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barpurplewrites · 6 years

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Woven Together - Chapter 10

Story So Far (HERE)

-x-x-x-

He’d come up with a plan to ask Belle out on a date. Apparently tipsy-him had wanted to make sure that he remembered that because he’d left a note for morning-him on the kettle. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d added edible body paint to the list of groceries he’d need to cook a romantic meal for Belle. Ah yes, he had spent some time last night wondering what it would be like for Belle to use his bound body like a paint-by-numbers canvas. A pleasant shudder ran through him at the thought, maybe Belle would be willing to indulge him their next rope session.

He carefully tore that section off his list. He wanted this to be an ordinary dinner date, where they would hopefully take as the first steps to developing a romantic relationship. Shibari would be a part of their lives together, but in his mind, this was about them exploring the potential of other aspects.

He was feeling good about his plan, happy even.

All in all, asking Belle out on a date was a very good idea.

It still a good idea during lunch with Neal, Emma and Henry. And still a good idea as he watched Emma and Henry play football while Neal washed-up. And still a good idea as he had a soak in the bath that evening. When he closed his eyes on Sunday night he knew for sure that he was going to ask Belle out on a real date the next day.

His dreams were all sweet, soft focus of hand holding and cuddles, laughter and joy. So perversely, come Monday morning his nerves were in tatters and he was re-thinking and second guessing his plan. He and Belle were friends and they had a perfectly pleasant arrangement to indulge their mutual kink. To ask for more would be foolish, best to leave well alone.

By lunchtime he was second guessing his nerves. Perhaps the risk was worth it? At the worst she would decide that she no longer wished to tie him, but he’d gone without that for years, he could easily go without it again. Or she could be so offended by his interest in her that she’d stop speaking to him altogether, which was a terrifying idea because he would miss her friendship.

Until three o’clock he dithered back and forth between confidence of success, conviction of failure and some strange middle ground that he couldn’t put a name to. Finally, he decided he was being an idiot. He grabbed his cane and hurried out of his shop. Halfway across the road the stray thought that he’d not locked the shop crossed his mind and was instantly dismissed. Emma would find the thief in the unlikely event that someone took the chance of stealing from him. If he turned around now he’d chicken out, and since he was now at the library door turning back would be silly.

Belle was behind the circulation desk. She smiled up at him in greeting; “Hello Mr Gold, I was beginning to think I’d have no visitors until after school. It’s been so quiet today, I suppose everyone is taking advantage of the nice weather…”

She trailed off and hurried around the desk to stand in front of him.

“Gordon are you alright? You look anxious.”

He cleared his throat and tried to remember how to breath. He was a grown-man, damn it, not a wee laddie asking out his first crush.

“I’m very well Belle. I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me on Friday?”

She tilted her head to one side and nibbled at her bottom lip for an instant.

“Do you want to renegotiate our contract?”

He shook his head rapidly; “No, no nothing like that! I’m asking you out on a date.”

“A real date,” – her lips quirk slightly, - “no strings attached?”

Some of the tension in him eased as he chuckled at her joke; “Yes Belle, a real date, with flowers and candles and romantic music, and no strings attached.”

She moved in close enough to run a finger along his tie; “And what about a kiss at the end of the evening?”

He swallowed and managed to say; “If you are willing, I think that a kiss could be arranged.”

The tip of her tongue swept over her bottom lip; “And if I didn’t want to wait until the end of Friday night for a kiss…”

He dipped his head down slowly; “I could accommodate your impatience…”

He pressed a gentle chase kiss to her lips and moved back to gauge her reaction. Her eyelashes were fluttering and the was a smile on her lips. She opened her eyes and the smile became a smirk. With a sharp tug on his tie their lips crashed back together, and all hesitancy vanished.

Gold released his cane in favour of gripping her waist. He heard it skitter across the front of the desk and clatter to the floor, but he was to busy teasing the tip of Belle’s tongue with his own to care. Her hands moved from his tie and slid over his chest to his shoulders. It didn’t take them long to tangle in the hair trailing over his shirt collar.

