Authors: Samantha Leal
When she awoke in the morning, she was alone. She could hear the men preparing to leave outside and quickly dressed and went out to see what was happening. William had packed his shield and swords and was ready to mount his horse, but seeing her, he rushed to her side.
“I wanted to leave before you woke.”
“I’m glad I caught you.”
Their conversation was stilted in front of the other men and they had to resist the urge to kiss each other.
“I should have a token to give you to keep you safe.”
William smiled. “I’ll picture your face before we go into battle tomorrow.”
Rebecca had a thought. “Wait, I can do better than that!” Running into the tent, she brought out her bag and handed him the phone. “Here, take this and you can have my image with you.”
She had saved their selfie as a screensaver, and she showed him how to turn the iPhone on and off.
William tucked it into his tunic. It was time to go and the others were shouting at him to mount his horse. There was no time for long goodbyes and after touching her arm lightly, he was away.
She watched the men ride into the distance, her heart already heavy for their losses.
The day was long and she had little to do. William had warned her to keep out of sight and keep away from the other men staying behind in the camp. Many were young boys, just learning their craft and the others old men past the age of battle who were responsible for the camp.
Taking out her notebook, she began to sketch pictures with notes of what she saw. It would be fascinating reading when she got back to 2015, if she ever returned. At first she remained within the confines of the tent, but as the day dragged on, she became bored. Tucking her hair underneath her cap, she started to wander further afield. It seemed quiet and surely no one would notice her. With her slight frame and tunic and leggings, she could easily pass for one of the young squires. Eventually she came to a very large and wealthy-looking tent that bore the royal coat of arms; it must be the tent of King James. Picking up her pencil, she had just started drawing the scene when a hefty arm caught hold of her.
Two burly highlanders stood behind her, their swords drawn, and before she could speak her hands were fastened behind her and she was thrown into a tent. No one knew who she was and it was assumed that she must be an English spy.
A long time passed before one of the older men came into the tent to speak to her.
“What’s yer name sonny, and who do ye work for?”
She stuttered out William’s name and said that she was his squire. The man rubbed his whiskers. He wasn’t sure. The boy’s accent wasn’t Scots, and there was something unusual about him. He would keep him under watch until William returned.
She was brought some simple food and water during the day, but apart from that, she had no company. At night she was given a blanket but could not sleep. How different the previous night had been. She lay awake thinking of William.
A few miles away, William Stewart lay on the ground looking up at the stars. It was a beautiful night and he wondered if it might be his last. He was sure Rebecca knew something about the battle but was afraid to tell him. He feared the worse. He removed the strange device from his tunic and pressed the button she had shown him. The square box switched into life and he saw a picture of a white apple on a black background. This thing amazed him and he wondered what it was like in 2015. Would he still be remembered? The apple disappeared and was replaced by their image, his face and hers. She was laughing and he was looking confused. She looked beautiful. Kissing the image, he pressed the button to close the machine and to “save the battery” as she had put it.
He prayed to God to keep them both safe.
The next morning, the clouds had set in and what started as a light drizzle turned into torrential rain by mid afternoon. Rebecca listened carefully for any news, but all was quiet. She hadn’t slept well the previous night and was awoken by the sound of loud voices and seemed to recognise one of them. The tent opened and in walked Angus, one of William’s men who had threatened her with a sword a few days earlier. She was grateful for her disguise for he did not seem to recognize her and soon walked out again. She wondered what he was doing here and why he wasn’t at the battle. The reason soon became clear. The battle had already started late afternoon and by now the Scots were being massacred by the English. It seemed that the coward had run away from the danger. A few hours later, a messenger arrived to state that all was lost and to clear the camp. Horses were readied and Rebecca wondered if she would be forgotten when Angus walked into the tent and pulled her outside.
The older man was waiting outside. “He says he’s William Stewart’s squire.”
Angus peered closely at Rebecca, uncertain. Pulling at her cap, he released her blonde hair, which cascaded down her back.
“William Stewart’s whore, more like.” And bringing his face up close to hers, he leered down at her, his cruel mouth mocking her.
“Well, William’s dead so she’s no use to him now. I’m sure I can make good use of her, though.” With that, he dragged her back into the tent.
Rebecca didn’t know what was happening to her. Her whole body had gone into shock. If William was dead, then she was lost, too. The old woman had been wrong after all. Perhaps it was her fault; she had upset the balance of time.
She had a sense of déjà vu but seemed lost in a dream. Angus was suddenly in front of her and from the smell on his breath, he had been drinking a great quantity of ale. His hand was squeezing her arm, but she could not struggle. She had given up the fight. His eyes were like slits and there was cruelty in their steely grey as he looked her up and down.
Licking his lips, he sneered at her and brought his face directly in front of hers.
His breath was stale and sour, and Rebecca turned her face away from him.
“Little whore, I’ll show ye.” He pulled her to the floor as his free hand started to work its way underneath her tunic.
