An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance

Book 1

J & L Wells

Published by Nexgate Press

A
ll rights reserved. This work is the
property of J & L Wells, and Nexgate Press. Any reproduction, sale, or
transfer of the contents in any format such as print, ebook, audio, video, or
any other means is strictly forbidden without the written consent of the
publisher and authors. Any events, characterizations, or locations similar to
actual incidents, people or places is strictly coincidental. Copyright J&L
Wells, and Nexgate Press 2013 ©. First Edition.

Written by J & L Wells

Cover design by
Regina Wamba.

Edited by Sarah
Cheeseman.

Cover
Photography by Adrian Brown.

Cover Model, Heather
Sue Edwards.

ISBN-13: 978-1489517845

ISBN-10: 1489517847  

In loving memory of Sheila Wells and Keith Walter Wells.

Gone, but never forgotten.

Ye Olde England

“O
h, Mr Boswel,” Anna sighed awkwardly, biting her bottom lip as he
gazed seductively into her eyes.

She placed her small-gloved
hand into his and he smiled, but no words passed between them. The heady
concerto played by the musicians faded into insignificance, the guests and all
their formalities forgotten in the moment. He led her into an open hallway
towards the larger of two grand staircases. She could hardly breathe. His
dark-brown eyes were hypnotic and with every gaze they burned into hers. His
jet-black hair fell in soft waves around his shoulders, while small curls
drifted onto his forehead, which he had a habit of flicking back to reveal his face.
And oh, what a face, with his chiselled jawline, high cheekbones and overly
full lips, perfect traits complemented by a rich olive skin tone and pretty,
near perfect complexion.

Anna had waited so long
for this moment. She felt her legs trembling beneath her, hoping upon hope that
they wouldn’t give way. Upon reaching the first floor, guilt descended upon
her. She knew what she was about to embark on was wrong and that she’d be
judged, but on second glance down the stairs, across the hall and through the
arched doorway, she saw that those in attendance at the masquerade ball danced
on and drank merrily, oblivious to their departure.

She wasn’t allowed to
linger for long, as Mr Boswel’s firm grip pulled her slightly off balance and
she stumbled wearily. Aware that the hour was late, her gaze wandered briefly
before coming to rest on the ornate grandfather clock in its regal attire,
situated equidistantly between the two staircases, both hands sitting
comfortably on the number one. Mr Boswel’s eyes held a warm reassurance as he
led her across the landing towards a large oak door.

“After you, madam,” he
gestured, opening the door.

“Thank y’ sir,” she
uttered nervously. 

Why me?
Anna thought to herself as her conscience juggled with reality,
still questioning why he had given her the time of day. With his good looks and
his status, he really could have anybody he desired. On close inspection, Anna
knew she was anything but beautiful; even as a child, her mother referred to
her as plain. It wasn’t that she had a bad face, just not an overly pretty one;
her eyes perhaps too small, their colour quite insignificant – somewhere
between light blue and grey – and strawberry-blonde hair scraped back rather
severely in a bun. There wasn’t anything dynamic about her features either;
even her nose had a slight tilt to the left – a flaw nobody else would have
picked up on.

Then the door closed
behind them and they were alone at last, away from unwanted roving eyes. It was
a moment she’d longed for, for what seemed like an eternity.

She found herself in a
large bedchamber, a four-poster bed made from a deep rich wood taking centre
stage, its precise carvings inlaid with gold leaf in large spirals. It was
complemented by warm-red silk drapes – not quite scarlet, perhaps a shade or
two deeper. The room exuded wealth, with its deep-mahogany furnishings, high
walls and numerous gilt-edged portraits.

Anna felt lost in her
new surroundings.

“Well, Anna...” 

She jumped, and her
eyes were drawn once again towards the handsome Mr Boswel, who had already
removed his shoes and was now reclined on the bed, propped up by two thick
cotton bolsters. His long taupe waistcoat was draped untidily over a
padded-back chair, and she watched tentatively as he started unbuttoning his
linen shirt to reveal a toned physique.

“Join me,” he murmured,
his voice soft and inviting.

Her heart was beating
so heavily in her chest as she made her way over to the bed that she was sure
he’d be able to hear. She was even tempted to hold her breath. He leaned his
body forward towards hers as she sat nervously on the edge of the bed. She knew
he was going to take her, and although she felt way out of her depth, she
wanted him so very badly. He smelt so fine, his broad chest brushing against
her arm; she could feel the soft hairs between his nipples, and then their
hardness. She was burning inside as he ran his fingers longingly over her body.
She felt his breath, then his lips, tenderly at first as they began caressing
the nape of her neck, and then with an urgency, a hunger, the tenderness turned
to lust. Their lips met for the first time and he pulled her body roughly onto
his, quickly loosening the bodice of her gown and starting to untie the lacings
of her corset...

