Thursday's Opening Scene - The Doctor's Dilemma #MFRWauthor #medicalromance #sweetromance

Neal McKay put the last suture in the jagged cut on his patient’s calf. He stripped off his gloves and stepped back from the table. He glanced at the clock. Nearly three PM. He should have been home an hour ago, but the day hadn’t gone as planned. As the only doctor in town, this was the norm.     

            As usual, his day off had been filled with emergencies. A fractured tibia, a case of congestive heart failure, an acute allergy attack and now this.

            They -- his wards -- should be at the house. He groaned and felt no more prepared for parenthood than he’d been the day he’d learned about his foster sister’s death -- a week after her funeral. Even if he’d known, he wouldn’t have been able to leave his patients to attend the service.

            He groaned. The thought of being responsible for the twins’ care brought waves of insecurity. None of his experiences in the past had prepared him for this day.

            “Do you want to do the dressing?”

            Neal looked at the red-haired nurse. “He’s all yours.”

            “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.” Jack Gardner glared.

            “If you’re talking about the patch job, just doing my thing.” Jack’s reaction made Neal chuckle. In college, they’d spent hours one-upping each other. He missed the days when they’d been like brothers.

            Jack raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem you need solved?”

            “You might say that.”

            “I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

            “I don’t know about that.” Neal watched Patty Sue Crawford’s gaze center on his friend. He grinned. Maybe today was the turning point. Since his arrival in Prairie ten months before, she’d pursued him like a wrangler after a runaway steer.

            “Can I go back to the ranch?’ Jack asked.

            Neal frowned. “Only if you promise to avoid horses and cattle until the stitches are out.”

            “How long?”

            “A week.”

            “I can do that.”

            Neal doubted the truth of the statement. Since Jack’s return to the ranch last month, he seemed bent on proving he was Cowboy of the Year.

            “I’d rather admit you for the night. Give you some intravenous antibiotics and injections for pain. Once the local wears off, you’re going to know you’ve been hurt.”

            Jack slid to the edge of the table. “No hospital. What if I stay at my grandmother’s?”

            “Might work, especially after I tell Miss Hattie to tie you to the bed. Your injury is nothing to take lightly.”

            Jack laughed. “Grandmother will see that I obey orders. She should have been a general. You coming to the barbecue Saturday?”

            “I wouldn’t miss it,” Patty Sue said.

            Jack looked away. “Honey, your presence is a given. I meant Doc here.”

            Neal shrugged. “I’ll see how things go. My wards arrive today. I’ll probably be too busy learning how to be a daddy.”

            “I can’t imagine you with a pair of doggies.”

            Neither could Neal, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “I don’t have a choice.”

            “Guess not. I kind of envy you. You’ve achieved fatherhood without the M word.” Jack chuckled. “Bring the doggies with you. The ladies will love them.” He shook his head. “Never thought you’d be saddled with kids. They’ll make big changes in your life.”

            Patty Sue opened a dressing kit. “I think Neal -- Dr. McKay will be a wonderful father.”

            How did she manage to make a deliberate slip of the tongue seem natural?  “Thank you, Ms. Crawford. See that Jack has a copy of the discharge instructions and make an appointment for Friday.” He waved to Jack. “I’ll call the prescriptions to the pharmacy and have them delivered to Miss Hattie’s.”

            “See you and the doggies Saturday,” Jack called. “I’m sure Grandmother expects to see you there.”

            Neal nodded. He’d be at the barbecue with the twins or Miss Hattie would come for him. The town’s matriarch was used to having her way.

            He strode down the hall to his office. Parties at the Gardner mansion were events to be experienced, but he wasn’t sure he could handle an evening of listening to the benefits of life in Prairie.

            He had to go -- home. But there were things he had to complete before he left. He welcomed the delay in facing this new responsibility and sat at his desk to phone the drugstore and write a note on Jack’s chart.

            Home -- the twins -- his legacy. He groaned. Jack was right.

            Two babies would force changes in his lifestyle that he wasn’t ready to make. He wasn’t even sure where to begin.

            Instead of heading home, he reached for a stack of letters he’d received in response to his queries about another temporary position. The time to move had come. A year was long enough to stay in one place.

            But he had a family now. His choice of where to head next had to include them.  How could he make a home for the twins?  He’d been raised as a foster child in a series of placements. A football scholarship had allowed him to escape the last foster home where he’d endured three years of being treated as an outsider. He slammed up barriers against the memories of those days.

            Those memories brought no answers to his current dilemma. His lifestyle didn’t lend itself to an instant family. The longest he’d stayed in one place had been the four years in college and the same amount in medical school. Every time he considered staying in one place, his anxiety level peaked.

            He shoved the letters in a drawer and left the office. He’d do his best for Sherri’s babies but he couldn’t promise them a stable life and a real family. With this thought firmly in place, he left the clinic and jogged down the street toward his rented house to face his foster sister’s attempt to turn him into a family man.

Thursday's Opening Scene from Shortcut To Love by Janet Lane Walters

SHORTCUT TO LOVE

Chapter One

            The mob of creatures waving signs circled him, leaving no room for escape. His frustration level soared. No matter which way he turned, he faced another sign.

            "College debts. Medical school loans. Credit cards. Condo. Car. Money for the house he planned to build."

            A deep voice, akin to his father's, chanted words that gradually rang clear. "You must pay the debts. You must pay the debts."

            The strange creatures joined the chorus. They twirled the ends of Dali-like mustaches.

            From a distance, his mother's voice added to the cacophony. "Michael when will I see grandchildren? You know how badly I want little ones to hug."

            Michael West bolted upright and stared at the clock. He rubbed his eyes. This wasn't Saturday or Sunday. He was going to be late for his first day as the junior partner of Grandvue Hospital's premier group of surgeons. He threw back the covers and strode to the bathroom.

            As he showered, the nightmare circled in his thoughts. "Sorry Mom," he whispered. The stack of debts had to be liquidated before he chose a wife.