His other hand was around her neck and almost choking her. She thought she might black out when suddenly he released her, his whole weight lifting away from her.
“Angus.”
The voice was his. William had returned and had pulled Angus away from her, punching him to the floor.
Once again his strong arms were around her and she wept softly into his chest.
“But I thought you were dead?”
“I was saved by this.” Reaching into his tunic he pulled out her phone. The glass had been smashed but surprisingly it still worked.
“I took a direct hit from an English archer, but luckily I kept your picture next to my heart and the arrow pierced your machine and not me. Ye saved my life.”
Things were as they should be, as they were always meant to be.
Rebecca returned home to Selkirk with William. She married him a month later and he had a special portrait of her commissioned for the occasion. He wanted her to look like the first time he had seen her, standing in the bed chamber with her hair plaited. She wore a blue velvet dress and a pearl necklace that he bought her as a wedding gift. As a surprise in return, she asked the painter to make two small additions to her picture. In her hand, she would hold an apple to symbolize the phone that had saved him. Remembering the original locket, she had already guessed what the twin-tailed symbol of the siren signified: It was the Starbucks logo from her coffee cup that they had kept it as a reminder of her past.
They lived happily ever after despite the fact that she could never return to her own time. They had four children, two girls and two boys. Her past was now her future. She worried about her Mom missing her and thought of a cunning plan. She recorded a message for her parents on the iPhone, using the last remaining battery power. She hoped they would understand.
James Anderson was furious. He had been digging at the site and found a surprisingly modern object buried quite deeply. It seemed as though a thermos flask had been buried on the site of the old house and inside it were two objects: a mobile phone with the front smashed in and a small locket. He recognized the phone; the students seemed to be glued to them these days. This one was housed in a pink sparkly case and it belonged to Rebecca, that strange American girl that he couldn’t get out of his head. Students weren’t allowed to come onto the site without permission, let alone dig.
It might be a practical joke, but just wait until he saw her; he would definitely give her a piece of his mind.
THE END
My Holid
ay Billionaire
Pamela Avery
Copyright ©2015 by Pamela Avery. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work!
CHAPTER ONE: THE JERK
CHAPTER TWO: HAWAII
CHAPTER THREE: SECOND THOUGHTS
CHAPTER FOUR: PASSION WINS
CHAPTER FIVE: NOT AGAIN
CHAPTER SIX: LOVE WINS
Chapter One
Alexandra Jordan’s big blue eyes filled with unshed tears as the plane taxied down the runway, increasing its speed exponentially, before rising into the air, its powerful engines vibrating beneath her wings.
She tossed her head, deliberately hiding her face beneath her cloud of riotous blonde curls as she stared out at the rapidly diminishing landscape. Her seat mate, a batty old woman in her nineties chattered incessantly, trying to draw Alexandra into conversation. After several minutes engaged in what turned out to be a droning monologue, the woman took the hint and relaxed back against her seat.
I should be happy
, Alexandra told herself.
I should be ecstatic, over the moon; I should be the one talking the old woman’s ear off!
She had won a trip to freaking Hawaii and was flying first class for the first time in her entire life; plus she was going to spend two exotic weeks at a five-star resort; all expenses paid, and yet she could barely summon a smile.
She knew why, of course, her eyes filling anew as she ducked her head; she was mourning the death of her relationship of five years. It had ended just two days ago when she had borrowed Andrew’s phone to show him the email she had received about winning the trip. She had seen a text message that came in at that very second, “Hey Baby…remember, I’m serious…no more unprotected sex!. Pleeeease bring condoms! I miss you!”
Her mouth tightened now again as she recalled how her hand had shook as she looked up in shock, her disbelieving eyes zeroing in on where her fiancé was calmly sipping the bowl of soup she had made for him.
“
Who
is Cindy Jacobs?” she had asked in a shrill voice she barely recognized as her own.
Andrew had paused, his hand arrested half-way to his mouth and then he had blithely informed her, his eyes turning hard as he obviously braced himself and said, “She’s the woman I love.”
Alexandra shut her eyes now in remembered pain as she recalled the strange tunneling sound she had heard after that. A part of her had been afraid she might even be having a small stroke at the time.
Andrew had simply glared down at her as he rose to his feet and announced he had been dying to tell her that he had had enough, but now was as good a time as any. Then before her shell-shocked eyes, he had marched into the bedroom, grabbed a small duffel bag, and was heading towards the door before she could so much as sneeze.
The worst part was that whenever she remembered that encounter, what stood out most in her mind’s eyes was the apparent disgust etched onto his features as he looked at her. The pain was still there, but she wished she could believe it when she told herself that he didn’t deserve her. Her weight had always been a sore subject for her and he had known exactly what button to press. At the same time she knew her own self-worth and she wanted to be with a man who saw her as beautiful. She knew that she had to believe it first though. As he had left he had actually had the balls and gall to say “And lose some weight!” Thankfully, in this one instance she did not regret her temper. Before she had a chance to stop it, she had slammed her fist into his nose before shutting the door in his face.
