A Gamble Worth Taking

My very first historical.  I loved this story and  writing it was incredibly fun.  Dipping my toes into the paranormal and placing it in historical England was a lotof fun.  It also is one of my novels that got a lot of notice and has done well as far as sales go.  I hope you enjoy this taste.  Remember, all these novels that I am highlighting here can be found for sale at All Romance Ebooks.

Chapter One

The rough wooden door splintered and bit into her fists. Pain from the gashes it left radiated up her arms but was forgotten instantly as Lara kept pounding and beating at the door, praying that someone, anyone would come and free her from this place.

Someone or anyone but him.

Matthew Trent, Fourth Duke of Marshalling, was the reason she was behind these doors, locked into a chamber that was high in the tower of his castle. He was the reason she was trapped here, unable to escape, unable to leave this place of horrors. She was to be forced into marriage, the contract signed and validated by people of power, leaving her no recourse but to be brought to this place.

It was her father's fault. If not for his stubborn refusal to quit the life of debauched gambler and the debts that he had acquired, she would not be here now, a prisoner to the worst of the rogues that court had ever seen. Lord Matthew was that, a rogue with the penchant for seducing young virgins and leaving them, soiled and spoiled, to be rushed into quickly contracted marriages. He drank and gambled, but unlike her father, Lord Matthew had a way with a wager, never leaving a table as a loser.

His prowess with both women and cards was legendary, as was his skill with the sword and his aim with a pistol.

He had come to their home, a small, modest manor house very unlike the huge castle that was his residence He'd come to retrieve what he was owed by her father. Money that they did not have and had no way of acquiring for her father's friends and family had cut them off without a cent. With his high hat and starched cravat, deep claret colored coat and fawn colored breeches, he'd been the epitome of the dashing young lord.

But in this instance, the clothes didn't make the man, though they did frame what the good Lord had blessed him with. Black hair, rich and thick, curled past his shoulders, clubbed back and tied with a black ribbon. High cheekbones under taut skin and a thin, aristocratic nose, sat above lips that were just a trifle too wide. Black brows slashed across a wide forehead and thickly lashed eyes that were a piercing shade of green seemed to see all with barely a glance.  His face and hands were tanned, which bespoke of a man with a love of good horses and riding.

He'd been shown into their parlor by their one and only servant, a woman who'd been with them since before her mother's death ten years before. She'd taken over, raising Lara and her little sister Kathleen, as her father had lost interest in his daughters with the death of his beloved wife. The servant, Mary, was too old to go and find a new post and stayed with the family despite the fact that she hadn't been paid in years.

If Lara had only known, she would have stayed in her room that day instead of investigating the raised voice of her father. But no, the curse of curiosity had been stamped on her early in life, always leading her down the path of trouble, and today was no different.

She crept down the creaking stairs, carefully maneuvering around the third riser that would snap and pop and give her presence away. Slipping carefully past the door to the parlor, she'd peered inside, staring at the back of her father's head as he yelled and postulated to the man who sat in his big leather chair in front of the fire that must have been started just for him.

Lara felt her heart leap in her breast as she stared at the handsome lord, for he truly was a most pleasing specimen to look upon. His eyes were incredible, inscrutable, as was his expression as he listened to her father make his many excuses and rage about the hand he had been dealt.

She must have made some small noise, for he suddenly turned her way, his eyes spotting her in the open doorway and freezing her to the spot. She felt a thrill of fear, for his expression was no longer that of the bored lord. No, he stared at her with a smile that spoke of other things than boredom, things that she knew nothing about at her tender age. Things that she could only guess at and feel a shiver of terror as his eyes slid down her body.

With a gasp, she forced herself away, turning to flee up the stairs, jumping over that third riser and rushing to her room. Throwing herself upon her bed, she pushed down her long skirts and buried her heated face into her palms. There had been something there, something in his eyes that had made her feel dirty and ashamed. She would have to ask her father who he was, for the man had scared her, not a feeling she was used to as she was the one to whom all the problems of the manor fell to.

She didn't know how long she laid there before she realized that the loud and raucous voice of her father was silent now, though she hadn't heard the door close behind the strange visitor. Getting up, she went to the pitcher of water that sat on the small stand and poured some into the basin, rinsing her face and hands with the cool liquid.

As she was wiping them dry on the ragged towel left for that purpose, there was a knock upon her door. Mary opened it at her bidding.

"Milady, you are wanted in the parlor," she said, her well modulated tones enunciating the words carefully.

"Mary, is that man still here?" Lara asked, her voice quivering just a bit in fear.

"Yes, milady. A fine gent he is too, a duke or an earl, I believe." She bobbed a quick curtsey and left the room now that her message had been delivered.

"A fine gentleman," Lara repeated softly, her hand at her breast as her heart beat rapidly as if trying to flee from her body. Taking a deep breath, she went to her dressing table and picked up her brush, quickly taming the blonde mass of curls that resisted her pins. She thought of changing her gown for the one she kept for good, to go to mass or to tea if they were invited, but decided against it. Her father would be up here himself to drag her down to the parlor if she didn't come in goodly time.

Brushing her skirts into place, she took a deep breath and left the safety of her room once more, descending the stairs in a much more refined manner than she had before. She tapped on the parlor door and then stepped inside, her head bowed as she waited for her father to bid her to speak.

"Here she is, your grace, here she is." Her father sounded as if he and the duke, or was it earl, had debated upon her arrival. And now that she was here, he was rubbing his hands in glee. "Stand tall girl, raise your head and let his grace get a good look at you."

Lara did as she was bid, lifting her chin and letting her shaking hands clasp in front of her skirt. She felt the eyes of her father's guest upon her and stiffened her resolve. She would not let either man see her fear for her father was known for his little tortures. It would give him much pleasure to break her resolve this day and in front of this man, Lara could sense it.

She didn't know what their guest thought, but he took his time with his inspection of her person, finally rising to walk with a limping gait towards her. Lara met his eyes, feeling the power of his green gaze and fought not to turn away. She wanted to, for the things she saw there were frightening to the innocent girl. As he came towards her, she lifted her chin, finding that he was so much taller than she, much taller than she had expected.

* * *

Matthew’s eyes roamed over the beautiful girl standing in the doorway, his gaze widening.  She was love, graceful and vivid; nothing like the man standing before him.  "She is a fine looking girl, Edward. But what would I do with the insipid miss?" he asked, his voice bored, his stance languid, belaying the depth of attraction that pulled at him.

Golden curls escaped pins and tumbled around her with an artless beauty, skin as pale as ivory and as flawless as silk blushed under his inspection. Her eyes, when they met his, had seemed hazel but as he came closer, they turned amber with a dark brown ring circling the iris. A pert nose and lush, full lips completed the picture in a heart shaped face blessed with a pointed stubborn looking chin.

The gown she wore was horrid, unflattering and plain. She should be dressed in satins and silk, velvets and lace, with diamonds dripping from her pretty ears and caressing the long length of her neck. He could see her in midnight blue velvet with a plunging neckline that made the most of her exquisite breasts, the color causing her skin to gleam like a pearl.

She was petite, but her figure was curvaceous though much too slender. He would have to fatten her up some if he took her with him.

"You said your family was after you to wed, your grace. My family is related to royalty, though we have fallen upon difficult times. If you were to take my daughter as your wife, her bride's price could be the amount that was agreed upon."

"A wife?" Matthew asked, his voice breaking with laughter. "What would I do with one of those? They cling and whine and are inordinately annoying if the truth were to be told."

But even as he laughed off the suggestion he realized the merit of the man's ideas. She was a timid lass and would probably be happy shipped off to his country estate once he tired of using her body to slake his lusts. And she would make a lovely hostess for the balls and parties his family was hounding him to have so that he could launch his three younger sisters into society.

He needed sons to pass his title and lands down to, though he had no plans to die for many years yet. Matthew walked around the girl once more, his hands clasped in thought, one finger tapping his lips as he mused over the idea.

"Wife?" the girl gasped, staring at her father with a look of horror. She'd thought to meet and marry a tender and gentle young man, one who would love her and care for her. Not someone like this dark lord whose eyes seemed to strip her bare and make her feel wanting. "You cannot be serious, father."

"Quiet, girl. Do as you are bid. This matter does not concern you." Edward could have slapped Lara. She would ruin everything with her unruly tongue and her overly intelligent mannish ways. He'd never understood the girl, for she showed none of the traits that he thought a genteel young woman should. Her nose was always in a book, but he knew not where she got them, for he had sold all the books in the house and had wagered the money on a horse race.

She bickered and fought with him, her voice nagging in his ears as he dragged himself home, drunk and more in debt night after night. To be rid of her would be a blessing. He couldn't for the life of him think why he hadn't had this idea before.