            He grabbed a towel and briskly dried. He had a plan. Five years would see it to completion. Then he'd be ready to give the woman he selected for marriage the things he believed she deserved. He dressed in new gray slacks and a black blazer,  grabbed his medical bag and headed out the door.

            Though he wished he had time for a hearty breakfast, on the way to the hospital, he stopped at the deli for coffee and a croissant.  Ten minutes later, he sat in the doctors' parking lot and ate his meager meal.

            After stuffing the trash in the take-out bag, Michael pulled his long frame from the car and strode toward the entrance. Just as he reached the door, the senior partner of the practice called his name. "Slow down."

            Michael waited for Dr. Probst. "Good morning, sir. I didn't expect to see you here this early."

            The gray-haired man smiled. "Always first in. Good to see you're of like habits. Three cases on the schedule this morning."

            "Will I assist with them all?" Michael asked.

            "Eager to get your hands in?"

            Michael grinned. "Sure am, sir."

            Dr. Probst chuckled. "How well I remember those days. Before we head to the O.R., we’ll make rounds and I'll show you around the surgical unit.”

            “Sounds good.”

            “Then I'll introduce you to the new nurse manager. Young woman's a marvel. Been here six months. Shaped up the place and the staff. Not only smart, but quite a looker, too."

            Michael's grin broadened. In November when he'd interviewed and toured the hospital, the nurse manager had been a starched older woman whose cold glare and thin-lipped smile made him think she detested young doctors.  Young and pretty was more his style, especially if she was a woman who would be content with the company of a man with a five-year plan.

            They left the elevator on the second floor and strode around the corner. When Michael saw the nurse seated at the long counter surrounding the open station, he abruptly halted.

            "No," he whispered. “It can’t be.” He nearly bolted.

            "Something wrong?" Dr. Probst asked.

            Michael cleared his throat. "Nothing. I never expected to see--"

            "Zelda, come meet the latest addition to the group," Dr. Probst called.

            "Zelda." Michael groaned. The bane of his youth sauntered toward them.

            His throat tightened. So did his gut. "You work here?"

            He could have kicked himself. Why else would she be here dressed in a white uniform? A uniform that fit her slim body to perfection.

            Dr. Probst beamed. "Michael, this is Zelda Carter, the miracle nurse manager."

            Figures she’d find a way to plague me, Michael thought. The man was right about one thing. Zelda was attractive and probably efficient, but she was also a disaster attuned to Michael West MD. Like the visions seen by a drowning man, incidents flooded his memory. She had dynamited his high school romance with Ann and dive-bombed his summer fling with Bette.

            Every time Zelda neared his vicinity, strange things happened. He tripped over invisible cracks in the sidewalk, dropped drinks and fumbled plates of food. In her presence he became an accident primed to occur.

            He glanced at Zelda. Boy had she changed. Short, curly, brown hair. Blue eyes. Slender figure. His gaze lingered on her kissable lips, and he felt an urge to taste them. He sucked in a breath. Zelda? He jerked his eyes away from her mouth and forced himself to concentrate on his partner's briefing on the patients on the unit and the cases awaiting surgery.

            His gaze and his attention strayed toward her. She kept her gaze on his partner. Zelda discussed the cases with Dr. Probst. Michael realized she was ignoring him more effectively than he ignored her. Still, he felt sure plans for destructing his life roiled in her head the way they always had.

            A note, he thought. He'd write one and leave it in her office. Strong words designed to head her off. He pulled out a pen and scribbled on his prescription pad.

                                    Dear Zelda, Nice to hear you're doing so

                                    well. Let's work to keep our relationship

                                    strictly professional. Unless you need to                                                           

                                   talk to me about a patient, ignore me.

                                                Your former neighbor, Michael.

            After rounds, Michael followed Dr. Probst to the stairs. He paused at the door of Zelda's office. "Just a minute. I need to drop something on her desk."

            Dr. Probst arched a brow. "Something brewing between you two already?"

            "We used to be neighbors."

            "Aha, the girl next-door."

            Michael nodded. He wasn't about to explain the tangled past he shared with Zelda. He stepped into the office and placed the note on her desk. That should stop any problems, he thought.

            As he and Dr. Probst reached the stairs, the stairwell door opened. A tall, gorgeous redhead exited. "Dr. Probst, good morning."

            Her throaty voice, not to mention her voluptuous body, captured Michael's attention.

            "Morning," the older doctor said. "Grace Lubke, this is Michael West, the newest addition to our team."

            "Pleased to meet you, Dr. West." Grace's smile held interest and promises.

            "Same here." Michael would have stayed to explore the possibilities, but his partner headed down the stairs. Michael started to follow and turned. "Grace, I'll see you around."

            "I'll make sure you do."

            Michael caught up with the older man. "Grace seems nice."

            "She's a looker. Smart, too. Clinical Psychologist for the Mental Health unit."

            Now I know where to find her, Michael thought. He intended to look her up very soon.

Thursday's Opening Scene from Woman Freed From Amber part of the Amber Chronicles by Janet Lane Walters

Woman Freed From Amber

The youngest prince of Rivand stared at the sky. The moon had risen and was
new. He lifted the bottle of wine and drank deeply. If only he could find something to be
other than the wastrel prince, a man without a place in the kingdom. He drank again and
finished the bottle. When he gestured for another, he saw the palace page appear.
Kristen tried to make himself invisible. There could be no other man or woman in this
tavern being sought by the king.

He watched the page search the faces of the men gathered around the tables.
Perhaps he wouldn’t be seen here on the balcony. His hopes were dashed when the page
hurried through the crowded room and appeared at Kristan’s side, “Your sire requests
your presence.”

Kristin rose and followed the boy to the tavern door. At least he hadn’t imbibed
enough to make his stagger. He mounted his horse and rode through town to the
imposing stone building that had been his home for all his life.

