Showing posts with label Fourth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fourth. Show all posts

Thursday, September 5, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Moon Pool Janet Lane Walters and Jane Toombs #MFRWAuthor #Contemporary romance #Paranormal


Luke shook his head.  Thea was even lovelier than he remembered.  She had cut her brown hair into a more sophisticated style.  She had remained slim.   And he still wanted her.
            So she had married a man with money, but she didn’t look happy with her choice.  Luke grinned.  Her happiness or the state of her marriage wasn’t his business.  Why should he care?  Thea had been a summer fling.  He thought of Sue and grimaced.  He’d spend a summer fending off her advances.  Was he in for a repeat of a situation he didn’t want instead of the one that held his hope?
            He needed distance so he could think.  Luke strode toward the tennis court.  Not that he intended to play.  He rubbed his right hand.  The injury that had ended his career as a surgeon kept him from taking part in most sports.
            Why had Thea come?  When he’d read the clipping about the Lodge’s final season and the invitation to former staff members to meet here this week he had wondered if she would show.  She had and he wished he had stayed away.  His life was in shambles.  He had hoped the serene surroundings would give him a new purpose.  He feared he faced a complication he didn’t need.  He wanted Thea with the same desire as before.
            Luke slumped on a bench.  He’d never forgotten the way she had denied their love.  She’d blamed him for not warning her about his age but her friend had told him the real reason.  Thea’s actions during the remainder of that summer had confirmed Sue’s story.
            Not that he’d wasted his life yearning for her.  Liar.  There had been other women but none of his affairs had lasted long.  His thoughts returned to that summer and Sue’s avid pursuit.  He’d been lucky to escape her.

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Rekindled Dreams Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #Books We Love #Romance #Police #Hospital Billing


Dana halted in the door way of the funeral home’s largest viewing room and fought an urge to leave. She’d thought arriving at dinner time would find just a few people. She faced a mob scene. Before she could retreat the crowd moved and she stepped forward. Had half the town decided to turn this into a social hour? From the bits of conversation she heard she didn’t think sympathy was on people’s tongues.
     Stay or leave? The debate continued as she was pushed forward. She nearly bucked the flow when her former sister-in-law grasped her arm and pulled her to the side.
     “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, especially after what you did,” Patricia said.      “You’re not part of the family. You might have married him but you weren’t his friend.”
     “He was my former husband and I tried to make the marriage work.”
     “Just don’t push what you’re carrying and try to get more money than you already have.” Patricia poked Dana’s belly with her French-tipped nails. “Unless you want to give him into my custody.”
     “Him?” Dana searched for an escape. “There’s a better than even chance the baby’s a girl since more girls are born than boys. And you know we divorced because Randy didn’t want children.”
     “Of inferior stock.” Patricia glared. “You refused his demands and ended in the cold. Or was this a ploy for money. Really dumb of you.”
     Dana straightened her shoulders. “Or smart. During the two years we were married Randy was seeing other women. He was an alley cat.”
     “Don’t go spreading lies like that around.” Patricia’s hands fisted. “We’re from the richest and best family in town. My father owns most of the place. Keep your mouth shut or you’ll be sorry.”
     No sorrier than she was now. Dana drew a deep breath. Her desire for a family had kept her in a marriage that couldn’t survive. Also her decision never to return to work as a nurse had added to her inability to walk away.
     Gooseflesh covered Dana’s arms. She tensed as if expecting a knife in the back. The odor of alcohol on Patricia’s breath was one Dana recognized from living with Randy.
     Dana collided with someone who caught and steadied her. “Sorry. Just be careful around Patricia,”    
     Rob whispered. “She’s still furious about Randy’s marriage to you and about his latest engagement. She and Randy were close. She believes what was his must be hers.”
     Dana turned. “She won’t win.”
     “But she will make trouble.” Rob leaned closer. “Have you considered returning to the nursing home after the baby’s born? We need nurses.”
     Dana shook her head. “I’ve begun a business I believe will grow.”
     “Good luck.” He walked away.
     Dana’s forehead wrinkled. How dangerous was Patricia? For a moment she wanted to leave town. Not yet. Once the billing service had enough clients she could leave Fern Lane and work anywhere with internet service.
     Another thought occurred. Did Patricia understand the terms of the divorce settlement? Both Randy and his father had been adamant. Randy had given up any claim to the coming child boy or girl.
     She drew a deep breath that aggravated the pain in her back. She spotted May and walked toward the older woman.
     May hugged Dana. “You didn’t have to come. How are you feeling? You look exhausted.”
     “Ready to have this child.” She studied her former mother-in-law. “Are you all right?”
     “I’m fine.”
     “I’m sure you’re grieving.”
     May exhaled a deep breath. “No mother should lose a child but when a child refuses to listen all is lost. Randy, well, he should have gone for help.”
     Dana pressed the older woman’s hand. “Don’t blame yourself.”
     “I don’t but how I wish things had been different.”
     “You have my sympathy and my thanks for the beautiful clothes and the cradle you sent for the baby.”
     “Your child will be my grandchild no matter what Robert says. Let me know if you need anything.”
     “Thank you.” Dana stepped away.
     May touched Dana’s arm. “Simon’s here.”
     Dana’s stomach lurched. Did she need to see him now? She had to leave. She couldn’t talk to Simon. She had loved him. After he left she had waited but he’d never returned. Then two years ago, she had married Randy. No matter how much Simon had disliked his cousin, his anger toward her would be a thousand times hotter.
     What about her own anger? That night, Simon had demanded what she hadn’t been ready to give. He had left and she’d waited. Her anger had deepened. Finally she’d given up.
     Praying for a quick and successful escape she tried to weave between the clusters of people. Instead of forward she was pushed back toward the coffin. She stared at her ex-husband and saw something she had forgotten. Though Randy’s coloring was dark, facially he resembled Simon. She felt ill when she considered the meaning. Why hadn’t she noticed before?
     Her abdomen cramped. She drew a deep breath. Had labor begun? Of all the wrong times. She had to go home for the suitcase and the infant seat, call Madge, the doctor and a cab. With determination she threaded her way to the door.