Matthew's eyes lit as he saw her argue with her father. There was some spirit in her after all. It would be a pleasure to teach her a wife's place in and out of bed. "I suppose that the idea does show merit. Fine, have her things packed. I shall send a coach for her to bring you both to my estate where the papers shall be signed and the banns posted." He stepped closer to the girl, causing her to tip her head back far to stare up at him. With a grin, he dropped a kiss upon her nose, startling her so that she took a step back. "We shall deal well together, ah," he looked at Edward in askance.

"Lara, your grace. Lara Elizabeth Ashley Maitland."

"Lara, yes, we shall deal well with each other." He stepped back awkwardly, bowing quickly and left the room.

As he was handed his hat at the door, he heard her voice ring out in tones of anger that made him smile. "You've just sold me in marriage to a man who didn't even know my name, father. How could you?"

* * *

The coach had come as Matthew had promised and Lara was loaded aboard as if she were just so much baggage, her arguments and recriminations ignored. She'd thought to run but had found herself locked in her room with the order to pack her things or find them left behind and sold off for what they would bring if she didn't. And then the door was locked and she was left to stew.

She'd packed her few belongings, her books and the locket she'd managed to keep hidden from her father that had belonged to her mother. Her other gown was folded and placed with care in the small valise she'd been given, a drawing done by her sister Kathleen went on top and that was it, all she had in this world. She'd had no other choice; stubbornness would have meant losing everything.

Lara hadn't even been allowed to wish her sister good-bye, though Kathleen sat in the window in the parlor and waved as the coach had driven off.

When they'd reached their destination, a huge castle that could be seen from a great distance, Lara thought she'd disgrace herself and be sick. She was terrified, more than she'd ever been before. Her life had gone careening out of orbit, instead of being in charge, she was now the one being ordered about, made to perform actions not of her liking.

Her father had helped her out of the coach, taking her arm in his fat, strong fingers and pulling her up the long stairs that led to the massive front entry of the castle. A footman stood in attendance, opening the door and allowing them inside where he took Lara's tattered cloak, holding it gingerly and then folded it across his arm.

"His lordship is waiting for you. Please, follow me," another footman spoke up, ushering them through a massive entryway that opened up into a hall large enough to fit their entire home in.

Lara stared in awe at the exquisite detailing of the frescoed ceiling, at the curving staircase that was wide enough for an army to climb in formation. She longed to gaze at the many fine paintings that graced the silk covered walls and the tiny portraits, done on ivory disks that sat upon delicate rosewood tables. Marble floors were polished to a high gleam showing off veins of pure silver that ran through them.

For just an instant, Lara wished she could stop and study the paintings and sculptures, and enjoy the wealth of creative talent that was housed in the grand entryway. But that was not to be the case. Her father took her arm, half dragging her behind the footman that led the way to where the duke was waiting to greet them.

The room they were taken to was obviously used as a library as row upon row of books were shelved to reach the high ceilings. There were bookcases on every wall, interspersed with floor to ceiling windows and a huge fireplace where a roaring fire was laid, warming the large room wonderfully. Lara felt her heart leap at the sight of all those books, a veritable orgy of delight to the senses for those who had the intelligence to glean meaning from their printed words.

But then she spotted the Duke, settled in behind a large teak wood desk, a stack of papers in front of him. He looked up as the footman knocked on the door, calling for entry before returning to the pages sat in front of him.

"Sir Edward Maitland, your grace, and his daughter, Lady Lara," the footman announced in a sonorous voice.

"Thank you Jeffrey," Matthew said. "Have Mrs. Owens bring in a tray, please."

He studied his papers for a few moments after Jeffrey had closed the doors behind them and then looked up at his guests. "Please, be seated. I was just going over the required paperwork and contracts to make sure my solicitor had drawn them up properly. I think you'll find all is in order." He slid the papers across his desk, waiting for Edward to pick them up.

"It but requires your signature, Edward. I've made arrangements for the banns to be posted for the next three Sundays hence and until that time, Lara shall remain here with me."

"But, your grace, the scandal would..."

Matthew interrupted, waving his hand through the air as if waving away the objections. "I've thought of the scandal, Edward. Lord, man, you know me by reputation if not by contact. Would you think me too daft to ignore my wife-to-be's sterling reputation?"

"No, your grace," Edward said, the denial quick and fawning as he stood before the desk. "I just wish to know what means you have put into play to protect my girl."

Matthew felt a twist of derision, a feeling of nauseated disgust as he stared at the short toad of a man before him. Edward had all but thrown Lara at him the instant he'd expressed any curiosity at all about the girl. He'd even offered the use of her body for an evening of pleasure, without the stricture of marriage or even of becoming his mistress. All to pay off his gambling debt and keep him from the beating he'd been sure he was to receive.

"Your girl will be my wife in but three weeks time, Edward, and is none of your concern as soon as you sign those papers." He opened the top drawer of the desk, picking up a small pouch and weighing it with a quick toss of his hand. It clinked inside, drawing Edward's eyes like a beacon in the dark. "This is for your trouble, a reward if you like, and also the last money you shall see from me, ever," he said, his tone warning the man easily of the dire consequences of crossing a man of his stature. "Now sign the papers and get yourself gone from my sight. I wish never to see you again, Edward."

Edward, his face pale, scooped up the pouch that had been tossed on the desk and thrust it into the pocket of his coat before taking the feathered quill offered to him by Lord Matthew. With a quick flourish, he signed his name beside the ‘X’ left for him, dating the document and then handed back the pen.

Lara waited for her father to turn to her, to speak some word of caring or compassion. Instead, the man hurried towards the door, glancing fearfully behind him once as if Lord Matthew would change his mind and wish the whole situation undone.

When the doors closed behind her father, she felt betrayal and despair as her only parent sold her to pay his debts and for the money to feed the illness that had changed him so drastically. He'd once been a loving and kind father, devoted to their mother, until her death had changed him. He cared for nothing then, not her or her sister, their home or his own life. Only the gambling and the drinking that had become so all important to him.

She'd taken over then, finding the means to keep the household together until he'd finally gambled away their home and moved them into the small manor house with its cold floors and leaky roof. Even then, she'd persevered, keeping Kathleen and herself safe and as well fed as she could, hiding their few possessions from their father to keep the wolf from the door.

And now here she was, standing in the richness of this castle being stared at by a wolf in man's clothing. "What of me?" she asked, unable to keep the hostility from her voice.

The smile that touched his dark face made her nervous and she wished she'd kept her mouth closed instead of speaking up. It was a curse that came along with the curiosity, this insufferable need to speak her peace instead of staying in the background such as a good wife and daughter did.

"What about you, Lara? Would you like to discuss your future with me?" He chuckled as he watched her stubborn little chin rise and her hazel eyes turn amber with anger. He pushed back his chair, coming from behind the desk to stand in front of her. "What will happen to you is this, my dear. We shall be married, you shall submit to me in all things and after a suitable period, I shall send you to live on one of my country estates. Of course, I shall pay you visits periodically; it wouldn't do for those in positions of power to believe that I have deserted you and banished you to the far reaches. What would such do to my reputation?" He chuckled again, running one finger down her soft cheek.

Lara jerked away from his touch, backing away from him. He followed, stalking her with a cynical twist to his smile. "You can't get away from me, my dear. You've been given to me, signed and delivered."

"Why?" she asked, her voice breaking though she tried to cover it. "Why would you want me?"

"That is a good question, my dear. And one I can answer readily enough. I see what is beyond that ugly hair style and tattered gown. You are most desirable. And your father was correct; my marriage to you will call my family off and make my mother quite happy, especially if she thinks we are glowing with marital bliss."

Lara started as she felt the hard knob from the door pressing into her back. "But I don't wish to marry you," she stuttered, trying to show no fear.

"It's good that it doesn't matter what you wish or don't wish, my dear. I have bought you." His hand came up, his fingers taking a hold of that stubborn chin that gave him such amusement. Staring down into her pretty face, he found himself fighting with an impulse. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her mouth, to sink into her until she learned her place.

"You are lovely," he moaned, his mouth moving to cover hers even as he felt her tiny fists come up to strike out at him.

Lara couldn't move. He held her chin in his hand, his fingers tight against her soft skin. His lips were harsh upon her own, so different from what she'd thought her fist kiss to be, twisting her mouth until it opened and his tongue could probe inside, pushing against her clenched teeth. She felt a sob building and fought against it, pride keeping her from pleading for him to stop. Instead she fought, striking at him with her small hands, kicking at his legs with her slipper covered feet.

Matthew felt the softness of her mouth under his, the sweetness of her breath, the heat of her small body and seemed to forget where he was. His hand held her still even as his mouth roughly captured hers. He felt her struggles almost as an afterthought, blotted out by the streak of desire that shot through him. A groan, unexpected and embarrassing, tore from his throat and he pushed away from her, backing away to stare at her as if she were some kind of witch.

