Lost in Time: His Lady in Green Chapter 18

by Marguerite Kaye

Eve screamed and the knife clattered to the floor, skidding over the polished wooden boards. Staggering back, she crashed into the door and was trying to fumble for the handle when a large hand clamped around her wrist.

‘How many times do I have to say it!  I must not be disturbed in the night.’ The man cursed heavily and the vice-like hold on her arm was released. A switch clicked, and the room – a bedchamber – was filled with a weak electric light.

‘It’s you!’

A sheen of sweat made his black hair cling to his furrowed brow. There were dark shadows under his blue eyes. Beneath the stubble which roughened his jaw, his skin was ashen. He did not look to be much older than when she had first encountered him in the trench, but there was something haunted in his expression that told of suffering beyond description. Eve reached out to touch the crescent-shaped scar on his cheek. ‘You survived the blast. I was so afraid – but you’re alive.’

‘Alive, though there are times when I feel I am in a living hell.’ Major Tristan Daubenay ran a shaking hand through his hair. ‘Every night since the war ended, it is the same. I close my eyes and they are there, the dead. So many of them, I can’t even remember their names.’ He padded over to the bedside table and slopped water into a glass from the jug there. ‘I dream I am back in the trenches fighting for my life. I almost strangled my mother one night, when she tried to waken me. That’s why I gave orders that no-one was to disturb me, not matter what racket I make. I took you for a German spy just now. You’re lucky I didn’t slit that beautiful throat of yours.’ He slumped down onto the bed. ‘Shell shock, they call it in the men. In we officers, it is deemed a lack of moral fibre. My mother is embarrassed by me.’ The major swore again. ‘I sometimes think it would have been better if I had died.’

Appalled by the naked suffering in his face, Eve sat down beside him, clasping his hand between hers. ‘We call it post-traumatic stress now. It is a recognised illness, nothing to be ashamed of. I cannot imagine the horrors you must have lived through.’

His fingers tightened in hers. ‘Nothing to what I’ve seen others suffer. I’m alive, and relatively unscathed. I should be grateful.’

‘Instead of which you feel guilty,’ Eve said gently.

He looked at her in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

She shook her head. ‘When I last saw you it was the night before the Somme. The odds were stacked against you, you said. And there was that huge blast, I still cannot believe you survived.’

He smiled the crooked smile she remembered, and fumbled with the buttons on his striped pyjama top to reveal a scar shaped like a starburst over his heart. ‘A miracle,’ he said, ‘and it was thanks to you in part.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I told you the angels of the battlefield signified either death or good fortune. You, my angelic lady in green, brought me enormous good fortune. He reached under his pillow. ‘This. I don’t know how it came to be in the pocket of my tunic, but it deflected the shrapnel which should have killed me. I carried it with me over my heart for the rest of the war. It is my lucky charm. In the night, when I feel the terrors starting, if I can just hold it – sometimes it keeps them at bay.’

In his hand, he held the large emerald which had formed the centre-piece of her necklace. Eve’s blood ran cold. ‘Your lucky charm,’ she repeated with a sense of foreboding. ‘But the scar?’ She placed her hand over the strange indentation, feeling his heart beat steadily beneath her palm.

For answer, he placed the emerald on the scar where it sat, looking curiously as if it had grown there. ‘They couldn’t understand it at the field hospital, by rights the stone should have pierced the bone and then my heart. It is absurd I know, but I fear that if ever I were to lose it, I would die. What is it, my angel, why do you look so sad?’

‘It’s nothing.’ She couldn’t ask him to surrender it, she simply could not. She could only hope that in some parallel universe, the emerald would find its way back to Sebastian’s family, but she was not going to be the one to deprive Major Daubenay of the one comfort he had. So many stories intertwined, so many of Sebastian’s ancestors she had encountered during this bewildering night, Eve felt suddenly quite overcome and in dire need of the one pair of arms she knew were the right ones, the only ones, for her.  ‘I must leave now,’ she said, getting wearily to her feet.

‘The last thing I remember before the blast was your lips on mine,’ the major said. ‘The sweetest of kisses, I know it would have been. I doubt I’ll see you again, my angel. Will you grant me that kiss before you leave?’