Thursday, August 8, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Shattered Dreams Janet Lane Walters #MFRWAuthor #BWLPublishing #Medical romance


Rafe slammed the door of Manon's office and strode to his bike. That had been an interesting meeting and hadn’t gone well. Manon had changed from the girl he had remembered and loved. Still did. What had happened in the past mattered but only to help reclaim his memories and for her to learn the truth.
She was beautiful. Tall and stacked. Short blonde hair. Blue-gray eyes reminded him of the waters of Fern Lane on a stormy day. Myriad emotions had flared in their depths. Among those he’d seen were anger, sadness and a desire she had tried to hide.
He fastened his helmet. One thing hadn’t changed. Tom still sniffed around hoping to catch a crumb of Manon’s attention.
Rafe started the Harley, twin to the one he’d ridden out of town. Though Manon had brushed him off as quickly as she had Tom, Rafe made a vow. He refused to walk away until they talked. Once the truth was known, he would make a decision about where he headed. Hopefully with her. Living in the same town, working at the same place and not being with her would be hard.
He rode across town and up the hill to the hospital. A short time later with a visitor’s pass in hand, he entered the cardiac unit where his step-grandmother rested.
“Hey, Gran.”
“Rafe, when did you arrive?”
“This morning.”
“So you left moving until the last moment. Was everything ready?”
He nodded. “Phone, Cable, Food. Spent the morning and most of the afternoon unloading the van. Figured I would take you to dinner.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “Then I learned you were here.”
She frowned. ‘Didn’t they call you? Even gave them your cell number.”
“They did. Went straight to voice mail. Forgot to charge the battery.” He sank on the chair beside the bed and made a quick assessment of her condition. Her gray hair was neatly coiled in a bun. Brown eyes showed tiredness. Her skin had a gray tinge.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Against the cardiologist’s orders, I spoke to several Board members. You can start tomorrow without my guidance. I am available to answer questions.”
“Good enough.” He studied the monitor on the wall above her bed. Vitals looked good, other than a slight tachycardia. Could be due to stress. “Your job is to get better. Any idea what course of treatment they plan?”
“Some tests. Observation. Nitro tabs. Do hope they’re not thinking of giving me anti-coagulants. Hate them.”
“Understood.” He stretched his legs so his feet were under the bed. “Any problems I should know about?”
“Summer staffing schedule. My secretary, Mildred, can fill you in. She has the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting. There’s a ring of keys in the bedside stand.”
Rafe opened the drawer. “These?”
She took them and separated the rings. “House and car keys. When I go home, I refuse to ride the bike.” She handed them to him. With the other ring she identified each one. “Office door. Middle desk drawer. File cabinet. In the locked desk drawer, there’s the password so you can access the computer files.”
Rafe slipped both rings into his jacket pocket. "Sure hope I’m up for this.”
“You’ll do fine.” She patted his hand. “Do not let anyone take the funds set aside for the computer programs you want to implement. Though they’ve known this was coming, some of the nurses and other staff are fighting the process.”
Rafe chuckled. “I’ll handle that, especially when they see how much easier their lives will be.” He saw the look in her eyes. Warmth filled him. He could never thank her enough for her care of him. Though not related by blood, they had bonds of the heart.
“Will you see Manon Lockley?”
“Been there.” He frowned. “She and I need to talk but she refuses to listen. There has to be a way."
The elderly woman patted his hand. “You’ll find the right moment. Just remember when you vanished she was hurt and forced into a life she didn’t want.”
“Someone told her I was dead.”
“How odd.” She sighed.  “I did keep any mention of the accident from the papers. I feared whoever had tried to kill you would make another attempt. I wonder how she learned.”
“So do I.” Rafe forced away an image that plagued him. “There is one person who knew.”
“The one who caused the accident.”
“Manon insists she can’t remember who told her.” His shoulders tensed. Manon had to remember who had lied. She needed to hear the truth about why he’d fled Fern Lake. This afternoon she’d been wary and cold. From what Gran had said Manon lived a quiet life with work and an occasional dinner with her brother or her nurse. The older woman had mentioned rumors Tom Sands had spread. From the one-sided conversation he’d overheard, Manon didn’t welcome the other man’s attention.
Until they talked there was no chance of the future he wanted.
A noise caught his attention. A middle-aged woman brought a dinner tray into the cubicle. She placed it on the overbed table.
Rafe rose. “See you tomorrow, probably early since I have to stop at the lab.”
“I’ll be here,” Mrs. Patton said. “Marie, this is my grandson. He’s the new director.”
The woman smiled. “Good to meet you.”
“Same.” Rafe kissed Gran Ruth’s cheek. “See you.”
“Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
As he left the unit, he strode toward the elevator. The door opened. Tom Sands stepped out and headed to the cardiac unit. Rafe ducked behind the dietary cart. What was the other man doing here? Had he come to make a scene?
Not going to happen. Yet.
Rafe pressed against the wall. No. He fought a recurring vision. A flash of light surrounding Tom’s face appeared. The vision had occurred frequently during Rafe’s stay in the hospital. Months had passed since the last time. He had no idea what the image meant.
Rafe pushed away from the wall. At least this time the rush of anger and the memory of pain hadn’t happened. Rather than waiting for the elevator he hurried to the stairs, dashed to the first floor and left the hospital. As he rode past Manon’s office, the absence of lights meant she’d gone home. Did she live at the house just outside town where she’d grown up?
He sped to the apartment complex. Damn. Manon was everything he wanted. For more than sex, though his cock had different ideas.
Enough.
He dare not weave a dream of the future before he’d solved the past.
At the complex, he parked beside his van in the roofed parking area. He rode the elevator to his floor.
An erection pressed against his jeans. Thoughts of Manon’s touch nearly made him erupt. During the physical, she had seemed impersonal but her fingers had brushed his skin as she’d placed the electrodes. Those brief brushes had stirred memories and escalated his desire. Had she noticed? Had she hidden her own reaction?
He unlocked the apartment door. Just recalling those moments made him harder. He entered, dropped his leather jacket and gloves on a chair and stared at the phone. He could call. Would she slam the receiver to end the call the way she had to Tom? One way to find out. He opened the directory Gran had left, found Manon’s number and pressed the keys.
“Dr. Lockley’s service. How can I help you?”
“Sorry, wrong number.” He disconnected. That answered his question. Explaining  to a faceless woman why he wanted to speak to Manon wouldn’t work.
He slumped on the couch. He loved her. During the years since his departure form Fern Lake, he’d tried to forget Manon. Hadn’t worked. The months of amnesia had contained bits of memory about people and places. Had been akin to solving a jigsaw puzzle. One by one, the pieces had joined. He’d remembered her, written letters, sent them and waited for an answer. While browsing on the internet, he had learned she was in Europe. He followed her successes.
One day all mention of Manon vanished. He recalled his fear she had married or died. He’d pushed her from his thoughts and he’d started to school to earn the first of his degrees.
During those years there had been several women who had held his attention for a time. When they had wanted more than he could give, he had walked away. Friends with benefits had been all he could offer.
Last December, he and Gran had spent the holiday week at her cabin. She’d spoken of her desire to retire and had asked if he would consider taking her place. After he agreed, she had told him Manon had set up practice in town as a family physician. The news had shocked him but he had agreed to come. That conversation was engraved in his thoughts.
“Let me finish my doctorate so I don’t have to face a three hour commute.”
“Are you leery of seeing Manon Lockley?”
“Maybe. There’s also the consulting job that finishes in May just after graduation.”
“Then I’ll retire in September and work with you over the summer. Some of the staff might resent a man with a fancy degree.”
Now he was here and so was Manon. He had two choices. Forget her or make his desire a reality.
As he started down the hall, he pulled off his shirt and saw some of the lead attachments were still in place. Not wanting to pull his chest hair, he turned into the bathroom. As he stripped, Manon’s face flashed into his thoughts. Shadow hands stroked his chest. His cock moved to readiness.
Ever since he’d held her in his arms, he’d wanted her. He should have kissed her until she responded.
Enough!
He turned on the water and stepped into the stall. With a flick, he changed the temperature. An icy stream washed over him. The sticky circles fell off. He scrubbed and rinsed. His body shook. Hypothermia threatened, but one part of him failed to heed the cold. He turned the water off. A cold shower hadn’t halted his desire. He strode to the bedroom and sank on the mattress. Time to take the matter in hand.
He ran his hands over his chest where she had touched. A memory of the citrus fragrance of her shampoo made him groan. His hands moved over his abdomen to grasp his cock. He slid into a memory of the first time he and Manon had pleasured each other, the time before she’d given him her virginity.
She knelt at his side and grasped him. Slowly, she had explored from the head to the base. One hand circled his dick and began to pump.
Tension built. Harder and faster he slid his hand along the shaft. He gulped breaths of air. Groans and growls filled the air. Closer and closer he rose toward his goal. With a shout he reached the peak and spewed.
“Manon.”