~•••~

“Anna,” he whispered, a husky lilt to his
voice.

“Mr Boswel...” were the
only words to leave her lips as they lay lost in the moment, wrapped in each
other’s arms.

“Stay here with me
tonight.”

“Sir, I’ll be tellin’
y’, I’m betrothed to another,” Anna replied, shedding tears of guilt while
darting around the room, recovering her garments.

Mr Boswel sighed. “An
unfortunate predicament in which you find yourself, my dear,” he said, lifting
himself slightly and leaning the weight of his body on his elbows, looking at
her earnestly while she dressed.

“Mr Boswel, yer
reputation precedes ye.”

“Perhaps, Anna, but
they are just empty conquests.”

“All but one, sir.”
Anna paused, awaiting his response, but the words she longed for were not
forthcoming.

“This I cannot deny,
but I would be grateful if you were not to mention her name. She is now but a
ghost from my past.”

“I must take yer leave,
sir. I’ll be missed.” Fear grew in her voice. “Mr Boswel, I ain’t gonna live a
life with ye as me guilty secret.”

“Well, Anna, that’s all
I have to offer you. At this present time you must be patient... I...”

Anna interrupted him
before he could continue. “Please, sir, I beg of ye, say no more. I think it
best I bid ye farewell.”

With that, she walked
out of the room and out of his life, sure that he was watching until she closed
the door.

The Present Day

H
eather opened the shutters of one of the large sash windows in the
hallway and peered out onto the beautiful gardens.
My own little Eden
.
At
last this building is not just an ensemble of cold bricks
,
but a
place filled with love and my future
, she thought to herself as she
watched the final scaffold tower being dismantled. Her patience with the four
long years of workmen and disruption had worn thin, but now, instead of a
building site, Freesdon Manor was starting to look and feel like home. She’d
completed her home studies and had come away with eight good passes. She was
still not quite sure where her working life was going to lead her, but for the
time being she’d agreed to work in the coffee shop, situated in the large
conservatory built on the east wing of the manor house, leading from one of the
formal dining areas. Also, since the house would shortly be opened to the
public, Heather had created a website and was taking bookings for group visits from
local schools, and working on plenty of online marketing schemes. In fact, she
was getting quite a dab hand at online sales pitches. Her dad paid her well,
and all in all it was a win-win situation.

Still daydreaming, she
thought back to her arrival at Freesdon Manor as a young girl and her utter
disdain for country life, and how almost jigsaw-like, piece by piece, her own
experiences of the country had led to her feelings now being quite to the
contrary.

The big day was looming
in more ways than one, as it was not only the manor’s grand opening, but also
her eighteenth birthday celebration. She felt a sudden excitement at the
thought, which ebbed into contentment at how her life was panning out; yet
there was something not quite right, something missing. Whatever it was,
though, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It certainly wasn’t something
she felt able to discuss with her mum, since at this moment in time she wasn’t
even sure what it was herself.

Heather turned,
startled from her daydreams.

“Your father’s
allocating jobs and working areas for all the new staff; you’ll be working in
the shop with some new employees,” her mother’s voice piped up as she waltzed
through the room, a blue tabard covering her floral dress.

She had a kindly face,
framed by a bob-style haircut that was the sort of blonde you’d find in a
bottle, with grey roots that were in desperate need of a touch-up. She was
fair-skinned and quite big-boned, but carried it well due to her height.

“Why not go and show
your face?” she continued, juggling two large vases filled with white canna
lilies and deep pink roses. “Attention to detail ... the final touches are so
important...”

Heather heard her mum’s
words fading as she hurried off towards the library on the ground floor, where
the staff meeting was about to take place. She entered the spacious room, which
was cool in temperature due to its position in the house. Dark wooden panelling
covered the walls, while the floor-to-ceiling windows had open shutters at
which hung rich-red drapes. On entering, the wall to the right was filled with
open mahogany shelving containing vintage books, some of which dated as far
back as the seventeenth century. No doubt this was the reason the room was
filled with a fusty aroma. The high-back padded chairs matched the curtains
perfectly.

