The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

a cover story. It might not be worth it.” Tavis pulled the amethyst brooch and the telegrams out of his pockets and gave them to Remy. “Leave as soon as possible, and never let down your guard.”

“Got it.”

Tavis glanced across the killing field. “Help me carry Erik over to his horse.”

They laid Erik next to Arthfael just as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and the blood-streaked hair on the golden stallion shimmered in the setting sun.

Tavis unpinned the Mandarin Spessartite Garnet brooch from the inside of Erik’s trousers.

“Is that the brooch Erik promised to give Elliott once he had twelve brooches to open the door?”

Tavis nodded. “Rare and extremely beautiful. I don’t know where it came from, and we won’t know its secrets until we can go to the other side.”

“Who will wear it now?”

“I don’t know.” Tavis glanced at Ferdiad, grazing on the tall prairie grass. “Tell Austin to take my horse back to Colorado and make sure he’s ridden daily.”

“I’ll tell him. Anything else?”

“Nope, that’s it.” Tavis gave Remy a back-thumping man hug.

“Aren’t you going to tell Austin and Ensley goodbye?”

Tavis glanced over at Austin and Ensley. “They’ll ask too many questions, which will only delay my departure. It’s hard enough to leave, knowing it could be a while before I return. And remember, do not get off the train.”

“Doan stay away too long.” Remy stepped away from Tavis, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then looked at Tavis again. “I’ll miss ya, bro.”

Time for Tavis to disappear before the tears stinging his eyelids spilled over. He stretched out over Erik and Arthfael, opened the brooch, recited the chant, and disappeared into the fog. When it evaporated, he was once again in Erik’s smoky longhouse, listening to the chatter of the women who lived there.

Then silence, followed by shrieks, and a young woman whose voice he knew intimately shouted, “Tavis has come home!”

His heart warmed at the sound of Astrid’s voice—his beautiful, beloved wife.

48

The Badlands (1885)—Ensley

Ensley woke up in the dark, feeling as if she’d swallowed an entire pharmacy while fighting Leif Erikson for control of the Americas. Her head was about to explode, she was queasy, and tremors shuddered through her body and down her arms. The muscles were so sore she could barely lift her hands.

Luckily, she managed to roll over before she vomited—again and again—until she completely emptied her stomach. At the same time, vivid images of the Viking mauled by the grizzly scrolled through her mind like ghastly hallucinations.

She crawled to a sitting position, holding her head and groaning, “What the hell happened to me?”

Long, muscular arms covered in wool flannel wrapped her in a warm embrace, and a man crooned an Irish lullaby in the smoothest tenor she ever heard—Austin.

“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral / Too-ra-loo-ra-li / Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral / Hush now, don’t you cry…”

She leaned back against him, quieted by his soothing voice, and took the canteen he offered. She swished the water in her mouth, then spit it out, and repeated the swish-spit, again and again.

“This water tastes funny. You sure it’s safe?”

“It’s a Remy Benoit special blend of filtered water mixed with electrolyte powder guaranteed to rehydrate you.”

She took several long drinks and capped the canteen while he pulled her bedroll away from the vomit. “You killed the bear.” Her voice sounded gruff and flat as if she’d strained her vocal cords. Maybe she screamed during the attack. She couldn’t remember much after he shot the grizzly.

“I got lucky,” he said.

Austin eased her down onto the bedroll, and she didn’t resist. Sitting up made her dizzy. She lay flat and stared at the night sky, trying to judge the hour by the stars, a skill she learned as a kid. By finding the Big Dipper and the North Star, she could create a mental twenty-four-hour clock. But her head hurt too much to think it through right now. And hell, it didn’t matter anyway. It could be midnight or four in the morning. The time wouldn’t change what happened to Erik and Tesoro.

Their loss folded into all the other losses in her life and quadrupled her emotional pain. Losing someone she loved or cared for deeply sucked the energy out of her, numbed her, and wreaked havoc with her desires and purpose, forcing her to reevaluate everything that once mattered.

What did she believe? What did she want? What did she need?

She thought she’d answered those questions when she sold the ranch. But she’d only postponed them, and now nothing was the same, and she was right back where she started. No, forget that. She was in minus territory.

She rolled onto her side and, in the moonlight, studied Austin’s chiseled profile. “How’d you end up here in just the nick of time?”

“Got lucky on that one, too.”

“It wasn’t luck. It was something else, but I don’t know what to call it.”

He chuckled softly. “If you don’t know the proper word, just use fuck. As someone told me recently, it’s a very versatile word.”

She wanted to elbow him in the side, but her arm wouldn’t cooperate. “Don’t tease me. My head hurts too much.”

“Remy has drugs for that. I’ll go get you something to relieve the pain.”

He put his hat on and made a move to stand, but she held him back. “It can wait. And besides, the way I feel, it’s obvious he’s already drugged me. So what’s the deal? How’d you get to the right place at the right time?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Hell, no. It’s just such a coincidence, that’s all.”

“Not really. I’d been following that bear all day and lost him earlier. Shot an elk, then picked his tracks up again late in the afternoon. I’d been trailing him just about an hour when I got to the clearing.”

“I think someone summoned you.”

“Like who?”

“Whom?” She couldn’t see his eyes, but she imagined him rolling them when she inadvertently corrected his grammar.

He tensed against her and cleared his throat. “By whom was I summoned, the grammar police?”

“I’m not that