Thursday, August 1, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Forgotten Dreams #MFRWAuthor #BWLPublishing #Romance #Nurse practitioner #Actor #Hollywood


After a Saturday morning of cleaning house and having breakfast with Claire and Brian, Emma picked up her bag. “I’m off to make rounds and visit Manon. See you this afternoon.”
Brian grinned. “Mom and I are going to the playground near the school. Maybe some of my friends will be there.”
“I hope they are.” Her six year old nephew had settled into the summer program at the Academy and had made friends. “Have fun. We’ll rent a movie and pop some corn this evening.”
He clapped her hand. “Which one?”
Emma shrugged. “A surprise.”
Claire winked. “Why rent one. You have a number starring you know who.”
Emma glared. “They’re not suitable for young eyes. I’m considering getting rid of them.” Might be the first step in the freeing herself from the past.
“Really?”
“Yes.” In that instant she decided to stop yearning for what she would never have.
“Good to hear. Do you really intend to forget him?”
Emma opened the kitchen door. “I believe I am.”
“Good luck.”
And she would need every iota of good fortune. She’d clung to a dream for ten long years. Losing this obsession would allow her to find love and a family. Though her resolve strengthened she felt a moment of sadness.
“Say hello to Manon and congrats,” Claire called.
“Will do.” After rounds she intended to visit her partner and see the son born early this morning.
She parked in the doctor’s lot and hurried inside to visit the practice’s four patients. For two she wrote discharge orders. On the others, she ordered new tests and consultations.
Rounds completed, she rode the elevator to the second floor and walked to the maternity unit. She tapped on the door of Manon’s private room. Her friend reclined on the bed propped by pillows. Her husband lounged on a chair beside the bed.
“Congratulations to you both,” Emma said. “So you managed to have your child born under our Sun sign.”
“So we did,” Rafe said. “And we’ll be home in plenty of time four our mutual birthday party.”
“We need to add Claire to the group,” Emma said. “Hers is the day after mine.”
“And Maria, Jay’s new wife,” Manon said.
Rafe rose. “I’m on my way home. Be in later.”
“With food, I hope.” Manon kissed him.
While they said goodbye, Emma stood at the clear sided crib to watch the baby. Envy surged. She wanted one but before she could, she had to expunge her memories. “He’s handsome.”
Manon laughed. “Says a soon to be a doting aunt. Rafe Junior looks just like a baby.”
“Guess you won the naming battle.”
“Easily. Sit and visit.”
“I’m happy for you.” While she had siblings and a young nephew, she wanted a child. Unfortunately, there was no special man in her life. All she had was a dream she must forget. She walked to the chair. “How do you feel?”
“Sore/” Manon chuckled. “Lighter. Free. Tell me about the patients. Any potential problems?”
“We’re down to two in-house. I’m asking OT to see Sally Lund. I think Dr. Reid should have a look at Mr. Palmo. I had to change his drugs again.”
“Good thought about the consult.” Manon yawned. “Six weeks before I can return to work/ I’ll owe you.”
Emma nodded. “You will. I would like to take a trip in October.”
“Where will you go?”
“California.”
Manon frowned. “Why?”
“To put an end to feelings I’ve had for ages. Regarding an old flame.” Emma gulped a breath. “Do you know Fern Lake’s most famous former resident lives there? We were an item in high school. I need to expunge my fantasies.”
“Did you love him?”
Emma nodded. “Head over heels. I thought he felt the same. I waited for him to return. Didn’t happen.”
“Must have hurt.” Manon touched her hand.
Emma nodded. She fought the rise of tears. “When his mother left town to live with him, she and I talked. Then she died and for two years all I’ve seen or heard are tabloid stories. Yet like a fool I hoped. I need to tell him face to face how much I hurt.”
“You’re right. Years ago when I was told Rafe had died, I was furious. On the night of the prom, he’d run away and I didn’t know why. Then I was told he died. When he returned I was hurt and angry. Slowly I learned the real story and we found each other again. Maybe seeing him will have the same result.”
Emma shook her head. “Not possible. He has a different kind of life but I need to vent to him so I can move on.”
“Then go for t. Wish I could tell you to leave now.” She yawned again.
Emma rose. What her friend said made sense. She must move away from childish dreams. “I’ll stop by tomorrow when I make rounds and then visit you at home to deliver the gifts I haven’t wrapped.”
“Don’t waste the paper.”
Emma stepped into the hall. She could go home and make a sandwich but her stomach growled. Claire and Brian would have lunch out. She reached the ground floor and headed to the cafeteria. She assembled a salad and stopped for the chef to add thin slices of ham, turkey, cheese and eggs. After paying, she filled a large cup with iced tea and carried her lunch to a table near the window.
As she ate, a group of young nurses sat at the next table. Though she hadn’t meant to listen, their loud excited voices caught her attention.
“I nearly went crazy when the ambulance brought him in,” one nurse said.
“Why?” asked a second.
A third leaned forward. “We thought he was Chad Morgan.”
The fourth laughed. “Why would a Hollywood hunk come to Fern Lake? We’re not a tourist destination.”
“Alas he isn’t Storm.” The first nurse sighed. “His name is Ian Greve. Still he has a face and bod to drool over.”
“So what happened to him?”
“Car accident. He’s responding but in pain. Keeps passing out and they can’t give him anything for pain until the surgeon arrives.”
Emma gulped her tea. She knew that name. Chad’s middle name was Ian and his mother’s maiden name was Greve. The nurses at the other table were too young to know Chad had been a star athlete and a leading actor in school and in community theater productions. She couldn’t imagine any reason for him to come home. He never had before.
“I still wish I could be his nurse,” the first young nurse said. “If he’ll be here for weeks, there’s a chance.”
Emma finished her salad and carried her tray to the cleanup area. As she walked toward the exit, she paused. Curiosity stirred. If he was Chad, why was he in Fern Lake? She reversed direction and headed to the ER.
At the desk, she paused to speak to the nurse practitioner on duty. “I hear you have a new admit from a car accident.”
Her friend looked up. “Ambulance chasing?”
Emma laughed. “If his name is Ian Greve, I may know him.”
“Glad someone does.” She frowned. “He’s in pain and keeps talking about a pickup and a post. He also asks for someone called Rob. He’s a real puzzle.”
“Where is he?”
The second cubicle. Dr. Marchand is on the way in. See if you can persuade him to sign a consent.”
“I’ll try.”
Emma strode across the hall. She paused with her hand on the curtain. After gulping a breath, she slid to cloth aside. “Chad. Chad Morgan.”


Thursday, July 25, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Lines of Fire #MFRWAuthor #BWLPublishing #Fantasy #Romance


