Time Trap

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Chapter One

Arianna’s heart constricted as the Somers’ home came into view through the car window. The sunset turned the dove-gray Victorian mansion to a rosy pink. So beautiful, like a fairytale castle with its soaring turrets. Yet beneath the beauty—a house of horror. A low moan escaped her throat. She winced as fear embraced her again. Closing her eyes tight to stop the visions—the horrendous memories of her last experience in the mansion—she couldn’t keep silent tears from falling.

Arianna, are you unwell? Christopher pulled the car off the deserted road. I cannot call Mother because of the lack of cell service out here, but she will understand if we do not show. They all know what happened. He squeezed her hand.

The heat his touch usually induced failed to warm her icy heart tonight. Coming back to the house in which she’d literally shed blood, sweat and tears terrified her. She glanced at him. His intense blue eyes begged her to be honest. But she couldn’t.

No. I need to do this. It’s been nearly two months. It’s time I met with your family—minus your hovering father, that is. They are so much a part of your life now. I’ll be all right.

Christopher didn’t look convinced but drove back onto the road. One word is all it will take to leave if it becomes too difficult, love. One word.

Thank you. I’ll be fine. She swallowed her apprehension. If she wasn’t fine, she’d fake it.

They pulled up to the front of the house. Stay put. I’ll help you out. Christopher kissed her cheek, then exited the car.

Before he made it around to her side, a loud noise assaulted her ears and vibrations shook her. She clutched the seat. It’s my imagination, not the time-traveling device. The noise, the vibrations—they aren’t real. Christopher is real. Our love is real. She took three deep breaths, willing her thumping heart to decelerate. I can do this, she silently repeated.

She had the door open before he reached it. Watch your leg. You have another week in that cast, and I’m sure it’s still tender. Christopher pulled her up and out with little effort. He’d treated her like a porcelain doll ever since she’d nearly died at his father’s hands.

She hated it. With everything he felt responsible for, she didn’t need to be an additional burden. Nothing was his fault. Nothing.

At least I’m in a walking cast now, so I no longer need crutches. She lifted her chin and bent her stiff lips into what she hoped looked like a smile. Okay, let’s do this.

A gust of cold air whipped through her hair, chilling her to the bones. If you know about the time machine, you know I can take you anywhere in the world to kill you. The familiar and hated words reverberated down her spine, causing her to shiver. Did you say something, Chris?

No. He narrowed his eyes. Must have been the wind. It is nearly November—cold and breezy out here. He slipped his arm around her waist to help her up the driveway.

The wind, my imagination, or, more likely, a ghost. This place will always be haunted. She shuddered at the memories replaying in her mind.

Raising her gaze, she gasped at the sight. So focused she’d been on the haunting words in the air, she’d failed to prepare herself for what had loomed ahead. How could this beautiful house—the same house she’d worked countless hours, days, weeks, even months, decorating—be so foreboding?

Christopher stopped. It’s too soon.

No it’s not! The words tumbled out with more force than Ari had intended. She shook her head and tamped down her emotions. Sorry. I’m struggling with the memories—I’m sure you understand. But to move forward—really move forward—with my emotional healing—she lifted her hands—I have to do this.

I’m so sorry, love. His kind eyes warmed her, instantly replacing the chill she’d felt moments before. Yet she could also see a shadow of regret reflected in them.

Knowing him as well as she did, Ari could read his thoughts. He blamed himself for not only her physical injuries, but her emotional scars, as well. It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything. Your father is the man who attacked me. You are the one who traveled back through time—risked your life—to save me.

He let out a breath, but she knew she hadn’t convinced him. They’d had this talk before and could go around in circles all night long. But not tonight. Tonight, she was determined to put the past where it belonged and move forward. She hadn’t seen Mrs. Somers, Sarah or Joshua since she’d been released from the Pueblo hospital nearly two months before. It was time.

She walked toward the door. Chris double-stepped to catch up. Her cast hit the concrete with a thud, after moving from gravel.

She froze.

The clomping behind her was close—too close. She looked back to see the monster chasing her down a New York alley. It was him. A trashcan rolled into her path, tripping her. Clunk! A sickening crack shot pain through her leg. But she had to run. The monster bore down on her. She could feel him, smell him—

No! Terror gripped her as more memories attacked.