As he entered the throne room, she saw his father waited. His oldest brother
usually sat at the king’s side. Where was the crown prince? Did this mean his heir was
about to be born? Kristen shivered. One day, a crown prince might be called to face the
Witch of the Woods. He recalled the cryptic words he’d read in his grandfather memoirs
and remembered his vow to free the woman caught in the amber gem.

“Kristen,” his father’s voice was low and rumbled with anger. “Your conduct is
unbecoming to a prince. I’m tired of hearing of your constant pursuit of wine, women
and dice.”

Kristan straightened. “What else is there for me? My oldest brother follows you.
The second will be his advisor. The third will head the army. The fourth, the navy. The
fifth the treasury and the sixth the agriculture of Rivand. There is nothing left for me.”

“Not so. There is marriage. One has been arranged with the daughter of Wevald.
Put your affairs in order. You leave at the end of the week.”

“I don’t want to marry someone I’ve never seen.” Kristan turned and fled the
room.

“You will do as ordered,” The king shouted.

Kristan raced along the empty corridors until he reached his chambers. He sat on
the edge of the bed and wished the numbness of the liquor he’d drunk would return. He
had to make plans. This marriage his father had arranged wasn’t for him. From deep
inside came the certainty that for him there was another destiny though what he didn’t
know.

He rose. He had to leave the palace tonight. Where he would go, he wasn’t sure.
He found a haversack and quickly packed a few changes of clothes. From the chest at the
foot of his bed he took the sleeping blanket he had used on hunting trips. His hand
brushed a tear-shaped globe. He lifted the amber crystal and held it to the candlelight.

“Emme,” he whispered. His thoughts flashed to the night his grandfather had
died and how the valet had brought the amber orb to him. For years, he had kept the
globe beside his bed and stared at the woman trapped inside. Without knowing why, he
tucked the sphere in his haversack. He stuffed coins in his boots where many men kept
knives. He hurried to the stable and saddled his horse. He rode quickly through the town
and exited the gates and rode toward the forest.

The crescent of the new moon rose but the light cast was dimmed by the trees.
Though the leaves were those of spring and small, the trees were crowded. Kristan heard
a rustling. The wind or an animal, he thought. The small light cast by the crescent moon
cast shadows.

“Hoy.” The shout startled him. Someone leaped from one of the trees and
knocked him from the horse. The animal squealed.

Kristan was unable to free his sword. His attackers slashed with knives. He was
able to land a few blows before something hit his head so hard he was dazed. He
collapsed and held his breath.

The thieves grabbed his pack and began to rummage in the contents. He was glad
he had thought to hide his coins.

“What’s this?”

“Amber and a large chunk.” Suddenly one of the men screamed. “No.”

The amber globe fell to the ground. The men ran. Moonlight illuminated the
globe and the shimmer around the sphere appeared to grow. Kristen tried to get to his
knees. His head felt as thought he’d been spinning for he couldn’t believe what he
thought he saw.


* *

Thursday's Opening Scene - Woman Cast In Amber from the Amber Chronicles by Janet Lane Walters

Woman Cast In Amber

Hugh Riva, king of Rivand, sat in the bed, his aging body propped by a mass of pillows, aware of nothing but the amber globe he held in his hands.  He neither felt the caress of the spring breeze nor smelled the sweet scent of flowers.  He didn’t see the moonlight forming pools of light and shadow on the floor of his bedchamber.  The liquid rasp of his breathing contended with the chirp of crickets and the songs of the night wrens.

Death held a vigil in the dark places of the room.  Hugh was ready for the final sleep.  His life had been long, and, while not filled with great joy, had been one of quiet contentment.  If he didn’t count one of his nightly dreams.  He had a large family, four sons and three daughters who had given him seventeen grandchildren, the oldest of an age to have children of their own.

He stroked the cool surface of the gem and felt the amber warm.  When he held the globe so the moonlight illuminated the depths, the woman embedded in the core wore the smile he’d never forgotten.

“Ah, Emme, would that you could see what your act of love has wrought.”  Though he felt guilt for her imprisonment in the globe, the guilt was mixed with thankfulness.  

The door of the bedchamber creaked.  Hugh stiffened.  How had an intruder slipped past the hall guards? “Who’s there?”

A small figure moved into the moonlight.  “Grandfather, it’s me.”

“Kriston Riva, how did you escape your nurse?”

The five-year-old’s merry laughter invited his grandfather to smile.  “Nurse was snoring ever so loud.  I wanted to see you, so I came.”

The boy was the youngest of the grandchildren, and the one Hugh loved with a fierceness he took care not to show the others.  He patted the bed beside him.  “Since you’re here, you might as well stay a bit.  Is something bothering you?”

The child climbed the steps and settled beside Hugh.  “I was afraid I wouldn’t see you tomorrow.  Not so we could talk.”

Hugh’s heart fluttered in his chest.  How had the child known what Hugh had hidden from his family and servants? The physician had been ordered not to reveal how little time remained in Hugh’s life.  Tonight, he had dismissed everyone who might want to keep a bedside vigil.  He pressed the amber globe against his chest.  He had wanted to spend his last night with the haunter of his dreams.  “I wish I could say you were wrong.”

Kriston patted his grandfather’s hand.  “Do you hurt?”

“Not a bit.  I’m just tired.”

Kriston peered at the amber globe.  “Grandfather, how did the lady get in there?”

Hugh stared at his grandson.  Until now, no one had ever seen Emme.  “For love.”  A love he’d never suspected until she’d made her choice to take his place.

“She’s so little.”

Hugh nodded.  “But her heart was big.”

Kriston frowned.  “Did you see it?”

“Not in the way you think.  She cared more for me than she did for herself.”

The child ran a cautious finger over the amber.  “Is she alive?”

“I don’t know.”

Before Hugh could stop him, Kriston took the globe and held it so the light of the moon glinted on the surface.  “Why is she in there?”

“For love of me.”  Hugh felt a stabbing sensation in his chest.  Not now.  Not while Kriston is with me.  He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass.