There must have been at
least fifty new starters sitting in separate huddles, all handing in their
personal details and filling in paperwork.
Great, they’re already in their
own little groups
, Heather thought, sinking against the nearest wall and
trying her best to look as inconspicuous as possible; but it was difficult in a
room filled with eyes and strange faces, far too many for comfort. Fortunately
for her, this discomfort was to be short-lived when her father entered the
room, offering some much-needed familiarity. The muffled conversations
immediately died down as heads turned.

Perhaps it was his
attire, or his persona; he certainly looked the part in his perfectly pressed
grey suit, starched shirt and colour-coordinated tie.

Clearing his throat, he
addressed the room.

“Thank you all for
coming. I’d like to introduce myself ... I’m Walter Richardson,” he said,
scanning the room, “the owner of Freesdon Manor. My wife Faye, who you probably
passed on your way in, will be working alongside me. Anyway,” he grunted,
“moving on. Just to make you all aware, as children will be visiting the
premises I have sent for your CRBs, and on completion and after approval has
been given – which should take approximately six to eight weeks – you’ll have
the pleasure of working for me.” His voice was husky, yet authoritative. A
slight smile brought warmth with it, lifting the awkwardness in the room.

Heather chuckled
inwardly at her father’s stern face and the way in which he portrayed himself. He
wasn’t the easiest of people to read. His once dark hair was now greying,
especially his sideburns, and the fringe – which he’d grown quite long – was
brushed back into a rather unfashionable comb-over, kept in place with her
mum’s hairspray, which he had a habit of using so much of, that it would flake
and fall like dandruff onto the shoulders of his jacket, or whatever ensemble
he had chosen to wear that particular day. His face was hard and lined, giving
him an unapproachable look; probably as a result of all his years in business,
and the contracts and men he’d had to organise. He certainly wasn’t the sort of
man one would want to cross unnecessarily.

He hadn’t picked up on
the awkward tension he’d caused, and his final words requested that his future
employees familiarise themselves with one another, and with that, he turned and
left the room. Only moments later, her mother followed him.

Feeling rather out of
her depth and not used to being in the company of so many people, Heather
looked around shyly for a friendly face. Without a seat, and standing near the
far window, seemingly keeping himself to himself, stood a man. He looked a good
few years her senior, but then she wasn’t very good with ages.
Certainly a bit of alright
, she thought. She must have unknowingly been staring at
him, as his eyes met hers. She blushed immediately and looked at the floor,
trying to escape his glare. When she looked up, she saw that he had moved away
from the window and was now walking straight towards her. He was tall –
probably around six foot five – with ash-blonde hair spiked with gel, pale
skinned, full faced with a square jawline, and very unusual green eyes that
held the brilliance of a peridot gemstone. He had a special something that drew
Heather to him.

“Well, we’ve been asked
to introduce ourselves, so I’m Ruben, Ruben Brown. I’m managing the wine shop
and cellar. There’s some good years, ya know; the owner invited me for a taster
earlier, blew me away to be honest. Some bottles were covered in dust and cobwebs,
so they must have been maturing down there for ages. Oh, but what a flavour and
kick they had! Couldn’t drink more than a couple of glasses, especially not
this time of day.”

Oh my god, he’s
gorgeous. Stay cool, stay cool, Heather
, she
thought. She could feel the palms of her hands perspiring and the acceleration
of her heartbeat. His eyes seemed to be searching hers impatiently for a reply.

“I’m Heather; the
owner’s daughter.” Her voice was mouse-like, though she was trying so hard to
sound confident as she passed him a business card.

“Very professional,” he
said, and winked as he slipped it into his pocket. “Better watch what I’m doing
then, hadn’t I?” Ruben added with a cheeky grin, looking her up and down with
great interest.

Heather was unmistakably
a beauty; around five foot six, of slim build with curves in perfect
proportion, and rich brown locks that fell to her waist.

“Well...” Heather replied,
her crystal-blue eyes shining up into his, “better not make a habit of drinking
on the job, then, had you?”

“We’ll have to see
about that of course. All in me job description, perks of the job, if ya like.”
Ruben smiled as he leaned towards her and brushed her cheek with the back of
his hand. Every word he spoke brought with it his warm breath, carrying the
scent of the fruity cocktail of wine from earlier. “Maybe taking the owner’s
daughter out is a perk I could add to my list.”

“You really are cheeky,
aren’t you?” Heather said, gaining slightly in confidence.

She tilted her head to
the side and gave her new acquaintance a more in-depth look. He was of slim
build, although a few more muscles wouldn’t have gone amiss, but she liked the
casual way he dressed in his grey sweat pants, revealing the top of his boxers,
and a white vest top. He had a dark Celtic-style tattooed sleeve up his right
arm and the outline on his left ready for filling in. A thick gold curb chain
lay around his neck. A rugged look, yet one Heather found extremely appealing.

