Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance (5 page)

It was disturbing; there was no other word for it. He was not unattractive, but his eyes were cold, unfeeling, like he wanted to, or did some foul deed. She rubbed her arms to try to ward off the unpleasantness, but the feeling held tight. She strode as quickly as she could to the next painting.

Katherine froze and her heart skipped a beat. She could hardly take a breath, staring into the eyes of yet another man. He was all alone on a grassy hilltop, with this very estate as the backdrop. He was smiling.
He was perfect
.

Disjointed images hit her in waves, making her stomach lurch. She felt like she was going to be sick. Then she saw him in another time, laughing; then for a split second, his gray eyes flashed anger before they softened. She could see the love in them, which warmed her all over. She barely caught her breath when another image hit her. This time, his beautiful face was devastated. Her heart dropped as she watched him suffering. Then, just as suddenly, his eyes went blank, devoid of all expression. There was no spark of life, anger, or love; he became nothing more than a shell of emptiness.

Katherine couldn’t take it; it felt worse than his suffering. Her breath squeezed from her chest.

She turned away, choking back a sob. It was horrible; she could not stand seeing him like that. But the vision did not fade. It stuck in her mind, suffocating her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, trying to alleviate the terrible feeling.

After a few moments, the feeling abated a little, but not entirely. She walked away from the painting, towards another painting at the far end of the room. This one stood all alone in the corner, where she could not see. Her feet were moving, but her mind wanted no part of where they were taking her. A friction began to build in the air. She stopped in front of the last portrait. She lifted her glass and gulped her champagne, while she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She was being a coward, she knew, but she did not want to look. Finally, she forced her eyes open and immediately wished she hadn’t. Recognition slammed through her. Her mind screamed, “
This can’t be happening
!” as her world fell away, turning everything black.

Ravenhurst, Victorian England

T
he Earl of Ravenhurst, Sebastian de Winter, looked out his library window, toward the setting sun, watching it disappear into the coming night. He couldn’t help thinking it was vanishing, just as Marguerite had, without a trace.

He let out a heavy sigh. She was certainly not his first choice for a bride, and would not have been a candidate at all, if Sebastian had any say in the matter. He was quite content with his life just the way it was. When he wanted a woman, he bedded one. There was no rhyme or reason to his choosing; he enjoyed all women and they him. He had yet to hear a complaint.

He laughed lightly, remembering Annabelle’s horrified expression when he told her he was getting married.

“What do you mean you are getting married?” Annabelle Dandridge shrilled out loudly, pushing her long, red, curling hair away from her face. Her blue eyes ignited in anger.

“Sorry, love; I don’t know what to tell you. A man has to do what a man has to do,” Sebastian said absently as he pulled his breeches up. Her pretty face had an angry pout. “Annabelle, now don’t be that way,” Sebastian cajoled as he tossed his shirt on carelessly. He let it hang open as he walked towards her and stood over her on the bed. “Remember you are married as well, or have you forgotten your husband, Adam, so easily?”

Annabelle fell backward on the pillows. “Oh, right, I am,” she said as if it suddenly dawned on her. “He is old, though. And he makes me sick when his wrinkled, fleshy body touches mine,” she whined before shuddering. “And you are the opposite: young and handsome. You make me feel so good when you caress my body the way that you do,” she crooned as she sat back up. “And I have not even mentioned the best part…” she teased, smiling up at him. She leaned forward and began to peel away his breeches, releasing him fully as she took him into her mouth.

Sebastian closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” she screamed into the face of the person leaning over her.

“Oh, there now, missy, you just rest your weary head back onto the pillows I just fluffed for you. Try not to make any sudden movements while I get you some water. I bet you’re awfully parched after all this time.”

Katherine sat up quickly, wincing from the pain the movement brought on. Oh good Lord…
where am I
? she thought, hardly able to keep her eyes open. Her head hurt so badly she had to fight the urge not to puke. The woman with the weird accent was pouring something into a glass across the room. Her eyes slowly came into focus on the super thin woman, dressed in a long, grayish gown with a ruffled neckline. Her apron was bright white and she had a matching little cap perched on her head. Her dark hair was pulled back so tightly, it made her hair look gross and greasy.

