven’s jaw hit the ground, and bounced back to leave her slack-jawed and indignant. The nerve of the man. Mesmerized, she watched him remove his jacket.

  “What, Hank Appleton had enough of you already? He sent you back home in shame to stand in the middle of the street in your fancy, and I must stress, quite scandalous New York undergarments,” he said, throwing his jacket over her shoulders.

  Before she knew what she was doing, her hand sprung forward and connected with his cheek. “How dare you speak to me like that, Lance Thornton, drop dead. I’m keeping the jacket. Jake can return it to you later, once I’ve taken my scissors to it.” She slipped her hands through the arms only because of the stares she was getting, and stomped off.

  She wasn’t truly taking in her surroundings as she matched down what she thought was a familiar street. But her eyes were finally opened when a loop fell over her head and the rope tightened around her, and kept twining around her, from shoulders to waist. She couldn’t move.

  Chapter 7

  As he wrapped the rope around Charlotte Springfield, a cold, twisted smile creased Lance’s face. Did she really think she could just waltz back into town, slap him, and he’d let it lie? Well she could think again. He had every intention of taking her back to his ranch, hogged tied if he had to. She wasn’t getting away again.

  How dare she embarrass him in front of the whole town. Just disappear for two months and turn up again wearing nothing but the tightest looking pantaloons he’d ever seen, with her middle on display. He’d seen whores better dressed. The woman had no shame.

  She should know him well enough to know she shouldn’t have ever come back here. He was a vengeful man and she’d deserved his wrath more than most.

  He owned her and had a promissory note to prove it. She was coming with him whether she liked it or not, to work off every penny of her father’s debt to him. The Springfields who had dared to remain in Heartsbridge would see he wasn’t a man to be trifled with. As for the Appletons, Charlotte’s return just might have saved them their ranch.

  Maybe they had something to do with her return. He neither knew nor cared what brought her back, only that she was back. He’d been on his way to the bank to demand the return on his investment. The loan he held against the Appleton estate was up and he meant to have their property.

  He fingered the scar on his eyebrow and pulled Charlotte back to his side as she struggled against the rope.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Release me at once.” She bared her teeth, and kicked at him.

  He jumped back out of the way and stepped out of reach.

  “Isn’t your toothpick of a supermodel not enough woman for you?”

  “Shut up.” He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but the voice he’d longed to hear once more was now irritating the hell out of him. He had all these feelings running around inside him and he didn’t know how to handle them.

  He felt out of control and he didn’t like that at all. It was the same feeling he’d had when he found out she was missing on their wedding day. Had he found her then, she surely would have been dead by now.

  He tugged on the rope and sent her tumbling on to her behind. The sound of her yelp as she hit the ground made him smile.

  “Lance, you can’t do this. You’re making a mistake.”

  He shook Cissie’s hand off his arm. “Get back inside your establishment, Cissie, this has nothing to do with you. She’s coming with me to the courthouse. She should have stayed gone. Well, Charlotte, you’re about to find out that a breach of promise is not
a privilege just for the fairer sex.”

  “A breach of what? And who is this Charlotte? What are you people smoking?”

  Cissie came up behind Raven, helped her to her feet, and whispered in her ear. This vexed him. He tugged on the rope and propelled her forward and out of Cissie’s grasp. He strode a few feet toward his horse with the cackling woman behind him hurling obscenities of the likes he’d never heard. Some of the things she suggested he did to himself he was sure weren’t humanly possible.

  She was making a spectacle of herself, and him. Her outburst had quite the crowd gathering around them. Well, he’d give them a show they’d never forget and her too. He stopped, turned around, removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and shook it out. Then he gathered it into a ball and approached her.

  She began to snarl and kicked at him. With her hair cascading down her face the way it was, she looked almost feral. He could still feel the sting in his cheek. He placed the kerchief over it as he contemplated what to do first, gag her or tie her legs too? Then decided, he’d give her the choice.

  “If you keep trying to kick me, I will have to tie your feet too. As for that mouth of yours, if you don’t want to be sucking on this handkerchief, I suggest you remain silent from here on out.”

  She didn’t respond. She simply glared at him, her chest heaving, tears swelling in her eyes. He almost felt sorry for her as the old feelings came flooding back. Feelings he’d worked hard to suppress over the last two months, which had saved him from chasing after her and dragging her back from New York kicking and screaming. She’d ruined his life, and he had sworn to ruin hers and everyone associated with her.

  He’d managed to run most of her family out of town. All but a few who had a small holding, which they owned outright, and he hadn’t yet figured out a way to remove them. However, none of that mattered now, he had the bane of his existence tied up in front of him. If she thought him once a cruel man—when he was done with her, she’d think him a monster.

  This was his hour of reckoning.

  Lance tied the end of the rope to his saddle, and looked her up and down. “Do you want to walk or ride? The choice is yours.”

  “I’d sooner be dragged through the streets face down than sit next to you.”

  “As you wish,” he said, mounting his horse. Then laughed. “I hope you can keep up.” He clicked his heels and the horse set off to a slow trot, yanking Charlotte forward, forcing her to jog behind the horse to keep from falling. Her head darted this way and that, taking in everything around her. If Lance didn’t know better, he’d think she was seeing the town for the first time.

  She was good, he’d give her that, but he wasn’t about to be made to look a fool by her for a second time.

  Things were going to be done right. He’d take her to the sheriff, and stake his claim on her. Then take her to the ranch and work her until her hands turned to leather and her fingernails fell out. Lance glanced over his shoulder, she was tiring. He slowed the horse to a stop and waited for her to catch up.

  “You ready to ride?”