What a dick
, she thought now.
At the time, she had promptly dissolved into tears but he didn’t know that, so that was alright.
She had been so devastated that she had actually considered not going on the trip at all. Her best friend and partner, Claire Davies had practically shoved her out the door insisting that
Beautiful Designs
, their Interior design company, could survive without her for two weeks.
Beautiful Designs
was her pride and joy; through sheer grit and determination, the company had risen from being a tiny corner shop to a corporation responsible for at least two hundred employees with branches in three states. The best part was, they were still growing and if she had anything to say about it in the next ten years, it would become a mega-corporation. She was the CEO but sometimes, like today, she felt about as clueless as the janitor.
In hindsight, she realized he had actually been gradually moving out on her for a while which explained why he had needed no more than a second to stroll out with just one little duffel bag containing all his belongings.
Raw pain shredded her heart anew and she leaned her head against the headrest of her seat and let the tears flow freely, unchecked as the powerful plane continued to burst through the sky. With every second she was getting further away from what
was
, and closer to
what could be
, she realized. Maybe the trip would be good for her.
***
“Sí Señor,” the hotel Manager crooned, bowing so low it was a wonder his head didn’t touch his knees as he smiled up with sycophantic worship at the tall, powerfully built man in front of him.
Alexandra tried not to roll her eyes as she watched the pair. The tall man murmured something in what was obviously meant to be a low tone. Given his very deep baritone voice, however, it carried right to her. She noted disinterestedly that he was speaking Spanish and tried not to start tapping her foot in impatience as the Manager started opening drawers and flipping ledgers in a flurry of urgent movements.
Unable to bear the wait any longer, she said waspishly, “If you two are done with your
bromance
moment perhaps you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of a bar. Watching the pair of you is so painful I could certainly use a big, strong ─” her voice trailed off into silence as the large man turned to look at her.
All thoughts fled as she locked eyes with what had to be one of the most amazing specimens of human being she had ever laid eyes on. He had a tawny mane of windswept hair that scattered around his head in a most becoming and arresting manner. He also had the most captivating pair of dark, dark eyes she had ever seen. They were so dark they were almost black and so intense she could have sworn she could fall into them. His features were finely chiseled with a granite jaw, a long aristocratic nose, and a firm upper lip. His lower lip was surprisingly full. His shoulders had to be at least a mile wide. There was a quality about him, something that reminded her of a big jungle cat about to spring. His tuxedo spelled class and money and was so impeccably tailored and well-fitted on his large, slim frame that she knew it had to have been custom-made. Expertly, her eyes picked out the unique Dormeuil Vanquish II cut of his tux. The man was the last word in gorgeous and very wealthy by the look of things. That tux had to have cost something in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars!
Alexandra tried not to grind her teeth as it occurred to her that sometimes God did give with both hands.
The man grinned lazily, his dark eyes gleaming down at her as he said, “Big, strong what? Cup of coffee, I hope. Not much chance of you getting much else here miss.”
Alexandra bristled at that. At twenty-eight, she was curvy and voluptuous with large breasts and broad hips, a smooth, unlined face and in her opinion, healthy strong arms. She’d always resented it though, and now was no exception, especially when he made it sound like she had been going to say ‘big strong man’. So she was not the most attractive woman in the world. That did not give a total stranger the right to comment on her looks.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she began in a low, dark, warning tone “But I don’t like the insinuation.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he deliberately raked his eyes down her pretty gamine features. She had wide blue eyes; full blonde curls that made him think of his little nephews and their favorite cartoon character Goldilocks; she had full, pouty lips that invited a man to lean down and taste them, a pair of delectable-looking boobs the size of small throw-pillows, and delectable hips that just made him want to wrap his hands around them. She was a complete knockout in his eyes.
He felt his blood stir as it hadn’t done in a while and he immediately squelched the unexpected surge of desire; the last thing he needed right now was to be attracted to any female of the species.
With deliberate insolence, he gave her a measuring look that swept from the top of her blonde hair, down her tee-shirt, past her shorts, past miles and miles of smooth legs and down to her flip-flops. He needed desperately to put some distance between them, he decided. Besides it was fun to rile her up like this.
He said coolly, “Whatever you say.”
Then he turned around to accept the key to his Suite from the Manager’s outstretched hand.
“I hope you at least had the decency to give him a tiny room facing an alley,” she grumbled as she gave
her
details to the Manager.
The man gave her a wide-toothed grin, “Very funny, Miss.”
“I don’t hear anyone laughing,” she observed sarcastically.
“He owns half the hotels on this Island including this one. He can have any room he wants,” the man informed her as he returned her documents and key to her.
A flow of rapid Spanish had her looking towards the elevators in time to see a bell boy almost trip over his own feet in his haste to relieve the Spaniard of his briefcase. Alexandra rolled her eyes once more as she headed towards her room. With the reverence everyone was paying the stupid man, you would have thought he was the President of the United States!