Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (23 page)

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Authors: Claire Delacroix

Tags: #historical romance, #tarot cards, #highland romance, #knight in shining armor, #reincarnation, #romantic comedy, #paranormal romance, #highlander, #time travel romance, #destined love, #fantasy romance, #second chance at love, #contemporary romance

BOOK: Time Travel Romances Boxed Set
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If she panicked, he would just have to find
another solution.


Look, princess, I’ve got
to get back to Dunhelm,” he said gently. “There are all sorts of
people who need decisions made. Do you mind if I don’t help you
look for your father today?”


No.” Aurelia shook her
head readily, returning her attention to consuming the last of his
chips with gusto.

Baird blinked. She agreed so easily that he
was almost insulted. He eyed her carefully but her expression was
blank.

Well, Baird certainly wasn’t going to force
his company on her!


Fine. Do you want to stay
in town or go back to Dunhelm?”

Aurelia barely considered the question.
“Back to Dunhelm, please.” Then, her lips set with such
purposefulness that Baird had the feeling his decision had
perfectly dovetailed with Aurelia’s plans.

Whatever they were.

*

Aurelia was delighted by this turn of
events. The last thing she wanted was Bard hot on her heels while
she looked for her father.

Bard kept looking at her on the way back to
Dunhelm and once or twice started to ask her a question, but the
small ringing box he carried kept interrupting. Aurelia was well
pleased with its timing, though the way he talked into it confused
her utterly.

Though that was not the only thing about
Bard, son of Erc, that did not match expectation. Aurelia slanted a
glance to her companion as they passed through the gates of
Dunhelm. His strong fingers drummed on his thigh, he frowned as he
listened to the little box.

Dunhelm Castle rose in silhouette before
them against the silver gray of the sea. Aurelia’s heart skipped a
beat at the sight of her home, changed yet still familiar, and
resolve grew within her.

She had this one afternoon to search for the
truth of what had transpired. What had happened to all the men who
lined the walls and the women who waited anxiously below?

Aurelia meant to find out. Once she knew the
fate of her father’s faithful, she might learn more of her
father.

And who knew when she might have such a
golden opportunity again?

*

In the Hampstead Heath offices of the
National Heritage Preservation Society, Colin Russell was drumming
his meaty fingers on his desk. He hated the feeling that he was
waiting on a very junior member of his staff - it was against every
hierarchical belief he held about the world - but that was
precisely the situation.

How could he have let this ingrate win such
power over him? It was unnatural, it was against the normal order
of things, it was wrong.

But Colin hadn’t had the nerve to call a
stop to it all.

And he hated the recognition of his own
weakness even more.

There was a rap on his door and his
secretary, the wraithlike Miss Patterson, ushered Darian Mulvaney
into the office.


Mr. Russell? You wanted to
see me?” Darian smiled a guileless smile and Colin hackles rose. He
really did not like this young man, and he particularly did not
like the means Darian had chosen to get ahead.

But he would be damned if he let his
animosity show.

He was British, after all.

Darian Mulvaney had looked like a promising
candidate for the Society, an attractive young man with fixed goals
and a doctorate from a prestigious American university fresh under
his arm. Darian had impressed the entire Society committee during
the interview process with his fervor for the Picts, his dedication
to his career and his boyish enthusiasm.

Giddy with the prospect of acquiring from
the ‘first crop’ of graduates - instead of picking over everyone
else’s leavings - the meagerly funded Society had acted with
uncharacteristic haste.

And made a tragic mistake.

By the time Colin knew that the doctorate
was faked, Darian Mulvaney already had his ace in the hole. Ousting
the young man would bring scandal on the fledgling Society, in more
ways than one, and havoc into Colin’s personal life.


Yes, I did, Mr. Mulvaney,”
Colin agreed as sternly as he could manage. He smoothed the
facsimile that had arrived that morning against the broad oak
expanse of his desk. “We have word today of a discovery at Dunhelm
Castle in the Orkney Islands, an ancient site that might have
Pictish origins.”