Her hand at her mouth, Lara felt her lips, swollen and bruised from his brutal kisses. Her breasts heaved as she fought for composure, wanting to scream and cry at the blow fate had dealt her. Her hands shook and her body quaked as she wondered how she would fair being his wife, being forced to submit to his wishes as was her wifely duty.

"I won't marry you," she whispered, her eyes defiant even as her lips trembled. "I won't stay here with you. I can't," she sobbed, losing her battle for pride. Her hand found the door knob that was still pressed against her back and turned it, hurrying through the door to run for the entry way, her skirts flying up and around her.

Matthew limped after her. He reached the door just as she was struggling to open it, her hands pulling futilely at the panel, beating upon it when it resisted her every effort to budge it. She felt his hands upon her slender arms and tried to fight, but he was so much larger than her, so much stronger. With a curse, he lifted her in his arms, amazed at how light she felt and how quickly she gave up her struggle, lying limply against his chest.

Lara felt him pick her up, the movement so quick that she grew dizzy and light headed. The room spun around her and she blinked her eyes, staring up at him as his face moved in and out of focus. She closed her eyes tightly, a sick nauseated feeling growing in her stomach. She'd already humiliated herself enough, getting sick and vomiting on him would have been the final straw.

He carried her quickly up the long flight of stairs, hurrying down the wide corridor to a smaller darker one. Instead of silk upon the wall, here it was stone and mortar, the air carrying a distinct chill. Matthew managed to open a small door close to the end of the corridor and carried her up a long circling flight of stairs that lead to a small door at the top. He walked inside, staring around at the dust and dirt, the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling to the floor. A sickly light came in though the dirty windows that were small, little more than mere slits in the stone.

It was cold and damp here in the west tower, a place that not many of the castle folk would come. There was talk of a ghost, the spirit of the first Duchess of Marshalling who, rumor had it, had thrown herself from the top of the tower and onto the rocks below, despondent over the death of her children, all but one of whom had died in infancy. It was said that she haunted the tower and the west wing of the castle, causing dire harm to any that set foot in the area.

The rumors would keep all from the tower. He dropped her legs, letting her slide down his long body until her feet touched the ground. "You find me disgusting, my lady?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes," she almost spat at him, her hand coming to her head as the dizziness threatened to overwhelm her once more.

"You have no wish to marry me?"

"None!" she cried, forcing herself to step back and face him. "I find you despicable and loathsome, your grace, and wish nothing more than to go back to my father's home where I will pray that I will never see you again."

"We shall see what a few days here in the tower will do to change your mind, my lady. My mother was to send my elder sister to come and chaperon you until our wedding day but I shall tell her you have decided to stay with your father until that happy blissful event." He turned toward the door, taking the heavy iron key from its bolt and palming it. With a sarcastic bow, he headed out the door. "Enjoy your stay, Lara."

Then he was gone and the door was shut, the heavy lock turning with a resounding click. And she was locked in this strange and dirty place.

Panic overwhelmed her and she ran to the door, her fists pounding on the scarred and splintered wood until blood ran in tiny rivulets down her arms. Only then did she manage to stop, sinking down to the dirty floor, her back against the door, her head bent as the tears she'd fought so long began to stream down her face.

"How could you father?" she sobbed despondently, burying her face in her sore hands. It was the pain that finally brought her out of her despair, pain and the cold that was getting steadily worse. While she still had light enough to see, she had to do something for herself so that she wouldn't freeze and to make herself more comfortable. But first, she had to see to her hands.

A few splinters still stuck in her flesh, her skin was abraded with nasty scratches and gouges where the splinters had torn out. With a hiss of pain, she pulled the first splinter out, and then the next, a tiny whimper escaping as she reached the biggest one.

Lara bit her lip, grabbing the thin wood with two fingers and pulling quickly. As soon as the splinter was out, blood welled in the long cut that was left, one drop falling from her palm and landing on the skirt of her dress.

There was no hope for it; she had to bind her hands. With a sigh of regret, she reached down and carefully ripped a long strip of fabric from the bottom of her skirt, staring at the ragged edge that was left. Then she ripped it in two, using her teeth to pull it apart and then wrapped the strips around her hands, stopping the blood. It would keep the wounds clean, or cleaner than they would be otherwise.

Getting to her feet, she felt her head spin again and fought the now familiar feeling. She had sold the last of their saleable items weeks ago. With that gone, they were forced to ration their food, hoping beyond hope that father would finally get that change of luck he was always going on about. But until that time, Mary was old and needed nourishment to continue working and Kathleen was still just a girl and looked to Lara for her care. She couldn't disappoint either of them.

So her portion of the rations had mostly been given to the two of them. It hadn't been bad at first, giving away a few bites of food, and going to bed slightly hungry. But now it had been two days since she'd had anything more than a small slice of bread, filling her gnawing stomach with water to take away the pain of hunger.

The gnawing ache was now a pain that was hard to ignore, especially now since she had no water to soothe her cramping stomach with. She had to do something to take her mind off the pain. Looking around the room, she noted it was mostly empty. A small iron bed, the mattress lumpy looking and covered by a very dusty blanket took up most of the space. In the corner was an old wardrobe, one door hanging half off on one rusty hinge. An ancient rocking chair sat next to the window, as if waiting for its owner to come back and stare out at the view of the rocky hillside.

Lara went to the wardrobe, yanking weakly on the door until it opened. Inside, a sheet had been draped loosely and she started to work to pull it free.

The cloud of dust that rose from the sheet made her sneeze and she stepped back to let it settle before peaking into the wardrobe to see what treasure she'd uncovered. With a gasp, she let her hand trail over her discovery, feeling materials of every description she could think of brush her fingertips.

A pale blue velvet caught her eyes and she pulled it free, holding the material against her waist with one hand while holding it up. It would be warm and soft and feel wonderful against her skin, so much more so than the ragged cotton day gown she wore.

She shook the gown once, hard, to make sure it was free of any kind of spider or insect and then laid it down across the old bed. Stripping out of her own gown took seconds and then she was slipping the velvet on. The gown fit as if made for her, cupping her breasts and holding them tightly, flowing from a darker blue ribbon high on her waist to just cover the toes of her slippers. It had long sleeves that fell from a gathered shoulder and formed a point over the back of her hands, fitting tightly.

The gown smelled a little musty, a little like the wardrobe it had been tucked into, but it was warmer and covered more of her than her own little day gown. Now that she was a little warmer, she went to work on cleaning up some of the mess, pulling the gowns made from heavier material out of the wardrobe to use as bedding of sorts, she layered them on the lumpy mattress, finally lying down as the last of the light left the room.

She must have slept, though she didn't remember falling into slumber, for when she opened her eyes, darkness unlike any she'd felt before was around her. The moon, though high in the sky, was far from being full, its pale light falling short of illuminating the tower. Something had disturbed her sleep, something strong enough to pull her from her exhaustion. Pushing aside a velvet skirt, she sat up and looked around the tower.

She heard an eerie creak and then a footstep but no matter how hard she strained, she could make out no form in the darkness. Suddenly, a slight glow appeared, a figure, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her head held at an unatural angle, seemed to materialize from that glow. The figure paid her no mind, gliding to the small chair and sitting down. She seemed to be staring out the windows, her eyes searching for something or someone.

Just as Lara was working up the nerve to say something, the figure rose once more, her hands reaching behind her neck as if unclasping an object, and then she seemed to throw herself through the window, the glass shattering around her body, the sound of her scream cut off suddenly as she hit the rocks far below.

Lara jumped out of the bed, a scream escaping her own mouth, running towards the window, her hands hitting the window sill as she tried to look down. Her head connected with the glass, surprising her. She'd seen and heard the glass shatter, watched as the woman had thrown herself onto the rocks below.

But the window was unbroken, nothing lay upon the rocks.

"It's hunger," she said, her voice loud in the eerie silence. "I'm seeing things because I'm hungry and tired and so upset."

She huddled on the bed, gathering the warm fabric of the dresses around her. She thought she wouldn't sleep again but her eyes grew heavy and closed despite her fear.

* * *

Matthew stared down at the small figure huddled under a rainbow mountain of fabrics. He'd brought her a tray for breakfast for it was not his want for her to starve despite her stubbornness. Setting the tray on the floor, he noted her bandaged hand, the blood soaking through the thin material, though it was dark brown and not bright red as it would be if the wound were still bleeding.

He sighed, wondering what there was about him that would make her fight marrying him to the point that she would injure herself and wish to return to that cold, fetid manor house he'd rescued her from.

"Stubborn minx," he said quietly, his eyes tracing her fine features and silky skin. She seemed pale, too pale, he thought, feeling the urge to brush his fingertips over the skin of her cheek and see if it was as soft as it looked.

