Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (33 page)

A tap at her window made her jump.
Leif’s blue eyes peered in at her. Rain was already starting to drip through
his long blond hair and onto his grey T-shirt. Quickly, she let the window down
a crack and immediately the rain spattered inside.

"I’m going in," he said.
"Hurry up."

"I'm coming. The house is
just gorgeous, isn’t it?"

Isabeau closed the window and
exited her car, quickly opening the hatchback to retrieve her pull along case.
She hurried across the stone walk to the house. The rain pelted them in
earnest. She had a brief glimpse of wisteria climbing along one side of the
house, further adding to the old-world charm. White painted balconies on the
second floor graced tall, multi-paned windows with indigo blue shutters
fastened on either side.

Flower gardens ran alongside the
house, sculpted hedges and rows of tulips now bowing under the pressure of the
rain. Time seemed suspended here, giving rise to a fanciful notion she’d
stepped into an earlier time.

She felt almost breathless with
anticipation. The house seemed at once unknown and yet somehow, dearly familiar
-- how intriguing!

Leif lifted the polished brass
knocker on the massive, ornately carved door, the sound echoing as they huddled
together under the small overhang. He shivered in his lightweight T-shirt,
pulling her a bit closer as he tried to shelter her from the rain.

The door opened almost
immediately. A woman, somewhere in her sixties, greeted them with a pleasant
smile and urged them in with a sweep of her arm. Wearing a knee-length pale
linen dress, her greying blonde hair was short and fashionably styled. Isabeau
noticed her eyes, so dark they appeared almost black.

"Hello," Leif said,
"you must be Mrs. Cummins. Leif Ericsson. We spoke on the phone last week.
This is my assistant Isabeau Remington."

The woman nodded and smiled,
quickly closing the door behind them. "Yes, hello Mr. Ericsson -- Ms.
Remington. How lovely to meet both of you. My, what a miserable day you’ve
arrived on." Mrs. Cummins stepped back further as they entered the cool,
marble-floored foyer. "My husband John will see to your bags so please
leave them here in the hall."

Isabeau shook the damp hair out of
her face and positioned her case behind her. "Thank you."

Together, they moved into the
entryway. Isabeau looked around the hallway's high decorative ceilings and
deeply embossed wallpaper. A beautifully refinished grandfather clock chimed
out the hour three times. "The house is beautiful. The restoration must
have taken some time."

"Almost three years, Miss and
it’s nearly the same as it was a century ago. Pierce is very proud of it. He
did most of it himself."

"We appreciate him allowing
us to photograph the house and grounds," Leif said. "I know it's a
wonderful honor that he's chosen our company."

"Yes, and we’re anxious to
meet him," Isabeau said. "The renovation of this house has fascinated
both of us," she added. "I saw the before pictures."

Mrs. Cummins closed the door and
turned toward them with a smile. "Yes, this is the first time he’s allowed
anyone to photograph it. Now if you’ll come with me, I can show you to your
rooms." From the large entryway with its decoratively carved and fixed
columns, Mrs. Cummins led the way up a curved staircase with a gleaming wood
rail to the second floor and down a wide, carpeted hallway. "Mr. Pierce
said you were to have free rein of the house while you’re here."

Although Isabeau knew she included
both of them in the invitation, the older woman's gaze rested on her.

"Great." Leif looked
well-satisfied. "When he sees the article we’re doing on him, he won’t be
sorry."

Isabeau again experienced a
surprising familiarity with her surroundings. "Déjà vu."

Mrs. Cummins gave her a curious
glance.

"Don’t mind me," Isabeau
said, "I’m feeling a bit silly and tired from the drive. We appreciate the
extra work involved in having guests, so we’ll be as unobtrusive as
possible."

Mrs. Cummins laughed softly,
kindly. "No trouble at all. We always have rooms ready for guests. Pierce
enjoys entertaining," she added, pushing open a tall wooden door to their
right. "And he set aside some wonderful historic memorabilia for you to
reference and work with if you choose. They're in the library in the roll top
desk."

"Really?" Leif inquired.
"I’m intrigued."