Hot tears streaked her cheeks as she twined her arms around his neck. With a muffled groan, he enfolded her, pulling her tight against him. ‘My angel.’

It was indeed the sweetest of kisses, tinged with regret, salty with her tears. ‘Darling Tristan, you’ll recover given time. Think of me whenever you hold the emerald,’ she whispered, as the floor began to rock and shift, the weak electric light dimmed, and Eve felt herself falling…

MARGUERITE KAYE

I write hot historical romances from cold and usually rainy Scotland featuring rakes, sheikhs and Highlanders. I also knit and like to drink martinis. I have a time travel short, Lost in Pleasure, out in March, and I'm currently working on a series of three linked short stories set in the First World War, due for release next year. You can find out more about me and my books on my website, www.margueritekaye.com, or join me for a chat on Facebook or Twitter. 

His Lady in Green: Chapter 17

The sparkle intensified as the whispered word faded.  Dizzied, Eve shook her head, trying to clear her vision.  Finally the swirling light steadied, coalescing into candlelight reflected off the jeweled hilt of a dagger—which she held once again in her hand. 

Fingers clenching on the weapon, Eve looked around her.  The large canopied bed and tall wardrobe told her she’d been transported to a bedchamber.  A lady’s bedchamber, for she stood before a dressing table, the tip of her dagger pointing toward a large jewel case.

A shock ran through her.  Might the rest of the Merygham emeralds be hidden within that case?

Eagerly she applied the dagger to the lock, twisting until it yielded.  Ignoring the outrageousness of her actions—after all that had happened this night, what matter a bit of thievery?—she plunged her hands into the case, pushing aside necklaces, ear bobs, brooches winking with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, searching for the green fire of emeralds.

At the very back of the case, her fingers encountered a jumble of unset stones.  She raked them into the light and her heart leapt.  Emeralds!  Emeralds of graduated size that would perfectly complement the brooch and the stones she’d already retrieved.

Hastily she pulled them out and thrust them into the evening bag with the others.  Were these stones enough to complete the necklace?  If so, how and where was she to get them set?

Before she could decide what to do next, the chamber door opened.  Gasping, Eve closed the jewel case and whirled to face the newcomer.

Sebastian! her heart sang.  But even as she poised herself to run into his arms, she realized once again, she’d been fooled by the handsome profile above a black dinner jacket and white tie.  This was not her Sebastian, but the elegant Regency Sebastian she’d met earlier on the stairway.

He’d halted, too, staring at her.  “My Lady in Green!” he exclaimed.  “What are you doing in my mother’s chamber?”

While Eve fumbled for some plausible explanation, he advanced on her.  “”No need for a dagger, my lovely, I mean you no harm, but…”  He broke off, his expression of delighted surprise turning to concern.  “Your gown is torn—and is that blood on your shoulder?  Are you injured?”

“M-mud, not blood,” she stuttered. “I’ve been, ah, traveling.”  As she tucked her evening bag under her arm to rub at the spot, two emeralds spilled out.   

Drat, she must not have fastened the clasp!  Before she could snatch them up, Sebastian swept them off the floor.  He gazed at the gems in his palm, then back at her, his expression turning grimmer.  “The emeralds.  Papa brought them for Mama, but she never fancied them.  Not with the curse.

“Curse?” Eve echoed faintly.

“Returning from London after purchasing the gems, Papa came upon a band of gypsies, who were being driven out by the local residents of the town through which he was riding.  Having pity on them, he offered the leader a stone to buy food and supplies.  We need shelter and a place to stay, not gems, the leader replied—for what jeweler would believe the stone wasn’t stolen?  Knowing his neighbors were unlikely to look favorably on having a gypsy band settle near Meryngham, Papa regretfully refused.  The gypsy leader tossed the emerald back at him, pronouncing a curse on the stones and anyone who wore them.  Unless…”

“Unless...?”

“Unless the gems were given as a token of true love by the heir to his lady.  Sadly, my parents’ marriage was an arranged one.  Mama kept the stones, but as you see, unset.”

The necklace must have been created by some later Daubenay, Eve thought.  And at what point had the fate of the necklace determined the fate of Merygham?