Kriston moved closer.  “I don’t understand why she has to be in there.  Can you tell me why?”

“The tale is long.  Fortunately, you’re not the one who has to hear the entire story.  The call won’t come for you, or even your older brothers and cousins.” 

“Why?”

“Patience.  Listen to the story.”

“I like stories.  I’ll listen.”

Hugh slipped his arm around his grandson’s shoulder.  He would tell the boy the tale his nurse had told him before Emme had come to live at the palace. Was the story true? He had no way to learn but speaking of those days suited his mood.

“Some four hundred years ago, long before you or I were born, a witch claimed part of the Rivand forest as her own.  The place is now called the Witch’s Wood.  Our ancestor, King Riva, wanted no witch living in his land.”

“Was she a bad witch?”

“I don’t know, but the king grew angry because she was there.”

“What did she do to make him mad?”

“The tales said in a single day, she built a stone cottage and created an ever-blooming garden with sweet scented flowers, shrubs and trees.  Small forest creatures found refuge there.  Birds, butterflies and all manner of insects brought songs and color to the garden.”

“That sounds wonderful,”  Kriston said.

Hugh shrugged.  “Maybe yes and maybe no.  The king feared the witch would enchant anyone entering the garden and keep them imprisoned behind the fence.”

“Oh.”

“Let me tell you what happened next.”  Hugh drew a deep breath.

“The king made plans to rid his land of the witch.  His oldest son, the crown prince, heard about the witch and how his father wanted her gone.  The prince was brave and bold, yes, and ever curious.  On an impulse, he left the palace and rode to the forest.  When he found the witch’s garden, he dismounted.  The gate opened at a touch.  He stepped inside.  The sights, sounds, even the aromas delighted him.  Yet, deep inside, he remembered his father’s fears and knew the place couldn’t remain.”

“Why not?”

“Because the garden was enchanted, and he was falling under the spell.”

Kriston leaned against his grandfather.  “Then what happened?”

“He turned to open the gate and leave, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape.  Anger bubbled inside him.  ‘Witch, show yourself,’ he shouted.

“When she stepped from the cottage, he saw her beauty and found himself tempted.  Except he was promised to another. The wedding day had been set.  The witch walked toward him, smiling.

“‘Welcome to my garden.  You are my heart’s delight.  Come smell the flowers, listen to the bird song, and taste the honey of my bees.’

“He shook his head.  ‘I can’t stay.  I am my father’s heir.’  Though her beauty outshone every woman in the kingdom, he would keep his promise to the woman he planned to wed.”

“Was she prettier than my mother?” the boy asked.

“I ...  Well, perhaps.  They say her hair was as yellow as the morning sun, and her eyes as blue as the cloudless sky in summer.”

Kriston stared into the amber ball.  “Was she prettier than this lady?”

“Emme was lovely, so very beautiful, but, alas, she was a slave.”

“Did the prince escape?”

Hugh shook his head.  “I’m afraid not.”  He brushed his hand over his face.  “The witch held out her hand.  ‘Stay with me.’

“The prince kept his hand on the gate.  ‘I won’t.  There’s nothing here for me.’

“‘There is my love, young prince.’

“He laughed.  ‘I have no need for love.  Love makes a person miserable.  A life of contentment is my wish.  I’m to wed a young woman of noble birth.  There is no place for you in this kingdom.  You must depart at once.’

“Her blue eyes filled with tears.  ‘Let me stay.  This is a fair land and you may change your mind about love.’

“‘Never.’  Once again, he sought to open the gate but it held fast.  He demanded, ‘Open this gate so I can leave.’”

“She was bad,”  Kriston said.  “Why didn’t she let him go?”

“She wanted someone to adore her,”  Hugh said, fingering the amber gem.  “Let me finish the story.”

“The prince was angry.  ‘Free me.’

“‘Give me your love.’

“Other voices rose and startled the prince.  He turned and saw his father, his brother and a troop of men.

“‘Release my son.’

“‘Free my brother.’

“‘I can’t,’ the witch said.  ‘He must love me. He will remain with me or die.’

“The king threw a flaming brand into the garden.  A flight of fire-arrows rose from the bows of the soldiers.  The bushes burst into flame.  ‘Leave my land,’ the king insisted.

“The witch embraced the crown prince.  ‘Foolish man.  You have refused to give me your heart.’  She lifted her gaze to the king. ‘And you, King Riva, have blighted beauty. Though I could call a plague to blight your land, I won’t.  Your land will not prosper, yet your people will not starve.  Every hundred years, I will call the heir to this place and offer him this choice.  Love me and prosper, or spend your life and that of your family in an unending limbo of never knowing true happiness.’

“Thunder rumbled.  Lightning flashed.  The witch vanished.  A globe of amber rolled through the open gate.  The king picked up the gem.  In the depths, he saw a figure.”

“Grandfather, who was it? The lady?”

“Not the first time.  The first time was the crown prince and, each time she called an heir to that place, those who failed to return the witch’s love became entrapped in the amber.”

Kriston’s eyes widened.  “You won? You beat the witch?”

Hugh shook his head.  “I would have lost, but, for love, Emme took my place.”

“Can love bring your Emme back?”

Hugh took a moment to answer. “I don’t know.”

Kriston hugged the globe against his chest.  “When I grow big, I mean to try.”

“Why, Kriston?”

“Because she looks nice and pretty and so sad.”

Hugh sighed.  “She was only a slave who loved me too much.”

For a time, Hugh and his grandson shared silence.  The child’s light snores told Hugh he slept.  As the amber globe rolled from Kriston’s hands, Hugh caught it.  He kissed his grandson’s forehead and rang the handbell for his valet.

Donner bustled into the room.  He rubbed sleep from his eyes.  “Are you all right, Sire?”

“I’m fine.  Carry young Kriston to his room before his nurse wakes and sets the palace in an uproar.” 

