IntoEternity

Christina James

Born
in the past, raised in the future, Augusta traveled through time as a child.
Leaving her life in the Scottish Highlands of the past and hiding in the future
was the only way to save her life. But when an accident sends her tumbling back
through time, she lands in the arms of a handsome Highland laird and finds
herself thrust into the middle of a world filled with intrigue, murder and
unparalleled passion.

As
Alexander searches the length and breadth of Scotia for his runaway young
nephew he finds the lad traveling with a beautiful, mysterious woman.
No matter that his mischievous relative actually found
the woman—by her beauty and grace and her misfortune at having crossed his path
this day, Alexander decides to make her his in every sense of the word. Little
does he know it will take all his skills to hold on to her.

A Romantica®
time travel
erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Scottish Highlands

“It is time for her to come home.”

The old woman gazed into the large black caldron filled with
water. The image that appeared in the mirrorlike surface was that of a young,
black-haired lady with exotic golden eyes that slanted enticingly. She was a
beauty in every way, comely of face and pure of heart.

“Nay, ’tis not. Not yet.” The older woman’s companion
splashed the shimmering surface with his cane, momentarily blurring the image she’d
called forth.

“Just look. She is ready. And we are running out of time.”

“I know we are running out of time, old hag, but I tell you
again, not yet.”

“You hammer-headed old fool, if we wait much longer, it may
be too late. We could lose the chance of bringing her over. The time is right
and you know
he
is waiting for her. If we muddle it up this time, he
might not be so merciful and it would be all your fault, just as our return
journey was. That bungle was your fault as well.” She thrust an accusing finger
in his direction as she glared at him.

“Ha, you are an old woman, what do you know? Destiny will
bring them together. If it is meant to be, it will be. All we need do is bring
her over and Fate will take a hand in the outcome. But I say again, this is not
the time.”

“It is I say.”

“Nay, it is not.”

“Aye, ’tis.” She grumbled under her breath, not willing to
concede defeat.

“You could drive a saint to madness.” He threw up his hands
and started pacing the floor of the small cottage, leaning heavily on his long
staff.

“A lot you know, most saints are mad to begin with.”

“You are acting like a child, pouting when you don’t get
your own way.”

“All right, since you claim to know everything we will wait.
But I warn you, this had better not turn out to be another one of your blunders.
If
he
has to wait much longer, he will have our hides.”

“Oh aye, you don’t have to remind me about that. This time
there will be no mistake. I know the game we are playing here. But in truth it
is Fate we serve. And she will be most appreciative.”

Idaho, October 31

A cold breeze nipped at Gusty’s exposed nose and cheeks. Her
stroll through the park was not turning out to be as pleasurable as she’d first
anticipated. As she stopped to flip up the faux-fur collar of her black leather
coat to protect her neck and ears, two excited children dressed up as a small
red demon and a little witch nearly bowled her over. The two raced down the
walkway toward the next house, eager to collect more trick-or-treat favors.

“Sorry, lady!” the boy shouted over his shoulder.

Then they were gone. Gusty had to smile at their enthusiasm.
She glanced around to see if there were any more children coming her way before
she continued walking. The streets seemed to be teeming with youngsters of all
ages celebrating this Halloween tradition, dressed in an array of colorful
costumes. The cool evening temperature did not deter them from going door to
door, demanding their ransom of sweet treats.

As Gusty moved on toward her destination, her fingers were
nearly frozen in the cold breeze. She had inadvertently left her gloves on the
front seat of her car along with her wallet when she’d picked up the small
bouquet of flowers she had brought with her. She had not noticed leaving the
gloves behind until she had walked for two blocks and then she decided it was
not worth the effort to go back for them. Luckily she had the habit of
pocketing her keys whenever she got out of her vehicle so at least she was not
locked out of her car.