Lara opened her eyes, feeling a presence in the room. She'd slept well after watching her midnight visitor leap to her death, neither dreaming nor waking again until now. The scent of food assailed her nostrils as she sat up, seeing Lord Matthew standing over her, his eyes hardening as she looked up at him with fear.

"I've brought you food," he growled, feeling a frustrated anger simmer in his stomach. "And come to see if you've decided to be reasonable, or if a more direct approach must be taken. Will you consent to the marriage?"

Danielle and the Wolf

This was one of the first stories I wrote and I thought it was pretty good at the time.  I hope you'll enjoy this taste of it.  Oh and you gotta love sexy on the cover there  The enovel can be found at Total E-Bound.

Chapter One

In a world far different from our own, in a time where men lived by their wits and strange creatures roamed the lands, a child was born. She was born of common folk, parents who marveled and wondered at the girl that had come from their bodies.

She was beautiful, a child with hair as gold as the two suns that shone down over her world, eyes as deep and blue as the waters surrounding her tiny village. Her features were fair with a sculptured grace so unlike the rest of the villagers who were a dull and loutish group.

She grew swiftly into a woman who made men's hearts leap in their breasts and caused lust to busily pool in their loins. But she also grew intelligent and gentle with a tender heart for the young, old and injured. Her parents, bemused at having such a child, granted her every whim. And while she should have grown spoiled with what attention was heaped upon her, instead, she grew even more lovely and caring.

The days were warm and bright with soft winds and fragrant breezes just starting to turn cold at night as the seasons progressed. The girl, named Danielle after her father's mother, spent her days out in the village and the surrounding fields. She plowed and tilled, picked and gathered with the rest of the villagers, singing happily as she helped collect the foodstuffs that would see them through the long hard days of the harsh winter to come.

After the last of the late night meals was cleaned up, evenings were spent romping around the woods near the river that surrounded the village. She had a favored spot, a tiny clearing where a bubbling spring gurgled happily. The birds and animals that came to this clearing were never alarmed or bothered by her presence, sensing in her a goodness that calmed their fears. She was treated as one of them, not predator or human but one of God's gentle creatures.

Tonight, though, after the last dish was washed, the last pot scraped and it's contents stored in the tiny cold house carved deeply into the riverbank, there was an expectant feel to the air, almost a gloom of some dark threat to come. Danielle shook the feeling away as she clamored over the wet stones of the river with a grace that even the most agile mountain animal could envy. She was headed for her haven, and her heart was singing with the freedom she could only feel there.

She reached the clearing as the first sun was setting in the west. Shadows were long from the second sun and she knew she had little time to enjoy her solitude. She rounded the last tree, skipping through the deepening grass. The quiet that seemed almost as fog didn't register to her at first but the man, asleep at the foot of the tree did, cutting off her song in mid stanza and her movement in mid skip.

Her hand went to her breast as she stared at the stranger. He was tall and lean, his legs encased in black leather that was tucked into thick leather boots. His wide chest was barely covered, a white billowy shirt held loosely closed by thin white strips. But it was his face that caught and held her attention so completely.

He was beautiful, there were no other words for it. His hair was thick and long, black waves that fell over his shoulder and around his head into the grass. His features were classical, long, thin nose over a wide mouth, sharp cheekbones and thickly lashed eyes. He had a wide forehead that was smooth and worry free in his sleep.

His eyes would be brown, she thought as she moved closer on silent feet. Brown and rich like the drink that the village elders made to warm themselves in the cold winter evenings. Her own eyes, blue deepening until almost black, roved over the picture he made laying in her clearing with the grass as soft as a pillow under him.

He woke suddenly and reached for the long sword that was strapped at his side. Before she could blink, he was on his feet, the tip of that sword pressed firmly against her throat, a snarl on his lips.

She didn't know which of them was more surprised. He hesitated for a few brief moments, his startled eyes gleaming in the nearing darkness as they roved over her with a warmth that was almost tangible. Then his sword fell carefully from where it had rested in the hollow of her throat.

"You startled me, wench."

His voice was deep, a voice meant for singing in Lord's halls in front of a fireplace on winter nights. Or to mummer sweet words into a woman's ear under the hangings of a massive four poster bed. They caused shivers to start in her toes and travel sneakily up her nerve endings, tightening her nipples into taut buds that thrust against the rough fabric of her tunic.

But while the voice was wonderful and startling, what had her complete attention were his eyes. They weren't the deep, rich brown she had expected. Not even close. No, they were jade, a true and eerie green that almost shone in the now half light of her haven. They drew her in, caused a hitch in her breathing and a shiver of something she had never felt before, something that was dark and sweet, thickly flowing.

"Do you speak wench?"

His words made her start and she realized, blushing becomingly, that she had been rudely staring at the stranger.

"Yes," her reply was a breathless almost whisper and she cleared her throat. "Yes, sir," she said again a little louder. "You but startled me, I wasn't expecting anyone in my clearing."

He smiled, amused by her embarrassment. "This is yours?" He gestured around the clearing with his free hand. "It belongs to you?"

She twisted her slim fingers into her skirt. "No sir, it belongs to the Lord. He lives there." She pointed at an area just beyond his shoulder and up. "I come here to enjoy the evening, sir. I do no harm."

The stranger never even glanced in the direction she pointed. He didn't see the huge castle that seemed to dominate the hillside it sat upon. A castle built of white stones mined from a country far to the south and carted to this spot. It glistened in what little light was left, expensive glass windows sparkling as the last rays touched their mirror like surface. Statuary stood out in bold relief against the shadows above a wall that surrounded the keep to make it seem so much a world onto it's own.

"And do you live in this Lord's manor?" The stranger took two step forwards, bringing himself in close proximity with the girl. Girl wasn't an apt description for her. She was tall and trim, long golden curls tumbling down her back. Her homespun clothing, though rough, was clean and well made, fitting her long curves like a lover's hand. Her eyes were shadowed, but he knew they were the blue of deep lakes. Her lips were lush and slick, and he watched as she slid her tongue across them.

"No, sir. I live in the village back there." She indicated behind her with one long fingered hand. He was too close. She could smell him, a tantalizing smell that caressed her senses. He smelled of sweat and sweet grass, leather and something that was pure male. It teased her senses and made her nervous so that she took a small half step back from him. "I should go. It will be dark soon. My parents will fear for my safety."

She turned, ready to flee her small clearing, to put the safety of the village between her and this stranger that caused such uneasy flutters in her belly with but one glance of his uncanny eyes.

He grabbed her hand, not willing to let her leave him yet, curious as to how such an exquisite face and form could have come from such dark and graceless villagers. Beauty such as hers belonged with the nobility, those with bloodlines that could be traced back to those who took first steps upon this planet back when their ancestors had the knowledge of flight.

He felt a strange draw to her, something, that in his younger more foolish day, he would have admitted as a stirring of the soul. But now, he was wiser, more experienced in the ways of women. Now, the only thing he would admit to would be an attraction to a pleasing shape and fine features. What would it take to make this shy maiden his?

"Come," he said in his deep, mesmerizing voice. "There's time. Sit with me for a few moments." He led the reluctant girl towards the tree he had been resting under, pulling her down to sit next to him. He kept her hand, knowing if she were free she would bolt back to her village and they would keep him from her. Not that they would stop him if he were determined. It just seemed a lot of work to go through for a village girl.

Danielle felt her breath shortening. She knew it was fear, fear of a stranger in her forest where no stranger had ever been before. Fear of being disrespectful even when she knew she should run from him and back to the safety that waited her at home.

"Don't fear me, girl. I won't hurt you."

Her heart thudded against her breast, beating so loudly she would have sworn he could hear it. "I... I don't fear you, sir. My parents will worry if I do not return soon. They will come to find me. I... I don't wish to worry them sir, so if you'd let go..."

The words were warning and he realized it, even smiled inside at the false bravado she displayed. He held unto her hand despite her tuggings until she realized she was doing nothing but amusing him.

"Do you have a name, girl?"

"Yes." But she didn't wish to give it to him.

He smiled, a quick flash of white teeth that seemed even brighter in the gloom of the clearing. "What must I do to find out this name, girl?"

Danielle took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Instead, the scent of him drifted to her, caught on the breeze. It snarled through her senses, caught at her imagination once more. The breath that she wished to use to calm now excited. She felt the hitch even as she heard it, her heart rate quickened even more. She had an insane urge to lean closer, to bury her nose in his neck and breath in his scent until she was saturated in him.

To give him her name gave him ways of finding her later. This she couldn't do. She shook her head, pulling against him and her own weakening resolve.

"Please sir, I must leave."