In seconds, Christopher had both arms wrapped around her, shock and concern etched across his features.

She had to stare hard into his face to be certain he wasn’t his father. Once Christopher’s azure blue eyes came into focus, she let go of a ragged breath and sagged into him.

What—what happened? he asked.

If she told him the truth, he’d insist she go back to Denver, and he’d never ask her to face her demons again. Maybe that would be best. If the mere walk up the Somers’ driveway put her into such a frantic state, what would the rest of the night have in store?

Dropping her head, she studied the traitorous concrete as she blinked back tears threatening to fall. She could do this. She must do this. My leg. I must have twisted it. Sorry. I didn’t expect the pain to be so intense. Or the memories to be so vivid. Come on—she held out her hand—we’re almost there.

Wait. Christopher bent down and examined her leg.

She didn’t know what he hoped to discover through the thick layer of plaster, but she indulged him. Her gaze wandered over the house. Movement caught her eye. A curtain in a main level window opened slightly and a face appeared. She stiffened and sucked in a breath.

Those black eyes. Mr. Somers was here. She had to get out. The monster was here. Her pulse quickened, and her breath came out in pants.

Hey, there’s Josh.

Ari jerked at Christopher’s voice, then peered closer at the face in the window. Josh. It was Joshua, not Mr. Somers. She needed to get a grip.

Without waiting for Christopher’s reassuring arm around her waist again, she hobbled as quickly as she could to the entry. Like pulling off a bandage.

The door flung open as she neared it. Mrs. Somers and Sarah welcomed her inside, out of the chilly night air and the ghosts lurking in the dark.

Christopher entered close behind.

The women’s eyes were fixed on her. She realized they knew it would be difficult to come back to the house where she’d been brutally attacked.

She forced a smile, even though the very smell of the house made her stomach turn. Feeling like a spectacle, she bit down on her lip out of anxiety, but she needed to push through it. After all, the Somers had also felt like spectacles, having been unwillingly thrust here from the nineteenth century.

Josh joined the group.

His eyes are black like his father’s. Memories bubbled to the surface. Mr. Somers’ face flashed in her mind—his wild eyes sending chills down her spine, just as in the nightmares she’d been having for almost two months now. Perhaps they would stop once the cast came off.

She realized she hadn’t moved from the foyer as Christopher’s warm arm came around her, urging her toward a seat. Her smile became genuine when she took in the formal living room with all the plastic removed. Her eyes roved over walnut-framed, floral-fabric-covered armchairs and the classic, cream-colored sofa. She’d spent her last working day here ridding the furniture of the protective coverings. It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? she whispered.

Mrs. Somers nodded. The entire home is beautiful because of you. Her voice, still quiet, had a confidence Ari had never heard in all her months knowing the woman. Mrs. Somers narrowed her eyes. She looked intently at Ari’s face.

The scar from his ring. Ari immediately wished to disappear. The Somers didn’t need the reminder of what had happened any more than she did. While the bruises and abrasions on her face had healed, the remnant of a deep gash across her cheek, caused by several back handed slaps from Mr. Somers, remained. Doctors had assured Ari it would fade, but it hadn’t disappeared yet.

Is that—Mrs. Somers’ voice hitched—is that from Benjamin’s ring? A mournful whimper escaped her.

Ari raised her fingers to cover the scar.

I am so very sorry for what my husband put you through. Moisture filled the sweet woman’s eyes.

Arianna lost the battle she’d waged against her own emotions as tears splashed down her cheeks. She’d been so preoccupied about protecting herself, she’d given little thought to the effect her presence would have on these kind people. They weren’t like Benjamin Somers. If anything, they were like Christopher. Victims, all of them. Please, Mrs. Somers—she sniffed and accepted a handkerchief from Chris to wipe her eyes—don’t apologize. You lived with the abuse far longer than I did. I’m fine. I really am. And Christopher drives to Denver every chance he gets. He’s taking good care of me.

Guilt hit her like a wrecking ball. All the time Christopher had spent with her was time away from his family—the family he’d fought so long and hard to be reunited with. She must renew her determination to fix this and come up with a schedule where his family came first.