“You could stay…and I could give them to you,” Sebastian said softly, placing the stones back in her palm before reaching to caress the spot where she’d brushed away the mud.  “I hardly dared hope I would see you again—but here you are!  Our love could break the curse.”

His touch was mesmerizing, intoxicating.  She was so tired and confused, and he was so very like her Sebastian.  Was this what she was meant to do?  Stay with this Sebastian, so the necklace might be created?

His lips brushed her bare throat, sending shivers down her spine, calling up a heated response from deep within her.  “I’d make you a choker of green fire,” he whispered.  “Fire to match the blaze you ignite within me as I touch you…kiss you.”

He pulled her unresisting body closer and took her mouth.  He even tasted like her Sebastian, she thought muzzily as his tongue swept hers.  She swayed, and he caught her to him, fitting her against his lean hard strength.

How easy it would be to stay within the shelter of his arms, giving herself into his care.  But some nagging bit of resistance held her back.

He’d said “choker,” not “necklace,” she realized, the importance of that fact finally breaking through her sensual haze.  The heirloom she’d worn earlier this evening had been long, the central brooch nestling  in the hollow between her breasts.

She could not be meant to stay here. 

Still, Eve had to summon every last bit of strength and will to push him away.

“I..I cannot stay,” she said, retreating from him.  “I must take the gems and go.  I can’t explain, but it is imperative for you, for the future of the Daubenays.”

The heated look fading from his eyes, he reached out to capture her shoulders.  “But my lovely lady, how can I protect you from harm if you go?  No, you must stay.”

Did he know about the danger that threatened the wearer of the necklace?  Before she could ask him, he moved toward the door, a hand raised as if to lock it.  “I cannot allow you to make the sacrifice.”

If the necklace were not complete, the Daubenays—and her Sebastian—would suffer.  She could not let this Sebastian trap her here!  Clutching the loose emeralds in her hand, she rushed for the door, struggling as he sought to prevent her from passing.

“If you care for me, let me go!” she cried, breaking free as his fingers slipped on the silk of her gown.

Picking up her skirts, she raced out the door and down the hallway, frantic to escape his following footsteps.  Coming to a cross passage, she turned down the unlit hallway, grabbed the handle of the first door she saw, and rushed in. 

Closing it behind her, Eve leaned against the solid oak panel, gasping.  Not until she straightened did she realize she was not alone—as the cold steel of a blade slid against her throat.

--Julia Justiss

Julia Justiss is happy to announce the first book of her  Ransleigh Rogues series, the story of four cousins, best friends through childhood and university, whose destinies are forever altered by war and the love of one remarkable woman.

March's THE RAKE TO RUIN HER features "Magnificent Max," earl's son and leader of the Rogues, whose dreams of a brilliant government career are ruined by betrayal at the Congress of Vienna.  But heiress Caroline Denby, who wishes to avoid marriage, is delighted to encounter the disgraced Max at a houseparty.  Why not, she proposes, put his bad reputation to good use by ruining hers?

His Lady In Green: Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Eve turned slowly, taking in the room around her.  Lit by candles and a roaring fire, it was small, but the furniture was well made, even sumptuous.  Leather seats and carved wood tables.  She had once more changed locations and, it appeared, finances.  This was a wealthy man’s retreat.

“My lady, I thought to never see you again.”

The voice was strangely familiar, but without the Scottish burr and urgency.  The fleeing Jacobite…

A man’s bowed head and extended hand met her gaze.  His red hair was cropped short, fashionable for her time, but not here.  Now men wore wigs.  His shirt was fine lawn with ruffles down the front.  Instead of feminine, the design was very masculine with the front open to his chest and showing auburn hairs curled enticingly against flat muscles. Would his abs be ripped?  Very likely.  Plain brown pantaloons hugged his lean hips and white stockings showed powerful calves displayed to perfection by his ‘perfect leg’.  A man worth returning to.

She put her hand in his.  “My lord, am I in France?”  His lips brushed her skin, sending tremors up her arm.  Now she understood why the gallant gesture was so popular.  It was touching that created sensation, yet did not flaunt the conventions.

He released her and straightened, standing a good four inches taller, even though she still wore her spiked heels.  “Nay.  You are in a different room, but still in the Meryngham  Castle.  I am a guest, a distant cousin of the current Earl and his soon to deliver wife.”  A smile twisted his fine, full lips.  “With luck, she bears the heir.”

