Lord Of My Dreams

By Emma Daniels

When Drew Regent goes to the gallows in 1509 the Gods hand his soul to a denizen named Demeana, with the condition that every 100 years he be returned to Earth for one month to redeem himself by finding love. But after five hundred years at Demeana’s mercy his memory is as scarred as his body.

So when Demeana drops him in the path of Caitlin and Maddie’s car in the year 2009, all three of them are in for more than anyone bargained for.

On the night Caitlin O’Keefe meets Drew she begins dreaming about a woman called Catherine Byron, whose parents are negotiating her marriage to the eldest son of the cruel Lord Regent in Tudor England. Little does she know that Demeana had sent a Dream Catcher to bring her Caitlin’s dreams, firmly believing that when Caitlin discovers how Catherine died, Drew will fail yet again, and Demeana will be able to destroy him at last.

Recovering from an abusive relationship, the last thing Caitlin wants is to get involved with another man, but she can't help being drawn to Drew, whose whole future existence is now in her hands.

Other Time Travel Romance Books available by Emma Daniels.

GOLD FEVER
SIREN'S SONG
I MARRIED AN ALIEN

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Daniels
• Release date: Oct 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458116734

Emma Daniels

Emma Daniels lives in Sydney Australia, but also lived in Germany as a child. She is married with two children. She has been writing romantic novels for most of her life, and the results are clear - more than 10 books to her name. She is also a jewellary artist. Her favourite mediums are chain maille and artistic wire work. If she's not beading, writing, reading, or with her children, she's working part time at the job that pays the bills.

Book preview

Lord of my Dreams

By Emma Daniels

Copyright 2011 Emma Daniels

Smashwords Edition

PROLOGUE

The demon stood in the middle of her dimly lit cavern, slowly licking blood from her dagger. When she didn’t move, she looked just like a mortal woman, an exceptionally beautiful woman, with shimmering silver-blonde tresses reaching all the way to her waist, a perfectly curved body and neat, feminine features. But as soon as she started moving, her true form shifted beneath the illusion; green scales, long black talons, a beaky wrinkled snout, and fathomless black eyes that gleamed with unnatural hunger.

She loved to torment her victims with her stunning human visage, standing seductively before them with large firm breasts, a slender waist, shapely hips and endlessly long legs. And it was so easy to do, because they were gifts from Femilla, the Goddess of Womankind.

They were all men who at the time of their deaths the Gods had judged and found guilty of grossly mistreating women. Femilla sent Demeana rapists, wife bashers, and child molesters, sick twisted individuals who fully deserved every cruel and degrading punishment that Demeana dished out.

There were so many crimes, and so many ways to see out eternity. Few humans ever went to the one true God to become an Angel. Most ended up somewhere in between, where their afterworlds were as mixed with pleasure and pain as their mortal lives had been.

But Demeana’s victims suffered more than most. Only Satan could exact greater punishment, and one had to be truly evil to end up in his bottomless pit of despair. At least Femilla sometimes allowed Demeana’s victims back into the mortal realm for a chance at redemption.

This was what was about to happen to the naked man chained to the wall before her.

Even filthy and covered in cuts from her sharp shiny dagger, he was an impressive specimen, all lean sinew and muscle, his human existence having ended in the prime of his life. For some reason the majority of the men sent to her were old, ugly and so nauseatingly weak, they would scream and beg for mercy before she’d even made the first cut.

But not this one.

In all the centuries she’d been punishing him, he had never begged for mercy, never cried. Oh, she saw the pain etched in his features and his haunted blue eyes, when she could get him to look at her that was. He wasn’t immune, but he seemed to possess an incredible inner strength to be able to keep it all to himself.

Actually, he was starting to bore her, but still she persisted, hoping that one day he’d cry and beg like all the others. He’d lasted longer than most too, probably because she tended to leave him alone to languish in his putrid dark cell most of the time. But she’d decided to have one last play with him before Femilla arrived to send him back to earth.

Demeana didn’t know why the Goddess bothered. He always returned at the end of his month, once again having failed in his task to… what was it…? oh yes, to fall in love and have that love returned.

In all her millennia of existence Demeana didn’t know of one single soul who’d earned that kind of penance. Apart from the fact so few of the dammed were let out at all, should they be returned to earth, they were required to serve women unquestioningly, to show kindness they never had in their mortal lives, to look but not touch. Most erred within the first few hours of their release. And not one had ever been granted their freedom.