Her stomach lurched as another whiff of funk blew in her face.
Geez,
that woman must be ripe
, she thought. It hit her then, completely mortifying her. She knew where the stink was coming from and it wasn’t the maid: it was her. Gross. She smelled worse than roadkill on a hot day. She lifted her hand to her face and breathed on it. Her stomach roiled again. It was her breath.
What in the hell did she eat last night, a bucket of turds?

Katherine’s eyes widened in horror as the maid walked toward her with a glass of water in her hand. She firmly clamped her mouth shut like a disobedient child to save the woman and herself from the god-awful stench.

“Now missy, just open your mouth. I will help you drink this,” the maid said, lifting the glass up to her mouth.

Katherine twisted her head from side to side, trying to dodge the glass, but the woman was relentless.

The maid steadied herself on the side of the bed and wrapped her free arm around Katherine’s head in a vise-like grip as she dumped water down her throat.

Katherine coughed hard. The water went down the wrong way, making her spew water from her mouth and both nostrils. She tried to push herself up, but couldn’t catch a breath. The maid held fast onto her body, stopping her from rising. Her eyes watered; the damn maid was killing her. She was almost out of air…

“There you go,” the maid said as she jerked her forward and gave her a huge whack on the back.

Air blasted into Katherine’s lungs. Her back hurt like hell. There was probably a huge red mark right in the middle. She looked at the skinny maid again, seeing the veins of her frail arms bulging through her pale skin. She was amazed those skinny little arms could be so strong. And the sting on her back told her the
bitch
was a lot stronger than Katherine gave her credit for.

The maid pushed her back into the pillows with a bit more force than was really necessary as she pulled something from her pocket. She lifted her arm in the air. A little piece of white material dangled from her fingers. “I see you made a mess of your face,” she said, making a clucking noise. “No worries, I can fix you up in just a moment.” Then she covered her face with the rag.

Katherine was suffocating…
again.
What in the hell was the crazy bitch trying to do?
Kill her?
She pushed past the pain in her head and back. Finding strength from somewhere, she grabbed the woman’s wrists, and pushed them away from her face. The rag hovered above her head. Katherine took a huge gulp of air, and thanked God she was finally able to breathe. She gave the maid a look of warning, before letting go of her hands. The woman didn’t move her hand though, and kept holding it in the air, the wretched cloth at the ready. Katherine narrowed her eyes at her once more. The maid still didn’t budge. That was it; Katherine had it. She retaliated and blew her smelly breath directly into the maid’s face. The maid leaned backward, her face turning shades of green, rather than pale. Katherine hoped the woman needed to puke. Taking a step back, the maid gave her a nasty look.

Katherine reacted with another
“I dare you”
look, which seemed to end the maid’s mission of smothering her to death.

The maid gave her a sidelong glance and stuffed the rag back into her pocket. She made a “harrumph” noise as she turned and shuffled across the room.

Katherine narrowed her eyes at her back, watching her every move as questions without answers swirled in her mind.

<>*LB*<>

S
ebastian opened his eyes as one pleasant memory faded into another. This particular memory gnawed at him, filling him with dread. These were uncommon emotions for Sebastian and ones he preferred to keep buried deep inside for good. Turning away from the window, he poured himself another stiff drink; a habit he found himself indulging in more since the disappearance of his betrothed. He wandered over to the mantel and took a large gulp of the fiery liquid, letting his mind return to where it was wont to go of late: his wedding day. He ran a hand through his dark hair and settled into the high-backed chair in front of the fire. Swirling his drink absently, he watched the flames dancing in the fireplace, as he recalled every rotten detail of that day.

“She is not a witch, Sebastian,” Isabelle commented doubtfully as she looked over at her nephew.

“Who says? You? My dear aunt, forgive me for not taking your word for it,” Sebastian retorted angrily as he crossed the room to get a drink. He splashed a hefty amount of brandy in a glass before calling out over his shoulder to his aunt. “Just like you had no idea about Father’s will? I know you had a hand in that codicil he added at the last minute, right before he died. Was that a coincidence as well? It seems fate has been on your side all along; how very fortunate for you.” He looked over at his aunt, who tilted her head away, hiding her expression. He could read her like a book and she knew it. Her dark blonde hair was piled high in the latest style, something with curls and twists. It made her look much younger than her years, which was probably why she chose that style. She never let anyone know her true age. She always said age was just a number. Even he had to admit it worked, for she did look exceptionally good. He was not even sure of her age himself.