Short Story: Wendy Knight

“Girl, there’s not enough satin in the entire world to make you princess-y enough to get into that ball.” Monique raised a perfectly arched brow, gesturing at Konstanz. Konstanz frowned and pushed her wind-tangled brown curls over her shoulder. “You aren’t helping,” she muttered. With a brief glare, she turned her back on her much-too-honest-for-her-own-good friend and started digging through dresses.
Monique heaved the most dramatic of sighs. “This isn’t a smart idea anyway. Even if we can make you remotely presentable, once you’re inside the cats will kill you.”
Konstanz paused, studying a deep red one. “What do you mean, cats?”
Monique appeared at her side, pushing the red one away. “No, not even close to your color. Cats. Princesses. Royalty. They will eat a little mouse like you alive.”
Konstanz pinched the bridge of her nose, where she felt a headache forming. “I think I can handle it for a couple of hours.”
“Right. Why, exactly, is it so important for you to go to this ball, anyway? You’ve never been interested before.” Monique moved away, digging through more elaborate dresses in her popular boutique.
If you only knew. But Konstanz couldn’t tell her, of course. That would just be crazy. So instead she shrugged. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

It took hours of plucking, tweezing, exfoliating, slathering on makeup and trying to tame her wild curls into submission, but the end result was pretty princess-y, even by Monique’s standard. “You clean up nice, girl. How come we’ve never done this before?”
Konstanz glanced down. Monique had chosen well – the dark turquoise dress did wonders for her skin tone. She twirled, once, because it was mandatory when wearing a dress like this. The layers and layers of tulle cascading to the ground poofed around her, and she almost giggled. Black satin trim accented the dropped waist and lined the corset-like bodice. “It never mattered before,” she said.
Monique raised an eyebrow. “Here. These are perfect.” Monique handed her black elbow length gloves.
Konstanz took them dubiously. Well these could pose a problem. But there was no way to say that without looking suspicious, so she slid them on and twirled again.
“Stop it. You’re going to make the curls go flat before you even get there,” Monique chided but she couldn’t hide a smile.
Impulsively, Konstanz leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Fairy Godmother.”
Monique rolled her big brown eyes. “Don’t start, woman.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “Off with you now.”