How many times had she cut him, whipped him, killed him, and brought him back to life? She really could not recall. But still he lingered, his soul struggling to exist within a body that had been broken more times than she cared to count. And his soul would be tastier than most, having clung to life for so long within his mutilated body. Oh, to be able to take him now before her Goddess arrived to return him to the mortal realm. To get one up on the Gods was rare and immensely satisfying. So with one hand, she lifted his chin, her touch almost tender as she leant in close, and with the other plunged her blade deep into his gut.

She felt him strain against his bonds, and suck in his breath against the pain. But still he refused to open his eyes, to acknowledge her in any way through the matted tangle of long hair she thought might have once been blonde.

Demeana yanked the blade out with a sickening squelch, and he slumped against his bonds.

She slapped him hard across the face. You’re going to have to give up one day, sweetheart, she snarled at him.

But not today, he gritted out, as the blood poured from the gaping wound in his stomach.

A reaction at last, she thought with grim satisfaction. But just as she was about the stick the knife in again, a blinding flash of light pulsed through the dim, dank cavern, momentarily blinding her and her bleeding victim.

Oh Demeana, what a mess, a familiar and beautiful voice echoed about them.

Demeana turned to see her Goddess standing behind her. With great reluctance she bowed low, sliding the still bloody knife into the folds of a black robe she conjured about her shoulders. Your Holiness. I welcome you, she said blandly.

Femilla was by far the most beautiful of the Gods. Her bright red hair flowed in shimmering waves about her fair shoulders. She had perfect features and the most loving ocean-green eyes imaginable.

She made Demeana want to puke.

Femilla wore a strapless white gown that shimmered about her voluptuous body. Unlike Demeana who preferred to wear the image that turned men on, Femilla embodied motherliness, all lush curves and tender-heartedness. She was always sweet smiles, except when she dammed those she sent to Demeana. Then a deep sadness furrowed her fair brow and clouded her beautiful eyes.

Unchain him. Clean him up, Femilla commanded. His hundred years is up.

Demeana did as ordered. She pointed a long black talon at the right cuff around the man’s wrist, and it sprung open with a loud clunk. His bloodied arm dropped to his side. She undid the other cuff, thus freeing his other arm. Once she’d released those around his chaffed ankles, he dropped to the ground, crouching on all fours like the pathetic creature he was.

Demeana’s idea of cleaning him was getting another of her battered slaves to douse him with a bucket of cold water.

Heal his wounds, Femilla ordered from beside her. We can’t have him returning to Earth looking like that.

Demeana did the bare minimum to undo her handiwork. She waved her fingers over him, and all her most recent cuts and abrasions vanished, but one bucket of cold water wasn’t anywhere near enough to erase a hundred years of grime.

He was still dirty, bruised and scarred.

Femilla stepped up to the man, gripped hold of his tangled hair, lifting his head towards her, revealing a hard, grim face as filthy as the rest of him.

You have one month to redeem yourself, she reminded him. Fail again and you’ll be returned here, and by the look of you, you won’t make it through the next hundred years of internment. You will die here and Demeana will feast on your pathetic soul. She turned to Demeana. Now send him on his way and bring in the next one.

Demeana waved her clawed hands over the hunched man, and he vanished from the cold cavern floor.

CHAPTER ONE

Even though the pain was gone, he still felt stiff, confused and cold, the reason for which became obvious almost immediately.

He found himself sprawled on a craggy surface much like rock, and his breath misted in front of his face when he exhaled. It was probably close to zero degrees but had they bothered giving him any clothes? No! It wasn’t in the nature of Demons or Gods to be generous, not unless one had earned it, and it was obvious he’d earned nothing of the sort.

What he’d done to deserve his centuries of penance he had long since forgotten. He vaguely recalled his first death, a noose around his throat, tightening until he couldn’t breathe and his neck snapped. A punishment, he knew, was only meted out to those guilty of the most heinous of crimes.

His name? He’d tried so hard to hold onto that, but even it had slipped from his consciousness after five hundred years of torment. He’d been called a lot of things in that time, not many of them nice.

Returning to life always left him feeling like this, weak, nauseous and disoriented. But right now the cold bothered him the most. Trust them to return him to a place on the threshold of winter with nothing to wear.

He tried to get up off the cold, rugged surface so he could at least look around and get his bearings, but his head spun sickeningly as soon as he attempted to lift it from the ground. He collapsed again, and felt the rough, cold surface scrape against his bruised and battered skin. He knew it probably looked as bad as it felt, but he had no desire to gaze down upon the demon’s handiwork. His stomach still ached from her most recent stabbing.

