DREAMS OF TOMORROW: A NEW ADULT TIME TRAVELING ROMANCE (Ravenhurst Series) Read online

  She gulped, tensing expectantly.

  “This afternoon,” he finished.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she answered before she took back off down the hall trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

  Reed watched her run, a chuckle lingering in his chest before he turned to walk into his room and shut the door. Then he laughed for real, a full hearty one.

  ***

  Milford snuck out of the shadows once the coast was clear and scurried down the hall. He rubbed the sore spot on his head where he had smacked the floor earlier from the girl plowing into him. A small lump had formed on top of it. That was fine, though. He would take this lump and a few others as well if it gave him the result he was looking for. It was one of his many dues to pay. If he hadn’t been so hell bent on getting rid of the girl in the past, he wouldn’t be paying for it now, in the future. He let out a deflated sigh as he entered his room and shook his head. “There hast to be an easier way.”

  ***

  Lucian walked over to his Ducati and climbed on. He pulled his loose hair back into a ponytail, wrapping a band around the length and slid his helmet on. His thumb hit the start button and his bike roared to life. He twisted the throttle, giving it gas; white smoke spiraled out of the exhaust. The dark shadow of Ravenhurst hung over his shoulder, looming behind him, blocking out the early morning sun. A chill swept over him. How he wished he were leaving for real, for good. But no, he was only going to town to make a few calls and check the internet. He needed to do some investigating on this girl Raven and the so-called auction house she was working for. After plying her with enough wine to take down an elephant, she had finally begun to open up to him. Not that he found much out. Hence, the reason he needed to go to town now. One would think with all the wine she drank she would have told him everything he needed to know, but it didn’t happen. Not yet at least.

  Frankly, he was surprised she was so closed mouth. Hell, she had practically told him her life story, but not one word about why she was at Ravenhurst, really. So he planned to find out with a little help from Google. He released the clutch, lifted his feet, and gravel spewed out from behind as he took off without a backward glance.

  What twisted games we play

  RAVENHURST * THE AGE OF CHIVALRY

  “STOP whining you fool,” Morrigan hissed, as she tossed more herbs into the bubbling cauldron over the fire.

  “What are you doing?” Milford asked again, frozen in place, watching her warily from across the room.

  “I am doing what you have failed to do. But nooo, you can’t listen to me, can you. I am making sure that girl is taken care of.”

  “What do you mean taken care of?” Milford asked nervously, twisting his hands in front of him.

  Morrigan picked up a bottle and examined the contents, satisfied; she carefully let a single drop slip into the concoction hanging over the fire. It hissed and sputtered white smoke. She set the bottle gently down and brushed off her hands on the folds of her skirt and walked across the room. She stood in front of a crude bookshelf, lined with ancient tomes. Her fingers glided over the spines of various books until she found the one she was looking for and pulled it down.

  “Wh-what’s that?” Milford asked, his voice, squeaking with worry.

  “It is my book of spells.”

  “Spells?”

  “Yes, Milford, spells.”

  Milford face went pale. “You did not tell me you were going to use magic. It’s a dark art. You should not mess with that, our master w-will not like it, not one bit.”

  Morrigan jerked her head in his direction. Her amber eyes sparked with menace. She slammed the book on the table and crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Really, he w-won’t like it”…she mimicked meanly. “How else can I rid this place from her dark presence? She has used the same kind of magic, even darker than this, to hold his attention for so long. Why else would he still be with her?” She asked more to herself than to Milford. She shook her head, at a loss. “Obviously you cannot fix this mess. So I will… unless you have a better idea?”

  Milford could do nothing but stare, terrified, shaking his head in agreement.

  “Of course not,” she said with an eerie tone and walked toward the table. “It is your fault Milford. I gave you the one thing that would help get rid of the girl and what did you do with it… Hmm?” she said and spun back around, making her dark skirts kick up a cloud of dust from the floor.

  Milford gulped reflexively. “I lost it.”

