Glimpse Time Travel: Enemy Of Mine Part 32

Clio and Erato didn't know how to acknowledge that, so they glanced at each other nervously.

The woman beamed at the muses too. "Thank you for giving Minerva the glimpse. She's perfect for Will." Her smile turned sad, but then her eyes sparkled with rueful happiness.

"Of course, Lady Hill," Clio said, "it was a pleasure to see both of them find such...happiness."

Erato glanced from her sister to the little brunette.

Julia nodded. "They are. They both are. They are truly happy and so in love."

Clio nodded and took a tentative step closer, reaching out a hand, but never able to touch the apparition. "You can let go now," she said calmly, rea.s.suringly.

Julia let her smile blossom. With a tiny wisp from the wind her image brightened then turned golden. She burst into sparkles of dust that swirled around Clio and Erato for a few seconds. The golden powder rose to Erva's apartment then it dissipated into nothing but a beautiful cloudless day.

Clio glanced at her sister.

Erato's eyes glistened with moisture. "Sissy, why didn't you tell me-?"

Clio shrugged.

Erato shoved her sister's shoulder with her own. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were getting rather sentimental. And romantic."

Clio glowered, but then she bit her bottom lip with a small smile.

"I know that face. You're up to something else!"

Clio beamed. "Well, I had so much fun with you, I was thinking...I know a Green Beret turned academic who is also in love with the American Revolution, particularly a pretty little British spy."

Erato frowned. "I know a woman much like Erva, complete overachiever, no idea of her worth, who could stand a good time with a brawny Highlander."

"And don't forget the World War I doughboy that Odin sent back to Rome. He's been there for, well, a very long time now. Maybe we should help him back to 1917?"

Erato shook her head. "You got to choose last time. It's my turn now."

Clio smiled again. "So it's settled? We'll play time-traveling stewards?"

Erato folded her arm into her sister's, and they marched down the sidewalk. "This will be so much fun! But I really do get to pick for this next round."

"Who's it going to be?"

Erato turned toward Clio with a coy grin. "Well, I want to see a picture of the Green Beret before I make up my mind."

Clio laughed.

THE END.

HIGHLANDER OF MINE.

By Red L. Jameson.

Prologue.

The muse sisters, Erato and Clio, sat beside the deserted Scottish road, A838. The perpetual slate sky set against the steely North Sea made the picture monochromatic to say the least. But the strip of color, a luscious green gra.s.s beside the road, seemed home only to the Highlands. The sisters sipped margaritas under a huge golden beach umbrella. Lounging in wicker chairs, their feet were propped on small wicker ottomans. Clad in gold jogging suits with gold sports caps, their unruly, dark red, wavy hair stuck out at cla.s.sic Greek angles. They wore gigantic, Jackie O sungla.s.ses, proving that neither of them was there for running, especially since they were giggling nonstop and waving their lime-green drinks toward the road.

"Oh, oh, oh, there's our girl," Erato, the muse of romantic writing, nodded toward the direction of an approaching runner.

Clio, the muse of historical writing, narrowed her eyes to make out the feminine form in a dark jogging suit with a bouncing black ponytail. "She's prettier than I thought."

Erato shoved her sister's hand with her own. "What? You think only historian geeks can be pretty? My girl, even if she is a nerdy genealogist, is very pretty."

Clio arched an auburn brow, but rolled her lips inward to keep from smiling. Finally, she said, "We seem to have a thing for geeks, have you noticed that?"

Erato shrugged, intently watching the jogger run closer. "We'll choose a non-academic next time. Oh! She's almost here!"

Clio studied the human woman. High cheekbones with pink spread throughout-obviously the girl had been running hard. The woman's dark eyes were intense, determined. Angry. Yikes. But even through the anger, Clio noticed the soft, delicate planes of her face, the plump pink lips, the way the anger seemed turned inward rather than out. The girl needed a break, but she wasn't giving herself one.

Barely paying heed to the muses or perhaps trying hard to ignore the scene the muses created, the jogger ran by on a wildflower-scented breeze, like the Clarkia Pulch.e.l.la-Pinkfairy flowers. It was a sweet, delicate smelling blossom, native to Montana and the Dakotas. It was also a hades of a lot stronger than it looked. Clio wondered if the girl was the same.

"Did you see her a.s.s? She has such a great a.s.s."

Clio turned to her sister, frowning, one eyebrow seriously arched now.

Erato shrugged. "What? Like you didn't notice?"

Clio dragged her gaze back to the runner's behind. Narrow hips boasted a tight little f.a.n.n.y. All right, the girl, even if she wasn't a historian, was a hottie.

Clio inhaled deeply and patted her sister's knee. "Time to get to work."

Erato giggled. "I can't wait for this glimpse."

"The h.e.l.l you will," said a very male, very annoyed voice behind them.