Not wanting to admit his second failure to find a bondmate, Alric held his bihorn, Storm Cloud to a walk and avoided farms and villages. At night he camped in forest glades. Though the members of his patrol wouldn’t blame him for the failure he felt troubled. Somewhere in the Hall his heart bound waited for discovery. Would he have the time to find her or would the Swordmaster force him to make another unsuitable choice?
Two weeks after leaving the site of the duel with the desert rider, Alric neared the Guild House. He pushed his bihorn to a steady pace. By late afternoon he would reach his destination. Three days after that, Ingathering Day would occur. The other four patrols had already left on their rounds. When he arrived he had to report to the Swordmaster and face the leader’s gloating remarks over the failure of another bonding.
Tension centered between his shoulder blades. He pressed a hand against the bonding bracelet dangling from a chain about his neck. The links of the unusual piece were made from gold, silver, copper and electrum.
The sun reached midday. Storm Cloud slowed. Alric stroked his mount’s neck. “Not much further. Then grooming, food and a treat.”
The steed’s pace returned to a steady canter. Alric steadied his thoughts. He would reach the Hall in time to search the records for news of the sibs his father had mentioned years ago. He had avoided searching before but since meeting Jens, a need to know had arisen.
When he saw the massive stone wall surrounding the four halls belonging to the four guilds of Investia, foreboding entered his thoughts. Though his father had named the Swordmaster as an enemy, Alric didn’t understand the older man’s animosity. During the training days there had never been a word of praise. Even now Alric’s reports were searched for flaws.
He rode through the open gate leading to the Defenders Hall. He dismounted and led his bihorn across the courtyard to the stables. There he brushed Storm Cloud’s dark brown coat until it gleamed, polished the horns and checked the animal’s hooves. He filled the manger with hay and oats, adding a handful of the tart purple apelons. These fruits were the steed’s favorite treat.
After cleaning and oiling the saddle and tack, he hung them on a hook and lifted the pack and journal. Unable to delay any longer he strode to the central entrance. He paused outside the Swordmaster’s door and knocked. He braced for the lecture he didn’t deserve. Neither of his bondmates chosen by the leader had suited. They had returned to their villages. Though the leader should guard his men, the Swordmaster’s attempts to control Alric’s life were wrong.
“Enter.”
Alric closed the door and stood in front of the highly polished mahogany desk. The dark wood was covered with record books. The Swordmaster glared. A liberal sprinkling of white, colored his sandy hair.
“Defender Alric, reporting.” He placed his journal on the desk.
The Swordmaster bent his head and read the short entries. “Your accounts agree with the others of your patrol. No fatalities and only one death among your four years on rounds of the sectors. You have quite a record.” He stroked his chin. “Why do young men not chosen for training attack from behind?”
Alric shrugged. “If I could read minds such tragedies could be avoided.”
“Where is your bondmate?”
Alric straightened. “She remained at the outpost village in the southern sector. She had no desire to be a Defender and her skills were mediocre.” He placed his hands on the desk. “This time the choice is mine.”
The older man’s jaw thrust forward. “There is no time for you to visit the Women’s Quarters and court any of the unbonded. There are important short assignments you can best fulfill. I have chosen the perfect mate for you. She has long admired your skills and she will bond permanently. When she names you, you will accept.”
Alric drew a deep breath. “According to the rules governing this guild, a man or a woman has the right to choose his third mate. Section 4, Rule 1.”
The older man smiled. “Rules can be overturned by the Swordmaster.”
A frown tightened Alric’s forehead. He had memorized the Defender’s rules. “Why have I never seen that written?”
“Unwritten and known only to the Swordmaster. Passed from my predecessor to me. Followed for several generations. Broken just once in my memory and the Defender who broke the rule ended in disgrace. The woman he chose walked into the abyss of death.”
Though Alric fought to control his reaction, he flinched. Had the incident been part of his father’s disgrace? Did the custom explain why the same family had ruled the Defenders for several generations? Were any rivals identified and bonded with unsuitable mates so they were banished when the bondings failed?
The Swordmaster half-rose. “Go to your suite. Sleep well. In three days the gong will summon the patrols for the Ingathering. You will meet your final bondmate.”
Alric backed to the door. He didn’t trust the older man not to throw the knife he held. For an instant he studied the lines of fire on the Swordmaster’s skin. Dark, turgid and touched with evil. The state of the leader’s lines meant he had turned toward the ways of darkness. If challenged, could he be defeated?
As he stepped into the hall, tension shot along his spine. His chest felt as though iron bands circled his ribs. Two men he wished to avoid approached. Robec, the leader’s son and Petan, the bully, sauntered along the corridor. Alric glanced at their arms. Both remained unbonded. He’d heard about Petan’s ill-fortune with his bondmates. Robec had never been chosen. Why?
“Country boy,” Petan drawled. “No bracelet?”
The band around Alric’s chest prevented him from drawing a deep breath. “Just as you have none. At least my former mates are alive. Didn’t both of yours suffer tragic accidents?”
Anger flashed in the beefy man’s dark eyes. “Stupid gits. Last one tried to take a duel I’d marked as mine.”
Had Petan taken the young woman’s life rather than the killer being the man she’d fought? Petan had killed the fighter so there was no one to say what had happened.
Alric turned to Robec. “Do you have taunts to add?”
A flash of color stained Robec’s face. During their training years, he had been Alric’s closest rival for honors. Alric had usually emerged the winner. He believed his rival saw the lines of fire though he failed to use them. Was the reason personal? Did Robec see the dark lines of his father and his friend and refuse to believe what they meant?
When he refused the Swordmaster’s choice, which of his rivals would issue the challenge? He knew Robec’s style. Petan had been a year ahead of him so he and Alric had never dueled.
Robec cleared his throat. “Successful trip?”
“Five duels. No deaths. I’ve only one on my record.” He grinned. “There was a sixth duel but no Justicar was present. Was with a desert rider. He was good but not good enough.”
“Should have killed the scum.” Petan clamped Robec’s arm. “Come on. We’re due at the Women’s Quarters. Kalia’s waiting.”
“You’re right.” Robec’s voice sounded devoid of emotion. “She doesn’t like to wait for anyone.”
Alric’s hands fisted. Who had given Petan permission to enter the area where many of the unbonded women and a few of the bonded ones had chambers? Robec’s mother and sisters stayed there. Petan had no female kin living in the Hall. Was this another exception to the rule?
He hurried along the corridor to the south wing of the sprawling building. In his suite he opened windows to clear out the stale air. He set his pack on the bed and removed dirty clothes. He carried them to the baths and dumped them in the hampers. Some would be washed and mended. Others turned to rags. The soft buckskin trousers would be cleaned and brushed.
He stripped and stepped into the hot pool. After a quick scrub of his body and his hair, he plunged into the warm rinsing pool. After drying and donning a change of clothes taken from the shelves, he combed and braided his hair, binding the ends with a strip of leather.
Food next. He’d missed the nooning. His stomach growled. He headed to the refectory. Taking a wooden tray and mug he moved along the line selecting a hearty meal of sliced beef, tubers and fresh greens.
At the end of the line he filled two mugs with citren and scanned the tables. No members of his patrol were to be seen. His gaze locked with one belonging to a young woman with touches of fire in her brown hair. Time fled. The degree of connection nearly caused him to drop the tray. She was perfect. Who was she? He had to learn her name.
When she lowered her gaze he noticed her companions. Was she Robec’s sister or his chosen bondmate? If so, a problem existed. Another thought made him ill. Had she been chosen by the Swordmaster as Petan’s third mate?
Alric clutched the tray. He refused to think she had any connection to Petan. The lines of fire on her skin showed the vivid scarlet of health and vitality. Alric walked to a small empty table. He had seen a woman he would gladly choose.