Hugh waited until the door closed behind the pair.  He cradled the gem in his hands, holding it against his heart.  “Ah, Emme, did you know what you were doing when you took my place?”          

Her soft voice sounded in his thoughts.  “For a love I’ll never know, and one you’ll never give.”

He drifted into memories of the past and his first meeting with Emme.

Thursday's Opening Scene from The Amber Tower - Amber Chronicles by Janet Lane Walters

Rafel Riva, crown prince of Rivand, felt restless and the only reason he could imagine for his desire to flee the palace lay in the ball to be held that evening.  Four and twenty young women of lineage and wealth had been invited.  The thought of meeting and greeting them chilled him.

He glared at his mother’s back.  His escape from the palace had been delayed while she gushed about the gaggle of girls who would attend.  Each one had been evaluated as to their suitability as a bride.  Her choices had been based on the prestige they would bring to the family.

The queen turned.  “Rafel, you are five and twenty.  ‘Tis time you were wed.  You must choose one for your bride and make her the happiest of women.”

And him the glummest of men.  “Yes, mother.”

“Three princesses are among the most eligible.  The duke’s daughter will also do.  But a princess will bring honor to Rivand.”

His stomach clenched.  Choosing a bride meant there could be just one woman in his life.  A dreary and boring fate.  He liked women, all women.

He hurried along the corridor toward a side door and an escape from the noise and bustle of preparation.  All to celebrate an event he found distasteful.  So engrossed in his plan to escape when a hand clamped his shoulder he reached for his sword.

“Son, I’m glad I caught you.”  The king smiled.  “Have you seen any among the young ladies you would choose as a bride?”

Rafel shook his head.  He had avoided watching the arrivals of the past few days.  “I’ve been busy.”

“I have several suggestions.  The time has come for you to put aside your wild ways and settle into providing heirs for Rivand.”

“Leave your list with my body servant.  Mother left hers.”

The king nodded.  “I will.  Perhaps by comparing the two you will find the perfect candidate.  My list contains those who come from prolific families.  I expect you and your chosen bride to present the kingdom with a son by this time next year.  There’s nothing like a son to drive wildness from a man.”

“Yes, Father.”  Rafel’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.  Was there a need for an heir to have an heir?  He had three younger brothers, all in line for the throne.

Rafel watched his father walk away.  Only a few strands of gray touched the king’s dark hair.  His father was a hale man and good for many more years of rule.  As thoughts of twenty or thirty years of being crown prince arose, Rafel groaned.

He reached the exit nearest the stable and slipped outside.  The brother next in line for the throne emerged from behind the hedge.  “Rafe, aren’t you excited?”

“About what?”

“The ball.”

Rafel shrugged.  “Nor particularly.”

“But you might find love with one of the ladies.”

“Or eternal unhappiness.  What is love beyond a trap lauded by the verses of poets?  I have no desire to marry.  If you like you are welcome to them all.”

Peder frowned.  “Everyone says you must marry.”  He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot.  “What if you chose the maiden I love?”

Rafel leaned against the palace wall.  “Do you have a choice?”

“I do.  She loves me but her parents are angling for the heir to the throne.  You have all the luck.”           

Luck, Rafel thought.  “Hardly.”  Tonight he would meet young women all vying for his attention.  He pushed away from the wall.  “See you at the ball.”

“Where are you going?”

“For a ride.”

“You’d better be back in time.”

Rafel laughed.  “If I’m not, you can take my place.”  He dashed to the stable.

As he saddled his roan gelding he overheard the head groom speaking to another man.  “Tonight the prince chooses a bride.  I’ve placed my money on the princess of Manir.  Who have you picked?”

The other man snorted.  “No choice for me.  One hundred years have passed since the witch took the first crown prince.”

Rafel frowned.  A witch.  How superstitious the lower classes were.  He’d only heard of witches in stories designed to frighten children into obedience.  He led the horse from the stable, mounted and rode through town to the south gate.  As his steed flowed from a walk to a canter he recalled the painting of a man called “The Lost Prince.”  Rumors said the young man had vanished mysteriously.  Rafel wished he could do the same and stay away long enough to miss the ball.

Sunlight filtering through the dense foliage of the summer growth roused him from his reverie.  How long had he been gone?  His stomach growled and he knew he’d missed the midday meal.  He tried to turn the horse but the steed burst into a gallop along the narrow trail.  As suddenly as the urge to return to the palace had arrived, the feeling vanished.  Rafel felt an eagerness to find the trail’s end.

The pounding pace continued.  Rafel loosened his hold on the reins.  Trying to halt the horse seemed impossible.  The trees opened into a clearing.  The steed halted at a picket fence.  Rafel frowned.  He’d never heard of anyone living in the forest.  He studied the scene.  Rose bushes lined the fence and filled the air with their sweet scent.  A path led from the gate through a garden with flowers on one side and a kitchen garden on the other.  The flagstones ended in front of a small weathered cottage.

Who lives here?  Rafel dismounted and walked to the gate.  He paused with his hand on the latch.  Wouldn’t be polite to wander into someone’s house without an invitation.  A trace of smoke rose from the chimney.  Someone lived here.  “Hello,” he called.

The cottage door opened and someone walked along the path.  As the person neared he saw a woman with hair the color of sunshine and a body with enough curves to intrigue him.  When she reached the gate, he met the gaze of eyes as blue as the summer sky.

“Welcome.”  She opened the gate.

The music of her voice danced along his spine.  “Who are you?”

“Some call me the Witch of the Woods.  I am Emme.  Are you the crown prince of this time?”

His brow furrowed.  What did she mean?  “I am Rafel Riva, crown prince of Rivand.”

She smiled.  He sensed something predatory in her gaze.  He stepped back.

“Enter my garden.”

Her honeyed voice lured him a step or two.  He grasped the gate.  “I wish I could, fair one, but I must return to the palace.”

Her laughter trilled.  “’Tis not to be.  You have been called.  You have a chance to end the curse I placed on the House of Riva.  You look so much like the one who came here before.  Your hair is black and your eyes are the green of summer leaves.”