His leg gave a twinge and rather than stop kissing Belle to retrieve his cane, he twisted them sideways, pinning her between his body and the desk. Belle hummed and sucked on his bottom lip, which he took as her approval for their new position.

Belle tensed as the library door banged open.

“I’m gonna get the comfy chair Dad!”

Henry’s voice caused Gold to stumble backwards from Belle. His bad leg gave out under him and he landed hard on his arse on the floor at her feet. In his race for the best chair Henry apparently hadn’t even noticed his Grandpa kissing the librarian. It turned out that his son was not as unobservant as his grandson.

“Slow down Henry! Pops? What happened to you?”

Belle was already crouching down to help him up. She blocked Neal’s view with her body and quickly swiped her thumb across Gold’s lip to remove the smudge of lipstick. His eyes widen at the smeared mess on her own lips and quickly pointed at her mouth as he said; “Let Neal help me up please Miss French. He’s had practise.”

She took his diversion as he intended and kept her head down as she moved to let Neal assist him.

“One, two, three. There we go Pops. Lean on the counter while I get your cane. What happened?”

Gold took his cane from Neal and shrugged; “Just a cramp at the wrong time, y’know how that can throw me off. I’m fine.”

Neal didn’t look completely reassured; “You look a bit flushed, not coming down with anything are you?”

“No, but thank you for drawing attention to my embarrassment, son.”

“Sorry, Pops. What you doing here at this time of day anyway?”

“I, erm …”

He winced, all he could think about was kissing Belle and he didn’t want to share that information with his son right now.

“You mentioned something about a book you were in need of. Let me see if I can find it for you.”

Neal nodded, “Okay, I’m just gonna check on Henry. I’ll walk you back across to the shop, Pops.”

He jogged away into the stacks. Belle grinned at Gold and gently squeezed his arm.

“Really are you alright, Gordon?”

He covered her hand with his own; “I am. Are you?”

“Yeah, very alright. Now shall we make up a book I need to order in for you?”

Neal walked him back to the shop and Gold had the presence of mind to pretend to unlock the door. He waved Neal away when he tried to linger and fuss about a heating pad.

“I’m fine. Go read to Henry. Drop in when your done so I can hear about his book.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll see you later.”

Once Neal left the shop he finally let the smile that had been wanting to bloom on his face curl his lips. He’d kissed Belle. She’d kissed him.

His phone bleeped, and his smile grew even wider when he saw a message from Belle.

How about dinner tomorrow instead of Friday?

I like your impatience. 8pm, my house?

Wonderful xxx

#rumbelle #woven together

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malllladeimaginaire-blog · 6 years

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Aliain

Gift for Nidarosisart. (Aliain is her character). I really hope you like it <3

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The little village sat in the lee of a rocky hill, covered with pine trees. Rain pattered down from an overcast, gloomy sky, turning the fields of the farms to mud and driving all of the villagers inside. Between rows of corn the scarecrows drooped, their straw arms hanging down sadly. A loose shutter banged fretfully in the wind. In the village square a lone, wet dog wandered aimlessly, sniffing at puddles.

One farm, slightly larger than the rest, stood closest to the forest, almost in the shade of the trees. It had a vegetable garden, a barn, two paddocks and a large corn field, all beautifully kept. Sheep usually grazed in the fields, though now they huddled together by the gate, and bedraggled chickens pecked around the yard. Despite the weather a cat sat on the porch in front of the house, her yellow gaze turned disapprovingly on the rain.

This farm had been in the same family for generations and was now the loving home of an elderly couple, their widowed daughter and her little girl. The child, Aliain, was a sweet, shy girl, the favourite of everyone in the village. She was hard-working, quiet and kind and had a wonderful way with animals. All agreed that she was a credit to her family and one day would grow up to be something very special.

