Love Entwined by Danita Minnis Page B

it was not her handwriting. Jacqueline was the name her capitaine had called her in the dreams.
    She shook her head at the pad. He was not her capitaine and she was not his Jacqueline.
    She had been under a lot of stress at work; this must be a by-product. She would be fine in a few days here in the country, away from the constant pressure of Penrods.
    Amelie pushed the name written on the drawing pad from her mind and flipped the page over. Soon, she was deep in concentration on another sketch.

Chapter 8
    North Yorkshire, England – March 1988
    The first week of March whittled away at winter’s stronghold. Roman insisted they take the weekends off and would not allow her near the drafting room. Her first full weekend in Yorkshire, they walked among the ruins of Scarborough Castle on the headlands.
    Amelie looked past the limestone cliffs toward the North Sea. “I wish I’d brought my drawing pad.”
    He produced a digital camera from his jacket pocket. “Will this do?”
    She grinned at him and then worried her bottom lip with her teeth while pushing sensors on the high-tech model.
    He followed her through the courtyard while she snapped pictures. “For centuries, this castle was the site of the Scarborough Fair. Cardiff sea captains were among the merchants.”
    “You come from a very old family here in town, don’t you?”
    He shrugged. “There are families here who can trace their lineage back to William the Conqueror.”
    “Modesty; a nice surprise,” she said with a straight face as she snapped photos. She could not wait on his unhurried steps and walked ahead on the uneven cobblestones. She lifted her face to the sky and spreading her arms wide, took in a deep breath of salt-scented sea air. “I can imagine the marketplace alive with the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon and cooked hams for sale.”
    “And brilliant bolts of silk from India lined up on tables, the merchants calling out their wares and tales of miracle cures,” he said.
    She turned, staring at him. “ Oui , you see it, too,” she whispered, giving him a slow nod of approval.
    Taking a step forward, he glanced over her head and she turned around to see what had caught his interest. Long, auburn locks waved in the wind, moving quickly through a stone archway.
    Without a word, they hurried after the woman through the archway, and stopped short.
    They were standing in a small courtyard, alone. The woman was gone.
    Roman strode over to the only door on this side of the stone wall. Even though there was a sign posted NO ADMITTANCE, he tried the door.
    Amelie exhaled when the door would not open. “I thought I saw…her.”
    Roman turned toward her. “…someone,” he corrected, and then chuckled. “You should see your face right now, standing here in this deserted courtyard looking for…”
    She folded her arms. “What were we looking for Roman?”
    “Absolutely nothing. No one,” he said emphatically and took her hand. “Come on then, back to the present.” He led her out the way they had come and away from the castle and Scarborough fairs of the past.
    On the way home, they drove through the town of Scarborough, which soon gave way to a scenic drive through the moors. The sun broke through the clouds, dappling the heather and bracken.
    He stopped the Porsche once as a herd of sheep passed by on the roadway. He laughed when she craned her neck out of the car window with the digital camera. The herder raised his bell and clanged the signal for the sheep to cross the road. It was one of those moments, the city girl in her taken back to a time when people respected the land, and there was no such thing as a New York City skyscraper. The feeling intensified when the Porsche crested a hill and she saw a beautiful old church.
    “Kingston Abbey.”
    “That’s right,” Roman glanced at her. “How did you know that?”
    “What?” She turned toward him, not realizing she had voiced her thought. “I must have seen it in a brochure,” she