“What is this curse?”  he asked.

“The first prince I called refused to announce his love for me.  His father, the king, tried to burn my refuge and failed. Every hundred years I will call the crown prince.  He will be given a chance to end what I called on the family.”

“What must I do?”

“Give me your love and marry me.”

Her answer produced a bark of laughter.  “Marriage.  You’ve chosen the wrong prince, my fair witch.  I prefer my single state.”

“That is not the answer I want to hear.”

Rafel studied her.  She was beautiful but so were other women.  “So you cursed my family for a selfish reason.  Just because my ancestor refused to love you.  What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.  He entered the amber globe and vanished.”  She waved her hand and a oval of amber appeared on the grass near his feet.

“Surely there’s another way.”  If she had lived a hundred years how did she remain young?  He rubbed his arms.  She must be a witch.

“The only way is for you to love and marry me.”

He shook his head.  “I can’t.”

“Not even to break the curse.”

Rafel squared his shoulders.  “Not even then.  If I said I loved you that would be a lie.  My mother wants me to marry for prestige and my father for heirs.  You demand love.  I can please none of you.”

She waved her hand.  “So be it.”

The amber globe grew until he was surrounded.  Rafel tried to escape but his blows bounced from the smooth surface.  He closed his eyes.  When he opened them he faced a forest but not the one he’d left for the leaves were touched with the bright colors of autumn.

“Come.”  A soft voice commanded.  “Come.”  The call came again, this time spurring him to run toward the trees.

Thursday's Opening Scene - Moon Summoned third heroine - Egeria by Janet Lane Walters

The harsh rasp of a strange man’s voice woke her. Where was she? Dried scallas and peppers hung from the rafters of the -- loft? She put her feet on the rough wood floor. Memories surfaced slowly. She was Egeria and this was her home. She turned her head and stared at the huge empty bed. Where was Malara? Egeria had no memories of ever sleeping alone in the loft. Always her sister had been with her.

“Where is she?” the stranger bellowed. “Malara ails.”

“Don’t shout. Egeria’s moon-touched and slow, but she obeys.”

The sound of her father’s voice drew her to the opening where a ladder led to the lower floor of the farmhouse. She stared at the stranger. Who was he?

“She should be here to tend the fire and fetch the eggs for my breakfast.”

Egeria frowned. Why did this man give orders? The farm was Malara’s legacy from their mother. She smoothed the skirt of the dress she’d slept in and pulled on the fleece-lined ankle boots. As she climbed the ladder, a wave of dizziness nearly made her fall.

She glanced around the large main room. Fireplaces stood at either end. Around one was a circle of chairs. Near the second, a more massive one, stood a long table flanked by benches and chairs at the ends. On the wall near a door, an open cupboard held dishes. Pans and kettles hung from hooks on the stone wall of the hearth.

“What kept you?” A muscular man with red hair grabbed her arm. “See to your chores.”

“Who are you?” Only garbled sounds emerged. Where were her sister and her brother?

“Idiot.” The man pushed her toward the hearth. “The fire. The eggs. Can’t you remember anything from one day to the next?”

Egeria raked ashes from the banked fire. She added kindling to the glowing coals. When the flames leaped high, she reached for several logs. This return to a routine stirred memories. She donned her cloak and lifted the egg basket.

Outside she opened the door of the pullet house. Straw spilled from the waist-high shelves on three sides of the narrow shed. She collected eggs from beneath the squawking layers. Then she spread grain in the feeding trough. Her thoughts churned with bits of knowledge.

As she returned to the house, her brother hailed her. “You are late. Has he been at you again?”

She turned. “Who?” Her tongue felt less tight.

He stepped back and shook his head. “He wouldn’t dare take you the way he has Malara. No man would harm one touched by the Mistress.” He frowned. “’Tis foolish to tell you these things for you don’t understand.” He opened the kitchen door.

His words set off an avalanche of thoughts. Tave was her father’s name. Trag, her brother’s. There’d been trouble and many soldiers. Then the stranger had come.

She put the egg basket on the table. Malara stood at the hearth. Strips of shoat sizzled on the flat stone griddle that jutted from the side of the huge fireplace. Steam rose from a kettle hanging on a hook.

The stranger put his arms around Malara and stroked her abdomen. “Are you sure you nest my son?”

Daughter, Egeria thought. How did she know that?

Malara bowed her head. “The Mistress has withdrawn her blessings from me these past two lunars. What else can it be?”

He touched her pale gold hair. Tenderness showed in his light brown eyes. He released Malara and turned to the table where Egeria placed dishes. “One place only. The rest of you eat when I’m done.” He raised his fist.

“Radon, don’t strike her,” Malara cried. “She follows a routine and your coming has made a change. She’ll learn the new pattern in time.”

He rested his elbows on the table. “Should the coming child be a girl, will it be like her?”

“If the Mistress gives me one of her daughters, I’ll rejoice. Egeria sees things we don’t. Wait ‘til you see how her garden grows and the amount of honey from her hives.” She placed a full plate in front of him.

He caught her hand. “Be glad I’m only a former soldier and not a follower of the gray priests. You’d be beaten for speaking of the whore you worship.” He shook his head. “When I took this farm as payment for my time of service, I thought I’d have an inner court of two women. After my brother arrives I’ll visit Angara and choose a handmaiden from the pens.”

Tears filled Malara’s eyes. “Radan, you can’t bring a strange woman to upset the harmony of the house.”

“Fool. I’m allowed as many women as I have coins to pay the taxes. This farm is rich. In the spring, a women’s court will be built. Then none but my eyes can feast on my women.”

Thursday's Opening Scene from A Spicy Seduction by Janet Lane Walters

A Spicy Seduction

 

Chapter 1

 

Jules Grayson sat behind the mahogany desk in his office. “Why me?” He propped his elbows on the leather desk pad.

“Trust me,” Tony said.

