Regency Time Travel Romance 2: A Time Apart by Lisa Shea

Author:Lisa Shea [Shea, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Holidays, Romance, Science Fiction, Teen & Young Adult, Historical, Time Travel, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00NK3IC36
Published: 2014-09-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The access door to the roof was locked shut, but its construction was of thin wood with aging screws. Jonathan examined the hinges, nodding with satisfaction. “Should be able to get through this easy enough,” he reported. He took a step back from it, turned to his side, and then launched a powerful heel-first kick immediately alongside the lock.

The door burst inward with a noisy crash, the lock area shattered.

He stepped to the doorway and stood there for a long moment, listening. Then at last he nodded. “All clear. Follow me.” He turned to look at Hew. His gaze grew serious. “You keep her between us at all times, understand?”

Hew nodded. “I’ll keep her safe.”

Jonathan’s eyes shadowed. “No, I will keep her safe,” he corrected. “But you will do your part to keep surprises to a minimum.”

He turned, and the three headed down the dark stairs.

They reached the next landing - a shadowed nook with just one solid door off the small space. Jonathan put an ear to the door for a long moment, then he nodded. He reached out to carefully try the knob.

His eyes lit up as it turned beneath his hand.

He looked back to Hew and whispered, “Not locked. Guess they figure nobody could make it this far.”

Sorcha looked at the door. “This place is huge. You’re sure your family’s things are up here?”

He nodded. “They deliberately put it high off the ground floor. They figured we’d try to come in through a lower window, if we did make a run at it.” He gave a low laugh. “The fools thought it’d be safer up here.”

He gave one last long look at the closed door, then he slowly pressed the door open.

A bank of windows along the front wall let the moonlight shine in long, silvery rectangles across the dusty wooden floor. A grid of tables filled the main floor area, each carefully laid out with tagged items. Whoever was running this storehouse had an eye for meticulous detail. Sorcha had been imagining piles of random objects and boxes stuffed with who-knew-what. Instead it was like delving into a museum’s treasured archives.

She moved to the first table. There were rows of china plateware on it, neatly spaced from each other. Each plate, saucer, or cup was elegantly decorated with golden roses. She stared at them in surprise. “I think I’ve seen these before.”

Jonathan came up alongside her, his face lost in the shadows. His voice was flat. “Those are my mother’s,” he stated. “They were a wedding present from her grandparents.”

Sorcha moved along to another table. There was an elegant, eight-armed silver candelabra that she recalled from the large mahogany dining room table. Alongside it was a beautiful set of silver serving platters.

Jonathan was at the next table, staring down at a painting. It was of him when he was fifteen years old. He looked so young, so impossibly young, and full of heart-breaking joy.

Sorcha twined her fingers into his. “We’ll make it right,” she promised him.

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