She rubbed at her temples. "I'm stuck here."
Belva patted her arm, her tone reassuring. "All you must do is stay alert for possible danger to Hawk. I am sure if you do the best you can, you will be returned to your home. There are laws of nature that must be adhered to, and if you were to stay here too long," Belva said, her voice sounding vague, "someone else would have to go to your time. It's a clear case of keeping things in an orderly balance."
Isabeau's hopes sank at the vague reply. Her mother had never been able to find her way back. Right now she felt no confidence in this woman's promise to help her return.
"Tell me what has happened so far."
Belva pressed her hands together. "My nephew has had a series of mishaps this past year. About three months ago he was brutally attacked and left to die."
"If Hawk were to die, who would inherit everything?"
"That is not a question easily answered. The shipping business has various backers and several silent partners. Profits would be split and the business disbanded. Hawk's personal assets and property would pass to myself as his only living relative."
Isabeau knew there had to be another answer. "Hawk has no brothers or sisters?"
She read the older woman's hesitation.
"Is there a brother or sister?" she repeated.
"Well, only one, a half-brother."
"Is that Treat? Would he be in line to inherit anything?"
"Only if I, too, were dead," Belva replied. "It is highly unlikely. Hawk takes very good care of Treat and his mother. They want for nothing. I've heard Treat say on many occasions he has no head for business. He would not want to be saddled with two estates and a shipbuilding business. Hawk has encouraged him to take more of an interest but to no avail. Treat keeps the books for the business, but that seems to be the extent of his interest. Hawk deposits a goodly sum in Treat's account each month."
"Hawk and Treat look nothing alike." Isabeau said.
"Treat is the illegitimate son of my brother Brendon, Hawk's father. Although Treat and Hawk were born on the same night, in the same house, Brendon never acknowledged Treat as his son. As I say, Hawk takes care of him."
"They share the same birth date, the same father, but not the same mother?"
"Catharine was married to Brendon; Treat's mother was not. She came to the house as a ladies' maid. Treat and his mother now live in Sanderly Manor. It is a smaller estate bordering Hawk's Den."
"So if something happened to Hawk, everything would revert to you, then to Treat."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. Treat would have to prove he was Brendon's son. It would be very difficult since my brother never acknowledged him. It is something that has plagued Mrs. Sanderly."
"Her son being illegitimate?"
"Certainly. Although they appear to be treated well, from all I have witnessed, she does not let one forget her son is really a Morgan. It is unproven."
"Except for DNA testing," Isabeau muttered. She sighed. "Tell me about the accidents."
"Late last year a wheel came loose on the carriage. Luckily, Hawk and Malry managed to jump from the carriage before it careened out of control down a steep cliff."
"But couldn't that have just been normal wear and tear?"
"There was clear evidence the wheel spokes had been loosened by some instrument."
"The incident at the shipyard," Isabeau murmured. "When I looked up, I saw that steel girder coming loose. Any number of people could have been killed."
"But you prevented such a tragedy. We need you, Isabeau, so we can expose the person behind this brutality. I have lost everyone else. I cannot bear to lose Hawk."
"Maybe I was lucky the other day. What if next time I don't react quickly enough?"
"You will know what to do."
"What about Hawk? Has he involved the authorities?"
"He does not trust the authorities."
"He thinks they are involved?"
"It is well known the sheriff has an interest in a rival shipping company. It would not bother him if Hawk's business were to fail since more contracts would come his way."
"You mentioned an attack several months ago?"
"Many times Hawk will stay late at his office down by the docks. One night an attacker caught him by surprise. He was bludgeoned on the head and left for dead.
"Malry found him and brought him home." Agitated, the older woman twisted her fingers together. "I love my nephew dearly, but he has not been himself since that attack. When he awoke it was as if the slate of his life had been wiped clean. He had no memory other than Hawk's Den. From that day forward he has rebuilt his memory."
"He hasn’t regained any of his memory?" Isabeau asked. "He seems to function perfectly well."
