scotch she drank while soaking her chilled
body. Every drink, she winced. It’s like drinking fire .
You are to sip whiskey,
Keer’dra, not wallow in it .
“It has a bite. Much like the
one I’d like to take out of you. Get out of my head!”
Male laughter echoed as it
faded. Great. Now I’m answering myself . But his voice
wasn’t the only echo in her head. Every word she’d overheard earlier
outside the kitchen played over and over in her mind. Over and over, it
became as maddening as ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. And she
was helpless to cease the horrific chant.
Aunsgar her uncle? Oh, wait, once
upon a time he was her uncle. Was she adopted? Elf? He
certainly didn’t resemble any of her images of Santa’s helpers, and somehow,
she couldn’t picture him or Urkani making shoes for everyone by morning’s first
light. A fit of giggles erupted over this last vision. Maybe ‘Elf’
was a Scottish slur for ‘hot babe’. More giggles. He is nice to
look upon. Very angelic, minus wings . Not really my type,
but sexy, to be sure. Emily sat up so abruptly, water sloshed over
the sides, sogging the beautiful rug.
His hair, and that of his
forever-present guards is as white as my own. Okay, maybe it doesn’t glow
like mine, still . . . they wear it nearly as long as mine. Right down to
their very nice derrieres. Hmmmm. Immortals. Picts.
Emily squinted. Once, when
she thought to steal a moment of solitude, a rarity with so many males forever
present, she sought refuge high in a tower overlooking miles of horizon.
Solace was not to be found. Broc too had come looking for the same peace.
“Hey, new tattoo?” Blue
crescent moon adorned his cheek.
“Always had it.”
“No, no it definitely wasn’t there
yesterday.”
“Because you only see with your
eyes,” he’d grumbled.
“Uh, well, gee guy, you have me
there. Hey, newsflash. I only hear with my ears too.”
Disgusted, he’d snorted before
trotting down the winding stone stairwell made up of at least ten thousand
steep worn steps . . . well, it certainly had felt like ten thousand
steps when she’d gasped and hacked like an asthmatic, nearly ascending the last
handful on her knees. No way was she giving chase down that death trap.
Today, his body art had been missing. She’d even made it a point to open
her eyes good and wide when they’d passed in the corridor. He’d caught
her meaning. He’d glared before slamming a door in her face. Dick . Powerful issues, that one . One would have thought she’d discovered
he wore crotchless panties. Emily giggled, swilled more scotch and
laughed outright over her current vision of Broc prancing in purple
panties. Scotch became velvety. She gulped more. What detail
had she nearly remembered by envisioning Aunsgar as a wingless angel? Ah,
forget it. Makes my head spin, trying to remember. Soothing hot
water encouraged her to resume reclining, whiskey blanketing her innards with
warm fuzzies. Just a few more minutes of shut-eye, and then she’d towel
off and head for the hearth before numbing again. Authors forgot one
thing in their historicals: castles forever had freezing drafts, and stone
floors never warmed. Her fingers were pruning, but she’d never had the
luxury of such a gigantic tub where she could stretch to her full length. Pfff, because I’m just so towering at five-foot-three . Emily’s
eyelids grew heavy. Just a few . . . more minutes . . .
Cold surrounded her. Unlike
anything she’d ever experienced, it penetrated all the way through her
bones. Shuddering, she looked down, and saw her own hand gently cupping a
frost covered blue rose. Petals folded in on themselves, huddled against
icy weather. Her chest pained her . . . desolation.
Broc loved another.
Odd she would have knowledge of
something so private; odder still, she should care to the point of
grieving.
body. Every drink, she winced. It’s like drinking fire .
You are to sip whiskey,
Keer’dra, not wallow in it .
“It has a bite. Much like the
one I’d like to take out of you. Get out of my head!”
Male laughter echoed as it
faded. Great. Now I’m answering myself . But his voice
wasn’t the only echo in her head. Every word she’d overheard earlier
outside the kitchen played over and over in her mind. Over and over, it
became as maddening as ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. And she
was helpless to cease the horrific chant.
Aunsgar her uncle? Oh, wait, once
upon a time he was her uncle. Was she adopted? Elf? He
certainly didn’t resemble any of her images of Santa’s helpers, and somehow,
she couldn’t picture him or Urkani making shoes for everyone by morning’s first
light. A fit of giggles erupted over this last vision. Maybe ‘Elf’
was a Scottish slur for ‘hot babe’. More giggles. He is nice to
look upon. Very angelic, minus wings . Not really my type,
but sexy, to be sure. Emily sat up so abruptly, water sloshed over
the sides, sogging the beautiful rug.
His hair, and that of his
forever-present guards is as white as my own. Okay, maybe it doesn’t glow
like mine, still . . . they wear it nearly as long as mine. Right down to
their very nice derrieres. Hmmmm. Immortals. Picts.
Emily squinted. Once, when
she thought to steal a moment of solitude, a rarity with so many males forever
present, she sought refuge high in a tower overlooking miles of horizon.
Solace was not to be found. Broc too had come looking for the same peace.
“Hey, new tattoo?” Blue
crescent moon adorned his cheek.
“Always had it.”
“No, no it definitely wasn’t there
yesterday.”
“Because you only see with your
eyes,” he’d grumbled.
“Uh, well, gee guy, you have me
there. Hey, newsflash. I only hear with my ears too.”
Disgusted, he’d snorted before
trotting down the winding stone stairwell made up of at least ten thousand
steep worn steps . . . well, it certainly had felt like ten thousand
steps when she’d gasped and hacked like an asthmatic, nearly ascending the last
handful on her knees. No way was she giving chase down that death trap.
Today, his body art had been missing. She’d even made it a point to open
her eyes good and wide when they’d passed in the corridor. He’d caught
her meaning. He’d glared before slamming a door in her face. Dick . Powerful issues, that one . One would have thought she’d discovered
he wore crotchless panties. Emily giggled, swilled more scotch and
laughed outright over her current vision of Broc prancing in purple
panties. Scotch became velvety. She gulped more. What detail
had she nearly remembered by envisioning Aunsgar as a wingless angel? Ah,
forget it. Makes my head spin, trying to remember. Soothing hot
water encouraged her to resume reclining, whiskey blanketing her innards with
warm fuzzies. Just a few more minutes of shut-eye, and then she’d towel
off and head for the hearth before numbing again. Authors forgot one
thing in their historicals: castles forever had freezing drafts, and stone
floors never warmed. Her fingers were pruning, but she’d never had the
luxury of such a gigantic tub where she could stretch to her full length. Pfff, because I’m just so towering at five-foot-three . Emily’s
eyelids grew heavy. Just a few . . . more minutes . . .
Cold surrounded her. Unlike
anything she’d ever experienced, it penetrated all the way through her
bones. Shuddering, she looked down, and saw her own hand gently cupping a
frost covered blue rose. Petals folded in on themselves, huddled against
icy weather. Her chest pained her . . . desolation.
Broc loved another.
Odd she would have knowledge of
something so private; odder still, she should care to the point of
grieving.
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