Most days the family could be seen working happily together in the fields, but today the rain had kept them inside. The curtains of the house were closed to keep out the draught and smoke curled lazily from the chimney. Early that morning the grandfather had taken their cart over to the neighbouring village to sell some wool and he was expected back late, so a lantern had been left on the porch to light his way.

Inside Aliain sat on the faded hearthrug, her rag doll in her lap, turning the pages of an old and tattered book. It belonged to her grandmother and was filled with the old lady’s tiny, cramped handwriting detailing her amazing collection of flowers and herbs. There were beautiful ink drawings too and Aliain pored over these with delight, tracing her little fingers gently over the lines.

Her mother and grandmother stood together at the kitchen table, one kneading bread, the other chopping carrots for a stew. They worked in a comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up to check on Aliain or to listen out for her grandfather’s return. An old sheepdog lay curled at their feet, raising his head now and then to look hopefully for scraps.

Slowly the afternoon wore on. The rain drummed gently against the windows, the fire crackled merrily in the grate and outside the sky, gloomy throughout the day, began to darken towards evening.

After a while Aliain’s grandmother paused in her work and wiped her floury hands on her apron. ‘Time to feed the animals,’ she announced cheerfully. ‘Your grandfather said you could do it today, Aliain.’

On the hearthrug Aliain looked up from her book, her little hand still poised over the page she was studying, and beamed at her grandmother. At only six, it was a big responsibility for her to be asked to feed the animals by herself. It gave her a warm glow of pride to think her grandfather trusted her when he was away. She did not like to mention that she was afraid to go outside alone when it was getting dark. She would have hated to let down her grandfather when he was counting on her. So that was how Aliain found herself slipping out of the back door, a bucket of corn in her hand and a carrot in her apron pocket, as darkness began to fall on a cold, dreary day.

Behind the house the forest loomed, the trees dark and dripping with rain. The light was already fading from the sky and the evening was turning prematurely to night. In the grey gloom shadows massed under the trees, making the forest look forbidding and dangerous. A cold wind whistled down from the hills, carrying with it a fresh wave of rain. Somewhere in the distance a fox barked, a mournful sound in the gathering night.

Shivering, Aliain drew her grandmother’s shawl tighter around her narrow shoulders and hurried across to the barn. She did not run for fear of tripping on the rutted track, but she scampered with the nervous haste of somebody who would rather be doing anything else. All the time she felt as if the forest itself were watching her, an ominous, lurking presence, and she was relieved to reach the safety of the barn.

Her grandfather had left an oil lantern hanging on a nail by the doorway, well away from the hay and straw. It was too high for Aliain to reach it without help, but it cast a soft, warm glow over the stables, welcoming her inside. She let out the breath she did not realise she had been holding and was greeted by the scent of damp horse and fresh hay. Relaxing her tight grip on the wool of the shawl Aliain stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.

The barn was probably Aliain’s favourite part of their little farm. Always peaceful and warm, she liked to sit there on cold days, talking to the animals. Sometimes, when she had time, her grandmother would come and join her and tell Aliain stories about her own childhood while she knitted, their old sheepdog lying at her feet.

Aliain put her bucket down by the door, calling softly for the chickens to come and they did, running on their funny, feathery legs, pushing and barging to reach the food first. The little girl laughed as they swarmed around her, pecking at her hands to see if she had their corn. She reached into her bucket and sprinkled the grains over the floor around her. Immediately the birds began pecking and scraping, chasing after their dinner.

Once all the corn was gone and the chickens were eating happily Aliain turned to the stables at the back of the barn. The family’s horse was away, taking her grandfather to the next village, so his stable stood empty, a thick bed of straw ready for his return. That meant the only other current occupant was the elderly donkey. Aliain had learnt to ride on him and he had once worked on the farm but now his joints were getting stiff, so he had retired to live a comfortable life.