Belva admitted sadly, "His confusion in the early days was hard to watch. Malry has been an invaluable help in staying by his side, but even he has not been able to avert all trouble that seems to find its way to our door."
"And what does Hawk think of me helping in this manner? He seems pretty self sufficient, I can't believe he would fall in with this plan."
Belva remained silent.
"He doesn't know what you've done," Isabeau said heavily. "Oh, my God, he has no idea you've done this conjuring or whatever. And actually he doesn't believe it. He told me you were confused about what you said last night."
"He would be very angry. I don't know what he would do if he found out."
"You have to tell him, Belva," Isabeau said firmly. "You have to make him believe you. If you do not, I will."
Belva looked upset.
"Who else knows besides Maize?"
"No one."
"What about Malry?"
"As far as I know, he knows nothing."
"Well, he's pretty sharp for all his grouching and barking."
"He has been a friend of my nephew since they were younger." Belva bit her lip. "Many years ago, my nephew was impressed, enslaved if you will, and taken to sea. It was a very difficult time. We feared him dead."
"This gets worse and worse."
"He does not speak of it, but upon his return came Malry with him. They've been inseparable since that time."
Isabeau faced the path toward the river, barely noticing the flowering shrubs lining the path. Her thoughts centered on the young man taken from his family. "Tell me about Malry -- where does he fit in?"
Receiving no response, she whirled around. The garden was empty. Belva was gone, as if she had melted away.
Chapter Five
Isabeau knocked briskly on Hawk’s door. She needed to get as much information from him as possible. She had searched for Belva to no avail, even inside the house, and she could only assume the woman did not want to be found. So much for aiding her in this mission, such as it was. She had stopped asking herself how such a thing as time travel could happen. Now, she needed to concentrate on helping Hawk in the hopes of returning to her own life in the present time. She could not even think so far ahead as to worry about being stuck in this time.
Perhaps it wasn't proper in 1894 for her to come to his bedroom, but at this point she was not too worried about that aspect of things. Perhaps outside the house she would have to remember to be more circumspect.
"Enter."
Isabeau pushed the door open and entered Hawk’s room.
He stood with his back to her, clad only in pants, his back exposed. She stopped abruptly; although she had seen plenty of men on the beaches of the Atlantic and the Pacific and overseas, without shirts and in insubstantial bathing suits, this felt different. Personal.
His thickly muscled back tapered to lean, trim hips. Her throat went dry. She couldn't seem to back up and leave the room.
"There," Hawk remarked with satisfaction. As he turned he wiped his throat with a linen cloth. Her gaze followed a thin trail of soap as it rolled down into dark curling chest hairs. He had shaved, shedding the dark beard and leaving in its place a devastatingly masculine, bold, dark pirate…with Pi
erce Morgan's face. Oh boy, was she really confused. But then she reminded herself it was his ancestor, the same blood, same DNA. Pierce was a throwback.
She was having a difficult time keeping these two men straight in her mind.
"Isabeau?" He pulled his shirt over his shoulders, thrusting his arms into the sleeves. She wished he had just left it off. "I thought it was Malry at the door." He buttoned the shirt.
Supple skin, the muscles moving smoothly as he flexed his arms. Thoughts coursed without control through her mind -- it would be a forbidden pleasure to feel his skin beneath her fingers. He pulled on a dark brown vest next.
Isabeau cringed at her own thoughts. She was a modern woman, yet never had she been so affected by a man.
She didn't know Pierce, he was merely a picture she had seen, yet she felt some connection to him. She was beginning to know and care about Hawk -- yet he was not real for her, either. Why did it feel as if the two were merging in her mind?
"Hawk, we need to talk." Her voice sounded thin even to her ears.
If he was surprised, he hid it well. "Please go on."
"I have spoken to your aunt." She held up her hand when his expression grew stern. "She approached me."
"How is my aunt?"