Jules stared at his friend. Trusting others wasn’t part of his personality. “Why can’t one of your other friends be best man at your wedding?”

“They come in pairs. Lauren doesn’t want her friend to feel out of place. You’re the only bachelor left in our circle.”

And he intended to stay that way for a long time. “So why do I have to meet her now? The rehearsal would suit me fine.”

Tony grinned. “Trust me. You’ll like Grace.”

Jules straightened. He used to know a girl named Grace. She’d been the only one who had turned him down. Just thinking about her brought memories of a time and place he didn’t want to remember. “I really don’t want to cross the river.”

“Just for this weekend meet and two days for the wedding.” Tony rose. “What do you have against the village?”

“Do you have to ask? The group home. Your father rescued me from false accusations.” Jules clenched the steel letter opener. “I’ll come. Some time on Saturday, do the meet and greet and leave Sunday morning.”

Tony paused at the door. “There’s a plus. You won’t have to enter the village. My house is a couple of miles away.”

“Go. Let me get some work done.”

“Saturday.”

“Yes.”

Moments after Tony left Mrs. Jamison entered with a stack of mail. She dropped the pile on his desk. “Buzz when you need me.”

“Will do.” He slit the top envelope and groaned. Not what he wanted to see. Before leaving for her honeymoon, Allie Blakefield, editor of Good Cookin’ Magazine had given him an assignment. Having contracts signed wasn’t his usual chore for the Good Magazine Group but he’d agreed. Allie wanted the owner of Cupcakes Sweet and Spicy to agree to a feature.

With three letters and four phone calls the woman’s answer had been no. Allie returned Monday. Today was Friday.

His hand hovered over the phone. A call wouldn’t work. He’d already tried several times. A visit to the bakery might do the trick. He didn’t want to go there. The bakery was in that place. He sucked in a breath. Never leave a job undone was his rule.

When Allie asked, he’d figured obtaining the contract signature was a no-brainer. What bakery wouldn’t want to be featured in a national magazine? He’d had a failsafe plan. Mail the contract. Make a phone call or two. Answer questions. Contract signed. Hadn’t happened. Time to spread some charm.

Jules buzzed Tony’s cell. The moment his friend answered, Jules’ gut clenched. Though he hated asking, he would. “Jules here.”

“You are not backing out.”

Jules chuckled. “You’re right. Just wondering if I could come tonight. Have some business for Good Cookin’ across the river today.”

“No problem. I’ll call Lauren. What time?”

“Around noon. I’ll drop my bag off, see to business and swing back.”

“Good enough. TGIF. I’ll be home around three. Good luck with your whatever.”

“Sales pitch.” Jules disconnected. He shoved two copies of the contract in his briefcase and tended to the rest of the mail. Nothing urgent. The clock chimed the half hour.

With briefcase in hand he paused at his secretary’s desk. “I’ll be out of town until Monday. Buzz my cell if anything needs to be handled quickly and take the afternoon off.”

“Will do.”

Jules waved. When he thought of his destination his stomach churned.

A half hour later he sat in the driver’s seat of his Jeep. He clutched the keys in his fist. Waves of nausea assaulted him. He gulped a breath. He could do this. Two events had forced the trip across the bridge to the Hudson River village where he’d grown up. The day ten years ago when he’d left he’d vowed never to return. Trouble comes in three. Not that business and a wedding were the problem. Trouble existed in memories of the place where his life had imploded.

His weekender and briefcase sat on the passenger’s seat. He’d packed enough clothes for the weekend.

You can do this. The words spiraled in an unending chain in his thoughts. He shoved the key in the ignition, revved the engine and drove from the underground garage. As the vehicle emerged into the light, Jules grinned. Something about being above the sedans and coupes made him feel powerful. He wove through traffic heading for the upper deck of the George Washington Bridge. Hard rock poured from the speakers.

A glance at the sky showed gathering clouds. Snow predictions meant an early covering of white over city sidewalks and brown suburban lawns.

Not long after hitting the Palisades Parkway the feeling of doom he’d pushed aside leaped into his thoughts like the demons kids feared lurked in the closet or under the bed.

He gripped the wheel. The vehicle veered right. If he didn’t calm down he would run off the road or into another car. He spotted the turn-off for an overlook and pulled into the parking lot.

Get a grip.

Jules climbed down and walked to the railing at the edge. He stared at the gray waters of the Hudson. A blustery wind slapped his face. Across the river he saw the skyline of the city where he’d rather be.

You can do this. The mantra rang in his head. He revised his plans. Drop case at Tony’s. Visit Bakery. Charm owner. Obtain signature. Today’s plan sounded right.

He returned to the Jeep and soon entered the flow of traffic. After leaving the parkway he sped along the winding road and finally saw the turnoff to Tony’s house. As he reached the development he located his friend’s massive house. He pulled into the long driveway, grabbed the overnighter and strode to the door.

Lauren answered the ring. She held her infant nephew on her hip. Jamie burbled.

“Hello to you.” Jules stepped inside and kissed Lauren’s cheek. He ruffled Jamie’s hair. “I gather the man warned you.”

“He did. Good to see you but you cost me ten dollars.”

“How?”

“Bet Tony you’d find a way to bail and here you are a day early.”

Jules winked. “I’ve come to convince you to run away with me.”

She laughed. “Just like those old rumors. When I think of the days in the group home, I cringe. I wonder how the Pattersons got the idea we were together.”

“Pure invention ala Charlene.” He put a finger on her lips. “No talk about those times or places.”

“Fine. I’ll show you to a guest room.”

Jules hung his coat in the foyer closet and followed her past the living room to the wide staircase. Why had Tony bought such a large house? He’s asked his friend for a reason weeks ago.

“For the kitchen. It’s a cook’s dream.”

Lauren opened the door of a room just beyond the stairs. Jules dropped the bag at the foot of a massive four poster bed. Warm shades of brown and green gave a cozy feel to the space.