“Your heir,” Eve murmured.

Sadness darkened his eyes, turning them to the grey of a stormy sea.  “’Tis better this way.  My loyalties have always been over the water.”  He shook himself.  “But enough of this.  A birthing is no time for melancholy.  Particularly this one.”

She nodded.  “As you wish.”

“What I wish for, Lady in Green, is another kiss.  I have never forgotten the last, though it be ten years ago.”  His gaze ran over her as he moved in.  “I knew last time you were indecently dressed, but I never imagined this.”  His voice ended on a raspy note as his hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her to him.

Eve gasped just as his mouth took hers.  His tongue invaded, bringing a taste of finest Scotch and mint.  She shivered as her body responded.  With a sigh of pleasure her fingers tangled in the fine lace ruffles at his nape. 

But enough!  She wasn’t here to dally with him.  With another sigh, only regret this time, she pushed against his hard chest.  He let her go, but his heated perusal did nothing to calm the fire that flared between them.

“As tempting as your kiss is, I am here for another reason-”

“The missing emeralds.”  He reached out and one finger traced her collar bone where the emeralds once rested.  “I wondered.”

She took a deep breath and tried to bury her reaction to his touch.  She loved Sebastian.  “What do you mean?”

He turned away and moved to a coat lying over the back of a chair.  He dug in one of the copious pockets.  Coming back to her, he held out his hand.

“Oh!”  Eve stared at the jewelry nestled in his palm.  Emeralds, diamonds and gold winked and sparked in the flickering light. 

“Aye.  ‘Twas given to me for services rendered.  I brought it with me, intending to give it to the mother-to-be, but now I think it belongs to you.”

She took it from him.  “It’s the centrepiece of the necklace, but now it’s a brooch.”  She held it up.  “But much fine jewelry is made up of various pieces that can be worn in several ways.”

He nodded.  “I do not know what has happened, but my gut says the necklace must be found.  I am only sorry I have only this piece.  I would give you all if I could.”

She saw the need in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t see in the dark of her last visit.  “Will you be all right?”

He nodded, his attention never wavering from her face, as though he stored every feature, every emotion.  “I am a chevalier of France now.  Not as exalted as an English Earl, but better than it might have been.”

“What year is this?”  Sudden fear curdled her stomach.

“Seventeen fifty-six.”  He grimaced.  “It took me awhile to earn my place, I know-“

She reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling the muscles flex beneath her fingers.  “Please, please be careful.  Never make France your permanent home.  Promise me.”

He stared at her.  “Do you know something?”

Eve bit her lip.  Should she tell him?  Would it matter?  Sparkles danced around him, as though her decision called them into being. 

“Promise me…” 

As many of you may realize, Eve is warning him about the French Revolution.  While it is still years in the future, this Sebastian is a fine specimen with every likelihood of living long enough to be caught up in the destruction and death.  Luckily, I know he heeds her warning. :)  best: Georgina Devon

p.s. be sure to look for A Christmas to Remember, a novella originally written for Zebra Regencies now on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

Lost in Time: His Lady in Green - Chapter 15

By Terri Brisbin 

‘Remember me?’

At first, Eve thought that Ranulf’s words yet echoes in her mind, at least until the thick growth of heather at her feet and the tall, muscular form of Dougal MacKinnon drew her attention.

‘Remember me, milady?’ he asked, his sonorous voice and appealing burr causing a shiver of decadent longing deep inside her.

He stepped closer, holding out his hand to her and, damn her weakness!, she took hold. Part of her reacted to the longing she felt, but part of her simply needed to feel something, someone, real right now. The events and people of this night were wearing on her and the fear of what still lay ahead made her tremble. Could she find the missing emeralds? Would she ever return to her own time and to Sebastian?

Dougal pulled her to him and wrapped his strong arms around her, giving her the grounding she so needed in this moment. Real or not, he felt it and she would take that for now. A short respite from the revolving doors and times and places. As though he understood, he held her close and kissed her forehead gently. Eve closed her eyes and just let his strength and comfort seep into her. After a long minute, she opened her eyes and glanced around at their surroundings. Not the chamber where she’d met him the first time, they now stood in a clearing before a large, stone keep.