"I but wish you to sit with me, that is all." His fingers were caressing the palm of the hand he held in ways that made her skin flush and her heart race. She knew he must know the reaction he caused. She saw the flash of his teeth once more and then he raised the hand he held, bringing it to his lips. His mouth rested against her palm, his tongue stroking at the delicate lines of her hand.

"S... s... sir, please don't." She jerked her hand hard and pulled away, freeing herself from him. Rising quickly, she hurried out of the clearing and away through the forest, her feet moving as if they had wings and were fleeing the devil himself. She heard his laughter catch on the breeze, carried to her ears. It was a rich sound, basic and raw.

When she reached the edge of the forest, she glanced back, feeling safe this close to her home. Eerie green eyes stared back at her, startling her. She rushed to her back door, seeing the rising of one of the three moons of her home world and in the woods, startling close, she heard the lonely cry of a wolf.

She stayed close to home the next two nights, her eyes constantly searching the paths that lead into her village. She knew her parents were puzzled at her actions but she had no excuse to give them. How could she tell them of the stranger she had met without alerting them to her behavior. It was inexcusable for someone of her stature and standings to speak to one of the gentry much less behave in the shameful way she had.

And her reaction to him, that scared her most of all. She could still hear his rich voice speaking to her softly, feel his eyes upon her and the devilish way they made her feel. She could still feel the shape of his lips against her palm, the way his tongue had felt as it had caressed in carnal ways she knew nothing of. The thought of that forbidden kiss brought images to her mind of other things more forbidden, and that kept her home.

On the third night, though, she couldn't stay shut up any longer. Winter was close, the harvesting was almost done, and soon she would have no choice but to remain close to the fire as the ice and cold blew through the village.

This night was almost balmy, a light wind lifting her hair and skirt as she picked her way over the stones in the river. Her heart was singing as the quiet shadows of the forest closed around her, her home from home since she could first toddle here. She felt safe and secure, her senses detecting no sights or sounds that weren't normal.

She reached her clearing and approached as quietly as she could, not wanting to be caught again just in case he was still here. No one was in sight. Her heart sank in disappointment even as she scolded herself for feeling such ways. He was noble, his clothing and manners screamed the words at her. She was common, the most she could be to him would be but a few moments distraction.

She sat down next to the tree he had been under, her hand on the ground where he had rested his head. Her eyes were sad as they shifted through the clearing, seeing it in a different light now that he was gone. The welcoming haven seemed deserted and cold now.

Shaking her head at her whimsical notions, she plucked some of the leaves that had changed colors and fallen into the tall grasses, weaving their long stems deftly into a fairy crown. Putting it upon her head, she swept a deep curtsey to her suitor, who in her imagination was no longer the blonde, gentle man she'd always envisioned. Now he was dark as night with green eyes that glowed with knowledge and power.

In her imagination, he took her hand, turning it in his own to press his lips once more to her palm making it tingle with pleasure. His eyes when he looked down at her swept over her and her clothing changed, from the plain homespun that she always wore to a glittering gown of white that teased and tempted with it's low cut and silky fabric. Her hair was swept up, the colored fairy crown becoming a jeweled tiara woven into her golden curls. Her tiny feet were encased in satin, heels clicking as she walked, instead of the smooth leather shoes that laced to her ankles.

The clearing disappeared, becoming an immense fanciful room filled with art and couples dancing to music that spoke to the soul. Bodies twisted, swayed, and twirled to the sweeping beat of the musicians hidden from sight by thin lacquered screens. Her partner, more handsome than any man present in black tailored clothing made of fine cloth, drew her to the floor, his arm pulling her close, his hand encompassing her own. They moved together to the music, her gown flaring from her waist as he spun her in intricate designs that brought a smile to her red lips and a light to her dark eyes.

His eyes spoke with their own light, a dancing green flame that told of his longing for her. The hand at her waist became more possessive, holding her to him so she felt the length of his hard muscles against the lithe curves beneath her gown. He leaned closer to her, his head slowly bending over hers, his mouth coming ever closer to her own. She held her breath, desperately wanting to know what his lips would feel like upon her own. He was close, his eyes closing as his mouth brushed...

"Well, well, well. What have we got here?" The voice snapped her out of her daydream and back to reality. "Lookee here boys, seems to me we've got us a princess."

Danielle backed away, seeing the men for the first time since they had so stealthily entered her clearing. It was later than she usually stayed, the shadows encompassing her glen, the brilliant light of the moon shining brightly. The three men were rough looking, their clothing better than hers, but not as well taken care of. They were armed, swords and knives glittering wickedly from belts at their waists. And they surrounded her until she was pressed against that same tree her magical suitor had held her too.

"I think you scared her," the biggest and ugliest of the three said. His mouth opened, his teeth blackened and broken showing between thick slobbery lips. He had a scar down the side of his face that was as hideous, starting just below his eye and curving in a crescent shape to the corner of his mouth.

His hand reached out and touched her hair, pulling the crown of leaves from her head. He tossed it behind them as they came closer to her.

Danielle couldn't breath or think. The men crowded against her, touching her hair, pulling at her tunic roughly, ripping the fabric. She could smell their foul, unwashed bodies, feel their rough hands against her smooth skin. Lips pushed against hers, as one man crushed her against the tree, his tongue thrusting against her mouth like a slimy pulsating worm. He pinched her nipple through her tunic, causing her to scream, and his tongue thrust inside. It searched her mouth with foul intent, making her gag in reaction. She tried to bite down upon it, but he sensed her action and pulled back, his hand coming up to strike against her head hard, knocking her to the cold ground.

He felt upon her, ignoring her screeching and biting, her clawing at him as his hands pulled and ripped at her clothing. His lips suckled at her neck, drawing blood to the surface. He pulled back, admiring the red mark he had made in the moonlight. His hand swept down the front of her tunic and he yanked at the neckline ripping it almost in half. The fine cloth of her shift shone white, the material very old and often washed, threadbare over her heaving breasts.

He bent over her, his lips finding her nipple under the shift, his tongue wetting the material. He heard her scream and laughed around the fine morsel in his mouth, clamping his hand across her lush lips so hard her teeth cut into her mouth. She choked on the blood as he bit down on her nipple, then took the fabric in his teeth and pulled, tearing the delicate material as if it were lace.

His hand came up and cupped her heaving breast, squeezing hard. She screamed at the pain, her cry muffled by his thick fingers across her mouth. Her eyes searched the clearing, seeing the two men standing over them, waiting their turns to molest her soft flesh. One man had opened his breeches, exposing himself. His hand moved over the turgid flesh of his cock and for the first time she saw what it looked like. Terror filled her, making her fight harder. She knew something of what mating was like, who could live in a village as tiny as hers and not. That thing that he was stroking as if it were a pampered pet would rip her in two. She had no doubt.

She kicked her legs hard, feeling her knee rise between the man's legs and strike him a brutal blow. His mouth opened, saliva hanging grossly from one side to drip upon her as a silent scream wretched from him. He fell off of her, curling into a protective ball, one hand cupping his brutalized anatomy. He laid there, his white face turning red as breathing was denied him by pain.

Danielle leaped to her feet, backing carefully away from the other two men. Her eyes darted, searching the clearing for a weapon of some kind, finally lighting upon a branch just a few steps to her right. She ducked left then darted right, her hands falling upon the branch as hard hands grabbed her waist, spinning her around.

She used that spin, letting the momentum push behind the blow she landed with the thick branch now grasped firmly in both hands. She struck her attacker squarely on the cheek, knocking him away from her. He stood for a moment, shaking his head as he cleared it, watching as his friend followed the ferocious beauty as she leapt around the clearing, searching for a way out. She swung the branch every time he got close, panic causing her to miss more than land her blows. She was tiring quickly, sobs shaking her shoulders causing her exposed breast to sway and move provocatively.

He was about to join the fray, eager to get his hands on that soft smooth flesh when he heard it. A growl, low and menacing, rumbled from the shadows behind him. He turned and searched the blackness, seeing nothing at first. Then, suddenly, as if they had just opened, huge green eyes stared back at him, glowing angrily.

The huge black wolf showed himself, leaping forward snarling sharp fangs that gleamed an unholy white in the moonlight. His thickly furred body was immense, bigger than a normal wolf by half again, his chest deep and powerful. He threw back his well shaped head, ears flat against his skull, and howled angrily, startling all in the clearing.

Danielle almost dropped the branch as she stared at the huge beast. He was beautiful, in his prime with strong muscles bunching rhythmically under his shining pelt. He looked at her but a moment, his eyes boring into her own before once more taking in the three men who now stood, swords out and ready. Even the man she had brought down with her knee stood, his body bent over, his breathing shallow. His sword was held in a hand unsteady and trembling.