Thursday, July 18, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene from Gemstones #MFRWAuthor #BWL Publishing #Romance #Historical


Calcutta, September 1810

"Never!" Nicola held back her tears. She glared at the dark-haired man who stood on the other side of the table her father had used as a desk. Fergus Crawford always made her think of a snake. His dark and hooded eyes gleamed with the hypnotic power of a cobra. She swallowed the lump fear had formed in her throat. "My sisters and I will stay here. This house is ours."
His lips curled into a sneer. "Calcutta is no place for three lassies ta live with na male protection. Your pa and me were partners and cousins. He’s sure ta name my guardian."
Nicola drew a deep breath. He didn’t know about the arrangements her papa had made for them. "We will not leave our home."
"Then I will come here. ‘Tis a finer house than mine." His smile chilled her. "Time has come for me ta take a wife. Your canny eye for gemstones had made a fortune for your pa and me. I ain’t about to lose your skills."
Nicola swallowed a rush of bitter fluid. She needed time. If the escort didn’t arrive soon, she would have to take her sisters and flee.
He leaned across the table. "I think you’ll do nicely. You’ve a fortnight to make ready for the wedding. I’ll be away. Your pa lost something of great value. You sure there was na goodly sized sapphire in the last lot you sorted?"
She shook her head. She refused to tell him about the pouch her father had given her and the gems she hadn’t examined yet. "You saw all the gems there were."
"Search again. I want that sapphire." He clamped his hat on his head. "Twa weeks, lassie."
Once he’d vanished, the tears she’d held inside burst free with the same force as the monsoon rains now lashing the house. She sank to her knees on the carpet and pressed her forehead against her father’s chair. For a short time, she allowed grief and fear to dominate. Then, she wiped her face on the skirt of her black silk afternoon dress.
When would the escort arrive? Her insides churned at the thought of being forced into a marriage with Fergus Crawford. If he claimed guardianship of her sisters, who in Calcutta would protest? Why hadn’t her parents said more about their families? Papa had been an orphan and Mama had only spoken of a cruel father and a timid mother. She’d never mentioned where in England they lived or said their name.
Nicola had believed her life would continue in the pattern set after her mother’s death. She would run the house, supervise and teach her sisters and evaluate gemstones for her father. The trade in jewels provided monies for household expenses and to be sent to London to be invested.
She rose from the floor and entered the parlor where her sisters sat. Margaret jumped up. "Did he hurt you?"
"He wouldn’t dare." At least not yet. Nicola shuddered.
"But I heard you crying."
"He says I must marry him." She gulped a breath. "He can’t stay here. We must be gone before he returns to the city."
"Where will we go?" Elizabeth asked.
"Papa wrote to Mr. Grey months ago and asked for someone to escort us to London." Nicola grasped the back of a chair. "We will go to our mother’s family." She would see her sisters safe in London. Then she would return for she couldn’t imagine living elsewhere."
Margaret ran to the amah. The plump woman held the ten year old against her chest. Prabha’s ebony eyes filled with tears. The amah had been with the family since Nicola’s birth. She was the only mother Margaret knew."
Margaret stamped her foot. "I want to stay with Prabha." Her voice rose to a wail.
To forestall more tears, Nicola made a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep. "She will come with us. Sarad, too. You must pack your things and be ready to leave."
Once her sisters and the amah left the room, Nicola slumped on a chair. The fear she had hidden from them leaped into her thoughts like a tiger pouncing on a victim.
A short time later, she stepped onto the verandah and strode toward the rear of the house. The heavy rains had lightened, but the day remained gloomy.
She hadn’t told her sisters that their father had arranged a marriage for her. She thought of her parents and the closeness they had shared. She wanted to find the same kind of live, but how could she with a stranger?
"Papa," she cried. "Why did you leave us?"
"Young Seeker."
Nicola whirled. "Namtase, Yogi Yakshi. I didn’t expect you today."
"There is much I must tell you before you leave this land." He put a hand on her arm to still her cries of protest. "You must listen."
She bowed her head. "I will hear."
"There is a gem, the Third Eye of Siva. The one who has the gem as a gift will receive all he deserves."
She frowned. Papa had mentioned Siva and the Third Eye. Cousin Fergus had demanded a large sapphire. Were they the same?
"I don’t understand."
"This is not the time for understanding. It is the time of flight from danger."
"Why did Papa leave us?"
The elderly man took her hand. "My child, each of us remains on this plain for an allotted time. Your father has completed his cycle and now embraces a new existence."
"How can you be sure?"
He smiled. "This is the way of things."
Nicola knew he would say no more on the matter. She leaned against the railing.
"In the distant past, wise men cast horoscopes for those born in the future. I have seen yours. You have tasks to perform. In a far land, you will meet one who needs your loving spirit to release him from the bonds he has tied around his heart and soul."
What did he mean? The yogi’s teachings were often oblique and filled with mystical meanings. "I don’t want to leave my home."
"To stay is to court danger." Dark eyes filled with wisdom captured her gaze. "Once you look into the Third Eye of Siva, all will be clear."
She swallowed. "I don’t understand."
"You must leave this land and fulfill your destiny. Forget not my teachings and choose your path to maksha carefully. The way of liberation from the cycles is difficult, yet each time you make the journey brings you closer to perfection."
Sadness wove a dark pattern in her thoughts. "I will return. I can’t live forever in a strange land."
"Love will bind you to the place of your people. The path to kama is strewn with boulders, but in the end, you will find all the love you seek. My blessing goes with you."
Nicola bowed to him. "May your days be filled with enlightenment."
"And yours with learning. We have met before and our lives will be joined again."
"I pray you are right."
"Miss Nicola," Sarad called. "A man has come."
Nicola watched the yogi until he reached the garden gate. She wanted to call him back and ask him to change the words he’d said and to give her hope of a return. After he vanished into the mist, she followed Sarad into the house.
A slender, foppish man with graying hair paced from one side of the parlor to the other. At Nicola’s entrance, he paused. "Miss Gordon."
"Who are you?"
"Isaac Timmons, at your service. Mr. Grey sent me to escort you and your sisters to London."
Relief flooded Nicola. "When do we leave?"
"The ship sails in a week. I trust you will be ready."
She nodded. They would be safely away before Cousin Fergus returned to Calcutta. "We’ll be ready. We’ve already begun to pack."
"Very good." he smiled. "By the time we reach London, the Earl of Denmere will have signed the marriage contracts."
She wished to forget that part of her father’s plans. She turned away. Why must she wed a stranger?
After Mr. Timmons was settled in the guest room, Nicola went to her bedroom. She lifted the pouch of gems her father had pushed into her hand the night he died. In England, her sisters would be safe. She tucked the pouch in her trunk. The gemstones would provide a means for her return.