  “Yes, you lost it.” She gave him a look of incredulity. “So it is your fault I must resort to this,” she said, sweeping her hand to encompass the room, the book of spells and the concoction she was making. “Now run along. I have work to do.”

  Milford stood there unable to move. He felt sick.

  Morrigan lifted her eyes to meet his, raising her brow. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I cannot move my feet.”

  Morrigan laughed loudly. “Oh yes, I almost forgot.” She snapped her fingers, releasing him. “Move,” she commanded.

  Milford’s feet released. He lifted up his boot to look on the bottom. Nothing was there.

  “I said move,” she hissed in irritation. “Now!”

  Milford’s feet lifted in the air, taking large steps backward, moving of their own accord.

  Morrigan watched him trying to look over his shoulder so he didn’t run into the wall. “Turn around, you fool,” she spat out and snapped her fingers once again.

  Milford stopped abruptly and his body pitched forward. He regained his balance and turned around. He pulled a shaky breath into his lungs, relieved his feet were his own once more. He wasted not a moment more. He ran. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him away from her. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to seek out Merlin.

  ***

  It was still in the early stages of morning as Gaitland made his way out of the keep. He could no longer stay abed; he needed a distraction. He briefly shut his eyes against the pain coursing through his body and stepped out of the front doors of Ravenhurst. The wind whispered over his skin, bringing with it memories of Evangeline, his lost love. His heart shuddered in response. Her smiling face loomed before him, just out of reach. He walked down the stairs, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as the familiar ache filled his chest. This was turning out to be another one of those days. The kind of day he dreaded, the kind of day where he missed her so badly it made his insides twist. He walked forward across the bailey, toward the stables. He wanted take a brisk ride, clear his head, but suddenly his vision blurred. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself. He lifted a shaky hand to his head, feeling woozy. He forced himself to take another step, and faltered.

  A small lad emerged from the stables, pulling a stallion into the bailey. It pranced sideways, spooked. The reins jangled as the horse shook his massive head up and down, whinnying loudly. The lad tried to get him under control but the horse was too big, too strong. The horse reared in the air, taking the boy off the ground. The boy dangled there for a moment before the horse brought its front hooves slamming back down, kicking up a cloud of reddish dirt. The lad leaned back, jerking the reins, trying to bring the horse back under control, but he was not strong enough.

  Gaitland was close, too close, he knew he needed to move but couldn’t get his feet to work; he felt anchored to the ground.

  “Milord, move!” the lad yelled out frantically, struggling to bring the horse under control. His arms jerked upward again, lifting his feet off the ground.

  Gaitland willed his body to move, but it only wobbled in response.

  The boy was frantic. “Milord move! I cannot hold on to him much longer.” The horse slammed his front hooves down, kicking up more clouds of dirt, making the ground shake.

  Gaitland dropped down to his knees, flashes of his beloved Evangeline clouding his vision. She materialized in front of him. He reached a shaky hand to her… “I will love you forever…”

>   ***

  Jayce bounded down the front stairs of Ravenhurst, shielding his eyes against the rising sun. He heard a commotion to his right and looked over his shoulder. The sun now behind him, his eyes widened in shock and horror as he took in the scene before him in the courtyard. He didn’t think, he merely reacted, his long strides eating up the ground as he crossed the bailey. He jerked the reins from the boy’s grasp, pushing him out of harm’s way, and forcefully pulled the horse away just before the front hooves split Gaitland’s head in two.

  “Gaitland, by the saints above, move your arse man!” Jayce commanded, his muscles straining as he jerked the reins harder to bring his horse back under control.

  The image of Evangeline faded. Gaitland shook his head and rubbed his temples as his mind slowly came back to him. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision and struggled to stand, still woozy.

  The lad ran over to help him. “Milord here, take my hand, hold onto me,” the lad urged in a pleading voice.

  Morrigan swore loudly, gripping the stone as the images she conjured dissolved, the brisk breeze carrying them away. She released the ledge, rolling her shoulders in frustration. “Enjoy your reprieve Gaitland d’Mezerach, for it won’t last long,” she promised and swiftly turned away.