Yes?” Darian’s excitement
was tangible and he looked almost innocent in his enthusiasm. There
was a hard glitter in his eyes that was evident to anyone who
looked.

Or anyone who had learned to look.

But they had a bargain, as much as Colin
would like to deny it. And Colin Russell was a man of his word.


Yes,” Colin admitted with
a hard glance to the newest member of the Society’s staff. “Just as
you suspected it would be, oddly enough.” He pursed his lips. “One
might almost think you knew in advance that the site would be
found.”

Darian swallowed a coy smile. “That would be
rather unlikely, wouldn’t it, sir?”


Quite.” Colin shuffled the
paperwork on his desk, sickened that he had to do this. There were
half a dozen researchers on his staff more experienced and,
frankly, more deserving of this plum. How could he ever have
guessed that a quick tumble would put him in the predicament of
betraying so many dreams?


As you may have guessed,”
he said gruffly, “I need to send a staff member to Dunhelm to
investigate the site so that an appropriate course can be
decided.”


Of course,” Darian said
smoothly, anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

Colin cleared his throat. “As per our
earlier discussion, I have chosen to send you to Dunhelm.” Darian
smiled a very cold smile of satisfaction and Colin latched his
nervous fingers onto a heavy glass paperweight.

The worst must be said.

This had to be stopped right here and right
now. Colin tried to toy with the paperweight as though unconcerned
about what he intended to say, but suspected that he failed.


I believe, Mr. Mulvaney,
that this act will fulfill the bounds of my obligation to you here
at the Society.” Colin took a deep breath. “Your credentials in
coming here show an impressive level of work in researching the
ancient Picts - however questionable they may be, it is evident
that this area has a profound interest to you. This opportunity -
granted at the expense of many others, I might add - should give
you the chance you desire to prove yourself.”

Darian said absolutely nothing, a fact that
Colin found terribly unsettling.


Needless to say, I
consider our bargain to be a matter forgotten as of this
moment.”

He threw his most quelling glance at his
subordinate, but Darian’s smile did not waver.

When the young man spoke, his voice was
dangerously low. “Unfortunately, sir, we aren’t in agreement.”


What?”


I don’t consider our
business to be completed.”

Colin dropped the paperweight and it rolled
heavily across his desk. He ignored it and jabbed a thick finger
into the solid wood. “You cannot continue to milk a single
comparatively minor incident to fuel your entire career! I will not
have it! It is a disgrace to the Society!”

Darian arched a fair brow. “Would Mrs.
Russell consider the widow on Rosehill Road to be a single
comparatively minor incident?”

The men’s gazes locked and held for a long
moment. Colin sat back heavily and poked at the fax in
dissatisfaction.

Mildred. The Russells’ marriage was not a
love match, by any means, but it was one firmly rooted in mutual
respect. They passed periodically in the house Mildred had
inherited, but by and large, lived separate lives.

Mildred had her horses, her friends at
Ascot, her big straw hats and social teas. Colin had his tweeds and
his archeological digs.

And his society.

Established with a juicy grant from
Mildred.


You’re right, of course,
sir,” Darian said cheerfully when Colin glared at his desk. “I’m
certain Mrs. Russell would see no harm in this, at all.” Darian
reached for the phone. “Why don’t we just give her a call and set
this matter behind us, as you wish?”

Darian picked up the receiver but Colin
snatched it out of his hand and dropped it back into the
cradle.

He glared at the audacious young man who had
invaded his life.

Darian smiled with open malice. “Mrs.
Russell is an understanding woman, isn’t she?”

Mildred was not an understanding woman,
never had been and never would be. If she found out about Colin’s
dalliance, there would be hell to pay for the rest of his life.

Colin drew himself taller and made a bluff
of having some dignity left in this exchange.


I’m warning you, Mr.
Mulvaney, I will not permit this to continue,” he declared. “It is
a travesty of the code of the society and an affront to serious
scholarship everywhere.”