Thursday, July 4, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Confrontations Affinities Book 4 #MFRWAuthor #BWLPublishing Inc #Fantasy #YA


MIKEL

For a seven day Mikel and his companions had crossed the plains traveling from dawn until dusk. Though their journey to the lake in the center of Easren wasn’t the longest the sooner they reached the site the more time they would have for Bran to examine the remains of the drowned henge for clues about how Dom Senet and his underlings had warped the elements.
Mikel drew a deep breath and stared at the rushing water marking the border between the plains and Easren. He turned to his companions. “Today we cross into Easren.” He stared at the torrential rain on the other side.
Dyna nodded. “We can cross here. The rock bed is solid and there’s not much mud.”
“Water’s about three or four feet deep,” Bran said.
“Then we go,” Mikel said.
“Let me take the lead.” Tamlia met his gaze. “If there is trouble I can use my ability to control the coursers.” She urged her steed into the water.
Mikel and Dyna followed. When they reached the mid-point Mikel turned his head to watch Bran’s slow progress. He seemed to have difficulty controlling his mount. Mikel reached the opposite bank. He heard a shout and jerked around. Bran’s courser shied. Bran tumbled into the chill water. Mikel jumped from his mount and pulled Bran to shore. Tamlia raced her courser after Bran’s.
“What happened?” Dyna asked.
“Something in the water startled him.” Bran bent over and coughed.
Tamlia returned with Bran’s steed. Streams of water ran from the panniers. “We need a place to build a fire.”
Mikel moved through the misting rain. He mounted his courser and quickly read the winds. “Not here. There’s a group of doms and domas headed this way. If we’re quick they won’t see us.”
Bran grasped the reins of his steed and pulled himself into the saddle. “Which way do we go?”
Mikel pointed east. “Will you be all right?”
“I’ll have to be. Once we’re safely away we can look for shelter.”
Hours of riding through the rain that changed from light to heave wind-driven gusts of chill air passed before they found a sagging barn for their camp. Tamlia kindled a fire from broken pieces of wood from the stalls. Bran’s panniers were unloaded. Using his affinity he pulled water from the clothing and food sacks. Tamlia added heat from her flame sword to dry them.
Mikel drew a deep breath and opened himself to the winds. After scenting the vicinity and finding only a farm family worried about the weather and the need to use their seed grain as food, he closed the link and directed his quest to find the others with his affinity. All except Ash’s group experienced the miserable weather and had little to report. Mikel felt a sharp stab at the edge of his thoughts and slammed his barriers tight. Could this be the seeker Ash had mentioned? Had Dom Senet stumbled on the search? Mikel had no desire for that one to gain an inkling of the plans.
In the morning under a pewter sky they left the barn and rode for several hours. A roll of thunder caused Mikel’s courser to rear. He gripped the reins and brought his steed under control.
Bran pointed at the sky. “We’re in for a downpour. We need shelter.” He sneezed.
“Ahead,” Dyna said. “There’s a cave large enough for us and the steeds.”
“Lead the way.” Tamlia shouted above the booming thunder.
Before they reached the cave the storm arrived and thoroughly soaked them. Fortunately Tamlia was able to start a fire using some black rock Dyna found. The smoke sent Bran into a fit of coughing. He retreated to sit near the cave mouth.
The quartet remained in the cave for the remainder of the day. Mikel watched the storm’s fury build. A small stream of water flowed through the mouth but by using rocks Dyna turned the flow from the fire. By morning the rain ceased but clouds remained to darken the sky.
For three days they followed a narrow road. Mikel worried about Bran. His friend was quieter than usual. Though Bran tried to hide the deep coughs that exploded with growing frequency he failed. Mikel feared his companion was ill. What would they do if he was too sick to aid the quartet in healing Easren? Mikel believed Bran’s aid was essential to the process.
At the end of a seven day after entering Easren Mikel paused his steed at the top of a rolling hill. Ahead he saw water. Beneath the leaden sky the lake appeared dark gray. Was that their destination? He glanced at the sky. Were those birds circling under the clouds? The shapes plunged toward the lake. “Look, there’s a dark and a light bird.”
Bran laughed and waved. “The henge is there. We must follow the birds to the site of what was the Easren henge. “The lake is larger than I remember.” He gasped for breath and covered his mouth to muffle a cough.
Mikel frowned. “Can I help you?”
“I’ll be fine. Let’s ride.”
By late afternoon they neared the body of water. A gray stone rose from the lake’s center. “What’s that?” Mikel asked.
“The remainder of the henge that was.” Bran coughed until his face turned scarlet and he gasped for air.
Mikel rode to his side. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Bran shook his head. “Not. Throat hurts.”