Their backs were to her, facing the wolf. She could run now, escape back to her village before they would even know she had left. But she couldn't leave the wolf. He had shown himself and now prowled slowly around his prey. But even his huge size and sharp fangs were no match for three strong men armed with swords. She couldn't let him die because he protected her.

As she was thinking this, the wolf attacked, feinting an attack at one of the men before rushing in to grab at the hand of the man who was the weakest. He dropped his sword and fell back, the wolf's sharp nails scratching deep groves into his chest as he used it to spring board away from the other men. His lithe body turned in the air and he landed softly on his paws, braced and ready.

Danielle snuck behind one of the two men who were standing, her arms raised above her head, the branch poised to bring down upon his head. She stepped forward, her foot coming down on a hidden twig. The snap had the man spinning to confront her, his sword up. She brought the branch down upon his sword, knocking it aside and then back up, hitting him as hard as she could under the chin. His head spun up and he fell, his pants still open from earlier.

As she turned, she heard a shrill yip, her eyes searching out the wolf. His side was bloody but he was up, pacing around the last standing man. She saw the man's sword and flinched at the sight of the blood that dyed the sharp blade a bitter red. Danielle hurried towards the wolf, stepping in front of it. She held the branch in front of her in two hands.

"Leave and I won't hurt you," she said, her voice breathless and shaky but determined. "Take your friends and go." The wolf growled from beside her adding to her demands in his own feral way.

The man, his bravado gone now that his friends were down, reached over and helped the conscious man up. Between the two of them, they picked up the other one, letting him dangle from their shoulders. They left, the bloodied man still mewling and cupping his free hand around his groin.

Danielle didn't move until she knew they were gone. Then she turned nervous eyes upon the wolf. She gave a cry as it fell over, blood rushing from the gash in it's side.

The wolf groaned, sounding almost human in it's pain and she dropped the branch, hurrying over to help. The wound wasn't deep, she found as she ran her hands through the thick fur, pushing gently at the edges of the gash. But it was bleeding a lot. She tore a long length of material from the bottom of her shift, pressing it firmly against the wound. The wolf growled it's pain, and she murmured to it, crooning nonsense in an attempt to comfort as she staunched the bloody mess.

She tied fresh bandages around it's middle, her arms stretching to reach around the massive beast. It lifted it's body each time she passed the material around it's chest. She tied the bandage in a knot, sitting back on her heels to check out her handiwork.

Night covered the forest with a dark shroud that not even the light from the three moons could penetrate, deepening the gloom of the shadowed glen. Danielle realized she was out far later than she'd ever been before, and felt a surge of daring and reckless nerve pour through her exhausted body. The three men who had attacked her had been defeated and run off. The burst of adrenaline caused by the attack and the subsequent fight that had kept her steady as she faced the injured wolf was leaving her body, causing her to shake in fatigue. Her body cried out for rest.

But she stood staring down at the furry body of her protector, noting his heavy panting and his pain from the wound in his side. If it had not been for him, she thought, her fate would have been quite different. She wouldn't be standing here, still free, safe and mostly uninjured. He'd bested those men and hadn't hurt her. How could she now leave him here alone and unprotected, not after he had risked his life so fearlessly protecting her own. Any predator could kill him in his weakened state, any hunter take his life for his pelt and the glory that killing his kind brought.

He had been hurt in protecting her, it was her turn to protect him. She sank down next to him, stretching her tired body out in the sweet grass. The cool winds blew over her, making her realize that her tunic was torn, her shift nothing but rags, the top torn by her attackers, the bottom ripped away to make bandages. She shivered in a combination of fear and cold and then shifted herself next to the wolf, curling around him and absorbing the heat of his body. He gave a little moan, deep in his throat, moving his head to rest it upon her neck. Her hands dug into the thickness of his fur, reveling in its warmth and softness. His quiet breathing in her ear, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

Home for the Holidays

I had so many people who absolutely adored this novel.  It was a hit when I posted it for free and a hit when it came out in ebook.  This was another novel that I couldn't understand why it did so well.  But who am I to question what my fans like.  I just do my best to appease their appetites.  So anyway, here is chapter one of Home for the Holidays!

Chapter One

"Hi Mom! It's Kenna."

"Baby!" I could hear the happiness in my Mom's voice and that tiny little voice inside berated me for not calling home more. "Is everything okay?"

"It's great Mom, I just wanted to call and let you know that I got some time off around Christmas and I thought I'd come home. That is, if that's okay?"

"Okay? Okay? That's wonderful. Your dad will be so happy. He's been wanting a big family Christmas with all the kids and grandkids. Now that you're coming, it'll be perfect. Oh, I can't wait to tell him."

"Wait, Mom, what do you mean all the kids and grandkids? Do you mean Bekka and Steven will be there?"

"Oh honey.  It was such a long time ago, can't you forgive them?"

Yeah, sure Mom," I thought, my brain whirling around the fact that my two-timing ex-fiancé and my sneaky bitch of a sister were going to be at Mom and Dad's for Christmas.

"Honey?"

"Yeah Mom," I said, offhandedly. "Sure."

"Bring your new beaux home with you, baby. We're all anxious to meet him."

"Yeah Mom," I said, distracted.  I was having problems getting the last time I'd seen Bekka and Steven out of my mind. It was at my wedding, when she'd come and broke it up to tell Steven that she was pregnant with his child. Two-faced blonde bitch.

I finished the conversation with my Mom in somewhat of a daze, sitting back in my chair in my small, one bedroom apartment. I worked for the State Police Post in Lapeer, Michigan. I was a 911 operator and a good one, or at least my last evaluation had said as much.  One of the officers I was in charge of keeping track of was Steven. I'd managed to pull his ass out of some minor trouble and he'd come in and thanked me. We'd gone out once and then we'd been damn near inseparable.

That was, until I made the mistake of taking him home to meet the rest of my family. He'd taken one look at Bekka with her thick blonde hair and baby blue eyes and had barely been able to speak. I should have known then that he wasn't right for me. If I hadn't been so stubborn, maybe...

The maybe flew from my head at the knock on the door to my apartment. "Who is it?" I yelled through the door, even though I was pretty sure I knew.

"Delivery!"

I knew that voice. I heard it almost every day at work, in the cubicle behind mine. "Get in here," I said, opening the door and dragging Nicky in. "What are you delivering?" I asked, lust in my voice.  It could have been for the food in his hands or for the hands holding the food. Both were lust-worthy.

Nicholas Evans, six feet two inches of pure male.  He preyed on my mind and my libido on a regular basis. But try to get him to realize that. I sighed, wishing that I could be more like my pretty sister, with her confidence and her fashion sense. Instead, I got the Irish in the family. Red hair that held a lot of curl no matter how many times I tried to straighten it. Green eyes that always sparkled with a hint of deviltry, even after Steven. A smattering of freckles were on my nose. They were my cute factor and a place every single man I'd ever dated had felt the need to kiss.

I was curvy instead of lithe and lean, holding onto about ten extra pounds that no amount of sit ups or running at the track would dispel. Where Bekka was model height and weight, I was the shortest in the family. Even Mara was taller than I and she was the youngest in the family, still in school.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked, holding the food above his head, where he knew I couldn't reach it. "Tell me and I'd be tempted to share."

"You tell me what you got and I'll see if I want to share," I teased.

"Meatball sub," he said, bringing the bag down to nose height and rolling open the flap. "Your favorite, with lots of marinara sauce."

"Ah hell, Nicky. I can't. I'm on a diet."

"Since when?" he said, and I could see his eyes lingering on my full figure.

"Since I heard that Bekka and Steven are going to be at Mom's for Christmas."

Nick dropped the bag on the counter. He knew the entire story. He'd been at the wedding when Bekka had dropped her bomb and then scuttled away with the groom, leaving the abandoned bride to deal with the fallout. "Hell," he said, digging a hand through the thick black hair on his head. "I'm sorry, Kennie. Is there anything I can do?"

"Well," I said, half-joking. "Now that you mention it, you could go with me and pretend to be my boyfriend."

I stared out the window, waiting for his decision. I could feel his eyes roaming over me and I wanted to punch him. Just the thought of him looking at me like that sent my pulse racing and my heart thundering in my chest. It beat so hard I could barely hear anything over the sound.

"Pretend?" he asked softly, coming up behind me.

"Yeah," I answered, shivering as his hands settled against my stomach. I sucked it in, trying to hide the small bump.

"Would I have to kiss you?" he asked near my ear, his nose nuzzling my hair aside.

"I-If you wanted to. They might expect it." His lips were warm against my throat, wrenching a moan from my lips.

"Would I have to touch you?" he asked, his hands moving over my stomach and up my arms, drawing me back until I could feel every hard inch of him from his shoulder to his thighs.

"N-Nicky," I gasped as he pressed his erection into me. "W-What are you doing?"