There was no fancy carriage to take Konstanz to the ball. That would have been much too conspicuous. Instead she rode her giant black mare, the one every man in the entire state wanted to steal. Luckily, no one could ride Skylla but Konstanz – at least not without risking life and limb. Several yards before the sweeping drive that led to the castle, Konstanz slid off and led Skylla into the trees.“Wait here,” Konstanz told her. The big mare tossed her head before wandering away to eat the lush grass, and Konstanz slipped away through the shadows.
Scaling the castle wall was nearly impossible in a ball gown covered in tulle, sequins, and rhinestones. The gloves barely survived, and she had to drop to the ground twice to pick up a lost shoe.
It took far too long to near the top. She peeked over the ledge, but everyone was still inside, listening to the welcoming speech the King was fond of giving. Silently thanking him for his inability to keep it short and sweet, she swung her leg over the balcony railing, entering the wide glass doors just as the band started playing. Even if she hadn’t known him as well as she did, it was still easy to find the prince – just look for the hordes of swooning princesses. Alec tugged at the tight caveat and failed miserably at smiling politely.
As it always did, Konstanz felt her heart stop, because he was so beyond handsome. But there was no time for that now. She shoved her feelings away, locking them into the recesses of her heart where they were safe, and slid discreetly behind the thick tapestries lining the walls. Hidden, she worked her way quickly around the large ball room and around the crowd surrounding the Prince. Getting out posed a bigger problem, since she was surrounded by people. She bit her lip and twisted a curl around her finger. And then she fell. Stumbling, she landed ungracefully on one knee right at Alek’s feet. It had been planned, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.
“I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” she murmured as he reached down to help her to her feet.
“Don’t worry about it. Here, let me –“ His eyes widened as she raised her face, and his mouth snapped closed.
She tried to tell him to play along, but she’d never been great at telepathy. Luckily, he had always been fantastic at reading her facial expressions. “Dance with me.” He grabbed her elbow and dragged her onto the dance floor. Konstanz could feel the dagger-like glares at her back, but it didn’t matter. They could all kill her later, as long as she saved him first.
“What are you doing here?” He plastered a bright artificial smile on his face and hissed at her through his clenched teeth. “We agreed never to speak again. Right after you slapped me, if I recall correctly.”
“I know. I’m sorry, “ she started, but he cut her off.
“Sorry that you slapped me? And do try to look less like you’re being tortured.”
Konstanz sighed and tried to smile. “No I’m not sorry I slapped you. You deserved it. I’m sorry I’m here, having to speak to you again.”
She saw the pain flash across his face, but he hid it quickly. “Then what do you want?”
“You’re in danger. I’m here to save you.”
If she had said that to anyone else in the world, they would have laughed. She was small, after all. But Alec knew who she really was. He had always known.
One of his father’s top assassins.
“Why? Why do you think I’m in danger?” He had stilled, and she had to tug on his arms to get him to dance again.
“I’ll tell you when we have more time, but for now, we need to get out of here.”
His eyes narrowed, but thankfully he kept dancing, twirling her expertly around the dance floor, despite the fact that the song had ended and a new one began. Princesses everywhere were out for her blood, she could tell. “So, let me get this straight. I ask you to elope with me. You slap me and tell me to never speak to you again. A month later you show up looking like the goddess that has haunted my dreams since I first met you, and you tell me I’m in danger?”
Konstanz opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “The only one I’m in danger from is you.” Abruptly, he let her go and stalked off the dance floor. She could have died of embarrassment right there, if she’d cared. Luckily, he was all that mattered and her reputation wasn’t high on her priorities. He grabbed the nearest woman, a tall, leggy blond with a split in her dress that went clear up to her thigh.
Konstanz couldn’t very well cut in. That would be ridiculous. She hesitated, wondering how she could knock him unconscious and drag him out of the room without anyone noticing, and she almost missed the click of the pistol being cocked nearby.
She was too late.
Grabbing her skirts up, she ran straight at Alek. As the pistol blasted, she dove, tackling him to the ground. The ball shot above their head. “I told you!” she shrieked. She was tangled in her confounded dress, and by the time she fought free he was on his feet. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet for the second time in less than a half-hour. She heard the click again – it was a sound she had been trained to recognize even in her sleep. Reaching down, she grabbed the sword free of Alec’s scabbard and whirled, slicing it up through the air. It hit the ball and shattered. She felt the pieces sting her face but there was no time to acknowledge the pain. She threw the broken sword the ground and grabbed Alek’s hand. “Run!” she screamed, since he seemed frozen, staring across the room.
“Lyon?” he whispered. His best friend. Of course it had come as a surprise, and she would let him mourn later. But now she really just needed to get him out of there.
Konstanz only just noticed the screaming and chaos. Guards were rushing in, people were running, dresses were being ruined. And above it all, she heard Lyon laughing. Mad, hysterical laughter that chilled her to the bone.
“Konstanz!” The Captain of the Royal Guard, who had refused to listen to her earlier, now threw her a belt, her belt, with all her weapons. She caught it and strapped it on, wrenching the knives from their pocket.
Lyon advanced on them, his pistol cocked again and aimed at Alek’s head. “You should have listened to her.” He clucked his tongue in false sympathy. “Too heartsick. That was your undoing.”
The ballroom was nearly empty, except for a few stragglers. Wait…why aren’t they leaving? Konstanz spun, too late realizing they were surrounded. Lyon might have been flanked by castle guards, but the castle guards were ringed by Lyon’s friends, all of whom were armed.
“Oh dear,” she murmured, turning slowly.
“Somehow, you’ve managed to put yourself right between us yet again, Konstanz. I suggest you move. I would hate to mess your beautiful hair by putting a bullet through your skull.” Lyon gave her a look, one she assumed was supposed to be pouty, but it failed miserably.
She rolled her eyes. “We can’t have that, can we? My hair took hours to get like this.” She stepped out of the way with a low bow.
Alek’s eyes widened and Lyon chuckled. “Love is fickle, isn’t –“ He shouldn’t have thrown his head back to laugh. It gave Konstanz a clear shot of his throat, and her knife lodged there before he could finish his sentence.
The room erupted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lyon fall, but the sight of blood made her gag, and besides, his friends were rushing in now. Her hand went to her stars, but the silk gloves slid right over them. A bullet grazed her bare shoulder and she swore. ”Stupid gloves!” The second try was successful and she threw them, one after another at the Prince’s attackers. Seven men down. The guards seemed to have the rest under control.
“You are…good at what you do.” Alek’s face was pale, his eyes wide.
“I am.” She nodded. “We need to get you out of here until the threat is effectively contained.” She grabbed his hand and started across the floor, but he didn’t move. Maybe he hadn’t heard her over the clanging and clashing of swords? “Alek? We need to get you to safety.”
“No.”
Konstanz frowned. Clearly the universe had flipped completely upside down. “What do you mean, no? It’s not safe here.”
Alek raised his chin. “You care about my safety?”
She tipped her head at him. Confusion was not something she was overly familiar with. “Of course I care –“
“Fine. Say you’ll marry me. Say you’ll run away with me, say that I can have your heart for the rest of eternity. Heal the damage you’ve done, and then I’ll care enough about my safety to leave.”
Konstanz felt the blood drain from her face. “Alek…”
He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.
“We can’t…I’m an assassin. And a commoner. You’re a prince!”
He turned away from her. The King had just entered the room, flanked by guards, assessing the damage done to his ballroom. “Father, this is the woman I want. Do I have your blessing?” Alek announced it to the entire room and Konstanz was positive she would sink through the floor at any second. In fact, she prayed for it.
“She’s my finest assassin. What if you ruin her?” The King asked.
Konstanz put a hand to her forehead. All these things were not making sense.
“She broke my heart. And she refuses to mend it on the grounds that I am a prince and she is a commoner.”
“Alek, you have lost your mind.” Konstanz whispered harshly.
Alek smiled, finally turning back to her. “Konstanz, my father has known about us for ages. He has never been anything but pleased. Marry me. Heal this,” he took her hand and placed it on his racing heart.
She looked with wide eyes from the King, who was decidedly smirking, to Alek and back again. “You almost died. Just now. And this is what you’re worried about?”
“It is the only thing that matters. The only thing that ever has mattered, the only thing that ever will matter. Marry me, Konstanz.”
She felt her lips quirk rebelliously into a smile. She couldn’t. It wasn’t proper. She wasn’t a princess. She stepped closer, convinced she would knock him unconscious and drag him from the room. Instead she surprised herself by saying, “I will marry you, Prince Alek.” She gritted her teeth. “If you promise to get. Out. Of. This. Room.” Forcing sweetness into her smile, she said, “Where you’re safe. And then I will marry you.”

