Charmed
Dear Reader,
I am so pleased that my titles have been converted into e-books for your continued enjoyment. Charmed is a book straight from my heart. It is a time-travel romance, taking place in my old neighborhood. The Shawnee Indians actually did tread these very lands and canoe along these very rivers. Therefore, it is particularly nice to impart some of my own region's history and lore to you. May you enjoy reading it as much as I took pleasure from writing it.
Catherine Hart
“Charmed” Copyright © 1996 by Diane Tidd
CHARMED First Ebook edition November 2018 ISBN: 978-1-944654-23-8
All rights reserved. No part of the Ebook may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both copyright owner and Class Ebook Editions Ltd., the publisher of the Ebook. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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“What could be more exciting than an adventurous, swashbuckling romance like Catherine Hart's FIRE AND ICE? – Romantic Times
“ASHES AND ECSTASY will keep you captive in its colorful world from the first page” – Romantic Times
“An absolute delight, pure fun and sizzling romance from the first page to the last, with a twist in the plot that makes it stand apart … a book I'll always remember. Wonderful characters! Witty dialogue! In SPLENDOR Catherine Hart proves herself to be a master.” — Bestselling author Catherine Anderson
“A rollicking swashbuckler that's full of laughs and loads of fun to read... Enjoy.” –New York Times Bestselling author Kat Martin on SPLENDOR
“A real page turner, sparkling with verbal wit filled with that special Catherine Hart touch of magic.” – Romantic Times 4 starred review on SPLENDOR
“Bold and audacious.”– Publishers Weekly on CHARMED
“Veteran historical author Catherine Hart branches into time-travel romance and takes lucky readers on a wondrous journey. CHARMED combines magic, history, and romance into a most enthralling read.” – Romantic Times
“Hart offers a gripping, sympathetic portrait of the Cheyenne as a proud people caught in turmoil by an encroaching world.” – Publishers Weekly on SUMMER STORM
“Hart again demonstrates an unusual sensitivity to Native American traditions [and] presents the Cheyenne way of life with great respect and sympathy.” – Publishers Weekly on NIGHT FLAME
“TEMPEST is more than a romance, but a novel that teaches us about forgiving and building a new life. An extraordinary novel.” – Romantic Times 4 starred review
“This is a light-hearted, charming, delightful, classic Catherine Hart romance. Hart has incorporated her unique sense of humor with a powerful clash of wills and a highly sensual love story. Fans are in for a real treat.” – Romantic Times 4 starred review on TEMPTATION
“Catherine Hart has written a delightful love story filled with some wonderful characters. A fast-paced page turner.” – Romantic Times 4 starred review on DAZZLED
“IRRESISTIBLE is tantalizing—a love story that will make you laugh and cry and lift your spirits. Catherine Hart has created a story of love triumphing over all obstacles. This is the ‘feel good’ read of the season.” – Romantic Times 4½ starred review on IRRESISTIBLE
“Action-packed, thrilling HORIZONS is an exhilarating tale of courage, ingenuity and survival. With this novel as her launching pad, the talented Ms. Hart makes a spectacular jump into contemporary fiction.” – Romantic Times 4½ starred review
“Hart chooses to set her latest tale of romantic suspense in the high-profile world of professional sports. Those looking for danger and passion spiced with humor will find she delivers.” – Romantic Times 4 starred review on IMPULSIVE
Charmed
Catherine Hart
Class Ebook Editions, Ltd.
New York, NY
Table of Contents
Cover
Reader Letter
Copyright
Praise for Catherine Hart
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Author Biography
Also by Catherine Hart
Excerpt
ASHES AND ECSTASY Chapter 1
Chapter One
1813—A cave in southern Ohio
As Silver Thorn made the final preparations for the ancient ritual he was about to attempt, he smiled in hopeful anticipation. If this spell worked as it should, it would be a spectacular coup indeed—much grander than either of his brothers had achieved. Not that he was in any sort of intense rivalry with Tecumseh or Tenskwatawa, but each of the men had always enjoyed trying to best the others’ latest accomplishments in ways only these three could aspire to.
From the very beginning, the brothers had been set apart and above others by the unique circumstance of their birth, for they were the sole set of triplets born in all of Shawnee history. As if this were not phenomenal enough, each had been blessed with mystical powers the likes of which had never before been witnessed, at least not in such abundance. All three could perform diverse magical feats and were able to foresee events of the future to varying degrees. Some moons past, Tecumseh, the firstborn of the trio, had predicted the passing of a shooting star such as the one that had streaked through the sky on the very night of their birth. And last year, Tecumseh had caused a great quaking of the earth which had been felt from Canada to Florida, from the eastern shores to west of the Mississippi River. Likewise, Tenskwatawa, more recently known as the Prophet, had claimed credit for a total eclipse of the sun, though he had simply foreseen the occurrence in a dream and used it to enhance his own importance.