The stable door was so high that Aliain had to stand on tiptoes to reach over, but she pulled the carrot out of her pocket and offered it to her old friend. But as she was holding out the carrot to the donkey, stroking his velvet nose, Aliain heard a strange noise from outside. She stopped, suddenly feeling anxious again. Listening very hard all she could hear was the sound of the donkey rustling the straw of his stable and the chickens clucking around after their corn. There was nothing there.

Shaking her head she was about to go back to what she was doing when she heard the noise again. It sounded like a strange, little cry, like something in pain. Without thinking Aliain rushed to the door, leaving the bucket behind, and dashed outside.

Evening had fallen properly now and it was getting so dark that she could barely see where she was going. The trees loomed ominously, black against the dark sky. The rain had eased to a drizzle and the wind had dropped to be replaced with an almost eerie stillness. Again, the sound came from somewhere behind the barn and Aliain stumbled towards it, her boots slipping on the muddy track.

Her heart was pounding and her breath came in short, nervous gasps. Really she knew she should have gone back for her mother or her grandmother, but at that moment she was filled with worry and the need to help and she did not really think of that. It sounded like some animal was in pain somewhere and needed help and Aliain would never leave an animal to suffer.

She was under the trees, stumbling over roots before she even realised where she was. Water dripped down off the branches above, catching in her hair and soaking through her shawl. A fine, clammy wetness clung to her skin, making her shiver. Her hands were already so cold that she could barely feel her fingers, but Aliain was not going to give up. The sound came again, just ahead, and she hastened after it, her teeth chattering from cold and fear.

She had never been into the woods alone before, especially not at night. There were bears and wolves in the forests and hills around the village and it was dangerous to go wandering off alone. Aliain’s pace slowed slightly. She had done an incredibly stupid thing, coming out here, and she should turn back immediately. For a second her conscience warred with her common sense and fear. She could not go away without at least trying to help, but this was a very silly thing to have done.

Dithering, unsure of what to do, Aliain was not paying attention to where she was going. As she stepped forwards the ground suddenly gave way under her and she was falling, sliding down a muddy, rocky bank. She screamed as she fell, tumbling over and over in the dark, terrified that at any second she was going to hit her head on a tree. Her hands scrabbled uselessly around her, tearing her nails, but there was nothing to catch hold of.

Her fall came to an abrupt halt as she crashed painfully onto hard, wet ground. The air was driven from her lungs and an agonising pain shot through her right leg as it crumpled beneath her, twisted at a strange angle. Her hands were scratched and bleeding and one side of her face ached, though she could not remember why.

For several minutes Aliain just lay, shaking where she had fallen, tears slowly leaking down her cheeks. It was dark and she was cold and she had no idea where she was. How was anybody ever going to find her here? Her leg hurt so much that she was afraid to even move to see how injured she was. All she wanted was to be at home again, safe and warm, and she wished more than anything that she had never come into the forest.

Somewhere to her right a twig cracked in the darkness. Aliain whipped around, her heart pounding, only to cry out in pain as she moved her injured leg. With a sob she crumpled back to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, as though that could protect her. There was a rustling in the undergrowth nearby and another twig snapped. Thoughts of bear and wolves, attracted by the noise she had been making, crowded into her head and she stuffed her fist into her mouth to try and stay quiet.

The noise came again, closer this time, accompanied by a strange glow. Aliain squeezed her eyes shut and just hoped that whatever it was would miss her, that it would go away and leave her alone. She hardly dared to breathe and it felt as though iron bands were crushing her chest, strangling her with panic.

Then suddenly a wave of calm washed over her, gentle and reassuring, and a soft voice spoke. ‘Stay still, everything will be alright now.’ It was not a voice that Aliain had ever heard before, musical with a strange accent, but she did not feel afraid. She believed the stranger and trusted him, he was going to help her. With a sigh she followed his instructions, letting her head fall back onto the ground.

The glow seemed to be coming from the stranger himself as he approached, almost as if he held it in his hand. He was wrapped in a long, travel-worn cloak and carrying a leather pack on his back. Under the cloak he wore a robe that, though beautifully made, was splashed with mud around the hem. His boots were stained with mud too and it looked as though he must have walked a long way. Aliain noticed these details in a distant sort of way as he came to crouch beside her.