"Yes, he's put out some
family albums and historical papers in the library for you also to peruse at
your leisure. I expect you'll also find the old shipping records and there are
various shipping paraphernalia stored in the sheds out back. I expect him back
sometime tonight or tomorrow."

Mrs. Cummins stood back from the
doorway. "Isabeau, Pierce said this was to be your room."

Isabeau stepped into the room, her
feet sinking into the plush pale grey carpet. Her gaze roamed curiously over
rich wood floors, antique furnishings and the bedroom’s subtle blending of
blue, rose and vintage white. Lightly varnished wainscoting ran halfway up the
walls, and a faint swirling pattern of cream-colored flowers ran rampant on the
walls to the ceiling. "It takes my breath away -- it’s very
beautiful."

And familiar, but she didn’t say
that. They were going to think she was off her rocker if she told them
everything looked like memories from an old dream. She was even starting to
creep herself out a bit.

The bed was huge, old, upraised on
a matching oak dais, a centerpiece for the entire room.

"If you’d like to get out of
those damp clothes and take a hot bath, the bathroom with small dressing room
is through that door." Mrs. Cummins indicated a second door. "There
is a warming rack and a thermostat control on the wall and you will find
towels, soaps and toiletries in the closet. Pierce had a nice selection of
vegan soaps brought in, specifically lemongrass and lavender."

Isabeau didn't hide her
astonishment. "I -- I love lemongrass."

"Yes Miss." Mrs. Cummins
smiled.

"But how would he know?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Silly question, he must do that for each
of his guests. I'm sure there is a selection for any taste."

"Of course."

Nevertheless, Isabeau was touched
by Pierce's thoughtful gesture. She found the room an absolute delight.

The older woman turned. "Mr.
Ericsson –"

"Please call me Leif."
His easy grin encompassed the older woman and Isabeau.

Mrs. Cummins nodded. "Leif,
your room is down the hall."

Leif gave Isabeau a quick nod.
"I’ll catch up with you later."

The shutters outside Isabeau’s
window banged as a fresh gust of wind hit the house. The storm outside seemed
to be whipping into a real fury.

As Leif went with Mrs. Cummins
Isabeau closed the door and moved across the room to the one large window that
looked out over the yard below. Getting her bearings, she knew it must face the
renowned back gardens that in turn led to the river. However, with the lash of
the rain across the glass, it was impossible to see much outside.

She turned back to the room,
lifting her arms to push the hair off her forehead. Heaving a contented sigh,
she explored the room which was assigned to her for the next week or so.
Someone had taken great care in creating a comfortable haven. Cherished
antiques were polished to a high gloss, and the bric-a-brac figure of a man and
a woman on the oak bureau also spoke of an earlier time.

Fresh cut purple Irises were
arranged in a blue stenciled vase, residing on a small table with a rocking
chair on one side and a low chaise on the other. Delicately embroidered pillows
filled the seats, their colors in blue and gold.

On the wall above the bed she
admired a beautifully done painting of a flowering garden with the river
beyond. She could only wonder if it was Hawks Den gardens. She moved closer to
the painting and could see the initials PM had been signed in the corner. Could
it be that Pierce Morgan had painted the lovely scene? Was he a talented artist
as well as a much sought after attorney?

Soulmates Through Time Excerpt

Book 2, Women of Strength time travel trilogy

Prologue ~ 1807

Aleanna knew she was dying. There
was no sense railing against it, in truth she had lost much of the will to
fight with the death of her love.

Mandine's thin boned hand pressed
the scented cloth gently across her fevered brow, then continued soothingly
along her jaw.

Aleanna's rich brown hair splayed
against stark white pillows in a luxuriant, waving mass, framing once radiantly
alive features. The eyes were now dull, stripped of the spirit of life, the
complexion pale and waxen.

"Aleanna, my Aleanna."
The young woman responded to the sorrowful whisper, her head turning on the
pillow.

"My baby?" Aleanna's
voice was a mere thread of sound quickly lost in the hush of the room.

"She is here." Into her
line of vision a small bundle appeared, warmly swaddled in soft blankets.

Caring hands shaped Aleanna's limp
arms into a cradle, and a weight suddenly lay against her breast. A warm,
wanted weight.

Her child.