He turned me in his arms, pressing me back against the counter, his fingers under my chin to hold my lips up. "Practicing, so your family doesn't think we're playing them," he whispered, his lips finding mine with a softness that made me want to claw my way through his clothes to  reach the hard body under them. He twisted my mouth open, pushing his tongue in to play with mine.

I returned his kiss. I couldn't help but return it. I heard him groan, pressing his big body harder against mine, holding me close. I wanted more, much, much more than what he was giving me. I stretched, standing on tip toe to put my arms around his neck, drawing my leg up the back of his until it was hooked around him. How far it would have gone, I don't know. My damn beeper went off, a dull buzz that made me push him away.   We were forced to wear them and answer, a burden of the job..

My lips felt swollen, my eyes heavy. I stared at him, panting. "What the hell was that for, Nicky?"

Instead of answering me, he plucked my pager off my waistband and handed it to me. "You might want to get this," he growled before turning away and pushing his hand through his hair again.

I checked the number on the pager and groaned. Mom must have been on the phone the second I'd hung up for them to call me so quickly. I picked up the phone and punched in the familiar number, my heart jumping when I heard his voice answer.

"Kenna?" Steven said softly, almost as if he were hiding the call from his wife.

"Yeah, what do you want, Steven?" My attention was focused on the call but I couldn't keep my eyes off of Nicky as he made his way around my kitchen, gathering plates and a couple of beers, napkins out of the cupboard. He sat down at my scarred second-hand table, cutting the sub in half and putting it on the two plates. Then he twisted open both bottles of beer, rising and bringing me mine. I took a long pull off it, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

"Bekka's in her last month of the pregnancy, Kenna. Any stress could harm her or the baby. I was just going to ask if I could get you to stay away from your folks this Christmas. For your sister's sake," he added.

Fucking snively little weasel, why had I ever loved him? "Maybe you two should stay away, Steven. Mom sent me the invitation herself and I'm going. I'm sorry if that might make you uncomfortable, but maybe you should have thought about family Christmas's when you were fucking my sister!" I hung up, taking another long drink of the beer and feeling it rush right to my head. "Fucking snively little weasel!"

"Well, don't hold back," Nicky said. "Tell me how you really feel about the douche bag."

"He is a douche bag, isn't he? A used-up douche bag owned by an ancient hooker who's got syphilis."

"Gross, Kenna, really, really gross." Nicky waved his hand into the chair across from him and I couldn't help but notice that he'd given me an extra meatball.

"You know, this is going to go right to my ass, Nick."

"You've got a sexy ass, Kenna. Nice and soft, just right for grabbing and..."

"Shut up," I said, self defensively. I couldn't sit there after talking to my ex-fiancé on the phone and listen to what Nick had to say about my ass. I just couldn't. I picked up the sandwich, taking a bite and letting the soothing taste of marinara and bread, cheese and onions not to mention the meatballs sooth my ruffled feathers.

"So about the boyfriend gig?" Nick said around a bite. "How long would you need me?"

I almost said "life" but I could just see him racing out of my door, never to be seen again. "How long could you do it?"

I could almost see the wheels in his brain spinning. "Well, I was just thinking it might be a returnable favor. My folks want me to come home for the holidays too. We could go to your parent's for Christmas and then mine for the New Years. That way neither set of parents would have a real long time to troll for information and we can make them all happy. What do you think?"

"You want to spend an entire week with me?" I asked him, shocked.

"I do that now," he said with a laugh. "Between work and the shit we do together after work, we almost live together."

Oh, how I wished! The thought of getting into bed beside him, of having him there every night was an aphrodisiac and I could feel my panties getting damp.

"Besides, it's not like they'd ever catch on that we're duping them, Kenna. We could just say things went south a few weeks after Christmas and no one would be the wiser, right?"

"Right," I said slowly. I picked up my beer, clinking it to his. "Here's to making the parents happy on the holidays."

"To making them happy and keeping them off our cases," he added.

* * * *

That conversation had been two weeks ago. Now, we stood outside the bus depot, waiting for my father to come and pick us up. I sat huddled on my suitcase, cursing the wintery weather that had made our bus late. It was dark and I almost jumped out of my skin when Nicky came and sat on the other half of my suitcase, wrapping his arms around me. He'd taken to this boyfriend gig like a duck to water, constantly touching me, holding my hand, bringing me little things at work to make me smile. His kisses had been warm, frequent and had kept me in a constant state of arousal. My poor vibrator was almost worn out from constant use. I'd been sure to pack it, as well as new batteries.

"Cold?" he whispered against my ear, the heat from his breath causing new shivers to tingle through me. His hands rubbed over my arms and down my back and his tongue made a slow foray around the curve of my ear. "I bet I can warm you up."

"Nick, they aren't here. You don't have to pretend yet." But I didn't shrug him off. Why should I when I enjoyed the attention so damn much? It was going to be hard to go back to just friends when the holidays were over.

"Maybe I'm not pretending," he growled, suckling lightly on my earlobe and sending another shiver of lust through me. He'd been right about one thing, I was definitely warmer.

I giggled nervously, turning my head to look at him when a flash of headlights played across us. He used that second to kiss me, his tongue eagerly playing with my own, a soft moan leaking into my mouth.

"Can't keep his hands off of her, Mara. Looks like we might have to use the bundling bag for this one, hmmm?"

"Daddy!" I squealed, pulling away from Nicky and launching myself into my father's arms. I missed him so much.  The last time I'd seen him, he'd been threatening to kill Steven for what he'd done to his daughters. He was still a big bulk of a man, kept in shape by chopping wood and all the other outdoor things he enjoyed.

"Kenna, baby," I heard his voice grow gruff and knew he was blinking his eyes just as rapidly as I was, trying to hold back the tears.

"I've missed you, Daddy," I said, lifting my head out of the comforting padding of his shoulder. His scent was around me, the scent of fresh air and cheap aftershave given to him by us kids. He always smelled like he'd been out working on the snowmobiles or working in his shop. It brought back such memories, making me feel even more a fraud for what I was about to do. "Daddy, you remember Nicky, don't you? From the wedding?  He's my best friend," I said as honestly as I could. "Nicholas Evans."

"Mr. McEwen, it's a huge pleasure to see you again, sir," Nick said, standing and holding out his hand for Kenna's father to shake. He'd met the man at the wedding, right before disaster struck.

Call me Doug," my dad said, shaking Nick's hand with a firm grip and evaluating the man who stood before him. He must have liked what he'd seen. "Well, grab that luggage. If I know Kenna's mom, she's standing at the window almost dancing in her anxiousness to see her babies all together again."

I hugged Mara, noting with a frown that my redheaded little sister was almost half a head taller than me. "How's school? I asked, climbing in the back seat of Dad's car with her.

"Fine," she said in a non-committal tone. "He's a hottie, Ken. I'd never have looked at Steven if I had a stud like that to chase after."

"Mara!" I said, more than a little shocked before laughing it off. "He is pretty hot, isn't he?"

"More than a little. Does he have any little brothers?"

"I don't know," I answered, my brow furrowing. Nick knew everything about my family; he'd sat and listened to every little foible. But I knew next to nothing about his family. That would be changing before this trip was over. "We're heading to his family's for the New Year. I'll smuggle you one out."

"Just make sure you send him air mail, I'd like a little life left in him when he gets here."

I tugged on her hat, pulling it down to cover her bright blue eyes. "Fine, but until then, keep your mitts off of this one.  He's mine."

"I'm not Bekka, Kenna," she said. Then she slammed a mittened hand over her mouth. "Oh God. I'm sorry, Kenna, that was a terrible thing for me to say."

"It's okay, kid," I said to her, feeling a huge surge of relief as I realized I spoke the truth. "I'm so over that moron. Bekka's welcome to him."

"If I had a guy like Nick, I think I'd feel the same way."

We snuggled together in the back seat and I felt a warm glow inside. I smiled when I saw Nicky talking with my dad and making him laugh. My father's always been a big one on the wonders of laughter and how it can better your life. I grinned when Dad gave me a wink in the rear view mirror. It was his patented stamp of approval. This might work out after all.

The house came into view, decorated with holly and tiny, white, glittering lights. It looked like something out of a Christmas movie.  The big white farmhouse, done over in green and red ivy and white lights, Christmas tree shining out of the front window.  It created a scene of welcome that made a tear appear in my eye. "Oh," I said softly, "it's so beautiful."

"Mom's been cracking the whip for two weeks now, ever since you said you were coming home. She wanted everything perfect for you," Mara whispered to me.

"It is," I whispered back. "Just being back here with you guys is a slice of heaven."

I heard barking and saw my dog, Riley, standing at the top of the porch stairs. I could barely wait for Nicky to open the door before I was pushing at the seat, wanting out. Riley came barreling at me, seventy pounds of lab and chow mix. I held out my arms and he jumped, knocking me backwards into the snow, my hat flying off and my red curls bouncing as I tried to keep my face from being swiped off by his big black tongue.