‘Where are we?’ she asked. ‘This is not England.’ He released her and stepped a pace back while keeping her hand in his.

‘This is Broch Ayre,’ he said, a possessive smile curving his sexy mouth in a way that begged her to kiss him. ‘My home.’

Eve searched her memory for any knowledge of the northern estates that belonged to the Meryngham title and could not remember any in Scotland.

‘How?’

‘Your visit in Meryngham Castle made me realize the futility of continuing my claim.’ Eve frowned, trying to remember anything she might have said that would have influenced him. She’d met and spoken with too many this night to keep it all straight.

‘The way you questioned that any Scot had held the Meryngham title,’ he replied to her silent question. ‘The Lady in Green is rumoured to know the past and future and I knew the truth of my quest. So,’ he said, gifting her with that wicked, wicked smile, ‘I bargained for what I could get.’ He motioned to the keep and the lands surrounding it. ‘Mine.’ She laughed then at his grin.

‘A practical solution,’ she said. ‘And you are content? With the keep and lands?’ she asked.

‘Keep. . .lands. . .a title of mine own and a good portion of gold,’ he rattled off the list of prizes he’d won in the bargain to her. She laughed at his obvious pride in managing to get as much as he did. ‘I am pleased with my winnings,’ he said. Before she could reply, he reached into the leather sporran that lay across his hips and pulled something out in his closed fist. ‘But this is more important than the rest.’

His fingers lifted and in his palm he held a large emerald. Could it be?

‘Aye, ‘tis one of their precious emeralds, collected and hoarded. This made me content,’ he said, closing his fist around it once more. ‘I suspected it would bring you to me in search of it and I was right.’ He frowned at her then, staring at the now-naked skin above the tight bodice of her gown. ‘What has happened to you?’

Her damp palms slid over the dirtied surface of the once-exquisite stone. Her stomach clenched then, realizing that the stones could be anywhere, anytime, now. Was that now her quest? To search through the Daubenay ancestors and gather the lost stones together so that a necklace could be made? But who would be the one to do that? How could she make the right choice, if she did manage to find them all?

‘I have been traveling and visiting many of the Daubenays this night,’ she said on a sigh. ‘From the first to the last, it would seem. I can hardly believe it’s possible.’

‘You are standing before me once again. It must be possible. Fear not, Eve,’ he said. She smiled as he remembered her name and spoke it as a whisper. ‘Follow not the stones, but search for love. Your true love will help you finish your quest this night.’ His searing green gaze captured hers then and he held out his hand to her. Opening his fist, he offered her the emerald there.

‘I see that it did bring you back to me, but now I return it to you. If the Fates declare that you will be mine, I will see you a third time.’

Eve hesitated. Dougal wanted her. He was a rightful Daubenay and the true heir at this time if his story was true—and she believed it was. Her heart urged her to accept him and his love and not to take the stone. To remain with him here and find a life. . . and love together. Was he her true love?

Dougal took her hand then and placed the emerald, smoothly-cut and sparkling , in her palm. Closing her fingers over it, he pulled her close and kissed her. She leaned against him as their mouths touched, opening to his tongue and tasting him as he deepened the kiss. Just as she leaned back to try to speak to him, the air around them began to twinkle, much like the light reflecting off the multi-angled cut gem had. He stared behind her and she knew a doorway had opened to her.

‘Dougal,’ she began. ‘I will. . . .’

Eve felt herself being pulled into a vortex of swirling winds and sounds and lost her breath at the intensity of the force commanding her through time. When her feet touched solid ground, she pulled in a ragged breath and turned towards the voice that called her from behind. 

 Ooh! What should Eve do now? Should she try to find Dougal a third time and fulfill the legend? Will she ever find her way back to Sebastian or find the rest of the emeralds?  I have to say that a Highland warrior is very appealing to me - I think I'd stay! How about you? Which of the heroes is your favorite so far?

His Lady in Green: Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘If you knew how much I’ve longed for this day you might have got here sooner,’ Eve heard a deep voice grumble when Ranulf Daubenay got over the impact of her landing in his arms like a ripe plum off a tree. ‘Welcome, laggard lady,’ he added with all sorts of ideas about making up lost time in his bold gaze.