Short Story: J.F. Jenkins

This is the second installment in our short story series from our authors. Be sure to check back every day to see who's up next!

Normally, Orion did not enjoy tuxes. They were thick and stuffy, but when he saw how Esie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, he was willing to make an exception for the night. He'd never seen her gaze wander over him so much. Perhaps she'll finally come around and accept me. This could be the start of a real relationship for us. And she looked absolutely gorgeous in her dress. The blue, purple, fabric especially brought out the color of her eyes.

He walked her into the ball, enjoying having her decorate his arm. The stares he received from his cousins added on to the fun. For so long they had thought less of him despite being the son of the Great Dragon Lord. Most of them made it clear they expected more from him, though there were a few on his side. No matter what he did, it would never match up to those expectations. He'd gotten a business degree from the university, and had plans to invest in all sorts of new technologies. But that wasn't good enough for them. They didn't see a point in putting so much into a potential product that might not pan out. Automobiles would never replace horses, and electricity wasn't as reliable as a fire. In Orion's eyes, they still lived in the stone age. Because he'd rather read than participate in sports, that made him weak.

Showing up to the Ball of Saints with a beautiful wife proved something at least. Of course, they would give him a hard time for still being pure, but he wanted to make sure things happened the right way. The ritual of the sacrifice was always unpredictable. For some, they had an instant moment of love. Others, a relationship grew over time. It was far more respectable of him to wait than force her into something neither of them was ready for. He wouldn't be the only newly wed man who still maintained his purity there, anyway. At least they could all say he had good taste.

Esie's gaze wandered over the room and settled on something toward the back. “Excuse me, I see some punch.”

“Would you like me to get it for you?” Orion asked.

“No, it's fine. I shouldn't be too long. I'm more than capable of getting it myself. How about you find us a table to sit at. Those seem to be few and far between,” she said and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

He smiled down at her. “Of course.” He watched her go, disappearing into the crowd. The night would be perfect.

* * * * *

Esie made sure she left Orion's side as casually as possible. She didn't want him to follow her around the whole time, and she had to make sure she could get lost in the crowd. When she arrived at the beverage table, she glanced over her shoulder to see if she could spot him and smiled when he was no where to be found. They were both lost in the sea of people.

The Ball of Saints was unlike anything Esie had ever been to before. Women in beautiful dresses sashayed around the room and handsome young men in tuxedos escorted them. Everyone laughed, and seemed to be enjoying themselves, yet there was a strange kind of tension in the air. She noticed the men all had the strange disease in their fingernails that made them black, and she couldn't help but wonder if that meant they were actually dragons rather than men after all. A fact about Orion she was still having a hard time processing.

I have to find Timothy. She scanned the room, looking for the one friend she had left that could hopefully do something for her. It took some time, but she found him lingering toward the back not too far away. He leaned against a door frame and it relaxed her when she noticed he looked bored. That would help her cause greatly.

Taking in a deep breath, she walked over to him. He was just as handsome as ever in his tuxedo. Certainly, Orion was fabulous in his as well. In some ways even more so than Timothy, which startled her to even think. Each step she took closer to him, her heart started to race all the more. From fear or attraction, she couldn't quite figure out, however. Because while he was indeed handsome, she was terrified. And when her gaze met his and he did not smile, her confidence wavered. Timothy was different than the last time she'd seen him, and she couldn't quite figure out why.

She swallowed and walked up to him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yes,” he said dryly. “What are you doing here Esie?”

No, “I'm glad you're alive and okay”. In fact, there was no joy present at all in his voice. He knew what had happened, and that confirmed it all for her. Timothy was a dragon.

“I'm here as a guest,” she said flatly. “And yourself?”

“Same, just as I am one every year. I meant, what are you doing here talking to me?”

“I think you know.”

He shook his head. “Go back to your husband.”

She recoiled at the word. “I don't love him.”

“You don't love me either.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No,” he stated. “You don't.” He glanced around him and sighed before grabbing her arm firmly and pulling her outside to the balcony with him. Few guests were out that way. Though it was a little on the cold side, the moonlight and stars made it worthwhile. It was romantic and beautiful, and she loved having to use him for warmth. If only he'd stop moving away from her, so she could enjoy it more.

“You have to stop this,” he said once they were alone. “You need to let me go.”

Esie shook her head, confused. This was not how she imagined their reunion happening. He was supposed to be happy she was alive and well. He was supposed to save her. How could he not care at all? When he tried to leave, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her body.

“Tell me I've always meant nothing to you. Our relationship has always been special to me. I care for you because of who you are, not because of your family or anything else so superficial. We've had a lot of fond memories. Tell me it all meant nothing and I'll let you go,” she pleaded.

Timothy's blue eyes met her own and he averted his gaze away. “He's my cousin Esmeralda, and on top of that the son of my Great Lord. I can't. I have always thought you kind and beautiful. Things any man would want in a future bride, but if you are looking for me to take you away from him, I won't. It's not right. Besides, I have found another to be my wife. It just wasn't meant to be. You'll understand that some day.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I don't understand, you're right about that much. You haven't wed this other woman yet, and I haven't consummated mine. Doesn't that mean we could make something work?”

