Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance (11 page)

“You know, Marguerite, you may call me Sebastian. In case it slipped your mind, we are to be married soon and we will be on a very familiar basis shortly. Do you not think it would be prudent for you to start acting the part?” he asked softly.

Katherine blinked. His fiancées name was Marguerite? That was a pretty name. “Yes, of course, ah… Sebastian, if you say so.” She tried to smile at him, but suddenly felt ill. She was sure she looked ready to puke. Hell, she was ready to puke, and all over the lovely checkered, marble, foyer tiles, too. She glanced over at a gargoyle. It looked like it was laughing at her. She narrowed her eyes at it. She had to shake herself, she was acting crazy.

She shoved her shaking hands into the folds of her dress, not even bothering to see if he watched, and walked quickly from the room, directly to the front door. A little voice chanted
Run …if you can
. Katherine tried to move forward, but couldn’t get her feet to budge.

She suddenly wondered if this was how Dorothy felt when she woke up in Oz, with all the little people, squawking,
Ding dong, the witch is dead
! She looked down at her shoes; they weren’t ruby slippers and she was no Dorothy. Her mind balked at the absurdity of it all. Did she somehow manage to travel into the past? Or was she simply losing her freaking mind? Maybe it was a dream. She had to think. Turning away from the door, she grabbed the banister.

A little voice snickered in the distance, echoing through the foyer. Her entire body shuddered with fear. She wasn’t sure if she was hearing things, or if her mind was playing tricks on her. Could it really be true that she was actually in the past, where a man… well, a hot man, believed she was his missing fiancée? A time where servants waited on her hand and foot. Was this place her new reality?

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge not to run out into the dark night. She took a deep, calming breath, and then another. A calm spread through her, as she realized with perfect clarity, that the existence she was in at this moment, right now, had to be real… because she couldn’t make this
shit
up if she tried.

Water ran in rivulets down the sid
e
of Isabelle’s mud-laden prison, splashing on the ground. The constant noise was driving her crazy. She could not stand it. It was cold, damp, and smelled of rotting potatoes. The dampness of the room chilled her to the bone. She could hear creatures scattering about in the dark. Fear hit her so hard, her stomach roiled in response, making her heave. She closed her eyes, trying to banish the nightmare that invaded her dreams but she knew she was not asleep; she was awake, living her worst possible nightmare...she was trapped.

Bile rose in Isabelle’s throat once more as she remembered what brought her to this place. She covered her mouth with her dirty hand, but the smell of damp earth on her fingers made her heave again.

Tears rolled down her face. She wiped her face with her sleeve and made herself stand to get away from the stench of her own vomit. She wrapped her arms around herself, shuffling across the floor to the door …
hoping.
It was no use; it was locked. A faint light shone around the edges of the door. She would have yelled, but she knew it was pointless. She knew exactly where she was: her very own cellar, the one she hated. It was far beneath the ground and on the other side of the door. The crumbling stairs led back to where the old cookhouse once stood. She shuffled back across the room, away from the door, to the farthest corner. There was a sack hanging on the wall that stunk of mold. She closed her eyes, pushing the horror from her mind, and threw it on the floor before sitting on it. At least, it would give her some kind of protection against the cold floor. She leaned against the wall, tucking her legs in the folds of her gown and closed her eyes once more. She sat in silence, berating herself for her stupidity. She was not some naïve girl. She was well into her prime. She had many experiences thus far in her life. She knew what it was like to love, and to lose one’s love. She knew what it felt like to get older and watch helplessly as time began to take more and more of the beauty she once had. She knew what it was like to kill someone as well.

Yes, Isabelle knew many things. Some of the things she welcomed and some she wanted to forget, but found they still haunted her in her dreams from time to time. She guessed now she was being made to pay one of her many dues.

She sighed aloud, her voice sounding harsh and raspy from vomiting.

“Oh my dear husband, why did you have to betray me with her?” The gears of her mind spun round and round replaying the day her world was smashed to pieces…

Hawthorne Manor a few days earlier

“Thank you, Charles,” Isabelle said, handing off her green ermine-lined cloak and muff to her butler. Her face was flushed with chill, having just returned from London, and she was not expected home for a few more days. But she was eager to see her young husband, Devlin. They had only been married for a short time and she rather enjoyed their love play. “Wherever is my husband?”

“His lordship is otherwise occupied, Madam,” Charles replied nervously, tugging at his cravat.

“Oh,” she said simply. “Do you have any idea how long he will be?”

