Chapter 15

"Absolutely not." His growl was unmistakable. "I will hear no arguments on the subject. My God, Aunt Mildred, the woman is dangerous. How can I allow a complete stranger to sit at my table with neighbors and friends? It would be like leading the slaughter to the lambs."

"Keep your voice down." She turned to see his outburst hadn't woken the woman. "She needs rest." She peered out the door, summoning the footman. "When this woman awakens, please let me know." He nodded, and she dismissed him with a wave. Returning to the bedside, she looked onto the woman's face, and smiled. There was something there speaking to her, something she couldn't quite name. But she knew this woman would bring a bit of radiance to a very dull place. Her smile widened.

"We will discuss this matter later. In the meantime, you can stay out of this room. This young lady has been through much. She needs healing, not persecution." His mouth thinned into a pair of grim lines. She could tell he wanted to argue, but held his tongue.

With a last glance at the figure blanketed in crimson, he bowed to her, and left. Mildred listened with a sad heart as his angry steps carried him toward down the hall. What was she going to do with that boy?

No, he's a man.

A man with a twenty-two-year-old wound no doctor on earth could heal.

***

Haven's head felt like an overripe watermelon beneath the steady swing of a sledgehammer. She opened her eyes, blinked to focus, and gasped as the simple movement hurt like hell.

The maid rose from her chair in the corner, and left the room. No doubt to summon the dark duke from his villainous fortress of solitude.

Breathing in, she endeavored to put her flitting thoughts into some kind of order.

Okay, what happened this time?

Her memory danced out of focus for a millisecond longer. Then-"Oh, God." She remembered the disastrous meeting with the duke, and the headline on the newspaper, but the date beneath the headline soured her stomach.

March 29, 1817.

1817? This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.

"This didn't happen. I'm not actually lying in a bedroom in a mansion in England in 1817. I can't be. Time travel doesn't exist."

Right?

She grabbed her head, fighting the urge to shake it vigorously. A soft click alerted her to the arrival of someone seconds before a woman spoke.

"You're awake, good."

Gritting her teeth, Haven raised her head, and saw a small silver-haired woman with a bright face and warm smile.

"I imagine you're thirsty." The woman sailed forward and picked up the glass of water from the side table, bringing it to Haven's lips. Their gazes met over the rim of the glass, and she read welcome and curiosity in the startling blue depths. When she took a long sip, she almost groaned when the sweet water met her parched throat.

"Enough?" the woman asked.

She nodded.

After setting the glass on the table, the woman hitched up her yellow dress, and sat on the bed.

"I know how frightened you must be. My nephew can be a scary brute, but he has the best intentions."

Seriously?

"I can see from your face you disagree. If I were in your position, I would, too." The woman, who was apparently the duke's aunt, smoothed the blankets over Haven's legs, and gave each one a gentle pat.

The soft scent of roses caressed her nose.

"My name is Lady Mildred Dunham, but please, call me Millie." She smiled, and Haven felt reassuring warmth caress her like a hug.

"If my nephew is correct, your name is Haven Edwards."

"Yes, ma'am." Why did it feel like she'd been hurtled back to the fourth grade?

The sweet woman grinned. "Oh, don't ma'am me. I would like to be your friend. If everyone went about ma'aming their friends, we would all be a stiff, formal lot." She shuddered. "Boring. I will call you Haven. A lovely name."

Strangely, Haven felt a glimmer of a connection with this woman. She smiled, but it disappeared when a low and angry grumble burst from her stomach. Hoping her stomach's mutinous outburst was quieter than it sounded, she watched as concern filled Millie's eyes.

"My dear, when was the last time you ate?" Millie's soothing voice pitched with concern.

Embarrassment heated her face. "Dinner, last night." She'd eaten a hot dog at the carnival. Unfortunately, it was the same hot dog that ended up in the trunk of her car.

Millie's hand flew to her throat. "That nephew of mine has some explaining to do. Starving a wounded girl. How does he expect you to get better if he doesn't feed you?"

Millie rose from the bed. "I will return shortly." She headed swiftly out the door, on a mission.

Wow. She felt like she'd penetrated the eye of a hurricane.

She let out a slow breath and froze. A familiar, yet unwelcome sensation whispered over her. The watch spirit, or whatever, was near; a floating, non-corporeal stranger who may or may not have leered at her while she dressed that morning. Did it even have eyes?

Shuddering, she swatted at the caressing prickles on her arms, uncomfortable in the reality that she was in the presence of something she couldn't explain, or see.

***

The hovering spirit spied as the small, surprisingly energetic older woman swept from the room.

His mission was to fulfill the first of three tasks set before him by The Three Sister Goddesses to whom he'd been bound.

Bound by a spell, black and insidious.

His mission was a difficult one, and if anything that transpired in the last twelve hours was an indication, his task could be impossible. How could he accomplish something as perilous as it was ridiculous? Despite his empowerment by The Three Sister Goddesses, the Tres Deae, he'd already depleted more than half of the empyrean power bestowed on him. It had taken more celestial force to move his companion through space and time than he'd planned, and now he had to find a way to maneuver her into the scheme he'd devised without depleting his power further. If he ran out before he achieved his commission, he would be ensnared for all time, and the black-haired siren would be trapped in the nineteenth century for the rest of her life.

No. He had to succeed. He had to complete this task so he could break the first of three chains binding his soul to the enchanted watch.