Night was fast approaching, the last of the sun’s rays dipping over the horizon, leaving lovely shades of red and gold in its wake.

Oh, to see the sunset again, he thought in wonder, the cold momentarily forgotten. He lay there watching the vibrant colors slowly fade from the sky. But when he started to shiver, he decided to try and get up again.

The man finally managed to sit up, but his head still spun and his teeth chattered. It was now almost completely dark, but he could still see enough to make out that he was sitting in the middle of a long black strip with white lines running down the middle of it.

He deduced it was probably a road, cutting though rolling hills dotted with trees, not a single house in sight. This would make finding something to wear that much more difficult.

The last time they had released him had been 1909, but he recalled so little of it now. All those years of torture had addled his mind, and he was sure he wasn’t completely sane any more. He certainly hadn’t achieved the goal they had set him back in 1509.

Find love they said.

What was love?

Oh, he knew in theory what it was, but if he’d ever felt anything like it, he’d long since forgotten, along with so much of his former mortal life that had so brutally ended in 1509 at the end of a rope. But he did know that the longer he spent back on earth, the more memories returned from his previous visits, so perhaps that would help him sort out what he had to do, unless of course, he froze to death first.

He wrapped his arms around his shivering body and drew his knees up to his chest in a vain attempt to retain some of his quickly evaporating body heat.

In the distance he saw a light twinkling, and wondered if it could be a homestead, and how on earth he was going to make it that far, the state he was in.

As he continued to watch the light, it grow brighter and clearer. It was coming his way, he realized, so perhaps it was a carriage with a lantern on board, or one of those new fangled automobiles he now recalled seeing in 1909. That had been his mistake last time; he’d spent so much time marveling at and studying all the new inventions that he’d forgotten why he was there in the first place.

Now it was probably 2009. What new inventions had they come up with over the last hundred years? he wondered, as the light grew ever brighter.

As it neared, it divided into two lights. Yes it was definitely coming towards him, and he could hear it making a kind of humming noise, not like the noisy put put of the horseless carriages of a hundred years ago.

He had to shield his eyes to the ever increasing brightness, and suddenly a God-awful screech rent the air, as the conveyance came to a halt several feet away.

Caitlin O’Keefe was leaning between the two front seats, trying to reach her jacket lying across the back seat when her friend, Maddie Marshall, swore poisonously and planted her foot on the brake, making the car swerve and screech across the road till it come to a shuddering halt.

The impromptu stop jerked Caitlin back into her seat with a painful wrench across her shoulders.

What? Another dumb roo? she asked in exasperation. Reaching round, she massaged the sore spot behind her shoulder blade.

No, Cait. Will you look at that? Maddie pointed a shaking finger at the windscreen. Tell me I’m not seeing things.

Caitlin looked first at her friend, and then followed her pointing finger tipped with a hot pink nail, her own eyes widening in amazement at the sight of a totally naked man in the middle of the road. Luckily, with the way he was sitting, they weren’t confronted with his private parts. Aw hell! It must be close to zero out there. What on earth is the guy thinking?

Um, I don’t think he’s been doing much thinking. What do you reckon we should do? I’m all for driving around him and getting the hell out of here. Nude men on deserted country roads spell trouble as far as I’m concerned.

Staring like a stunned rabbit into the glare of the headlights of Maddie’s car, the naked man made no move to get out of their way.

Maybe’s he’s hurt, Caitlin mused, the only reason she could think of as to why he was there in the first place. Perhaps someone had thrown him out of their car, since she couldn’t see any other vehicles in the vicinity, but it was now so dark on either side of the road, he could have driven off the shoulder down into the ditch. However, that still didn’t explain his state of undress.

She glanced at her friend. Madeline was a slender willowy blonde in her early thirties. Caitlin on the other hand was short and prone to plumpness, something she suffered from now. She’d never worn size fourteen clothes in her life, but she’d had to buy a whole new wardrobe before coming to stay with Maddie at her folks’ place in the country.

Caitlin and Maddie had been friends since university where they had both studied teaching, but neither of them worked in that field now. Maddie had moved into IT and Caitlin was in between jobs, trying to decide what to do next.

Maddie was getting married in a few months, and Caitlin was to be her maid of honor, again. This was Maddie’s second marriage, and probably sixth serious relationship.

Caitlin on the other hand had only been in love once, and hurt so badly, she didn’t want to even look at another man, let alone go out with one.

Except now she was definitely looking at one in all his naked glory. From what she could see of him, he appeared to be pretty well built, with strong muscular arms, wide shoulders and long sinewy legs. There seemed to be something wrong with his skin though, perhaps a rash, or burns, she couldn’t be sure from this distance, and didn’t fancy getting any closer to find out.