Mikel gestured to Tamlia and Dyna. “We need to find shelter.” He pointed to the distant trees. “Do you think there?”
Tamlia urged her courser closer to Bran. “Are you sure this is where we should be?”
He nodded. Another bout of coughing began.
Geni grabbed the reins of his courser. “Hang on.”
Tamlia pointed to a dark structure part way around the lake between the water and the forest. “Might be a building. Check for people. If there are none we can camp there while we wait for the other quartets to reach their destinations. Hot food and dry clothes would be welcome.”
Mikel stared into the distance. “Building is empty. There are no people even near.” He urged his courser into a walk. When he reached the stone building he dismounted. A shed at the side held a few bales of hay. “Coursers can be stabled here.”
Tamlia and Dyna helped Bran inside. Mikel removed the panniers and saddle from Bran’s steed and carried them inside. Long stone tables lined one of the walls. Dyna came outside to help. “Tamlia’s starting a fire.” She set two pots to catch rainwater.
Mikel placed another set of panniers on the table. He looked into two smaller rooms and frowned. Definitely not sleeping chambers. Hooks hung from the ceiling. Each room had a central fire circle. He stepped back into the main room and found the necessary behind the main room. A large bathing tub with no pipes to allow hot and cold water to fill the tub sat at one end of the room. At least there were drains for all the facilities.
Bran sat beside the fireplace. He held his scrying cup and opened the medicinal pouch. With shaking fingers he put a selection of herbs into the cup.
“Sitting and waiting for the water to heat is foolish.” Mikel extended a hand to help Bran to his feet. “You need to change into dry clothes.” Mikel carried clothes dried by Tamlia’s sword into the necessary. Once they changed they returned to the main room.
Bran dipped water from one of the steaming pots into the scrying cup. He poured the liquid into a mug and drank. Mikel unrolled a sleep saque. “Rest. We’ll care for the coursers.”
Mikel went with Tamlia and Dyna outside to groom and feed the steeds. When they returned they found Bran asleep. “I’m worried about him.” Mikel dropped dried meat and vegetables into a pot.
“So am I,” Dyna said.
“Speak to Doma Jandia,” Tamlia suggested. “She’ll know what to do.”
Mikel handed the stirring spoon to her. He moved away from the fire and settled against a wall. He found the winds of the keep. Doma Jandia, Bran is ill. He has a cough and he’s fevered.
Mix healal and feverfage with honey and have him take a spoonful every time he coughs. If he has trouble breathing burn eucala in a dish close to his head. When he wakes bathe him in cool water. Have him drink broth and willah tea.
Mikel relayed the instructions to the others. Dyna set about making the honey syrup and the willah tea. Tamlia gathered pots of rain water to fill the bathing tub. Once all was ready Mikel woke Bran and told him what the doma had suggested.
Bran sat. A bout of coughing racked through his body. Dyna handed him a spoon and the syrup plus a cup of willah tea.
Tamlia helped him stand. “Are you sure you don’t have fire throat?”
He shook his head. “Just ague.”
Mikel aided him to the necessary and waited until Bran was in the tub. He returned with drying cloths. After the soak Bran dressed and returned to the main room where he alternated sips of broth with tea,
Tamlia curled her arms around her knees. “How do we reach that spire?”
“By boat,” Bran rasped.
“What if we don’t find one?” Mikel asked.
Dyna grinned. “We build a raft.”
Mikel walked to one of the small rooms. “I’ve been puzzling over the purpose of these rooms. I believe this was a fishing camp and these rooms are for smoking fish. There should be a boat on the shore.”
Tamlia groaned. “So we go looking.”
“Not tonight.” Mikel yawned and opened his sleep saque.
For the next two days Mikel fretted. Bran remained feverish. Mikel feared they would all become ill. The rain continued until the morning of the third day. Though no rain fell there was no break in the cloud cover. He left the house and took the coursers to the grassy area near the trees where Dyna had used her staff to rejuvenate the growth.
Instead of returning to the house he decided to walk along the shore. As he moved forward he stared at the spire. He stumbled and fell to the ground. When he groped for the obstacle he freed an oar. A few yards ahead he found a metal ring and a boat fastened by a metal chain to the ring.
Rain had filled the craft. Was it sound? He ran to the house for ropes and then to the meadow for two of the coursers. After fastening the rope to the steeds and the boat he urged them to pull the craft from the water. Dyan and Tamlia helped empty the water. Using the ropes they carried the rowboat to the house to dry.
Bran sat up. “Good.”
Dyna laughed. “Better than a raft.”
“What now?” Tamlia asked.
“We learn how close the others are to their destination,” Bran said.
“My job.” Mikel sat near Bran. “We should use a circle when speaking to our friends. Last night Dom Senet or someone else tried to read my thoughts again. We don’t want to give the enemy any hint of our plan.”