“Is this how you’d
normally dress for interviews and staff meetings?” she said, laughing.

“Nah, already got the
job, love. My dad met yours on the golf course, and as they say, it’s who you
know, not what ya know, so the job’s a good’en. Well, nice to meet you, but
people to see, and places to go... No doubt I’ll see you around. Oh, by the way,
I hang out at the Sheep Inn in the village, the only decent pub around these
parts. I’m there most nights, around seven... May see you there.” He winked.

Her initial opinion of
Ruben was somewhat of a double-edged sword – she was drawn to the intensity of
his looks, yet felt reserved due to his mixed messages and passive responses.
She wondered if she’d ever date a man like that; how he’d treat her, and how
she’d treat him. With so little experience with boys, and having never been on
a
real
date, she had no idea what to expect. Would he sweep her off her
feet? Would he make her feel like a woman, speaking tender words of
affirmation? What kind of man was he, this rugged-looking stranger? She tried
to picture what her father looked like when he was young. She figured he’d have
looked thinner, had more energy, smiled more, and
probably bought her mother flowers whenever he had the chance. But those were
just assumptions, silly imaginings of a young lady on the verge of adulthood –
something she knew very little about. 

~•••~

A couple of hours later, Heather was
waiting for the last few stragglers to leave. She then locked the manor’s front
door from the inside and walked back towards the annex, their living quarters.
The rooms were not huge, but comfortable.

Her mind was working
overtime as she entered through the double glass doors into the dining room,
where her mum was laying plates and cutlery on a small oblong table. Ruben was
now at the top of Heather’s agenda, and she was frustrated by her mum and dad’s
attempts to drag her into a rather long, drawn-out conversation about the day’s
events as they sat down for dinner. She wasn’t the slightest bit hungry or
interested in the manor’s grand opening, with all its hype and distinctive guests.
She thought it had become more of an obsession, and was beginning to feel
overlooked, almost as if her parents didn’t care about her any more.

They were both well
into their fifties, and she knew she wasn’t planned; a mistake, an
inconvenience. She thought the world of them, but with age, their ways were
becoming more and more regimented, and her father more money-driven and
ambitious. She thought back to how different they were with Amy, her sister,
how much interest they showed in her. Being their firstborn she was definitely
the favourite, but then she’d never really connected too well with her sister
either, the thirteen-year age gap was too much to bridge, and now she’d moved
on with her life and had a daughter of her own.

“Why do you keep looking
at your watch?” her mum asked inquisitively, carving a joint of beef into
slices.

“I didn’t realise I
was... No reason really, just thought I might pop into the village,” Heather
replied, looking at the time. It was six forty-five.

“Eat your dinner first;
it’s your favourite,” her mother said, before disappearing into the kitchen.

She reappeared seconds
later with a serving dish of steaming roast veg. Heather’s mouth watered at the
sweet essence of parsnips, yet she only picked at her meat and a small Yorkshire
pudding before excusing herself.

Within five minutes,
she’d been to her room, changed, brushed her hair and was sitting in her car
with the key in the ignition. As her purple Ka passed through the beautiful
gardens, she peered up at the sky; the sun setting, leaving a striking red
glow. She slowed as the cattle grid approached, before heading down a narrow
road, really no more than a winding lane with trees and hedgerow either side.
It wasn’t ideal when the weather turned, but it was the only one that led into
Lushcombe. She checked the clock on her dashboard – twenty past seven.
Ten
minutes
, she thought as she changed gear, without meeting a tractor or such
like. She could feel her heart racing at the first sign of thatched cottages.
She drove past the run-down community centre and village store with its red and
white awning, before pulling up outside the Sheep Inn. Would he be there? Had
he just popped in? Maybe he’d left already. Her conscience fought with itself
as she tried to validate why she should go inside.

The pub was a decent
size, with a thatch roof, white painted walls and a new extension built on the
side where a disco was held every Friday and Saturday for the locals, which had
become quite popular. The car park was not overly full for a Thursday evening.

Getting out of the car,
Heather locked the door.
Here goes
, she thought, taking a deep breath,
and opened the door leading into the pub. Stepping inside, she was greeted with
muffled voices and laughter. It was more spacious than she had imagined as she
walked towards the bar. She felt very uncomfortable, but tried her best not to
look it. Her eyes were immediately drawn towards the pool table, as if sensing
where he’d be.