  She glared at him with poison in her eyes. “Go to hell.”

  His heart sank. He lowered and shook his head, then dug his heels in. The horse took off in a canter.

  Chapter 8

  Raven set off at a good pace. Do your worst, Lance. The second I’m free, oh, boy, is it on. She’d show him what’s what. Did he think making her run was a punishment? The stupid jackass. Running was her thing. She ran enough five-k and ten-k charity events, and to run behind his horse was nothing. This confirmed she was dreaming. Only in her dreams could she conjure up a punishment which would be so easy.

  The most curious part of her dream was why she’d have Moira, no that wasn’t right…the other one in the old-time clothes was Cissie. Why would she have Cissie whisper into her ear that the year was 1880, and to not say she was from the future. That was a little farfetched, even for her to imagine. Although, she did love that TV series Outlander.

  Did she conjure up her own version of the popular TV show? Thank heavens she hadn’t imagined herself in Orange is the New Black. Orange just wasn’t her color.

  From what she could see around her, she was still in Heartsbridge. Her imagination simply stripped out the new modern buildings and left the old ones. Everything else was the same, except maybe the roads and paving, as well as the horse and buggies passing by, plus, everyone wore costumes.

  She also didn’t remember the streets being this dusty.

  Can dust burn the back of your throat and make your eyes water in a dream? Because that part sure felt real.

  Lance came to a stop outside the municipal building.

  She stared at the building through the tears of her dust-filled eyes. Where was the rest of it? Even in her wildest imagination she wouldn’t have turned the impressive five story courthouse into a puny single story building. Panic had a hold of her. If this was a dream, she was ready to wake up now.

  She’d like to thank the one on high for allowing her the opportunity to slap the handsome face of Lance Thornton. That at least gave her some satisfaction, but the sensation in her gut was unpleasant, and she wanted this to come to an end. How did she go about waking herself up from this hellish nightmare?

  Lance dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post. His face was like granite and his eyes were filled with contempt as he looked at her. She swallowed. Why was he being so contemptuous of her? He was the one to ruin what they had. Her shoulders slumped.

  This was nothing like the scenarios she used to have of him coming to find her in New York. Telling her how wrong he was to think anyone else would do. She was the only woman for him and he’d made a mistake, begging her to take him back.

  Which of course she would, after making him grovel on his knees a few more times. She’d even fantasized about him kissing her pinkie toe, in his search for redemption.

  However, this man clearly hated her almost as much as she hated him. It was written in every line of his face, which seemed odd. What had she ever done to him? If anyone should feel aggrieved, it was her.

  “Hey, what’s your problem? You have no reason to be mad at me. It was me who got thrown out with the trash.”

  “Judging from what you’re wearing, it’s would be an obvious assumption to think you insane. I should be thanking my lucky stars you did run out on me. But then there’s another part of me, the part that knows you’re nothing more than a scheming manipulator of the truth, and this is all an elaborate ploy to gain my sympathy. Well, it won’t work. You’ll pay heavily for what you did to me. So you can stop pretending.”

  “What did I ever do to you? You’re the one who wanted to see other people.”

  “I’m not playing your idiotic mind games. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I can’t understand you, and quite frankly I don’t care enough about you to try. I’m tired of you trying to take me for a fool. Go on, get in there.”

  Lance pushed her forward. She tripped and fell to the ground. He hissed, pulling her up by the rope, and slung her over his shoulder.

  “Is there no end to your shenanigans?”

  He marched inside and dumped her unceremoniously onto one of the benches at the back of the building, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.

  The sheriff walked over to them and glanced down at her, his face as frosty as Lance’s.

  He looked vaguely familiar. Wasn’t he Hunter Lucore, Lance’s best friend?

  Oh man, she was toast.

  “Howdy, Miss Charlotte, Lance.” He leaned forward and checked the tightness of the rope, then straightened up. “Where did you find her?”

  “Where did he find me? You cannot be serious.” Raven wiggled her way to a sitting position and glared at Hunter in disbelief.

  “You can’t really be suggesting you don’t think it’s strange he has me trussed up like a Sunday roast.” She stared at him and shook her head.

  “Hunter Lucore, Sheriff? I’ve no idea how you pu
lled that off.” She bowed her head, still grinning. “However, it appears you’re the law now. So aren’t you going to do something about this?” She wriggled from side to side.

  “Who’s Hunter?” The sheriff asked, raising an eyebrow and moving closer to her.

  “Really? You too, huh? Okay you’ve got me. I concede, but don’t you think you’ve dragged this thing out a bit.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Is my uncle around?” Lance asked.

  “He’s expected any minute. Why?”

  “I need a quick trial.”

  “Lucore, surely you’re not going to go along with all this. If you would get me a phone. Jake can come down here and sort it all out.”

  “Get you a what now?” The sheriff furrowed his brow and tilted his head.

  Lance sighed. “She’s been spouting nonsense like this since I ran into her.”

  “I ran into you.” Raven tried to struggle to her feet. Lance placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

  “Regardless of who ran into whom, your tricks won’t work here, so be quiet. Neither Ryder, nor I believe a word that comes out of your mouth. You’ve already proved you can’t be trusted.”

  Raven was confused. Hunter was Ryder, Moira was now Cissie. Everyone thought her name was Charlotte. The whole town looked the same but different, in more ways than one. Except for the scar on his eyebrow, Lance was the single remaining constant, and she couldn’t even trust that.

  She’d seen his face everywhere she went for the past five years. In her dreams and waking hours. What was really going on?

  Chapter 9

  “Would somebody pinch me so I can wake up?”

  “Happy to.” Lance grabbed her cheek and twisted it between his fingers.