By contrast to his celebrated brothers, Silver Thorn was much more modest about his curious accomplishments, though no less serious in his endeavors. Still, he thrived on the friendly competitiveness which he and his siblings had shared since boyhood, a natural contest of powers which had served to hone their unusual skills to a keen edge over the past forty-five years. Now he was about to commence the most difficult task he’d ever set for himself, that of calling upon a spirit from the far future to gain a glimpse of what would become of his people. Heretofore, neither he nor his brothers had been able to predict any event beyond their own lifespans, but Silver Thorn was su
re it could be done and that he could be the one to do so.
Kneeling before the small fire he’d built, Silver Thorn carefully retrieved a clay mold from the coals. Within its earthen boundaries, molten silver rippled and gleamed, reflecting the exact color of Silver Thorn’s eyes—yet another oddity of his birth. Blowing gently upon the steaming mass, Silver Thorn began to chant an ancient incantation. Softly. Reverently. Pushing aside all concerns of the world outside the cave and focusing all his thoughts and energies on becoming one with his inner powers.
When the mold had cooled sufficiently, he broke the clay away, taking care not to disturb the still-malleable disc of ore. To further solidify it, he slid the silver into a pail of water, icy cold from the stream that ran through the heart of the cavern. A short time later, he plucked the charm from the water and attached it to a leather thong. Then, with a special concoction he’d prepared, he meticulously polished the coin-shaped medallion to a brilliant sheen. One side was perfectly flat and mirror-smooth. The other was graven with concentric rings, one within another, signifying life and time to infinity. Imbedded crosswise in this design, overlaying the bands, was the image of a feather, the symbol of power.
Hours passed. Outside the cave, day gave way to night. The moon rose, full and bright over the surrounding land, and still Silver Thorn knelt and chanted, endowing the charm with all the potent magic he could draw forth. Finally, when the moon had reached its zenith, he took the amulet out into the night. Standing at the edge of a small waterfall, he held the talisman upward. Suspended from his lean fingers, it spun like a miniature moon, reflecting the light of its larger twin in the sky above.
“Created of earth and fire, formed by wind and water, blessed by the moon and the spirits, marked by time and power, I commend this charm to the world of the future— so that the person to find and claim it will enter into this time and place to impart the knowledge and learning of the days yet to come.”
With these words, Silver Thorn swung the emblem in an arc and flung it into the stream below the falls. He watched as it hit the water, spun several times in its own eddy, and began to drift with the strong current. The thong caught on the lip of a protruding boulder, and the amulet sank out of sight.
Silver Thorn seated himself on the rocky ledge overlooking the stream, prepared to wait patiently for as long as he must.
1996—Seven Caves, southern Ohio
Nichole Swan exited the cave into the bright sunlight, and the heat and humidity hit her like a swat with a wet rag. For a moment she was tempted to scout out the next cave immediately. Her jeans and sweater, just right for the cool temperatures underground, were too much for this early June heat wave that even the weather forecasters hadn’t anticipated this early in the season.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that her meager breakfast was but a pleasant memory. Since then, she’d hiked happily for hours, both inside the caves and along the woodland trails surrounding them, burning up any energy her morning coffee and bagel had had to offer. It was time for lunch, and Nikki knew the perfect spot for her solitary picnic. After removing her cardigan and tying the sleeves around her waist, she hitched the backpack she’d borrowed from her nephew into place across her shoulders and trudged in the direction of the little waterfall she’d passed earlier that morning.
With each step, she told herself that all this exercise was precisely what she needed in order to shed those twenty extra pounds she’d carried all winter like some hibernating she-bear. Of course, she was looking her thirtieth birthday in the face. And teaching Ohio history to a pack of reluctant junior high students was more an exercise in patience than aerobics. Still, she’d made herself several promises recently, and she meant to keep them. This summer, during her well-deserved and much-needed break from the classroom, she was going to turn her life around. She was going to start taking better care of herself, both physically and emotionally.
To keep herself on track, she’d even mapped out a three-month course of action aimed toward self-improvement and liberally laced with pleasurable rewards for goals met. This present excursion met all the criteria at once. It gave her the opportunity to research various historical sites, with an eye out for the best place to take her students on a class trip in the fall. At the same time, she got to indulge herself in a bit of Indian history, one of Nikki’s favorite subjects—most likely because one of her ancestral grandmothers had belonged to a local Shawnee tribe. From this long-ago relative, Nikki had inherited her black hair and tawny complexion, while her violet eyes and stubborn nature had been bequeathed by a Scot ancestor on her mother’s side of the family. Where her flash-fire temper and her quirky sense of humor derived from was anyone’s guess.