“No, it doesn't.”

“But I don't love him.”

“Have you even tried? Because when it comes to my family, Orion is probably the best husband material you'll find -- especially when it comes to meeting your needs. You're so stubborn.” He shook his head.

“Why should I try? He took me away!” She folded her arms in front of her and she shivered from the cold.

His eyes closed and he exhaled slowly before opening them again. “Regardless of how we feel, I won't betray my kin. My people believe in divine appointment, destiny. The ritual of the sacrifice has its purpose. It's not fair to you, I do understand that, but there is a reason you were chosen for him. Your paths were meant to cross some how. God puts people in our way every day. The smallest of strangers in the simplest of interactions can turn into a huge impacting moment for either one of you. If I try to stake a claim on your heart, I do believe I would be thwarting His plans. Orion is like a brother to me, anyway. He picked you, so he must think you're special too.”

“The priests picked me,” she said.

“And he agreed. For some reason, he wanted you to be his wife.”

She laughed. “He said it was because they told him I had a brain.”

Timothy nodded. “So use it. Don't hurt him by doing this. You're only going to make things harder on us all.”

“Then I suppose I'll have to run away,” she whispered.

“Don't. Please, don't.”

“I will not be a wife to someone I barely know – to someone I don't love,” she said firmly. She picked up the skirts of her dress and turned to leave. Orion stood in the doorway, his face solemn and pale. One look at him and she knew he had heard more than she wanted him to.

* * * * *

Orion stormed back inside, pushing his way through the crowd. My cousin! She wants to be with him! Has that been her plan all along? Because they act as though they've met before. He sighed. Timothy lives near where she grew up. Just my luck. He couldn't decipher just what he was feeling. Anger, jealousy, those two were certain, but there was something else gnawing at him on the inside. His heart was racing, but his stomach was sick and cramping. Was his heart breaking? Did he actually love her? Esie had caught his eye, intrigued him, and he knew she was a woman he could love someday - but had that someday come sooner than he anticipated?

A hand gripped his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts and back to reality. He'd been expecting the hand to belong to Timothy, but it was Esie who was touching him.

"If you're going to apologize and try to make up with me, save your breath," he said. Bitterness filled his heart and he hated it. He hated loathing someone as greatly as he did her. In that moment, all he wanted to do was make her regret everything she'd done to cause him pain.

Esie played with her hands in front of her. Why did she have to be so beautiful? That was her weapon against him. She took in a deep breath, then spoke.

"I'm sorry you were hurt by all of this, though I know it would have been impossible to avoid. You're a good man, and you deserve far better than me."

He laughed sourly. "You're right about that."

"I pray you can forgive me some day, but I do mean what I said. I do not wish to be wed to a man I do not love."

Taking her hand firmly in his own, Orion dragged her to the dance floor. When she opened her mouth to protest, he placed a finger to her soft lips. He put a hand on her waist and then raised her right hand with his left. They would share in one waltz. He would have one magical moment with her. With a slight roughness, he pulled her in closer to him, staking his claim upon her in front of everyone, one last time. He gazed into her deep purple/blue eyes and saw the tears pooled in them. The scent of lavender, salt, and plumb mixed inside of his nostrils. Good, she should be sad.

And they danced. Gracefully, he led her around the dance floor, not once looking away from her eyes. Her cheeks flushed, the plumb and lavender started to fade and transform into a rich, potent, cinnamon. When the song ended, and the band began to play another, he let go of her as if she were some kind of a poison. Esie held herself, the tears in her eyes spilling down her face.

Orion leaned into her ear. "Go, and do not show your face to me again. Have the freedom you so desire."

* * * * *

Esie couldn't stop crying. I've really made a mess of things. She should have never thought of doing something so stupid. Of course Timothy wouldn't help her. He was one of them, a dragon, and she imagined his loyalty needed to stay strong with his kin. After all, with such a great secret as being a human as well as a dragon, why would he choose her over his family?

She didn't understand dragons and their politics. What if she'd caused some kind of great rift, or a war? Would Orion really let her go? Wouldn't she be considered a liability?

A handkerchief dropped in front of her face. "Dry your eyes," Timothy said. His voice was much more gentle than she expected.

Taking the handkerchief, she did as she was told, not wanting to cause any more problems. The ball must have just been ending. She had spent most of her night hiding by the entrance. Ideally, she would have left, but she had no where else to go. It was too cold for her to wander the city on her own, and she was terrified of getting lost or hurt. So she stayed at the ball until she could figure out some kind of plan, secretly hoping Orion would return and help her.

"He's gone," she said in-between sniffles.

"I know," Timothy said. "I still stand by my statement of not pursuing this. However, it would be wrong to leave you on your own to fend for yourself. I know a woman who is in need of a live-in maid. She doesn't pay much, but she will provide a warm place to sleep at night. It'll be enough to help you figure out what to do with yourself. She's not far from here, actually. I shall walk you over."

"T-thank you," she whispered.

He nodded and escorted her to the door, keeping himself at a distance. When they were outside, he let out a long breath. "According to the laws of my people, you should be executed before you have the chance to tell of our secret. You have rejected the man who has claimed you. It's happened before. There have been other women who have left their husbands before the consummation of their marriage. These women are easier to hide. A woman who has mated with a dragon goes through a number of changes. To another dragon, they stick out like a sore thumb."

