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Category: Romance/Historical Fiction
Description: The ground beneath the feet of Valerie Brooks shakes and she fears the meaning. An involuntary time traveller from Victorian England, Valerie warns any one in her path that Pompeii is about to be buried in ashes--soon--hoping she can save as many lives as possible. However, her foreknowledge is turned against her. "Witch! Witch!" accused the people of Pompeii. She is arrested and sold into slavery. Paid for by Christos, she must find a way to convince her master of the impending doom, so they can both escape the fatal wrath of Vesuvius.
eBook Publisher: Lachesis Publishing/LBF Books, 2005
eBookwise Release Date: December 2007

14 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [306 KB]
Words: 70281
Reading time: 200-281 min.

"...Action will heat up in this intriguing story that will hold the reader interested until the final page..."-- Dona Brown, Romantic Times Book Club

"Teri Barnett is at the top of her game with 'Through the Mists of Time.' With a delightful mix of some of the best-loved genres in Romance, this sensual novel is a treasure trove of originality, an honest-to-goodness must-have!"--K.L. Nappier, author of Voyagers, Full Wolf Moon and Bitten

The soft breeze entered through the bedchamber window and moved like a lover over Christos' naked body. A low moan escaped his lips as he turned onto his stomach. The breeze continued upward, over his thighs, and across his shoulders, stopping to tease the thick black hair curled at the nape of his neck.

Christos stirred, kicking away his rumpled bedding. He turned his face toward the window. Could it be she was here again? He opened his eyes drowsily. Ah, yes. She was here.

The finely woven linen curtains that flanked the window danced around her where she stood, casting an ethereal quality to her form. How she came to be in his room, night after night, he had no idea, but she continued to appear before him just the same. Always when he was asleep, always when he was alone.

Long golden brown hair cascaded down her arms and to her hips, concealing her breasts where the strands fell. The hair lay across her belly almost bidding him to lower his gaze to her sweet gate. Ah, but he was hard pressed to remove his eyes from her gentle face. She wore only jewelry as she stood there--a necklace with a single large emerald and dangling earrings that matched. The gems echoed the color of her eyes and they sparkled and winked in the moonlight, teasing him, daring him--to touch.

He ground his hips into the mattress, his loins aching with desire as he stared at her. He would've reached for her, tried to make love to her then and there, but knew it would do no good. He'd tried to touch her before, but she always managed to elude him during these nocturnal visits.

Christos' eyes drifted closed for a moment and he felt the breeze again. When he opened them, he found that this time it wasn't the breeze, but the woman's fingers moving over him. She leaned above him, her hair brushing against his skin, and delicately ran her nails across his back and down his thighs. Oh, but she was a treasure, this woman of the night. He sighed, savoring the delicious feel of her touch. He had stopped asking long ago from whence she came and now only enjoyed her nearness.

Then the touching stopped and, all too soon, she was moving away from his side. Though knowing it would do no good, he still reached for this restless spirit that haunted him in the night. But all he caught was the night air as she drifted toward the window, a sweet smile on her lips. What was this game she was playing with him?

He found his voice. "Please. Wait," he whispered, his words urgent. "You must tell me this time. Who are you?"

She turned to him and smiled. He thought his heart would break from the kindness he saw in those emerald eyes, now darkened by the shadows of the room. "I am yours," she answered simply. Her voice carried the sound of garden chimes in the summer and soothed the fever that had begun to build inside him.

Christos let his breath out slowly. "You say you are mine, but I know you are going to leave again." He pushed a black curl off his forehead and sighed. "Will you ever stay or will you only continue to pass through my chambers on your nightly journeys?"

"The next time you see me will be in the flesh," she murmured. "You have my word."

He watched in silence as she turned to face the window. Her body, bathed in the silver moonlight, glowed for a moment, then slowly vanished into the darkness.

At her disappearance, Christos awoke with a start. "By the gods," he cursed under his breath, the tension tight in his belly. How long would he continue to dream of her, this beautiful, nameless entity that followed him into the arms of Morpheus? Was it possible to desire a ghost, for truly that's what she must be?

"How soon 'til you return to me, my sweet one?" He closed his eyes, his words a soft prayer. "How soon?"