She had always loved autumn. The brilliant hues of gold and
red, the crispness of the air, the scent of crumbling leaves under foot were
all part of the uniqueness of the season. Halloween had always been a special
time for her and her family. They had an uncommon way of making the autumn
festivities come alive. Each year they dressed up in costumes from a different
period in history and for one evening they re-enacted that particular era. She
had always loved the make-believe aspect of the tradition and every year it had
gotten more detailed.

Last year, just before Halloween her grandmother had put
together costumes that were exact replicas of what a Scottish Highland laird
and his lady would have worn. Gusty and her brother Michael had promised to
wear the costumes to their family’s annual Halloween gathering. But they never
had the chance. Her whole life changed in the blink of an eye when a drunk
driver broadsided the car in which she and her grandparents had been riding.
She alone had survived.

The police informed her after the accident that it was
remarkable she had not been killed as well. Her memory of that night was still
a distorted blur. The only thing she could remember was waking up in the
hospital several days later with her brother at her bedside looking as bad as
she felt. He told her the emergency room doctors had not expected her to live
through the night. She had lain in the intensive care unit for three days
before she finally regained consciousness.

Today marked the anniversary of that fatal accident.
Halloween had come to mean something entirely different for her. The holiday
held painful memories and a longing for things to be the way they were before her
grandparents passed away.

Reflections of that day, a year ago, filled her head as she
walked down the street toward the cemetery. She did not notice until that
moment how well she fit in to the festivities of the evening with the dark
outfit she wore. She looked as if she had dressed up in costume for the
occasion, as a witch perhaps. With her black hair braided in a single plait
down her back, wearing her black leather coat and ankle-length black skirt, she
looked positively sinister under the lengthening shadows of the trees that
lined the avenue. But then her outfit matched her mood.

Michael was to meet her at the cemetery at 4:30 p.m. before
the gates were closed for the day. He’d phoned to let her know he would be
getting off work early so they could place flowers on the graves of their
grandparents. She had planned the little speech about how she was not returning
to therapy. He would not be pleased but it was her life and she needed to take
control of it once again.

Gusty stopped at the busy intersection and waited for a
break in the traffic before crossing the street. The gate of the Rose Hill
Cemetery was situated at the corner of the property. She took a seat on the
stone bench at the entrance to await her brother. The location of the bench
gave her a clear view of both streets that flanked the cemetery. The small
park, through which she had just walked, took up the entire block to the west,
while a residential neighborhood spread out to the north.

As she sat watching a small group of kids, a sense of
complete tranquility filled her mind. She closed her eyes and took a deep,
shuddering breath. When was the last time she had felt so calm, so peaceful?

Or so cold! She cursed her absentmindedness at leaving her
gloves behind. She clasped her hands in her lap and vigorously rubbed them
together, trying to warm them. Suddenly she paused. Frowning in consternation,
she glanced down at the antique ring on her finger. It felt unusually warm,
almost hot. Gusty raised her hand and studied the smooth metal band, twisting
it around. How strange. She thought back to the day her grandmother had given her
and Michael their rings. They were unusual in design and her grandmother told
them they had been passed down from one generation to the next. They had in
fact belonged to their mother and father.

“Oh, Grammy, how I miss you.”

The thought of wearing something that had once belonged to
her mother left a warm feeling in her heart and she smiled.

“Gusty!”

The sound of her name distracted her. She glanced down the
sidewalk to see her brother walking toward her and she gasped at the sight of
him.

Michael was dressed in the authentic Scottish costume their
grandmother had fashioned for him last year for their Halloween party. He waved
and she automatically raised her hand in response.

Her handsome brother looked magnificent in his plaid kilt,
and the feathered beret covering his overly long black hair. His long, muscular
legs were bare from the knees down to the tops of the high Argyle stockings he
wore. And he was probably freezing his butt off. Gusty could not help but grin,
even as her eyes filled with tears. She never thought to feel the manifestation
of her grandparents’ spirits again in this life but here was her brother, big
and bold, bringing back the revelry the old couple had instilled in their
grandchildren.