  Gaitland leaned against the boy, breathless, his body still shaking. “Thank you,” he said simply. The words he really wanted to say eluded him at the moment. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. An uneasy feeling coursed through him as his gaze drifted upward where a flash of red caught his eye. In an instant, he knew who it was… Morrigan… Damn you.

  ***

  The door shook as a fist pounded against the wood.

  Darias lifted his head from under the blankets. He let out a groan, pushing his hair back over his shoulder.

  The banging grew louder.

  “What the devil do you want?” The thickness of the door muffled the answer.

  “This better be urgent,” he warned, and slowly climbed from the bed. He looked over at Marguerite, her hair was tangled about her head, her cheeks flushed, she looked well loved, and absolutely irresistible. “Cover yourself, woman,” he said, giving her a rakish once over.

  Marguerite smiled wickedly at him, taking longer than necessary.

  Darias watched her lift the blankets up, then pull them back down, giving him an eyeful of her beautiful body. His body responded immediately.

  “Hell’s teeth, woman, you are driving me to distraction.” He lifted his pants and slid them on, too aroused to close them fully. He turned back towards Marguerite. “See what you are doing to my person,” he added, gesturing down to his growing arousal.

  Marguerite giggled in delight. “Oh tis not my fault, that…” she added, pointing, “has a mind all its own.”

  “Yes it does and it has a mind to do other things to your person very soon,” he teased.

  She lifted her brow. “Is that a challenge my lord?”

  He growled throatily and was halfway back to the bed when the pounding began in earnest again. “Do not move,” he warned and walked across the room to the door.

  “Oh, I do not intend to,” Marguerite promised, laughing seductively and wiggled back down into the confines of the blankets.

  Darias gave her one last look of longing and unlatched the door.

  Jayce stood on the other side, his face an unreadable mask. “I need a word…now,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Who lit a fire under your arse, brother?” Darias chided, still in a good humor from his love play with Marguerite.

  Jayce rolled his eyes trying to control his growing anger. “You are still the liege and lord here, or have you forgotten your duties so easily?”

  Darias gave him a look of warning, his humor sliding away, and his face becoming serious. “No, I have not forgotten my duties. I was merely taking a much needed break, tis all.” He softened, beginning to feel bad he had been so remiss lately.

  Jayce threaded his hand through his hair. “I am sorry. Much has happened and I needed a word.”

  Darias stepped out in the hall, closing the door behind him. “What is it?”

  “What is it?” Jayce mimicked, “what isn’t it,” he added at a loss for words suddenly, shaking his head. The events of the morning had taken a toll on his person. He felt bone weary and tired.

  Jayce sighed heavily. “Gaitland was nearly trampled by my horse.’

  “Is he all right?”

  “Yes…”

  “Yes…and…” Darias prompted when Jayce said nothing more.

  Jayce leaned in. “Something unnatural is afoot.”

  “Unnatural?”

  “Yes, unnatural brother,” Jayce stressed the words. “I feel it to my bones.”

  “Your bones ehh?” asked Darias.

  “Darias this is not some fly-by emotion. I do not feel these things easily—not like you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Darias questioned, his tone menacing.

  Jayce stepped forward. “Hells teeth, brother,” he raked his hand through his hair frustrated and glared at the now shut door. “I am speaking of that wench you have closeted yourself with for days now.”

  Darias narrowed his eyes. He took a purposeful step forward. “Watch your tongue brother else I may have a need to cut it from your smart mouth.”

  Jayce gave Darias an “I dare you to try look” but held his tongue.

  “This wench, you speak of is not a fleeting emotion. She is…,” he paused trying to find the words he wanted to say, to explain, make his brother understand what she meant to him. “I think, nay, I know she is the one I am meant to be with and I intend to make her my wife.”

  Jayce stared at his brother in disbelief. “Your wife?” he stressed the word. “Do you even know what you are saying? You do not even know who she is or from where she has come.”