Mother. Sarah, who had disappeared earlier, entered the room. Supper is on the table, if you are ready. The young woman’s demeanor had improved, but her eyes still drooped. Ari wished to wrap her in a hug, but Sarah’s stiff posture suggested she wasn’t quite ready for an open friendship yet. Ari couldn’t help but wonder how she’d not seen the resemblance between siblings before now. Sarah had the same brunette hair and intense blue eyes as Christopher. And like her brother, her features were striking. Beautiful.

Thank you, Sarah, said Mrs. Somers. She turned toward Ari and Christopher. The kitchen is this— She threw her hands in the air. You know where it is, Arianna. You know where everything is. You have spent more time in our home than we have. A smile creased her face.

She looked lovely. In the five months Ari had worked here, she’d never seen Mrs. Somers smile.

As Ari trailed behind the others to the kitchen, a blast of cold air hit her like a winter gust. She stopped in her tracks. Glancing around, she saw no air vents nearby. Curious. Like a magnet, an unseen force turned her head. Her eyes bulged as she found herself staring into the study. Heart slamming against her ribcage, she tried to flee—to follow the others. Common sense told her to pick up her feet and move, but she seemed to be rooted in place. Though the lights were off in the study, Ari’s eyes automatically searched out the stolen art hanging on the walls. Something was missing. Had someone rearranged the pieces? No. She must be remembering it wrong. Then her gaze dropped to the ground, where she knew evil lurked beneath a trap door. Her body shook. The cold air snaking around her didn’t help. Before long her teeth were chattering.

Christopher, who had followed his mother into the kitchen, came back to find her in a total meltdown of nerves and anxiety.

There’s blood on the wall, she muttered.

What? Where?

There. Ari pointed. Can’t you see it? The other police officer couldn’t see it, either.

Christopher looked closely at the wall, then back at Arianna. His brows furrowed as confusion filled his eyes.

Why can’t you see it? Her hysterical voice rebounded off the walls, summoning everyone in.

Chris embraced her. Excuse us, Mother.

Mrs. Somers twisted her hands together and opened her mouth to speak.

Mother, it’s all right. Christopher tried to gently nudge Ari back to the living room.

His family took the hint and went the opposite direction.

Ari wanted to move, but her brain refused to do anything but recall events from months before.

Christopher picked her up and carried her back to the sofa. I’m taking you home. Being here is not helping anything.

She blinked several times to clear her mind. What had happened? Uh…no—I’m all right. There are just so many memories here, Chris. Please be patient with me as I process them. She clung to him like a life saver in the rapids. He was her rock. Without him, she was certain she’d be swept under by the river of memories.

I’m not going anywhere. He held her close and massaged her back. I love you, Ari. I know you can get through this. But if you no longer wish to try, I will take you home. No one will blame you. He cupped her face in his hands. Tell me what you want to do.

I want you to kiss me. Then never leave my side in this haunted house again.

He complied, his soft lips gentle at first, then growing more passionate, as if his kisses could somehow fix her.

Perhaps they could.

Caught up in his spicy-freshness and the heat of his lips, Ari nearly forgot where they were…and the family waiting for them. She kissed him once more, running her fingers through his dark hair. I think it worked. She smiled. I feel much better now, but I might need regular refills.

Christopher chuckled, his delicious dimples creasing his face. Come on. You need food.

As they sat around the kitchen table, Ari began to relax. She’d gotten through the hard part. Still, conversation with people she hardly knew didn’t come easy. Her entire relationship with Sarah had been built through journal entries. And Mrs. Somers…try as Ari might, she couldn’t think of a single conversation they’d shared. Mr. Benjamin Somers had made certain his was the only voice ever heard in this house. And although Joshua had reminded her of Seth, her deceased brother, the more he spoke tonight, the more she realized he’d come from a far different place and time than her brother.

The awkwardness ebbed as the evening progressed, and welcoming warmth emanating from each member of the Somers family acted as a salve to Ari’s emotional bruises. Besides Christopher, they were the only people who knew what she’d lived through. Not the story she’d fed the police and general public. The true story from the beginning—that Christopher and his family had been transported to Colorado from nineteenth century England by his evil, egomaniac of a father, via an incredible time-traveling machine he’d invented. He had brutally attacked Arianna when she’d learned of his felonious ways and his nineteenth century crimes. She hadn’t even told her best friend Maggie about being transported fifty years back in time to New York City, where Mr. Somers had tried to kill her. She wanted to tell her. Maybe someday. Likewise, Ari was the only other person Christopher and his family could speak with openly. It must be claustrophobic, living out here with nobody nearby and no one to share the truth with, she thought.