Thursday, June 20, 2019

Thursday's Fourth Scene Havens Affinities Book 2 #MFRWAuthor #BWL Publishing INC #YA #Fantasy


Valcon

     Valcon pulled a knit cap low to hide his hair and wrapped a scarf so his mouth and nose were covered.  He opened the door of the stone house and peered across the barren garden.  Only a skim of snow lay on the ground.  The weather had been strange this winter.  The heavy snowfall that had aided his friends’ escape had melted.  Since that day only flurries had fallen.  He’d heard the farms in the northern section of the princedom had experienced one storm after another.  The bitter cold made him shiver.  Leaving the warmth of the house hadn’t been his idea.  Svana’s begging to visit Cook for sweets had finally pushed him to the door.
     He checked to see the little girl was bundled before he lifted the basket of fruit and vegetables that had been gleaned from the growing house this morning.  Svana danced outside ahead of him.
     “Hurry, Valcon.”  She used her heavy stick as a sword.  Finchon and Larkea waited near the wall.  Larkea pressed the stones in the proper sequence and a segment of the wall slid inward.
     “Do you have the list?”  Valcon asked.
     “In my head,”  Larkea said.
     “Make sure to take care when you return.”  Valcon followed the three children into the lane.  “We don’t want anyone to suspect the wall isn’t part of the city’s enclosure.  Make your purchases and hurry back.”
     Finchon nodded.  “I’ll be careful.”  He turned to Larkea.  “So will she.”
     Larkea watched the gate close.  “Keep an eye out for guards.  They seem to favor Cook’s tavern.”
     “Do you blame them?”  Valcon asked.
     Finchon laughed.  “If I could I would  eat there every day.”
     Svana tugged on Valcon’s hand.  “Come on.”
     Larkea made a face.  “You need to teach her caution.  Ever since you and Bran fixed her foot, she doesn’t listen.”
     “And you’re so obedient.”  Finchon danced away from her raised fist.
     Valcon hated the heat of anger he heard in Larkea’s voice and saw in her eyes.  How could she be envious of the little girl?  The mite was their joy.  Lately Larkea had been moody, especially since he and Genira had been rescued from the palisades and their friends had left.
     “We’ll be fine,”  Valcon said.  “The most we have to worry about is the pack of hounds that hang about the alley.  They’re becoming bolder.  I’ll beg some meat scraps or bones from Cook and toss them into the pack.”
     Larkea laughed.  “Clever.”  She ran after Finchon.  “See you.”
     When Valcon and Svana reached the alley leading to the rear door of the tavern, he and the little girl waved to the others.  Svana raced to the door of the tavern and knocked.  Just as the door opened, Valcon reached the stoop and took her hand.