At the moment, Nikki was content to immerse herself in her own bit of history. Last week, without even bothering with her usual bout of spring cleaning, she’d closed up her small house in northwestern Ohio and headed for the southern section of the state. So far, she’d visited several ancient mounds, including the famous Serpent Mound. Just last evening, she’d viewed the open-air performance of Tecumseh and had found herself thoroughly enthralled by it. By the flickering firelight, surrounded by the dark night and Nature’s own stage, the drama and the actors had seemed so real—as if she’d been magically transported into the great Shawnee chief’s era and set down in the middle of everything that had happened to him and his people in the same locale over a hundred and eighty years ago! It had been fantastic! Today, she was touring caves that still seemed to echo eerily with Shawnee footsteps and whisper ancient secrets, where a waft of chill air felt like ghostly fingers, raising gooseflesh in its wake.
Rounding a bend in the trail, Nikki found the spot she sought. Here, in the shade beneath the wide-spread limbs of a huge old oak, right at the edge of the small pool, was a splendid view of the waterfall, which made this a delightful place to rest and eat her lunch. However, she first needed to wash the dust and cobwebs of the cave from her face and hands.
Kneeling at the edge of the pool, Nikki cupped water in her palms and splashed it over her flushed cheeks. It was heavenly! Blessedly cool. How refreshing it would be to remove her hot Nikes, roll up her jeans, and dangle her feet in the water. Would anyone really mind if she did? And even if there were park rules to the contrary, two sweltering feet surely wouldn’t contaminate the pool that much!
As she was contemplating this idea, she caught the glint of something metallic beneath the surface of the water, mere inches from her hand. “Someone’s lost fishing lure?” she wondered aloud. Then she gave a rueful laugh and muttered, “More likely just a discarded pop can. Why can’t people be more considerate about where they dump their trash? Isn’t this planet polluted enough? Isn’t ecology supposed to be the national byword these days?”
Frowning, she leaned over to retrieve the litter. As she did so, the weight of her backpack almost sent her tumbling headlong into the pool. As it was, the clarity of the water had thrown off her depth perception. Her arms were immersed nearly to her armpits before her fingers closed around the shiny object, the dangling sleeves of her sweater thoroughly soaked.
“Oh, great!” she grumbled. “I’ve probably ruined a thirty-dollar cardigan for a ten-cent piece of tin! Good going! Why didn’t anyone warn me that clumsiness comes with turning thirty? What’s next? Bifocals and orthopedic shoes?”
By now she’d regained her balance, though barely, without further damage to herself or her apparel. When she opened her hand, her irritation evaporated considerably. There, nestled in her palm, was a round, fairly flat disc of some sort strung on a soggy cord. Though she was certainly no expert, the medallion looked to her like it was made of silver. The upper side was grooved with a series of circles, one within the other. She turned it over and found herself gazing into a surface so smooth and gleaming that her own image reflected back at her. Holding it aloft, she inspected it curiously as it began to rotate slowly at the end of its tether.
Around and around it twirled, catching stray
sunbeams and flashing them at her. Faster, brighter, like a hypnotist’s amulet, it spun. Fascinating. Mesmerizing. Although aware of the effect the strange emblem was having upon her, Nikki was helpless to stop it. There, on her knees, half-blinded by the sparkling charm, she felt herself swaying dizzily as she watched the engraved circles seem to coil upward, inward, much like the designs blurring together on a child’s toy top. First the spiral pattern, then her own reflection. Repeated again and again, with increasing speed, until they seemed to meld into one— her face within the rings, snared in a bright whirlpool, getting smaller, more distant, with every turn. Smaller . . . farther . . . faster . . . trapped . . . falling. . . .
1813
Silver Thorn came instantly alert. Something was different. Had he heard some small sound? Or had it merely been an odd vibration in the air that had intruded on his meditation? His keen eyes scanned the area below the falls, searching for the origin of the disturbance.
It took but a moment to identify the source, and Silver Thorn’s heart leapt with excitement. There, on the river-bank, lay a body! Could it be the messenger he sought? The One from the future?
With more haste than caution, he scrambled down the rocky slope, sending a shower of pebbles ahead of him. A few paces from the body, he halted, investigating it from a distance. Whoever this person was, he lay on his side, unmoving—either unconscious or dead. His hair was long and dark, tied back with a metal fastener of some sort. He was dressed in a coarse pair of blue trousers, a yellow shirt, and had a blanket-like garment hanging from his waist like a breechcloth and a bundle attached to his back. On his feet were shoes, or short boots, of a type Silver Thorn had never seen. They were blue and white, of some peculiar material, with ridges on the bottoms and printing on the sides that said NIKE. Silver Thorn, who had learned to speak and read the English language years ago—though his pronunciation of the words was not always accurate—supposed this to be the stranger’s name.