She glanced up at him, shivering, but not from the cold. "So are you going to--"

"I meant what I said about taking you to live with this woman, but no one must know that you are married to Orion. To one of us."

Us, meaning dragon. She nodded. "No, of course not. I will not breathe a word of it to anyone. I swear."

Timothy's blue eyes fixated on her intently. "Keep it and your vows. He may have told you, you were released, but you are still technically his until he formally declares otherwise. Which he won't do because then you may very well be hunted. He will have to wait until the timing is right. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Keep your vows. Promise me."

"I promise," she whispered. The wrath of one dragon had already been ignited; she didn't want to fan the flames any higher.

* * * * *

Orion watched Esie get settled into her new home, gazing at her from the outside. He could see her upstairs, basking in the orange light inside of the house where she was safe and warm. His heart still ached, but he knew he had to let her go -- for her sanity as well as his own. Time apart would help both of them to sort through their own feelings. He would let her think he was gone from her life for a little while before approaching her again.

The door to Mrs. Pinkerton's home opened, and Timothy stepped out. He crossed the street, joining Orion under the overhang of a pastry shop. It was closed, and dark, and provided for a nice shelter from the cold wind.

"Did she agree to your terms?" Orion asked.

"You mean your terms disguised as my advice?" Timothy raised an eyebrow.

Orion shrugged. "They aren't a lie, you know this. Did she agree?"

"Yes, she agreed. She will remain pure until you decide her fate."

Orion nodded. "Thank you. Had I escorted her to this arrangement, I fear she would have tried to talk me out of it. Simply out of duty if nothing else. She needs to want me again on her own terms, not out of fear. It hurts, but I respect her desires. I don't want a loveless relationship anymore than she does. I only wish she was more honest."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Timothy said.

"I do, and I will watch her and protect her just like I promised," Orion vowed. Everything would come together at the right moment. Until then, he would watch her and keep her safe from afar.

Short Story Challenge : Late For the Ball - Heather Gray

Last night I gave the authors a challenge - create a short story about attending a ball {no other instructions were given}. We'll be featuring these stories over the next few weeks. ~Angieleigh




Late for the Ball


Oh no! I'm going to be late to the ball! Fashionably late is one thing, but this is beyond the pale!

Myra looked at herself in the mirror and studied what she saw. Her silver-blonde hair was piled high atop her head and decorated with blue feathers. Her gown was the finest French satin a girl could find in London and of the softest sky blue. No evening primrose for me! I've seen animals make messes prettier than that color! Her blue eyes sparkled with… Let's face it. That's dread you see there, girl! Her skin was ivory, and her complexion was smooth. She reached up and pinched her cheeks to add a little color and then studied her lips, full and red. Father always said I had the mouth of a harlot. Too bad I finally got old enough to understand what he meant.

Tonight was the night. She was supposed to meet the Earl of Allegory. Her parents had already signed the betrothal contract. She'd never met the man but had heard much about him. He had black hair, darkly tanned skin, the blackest eyes and was said to be able to see right through a person to their very soul. Myra was sure the stories were untrue. No man could be quite as menacing as the rumors made the Earl seem. Then again…

Myra ran down the stairs, her slippers making no sound on the grand staircase. Jenkins, the butler, was waiting for her and opened the door with a grand bow. "Thank you Jenkins. Say a prayer for me. I'm to meet the devil himself tonight," were her parting words to the faithful servant. Her parents were not accompanying her to the ball. Her father was at his club, and her mother had retired early with another headache. They signed away the rest of her life but couldn't be bothered to introduce her to the man themselves.

When she arrived at the Atelier Ball, the footman opened the door for her and said, "Best wishes, My Lady. I'm sure it'll work out." How she loved her staff! They treated her with all the kindness that her parents failed to do.

"Thank you Lewis. I shall survive it, I'm certain."

As she reached the top of the grand entrance, the Atelier's butler announced her. "Lady Myra Sedulous." His voice rang out across the ballroom as she entered. Her name wasn't important enough to warrant much attention. However, being late as she was, more than a few heads turned in her direction. Not accustomed to the amount of scrutiny she received from the other guests, she quickly made her way over to the refreshments. She was about to reach for a glass of lemonade when a voice stilled her.

"You must be my betrothed."

Myra turned to look at the man. Taller than any other man at the ball, he was also broad-shouldered and fearsome in appearance. Determined to smile, she instead felt the corners of her mouth droop as his eyes burned into her. "And you are?" she asked, a quiver in her voice.

He threw his head back and laughed, but it was not the laugh of a man meeting his betrothed. It was the laugh of a wild animal about to devour its prey. "Why, I am the Earl of Allegory, of course. And you, my dear, are all mine."

Fear sliced through Myra's middle. She reached a hand out to the refreshment table, hoping to steady herself. In the process, she knocked over a cup of lemonade, and her glove became soaked with the sticky mess. How shall I ever escape this madness?

Just then, a cacophony arose from the other side of the ballroom. She could not see what was making the noise, but the sound grew increasingly insistent, drawing her toward it. Leaving the Earl standing at the lemonade table, she ran toward the noise.