With immense effort, Aleanna
looked down at the child in her arms.

"My darling," she
whispered. "Your hair is red." A pleased smile was upon bloodless
lips, then she leaned her weary head back into the pillow.

She was so tired . . . she wished
only to close her eyes. She fought the sensation, for she knew there was
something she must do.

Weakly, she lifted one hand, caught
the hand of the woman who hovered beside the bed.

"Mandine, you must --"

The dark garbed figure bent closer
to catch the words Aleanna could barely get out.

"Tell me Aleanna," her
caregiver, the woman named Mandine, urged, "tell me of your wishes. Do you
wish vengeance?"

"Protect my daughter."

"I shall protect her from
that one," Mandine hissed balefully. "I shall take her away this
night."

"No." Aleanna clutched
Mandine's forearm with surprising strength, her face, if it were possible,
growing even more ashen. "You know she must stay here in these
surroundings. I wish it were otherwise, but --" She lay back, utterly
exhausted. "I ask that you guide her. Shield her as best you can."

The dark garbed figure picked up
the infant, held her closely against her breast.

"You know I will do what is
best for your child." Mandine bowed her head, dark eyes burning. "I
will protect the wee one as if she were my own."

"Yes," murmured Aleanna
faintly, her eyes flickering for the last time, "I know you will take care
of my Elise."

Mandine placed the infant in a
small cradle, swaddled her in the softest of wool.

"My dearest Aleanna, you
barely cling to life and so it is time." With a flick of her gnarled
fingers Mandine cast tiny particles across Aleanna. In the shadowy room, each
particle captured fragments of light from two lit candles beside the bed. Every
corner of the room filled with a splintering rainbow of glorious color.

Mandine leaned over the young
woman she had raised from a five year old orphan. Gently, she closed Aleanna's
eyes. "And so it is, the journey begun."

Contemporary Romance

Once and Always Excerpt

Memory could be gentle. At other
times it left scars.

Anna Barlow had read those words
this morning and somehow they felt like a reflection of her life. She stared
out over her ranch's fields now, trying to shake off the cobwebs of old
memories.

Newly warmed earth and northeast
temperatures collided, creating ground vapor as the sun fought its way through
heavy clouds. She shivered, brushing at the cool morning mist that settled in
her hair. Her mare stood unmoving beneath her, her nostrils blowing gently from
their run. Anna patted Spirit's neck, wishing she could forget she was barely
hanging onto the ranch. . . her home.

Every tree, stick and grain of
dirt of the Double B Ranch belonged to her. The barns and dilapidated fences .
. . the makeshift corral.  She couldn't walk away from her only real home. Her
grandfather Martin Barlow had brought her here at the age of fourteen. Now,
everyone she'd ever loved was gone. Martin. Tyler.

Restlessly, Anna nudged her gray
mare toward a well-worn dirt path that led down to the barns and house.

She'd survived worse. Somehow,
she'd get through this too. Anna touched her right cheek and curled her fingers
against the scarred flesh, her fingers tracing the faint ridges almost
absentmindedly. Her face had once been her biggest asset. Now it brought her
only anger and at times self pity. She hated feeling sorry for herself, but God
Almighty she was only human.

Giving in to a reckless edge of
emotion, Anna urged her mare into a bone-jarring trot down the hillside. When
they reached level ground, the spring wind tore against her as they loped
across open pasture. She inhaled the clean air into her lungs, reveling in the
familiar thunder of hooves beneath her. Gradually, the sting of failure
lessened. Self-absorbed and prideful these last two years, she'd allowed the
fire that ruined her face to take over her life.

She had to live with her mistakes,
but somehow she'd find a way out of this mess.

#

Tyler Stanton jerked his collar up
against the morning chill. The Barlow's Double B Ranch looked the same, yet
subtle changes had dimmed its splendor in the six years since he'd been gone.
The grounds were unkempt, the buildings in disrepair and the horse barns, once
full and so proudly outlined by the Catskill mountains around them, were badly
in need of work. He walked through the dusty paddock area and entered the empty
barn, memories unexpectedly twisting his guts into knots. Long rides and
midnight rendezvous' swam through his mind, the images like a reel of film
playing in his brain.