But Darian clearly knew as well as Colin did
that the words were empty. The younger man laced his fingers
together and looked steadily at his superior. “I only want one more
thing, Mr. Russell.”

Colin’s mouth went dry. “What is that?”

Darian pushed to his feet. “I’ll let you
know when it’s time for you to do something about it.” He sauntered
across the office, pausing with one hand on the door. “I’ll call
you from Dunhelm, sir.”

And then he was gone.

Colin wadded up the fax and hurled it across
the room. Insolent bugger! Maybe life would be easier with him at
the other end of the country!

One more thing.
Did Colin dare to
hope that might be the truth?

He sighed, feeling suddenly very defeated by
life’s challenges, and retrieved the fax, smoothing it out on his
desk. One last thing, he reminded himself, just one last thing and
Darian Mulvaney would keep his mouth shut forever.

Colin could only hope it was something in
his power to do.

*

Chapter Fourteen

Baird returned to poorly managed chaos. He
listened and looked, pointed and decided, delegated and prioritized
with an efficiency perfected long ago. Each felt they had their
say, each respected his decisions, although new issues seemed to
crop up faster than he could resolve the old ones.

Marissa cornered him after several
unsuccessful attempts, though she would have been dismayed to know
that Baird’s mind was firmly locked on the problem of placing a
septic tank. They had found a load-bearing wall under the bishop’s
palace where no one had expected one to be - and precisely where
tank number four was supposed to be installed.

The backhoe was waiting for Baird to decide
where to put the tank instead. He was up to his elbows in
blueprints, had the architect on the cellphone, a building
inspector hovered nearby, and the head plumber anxiously making
suggestions.


Baird, darling, whatever
is going on this place? The noise is so terrible that I can’t even
think straight!”

Baird flicked a glance at the designer and
wasn’t surprised. Her flowing skirt and pointed heels had no place
in the mess of the construction site. “Then, go to a hotel,” he
said tightly. “You can’t be in here without steel-toed boots.”

The architect barked in his ear, Baird
located the spot he suggested and looked to the plumber. He tapped
the nearby wiring that they had penciled onto the plan the week
before - another unanticipated complication - and the plumber made
a face. The inspector shook his head firmly.


Where else?” he asked the
architect.


Baird, darling, I really
must put my foot down. I know you’ve decided about the marble,
darling, but we simply must go over the draperies and upholsteries
for the Series B guestrooms. I’ve brought all the fabric
swatches…”


Fine. Later.” Baird
flicked a glance to the plumber. “What about here?”

The plumber considered the possibility and
Baird was encouraged that he didn’t immediately discard it. The
plumber shoved his hands into his overalls and leaned closer.
“Where’s the restaurant in comparison to this?”


Here,” Baird said. “So we
could make the access over here, maybe add a line of shrubbery, the
driveway goes around the building there already.”


I like it.” The plumber
picked up the plan and frowned at it, obviously checking that he
hadn’t missed anything.

The inspector looked over his shoulder,
nodding as his gaze darted over the plans. “Looks doable.”

Baird was vaguely aware that Marissa was
still chattering on to him. “It’s not safe for you to be in here
without proper boots,” he reminded her tersely, then waited
impatiently for the two men before him to decide.

Marissa leaned closer, but Baird wasn’t
listening. “Look, Baird, I have the most wonderful idea. Why don’t
we have a lovely intimate dinner tonight, and get all these issues
settled? We could meet in my room, darling, don’t worry, I’ll
arrange for the meal somehow…”

The plumber nodded approval, the inspector
concurred and Baird picked up the cellphone, glad everything was
resolved. “All right, we’ve got a deal,” he informed the architect.
“Let’s do it.”

Marissa gave her odd laugh and attracted the
attention of all three men. She kissed her fingertips and waved
coyly to Baird, dancing out of the work area. “I’ll take care of
everything, darling! Sevenish would be good.”

Baird looked to the inspector and plumber.
He had an odd sense that he had inadvertently agreed to something,
but didn’t have any idea what it was. “What in the hell was that
all about?”

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