  “I know all I need to know. This…” He gestured to himself and his chamber, indicating the girl. “Tis none of your affair,” he said with finality.

  “None of my affair…?” Jayce gaped at him, wondering what in the hell had come over his brother. “Oh how I wish that were true. This is my home as well, or have you so easily forgotten it was I who helped fill the coffers of Ravenhurst with my blood and sweat.”

  Darias tensed. “You are crossing a line, my brother.”

  Jayce angrily dashed a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped as he lifted weary eyes to his twin. “You are telling me, I have no say? No say at all in who you choose to make mistress of us all?”

  Darias felt the weight of the words settling on his shoulders. It was true. He had always thought he would seek the approval of his only brother if this instance ever occurred. But why should he? He was the oldest, and it was his birthright as the eldest. Still it did not sit well with him. He sighed deeply. “Of course I would want you to have a say. Tis your home as well,” he said.

  Jayce relaxed his stance a bit and gave Darias a nod of approval. “Good. I hope you will see the reasoning behind my words. I told them you would.”

  It took Darias a moment to digest what he was saying. “Told who?”

  “Everyone”

  “Everyone…” Darias clenched his jaw. “You mean all within the walls of my home? The very ones I provide shelter for, to ward off the elements, storm, cold, give shade in the unrelenting heat. The ones I feed with my own blood, sweat, and tears, those are the people you are speaking of?” his voice grew quieter with each verbal blow he delivered.

  Jayce flinched and swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  Darias did not move. Not an inch.

  Jayce relaxed even more. He did not realize the volatile force he was dealing with at the moment and took Darias’ stillness as acquiescence. “Good. Now once you’re done having your fill of the wench, you can set her aside. I will send a missive to the King telling him you are finally ready to settle down. I am sure he already has a list of eligible candidates for you.” Jayce inhaled deeply
, the tightness in his chest subsiding. “This is for the best.” He lifted his hand and placed it on Darias’ shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

  Darias stared at Jayce in disbelief. How could his own flesh and blood turn on him so quickly? Or had he always been against him. Was he, Darias, so caught up in the lives of the people around him, he was failing to see as clearly as he should have?

  “This is for the best,” Jayce said his tone placating.

  That was it. The last and final jab Darias was able to endure. He grabbed hold of Jayce’ hand, yanking it from his shoulder, twisted it behind his back and bent it upward. Darias leaned in close, his mouth inches away. “Do not make the mistake of telling me how to live my life again, or I shall end yours.” He shook with anger. “Do you understand me, brother?”

  Jayce said nothing; he simply nodded his head in agreement.

  Darias grunted in disgust and shoved Jayce away.

  Jayce fell forward, barely catching himself before his face hit the wall. He turned and looked over his shoulder. “I suspect it is just as Milford has said. She has you bewitched,” Jayce said, lifting his hand to rub his shoulder. “You poor wretch,” he said with disgust.

  Darias clenched his hands into fists, taking a step forward… his body shaking with rage. He literally had to force himself to stop from wrapping his hands around his brother’s throat. Luckily, for Jayce, the love he held in his heart for him outweighed that of his need for retribution, if only for the moment. It was a skill he had mastered in battle. Never, ever, let your emotions control your actions else you may find a dagger in your gullet or your head loosened from your shoulders. Even though he knew this, it still did not bring him comfort.

  ***

  Marguerite pulled away from the door and lifted her hand to her mouth; her lips trembled under her fingers. No, no, no, no…this cannot be happening. She paced back and forth across the floor in aggravation, the heavy blankets trailing behind. “This cannot be happening,” she repeated. Not now, not when she was finally on the verge of making all her dreams come true. “But no, can’t do that can you?” she complained to the empty air. For once, she couldn’t blame Katherine or the stupid amulet either, since she was still here. And yes, she knew about Katherine much the same way as Katherine knew about her. She could see her…well she could in her mind. The problem was she couldn’t send Katherine gallivanting through the centuries like she had been tossed. No, hers was a one sided amulet. It was broken and now she a captive to the whims of another.