With a start, Myra awoke and reached a hand out to silence her alarm only to find it wasn't where she normally left it. No, wait a minute. You're the one who's not in the right place. Looking about her room, she saw her stuffed bear and tiger sitting on her bed. "Good morning Lewis. Good morning Jenkins," she said sleepily. The alarm finally stopped buzzing of its own accord. She'd fallen asleep at her desk again, this time studying for an algebra test. Ooh, gross. I drooled on my math book and my hand. Reaching for a tissue to wipe up the mess, her eyes fell on her clock, and she realized she'd set the alarm for the wrong time. Oh no! I'm going to be late!

Myra's mother poked her head in around her bedroom door. "You can't get out of this algebra test, and I can't go with you. You're going to have to face it alone, but I hope you'll be able to do so with a smile on your face. I'm sure you've done your best to prepare for it."

"You're throwing me to the wolves Mom, and you know it."

Her mother laughed as she moved down the hallway and away from Myra's room. Nonetheless, her singsong voice reached back to where Myra stood, still wiping her hand and book off. "Think of it as a lovely ball or something. I'm sure that'll make it easier to handle."

New Release: The Millionaire Plan - Kay Harborne.

Amber Wynters is on a mission to find a millionaire to marry – and fast. Her parents are nearly bankrupt and forced to sell the family home, a beautiful Tudor house that had been in the family for generations. And it’s all thanks to Amber’s ex-fiancé Rod persuading them to invest in his dodgy shares. So armed with a ‘How to Hook a Millionaire’ Book and a ten point plan, she sets off to hook herself a rich husband. Then she meets the drop-down gorgeous Jed Curtess. The at-traction between them is sizzling but Jed is only a hired hand on one of the millionaire’s yachts. Can Amber ignore her heart and follow her plan?

New Release: Something Like A Lady - Kim Bowman & Kay Springsteen

She closed her eyes and twirled, imagining the handsomest prince as her dancing partner. Juliet might think it a child’s tale to dream of true love, but Annabella didn't think that at—
Strong arms caught her in mid-spin and a hand settled at her waist. Annabella’s eyes flew open and she screamed. But the dashing stranger grinned and whirled her around then released her.


There are worse things than hiding in a derelict old cottage, battling field mice, and sucking on one's last lemon. Or so Lady Annabella Price firmly believes. For example, spending the Season in London with her stepbrother and husband-hunting, as her mother has ordered. Instead, Annabella sends her maid in her place and exults in her questionable triumph... until the insufferable Lord Seabrook shows up.

It seems like a simple favor for a friend, something to distract him from his need to find an acceptable wife. Jonathan Durham, Fourth Earl of Seabrook, travels to Haselmere to find the duke's stepsister and make certain no harm has befallen her. But Annabella is no damsel in distress. She's a willful, spirited lady, and the impetuous beauty intrigues Seabrook. When they're caught in a compromising position and forced into a hurried marriage, Seabrook sees it as the perfect answer to both their problems. But how can he convince his unwilling bride to give their marriage a chance when she's determined to have it dissolved?

New Release: Beulah the Bull - C. C. Troy

Susan Ann Jones created the perfect, self-sufficient world for herself. She's organized, unattached, childless, and has worked in the same business office for twenty-two years. She's the only child of devout Catholics, but does just fine without spirituality. It's when her life hits a wall---her company is outsourced the same week she turns forty---that she concludes she’s disappointed herself and everyone else by not extending herself more. In a depressed mood late one night, she goes against well-ordered character and lowballs a bid on five acres of vacant ranch land in her native state of Arizona. Times being what they are, she's shocked a few days later to learn her bid was accepted! For the escape she throws herself into “the mistake” and decides to go camping. Yet, it’s here that God will tell her how much she means to Him by sending a unique angel: Beulah, a British White Bull raised by a little girl who died of cancer and whose father became a minister after her loss. With a funny and touching style, Susan tells her story of blossoming faith in herself, in others, and especially in things known only to the soul.

This title is available on Amazon Only for $1.99!

Flashback Friday

Young Adult

Jenny Fleming prides herself on being the perfect temporary employee who works at Taralon to do bookkeeping and light housework, however Taralon represents a challenge. Why is the prosperous-looking property running at a loss? Before she can find any answers someone tries to murder her, and she is suspected of doping a racehorse.

Wayne Paterson has to discover where his new employee fits into Taralon and if the racehorse doping and the cattle stealing was really her fault. The only thing he is sure of is that she has stolen his heart with her courage and her sweet smile. How can Wayne trust her again if she truly is guilty?

And if she’s innocent, how can she prove it?

Chapter One

The countryside was flat and monotonous and Jenny stifled

a yawn. They had been driving since early morning and now,

several silent hours later, she regretted her impulsive action in

taking on the temporary live-­‐‑in position of bookkeeping and light

housekeeping. The arrogance of the man interviewing her had got

under her skin, so she had jumped in feet first.

“If you are sick of being cooped up after your last job, it

might be a break from office work,” the girl from the Agency had

suggested.

Jenny had grinned at that. She had just got back from her

first free morning at the beach when the Agency had rung to ask if

she was interested in an immediate position of temporary

employee at a country property.

“A bit of paperwork and some light housekeeping, until the

permanent recovers from her accident, or whatever, and he’ll want

to leave six tomorrow morning. Can you make the interview by

four?”