Gusty wiped away an errant tear with a quick swipe of her
hand as she rose to meet him with a smile. His steps quickened and an answering
grin lit up his face. The past year had been hard on him as well but not in the
same way it had been on her. She had been truly lost since the accident and he worried
about her and what her future held for her. But she’d felt much better lately. Was
it possible she was finally ready to join the living again, at long last? Michael
reached for her and drew her into a warm hug.

“You look good, little sister. I’m glad you called.”

Gusty wrapped her arms around the solid weight of her
brother and held him tight. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him
these past weeks while he had been out of town on business.

“Thanks for coming, Michael. I wasn’t sure you would get
here before they closed the gates. God, how I’ve missed you.” She looked up at
him and smiled.

Michael smiled back, bent, and pressed his lips to her
forehead. “I would not have missed today, you know that. It’s been a long, hard
year for both of us. But I worry about you. I know how much you miss them.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. Michael raised his hand and
brushed the wetness away.

“Hush now. Don’t weep. Maeve and Hagen would not want you to
grieve so. Come on—let’s go put these posies on their gravestone. Then I’m
taking you out to dinner at that new place over on Vista. A beer or two to
cheer us up as we revisit the memories we have of our grandparents.”

As Gusty let her brother turn her toward the gate of the
cemetery, her attention was momentarily distracted by a movement in her
peripheral vision. She turned her head to get a better look and saw a small boy
riding his two-wheeler bike at a reckless speed, heading right for the busy
street in front of them. No doubt distracted by images of all the treats he
would be getting, he paid no attention to the traffic-filled avenue ahead of
him.

“Oh. My. God!”

Michael glanced around. “What is it?”

Gusty pulled her arm from Michael’s grip and took a step
toward the curb. “There.” She pointed. “The boy riding his bike through the
park across the street. Oh, my God.”

“What is it, Gusty?”

“That boy! He’s about to get hit.” She stepped off the curb
and dashed into the middle of the traffic.

“Gusty. Stop! Damn it, Gusty, get back here!”

“Stop!” Gusty cried out, trying to get the boy’s attention,
but he paid her no heed.

The child moved steadily toward the danger of the busy
street. Cars swerved, their tires squealing on the roadway as drivers attempted
to miss him. Ignoring her brother’s shouts behind her, Gusty raced after the
boy. She had to reach him, had to stop him before it was too late!

She did not know at what point she became aware that
everything around her slowed down to move as if she were caught in a dream but
suddenly she felt as if she had heavy weights in her boots. Even the traffic
moving beside her slowed to a crawling pace. She looked back at the boy and
blinked. He was dressed in a kilt and tunic, similar to the costume Michael
wore. The garments were extraordinarily authentic looking and she had to admit the
clothes went rather well with the long red hair the boy sported and the horse
he was riding.

Horse?

No! Surely she was seeing things! But the large animal did
not disappear, nor did it turn into a bike. The boy rode on the back of a huge
dapple gray and they raced for the busy avenue, apparently not noticing the
dangers posed by the passing vehicles.

For a moment Gusty thought she might not get to him in time—her
legs moved too slowly. As she reached him everything around her suddenly sped
back up to normal and she jumped forward to pull him from the animal’s back
just as it leaped in front of a speeding car. At the same moment she felt the
excruciating pain of a vehicle slamming into her. The impact threw her against
the curb. Pain exploded through her body and the air was forced mercilessly
from her lungs as she hit the concrete. The world grew dimmer and dimmer, a
mist surrounded her and the sounds of the honking horns and screeching tires
faded.

Just before her world turned completely black, Gusty heard
Michael in the distance, screaming her name, begging her not to leave him. She
tried to reassure him she was all right but she was unable to open her eyes,
unable to speak. She couldn’t summon the strength, it was as if her body was
not hers to control anymore. But no matter, she would tell him later.

She wasn’t going anywhere very soon.