He smiled, a warm, friendly smile, and reached for her injured leg, very slowly as though talking to a frightened animal. ‘It will be alright,’ he repeated, in a soft murmur as she tried to flinch back, afraid her would touch it and make the pain worse. ‘I am going to help you.’ Close up, he had strange shiny eyes and long, pointed ears, but this did not strike Aliain as strange until much later.

The stranger held one glowing hand out over her injured leg and closed his eyes, seemingly in concentration. At first nothing happened, Aliain’s leg ached and burned as it had done before, but then slowly she began to notice the pain receding. Her cut hands stopped stinging, the pounding in her head lessened and then disappeared entirely, her chest felt lighter and she could breathe again. The little girl stared up in wonder at her rescuer, as her leg healed over as though nothing had ever happened to it.

‘How did you do that?’, she gasped when he finally opened his eyes. ‘You made the pain go away.’

Smiling he got to his feet and offered her a hand up. Aliain took it, amazed that she was able to stand. She felt fresh and well, better than she had before her fall. She was not even afraid of the dark woods any more.

‘I am a priest,’ he explained kindly. ‘I used the Light to heal you.’ He held out his glowing hand to her and Aliain took it, peering at the strange Light that washed over his palm. ‘And now I should take you home. Do you live in the village?’ He pointed away through the trees.

Aliain nodded. ‘Yes. My name is Aliain.’

The stranger did not introduce himself, just smiled and offered her his hand. ‘This way.’

The walk back through the trees felt like it took no time at all. The stranger lit her way for her and even though he did not talk to her Aliain did not feel lonely or scared. He helped her over rocks and trees roots, always finding the easiest path for her. In no time Aliain saw the trees were thinning and soon she could see the lantern by the barn winking. She could even hear her mother and grandmother calling for her.

‘I will leave you here.’ The stranger stopped and let go of her hand.

‘Thank you, oh, thank you so much.’ Seized by a sudden, overwhelming surge of love and thankfulness Aliain threw her little arms around the stranger. ‘Thank you.’ She squeezed him, wanting to convey the full extent of her gratitude. When she let go he smiled at her kindly.

‘Light be with you, Aliain, child of Lordaeron,’ he said and as she looked after him he turned and vanished back into the trees.

#world of warcraft #fiction

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judieasley57 · 6 years

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A Devil in Scotland

A No Ordinary Hero Novel #3

Suzanne Enoch

St. Martin’s Press, Jan 2018

320 pages, ebook, paperback, audiobook, audio CD

Regency Romance, Second Chance Romance, 1800s

✭✭✭✭⭑

I was provided a complementary ARC by St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley. This is my honest review for which I am not being compensated in any way.

Don’t you just love that cover? She’s gorgeous and he’s pretty hot, too! And a guy in a kilt. What’s not to like? Well, the book lives up to the brag here…

Callum MacCreath is a hot-headed, heavy-drinking 20 year-old when his brother, the earl, banishes him. He leaves with not much more than the shirt on his back and takes off to the colonies, Kentucky to be specific. There he establishes a distillery that now, 10 years later, is considered the best whiskey not made in Scotland. In fact, they import it to Scotland! He’s grown into his full manhood and is a large man. He also has a large black wolf that walks by his side. Yes, a wolf, a real wolf. Four paws, large teeth, yellow eyes, black fur, nasty disposition. Yup, that’s it. Her name is Waya and she follows her Alpha, Callum, since he rescued her as a pup. When he left Scotland, he vowed that when, not if, but when the Maxwell chieftain harmed his brother, he’d be back to “do him”. Well, Callum, by chance, has just found out that his brother and his brother’s father-in-law are dead within two weeks of each other about a year ago. Newspapers, travel slowly to the colonies.