What was it like riding on the time machine? asked Josh. His seventeen-year-old immaturity showed in his bright, innocent eyes.

Joshua, both Christopher and Mrs. Somers said in unison.

Josh’s face turned red. Sorry. I have only been on that huge original machine. I was just curious.

It’s okay, Josh, said Arianna. Honestly, I don’t recall. I was unconscious most of the time. Thankfully, I’ll never have to know. I asked Christopher to destroy the devices so no one else gets hurt.

Guilty glances passed between Josh and Mrs. Somers.

Ari turned to face Christopher. You did destroy them, didn’t you?

He opened his mouth to speak—

Dessert, anyone? Sarah placed a tray containing bowls of dark pudding on the table. Everyone’s attention shifted to the food. Everyone but Ari’s. Beneath the table she reached for Christopher’s hand. He squeezed her fingers, but something didn’t feel right—so cold, so clammy.

Chapter Two

Transcending time had never been on Christopher’s to-do list. Until now.

After Arianna’s reaction to his family’s home—and, well, everything about it—he knew his time to return the stolen goods was limited. He felt guilty for not destroying the machine, as Ari had begged him. Yet he knew full well he wasn’t capable of doing so until he’d tried his best to right his father’s wrongs.

He turned the dial on the time-traveling device backward twenty-five notches. Still a novice, he hoped he’d set it correctly and would soon find himself in the 1990s—not the 1700s. Now that Mother, Josh and Sarah were spreading their wings and embracing—or enduring, in Sarah’s case—the twenty-first century, Christopher could use his time to rid the house of objects which reminded him of his criminal father, who had disappeared to who knows where—hopefully too far to ever make his way home. Perhaps one day, even the house—the mansion on the hill, purchased with ill-gotten means—could be sold, or donated. He wished to wash his hands completely of the evil genius’ misdeeds.

After filling the vials with chemical solution, he pushed the button that triggered the device’s mechanism. Vibrations shook the room around him, but he remained still. How his father had invented such a contraption was beyond Christopher’s imagination. Why he’d invented it—well, that had become painfully obvious. The perfect crime was an unsolvable crime. And all his father’s crimes were unsolvable. No physical evidence could be linked to Benjamin Somers—a man who’d been born centuries before or after each transgression had occurred. Even an eye-witness couldn’t finger a felon who’d disappeared into thin air.

It didn’t take long to arrive in Boston twenty-five years in the past. His landing locale, the restroom in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, made this delivery relatively simple. He popped his head out the door to confirm he was in the right place. He was.

Although it was past midnight, many displays were still lit, no doubt for security reasons. Father had been brazen to rob from a museum in the 1990s. After all, electricity was nothing new, and alarm systems were far more advanced than in his usual haunts. Father must have really loved these paintings.

He glanced at the disc-shaped device at his feet. For all of his father’s criminal activity, Christopher still stood amazed at his genius. He’d created something that resembled a large plate that could travel through time—Christopher shook his head—incredible. The sleek disc measured approximately five feet in diameter. Christopher began extracting art from the padded bin. Minus the space taken by the art container and the control tower rising up near the center, the machine could hold three or four people—standing, of course.

His mind flickered back to his initial transport—the first one he was conscious for, that is. When vibrations had begun shaking the room, he was certain he’d tumble off of something so flat and land somewhere in oblivion—another dimension, perhaps. But quite the opposite had happened; he’d felt a magnetic pull from the device. And while the world had quaked around him, he’d remained standing eerily still.

Then there was the vest. Ahh. Christopher let out a longing sigh. He wished he still had it. Unfortunately, his father had escaped while wearing it. Gazing at the paintings, he realized all his efforts were likely in vain—with the vest in his possession, its inventor—Benjamin Somers himself—could very well be committing a heist at that moment. His shoulders slumped at the thought. He shook the idea away. I cannot control Father, but I have the power to right some of his wrongs. The notion propelled his actions forward.

He continued extracting the pieces of art from the compartment. He’d just leave them to be discovered in the restroom. No sense tempting fate by spending any unnecessary time in the museum. Ideally, upon his departure, the loud vibrations caused by the machine would call a guard’s attention to the lavatory, where he’d discover the paintings. The guard would be dubbed a hero.