Jenny had been offered quite a few permanent jobs but, after

two years with the Agency, she wasn’t interested in a permanent

position. She liked the challenge of different jobs, and prided

herself on her ability to cope with whatever came up.

She had left straight away, arriving punctually on the stroke

of four at the foyer of the city hotel. However, the man who had

moved forward to introduce himself as Wayne Paterson examined

her doubtfully, a scowl knotting the black brows in a bar above his

cool grey eyes.

“Miss Jenny Fleming?” he asked, and from then on the

interview had gone straight downhill, and ended up to be more of

a headlong confrontation than an interview. “I was expecting

someone older. You look too young for what is required.”

Jenny had taken a deep breath, deciding that this job

wouldn’t really suit her at all. She wasn’t into chauvinistic,

patronizing employers. She plunged into battle.

“I’m twenty-­‐‑two. They didn’t specify you wanted to see a

birth certificate.”

“I wanted someone responsible.”

“I’m even responsible,” Jenny returned smoothly.

The anger had started to build. How dare he be so rude? She

hadn’t had time to change and had left home straight away, so she

was still in her beach wear: sundress, flat-­‐‑heeled sandals and the

wide brimmed sun hat tilted over the two plaits over her shoulders.

The grey eyes of her would-­‐‑be employer became even

frostier at her reply. Jenny got the message: he wasn’t used to

anyone answering him back. He stood up to indicate the interview

had been terminated.

“There are three children to be supervised, as well as the

bookwork, and it is important to have someone with sufficient

experience and stamina to cope.”

Jenny stood up. She didn’t want the position anyway, but

temper and her stubborn streak pushed her into recklessness. Her

would-­‐‑be employer was arrogant and judgmental, making

sweeping assessments about her competence on a single meeting.

What right did he think he had to flick his eyes over her so

contemptuously?

“My references should speak for themselves and, despite

your personal views, I do have enough stamina and experience to

cope with children.” She let an acid note creep into her voice. “As

you will find it difficult to get anyone else with my qualifications at

such short notice, and for such a temporary period, I suggest you

live dangerously and accept the Agency recommendation to

employ me.”

That had stung, she thought triumphantly, as she watched

the ugly red flood into his cheeks.

He glared back down at her. His grey eyes were outlined

with black lashes that gave a smoldering intensity to his gaze. She

wondered if he was going to erupt in temper, and stepped out of

reach as she gave him a dimpled smile and took over firmly. “I look

forward to meeting you back here at six tomorrow morning then.”

She gave a gracious nod as though she assumed consent. She

had glanced around as she marched away, and now felt those grey

eyes boring into her back, but he had only given an ironic salute

before turning and striding back into the hotel.

The next morning his aloof courtesy was all that could be

desired as he put her case in the boot and opened the door of the

big car. Jenny fastened her seat belt. She’d tucked her hair in a tight

chignon, and wore a tailored grey slacks suit and shoes with

sensible heels. She had an instant flash of satisfaction when she first

arrived, realizing that he hadn’t recognized her behind her

sunglasses until she spoke. Then there was a look of startled

awareness, and he retreated behind his silence.

Her reluctant employer looked less overpowering this

morning in casual slacks and long-­‐‑sleeved shirt. The breadth of his

shoulders under his light-­‐‑colored shirt made his height less

noticeable, but he was still a tall man. He had jet-­‐‑black hair, and

this morning the black bars of his eyebrows were raised into an

arch over alert grey eyes.

Jenny studied his profile out of the corner of her eyes as he

drove skillfully through the city traffic and along the freeway. He

had regular features, high cheekbones, a fairly prominent nose and

a determined jaw. His mouth was firm and well shaped, and there

were laughter lines around the corners.

Jenny revised her estimate of his age. Without the

unpleasantly grim mouth and the tension, he looked to be in his

early thirties. His firm mouth quirked upwards into a wry grin as

he became aware of her scrutiny.

“It’s a long drive,” he advised. “Make yourself comfortable.”

They were the last words he spoke for several hours. Jenny

spent her time regretting her impulsive action in forcing him to

accept her as the only candidate for the position. The job would,

without a doubt, be unpleasant and boring, and the only thing

going for it was the fact that it was temporary.

He spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ll stop for lunch

soon,” he promised. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

That was the extent of their conversation. At the next

country town, the car purred to a stop in front of the old-­‐‑fashioned

hotel. Wayne Paterson got out and escorted Jenny up the steps and

through to the dining room. She sniffed at the aroma of roasting

beef and steamed vegetables and decided she was very hungry.

Breakfast had been a sketchy tea and toast.

Jenny didn’t let the silence of her employer prevent her from

enjoying her roast dinner and sweets. Her companion seemed less

interested in his food, and pushed away his plate without finishing.

He waited until she had finished a second cup of coffee before

ushering her back to the car, glancing at his watch with a worried

expression.

“Are we behind schedule?” Jenny demanded. “You didn’t

really have to wait for me to have two cups of coffee.”

“I am anxious to get back,” Wayne admitted. “The children

need constant supervision at the moment.”

“Your children?” Jenny asked.

“My sister’s,” he said flatly. The countryside was

undulating. His eyes watched the road as sit unwound ahead of

them. A tic twitched at the side of his face. “She was killed last

month in a car accident.”