“I can’t say as I have the answer to that particular question, Madam.” His voice cracked awkwardly.

Isabelle raised her brow in question. Charles looked piqued. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Ah, yes, Madam,” he said hesitantly.

“Well, I am weary from my travels. Would you please be a dear and tell cook I would like to have a small meal prepared, perhaps some soup and toast? Oh, yes, and have one of the maids bring it up to my chamber. I think a nice warm bath is in order,” she said, shivering slightly.

Charles’s eyes widened. “Are you sure you would not prefer to have some hot tea in front of the fire?” he coaxed.

“Heavens no, my clothes are damp, and truth be told, Charles, I am quite simply exhausted.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone, but I am not the young miss I once was.” She, smiled, giving him a wink for good measure. Charles had been in her family’s employ since she was a young girl, and luckily, she was able to keep him after she married the Old Duke.

“Is Judith with his lordship?” Isabelle asked distractedly. She glanced at a pile of missives on a silver salver on the hall table. There were quite a few invitations. Turning back to Charles, she saw his face was pale and he was staring down at the floor. “Charles, is something amiss?”

“No… ah… no,” he said, focusing on the ground.

“Charles, you look pale; perhaps you should get some soup from the kitchen and take yourself off to bed. You may be coming down with something.”

“Thank you. You may be right; I am suddenly not feeling well.”

“Of course, take yourself to bed. I’ll tell cook myself about my dinner.”

“Oh, perfect, I’ll accompany you,” he said hurriedly, taking her elbow, trying to guide her towards the kitchen.

Isabelle walked alongside Charles as he pushed her towards the kitchen. She had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was certainly acting strange.

Once in the kitchen, she directed the maid to make a bite for Charles and slipped out before he could notice she was gone. She hurried down the hall and up the stairs. When she reached the top landing, she made her way towards her room.

She heard moaning. She wrinkled her brow, wondering whatever the noise could be, but walked faster just the same. Dread filled her body. She stood outside her door, listening, afraid to open it suddenly. She heard another moan and muffled voices. Swallowing her trepidation, she grabbed the handle, and opened the door. It opened soundlessly. Her eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat.

Judith, her husband’s sister, was naked as the day she was born. Her head was thrown back, her hair, swaying back and forth, as she moved up and down on top of a man. Isabelle had no idea who she was with; her body blocked the man’s face. Isabelle’s ire rose instantly. She was ready to give the girl a firm dressing down. How dare she enter her private chambers with…?

Her stomach lurched as Judith was thrown backward onto the bed. Devlin rose over her, pushing her legs up into the air, and drove into her repeatedly. His body glistened with sweat, and his head was thrown back in ecstasy. Judith moaned louder, writhing as he picked his tempo up. He lifted her legs even higher. She screamed his name as she cried out in pleasure.

Devlin opened his eyes and looked directly at Isabelle. His body convulsed, finding his own release. Spent, he dropped Judith’s legs.

Isabelle stood stupidly, frozen in place. Her mind was not able to process what she had just witnessed.

“Judith, it seems we have an audience,” Devlin said, breathing heavily, staring directly at Isabelle. He seemed amused as he leaned back on the bed and ran his hand through his dampened hair.

Judith rolled over onto her stomach, an irritated expression on her face, kicking her legs back and forth in the air. “My goodness, Isabelle, had I known you liked to watch, I would have offered you a chair… so you wouldn’t have had to stand so long,” she snickered cruelly. “Devlin does take a while, does he not?” She laughed again. “Oh, right, you would not know that, would you?” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Isabelle finally got her voice back. “She is your sister! How could you have sex with your sister?” She lifted her hands helplessly in the air.

Judith laughed harder.

Devlin got his breath back and rolled off the bed. He tossed on a robe. “Well, that is a good question.” He crossed his arms and tapped his chin. “Ah, I see your dilemma; I mean what kind of sick deviant would have intercourse with his sister?” He waited a moment to speak.

Isabelle’s stomach twisted. “You’re a sick monster!” she yelled in shocked horror.

“Tsk, tsk. Be careful what stones you throw, wife. You married this monster… remember?” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“That was before… I didn’t know… I mean how…” Isabelle couldn’t even finish.

“Goodness Isabelle, you just saw how,” he said callously, then chuckled lightly. “Calm down, Isabelle, I am not a complete monster, well… at least not a deviant one. Judith is not my sister, so it seems you are in luck,” he said coldly. So what brings you home so early, wife?” Devlin asked casually as he toyed with the belt of his robe.