"She seemed quite well." She hesitated. "Nothing at all like last night."
"She has accepted your presence."
Isabeau nodded, then blurted, "She knows you’re in danger, and she’s thinks I can help you."
He smiled dismissively. "My aunt means well, but I have Malry helping me on this score."
Isabeau approached him as he stood by a large window. She glanced out. His window had the same view as hers, but being a corner window he also had a view of the side fields and the forest beyond. "But apparently Malry's vigilance and yours is not enough, based on what occurred at the shipyard. Your aunt has told me there have been other incidents."
"So my aunt has entrusted you with my care?" He smiled.
"Listen, it’s not amusing. She takes it very seriously."
He waved his hand. "My aunt has not been herself. You cannot always believe what she says. It's not that she lies, she just gets confused."
"On that score you may be right, but she said you still suffer from memory loss -- you told me that yourself."
"True, but here I am, functioning."
"Yes." She felt sympathy for him, whether he wished it or not. "It must be incredibly difficult functioning from nothing, no memory, no recall of what your life was before?"
Hawk fastened a dark brown tie at his neck and retrieved a jacket with a slightly tweed look from a stand beside the bed. "Sometimes I get glimpses of memory, but I can’t seem to grasp it. Since the accident, I function day to day as master of Hawk’s Den, yet at times --
"At times?" She stepped closer.
He shrugged. "I am assured it will get better with time. They say it is due to the injury sustained, but I merely feel as if nothing fits."
"I will help you however I can to regain your life," Isabeau promised fervently, sensing something of his loss. She knew this was fast becoming personal, and part of her cautioned that caring about him or the people in this time could lead to devastating hurt.
#
Hawk studied this young woman, Isabeau. He knew nothing about her or from where she came. Some memory, a caution, teased at him, yet she had denied knowing him. It was all a tangled web.
"There is certainly no need for you to concern yourself," he said. "I would be interested to hear more about you, Isabeau, how you came to be here, from where you came. You are obviously a young lady who has had the misfortune to fall on hard times."
"Maybe I have not fallen on hard times," she stated, and that intrigued him further. She tilted her head slightly, those greenish eyes deeply serious.
"Actually," she continued, "I think you should speak with your aunt first."
Hawk waved his hand, dismissing that idea. "My aunt --" he shrugged. "She has this notion she had something to do with bringing you here. Do you know my aunt at all?"
"I know her no more than I know you." Slowly, she added, "And yes, she was instrumental in bringing me here."
Hawk was surprised. "I would like you to explain please." He walked toward the door, opened it and stood aside. "At the risk of sounding impatient, let's dispense with this beating around the bush. Please come with me downstairs to the library. We can talk there."
Isabeau nodded, agreeing silently it was better not to do this in the bedroom. It was time to speak up and tell him what she knew, or rather what she suspected, as incredible as it all sounded. He needed to know the circumstances of her arrival, despite what Belva had kept from him. If his aunt would not do it, she must.
Walking ahead of him down the long staircase, Isabeau thought of the various reactions he could have: an explosion of wrath at his aunt's meddling, moderate disbelief, ridicule and perhaps simply downright dismissal of the whole idea of time travel.
Straightening her shoulders, she mentally prepared herself for the worst.
#
Hawk escorted Isabeau into the library. Leaving the door open, he saw Lenore cleaning the foyer tiled floor. "Lenore, please find my Aunt Belva and ask her to join us in the library."
"Of course, Sir." Lenore left her mop and brush and went toward the kitchens.
Hawk entered the library. "Perhaps my aunt will join us," he said to Isabeau, closing the door and advancing into the room. He pulled slightly at his neck-tie.
Isabeau had taken a seat in an ornately carved oak rocking chair, though she planted her feet firmly on the floor to keep it from rocking.
Hawk elected to sit opposite her on the newly upholstered divan.