“The bath is through this door and connects to a second guest room.” Lauren cracked the door. “Since you’re the only guest you won’t have to worry about locking the door,”

Jules shook his head. “Just how many bedrooms are there?”

Lauren laughed. Seven counting the master, nursery and the third floor suite.”

“And baths?”

Four on this floor. One in the suite. Two powder rooms on the first floor and one with a shower in the basement. Thank heavens there’s a cleaning service. Would take me a month just to vacuum and dust.”

Jules followed her downstairs. “I need to do a bit of business for Good Cookin’. Means going to town.”

“Five Cuisines?”

“No. I’ll tell you at dinner. What time do we eat?”

“Six thirty or so. Do you want lunch?”

A lump filled his stomach. “I’ll grab something in the village.” Maybe when he finished at the bakery his appetite would return.

She patted his arm. Had she sensed his uneasiness? “There are some great places. Want me to recommend one?”

“I’ll manage.”

He snagged his coat from the closet and left. Cupcakes, here I come.

When he reached the village he saw Christmas had arrived. Probably between Halloween and Thanksgiving. The shops bore lights and festive decorations. The light poles were wound with red, green, gold and silver.

He made a turn and found he’d driven down the street where the group homes were located. He gripped the wheel. His two years at the boy’s home had been a drag. Circumstances had made him a ward of the court. His attitude had brought him here.

His stomach lurched. He slowed to a crawl and rolled past the pair of houses separated by a fence. This trip along memory lane had been a bad idea.

You can’t go home but this had never been his,

A stray bit slipped into focus. Grace two years younger than he was, pretty. He’d flirted with her and decided she would be his next conquest. With laughter she’d turned him down leaving him to fend off the girl he’d had no desire to screw.

With a groan he turned the corner and looked for a parking space. His plan formed. Charm Ms. Sutton. Get her signature. Return to Tony’s.

A flurry of snowflakes dotted the sidewalks with dark circles as they melted.

Thursday's Opening Scene Peru from All Our Yesterdays

The last rays of the sun colored the distant snow-covered peaks. Coyllur stood in the courtyard of the Sun Temple and stared at the road beyond the entrance. Her father was late. Since she'd been taken to the temple after her mother's death, he had come every lunar for a visit and to bring fresh fish for the temple. Her shoulders slumped. He wasn't coming. The sea harvest wouldn't arrive this lunar. What had happened? Unless there had been trouble, he would have been here by now. Tears threatened, but she held them back.

She saw movement on the road and felt a hope quickly extinguished when she identified the runner. A chasqui held his quipu. The knotted string dangled from the messenger's hand. What news did he bring?

Moments after the chasqui disappeared into the temple, a Sun Priestess appeared. "Child, I have news of your father."

Coyllur approached Chaquira. "Has he been hurt?"

The priestess took her hand. "It is not known how or where my youngest brother is. A floating fortress came near the shore and spawned small boats. Strangers came from the boats. They took your father and some others when they left."

Coyllur blinked tears away. "Then I will believe he lives and I will see him again."

"You will." Chaquira held out her hand. "Come with me. There are things I must tell you. For many nights, I have dreamed of strange places and people. Last night, the visions drew to an end and I know what they mean."

Coyllur followed her aunt to her cell. A prophecy meant change. Was she to be sent to the Sun Temple in Cuzco? Was she to be a Chosen Woman to serve the Inca in life and death?

Chaquira sat on a stool. Coyllur sat at the priestess' feet.

"A time of change approaches for the land and for you. Strangers came and will return. Among them is one tied to you by the strings of an ancient curse given in a land beyond your imagination."

Coyllur frowned. Were these strangers the ones who had taken her father?

Chaquira leaned forward. "This I say to you. When you see his face, you will love him. This love must remain pure until you are bound together. There are three who will help and two who wish to prevent this union. Time and again, they have manipulated and succeeded. This time, they must not."

Coyllur frowned. She was too young to join with any man. Besides, she belonged to the temple. If she was to have a mate, the Inca would choose him. "I hear, but I do not understand."

"In time, you will."

Coyllur sighed. "When?"

"In many turnings of the moon." Chaquira patted her head. "Seek your mat."

"A good night to you." Coyllur scurried away. As she hurried to the room she shared with the other girls, a priest beckoned. She tensed. Though Suka was handsome, something about him made her fearful.

He caught her arm. "Why aren't you with the other girls? Were you seeking me?"

She stared at the floor. To meet his gaze would expose her fear. "I was with the Sun Priestess Chaquira."

He lifted her chin with his fingers. "You are lovely, but too young for the pleasures I could show you." He laughed. "You won't be young forever."

Coyllur backed away. "I must go."

"Tell Sumac I await her. She is late for her lessons and I would see her at once."

Coyllur ran the rest of the way to the sleeping chamber. Sumac sat on her mat. The older girl was near the end of her training. Soon she would be a priestess. What kind of lessons did Suka teach? Coyllur shuddered. None she wanted to learn.

Her friend, Coca, waved. Coyllur stopped before Sumac.

The older girl glared. "What do you want?"

"The Sun Priest, Suka, awaits you."

Sumac undulated from the mat. Her icy smile chilled Coyllur. "Your turn will come, but I doubt you'll enjoy the lessons. He'll punish you for your haughty ways. Just because your hair and skin are lighter than most doesn't make you a treasure."

Coyllur frowned. Was Sumac one of her enemies?

Coca waited until Sumac left. "Let's go bathe. I waited for you."

Coyllur picked up a clean dress. "Why does she go to Suka?"

Coca laughed. "To learn how to please a man. I watched through a spy hole once. He mounted her like the llamas do."

"But the Chosen are virgins."

"Not all. Some of the priestesses serve the priests."

"He said he will teach me. I don't like him. What can I do?"

"Don't let him catch you alone." Coca stepped into the heated pool. "Did your father send the chasqui?"

Coyllur joined her friend. "The chasqui came to Chaquira. Coca, my father has been taken away by strangers."