Arianna had begged Christopher to destroy the time-traveling devices. Nothing good will ever come from using them, she’d said. And he’d agreed. However, spending time in the mansion while helping his family learn about the twenty-first century had changed his mind. Each time he passed Father’s abandoned bookroom, he was reminded of the art, jewels, money, and rare coins hidden in a safe, masked by a purloined painting. How many times a day had he peered into the study? Countless. He’d get as many valuables returned as possible—it was only right. Arianna didn’t need to know about it. His head said no, but his heart pinched at the thought of keeping even one more secret from her. After all, secrets had nearly destroyed their relationship in the past. He’d do anything to preserve it now. He glanced at the traveling device—nearly anything.

The lavatory door burst open as Christopher tugged the third and final painting from the bin.

He froze.

Put your hands up where I can see them. The night guard brandished his revolver.

Christopher couldn’t put his hands up when they were gripping rare art. I don’t wish to damage the painting, sir. I’ll just put it down first.

A conscientious thief? The man rolled his eyes. Don’t move a muscle. How’d you dismantle the art, anyway? We’ve upped security ten-fold since the heist in ’90.

Oh—he forced a laugh—you thought I was a thief? Christopher’s heart hammered, but he needed to play it cool and not upset the man with the gun. He shook his head as he looked squarely into the guard’s eyes and let out a scoffing noise. No. I’m no criminal. I found these paintings and just wished to return them. I found these paintings? He obviously wasn’t a good liar, either.

The guard narrowed his eyes. Keeping the gun trained on Christopher, he glanced down at the art. Unfortunately, Christopher had wrapped the pieces in padding and brown paper, so the man couldn’t see that they actually were the very same paintings which had vanished from the museum a few years before. You took the time to wrap the art you stole?

Christopher, taking advantage of the guard’s distracted attention, shoved the painting into the man’s astonished face, hoping he’d grab it and not let the precious art fall to the ground. It worked. The guard nearly dropped his revolver as he caught the heavy painting—and his balance. Christopher pushed the button on the traveling device as he mounted the machine. In a matter of moments he transported away from the museum. Away from the 1990s. Back to his new life in the twenty-first century.

Chapter Three

Time stood still—for once.

No Somers family to make awkward conversation with, no mansion to spook her. Tonight, it was just Christopher and her, and that suited Arianna just fine. Three months had passed since her visit to the Victorian house on the hill, and she wouldn’t mind if she never saw it again. Ironic, after all the work she’d put into making it elegant and beautiful.

Colorado Springs had become a solution for now. Meeting in the middle allowed Christopher time he needed with his family and time with Ari.

She stared across an intimately small dining table into his azure eyes—such an intense shade of blue. Echoes from the nearby kitchen, as well as neighboring diners, sounded faintly in the background, but his eyes held her captive. What she would give to know his thoughts when he gazed at her so tenderly.

What are you thinking right now? His voice, low and husky, shook her from her trance.

She smiled. In fact, I was wondering what you were thinking. Sometimes when you look at me like that—she shrugged, unable to find the best words to describe how this handsome man filled her with joy—I like it. You make me feel special.

Christopher lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. Chills ran the length of her body.

Here is your dessert. Enjoy. A waiter placed a ramekin filled with golden crème brûlée between them.

Ari’s eyes widened. Yum. My favorite. The delicious aroma of caramelized sugar wafted through the air.

Christopher took the spoon and scooped out some of the creamy custard. Open your mouth, he motioned to Ari.

The decadent dessert melted on her tongue. Could life get any sweeter? She had Christopher and crème brûlée.

This arrangement has worked out better than anticipated. Wouldn’t you agree? He gave her another bite, then took one himself.

Absolutely. Meeting twice a week in the middle, here in Colorado Springs has been the perfect solution to our long-distance relationship. Now you can spend your weekdays aiding your family and your weekends at the precinct. Ari only wondered how long this arrangement would continue before the next step. With each passing week, she felt more prepared to make their relationship permanent. Christopher is the one. She’d forgiven his past secrets and loved him even more because of his dedication to his siblings and mother. And the fact that he’d been born and bred to be a nineteenth century gentleman—as strange as it sounded—was the icing on the cake. He shared her self-respect and high standards.

Though she loathed