As one, Clio and Erato turned to face the tall dark G.o.d, attired in leather leggings and a breach clout. He was muscular, his six-pack abs proving it, but it was his broad shoulders and the power through his chest that had most women swooning. It didn't hurt that the man had a mane that hung almost to his waist and looked more like a curtain of onyx-blue silk than real hair. The sisters both bit their bottom lips, trying to curb in their lascivious grins.

"Coyote, how nice to see you here," Clio cooed.

"In Scotland too. This is such a pleasant surprise." Erato's voice was wispy and beyond flirty. More in the realm of s.e.x.

Clio glared at her sister as they fought their way to stand.

Coyote was a trickster, and the muses admired his mischievous ways. He held a hand up to the both of them. "She's mine, and you know it. Leave her alone."

Both the muse sisters glanced the direction of the runner.

"But she's-"

"Actually, the laws don't-"

Coyote raised his hand again to the sisters, halting their protests immediately.

He sighed and shook his head. "If you're going to whirl her back in time, give her this glimpse, it's on my terms, understand?"

At that both Clio and Erato rushed to him, embracing the large G.o.d. He held each sister around their waists, pulling them tighter with a sly grin, as if he'd known all along his protest would actually merit their undivided attention, which was more than alluring.

"You won't be sorry. This will be a wonderful experience for her," Clio gushed.

"Been working out? My, what big pecs you have." Erato's hands spilled down Coyote's chest to the ridges of his stomach.

Clio again glared at her sister.

Coyote laughed and soaked up the petting and sibling rivalry until it was time to go to work.

A Note about the Glimpse Time-Travel Series.

Often, history is taught with a clear beginning and end. In a cla.s.s t.i.tled, The History of Western Civilization, it would usually begin with Homer and might have an ending around the Industrial Revolution. It is almost always taught with linear projections-you learn about events in a certain year, work your way forward, then end so many years in the future.

It wasn't until I was in graduate school that I began to learn history by skipping around, much like a time-traveler would. In order to understand why the Highland Guard in South Carolina fought so urgently for their British monarch in 1776, one needed to understand why they fought so bravely against that similar monarchy in the Battle of Culloden just thirty years before. I'd never had more fun than when I bounced through time, absorbing an event in a particular era to see it s.h.i.+ne through a hundred years later, or understanding one happening, only to reexamine it through another aspect of time.

When we are taught history with a linear projection, we see it through the lens of the latter era. I know I did. I often saw the Enlightenment period through the optics of the Victorian. But they were vastly different phases of time, often having varying roles for women, men, and children as well as diverse social mores. It is when we prance about in time, I believe, that we can see history more clearly for what it is.

The Glimpse Time-Travel series will jump, dance, and sprint through different eras of time. My greatest desire is to entertain you, so you feel a resonating similarity with my characters, and in the end maybe come away from the experience thinking no matter what the time, no matter the individuals involved, people have more similarities than differences, more hope than despair, and more love than hate.

A Word about ENEMY OF MINE.

In most of the Hollywood versions of British officers during the American Revolutionary War, they are usually portrayed as arrogant, preening, prissy, bloodthirsty, unsympathetic men; although, lately there does seem to be an attempt to paint them in different colors. And in my research I found that many of the men who went to war against America before it was independent were often brave, educated, sympathetic, huge-hearted soldiers. Many came here against their will as well. More often than not, they came to make money, for being a soldier paid better than other jobs of the time. Of the officers that came here, they varied in personalities as much as they would in any group of people.

I hope my readers forgive my ramblings about the British officers of this time. Believe it or not, I was reined from further chattering. However, if you ever wish to talk about British officers or anything else, please feel free to contact me!!!

http://www.redljameson.com.

The Author Wishes to Acknowledge.

Danny Elfman for his composition of "Sally's Song," which, although only alluded to, was played by Erva.

Ludwig Beethoven's "Piano Sonata No. Fourteen," also known as the "Moonlight Sonata."

iPhone and MacBook Pro iTunes iBooks and all things Apple.

Kindle.

Amy Lee.

Cheap Trick and their composition of "I Want You to Want Me."

Lord Alfred Tennyson for his prose within his poem, "In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCx.x.xIII: 27" "'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all."

Harvard University & Harvard University Press.

Director Mark Waters', Mean Girls.

Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts & New York City, New York.

The Author wishes to further thank the army who helped this book come to fruition-Lana Williams, Judi Phillips, Amy Brantley, Angela Adams for their insight, suggestions, and patience. I would be at a loss without my military historian advisors and buddies, most of whom had no idea that by night I write steamy romances about the alpha males, whether alive or dead, they introduced me to-Stanley Carpenter, James Mc Intyre, Ann Millbrooke, Barry Stentiford, Anne Midgley.

Last but never least are the people of my heart who without their support and encouragement I doubt any of this would be possible-my friends and family. And Reid, you really are the best kiddo. Now stop arguing with me.

end.