She felt mature strength in his honed body against hers this time and she wondered what battles he’d fought while she was away.

‘How long have I been gone?’

‘Far too long,’ he murmured. There was such a heady longing in his brilliantly blue eyes, she felt sinfully tempted to give up her quest and stay right here.

‘I’m serious this time, Ranulf, how long is it since we met?’ she demanded, wriggling in his arms to remind herself Sebastian was her reality, not a magnificent buccaneer from another time.

‘Five long years, my lady. Half a decade of yearning for this...’

He lowered his head and his mouth teased a whisper above hers before taking a hungry kiss she wanted to fall into and never think again. She felt goose-bumps slide along her spine as he nuzzled her mouth to test her lips with a lick that made her shiver with wanting more. He let the slick satin of her dress slide her down his vigorous body until she was on her feet again and she gasped at the emphatic message that body sent her about how strongly he’d yearned and still did. Ranulf kept his eyes open and all his wicked intentions to seduce and daze her until she couldn’t leave were there in his blazing blue gaze. He nipped at her mouth as she slicked it and tasted him on her tongue. All they could never share twisted and fought against the desire to forget any other Daubenays existed in his arms.

‘You’ve been fighting?’ she murmured as her exploring fingers felt scars and welts on his upper arms and torso and her heart raced at the thought of him risking his body against sword and dagger.

‘Only restlessness and boredom today, my lovely lady, but treason and war plague this realm and I must fight for my Queen and country,’ he said soberly. ‘Would there was a better way to settle an argument than this senseless slaughter of fathers and sons on both sides.’

‘Aye, would there was,’ Eve echoed as she saw the true depth and breadth of this man’s humanity under the rogue’s charm he used to hide it from the wider world.

‘You’re leaving me?’ he asked with a depth of sadness it hurt her to inflict even as she nodded regretfully.

‘I have to.’

‘No, you don’t have to go, any more than Phillip of Spain had to send half the ships in Europe to overwhelm our little island because our stubborn Bess won’t marry him or bend to his will. You’re only leaving me because you don’t want to stay.’

‘Ah but I do,’ she argued and the ache for him was hot and heavy in her belly and even heavier in her heart, for he was a warrior and a man she could have been proud to love. ‘I have to take the dagger back and find the emeralds. You must forget me and choose a lady as bold and brave as you are, Ranulf. If you don’t, my love can’t exist in the time and place where I belong with your many times future heir.’

‘You twist and turn words better than a poet or a playwright.’

‘No, if I did I might be able to make you understand why it’s so important that I get back to him.’

‘I know about my own loneliness, Lady in Green, and will soon learn more, but here, take this with you,’ he offered and held out the jewelled dagger sheathed on his belt.

Instead of taking it, Eve watched in horror as her own hand seemed to waver and fade as she reached out to grasp it.

‘I can’t,’ she protested as she lost the reassurance of Ranulf, as solid and completely a man as any she had ever met, even as he morphed into the brasher Sir Ranulf she first met earlier tonight, or whatever time it was in this mess of then and now she was caught up in.

‘At least this must be yours, Lady,’ the younger and even bolder Ranulf said with his wicked grin, ‘remember me whenever you look on it, my Emerald Queen,’ he urged and spun a brilliant cut emerald towards her that looked oddly familiar.

It felt warm from his proximity and she marvelled at the weight and fineness of the stone even as she felt herself torn out of Ranulf’s time as if she was being wrenched from someone precious. She sighed, for yet another might have been, as she slipped one of the Meryngham Emeralds into the wisp of an evening purse still wrapped securely round her wrist and wondered where on earth she might land next.

 
English author Elizabeth Beacon is delighted to take part in Eve's surprising journey and had enormous fun throwing a new challenge at the poor girl. Eve promises to be a match for any rascally ancestor of Sebastian's she meets on her path to true love. Visit Elizabeth's website at: www.elizabethbeacon.co.uk

* * *

Elizabeth Beacon's Seaborne Trilogy continues with:

The Scarred Earl, Harlequin Historical, May 2013
The Black Sheep's Return, Harlequin Historical, August 2013