Sitting up, I managed to get him to stop long enough to take Nick's hands and stand up. "If I bark and wag my tail, can I knock you into the snow too?" he whispered in my ear, making me blush. Mara handed me my hat and I patted my chest. Riley was tall enough to stand on his hind legs and look me in the eyes. "Good boy, Rye. I missed you. Nicky, this is my dog, Riley. Riley, this is Nick, he's a friend," I said, staring into my trusted companion's eyes.

Riley sat, holding up his paw for Nick to shake before he began bounding around again, the picture of chaotic energy on four legs. By that time, my mom had come to the back door, wiping her hands on her apron, her red hair braided and curled like a crown upon her head. Her face was flushed from the heat of the kitchen and she shivered when she stepped outside. "Baby," she said to me, her face lighting up.

I ran to her, letting her gather me in her arms and holding on fiercely. Where Daddy always meant safety and security, Mom was comfort and care. She knew how to make every hurt better. Whether it was with a kiss and a caress or a scolding and a lecture, she knew what was needed the most. "Hi Momma," I whispered against her cheek, kissing her softly. "I missed you."

"Well, we've always been at the end of the bus line, little girl. You know that." She gave me one last squeeze and then stepped back. "So let me meet your Nicky."

This was the ultimate test of Nick's acting skill. My Momma wasn't an easy one to fool. I'd been trying to do it for years but hadn't been able to, not once. I took a deep breath and held my hand out to Nick. He came, taking it and twining his fingers with mine.

"Momma, this is Nicky, you met him at..., well you remember when. Nick, this is my Momma, Evelyn McEwen."

Nick reached out holding my mom's hand as he bent and touched his lips to her cheek. "Mrs. McEwen, I'm so happy to see you again."

I squeezed Nick's hand as Mom's eyes turned serious, gazing into Nicky's sparkling blue ones. She narrowed her gaze for an instant and I felt a moment of panic. If not for Nick's hand on mine, I might have headed back for the car.

"You'll do," my mom finally said. "But you'll call me Evelyn and none of this Mrs. McEwen malarkey. I saved some dinner for you, it's on the stove." She started to herd us through the door, Riley squeezing in past my legs. "Douglas, bring in their suitcases. Nick will be staying in Kenna's old room. Kenna's bunking with Mara."

"Now, I want to hear everything," she continued, taking my hat off my hair and pulling on my coat.

She and Dad sat with us while we ate. Mom had made a pot roast, my favorite, with baked carrots and potatoes and huge fresh mushrooms. She'd even made fresh homemade noodles and cooked them in the juice from the roast. I was in heaven. Nick must have been as well.  He ate everything on his plate and then had seconds, barely resisting thirds when he heard that Mom had made pie as well.

"I don't know how I ever made it out of this house without gaining two hundred pounds, Mom. You are such a fantastic cook."

"You're too skinny as it is, Kenna. Don't you eat in that big town of yours?"

I glanced down at my voluptuous figure and scoffed. "Yeah, right Mom. Besides, I don't know if I'd count Lapeer as a big city." I looked over at Nick, my eyes begging for help.

"I bribe her with Meatball Subs, Evelyn but she's a hard cookie to break. She's right about one thing, this is fantastic. Thank you." He shot me a conspiratorial glance.

"You're welcome." My mom almost gushed, her cheeks blushing prettily under Nick's admiring blue gaze. He had that affect on women and he used it whenever he could. I barely stifled a yawn, but Mom caught it. "You can tell us all about things tomorrow. Bekka and Stephen will be here in the morning and then we're going out to Pine's Pass to get the Christmas tree. Just like we used to do when you were a kid."

"Sounds great Mom, but what about the tree I saw in the window of the living room when we pulled up?"

"That's just decoration, baby. The tree we get tomorrow will go into the family room. I hope you brought warm clothes with you, but if not, we probably have stuff around here that will work for you."

"We did, Mom. I'm going to take Nick up, show him where he'll be sleeping and where the bathroom is. I love you," I said, dropping a kiss on her head. I held my hand out to Nick, who groaned and pushed himself out of his chair.

"That was the best dinner I've ever eaten," he said, patting his lean belly. "Thank you Evelyn." He said his goodnights and then took my hand, following me out of the room. I pulled him up the stairs and opened my old bedroom door, a bit embarrassed by the signs of teenage girl that filled the room. The posters of boy bands and horses were still where I'd left them when I'd moved out.  The books, most of them well worn, still filled the bookcases.

I couldn't help but wrap my arms around his neck and give Nick a quick hug. "It worked," I breathed quietly. Nick held tight, refusing to let me go when I tried to get away.

"Of course it worked. I have a way with moms," he teased, dropping his head to kiss me quickly. He lifted his head just a bit, his eyes boring into mine, full of questions I didn't understand. Then his lips were on mine again, his mouth doing things that had me moaning in pleasure. I felt him backing me up, his hands sliding down my back and over the curve of my ass, squeezing me through the denim jeans. I heard him moan and then felt him give a small push, knocking me back on the bed.

He followed me down, covering my lips once more. His hands were on my waist, pulling at the sweater I'd worn. When he touched me his hands were hot, scorching on my skin. "I want you," he whispered against my mouth, making me moan. He raised his head, staring down at me, the heat in his blue eyes making me shiver with want. "Come to me later tonight?" he asked, his hand covering my breast, touching me intimately for the first time. "Please, Kenna?"

His fingers found my bra-covered nipple, tugging on the hard bud until my head fell back, my eyes closing to savor the pleasure. His mouth skimmed over my throat, stopping at the hollow at the bottom of my neck and licking my skin. "When Mara is asleep, I'll be waiting for you," he said quickly, pulling his hand off of my breast and sitting up, dragging me with him just as Mom came to the door.

"Did you show him where the towels were, Kenna?" she asked, her eyes noting my flushed face and the curls that were mussed around my face. "I've brought you another blanket, Nick. This room can be really cold."

"Thanks Evelyn," Nick said, glancing down into my face. "I guess I got her caught up in telling me stories of when she was younger. We hadn't gotten around to the tour yet."

I rose, pulling down on my sweater and giving him a narrowed-eyed look. "The bathroom's right there," I said, pointing to the open doorway. Towels are in the first cupboard on the left side of the door. If you need anything, I'm next door in Mara's room," I turned and dropped a light kiss on his mouth, under my mom's watchful eye. "Good night, Nicky."

I could see Nicky wanted to say something to me but couldn't, not while Mom was there. I turned and ran, proving myself a coward when what I really wanted to do was tell him yes.

I used the bathroom first, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. Throwing on a pair of fleece pajama pants and a short sleeved shirt, I walked out of the bathroom and right into a wide chest. Nick's hands came out, holding me, keeping me from falling.

"Nick, you scared me," I breathed, looking up into his face.

"You didn't answer me before," he said. "I'm not going to ask that you answer me now. Just know that I'll be waiting for you." He bent, his mouth going to my ear. "I've dreamed of finding out how you taste, Kenna. Please don't disappoint me." Then he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Mara was sitting on her bed when I went into the room. She was the only one of us that had twin beds. Mine was a full and Bekka had a queen sized bed in her room. It was the one most often used as a guest room when Mom and Dad had company.

"If you stay in the room with me all night," Mara said, breaking into my thoughts, "you are a stupider person than I thought. He's a stud, Kenna. You know Mom and Dad sleep like the dead. How many times did you sneak out when you were a teenager and make it back without them knowing? I'm certainly not going to tell anyone." She came up and gave me a hug. "If anyone asks, you went downstairs for a glass of milk to help you sleep."

"How old are you?" I asked her, astonished by what she was saying. "When did you get so smart?"

"Old enough," she said. "I can see what he feels.  It's in his eyes, Kenna. He won't leave you stranded at the altar and take off with your sister."

"He'd better not, since you're the only other sister I have and Bekka's knocked up." I gave her a mock scowl that elicited a giggle and then swatted her on the butt. "Go to bed, brat."

"I'm just saying," she said once more. "If I had a hunk like that in reach, I don't think I'd be sitting all alone in my little single bed." She grabbed her pajamas as she heard the bathroom door open and went for her turn. I watched the door, expecting Nick to show up, to try to talk me into coming to him again.

I wanted to, God knows I did. The man turned my body into putty with a single touch. When he kissed me, my toes curled. I'd never felt that before. But could I take another chance with my heart, with my body, after what Stephen had done?

That was the big question. I didn't know. I pulled the blankets down on the small single bed and slipped between fresh-smelling sheets. Turning on my side, I punched my pillow and tried to get comfortable while my brain flip-flopped between decisions.