"There is no easy way to put this," she said quietly. "Quite simply, I have been pulled from my more modern time almost a hundred and nineteen years into the future and landed here in your time. From what your Aunt Belva has told me, she conjured some kind of spirit or spell and made it happen, unwittingly or not."
Hawk just stared at her. Usually quick witted, he felt dull and almost uncomprehending. "Isabeau --"
She jumped to her feet, the rocker rocking wildly. "I know, I know, it sounds incredible. Imagine how I felt when I first figured this out -- that someone could travel through time, and yet --" she shook her head, almost speaking to herself, "I know it is possible. Even the laws of physics say it is a possibility."
He swore softly, also coming to his feet. "Really, Isabeau, this is most unusual to say the least." He took a turn around the room. "You know what you're asking me to believe --"
"Of course I know," she said quickly. "Do you think I haven't wrestled with this?"
"Time travel. You are here at my aunt's whim, that's what you're saying you believe."
"It's not that I'm putting out a theory," she said earnestly, her green eyes bright, a soft flush on her high cheekbones. "It's an inescapable fact. There's no other explanation. I am not from this time."
"You seemed to have accepted this relatively quickly."
Her surprise seemed genuine. "Accepted it? Yes. Quickly -- no. I fought it. I could not imagine such a thing had happened."
"Let us be rational. Perhaps there is another explanation --"
"Such as?" she lifted a brow.
"Could you have been hurt, maybe hit your head?" he held up a hand as she frowned darkly. "I'm not suggesting you're making this up, it seems you believe it fully, but maybe --"
"I do not have any head injuries nor do I suffer from hallucinations," she said impatiently. "This is real."
"Isabeau, think on what you are saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying, and I know it's outside the realm of most people's thinking. It is a fact, and if Belva was here she would tell you the same thing. I don't know the particulars, all I know is she was worried for your safety and conjured spirits and it happened. Maize knows about it too," she ended.
Hawk rubbed the back of his head. "You have to admit this is incr
edible and almost too much to take in. But what if it is true?" he muttered to himself. People moving at will through time.
"As I mentioned when I first saw you, I arrived with my boss Leif at Hawk's Den. The current owner invited us there. We are photographers and we were there to take pictures and do a story on the new renovations."
"The owner?"
"Your descendent, Pierce Morgan. That's why I was so confused at first, you look so much like him."
Hawk needed time to think this through. "Please tell me everything from the time you arrived at Hawk's Den in this -- this other time."
"I arrived with Leif on a day that was threatening to rain at any moment. I came in from New York. The dark weather seemed to follow us all the way down. When we finally arrived it was late afternoon."
"You travelled with your friend Leif?"
"He was in his car, his conveyance, and I was in mine. I met up with him in Philadelphia along the way. When we arrived it had just begun to rain. We were greeted by the housekeeper Mrs. Cummins."
Hawk put a hand to his temple, rubbing it to ease the ache there. As Isabeau told him everything she had seen and encountered in the house, he kept thinking this was a fantastic tale and yet he felt she fully believed what she was telling him.
"The last thing you recall was reading the family Bible." He knew of course about the Bible. His aunt had pointed it out to him only last week, telling him once he married Amelia, their marriage would be recorded in the tome. Hawk rubbed harder at his temple. Amelia, his fiancée whom he did not recognize. A sweet girl by all accounts, but someone he no longer recalled loving, if indeed he had loved her before the accident. Another situation he needed to resolve. Damn the amnesia!
Hawk rose to his feet, pacing the floor restlessly. He knew Isabeau watched him, but he couldn't offer her reassurance that he believed her story.
"Isabeau, I must ask that I be alone. I need time, and this has given me much to think about."
Her sigh indicated discouragement. "I understand," she said.
He watched her walk to the door, realizing the dismal state of affairs and what it meant to her. Whatever the true story, if this was the true story, it sorely affected her life. "Your life -- you have lost your life," he said somberly. He saw the shock on her face, and quickly she shook her head no.
"I won't believe that. I have to believe I can find the way back to my own time."