So, now he’s back to take care of business. First thing he discovers is that his pack has grown by one. His brother had a daughter. Lady Margaret, Lady Mags as the servants call her, is all of 6 years-old and as feisty as they come with all the charm of a successful debuttante. It takes about 10 seconds for her to wrap him around her little finger, and he realizes it and accepts it. Waya accepts her, too.

He has a little bit harder time accepting his sister-in-law, Rebecca, as innocent of complicity in his brother’s death and as part of his pack. But eventually he figures it out and falls for her again, if he ever had not been in love with her all those ten years away. But she’s promised to the Duke of Dunncraigh’s son. That would be The Maxwell’s son. The Duke and son have been so good to her since her husband and father died. They’ve taken on the burden of the business so that she didn’t have to worry about all that and make all the decisions. She didn’t even have to sign anything. Rebecca wanted real proof that the Duke and his son had done what Callum was accusing them of. Callum was having trouble finding hard evidence. The two men had had a year to hide it all.

Rebecca invites the Duchess to tea in town and the Duke joins them. While the mansion is empty, Callum breaks in and steals the evidence, and there’s plenty there. But Rebecca is still hesitant.

Lady Mags liked to have her father read to her at bedtime. So Uncle Callum is filling in since he’s there. He recognizes the old Mother Goose book from when he and Ian had been in the nursery. It’s old and tattered. In fact the cover was coming loose so much on the left corner that he couldn’t help but pick at it. And what did he find, but a letter from his brother addressed to him! He turned storytime over to the nanny and went in search of Rebecca to share his find. She was finally convinced when she read her late husband’s words.

A shot and a high scream warns them that things have gone terribly wrong. Waya is wounded while guarding Lady Mags and Mags has been taken by the Maxwells. Well, you know how these things go in romances. The hero always saves the day, and this story follows the formula. Callum, Rebecca, and Mags end up at home with Waya recovering from her gunshot. They also end up married, especially since it’s such a tradition in the highlands to marry you brother’s widow to keep clan and property in the family.

Well, Callum, in the face-off, had had to kill The Maxwell to save Lady Mags’ life, so the Clan Maxwell is short one chief. His son would have normally stepped into the role, but he was headed to England to face the courts and they didn’t plan on his coming back for many, many years with all the evidence they had against him. Callum wasn’t the only one looking at the evidence; they called in lawyers and other lords as well. Well, all these important people put their heads together and came up with a solution they thought rather neat. If they made Callum The Maxwell, it would solve the problem. One, he didn’t want the position, which made him perfect for it in their eyes. A man who doesn’t want power will handle it very carefully. Much better than a man who wants it. Two, people tended to listen to him already when he spoke and he was used to handling groups of men from his work in his distillery. Three, he was already there in the position he now filled as Earl Geiry. His wife thought he’d make a fine chieftain for all of those reasons. He was finally convinced that it would work for those very reasons and he settled in with his now pregnant wife, Rebecca, his now daughter, Lady Mags, his wolf, Waya, and another child on the way to be the new Clan Maxwell chieftain.

It was a foreseeable solution, but it was done rather well, I thought. This whole book is done rather well. The cover is done in that passionate red with him in his kilt and her in her bright blue gown. Very eye-catching. The story was a nice adaptation to a standard romance formula. The wolf was a fun touch. The characters were written very well. From the beginning we knew just what type of person Callum was with his hot temper. Rebecca wanted peace from the beginning all the way to the end. She dithered around it the whole time. Mags was a full-steam-ahead well-loved six year-old who knew what she wanted and what was really important to her. Even the butler was well-done with his loyalty. The bad guy, The Duke of Dunncraigh, was certainly done thoroughly. He was nasty from the word go. You knew before you even got to the stand-off that he didn’t plan on any of them living through that event and that he would start with Mags. Evil through and through. There was some wheel-spinning here and there in the pace, but for the most part things moved along smoothly and fast. And the tension builds and teases you all the way to the end. All in all, a fun read and certainly worth picking up when it is released on the 30th of this month!

Recommended.

Release date January 30, 2018

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