Jenny was too shocked to risk saying anything. She revised

her opinion of the tall man with the worried eyes and the tense

lines around his mouth. It sounded like a pretty traumatic scene to

be involved in. No wonder he was so uptight at the interview!

“Marise, her assistant, was thrown clear and escaped with a

few broken ribs and a broken ankle.”

“And I’m relieving until Marise is well enough to return to

work?” Jenny guessed.

“The kids have been a bit of a handful,” he muttered.

“I like kids. How old are they?”

She was rewarded with a quick glance. “Well, that’s

something,” he said drily.

Jenny repressed her quick retort. Wayne Paterson’s tension

and irritability were suddenly understandable, and made him seem

more human and somehow vulnerable.

“Tell me about them?” she coaxed. “It will be less difficult to

step in and take over if I know something about them.”

His face softened and his mouth curved up into a proper

smile. Jenny felt herself warming to that smile. It altered his entire

face. The cold aloofness and arrogance was gone completely. It was

obvious that he was a doting uncle to his sister’s children.

The car purred along the endless winding road and the

afternoon sun slanted lower. Wayne Patterson’s nephews, John and

Allan Williams, were twelve and ten and caught a bus to school.

Meredith, nearly five, was still home all day. The property was

called Taralon, and mainly ran beef cattle, horses and some sheep.

“Gwenda’s death seems to have traumatized her husband,

Bill,” he explained flatly. “So the kids aren’t settling down at all.

I’ve been staying to help but, sooner or later, I have to get back to

my own place. The housekeeper, Mrs. Harris, has got enough to do

without having to do the books and keep an eye on Merry. Which

is why I needed someone to fill in until things settled down.”

“No one can replace your sister, or familiar faces around the

place, but I will try my best to be of assistance,” Jenny said quietly.

“It sounds as if it has been a dreadful few weeks.”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

It was now dark and the headlights probed onwards

through the darkness. It was only a short time later that the car

slowed down and turned through an ornate set of gates.

Jenny sat up. This would be the entrance to Taralon! Half an

hour of winding narrow track and then over a steep hill before they

arrived. The moon was high in the sky and, on the other side of the

hill, Jenny looked down into a cleared valley. A cluster of buildings

and the lights of a sprawling house beckoned through the darkness.

Wayne slowed and then stopped the car in the front of the

house. He tooted the horn. Three children burst from the house and

came tumbling down the steps of the veranda. The small girl

reached the car first, and flung herself into her uncle’s arms as he

stepped from the car.

“Uncle Wayne,” she shrieked.

The two boys reached him and clung to him. Jenny

stretched, opened the door and stood waiting. A stooped figure

had followed the children down the steps, and also waited. Wayne

put the little girl down, and disentangled himself from the clutches

of the two boys.

“Jenny Fleming, please meet Bill Williams and, of course,

Merry, John and Allan.”

“Pleased to meet you Miss Fleming,” the other man said

tonelessly.

“It’s Jenny,” she smiled, holding out her hand.

“Yes,” the man said absently, not seeming to notice her

outstretched hand. “Mrs. Harris has kept dinner. Do come in.”

“I’ll put the car away, and bring up your case,” Wayne

called.

He got back into the car with the three children and drove it

around the house. Jenny followed the stooped figure up the steps,

across the wide veranda, and through a screen door that led into a

large kitchen.

She stood blinking in the light for a few seconds. Behind his

bent and weary frame she could see that Bill Williams had graying

tousled hair and a gaunt hollow-­‐‑cheeked face with pale blinking

eyes. The kitchen seemed huge, with a large center table, benches

around the wall, and a couch along the window with a girl sitting

on it. A stoutly built woman by the table turned with a smile as

they came in.

“Miss Jenny Fleming,” Bill Williams introduced as he pulled

out a chair for her and rested a hand on the back of it. She saw it

was shaking a little. “Meet Mrs. Harris.”

“Welcome to Taralon, Jenny,” Mrs. Harris said with a smile.

The other door opened. Wayne Paterson came in quietly

with the children following him. Jenny smiled at them but they

ignored her, hovering closely around Wayne.

A husky chuckle came from the couch. Jenny directed her

attention to the girl on the couch, a plaster cast on one long leg, and

crutches leaning against the wall. Her first impression was one of

dazzle, of white teeth, of gleaming eyes and shining blonde hair.

“Hello, Marise,” Wayne said. “Back are you? Have you met

Jenny Fleming?”

The girl had hazel eyes under the shining fringe of hair. She

inspected Jenny, and her red lips curled up in a mocking smile.

Jenny met her gaze steadily, but she felt the hackles on the back of

her neck rise at the contemptuous look. Was her brown hair that

untidy and her grey slacks suit that shoddy looking?

“Hello, Jenny Wren,” Marise said with a smile, but her eyes

were wary and watchful. “Where did Wayne find you, I wonder?”

“An employment agency, Marise,” Jenny returned smoothly.

Marise lost her mocking, amused smile. She leaned back on

the couch and gave Jenny a long, venomous look. Jenny pretended

not to see, but her heart sank.

She was going to have to look after three children who

stared at her with wary hostility. Her actual employer was the

distracted, stooped man who didn’t seem to see her properly and,

to cap it off, she had just acquired the inexplicable enmity of the

girl she was relieving, the beautiful Marise.

This particular temporary job was certainly going to

represent a challenge for her competence and ability! Just what had

she let herself in for this time?