Time Travel Romances Boxed Set by Claire Delacroix Page A

through to this rich chamber though the
water coursed down its other side.
    Aurelia shook her head, suddenly feeling
very tired. She could marvel no more, so overwhelmed was she by
what she had already seen this day.
    The rolling waves made Aurelia think of her
father’s cousins. She scanned the horizon, unable to spy a single
great sail drawing near. How could this massive place have been
built before her relatives completed the two day journey from
Norway?
    Could the priest from Rome have cast a spell
across the seas? Or had he managed to have this stone hall spring
skyward in but a single day? Either prospect was daunting to
imagine, but there could be no other explanation.
    It could be that she had been drugged for
weeks, but if that were the case, where were the Vikings? Her
family would not abandon Hekod when he needed their aid, Aurelia
knew it, or have lingered in answering his call. They must be en
route, even now, even if Julian’s sorcery had delayed their
progress.
    The Vikings would come. And by the time they
did, Aurelia would find her father, so he would be prepared to
assume his kingship once more. Aurelia would have to do so without
Bard guessing she had managed the deed.
    It was her only hope.

    *

    The old groundskeeper approached Baird and
Marissa as they considered the site where the main restaurant was
being built. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still high.
Fortunately, there was a bit of a lee on this side of the
building.
    All the same, Marissa had thoroughly
communicated her disapproval of the situation and suggested twice
that they retire to her room. Baird wondered what had possessed him
to let her come here.
    Marissa was much easier to deal with by
facsimile.
    “ Mr. Beauforte, sir, I’m
not meaning to be bothering you, but have you finished with those
hedge clippers?” Talorc turned his battered felt hat in his hands
and periodically shot a very blue glance from beneath his bushy
silver brows at Marissa.
    Baird found the older man’s response
amusing. Certainly, Marissa was from a different world in
comparison to the groundskeeper. Talorc looked to have stepped out
of an age gone by, dressed in worn brown dungarees, held up with
antique suspenders that might have been his grandfather’s. The
groundskeeper worked with slow effectiveness, each twig on the
estate apparently having a story to whisper to his attentive
ears.
    But if Talorc seemed ancient, his mother was
even more so. The two had evidently lived in a little cottage on
the property for as long as anyone could remember. It had quickly
become clear to Baird that acquiring Dunhelm had meant also
acquiring its self-appointed groundskeeper.
    Fortunately, Baird liked Talorc. The old man
certainly knew a lot about both plants, not to mention the castle
itself, and he worked diligently at any task he undertook.
    Even if Talorc had refused to have anything
to do with clipping back the thorns.
    Marissa sighed theatrically when Baird
excused himself. “Do hurry, darling, it’s beastly cold out
here.”
    Baird retrieved the clippers from the corner
where he had left them and smiled as he handed them back to the
older man. He shoved his hands into his pockets, more than glad to
take a break from Marissa. “They may need to be sharpened, Talorc.
Those thorns were pretty tough.”
    “ Were they now? Well, sir,
they’ve been growing on that site for more than a thousand years as
the story goes. I’d expect they’d have grown tough roots in that
time.” Talorc grimaced and turned the clippers in his callused
hands, as though checking the state of a precious
charge.
    Baird’s curiosity was piqued. “There’s a
story about the thorns?”
    Talorc shrugged. “If you’re wanting the
truth of it, you’ll be needing to ask my mother.” He flicked a
glance to Baird and his tone was gruffer than usual. “She’s the one
as recalls every little bit of every tale she ever heard, and tells
it as though ‘twere her very own.” He smiled