Do you want to go and see if he’s hurt? Maddie asked.

Caitlin had never been one to let an injured person or animal lie, but that was before she’d been used and abused by Jason Drake. Hurt animals were one thing, naked men on deserted highways something else entirely.

No, do you? she retorted. You’re the one who said to keep driving. Maybe someone else will come along and help him. She glanced up and down the road, but couldn’t see a light anywhere, which wasn’t unusual along this particular stretch. It didn’t really go anywhere except to a dead end past Maddie’s folks’ hobby farm. It had once been a dairy, but since the drought the Marshalls had sold off the cattle, making ends meet through their pensions and what Maddie’s brother, Hugh, brought in as a retailer in town. Maddie’s parents were currently away on a well earned holiday up the north coast.

Maybe if we get out together, Maddie suggested. I’ve got my umbrella in my side door. That should cause a bit of a dent if he tries anything. What about you?

Damn, I left my cricket bat in my other pants… Keys, Caitlin decided at last. I could poke him in the eyes with my keys if need be. She reached over the back and grabbed her jacket. She slipped it on, rummaged around in her bag, and stuck the keys into her pocket.

All right, are we armed and dangerous? Maddie asked, thumping her umbrella against her palm.

As armed and dangerous as we’ll ever be. Opening my door now, Caitlin said. As soon as she had it ajar, cold winter air wafted inside.

Maybe one of us should grab the picnic blanket from the boot to cover him with. The guy must be freezing, unless of course he’s too drunk or stoned to notice, Maddie remarked.

Are winter night’s always this cold in the mountains? Caitlin asked with a shiver.

Yep. Wait until dawn. Frost to scrape off the windscreen and all. Maddie hit the boot release and then opened her door.

They both got out of the car.

Why didn’t you warn me? We could have gone north with your folks. Caitlin’s teeth were already chattering.

With what? I for one am saving every penny for the wedding, and you’re probably not going back to work till next year. Besides, the homestead is centrally heated, and the days are still quiet pleasant. Don’t forget the spa and the sun deck.

Maddie went around to the back of the car and rummaged around in the boot. She held up the picnic blanket. Somehow I don’t think this is going to be enough to cover him.

You don’t have anything of Hugh’s in the car?

Why would I? It’s my car, not his.

All right. Let’s get this over and done with, Caitlin muttered, her breath misting in front of her face.

Maddie slammed the boot closed, and joined Caitlin.

The two women walked side by side away from the car, Maddie holding the blanket in one hand and the umbrella in the other. Caitlin pulled her keys out of her parka pocket and stuck the car key, the longest and most deadly looking, between her fingers.

She had left her old bomb at home, knowing it probably wouldn’t have handled the trip west. Maddie’s parents had left one of their cars behind, which her friend said she could use if she wanted to go into town or do any sight seeing on her own. Caitlin wasn’t sure how she was going to spend the next two weeks; she was merely glad that all her heartache was over at last.

Her boyfriend had gone to prison for raping a teenage girl, one of his many crimes against women. He’d psychologically abused Caitlin in the two years they’d been together. Maddie had tried to get her out of the relationship several times, but Jason had always pleaded for her to take him back, telling her he’d changed, that he’d treat her right from now on. Of course his promises never lasted. Within weeks he’d been back to his abusive manipulative self.

That poor teenage girl had in effect saved Caitlin from Jason. Even though their relationship had ended more than twelve months ago, the court case only took place three weeks ago. It had brought all the pain and trauma back, so that Caitlin almost felt as though she was right back where she’d started.

The evil glares he’d aimed at her across the court room had been enough to chill her to the core. As far as she was concerned, he deserved everything he got in prison.

The two women stopped a few feet away from the naked man, both aware of him watching them through an untidy curtain of long hair that obscured most of his face. They glanced at one another. Now what? their eyes asked.

Give him the blanket, Caitlin suggested.

She could tell Maddie didn’t want to leave her side, so she threw the blanked towards him. It fell onto the ground beside him, and he reached out and picked it up. Caitlin could see his hands trembling as he awkwardly dragged it over his shivering shoulders.

Are you hurt? she finally asked.

Pulling the blanket together, the man hunched further into himself.

Maybe he doesn’t speak English, Maddie muttered, as he peered back up at them. English? Do you speak English?

Caitlin thought she detected a faint nod of his head, but by this time she was getting annoyed, not only by the cold, but by