I’m so excited to be a part of Becka’s Birthday Bash! And Happy Birthday, Becka!

That said, I’d like to share with you a short excerpt from my latest release, On the Silver Edge of Time. This is a Viking Time travel in which the hero first travels to the future in search of his fate, then after finding his future bride, takes her back through time to tenth century Normandy.

A bit about me, I write sci-fi futuristic romances, historical western romances and now, paranormal romances for Champagne Books. You can find all my first chapters and a contest at www.ciaragold.com

Excerpt:

“How is it that you understand English?” Erik raised a brow.

The stranger shrugged. “No great mystery, I’m thinkin’. A sorcerer can do just about anything he puts his mind to.” He edged closer. “Be this Keelin, then?”

Erik joined him. “She is, though I suspect you knew this to be so.”

“Aye.” The old man laughed. “A green-haired sprite, one to tease even a leprechaun’s imagination. I’m Fintan, lass.”

Fintan bent and grabbed her upper arm and tugged her forward. The blanket fell from her grip, and the loosely fitting shirt slipped off her shoulder. “The mark I gave her has faded a wee bit.”

Keely twisted to evade his touch. “You gave me the scar?”

The thin white lines spelled her name, an oddity for which her father had never offered an explanation.

“Aye, I etched the marks with a claw from a dragon, a most dangerous item to own, and then dusted it with fairy powder, so it would remain forever.” He dropped her arm and stepped back. “’Twas I who gave ye your name as your father was no’ available tae do so.”

Hysteria bubbled within. This was unlike any of her other dreams. “You–you lie.”

“Enough. You frighten the girl.” Erik sidled closer to the bed.

“I beg pardon, lass. Ye ha’e nothin’ tae fear from me.” Fintan leaned closer. “Take care though with this great beast. He has anger in his heart for the duty he must perform.”

“What is he talking about, Erik?” she asked.

“Nothing. He issues warnings to instill fear. Be brave, Maid. You have nothing to fear as long as you abide by the rules of the household.”

“Rules?” Why would there be rules? Her suspicion rose and with it, her anxiety.

“I would give you this.” He handed her a choker made of gold with a design delicately etched across the surface.

She touched the exquisite piece of jewelry lightly then retrieved her hand. “I can’t accept. I don’t know you well enough.”

“I insist.” He bent and placed it around her neck before she could protest further. The locking mechanism snapped closed. “The collar bears my mark and with it my protection.”

When he retreated, she fingered the neckband with one hand while gripping the cover with the other. His generosity shocked her, but his words made no sense. “Thank you, but why would I need protection?”

“She thanks ye.” Fintan laughed. “Ach, but I suppose she’ll be cursing ye soon enough.”

Erik threw Fintan a fierce frown. “The collar signifies that you belong to me. The men should leave you alone, but there will be times when they celebrate and emotions run high. You must take care to make yourself scarce on these occasions.”

“Men?” She studied the construction of the bed more closely, noting the lack of nails. Wooden pegs held the structure together, and woven ropes supported the mattress. “Erik?”

“Ja.”

“Where in tarnation are we?”

“Nyjord, Francia.”

“As in France?” A sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach, and her suspicion returned.

“Tenth century.”

“No.” She hissed the word, hoping her mind played tricks. “No. Damn it. I won’t believe you. Time travel isn’t yet possible.”

He narrowed his eyes and started to speak, but closed his mouth.

“I want to go home.” She pushed the blanket from her body and swung her feet to the floor. “Please. I–I have to pack for New York.”

His gaze softened. “I cannot change what has happened. I’m sorry.”

“Ach, Lass. The jarl speaks true. You were meant to be here. Doona fight fate.”

She glanced at Fintan and cringed. Oh God, he’d just confirmed the fear she tried to avoid. She’d traveled eleven centuries in the past. If this were indeed true, she was screwed. Seriously screwed. She wanted to scream, to pick up the piece of pottery on his corner table and throw it at both of them. Shock rendered her immobile.

Ciara Gold